12/06/11: Betaed by Raven of Red Wings

A/N: So, I made the deadline! Do you guys mind if I switch back and forth from Draco's point of view to Hermione's? I hope it's not annoying or anything. Also, is it long enough? I'm trying, really, but it gets hard to do when my week is so busy. SO MUCH WORK TO DO! Review and let me know. They make my life, your reviews.

Chapter Three: The Old Life, The New Life

Hermione:

I never thought I'd have this much junk to carry over. Let me tell you, getting to America is not a piece of cake; neither is shipping over your things. So if you want to move this far, folks, make sure this is really what you want, because unless you're a rich, spoiled brat, it's probably too expensive to leave it all and go back home.

Not that I'm considering that, or anything. Of course.

I live in some rent control apartment on the East Side of New York. At least, that's all I retained from the real estate agent that sold it to me. I know that's quite bad, not knowing things about where you live. Believe me, I'd gone through enough crap during the war and I'm not eager to go through things like that again. But I was much too concerned with getting my arse out of London. So when the real estate agent told me she had an apartment for me with a bedroom, washroom, in a relatively alright area, I said why the hell notand bust my way right to New York.

What the hell was I thinking?

I had landed myself into something rather dreary, if you think positively. This place was on some busy street or another, the name of which I still need to figure out, and it was positively frightful. The kitchen had linoleum of some sort of vomit green, the paint was peeling in places and the toilet, well. I didn't really want to open that door yet. My furniture was much too big for this place, and I hadn't really brought that much to begin with.

I was already depressed and I had only been here for about twenty minutes. In the city for less than a day. What was I going to do? There was nothing to go back home to. I couldn't beg for my job back at the ministry, and frankly, I didn't really want to. My friends would all just say, I told you so! Ron especially. Though that wanker takes too much pleasure in tormenting me, since I had dumped him a year after our relationship barely started. I don't know how Harry manages to be friends with him still. The war changed him more than it changed anyone else.

Though I don't blame him for it. He lost a lot more than he deserved to.

Sitting there, on the sort of bench they provided me in my room adjoined to the long windows in my room (which was the only upside of this dump of a place, by the way, they're absolutely gorgeous, even though they need cleaning), I realized that I had become more bitter than an old woman living with a bunch of cats. Well, I suppose, I am a woman living with a cat. Crookshanks is the only being that hasn't disappointed me all these long years.

So sitting here, by my beautiful windows, overlooking a Chinese take out, I resolved myself for the long gruelling hours fixing up my new life, my new home. It would take a lot of paint and magic.

I watched my cat jump onto my bed, yawn, and curl itself into a snug, furry ball. That little devil can always read my mind. Perhaps it really was time for a nap. I had a gruelling week ahead of myself, what with renovating and the new job...

Yawning, I joined Crookshanks on the bed, burying my face into his furry mane. He purred while a scratched behind his ears. I rather loved this cat... He would be with me forever. Or, at least I hoped so. Magical beings live much longer than ordinary ones. I smiled, thinking back to the Care of Magical Creatures class, and Hagrid. I missed home, but this was my new life.

But I swear if the American Ministry of Magic is as horrid as this place, I'm going to Switzerland for an early retirement!

Draco:

When I was three, my mother would always spend every evening reading to me, and telling me stories, all kinds of stories. Sometimes, they would be about how wizards and witches were created to keep the bad and dirty blood in line and other times they wouldn't be stories at all. Just lectures, long, long lectures about how I was supposed to be the elite. I was pure.

I realized years later that it was just indoctrination and not too long after that I learned not to question my parent's ideals unless I wanted to be whipped.

I received my first lashing when I was six. It was cruel. I can still remember my mother silently crying in the corner while my father's belt bit into my skin, over and over. I thought she was sad because I was in pain, but later I found out that it was because I had failed them so greatly.

At this point, I don't even remember what I had done to deserve that whipping, but I never understood. Not even when I stood there with my wand pointing at Dumbledore wondering what I was protecting, whose bidding I was doing. I never really cared for The Dark Lord. I just knew it was best to be afraid of him. My parents had given me that much indication at the very least.

Even until the day he was vanquished I knew all my life that I would be broken... faithless... broken... loveless... afraid...

The life I was meant to live under this ruler, this saviour, blood cleanser, was simply a life meant to torture myself into nothingness. Each day, I could feel myself breaking slightly, becoming a shell, afraid, alone. That was the way my life was meant to be. I was never simply worthy enough to be the Malfoy heir, and so I would be tortured for it. I didn't deserve to breathe, that much I knew.

So many memories I have of this suffering. It could take years before I remember it all. It all starts with a mother's tear stained face...

"Master Draco, please, Master Draco out from under there's! We must get you to eat, we must. Dobby must, Dobby shall!"

"No, no. No. No.Mother will sob. Can't have mother sob, she can't because of me."

"Master Draco, please out from under the bed, sir, out..."

"No. No. I must remember."

Hermione: (5 days later)

I'm not sure if I want to either slap myself silly or kill the American Wizarding population, or maybe just the ministry, I can settle for that. Especially the male portion!

I suppose I should slow down a little bit. I'm tempted to just rant, though. Alas, I suppose I don't have time for such broodings. But perhaps I do.

My job here, in New York, hasn't exactly made itself clear. I've been shoved in the department of International Relations, which seemsto be an important sector of the ministry, but it really isn't. The American ministry is located in a large skyscraper on Wall Street. I don't know what this says about the American Ministry, but I don't know if it's a really good image. Well, they all seem like dirty business men, so I suppose it's fitting. I'm not sure if this is meant to be intentional or not.

On my first day to work, I showed up entirely too hopeful and much too dressed up. For the first time since perhaps Fleur and Bill's wedding had I put more than an hour into my appearance? This turned out to be a hugemistake, seeing as all the males at work just need a goddamn distraction. Not only does being a foreigner make you a novelty here, but a dressed up foreigner makes you a desirable "item". I also made the mistake of opening my mouth and spewing something intelligent at the board meeting in which I was introduced at.

The End Result: The women hate me, the men harass me, the older men look down on me, the older women ignore me and I'm shoved in a desk with mounds of useless paperwork and even more useless errands. Like being the resident coffee fetcher. How in the hell can a group of people drink that much coffee? It's only been a week, but I miss my old flat, my old friends and maybe my old job.

But only just a little.

This is like the start of my first year at Hogwarts all over again, when no one really liked me, and I was too much of a know-it-all to bear. In fact, I'd rather go back to that. Being an adult has much too many responsibilities. Come to think of it, why didn't I just apply for a job at Hogwarts? That would've been brilliant, but with too many memories to return to.

It's been five years but the damage from the war still hasn't been completely repaired. The castle is still recuperating, but the memories of everything will probably remain there for the rest of eternity.

I suppose work isn't all that bad, I could be working seventy hours a week with no accomplishments like I had been back in London. Maybe things here can perk up, right? It's only been a week. I can't just shoot down things like this. It isn't practical. I will go out sometime this weekend and explore. It's New York City, for god sakes!

Sighing, I threw myself down on my newly acquired couch. I've been spending my evenings fixing up the flat. I started with the disgusting bathroom; magically sweeping away all of the grime and transfiguring just about everything else to look... better, for lack of other wording. The enlargement charms definitely helped with the rest of the apartment as well.

Now, I live in a decent place. Who knew magic could be so handy, eh?

A/N: So Draco and Hermione are going to meet in the next chapter. Was this chapter any good? I'm not so sure. And Hermione's interpretation of the ministry? She's not annoying yet is she?