Hermione Granger was sitting by her desk, trying not to cry out loud. Tears were stinging her eyes, but she didn't want to give in. She couldn't, not now.

It was nearly a year since the divorce.

Ever since she became Minister for Magic things had started to get rough. Ron needed love. Attention. Time. She didn't have it, and so couldn't give it to him. She had just been elected the Minister for Magic and every day when she'd got back from work, she was tired. She didn't have the strength to talk, let alone do something or go out.

He understood.

And yet, they were fighting – every single day. Every day, after work, when she came back home tired, and all she wanted to do was curl up with a book or go to sleep.

He understood – but.

But "please, let's do something for a change". "You don't have time for me anymore". "Please, just let's go out for dinner". "Let's plan a weekend away".

She knew she should've paid him more attention. She should've tried harder to make some plans - something nice, just the two of them. But how and when? She was given a lot of responsibility, a lot was expected of her, and she was not going to fail. Being the successor of Kingsley Shacklebolt was tiring. He had been favouring her as the new Minister for a long time. Mentoring her. But then, the incident happened.

Seven years they were fighting for equality. Fighting for peace. It only took one former Death Eater to remind the Ministry that the war was not forgotten. And neither was Voldemort, not even after such a long time. The assassination of Shacklebolt was a traumatising experience - even though the criminal was arrested right away and dragged off to Azkaban - for the Minister, it was already too late. She remembered that moment clearly. She stood next to the stage where Kingsley was giving the speech just a second ago - now lying motionless on the ground, his eyes opened wide, but unseeing. Every, absolutely every person in the room turned to look up at her. "What do we do?" they seemed to have been saying. And she was terrified.

Obviously, she was elected as the next Minister. After the assassination and at such a young age – she was so lost. And they put so much hope in her. A war hero. A muggle-born. The cleverest witch of her age.

And so she worked her hardest to meet the expectations. It took only half a year for her marriage to start falling apart. She kept suggesting couple's therapy. Ron immediately shot down the idea. He said that if they went, he'd feel like they were already doomed. Like they already lost.

"Well, then, better just get divorced, right?" she screamed angrily at him.

And as soon as the words came out of her mouth, both of them knew. They knew that - sadly, it was the only solution that would work equally for both of them. Or maybe the easiest solution - not to hurt themselves or each other. Not to get their friends involved. Well, to be fair - they got involved – a little too much for her taste. Even though she thought they might've done more to save the marriage - it was their decision. And frankly, the only in a long time they had discussed thoroughly, and that both had agreed upon.

They remained good friends. It wasn't even that awkward. They could be in the same room, and they could meet up with their friends. But something was lost, and she knew they could never win it back. After a year, she wasn't even sure whether she would want to... The real answer was no.

It was good for them. Being friends. He didn't expect the impossible of her, and she didn't snap at him every day. It was in the past. A past that she was yet to come to an agreement with – but in the past.

And so she was sitting in her office, trying not to cry. It's not like she missed being with Ron - more missed what they had, how things were. It just hurt so much - and she wasn't able to justify her feelings. She knew she was always going to love him, but didn't know what in fact that was supposed to mean.

"Enough moping", she whispered to herself, slamming the book she wasn't reading shut. She got up and took the first binder from the shelves and took out the resumé that honestly surprised her the most of all she'd ever got.

The capital letters at the top of the page were saying: DRACO MALFOY.

She never expected him to come back. She always thought he was a coward incapable of facing his past like a decent human being. And yet, the CV she was holding in her hands was real. He came back and apparently, wanted… What exactly did he want? That was what she intended to find out. Once Eugene got his resumé for Hogwarts Board of Governors, he went straight to Hermione. If not for his impressive experience (apparently, he worked in a few places abroad) and skills, she would tell Eugene to throw it away. But she knew she had to be better than that. She shouldn't just discriminate him based on who he was. She fought the war for equality long enough to know that it would be horribly hypocritical of her. But she had to take precautions, nonetheless and that is why she decided to interview him herself. If he made a good impression on her – she would send him to an interview with Eugene, and if he liked Malfoy, he could eventually start working there.

She was quite proud of the way she handled that. It may have been still a little bit discriminatory, but Malfoy wasn't exactly a saint, was he? He had a criminal past, was associated with Death Eaters - and even though his family was acquitted, she had to be careful. She couldn't risk letting someone like that straight into the Ministry. One and a half year after the assassination of the previous Minister, at that. Not even such a qualified candidate. Of course, if his resumé wasn't full of lies - she didn't rule it out as well.

