Hermione Granger, age 26, was one of the most prominent witches in all of England, perhaps even Europe. After the war, Hermione had set out to become an Auror along side her best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. She went through part of the training, but never felt as though she fit in with the crowd, much like her first few weeks at Hogwart's.
It was a cloudy day as Hermione stood in front of a full length mirror smiling. Her reflection smiled right back, obviously approving of the simple black blouse that showed just the right amount of cleavage, and the light pink pencil skirt that Hermione chose to wear that day. She did one last pirouette in front of the mirror, slipped on her heels, and stepped out into her sitting room. At her desk was a WIZLOT, the wizarding world's version of the palm pilot. It held all her appointments for that day, as well as several phone interviews, one photo shoot, and lunch with Harry.
Hermione grabbed her purse, her wand, and her blazer and stepped up the part of her sitting room that she used as an apparition point. With a swish of her wand, she was gone.
*~*
VERSACELF. The wizarding world's most prestigious and coveted company for clothing and interior designs. A woman, mid-twenties, walked through the doors of the large building in Diagon Alley, waving to several people in the lobby and stopping to smile for a few photographers.
"Ms. Granger! Over here!" A photographer managed to snap one final shot of Hermione as she apparated to her office on the top floor.
Hermione Granger, age 26, was the president of this fine company. It was by chance really, that she became such a coveted designer of wizard couture and interior furnishings. Her mother had met Donatella Versace at a charity event in London. She was surprised to find out that she was actually part- veela ( which explained the long blond hair) and part-muggle. Hermione had the opportunity to meet Donatella after a year of Auror training, and soon after, became immersed in the intricacies and glamour of fashion and interior design and launched the wizard world's most exclusive and expensive design empire bearing the Versace name…with a bit of twist.
Hermione's eye for detail was particularly useful in creating many of her designs. Her clothes were stunning and classic, demure, but alluring at the same time. Her furniture and accessories for the home were the same. Hermione incorporated her knowledge of art history and wizard common life to create stunning creations that were modern and practical to a wizard.
So on that cloudy day, Hermione Granger arrived at her office, greeted her assistant, Trili, and sat down to research different styles of columns she could use in her next project before it was even eight in the morning.
*~*
Harry sat impatiently at World of Mirth, a small café in Diagon Alley. It was where he regularly lunched with Hermione when he wasn't on duty. Ron, unfortunately, had been detained to Iceland to investigate unusual dark activity in the area. He tapped his foot, constantly checking his watch. Hermione was late. Since the end of the war with Voldemort in his seventh year at Hogwart's, there was still a considerable amount of dark magic floating around the wizarding world in an attempt to renew interest in Voldemort's ideals. Personally, Harry found his work to be a bit trite, but he was waiting for his promotion to Minister of Muggle relations to come through.
"Mr. Potter! A pleasure to see you here! It has been a slow week, and your appearance is sure to make an impression on those passing by." Harry looked up to come face to face with Druscilla Marnage, the owner of the café who, like many, still regarded Harry as a celebrity, even though he hadn't done anything particularly impressive in the last ten years. Harry merely smiled at her and felt relieved when Hermione chose that moment to walk through the doors and sit down across from him.
"Sorry I'm late, my last client was absolutely devastated to find out that it costs thirty thousand galleons to design the interior of her new flat in London." Hermione looked a bit disheveled, but still held her head up high. She smiled at Druscilla, "Nice to see you again Dru! Harry and will have the usual please."
"Two orders of Shepherd's Pie coming right up Hermione!" Druscilla gave a final nod to the two seated in front of her and hurried to the back, no doubt owling the Daily Prophet that Harry and hermione were dining at her café.
"Honestly," said Harry, "we've been coming here for five years, and that woman is still as star-struck as ever. And by the way, you're twenty minutes late."
"I already apologized Harry! I told you, Mrs. Needs was a little hard to convince."
