This was written as part of my 1980s song prompts series, was prompted to me by taleasedubh on tumblr, it is cross posted there and on Ao3 (it's in a group fic called 'just a little bit of magic', and I'm the same there as here).

The song is 'Kokomo' by the Beach Boys, (1989) and this fic was first posted on tumblr on June 23, 2017.

Enjoy!

Of all the people in all the world, both magical and not, the very last person Hermione ever imagined she'd be seeing when she stepped into the lobby of her Hawaii resort hotel was Draco Malfoy.

Did she mention it was a Muggle resort hotel? Because it was. It absolutely was.

The only thing more mortifying than going on holiday with one's middle-aged parents, was if the holiday was also a retreat for dentists. Which this was.

And if one was coming in freshly chucked by their fiance. (Which she was).

And if one was all alone for the first time in years. (Which she was).

All of these things were true. And now Draco Malfoy was here on top of it all.

"Oh, bugger…" Hermione muttered under her breath, hoping to Merlin he hadn't seen her.

His gaze caught onto hers and he raised his eyebrows, crossing the floor towards her.

So much for any help from Merlin. Blast these dead wizards.

Oh, that sounded awful.

But all the same.

"Malfoy…" she said with a falseness that belied her discomfort. "Fancy seeing you here."

He smirked, crossing his arms over his spotless white shirt and shifting his weight to his other hip. "Granger, you're looking well. It appears you've gotten lighter? Perhaps you've lost about one-hundred-eighty pounds of red haired git since I've seen you last."

The mention of Ron stung more than she thought it would. But she'd be damned if she was going to let Malfoy know that.

She shrugged noncommittally, letting one hand slide up her hip to rest on her waist in what she hoped was a look of utter nonchalance and poise. "I suppose."

"It's a good look on you. Might want to consider it for the long term."

"I did. Consider it. Liked what I saw. Now I'm off to have brunch and spend the day by the pool."

He looked surprised. "Really? You chucked the buffoon? That's...interesting…" He chuckled to himself and looked to be finished or bored with the conversation.

Hermione tilted her head in way of goodbye and walked quickly towards the dining room.

"Oh, Granger?" Malfoy turned, shoving one hand into his khakis and looking all the more pretentious for doing so.

"Hmm?" She turned back to face him.

"It's pouring outside. You might want to stick to the indoor pool."

She nodded in way of thanks and turned again to make her way to the dining room.

She didn't even attempt to try the indoor pool. She'd seen through the plate glass that surrounded it that it was completely full of pasty dentists.

Her mum and dad were busy all day with conference business, learning about the newest teeth cleaning systems and flossing techniques, no doubt. Hermione decided to take full advantage of the empty suite and get some reading done.

The minutes ticked by so slowly and she found herself rereading the same passage over and over again.

And that's when she contemplated doing something that she hadn't done in years. She glanced sideways at the telly, the remote control on the bed where her dad had chucked it that morning.

No, no. She wasn't that desperate yet.

She tossed her book on the bed beside it and walked with purpose towards the door. She slipped on her shoes and made her way back down to the ground floor. This hotel boasted top amenities and she needed something to keep her mind occupied, or it was going to stick itself to Ron again.

Ron, who had done the thing neither of them had wanted, but desperately needed to do. The relationship was dead. A shell. They were right not to get married young. They were never in love as Harry and Ginny had been.

Hermione had once thought it was because love was different for different people. That she'd grow to feel for Ron the way Ginny felt for Harry.

But it never happened. And the engagement ring sat dormant on her finger.

But now? Now she was lost because she'd never been without him. She didn't know how to flirt or play coy or be attractive, because Ron had always been there.

She was twenty-five years old. And apparently had little to no idea what her type was.

And had no single friends to help her.

And was on holiday with her parents.

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip and sat herself down at the bar she'd somehow made her way to.

She sat there, clutching her pocketbook with white knuckles and attempting to read the drink list with bleary eyes.

"You're really bad at this, aren't you, Granger?" Malfoy's voice broke the drone of monotonous voices and she felt a leap of something in her belly. Something that wasn't dread.

Blinking she frowned slightly. "Bad at what?"

"At being single…" he said with a wave of his hand. "This whole...meat market…" That last bit was borderline disdainful.

"What are you even doing here? This is a muggle resort," Hermione asked.

"It's one of the finest on the islands. Muggle or magical. It's difficult to obtain a reservation. I was lucky to get this one. Of course, now that I see there are a bunch of muggle doctors here...well...I can see why there was an opening."

"Not doctors. Dentists," she corrected him.

"Same thing," he said flippantly.

"Not exactly. All dentists are doctors. Not all doctors are dentists. Dentists work on teeth."

"Your lot has a whole separate doctor for teeth? Fascinating."

She shrugged. "I suppose. It's what my parents do…"

"Your parents are here?" he asked, suddenly interested. Hermione wanted to shrink down beneath the table. "I'd very much like to meet them."

"Why?"

"Well, for one. To ask about their profession. And for another, to ask them if you've always been an insufferable know-it-all, or if it only happened after you started attending Hogwarts."

She chuckled. "Always have been, I'm afraid."

"Well. At least you're consistent."

"I suppose."

The bartender approached them and Draco ended up ordering for both of them, which might have annoyed Hermione at one time, but she found it relieving in the current instance.

"So, can I pet the erumpet in the room and ask why you left the Weasel?" he asked once the bartender had gone.

Hermione sighed. "I might have...borne false witness earlier by allowing you to think that I left him...when the truth of it is...he left me."

"Weasley's an idiot," he stated bluntly.

"I'm sure you're right, but why?" Hermione asked. "We weren't good for one another. We were stagnant…" she reached down instinctively to rub her left ring finger. "I didn't love him."

Draco scoffed. "He's still an idiot. You both are, but for different reasons. How long has it been?"

"Two weeks…" she answered.

He turned to stare at her. "Two weeks? Two weeks and you're on holiday with your parents? Two weeks and you're staring at your lap in a hotel bar? Granger. You've got to pull yourself together."

She stared at him. He continued to speak.

"It's been three years for me. Three years since Astoria broke off our engagement. I'm still not attached to anyone. I have a right to be bitter and sore about things. You? You should be…" He gestured vaguely. "Inviting some younger man up to your room."

"To my parents' room?" she snorted. "And I'm twenty-five, how much younger can they get?"

"You're twenty-five?" Draco squinted at her. "I could have sworn I was older than you."

She sniffed in response. "Perhaps I should be taking you up to my room."

He didn't answer her for a long moment. His eyes swept over her face, likely trying to ascertain if she was kidding or not.

And the truth of it was...she wasn't sure she was kidding. Taking in the sight of him here...some slight color in his cheeks for once. The way those chinos hung from his hips like he was some kind of runway model and they made the bloody things just for him.

Hermione found herself waiting with baited breath for his response.

He arched an eyebrow invitingly. "Only if you insist, Granger."

If you liked it, please leave me some sugar in the comments! (Or just favorite, I like those too.)