Chapter 1:
Author's Note: Hey! This is my first chapter of what is going to be a very long fanfic. So, if you're up for a ride please read and enjoy!
Disclaimer: It's all Rowling's, not mine! And will someone please get rid of that annoying Warner Bros. company, or whatever that hopelessly pathetic company is called?
The Boys are Back
Hermione woke up, taking a look at her alarm clock. Oh no, she thought, I'll be late for work again.
She had just gotten a job at the Ministry of Magic, and was in the same department as Bartemius Crouch had been in before he was murdered. When the three friends (a.k.a., the Dream Team) graduated, Harry had taken a job to be an Auror's apprentice, since they were so high in demand. Voldemort was still steadily rising, and attacks were becoming more frequent. Apparently, according to what Hermione had heard, Ron didn't have any job except to work in his brothers' joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Surprisingly, Hermione didn't need a job.
She had consented to marry Viktor Krum. Krum was a star Quidditch player on the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, and had fallen madly in love with her. When Ron had found out, he became infuriated. Her chocolate brown eyes filled with tears as she remembered the night before graduation:
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"You said you would what?!"
"I said I would marry him."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, Ron. I love him, and he loves me, and we're getting married."
"I can't believe you, Mione! You don't love him, you just can't… you can't!"
"How would you know? You're not me, are you? I'm marrying Viktor whether you like it or not!"
"I swear, if you marry him, I will never talk to you again."
"Fine, then! Don't."
"Good-bye then, Hermione."
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He hadn't spoken to her since then. About a year after she and Viktor were married, Viktor was in a terrible accident. A bludger knocked him off his broom. He died in St. Mungo's a week later from a severe wound to his head and internal bleeding. He left nothing in his will to Hermione. His Bulgarian family had gotten everything, and they had never been very fond of Hermione. They kicked her out of the house with all of her things (not much) and she had to move back to England and beg for help to get some sort of residence.
Hermione was then forced to get a job, which was graciously provided by her former professor and headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He had a lot of connections with the ministry. She was twenty-two now, with no husband and no friends (Harry had been too busy overseas to write to her). All she had was a job and a tiny apartment in London.
Hermione got up, dressed, brushed her hair, and ate breakfast. She then hurried out the door, heading towards the London Underground as she did every day. Putting her pass through the turnstile, she waited for the right train, the blue line, that is.
As she was boarding, she bumped into someone.
"Oh, excuse me," she said with a quick smile.
"No problem," was the man's reply. This was a hurried response, though. It seemed he was having a very heated discussion with the person next to him. She started to watch him intently. This was a bit of a hobby that Hermione had picked up. He was wearing a regular muggle suit with a dark trench coat over it. On his head was a wide brimmed, black hat. He took his hat off for a moment to run his fingers through his hair. Must be a nervous habit, she thought to herself. His hair was bright red. How familiar, she thought. She saw that he looked almost the same age as her, only he was a bit taller and thinner (and more muscular) than she was.
She now turned her attention to the man he was talking to. They seemed to be arguing about something very important, but she couldn't quite make it out. The other man was dressed in stylish black pants, a black shirt, and a dark silver tie. He had stone-gray eyes and white blonde hair that contrasted very severely with what he was wearing.
Closing her eyes, Hermione thought about where she could've seen them before. She had never seen them at the ministry before, but they seemed so familiar. It's just deja vu, she thought, brushing it off.
The train stopped, and the seats on either side of her emptied. The two men came over and sat down, looking a little relieved that they weren't sitting next to each other. Hmm, she thought, they must have a long trip. She looked over at the blonde-haired man and noticed he was startlingly handsome. He noticed her and looked back with steely gray eyes.
"What are you looking at?" He demanded, his full, wide eyes suddenly narrowing at her. At this, the other man leaned over, and muttered,
"Don't mind my friend, he's a bit angry at the moment."
He laughed a little at this, but quickly stifled it. "If you don't mind my asking, have I met you before?" He seemed to feel a bit awkward about it.
With a closer look she could see that this man was tired. Not just tired as though he didn't get enough sleep, but almost though he was tired with his life, maybe his situation. Somehow she knew that expression he was wearing, but she just couldn't place it.
"I don't think so, but I see what you mean," she said politely.
"Oh, okay," he answered. He started to stare at the dirty floor of the underground train.
"Um, where do you get off?" She said, trying to keep the conversation.
"Waterloo," he replied.
"Same here," she said, thinking. She looked at where the insides of his pockets would be and something caught her eye. Something was poking out.
"You're not a muggle, are you?" She almost whispered, gazing into his freckled, blue-eyed face and wondering where she had seen it before.
"Well, no, I'm not. How did you know?" He stuck his hands into his pockets as he said this, and his ears turned pink.
"Your wand," she stated in a somewhat haughty, nonchalant voice. The man suddenly got a terrified look on his face (which turned beet red) and looked away hastily.
"What's wrong with you?" asked the blonde-haired man.
