Summary: Hermione's life has gone before her eyes, full of wishing she could have fixed things. What happens when she gets that opportunity? And what happens when she encounters a young Draco Malfoy, the rival of her childhood? Does she get revenge, or something else?

I do not own or am no way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or the Harry Potter franchise. I wish I was though. That'd fucking amazing.

Anyways, enjoy!

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Song Rec for this chapter is "So Ordinary"- Ryan Star

Reminder: This is a Dramione. Draco will be in the next chapter, I promise!

Second Chances

Isn't it funny how light is only relevant if it is compared with dark?

Light in itself is unnoticeable, blending in with the background. But with darkness, light is vibrant. Light is beautiful. Light is shining.

"Well, I don't understand why we should have any complications, then. She's agreed to take to dose of veritaserum and present her case to court. We've got more than sufficient evidence to prove she's guilty, add a confession and it's fair game," Hermione said over the the corded phone on her desk, which had restricted her pacing room."Relax, Hannah. We've got this. We've been doing cases like these for twenty years. Get some sleep and I'll meet you tomorrow outside of the Ministry's north entrance. Yes, at eight. Goodnight."

Hermione put down the phone in its place and groaned of fatigue. She ran the tips of her fingers through the front of her hair, most of which was pulled up in a tight bun. She felt the clumps of hair break from one another, eyeing the small white powders of worn out hairspray that floated in the air before her. The witch felt herself becoming tired more easily-it was bound to happen sooner or later, with over two decades of overtime put in.

It was worth it for her, for she was Hermione Granger, Head of the Department of Magical Law. She was the youngest to achieve this position. Given she was approaching the 60 mark, she still beat out Arthur Phyllman, her closest competitor, who's youngest age in office was at 75.

Her life could be personified as a medal of achievement. Meaningful, and desired by many others, but in actuality it was just cold and lonely. She gathered various files and papers and sorted them into their places into her black leather briefcase.

Her short heels clicked against the granite floor in her office. She scanned her office one last time to check if she'd forgotten anything. She hadn't. Her office was clean and organized, as expected from her. She had only one photograph on her desk, withered and slightly torn from the wearing of many years, but preserved by a silver frame. It was a photo of her in her youth-joined by Ron Weasley and Harry Potter at her side.

They would always be her first and best friends, even though she hadn't spoken to Harry face-to-face in over a decade. Sure there were letters here and there, but nothing even remotely close to what it had been in their youth. The battle had tied the trio together, a bond like that could never be broken. They were connected by the adventures and events of their youth, internal ties that could never be broken. She still exchanged owls with him every other week, after all this time.

As for Ron, sadly, things weren't as simple as that. After the battle, he'd declared his love for her. Hermione declared hers, and their story slowly progressed from there-until about thirty years ago, when she was in her late twenties. She'd been certain they were going to end up together, she was so used to being with him. She'd never known anything else, really. Her confidence in him seemed so legitimate, she didn't even have a doubt before he rejected her proposal. She had asked him to marry her, being as strong-minded and confident as she was. She'd reasoned the only explanation he hadn't done so himself was timidness.

They were at the Weasley Burrow, which was rarely unoccupied except for themselves. They'd just finished the dinner she made, and Hermione had invited him to come outside with her under the night sky. He joined her, unaware of her intention. The question then left her lips in a hopeful smile, only to meet the dumbstruck, blank expression that Ron was portraying. "'Mione," he said to her, "I've been with you as long as I can remember, and I've only really thought about being with you. But, I think it's because I've only been with you. You can't know until you try other things to compare it to, I guess," he shrugged, almost nonchalantly deflecting her offer.

Without another word, she gathered her things and left to spend the night at The Leaky Cauldron.

Between then and the accidental encounter at the pub, every owl he sent was ignored, the letters acting as kindle in the flames she produced from her fireplace. Her heart had been broken beyond repair, her entire view on the world had changed. It used to be filled with optimism and a bright future, now replaced with discourtesy and conformity. She had begun to focus on her blossoming career, succumbing to the conformity of government employment.

One select night after a long and tedious day at her work, she decided to stop at the closest pub she could find and cut loose for the night. She entered the facility and headed straight to the bar, ordering a raw shot of gin. As the bartender prepared her second round, she heard the the door shut across the room.

She wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for the shaggy ginger mop of hair on his head. The hair she used to love, the hair she used to run her fingers through. Part of it was her blurring vision, but he had changed as well. He'd grown noticeably rounder, and had a severe case of a five o' clock shadow.

He noticed her instantly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. It'd been about a year since he turned her down, a year since they've spoke. He greeted her in an awkward hug which left one of her arms squished between his protruding gut and her own stomach. He asked the standard small talk questions; about work, hobbies, etc. She heard a high pitched beeping noise coming from him and eyed him, confused.

He excused himself and crossed the room. Hermione was a bit intoxicated by this point, so she stumbled over to where he was standing in the opposite corner of the room.

"I know...Yeah I'll be home in a bit...No I'm all set...You sure, I'm driving by...Alright then, I'll see you at home. Love you too," he mumbled into his cellphone.

Hermione was a good two feet behind him, clumsily eavesdropping. He turned and she was directly in front of him

"Who was that?" she spat.

Ron's already coloured cheeks had grown red, and Hermione leaned on one of her hips and crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Erm.."Mione there's something I need to tell you."

Outisiders saw a disgusted Hermione smack Ron across the face before huffing out the door, leaving him with the check.

In one year, not only had he had another girlfriend, but he married her too. She had what Hermione wanted most, she was in Hermione's spot. She had to literally bite her tongue to not cause a scene. She couldn't cause a scene, she was Hermione Granger. She had a reputation to uphold. She had to watch her tongue, no matter where she was. She'd do anything to maintain her golden image.

She lay in her bed that night, a few bottled of various liquids strewn about her normally pristine room. Before then, she'd never really let go. She always had this sliver of hope in her heart that he'd realize that she was his, and come to claim her like they did in those muggle movies her Mum used to watch. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the heaviness of the situation, but everything around her seemed to be descending at a rapid pace. Her mascara had been liquefied by her tears, staining her cheeks.

Old Crookshanks lay at her feet, engulfing her feet in his coat of fur. That was the only thing that kept her head in reality, a cat. She wiped the back of her hand against her hot cheeks, rubbing off the mascara that had made its way down there. Her eyelids had become puffed, and she found it hard to keep them open. The images in her head began to fade and dull, and she eventually drifted off into the nothingness that was sleep.

She swore she could feel the cracks in her heart that night.

A/N: Thank You so much for reading, you have no idea what it means. Let me know of any improvements that you'd like to see, your opinions on the story, etc.

Thank you again! As a reminder, this will definitely be a Dramione. Don't worry, we'll introduce Draco in the next chapter, which will be up in about a day or two ;)

xoxo Kate