Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated characters, places, and objects are owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1: A Perfect Day

It happened during my favorite time of year.

I still remember the coolness of the autumn breeze against my face and the nearly tangible crispness of the air. Dressed in subtle orange hues with accents of brown, the leaves had been savoring their last remnants of color before winter had to take them away. The sky had been clear though nimbus clouds could have been seen forming just over the horizon, signaling rain the next day. Closing my eyes, I could still see the glittering specks in the painted black ocean of quiet that were the billions of stars of that night.

Looking back, it was as if the cosmos was there to be my audience, serene but critically assessing me. I had felt all of nature carrying me with it; and magic, not just of wizardry, but of Creation itself permeating my bones.

I was in love then. And the universe knew.

Tired after what seemed like hours of dancing, I was resting against the railings of the restaurant balcony. The place was quaint, its décor simple. It had the image of a home I'd always want to return to. I liked to think it was made just for me, but it was simply charmed to look that way, I was told. Other guests saw their own comforting images that made them want to go back here too. It was an illusion, though one I never decried against.

I was roused from my light-headedness by a touch to my arm. I turned to look at him.

"Hermione," Draco whispered, "would you like to have dessert?"

I took one last look at Creation and sighed.

"Okay. Shall we?"

He took my arm and I smiled up at him. For such a strong woman, I liked being protected in understated ways – like his arm around my person while we walked side by side. It was a secret only I knew; Draco thought I was merely indulging his Pureblood etiquette, and I was not one to tell him otherwise. He guided me to my chair while I was still thinking about being a proper "lady". Not a long while later, menus appeared before us. However, I had already decided what I wanted for dessert long before we even arrived at the restaurant.

I turned to our server and ordered, "Bread pudding please, with the vanilla cream. Thanks."

Draco rolled his eyes at me then. He ordered their newest offering, something exotic with a supposed Southeast Asian flair. It was typical of him, as it was typical of me to order the pudding. He never failed to try the new fare. He took risks with his food, and I think with his life in general, as well. He was never one to stick with something plain and safe. He liked to know if there were good things out there, something worth more than what he already had. He didn't believe in ever being able to get the best. He was sure that if he dared enough, something better would always appear. I was, in contrast, safe. I knew what I liked and what I didn't. I never tried things that seemed to be similar to ones I disliked before. I wasn't one to settle either, but I never challenged myself the way he did. No, I tried different things that I already knew I'd like. I would do this repeatedly until I finally got something I was sure I loved. After that, like my bread pudding, I would stick with it forever.

A peace settled between us, apparently in mimicry of the outside I had just pondered at before.

"Hermione." I looked up. "I have something to tell you."

I furrowed my brows at his tone of seriousness. I looked out towards the night again for reassurance. It was still quiet. It had kept its stillness, purposely it seemed. But whether in anticipation or anxiety, I knew not. I turned back to Draco and nodded for him to continue.

He was silent and uneasy for no more than ten seconds before he began. That was all that was necessary for me to know, though, that my heart would somehow fall victim that night.

"I've been seeing someone else."

It was only with the tightening of my grip that I noticed our hands clasped together over the table. I was shaking and I could feel my heart throbbing wildly as if trying to prove that it was not, in fact, irreparably broken. I knew I was angry, shocked – maybe. Hurt, disgust, and betrayal, I felt also as piercingly. But all the emotions struggling in me made me lose my proper bearings and control of my senses. As evidence, this was my reply:

"Oh."

He started to speak again, but then stopped when I lowered my head to look at the table instead. My hold on him slackened, I was still, and my heart slowed. The intensity of just a few milliseconds ago disappeared, replaced by hesitant tears forming in my eyes.

"Who is she?" I asked meekly, afraid to acknowledge the voice that was mine.

"I–" he began, but paused when he saw me shaking my head. "Astoria Greengrass."

"She's Senior Vice-President of Marketing for the company, isn't she?" I was surprised at the affability of my tone. I could only guess that he was taken aback as well.

"Yes," he said.

"Since when?"

"Please don't–"

"When?"

"A few months ago." His tone was uneven and weary; he was lying.

"Before Christmas," I replied, not needing his assent to know I had been right.

And then my last question:

"Who knows?"

"Hermi–"

"Answer, please."

