Draco Malfoy put down his cup of daily brandy in the morning to read today's paper.

Today marks the fifth year since the Second Wizarding World War, where the light has won over the dark. It was the day Harry Potter, our hero, finally defeated the late Voldemort, therefore bringing peace back into our land. Potter, along with his beloved friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, found Voldemort's so-called horcruxes to end his evil reign. The Golden Trio with members of the Order of the Phoenix fought the Death Eaters, Voldemort's army, at the Hogwarts Castle.

Many lives were taken: Fred Weasley, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Severus Snape, to name a few. Potter's friend Weasley however is still in St. Mungo's comatose and Granger still missing.

This day reminds us the cruelty and effects of war, for us to be thankful of every day of our lives, and make the most of it.

Draco only snorted at the article. They have been doing this for years, and he was tired of hearing the story over and over again. About how heroic Harry Potter was. He did not want to sound smug, for he and Potter were co-Aurors, and had some professional respect for the man. He didn't have it all the time, of course, because there were times that he'd notice that Potter had somehow lost part of his sanity during the War. He was more of a freak than he was at Hogwarts, which wasn't a surprise, when your only family was half-brain dead and lost, you have no one.

And he wasn't the only one who lost his family, Lucius died that day too. Stupid idiot stood by his Lord than take care of his own family, he thought. He didn't feel bad that his name was not mentioned at the paper, he deserved that. He only had his mother, physically but not mentally. She was cold and distant, and kept saying 'I wonder when your father will come back from meeting The Dark Lord' and 'Oh I do hope your father will come home from their excursions soon'. The woman has lost it, but he never complained, for other than that she was and always will be the caring mother he had.

He put down the newspaper and then took another gulp of his beverage, looking at the view from his veranda in Muggle London. It would have been a terrible idea if he was told ten years ago, when his prejudice towards Muggles was still stuck on his cranium. But somehow he found solace in it for him and for his mother. No sign of magic, just keeping everything simple. He went here every weekend, staying with his mother.

Suddenly he heard an old man and a young woman bump into each other on the street. The man carried a paper bag full of fruits and vegetables, and it toppled to the ground.

"Oh no! I am so sorry Mister Gibbs!" The young woman apologized, and then crouched down to gather the food that fell. She had a nice bum.

"No, I'm sorry Lola. I had a load of groceries, you see, I couldn't even see the way! Where you off?"

"To work, I'm already late. Sorry again, sir!" They rotated, going into opposite directions, parting ways. Draco caught a glimpse of the woman.

She had long, brunette hair, with curls that tousled like glorious grape vines. She had a small figure, about a little over five feet. Her dainty fingers brushed her hair strands to her right ear. She had a cute, button nose, brown eyes, and skin that glowed as it was lit upon by the sun.

He knew that face all too well.

It was Hermione Granger.

He instantly got out of his chair and bolted out of the room to the stairs, almost tripping.

"Why sir, what's wrong?" It was Madam Welsh, his mother's caretaker. "Where are you headed?" He did not answer.

"Draco dear, what did I tell about running around the house?" Narcissa scolded as if he was still ten years old, but he didn't answer as well.

He did not even bother getting a coat, coming out of their house in his thin polo shirt, khaki pants and oxfords.

"Granger!"

He ran towards the other side of the street, and he almost got hit with a cab.

"Oy! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry!" He quickly apologized and then ran towards the woman.

"Granger!"

She did not look back, why didn't she look back? He ran farther, finally catching up to her and then holding her shoulder. She turned around.

"G- Gr-" Draco panted, catching his breath. "Granger."

She looked at him, perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

He looked at her, and he could not have been more sure. It was her, it was Hermione Granger. Her small face, her incorrigible hair, her freckles. It was definitely her, no doubt.

"Don't play with me, Granger."

She looked at her, bewildered. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about." She was about to turn when he grabbed her by the arm.

"You, Hermione Granger, we all thought you were dead." Draco said, hoping he'd clear it out for her.

She eyed him, he was attractive, wore decent clothes. Surely, he's not mental? Visibly impaired, maybe. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not who you think I am."

"What?" Draco was flustered. "But, I'm quite certain—"

"No, really. I'm not." She didn't want to sound rude. "I'm late, so please don't pester me anymore." She then turned around and then brisk-walked, it wouldn't help for she was already late, but did it anyway.

Draco was confused. He was entirely sure that who he just saw was the missing Hermione Granger. He would know what she'd look like, he attended school with her for years for Merlin's sake. It wouldn't make such drastic change in five years. And her voice, he knew her voice, and it was precisely how she sounded. He sighed in defeat and then walked back to his house.

"Sir, why were you in a rush?" He heard Madam Welsh ask him as he entered.

"Nothing, I just thought I saw someone I knew."

"Oh really? Who is it darling?" Narcissa inquired before she took a sip from her tea cup.

"Hermione Granger."

"What?" She shrieked. "Did she see you?"

"She did, but she did not recognize me."

"Really." Narcissa pondered. "You should have captured her, Draco, and let your father bring her to the Dark Lord. I'm sure he will be most pleased."

"Madam, how many times do I have to tell you that the 'Dark Lord' you are talking about is already dead?" Madam Welsh said. Draco told her a clever story that Voldemort was supposedly her scary, manipulative, father-in-law. He was certain she wouldn't understand it if he told the truth.

"Oh, that's nonsense!" Narcissa opposed. "In fact, Lucius is with him right now, they are on their secret expeditions. Aren't they, Draco?"

"Sure." He only answered. "If you'll excuse me, I will be back to my room." He ascended the stairs.

How can he be wrong? It was her! It was really her! His memory isn't impaired, and sure as hell he hasn't gone bonkers. But how come she said it wasn't her?


Hello there! This is my second fic, and first M too! I am so excited!

I know some of you who have read my other fic, Hurts Like Heaven, probably wants to spank me right now for not sorting my priorities. Don't worry! HLH will be running smoothly as much as this one.

First off, usual disclaimer, the characters are all JK Rowling's. The plot is mine.

Second, reviews and comments are exciting to read! So don't hesitate to send one. :)

Sorry if this first chapter is too short, I just wrote it out of the top of my head! My cranium is mucked up, you see. I'll be sure to make longer ones next time. Subscribe, comment, review! I love you all! x