A/N: When I first wrote this story, I thought that once I finished it, that would be the end of it. But over the years, I have found myself revisiting it, and wondering if I could make it better. The last week, I have been editing this story to fix any spelling or grammar errors in this story, but along the way, I made some minor changes that I thought helped made the story flow better. Additionally, I have made the decision to crosspost this story to AO3, where you will find an epilogue that was written specifically for the updated version. I hope that you will all support me as I make the journey of crossposting my stories to both sites. I have loved this story, and getting to revisit it was an absolute joy. I also hope that you will support my other current WIP Green Finch, if you aren't already. My updating for that is sporadic at best, but the story is mapped out in my head, and I am loving writing it. But for now, please enjoy the updated My How Things Change. -rp95
April 2005, France
Warm sunlight, and a light breeze flowed into the room, gently blowing the white sheers around. Lying in a bed were two figures, one with curly caramel locks, and slightly tanned skin, the other with silver blonde hair, and pale, alabaster skin. The woman opened her eyes slightly, looked over at the man lying next to her, smiled, and snuggled closer, closing her eyes. The man stirred slightly, and put his arm around her, and turned his body to accommodate the change in her position.
March 1999, London
"I can't believe you Ronald!" Hermione stormed into the living room. "Actually no, I can believe you, and that is sadder." She turned around, crossed her arms, and glared at the ginger man in front of her, anger radiating off of her.
"C'mon Mione, you can't stay mad at me for this," Ron whined at her. "It was a mistake, a dumb mistake."
Hermione let out a cold, harsh laugh. "Oh, so you tripped, and your dick just fell into her vagina? Is that it?"
"No, that wasn't- It wasn't- I…" Ron seemed to struggle for a few minutes to find words, before settling on "But Hermione, I love you."
"Not enough to not cheat Ronald. Now get out." Hermione said angrily.
"You can't do this Mione. Not after everything we've been through together." Ron said desperately.
Hermione looked at him, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, sparks coming from the tip of her wand. "Oh, but I can. See this is my flat, not your flat. This is my furniture, not your furniture. And you are no longer my boyfriend, so you don't belong here anymore. Now, Get. OUT!" she shouted at last.
Ron grabbed his jacket and headed towards the front door of the flat, opened the door angrily and turned to look at her. "You know, you may have all this, but I guarantee you, you will regret dumping me Hermione."
She looked at him with disinterest. "Go to hell Ronald."
He slammed the door behind him.
Over the next few months, her personal life descended to madness. Ron had gone straight to Grimmauld Place it seemed, and somehow convinced Harry and Ginny that the whole mess was her fault, and from there, it hadn't been hard for Ron to get Rita Skeeter on board, and by the time June rolled around, Hermione's status as a respected war heroine and MLE officer for Elfish wellbeing was shot publicly.
"Kingsley, I just can't stay here. I know that I shouldn't let the breakup affect my work, but the fact of the matter is, it has, despite my best efforts." Hermione bemoaned in the Minister's office. "I can't get my work done, everyone hates me, which negates any good deeds I try and do, and on top of that, I have absolutely no one to talk to about any of this bullshit."
Kingsley looked at the young woman sitting in front of him. "I do have a possible solution for you."
"I'll do anything, just don't make me stay in the ministry." Hermione pleaded.
"It is still a Ministry job, but you wouldn't be working here in London," he began. "We need a new Ambassador to France, and I can't think of anyone better suited to the task. Not to mention, you are very respected abroad, and the breakup isn't a gossip topic there like it is here."
Without hesitation, Hermione asked, "When do I start?"
April 2005, France
Hermione lifted her head up slightly, looked at the clock on the bedside table, and then faced the man lying next to her. "Morning love."
The man hummed, and leaned into give her a deep kiss, before muttering against her lips, "Morning, Mrs. Malfoy."
Hermione giggled. "I already told you I'm not changing my name, no matter how many times you call me Mrs. Malfoy." She stretched her arm out lazily, and sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her bare chest, and looked down at him.
Draco put his hand on the small of her back, and smiled, eyes still closed. "Whatever you say love." He opened his eyes and moved his other arm under his head. "What do you have to do today?"
"Hmm… I have a couple of meetings with various people at the ministry in Paris, a lunch with the muggle French president, and then a date with a very handsome man tonight." Hermione said casually.
"Oh, anything I should know about this date?"
Hermione tapped her chin with her finger for a second. "Well, he's filthy rich, has a house overlooking the coast, extremely good looking, but leaves a bit to be desired in the bedroom."
Draco pulled her back down on to the bed quickly, and rolled on top of her, pinning her arms above her head, resting between her legs. "Well, if that is the case, then let me show you how a real man makes- Dammit Tipsy!" He growled at the crack of the elf arriving in their room. "This better be important."
Tipsy looked apologetic. "Tipsy is sorry Master and Mistress."
"Draco!" Hermione admonished the man above her. She pulled her arms free and looked kindly at the elf. "What is it Tipsy?"
"Tipsy is sorry Master Draco, but…" Tipsy burst into tears. "Master's father has died last night, Sir."
Draco sat up quickly. "Tipsy, are you sure?"
The elf sniffled. "Yes Master."
Hermione looked at Draco worriedly. "I'll cancel my plans for the next couple of weeks. Put in for personal time. We can't possibly leave your mother alone right now."
Draco nodded, business like. "I agree, as much as I hated him, Mother did love him. I'll arrange a portkey to the house in Thailand."
"Tipsy is sorry, but Master's parents weren't in Thailand Sir," the elf said in an apologetic tone.
"Where were they then?" Draco asked.
"They were back in Wiltshire Sir," the elf squeaked out, before apparating out of the room seeing the angry look on Draco's face.
He looked at Hermione. "Fuck him for dying in the one place you and I hate most." He pinched his nose between his fingers. He looked at her, and quietly said, "We don't have to go. We can say that you have work, and I didn't want to go."
Hermione smiled sadly. "We have to go. It is your father's funeral, and you love your mother." She reminded him gently. "Besides, what is the likelihood that we see anyone that we don't want to see?"