He sighed, defeated, before saying, "Most of the executives in the office, my friends, and my parents. They all know."

The relationship I had valued the most had crumbled, while it appeared that all I was able to do was shake my head and utter two-worded statements. Needless to say, I was dazed, less due to his infidelity than my own stoniness.

My tears had begun falling sometime in the middle of our exchange. I let them fall. I was comforted by the sight of the trails of salty droplets on the table. They were proof that I was hurt, even though my head was forcing me to act otherwise. When I curled my fingers, I was surprised to find both of my hands resting in my lap. I didn't think I would be able to let go so soon.

With resolve, I wiped the tears from my cheeks though I was certain I hadn't run out of them yet.

I finally looked up at Draco.

"Okay," I said. There was hurt in my voice and I was audibly strained, but he was too shocked by my one-word reaction to say anything to comfort me. I stood up, and he would have followed my motion if it had not been for a stilling hand from me. "I don't think I have room for dessert, so please send my apologies to the chef for the trouble. Dinner was lovely. This restaurant always lightens my mood. Here's my share of the bill. Thank you, I enjoyed the evening very much."

With those words, I turned to go. But that same touch to my arm made me pause again. This time, I didn't look at him though. With my back still to him, I responded. "No, please don't get up. I can go home by myself, and it's such a beautiful night that I think I'd like to be alone for a while. I apologize for my abruptness, but dinner truly was lovely. Goodnight."

He dropped his hand, and then I left.

Stepping out onto the street, I immediately removed my heels and started running to my flat, all the while, finally letting myself cry without the conscience of pride.

The stars were still glowing bright, the breeze was still pleasantly murmuring, and the night itself was still as wonderful as when it began hours before. I, however, was different. My oneness with the cosmos was short-lived, for I could not appreciate how its beauty was making a mockery of my distress.

We had started dating late last August. He'd been seeing her for almost as long as he'd been with me. I knew I should have been furious, but all I could muster were tears and self-pity. I had been confident in our relationship, especially because Lucius and Narcissa seemed to be supportive of it. Now though, it all made sense that they were only too happy to accept me. They had known that Draco would be with Astoria, while I was merely his to drag along for the ride.

Thinking about all of this, though, I still had no ability to come up with the indignation that was clearly my right. I couldn't even fight for myself, let alone my relationship with him. And yet, it was my fighting spirit that made me refuse to look like a babbling idiot in front of him. Even with my senses all out of order, my vanity refused to let me shame myself. I did not want to be one of those many women in history who were incapacitated by their failures in love. It was this that made me so dispassionate during dinner.

But I wondered briefly if I wasn't like them after all, especially when the pain rendered me powerless to feel.

All throughout my life in the wizarding world, I had taught and told myself to be strong and independent. I could not let taunts of "Mudblood" make me feel inferior, and I most certainly could not let the Purebloods make me feel as if I did not belong. Deep inside, maybe this was how I treated Draco's betrayal, a Pureblood joke. Asking him to stay with me would show him how weak I was and how necessary his presence was for me to function. Showing him my weakness would only expose me to even more pain. Yet how he could have given me more pain, I was unsure of. He'd hurt me enough for me to know that I'd never feel worse.

As a Muggle-born, I had to struggle and fight. Reading any History of Magic textbooks would prove this fact. But I had fought more for my relationship with Draco than for anything else. It wasn't even society I was fighting with, but myself. A part of me was certain that I would get hurt, but I was stubborn. I clung to every single good deed he did after the war just to prove that he was indeed worthy of me. I was selfish for wanting us to be together, but I wanted the magical world to look at me with more than just a sideways glance. I believed I deserved more, and being with Draco made me feel that way. I gained the respect of people who otherwise would have scoffed at my presence. I honestly had used Draco more than he could ever have used me. And maybe I was being punished because of that fact, or maybe he knew and thought I had never even loved him.

That thought was deceptive though. Not only was it a lie, but it would only give me false hope to think that way.

I was running faster than I ever had before, even when all of me was aching to stop. Apparently my body was also tired of all the fighting, but I pushed myself even more because of it. I needed to know I was strong; I needed to know I could survive. I forced adrenaline through me, so much so that the difference between the fight and flight responses became blurred. I was running away because I wanted to fight. I was running away because I could not let him think he won. I was running so I didn't have to succumb to the pain of staying and knowing how wrong and how idiotic I've been.

