Forget About It (Dramione)

Epilogue

Five Years Later

Hermione's office was deep inside the Ministry, and it would've been dark and cold if it weren't for the large window that meant she could see almost all of London. The skyline met her eyes at 8:30AM every morning, and she could watch the intense movement and bustle safely from her little room. She liked seeing the hordes of people, walking to work, safe in their oblivious adaption to everyday life. She liked them most of all because she was now one of them, a grey suit in the big grey city. She had excitement if she wanted to go and look for it, and security if she didn't. 

That was what she had needed ever since the end of the war four years ago, a monotonous routine, an unchanging purpose, friends that didn't surprise her because she'd known them most of her life, a job that suited her but wasn't too dangerous. Harry was out on in the field still, but she preferred it here. Finally, she was safe. 

She knew that she would get bored of this job soon enough, expecting her previous fiery ambition to awaken from its four-year slumber, for her life to kickstart into danger and excitement once again, but that hadn't happened yet. To be honest, at the moment, she was glad.

This morning, she sat as usual at her neatly organised desk, looking over her calendar and reading through the list of jobs she'd assigned herself to complete. It was another part of this job she enjoyed, the solid organisation, the step-by-step tasks. She smoothed her less wild hair behind her ears as she read. There was not much. She'd even have time for an extended lunch. 

A knock on the door made her jump unexpectedly. Normally, she didn't have any visitors for an hour or so, as she could take time to wait for people to settle into their offices and mess about for a little while before they faced starting the day. Her heart beat softly but firmly enough for her to notice it going. 

"Just a second," she called, smoothing down her neat work skirt and taking a deep breath. She hated how little things like unprecedented knocks shocked her into getting all flustered, but she assumed that would be another prickle to calm in the years to come. 

"Alright, come in?" She said after a moment, giving herself time to sit down. 

Thank Merlin she did. 

Her door opened, and in walked the last person she expected. Her breath caught in her throat, and her soft heartbeat turned into an open thud, thud, thud  that she expected her visitor to hear clear as day. Suddenly her palms began to sweat, and her breath became quick and short. Hopefully she still looked calm, because underneath her exterior she was like a duck's legs paddling, frantically staying afloat. 

Draco Malfoy looked physically exactly the same as when she'd last seen him at the Battle of Hogwarts. Tall and willowy, his pale head and matching white hair stuck out like a sore thumb at the top of his dark suit. Thin but defined, she thought, just as before, his cheekbones high and his gaze hard. Even his smell was one she recognised from their time together, a dark oaky cologne that made him appear expensive and sophisticated. 

But when he spoke his voice was a lot softer than his appearance suggested, juxtaposing the stark Malfoy look, and surprising her even more. 

"Hi, Hermione," he said softly, his expression blank and motionless. 

She hadn't seen him since the day Voldemort died and he'd ran away with his family. Nothing. Not a word. Part of her had assumed he'd died too, and had already grieved his departure, but here he was, ghostly, frightening but familiar. He reminded her of Hogwarts, home, the way she used to feel sat in the Gryffindor common room and the Room of Requirement.