She glanced at the clock – there were fifteen minutes left to the interview. Hermione took a few calming breaths and asked her assistant, Astoria, for a coffee.

"Yes, ma'am", she said, saluting her.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Would you please stop calling me 'ma'am' already? It makes me feel old" begged Hermione for about a thousandth time.

Astoria smiled wickedly.

"Of course, Madame Minister" she replied and headed towards the kitchen to make a coffee. Hermione smiled to herself and shook her head, sat back in her comfortable chair and waited for Draco Malfoy to arrive for the interview.

He was standing before the entrance of the Ministry for half an hour already. He didn't remember being this stressed out, ever; terrified for his life – yes. Terrified for his parents' life – sure. But stressed out about a job? Maybe it had less to do with a job than with the fact that the first interview was going to be conducted by none other than Madame Minister, Hermione Granger, herself. Honestly, he didn't expect anything else.

He had been a Death Eater.

His father had been a Death Eater.

His mother had been associated with them.

He was meant to kill Dumbledore and even though he knew he wouldn't have done it after all – he came dangerously close to doing so. And, just as an addition, he read the papers. He knew what had happened to Kingsley Shacklebolt. He knew they were going to take precautions. To be frank, he didn't even expect them to look twice at his resumé. He thought they would just throw it right away. Apparently, someone showed it to Granger. And… well, he half-expected her to throw it right away as well. But she didn't. And she was going to interview him herself.

When he got an owl with an invitation for the interview, he was very much surprised. Suddenly he felt this… hope. He rebuked himself for this feeling, but a bit too late. He felt hopeful about his future, for the first time in a very, very long time. But then, he read the name at the end of the letter.

Hermione Granger.

He was doomed - and he knew that. Ha had no chance whatsoever of getting this job. And yet, he was here.

Nothing, absolutely nothing he could say could convince her to hire him, her - of all people. Nothing he could say was going to fix what he's done to her. And she was a bloody Minister – and so, he was doomed.

He took a deep breath and went into the lift.

There was nothing more he could do. He just had to go in there and apologise. And talk about why he was suitable for the job because he knew very well how bloody suitable he was. In any other circumstances, he would've gotten this job, for sure. But if nothing could convince Granger… He could tell her his story. But why would she listen to him? And why would she believe him?

"No time to back out now," he thought to himself as the lift stopped on the level he was supposed to leave. He found the right door and knocked with a shaking hand.

The door was opened by a brunette he immediately recognised as Daphne's younger sister, Astoria. She smiled at him.

"Welcome, Draco. Madame Minister is already waiting for you. You just have to knock on that door, and she'll let you in."

He nodded and thanked her.

"Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you," he said but suddenly felt how dry his throat was. He walked to the door, which seemed to be grim for some reason. And then, not letting himself have a moment to think, he knocked.

"Come in!" answered the voice he could not mistake with any other.

Draco noticed with horror that his hands were literally shaking. He came in and saw her - Madame Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger. For some reason, she looked sad and tired, but he knew that preparing for the job interview with him must not have been easy. Her bushy brown hair was tied back in a braid. Ever since the Yule Ball, it was hard to ignore how pretty she actually was, never mind the fact that she didn't care that much for her appearance. Actually, that fact may be the only reason why he noticed it at the Yule Ball and not before. But there was no denying that even in her dishevelled bushy hair everywhere, back at school, there was something unique about her, that made her attractive. To some people, of course. He just understood their opinion, that's all.

Now she looked very professional, in her black-pants suit, oxford shoes and tied hair.

"Madame Minister," he said with a little bow, that made her narrow her eyes.

"Malfoy" she replied coldly. "Please, sit down."

He sat back in the chair opposite her own. The desk was perfectly organised (not that he expected anything else). The small plate in front was saying "Minister for Magic – Hermione Granger".

"Now, let's make it plain and clear" she started. "I'm a professional and therefore will behave professionally as long as you will too. You are in no position to act like… well, you. I have no pleasure in having you here. But seeing you have a great and an interesting experience for the post - and hence - you are one of the most promising candidates, I have no choice but to interview you. I hope you have grown up enough to appreciate the chance I'm giving you, because I'll have you know, I don't owe you anything. It's me who's giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself and believe me when I say, that this is your one and final chance."

She was staring at him with the unsurprising, yet strong determination in her eyes.

"I know. I promise you, I will not waste this chance" he said truthfully, much to her surprise. She looked at him as if she'd never seen him before.

