Hot tea spilled down the front of Hermione Granger's new robes and she cussed colourfully as she jumped back. Stupid really, because she couldn't avoid the spill that had already settled over her chest, the impressive stain blooming over the soft ivory.
She had just received the recently tailored garment by owl that same morning after spending nearly the entire Sunday afternoon being poked and prodded by Madam Malkin in her absurdly over priced shop.
"Prices have gone up since in the war, dear." The old witch had muttered around the pins held between her teeth eyeing Hermione when her eyebrows shot up to her hairline upon seeing the price tag dangling from the arm of the robes Madam Malkin was tailoring. "Tariff's and taxes on the fabric and all that, terribly messy business and even more uncouth to give it any notice."
The older witch eyed Hermione pointedly in the mirror but she refused to blush or feel embarrassed in the wake of the obvious judgement.
Hermione had never subscribed to the Pureblood ways of finances, manners - or otherwise. Discussing money was considered rude in most elite social circles but Hermione found the whole notion to be absurd.
Hermione made a comfortable living working at the Ministry in their extensive library - enough that she could afford to purchase the new wardrobe she'd spent all afternoon curating, but not so much as that she could politely avoid looking at the price markers.
Knowledge is power, even in the most mundane of circumstances.
She held Madam Malkin's gaze in the reflection of the mirror until the witch wisely looked away and continued her fussing with the delicate ivory hem.
Hermione cared very little about Wizarding propriety even though the entirety of the magical community still seemed to cling to it even after the war. The war against Voldemort had been won and yet very little had changed in the way The Sacred Twenty Eight carried themselves in society.
Hermione had helped win the war and yet somehow, she still sometimes felt like she was on the outside looking in - a lowly muggleborn desperately reaching for any kind information or knowledge about who she is, while the rest of her peers had grown up knowing all they needed to in order to be successful at Hogwarts.
There were some insecurities that stayed with you, the kind that couldn't be worked through or overcome. The kind she had simply made room for in her head and learned to live with. It's constant weight, after all these years, a strange kind of comfort.
When she had walked into the Ministry that morning she had been on the receiving end of more than a few appreciative and impressed gazes. The ivory set of robes were eye catching, a far cry from her usual style and she found herself nearly preening under the attention.
Hermione had found solace in flying under the radar after the war and yet the attention she was receiving today was not necessarily unwanted, until her newly acquired confidence had sent her sauntering right into Lucy Covings who had just so happened to be rushing into the lift.
The very same lift Hermione had just stepped out of. Lucy Covings had unfortunately been carrying two very large, very hot mugs of tea.
"OH!" Lucy dropped to her knees to collect the fallen mugs, one of which had shattered while the other simply lost a handle. "I'm ever so sorry -"
Lucy looked up to Hermione, seeming to realize who she'd crashed into and the tawny skinned witch blanched with her realization.
"Ms. Granger." She bemoaned, bringing a plump manicured hand to her parted mouth. "I'm so sorry - I can't believe I've gone and accosted Hermione Granger."
Once Hermione had recovered from the shock of hot tea rushing over her front, she withdrew her wand from the pocket of her ruined robes and waved it over the mess on the floor, vanishing the shards of glass from Lucy's hand before the frazzled witch sliced off a finger.
Tea stains were tricky to remove, magically or otherwise but nothing compared to blood stains - a fact she knew all too well.
"Quite alright." Hermione muttered, turning her wand on herself to attempt to vanish the stain.
"I'll pay for the robes, Ms. Granger." Ms. Covings sounded a tad manic and Hermione felt terrible that the witch was as embarrassed as she was simply because Hermione was considered some kind of war heroine.
"It's quite alright." Hermione repeated, assessing the small remaining stain that her magic couldn't fix. "No one is grievously injured and I suspect this is a sign from above that these robes just weren't meant for me."
"Oh, but they're lovely Ms. Granger." Lucy was smiling dazedly at Hermione, obviously happy for the change of topic.
"To be sure." Hermione agreed. "But not quite . . . me."
