What a Wonderful World

Chapter Two
The Hell of Difference Five Years Make

"Could you let down your hair
And be transparent for a while
Just a little while
To see if you are human after all."
-Trying (Lifehouse)

"Good afternoon, Sir," the petite brunette behind the reception desk said, as he walked towards her to ask for directions. "What can I do for you?"

He discreetly glanced backwards, to the place where his 'guards' were waiting for him. What? Was the damn Ministry afraid that he would escape? He scoffed inwardly. How stupid can they be? Where would he go then, he wondered. He had been gone for five fucking years with no contact with anyone whatsoever. Did they honestly think he could just prance around and be king again?

He stopped that train of thought. Hmmm, maybe he could do that. Wouldn't be that hard, really, being his former self once more. His drive might have been diminished, but it never completely disappeared. He was still the same Draco Malfoy everyone knew from Hogwarts... and the year after that before he was sent to Azkaban.

"Good afternoon to you," he replied smoothly, giving her one of his patented smiles. He was a mere skeleton of what he used to be, but one would be lying if they said he hadn't retained some semblance of his former beauty. The loose robe he wore hid his thin, malnourished body and his unkempt, almost shoulder-length hair, did nothing but make him look more feminine. Yes, Draco Malfoy was still beautiful, and as he saw the reddening of the young woman's face, he knew that he still had that power over women. "I was wondering if you could direct me to the room of one Mr. Harry Potter."

The name came off in disgust, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He saw the confusion in her face, and brightened his smile even more to erase it. She giggled helplessly and answered him in a way that a schoolgirl answers her idol. Draco smirked when she couldn't see. Women were so easy to deal with.

"Thank you," he answered politely, as he swaggered away, knowing full well that she was still looking. He passed through halls lined with white plain doors that only added to his distaste of the place. All these Ministry buildings were the same. Neat, intolerable, and boring as hell; he couldn't see why so many people worked for them.

When he stopped at the appropriate door, his stomach gave a turning twist. God help him if Potter remained the same. High-ranking or not, he would surely punch him in the gut. Why? Because his mere presence irritates the hell out of him. He couldn't care less that he was wandless and had lost the majority of his strength. Hatred empowers you.

He barged in without bothering to knock, his stride laced with overconfidence that made the owner smirk. He saw as Harry turned towards him, a scowl grew on his face. He sat at the desk's nearest chair, propping his feet on the neat desk, and giving Harry a look of total revulsion, one that was mirrored in Harry's own.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, before Draco decided that it was too much. Donning a bored and completely at ease countenance, Draco slid into his former self.

"Potter!" he exclaimed, as if they had been good, old friends who were glad to meet each other after a long absence. "How is life treating you? Out there getting yourself killed again? Or simply saving the world from another crazed overlord? Really, such an exciting life you lead. Must be fun being you, isn't it?"

Harry's scowl deepened and he reflexively looked to his right and gave a resigned sigh. He had known this wouldn't be a walk in the park, but after only five minutes of being here, Draco had effectively given him a migraine. Such talented gifts Malfoy had. He had the uncanny talent of pissing off everyone in the vicinity by his mere presence. It was a rarely seen gift never surpassed by any other person he knew.

"Malfoy," he replied, placing a mask of indifference on his face in an attempt to make it into something remotely civilized. "I think it is right to assume that you have been briefed by your escort on what this project's objective is. You have to--"

"It's not very nice to assume, you know," Draco said, cutting Harry off. "Jumping to conclusions is a dangerous habit. One that might end up in you being dead."

"--be under the Ministry's observation and must prove your worth to the community in general." Harry continued, acting as if Draco had never spoken. "You will be placed under an Auror's strict surveillance and you are forbidden to do any kind of magic either with the use of a wand or none thereof."

"That wouldn't have sounded so strange if I did have a wand, you know. Seems entirely pointless when mine was broken years ago." Draco commented wryly. Why were Ministry officials so idiotic? Potter, I give you the first place in the Stating-the-Obvious Contest, Draco thought dryly. After all, Harry was the one who broke his wand. It was only natural that he would know about it. "Also, I get my own personal Auror? Isn't that just simply darling? I feel so special at the moment, really."

Harry look towards his right again, and Draco was increasingly becoming irritated by it. Draco had half a mind to look there as well, but he didn't want Harry to think he was curious. Did Potter have a neck problem or something? What the bloody hell was wrong with his damn neck? Thinking of his neck suddenly brought to mind the notion of wanting to wring it until it broke. He vaguely wondered if the masses would blame him if their hero ended up dead right after 'Death Eater Malfoy' was in his office.

Just at that moment, Harry sighed, and looked at Draco once again. Harry's hands were clasped in front of him, and Draco noticed that his hands were clasped together so hard, red nail marks had appeared on either side of his hands.

"We have," he heard him say. "chosen the Auror who will look after you. Chosen due to exceptional skills, talents and because of past dealings with you, she is the perfect Auror for the job."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "She?"

