My room is a desolate place. The wallpaper is old, flaking off of the walls in pieces. The picture frames are empty, and some are smashed. They sit on a dresser that's been mine for so long, it should be decaying. It isn't, of course. There used to be a mirror on the wall above it, but I took it down after it had too many cracks. My bed is small, with a blanket and two pillows, and it lies next to the one window in the room, which is foggy because it's early in the morning.
The most important thing in my room, however, is the vase on the nightstand beside my bed. Well, no, not the vase. The flowers in it. I haven't watered them since Ron left, almost two years ago. They're beyond dead at this point. Probably have mold, but I can't bring myself to get rid of them. They're the last things Ron ever gave me, and I'm not about to let them go.
I'm up early because the Ministry of Magic opens in an hour, and I have to be there on time. Can't be late to work. I don't feel like going, but how else can I pay for this flat? It's not like it costs that much, but I don't make that much, either.
I'm sitting on my bed right now, staring out the window at Diagon Alley. There aren't many people at this time of day, though that's to be expected. It's only five in the morning, after all.
I go into the kitchen and make cereal. I've always liked cereal. It's one thing the wizarding world shares with the muggle one. It's like me. Plus, how can anyone not like cereal?
It's time for work, six in the morning. I could walk- it's so close- but I'm not up to it. I apparate and save ten minutes that I should have wasted. The Ministry is dark and cramped most of the time, but right now it isn't so terrible. Light filters from the enchanted windows, a nice change from the hurricanes we've been having (someone must have gotten a pay raise), and I'm one of the first people here.
I head up to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which I'm the head of. This floor is always full of surprises. I think we have a cross between a cow and a phoenix somewhere. I can't keep track of everything by heart, but the files are in my office. I make a note to check, but I forget it by the time I reach my office.
My office isn't personalized at all. We're allowed to add photos and things, but I've never felt the need. Who wants to see my pictures? The only ones I have are of Ron and myself, anyway. All of my other pictures, the ones with my parents, disappeared with the War.
I do have books, so I pick one out and open it, only to be interrupted by my intern. She's bright and sweet, if a little misguided at times. She pokes her head in and bites her lip.
"Miss Granger, you have a visitor," she says, and blushes.
I want to ask why the visitor, whoever it is, makes her blush, but I don't get the chance. My door opens wider, and Draco Malfoy steps in. He turns to the girl.
"You can go, now." The girl scuttles away, and I clench my fists. He has no right to order her around!
"Close the door," I say, and I'm surprised to see that he does. The door clicks shut and he pulls up a chair on the other side of my desk. "What are you doing here?" I ask him.
He raises his eyebrows. "You haven't seen me in a year, and that's how you greet me? I expected a hello, at least."
"And at most?"
He places his elbows on my desk, leans forward, and says, "For you to use my actual name, of course."
"What do you mean?" I blink. What?
He rolls his eyes. "My name, Granger. You haven't called me by my name yet."
"You just walked into my office!" I lean back and glare at him. "And you changed the subject. Why are you here?"
"I can't visit an old friend?"
I laugh in his face. "Friend? I can think of about a hundred things to call you, Malfoy, and not one of them is a friend."
"Sweet of you."
"I'm sorry I can't say the same. But why won't you answer my question? Something to hide?" I smile for the first time this week and get out of my chair. "A confession? Or could you just not stay away?"
"How about none of the above?" he asks, and gets up as well and walks over to me.
"Then why?"
"I need a favor," he says, and looks away.
"From me? What could I possibly give you?" I ask.
"Not from you, exactly. From your department."
"What do you have to do with magical creatures?" I narrow my eyes at him. He has all the money he could ever need, anyway. How much could he make from my department?
Draco takes a deep breath, and I feel a sudden flash of dread. Is it something illegal? But then I think about it, and realize that he wouldn't be here, in the Ministry of Magic, if it were something against the law.
"I shouldn't have come," he says, and turns around to leave.
"What are you talking about?" I ask him. He reaches the door and grabs the handle, but it won't turn. He looks around in confusion. I put my wand back in my pocket and point to the chair in front of my desk.
Draco turns back around, takes a step toward the chair... and brings out his wand. He flicks it at the door, making it swing open, and he walks out. Just before he leaves, however, he sticks his head back through the doorway.
"Excuse my rudeness, but I really shouldn't be here." And then he's gone.
I stand there for a while with my mouth open, until I find the sense to close it and get to work. I don't understand why he came if he was just going to leave. I shake my head and get prepared for another tedious workload.
My day was much longer than I was ready for.
I couldn't stop thinking of Draco Malfoy and why he'd come to my office. What could he gain from the nineteen-year-old head of the Creatures department? And even though I tell myself it doesn't matter, I can't seem to get it out of my head.
I apparate back to my apartment, because I'm much too tired to exert myself. I also hate roaming the streets at night, after the War.
Appearing right in the kitchen wasn't the best idea, I suppose, but I'm hungry. The Ministry doesn't exactly have top-notch food. Neither do I, but I find it's better to eat at home than that sewer. No, I shouldn't call it a sewer. Kingsley's brightened it up quite a bit since he became Minister. Not a sewer.
I sit on my kitchen stool with a piece of lukewarm pizza in front of me. I could heat it up with magic, but that would mean effort, and I'm not up for that at the moment. As I take a bite out of it, I find myself staring at the brick wall across from me, where an empty picture frame with a gold border hangs. It's surrounded by shabby light green cabinets, and a wooden countertop sits underneath it. There isn't a stove (I see no point), but there is a refrigerator a few feet to my right. There's an empty frame next to that, too. My apartment is full of those things.
Overflowing with unfilled promises. Vacant reminders of what I used to have.
I take a bite of my pizza. It isn't half bad, but it doesn't matter. I can't taste it.
A loud creaking sound comes from the next room over. My living room! I swallow the pizza and walk into the other room. That creak sounded like-
My couch has been invaded.
Sitting on the emerald cushions, his feet kicked up on the grey coffee table, is none other than Draco Malfoy.
"I would have expected better living conditions for the Chosen One's right-hand-woman."
