One Chance to Choose

“Hermione..?”

Hermione felt a soft hand shake her shoulder tentatively. She felt so comfortable on her leather chair that she didn’t want to wake up. Besides, she was having a pleasant dream, one of the few she´d had after the War. Then she realized where she was: in her office. Her eyes opened in a snap.

The first thing she saw was flaming-red hair and freckles. She immediately recognized the face as that of one of her best friend, Ron Weasley.

“Are you all right?” Ron asked. He grabbed her hand soothingly and knelt next to her chair.
“I’m fine,” she yawned, “I just… dozed off for a while.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “What time is it?”

Ron raised his left wrist, glanced at his watch. “One thirty a.m.,” he said, looking at her face, concerned. “You should get some sleep,” he told her. “You’ve worked too hard. Besides, Harry and I are leaving in a while.”

“Oh, no!” she said hurriedly. “I have loads of work to do.” She leaped from her seat and began to shuffle papers. “I must finish this report before Christmas.”

Ron looked a bit stunned. “Christmas is still two weeks away.” Hermione frowned at him, but continued scanning over the papers. “Come of it Hermione!” he cried. “You push yourself too hard.” Hermione stared at him, biting her lower lip. She thought for a moment on all the work she had yet to do.

She had to investigate the murder of Florean Fortescue. He was found dead near his ice cream parlour, after having missing years ago. It was an important report that needed taken care of, but considering it, she was very tired. She focused again on Ron who had just stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Lips barely moving, she slowly muttered, “...Okay.”

Ron and she stood up together, he grinned. “Great,” he said. “Ginny is in the Burrow, but I think she might still be up; I told her to wait for you, so that you don’t have to go home so late.”

Hermione snorted; if Ginny was waiting it would be for Harry, not her. Ron gave her a timid smile.

Hermione grabbed a few papers and looked at Ron before saying. “Well, good night.” She smiled and walked to the door. Hand resting on the doorframe, she half turned. “See you and Harry later.”

“Good night,” he answered. He walked to her and planted a kiss on her right cheek. Hermione blushed, glanced at him one last time and then started walking down the corridor of the Ministry of Magic.

Once she arrived at the Apparating point, with a small ‘pop’ she left the building and Apparated outside the Burrow. Gingerly, she knocked on the door, hoping not to wake anybody up. It creaked open, revealing Mrs. Weasly in a purple nightdress and a pair of pink slippers.

“Hello Hermione, dear,” said a sleepy Mrs. Weasly.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley, sorry to wake you; I was busy at the Ministry. Ron told me it would be fine if I stayed here for the night,” Hermione said apologetically, stepping inside the house.
Mrs. Weasly closed the door. “Of course, dear. Would you like something to eat? You seem a bit pale...”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” responded Hermione knowing too well of feeding obsession Mrs. Weasly had towards others. “I´ll think I’ll head to bed.” Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned around, heading to the living room where Ginny sat, drinking hot cocoa.

Hermione walked up the stairs slowly. When she reached the guest room, she pushed open the door, launching herself instantly onto the bed. She couldn’t believe all the work she had to do before Christmas.

She worked at the Auror Investigation Office. She had to investigate every murder, every attack that a dark wizard committed. Most were Death Eaters in hiding. This new office was created after the news of the impending was with the Dark Lord. Harry and Ron were full-fledged Aurors, while Ginny was still in training.

Harry had killed Voldemort. He had lost friends and had suffered, but he finished his mission. His fate had been sealed. When the Dark Lord died, Harry became a legend for the Wizarding world, an icon for the Ministry. But he had followed his teenager dream as well, to become an Auror, Chief Auror to be exact, one of the youngest ever.

It came as a surprise to her, however, that Draco Malfoy was also an Auror. Furthermore, he was second-in-command. Before the end of the war, Draco had turned to their side.
Since then, Harry and Malfoy were on decent terms. Even if Harry wanted to get closer to Draco for the sake of working together, he wasn’t allowed. The blonde, pompous pureblood was now a frozen, solitary wizard.

The day Mad-Eyed Moody died was the same day that Draco saved Ginny. If he hadn’t, Harry would have been lost in despair. But he gave him the chance to kill Voldemort. Malfoy then joined the Order. The remaining Death Eaters were now scattered throughout the world, hiding, but never missing the chance for the smallest revenge.

