In case you guys forgot, I don't own Harry Potter. just to clear up any confusion.
I have a better authors note at the end.
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Second Chances
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The rest of Hermione's day seemed to race past her. She read his paperwork at least one hundred times, but towards the middle she'd always lose focus and the words began to blur.
She hadn't even finished when Abbey popped her head in to announce that the workday was over.
She looked at her in disbelief; that meant she'd have been there like that for over two hours. She looked at the clock in hopes of Abbey being wrong, but to no prevail.
God damn, what the hell have I been doing?
Then she looked down at the paper, which now contained wrinkles on its side from frequent handling.
..Oh.
"…Miss Granger? I asked if you were leaving?" asked Abbey a bit impatiently.
"Hm? Oh, yes. I'll file this then I'll be on my way. You're free to go if you want."
Abbey gave a curt nod before exiting, her flats audibly scuffing the tile floor.
Hermione stood up from the chair behind her desk, only to find that her legs had become painfully sore, most likely from sitting there doing nothing important for such a long time.
She opened up her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a new manila folder. She reached for the pen on her desk, only to discover it was gone.
That bastard.
Hermione perturbly reached across the desk and grabbed one of the promotion pens she had in a container on the top left corner of her wooden cherry desk.
She scribbled his name on the open tab of the blank manila folder and placed his papers inside. She put the file under her "M" section in the back of her office, next to the bookcase behind the desk.
She closed the metal drawer containing his file a bit harder than she normally would.
Hermione didn't bother walking home, her legs were far too sore for even that. She locked her office door and apparated with a Pop! to the alley behind her apartment building in which her flat was located.
The lobby of the building was fairly clean, the rug in the middle of the room made a nice touch. There was the clerk's desk on the farthest wall, but nobody was ever there, really. The wall next to that stood two entrances to the elevators, which were becoming Hermione's choice method of transportation more and more. The wall next to that, and across from the clerks desk, was the main entryway, containing a fairly expensive looking revolving door, which distracted well from the pale yellow wallpaper that had just begun to curl in the corners. The last wall contained a standard picture of a vase of flowers; Hermione truly didn't care for that painting. She never had. Then there were the stairs, but they were never used really, except for her when she was able to climb without regretting it an hour later.
She pressed the plastic button with the arrow pointing upwards between the two elevator doors and shifted her weight onto her hip. She always played this game in her head to guess which shaft would open first, and she was usually right.
The door to her left opened smoothly as she stepped inside the monothematic elevator room. The wall, the floor, the ceiling, everything was an unalarming grey. The doors came to a close and she counted the numbers as she approached her floor.
One…Two …Three… Four… Five… Six…Seven…
Eight. Ding.
She held her briefcase to her side as she strutted down the empty hallway, the soft yellow lights they had installed above complimented the yellow wall and red carpet quite nicely, almost feigning elegance.
Almost.
Once she had unlocked her door and set her things down on the kitchen island near the front door, she began to trace back the events of her day.
Wake up. Get Dressed. Go to work. Malfoy. Nothing. Home.
"Mum's a real jetsetter, huh Crooks?" she said to the cat, who had come out of its hiding to run back and forth between her legs. She bent down and pet the old cat, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her calendar and her eyes automatically went to the next upcoming Malfoy.
Hermione found it hard to believe that Draco Malfoy was still as much of an irritating git as he had been in their youth. I guess some traits stay alive with age.
She slipped out of her skirt, blazer, shirt, and under dressings and pulled on her favorite robe. It was red satin and felt divine on bare skin.
She loosened her bun to let her short graying curls fall, only to have them bounce back up into their natural place.
The knob twisted and a heavy stream of water erupted form the faucet filling her bath.
Once filled, she slipped of the robe and sunk herself into the soothing water, closing her tired eyes.
Behind her eyelids, her mind had been replaying the scene with Malfoy today.
"Because you were better than this."
He was right, of course. The job was wonderful for her reputation that she had. What he meant was she was better than to succumb to that reputation.
She knew she was better, too. Things happen in life, as a result of a decision you couldn't have predicted. She could have had such a different life, only if she would've known. If she'd known, she could have saved herself from this bland, monotonous life she led.
Crookshanks pawing at her arm that had been draped over the side of tub is what woke her up. She hadn't slept that well in years, whether it was in bath water or not. She'd been smart enough to put a charm on the tub to prevent accidental drowning a while ago.
Her eyes fluttered open as she subconsciously stroked the orange furred cat's large head.
