Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & co. - just write what could have been. Please review! Reviews are always nice; I'd like to hear your thoughts on this fic :)

AN: Amanduhboss: the sob story was just Hermione being dramatic haha; in reality it was when Draco asked Harry for help on how to apologize for Hermione lol. Thanks for asking!

Chapter Ten

Draco stood at the end of his potions table, staring at the dead plant placed in the middle. Finally in his own residence, he wore a simple gray tee and form fitting, black sweats with no shoes. He didn't have to make any impressions in the confines of his own home and Draco was glad; he constantly, silently, expressed gratitude to the Muggles who invented sweats, they were blissfully comfortable. There was nothing else on the black table as Draco's pale brows furrowed. He was concentrating on the dead shrub in front of him, trying to nonverbally bring it back to life. He had been trying for the past 32 minutes to do so, but there was no sign of the plant coming back from the land of the dead. He knew he was failing, exhausting his magic at the attempt, but he didn't care. He had nothing planned for the day that he needed to have his magical core at full capacity. The only thing he needed to do, didn't require much magic, but guts. He needed to return Hermione Granger's gray peacoat before she found out he had it and he made a fool of himself by keeping it longer than politely necessary. When he saw the gray coat hanging on in front of Theo's wardrobe, he asked his friend whose it was. It was too small to be his, catching Draco's attention when he entered his bedroom. Theo was smug to point out that Granger had accidentally left it behind when she left their night of debauchery. Draco couldn't help to swipe the coat, telling Theo he would return it himself, and no need to bother himself. Graciously and without commentary, Theo allowed Draco to assign himself the task. Now Draco thought about the coat every 15 minutes, no doubt hindering from fully concentrating at the task at hand. The platinum blond wizard hadn't decided yet when to owl Granger. Nor had he decided that if he was to do it today, then he needed to do so before dinner. Giving up on his task, he left his potions room, and walked to his bedroom. Not a far walk as everything he needed was in this wing of the smaller, but still spacious French manor. Draco walked the quiet halls, devoid of any portraits, and his feet barely made a sound on the wood beneath him. He returned back to his room where the coat was hanging from his own wardrobe. There wasn't much difference between his room here and his room at Malfoy Manor – Draco wasn't a messy person. Messy potioneer, yes, but person in general, no. He was taught at a young age that while there were elves always around to take care of them, he needed to present his own self in the brightest of lights as possible. Neat, smart, witty, and charming. His mother always told him a variation of compliments with those four adjectives. The walls of his private room were a soft white and the queen-sized bed was placed between two floor to ceiling windows; both windows had light blocking curtains that were currently drawn back to allow the sunlight to come through at this time of day. There was a wardrobe, a writing desk, a vanity, and a sleeping owl in all in the privacy of his room. There were two doors besides each other to his left; one lead to his private bathroom and the other to a walk-in closet where the other half of his wardrobe that he wore rarely now a days was kept in. Draco closed the door behind him and he knew he was losing it when he swore he could smell her from the blasted clothing. Sweet with a hint of tang, some type of citrus; I wonder if she eats it or bathes in it? Draco pondered at the idea of Granger spritzing on a certain perfume or slipping into a bathtub full of the smell. He shook his head roughly, groaning at the idea of Granger bathing herself. Dangerous territory for someone who couldn't even call himself her friend. Draco walked to his bed and fell onto his mattress, closing his eyes despite the turmoil within him. How can I even call myself an associate when half the time we were together in Hogwarts, I spent terrorizing her and her friends. Draco silently scolded himself. Draco placed his left hand on top of his eyes, scowling at the memories of being an absolute bully to the witch of his affections that came flooding in. While he had stopped directly being a jerk to her after fourth year, opting to ridicule Weasley and Potter, that didn't mean he wasn't civil with her. He was taught to hate her, but even then, he only felt hatred towards Potter and by proxy, Weasley. Hermione Granger annoyed him, irritated him, even frustrated him, but he never truly hated her. That even frustrated him more when he couldn't make himself hate her. Draco even went out of his way to make sure her best mates were aware at the Quidditch World Cup that they – the Death Eaters, his father – were directly going after perceived dirty blood and whoever else fell into that mix. In retrospect, he was a prat at the way he handled things, but he was a child. He panicked and wanted her out of the way. The thought brown eyed, curly headed, snotty Hermione Granger getting caught made Draco feel sick to his stomach so he didn't think, just acted. Draco remember seeing how terrified the trio appeared while he pretended to be the model of calm. On the inside, he was just as terrified as they looked. However, being a Malfoy meant adhering to certain appearances and fearing Death Eaters and their actions was not one of them. He pretended he was fine, just enjoying the show, as he subtly warned the trio of the nefarious actions. It was all he could do back then. He sighed, opening his eyes as he sat up. He couldn't go back and change anything, but he had to try now before it was too late. He needed to try now, with the nudges of his best friends, before he fell into his own hole. While one could call Draco melodramatic, he didn't care anymore – he hadn't cared for a lot lately. Except for the call of liquor and partying with his childhood friends, but they all knew that couldn't last forever. Theo was getting back on track of being the Nott heir, Blaise was starting his own company, and Pansy was making her own name in the journalism business. Draco stuck to the fact that he had nothing but his bloody name. All the good that has gotten me, Draco snarled to himself. His frown deepened and his hands balled into fists. Draco forced himself to take deep, steady breaths to calm himself down. After several minutes, he let his hands unfurl and his frown disappeared. Now, he had something to focus on before falling into the familiarity of his depression. Even if she does turn me down, at least I could say I tried, Draco thought to himself before opening his eyes, letting his hand fall from his face. It would be always easier to just let this go. Let her go. He thought to himself. The thought was so enticing; he didn't have to try and most likely fail in his pursuit of Hermione Granger. He pondered on that for a brief moment before shaking it out of his head. Just because it was the easiest thing to do, didn't mean he should do it. Everything around him was the easiest thing for him – being head of his house, buying expensive and copious alcohol, having successful friends. All of that was easy, but that didn't make him happy. Draco needed to try. He got up and made his way to the sleeping, eagle owl perched on the tall stand besides one of the bedroom windows.

