Soundtracks to a Broken Heart

[nemapasara]

Title: Soundtracks to a Broken Heart
Author: nmpsr_14
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Draco/OC
Rating: PG +15, light R
Warning! This story contains spoilers from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. If you have not read the book I suggest you not continue with this story since it contains many important facts and revelations from the plotline.

***

1. Scars (This Year’s Girl)


{I'm p*ssed cause you came around, why don't you just go home
Because you channel all your pain,
And I can't help you fix yourself, you're making me insane}

***

They stood in the Great Hall, and together, Hermione, Harry and Ron had left the hollowed room to look at the destruction the war had bestowed on them. The staircases had large pieces of marble ripped out of it and the walls dripped of unseen bloodshed. The roof was in rumbles on the floor and debris laid everywhere. Somewhere nearby was the voice of Peeves floating through the corridors singing in triumph.

We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the One,
And Voldy’s gone mouldy, so now let’s have fun!

“Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn’t it?” Ron said, opening the door for Hermione and Harry.

They arrived at the gargoyle statue in front of the Headmaster’s office. It was knocked over in the battle and laid on the floor, the creases in the stone moving as if it was in pain.

“Can we go up?” Harry asked the statue to have it return a groan of acceptance.

They stepped over him onto the spiral staircase.

They walked in to hear a piercing cry fill the room. The trio looked around at the portraits to see the benevolent faces of the previous headmasters and headmistresses applauding them. One portrait, the biggest of them all, stood behind the Headmaster’s chair. He had tears running down his face as he pushed up his half-moon spectacles. Harry raised his hand in silence and gratitude.

“The thing that was hidden in the Snitch, I dropped it in the Forest. I don’t know exactly where, but I’m not going to go looking for it again. Do you agree?” he asked, seeking advice from his old Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, a hint of laughter in his voice. “My dear boy, I do.”

“I’m going to keep Ignotus’ present, though,” Harry said, hinting at the Invisibility Cloak. Then he held up the last thing in his possession. The Elder Wand. “And then there’s this.” Hermione looked at it in awe but turned away at Harry’s expression.

“I don’t want it.” Harry said.

“What?” Ron blurted out loud. “Are you mental?”

“I know it’s powerful,” Harry started, looking at the wand fondly. “But I was happier with mine. So…”

Hermione saw him looking through his bag until he pulled out what appeared to be his snapped wand. She shook her head in disbelief and watched as Harry laid it on the desk and placed the Elder Wand over it, lightly casting ‘Reparo’.

Red sparks flew from the wand in amazement, as it sealed itself. Harry picked it up and grinned happily.

“I’m putting the Elder Wand back where it came from,” Harry said, Dumbledore’s eyes glistening. “It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its powers will be broken, won’t it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That’ll be the end of it.”

Hermione, Ron and Harry all smiled at each other.

“Are you sure?” Ron asked him again, his voice going against him at his longing for the power of the Wand.

“I think Harry’s right,” Hermione said quietly, wishing she had the self-control Harry was exhibiting towards the Elder Wand.

‘That Wand’s more trouble than it’s worth. And quite honestly, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.” Hermione smiled in agreement and Ron nodded. They all had enough trouble to last a lifetime and now that the war was over with, they had the chance to live a normal life.

***

The sparkling of the cleaned windows shone upon the stone streets of Diagon Alley. The stores passed along the way covered in new merchandise with advertisements lining up on the walls. Books leaning on their stands and owls perched in their cages. People rushing along the streets, their children in tow as they stare amazingly at the new Firefly 1000 in its display case. It signified the end of summer and the return of the school year.

A young woman walked through the lane observing the joyous atmosphere that seemed to be imparted on the magical town once again. It had been three years since the battle at Hogwarts, and the war of the Magical World. Everything had been restored back to its peaceful serene and Order member Kingsley Shacklebolt had been elected Minister of Magic. It was certainly an occasion to celebrate.

But with the celebration came the mourning. She remembered every day those people who sacrificed they’re own lives for their world. People like Remus and Tonks who would never have the pleasure to raise their own son because they fought. Little Teddy was now a toddler, strolling around with blue wavy hair and golden brown eyes, a great resemblance to his metamorphous mother. But his spirit was like his father, a quiet and serious baby. Andromeda, Tonks’ mother, had taken the little infant and had taken care of him ever since.

“Ms. Granger!”

All these deaths impacted her on different levels. Some people she knew quite well while others she only knew them by their face. When she had returned to Hogwarts to complete her 7th year everyone had proposed for a memorial to be made in remembrance to those who died in the war. So a year later a statue was made in the middle of the Great Hall with the name of all the people who were lost in the battle.

