Chapter One -

May 1st, 1999

Hermione shut the door with a quiet thud. Turning the open sign around to face her and locking the door. The cold metal clicked in place as she rested her head against the wooden frame of the door. Letting one deep breath out before she went back into the store. The quiet that echoed around her little shop started to soothe the chaos that was raging around in her chest. Pushing past the rows and rows of books – academic requirements for students in attendance at Hogwarts, ancient tomes, potion books, arithmancy and even the occasional divination book, though part of her soul cringed just having it in her little store – she made herself comfy at the front counter.

Her day had been packed, especially by those looking to meet the "Brightest Witch of Her Age" rather than actually look about her quaint little store for a book. She had opened a few months after the fall of the Dark Lord. She had quickly passed her N.E.W.T's and rather than follow the other part of the Golden Trio by joining the Auror department, she decided to use the small amount of money left to her from selling her parents dental practice and the small reward given to her by the Ministry to open up a bookstore. It had shocked the community to the core when she declined a position in the Ministry but upon reflection, Hermione realized that she no longer wanted part in the politics that had ignored the rise of Voldemort. While Kingsley Shacklebolt had promised that there would be a change, she quickly understood only so much that could change in a short amount of time and she was not sure she could handle more chaos. Her childhood had been chaotic enough. Peace and quiet sounded good after the death and destruction that had left her standing hazardously in its wake. It had shaken her to her core, and she was not certain that she could fight anymore battles without losing what little was left of her soul. She knew tomorrow would bring on more heartache as it was the first anniversary since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter, her loyal, brave best friend would be thrust upon the Ministry spotlight again at the Ministry Gala to raise money for restorations to Hogwarts and many places that had been infected by the touch of Death Eaters. Ron Weasley would be there to help take some of the limelight, and she knew that her presence was demanded but a hollow feeling in her gut made her want to take a Sleeping Draught so she would not have to remember tomorrow at all. Just bypass it all together with no memories to relive. No flash backs to bring her back to the nightmares that haunted her the moment her eyes closed. Not the deaths of all the loved ones that had been lost to the darkness. Not the terror of those who had to face down the Dark Wizards and Death Eaters. Not remember how one word was embedded in her skin for the rest of time because of her blood or see the face of the psychotic witch that had done it to her. Remembering her own screams that had echoed off the stone Floor.

No, the war may be over, but the aftershocks were still shaking the wizarding world to the core. And it was her duty to attend the Gala to celebrate their victories and show the Wizarding world that it was okay now – even when she did not feel the same. It was her duty to help take some of the burden off Harry and Ron, because that was what she had always done. Eight years and she still could not say "no" to the two boys – or rather, men now – who had survived a war by her side.

Making sure that her store was neat and tidy, clean and dust free, new books on shelves, and books left on coffee tables were sufficiently put in their proper place, she decided it was time to go home. Grabbing her bag from her tiny hole in the wall office, she walked back to the storeroom while placing her coat over her shoulders. One deep breath and she felt the familiar tug of apparition.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was well past dusk, and she was behind the building she called home in the familiar alleyway. Glancing about to make sure no one saw her; she quickly made her way inside to get out of the chilly wind encasing the night. A few flights of stairs, down a hallway, a quick "Alohomora" and she was inside her safe haven. Stepping into the small living room, she flicked her wrist, a little nonverbal spell casting, and the lights turned on to welcome her home. Crookshanks was curled up on her favorite reading chair over by the window. Her guess would be that he had tried to soak up what little sunshine had peeked through the storm clouds earlier in the afternoon.

Her little kitchen was off to the right, and down the hall from there she had her bedroom, bathroom, and a secondary bedroom which she used as her office and library. With a small extension charm (one of which the Ministry was not made aware), the office easily fit all of her books and had space enough for a large desk and chaise for when she felt like snuggling down for the evening with a good book.

Her bedroom was simple – a large bed with too many pillows and fluffy down comforter to drown in, a small closet and a dresser, a nightstand which held many finished books and a lamp for reading. The colors were all neutral tones making it nice and cozy. Relaxing which was all she ever wanted. The bathroom held a walk-in shower, a small sink, and a toilet but that was about it. Nothing worth noting, nothing worth getting excited over.

Harry and Ron had worried when she had told them that she had purchased a small flat inside of Muggle London, but she had brushed them off with a smile. Ron had taken it at face value, but Harry took a little more convincing. It did, however, shock her when she had to explain to Harry her choice in staying rooted in Muggle London. If anyone would understand, she had thought her Muggle raised best friend would. He had worried about her being far away from her friends and family, but that did not sway her. She had stuck to her gut and now here she was living the dream. Her own business. Her own place. She saw her friends at least once a week – if not more. Some days it was nice to be around familiar faces and other days it was suffocating. It was hard for her to explain to her two best friends that while she loved them dearly, she needed quiet more than the loud arguments that came with having them around. Mostly banter between the two, and sometimes Ginny who had become a permanent fixture in Harry's life.

