He was late. Yet again.

Hermione lay the quill down and allowed herself a moment to stretch and stare at the ceiling of her tiny office. Why she believed Winden would arrive on time this time around was a mistake on her part. She couldn't afford to be late today. Ron was counting on her, and despite their momentary awkward moments, she'd like to think that her and Ron got along quite well despite their situation.

Beep! Beep!

Her MagiPhone flashed. Well speak of the devil.

Ron was being impatient already. Yes, Winden was late, but she still had an hour until she needed to pick up the kids from Ron's flat. He'd stressed how important tonight's date was going to be. Hermione suspected he might finally propose, an indication she was mostly alright with. Mostly. Emily was a sweetheart, after all, not to mention she got along well enough with their children. Still, though, the idea that her hot-headed ex might possibly be engaged soon and she was still as single as the day they'd divorced three years ago was quite depressing.

A paper bird suddenly flew into her office, attempting to land on her desk but falling instead into a glass of water. She grabbed it before the contents smudged and opened the half-soggy page.

'My apologies, Ms. Granger, but I will be out sick today and tomorrow. Greg Winden'

"Are you kidding me?" She exclaimed, to no one in particular. She needed that potion today! She'd promised the goblin ambassador she would have the medicinal trials begin at midnight. The next full moon wouldn't be for another month.

Dammit to hell.

She hated going down to the Department of Mysteries. But it seemed there was no other choice, not when time was ticking away and an angry ex-husband to deal with if she were late. She gathered her things and left the room in a rush, only to crash headfirst into a solid chest.

"Ah, what the-"

"Whoa, whoa there. You alright?" He grabbed her by the arms to keep her from falling in an embarrassed heap, his green eyes searching for her current state of distress.

It was only Harry.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

He smiled, in the friendly, understanding way that was Harry, but didn't let go of her. "That's alright. I was just going to ask if you wanted to stop by later."

Hermione felt something in her stomach flutter. "Will Ginny be-"

The smile faltered, and Harry continued in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, but Al has been asking for Rose since James went off to Hogwarts."

He appeared slightly embarrassed, no doubt pitying her awkward assumption, and Hermione inwardly cursed herself. She was mortified with herself for even insinuating that Harry could ever-well, never mind that. "I'm sure Rose would love that. I'll see what I can do, but Harry, I'm in a bit of a rush right now, if you could…"

Harry looked down at her arms, which were still held firmly in his grasp. His green eyes widened and he flushed, quickly letting her go and taking a step back. "S-sorry. Auror reflexes," he muttered sheepishly.

Hermione laughed, trying to convince herself it sounded completely normal. That this exchange between her and her best friend was completely normal. "I'll see you tonight then."

She rushed off, afraid she might say or do something that might compromise their once innocent friendship. Harry was her best friend. That was all. Plus he was still married. Not to mention Ron's best friend.

She reached the elevators and selected her destination.

But Ron has moved on. Ginny is never around most of the time. Would it be so impossible?

She shook her furiously, attempting to rid her mind of such treacherous thoughts.

Terrible. You are a terrible friend, Hermione. And besides, Harry would never-

"Hermione!"

She looked over her shoulder. Harry slowed to a stop as he reached her. "You dropped this."

She took the proffered quill with a frown. "Harry, this isn't-"

"Also," he continued, running a hand through his hair, not quite meeting her eyes, "Ginny won't be home tonight. She, er, is still in New Zealand it seems. So, uh, well, yeah. See you later."

And with that, the Boy Who Lived, now very much a Man, turned around and quickly walked away.

The elevator dinged its arrival.

Well, damn. What the hell did that mean?

He resisted the urge to pull his hair out. Not that it would make much of a difference. His current appearance was akin to that of a dilapidated Weasley. It was a good thing no one came down here very often.

With precision akin to perfection, Draco gently pulled the silver lash from the now bubbling concoction. The liquid turned into a deep amber almost immediately.

"Finally!" He collapsed in a tired heap in the nearby armchair. The potion in question continued to simmer. Draco pulled off his gloves and mask. There was no need for the equipment now that the color was spot on. He pulled out the required chart and noted his observations. Someone knocked.

Draco ignored it.

'...Specimen 2341 preliminary success rate of 94%. Correlation coefficient at 96. Pending further trials on-'

"Hello, is anyone there?"

Draco paused. Maybe if he didn't respond the nuisance would go away.

"This is Hermione Granger, with the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I need to retrieve a potion from a Mr. Greg Windon."

Ah bloody hell.

Of all the infuriating witches or wizards to disrupt his moment of success, it had to be Granger. He'd run into Potter and Granger a few times since he began working at the Ministry, but they'd come to an unspoken agreement to avoid each other as much as possible. A cordial nod was the most he'd managed in most ill-fated meetings. Unfortunately this one would require more than a nod, it seemed.

She continued to knock incessantly. "I know someone is in there, I could hear your quill scratching. I won't be but a second,if you could please-oh. Malfoy?"

She looked slightly disappointed. Not that Draco cared. He acknowledged her through the sliver of door he'd opened. "Granger. Wait there a bit."

He searched the contents of the adjoining desk in the shared office space. Windon was such a royal mess. And a royal pain in his arse. He would have to see about switching office mates if Granger had more recurring business with him.

"Malfoy, something smells a bit-"

"I'll be right there, give me a moment." He returned, quickly losing his patience.

"But I really think-"

"Granger. Please. I'm trying to be civil."

And then he smelled it, too.

Oh no. The door was pushed open.

"Malfoy," her voice was louder, having stepped into the room, "seriously, I think there might be something-"

"Get out!"

But it was too late. An explosion of silver erupted into the room, the reverberation slamming the door shut in the process.

The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious were Hermione Granger's wide, brown eyes.

She opened her eyes tentatively. For some reason, the usual disorientation expected after falling unconscious didn't occur this time around. Perhaps it was because she'd experienced falling unconscious enough to last a lifetime. However, something was definitely off.

The air in the room appeared thick, a gray film covering most of the furniture and walls. She saw the huddled form of Draco Malfoy starting to wake by the door on the other side, though it was difficult to see through the haze if he was alright.

"M-mal-hem." She cleared her throat. It sounded harsh, as if she had something stuck in the back despite feeling surprisingly fine. "Malfoy?" She tried again, but no, there was still something seriously wrong with her voice.

Malfoy suddenly let out a shrill yelp. If the situation hadn't been what it was, Hermione might have laughed. He sounded very much like a girl. She would have to tell Harry about this later.

"No, no, no, no, no! Shit!"

Hermione froze. That definitely did not sound like Draco Malfoy. He might've been somewhat on the pretty side for a man, but he had never sounded like a woman. In fact, why was he by the door anyway? Hadn't she been-

Dread gripped her.

As if the universe was complying, the grayish haze diminished completely. Hermione looked away from the figure across the room and began furiously patting her body down, hoping, praying that what she suspected couldn't be happening right now. These sort of things didn't happen in real life. In movies, sure. With magic, obviously, but not here, not to her! This was the Department of Mysteries. None of the magic was stable here. And judging from Malfoy's reaction-Oh dammit, why her!

She reached for the back of her head, but her long hair was gone. Trailing further down, her shoulders felt much too broad, too muscular, and her chest was-Hermione felt the blood drain from her face.

She looked up slowly. Maybe it was one-sided. Maybe she was simply hallucinating. Maybe-

"You just had to step into the bloody room, didn't you?" Malfoy's voice cracked. An all-too familiar tone.

She stared across the way in disbelief. Wide, frantic eyes. Brown eyes.

Her eyes.

Well shit.

It's been a while. Review please :)