People were quick to commemorate the victory over evil. There was an explosion of marriages in the past few years. Last summer, Harry and Ginny had celebrated their nuptials in a small ceremony consisting of family and their closest friends. After them, it was George and his girlfriend, Alicia who got married.

And with marriage came babies. There was a large boom in births after the war. Women were getting pregnant left and right. Bill and Fleur had welcomed to the world their first child, Victoire. She was born with a nape of platinum blonde hair on her head and a pair of silvery blue eyes that was a mirror image of her mother. Whenever Teddy was around Victoire, his hair would change colours which obviously amused the little girl. Andromeda pondered on the two kids and continuously mentioned to Fleur and Bill how they would look so cute together.

“Congratulations!”

And with her own life, she had obviously gone back to finish her education. Her parents, with their memories back, had gone to Hogwarts for their first time to watch her graduate. Even though it was with the year before her, she had been happy and Harry was able to be with Ginny.

She had entered into the newly refined Ministry and gotten a good job with a reasonable pay. Harry had entered the Auror Department as an assistant, waiting when he’d be able to become an Auror himself, his life’s ambition. Ron had helped George out with the WWW shops and they had eventually branched out to a new location in Hogsmeade.

“Ms. Granger!”

Hermione looked to her left and saw a middle-aged woman smiling brightly at her. She faintly returned it. “Congratulations Ms. Granger on your engagement!” The lady she had never met before gave her a tight hug and all she could do was nod at her, the word engagement stuck in her mind.

It was true. Last night, Ron had taken her to the lake near the Burrow and proposed marriage to her. In the moment, she had said yes in a heartbeat. Now, she wasn’t so sure. And everyone congratulating her every second of the day wasn’t helping.

It wasn’t like she regretted it. She loved Ron with all her heart, she was sure of that. It was just they were twenty one. Ron was still living at home and Hermione was barely making her month’s rent for her flat. True, they had been together for almost three years and all, but was it wrong to say she wanted to wait longer?

She shook her head. All these people were jumbling her thoughts. It was bad enough that she would see her name in the Daily Prophet every other day. But now people were going mad with her upcoming nuptials with Ron Weasley, fellow hero in the war.

Hermione walked along and Tom, the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron, had rushed out of the door to wave at her. She smiled. Then arriving at Flourish and Blotts, she entered and the lady behind the counter had given her a warm welcome.

“Hello, Ms. Granger! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No thank you,” she replied. “I’m just going to look around.” Hermione walked around the bookcases, the aura of untouched pages surrounding her. She had been flipping through a new edition of Advanced Spells & Incantations when a sound interrupted her.

“So, Hermione Weasley,” a voice drawled behind her. She turned around to see a flash of white blond. The man stood a head above her, looking down at her with a sneer that looked to be permanently smacked into his features. Talking to her was Draco Malfoy, the silky voice ex-Death Eater. A man who had disappeared soon after the war had ended. According to the Prophet, he and his parents had gone to Bulgaria.

Now he was before her, like a ghost she had forgotten about up until this moment. Hermione’s hatred and bitterness toward him during her years at Hogwarts seemed to enter back into her system like the plague. She finally acknowledged his words.

“Never thought you’d show you’re face back in Britain again,” she bit back, ignoring his remark about her engagement.

“Wait, maybe it’s Ron Granger,” he said, paying no attention to her words. “I can imagine the poor bloke being whipped.”

“Excuse me, what right do you have barging back into my life and insulting my fiancé?” she whispered menacingly, making sure no wondering ears could hear. “Sorry, I left my childish bickering behind when I turned of age. Sadly, I can’t say the same about you.” She quickly turned on her heel and left the store in a flash.

In her momentary anger, she had not noticed his following footsteps and as he pulled her into a dark alley, she yelped in shock.

“What in the world are you doing?!?” she screeched, punching him in the gut as a pure impulse. He placed his hand on her mouth fiercely and held back a groan as his other hand wrapped around his stomach.

“Can you stop screaming like a banshee?” he threateningly whispered. “You’re voice is deafening.” She stood stone still and bite into his pointer finger roughly. His hand fled away from her and he look like he was about to explode when he calmed and let his injured hand fall by his side.

“I’ll give you five seconds to explain what in the bloody name you think you’re doing before I castrate you.”

She separated herself from him as best as she could considering the small space they were confined to. Instead of talking, he looked down at her left hand and grabbed it. In her shock, she froze, unable to jerk her hand away from his calloused one.

“So it’s true?” he said in an undertone. He fingered her diamond ring. “You’re getting married to Weasley?”

