FicWad

Disclaimer: I'm still poor, aren't I? Go on with the story instead than see me sulking in the corner. Sniff

Summary: On the verge of insanity, or so he is forced to believe, Draco Malfoy still harbors love for Hermione Granger. They were lovers, once, during the Cold War that they both survived. But deaths and deceit happened. Loyalty not to a lover surfaced and they have been separated... A project brings them together, but Hermione fears it is too late. A shadow lurks behind their back, wanting revenge.

A.N The arrangement is somewhat altered, I know.

This was a result from some weird drabble that I had thought of once. Anyway, I've already thought of the next chapters, and they have already been typed. I seriously hope you wait for the next chapter before you dismiss this story as... something not good'. Reviews are always welcome! Oh yes, foreshadowing will be used in the latter chapters. Actually, you might see the technique in this chapter already. If you don't understand some things, they'll be revealed, explained and elaborated in the next chapters, I promise. :)

Published 3/23/06 in ff.net

There had been sudden reports of /someone /who might presently be deserving of a condemnable praise for a job /badly /done. His reports were prompt, in a sense. Of course that was in the past. Now, besides the fallback of his accuracy and detail in his reports, he submited them horribly past their due dates. God, whoever he was, he was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement Squad which was parallel to Hermione's Department of International Magical Cooperation which she was the head of since she had taken a keen interest on a bill that joined their departments

She shouldn't be caring less what on earth the other Head would have been doing, but he was greatly affecting the project they were working on. His ever-prompt lateness, his detachedly-placed passion for the project-if there ever was- was getting on Hermione's nerves. God, how can he be so infuriating, especially at a time like this, at a time where Hermione was depending on his department to work with hers to be able to pass a new bill- a bill capable of decreasing the dark shadows, fear and confusion in the state.

But the problem was that she was in no mood to talk to him. It was so ironic. Very much ironic, when she was Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation where communication, relations, patience and understanding were the common policies. And now, she was scurrying away from them. How was she promoted into this position then? She had her own reasons, bitter reasons.

Her gaze halted to a picture frame; the red hair most distinct against her brown hair. They were cuddle up against each other; their smiles very broad and wax, depicting the picture of happiness. That was before the war. Then, the war happened. Everything happened during the war.

Her breathing came in slows, painful pauses. It was too difficult to bear. Too difficult to remember or even accept. It could have been Paradise, if it weren't for the last mission- his last mission.

God, would she risk this new life she got herself? Will her plans end just because of him? A snort. She'll be dammed before she let that happen. The question: how?

Glass bottles which contained white liquid were already lined up and positioned along the porch of the next house. Those were seemed to be brought by a man with an ensemble similar to that of the liquid: white. It was during at this event that Draco remembered what day it was. Monday. Or was it Tuesday? No, the green man -his clothes were green of course, but Draco decided to call him that instead- who always had two blades joined together by what seemed to be a screw, was always what the man was flexing came during Tuesdays. It was definitely Monday; there was no mistake.

He should get a fucking calendar. Unfortunately, he always forgets to conjure one. And the act alone of forgetting to conjure one escapes his logical thinking because (a) He was always bored and looking for things to do when his mother was not around, what possesses him to forget? (b) It's only a bloody conjuration! It isn't as if he was going to leave the house to buy it somewhere. (c) Forgetfulness /was// never/ a trait of his during Hogwarts years.

Then again, (a) His mother was frequently visiting him in the house; therefore, he had to attend to her or else suffer the scrutinizing effect she on him whenever he did something that was unacceptable to her. Twice this had already happened, and she began to ignore him, acting like a demolisher and sending havoc to his furniture and personal belongings. (b) He always found himself out of the house just to escape his mother. Although he loved her more than anything, and even pledged that he'll do anything for her, this was just something he couldn't handle anymore. (c) /Was/. A statement of the past. As of now, there was a nibbling feeling that, at times, becomes incessantly annoying. So, instead of actually figuring out what it was, he shoves it to the back of his mind and drinks a dreamless potion to ensure that the thing doesn't hunt him even in his own dreams.

It reminded him of his mother. So much, that once, he thought it might be related to his mother.

It was rather pathetic, really. Whatever his mind was concluding was way out of hand.

A clatter was heard in the kitchen.

She was already here.