Following up on the rest of the horrendously clichéd stories about love and forced marriage and crap, here's my story:
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
It was a habit. Tapping her nails. In times of extreme nerves,; like now. Couldn't help it. Who wouldn't be nervous? Her headmaster calls her at 8:am telling her it is urgent she attends a meeting at 9. Bollocks. And she is already 2 years graduated, picture that. Graduated top of her class (surprise, surprise.) Passed her O. with flying colors and straight away got a job at the ministry working at the Department of Magical accidents and Catastrophes.
So yes, she couldn't be more surprised that she now found herself seated in the very chair she spent all of her time in when she got in trouble. Or when the Golden Trio was out on another dashing expedition that required her brains.
"Good morning Hermione." Dumbledore had a rather odd way of making you feel intimidated. It wasn't a fearful intimidation. It was that kind that just made you feel like you had to pay attention to every word he said. That gut feeling that when he smiled you just knew he was up to no good.
He looked quite the same. The ever-present appearance of about a million wrinkles on his aged portrait.
"Professor." Hermione inclined her head politely. She was trying her hardest not to fidget. Her eyes cast a glance around the room.
Very spacious it was. You would think that after at least two years he would renovate. The place was positively drab. Fifty-year old wallpaper graced the walls. Oh goodness, was that, a spider? In the corner, looking disgusting, and staring at her with tiny, beady litt-
"Lemon drop?" Casting her out of her thoughts, her brain worked up a response.
"No thank you, but professor, I don't mean to sound rude but, why did you call me here?"
He laughed lightly.
"Hermione, as you obviously know, the war has ended. Voldemort has been defeated. But there is still an absence of unity underlying the circumstances. We have not found the vice that brings us together properly. The bond between everyone has yet to be mended. We need something to change that."
"And how could I assist?" She honestly did not want to know the answer. He was up to something, that old coot. As much as she respected him, his ideas were just horrendous sometimes. I mean, what did he expect her to do, parade around all of London with a sign that read 'I heart Slytherins?'
"I want you to marry Draco Malfoy"
Well she wasn't far off.
Please Review! I do want to continue, but I need interest.