A/N- Hello everyone! A new Harry Potter series for me, set five years after

graduation. The gang's all here, but they're quite different. Check it out and

leave me a review--it's finally summer so I actually have time to

work on this fic! Yay! Review and I'll update!

Disclaimer- Oh, if only Harry Potter and his gang belonged to me. But they don't.

They belong to the brilliant J.K. And the lyrics at the end belong to Amy Lee and

Seether's song "Broken."

REUNION

Ch. 1

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Rain pounded down on the slick city streets. Draco Malfoy stalked through the streets back to his hotel room. He could've just apparated, but it had a been a horrible Quidditch game, and he needed to cool off. Thus, the brooding in the rain.

He finally reached the five-star hotel, walking through the revolving door and ignoring the looks of dissent from employees as he dripped all over their floor.

"Dissato." He said absently withdrawing his wand, his body drying immediately.

His teammate, a tall, burly Beater named Eric Langly, came out of the elevator at that moment.

He smiled when seeing Draco, slapping him on the shoulder as they fell in step together. Draco tried to be manly and not wince.

"Harry just sent me down to look for you."

"Well, no worries. I didn't kill myself."

"Although after that game, who could blame you?"

"No joke." Draco nodded in consensus.

"Oh well- we play France tomorrow. It'll be better. Take them down a peg or two. Have you been reading the interviews with them? They think this game's all bloody wrapped up with a bow for them."

"Bloody French." Draco said under his breath as they got back on the elevator.

"You know who they say's coming to the game tomorrow?" Eric looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"The Pope." Draco said sarcastically.

"No. Hermione Granger."

"Granger? Who the hell cares if that ugly Mudblood comes?" Draco rolled his eyes, masking surprise. He hadn't heard her name in five years.

"Don't you know? She's running for Minister of Magic in France."

"No kidding? Shows how far downhill the Ministry's gone since my father died." Draco laughed bitterly.

"How do you know her?"

"Went to school with her."

"Really? Well, she's not so ugly now, judging from those campaign posters plastered all over town."

"She never was one for doing things halfway." Draco said, bored with the subject of Hermione already.

"Well, anyway, Harry's all beside himself with excitement. Says she's a really good friend he's lost touch with due to all this whirlwind Quidditch traveling." Eric shrugged, walking off the elevator, Draco behind him.

Draco snorted derisively.

"Well, if Weasel comes, it'll be a bloody reunion."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

Draco came into his blissfully peaceful and dark hotel room, peeling off his sticky wet clothes and wrapping a towel around his waist to go take a shower. Suddenly, the door opened, revealing a soaking wet Ginny Weasley.

"Hey." She said nonchalantly.

"Gin. What are you doing here?"

"We lowly Quidditch reporters are, without exception, put in the worst hotels in town. I stole your spare key earlier at lunch, and figured I'd just pay you a visit." She said, coming in, sitting on the bed and clicking on the TV.

Draco stared at her for a second.

"Oh, don't mind me. Strip away."

"I was just going to take a shower."

"Well, darn, I was expecting a dance." Ginny smiled.

Draco shook his head, grinning, walking into the bathroom and leaving the door open so they could still talk.

"So, you guys sucked today." Ginny called, clicking through channels.

"Well, thank you as always, for breaking your opinion to me so gently." Draco called back.

"You better step it up tomorrow, or France is just going to gloat some more. And interviewing them after victories has proved them to be even more annoying than they usually are in general."

"I know. Eric was telling me about all the crap they've been telling the papers. Hey, you know what else he told me?" Draco said, laughing slightly.

"What?"

"Hermione Granger's running for the Minister of Magic in France. She's coming to game tomorrow—probably for good PR or something."

"Yeah, I heard. Well, come on, we all knew she'd eventually take over the world." Ginny shrugged.

"You were friends with her, right?"

"Yeah, in the "you're-dating-my-brother" kind of way."

"Let me guess- she married Weasel and they have sickening amounts of children, and he'll soon be the First Lady of France."

Ginny sighed.

"Hardly. Things did not end so well in the tragic tale of Hermione and Ron."

"Okay, I'll pretend to care. Tell the story." Draco got out of the shower, toweling off his hair and walking back in the room.

"Oh, but your beautiful form is too distracting. Please put something on before I pass out from lust." Ginny said sarcastically.

"Fine." Draco pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt, sitting in the chair opposite her.

"Well, it's kind of a long, involved and quite angsty story." Ginny sighed.

"Cliffnotes version."

