The As-Yet Unwritten Tale of Miss Hermione Granger and her Life Post-Hogwarts.
A lengthy story that shall be abridged through switching between both wide and sweeping narratives, and shorter, close-range snippets, for your dipping-in-and-out pleasure.
(Essentially, here are my imaginings of the life I'd hope for Hermione after the books, told through a large overview and a few one-shots. I hope it's not too disjointed.)
. . . ONE . . .
We join our heroine, the less-young-than-the-last-time-we-saw-her, Miss Hermione Granger as she turns twenty-two. She is currently in the best relationship of an admittedly short line of experiences, which happens to be with the son-of-a-former-Death-Eater-and-one-time-ferret, Mr Draco Malfoy. After finally agreeing to get together when talking at a Ministry charity gala to raise money for the War Orphans Trust Fund, the pair have been inseparable. Luckily, this all happened to Hermione after the less-than-amicable break up of what Rita Skeeter called 'her favourite Golden Couple', in which Mr Ron Weasley commenced relations with the inestimably talkative Miss Lavender Brown. Unfortunately for all concerned, this was before ending his relations with Hermione.
After leaving Ron, Hermione wanted to get a little bit of space from her old life, which she had worried that she had rushed into anyway. As such, she took a sabbatical from her job in the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement in order to relax a little. Obviously, given her nature, this lasted for only a few days before she invested every last penny of her savings and the money granted from her Order of Merlin into a dilapidated book shop she found for sale on the edges of Diagon Alley, just past Gringotts Bank. After spending a few weeks fixing it up, painting the walls and setting up clumsy magically-self-made shelving, she opened for business. And was lost for words: her influence, and that of so many other muggle-borns after the final battle had led to a few big shifts in the nature of the wizarding world. That, and the fact that many of the wealthier families that had previously supported Voldemort wanted a means of visibly renouncing their old ways, and rejecting ideas of blood-superiority was quite an easy way of doing it. As such, her little shop was flooded with customers, because Hermione had found a spectacular niche in the market: muggle books for the magical community. The oldest classics and modern teen fiction alike were flying off the shelves, literally, day-in-day-out until one day Draco Malfoy came in. Here, we shall dip in for a closer look…
. . .
The bell jingled again, for what must have been the thousandth time, and Hermione cursed viciously under her breath. For all that she was over the moon with how her little shop was developing, putting that bell up was a huge and constant regret. She didn't even bother looking up from her accounts book, after all people don't usually like to be bothered in a bookshop. However this one…
Tap-tap-tappity-tap. Hermione moved her eyes from the line of figures, to the fingers drumming on her desk, up to a pair of sparkling grey eyes. And then zoomed out to take a look at the whole face: blonde hair, sculpted bone structure, flawless porcelain skin. Draco Malfoy was smirking down at her, in her shop, which sold muggle books. She blinked a few times, just to double check the stress hadn't finally cracked her impressive brain in two, but he was still there, and definitely still Malfoy.
"Malfoy?"
"Hello love, I thought I'd pop in and have a little look at the shop that's causing all that buzz on Diagon Alley." He smirked at her, but it held less malice than it used to. His face was quite different all round, actually. The removal of a lifetime's worth of stress tended to do more than just lift the bags under your eyes though. "And obviously I wanted to check up on a dear, dear schoolmate, who happens to have become very successful and holds a very wholesome image in the press these days."
"As opposed to the old days, when I was the object of slander and slurs on my character?" Hermione retorted. Years of interacting with Ron had meant she was never disarmed by verbal attacks. Malfoy grinned openly at her this time, which caught her quite off guard. He straightened up, but his fingers still fidgeted and tapped on the nearest shelves. "This is quite a nice space, Granger. I do love the high ceilings," he informed her, craning his neck and back comically to have a good look at the open space above the shelves. It gave her the opportunity to get a better look at him: he was dressing far more casually these days, though of course his clothes still showed his wealth. The formal robes and suits were gone, replaced by some plain, dark trousers and a snug grey jumper than clung to his torso and was obviously selected to bring out his eyes. A set of casual robes hung over an arm, the fabric swishing expensively as he straightened up.
"Thank you, it was a great perk of the building. My apologies that I hadn't quite gotten round to exposing the original beams yet." Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. "Did you come in for a reason?"
