The next chapter, dear readers. I hope y'all like it.
Rating: T, for language and because I'm paranoid.
Characters: Hermione G. and Draco M., sometimes mentioning/featuring Astoria Greengrass, Ginny W., Ron W., Harry P., and two (minor) OCs.
Summary: Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy gets the shock of his life when Astoria Greengrass ups and leaves him. He needs a good divorce lawyer. That was what he needed and what he expected. But what he didn't expect, however, was a certain bushy-haired brunette in lawyer's clothing, reeling from a break-up with the Weasel King himself. Ignores epilogue. Eventual Dramione.
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Sadly. Do you really think that, if I did, I'd be on fanfiction? Actually, that wouldn't be such a bad idea for authors to explore what would have happened if they didn't...well, I still don't own Harry Potter. Gawd.
This story was corrected by several people along the way, you know who you are, and I give you a lot of thanks :)

Hermione sat on the cold park bench for over an hour, Malfoy's harsh words repeating themselves long in her mind.
"If I have to let go of the past ideas, you have too, too!" He had yelled at her. The words mirrored themselves in her mind as hot tears of shame trickled down her cheek. It had been going so well- for a few moments she had considered Draco an acquaintance, perhaps even a possible friend. But all of that potential for a relationship was lost in a few carelessly thrown out words that Hermione knew were out of line.
Why had she even said that? She knew Draco wasn't inherently evil, even during the Wizarding War had he never killed anyone. At least, she thought so. Had he? Hermione realized how little she actually knew of Draco, except for the fact that he was in Slytherin, was a former Death-Eater, a pureblood, and what little of his personal life he had mentioned to her during her questioning. Oh, and that he was married to Astoria Greengrass. But what of his likes, his dislikes? His favorite color, his favorite food? How wrong had Hermione been to make an assumption of someone she barely knew, of someone she had judged given to a few passing comments during her school days. She knew, of course, that people changed drastically from times when they were thirteen, fifteen, even seventeen. Look at Ron, she thought. He had promised her everything, had given her everything, had unconditionally loved her- or so she thought. All of those feelings would be abandoned in an instant.
Hermione sat on that cold bench, watching the world go by, happy couples, mothers with their children, the occasional jogger with a dog. Just rushing by, never stopping to think. Was she like that, in a metaphorical sense? Was she someone who simply judged people on passing, someone who took first impressions too seriously? She stood up, but was gripped with such an intense feeling of self-hatred that she had to sit down. She bowed her head and the tears fell faster, staining her skirt.
"Miss?" She heard a young voice from above her, and lifted her head up to see a young girl, perhaps four or five.
"Y-yes?" Hermione said, her voice stumbling over the simple syllable.
"Miss, are you alright?" The girl's blue eyes were wide and innocent, her brown curls tumbling over her shoulder.
"Yes." Hermione tried to make her voice sound sure, but she knew she was failing.
"Are you sure?" Her voice was so innocent, Hermione thought, so pure and untainted by the evilness of the world.
"Y-yes..." A single tear rolled down Hermione's cheek.
"No, you're not." It wasn't an accusation from the girl, simply a statement.
"No, I'm not." Hermione sighed.
"Don't be sad." The girl sat down next to her, her short little legs swinging back and forth. "I'm sure you're not alone."
"Thank you." Hermione whispered, her tears nearly stopping.
"Sarah!" Hermione looked over and saw a young woman motioning to the girl. "Sarah, we have to go now!" She called.
"Mommy is calling me. I have to go. But I'll see you soon." The girl promised, and rushed over to where her mother, an equally blonde woman, was sitting. Hermione looked back. The girl waved, then her mother picked her up, and giggling, escorted her out of the park.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Hermione cursed her bad luck. Of course she had forgotten an umbrella, and she couldn't apparate out of here, either, there were too many muggles around. She would simply have to walk to her apartment in the pouring rain.
She walked the twisted streets, occasionally feeling the wet squish of a puddle against her shoes.
Her hair was sopping, her clothes thoroughly soaked. Hermione was glad she had had at least the sense to cast an anti-wet spell on her bag, but that was the only thing she had thought of.
She finally reached her new apartment building,and lightly flicking away the water from her eyes, she unlocked the door with a shaking hand. Trembling and cold, she dragged herself up the three stories to her flat. She hastily unlocked the door and welcome the warmth. Her relief was short-lived, however, as she quickly remembered her predicament.
Her eyes fell on a quill and paper, and she knew what was to be done.

Malfoy fumed, stalking away from the park as fast as he possibly could. He was mad. No, he was more than mad, he was enraged. How dare that woman, that girl, even think about using him name in connection Voldemort's? He had done nothing during the Wizarding War, nothing, his only crime was to stand idly by while his parents, his goddamned parents and their friends, did everything that had been considered a crime.
And hadn't his mother saved her precious little boy-who-lived's life when Voldemort asked her to tell him if he was dead or not? Hadn't she? Hadn't she?
Who was Hermione, Granger, Ms. Granger, whoever the hell she was to him to even judge him on this? How was this his fault? Hadn't he tried to make the right choices, but continually failed? Hadn't he not killed Dumbledore?
Looking down into a great river below the bridge he was now standing on, he thought of jumping. How easy it would be, to simply let the past go. Of course, he could always do that without killing himself, but how could he leave the past behind if it kept finding ways to get to his heart, as it reached down deep inside and tore him inside out until he was torn apart? He couldn't keep living like this, he knew it. And jumping off the bridge would just be a simple way to stop.
The idea nearly sounded like heaven to him, a world where he didn't have to answer to anyone, where the past could simply...die.
He walked to the edge of the narrow bridge, wondering what it would be like to die. Would he see the people that had died at the final battle, or would he be banished to a hell-like place because of the sins he had committed in his youth?
He looked at the swirling water, at the foaming waves below him. The water tossed and turned, utterly unforgiving. It would take his life away, he knew that. He was sure. He took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, perhaps for the last time. He straightened his shoulders, put a foot forward-
and backed away.
Draco himself was surprised at his decision. He was so sure, it would have been so right. Yet he couldn't do it. He simply couldn't end his life so quickly, so simply.
So by the bridge he stood, watching the sun across its path in the sky. He stood there for at least an hour, maybe more.
People, workers, everyone seemed to rush past him, but he took no notice of them. Was this how other people judged them, by the sins of the past and first impressions? Was this why Herm-Granger had seemingly not forgiven him for the dark years that lay behind him? Did she not know that going through that, knowing what he was doing was wrong, was in itself a kind of personal hell?
He felt a drop of rain on his shoulder. He cursed. Why did this kind of stuff always happen to him?
He considered his options. He could run home, but it was simply too far. Finally spotting a solution, he rushed towards the nearest public bathroom. Still, he nearly got soaked to the skin. After making sure no one was in it, he stepped into a stall and apparated, landing clumsily in his new apartment.
His eyes fell on a quill and a piece of parchment on his desk, and he knew what was to be done.
There you have it, dear ones. Right here ^^^^^
I had a little trouble with this chapter, and I know the cliffhanger isn't quite resolved yet, but don't worry. I'll have the next chapter up AT THE VERY VERY LATEST by next week.
Thanks for all of your awesome reviews, alerts, and favorites. It means so much to me to know that y'all care enough. Really, it's great.
Please review.
Love, Panda.
(I light my HP Fangirl candle once for each review I get!)