Monday, May 5th, 2003.
Hermione walked down that day's newly dry pavement, around six in the morning. She was early for work, as she now was every Monday after a boring and depressing week-end on her own. Her smart leather shoes clicked on the slabs in an unusual clear sound and the dry but still chilly wind kept irritatingly blowing in her hair, sweeping strands of curls back in her sight every time she pushed them away. The city was silent and still asleep when she reached the corner of the Ministry's street, her head full of numb thoughts. As always she went for the visitor's entrance, which gave less chance to familiar encounter and entered the red telephone booth.
Once having passed the quiet atrium and taken the lift, she reached Judith's empty desk and grabbed a few papers to add to the ones she was carrying from home. Of course she'd worked all week-end, it had kept her mind off of things. Since Judith wasn't there yet, she decided to check the day's appointments herself on the woman's book. She had a very full day ahead of her.
Determined to keep herself on track, she went for her office, unbuttoned her robes and sat at her desk that wasn't as neat as usual.
Astoria Greengrass was definitely a hard working woman too and an early bird, for the reports she'd agreed to send were on Hermione's desk. The witch was already at the Ministry.
Reading through what she'd sent took most of her morning, and when eleven o'clock arrived, Judith still hadn't made an appearance, probably vexed by their previous arguments. Hermione thanked Astoria via a flying note, along with a few questions she had, and worked on something else.
The response didn't take long.
Care to join me at the cafeteria to discuss these? Would be easier than via notes but I don't have any other spare time. Say in twenty minutes?
Hermione considered declining the invitation but as she needed answers, sent only one word in return: agreed. After all they'd only talk work, and as it would only be eleven thirty, she might not encounter anyone else at the cafeteria.
At eleven thirty sharp, both women were punctually meeting there. Both had their arms full of files. They sat at a corner of the large room, and after retrieving what could look like a dieting lunch to anyone else, but was more of a quick fix to get back to work quickly, they started talking business.
Astoria was as professional as she'd always been, and Hermione appreciated greatly her lack of personal discussion. Therefore they'd quickly reviewed everything that had to be, and found themselves only having to eat earlier than anticipated. Astoria seemed to sense that Hermione was not in for conversation, so they ate in companionable silence.
Of course, everything couldn't stay quiet and peaceful as Hermione wished things to be. She had her back to the room though, and it was Astoria's mouth scowl that made her turn around. Ron.
Hermione sighed but didn't get time to stand up and go that he was at their table already, ignoring Astoria as if she were part of the wall, his face set in a straightly disappointed expression.
"You keep avoiding me Hermione." His voice was slightly pained but remembering the way he'd toyed with his ring finger in a public display of their divorce during commemoration night, started a slow boil of anger within Hermione. She opened her mouth to dismiss him harshly but was ripped of her chance to do so by Astoria.
"Then why don't you take the hint and leave her alone?" Her tone was neither aggressive nor mean, it was explanatory at best. Hermione was so taken aback that her mouth fell agape as she gave her the wide-eyes. Her response was a small cornered smile and Hermione got reminded that the witch had been a Slytherin at Hogwarts. It was not yet a full smirk but it was an intentionally hidden one. Ron's mouth twisted and his brows joined in anger as he turned to the pretty woman.
"Mind your own business Greengrass."
"Be polite she's only stating the evident." Hermione cut dryly. "I have no wish to speak to you Ron."
"Why? We have to discuss …" This time she cut him, lifting a hand to his face.
"No we don't. We've said it whole and I'm tired of trying to fix things. I wish to be left in peace." She said, her voice rising towards the end. She was becoming to tremble in anger as he yet again opened his mouth to argue. Astoria raised her voice too then:
"What is it you don't understand Weasley? We're working, now is not the time for personal matters. Please leave us alone." She'd emphasised and spoke the last bit louder, making people startle around them. Hermione disliked the attention a lot but Ron finally seemed to realise they had an audience and with a "As you wish." Spat between clenched teeth, walked away.
It was only then that Astoria smirked for real, watching Ron's retreating back. She didn't ask any questions though, and went back to what little was left of her lunch.
Hermione suddenly felt like smiling. Or more smirking. She barely knew the witch but she'd sensed Hermione's state of mind about Ron, and she'd also sneakily backed her up. The Slytherin qualities had showed in the woman's smirk and Hermione found out that she'd sadistically enjoyed sending him away with support.
The last time he'd cornered her, had been in the corridor to the Minister's office, and it had taken her way too many words to be rid of him. Two sentences from Astoria and he'd walked away.