"You didn't expect that, did you?" he asked her, trying very hard not to smirk. He most possibly failed.

"To be perfectly honest, no, I did not."

He nodded sadly.

"Well, I'm here to present myself as the perfect candidate for the job. And seeing you are the Minister for Magic, it's only natural that I want to make a good impression."

"Fine," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Let's get to it, then. Well, you do have a decent education seeing you have graduated Hogwarts with honours, and, well second-best."

He bit his tongue before he could call her out on the fact that she wasn't entirely professional, boasting like that. He wasn't in a position to do that. And she had a perfectly good reason to feel proud of her achievements.

"Then, you studied at the French university, acquiring a bachelor's degree in Education Law, which is a perfect fit for the post. May I ask what motivated you to graduate in this particular arena?" she asked, studying his resumé closely. As if she didn't read it about a million times before and already knew it by heart.

"Hogwarts means a lot to me," he said, weighing his words extremely carefully. "It's where I've spent my best years and… well, worst years."

They shared a knowing look and Hermione gave him a little nod to continue.

"After seven years there, I wanted to do something for the school. After the war I,… Well, let's just say I saw a lot of things that could've been better there. And I knew I didn't want to be a teacher, so… I chose education law. Thought it was going to be a good fit for me."

She nodded, clearly not convinced but trying to be at least polite.

"Very well. Can you tell me something about your cooperation with Finnish Magical Government?"

"I went there after getting my bachelor's degree. I worked with the school board, first as an intern, but quickly got a full-time job. I was in charge of choosing the students' books."

"So you know Finnish well, then?" she sounded almost impressed.

"I started learning back in France since I knew that was my next destination. I've become quite fluent at it."

She nodded and made a little note in her notebook.

"And the Russian government?" she asked, suddenly focusing her attention back to him.

"I transferred there. I was made the head of recruitment. So I hired most of the teachers at the school there and worked hand-in-hand with the headmaster."

"So… You know Russian as well?" she asked, glancing at him every now and then between making her notes.

"Well, yes. It's far from perfect, but I'm fairly good."

She nodded, not letting down her guard. She didn't look impressed - but the faint glim in her eye told him she actually was.

"Why come back to England, then? You have travelled the world, have a great experience. You could continue to travel or maybe in Russia. What made you come back?"

"It's my home," he said simply.

It was hard to miss a sad note in his voice. Hermione studied him curiously, probably for the first time ever.

"So you were feeling nostalgic?" she asked, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

"Yes, I tend to feel nostalgic as I'm sure you do as well, Miss Granger" he replied before he could bite his tongue.

He shouldn't have said that. And definitely not like that. It was painfully obvious he was referring to the fact Hermione wasn't married anymore. Their divorce was a high-profile case in the papers. He could've just called her "Madame Minister" or "Granger" would be okay. But putting stress on miss? Cheap shot.

She looked taken aback for a second and then her eyes became thunderous.

"So, do you keep tabs on all your former enemies or just me?" she asked furiously.

He shook his head, looking almost remorseful. Almost.

There was no correct answer to that question.

"I'm English, I read papers" he replied finally.

She snorted and shook her head.

"Right," she said disbelievingly. "Figures you'd be the one to throw it in my face."

"I'm sorry, I was way out of line," he said suddenly - this time, Hermione couldn't keep her poker face on and frowned. She was genuinely shocked he was capable of that.

"You really need this job, don't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't stoop so low as to apologise to mudblood like me" she said, successfully hiding the pain in her voice.

He sighed.

"Look, the times changed. Believe it or not, but I changed, too. You and I both know it doesn't matter anymore. Not that it mattered before, it being only the empty belief system of my family and others," he muttered, staring at his palms.

He found it impossible to look at her now. It was painfully true – when he watched everything his and his family's believed in fall down before their eyes, he was devastated. Not because he wanted it to keep up. Because he was so painfully wrong that it hurt too much to face it.

She snorted again, shaking her head.

"Like you would've changed."

He was surprised to realise those words hurt him. Ignoring the stinging pain in his heart, he took a deep breath. It was the last chance to convince her – now or never.

"Look at you, so quickly judging the book by its cover," he said, deciding that the time to keep up the formalities was long gone.

She looked almost scandalised.

"Said none other but Draco Malfoy. The master of tolerance, so to speak."

"I don't deny it."

"Well, good, at least it means you're self-aware. Doesn't get you the chance to be a good person, though," she fired back.