Crashing back to reality, she snatched her hand back harshly and let her steel toed shoe connect to his shin. He kneeled down in pain and looked at her. He let a laugh out. “Glad to know you’re still as feisty as you were in school. That’s the one, and only, thing I liked about you.”

“Oh, stop it before you get a nosebleed. Complimenting a mudblood?” she laughed bitterly. “Still, never knew it was your life’s ambition to get murdered by a Muggle born,” she said. “If you keep this charade up, maybe I’ll be the one to fulfill that dream of yours.”

“Oh,” Malfoy started. “Is it the one where you’re dressed in that French maid’s unif-”

“You’re just asking for it, you pervert.”

He scoffed. “Please don’t flatter yourself on my behalf.” He regained himself and towered over her. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person on this planet. Especially after tainting yourself with that red-head oaf...”

“Ron’s more the man you’ll ever be,” she stated proudly, her head held high. “I’ve seen scum on the bottom of my shoe more appealing than you.”

Hermione pushed him away and walked out of the alley. She looked over her shoulder.

“I’d rather face a troll than willingly touch an ex-Death Eater.” And she left, not noticing him flinch in anger.

She shivered at the harsh wind that suddenly passed by. She crossed her arms and walked away from the dark alley that held her childhood enemy. It seemed he never grew up from his prejudiced ways. She was stupid enough to think he’d change, especially after the war. It seemed her bad mood worsened in a matter of minutes and it was all because of that blond git.

But curiosity stung her and she was wondering why he was back in Britain. She had the pre-conceived knowledge that he was happy in Bulgaria. Maybe she was wrong, or maybe he was just tired of hiding. She laughed at the thought of Malfoy being honourable. The man was a follower to the darkest wizard ever known. But she ignored the notion egging her in the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe he never wanted to be a Death Eater.

Hermione forced all thoughts out and continued to walk down the path, ignoring the climatic premonition of unfortunate events to come.

***

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. Some parts of the above chapter are based on dialogue from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and I acknowledge J.K. Rowling as the rightful owner.

Title Credits: Scars by Papa Roach

[nemapasara]

Title: Soundtracks to a Broken Heart
Author: nmpsr_14
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Draco/OC
Rating: PG +15, light R
Warning! This story contains spoilers from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. If you have not read the book I suggest you not continue with this story since it contains many important facts and revelations from the plotline. Also beware the fluff bunnies! They’ve attacked Hermione and Ron!

***

2. Out of our Hands

{Stay back. It's out of our hands. Try too hard. Try to understand.

It's out of our hands. There's nothing to hide, we're helpless and this world is

never changing. And all that we had is turning to grey.}

The world came crashing down the next morning.

She sat up in her bed hearing the blare of her alarm clock in her ear. She adjusted her eyes to the morning sun shining through her curtains and went into the restroom. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her eyes red. She was unable to sleep at all last night, her mind preoccupied with wondering thoughts.

Hermione fixed herself some eggs for breakfast and went into the living room to fetch the Daily Prophet perched on the balcony. Looking at the front cover, the first thing that caught her attention was the cover headline in dark, bold letters spelling out:

Alleged Ex-Death Eater Back In Country!

Her eyes widened at how fast news seemed to travel these days. They already had the scoop on Malfoy’s return? She abandoned her breakfast and slumped onto the couch. Staring back at her was the moving portrait of a stone-faced platinum blond man. Out of curiosity, she read the article of a prestigious journalist:

It was yesterday evening when one of our reporters caught sight of the notorious Draco Malfoy! After holding residence in an unknown town in Bulgaria, home of Durmstrang Boarding School, Draco was caught strolling along Britain’s most famous village, Diagon Alley.

It has been three years since Draco had been seen in Britain; he had disappeared after the end of the war. He was announced as a Death Eater at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when he attempted to murder his now dead headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. At the end of what would be his seventh year, Draco participated in bringing down the Dark Lord and when questioned after about his motives, he answered, “I knew that I’d rather have him dead than to be dead myself.”

He soon after fled the country and was never seen of again— until yesterday. According to reports, he was seen conversing with an old schoolmate. Yes, none other than war hero and fiancé to— (cont. 5)

Hermione held her breath. It couldn’t be possible? Any number of girls from their year could be engaged and had talked to him yesterday. Pansy Parkinson, she was some bulldog look-a-like millionaire’s fiancée. She and Malfoy were friends in school. Hermione relaxed and turned to page 5.

In the side column of the newspaper was a picture.

Hermione cried out in frustration as the image showed Malfoy and her in that bloody dark alley.

“I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person on this planet.”

