Of all the apartments, in all the cities, in all the wizarding world…. Draco looked up. The woman he'd just run into was—well. Let me back up.
Hermione Granger was having a terrible morning. She'd spilled coffee on her only clean suit pants for work, and had to dig in her closet until she found an old dress she'd worn to something fancy back when people still praised her for her heroics in the war. The dress itself didn't look too bad, but the neckline was… plunging… and possibly inappropriate for work. Shrugging it on, she had done up her hair in a quick bun, whisked on some makeup, and was running out the door when she—OOF—ran into her new neighbor.
Draco. Malfoy.
Well, she was assuming he was the one moving in. Boxes littered the hall outside their apartments. She was still pulling back, trying to find her footing, when she recognized that shock of angel-white hair. His hands were at her waist, steadying her, when their eyes met. Merlin save me, she silently prayed.
"G—Granger?" Malfoy's brow was furrowed, obviously expecting an explanation. He backed up a pace. She noticed his eyes at her hair, her eyes, her—"
"Hey!" she swatted at him. "I happen to live across the hall, and am" she pushed past a stack of boxed, "already running late for work!"
"Granger, wait!" He padded up next to her. She didn't slow, so he kept up, "I, uh—"
She wheeled around and stared at him, keeping his eyes with her tight-pursed lips. He could feel her counting the seconds he was delaying her.
And he didn't even have anything to say. He just wanted the assurance that she was... here. That this was Hermione Fucking Granger he ran into. That she lived across the hall. In all these years, and even if I had been looking for her…
"Yes? Malfoy? I'm running late."