"In their seventh year, Hermione got recruited to this really prestigious program in France, and of course she was all excited, but Ron already had a job in Britain with Dad, blah blah blah, 'Why can't you just be happy for me?' 'How could you choose your career over me?'….you get the picture. They broke up, and as far as Ron's told Harry, they haven't spoken since."

She finished, looking over at Draco. He was feigning sleep.

"Draco, come on. You said you wanted to hear the story."

Draco grinned, opening his eyes.

"I'm kidding. Very good story, Gin. Compelling, and I especially liked the uncanny impressions of them."

"Well, thank you. In my opinion, she broke my brother's heart and therefore I am familiarly obliged to be pissed at her. So, tomorrow should be interesting."

"Yes, it should."

"And also- Ron's coming to watch Harry play and catch up and all that. He has no idea she'll be there."

"You didn't tell him?"

Ginny shook her head, grinning wickedly.

"You little vixen." Draco smiled back.

"Well, put those two anywhere near each other, they either start yelling or snogging each other senseless. Often both in the span of a conversation. Which you know, is always interesting."

Draco wrinkled his nose.

"I don't really want to think about them snogging."

"Sorry. How about you just snog ME senseless instead?"

"I like that game much better." Draco smiled, getting out of his chair.

He kissed her, and deliciously slow kiss. Ginny's hands tangled in his always soft platinum blond hair as the kiss deepened, biting his lower lip.

"Hey, no biting." He said, against her mouth.

"Oh, just take it, you girl." She grinned back, kissing him again.

After awhile longer of this, Draco's hands began to work at her maddeningly sexy business jacket.

She pulled away, grinning.

"I'm kind of tired."

"Okay, it should be illegal to do that to a man." Draco sighed.

"Hey, we're friends with benefits, darling. But not THAT many benefits." She smiled, standing up and grabbing one of his shirts from the drawer.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a shower. I'm still all gross from trudging here in the rain."

"Care for some company?"

"Not particularly. Entertain yourself for a couple of minutes. And please, resist the temptation to turn that into a double entendre."

Draco sighed, falling back on the 500-thread count pillows.

"What a tease." He sighed under his breath, smiling slightly all the same.

Harry stood before the French Quidditch pitch, cracking his knuckles. It was a cold, dreary morning, and he felt really stiff. He must've slept strange. Not good. They had to hand the French their arses for the Brits to maintain any shred of dignity.

"Lovely morning." Draco grinned, suddenly next to him.

"Yeah, bloody fantastic." Harry sighed as a slight mist fell around them.

"So Eric told me Hermione's coming today."

"That'll be so strange seeing her."

"You two were friends for a long time." Draco commented.

"Yeah. But you never know- I mean, we've all changed a lot since Hogwarts. I'm sure she has too."

Draco conceded with a nod. Harry looked over at him, grinning slightly.

"Did Gin tell you Ron's coming?"

"She mentioned it. I would pay to see the look on Weasel's face when he sees his ex has turned into some political ballbuster. They really haven't talked at all? In five years?"

"No. Not one letter."

"Weird. As I recall, they were inseparable to the point of being sickening while we were at school."

"I know." Harry said a little sadly.

"Get over it, Harry. I'm sure Ron's got some new girl with equal inadequacies to have mass amounts of children with by now."

"He doesn't. We've kept up." Harry said.

Draco just shrugged, tired of talking about them.

"We should go to the locker room. I'm sure, as our Captain, you have a rousing speech prepared." Draco said, abruptly changing the subject.

"I thought I'd just stammer incoherently." Harry grinned.

"Wouldn't want to break with tradition." Draco rolled his eyes, and they headed to the locker room.

Hermione ran a hand through her perfectly straightened hair, looking out at the dreary weather.

"Damn it. This will make all my photo ops just lovely." She rolled her eyes, looking over at campaign manager, an impeccably dressed Frenchman named Michel.

"It will be the windblown look." He grinned.

"Well, we might as well get out there. Maybe we can get some pictures with the team before the game starts." She said, still messing with her hair.

"What's wrong, Hermione? You seem nervous."

"Oh—oh, nothing. Just…an old friend of mine plays for Britain. We haven't spoken in years."

"Who is it?"

"I'm sure you've heard of him. Harry Potter? Practically saved the entire wizardring world five years ago? Then disappeared into the blissful and paradoxical anonymity of Quidditch fame—all he gets asked about now is his brilliant Snitch save." She smiled.

"The name doesn't ring a bell." Michel said sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up. Let's go—maybe I can say hello."