The memory replayed in her head and she didn’t bother reading the rest of the piece. She threw the paper in the fireplace and panicked. Ron couldn’t have seen it, could he have? It was on the fifth page and surely Ron wouldn’t want to read anything about Malfoy! She laughed at her worrying. There was nothing incriminating in these words. She and Malfoy had merely bumped into each other and got into a fight.

Nonetheless, she got dressed as fast as she could and apparated to the Burrows as quickly as possible. She knocked on the front door and Mrs. Weasley answered with a small smile on her face. “Hermione.”

“Mrs. Weasley, how are you?” she asked, trying to remain her coolest.

Molly ushered her in and sat her down at the table. “Good! Bill and Fleur are suppose to visit today and are bringing little Vicky with them.” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling brightly. The middle-aged woman was so overjoyed when she found out Fleur was carrying her first grandchild. She’d constantly pamper Fleur and at the end home-delivered the baby with her own two hands.

“That’s nice.” She looked at her future mother-in-law and smiled. “Is Ron up yet?”

“Oh, you know him,” she answered, scrambling a batch of eggs. “Go on up, dear.”

Hermione thanked her and walked up the rickety staircase that lead up to the third floor which held Ron’s bedroom. She gently pushed the door open to see him lying on his bed, snoring lightly.

“I don’t want to be a leprechaun,” he mumbled, eyes still close. He flipped on his side and Hermione let out a soft laugh. She quietly went up to his side and sat down on the edge of the bed. Pulling herself up, she let her mouth quiver above his ear.

“Wake up, my little leprechaun,” she tauntingly whispered. He stirred a little before pulling his Chudley Cannon blankets over him. She sighed frustrated, and gave his shoulder a little shove. He stayed perfectly still but his snoring had stopped. A few minutes later she got up and grabbed a pillow from the floor and whacked him.

He sat up in shock and looked around wide-eyed, like someone had thrown dirt at him. Hermione held her sides in laughter and he caught sight of her, narrowing his eyes.

“You know, there are better ways of waking me up,” he advised. Ron got up and stretched. She noticed that the only article of clothes his body was possessing was his bright orange boxers.

Hermione smiled. “And what do you suggest I do?” She walked closer to him and he mimicked her.

He appeared to be thinking. “Oh, I don’t know.” He stood in front of her and placed his smooth hands on the subtle skin above her waistband. “Let me think,” he pondered mockingly. He pulled her closer to him and leaned his head forward. “How about…” he began, kissing her lips gently. “That.”

“Or…” he placed his cold mouth on the pulse of her neck and bite gently. “This.”

“Maybe even…” he detached his lips from her neck and started nibbling the lobe of her ear tenderly. “That.”

She let out a light moan and grinned up at her fiancé. “Someone’s affectionate this morning.”

“Well I did wake up to a beautiful sight.”

“Nice to know you’ve gone mushy on me already. I was expecting at least five days.” She shook in head in mock disappointment and he frowned.

“Mushy? Is that the best you could think of? How about romantic, sweet…” he suggested, his hands in the air.

She just nodded her head and walked to his closet grabbing a pair of jeans and a white shirt. She laid it out on his bed and he put his hand onto his chest in fake agony. “And I thought you were only a control freak in bed.”

She grabbed an Extendable Ear that was lying in his closet and chucked it at his head.

“Eh!” he yelled playfully.

“Just, let’s go downstairs before I do something you’re going to regret,” she replied, a devilish grin on her face. Ron quickly changed into his clothes and ran after her. He nearly knocked them both down the stairs when he grabbed hold of her waist. In return of his actions, she swatted him on the head.

Molly grinned and ushered for them to sit at the table. She had already placed plates of food on each seat. They table was currently occupied by Bill and Fleur, who Hermione had assumed arrived shortly after her. She sat down beside Fleur and warmly greeted both of them.

“Where’s Victoire?” Hermione asked, looking around the kitchen.

“She’s in dee other room sleeping,” Fleur replied, Hermione noticing her English had gotten better.

“Do you mind if I go see her?” she asked, needing some time alone. Fleur nodded her head and she got up, and headed to the sitting room. The little girl was in a carriage fast asleep. Hermione walked up and noticed that she had gotten bigger since she last saw her. Her flaxen hair covering most of her head and her pale skin glowing in the darkness of the room.

She heard a screech from close by. She walked to the doorway and peaked into the kitchen to see indeed, an owl descending down onto the Burrow. It had a bundle of paper in its claw and she knew the familiar shape, and it had to be the Daily Prophet. She decided to just stay there and see what happened.

Mrs. Weasley had gone to fetch the newspaper and paid the feathery creature. She threw it in the middle of the table and Hermione groaned as Ron reached for it.

