A/N: I know I just uploaded this, but v-weasley kowtow to her pointed out the wrong hair colour. So this is the revised version.
Fate
She walked slowly down the busy street, past the people rushing by about their business. Past the businessmen and women hurrying along in their long coats - it was late autumn after all - briefcases in hand. Past the cars and vans and motorcycles, honking loudly at one another. Past the street vendors peddling out their wares. It was too early for school to be out, so there wasn't a child on the street, hardly a laugh or a shout. The only sounds were the jarring noise of the motorists and the people talking loudly on their cell phones, fighting to be heard above the din.
She must have walked further than she meant to; she was already at Times Square. A writer's block had struck her right in the climax of the latest book she was writing, leaving her with a blank mind and a despondent mood. Writer's block was rare for her, which made it worse when one did come along. She felt too cooped up in her tiny apartment, feeling so useless just sitting in front of her laptop with her head in her hands and her cup of milk beside her. No coffee for her. Besides disliking the impoverished writer clichés, she never had like the taste of coffee, resorting to green tea when she needed the caffeine. So she went for a walk, deep in her thoughts.
She turned into Hyde Park and stood on a hillock, savouring the beautiful tableau before her. The trees were dropping their reddish-golden leaves, which swirled around her feet, borne by an eddying wind. She took her hands out of her warm pocket; spread her arms wide and spun on the spot, relishing the crisp wind lashing her face, tearing at her hair. She had always loved that feel of the sharp wind whipping at her, stinging her face.
Winter's coming soon, she though, then gave a small shudder and put her hands back in their pockets and stopped spinning. Too much cold was a bad thing too. She skipped unsteadily backwards back onto the path, slowly regaining her bearings. Unfortunately, she hadn't done so before she reached the path and collided into something hard.
"Oof!" her breath bounced out of her as her derriere made solid contact with the path. "Oww..." Pain jarred up her spine. She tried to get up, and promptly slipped.
"Need help?" a light tenor inquired just as a large black gloved hand entered her viewed. Was that a tinge of amusement she heard? She scowled, and reached a hand up to grab the proffered one, and yanked herself up, busily dusting her bottom off with the other hand.
"Ouchie," she muttered under her breath, vigorously rubbing her sore tailbone.
"I'm sorry, but you did bang into me you know," the voice continued.
"I know, sorry," she replied, none too graciously. She did hate apologies. She turned to look up at him. This alone was fairly unusual; she was taller than average and could look most men in the eye. What was more unusual was the flash in these particular pair of eyes. Was that a flash of recognition? It couldn't be. She certainly would have remembered if she had met this individual before.
This was one unusually good-looking specimen of mankind. Silver-grey eyes set in a pale white face that should have looked sickly, but just didn't, and graced by a moustache and a small beard. Crowning it all was a mane of chin length long unruly hair. A corner of his mouth was quirked up in what definitely was amusement. She scowled further. She didn't need this, today of all days!
An awkward moment enforced itself as both fidgeted, at a loss for words. She swept her hair out of her eyes impatiently. She knew he hadn't met him before, yet that elusive feeling of recognition lingered.
It's nothing, she mentally dismissed. Just my senses going haywire today.And prepared to turn and go.
"Have we met before?"
That startled her. Mind reader! The writer, imaginative part of her mind screamed. The other half, the "normal" half as she termed it, scoffed. Nonsense, it scolded. He's just being polite, that's all. But the tiny frown on his face belied this. Both sides argued before settling for a compromise.
"I don't think so," she replied, her hesitancy so obvious it was almost visible.
"But..." he added, continuing for her.
Sharp, she thought sarcastically.
"Nothing, it's nothing. You just remind me of someone I know." But whoever that someone is, I have no idea, she added mentally.
"How coincidental. You remind me of someone I know too."
That was no surprise, and she said so.
"Huh?" was the inelegant reply she received, totally out of place in his otherwise impeccable and suave image.
"I saw you frown."
"Sharp!" he exclaimed, echoing her.
She shivered; this was too uncanny.
"Are you cold? Why don't you come back to my hotel? And, no," he continued, grinning at the outraged expression on her face. "I have no intention of getting you into my bed."
"Oh. Oops," she muttered, her face growing as red as her hair. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize; it's a natural assumption. Besides, you hate apologizing," he added, grinning broader than ever.
"Was it that obvious?" she demanded, arms akimbo.
"Not really, it's just that I do too. And, oh, one thing. You wouldn't happen to have a violently jealous boyfriend, who would only be too happy to see my head parted from its place, would you?"
"No," she said, grinning back. "I'm blissfully unattached. But I do happen to have violently protective older brothers."
"Oh, brothers," his tone implying that brothers were no better than slugs. "Why is it that every attractive female I meet must come with brothers, surrogate ones or otherwise?"
"I'm assuming you're an only child?" she remarked dryly. "Anyway, I still don't know your name."
"Nor I, yours. So what is you name?"
"I asked first!"
"Nope, you said that you didn't know my name. I asked you first."
"Oh, this is childish!"
"But fun," he added, his grin growing even wider.
"On the count of three, then?" she continued, passing over his remark with a half-exasperated, half-amused roll of her eyes.
"One," he said by way of agreement.
"Two," she continued.
"Three!" they shouted simultaneously and stuck out their hands.
"Virginia Weasley."
"Draco Malfoy."
A/N: A really really short, one shot fanfic. I know it's totally impossible, since I doubt they would ever forget one another, and they're behaving really OOC, but please comment!