Thank you for taking the time to see what's brewing. I have been toying with the idea for this story for ages now. Just a bit of a preview. No worries, it won't be a sappy sad story. But this is more of part one of Chapter One...for now.
It was never meant to happen like this. Famous Gryffindor heroine Hermione Granger was never suppose to step off that train onto the wrong platform. Draco Malfoy was not planning on taking the muggle tube, but had time to kill. They were never supposed to meet again.
But fate is a tricky minx.
Chapter One: All things considered….
"Honestly, Rafferty, if you can't get the damn woman to calm down, I swear to Merlin I will hex you so bad that you won't be able to grow back your left nu- -"
"Sir, I assure you she will be most silent in less than a minute!" Poor Rafferty looked down and whimpered at the thought of losing any part of his…well, package…even temporarily.
"Fine, just come and get me when she's calmed herself."
The door shut and Rafferty was left with a whimpering woman who was at the moment crumpled on the ground latched onto his left leg. He sighed with exasperation and fear, and muttered a silencing charm around her.
0000
The one thing that Draco Malfoy took pride it, above his name, his looks, his family, was the success of his business. Upon leaving Hogwart's and the ultimate demise of Lord Voldemort, Draco had found himself in a rather sticky situation. His funds drained and his name dragged through the mud more than a three dozen times, he had to fight his way back to the top. Ten years later, at twenty-seven, he was one of the most successful PR agencies that worked with Wizarding corporations around the world, as well as Wizarding entertainment venues in Europe. His flair for conversation and lying had landed him among the ranks of the most respected wizards.
Sadly, he still remained a few notches below the illustrious demi-God, Harry Potter.
No matter to Draco. He regained his reputation, he was rich, and he had power. And at the moment, his personal assistant was prying a weeping woman from his doorway whose heart he had managed to break no more than two hours ago.
Draco was not one for weepers.
Glancing at the files on his desk, Draco shook his head and turned to face the floor to ceiling windows that encompassed one entire wall of his office. The building where Malfoy, Inc. was housed in towered above Diagon Alley and overlooked both muggle and wizarding London. The impressive view always gave Draco the opportunity to sit back and think. His favorite daydream was being back at Hogwarts, as much as he would deny it if one were to ask him if he ever enjoyed his time at the school.
It was where he had had, for the most part, the most fun. Poking fun at Weasley's shabbiness, Potter's holier-than-thou image, and that Granger girl, just for being of a much lower class. He hated to admit it to himself at times, but his old prejudices still ran deep, and he had yet to befriend anyone who was not of pureblood decent. Not because he openly sought them out, rather that's just how it always turned out.
A light rap on the door broke into his thoughts and jostled him back to reality.
"Come in!"
"Sir?" A meek whimper came from his doorway. Turning his chair, he saw a smartly dressed woman who in any other environment would have looked threatening. In front of Draco however, even some of the bravest and brightest seemed to cower.
"Well?" asked Draco irritably.
"Right, well, I was just finishing the meeting with the new Albus Dumbledore University investors and they felt that they need to speak to you at some point before the launch, sir."
The name still tugged at his soul. He was there the night that Albus Dumbledore died. He was the one meant to kill him. Turns out, he could cower before powerful men too.
"I told them many times; this is not a project that I would like to be personally involved in."
"I mentioned that, but the investors feel that if you were more of a public presence, then this venture would prove to be more successful. They understand that past…circumstances may still be a hindrance to your decision to join in, but they would like to at least schedule a time to meet."
Draco, with one hand tapping the top of his desk, the other propping up his head, turned away from the doorway and looked back out the windows.
Had it really been over ten years since he stood in that hallway and watched a grown man plead for his life, beg him, Draco Malfoy, for mercy? Had it been that long since Draco had ever felt redemption for his sins?
The clouds of the past haunted Draco almost every day, and this was the one mistake that money, power, or status could never erase…and it killed him.
"Sir?" The voice at the doorway interrupted his thoughts again. Turning around, Draco kept his gaze down.
"Check with Rafferty. I should be free for lunch tomorrow. One o' clock."
'Time to beg for forgiveness,' thought Draco as the door to his office shut gently behind the woman, leaving Draco to his silence and his thoughts.
0000
It was nearly midnight when Draco shut the lights off in his office and made it down to the street. Diagon Alley was silent, only a few straggling souls flitted from the Leaky Cauldron to the after-hours pub, Ozio. He had sent Rafferty home, insisting that he had work to do. Deciding that the brisk air of the September evening was ideal for a walk, he made his way out to muggle London.
He never truly detested muggles. To be honest, they fascinated him beyond belief. How anyone could live without magic was utterly foolish to Draco. As the wall that separated Diagon Alley from Muggle London let him through, the scenery changed so drastically that Draco had to stand still to focus.
No garish wizarding robes or tall, talking hats. Gone were the misspoken hexes and spells that poured out a drunken wizard or witches mouth after a lovers spat. Here, in muggle London, Draco saw women in pants, automobiles that threatened to plow him over every time he tried to cross the road and the most wonderful music that blared from a record shop that had taken residence across from the Leaky Cauldron. This was how Draco liked London. In the dead of night, with only a few stray muggles to brush past him as he strolled along the Thames, he felt a bit more at ease.
Since Voldemort's death, resulting in the death of both his parents, Draco made the decision as he left their funeral that he had to change. He had to or he would not survive. Beneath the tough exterior lay a soul so bruised from years of propaganda and lies, tasks that were far beyond the capabilities, physically and mentally, of a young man. So he began to venture into London. Slowly, then more frequently as he grew older. He now knew the central part of the city by heart. He had seen it in the daytime, just when the sun was rising over the rooftops, he knew it when it was bustling with muggles, running from one side of the street to the other, cars honking, the tube below their feet carrying thousands more all around the city. And he knew London at night, his favorite time. Strains of jazz drifted up from a café across the way. Draco stopped, listened for a moment. The sad melody drifted in the air. It made Draco yearn for something inside him, but what that something was, he wasn't ready to face.
Deciding that he had all the time in the world, he thought he would try the muggle train again. The "Tube" as the muggles called it, was a frightening experience when Draco first stepped on it. The speed, the claustrophobia, the masses and masses of people. He wasn't a fan. He did, however, enjoy the occasional ride around the city when Londoners had mostly retired home after a long day at work.
The station was empty, save for a woman reading the paper and a boy who looked about sixteen. Both paid no mind to Draco when he sat down on the same bench and waited.
Within minutes a train arrived and all three on the platform stepped on.