Once again, I found myself looking up at the stars. For the first time in my life, I caught myself wishing that I had paid more attention in Divination. No doubt my stellar companions were warning me before of my ruinous fate. The universe had been telling me all night that I simply wasn't compatible with the setting, or the man for that matter. I had been looking at the night all wrong. It was not insulting me; I was insulting it for even believing I had a place in it.

Draco needed someone who could be both weak and strong. He needed a woman who was unafraid of appearing vulnerable. The picture of Astoria Greengrass in my head fit the description perfectly. She had pushed away the machismo in Malfoy International and rose on her own merit. She could debate any of the executives in the boardroom, and I had often seen Draco and her arguing, with her winning many times. But at the same time, it was not hard to imagine her weak-kneed and doe-eyed at the mercy of her lover. She never would have let a strong corporate life invade any aspect of her personal relationships. Although both Draco and she were at fault for the disaster that caused my relationship's demise, I could not see her manipulating Draco into cheating on me. As ruthless as she was at work, she really was quite charming personally.

I was incapable of truly blaming Draco too. I loved him still. And as misplaced as that love was, it gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, a tradition of forthrightness within myself forced me to concede that Draco did love me, and just as much as I loved him, in fact. He had never meant to hurt me. His infidelity was not borne out of scorn or spitefulness, though it was only too easy to excuse it as such. No, I was certain Draco's discontent with our relationship was due to something I lacked. Not one to settle with mediocrity, he looked for another who could actually satisfy him. I could have hated him for his single-minded insensitivity, but the cloud of reason hanging over me was telling me that doing so would have merely been my defense mechanism against further responsibility.

The blame was fully on my shoulders. I was the one who trusted unwisely. All my belief in my reasoning had led me to think that my judgment was infallible. I should have seen the signs. I should have been warier of taking our relationship further. But most of all, I should have let myself be weak.

I had rarely let Draco see me as a woman, if I had ever let him at all. I never gave him a chance to guide me along like he was wont to do. He wanted to shield me from criticism and hate, but I was not one to shy away. Rather, I pursued and confronted all of the negativity that came my way. He wanted me to feel loved, and for me to willingly accept it. I had been suspicious though, and scared of anything offered freely. I didn't want him to dominate me either, so every decision in our relationship had to be fought through – tooth and nail. I had always been proud of this. But looking back, if I had let him have his way sometimes, without fighting him, maybe he wouldn't have seen it necessary to be with another woman, someone who could actually act like a woman.

But irony of ironies was that at that very moment, I was the picture of female vulnerability. I was irrational, teary, and scared. Any knight would have seen me a prime catch for saving.

But my knight was never there in the first place. He was too busy serving someone else. Or maybe he just grew tired of waiting for me. I wasn't quite sure anymore.

I thought myself stupid for falling in too deep, but maybe I should have just let myself fall. I was too distracted by the consequences of any act to be able to just enjoy being with him. The one thing I loved the most was the one thing I could not even let myself fight for in the traditional sense. I was truly a fool.

These thoughts ran through my mind, while my hair was lashing at me from the force of the wind and my run. Every part of me seemed to be punishing me. My legs were sore but refused to give way, making my dash torturous. My lungs were already out of air, but my brain controlled me to take shallower and shallower breaths. My heart was thrusting against my ribs feverishly, but it did not want to rest at all in its furious quest to pump life through me. My eyes were sore from all my crying, but they never did still the tears that came. My body was angry at me. It believed me worthy of punishment.

I believed I was worthy of punishment. The universe thought me ridiculous. And Draco saw me as pathetic.

It didn't occur to me then that I should have been relieved that I was no longer being cheated on. All I could think of was my shortcomings on everything. I needed to get away from the responsibility. I pushed reason to the back of my mind and let myself just feel the irrational emotions that were frantic to get through.

I was being driven by pure instinct now. And instinct told me to run from the hurt.

I arrived at my flat with my feet bruised and wounded, but I ignored the injuries. I had no time to clean myself up. I was quickly charming all of my clothing to fit in one suitcase. Thoughtless of matching my attire, I donned running shoes before leaving. And ignoring the driver's worried looks at my appearance, I hailed a cab.

