Her emerald earrings dangled under her trademark chocolate brown hair. She wore her hair like she had for her entire life: straightened and cropped just above her shoulders.

She smoothed her plaid skirt unnecessarily. There were no wrinkles; her mother's spells steamed and pressed her skirt, lacy white blouse, and also her stockings to a crisp perfection. Even if she tried, not a single wrinkle would mar her clothing for the next twenty-four hours at least.

She tried not to fidget in her seat. Fidgeting was for children who hadn't been properly schooled in etiquette. She wasn't a child. And like many other woman of her status, she spent two years at Madame Bonavich's School for Young Ladies before attending Hogwarts. Some girls spent even longer than the two years that she had spent. Walking with books on their heads and memorizing different kinds of spoons - all for the result of producing a proper young lady who could marry a proper young man.

And that was what she was: a proper young lady hoping to marry a proper young man. She was also beautiful, not to mention well-poised and noble. Her status went hand-in-hand with respect, and that meant something. Or, at least, it once did.

The war had changed things. That much was obvious. The dust was still settling, and she and people like her were also still struggling to settle and to find their place.

The petite server made her way over to the table, pulling out a pad of paper as she approached. She glared up at the server, and the girl's smile faltered.

"Can I - can I get you anything?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh." The server swallowed. "Then do you want anything while you wait?"

"No," she drawled. "Go away."

The server's wobbly smile froze on her face. She blinked twice before darting away to another table.

She rolled her eyes. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why he chose this place to meet. Sure, the decor was nice enough, but it was in Muggle London. Her server was a Muggle, the other customers were Muggles, everyone in this part of town was a Muggle! Muggles everywhere. She sniffed disdainfully. The only possible reason she could manage to think of was that he didn't want to be seen in the Wizarding parts of London with her. If that was the case, well, it was stupid. They shouldn't have to scurry around like rats, living in the shadows.

She hadn't done anything wrong; she was innocent. And he had been officially cleared by the courts. Unofficially she knew that he and his family had been put under house arrest for a full year. That sentence had ended several months ago. Now they were under a probation, having to report biweekly.

But they were still technically free to go wherever they wanted. So why here? Furthermore, when her parents arranged this meeting with his parents, they set up the date and time, and their place of choice was Catherine Marie, a respectable cafe in Diagon Alley. But hours after that had been arranged, he sent her a letter informingherthat he'd meet her here, at thisMuggle cafe. Again, why here? His letter hadn't offered any explanation either.

Nevertheless,he arranged to meet her. That was the important thing. She was sure that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why they weren't holding their heads up with pride in public.

The tinkling of a bell drew her out of her thoughts. She snapped her head up to see him walk through the door. He scanned the cafe, and when his gray eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat.

It was when he walked over to her table that she fully registered his appearance. Her mouth parted slightly in shocke.

"Your hair!" she exclaimed, bypassing a greeting.

He rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, and hello to you too."

"Oh, yes. Hello," she stammared. "Sorry, I just… you've always had your hair long."

"I thought it was time for a change," he said softly as he sat down. He gave her a small smile, but it was a mere shadow of the cocky smirk she remembered him wearing.

"At least it's still blond," she joked.

"I tried going blue, but it just didn't suit me."

She laughed at that. He joined in, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

The timid server returned, and they ordered two cups of coffee. He frowned as the server darted away without meeting either of their eyes. He gave her a pointed look with one of his eyebrows raised. She smiled, showing a full range of her teeth.

"So…" he said, drawing out the word. "How are you?"

"Alright." She shrugged. "Things are different."

He nodded, understanding. "Yeah…"

"How is your family doing?" she asked. She didn't notice, but his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

"They're doing fine, all things considered," he answered softly.

"Are the aurors still-"

"I heard your sister got married," he interrupted.

She blinked. "Yes, she did. To Adrian Urquhart. Do you remember him?"

"Of course I remember Urquhart!" he said. "Captain of the Quidditch team!"

She nodded. "They're living in Belfast now."

"Belfast?"

"Yeah, Adrian found a job there."

"And what about your other sister?" he asked. "Laurel, was it?"

She nodded. "She and her husband moved to the States just before the Dark Lord took over actually."

He flinched when she mentioned the Dark Lord. At that her forehead kneaded into a frown for a split second, but she brushed it aside and kept talking: "He got a job working for MACUSA. There was some trouble when the Dark Lord took over here, but," she waved her hand languidly in the air, "it came to nothing." She smirked.

"Oh," was all he said. Then his eyes flickered wearily to the windows of the cafe. She followed his gaze, but there was nothing; just Muggles walking on the pavement.

She opened her mouth to ask him what, or who, he was looking at, but just then the server arrived with their coffee. She once more glared at the Muggle server, who avoided her eyes. Across from her, however, he murmured a "thank-you."

She picked up her cup and blew on its contents daintily. Though it wasn't tea, and the cups were ceramic and not China, she still extended her pinky finger. She took a sip and then placed the cup down gently in its saucer.

It was then that he leaned forward in his seat and asked, "So why did you ask to meet me?"

She cocked her head as a slow smile appeared on her face. She fluttered her eyelashes and restered her chin in one of her palms. In a low voice, she replied, "Come now, Draco. We both know why we're meeting here today."

"Pansy…"

"Draco," she cut him off quickly, not liking the tone of his voice. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

He looked annoyed, but to her relief his features softened. "Of course I remember. You looked stunning that night."

"You weren't so bad yourself," she said, smiling. "And one hell of a dancer."

"The Yule Ball was a night to remember," he signed wistfully. "We had some good times, didn't we?"

"We can have more good times, if you want," she proposed. He said nothing, and then -

"Pansy."

She shut her eyes. She didn't trust herself to look at him, to see the pity on his face that was already in his voice.

But then his warm hands grabbed hers and gave them a little squeeze. She gave a strained smile and blinked open her eyes.

"Pansy," he repeated. She loved it when he said her name. "There's something you need to understand. I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the person you think I am."

"I know," she said, her voice sounding hollow. "The war…"

"No, you don't know!" He let go of her hands and pulled them close to himself. "The war … the things I've done … I'm not sure of who I am anymore."

She paused, thinking. Then she said in a quiet voice, "I know you. You're Draco Malfoy. We loved each other. And I think I still love you."

He shook his head. "No."

"You don't think our love was real?" she gasped.

"I didn't say that," he said quietly. "I'm saying that the me that you loved isn't me anymore. And who you think I am, well." He shook his head again and let out a bark of a laugh. "It's just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless."

She gaped at him. "How can you say that? You don't know how I feel!"

He snorted. "You don't get it. You arranged this meeting to see if we could start dating again."

Her face flushed. "So?"

"So I can't!" He slammed his hand down on the table. People around them looked over at them. Lowering his voice, Draco said, "I'm not the Draco Malfoy that you once knew."

"What if I don't care?" she shot back.

He gave her a sad smile. "Because I care. You shouldn't be with someone who's broken."

For the first time, tears formed in her eyes. She had to blink to keep them from spilling out. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. To her surprise he extracted Muggle money, and left it on the table. He hadn't touched his coffee.

"Do you think if the war hadn't happened we'd still be together?" she asked meekly when he stood.

He gave a half-shrug. "I dunno. Probably."

She nodded slowly and sadly. Her throat began to burn.

"Good-bye, Pansy," he said.

She turned away from him; she wouldn't let him see her tears. After a minute or so, she turned back around, but he was gone.

"Good-bye, Draco," she whispered.