She exited the bath, drained the water, and slipped into her night robes.
Hermione then gravitated to her warm, inviting, but empty bed. She was exhausted for no apparent reason, so she submerged herself in her blankets and gave into the night.
Hermione awoke that morning with droplets of sweat on her forehead and her covers strewn across her large bed. She had a dream, most definitely had a dream, the first one in a while.
She sat straight up and attempted to remember as much as she could about this rare dream of hers.
She remembered flashing images.
A lust-filled, sweating head above her own, seeming to advance himself onto her.
She had dreamed of herself as she were in her earlier years, beautiful and young. But the face she saw was definitely familiar. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on its features. A long, aristocratic nose, defined jaw, and these eyes that had stared into hers. Grey eyes that stared into hers.
Grey eyes.
Merlin, no. Please be some sort of sick joke.
She wiped her forehead, noticing it's dampness.
She had just awoken from a wet dream about Draco Malfoy. Well, shit.
Hermione's sudden yell of horror caused even Crookshank's old bones to scurry off the bed in fear. She frantically jumped out of her bed, not even bothering to make it. She took an unnecessary shower, hoping to scrub off any residue of the dream. Underneath the hot water, her mind wandered off into its own, eventually replaying bits of the dream on her eyelids.
He was naked, yes, definitely naked, and on top of her. He had her wrists pinned by his masculine hands above her head, smirking down at her in lust, in want. In need. In the dream, she had thrown back her head and moaned, her long brunettes curls that she so desperately missed had pillowed around her petite face. He called her name, but it wasn't Granger. It was Hermione. The way his upper lip curled around the "e" made her go absolutely wild, so strongly that she felt it through the memory and into the shower.
Her eyes snapped open and she shook her head desperately, turning off the water at once.
She found herself struggling throughout the day to keep the naughty dream out of her head. It was Saturday, so she'd figure she'd head out to get the post and a cup of coffee while she was at it.
She wore a simple purple turtleneck sweater with dark wash denim and moccasins, wrapping a soft white scarf around her neck to protect her from the frigid wind that had arrived that morning. Her favorite place to go was a small bistro about a half mile down from her complex, called "Casa del Cambiamento." The small golden bell rang when she walked through the door, receiving a smile from the nearly ancient Italian man behind the counter.
She returned the smile and held up one finger, ordering her usual. She loved the feeling you get when you make contact with something hot when you're cold, that transition between temperature. The man slid her cup across the counter and she handed him to appropriate payment. She sat at a booth in the back corner, almost overlooked if you glanced quickly, for it was masked by the booths beside it. On the way to the table, she grabbed a newspaper that had been lying on one of the front tables, oddly it was unopened.
She had just taken her first sip in the booth when she heard a pair of shoes shuffling down the aisle. They sounded like they stopped right in front of her, so she looked up.
"Merlin, I can't take a piss for five seconds without someone like you stealing my shit!" a voice yelled.
Her eyes had just gone into focus when he spoke.
"Honestly I should—" he began, but as soon as he had recognized her, Draco smirked. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Granger. Gone on an adrenaline rush, stealing others things, hmm?"
Hermione was not expecting this, she wasn't expecting this at all.
"I..I—Well…you shouldn't have left it laying around!" she yelled.
He simultaneously hushed her and lowered himself into the seat across from her.
"Mind keeping it down to a scream, I'm trying to keep a low profile around here…" he muttered, snatching the newspaper out of her hands across the table.
"Why are you even here, Malfoy?"
"That's none of your concern, Granger."
"Actually, it is, seeming as if it could affect your case."
"Well, it won't. So no need to worry."
"I think it'd be a good idea to let your representative know, for the fact that she, by she I mean I, can decide whether this passes or not."
"Fine. I'm touring. Happy?" he grumbled, looking embarrassed.
Hermione burst out laughing, not even bothering to keep quiet.
"Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed hater of muggles and mudbloods, is touring the place of their origin?"
Draco had stood up by now and grabbed Hermione by the elbow, the newspaper tucked under his other arm. Hermione's free hand was clutched onto her coffee as she was basically dragged against her will out of the bistro.
She yelled a word of gratitude to the kind old man who had served her, and he had just smiled to himself.
"Ah l'amore, mi scalda il cuore."
A/N : Sorry for the mini-delay! School and such, bleh. But let me know if you liked it! I had such a good time writing it, oh man. But I'm tired and have to get up in 3 and a half hours, so goodnight!
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