Hermione conjured two fresh cups of tea and handed them to the fidgeting witch, a placating smile on her face when Lucy accepted them gratefully.
"Thank you." Lucy's gaze dropped to the floor. "I really am sorry, Ms. Granger."
"Hermione, please."
"Hermione, then."
"As much as I'd hate to interrupt the special gathering of the Granger fan club, some of us have actual work to do." A drawling voice from behind Hermione's back shocked her, she hadn't even noticed that anyone had been in the lift with her and it made her feel even more foolish and vain.
A new set of robes and some not entirely unwelcome attention and she'd completely lost her head.
Draco Malfoy smirked at her startled expression as she turned to appraise the newcomer, his eyes looked like an icy blue in the florescent lighting. His gaze turned even colder as he swivelled slightly to Lucy.
"Ms. Covings," His drawl was truly unparalleled as he stepped carefully out of the elevator and around Hermione. "Am I correct in assuming that was my tea you so carelessly spilled all over the floor . . . and Ms. Granger."
He added her name as an afterthought, as though the floor and her very being were synonymous.
Hermione bristled at the implication.
"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy." Lucy said the words with an apologetic lilt to her voice but she didn't tremble in fear as Hermione thought she might. "Very sorry, but Ms. Granger - er, Hermione - was kind enough to conjure a new mug . . ."
"As Ms. Granger is the Ministry Head Librarian, I doubt very much it is within her job description to know how I take my morning tea." Malfoy's eyes held slight amusement and Hermione's brow creased at the unusual expression. "You, as my assistant however . . ."
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." Lucy said hastily. "I will get you a new -"
"Hardly necessary." Hermione interrupted haughtily. "A simple duplication spell used in tandem with a conjuring spell. You'll find both mugs prepared exactly as the first."
"How clever!" Lucy beamed and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the praise.
"I'd expect nothing less from the brightest witch of our year." Malfoy smirked and plucked his tea from Lucy's wobbling hands. "Come along Ms. Covings, I have some research I'd like to start before you actually start licking our resident war heroines boots."
Lucy blushed furiously around an impressive glare directed at her boss. The over all effect reminding Hermione greatly of Ron as the witch followed dutifully behind Malfoy, looking over her shoulder briefly to send Hermione a small parting smile.
Hermione stood still as she watched them disappear into the libraries stacks of books.
She didn't think she would ever get used to seeing Draco Malfoy sauntering around the Ministry in his expensive robes - even the click of his dragon hide dress shoes sounded obscenely rich. After the war he had spent a brief two months in Azkaban due to the influx of trials taking place, Hermione and Harry had spoken at his where he was acquitted of all charges and sent on his merry way.
He spent the first year of his freedom retaking his last year at Hogwarts, like herself, and then procured a job at the Ministry at the same time as her, too. He was a curse breaker in the Department of Magical Objects and Dark Artifacts and had made quite a name for himself.
It was rumoured that after he'd spent the appropriate amount of time working here at the Ministry he was going to use his opulent wealth and improved social standing to start a consulting company with his new found talent and a roster of well connected witches and wizards.
Much to Hermione's chagrin she expected he would do well.
She saw Malfoy even less at the Ministry than she did in her last year at Hogwarts and it still shook her to her core every time she did.
For having virtually no relationship at all, working or otherwise, they had most certainly been through a lot together. She remembers vividly the image of his face, turned slightly away from her and pinched with pain while she writhed on his drawing room floor. She remembers the horrible names he called her and how withdrawn and defeated he'd looked during their sixth year.
She remembers the turmoil displayed clearly over his sharp features as they stood on the ruined steps of Hogwarts while he was forced to make yet another impossible choice.
She remembers they way he looked at her during his trial, a shell of the man that she knew.
She remembers him during their last year at Hogwarts, two years after the war had ended and the renovation efforts had been finished. He rarely spoke unless called on by a Professor, he had been ostracized by the entirety of Slytherin House, and he was never seen unless for classes and meals.
