Disclaimer: I own nothing here, it's all WB and JKR.
Hermione slowly drummed her fingertips against the ceramic of the cup in front of her; her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her deteriorating marriage, and she pondered her limited choices. Draco wasn't a bad husband, not in the same way her father in law was, but they had drifted so far apart that the idea of even being labelled Mrs Malfoy made her feel uncomfortable.
Mrs Hogg's tearoom was a sanctuary for Hermione. It was the one place she could escape to once a week for contemplation whilst her son spent time with his father. It was a place where she could sit unrecognised and uninterrupted by the wizarding world. A place where she was left alone, and where she was known simply as 'the lady of Bleak Hall'.
She sipped her tea and sighed, glancing around the room she took in each assembled person: an elderly man sat in his usual chair, a mother with her daughter shared toast, the waitress busied herself filling the coffee grinder. Nothing unusual, she noted before turning her attention to a man. At least she thought it to be a man. He drank purposefully from his cup, as if waiting for a predetermined time to arrive and then he could take action. Ever so suddenly he stood up, his coat billowing behind him as he slapped a note on the table and swept from the shop. As she politely paid her bill her inquisitive nature took over, and she enquired as to who the man was. The waitress simply shrugged.
The following week Hermione saw the man again, and again each week after. Never clearly enough to identify, but enough for him to become another fantasy on her burgeoning mental library. She noted his slender fingers, dark hair, slender build and his hostile demeanour. Each feature helped flesh out the character that played in her mind whilst she was alone. He was not unkind but was reticent to show emotion, he very much was in control.
After weeks of observing, the young witch was surprised when one visit he was absent. She sat with her slice of Victoria sponge and tea, wondering if she were late. Impossible, her life was based around pattern and routine. Reluctantly, she accepted that whatever his business had been, his time in Gisburn had drawn to an end, and she would have to mark his character as complete. Sighing, she began to slowly eat the cake and sip her tea, knowing that within the hour she'd be returning home to reality.
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