Work Text:
London, England
December 26, 2005
"I hate to leave you with all this clean up," Hannah said, breathless from rushing to prepare for work.
Hermione just smiled at her flatmate. "Don't worry about it. Besides, it's just dishes–we did all the hard work before Christmas Eve."
"Still, I owe you one," Hannah said as she checked her hair in the mirror they kept by the Floo before she left.
Hermione just shook her head as she took the last of the juice glasses from the table to the sink of soapy water. After the commotion of brunch with the girls, and Hannah's post-brunch whirlwind, the flat seemed a little too quiet. Luckily, she'd received a couple of new CDs for Christmas from her new boyfriend, Jack.
Drying her hands on the tea towel she had draped over her shoulder, she went to her bedroom to choose what she wanted to listen to–Michael Bublé or Arctic Monkeys. It was hardly a contest; the Arctic Monkeys were more Jack's taste than hers. She opened the Michael Bublé disc to take out to the stereo in the lounge. Soon she was back at the sink with her hands in the water, swaying and singing along to the music.
Before she knew it, the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Music always made housework pass faster. Or at least that's what her mother always told her when she was growing up.
"And I feel just like I'm living someone else's life," She sang along while she wiped down the sink and counters. "It's like I just stepped outside… when everything was going right."
"Hey, babe. Terrible habit, leaving your door unlocked like that."
Hermione looked up at the flat's entryway.
"Jack? What are you doing here?" She wrung out her dishcloth before hanging it over the sink. "I thought you were spending time with your grandparents today."
Jack leaned against the door while she dried her hands. "I did. Grandfather wanted to have breakfast. And introduce me to his business associate."
"On Boxing Day?" she asked while fixing the kettle for tea.
"I was surprised, too. He offered me a position with one of his development firms in South Africa–architect and project manager on a new World Cup grade Quidditch pitch," he said, as he took his knit hat off and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
Hermione just stared at Jack. "South Africa? Wow!"
"I guess word's gotten around about the job I did with the pitch in Normandy last year–and now France have won the 2010 World Cup bid. South Africa wants to put in a bid for the 2014 Quidditch World Cup, but their facility from the last time they hosted no longer meets league regulations."
He still stood on the doormat by the entryway, in his jacket, making no move to take off his shoes.
"It sounds like a great opportunity," Hermione said finally. "Did you take it?"
"I did, yeah," he replied. "Like you said, it's too good an opportunity to turn down. I'm sorry to do this so soon after getting together, but I'm going to have to be onsite for a lot of the project. The difference between winning a World Cup bid often comes down to cultural nuance."
"And you grew up there," Hermione added. "It makes sense. A project like this will take a few years, even with magic."
Jack nodded. "I can't ask you to uproot for a relationship that's barely a month old, and–"
Hermione walked over to where he was standing and took his hand in hers. "I know. It's okay."
"Really?"
Hermione nodded. "Our paths are different. That's all."
Mohonk Mountain House
New Paltz, New York, USA
December 12, 2006
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief after making her way to her hotel room for the weekend. She'd been flat out with work all week, meeting with MACUSA and various delegates from other Ministries. She didn't know who decided that the International Confederation of Wizards needed to host a ball in New York City this year–at Christmas, no less. Or who decided that the various world governments needed to send their junior deputies from their departments of International Magical Cooperation to plan the infernal event.
Shaking her head, she slipped off her shoes and laid her suitcase on the foot of the bed. This weekend was meant to be an escape. A Victorian era castle. Christmas everything until you couldn't take it. While it was no Hogwarts, it would hopefully be similar enough to make her forget all of her adult responsibilities for a couple of days. And how weird last Christmas had been.
The concierge had handed her a schedule of activities for the weekend. She glanced over it before she set about unpacking. She'd heard a band playing in the restaurant space when she was at the front desk. It looked like they would have ornament making the next day, and she was interested in looking at the Gingerbread displays from the contest that happened earlier in the week. She also hoped she might be able to find a few shops in town to do some of her Christmas shopping.
~*~*~
The next morning, Hermione locked the door to her hotel room. As she turned to set off for the hotel restaurant, she grazed her elbow on something solid.
"Sorry," she said as she looked to see who or what she'd hit.
"Granger?" Icy blue eyes widened in surprise.
"Malfoy?"
"So, they let you away from gala ball planning?"
"Barely. I thought security details weren't arriving until Monday?"
Malfoy shrugged, "I took some vacation time and came over a few days early."
"And you just happened to choose the same hotel for your vacation as I did?"
"Appears so," he said, gesturing down the hallway. "Heading for breakfast?"
Hermione started walking in step with him. "Yes, actually. So, why this hotel?"
"It reminded me a little of Hogwarts," he said with a chuckle. "You?"
"Same. And I needed to get away from the ball organizing committee," she admitted. "It seemed perfect."
The day passed in a companionable blur for Hermione. Sure, she'd worked a few events with Malfoy over the years since they'd each joined the Ministry. And she'd spent time with him outside of work due to him being teamed up with Harry on a few cases over the years and developing a friendship. But she couldn't remember actually spending so much time just with him.
~*~*~
Hours later, Malfoy walked Hermione back to her room after they roasted marshmallows. She pulled her key from her pocket, not quite ready for the day to end.
"Granger?" He placed his hand over hers before she brought the key to the lock.
"Yes?"
"When we get back home, after the ball is done, would you like to go to dinner with me?"
Hermione smiled. "I think I can pencil it in."