There was no maliciousness in her heart for the young Malfoy, but there was uncertainty - the kind that pulled her facial features tight and made her breathing more shallow whenever she would see him now.
Hermione seemed to be the only one perturbed by his presence while everyone else had seemed to forget any wrong doings on Malfoy's part. Even Harry had struck up a rather cordial relationship with the man, having worked on several projects together and one late night spent drinking firewhiskey and reminiscing on their fallen Potions Master.
Ron, who at the time, worked with George in the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, had surprised everyone by not going completely spare when he'd heard the news of Harry's new acquaintance.
She was not scared or fearful of Draco Malfoy, but something about him annoyed her to no end. Whether it was his perfectly pressed black suits or the air of superiority that hadn't wavered an inch since their school days, something about him made her nervous.
He was the kind of person who garnered attention just by walking into a room and Hermione had to admit that she had spent the last few years working at the Ministry being one of the people who watched him out of the corner of her eye. If anyone ever asked, she would say she was just keeping an eye on him for posterities sake, but there was something captivating about the man she had a hard time trying to ignore.
Something undeniable.
Sitting at the main desk in the library, Hermione sorted through the paperwork she'd been pouring over for weeks. The heavy work load was in preparation for an extensive collection of texts she was to receive from Romania in a few short weeks. Her entire department had been buzzing with the exciting news that the newly unearthed texts from an ancient burial ground were to be housed in the Ministry's library.
Hermione had fought hard for the pleasure of being the first to treat and possibly rebind the never before seen texts, she'd thrown her weight around a little when the MACUSA had put in their request to house the books. She hadn't planned on using her title as Harry Potter's best friend and Brains of the Golden Trio, but desperate times called for desperate measures and in the end it had paid off.
The position of Head Librarian wasn't exactly what anyone would call glamorous but she loved her job. There were only a few people in her department which made for quiet days getting lost in the stacks. Besides the occasional research project or requests from other department heads for certain texts, Hermione was often left to her own devices - reading and reshelving at her leisure.
A few hours later several newer texts appeared on her reshelving cart and she glanced quickly at their spines before heading further into the stacks to return them to their homes.
The books in the Ministry library were spelled to appear in the event that someone had pulled them from the shelves and then left them unattended for over an hour. It was a spell of her own creation that she had put into effect in her first year as Head Librarian.
She'd grown irritated at the mess the Ministry employee's tended to leave in their wake shortly after accepting the job offer. The Head Librarian position was highly coveted but the other heads of the Departments tended to take advantage of her. The use of the library was specific to Ministry employees, who often left books strewn around the tables if they hadn't asked her to do their research for them.
With a wave of her wand the texts stacked themselves on top of one another in alphabetical order and lifted themselves into the air, floating beside her as she walked down the aisles.
" . . . Yes, of course." Came the familiar drawl. "The best way to make someones acquaintance would be to dump a hot beverage all over their front."
Hermione stopped walking to listen to the voice coming from the next aisle over.
"Well, obviously I hadn't meant for that to happen." Came Lucy Covings' scathing reply. Hermione was surprised the tone had come from such a seemingly timid witch. The tone she used now was almost mocking.
Teasing, even.
"Obviously."
"You know Mr. Malfoy, if you had just introduced me like I'd asked when I started working for you, I doubt that would have been such a colossal mess."
"As I explained to you the first hundred times you've asked, Covings." Malfoy exhaled a frustrated breath. "An introduction made by me would only decrease your standing in Granger's eyes."
"As I explained to you the first time you declined to make the introduction, Malfoy-"
Honestly, was this even the same witch she'd just met?
" - Hermione Granger would never hold such a petty grudge."
Hermione flushed at the inaccuracy. Of course if Malfoy had made the introduction Hermione would have treated Lucy Coving just as she would treat any other - her association with Malfoy would have no bearing on how she received the shapely witch.
However, she was in possession of a rather impressively epic grudge against Malfoy.
She felt shame wash over her in a hot rush of barely breathable air and turned quickly away from the muttering pair before she was caught eavesdropping.