"I was talking about you," he said, his anger rising. "I thought you'd be the one who would see this rationally. To not judge me by my past. I don't deny anything, I admit it was shitty and that I was shitty. What I'm saying is - I'm different now. I'm still learning to live in this new world so I may make mistakes or even many of them, but I want to be better, okay?"

There was complete silence followed by his words. Hermione stared at him, completely taken aback and finding herself actually believing him, which gave her a bad feeling about all this. Why would she believe him? He can't have been genuine, he was just lying to get a job… Wasn't he?

"I'm sorry, but I'm having a hard time believing you" she stated in a cold voice. "I think you should leave."

He sighed and looked at her pleadingly.

"Let me tell you then. I don't know how else to convince you, but maybe telling you will make you understand my situation better," said Malfoy.

He found the nerve to look into her brown eyes for the first time since the beginning of the interview.

"What do you want to tell me?" she demanded.

"My story."

She laughed coldly.

"Right. Oh, but please, do tell me how hard it is to be a rich and entitled in every possible way kid, raised to believe he is above others."

They were sitting in silence for a while now. Hermione didn't avert her gaze and was piercing Draco with determination.

"Well? Will you start any time soon or should I grab my lunch first?" she asked. "Or maybe do a Sunday crossword puzzle in one go?"

He sighed tiredly.

"Would. You. Stop. Sighing," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, does this annoy you?"

It was hard to say whether he was sarcastic or not.

"Yes. Very much so."

There was silence again. Hermione started tapping fingers on her desk.

"Okay, let me make it easy for you. Either you start talking and tell your oh-so-tearful story that would make me hire you… Or I'm walking out right now and asking Astoria to ban you from the Ministry premises. I don't have to put up with you, Malfoy, we're not at school anymore."

"I know."

"Well, get to it then."

"What should I start with?" he asked.

He wasn't prepared for that part. He was sure they were never going to get to it, that he'd be thrown out already. And even if – how could he face it? And of all people, did it really have to be her he was to tell the story?

"How would I know?" she threw her arms angrily.

More silence. Draco knew he had to start any second now. Otherwise, Granger really would throw him out. It was his absolute last chance. He tried to ignore the fact that it was her. He tried to imagine that in her place was his mother. Or Theo. It was easier that way.

"You have no idea how it is to grow up in a family that values blood purity above everything else," he said, and she laughed coldly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. It must have been so hard for you to believe you were better than others," Hermione said with a shrill-cold sarcasm.

"You're absolutely right, it wasn't hard, not at first. I believed I was special because my parents told me so. I thought I was better. I believed in it or even more so – I knew it. But, then, I went to Hogwarts."

She frowned.

"What happened at Hogwarts? Apart from the fact that you were strolling around like you owned the place."

"You," he said simply.

"What?" she barked.

"Hermione Granger. Mudblood, I've called you. And do you know why?" he said, watching her reaction intently. She was now listening to him with a little curiosity in her eyes.

"Because I was a muggle-born and you were pure-blood and therefore better in your little fantasy world?" she asked but somehow forgot to add some venom into her tone.

"No. Well, yes – I thought so too. But no."

"Well, then, enlighten me."

"You were better than me, at everything. Well, not at quidditch, obviously I've got Potter to thank for it, but at academics. Every possible subject, you were better. I was always second-best."

"So?"

He sighed again and tried hard not to roll his eyes.

"I was raised to believe that it was me who was the best. I was also raised to believe that blood purity made me better. And then you came along, a muggle-born know-it-all. I wasn't the best, and there was no way to deny it, I mean, you had the best grades, how could I just ignore it? But I also believed in the fact that muggle-borns were of… worse sort. That was how I explained it to myself. You might've been better than me at school, but you were still worse. Because I was pure-blood."

She looked at him in genuine disbelief.

"And all those years… you just believed it?"

"It's not that easy, you know, to admit to a mistake. Not when you are Malfoy, not when you had those "values" forced on you since the day you were born. And on top of that, raised to believe that you were always right."

