She loved tulips. Perhaps that was a little odd for somebody who had named their daughter Rose but nevertheless, Hermione loved tulips. In particular, she loved the tulips which came from a rather well-frequented shop in Diagon Alley because the florist and shopkeeper had a knack of mixing naturally grown flowers and hints of magic.

She had found the shop not long before her wedding to Ron and was rather impressed when she discovered that they very much grew things in a Muggle way then used charms to create special colours or to enhance certain smells. Hermione had taken Ron to the shop the very next day and he had wanted a stunning array of multi-coloured roses whilst she wanted something more subdued. In the end, they had settled for a more subdued appearance with a complex mixture of smells from mint to parchment to chocolate.

Over the years, Ron had given her many a bouquet for birthdays, anniversaries and other special occasions. At first, he had even brought her flowers just because he thought she might have liked them and he was right, she did like them. It was bittersweet to think about those times because as year after year passed, fewer and fewer bouquets were given 'just because' although they were still nice surprises when they were. Eventually, they were given after rows as apologies by both Hermione and Ron and sometimes, when the disagreements were particularly bad, they were given the following week. Finally, just after Rose finished her N.E.W.T.s, Hermione and Ron gave each other their last bouquet.

It was a moment Hermione thought back to often as she perused the shop, looking at all of the different flowers on display. Three years ago, she had come in to the store on what was an ironically sunny day during her lunch break. She had had no idea why she chose that day in particular but Hermione was certain of one thing—it just wasn't working anymore and they had tried and failed to fix it for too long. Quietly, she had greeted the florist and bought a bouquet of their shimmering, cauldron cake-scented roses before returning to her office where as usual, piles upon piles of paperwork had found their way onto her desk. Work was one of the reasons they fought. Having left his job as an Auror more than one decade prior, Ron's schedule had become far more flexible as George's partner whereas Hermione's schedule had only become increasingly demanding as she moved from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to her position of Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The night of the divorce, Hermione had found herself uncharacteristically leaving the office early with her bouquet in hand and the divorce papers safely tucked away in her beloved, charmed handbag. When she had Apparated home, she found Ron seated calmly at their rectangular, oak dining table with a small stack of papers before him and a bouquet of pink tulips. It was then that they both knew. There were tears, of course, but ultimately bouquets were exchanged as well as hugs and a promise to one another to always remain friends.

The first time Draco had even heard of the florist was when Astoria had excitedly walked into his study one afternoon with a bouquet of emerald green marigolds in her hand. They had married two years prior and had slowly but surely grown accustomed to one another. If he were to be honest, Astoria wasn't the person that he had thought he would be marrying—especially given that his parents had practically chosen the whole arrangement and yet, Astoria had turned out to be one of the best things he ever had. She was graceful and poised as every Malfoy wife should be but she was also clever and witty and given what had happened in the war, she was...different and she allowed him to become different. Her smile was infectious and perhaps, that was why Draco was so intrigued by the marigolds.

"They're green," he commented as he pulled her into an embrace after she set the bouquet down on his coffee table.

"Malfoys are fond of green," she responded with a smirk, "and they're from an amazing florist I discovered today with Pansy."

Astoria had explained how they grew the flowers then added magical touches and whilst his schoolboy self would have raised an eyebrow in disgust, Draco merely listened with interest. Having discovered where the shop was, Draco had paid it a visit the very next week and was really rather impressed when they handed him a beautifully arranged bouquet of azure blue, cinnamon-scented marigolds.

"A certain Malfoy is fond of azure blue and cinnamon," he whispered into his wife's ear whilst leaning over the back of the sofa and presenting the bouquet with his right arm extended.

The next bouquet had been presented unexpectedly as well when Astoria announced her pregnancy. The one after that had been very much appreciated as it was definitely not an easy job to bring new life into the world. Bouquet after bouquet, event after event, their lives had been dutifully marked until Astoria fell ill. At first, they had thought it was just the flu but gradually, she became weaker and more fatigued. Draco bought more marigolds during that time as a means of taking her mind off of whatever it was that was ailing her. As weeks passed into months, Astoria's condition only worsened until eventually, she was placed in a private room in St. Mungo's. Scorpius had only been in his fourth year at Hogwarts but even so, both parents insisted that he consider his schooling first and visit only when he could during holidays or pre-approved weekend trips. Draco however, visited his wife as often as possible, often bringing yet another bouquet with him as he helplessly watched her condition worsen.

When Hermione first saw Draco Malfoy in the same flower shop she was in, she was at a loss for what to do. As usual, she was taking her time to look at the flowers on display but before she could fully debate whether or not she should nod to him or say a quick 'hello', he was taking his leave with a bouquet of blue marigolds in hand.

"Mister Malfoy isn't as bad as people say," the florist commented as Hermione walked up to the counter.

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously, again reminded of the fact that many people were still wary of the Malfoys even though the war ended almost thirty years ago.

