Note: Most likely in the future I will die from the number of questions regarding everything that is here, so I will answer right away - everything except the names of the characters, their appearance, some specific details and the names of cities, invented by me and have nothing to do with the original. I am writing this work, practically starting from the original in no way, so anything can happen here.
I often have this dream.
I'm coming back for a second interview at the Corps Libertad. I am young, ambitious and have too much opinion of myself. I'm a little annoyed because the Corps itself invited me, having got a resume from nowhere, because I wasn't looking for a job at that time, and now it's chasing me through interviews. First as a personnel officer, now with the senior investigator of the group where I should be hired. They promise one more thing – with director of the direction. At the same time, I feel a slight excitement at the prospect of becoming part of one of the most mysterious and powerful organizations of the Great Britain.
I am sitting in a modest meeting room for three, there is a cup of coffee on the table in front of me, carefully served by the secretary, and the senior investigator is already ten minutes late. In absolute silence, I stare at the boring walls, wondering whether to show my character and leave when fifteen minutes have elapsed - a delay allowed by the rules of decency.
In the dream, part of me already knows what will happen next. This part is waiting for the moment when the door opens and my life is divided into «before» and «after».
«Before» I was sure that love is just hormones. I thought that weak knees, trembling inside, difficulty breathing and inability to formulate a thought in the presence of an object of passion were the lot of stupid chickens who did not know their own worth. I also questioned the very existence of passion, assuming that this is how people justify their mistakes. I have never lost my head, approaching the cavaliers with a sober calculation. He depressed my mother.
«After» I considered myself a fool who didn't understand anything before. Never loved. That's probably what happens when you fall in love for the first time at twenty-five. For the first time you experience awe, and delight, and fear, and despair. For the first time, you begin to doubt yourself and your own attractiveness. For the first time you lose your head, confuse words and forget how to breathe.
«Hermione Granger», – my interviewer reads quietly, but very clearly from the sheet. He is already well over thirty, he has very beautiful light gray eyes and snow-white hair, a short haircut, a toned figure and a military bearing, thanks to which the senior-head's uniform fits perfectly. «Hermione… Beautiful name».
In my dream, I blush over and over again when I hear this, as it was in reality. I've always liked my name, but at that moment I felt awkward because it was so strict. I remember how scared I was that they might not take me because of her. I was already too young and didn't really look like the analyst they were going to hire me for. Are strange people analysts?
In my dream, my future boss – Draco Malfoy – looks at me and asks some questions, but I don't hear them. In reality, I was too shocked by him, so I didn't remember anything: he asked about anything, or what I answered, blushing and stuttering like a schoolgirl.
I try to warn him about the danger that threatens him, but I can't. I don't remember the words; I don't know how to say it and how to explain it. And he keeps saying something and talking, his quiet, insinuating voice envelops me. Draco Malfoy seems to get under my skin, entangles me with a thin thread of a spider's web, locks me in forever so that I can never look at anyone else. It doesn't happen that way, you say? I thought so too.
In reality, we worked together for about a year. I learned not to stutter in his presence, began to be useful and soon achieved that the boss began to appreciate me as a professional. Unfortunately, he completely ignored me as a woman.
