Author's Note

I'm only going to say this once, I do not own Harry Potter - I never will and I never have, if you think I do then you must think i'm JK Rowling, who is now spending her time writing fanfiction for her own novel.

Thankyou for taking the time to click, I am very grateful and hope you enjoy this story, reviews are always welcome! I will try to update as often as possible. Of course, it is implied something between Draco/Hermione in the past, but nobody knows what the future holds. Well, except for me...

Anyway, on the with story!

"How cosy, mudblood," sneered Malfoy.

"ARGHHH," Hermione awoke screaming.

"Mummy, mummy, what is it?" James came running into the room after hearing Hermione's screams.

"It's okay darling, mummy was just having a nightmare," Hermione smiled reassuringly at her son. It had been seven years since she had left Hogwarts, and her son was now seven years old; quite a tall boy for his age, with white-blond hair and grey eyes. "Go back to bed, sweetheart, i'm sorry I woke you up. Here, i'll tuck you in," Hermione smiled at James and led him back to his room where she tucked him in and kissed him goodnight. Looking around before turning off the light, Hermione took in the navy blue colours of his favourite Quidditch team; Puddlemere United and turned to leave, smiling.

Looking at the clock, she noticed it was four am, and was very glad she was not working the next day. Hermione had secured herself a job at the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and had worked herself up to being the head. It was a tiring, complicated job, but Hermione loved it all the same.

Climbing out of bed the next morning, Hermione put on her slippers and walked downstairs to make breakfast for herself and James, who she could hear stirring. The smell of his breakfast must have found him at last, as he bounded down the stairs in his pyjamas, happy as a lark.

"Eat up, James, we're going to Diagon Alley today. I thought we could pop into Quality Quidditch Supplies and get you that new broom you wanted."

"Thanks Mum!"

Ten minutes later and Hermione and James were all ready to go, she took James' hand as they stepped into the fire, shouting 'Diagon Alley'.

"Come on, Mum!" James ran towards his favourite shop, dragging Hermione along behind him.

"Yes, alright, James!"

"It's that one there, Mum! The Firebolt 2.7!"

"Yes, that is an excellent choice if I say so myself, young man," a man whose voice Hermione vaguely recognised had crept up behind them and Hermione turned to face him, her face turning into a broad smile as she realised who it was.

"Oliver?"

"Hello, Hermione," Oliver Wood smiled at her, "and this must be your son?"

"Yes, this is little James."

"You're Oliver Wood! You play for my favourite team!" squealed James.

"You support Puddlemore United? I see you've raised him right, Hermione," laughed Oliver.

"Why, thankyou."

"I want to see you play, but Mummy says the tickets are too expensive," James looked at the floor with a solemn expression on his face.

"James! Apologise now, please," Hermione scorned him.

"Sorry," James had started to sulk behind Hermione.

"How about you two come and see me play tomorrow? I can get you into the top box, no charges of course," offered Oliver.

"Oh, I don't know -"

"Mummy, please!?" James whined and looked pleadingly up at his mother.

"For old times sake, Hermione? I mean, I owe you one for what you did at the Battle of Hogwarts, you saved us all, really..."

Hermione looked from Oliver to James, "Okay, fine, thankyou very much, that's really kind of you," she smiled.

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!" James had woken up early and was jumping up and down on Hermione's bed the next morning.

"James, are you alright? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Mum, it's just we get to go to the match today!"

"James Granger! It is seven in the morning. What have I told you about waking me up early?" Hermione started to sit up and wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

"Not to?"

'You certainly have your fathers cockiness' thought Hermione as she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Now, we have a fair few hours before the match starts, but since we're up, i'll make us a spot of breakfast."

It had reached quarter to eleven; Hermione was surprised James had managed to contain his excitement for so long. "I'm ready, Mum, can we go now?" James was waiting impatiently besides the fireplace, floo powder in his hand.

"James, put that powder down, I just need my wand," sighed Hermione, grabbing her coat and checking under her notebooks and folders sprawled out on the kitchen table.

"I was just going to put it in your hand..."

"That's neither here nor there," a busy Hermione said, still trying to find her wand. She looked in the kitchen cupboards and in between the magazine rack, when James had spotted it himself.

"It's there, Mum," James pointed to the sofa, while rolling his eyes. Overlooking this, Hermione took the powder from James and next minute they were outside Puddlemere Quidditch Stadium.

"Hermione and James Granger," Hermione spoke confidently to the bouncer checking the names of everyone heading up to the top box.

"So glad you could come," said Oliver, tearing himself away from a group of men in suits. "Would you like me to introduce you to a few people?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione took James' hand and led him over to the group of men.

"This is the Quidditch Captain Christopher Hugh -" Oliver went round the whole group, and tapped the last man on the shoulder as he was facing away, talking to a pretty brunette.

"- and this is Draco Malfoy, Manager and Owner, but you already know eachother, as I remember correctly," laughed Oliver.

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks; Hermione's eyes filled with fear and Draco's smile turned into a smirk as he held out his hand to her.

Hermione turned away from him and immediately took James' hand.

"Come on, James, we're leaving," a defiant Hermione spoke, with a trace of panic in her voice.

"Mummy, no! I won't go!" James wrenched his hand right out of Hermione's and went to stand beside Oliver, who patted James on the back.

"James Granger, come here, now," Hermione said coldly.

"Not married yet, Granger?" smirked Malfoy, the rest of the group snorted quietly amongst themselves. Yes, Draco Malfoy did seem to be the same nasty, cocky git he had always been at school. It seemed perfectly clear to Hermione that in the last seven years he had not grown up at all.

"Stop being mean to my Mum," James turned himself to Malfoy and glared at him.

"Fiesty little child you have here, Granger," remarked Malfoy.

"Hermione, let James stay, you can sit over here," reasoned Oliver, pointing to a space in the corner.

All eyes were on Hermione now as she looked from Oliver to Draco and back to her sons pleading face.

"Fine," the group had started to disperse now and Oliver took James over to the corner, "but you leave us alone, Malfoy, I mean it, or i'll -"

"Or you'll what, Granger? Cry? Whine? Or just do absolutely nothing?" Malfoy smirked as he turned his back on her, escorting the brunette over to the bar.