"Thanks." Hermione finally said. Astoria lifted a piercing gaze to her and smiled.
"Got a smile out of you. Are you sure you were a Gryffindor Hermione?"
Hermione chuckled at her own surprise. She hadn't for a while and it was refreshing.
"Damn sure." She found herself smiling. Astoria's own smile didn't deflate as she offered:
"What do you say we grab a drink some time? I won't ask." It was as if she knew already, and Hermione's answer left her lips on its own volition.
"Why not."
"I'll owl. See you." With that Astoria was gone and Hermione realised she'd accepted an invitation from a Slytherin, smiled and almost laughed, all that after harshly dismissing Ron.
Striding back to her office she found that she didn't really care. Astoria didn't have the same pitiful look everyone arboured around her recently and as she couldn't bear with the sight of her friends any longer, she decided that maybe it was time to make a change.
After all, her life had taken a turn for good, and maybe she should stop dwelling on her thoughts and feelings. Maybe she could focus on something else than work for one evening. Astoria had said she wouldn't ask and Hermione was confident that the witch would keep her word.
Draco walked out of work that Monday afternoon, having spent the morning in his company's office instead of his home one. He'd spent a large portion of his time in a dreadful meeting with ex-associates that wished to renew their old business bonds with the Malfoy company. Now that he'd apparated back to his home office he had to check that he could indeed associate with them, without stepping out of regulations. Some of the men that had been pleading their cause that day had partnered with his father and therefore were certainly untrustworthy to follow the law.
When he'd taken the lead of his father's company, Draco had realised it was rotten. Rotten to death in the dark arts, mingled in a bunch of illegal practises from centuries of scam business. He'd recast it entirely on his own and had no wish to start over whatsoever thanks to one hazardous business association. He had a week worth of work at hands and with a glass of firewhiskey for his lacking courage, started right away.
But after about ten minutes buried in the dreadful documents, he had an idea that would surely save him the chore of reviewing all potential associates and would also maybe satisfy the curiosity he'd been left with after commemoration night. Dipping his quill in ink, he grabbed a new piece of parchment from his top drawer and started writing.
Miss Granger,
I write with a request in mind. I wish to book an appointment with you, as I found myself in a delicate situation regarding my company's associations.
As you know, I have all but disregarded the laws and regulations the Wizengamot has put in place post-war. However, my company mostly thrives via associations and I find myself at an impasse. Most of the potential associates that are offering their services to my company this year are old ones from prior the war, some I had discharged when I took the lead. As it is to your knowledge too, the precedent owner of the company had no regard for the law and those associations were wronging the family business.
The issue resides in the fact that they claim, as of today, to be clear of any business outside the law. Verifying such affirmations without the support of the Ministry's controls reports could lead nowhere, and would assuredly take months to achieve with certainty.
I wish to discuss those potential future associations with you, as it is my only wish to remain in the clear, and to make sure that my company keeps prospering within the law and out of trouble.
If you agreed to a meeting I would leave you to choose the place and time, as I am aware of how full the schedule of a head of department must be.
Regards,
Draco Lucius Malfoy,
Head-management, Malfoy inc.
Satisfied, he sent it right away and settled to work on something else.
Judith finally made an appearance in Hermione's office around four in the afternoon, with her next appointment. She introduced the wizard and left right away.
After her appointment, Hermione had expected the brown-haired witch to stay at her desk until her day was over, but was hugely disappointed as she loudly and irritably cleared her throat at her door when Hermione was in a middle of her research.
"Yes?"
"You have a letter. It says it's urgent." Judith practically threw said letter on her desk and strode away, leaving the door wide open to Hermione's utter irritation.
Sitting back down, she noticed the oddly familiar stamp on the parchment envelope. Frowning further, Hermione examined it and asked herself why in hell would Draco Malfoy write to her personally.
She read the letter attentively and scoffed. He was presumptuously asking for her to do his job. Like she didn't have enough on her plate already. She wrote an answer right away.
Mr Malfoy,
I am sorry to confirm your doubts on my busy schedule, and therefore to inform you that I won't be able to meet you personally. However, you are welcome to visit the Ministry and consult the documents for yourself, I will make sure they are at your disposition at the reception of the department.
Regards,
Hermione Granger,
Head-management, Law enforcement department, Ministry of Magic.
After sending a flying note to Judith, granting Malfoy access to the records, she went back to her work.