Harry looked at the woman in front of him. He still found it hard to believe that mousy Hermione turned into an absolute beauty in their seventh year and exuded such confidence that he never knew she had. And to top it off, she was in the fashion industry, something he expected out of Lavender or Pansy Parkinson, but never Hermione. He gave a small chuckle under his breath.
"What are you laughing at Potter?" hermione glared at him from across the table. "Well, forget it, I don't care, tell me how the hell you've been?"
"I've been doing pretty well. Ginny and I broke it off, it was odd after a while, Ron is in Iceland, but I'm sure he owled you all the details, and well, you'll never believe this, but Draco Malfoy was spotted at the Ministry the other day."
Hermione grimaced at the sound of the name. Ten years had gone by since they had left Hogwart's, but Draco's harsh words had left an impression on her up to now.
"Malfoy? That prat. Well, im sure he's looking for a job. I heard his trust fund finally ran out."
"Actually, I was at the Ministry to get my apparition license re-issued."
Harry and Hermione both looked over to the voice. A blond man, dressed impeccably, was smirking at them from across the room. It wasn't a large café by any means.
Draco sauntered over to their table and pulled up a chair, loving the appalled looks he was receiving from Harry and hermione.
"So nice to see both of you. I'm not surprised you're both still hung up on my life after all these years."
"You weren't invited over Malfoy," said Hermione through clenched teeth. "Kindly leave."
"Oh, but I so want to hear what you thought I was doing at the Ministry. Afraid it was something sinister Potter? "
Harry said nothing. He just glared daggers at Draco.
"Well, im not much for the strong silent type." He got up and nodded towards Harry. Then his gaze fell on Hermione, "And I don't care much for the nouveau riche either, granger, although congratulations on your little pet project. I'm sure your previous success as Potter's right hand warrior had nothing to do with it. I did think that publishing that horrid photo of the three of you grinning over Voldemort's corpse was a tacky and morbid way to gain clients." And with that, he returned to his table, dropped a few coins, and left the café.
Hermione and Harry were left speechless at his exit. They resumed their lunch mentioning Malfoy's name only once after he left, and that was to call him the reason that contraceptive charms were invented.
It was a cloudy day as Hermione stood in front of a full length mirror smiling. Her reflection smiled right back, obviously approving of the simple black blouse that showed just the right amount of cleavage, and the light pink pencil skirt that Hermione chose to wear that day. She did one last pirouette in front of the mirror, slipped on her heels, and stepped out into her sitting room. At her desk was a WIZLOT, the wizarding world's version of the palm pilot. It held all her appointments for that day, as well as several phone interviews, one photo shoot, and lunch with Harry.
Hermione grabbed her purse, her wand, and her blazer and stepped up the part of her sitting room that she used as an apparition point. With a swish of her wand, she was gone.
*~*
VERSACELF. The wizarding world's most prestigious and coveted company for clothing and interior designs. A woman, mid-twenties, walked through the doors of the large building in Diagon Alley, waving to several people in the lobby and stopping to smile for a few photographers.
"Ms. Granger! Over here!" A photographer managed to snap one final shot of Hermione as she apparated to her office on the top floor.
Hermione Granger, age 26, was the president of this fine company. It was by chance really, that she became such a coveted designer of wizard couture and interior furnishings. Her mother had met Donatella Versace at a charity event in London. She was surprised to find out that she was actually part- veela ( which explained the long blond hair) and part-muggle. Hermione had the opportunity to meet Donatella after a year of Auror training, and soon after, became immersed in the intricacies and glamour of fashion and interior design and launched the wizard world's most exclusive and expensive design empire bearing the Versace name…with a bit of twist.
Hermione's eye for detail was particularly useful in creating many of her designs. Her clothes were stunning and classic, demure, but alluring at the same time. Her furniture and accessories for the home were the same. Hermione incorporated her knowledge of art history and wizard common life to create stunning creations that were modern and practical to a wizard.
