The day had been long and tiring, and all she wanted was to get home to her flat where she could kick off her shoes, turn on some music, drink a glass of wine and soak in a hot tub. She gathered the work files she needed to finish over the weekend and stuffed them into her black briefcase. Snapping the case shut, she grabbed her coat off the hook on the back of her office door and set off at a brisk pace down the marble hallway towards the exit of the building.
Since the end of the Second War, she had finished her schooling, earning 10 N.E.W.T.s when she was finally tested, and finished internships with several different specialists in her various fields of interest. The past five years had been full of her favorite things – learning, reading and researching – but that had come at the cost of her personal relationships. Her love life was sporadic and her friendships, while close, were to be called, at best, "sparse". Still, she felt it was a fair trade-off, because she was now a researcher for the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Research and Development.
She mostly focused on potions and their uses for treating and healing all forms of maladies. She also taught the occasional Advanced Potions seminar for Seventh Year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She smiled as she thought of the young, eager faces who had attended her last eight week series of classes to learn the basics of potion research. She was hardly old, but the students had such youthful, innocent expressions that she often felt much more closely connected to the staff and Professors than she did to the students who were a mere five years younger than she.
As the main entrance hall of her office building came into sight, she moved quickly towards the line of fireplaces against the back wall. Her department was not housed in the main Ministry of Magic building, but was instead tucked into a building with laboratories and safety equipment in order to carry out the necessary experiments and research with which they were involved. Still, the row of fireplaces with witches and wizards moving smoothing in and out of the flames as they used the Floo Network always brought to mind the larger Ministry building with it's vast number of fireplaces and the constant movement of visitors in and out of the building.
Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she stepped into the flames and called out her destination, one of her favorite restaurants in Diagon Alley. She would grab some take-out for dinner, then walk the short distance to her flat above Flourish and Blotts. Really, was there a more perfect place to live, than right above her favorite bookstore? Perhaps if she could have a bed in the midst of a library, but other than that, she couldn't think of anything more ideal. She still had a smile upon her face at that thought as she stepped from the fireplace near the entrance of Spree, the newest trendy restaurant in the Wizarding community.
The hostess, a young witch named Cassandra, smiled and greeted her by name. "Miss Granger! How nice to see you!" She smiled with real pleasure at seeing one of her favorite customers. "Will you be eating here this evening, or shall I put in your usual order for take away in the kitchen?"
"Hi, Cassie. I think I'm going to have to go for my usual at home tonight. This week has been exhausting and I am ready to just go home and collapse with a good book."
"Absolutely. I'll get your order placed right away. It should be about 10 minutes until it's ready." With a smile, the hostess turned and made her way to the kitchen to place Hermione's order, which rarely varied. The restaurant specialized in many different types of cuisines, and encouraged it's guests to sample several different small entrees rather than ordering one larger one. They wanted the customers to feel as though they were on a quest to experience multiple flavors and cuisines, hence the name "Spree".
Hermione loved being able to eat different types of foods with the convenience of stopping in only one restaurant, and the smaller portions helped her to keep her figure trim, which wasn't easy with the many hours she spent sitting at desks or bent over a laboratory table at work. She was wearing a midnight blue skirt that fell to just above her knees and a sheer white blouse with pearl buttons, the top two carelessly unfastened to show her slender neck and some of the smooth skin of her chest. She was slender but shapely, and taller than most people expected her to be. She usually wore a lab coat at work, but due to meetings and conferences with various ministry officials throughout her day, she dressed professionally even though she often was wearing the boring white coat of her profession.
She heaved a sigh to catch her breath after the hustle of leaving work and looked around the restaurant. Her deep brown eyes moved over the various tables and booths of the stylish dining area. The walls were a light gold color, almost like a Tuscan villa blanketed with rays of summer sunshine, and the floors were a gorgeous Brazilian hardwood. The tables had chairs with a rich burgundy brocade fabric with gold fleur-de-lis embroidered with regular spacing across them, and the booths also used that fabric for their seats. Small sets of 3 pillar candles glowed from the center of each table. Overall, it was a very relaxing and comfortable room.