"Shove off, ferret," he shot back.
Hermione had to have heard this before, she knew she had. She repeated "ferret" to herself over and over again (in her head, obviously). Of course, she thought, how could I not have known? I can't believe how stupid I am!
She turned and looked at the blonde-haired man again in a whole new light. Soon, he found himself being hugged very tightly by the stranger next to him on the train.
"What the hell are you doing?" He said, looking fairly shocked and disgruntled at the same time, and brushing his coat off as though she had gotten it dirty.
"I can't believe I didn't recognize you, Malfoy!" She said, trying to catch her breath. "You can call me mudblood or beaver or whatever you want. Please, just acknowledge that you remember me!"
"Granger, is it you?" he interrogated.
"Yes, it's me!" She cried with delight that she was talking to someone from Hogwarts for the first time in four years.
Then she turned to her friend, Ron Weasley, who she knew wouldn't talk to her anymore since he realized who it was.
"Ron? Please talk to me, Ron. I'm so sorry," she said.
The train stopped at the station and the three got off, walking to Hermione's office. Hermione and Draco were talking, but Ron walked a few feet behind them, deep in thought.
But what are they doing here? When they got to the office, the answer to the question Hermione had been thinking about was lying on her desk.
"It's a letter from Dumbledore," said Hermione in bewilderment.
"Oh, good job, mudblood, now what does it say? Or can you not read?"
This was a ridiculous insult to give Hermione, since he knew perfectly well from being in school with her that she was constantly reading, even when she wasn't working. But then again, Draco's insults had always been pretty ridiculous. Ron opened his mouth and looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself from making any comment.
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Dear Ms. Granger,
I have sent two unspeakables to speak with you (Quite ironic isn't it?) about matters they will disclose. I must not say in this letter, in the circumstance that it might be intercepted.
Sincerely,
Professor Albus Dumbledore
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"You two are Unspeakables?" she asked incredulously.
The two men nodded.
"Well then, I guess we'll have to start talking again, Ron. Now, what's the problem?"
"We don't know where Potter is," said Malfoy lazily.
"What?"
"You heard what I said Granger. Weasley, you get to explain the details. I'm getting myself a coffee," he said, patting Ron on the back and walking to the door.
The two turned to Malfoy, and at the same time said,
"What do you mean, you "don't know where he is"?"
"What do you mean, I "get to explain the details"?"
He sighed in exasperation.
"We. Can't. Find. Potter. He hasn't written to Dumbledore or anyone else for two months. No one has seen him either." Malfoy was acting like Hermione was an idiot. Then he turned to Ron and said in a quieter voice, "You do want her to know what happened, don't you?"
"Hey, since when have you been in charge, Malfoy?" Hermione said, obviously getting over the shock of what he had said to her.
"Stop. I'm not going to speak to either of you if you get in a fight. It doesn't matter what happened, Draco. All Dumbledore said is that we should find him," Ron interrupted them, sounding very annoyed.
Since when have Ron and Malfoy been on a first name basis? Hermione wondered. She also had no idea of when Ron had managed to get control of his temper. But she took another route instead of voicing that.
"Us? We're supposed to find him? We're supposed to find Harry? Why us?" She repeated, she never had so many thoughts and questions in her head before. Now she understood when back in their fourth year Harry had tried to explain Dumbledore's penseive to them.
"Dumbledore said that he trusted us, that he knew we would lay down our lives to find him because he was our friend," said Ron. He sounded a little more used to talking to Hermione again.
"Though he didn't say why he chose you, Draco," he added.
"I don't really care why he chose me. I just want to get this done. Then I can get more important business done."
This had an effect on Hermione. She got up from her desk, tears in her eyes, walked around her neat desk and slapped Draco Malfoy across the face as hard as she possibly could. She had only done that once before, in their third year, when Malfoy had been talking about getting Hagrid fired.
Malfoy's eyes became slits of gray in his pale face and he silently put a hand up to where Hermione had slapped him. It was turning red very quickly. He grabbed his wand, and pointing it at her he warned in a grave, menacing voice,
"Don't you dare ever touch me again, mudblood."
Ron strode over to Malfoy and took his wand from him, pocketing it.
"We're not in school anymore," he said, "and you can't do this anymore. We're allies; we don't have the time to fight; we need to find Harry," he broke off and took a breath, thinking.
"I think we're all a bit in shock. We should just cool off and start talking about this tomorrow," he finished.
"Okay. You guys can stay at my house. I have an extra room you can use," said Hermione. She was very relieved to not have to face everything that day.
"Erm, no, I think we should stay at the Leaky Cauldron tonight," Ron said cautiously, with a meaningful glance at Hermione.
"Fine," she said.
They left her there. Malfoy was looking very put out that he had been denied a great duel and Ron was looking as though he would snap and have a nervous breakdown if anything else happened soon. She sighed and sat down, reading Dumbledore's letter to herself again and again.
~Evyfleur