The squeaking sound of a door's too rusty hinges was heard, and from out of the corner, a familiar face broke through, making Draco scowl. Of course... exceptional skill, talent and past dealings, who was the Ministry's best Auror anyway? Should he feel flattered that they were giving him their very best? Right... he'd rather be skinned alive. No surprise Boy Wonder kept looking at that spot. It's where he kept his whore.

"Aww... and Granger's here too? Isn't this such a lovely reunion," Draco crooned, his voice laced with deadly sarcasm. "I missed you, you know. But apparently, we'll be spending time together to compensate. How generous the Ministry is. I feel very lucky."

A feeling of disgust swirled inside of him at the thought of being under a mudblood's eye, but when Draco looked at her, he was completely stunned at what he saw. Gone were the burning eyes that looked with him with incomparable hatred before. Nor was there the superior air that made him want to knock her off of her high horse. Even the scowl and the reprimanding look were gone. Everything was replaced by a blank, emotionless mask. It didn't seem like her at all.

"Malfoy," she said, giving him a brief nod. Even her voice was different. Empty, cold, free of the bossiness that was never absent before. It held no feeling whatsoever. Who was this impostor?

"Hermione will escort you to your new home. You are given a whole year to accomplish the task appointed to you. Hermione will be your guide. Follow her at all times, and never disobey her, understand?" Harry said, a hard edge seeping in his tone.

"Yes, mother," Draco answered back dryly; noticing the decreasing attention Harry was giving him. His green eyes were filling with concern, and his look was intently on her alone. Trouble in paradise? Right... Who cares about their incredibly boring love lives anyway? Maybe she caught him being chummy with a few, say, secretaries over here, or that cute little imp over there and snapped. Women tend to do that sometimes. She wasn't acting like the typical jealous girlfriend though. She, for her part, refused to meet his gaze.

Harry made as if to stand, but at that moment, Hermione spoke.

"Your new home has been cleaned and made livable for your sake." And with that, she gave Harry a brief glance before walking out the door, not even motioning for Draco to follow.

He grudgingly followed her though he was torn between getting lost just as he was finally free or taunting Harry until he seemed too far-gone to get back. Life was full of such hard choices sometimes. Deciding that having the Ministry off of his back for once would be preferable to taunting Potter, he decided on his course of action. He followed her brisk, moderated steps, finding her attitude disconcerting.

Draco frowned. Faced with this unknown impostor, he briefly wondered; why did it seem as if he suddenly missed the bossy, know-it-all mudblood?

~*~*~

"This is the house you'll be staying in," Hermione said, as she led Draco through the spacious two-story house in what appeared to be a Muggle neighborhood. It was pleasant enough, though not necessarily luxurious. Still, Draco breathed an inaudible sigh of relief at the place's difference from Azkaban. It doesn't particular suit him - the place was too homey and cheerful - but the single fact that it was livable by natural standards made him disregard just where the place was situated.

His 'guide' gave him a tour through the whole house, but he didn't bother to listen. Who had never heard of bookworm Granger's lectures anyway? But secretly, Draco had half-hoped that she would show a semblance of her former self when explaining. She just seemed too different from the prudish mudblood that he had known. Apparently though, he was wrong. Her manner was straight and cold. Emotionless, lifeless... it made things boring as hell.

Upon returning to the living room, Draco plopped himself onto the sofa and displayed his patented smirk. He gave the living room a thorough once over and scrunched his nose in mock disdain. He actually liked the place, on a microscopic level, but he'd never let her know that. What would the point be?

"Boring place, isn't this?" he said, looking at all the Muggle things the house held. "Boring town, boring house, boring everything! Hell, how can they expect me to live in this place? Fucking Ministry... First they gave you to me, then they take away my magic capabilities, then they gave me this house - this Muggle house. What else are they gonna do to make my life miserable?"

Hermione sat down in front of him, fixing the cover of the table he had placed his booted feet on. "I had thought you would find this better than your previous residence."

He stared hard at her, and then at what she was doing. Even then her voice held no trace of feeling. She had definitely changed, hadn't she? She should have been screaming at him by now and would probably have been raising her hand in preparation for a hearty smack across his face. But all she did was continue on her no-sense task. It almost seemed like she was avoiding his gaze. Damn... And he had been hoping for some nice banter too.

"At least in Azkaban you can feel some traces of magic. This place is a completely magic free! Is this a new way of torturing me? The Ministry truly is evil. How did they--"

Draco suddenly stopped. He hadn't paid the house much attention since they had arrived but now, free from his contemplation, his eyes noticed a large painting on the wall. A completely Muggle painting at that, seeing as the people didn't move, nor did were they wearing wizarding robes. They looked like the typical Muggle, but somehow, he also had the vague notion that they were familiar...