"Elt."

Draco said, soft enough for the smart bird to hear. He saw his dark gray owl with random white spots and speckles shuffle around before finally peering through his wings; his bright yellow eyes looked at his owner as if saying, "What now?" Draco smiled softly as he reached to stroke the bird's head, earning him a soft hoot and the eagle owl finally fully waking up.

"I need you to send a letter to Hermione Granger's residence."

He told his only pet. The owl blinked and Draco took his cue to sit down on the desk besides his owl stand. Swiftly, he dipped his raven feather in his silver ink pot before writing on his personalized stationery:

Apologies for the intrusion, but I have your coat. If not a problem for you,

I will drop it off tonight at 6:30 PM. If you're out, I'll leave it at

your doorstep. Hope you can forgive Pansy for giving me

your address, see you soon.

-D.M

Draco folded the note into a nice square, avoiding the wax crest that he usually sent with his formal notes. He muttered a sticking charm on the note so he could place it on the black ribbon that he tied on Eltanin's right leg. Stroking the owl once more before walking towards the window and opening it wide enough for his owl to leave. With a hoot, Eltanin stretched his wings and left the French mano. Draco watched him until he could no longer see a speck in the sky.

[-]

"Fiancée?"

"Ex-fiancée?"

Hermione and Harry both asked at the same time. Both Gryffindors glanced at each other before looking to Theo. Theo nodded.

"My father broke off the engagement to Daphne before the start of the war. Daphne's parents broke off the engagement to Astoria and Draco before his trial."

Theo explained. Hermione's frowned slightly at the news. Why not call it off at the start of the war like Theo and Daphne's? She thought to herself. It didn't make sense to her, but she didn't want to ask. It wasn't her business to pry into either wizards' lives, especially not Draco Malfoy's love life.

"Oh, so you lot are not engaged anymore – you nor Malfoy."

Harry stated, voicing Hermione's thoughts. Theo nodded again, his hand traveling to his wine glass as he drank a healthy amount. The wine glasses were charmed to fill up before they were empty after the first fill from the hands of the waiters, something Hermione appreciated but was cautious about. If she didn't watch herself, she would be tipsy before she returned to work and that would not do. Harry had made the smart choice by not indulging at all.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione softly said, remembering the way Theo acted around the elder Greengrass. She had thought the pair had acted differently because of blood purity reasons, but she was wrong. Hermione didn't think of herself as usually wrong, but she was embarrassed with herself. She needed to apologize to them – for thinking they were still the same as they were as children. The duo had only been polite, nice, and flirtatious at times, but Hermione was still doubting they had truly changed. While old habits die hard, she couldn't continue thinking they were still bigoted arseholes; if Harry trusted them enough to consider them at least friendly associates, Hermione had to give them the benefit of the doubt as well. Harry busied himself with his food again but Blaise and Theo froze at her statement. She swallowed after a couple of frost seconds, Theo avoiding her gaze while Blaise lost interest in his pizza. Hermione controlled the blush that threatened to take over her face as she busied herself with her own food. Time was still ticking and Hermione hoped to make it out still friends with everyone. She didn't mean to overstep her unfamiliar boundaries with Theo and Blaise. Blaise cleared his throat after a few seconds and Hermione looked back up at Theo. He had a small smile on his face and he placed his empty glass down.

