A/N: Hi everyone! Here's chapter two, as promised. This one took me a little while to write, mainly because there's two HUGE foreshadows in here that will be important later. Oh man, I can't wait to see your reactions to what happens next. AH!
Anyways, I don't own Harry Potter & Co. Never will.. :(
Oh and the song for Hermione in here is "A-Team" by Ed Sheeran.
Read and Review!
SECOND CHANCES
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The ray of sun blazed through the thick, burgundy curtains next to her bed, ending right on her face. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, stretching her tired body. She reluctantly dragged herself up and made her bed, tucking in the sides so the corners had perfect creases. Not like anyone was going to see them, really.
She trudged into the bathroom down the narrow hallway, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
What have I become?
If you hadn't seen her recently, you probably wouldn't have recognized her. Her eyes seemed to be masked by the dark bags that were underneath them, a consequence of long, tired nights and interrupted slumbers. Although she kept her figure, her skin had lost the luminosity it possessed when she was younger. Her hair had been cut above her shoulders and her curls had dulled down quite a bit. She reminded herself of a thinner version of Umbridge. Dear god.
Her hands splashed her face with cold water, waking up whatever part of her body was still asleep. Her rest had been dreamless as it normally was. What was there to even dream about? She'd reached the top of her career branch. She had more money than she knew what to do with. But money didn't fill the hole that was ever-present inside of her. Money was just material, it offered no actual comfort to her.
It was almost as if her days were becoming longer, and the ticks on her clock had slowed their pace. This only meant that she had more time to regret, to hopelessly wish. She thought of the decisions she would change, how she could save herself from this…this...nothing that had become her life. She thought of what she could become, how happy she could have been.
Yet here she was. Alone, no children to call her own. The only thing she could call her own was her flat. Her cold, empty flat. It didn't matter how much money she had, it was pointless if she had nothing to use it for. She'd grown bitter over the years of solitude and desolation.
"I'm fucking Umbridge," she whispered to herself pathetically.
She conversed with her co-workers of course, but wouldn't really consider them friends. They were the closest she had, though. Then there was Crookshanks, but he was a damn cat. Hermione laughed at herself, she fit the stereotype like a lock and key. Outsiders looked at her in pity, thinking to themselves how sad it was to see such a hero fall into conformity, to become nothing spectacular or what she deserved. She didn't get angry, because Hermione thought it too.
She shook her head of clouded thoughts and got a handle on her mane, coating it with a layer of hairspray to keep her curls maintained.
Twenty minutes or so later, she walked out the door and into the frigid open air. The sun's heat was only shining on her head and shoulder, offering some relief. She could see her breath in little white puffs before her, only to dissolve into nothing. She crossed the street with her head down, examining her heels that she had chosen to wear that day.
Her unimportant thoughts were interrupted by the sudden and blaring sound of an approaching car horn. She spun forward and held her hands before her, attempting to stop the vehicle. The car screeched and the smell of burnt rubber wafted in the air around her, but came to a stop just before her.
The driver, who was a younger man in his mid-fifties with a receding hairline, rolled down his side window and yelled, "Oi, where the hell you think you're goin! You're going to get yourself killed!" He muttered something else inaudible before settling back into his seat.
Hermione offered an apologetic smile and hurriedly made her way across the street. She glanced around her to see if anyone noticed the scene. Perhaps a few, but nothing too much. She didn't want anyone to see her enter the ministry through the phone booth around the corner. She deposited her change, and the grey platform underneath her began to lower into an elevator compartment. She stepped off the platform and onto the dull-colored carpet of the elevator.
She straightened out her fitted tan pencil skirt and re-adjusted her crème-white blouse underneath her corresponding blazer. The shaft came to a jutting stop, causing Hermione to almost lose her balance. Once she regained herself, she made her way from the elevator to the enormous black tiled lobby of the ministry.
