Ah, a sequel it is. Too many people didn't like the ending of The Dragon's Prey. Tsk, tsk. Do you really think that it could have worked? With so much between them? Well, in response to all the gentle hints, I decided to play with a plot bunny that I had…

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger walked down Fifth Street, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat, her head down, watching her breath crystallize in front of her. It had been five years since she had graduated from Hogwarts. She was 22 years old.

She had recently moved to London, rented a flat, and settled into her new job. For the past five years, she had been working at Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizardry. Deciding that she needed to pursue a different career, she decided to move to London for a new position with a financial company.

Harry and Ginny were excited. Newlyweds, they had rented out a flat on Diagon Alley. Harry worked at the Ministry as an Auror. Ginny was working at her brothers' store, as a cashier, figuring out what she wanted to do.

Hermione paused before the large clock of Big Ben. Looking up, she realized how late it was. Nine o'clock. She had been wandering the streets for two straight hours. She saw a pub on the other side of the street and walked into it.

The warm air was filled with the scents of liquor and smoke. She drank it in. Normal, she thought. This is normal. I'm 22. I need to be normal, not worrying about what is happening with the Order. Where Voldemort is hiding. I am a normal witch.

She ordered a roast beef sandwich, with extras, and a glass of red wine. Sitting at the bar, she glanced around. A mix of old and young, drunk and sober, rich and poor, filled the pub. She wished that she had more in her life, but couldn't quite pinpoint what was lacking.

She had finished her sandwich and was on her third glass of wine when something caught her eye. A flash of platinum blond hair on top of a figure dressed all in black. She turned fully to see the young man. She realized that she was staring and whipped around to stare at the empty plate in front of her. She pushed it aside and reached for her purse. She pulled out a few galleons and tossed them on the table. She sipped the last of her wine and rose from the table.

Pulling on her dark red leather jacket, she hurried from the pub. Out on the street, with the cool breeze ruffling her hair, she started walking again. Roaming without a destination, she ended up in Trafalgar Square, directly in front of the fountain. She sat down along the edge and squeezed her eyes together. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she felt the gold galleon in her palm.

Her mind roamed back to her first year teaching. The year she had learned so much. About her students, about herself, about love. Unbidden, Draco Malfoy's image came to her mind. She hadn't seen him in five years. In fact, nobody had seen him in five years. He had completed his NEWTS, finished his internship, and then simply disappeared.

As often as Hermione had thought about him, she had just as often tried to dismiss him from her mind. A relationship between them was impossible. Too much was in their past.

Lately, though, she had begun to wonder. At seventeen, she had been so innocent and so sure of herself. At 22, she had begun to doubt the beliefs that she had so adamantly clung to at seventeen. She wondered where he was, if he was safe, if he thought about her.

She pulled the galleon out of her pocket and looked down at it for the millionth time in the past five years. Closing her eyes, she squeezed it tightly in her palm. I wish I could see you Draco, she thought, just to know that you are safe.

Without warning, Hermione felt a pull at her bellybutton. She opened her eyes, shocked, and stared down at the portkey. Before she had time for another thought, her body rose, twirling in the air.

A moment later, she touched down in a completely unfamiliar place. Glancing frantically around, she whispered to herself, "I don't think I'm in London anymore."

She was deep in a forest, enormous trees shielding her view of the night sky. A deep mist swirled around her. A drop of water fell on her nose. It was frigid, much colder than it had been in London. Her light jacket did nothing to keep the cold off her. Wrapping her arms around her body, she continued to hold the galleon in her hand.

She heard a rustle of leaves and the sound of heavy breathing. Whirling around, she saw a figure running straight towards her. He was tall and lean. His hair was short and dirty. His clothes were dirty and ragged. He kept looking back over his shoulder, as if searching for a pursuer.

He hadn't noticed her yet, his momentum building as he ran full tilt towards her. As he approached her, Hermione caught a glimpse of his face. She gasped.

"Draco?" she called, her voice hushed.

His head turned at the sound of her voice. He pulled back as he saw her, trying to stop his momentum. It was too late. He slammed into her at full force, knocking her down, his body on top of hers. Stunned, Hermione lay underneath him.

A loud crackling sound startled her. She felt his arms wrap around her body, rolling her into him. Together, limbs entwined, they rolled down a small hill to rest underneath some brush.

"Shh," he whispered into her ear. "Don't make a sound."

Hermione complied, trying to control her heavy breathing. She clung to him, burying her face into his chest as she listened to the sounds of footfalls from above.

"I thought he went this way." A shrill female voice tore through the air.

"He couldn't have gotten far. Go!" answered another harsh male voice.

She heard them retreating and they lay together for a long time not saying anything. Finally, when Hermione didn't think she could bear it anymore, Draco rolled her onto her back and gazed down at her.

"I guess I need to thank you for saving my life," he said. "But I must ask you something."

Hermione nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

"Who the hell are you?" Without another word, he collapsed on top of her, fainting dead away.