"No love lost from anyone of us, but thank you, Hermione."

He said, her name barely above a whisper. Relief flooded through Hermione as she nodded once, returning to her half-finished pasta. Finally stuffed, appreciating the Italian dish, Hermione quietly cast the tempus charm that showed her the time. Eight minutes left in her lunch, Hermione quickly sat up. The chair barely made a sound as she straightened her outfit.

"Sorry must go."

She said, leaning into Harry for a quick hug. She took out her small wallet she carried in her pocket and she pulled out at least eleven galleons, placing them on the table. She turned to Blaise and Theo, waving goodbye, ignoring how Blaise eyed her money and Theo opened his mouth to speak; she knew they would argue paying for herself, but she didn't have time to argue back. She graced them with a smile before turning on her heel and quickly leaving the dining area. On her way out, she saw Astoria Greengrass' eyes on her but she ignored her. She certainly did not have the time to deal with overly enthusiastic fans. Hermione made her way back to the end of the restaurant, where she had come from the private floo entrance. Finally, inside the noise cancelling curtains she was grateful for Lorenzo who stood beside the entrance. Hermione grasped a handful of floo powder on a small table besides the brick fireplace, labeled so in a golden tin can. She stepped inside the fireplace and said,

"Ministry of Magic atrium."

She threw the green powder at her feet. Hermione quickly made her way back to her office, cursing the filled elevators, but making it 2 minutes before her lunch was officially over. She needed to go over her counter arguments before she headed to her head of office's office and the impromptu lunch had wiped her thoughts about them. Instead of reciting the focal points she needed to go over, she was thinking about the strange interaction between the Purebloods and why Draco Malfoy insisted on interrupting her life. Hermione opened her desk drawer to retrieve the proposition packet, not even bothering to sit down; she retrieved the packet and her notes, placing them in a dark blue portfolio, before walking out once again. She kept the folder opened slightly so she could see her own color-coded index cards about the unfairness and prejudices towards werewolves and how this would affect the new, inclusive Ministry that Shacklebolt was hoping to lead. Hermione almost stepped out onto a tall body if she hadn't watched where she was going. She froze as she stared up at the face of one Ronald Weasley. He looked down at her, being taller than her and in her personal space; he was wearing the same uniform Harry was in at lunch, but he was missing his tie and his top two buttons were unbuttoned. Hermione stared at those buttons.

"'Mione."

He said softly. Hermione felt the air still around her, her throat tightening when she tried to swallow. How could the gods above hate me so? She fumed to herself, snapping her back to reality. After a few seconds, she pushed past him, still avoiding his gaze.

"I have a meeting."

She briskly said, her office door closing behind her. Her words didn't deter Ron. She could feel him behind her as she quickly made her way towards Marissa Meroy's office – her boss.

"'Mione, can we please talk later?"

He asked her, his voice not far behind. Once again, she could feel the stares trying to digest every fraction of her. This time she couldn't blame them; she wasn't going off to lunch with a friend, she was being chased by her ex-boyfriend down Ministry halls. She swallowed again, her throat dry and her eyes turning watery. Ron chose the worst timing to try and speak to her; she was already in a rush to argue with her colleagues and superiors on the unfair treatment of werewolves and he wanted to talk. The universe was really against her today.

"No."

She snapped, turning a corner and seeing the door to Meroy's office opened. There were multiple small cubicles in the room that led to the head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Hermione could see some heads pop up to see her and Ron. Hermione quickly hastened her steps, annoyed that Ron's long legs seemed to catch up with her in no time.

"Please."

He begged softly and the tone startled Hermione. Ron rarely begged, unless it was about their class assignments. She slowly stopped to face him, trying her best to see the peering faces around her. He steadied himself as he continued to look at her; Hermione did her best to avoid the blue eyes, the kind face, from her view. These weren't the blue eyes I loved, the thought ran through her. Before she could focus on that fleeting feeling, she remembered Ron was waiting for an answer. Again, she forced herself to focus on the unbutton oxford shirt of his.

"I'll be in my office after hours."

Was all she whispered to him before walking away and finally making into Meroy's office.

[-]

Hermione felt her shoulders sag in defeat, Ms. Meroy's hand placed on her right one. She stared at the impressionistic painting in her boss' office, not really interested by the strokes on the canvas.

