Hey all! Here's the next chapter like I promised!

SPECIAL thanks to:

MilkMustache, my VERY FIRST reviewer! The encouragement means so much:D I read your one-shots, and they're awesome! I hope u like the next chapter…

Dark Yellow Dino: thank you for the support!

InuAva: they'll be together eventually! ;)

ygirl: Thank you! I I'll try and update as fast as I can:)

Again, I really appreciate it! Hopefully I'll have even more reviewers next time (hint hint hint)!

…

"speaking"

Thinking (or dreaming or a letter)

…

Hermione lay in a coffin, cold and unmoving as ice under a smooth glass pane. Ginny, Harry and Ron filed past.

"I feel so bad!" Ginny sobbed. "We practically ignored her during her last months!" A single tear dripped down Harry's nose. The Weasley family walked past mournfully, each wailing their goodbyes.

Then Draco Malfoy's malevolently leering face appeared.

RAT TAT TAT! He leaned closer, sneering angrily. RAT TAT TAT! He rapped on the glass again. RAT TAT TAT! He cackled madly, banging his knuckles on the pane so hard she could have sworn he would break it. RAT TAT TAT! TAT TAT!

Hermione sat up it bed screaming while biting, scratching and punching at the air. What the hell?!? It took her a moment to register that Draco Malfoy wasn't there.

RAT TAT TAT TAT TAT! Hermione almost shrieked again; then she saw the impatient gray owl rapping at her window. She sighed, swung her feet out of bed, and slipped them into her fuzzy blue slippers, and shuffled over to the small window dragging a chair (so she could reach the owl).

Hermione rented flat in one of the chicest apartment buildings in wizarding London, conveniently located on a Quidditch Boulevard just off Diagon Alley. Neville's Uncle (the one who had hung him out of the window by his ankles when he was a boy) owned the building. When he heard she was looking for a place to live, he had offered her rooms for cheap…in the dark and moldy basement.

She'd fixed the "flat" up nicely with furniture and artwork from various sales, and it was actually rather cozy. But it reminded her a bit of the cells she'd seen on her tour of Azkaban after the war…

The walls and floors were gray cement; she'd bought rugs for her living room, but hadn't been able to afford them for the bedroom. The windows, at ground level, were very near to the basement's ceiling, hence she needed a chair to reach the owl.

Letting the owl in, she removed the neatly sealed parchment from its leg. The animal flew off with a superior sort of hoot. Unfurling the letter, she read the cramped handwriting:

Granger-

As you know, we're supposed to meet with our partners to "socialize" and decide which parts of our auror training we will focus on the most, and which classes to attend when. Meet me at Tourby's Diner at 12 noon.

Draco Malfoy

Hermione bristled. The nerve of him! What if 12 isn't convenient for me? Pompous as always. This clearly isn't going to work…

Hermione buried her head in her hands and sighed. She glanced at the clock standing on her dresser, beside a wilted vase of daisies. 10:42 am. UGH! She had overslept, again.

...

Half an hour later, Hermione had showered and was dressed in simple dark skinny jeans, blue-green flats, a forest green waffle-knit shirt and her favorite teal robe. She'd hastily dried and combed through her wild hair, trying to make it curl nicely before exasperatedly pulling it in into a neat ponytail, applying a light coat of eye make-up, and putting on some chap stick.

Spinning on the spot, Hermione apparated to her favorite coffee shop: Master Russeldorf's.

Master R's was a sunny little place: the walls were papered with colored pictures clipped from The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, The Quibler, and various other magazines and newspapers. The shop itself was crammed with a motley collection of squishy couches and colorfully patterned armchairs. A cozy fire crackled in the grate, but by the windows potted flowers flourished.

There was nothing Hermione loved more than grabbing a scone with her tea, and curling up in the soft, velveteen chair by the fireplace with a good book.

Hermione grabbed a paper while she waited for her customary tea. The headline read CHUDLEY CANNONS RECRUIT THE BOY WHO LIVED AND SIDEKICKS: A BREAKTHROUGH FOR THE CANNONS?

Hermione felt pride swell in her heart: she was truly happy for Harry, Ron and Ginny. At the same time, she couldn't help but wish she at least knew how to fly. The article reminded her of her dreams of playing Quidditch.

No one really thinks of me as the athletic type, Hermione realized. It was true: she wasn't the most sporty girl around, but she could run mile in 6 minutes 50 seconds. That was pretty darn good! I guess I'm just afraid to fail, to be laughed at. Which is stupid.

She walked back to the counter to get her tea: Mark, the cute, tattooed guy at the counter winked at her.

Hermione smiled back warmly.