What a strange conversation to have overheard.
A few hours later Draco Malfoy and Lucy Covings strode quickly out of the stacks, having completed their research and looking like quite the amicable pair. Lucy perked up upon seeing Hermione sitting at the front desk and all but dragged Malfoy with her to stop expectantly on the other side of it.
"Ms. Coving, Mr. Malfoy." She smiled tightly. "Did you find everything you were looking for."
"Quite." Malfoy nodded and then tilted his head towards Lucy. "Granger, I'd like for you to meet Ms. Lucy Covings, Lucy meet Ms. Granger."
He then stepped back as though he were intruding.
"I'm normally not so clumsy." The witch smiled lightly. "I was a tad nervous, you see it isn't everyday one meets their childhood hero!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes with such vigour that Hermione was surprised the silver orbs didn't pop right out of his head and land with a wet smack against her desk.
"No harm done." Hermione smiled back politely. "It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Covings."
The witch shook her head. "If I'm to call you Hermione, you must call me Lucy."
"Lucy, then." She let her gaze flick to Malfoy who presently looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"If you could command Ms. Covings to leave, that would be helpful." Malfoy drawled with a pointed look towards his assistant. "Seeing as she doesn't listen to a word I have to say."
Hermione couldn't help the small smile that pulled at her lips. It was so strange to see the silvery blonde at the mercy of anyone, let alone the pixie sized, black haired witch. The dynamics read more like he was her assistant rather than the other way around.
"I'm glad you find her insubordination amusing, Granger." His eyes sparkled as he gazed at her like perhaps he was pleased that she was smiling. "She may need that leg up whilst looking for a new job."
Lucy snorted a derisive laugh and waved him off with a careless flick of her hand.
"He'd be lost without me, I assure you." Hermione fought a grin at the statement. "Ms. Granger - er, Hermione, I was hoping to invite you to spend your lunch hour with me today."
Malfoy visibly stiffened at Lucy's invitation, a physical reaction of which Hermione found strange. It wasn't as though he would be required to join them - in fact, if she were to accept it would be under the terms and conditions that he not be present.
The easy confidence the witch had while speaking about Malfoy melted off Lucy's face the longer Hermione stood there silently, showcasing the same timidness Hermione had witnessed by the elevators.
Could it really be that Hermione herself intimidated Lucy more than Draco Malfoy? The thought was near incomprehensible.
Hermione considered the offer and found herself noting that there was an allure to accepting. She found herself interested in talking more to the witch who had somehow found the courage to wave off Draco Malfoy with a flick of her hand.
Lucy Covings seemed to be in possession of what Hermione could only describe as a warm heart, the sort of person who displayed kindness and compassion. It was an absolute wonder Draco Malfoy hadn't crushed her spirit, and more surely, seemed unable to.
There were witches and wizards Hermione knew personally that were above Lucy Covings in both age and station who didn't have the gumption to do so. Despite the intrigue there was the more pressing matter of Hermione wanting to preserve her reclusive habits. There was a reason she didn't enjoy the spotlight and it seemed that Lucy couldn't help but shine one on her.
But Hermione didn't want to offend the black haired witch or make her feel like her shyness was warranted, either. Hermione was always the most encouraging and welcoming third of the Golden Trio when it came to their admirers.
"I have a back office just beyond the magical wards section, I usually take my lunch there. Would you care to meet me there at noon?" The words seemed to pour out of Hermione's mouth before she'd given them permission, but she punctuated the invitation with a smile none the less.
What could a little socializing hurt?
"Oh, that's just superb!" Lucy clapped her hands together in a loud show of excitement.
Malfoy, who looked rather shocked at her acceptance quickly ushered Ms. Covings away with the hasty excuse of needing to find Minister Shacklebolt to discuss the particulars of a Gringott's case he was working on.
He straightened his tie, which hadn't the need to be righted and gestured for Lucy to lead the way. They were nearly halfway down the hall when Draco turned back and glanced at Hermione over his shoulder. She clammed up instantly and a flush spread out over her cheeks because she had been watching him as he walked away.