Hermione pleaded that he wouldn’t be interested in reading and would continue his binge eating. But he didn’t hear her silent plead and unrolled the bundle. He spread it out and looked at it.

“Bloody hell!” Hermione closed her eyes unable to look. It was over, he had seen it. “The prices of the Firefly 1000 have been raised a Knut! I’ve been saving for it!” Hermione inwardly yelped and headed for the kitchen. She smiled at everyone and went behind Ron. She snatched the Daily Prophet in his hands. Ron’s protests were silenced when she bent down to his ear to whisper:

“Aren’t there better things you can do than read,” she said to him only, using or trying to use her best seductive tone with him. He seemed to have gotten the hint as he stood up, mumbled an incoherent thanks to his mom and walked out of the kitchen with her behind him.

When they got to his room he locked the door and looked at her slyly. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?” he asked playfully.

“What ever do you mean?” she questioned innocently.

“My fiancé would never suggest to do something else than to read, especially suggest to do that.” He pulled out his wand and poked her gently on her stomach. “Shall I ask again?”

“Is it against the law that I don’t find reading as interesting at this moment in time?”

“Yes,” he answered, walking up to her with a smirk on his face. “What are you hiding from me Mione?”

She let her jaw drop. “Why would you think I was hiding anything from you? Don’t you trust me?”

“With my life,” he pledged. “Still doesn’t mean I don’t know when my love’s covering something up.”

“You’ve gotten so perceptive, Ronald,” she said sarcastically. “How’d I miss it? Was it in between your incorrigible eating habits or your acute sense of jealousy?”

“I take offence to that,” he stated, mockingly hurt. “I’ve grown up from the fifteen year old boy that secretly pined after his best friend. I mean, I finally have you, don’t I?”

She poked her finger into his chest and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Do I have to point out to you to I was the one who kissed you?”

Ron mumbled to himself, staring at her with intense eyes.

“I still think you’re hiding something,” he repeated, his gaze still affectively on her. Under his eyes, she squirmed. She was never able to hold for long when he gave her that look. She gave a shaky breath, hanging her head low and thrusting the newspaper at him. She’d imagine he’d look mildly shocked at her actions. She heard the familiar crinkling of the paper.

She waited impatiently for a reaction.

“Malfoy’s returned?” His voice was unusually, unnervingly calm. It frightened her. That tone of his voice, so chillingly cool, it made him sound cruel and heartless, the exact antonyms of Ron. She nodded her head helplessly. An expression of confusion dazzled his face. “And why’d you want to hide this from me?” he asked curiously.

Before she could answer he flipped the pages and landed on the fifth page. Where the irrevocable image was. The tips of his ears turned a slight shade of red, a sign of an emotional and vocal Ron.

“Oh,” he simply said before letting the piece on his hand drop at his feet.

“Ron, don’t be melodramatic,” she scolded.

“Excuse me for being shocked at the sight of my fiancé in close proximity to my enemy. Looks kind of suspicious.”

She walked up closer to him. “Have you let it slip through that mind of yours that he’s my enemy too? Have you forgotten the years he’s tormented me with his comments of my heritage and appearance?” She was about ready to fume, like a teapot. You know, boil it until it finally whistles at its climax as the steam pours out of the stout. “How could you think I would want to freely spend time with Malfoy, of all people? Are you really that dense to the fact that we might’ve just bumped into each other? Do you not trust me?” she whispered the last part, her voice trembling at his accusations.

“Hermione,” he gently murmured, his hand reaching out to touch her. She flinched back and looked at him incredulously. He took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “You know me, Hermione. I’m hot-tempered, easily angered and effortlessly envious. Those are apart of who I am, my natural instincts. So when I see something as questionable as that picture and the fact that you wanted to hide it from me, I get offended. I get jealous and angry.” He laughed lightly. “That shouldn’t surprise you at this point in our relationship.”

She gave him a small smile and let her gaze drift back to his sapphire-colored eyes. “I’m not surprised. Just angry.” She paused. “You know it’s never going to change,” she said, a sigh heaved from her chest. She picked up the Daily Prophet and pointed at it. “They’re going to continuously pry into our lives, they’re going to find ways to make us entertaining, even if they have to bend the truth a little. Better to except it than fight it,” she murmured, more to herself, wording her defeat.

“It’s out of our hands,” he said. “Let them say what they want.” He walked to his bed. “So, you bumped into Malfoy,” he started, sitting on the bed with hands lying at his sides. “Did he tell you why he’s back?”

She shook her head. “No, we just fought, as usual. He hasn’t changed one bit, and you’d expect him to after the war. But he’s still his arrogant, self-righteous, bigoted old self.”

Ron lightened up and grabbed her hand, shifting the discussion to focus back on their spat. “Are you still angry?”