"I mean, it's not that hard to know better, you know," she said sceptically. "Sirius-"

"Here we go" he smiled resignedly. "Yes, I know, Sirius this, Sirius that. But you must understand many, many things. He was sorted into Gryffindor, he had friends to open his eyes. The simple fact that he was a Gryffindor might have already opened his eyes. He hated his family. He hated their guts and hated every minute there, in the house. But he had friends where he was always welcome at, wasn't he? Now - I'm Slytherin. All friends I've ever had believed in the same crap as I did. Not all Slytherins, obviously, but I basically chose friends based on this. Also, I've always loved my family. Sure, I was raised in a demanding environment, a lot was expected from me, but parents loved me. And I loved them. It's not like I loved them because they were telling me I was special. They genuinely cared for me and I for them. You know something about that, don't you? You have parents. I've read the article about what you must've gone through to get them back from Australia. I'll have you know I, too, would do everything for my parents. And you must consider that when judging the fact that I never turn my back against them and what came with it – their values."

She stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost. It was so hard for her to believe him - not the story. She knew he must be telling the truth, no one could lie like that. If anyone, well, yes – him, but she knew he wasn't. It's not something you could play so well. What she couldn't believe was that he was telling her this. Why? Why would he tell her this? Willingly?

"I don't understand" she admitted.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Why would you tell me this?"

"Why wouldn't I?

"I mean, why would you tell me this? Me of all people? Seems to be quite a far length to go to get a job, doesn't it? What do you have to gain?"

"Are you suspicious?" he seemed surprised.

"Of course I'm suspicious, Malfoy, it's you."

"It's time for me to get back here. To move on. And to put it all behind me. I want to come home."

She buried her head in her hands.

"I just don't understand the meaning of this," she admitted.

"I've already told you."

"No!" she raised her voice. "For all I know you might be trying to manipulate me into giving you a job."

"Then why would I tell you about my embarrassing intimidation by you in? Just to get a job? Come on, Granger, you're smarter than to believe that."

"But you're a snake. You hurt people, and you bully them, you manipulate them to get what you want, so tell me, Malfoy, why on earth should I believe in anything you say?"

He looked at her – clearly puzzled and trying to make sense of this all.

"Maybe because you know full well that this is the only chance for me to go back to my home. You know I'm a family person. You know I value tradition. Why would I want to continue travelling to the countries where I don't know anyone and where every little thing reminds me that this is not home?"

"Maybe because no one knows you… And therefore you're not one of the most hated men in the country?" she asked, suddenly regaining her posture and self-confidence.

He smiled slightly.

"Well, that's certainly true. But as I've told you – I love my family, no matter what people they are and how they behaved in the past. I am nostalgic. I want to get back home. I'm not one to leave my comfort zone in this case."

"Still isn't enough to convince me," she said, crossing her arms.

"I really don't know what you expect of me, Granger." he sighed heavily. "I can tell you my whole life if you want, just please, let me stay in the country."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"At the beginning, you're apologising, now you're begging? What the hell happened to you? Did they kidnap you in France and I'm talking to a clone or something?"

He looked at her with a raised brow.

"Let's see. Blond hair, grey eyes, as I recall, clearly screams Malfoy. I could be my cousin or something, but I'm pretty sure I'd be aware of that."

"Are you joking?" she asked.

"Quite obviously, Granger, unless you think this story is more likely than me telling the truth."

She had to agree but of course, didn't say that out loud. She studied Malfoy's features for a second, as to make sure it really was him. But he was right. Oblong face, pale skin, high cheekbones, steely eyes and this hair – a bit longer than he was wearing them before. And all that. It was Malfoy. And he was genuinely apologising. And pleading.

"I need more than that," she said calmly. "I know you're smart and capable. I know you're qualified for a job. But I need to be sure, one hundred per cent sure you have no malicious intents."

"How do I convince you?" he asked with resignation in his voice.

"I don't know," she shrugged.

She really didn't. She was torn. Draco Malfoy was sitting opposite her, he was telling her he wanted a job and that he wanted to be better. And she saw it. But why, how could she believe him? He was one of the vilest people she'd ever known, and it didn't matter that she clearly saw how working for Voldemort almost destroyed him. He then probably saw the error of his ways, but it didn't erase the past. He was still mean and acted despicably. Of course, she didn't know what was happening to him after the war. He could've changed. But she knew him once before- and this was not the person she could trust. It wasn't the person she could believe. But now… He seemed genuine. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but she knew better than that. Evidence was needed - concrete, physical evidence.

"Fine," he agreed. "I guess we'll just keep talking."

She looked at him uncertainly.

"I'll try to convince you" he added.

A/N: So... Dramione was one of my otps when I first read Harry Potter, so it's kinda special to me. In hindsight - I do see the problems with this ship. I don't agree with a lot of things in fics that are written about it. So I wrote this story for myself - a story about what I've seen in this ship in the first place.

And if you come across any mistakes, please point them out, so I can correct them!