Hola! (Like my clever use of another language?) Well, I figured it was time to get some more insight into the mind of Draco Malfoy. I know it's not much so far, but he's not about to spill his guts about how he has been spending the last 8 years. He's desperate for some sort of life saver, and Hermione just threw him something.

I don't intend to rush into anything, and honestly this is hopefully a bit more than simply a transition chapter.

Love,

Your still very newb like author.

PS: I love you.


The post came to the now abandoned looking Malfoy Manor. A majority of the possessions had to be taken away to alleviate the war debt that all Death Eaters had to pay; luckily enough though, the Manor itself did not have to be sold. But it was just a shell of its former self. It lacked its original grandeur, and it even had lost the dark haze of smoke that seemed to have outlined the entire property during the War. It was nothing now, except the only place where Draco could truly be alone, where he could reflect on where he had gone wrong in life, and where he intended to go right.

There was a glimpse of life in the house though, except for the now 26 year old Draco Malfoy. There was a potted plant in an eastern facing window that was just now starting to bloom. It had sat dead for 8 years, with no signs of life, but many signs of neglect. But a green sprout was starting to emerge from the dried potting soil, and while Draco hadn't noticed this, it was sure to be a sign of changing winds.

Draco grabbed the single letter from the now screeching, and impatient owl. It seemed to consider nipping the blonde, but reconsidered after remembering past incidences. Draco then broke the seal, not really paying attention to who the letter was from. It was a letter, and if he was being honest, he didn't get very many of those anymore.

He opened the letter and was immediately struck with a smell that he could only describe as strawberries, with what seemed to be a hint of coconut. It was most definitely the smell of a woman, and yes, even that was enough to get him excited. Not in that way of course, and he wasn't desperate. He was intrigued, curious even. He became not intrigued or curious, but confused, when he began to read the letter.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I'm sure you'll be surprised to see this letter, and to see in fact who it is from, but whatever you had believed about the interview before, toss it out of your head. I know we have major differences in our backgrounds, and our beliefs, but I've decided that perhaps maybe it is time to completely move on from the past, and move towards the future. I am willing to give you another interview, preferably in a more public setting, as perhaps that might corral us from ending up at each other's throat.

Please respond as swiftly as possible. I may be willing to forgive, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to forget.

Cordially,

Hermione J. Granger.

Head of the Department of Mysteries

If Hermione had been the speechless one during the interview, it was a now worryingly still Draco that was having his fair share of being shocked into silence. He had completely written off any chance of being invited back by Hermione Granger, let alone having an almost truce being offered by her. It was strange, but a good sort of strange. It gave him hope, the sort of hope that he hadn't contained in himself in years. He almost felt giddy, but not the sort of giddy where he'd go jump around the room. More like the sort of giddy where he almost wanted to start singing, which was something of course, he'd never do, as Malfoy's don't sing. But the urge was there, and as silly as it seemed, he enjoyed the feeling more than he could ever fully express.