Draco opened Granger's response the instant the Ministry owl had flown away. She'd answered too quickly for it to be at his advantage though. He read the letter and scowled. Right, she was not that stupid apparently. He'd underestimated her thinking she'd agree to do his job. His letter could have fooled anyone else though. Having access to the Ministry's records would make his checking quicker anyhow, so he decided to go the next day.
Maybe he would witness another argument with her secretary. Smirking his face out, he decided on not answering her, the element of surprise, and went back to work with yet another glass of firewhiskey.
"You're a shame." Snarled a disgusted and obnoxious voice. Draco took a deep breath before lifting his face to his father's portrait. The last remained empty most of the time, his father only made appearances when his mother requested it. Upon his death, Lucius Malfoy had expressed with venom and certitude his disappointment in his son, but hadn't had the time to disinherit him. The perpetually glued portrait filled only when necessary, the sight of his offspring probably too painful for his pompous shadow of existence.
"Fuck off, you're dead." Draco spat. Lucius' death glare still sent shivers down his spine despite him only being a portrait. Draco remained stoic and waited for him to speak more.
"Your mother has a guest tonight. She wishes you to remain in your wing." And he was gone, leaving Draco to his anger.
Hermione walked down her crappy street really late that night. Astoria's documents had taken all her morning and as she'd wanted to keep on track, had worked all evening to catch up with her work. She took the stairs two by two, yawning at the effort, and relishing at the thought of soft sheets and firm pillows. She clicked the door to her muggle flat open and slipped in, kicking her shoes off and started directly to her bedroom. She had just the time to settle in bed when an irritating tapping sound resounded. Groaning in annoyance, she threw the covers at the foot of the bed and stormed out of the bedroom to check what it was. She followed the sound and landed in the kitchen where an owl was tapping its beak on the window. Who could write this late?
A tiny owl was wavering under the weight of a thick envelope. Hermione had told Ron a thousand times that Pigwidgeon was way too old to keep delivering mail. She quickly opened the window to welcome the familiar pet, which flew around her happily for a few seconds before landing on her shoulder and beaking her ear affectionately. She untied the letter from his paw and sat down to pet him. The bird was drenched, and wouldn't make the return that night. She would make sure of it.
As the bird started snoozing, perched on her shoulder, she took a look at the envelope.
She dreaded what would be inside. It couldn't be divorce papers though, she'd been the one sending those. But it had to be important if he'd quit trying to corner her to finally send whatever that was per owl. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.
Hermione,
This is what we had to discuss, but since you won't meet me, I am obligated to do this by owl. I received an interesting offer on the cottage. If you decide to sign those papers, you will be rid of everything that still ties you to me.
It pains me deeply that you refuse to even speak to me Hermione. I have come to accept that what's happened has ruined our marriage, but I thought we would at least stay friends. I can see that you're not all right. Ginny told me about your argument and I'm worried. If you still don't want to talk to me or my sister, please at least contact Harry.
Ron.
P.S.: Please send Pigwidgeon back once he's rested.
Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand and almost screamed her frustration. She settled for an angry grumble full of swearing as she threw the letter on the floor angrily. Again the pity card. For five full years he hadn't been worried a second, even after what had happened, he'd kept dismissing it, stating they'd try again. And now that they were divorced he was worried?
Stupid prat. She couldn't believe she'd been married with him all those years. She couldn't believe she'd let herself fall for him. Even back at school he'd been a prat, and nothing had change ever since.
How could she remain friends with him? When his entire family clearly disapproved of the divorce? No, she stood corrected, when part of his family had already disapproved of the marriage! Ginny had been the only one to actually try to talk to her since the divorce, and when she had, she'd been dismissing what had happened between them as a rough patch.
It hadn't been only a rough patch! It had made her suffer more than she had during the war! It had broken her and her husband had done nothing but insisting they kept things normal as if nothing had happened!
Ronald Billius Weasley was a stupid prat. An idiot that hadn't cared about her feelings, and only thought of his own desires. She was better off without him and if his family thought of her as a coward then so be it. She knew she wasn't. She was a bloody Gryffindor and she'd fought in a war, she had nothing to prove, and certainly not to those people that had never really accepted her anyway.
She stood abruptly, making the small owl startle. She deposited it on the couch, where it perched on the armrest so it could nap, and went back to bed.
She wouldn't answer that letter. She would sign the bloody papers, and put an end to it.
And when Astoria would owl her, she'll go wherever she'd offer. It was time she moved on, and went back to being herself.