It was too early to be crowded, but most of the booths and several of the tables at the center of the room were occupied, and a light hum of conversation and laughter rose above the sounds of the jazz music playing and silverware clinking from the waitservice area. With her lightweight Burberry coat hanging over her hands, clutching her briefcase in front of her, she leaned back against the wall in the entrance area and put one high-heeled foot against the wall to relieve the pressure on at least one of her tired feet. She enjoyed people-watching while she waited for her food.
Cassandra led several couples of varying ages to seats in the dining area and one rowdy group of men dressed in business suits, their neckties loosened and jackets unbuttoned. Hermione smiled at the obvious signals that they were celebrating the beginning of the weekend, and she didn't envy the poor waiter or waitress who would be helping them. No amount of money was worth dealing with a bunch of men trying to deny their receding hairlines and advancing waistlines with vast quantities of Firewhiskey and bad jokes, she thought ruefully. Her twinkling eyes met Cassandra's as the hostess walked back to her stand, smiling at Hermione while she rolled her eyes in tacit agreement with her assessment.
The front doors opened once again and a wave of chilly air blew in, moving her shoulder-length curls back from her temples. She saw a tall, blonde woman walking through as the door was held by a man in a dark coat. The woman moved with the grace and poise of someone who had spent her whole life expecting the world to open her doors and push in her chairs. Her lilting laughter carried to Hermione as she turned her head back to respond to what her escort was saying. She was dressed in a well-tailored olive coat with a wide belt and knee high black leather boots. Her silky hair was caught up in a graceful chignon that Hermione knew she could never manage with her wild mane of waves and curls.
As the couple stepped into the restaurant, Hermione's heart gave an extra beat as she realized who the man holding the door was … Malfoy. As in, Draco Malfoy. As in king of the asswipes who had made much of her life a living hell when she was younger. The smile on his lips faded as his eyes lit on Hermione, narrowing as he took in the sight of his favorite school-days punching bag. She met his gaze steadily, ready as always to engage in the verbal duels for which they were known. She hadn't seen him in years, but he really hadn't changed much. She quickly took in the details of his appearance – expensive wool suit, expensive wool top coat, shiny black dress shoes, tall and slender frame, pale blond hair falling almost into his eyes – and yes, the smirk was in place and the piercing grey eyes the color of steel were boring into her in that way she remembered oh so well.
He gave her a barely perceptible nod of his head, then turned to the waiting hostess, his hand resting on the small of his date's back as he guided her to their table. Hermione watched their progress with no emotion on her face, wondering what the lovely woman could possibly find attractive about the man she was with. Yes, he was outwardly good looking. Perhaps he could even be considered very good looking.
'Oh bloody hell, Hermione. He's freaking hot. Just admit that,' she thought to herself. 'Okay, okay. So he's hot. But what does that matter in the face of his arrogance, which he clearly still has in spades, and his lack of personality and his sarcastic sense of humor and his obvious love of himself? Who would want to spend more than a night or two in the company of someone whose head was so big he needed an extra room for it when he went to bed at night? Oh, yeah … someone who could put up with all of that if maybe, just maybe, they could end up married to his fortune … er, to him, I mean.' She gave a snort of laughter at her thoughts as Cassandra came towards her with the white bag holding her food.
"Here you are, Miss Granger. I charged it to your account." The hostess smiled as she handed the bag to her, and Hermione returned her smile as she gave her thanks.
"I'll see you soon, probably next week, Cassie. Thanks for the great service, as always." She gave a wave as she began to move to the door to head home. From the corner of her eye, she saw those grey eyes watching her. As she used her rump to bump open the glass door behind her, Hermione met his gaze once again, allowing her eyes to move to the back of his date's queenly head, then back to him. The last thing he saw before she turned around was her smirk. The smirk. After all, she had learned it from the best.
He sat there wondering if he should be flattered or offended that she had used his time-honored weapon of sarcasm to clearly convey her message of just what she thought of his date. He gave a rueful chuckle and shook his head, thinking back to the last couple of years they had been at Hogwarts. He would never want to go back, and yet, there was still a twinge of wistfulness when he thought of the things that had happened as time marched towards the inevitable war. He still waged an internal battle with himself over the things he had done and the choices he had made. For those like him, the war may never really be over. He sighed as the voice of his date brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned his attention back to the lovely, if vapid, woman sitting in front of him.