"Next time, Miss Granger."

She kindly said. Hermione forced a smile on her lips, but failed miserably as she clutched her portfolio against her chest.

"Of course."

She softly responded, turning to walk out her head's office. Hermione forced herself to continue to breathe steadily, clenching her teeth to force herself from crying openly. She had failed to push the proposition through and the bitter disappointment clung to her. While it saddened her that the majority didn't agree with her, she wasn't almost in tears from sadness; she was frustrated. Slowly, she made her way back to her own office where she could cry all she wanted with a Silencio charm being cast beforehand. The meeting had lasted two and half hours, in reality three if she counted how they all had to wait for everyone to arrive and get assembled. It was barely past five, but on the bright side, Hermione could now cry in the sanctity of her own home. Opening her office door, she halted, another wave of bitterness washing through her. Ron was sitting down in one of her guest chairs. He offered her a smile as she resented herself for saying they could talk after her meeting. She hadn't thought to think the meeting would go south; she had only thought she needed to get Ron off her back before she made it to her boss' door. Closing her door slowly behind her and casting a silencing charm nonverbally, Hermione walked towards the back of her desk to sit down as well. She was too tired to deal with anything, much less her ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend, ex-everything, but she knew he wasn't going to back down.

"Hi 'Mione."

He brightly said. His cheerfulness only ruined her mood more and she cringed internally. She placed her portfolio down, leaning into her cushioned chair as she stared at him. After a few seconds, his smile waned, and he placed his folded hands on top of her desk. She looked at the larger hands, the short nails, the unkept cuticles before staring back at him.

"What do you want, Ron?"

She asked in a monotone voice.

"I… I want to apologize for how things ended."

He said. Hermione brows furrowed – this wasn't what she expected. Perhaps informing her he was dating someone else or asking why she sent his old clothes back, but definitely not this. She had known Ron to be incredibly prideful, but perhaps the war changed him in more ways than others. After the war, Ron started the auror program with Harry while Hermione finished her technical 7th year at Hogwarts. Most of her year classmates chose to graduate as War Time Alum, including her best friends – Hermione did not. However, because Hermione was one of the very few that chose to come back, the Board of Governors decided that any 8th year could come and go to Hogwarts. They didn't have to stay to live in the ancient castle as years prior; they could live elsewhere and come to Hogwarts for classes. Hermione commuted to Hogwarts from Grimmauld Place daily so she was still around Harry and Ron. Harry had auror training, Teddy, the reparations of the Black house, and at that time, Ginny. Ron had auror training as well but he also helped George with the joke shop once the remaining twin felt he could go back to the business that he and Fred started. And of course, at the time, he also had relationship with Hermione. Hermione was proud that Ron wanted to help his sibling overcome his twin's death and help him continue his work. Everything was coming together that year and when Hermione officially graduated, she thought they could live in that bubble until the end of their days.

"And I wanted to… To stay friends."

He finished, Hermione coming back to the situation at hand. While the small hope of remaining friends to one of her oldest and best friends was a small respite after the meeting she just had, the sourness of disappointment amplified as well. Hermione internally scoffed at his words. Letting her eyes fall down to her desk, Hermione quietly repeated his words,

"Friends."

"Yeah."

Ron softly said. Before Hermione lashed out, the smiling faces of Harry, Ginny, Neville, and now Theo, Blaise came rushing to her, joining the smiling faces of her magical family – the Weasleys. Hermione forced herself to swallow the tart taste that she felt accumulated in the back of her throat, not all because of Ron. While it would be the easiest course of action, taking out her frustrations at Ron verbally, she shouldn't take that route just because she so easily could. He was handing an olive branch and she needed to accept it before letting her own pride ruin their fragile relationship. Hermione had to be honest with herself, she missed him; he wasn't just her boyfriend, he was one of her best friends. He was there the countless nights she fell asleep crying at the idea of her parents growing old and not knowing who she was. He was there when she needed someone, reminiscent of everything she lost. She and Harry relied on Ron to support them when they had no one else because that was their truths; Harry counted her as family and the Weasleys and she was in the same boat. She didn't want to lose her magical family too. She cleared her throat, knowing tears were threatened to spill, she looked up at Ron. She could see the color drain from his face, his freckles standing out. For a moment, Ron Weasley was scared at the situation he placed himself and Hermione could see it. She quickly looked away, harshly wiping her eyes with her cardigan sleeve in the process.

"Time."

She answered before he could jump to more conclusions. His look of alarm transformed to one of confusion as he stared at her; before he could ask, she answered.

"Give me time."

She almost whispered.