"That won't look too good for your campaign. Fraternizing with the enemy." Michel pointed out.

"I'll take the risk. No one's in the stands this early. It'll be our little secret." She said, exiting the limo into the damp morning air.

"Let's show the French that we're the kind of team all of you know we can be! They've been talking smack all week, but I say—we let our actions speak and shut them up for good." Harry spoke to his team, met with rousing cheers.

A clapping broke through the cheers.

"Bloody brilliant speech, mate." Harry heard a familiar voice.

Ron stood there in the door, smiling at his best friend.

"Ron! Great to see you!" Harry broke away from the team as they all strapped on their gloves and padding.

"It's been too long." Ron caught Harry in the manly two-pat hug, grinning widely.

"No kidding. Thanks so much for coming all this way."

"Cheer you on to victory against those bloody arrogant no-talent blokes? I wouldn't miss it." Ron grinned.

"How's Ministry work treating you?" Harry asked, going to strap on his gloves and padding as well, Ron following.

"Can't complain." Ron shrugged.

"Well, I can't wait to hear everything after the game. But we better go warm up."

"Sounds great. Have you seen Gin around? Mum wants a full update on her 'new, exciting career'."

"Oh, I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

"Not bugging you too much, is she?" Ron asked.

"Oh, no. She's great—always makes us look really good in her broadcasts."

"All right, I better go find her and get a seat."

"See you after."

Ron nodded, smiling and turning to go, but running smack into someone.

"Oh, sor-" He stopped dead, unable to speak from shock.

Harry looked over nd saw Hermione, looking if possible, even smarter and prettier in a blue pinstripe business jacket and blue skirt

"Ron. Wasn't aware you'd be here." She said, her voice emotionless, but her hands shaking slightly.

"Likewise." Ron looked at her, feeling such a miasma of emotions that he couldn't quite pinpoint one.

"Hey, Hermione." Harry broke the awkward silence.

"Harry! It's been ages!" Hermione pushed past Ron, hugging Harry tightly.

"Thanks for coming. Congratulations on your nomination." He said, releasing her as Ron still looked on in shock.

"Nomination?" Ron looked even more confused.

"Yes. For Minister of Magic in France," she turned to him.

"Oh, well, you must feel so lucky. Finally getting everything you always wanted." Ron said harshly, the tension palpable between them.

"Thank you. I do." Hermione said, her voice equally cold.

"All right, all right, let's break up this little lovefest. We've got a game to play." Draco pushed between them, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him away from his two friends as the rest of the team followed.

Ron and Hermione were left alone in the locker room.

"Don't you need to go? I'm sure you've got lots of important people to meet and a very busy day of pretending to care if France wins the game so you can secure more votes." Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron. Please, enlighten me with what you've done with your life that makes you so damn superior." Hermione crossed her arms.

"Well, not selling out would be the first thing I've done. Not abandoning all my friends would be the second. Not turning into some ice queen bitch with no one left who actually cares about her would be the third."

"You're breaking my heart, really."

Ron looked at her in disbelief.

"I tried to tell you this would happen." He said quietly.

"What? That I'd grow up? Feel free to join the rest of us in adult world when you get rid of your juvenile delusions of a happy ending."

He didn't answer her. A long, weighted silence fell.

"I don't have time for this." Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to leave.

"I just hope it was worth it." Ron said softly, but she heard him.

She stopped; her back to him.

"If you trying to get an apology for not wanting to be your little wife who stays at home while you make a few dollars at a thankless Ministry job-"

"You know that's not what I wanted!" Ron couldn't help replying, his voice rising in frustration and anger.

She spun around.

"Then what did you want?" She yelled back, emotions finally cracking her icy exterior.

Years of unanswered questions hung between them as they looked at each other, breathing heavily from shouting.

"Hermione?" Michel walked into the locker room, looking at Ron in confusion.

"Yes?" Hermione said distractedly.

"We need you- it's meet and greet time."

"Right. Fine." She said, still unable to look away from Ron.

Michel looked between them, confused.

"Hermione, we've got to go."

"Okay." She finally looked away, following Michel.

"You look all flushed. You ready to go?" Michel said critically as they left Ron alone in the locker room.

"Of course." She fixed her hair, and put a practiced smile on her face as they crossed the field to the French team.

cause i'm broken...

when i'm lonesome...

and i don't feel right...

when you've gone away

A/N- As I said, it's finally summer, and I've got loads of free time for updating-

so drop me a review, and I'll keep those chapters coming!