01/07/12: Betaed by Raven of Red Wings

A/N: I'm so sorry for skipping a week. I just got a tad depressed at the lack of reviews. Thank you to everyone who's reading. Let me know if this is worth continuing with.
By the way, the slashes are to show you the chapter breaks because I'm rather stupid and don't know how to make it show up otherwise.

Chapter Four: Meeting the Inevitable

Hermione:

The days just go by so fast here, and life moves on whether you're coming along or not. Everyone wants to just go, go, go and you're either trampled on or pulled along. I've been lucky so far, managing to hold on, make it to the end of the week. Friday's, it turns out, are my sacred days. I love Fridays and consequently hate Mondays. Immature? I used to think so, back in the old days. These days, I'm just going with what comes naturally.

The weekends are my sanity and my apartment is my sanctuary. Soundproofed, cozy, sweet smelling and home. I wish I could just stay in here forever and not have to go back out there into the crazy world.

Work is as hectic as can be. Unfortunately, it turns out, my status as war hero and Golden Girl means absolutely nothing here. I suppose that was what I was after, but it's absolutely true. You don't appreciate what you have until you lose it all. Well, in my case, throw it all away. It's only been two weeks and I'm considering quitting life in America and finding something else for myself in the world.

So I've decided to immerse myself in the little things in life.

Friday evenings are my time to cook extravagantly after which I watch a movie on the telly for some entertainment. That, or read. Saturday mornings, I clean, sanitize the place, actually. It's not that I'm a clean freak, I just need something to fill the time. Cleaning like a muggle after all these years really gets you to appreciate magic all over again. Saturdays I catch up on all the work I need to do before the next dreaded work week starts, after which I hit the city with the intention of doing something stress relieving. I haven't managed to do this last part properly yet, seeing as working drains the life out of me. How can anyone find so many menial tasks to dish out, I've no idea.

Sundays, I've taken up jogging in the morning, after which I wind down my weekend at home. I intend to keep this habit up. It can't hurt to keep in shape, can it? I jog in Central Park. This just happens to be one of my childhood dreams, living in New York and jogging in Central Park. Long ago, when I was a little kid who didn't know I really was an awesome witch in making, I had always fantasized about moving to the United States and working for a publishing company, read all the books in the world and live happily ever after.

I suppose I got half of what I wanted, at least.

This week at work, I finally made a decent acquaintance with a girl who is too shy to be harmful. I had not packed a lunch that morning and had to resort to eating in the cafeteria because my lunch hour didn't allot enough time to go out and find a decent place to grab a bite. I had learned on my very first day that the cafeteria here, and back home as well, is a place you want to completely avoid. There food isn't exactlythe most nutritious nor appetizing.

In the cafeteria, I found myself lined behind a girl who seemed to stand in full stature. She seemed uncomfortable as hell and fidgeting. As we moved up closer to the till, she pulled out her wallet, to pay for whatever it was she was going to order but unfortunately, the contents of her wallet exploded. The poor dear had to scramble all over the floor for loose change and other personal items. No one but me bent down to help her.

The amount of times she said thank you, amazed me. Were people actually that grateful for such small acts of kindness?

She's really too sweet to be working in such a place. She's one of the few females who works in the department of Transportation, and consequently harassed on a daily basis, which she has learned to live with the two years she's been working here.

After whispering thank you to me at least a million times, she looked around her, hoping no one was paying too much attention to her. Well, no one really, except the man who was finished paying for his food in front of her.

"Keep sharp, Zara, eh?" he leered at her. This just made the poor girl, who I figured was named Zara, blush even deeper and scramble even quicker for her things.

"Sorry..." she muttered.

He clucked at her, actually clucked, "clumsy, clumsy, can't do anything right can you? How is it that you manage to keep a job and a house all on your own?" This man, whoever he was, pissed me off more than I needed to be pissed off. I was already having a bad day and all.

"Accidents happen, chap, move along." Zara stared at me with wide eyes, clearly shocked a stranger was standing up for her. I guess people don't do much for others anymore.

"And who are you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"A very impatient customer whose lunchtime you're eating up."

He seemed a little taken aback with my deadpanned response, or must have been, anyways, as he walked off with a little shake of his head. Zara just stood there motionlessly with her mouth a little open. Later I found out that that was the first time the arsehole had left without picking too much of a fight.

"Come on, sweetheart, you're next in line," I motioned for her to go, as everyone else was started to get a little miffed at the hold up.

As she waited on her coffee and sandwich I asked, "So who was that?"

"My ex-husband," she muttered, sheepishly.

"Well, shit."

We spent the rest of the lunch hour together, and by the end of it, I was slightly relieved there was at least one person at the entire ministry that didn't hate my guts.

/

That Sunday, I went out for my run a little bit later than usual, around one in the afternoon. I should be miffed at myself for sleeping in late, but what are weekends for anyways? Walking briskly towards Central Park in the chill, I made a mental note to myself to do the groceries, and perhaps try to beat my own record today.

