Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling!

"My story isn't sweet and harmonious, like invented stories. It tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves." - Hermann Hesse

"Bloody hell Hermione, I'm going to be late," bellowed Ron, thumping down the stairs as if Hermione didn't have neighbors living below her.

You're always late, she wanted to say. Instead turning to face him, Hermione quickly noted that his shirt was not properly tucked in and that his deep blue robes were wrinkled. She felt a small pang of annoyance but kept her mouth shut. Just last week he had accused her of nagging and she was in no mood to bicker with him for the rest of the day. Her eyes traveled to his face and landed on his bright red hair, which he now kept much shorter than he had at school. Otherwise, Ron Weasley remained unremarkably the same.

For the past two years he had been working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in order to help George, while Hermione worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. However, while she pushed herself to excel, she found that Ron did not share the same enthusiasm. She always thought that he would have done better in the Auror Department with Harry, but knew that saying so would only make Ron stick to his decision.

That stubborn arse.

"There is no need to shout Ronald," replied Hermione sternly. "Your wand is on the kitchen table, there is more floo powder above the fireplace and please manage to not spill it on the rug this time."

At this point she was quite used to making the same speech nearly every morning that Ron spent the night at her flat.

Originally, Ron had wanted to share the flat with her, but had been nearly hexed by Mrs. Weasley who stated that such an arrangement was most improper before marriage. Honestly, Hermione was glad when Ron decided to move in with George above the joke shop because it allowed her to purchase a two bedroom flat in muggle London independently. She was rather proud of her home, especially the second bedroom that she had quickly managed to turn into a small library.

"Yeah whatever, so dinner tonight?" Asked Ron as he walked over to the fireplace.

"Of course. Molly said that she will try to pick up Teddy. You know Harry and Ginny have been working such late hours lately."

"Unlike me," stated Ron, glaring at Hermione.

"What's that supposed to mean? Come on Ron you know I wasn't trying to insinuate anything!"

"Sure Hermione. I know you're fucking dying for me to leave Weasley's Wheezes. All the fucking hints you drop! I'm so sorry I'm not the head of the Auror Department like Harry," sniggered Ron. His ears had turned red and he was standing with one foot in the fireplace waiting for her to reply.

"Stop being ridiculous Ronald." Hermione shook her head, slowly rubbing her temples.

"Ridiculous am I? I've had enough of this. I'm late."

Without another word Ron stepped completely into the fireplace before being engulfed by flames.

Hermione sighed and walked over to the gold mirror that hung by the front door of her flat. She had expected a kiss, but it was silly to think that Ron would be rational after an argument. Not to mention the fact that it was not as if their relationship was all that physical. Hermione blushed as she thought of the few times that her and Ron had been intimate in the past three years. She loved Ron, she truly did, and yet there was a hole that was slowly growing inside her. All their bickering drove her insane. She used to find it enduring but lately...

Looking in the mirror Hermione tried to figure out the woman who stared back at her. Her eyes were a soft brown, like warm honey. Her hair, that had once been bushy and tangled, was now long and slick with hints of curls. She was never one to put too much thought into appearance but had succumbed to using a few potions when Ginny hinted that maybe making a little effort in that department would spice up her love life.

She had been wrong.

Hermione pulled off her robes and continued observing herself, looking for flaws. Underneath she was wearing a flowing dress that ended just past her knees. It had taken her a year to gain back the weight that she had lost during the war. Still, she was rather thin, and did not possess many womanly curves. Slowly, Hermione placed her hand on her neck and massaged it in small circles. She locked eyes with her mirror self and moved her hand down, cusping her small breast. Her other hand instinctively slid up her long thigh, under the dress.

She wondered what it would feel like to have Ron touch her with such passion. A fire blazed in Hermione's stomach. She was shocked at her sudden behavior, but she could not stop. Leaning against the wall a small moan escaped her lips. To be touched, even by herself, had sent her spiraling into the unknown world that she had rarely encountered.

A small pop came from the living room.

"Granger! Are you home?"

Hermione froze.

"What the hell Draco, what the hell are you doing coming over to my flat unannounced?" She screamed.

Quickly straightening up she ran down the hallway only to see Draco Malfoy staggering out of her fireplace looking around with mild amusement.

"So this is your flat huh?" Said Draco.

He did not seem at all bothered by the murderous look that Hermione was now giving him. In fact, he was the definition of cool and collected. He oozed confidence. Dark green robes, silver blonde hair that fell to his eyes. His pale grey eyes.

Many thoughts formed in Hermione's mind as she opened her mouth to speak only to close it again. She was at a loss for words.

Draco Malfoy was her colleague. Well, actually he was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and while they had worked together quite closely during the last two years she was mortified to find him standing in her living room. He was not as big of a prick as he had been during school, but he was a git none the less. Although Hermione did have to admit that he had been a great help in persuading some members of the Ministry to pass a few laws against the unfair treatment of house elves.

"May I ask how you found out my address?" Stammered Hermione, trying to regain some control of the situation.

"Potter gave it to me."

"Po- Harry? Harry gave you my address?"

Malfoy smirked and walked over to an armchair, flopping down in it as though he owned the place.

"Yes Granger. Potter gave me your address. Don't get your knickers in a wad now. This is a business call."