So on that cloudy day, Hermione Granger arrived at her office, greeted her assistant, Trili, and sat down to research different styles of columns she could use in her next project before it was even eight in the morning.
*~*
Harry sat impatiently at World of Mirth, a small café in Diagon Alley. It was where he regularly lunched with Hermione when he wasn't on duty. Ron, unfortunately, had been detained to Iceland to investigate unusual dark activity in the area. He tapped his foot, constantly checking his watch. Hermione was late. Since the end of the war with Voldemort in his seventh year at Hogwart's, there was still a considerable amount of dark magic floating around the wizarding world in an attempt to renew interest in Voldemort's ideals. Personally, Harry found his work to be a bit trite, but he was waiting for his promotion to Minister of Muggle relations to come through.
"Mr. Potter! A pleasure to see you here! It has been a slow week, and your appearance is sure to make an impression on those passing by." Harry looked up to come face to face with Druscilla Marnage, the owner of the café who, like many, still regarded Harry as a celebrity, even though he hadn't done anything particularly impressive in the last ten years. Harry merely smiled at her and felt relieved when Hermione chose that moment to walk through the doors and sit down across from him.
"Sorry I'm late, my last client was absolutely devastated to find out that it costs thirty thousand galleons to design the interior of her new flat in London." Hermione looked a bit disheveled, but still held her head up high. She smiled at Druscilla, "Nice to see you again Dru! Harry and will have the usual please."
"Two orders of Shepherd's Pie coming right up Hermione!" Druscilla gave a final nod to the two seated in front of her and hurried to the back, no doubt owling the Daily Prophet that Harry and hermione were dining at her café.
"Honestly," said Harry, "we've been coming here for five years, and that woman is still as star-struck as ever. And by the way, you're twenty minutes late."
"I already apologized Harry! I told you, Mrs. Needs was a little hard to convince."
Harry looked at the woman in front of him. He still found it hard to believe that mousy Hermione turned into an absolute beauty in their seventh year and exuded such confidence that he never knew she had. And to top it off, she was in the fashion industry, something he expected out of Lavender or Pansy Parkinson, but never Hermione. He gave a small chuckle under his breath.
"What are you laughing at Potter?" hermione glared at him from across the table. "Well, forget it, I don't care, tell me how the hell you've been?"
"I've been doing pretty well. Ginny and I broke it off, it was odd after a while, Ron is in Iceland, but I'm sure he owled you all the details, and well, you'll never believe this, but Draco Malfoy was spotted at the Ministry the other day."
Hermione grimaced at the sound of the name. Ten years had gone by since they had left Hogwart's, but Draco's harsh words had left an impression on her up to now.
"Malfoy? That prat. Well, im sure he's looking for a job. I heard his trust fund finally ran out."
"Actually, I was at the Ministry to get my apparition license re-issued."
Harry and Hermione both looked over to the voice. A blond man, dressed impeccably, was smirking at them from across the room. It wasn't a large café by any means.
Draco sauntered over to their table and pulled up a chair, loving the appalled looks he was receiving from Harry and hermione.
"So nice to see both of you. I'm not surprised you're both still hung up on my life after all these years."
"You weren't invited over Malfoy," said Hermione through clenched teeth. "Kindly leave."
"Oh, but I so want to hear what you thought I was doing at the Ministry. Afraid it was something sinister Potter? "
Harry said nothing. He just glared daggers at Draco.
"Well, im not much for the strong silent type." He got up and nodded towards Harry. Then his gaze fell on Hermione, "And I don't care much for the nouveau riche either, granger, although congratulations on your little pet project. I'm sure your previous success as Potter's right hand warrior had nothing to do with it. I did think that publishing that horrid photo of the three of you grinning over Voldemort's corpse was a tacky and morbid way to gain clients." And with that, he returned to his table, dropped a few coins, and left the café.
Hermione and Harry were left speechless at his exit. They resumed their lunch mentioning Malfoy's name only once after he left, and that was to call him the reason that contraceptive charms were invented.