Disclaimer: All characters and story foundations belong to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: This drabble takes place in an AU of what really happened in book seven. I don't really need to give any disclaimers, it just is what it is. Tell me what you think :)
She was home.
The familiar smell of the dusty ancient books consumed her like a warm blanket, a strange fog from experimental potion-play by first years that would soon be scorned by Madam Pince clouded her vision, but from her favorite oak table in the corner by the windows that looked over the grounds things felt normal again. She was home.
The summer had been good to her in the obvious physical ways: her skin was sun-kissed, the lengthening of her hair mixed with natural aging had significantly tamed her wild curls, and her serene demeanor was that of someone who had spent the break at a tranquil retreat. This Hermione Granger seemed to be a doppelgänger of the Hermione Granger who left Hogwarts last spring with her quill behind her ear and a frantic look upon her face as she checked and double-checked her summer reading list to ensure accuracy before boarding the train. This Hermione Granger seemed composed, as if frantic had never been a word used to describe any sort of her existence. Even her movement to grab a book from her bag and open it to a predetermined page was slower, fluid, and accomplished with ease.
This Hermione Granger was different. She was different and he noticed.
Draco Malfoy's library track record consisted of obligated trips and that one time he was dared by a 7th year to sneak into the restricted section, which he promptly out-sourced to Goyle. Good thing, too, because Goyle's lack of grace landed him a month in Filch's office for daily litter box duty. Needless to say, Draco Malfoy's trip to the library this evening was one of few, but one he certainly would not regret.
"Granger," he greeted as he passed her table on his way to the Potion's aisle.
Her eyes lifted from the page and remained stoic upon him for a long moment before she responded, "Malfoy. Sorry, it took me a moment to decide whether or not it was actually you."
The response stunned him. Granger was not one to recoil at his addresses, but he had no recollection of her responding so civilly either. They had had their differences over the past six years as classmates and house rivals, but the events having taken place over the summer had changed his outlook on his world and no longer did he see curtness as the right way to address someone who had no control over their magical inheritance.
"Yes, I suppose my attendance at the library has been easily forgettable over the past few years, so I understand how me standing here may be confusing to you," he replied with ease while glancing at her.
He still held her focus, her finger keeps her spot on the page, and what she saw stumped even her advanced intellect. Draco Malfoy stood at the same height as she remembered, his eyes were the same stormy hue, and the fairness of his skin clashed just as it had before with his nearly white mane. However, now those greasy locks were free and waved over the top of his head and there was something new about him, something that kept her focus.
"Good summer?" He finally asked after a bought of pregnant silence.
"Quite. Yourself?"
The corner of his mouth rose with a half-smile. "It was interesting. Did you and the rest of the trio spend your nights braiding each other's hair and talking about me? I'm implying, of course, that I am the desire of at least one of you."
She laughed, resulting in a firm hush from Madam Pince.
"Granger, you of all people should know to keep it down in the library," he teased.
The possible hidden agenda of his playfulness resonated somewhere in the back of her mind, but she found their interaction to be refreshing.
In a lowered voice she responded, "I blame you for making me laugh and one, Harry's hair is far too unruly to braid and even it wasn't you'd have to first detach his face from Ginny's, and two, how vain of you to assume Ronald would enjoy your company."
He smirked. "Doesn't he…"
"Doesn't he what?"
"…enjoy the company of men?"
She smirked now. "I was referring to you being a ferret. He does not care for rodents these days."
It was his turn to laugh and he did so without drawing attention from the tight-bunned woman behind the high desk. Their banter was new, it was energized, and they both felt it.
"Cheeky," he glanced at her lips as her tongue peeked out to moisten them, "but you thought of me though."
"I never said that."
"You never said you didn't."
Her eyes narrowed, but her lips curled into a playful grin. He was right. She had thought of him.
After leaving Hogwarts for summer break Hermione found her childhood home festering with the memories she could no longer share with her parents to be too much and took to frequently walking to town and entertaining herself with new shops and restaurants. It was in a small shop full of wooden and glass beads that she met Skyler. He was not much taller than her, but seemed to be all legs. His thin stature and head of wild dirty blonde curls made him look like the dandelions she used to pick and make wishes on as a child. She watched him as he wandered around the store like he had been there before, but couldn't remember where the item he desired resided. Forcing her eyes away from him she let her fingers trace the multitude of creases on a small glass bead in the shape of a Buddha. The glass was amber and the Buddha was smiling.
"Excuse me, but are you going to buy that?" An airy voice spoke beside her. The voice sounded like it had been carried by the wind and was just passing through her on its journey. She looked up to see the dandelion haired boy standing beside her, his eyes a shocking shade of silver that struck her as familiar. Malfoy.
"You're right. I did think of you," she finally responded.
He looked over at her with a smug smile. "I knew it. It's my dashing good looks, isn't it?"
"Actually I was wondering how you packed around your ego. I mean, a backpack is far too small, so a trunk? Small ship?"
He stuck his tongue out at her, grabbed the book he needed from the shelf, and then rooted down in the chair across from her at the table.
"Thank you so much for asking if I was expecting anyone before taking the last chair at my table," she said nonchalantly, her eyes moving back to her book.
"Oh you're welcome. And what makes you think this is your table. Is your name on it?"
It was childish, he knew that, but being here in the place where they grew up made the atmosphere young again.
Her long finger left the book corner and slid along the tabletop, guiding his eyes to a spot where the grain had been manipulated to form an H and a G so seamlessly that it would easily go unnoticed.
"Tisk, tisk, Granger…defiling public property. I never thought you'd stoop so low," he teased, expecting her to immediately become defensive and give him some didactic lecture on spell casting, so he was shocked when she lifted her guiding finger to her lips signaling for him to keep quiet.
A look flashed across her amber eyes that he swore was flirtatious, which sent a rush of warmth through his body. He leaned forward against the table, trying to read her like she read the book resting between her stomach and the edge of the table.
"You never truly told me what it was you thought about me over the break," he said.