Charcoal Silk and Emerald Satin

(A.N.-I suppose a summary/explanation is in order. .;)

It is ten years after the final confrontation and fall of Voldemort. Ron and Harry have gone on with their lives, gotten married and tried, like the rest of the world, to get back on their feet, even though Death Eaters and Voldemort's followers still wreak havoc in England. However, one witch is still haunted. Still lonely. Still full of despair.

So what happens when this witch, now a healer with some ties to the ministry is suddenly offered a proposition; help catch almost all Death Eaters still in business and bring them in. Oh there is a slight catch. The person who she is to work with is not all that trustworthy...and Hermione doesn't even know how embroiled she is...

(Oh, I have no attachments to JK Rowling or any of her characters. This is my pure fantasy...so don't sue. Please.)

1.

What awoke her was the ringing of the doorbell, a rare event in of itself. Hermione jolted awake from the plush couch in her apartment, startled at the obnoxious buzz that it created, and quickly went to answer the door, fastening her short satin dressing robe as she walked toward the foyer. Checking her wand in the ridiculously small pocket of the lavender robe, she readied a hex in her mind.

For safety's sake.

Just in case...

London after the fall of the Dark Lord was no safer than during his reign, and Diagon Alley was not the safe haven it once was during her years at Hogwarts. It had been a good ten years since she had graduated, ten years since that fateful night, when Voldemort and Harry had battled for the last time, at the site where it all started. The obliterated former home of James and Lily Potter...

They had fought long and they had fought dirty. But it was obvious that the Dark Lord had the upper hand. Hermione remembered watching in despair, as Voldemort had screamed (not yelled...screamed in that horrible voice...) "Crucio Maximus!", while she cradled Ronald Weasly's head in her lap, and held Neville Longbottem's hand tightly in her right hand. Voldemort had uttered a curse, a curse she only knew from her studies of demons in medieval England in her extra History class with Professor Binns.

It was a variant of the Crucio curse, one that would rip one's soul out of their body, and ravage it, as well as slowly spreading molten-like venom throughout the physical body.

Hermione felt an abrupt wetness on her cheeks and realized she had started to cry a little when all the emotions of that time had come rushing back. She quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Come on. Let's...calm down. Answer the door like a civilized person..."

Her hand gripping the long length of wood in her pocket, she looked through the peephole and gave a short cry of irritation as she realized that the person who was at her door was too tall, and all she could see was a chest....a rather large chest, she realized, wearing a dark shade of charcoal, nice silk, rather tight fitted which she assumed was to show off a nice physique. Hermione broke her own thoughts in irritation as her rather girlish ("hormonal" she privately referred to it...) side appraised the clothing with favor. After all even Mad-Eye had a point when he had told her, "Lass, don't look at a man for what he appears. Even the slimiest snakes can tempt you with their lovely patterned skin...look at Eve and her damned apple..."

Of course then he had gone on into a rather long winded speech about female follies, with a peppering of "Constant Vigilance!" throughout. Then Tonks had knocked over a vase, which seemed to have the same effect as a nuclear bomb on Moody's nerves...

Hermione raced through a dozen options through her mind. It could be someone like Neville with the latest ministry news for her...or even Ron come to visit and discuss a marital issue he was having with Lavender ...

"Or Harry..." she whispered out loud. Had he come back from his trip to Mexico? Doubtful. Last she had heard from him and his fiancée ("beforehand my best friend..." Hermione though fondly) was an owl post letter and photo, where he was standing in front of some Aztec pyramid, gently smiling while Ginny was waving madly in the enchanted photograph. No, their whirlwind tour of the world was not likely to end anytime soon, at least for a month.

"And they deserve it..." she thought. It had taken them 9 years to find their own bliss and happiness after the final battle. They were engaged, and their wedding set for the following July in one month, on Harry's birthday.

Before that had come Ron. She remembered him sheepishly asking her to go shopping with him.

"Shopping Ron? For heaven's sake why? You loath shopping with me, you say I'm too girlish. Which I may add, is a perfectly illogical form of reasoning. I am a female, so I would rather you didn't-"

He had cut her off with a hand on her mouth, an action he did rarely, so Hermione had known it was something more.

"Shut up you! You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said in a rapid voice "It's just that your closer to Lavender's ring size, and well...you know I'm not good at those bloody romantic gestures..."

"Ron..."

"No, I-I- I'll find another way..."

"Ron," she had said with a soft smile. "If you want to propose to Lavender, all you had to do was ask..."

That wedding had been bittersweet. She knew that the two were suited for each other, and had enjoyed her role at the wedding, even if it was as a bridesmaid, wearing (what else) a lavender shaded gown with Parvati Patel. She had started to actually enjoy herself, having attended the traditional bacholerette party the night before, and drinking her first taste of champagne at the reception.

But when the dancing started, she suddenly felt out of place as the champagne started to affect her non-drinker's brain. Almost every one was swaying to the gentle music, they and their partners just enjoying the heady romance of the night in the rose garden where the reception was being held.

With a slight pang in her heart, Hermione sat at her (empty) table with her alcohol and remembered her first dance with a boy. Actually, she had amended herself; Victor was more of a man at 17, though not quite mature. He had been so kind to her...a girl still in the throes of puberty, so unsure of herself, her hair, and her clothes. And yet, he had not kissed her. Oh, he had on her hand and cheek many times, in a very charming manner, but never with the feeling that was genuine passion, just a sort of adoration. And of course, she had not been with a member of the male race since her sixth year, when she had broken all ties with Krum when it was discovered that he had been using her to get information to Karkaroff. It was then, that she realized that she had never been close to any man at all since the unstable times of her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. There was simply no time, or option of having a relationship. Where most girls in her dormitory (Luna and Ginny included...) had been bragging with giggles about their intimacy with their boyfriends (it was rumored that Parvati had "gone all the way" in seventh year), she was 23, and had never even been kissed. Ever.

She was the only one of all her friends, who had thrown herself into her work as a Government Appointed Healer, and a sort of information gatherer for the ministry. She was the only one who would ever remember that fateful night, and the unhappiness that had still resulted.

Hermione had held up her champagne flute, looked through the fizzy amber liquid at the swaying couples, and in a tipsy slur thought out loud quietly...."How can they celebrate, when there is so much sorrow to share"...

She sighed and realized that she really had no option in ignoring the door...her curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Screw the Death eaters," she hissed quietly to herself. "I haven't enjoyed myself in years because of them...I'm ready for anything at this point."

She flung open the door with a large clatter, her long pale legs in a defensive stance, her wand raised in her hand, startling the person who had rudely awoken her at 6 AM on a Sunday morning into raising one perfectly arched white eyebrow. She withheld a gasp of astonishment and settled for a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Why Granger. How nice to see you. Do stop posing like a bloody Amazon, will you? I've been ringing you damn bell for a good twenty minutes." a baritone voice smoothly drawled, out of the lips of the last person she had ever wanted to see again.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her small apartment door, with the familiar smirk of his youth fixed firmly on his face.

"This is not my day..." she groaned inwardly.

A.N. - So what do you think? I know it's rather short, and it really serves as a beginning explanation to Hermione's world after the battle, a sort of 'setting the scene'. I still haven't gotten to the interaction between her and Draco, or even the actual plot for that matter, so don't get too hasty with the story.....please review! Please!!!!