Draco grinned in a disarmingly endearing fashion. Somebody had obviously been taking lessons from that friend of his... Hermione couldn't remember his name, but he had been a consistent presence around Draco at Hogwarts, suave and full of Italian charm. Better him than the last group Draco had been spending time with. "Like I said, I thought I'd check up on my favourite third of the Golden Trio and her delightful new business. Maybe spend a large portion of the Malfoy fortune here to help you along," he tried to peer over the desk at her accounts book, and Hermione moved her arm over it accusingly, "and possibly be photographed at a highly reputable business smiling and laughing with a highly reputable woman to ease my way back into society and a humble little rich boy who just wants to repent for his sins?"
Hermione was taken aback by his honesty. And, frankly, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. Even if he was still smarmy and wealthy and all the things that she used to hate. War changed everyone, and it had certainly opened Hermione's eyes to all the faults that people could have. If Malfoy wanted to ease the burden his name held over him, she couldn't really blame him. She sat back down in the cracked leather chair she'd found in the old storeroom, waving her hand at the rows of shelves. "If you need any help, just ask."
Malfoy bowed jokingly, but it somehow wasn't mocking anymore. He ambled off, hands in pockets, reminding Hermione a little bit of one of the Weasley twins when they were a bit younger. He seemed so carefree these days, which begged belief. Hermione repressed a shudder, and tried not to compare this to their last few encounters. She looked back down at her accounts book and tried her best to bring the week to a close.
. . .
Slightly before five, Hermione stood up from her desk, cracking the tension out of her spine with a practiced and efficient movement. She began to stalk the lines of shelves, to put out the floating candles. When she got to the last one, however, she found Draco Malfoy sitting, child-like, on the floor with several short and haphazard stacks of books spread around him. He appeared to be leafing through something old, from one of the more expensive sets of volumes that she kept at the back of the shop. "You're still here," she said plaintively.
"Obviously," he drawled, in a weak impression of Professor Snape. Despite herself, she giggled, and Malfoy looked up at her with glee. His face in only the candlelight, from this angle, was peculiarly angled, and made him look almost supernatural. He stood up, and waved his own wand, until the piles of books arranged themselves neatly into two floating piles beside him. "I'll take these, please, Miss Granger." She looked at the stacks with obvious displeasure showing on her face.
"I was just about to close up for the day Malfoy, it's already dark outside."
He looked through the gap between the shelf and the wall, to catch a glimpse of the dusty window. It was indeed very dark at only five o'clock, what with being quite late in November. "No trouble, I can leave them behind the desk and come back for them tomorrow." He beamed at his own cleverness: two trips in two days could only be a boon for his public image. Hermione didn't have the heart to disagree with him, and simply turned back to head to her desk. "If you're in such a terrible hurry Granger, I assume you have exciting plans for the evening?"
She laughed without thinking, and replied, "I don't really do excitement these days, not since I became single and Harry and Ginny are still off Merlin-knows-where on their travels. I have a lovely evening planned of sitting on my arse and trying hard not to think, before going to bed and hoping the nightmares don't surface again." Hermione stopped, and her hand clasped over her mouth. Why had she mentioned the nightmares? She hadn't confided in anyone about the nightmares, since her usual confidant was travelling with the only other person she could really talk to. Malfoy looked at her, without smirking this time, and he seemed to finally take in the bags under her eyes and looseness of her cardigan. She ducked to pick up her things, as he thumped the books down on the desk and tucked his wand back into his sleeve. "I don't suppose you'd have time for dinner, or a drink in that busy schedule then?"
Hermione blanched, but tried her best to hide it before straightening up, holding the bag and coat she'd stashed under her chair. "I really oughtn't to… I just mean that given how long.. I, um"
He looked at her again, and put on a morose face. "I understand, nobody ever wants to talk to Draco, why would anyone want to be around Draco, I mean obviously, nobody on earth has ever been as annoying as…"
"Yes!" Hermione blurted. "Whatever, yes, I mean, just stop doing that." He grinned at her again.
"The puppy-dog eyes have been known to make even the strongest of women bend to any of my whims dear, don't beat yourself up."
Hermione frowned slightly. "I'm not bending to anything but my own desire to shut you up."
His grin didn't fade as he lurched forward to take her arm and steer her towards the door. "I know this amazing place, just round the corner, it sounds weird, but hear me out. It's a bit... childish, in how it's set up, but it does amazing seafood. Do you like mussels? I love mussels…"
The bell jingled again, and this time Hermione barely noticed it.
. . .