Maybe he had felt her gaze on his back, it certainly seemed that way to Hermione who was unable to take a breath while his eyes had roved over her quickly. The pink on the tops of his impressive cheekbones was unmistakable and he turned back to follow his assistant.
She hoped he was embarrassed that he thought she had caught him staring.
Hermione wondered what light her lunch date with Lucy Covings might shed on the equally reclusive Draco Malfoy.
.
"Your office is lovely." Lucy had come in with two take away containers from a nearby cafe and had nearly dropped both of them when she'd stepped into Hermione's office. "It's so modern."
Hermione had taken great care with the decoration of her office. Never a fan of mess or clutter, her office was done in a stark white; the walls, the desk and her custom built bookshelves that lined every wall. The large couch and the two arms chairs opposite were upholstered in a tasteful light green that added a lovely pop of colour.
Harry and Ron had deemed it too 'sterile' and 'clinical' but Hermione had chosen to take the commentary as a compliment, even if she had glowered at them all the same.
"Such clean lines." Lucy mused. "Mr. Malfoy's office is the complete opposite."
Hermione immediately imagined dark mahogany or cherry wood and black leather.
"Though he'd be partial to the green." Lucy nodded at the sofa and chuckled.
Hermione frowned. The light green was a far cry from Slytherin's forest hue.
"I brought take away." She announced, holding a container out to Hermione with a smile. She accepted it and stood from her chair and circled around her desk to usher Lucy over to the sofa.
"You didn't need to do that. I could have called for something." Hermione said, though she had declined Kingsley's offer to utilize her ability for an assistant of her own.
"I was there picking up Mr. Malfoy's order anyway." Lucy shrugged, situating herself on the couch while Hermione sat opposite on a chair. "You can thank him."
Hermione eyed the container of take away like it might become sentient and bite her. She didn't want anything that Malfoy had paid for but her stomach whined and it seemed the decision was made for her.
A chicken sandwich and side salad. Her usual order.
How strange.
"It must be very quiet being Head Librarian." Lucy commented, tucking into her Shepherd's pie with enthusiasm.
"Yes. I enjoy it." She nodded. "I'm partial to the solitary aspect of it."
"I imagine you'd have to be."
"It must be very demanding being Mr. Malfoy's assistant." Hermione chose her words carefully and was pleased when Lucy smiled conspiratorially at her instead of taking offence.
"He's really not as much of a snake as he'd like everyone to believe."
"Is that so?"
"He's really a lovely person - if not a little hard headed and proud."
A little? Hermione bit back her commentary.
"Don't tell him I said so." Lucy said around a mouth full of fried potatoes. "His ego has trouble enough fitting through his office door as is."
"Your working relationship seems very amicable." Hermione commented after swallowing a delicious mouthful of her favourite lunch. "I knew Mr. Malfoy in school and I've scarcely seen him interact so familiarly with even his housemates."
"He takes a bit of getting used to." She admitted. "But then, so do I. I've heard the stories of how he treated you while in school, I find the numerous accounts of his behaviour to be ghastly and unlike the man I've come to know."
Hermione desperately wanted to know if the two had engaged in a physical relationship. If she were to speculate based on Lucy's glowing recommendation of the Slytherin she would have guessed in the affirmative. It bordered on unprofessional the way she was speaking about her boss.
"Where did you go to school, Lucy?" Hermione steered the conversation away from Draco Malfoy, finding herself preferring not to know the particulars of a potential personal relationship the two may have.
The conversation continued pleasantly throughout the hour.
The encounter ended up being rather nice, considering Hermione's aversion to the public. Lucy was an opinionated witch, something Hermione valued in other people, but she was also quite humble. The witch had let slip a few comments about how she idolized Hermione but was adept at catching herself before she made Hermione feel uncomfortable.
The two bid each other farewells as acquaintances with the potential for friendship.
.