He stood from his seat and made his way to the adjacent wall. Hermione's eyes followed him inadvertently, but he was too preoccupied to notice. It portrayed a couple who appeared to be in their late thirties. Both had caramel brown hair, the woman's lighter than the man's, and wore what was apparently Muggle attire. They seemed nice enough, but they were Muggles. Nothing more than filthy Muggles and he would never let his vision be tarnished by something of that kind everyday. He turned to face Hermione, who he was surprised to see, had followed him to the portrait.

Sneering disdainfully, he said, "Who are these people? I don't know them, and they are of no importance to me. This picture should be brought down immediately."

"They are my parents," Hermione answered back, her eyes never leaving the photograph, and for the first time since he'd seen her, her eyes softened up. "This is my house. You'll be living with me."

Shocked beyond description, Draco suddenly felt like he had drunk some kind of drug. This was her house? He would be living in her house? They would be living together in the same house? Shit! What in hell was this? What was he anyway, some kind of trash that they could just stash somewhere? Those damn officials! Fuck them!

A surge of raging anger erupted inside Draco, one he had no control over and had no way of alleviating. Turning to the nearest person available, he lashed out at Hermione though he knew she was of no fault.

"I'm suppose to live with you?" he said, the anger that had been building up for days, weeks, months, hell even years being released by this simple statement. "Well, imagine that. I'll be living like a filthy mudblood. I have no wand, can't perform magic, have to live in a non-wizarding neighborhood, being taken care of by some fucking mudblood, and now, I have to see this shit everyday. Icing on the cake, I tell you. I oughta--"

Draco was unable to finish, because at that moment, he suddenly found himself pinned against the wall, the portrait he had been sneering just moments before directly above him. His breath was knocked off of him by the force of the contact, and he hit his head, making him see stars for a few moments.

When his mind cleared up, he found himself faced with two fire orbs, burning their way into his being. The arm that knocked him to the wall, connecting with the face of an enraged Hermione Granger. She held him firmly in place, an arm perpendicular to his neck, giving him excruciating pain, and effectively rendering him helpless against her. Draco couldn't help the anger that was building inside him once more. If this had happened before, he could have easily over powered her. Not anymore, though. He was too weak, and she knew it.

He snarled at her, but her eyes were filled with such a burning hatred he stopped and just watched her.

"You can insult my home. You can insult me," Hermione told him harshly, her ragged breath fanning his face. "You can insult my friends, hell you can insult the Ministry for all I care! But never insult my family. Don't you ever insult my family." She continued, punctuating each word with a painful jab at Draco. "They have done nothing to you, and had always been the greatest people of this world. Don't you dare insult them Malfoy, within or outside my hearing distance, or I swear to God, I shall break my promise and kill you."

Draco stared at her all through her speech. Her voice was soft, so soft like a lover's whispered promise, but it held the deadly note of one about to kill. Her face was as passive as it had always been, but her eyes scorched him like a scalding hot iron. Her ragged breath continued to fan his face, and the hand that held him remained as still as ever. He had to commend her. Never in her entire speech had she faltered. Not once in her whole tirade, and Draco was suddenly reminded of the incensed teenager, who had slapped him in his third year. He smirked.

"Well, well, well," he said, scanning her face for any slight change. "There you are, Granger. I've been looking all over for you."

Hermione blinked, and suddenly released her hold. At that brief moment, her eyes showed every emotion she was feeling - confusion, anger, disbelief - before the blinds shut down, replaced by her ever-present mask. She turned around and strolled slowly towards the stairs, her steps even and controlled once more. At the middle step, she turned around.

"It is getting late. You better rest. Your room is on the second floor, the second door to the right. You have your own bathroom, and the necessities had been prepared for you. I shall brief you tomorrow of what needs to be done."

"No goodnight kiss?" Draco asked, as she turned around and continued on her ascent.

Draco sat back at the sofa, his feet on the small table at the center. He recalled how Hermione had been in that few moments when she snapped. She was exactly like the Hermione that he used to know, all stubborn and bossy. The one whose voice could be even at one moment and extremely high at the next. For that brief moment, she was different from the cold, empty Hermione that he had seen at Harry's office. She was different from the woman who had given him a tour of her house.

At that brief moment, she was the bossy, know-it-all mudblood Granger from school, the person who he had hated not only for her lineage, but for everything she was. But at that moment, when he saw her heated face and infuriated countenance, Draco felt quite at home, and for some unknown reason, he felt his lips curl up into a smile.

Outside, the annoying sound of a screeching car was heard, and Draco's cynical mind came rushing home. Processing his previous thought, he scowled. Where did that come from?

It floated in his head, as if in a limbo and Draco, whose mood was worsening by the minute, snapped.

"I'm going to bed!" he shouted to no one in particular.

Only his premament audience heard - the ones who had accompanied him all through his stay in Azkaban. They were the ones who knew everything he did, everything he dreamed of. The people who didn't exist...

His audience - nothingness.