With a glance at the clock, she walked swiftly to her office, bumping into a few bustling workers who were underneath her. She had a meeting with a new client in five minutes, but knowing her secretary Abbey, the meeting probably started about ten minutes ago.
She reached the door of her office, not surprised it was open. Through the doorframe she saw Abbey talking to someone, but the wall hid their identity. She cleared her throat and entered her office, provoking an introduction from her secretary. She turned to face the client with a universal smile, but when her eyes focused on the man in front of her, the smile dropped off of her face.
Draco Malfoy. His hair line had receded and his skin had become blemished, but she could tell that smirk anywhere. It was practically trademark, for Godric's sake. His eyes were still that same cold, grey color that had always reminded her of a thunderstorm.
He cocked one eyebrow and she realized she'd forgotten to speak. "Right, erm," she stuttered, "Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione and I'll be handling your case," she held out one solid hand to him, hoping that he didn't remember her name after all of these years.
He met her hand in a brief, firm grip and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. But you already knew that, didn't you, Granger?" he smirked.
She feigned a look of surprise and added, "Draco Malfoy? I hardly recognized you, how are you?" she said as politely as she could. Of course she recognized him, of course she remembered him. He was her childhood rival, often interrogating her during and between classes. He was the first person to ever call her a Mudblood, even as a small child. She wasn't going to go into hysterics; her childhood bully was almost diminutive when compared to the other struggles in her life. She just had to put work in front of emotions, as she always did. If she did her job well, she could have this case done and over with in about two days.
She didn't notice his answer; she was too caught up inside her own head. She noticed everyone staring and assumed it was her turn to speak.
"Good, good. So, how can we help you?" She asked impersonally.
"He's attempting to pass a building permit," Abbey answered.
Hermione nodded at her secretary and thanked her before motioning that she be on her way. Abbey flashed an overly large smile at Draco and nodded to Hermione before exiting her office.
He leaned back in his chair and laid his arms on the armrests. He smirked to himself and snickered.
"Imagine that, I still got it after all this time."
Hermione discarded her professional façade and scoffed.
"You can't still have something you never had in the first place, Malfoy, " she countered.
"Really?" He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his fists, "Now how d'you figure that, Granger? Weasley tell you that? Because we all know how difficult it is to get Lavender," he sneered.
Hermione narrowed her eyes into slits and crossed her arms defiantly. "Ronald is completely irrelevant, I have a distinct memory of you being repulsive."
He sat back in his chair and stared at her for a minute.
"I wasn't supposed to communicate with who I was taught to be beneath me," he ended, staring past Hermione.
She wasn't expecting that, not at all. In fact, she'd already thought of a retort. She walked over towards her desk in front of the chair he was sitting and took her seat behind it. The witch then shuffled some papers into a folder and rested her hands on the desk.
She once again cleared her throat and changed subjects, ignoring the discomfort that now seemed to be lurking in the air.
"Well, the first thing we'll need to do is classify your property so we can assess the taxes. Commercial or residential?"
"Residential," he answered plainly.
She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a few papers. She slid them across the desk towards him and placed a pen on top.
"Just fill these out, and I'll submit the application and contact you when it becomes approved. It'll take about a week, give or take a few days," she informed him.
He rolled his eyes and began to fill out the papers.
"You know Granger, I'm a bit more surprised than I should be. I'd figure you to have a job that involves telling other people what to do and assuming things, but I'd never thought you'd actually do it," he remarked.
Hermione's jaw tensed and nostrils flared. "Why is that, Malfoy?" she spat.
"Because you were better than this."
He slid the completed papers across the desk, subconsciously pocketing the pen she'd given him and stood up. Without another word, he strutted across the room and to her doorway."
"Malfoy you need to make an appointment with—"
"I'm free next Tuesday at 4."
Then he was gone.
A/N: I reaaaaally loved writing that last bit. Dialogue is my favorite c:
What'd you guys think?
Oh and feel free to leave song suggestions!
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