Chapter 1

'What is that you want?'

'Some excitement, Ron. Whether or not it was right, we spent years chasing around Voldemort with Harry. Our final years in school, we were in hiding, looking for Horcrux. And the last couple of years have been nice – quiet, peaceful…all in all, nice. But honestly, I'm bored of it. I need something more.'

'Hermione…' Ron sighed, 'I don't. I don't need more. I don't need or want to constantly be looking over my shoulder or waiting for you to come back or worrying about your wellbeing every single day. I do not want to deal with it. I can't deal with it.'

'But Ron…'

'Hermione, enough. Please. We talked about this when the war ended. We talked about leading quieter lives. We talked about having a family and spending more time with said family. I can't keep fighting about this…Every. Single. Day. I can't…

'Maybe it would be best if we broke up then…' Hermione offered in a small voice. She outlined the pattern on the tile with her eyes, waiting for him to speak.

'Maybe it would be.'

Hermione often replayed this conversation in her head. The pain that she had felt then reverberated in her heart each time she did that though they had grown apart much before this conversation. Slowly, but surely, in the years following the war. Well not exactly in the years after but, soon after. The first few years had been brilliant. Hermione worked in a bookshop in Diagon Alley and Ron worked with Fred at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, in huge contrast to Harry who had immediately taken up a job as an Auror. The euphoria from winning the war had carried them through. They rarely ever fought because they always looked at the big picture – being alive, safe and together. The years after that became harder. Both Ron and Hermione got a job offer from the ministry to be Aurors. The ministry was still putting away a lot of small-time death eaters and there was a lot of scrutiny surrounding their work. The ministry wanted to look good: they need the Golden Trio. Ron turned down the job without hesitation but, Hermione faltered.

She played around with the offer; bringing it up to Ron several times. He didn't want her to take it. They had already discussed not going into any dangerous careers after the war. But Hermione was bored of her job at the bookshop. It employed none of her mental faculties. The only thing she did was read in abundance, which was a delight at first. However, less so later when she found no outlet for her new found knowledge. Eventually, they parted ways. They just couldn't fight anymore. The relationship had stopped being a safe haven or even fun. It was a constant source of tension and annoyance. They both understood where the other was coming from. Ron, rattled by the death of his brother, didn't want to have worry as much about any other loved one – and Hermione understood that which is why she hadn't taken the job in the first place. Ron understood Hermione desire to do more, to be more. It had been wonderful while it lasted. They both recognized it as a good decision in hindsight. Now, 5 years on, they were fairly good friends.

'Ms. Granger, may I come in?' a familiar voice broke her from her reverie.

Hermione's eyes flew up to meet the cool grey orbs of her childhood nemesis, Draco Malfoy. He raised an eyebrow at her silence.

'Ye-s' she stuttered, 'Of course. I'm sorry, I was lost in thought. Please come in.' She rose from her chair and offered her hand. 'How are you?'

He took it. His hand felt warm, but not uncomfortably so. As a child, she had always thought he would be cold to touch – as cold as his heart. 'I'm alright, thank you. Do you have a minute to talk?'

She gestured to the seat in front of her desk and sat back down. 'Yes, tell me. How can I help you? And what brings you here?'

'I've just started working with the Ministry of Magic as a liaison officer for the MACUSA.'

'Oh, I had heard something about you moving abroad.'

'Yes, I moved to the States. Better opportunity for someone like myself.' Hermione tilted her head sideways at the ex-Death Eater. The fact that the term 'ex-Death Eater' had come to her head so quickly is probably why he moved. 'They sent me down to you because we are having some trouble. It is common knowledge that your understanding of spell work is yet unparalleled and so, we were hoping to bring you onto our project as an advisor.'

Hermione chuckled a little, earning a second raised eyebrow from Malfoy. 'Never expected to hear a compliment from you.' She explained

'Ms Gran-'

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I understand that you are trying to move on the past and preconceived opinions of yourself. Saying things like I just did is uncalled for.' He nodded stiffly.

'What is the project?'

'It's top secret so unfortunately, I cannot share the details with you but I can offer you this: it has a lot to do with the confiscation of cursed portkeys in Knockturn Alley last week.'

Hermione pursed her lips analysing the man sitting before her. The man she had barely seen since the end of the war, who she hadn't heard much of since the post-war trials and thought of even less. He looked well…good, even. His hair was scruffy, almost like Harry's messy style and very much unlike his own slicked-back look at Hogwarts. She liked it. It was almost naughty. 'I will need clearance from my department but, I'm interested in being a part of this.'

'Brilliant. That's what was what I was hoping you'd say.' He finished as he stood up. 'Good day to you Ms Granger. I'll be in touch.'

'You too, Mr Malfoy.' She smiled politely as he exited. Apart from his hair, the rest of Malfoy was exactly she would've imagined. He was in a well-fitted grey suit, which she suspected cost an arm and a leg. He didn't look like the tired and straggly 17-year-old she remembered but a well-adjusted twenty-six-year-old. The years of maliciousness had seemingly worn off, revealing some extremely handsome features. She, however, didn't know any more than she had seen or heard from him and her curiosity piqued. She made a note in her head to ask around about him. Her attention returned to the classified project she had been offered to be a part of. Auror work was more exciting than her job at the bookshop, but it had slowed down significantly and what he was offering seemed exciting. She hoped it really was.

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