Within an hour of leaving the restaurant, I had already bought a ticket to Australia and was waiting in the lounge area of Heathrow. I stayed with my parents in Perth for a while. Knowing it was not magic I was running away from, but love, they never asked any questions. My mum would hug me tight now and then, and my Dad would smile at me as if saying that it all would pass. I was restless though, and after a week, I left to wherever my feet would carry me. I traveled around the world for a year. I never thought about him, that night, or the wisdom of my actions. I indulged in the illogic of my heart and took part in any momentary respite it wished for.

I kept contact with my parents, and through them, with Harry and Ron as well. They all understood and they never asked me to "go home". I eventually settled in Silicon Valley, San Francisco. I was pleasantly surprised by the growing magical community there. They were similar to the magical folk in Europe, but they appreciated the Muggle technology from the place too much to ever stray far from the non-magical lifestyle. It was the bridge connecting magic and Muggle.

Mum and Dad were quite happy that I was at a place where Muggles were respected. They never did voice their worries, but I knew they were afraid of me leaving my whole Muggle upbringing before. While I had been in London, a part of me grew to accept that the Muggle lifestyle could not simply keep up with my magic and that I had to sacrifice most, if not all, of my heritage. But staying in the Muggle technology hub made me realize how prejudiced I had become. I had taken it for granted that magic was better and Muggles were simply getting by. I was quickly cured of those thoughts.

American wizards and witches shared a colonial past with American Muggles, so there were very few who actually were Pureblood bigots. But even among the Purebloods, most considered a marriage to a talented and promising Muggle-born better than a marriage to a rich but simple-minded Pureblood. Their young history made the two cultures intertwine. A love for liberty and individualism grew from their hatred of oppression, and struggling for their freedom made them value self-made men and hard work. In the 20th century, this translated into making work more efficient and convenient.

With their closeness to the Muggles, the magical folk in Silicon Valley couldn't help but notice the ease of the modern Muggle lifestyle, so their interest was obviously piqued. I applied for a researching position in one of many start-ups in the community. The people there were all young, wide-eyed, and idealistic. Curiously, I fit right in. We worked on projects as mundane as magical fluorescent lighting, to inventions as futuristic as time-space turners. The American magical community, it seemed, was not impervious to the marvel that was Apollo 11 either.

After three years, we had become a Silicon Valley success story, and I, the proud Director for Research and Development of Graphel Inc.

(Though I didn't want to bore you with the details, I love my company enough to explain the name. It was inspired by Microsoft and Apple, two Muggle technology behemoths. Long explanation cut short, Microsoft used the name of something cutting-edge then, microchips, while Apple used something simple and common. Graphel is a combination of grapheme, which scientists say have a huge potential to better technology, and gravel, which is simply the ground we walk on. Basically, the Board wanted to instill in our clients the fact that our company will be the foundation for future technology. Genius I think, but not many people care, disappointingly enough.)

I've returned during, apparently, the worst and hottest time of the year.

Now I can only feel the humidity of summer against my face and the thickness of the exhaust pervading the air. The leaves are green and healthy, exuding an assuredness in life, as if unaware that there is such a thing as winter. The sky is blue, but knowing London, a light drizzle will surely be part of the afternoon. Inhaling the essence of the day, I could feel the sun cheerily egging on the hustle of the busy streets.

And here I am, wondering if this is the right time to be back. Here I am mulling over the events of four years ago, especially that night of my run.

I am anxious to Floo Harry and Ron, neither of whom have any idea of my homecoming. However, I am scared of seeing the patches left of my life back here. I don't know what to make of the press, and I don't know how to ignore the stares that will surely be coming my way.

Although I am here for work, it would be foolishly hopeful of me to think that I could still isolate myself from the past. I have to acknowledge that it will be catching up with me now that I am back. I have to take responsibility for my life, outside of work. True, I'm here to represent my company, but more than that, I'm here to present myself – changed, whole, and better.

With that reasoning, I entered the Leaky Cauldron with confidence and certainty, though I couldn't help but notice how I was worrying my engagement ring round and round my finger all the while.

A/N: Applause for my wonderful beta Mystical Spirits; without her, this fic would go nowhere. Also, I'd like to thank my Japanese friend who's unconscious encouragement made me pick up writing again, and my Social Science professor who was so boring that I had to do something else while he babbled on.