Putting on my Walkman, I began jogging, slowly at first then falling into the rhythm, barely paying attention to the little kids and couples walking around, nor the other joggers. The leaves were already turning colour and it was easy as hell to lose myself in the brilliant orange and red hues, barely even hearing the low quality din my headphones shot into my ears.

This was really unfortunate for it sent me colliding into another body, knocking me flat onto my back and the other person stumbling a few steps before looking back.

I got onto my knees, panting and apologizing, looking up into the glare of the sunlight to see the person's face. I wasn't expecting them to be nice, as they hadn't even offered me a hand to get up but what I wasn't expecting was to see Draco Malfoy's pale face staring down at me, unconcernedly.

I quickly got to my feet, mouth open down to my knees, probably, I was that shocked. He, however, didn't seem to recognize me, whatsoever, or even care that a damn mudblood had collided right into him. What was he even doing in America? It seems my past is stalking me, once again.

Pulled out of my reverie, I looked at him, noticing he was still staring at me, waiting for a response or not I don't know. It didn't seem like he had a care in the world. I was still gaping at him. Blushing, I first shut my mouth, swallowed a few times to give myself time to pull myself together and cleared my throat.

"Hello, Malfoy..." I waited, but got no response. He wasn't going to hold a grudge after all these years was he? I suppose he wasraised by a bunch of death eaters and probably indoctrinated beyond help, after all, he had tortured me for six years at school.

"Ahm... so what brings you to New York?" I waited again, but still got no response. This was becoming increasingly awkward. He was just standing there, staring at me. Barely, that is, he barely seemed to be listening, he was unfocused. The whole air around him just screamed lost and barely there. His face had no sign of his trademark sneer and hatred I'd become so used to at school. He looked absolutely the same, except he'd grown much taller.

I almost wished he'd throw an insult at me, it would be better than this awkward experience.

"Anyways, I suppose-"

"Can I go now?" he finally spoke up.

How embarrassing!"Um... yeah, sure, Malfoy, go ahead."

I stood there, scratching my overgrown mane of hair, thoroughly confused and slightly mortified at what had happened. Abandoning the idea of completing my run, I found an abandoned section of the park, hid behind some bushes and aparated home.

/

I thought about him all day, while I was in the shower, while I cooked for myself, washed the dishes, barely watched the telly and especially while I finally resigned myself to go to bed.

What had happened?

I had thought that maybe, perhaps, there was a small possibility that I had mistaken some random New Yorker for Malfoy, but I immediately put that thought out of my mind because Malfoy simply cannot be confused. Was it possible for anyone to have such pale blonde hair naturally? Or deep grey eyes. No, those couldn't possibly be confused with another else. Or those clean cut features...

I had always thought of him as looking aristocratic, albeit snotty as hell back in those days, but beautiful nonetheless.

I thought back to earlier that day, remembering looking up at him and how the sun had made him look like he was glowing. Yes, definitely aristocratic, and even more beautiful than I had remembered him, but was that because I was lonely? I don't know.

But what the hell was wrong with the kid?

Remembering how he had just stood there, barely paying attention to me, hardly even recognizing me, kind of shocked me. What had he gone through to make him be this way? Had the war screwed him over as well? Curiosity burned within me and I silently tried to repress the hope that I'd see him again, hoping that maybe this time, he'd actually recognize me.

Shivering, I hugged my blanket close and sank into dreams filled with soft blonde hair and piercing grey eyes, huddling into my pillow and pretending it was someone warm to sleep with.

/

As the work week came, Malfoy was completely put out of my mind and instead replaced with my interesting new friend, Zaranella Michuvitz, whom everyone just called Zara.

She was sovery interesting as I came to find out. Not only is she damn beautiful, she loves to read as much as I do and graduated top of her class when she attended The American Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I learned that she had given up all of her dreams and ambitions of becoming a professor to marry the previously met arsehole, Gary Newtman. They had a happy few months and a child before she discovered his abusiveness, drinking habits and addiction to pornography and whores. It was another three years before she was able to divorce him.

However, it turns out that Gary, who happens to be well in with the American Minister of Magic, had a lot of power to make Zara's life hell, which, being the bastard he is, did. The only place she was able to get hired to feed herself and her kid, was at the ministry where he works.

Now the bastard just finds every way he can to humiliate her and ridicule her. It wasn't a pleasant sight to see.

Zara and I became fast friends, meeting each other after work, and sticking together during our lunch hours. I was so glad to have finally made a fast friend in New York.

Always did have difficulty meeting new people, after all. This just happened to be an experience that wasn't for the worst.

A/N: The next chapter will have Draco's account of their meeting. Is this any good? Shall I make it longer than this or is this length manageable?

Thanks so much you all!