“Just slightly,” she teased, accepting his hand.

“Well, how about,” he began, fiddling with the ring on her left hand. “How about I take you for dinner? Tomorrow?” he posed the suggestion, looking at her.

“I have work until six, but after that I’m free,” she relayed. “You can pick me up at 7,” she replied. “Be punctual, dress properly and I expect you to make up for today,” she teasingly commanded. He looked at her, an admirable smile, which was appealing. His smile always seemed to make her weak in the knees, him flashing those pearly white teeth in her direction was enticing.

She walked up to him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before apparating, not hearing the slight aggravated groan coming from his mouth as she left.

***

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it and I acknowledge J.K. Rowling as the rightful owner.

Title Credits: Out of our Hands by Revelation Theory

[nemapasara]

Title: Soundtracks to a Broken Heart
Author: nmpsr_14
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Draco/OC
Rating: PG +15, light R
Warning! This story contains spoilers from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. If you have not read the book I suggest you not continue with this story since it contains many important facts and revelations from the plotline.

***

“Back me down from backing up

Hold your breath now it's stacking up

Etched with marks, but I can deal

And you're the problem and you can't feel”

3. Straitjacket Feeling

Her office was marked with numerous parts of her life through the years. Her Order of Merlin, First Class stood on the left wall. Hermione, Harry and Ron all had gotten one for their battle against Voldemort over the years. There had been a ceremony after the war where they were presented with the prize formally. It was a highlight of her life.

Below it was a magazine article stating her achievements in her work department and how Hermione had changed the Ministry for the better. It had given her delight to read the editorial in The Quibbler.

On her desk was a picture of her, Harry, Ron and Ginny. Harry had his arm enveloped around Ginny’s waist and they were smiling brightly at the camera. Ron had been behind Hermione, his hands on her stomach and his chin resting on her head. They had a matching pair of ear-to-ear grins plastered on their face. It was taken during their graduation from Hogwarts.

On the opposite side held a frame holding the still picture of her parents. She picked up the frame and sighed. After the war was over and all immediate threat was gone from the wizarding world, Hermione had gone to retrieve her parents and relieve them of their new life. What she had found when she went to see them was a happy old couple. Hermione had tripped on an unkempt root and her mother had rushed out of the little cottage to help her.

Hermione had expected her mum to exclaim how clumsy she was, in old habit. But Mrs. Wilkins had not, instead she pulled Hermione to her feet and ushered her into the house. When she had walked in she was flabbergasted. The little house was cluttered with unnecessary furniture and knick knacks. It gave off a peaceful vibe. Her old house was lavishly decorated with not one piece out of place.

Her mother had offered her tea and than Mr. Wilkins walked into the room. He stood tall and confident and had looked at her in shock. Her father asked politely who she was and her mother had explained the situation. It was like Hermione had entered a twilight zone, a new dimension. Her parents had no idea who she was, no idea that they had a daughter and that she was in front of their very eyes.

She had been troubled with what to do but then decided to leave it the way it was. Hermione knew when she had placed the memory spell on her parents that there’d be a chance they’d never be the same. A glimpse into their new life was her answer. They were happy; Hermione had no right to interfere in that even if they were her parents. She had left on good terms and Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins had told her to visit back anytime she wanted.

And Hermione had. Every few months she had gone to visit the pair. Recently, she had brought Ron along with her and her mother had gushed about what a handsome man he was.

Hermione set the picture back in its place and looked at the time. It was nearly six and she had dinner with Ron at seven. She glanced at the paper on top her desk. It was an application to become a lawyer in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was readily qualified for the position and it would offer her a raise in her salary. With the new engagement, Hermione needed all the payment she could get.

She put the paper in her drawer and performed a locking charm on it. She signed out of the office and spun on the spot.

White walls faded into an offset color, her eyes than shut close at the force of the apparition. The spinning had ceased and she opened her eyes to set her sights on her flat. Without a minute to spare, she walked into her bedroom and forced open her closet. Ron had told her over her lunch break that they were going to go somewhere fancy, even though she had refused. He had said that he owed it to her and that they never officially celebrated their engagement.

Hermione decided a plain black dress would do.

A few minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, her hair in ringlets down her back. She fingered a wet curl and had told herself that she needed a haircut. Her hair magically dried. Not the unkempt chaos it was before, her hair just laid in messy curls that were controllable.

Hermione slipped the dress onto her figure and stood in front of her closet mirror. It clung slightly to her curves and hung a little loose on her stomach. She had been losing a little weight, what with all the extra hours she had been putting in at the office and the busy timetable she had to maintain.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door and grabbed her purse.

