2 June, Wednesday, 1930 BST
Hermione inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through her nostrils, waking her up. She blinked several times, trying to get used to the darkness of her bedroom. She turned to see the illuminated numbers of her old clock radio. It was 7:30 p.m.
She had arrived home from work after her usual forty-eight hour shift, a little after noon. She ate a small snack and then took a nap. She hadn't even changed out of her doctor's scrubs.
Her coffeemaker wasn't a programmable one, so she was a bit surprised about it. She sat straight up in her bed. Had she left it on before she took her nap? She stretched after stumbling out of bed. She exited her bedroom, sleep still fresh on her mind. She entered the bathroom, not even noticing the lit kitchen.
After using the bathroom and washing her face, she finally shook herself awake. She headed to the kitchen to a surprise. She gave a laugh as she saw what waited for her in the tiny room.
"When did you get here?" she asked the platinum blonde.
He smiled back, "About a half an hour ago."
She looked at the kitchen table. She raised an eyebrow. "You made dinner?"
"Would you believe me if I said, 'yes'?" he smiled, raising his own eyebrow.
She laughed. "No," she said as she sat down.
He joined her at the table. "About the only thing I made was the coffee. I got the hang of that," he smiled. She laughed.
"I talked the chef elves at the Manor into cooking up some dinner to go. I think they said it was roast beef and some sort of vegetable French thing?"
"Vegetable crudités?" she said as she plucked a carrot off her plate.
"That's the one," he said as he tucked in as well. They both laughed. They enjoyed their meal in silence for a few moments.
She took a sip of her cranberry juice before studying him. She smiled and shook her head. "This seems to be a usual occurrence."
He shrugged his shoulders, "I like the conversation."
She tipped her glass to him. He did the same to her. "Doesn't your current girlfriend wonder where you're off to?"
"Are we prying?" he asked playfully.
She noticeably flushed. She took a breath, "I just . . . I just figured you would have better things to do than to spend time irritating your former childhood Muggle-born rival."
"Nah," he said smiling. She laughed again as they continued to tuck in and enjoy their meal.
o-o-o
Their encounters were frequent, usually after Hermione's work shift. Draco would bring by a meal or just a light snack. Either way, Hermione found the conversation to be enlightening. She even welcomed the little arguments they continued to have even after Hogwarts, although not as explosive. They talked about many things that Hermione could have never imagined they would ever talk of.
o-o-o
22 June, Tuesday, 2100 BST
They sat drinking their late evening tea. Hermione knew he had come from a date night with Roxanne, his on-again off-again girlfriend. She could smell the perfume on his collar. She sighed inwardly; nothing would ever come of their relationship.
He studied her intently. She took a sip of her tea. He cleared his throat, "I never got the chance to ask you. Did you always want to be a doctor?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's a calling that I grew into. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged his shoulders as well. "I just figured you'd be working for the Ministry, maybe helping Mr. Weasley in his Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts."
"Very funny," she said, laughing.
He smiled at her, "You were dubbed the smartest witch of our generation."
"I was never very comfortable with that moniker," she said looking down at her tea.
"You're too modest, you know that," he said sincerely.
"How about you? Did you always want to be an inspector?" she said, changing the subject.
"I grew into the profession," he smirked. "I actually wanted to be a professional Death Eater."
Hermione looked at him for a moment. She said softly, "That isn't funny."
"Sorry," he said. "I just figured that's the outlook you had for me all those years at Hogwarts."
"Maybe in the beginning," she smiled. "People change over time, Draco."
He nodded. "I, um," he paused. "You'd laugh at my dream job."
"I wouldn't do that," she reassured him.
He took a sip of his tea. "I wouldn't mind doing what Professor Snape does."
"You want to be a spy?" Hermione looked at Draco skeptically.
Draco laughed. Hermione joined in. He smiled at her, "I want to teach. I was pretty good at Potions. I was second to some other student; I don't remember her name."
Hermione laughed as she raised an eyebrow. "Professor Draco Malfoy," she said testing the title. She shrugged.
"You don't think I could do it," he said smirking at her.
"Not so," she said, sincerely. "I think you were a brilliant Potions student. I think Professor Snape saw that."
"But you still don't think I could make it as a teacher?" he asked a little disappointed.
"You'd have to put your biases aside," she said, looking straight at him. "You can't favor one House over the other."
"What would be the fun in that?" he asked jokingly.