Checking her watch, Hermione saw she still had 20 minutes. Tourby's (where she had to meet ferret extraordinaire) was just around the corner; she could sit for a bit. Returning to her table, she was surprised to see someone sitting at her seat, behind her newspaper, reading it!

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione marched up to the uninvited guest. She opened her mouth to speak, but the mystery person cut her off.

"I'm sure Weaselbee would love to see you flirting with the coffee boy," Draco Malfoy drawled as he lowered the News Paper, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or perhaps he really doesn't care. But that would be too smart for him." Hermione bristled. Why? I thought I had another 20 minutes of ferret-free life!

"Flirting?!? SOME of us like to be friendly. It's called smiling at people," Hermione smirked.

"But you're smirking now. Watch out, you're becoming quite Slytherin,"

"Oh, Malfoy, I said smiling at people not ferrets." Hermione grinned triumphantly, but Malfoy kept his face blank.

"Watch yourself, mudblood," Draco responded, almost nonchalantly, like the word didn't mean a thing.

Hermione cringed. I should have known it would come to this! Holding her head high, shot him a withering glance.

"Well, at least my muggle parents aren't in Azkaban…Oh, I forgot, you're probably proud of your father. After all, like father like son," Hermione retorted. The effect was immediate. Electricity seemed to pulse from Malfoy's flashing steel blue eyes. Uh-oh, bad move Hermione? She thought.

"Granger," He hissed in a dangerous whisper. "You'd better listen, because I'm not saying this again. I. Am. Not. A. Deatheater. You get that into your silly little head, because we are stuck together. And if you think it's alright to disrespect me, you'd better think again. I am not my father. But don't get me wrong: I know some pretty nasty curses. So watch your step."

Hermione was shaken; but she quickly regained her composure.

"Was that a threat?"

"What did it sound like?"

Hermione sighed. This wasn't getting anywhere. Why does the ferret have to be so damn arrogant and stubborn? Why did Kingsley do this to me?

"OK, Malfoy, as you said we're stuck working together for probably the rest of our lives. Except if you quit or die." She couldn't help but smile hopefully. "Otherwise, we'd better be civil to each other…" she paused. "But why are you reading my newspaper? Why are you here at all?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"Civility, Granger, civility. I happen to like the coffe here. And how should I have known this was your paper?.... Quite the headline Potter's got," He smirked nastily.

"Yes, isn't if wonderful? But I guess I always knew Potter would go the furthest with Quidditch," Hermione added spitefully. Whooops! Not-so-civil.

"Looks like you can't control your temper, Granger. I'm sure Weaselbee loves that in a girl." Malfoy looked at her condescendingly. "Perhaps you haven't heard. I'm signed with Puddlemere United. Seeker."

Hermione felt her jaw drop. How the hell did he get that job? Hermione remembered to close her mouth.

"Well, looks like Puddlemere's in for a bad season."

"Say what you like, Granger, but our trainings going well. Maybe you could come watch some time." Hermione felt her jaw drop for the second time in five minutes. His practices must be going REALLY well! Hermione frowned, deep in thought. I'd have a chance to watch more flying--at an even higher level-- if I went with Draco… And I bet he expects me to say no… she smirked.

"That'd be lovely, Malfoy. Perhaps some time," She replied: it's was Malfoy's turn to be speechless, even if (alas!) only for a moment.

"I didn't know you liked Quidditch, Granger."

"I don't!" She said, a bit to quickly. "I just find it interesting to watch." Uh-oh, Hermione, he'll never stop teasing you if he finds out you dream about playing Quidditch!

"We should really talk about work. As interesting as my life is, this meeting was supposed to be for planning," She added hastily.

"Ok, ok, bossy beaver."

"Shut up, flying ferret." They glared daggers at each other.

…

Three hours later, Hermione arrived back at her flat. She and Malfoy had decided to focus on stealth and combat for the first months of their training.

She pulled on her sweatpants and a tank top with sweater over it, laced up her sneakers, and secured her hair in a flyaway messy bun. She was ready for her daily run.

The cool air brought color to her cheeks as she jogged through Diagon Alley. The streets were crowded with witches and wizards: window shopping, chatting, eating. She smiled to herself. Things have been good since the war ended…

"Oof!" Hermione ran headlong into something (or someone) large and solid, losing her balance. The person grabbed her arm, but she slipped from her attempted-rescuers grasp. The last thing she remembered seeing were a pair of bright grey-blue eyes.

They're beautiful! she thought as her head hit the pavement and everything went black.

…

Is it confusing? Is it clear that the whole first part with the coffin, and Draco tapping, is a nightmare?

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!!!

Suggestions/questions/confusions/comments, whateva you like welcome!

~Tatiana;)