Just as she was sitting down for a late-night dinner, her Floo roared to life and she was soon looking into the flames to see the image of her glasses-wearing friend.

"Hermione!"

"Hello Harry," she greeted as she went to sit on the Floor before the fireplace. "Isn't it a little late for you to be awake?"

A wry smile on the image before her, "I just wanted to make sure you will be attending the Gala tomorrow. I..." he hesitated. "I'm not sure I can do this without you and Ron there."

"Oh, Harry, you know we will both be there for you. I'm not about to feed you to the wolves," she teased.

"I know – I just wasn't sure how you'd feel about being in the same room as …" Harry trailed off again.

Hermione brushed her hair from her face, hesitating. While she loved Harry dearly, and wished only to be honest, she also knew that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, plastering a fake smile, she replied cheerily, "Ron and I will be just fine. Harry, you don't need to worry about us. Let's all just put the past behind us and move forward." She felt a pang in her heart as she saw the relief sweep over his face.

"Okay, okay. Good. I'll see you at the Gala? Or did you want to meet up with us at the Burrow?" he wondered as he glanced over his shoulder. She assumed looking at someone else, but she was not sure.

"I have a few things to do before, so I'll just meet up with you at the Gala. Goodnight, Harry," she waved and quickly backed up and shut off the Floo. Sitting back on her heels, she rubbed at her tired eyes and took another deep breath. Tomorrow could not be over soon enough, she thought to herself as she struggled back over to her untouched dinner. Appetite now gone, she took the untouched plate and placed it in the sink before dragging her tired feet down the hallway to her dark bedroom.

She quickly stripped from her robes, changing into a pajama set of shorts and a loose t-shirt with her parent's dental practice logo on the front. Worn from years of use, it was the comfiest thing she owned. Crawling under the covers, she grabbed her wand and placed a quick silencing spell on the room before setting it under the pillow next to her. On the nightstand next to her, she popped the cork of the Dreamless Sleeping Draught and chugged it quickly before passing out to exhaustion.

Draco Malfoy sat in front of the fire that resided in the library of the Malfoy Manor. A glass of Firewhiskey dangled from his fingertips as he stared long into the flames. His shoulders were tense from his long argument with his mother, Narcissa, who had vacated the library only an hour earlier. His self-isolation was soon coming to an end and not by his choice. He took a swig of the burning liquid. Grimacing as it went down, he contemplated throwing the glass into the flames or against the wall, but his father's voice itched at the back of his mind.

"Malfoys do not throw temper tantrums." Malfoys did not do a lot of things – or rather, they did not do a lot of things right. His father had led the family down a dark path and left the rubble behind to Draco and Narcissa to clean up. While he rotted in prison, a place he rightly belonged, Draco was left dealing with the fall of his family's name and empire, his mother's depression, and his own triggers that came after the war. He still could see the Dark Lord's snake swallowing someone whole every time he closed his eyes. His nightmares included some of the hellish ordeals he had been forced to watch with other Death Eaters – including his father.

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself up off the sofa and went over to the cart of alcohol and poured himself another drink thinking back over his mother's request, nay, demand. She had come in not long after dinner and requested that he take her to the Ministry Gala tomorrow evening – the very eve of the fall of Lord Voldemort. Her request to enter the lion's den quite literally. He had denied her at first. No one would welcome their presence so why was it worth attending.

"Draco, it is time the Malfoy name makes a comeback. It's time we make the Malfoy name something better than it was before." She had gently rested her hand against his face. "We cannot hide any longer."

He wanted to spit fire at her, but the sad look in her eyes had gave way to a little fire. It had been an age since he had seen that fire. If he was being honest, he had thought that perhaps his father and his decisions for the family by joining Voldemort had diminished that fire long ago. No one in this world mattered to him anymore, other than Narcissa. For his mother, he had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. For his mother, he took on the task of killing Dumbledore – though by some mercy he had failed. For his mother, he stood behind the Dark Lord despite his misgivings on what was happening.

For his mother, he would attend the Ministry function. He would donate a feasible amount of money from the Malfoy vault and he would deal with the sneers and whispers for one night. For one night, he would dress in pure blood proper attire, attend a Gala, and make his mother happy before he went back to the Manor where he would hide once more with his potions and books, quiet whispers in the dark.

Slamming back the last of his drink, he dragged himself out of the library up the stairs to his room. Not bothering with a light, he stripped down to his boxers before falling flat faced into the pillows on his bed before sleep overtook him.

A/N:

This is my first ever Dramione fanfiction - though I've been a fan for well over a decade. Please feel free to give me CONSTRUCTIVE critism but any bashing will just be ignored. I love the Veela fics - so this is my attempt at a Veela fic. Let me know what you think :)