Thinking of the war made Hermione sink into an abyss of memories. An endless, dark pit of nightmares and mourning. It was exhausting and painful so she just closed her eyes and prayed to go back to that deep, peaceful sleep from which she had been awaken in her office.

*********************************************

Ron saw Hermione leave the office in a fast walk. He stayed there to look around the office for a while: There were photos on Hermione’s desk. Some had the Trio –Harry, Ron, Hermione—laughing, while others had her parents and the Weasly family. There were papers all over her desk, books on the floor near the chair. One read ‘Adolf Hitler a Wizard?’ bellow it said ‘Learn How Scientists Think Hitler Controlled People’. There was a book on the chair, leaning on an arm, titled ‘Wizards Through the Dark Times’. It was written by Hermione Granger. Ron was about to open it but he remembered that Harry was waiting for him.

He walked out and went to Harry’s office, which was in the same floor as hers, at the Second Level. When he got to the door he knocked twice and entered when he heard Harry’s voice telling to come in.

Ten steps from the door, there lay a wide, long desk. Behind the desk, on a black leather chair was Harry. He hadn’t changed much; hair equally messy (or slightly more), tall, but now with a grown look about him. On one wall there were a few books, some posters of Quidditch, two brooms (his old Firebolt and a Dragon’s Tail) and several file cabinets. One had a written label on it, ‘Death Eaters’. Besides the cabinets hung a Death Eater’s suit, mask and all. On the back of the office there was a fireplace and a mini-bar. Harry wasn’t much of a drinker, but he had plenty of important visitors and they were more than glad to share a drink with the Harry Potter. Ron thought that this was a very spacious office; almost as good as the Minister’s itself.

“Hello Ron,” greeted Harry, interrupting him from his gazing.

“Hi Harry,” answered Ron, closing the door behind him. “I went to wake up Hermione.” He sat down on one of the comfortable chairs that the office provided.

“Oooh,” teased Harry, winking with a wide smile. “So, what happened?” He stared at him in fake innocence.

“Nothing,” shrugged Ron casually. During the war, Ron and Hermione had finally started a relationship, but after a year they had decided to break up. She was too busy establishing a career and he had been glad to feel the commitment chains off for a while and focus also in helping Harry clean the wizarding world.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he walked to the mini-bar. “Aha,” he said, serving Ron half a glass of Fire Whisky. He handed the drink to Ron while pouring himself Oak-Matured Mead, his friend needed it more than him. He sat down and stared at him. “And what are you going to do?” he asked.

Ron, confused, asked, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Harry answered then took a sip from his drink.

Ron’s ears went slightly red. “Oh.” His eyes went to the floor. “Well, I... I mean- We could...” He raised his head and said in an I-give-up voice. “I don’t know. ”

They were now twenty years old. Ron had had a crush on her since their first year at Hogwarts and Harry insisted now more than ever that he do something about it, Harry had been encouraging Ron to try and mend things again, but then again it was Ron. “You should make a move,” Harry told him. Ron was frowning, thinking hard.

“It’s difficult,” Ron said. “I mean, we have been friends for a very long time. And everything that happened at the war...” He gulped down what was left of his drink as if trying to swallow down too his thoughts of the war. The sadness that it had marked on them was one of the factors that had caused their relationship to fail.

“If you take forever to ask her out again...” Harry drank. “Somebody is going to ask her first.” He gave his best friend a smile.

“I know,” said Ron. “But—“ he broke off his sentence because a faint knock had come from the door.

A pale head peered behind the door.

Draco Malfoy’s stone cold eyes contrasted with his pale skin. His expression was blank, slightly grim but proud.

“Hello Draco,” said Harry. “Would you like a drink?” Harry could never get used to calling him in such polite terms, but he owed it to him and with time he had learned to rather respect Malfoy.

“No, thank you,” answered Malfoy in cold politeness. “I’m leaving, that’s all I wanted to say.” His eyes travelled from Ron then back to Harry.

“Oh, alright,” said Harry. “Good night Malfoy.” Draco bowed his head curtly, turned and left the office swiftly.

When Malfoy’s cloak had vanished Ron spoke. “We better go to the Burrow.”