"Seriously, Draco," she said, her eyes widening. "You'd have to treat each child equally and equitably."
Draco studied her, before nodding his head. "It would be a challenge," he smirked. Hermione laughed. "Especially if there might be some annoying, bushy haired, bucktoothed, freckle faced, first year know-it-all just waiting to answer every question posed."
"Just don't not call on her because she's a … a Mudblood, all right," she said, looking at him, hopeful.
He shook his head. "Don't," he said, taking a hold of her left hand. She breathed deeply. He continued, rather sincerely. "Don't use that word."
He watched as the corners of her mouth turned upwards. He pulled his hand away, replacing it on his teacup as he took another sip; as if he had needed both hands to hold the cup.
"I once called someone that foul word, years ago. She hit me square in the face with a right hook," he smiled, twitching his nose.
She laughed. "I don't think you said that when I hit you."
"Yes, but the force behind the hit felt like there was a year's worth of pent up anger," he smirked at her good-naturedly. She laughed again. "I've regretted saying it ever since."
"I think you'd make a great teacher, Draco," Hermione said sincerely.
He nodded at her. "Thanks."
"So what would Roxanne and your parents say about this dream of yours?"
He shrugged. "They'd probably disown me," he laughed. "Well, Roxanne might just be pissed off for a while. There aren't too many roguishly handsome Pure-blood wizards anymore."
She laughed. "You're incorrigible, you know that," she said, stifling a yawn that he noticed.
"I'll let you get some sleep, Hermione," he said as he stood.
"What time is it," she asked standing as well.
"Almost half past ten," he said, looking at the watch on the coffee maker. "You need help cleaning up?"
"Nah, just leave it there until morning," she said, stretching.
"Nonsense," he said, waving his wand, uttering Scourgify as he did it. "You should put your new wand into practice as well."
"I know," she said rolling her eyes.
o-o-o
Draco had playfully warned her that he would kidnap Mr. Ollivander and bring him to her apartment if she did not accompany him to Diagon Alley to get her a new wand. So, it was a couple of weeks ago that Hermione found herself side-by-side the platinum blonde wizard as they walked down the streets of the bustling commercial area. She had tried hard to hide her uneasiness as she had noticed all of the passersby staring curiously. Draco, she noted, didn't seem to mind all of the attention. What would the Prophet's gossip columns speculate about this time?
The thin older wizard smiled as the couple entered. "I haven't seen you two since you came in to buy your wands for Hogwarts," Mr. Ollivander said.
"Good day, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione smiled at the wand maker, "that was like seventeen years ago."
"What can I do for you this fine day," Mr. Ollivander asked as he stood behind the counter.
"Ms. Granger is looking for a new wand," Draco said.
"My old one shattered at the end of the war," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders.
Mr. Ollivander nodded as he started to sift through the stack of wands directly behind him. "Well, let's see about finding a wand for you, then. Now it's the wand that chooses the wizard or witch as it may …" the grey haired wizard trailed off as he walked towards the back of the shop.
"Now let's see if a wand from the same cache that your old wand came from, finds your hand as comfortable as your old one did," the old wand maker said as he placed several wand boxes in front of the young woman. He gave her a nod. Hermione blew out a breath as she started to test the wands.
They were in the wand shop for a good fifteen minutes, going through box after box. As powerful a witch Hermione was, she nearly tore up the whole shop; nothing a good Scourgify or Reparo wouldn't be able to fix. Hermione felt awful after each wave of the wrong wand, apologizing profusely. Draco found the whole situation quite amusing.
Then it happened. The wand tip glowed and then suddenly the whole room lit up with a blue incandescent tinge.
"I think we've got our wand," Mr. Ollivander smiled.
o-o-o
"You know, that could have easily been done with some dish soap and water; the Muggle way," she said smiling.
He shrugged at her, smirking. "Why go through all of that hassle," he said.
"You're incorrigible," she said smiling back at him.
"And you look very tired," he said. He kissed her on her forehead, the first real intimate touch since he had rescued her from the Crabbe Mansion. Hermione held her breath for a moment. He took a step back, brushing off the impulsive act. "You should get some rest."
"Right," she said, needing to grasp the counter for balance.
"I have an early day at the Ministry tomorrow," he said.
She nodded at him. He took a breath. He gave her a grin before waving his wand, disapparating. She blew out a breath, hesitating for a moment wondering what had just happened, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
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