"Oh nothing, Dear," the silver-haired woman replied with a twinkle in her eye that very much reminded Hermione of Dumbledore. "Now, what can I get you?"

It was odd really, the increasing number of times in which he found himself in the same store as Hermione Granger. He had been frequenting the florist for twenty-something years and yet, never before had he seen his school-mate so often—not when he had bought bouquets for events and not even when he had been buying bouquets almost daily before Astoria's passing. Merlin, he hadn't even seen her so often in the near seven years of mourning in which he'd buy a bouquet each week before he visited Astoria's grave.

The first time he saw Granger, he was fairly certain that she either didn't see him or she had and decided not to make any attempts to acknowledge him. The second time he saw Granger, he had once again found her standing off in one corner of the store and after giving her a quick nod of acknowledgement, he bought his bouquet and was on his way. The third time he saw Granger, he had almost been tempted to ask if she was always there at that specific time on that specific day of the week but he had held his tongue.

"You're here often, Granger," he commented after three months of nods and the occasional 'good afternoon'.

"I like the flowers, Malfoy," she answered to his well-hidden surprise, this time walking over to the counter first to purchase a bouquet of tulips.

To be perfectly truthful, Hermione wasn't sure if she would've reacted negatively to Malfoy but with time and maturity, some of their mutual disliking of one another had undoubtedly softened. If he wanted to, Hermione was sure that Malfoy could be the exact same prat that he was during school but perhaps he didn't want to...or perhaps he was just too tired to.

They hadn't talked again until another three months had passed and this time, it was she who initiated conversation. "I haven't seen you in a while, Malfoy."

"I usually come in on Thursdays, Granger."

So they had indeed only met by sheer coincidence and despite the new information, Hermione was fairly certain that she'd continue as she always had—stopping by on a whim as a means of freeing herself from an otherwise very structured week of work. She could only assume, given the fact that they weren't always in the store at the same time, that Malfoy would go about his business as well and after yet another three months, Hermione was proven right.

"We meet again, Granger," the blond said as he entered the store.

"Indeed, Malfoy," she answered, nodding to him before turning her sights once again to the different flowers on display. "Marigolds again?"

"Yes, I'm very predictable that way," he responded as he made his way to the counter.

"I suppose you are," she agreed from her spot.

"You are too, you know, Granger—looking around first before ordering the same thing," he said again as he took a small pouch out of a pocket in his black robes to pay for his bouquet.

This fact had taken Hermione by surprise for she hadn't expected him to notice a pattern in her shopping—not when he usually came in, bought the bouquet then left. "I suppose I am," she replied, stubbornly taking extra time to look at the carnations and the lilies.

It was another month before Draco saw her again, although this time, they spotted each other near Gringotts and despite receiving the not-so-occasional odd look, they had decided to walk side by side to the florist.

"Does this mean you're late, Granger?" he asked curiously.

"I'd say it means you're early, Malfoy," she defended herself quickly.

"Tulips again?" he asked, earning himself an odd look from her.

"Yes, although I'm surprised you didn't argue your point further," Hermione replied, earning herself an odd look from him in response. "Marigolds?"

"Yes."

"Why marigolds?" Hermione finally asked as they neared the store, having walked in silence for quite some time.

"Why tulips?" Draco countered, opening the door for her.

"I love tulips," she answered with a smile after a quick 'thanks' before she entered.

"My wife loved marigolds," he replied simply.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

The last time Hermione spoke to Malfoy, she had discovered something both sad and sweet and it had left her at a loss for words. It had also led her to subconsciously avoid the flower shop on Thursdays for a good two months and strangely enough, those two months had just brought up more questions.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Granger." He was there first this time.

"I've been busy, Malfoy," she answered in defence as routine compelled her to make her rounds.

"Have you?" he asked, his eyes following her as she went.

"I have," she replied, eyes very much glued to the lilacs. "How long has it been?"

"Since I've seen you? Two months," he answered, averting her question like she averted meeting his gaze.

"Is that so?" she asked, stepping towards the counter where he was waiting for his bouquet to be put together.

"I believe so, Granger," he answered, reaching into his robes for his coin pouch as she asked for a bouquet of pink tulips with an apple scent.

"Malfoy?" she asked as her bouquet was prepared.

"Yes, Granger?" he responded softly.

"Do you think we could talk sometime?" she asked, reaching into her handbag to pay for the bouquet.

"We're talking right now, Granger," he answered with a very familiar smirk.

"No. I know we're talking right now, Malfoy, but do you think we could have a proper conversation some time?" she clarified as she picked up her bouquet.

"Well given that we're almost fifty, Granger, I should like to think we're capable of having a proper conversation," he answered as they prepared to leave the store, "especially as people can change quite a bit in thirty years, don't you think?"

"That's not what I meant, Malfoy," she responded with furrowed brows as he opened the door for her.

"I know, Granger," he replied smugly.

"I only meant..."

"I know, Granger."

"So then..."

"Yes."