Standing in front of her was Ron in a nice pair of black dress trousers and a crisp shirt. He looked quite good, she admitted surprisingly. She remembered on their first date, he had worn his ratty orange Chudley Cannons shirt and a pair of old jeans that looked a size too small for him. He had defended his shirt by saying he wore his favorite piece of clothing for his favorite girl. She had lightened up.

“You look good,” he complimented, his eyes traveling along her body playfully. She hit is arm and walked out the door.

“You look…approachable,” she responded jokingly, her eyes disdainfully looking over his own body. She mumbled ‘Colloportus’ and hooked her arm around Ron’s. “So, where are you bringing me tonight?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Hermione frowned, her nose scrunched up. “But you know I don’t like surprises.”

He just continued on his way down the stairs of her flat. He opened the gate that lead outside and held it open for her. He was being quite the gentleman tonight, she pondered. They walked out into an alley and he stopped in the middle of the darkened street.

“Grab my arm,” he told her, holding out his aforementioned arm.

“Where are we going?” she asked again, hoping he’d slip this time.

He grinned. “You’ll soon find out.” Ron took her arm in his grasp and in a flash they were out of the dingy alley and apparated into a quiet lane. He walked forward, Hermione trailing behind him.

They turned a corner and walked up to a brick wall, the common entrance way to Diagon Alley. Ron tapped the required bricks and watched as they fell to the ground, spreading apart to create a gateway to the magical town.

Ron took her hand and they walked down the pavement, the stores passing by them quickly. The streets were crowded with energy, people bustling around.

They stood in front of the Enchanted Amulet, a prosperous restaurant that was well-known for dining the most affluent people of the wizarding community. Hermione had never been here before due to the fact that she could never possibly afford it. And the fact that Ron could afford it?

“Ron, I’m sure the Red Casque Hall is just as nic-” she started but Ron placed his finger on her lips, silencing her.

“I’ve already made up my mind.” He pulled her into the front door of the restaurant and up to the floating podium. When they were in close proximity to it, the podium spoke up.

“Welcome to the Enchanted Amulet. Please speak your name into the microphone.”

“Ron Weasley.”

While Ron was speaking into to the microphone, Hermione took a glance around her current surroundings. Everyone was of high class, wearing the most posh outfits. It was like out of an old muggle painting.

“Please wait,” it responded. A few seconds later it spoke up again. “Ron Weasley, 7:30, Table No. 40.”

Their table was in the back of the area, on the left side with a wall beside them. Ron pulled out her chair and she sat down.

“It’s beautiful,” she noted, looking out the window, the scenery magically altered to show a city’s skyscrapers at night in the moonlight. Ron took his seat and picked the menu up. Hermione did the same.

A ghost had come to the table, its pearly transparent appearance an eye-catcher, except for the fact that all the servers were ghosts. This particular one was wearing the standard server’s uniform. “What would you like to order?” he asked, his voice stiff, reminding Hermione of her old History of Magic professor.

Ron had placed his order, Hermione asking for the same. The ghost went away and Ron got up from the table. “Restroom,” he said politely.

Hermione smiled. The evening was turning out to be pleasant, especially after a stressful day at work. It was just what she needed.

Taking a look around the tables surrounding theirs, she was quick to notice that most of them consisted of couples. It was not surprising since the restaurant held the aura of romance. The walls were painted a mahogany with flower wallpaper aligned on the top. The tables held a white cloth with petals scattered over it and a vase containing red roses.

Then she heard an annoying chortle drown her senses. She turned her head to the left to notice a blonde woman letting her head go back in laughter. After noting her disgust at the girl she noticed her partner sitting across from her and let out a groan.

The silver-blonde hair was a dead give away in the sea of brown and red. Draco Malfoy was sitting at the table opposite of them. He sat straight, his focus on the person in front of him, unaware of Hermione’s penetrating stare. Was he following her? The man use to be a Death Eater, disappeared and just recently reappeared and he had the gull to flaunt himself in the public’s eye?

She grumbled at her luck and quickly averted her eyes as he turned his head in her direction. Ron had come back just in time for their food to arrive.

Thankfully for her, Ron had always been a binge eater, so he rarely spoke during meals. When their plates were served, he dug right into his plate.

The high pitched laughter of Malfoy’s date traveled through the room. Each time it happened, it got louder and the times she did it amplified. She could tell Ron was increasingly getting irritated by the woman. His eyebrows were furrowed and he had stopped stuffing his face with potatoes. “What in the bloody hell is going on there,” he whispered, his voice filled with aggravation. He turned to look at the pair but Hermione grabbed his hand, making him look at her instead.

