I. The
Recently, Harry came to the conclusion that Hermione had changed. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed, but he could say with certainty that there had been subtle, but consistent changes over the years.
Harry met Hermione at University. A substantial trust fund left to him by his deceased parents paid for Oxford tuition without difficulty. Hermione didn't have this problem either, as her parents were dentists of the Royal Family itself.
The only person in their group of friends, who studied thanks to a scholarship was Ron, a tall redhead, who was soon to become a rising star on the basketball team.
The three of them met in the first week of the academic year, and have not parted since then. Even though they spent most of the semester in different places. Ron on the court. Hermione in the library. And Harry in the café.
Six years have passed since then.
A lot has changed since then.
They saw Ron less often, because he often went to national team conventions. But they remained close. They always spent Christmas in his family home. Mrs. Weasley never wanted to accept any money for dinner. Hermione always left banknotes hidden around the house.
Harry even invested in the company of his twin brothers. Since then, it has become a recognizable toy brand, and Harry has been successfully playing around on the stock market.
Only Hermione remained at the university, pursuing a Doctorate in English Literature.
A lot has changed since then.
Since then, one more person has become part of their group.
Draco and Hermione met not in the best way.
She was eighteen, and was just starting her studies in literature. He was twenty-seven, and was just finishing his PhD in law. One chilly October morning, they met near one of the campus cafes. Although ‘met’ might not have been a good description of their first conversation.
Hermione had just left the café. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and wrapped a scarf around herself. She was holding a half-finished coffee in her hand. Busy fixing herself up, she didn’t pay attention to the man coming from the opposite direction. There was an unwavering confidence in his springy step, in all his posture. The confidence that only rich, white guys can have. Although he was staring at the phone, his stature was impeccable and upright. It was clear that he knew exactly where he was going. People were getting out of his way. But she paid no attention to him. He bumped her with his arm, splashing her coffee around.
"My purse!" She whined in despair.
To her surprise, the man didn’t stop to help or even apologize.
"Watch how you walk," he just said over his shoulder.
"Excuse me?" Now she's really annoyed. She’s never encountered such a lack of manners in her life.
"You heard me," he regretted his words the moment he turned to look at her emphatically, for the girl from the library was standing in front of him.
She looked him up and down. He was older. Not so much, that it’d be frighteningly strange that she fancied him, but old enough for it to be unusual. He had tousled, wind-blown blond hair, and a shadow of stubble in a slightly darker shade. He was bloody tall, bloody handsome. And bloody ill-mannered.
The whole thing lasted maybe a second.
Hermione opened the lid of her half-drunk, almost cold coffee, and splashed towards him. Then she walked over, stopping one step away from him. In right hand she was holding the napkin, which was wrapped around the to-go cup just a moment ago.
"I’m so terribly sorry. It's my fault,” she began to wipe the stain off his expensive suit. She only made it worse. She took a step away, measuring him with a cool look. "This is how you should act.”
As she walked away, she couldn't help herself.
"Next time I advise you to make better use of the money from the fund. Etiquette lessons, perhaps?” She said over her shoulder.
"Brave words for someone, who cries, because her Chanel's been splashed. Although considering your age, the fact that you are here, ten a.m. at Monday, and overall princess attitude, I guess you got it from your daddy, isn’t it right, baby girl?”
Hermione wished she hadn’t spilled all the coffee, and she could splash it in his face again. So she huffed disapprovingly, and walked away in the opposite direction.
A gentle, subtle half-smile bloomed on his lips.
His suit was ruined. But he absolutely couldn’t care less.