Hermione lived in a rather small flat that held little more than her extensive collection of books. It was the location that she disliked most about her flat. Situated on the edge of Diagon Alley and Nocturne Alley, on the top level of The Splintered Wand, it was right in the thick of Wizarding London.
The Splintered Wand was a seedy little dive bar, it's patronage limited to haggard witches and wizards coming back from a trip to Nocturne Alley. It wasn't a flat Hermione normally would have rented for herself but after her eighth year at Hogwarts it was all her and Ginny could afford.
Ginny had recently moved out due to her travel heavy contract with the Hollyhead Harpies, leaving Hermione to live alone. The price was a non issue now that she worked as Head Librarian and could afford something in a nicer area on her single salary.
Finding a new flat had been bumped up on her mental list of priorities after an incident with Phellius Joggs, a regular at The Splintered Wand.
The old wizard was well known as a Snake Dust user, a particularly potent powder that once inhaled through the nostrils provided the user an intense high. He could often be found entering or exiting The Splintered Wand's lavatories every thirty minutes or so, or nearly passed out into his pint at the bar with a dreamy expression on his weathered face.
Lathinia Bergsdorf, who owned the shabby bar usually kept Phellius on a short leash - letting him sit at his usual spot at the bar and drink a few pints before sending him through the Floo to the group home he frequented.
One rather busy night Phellius happened to find the hidden staircase leading up to Hermione's flat while looking for an unoccupied bathroom in which to indulge in his habit.
Hermione had woken from a dead sleep to the distinct sound of someone knocking over the stack of books that sat precariously next to the front door. She had grabbed her wand and stepped out of her bedroom to find Phellius sprawled out, spread eagle in her hallway moaning to someone she couldn't see about the injustices of occupied bathrooms.
Hermione had sighed heavily and returned her wand to the waistband of her sleep shorts so she could help the poor man to his feet and send him through her personal Floo back to his Ministry run group home, like she had seen Lathinia do when the poor old wizard could no longer stand.
Phellius Joggs was a harmless addict but Hermione didn't want to stick around for the next time it was someone more unsavoury looking for something far more nefarious than a bathroom.
Yet, it was still her home and even with the numerous stacks of books that covered nearly every available surface including the floors, she loved having a space that was totally hers.
She could have moved back into her parents old home after the memory charm incident that had them packing their bags and leaving in rush to Australia, but the very idea had sent her mentally spiralling on more than one occasion in eighth year when she was devising a plan for her future.
Her childhood home had fallen into her care and she had chosen to rent it out to a young couple who were expecting their first child. She sent whatever money that remained after the mortgage payments to her parents account under the guise of a government payment.
Hermione swallowed the familiar knot in her throat, the one that always formed when she thought of her parents.
The fireplace in her living room crackled to life with green flames garnering Hermione's attention.
"Hermione!" The familiar friendly intonation of Lathinia bubbled up from the embers. "I hate to ask, but Fraiser called out - a bout of Dragon Pox he says, that I suspect will clear up tomorrow after he sleeps off whatever bender he was on last night."
Hermione smiled at her friend and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Could you please come down and tend bar until I can get someone to cover?" The embers that formed the shape of Lathinia's mouth opened in a frustrated sigh and sparks flew out crackling with heat. "I'll knock off fifty Galleon's from your rent next month."
It was a Friday night, which Hermione had come to expect to be a busier night than usual. Normally, the bar was empty save for a few regulars who came to drink and be forgotten for a few hours but since Lathinia had been bequeathed the dilapidated bar a year before Hermione had moved in, she had done her best to fix the place up and promote the bar to newer clientele.
Her efforts had just started to pay off this month.
"Of course, Lathinia." Hermione said. "Don't worry about the rent - you know I'll do it for free."
Lathinia was a single working mother of a rather rambunctious five year boy named Henry. Hermione knew this to be Lathinia's night off and couldn't have possibly found childcare this late on a Friday.
"This is why you're my favourite tenant."
"I'm you're only tenant."
"Semantics."
"I'll be down in five." Hermione laughed as the Floo went dark.