Summary: Paradox - a true statement or a group of true statments that leads to a contradiction. How is this, in any way, not true for long-standing enemies?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Rating: M
Author's Note: Yes, this is likely to be two or three chapters long - unless I feel like adding more sex for kicks. I don't really know where I'm going with this, so here's me telling you now - don't expect much out of it.
Warning: First chapter is BORING
Paradox
First: Online
With the war over and both the Muggle and Magical worlds at peace, for once, many ex-students of Hogwarts found themselves with very few satisfying things to do. After an up-bringing chalked full of excitment, terror, and chaos, a peaceful world just not a very interesting place. Hermione was a testiment to that. No matter how many books she bought or how many places she travelled to, she still found herself awake at night because she was so bored. According to the The Quibbler, more than one decorated veteran of the war against Voldimort had been placed in Azkaban due to their terrible choices in thrill-seeking. Harry had gotten lucky - his fame had carried on into far more than just photo-signings. Hermione had followed along with Ron while Harry toured for his very successful book series: Cutting off the Snakes Head. He'd also been hired by the Ministry for his "superior magic skills". Ron was in the Quidditch League, playing the Keeper position and was suffering his own kind of fame.
Hermione had not bought into the fame that went with being a hero, feeling that being that superficial was completely detrimental to oneself. She'd seen the world now, whether or not she had really been interested in the place. She'd learned six other languages now, for lack of better things to do, and was the proud owner of the best online wizards database - of course, only accessable by wizards and she was paid by the Ministry to maintain and update it. It was an easy living. Really easy.
Too easy.
She sighed quietly and starred at her ceiling. The desktop in the living room was enchanted to keep scanning articles from ever wizard periodicle, journal, and newspaper on the planet and uploading it with the appropriate information. Beside her, Million City was open. She was waiting for the contracts to end before going to bed, not that she was tired. She didn't sleep much anymore, maybe two or three hours a night. Chances were, she'd twist around in bed for an hour, then go online to find someone to talk to out of boredom. Trolling was a wonderful pastime.
As it is, she didn't even bother with actually getting into bed - only getting as far as getting into her creme colored silk nightgown before moving her laptop and opening every messenger she had. Her Muggle friends really didn't fill the gap that was night, having normal human lives to attend to - ones that required consistant sleeping patterns. She still tried, though.
Almost instantly, there was a soft "bing" and a screen popped up, displaying the words: Hey there, Granger.
She frowned at the little window, the deep green font. Once a Slytherine, always a Slytherine. At least she'd had the decency to move on to non-cliche colors, like deep, royal purple and doe-browns. Her fonts were always blue, though, and in some sort of odd font like Neverwinter or High Tower. She was a avid user of free font download. The computer bleeped again, signaling the new line in the conversation: What's got a goody-goody doing up this late at night?
She typed: Not sleeping, obviously.
Then she added, as an after though: What about you, Malfoy.
He replied: Bored out of my mind and lacking in fuck-buddies for once.
She rolled her eyes and typed: How sad for you. That's how you avoided Azkaban, right? Getting laid?
He typed: And you did it by travelling, learning Gaelic, Latin, Japanese, Mandarin, Finnish, and Arabic. What are you moving on to?
She sighed and laid down, leaning on her elbows before typing: I don't know yet.
He didn't reply for twenty minutes after that, but she found that she was checking back to his window almost ever five minutes. None of her Muggle buddies stuck around for long, and she actually smiled in relief when the "bing" belonged to his flashing name on the task bar. He had typed: You're going to the reunion, right?
It'd been five years since they'd finished school. Five years since she'd last seen any wizard outside of the Ministry. She typed: Yes.
What he typed after that made her jaw drop: Feel like having a date for it?
In all her twenty-two years, she'd never imagined that she would ever get asked to anything friendly by a Slytherine - least of all a Malfoy. She moved to type, but stopped herself partway four times in a row before making her decision. She slowly typed: Sure, whynot.
Ending Notes: I told you it was boring.
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~Lilith R. Devanta~