Don’t let it ruin this dinner,” she said, smiling at Ron. He seemed to understand and dug back into his plate. Hermione sighed. Why were these situations bestowed on her lately? She hated hiding things, but she knew if Ron saw Draco, the night would not end so right.

She picked at her food and looked down at the plate gloomily. Getting up, Hermione glanced at Ron and told him she needed to use the restroom.

She walked in and saw no one was there. Hermione opened a tap and splashed cold water onto her face, draining all her senses. Looking up at the mirror, a bogus smile was given to her through the reflection of Malfoy’s infamous date. She walked up to the counter and gave Hermione a polite look. Close up, the girl was pretty gorgeous. And she had decent manners. How Malfoy ever got her or why she even chose him…it was ridiculous.

“I’m Abigail Rogers,” she said politely, looking at Hermione’s reflection. “And you’re Hermione Granger, right?”

Hermione nodded well-mannerly. Abigail laughed.

“Of course you are,” she answered, as if her question was incredulous. “Everyone knows you Ms. Granger.” A knowing smile on her face.

“Unfortunately,” she finally said, her voice rough.

“I understand,” she whispered, a chortle deep in her throat. “Well, when I told me date that I had seen the famous Hermione Granger lounging just a few tables beside us..” she drawled on. “Well, he couldn’t stop talking about you. Usually, I’d find that quite annoying that on a date a man talks about another woman. Luckily, he really didn’t have nice things to say about you.”

Hermione looked at the woman disbelieving. She thought the woman was nice...until she opened her mouth and talked. Abigail was as conceited and self-centered as her partner. She went on about Draco and how he had chosen her out of thousands of women. She was flattered and Hermione felt like throwing up her medium rare beef steak.

Hermione excused herself and made her way back to Ron. Her head filled with plans of murdering Malfoy in his bed and making it look like suicide.

Ron saw her coming and noticed Abigail behind her. “Were you talking to her?” he asked, giving the girl a disconcerted look as she strolled by them, her head raised in laughter.

“Well, consider it a one-sided conversation.” In her anger at the pair across from them she hadn’t noticed Ron’s eyes following Abigail’s trail. Up until she heard Ron give a loud grunt.

“What’s he doing here?!?” he asked, fury in his voice.

She turned to see his eyes on Malfoy. “I don’t know, but let’s just continue our date.”

That’s when they heard the blonde man’s arrogant voice floating through the air, picking up words like “Weasel” and “pathetic”. The tip of Ron’s ear turned mildly red and he got up swiftly from his chair.

“Ron, please-” she pleaded, but to no avail. He walked over to Malfoy’s table and cleared his throat. Hermione followed with little to no choice.

Malfoy seemed to be ignoring him until Hermione stood beside Ron. Malfoy scrunched up his nose and looked distastefully at Hermione. “Thought I smelt the horrendous stench of a mudblood.”

“Watch your mouth, Malfoy!” Ron seethed. Malfoy s******ed.

Malfoy ignored his comment and gave Ron a chilling grimace. “What are you doing here anyways?” He turned to Abigail and they shared a knowing laugh. “Had to stand by the pavement and beg people for spare change for a month?”

Ron’s face was slowly turning the shade of a tomato as Malfoy kept on with his insults.

“You have the gull to show your face in England again, do you?”

Malfoy sneered at Ron. Loathe radiating off both men. As usual, Malfoy took to insulting and ignoring Ron’s comment, almost as if it were his comfort zone. “Saw the diamond on Granger’s engagement ring. How’d you afford a jewel like that? Transfigure a rock?” he snickered, his eyebrow raised.

People were starting to notice the barb. “None of your business really…but it’s real,” Ron said, his glare heightening.

Malfoy stood up and offered his arm to Abigail, who happily took it. “Come on, Abby. Now that we know what kind of filth they serve here,” he drawled, giving a pointed look in Hermione’s direction. “It’d be better to find a more suitable diner for people of our class.”

That was when everything broke out of place and the next thing Hermione knew, Malfoy on the floor, clutching his bloody nose. Ron had punched him. In his fit of anger, Malfoy shook trying to get his wand and before he could mutter a spell, the restaurant’s owner interrupted the chaos.

The next few minutes found her and Ron out in an alleyway after being kicked out of the Enchanted Amulet. This was not how the night was supposed to go. And none other then Draco Malfoy was the source of her bitterness. Once again, he managed to ruin the moment for her. And Hermione vowed that the next time she saw him, she’d curse Malfoy into the next hell dimension. After all, she was Hermione Granger, and who was she to ever back down?

***

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it and I acknowledge J.K. Rowling as the rightful owner.

Title Credits: Straitjacket Feeling by All-American Rejects

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