Chapter One:
"Aaaaaargghhh!" Hermione let her frustrated moan echo through her small office. The piles and ceiling-high stacks of alphabetically ordered books threatened to topple on top of her, swaying slightly at her outburst. Official papers and 500-page thick documents were strewn all over her table, evidence of her week-long holiday from her job.
She enjoyed her work, in Magical Law Enforcement. She was making a career out of what she knew she did best- being the brains behind every Auror mission. Harry and Ron had been automatically inducted into the Auror training program after the war. The cleanup had been a traumatising experience at best, and all three counterparts of the Golden Trio were given First Class Order of Merlin's, and every year were entitled to stay for a week at the London Ministries' Chateau in a magically concealed location on the French Coast.
Hermione glumly stared at the work awaiting her as she thought back on the relaxing week she had just spent at the Chateau. She shook her slightly tanned head, her sun-soaked golden curls bouncing about as she tip-toed her way around bookshelves, armchairs, books, files and her large solid-oak desk.
Sitting in her black leather chair at last, she let out a sigh and smiled as she caught sight of a cheery yellow envelope on her desk. Opening it eagerly, she quickly scanned through to the end, grinning as she reached the bottom where it was signed. Harry Potter may be a wizarding hero, and her best friend, but at 23 years of age, his handwriting was still quite discernible as a child's! She quickly vanished the note with her wand and mentally made a note to remember dinner at Grimmauld Place that night, to celebrate her return.
She then started sorting through the work that needed to be done with an energetic vehemence, starting from the most urgent.
"Hermione?"
Hermione blinked several times, disturbed from her reverie of approving pending missions from the Department of Magical Complaints. She leant back in her soft chair, stretching her aching back like a feline, as she smiled at her visitor.
At a tall 6 foot 2, the striking blonde was muscled, lean, and so very masculine. Draco lightly rapped his pale knuckles on her office door again, grinning back at her.
"Woman, didn't you hear me knocking for a full minute?" he playfully accused.
Hermione laughed daintily, her chime-like chuckles filling the musty office air.
"How was your trip?" he asked, moving to sit in the gold velvet armchair in front of her.
"Really great, thanks! Though it always seems to never be long enough! It's so good to just sit in the sun once a year!" she admitted.
He laughed softly, a deep throaty chuckle. "I brought you these" he said softly, producing a bouquet of white roses from thin air.
Hermione gasped, clapping her hands together in surprise.
"Oh they're beautiful! Thank you Draco, you shouldn't have!" she exclaimed, the delight etched on her face.
Draco had been renounced, and cleared of all charges laid against him for his role as a Death Eater during the War. With a helping statement from Harry at his extensively gruelling trial, he had been acquitted, ordered to have therapeutic counselling, and take up a job at the Ministry.
He had started low in the ranks, filing old documents and the like, and slowly he had moved up the ladder. He now worked alongside Hermione, and though she still remembered the taunting bully who had teased and humiliated her in their younger years at Hogwarts, they had quickly formed a tight friendship.
Draco regretted the harsh words he had tormented her with in their past, and he had quickly apologized and had made the effort to try and make it up to her on his first day in her department.
Hermione smiled as she remembered that fate-changing Monday, 2 years ago, when none other than a determined Draco Malfoy had traipsed into her office, and declared himself sorry for all the harsh "bull$#!%" he had subjected her to.
She had had no idea what to say or do, staring at him with her jaw slightly open. And then she had starting laughing, and punched him lightly on the shoulder. He had been even more surprised at her reaction!
"So it's just past 1:40pm" he said, glancing down at his wristwatch, "and I'm laying 1000 knuts that you haven't even had breakfast yet... Want to grab something from Rosmerta's in Diagon Alley?" he asked.
Hermione grinned widely at him, poking her tongue out at his stern gaze. He knew her too well! Her stomach chose that precise moment to let out a loud growl, giving her away.
"Let's!" she said, grabbing her purse as she followed him out into the corridor.
"I am full to bursting!" she exclaimed, as she sank back into the booth she was sharing with Draco, dabbing at her glossy red lips with her napkin.
Rosmerta's was their favourite cafe to dine at in Diagon Alley. It was always busy, and had an upbeat, energetic vibe that was contagious. It was exactly what they both needed, during their long days spent cooped up in their respective offices across from each other.
Draco finished his grilled fish and signalled for the waitress to put it on their respective tabs. The first time they had eaten together Hermione had made it very clear that she did not expect her meals to be paid for by the Slytherin Prince. Draco had complied, pleased to simply spend time with the intriguing witch, even if her stubborn streak annoyed him at times.
To his surprise, they got along quite well, and enjoyed similar activities, music, food and entertainment. They both were also avid readers, and regularly had playfully intellectual debated over their interpretation of books they had both recently read.
Madame Rosmerta winked at Draco, blowing a kiss directed at Hermione as they passed her at the counter, weaving their way between the bustling tables and booths, the air think with mouth-watering aromas. She had sold The Three Broomsticks, choosing to open a new place and start afresh, after the War.
Hermione sympathised with the ageing woman, whose bubbly exuberance had diminished with each death of the students and teachers she had come to love while at Hogsmeade over the years. They were all victims, dealing with their own losses, Hermione thought as she smiled back.
Her and Draco walked back into the ministry, Draco giving her a friendly peck on the cheek as he walked her to her office. Full and content, she sank back into her comfy chair and resumed her work, the stack now diminishing at an astounding rate only a witch like Hermione could muster...