Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, JK Rowling does… I just like playing with them :)

This is my very first piece of fanfic… so I hope you like… it's a bit sad, but I promise it gets lighter. Much thanks to my beta Hildy! She's awesome sauce!! Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 1

The wind blew softly through the rose bushes outside the small cottage. Nestled in the English countryside, it was almost completely forgettable. Nothing from its fading blue paint, once a particularly brilliant shade of robin's egg, now a rather sad shade of gray, to the quaint weed filled garden bared remembering. In fact most of the residents of Surrey never spared it a second thought. The young lady living inside it was another matter entirely. She was a mystery. Not that she wasn't friendly, if a little preoccupied, she never said an unkind word. In fact, the nature of her mystery was due to her speaking very little and appearing to not have any friends. No one had ever seen anyone visit the young girl. She was quite pretty despite her rather bushy hair, and far too young to be all alone. She, however, seemed to prefer solitude and never sought company; the only exception being her rather ugly orange cat with a squashed face and bow-legged walk. She was definitely spinster material, and caused endless debate among the older ladies of the small town regarding why she would choose such a life.

Unaware of her apparent notoriety, Hermione sighed as she stepped out of the cottage and dug in her bag for her keys. Locking the door, she started down the path to walk the short distance to the train station. Absentmindedly she rubbed at her temples, where the beginning of an all too familiar headache was forming. The commuter train to London was as uneventful as it always was. But this was how Hermione preferred it, she had found boring to be much better than the alternative. She had experienced several lifetimes' worth of adventure in her short twenty-two years, and those adventures had brought her nothing but pain. Giving herself a brisk shake to get rid of the morose thoughts, she watched as the train pulled into the station. One glance at her wristwatch told her that she had to hurry if she wanted to be on time.

Her pace quickened as she walked the last couple blocks to the café where she worked. The familiar scents of fresh baked scones and just brewed coffee met her as she entered the homey café. It was a rather small space with a handful of small wooden tables and chairs, and a long counter where a delightful array of baked goods was displayed. The café had a distinctly comfortable feel to it, which was what had drawn Hermione to work there.

"Good morning, Hermione!" A short woman with flour streaked in her hair said as she carried a fresh batch of blueberry scones to the front counter.

"Morning, Stella." Hermione said as she rushed forward to help Stella put the scones on display. Stella's hand accidentally brushed hers and Hermione stiffened almost imperceptibly. Stella, who never missed a beat, pretended not to notice.

Giving Hermione a thorough look she said, "Hon, can you grab the clotted cream from the back before we open?" What happened to you? Stella wondered for the millionth time since Hermione had shown up looking for work. Stella hadn't needed an extra waitress at the time, but something about the way she had asked, made Stella unable to refuse. The girl had plainly suffered some sort of deep trauma. But it wasn't Stella's way to badger for information, and so a year had passed since that day. She'll tell me when she's ready. Soon enough it was too busy to contemplate anything, as the first customers of the morning entered the shop.

Hermione busily helped customers all morning, straight into lunch. She was serving a group of rather giggly teenagers, when she noticed him. Well he certainly deserves a couple giggles. Hermione thought appreciatively as she stared at his back. He had long sleek blonde hair, a blonde that was almost white, and broad shoulders that tapered beautifully to a waist that curved into a very nice butt…wow, she thought as a sudden vision of pressing her naked breasts to that delightfully broad back, smooth skin sliding tantalizing across her peaked nipples exploded into her head. So shocked by the sudden and wanton direction of her thoughts, she nearly spilled soup on one of the giggly girls.

"Be careful!" The girl snapped with a roll of her eyes.

"Sorry." Hermione said distractedly as she set the final soup and sandwich down.

"Hermione, hon, the young gentlemen at four has been sitting there for a while." Stella said to Hermione as she tried to slip behind the counter.

"Right. Yeah. Ok." Hermione said trying to sound casual, but suddenly her heart was pounding as if she'd run a marathon. Stella merely raised a brow as Hermione headed toward the table in the back.

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slow. It's not like he knows what you were thinking. He's just a customer, not a psychic. Relax.

"What can I get…" Hermione started as she lifted her eyes to meet an all too familiar set of gray ones. "Malfoy," the single word escaped as a nothing more than a whisper.

"Granger? What are you doing her–wait. Don't tell me you actually work in this Muggle café?" Draco said in a cold drawling voice that betrayed none of the shock he was actually feeling. Instead he sounded faintly amused, even pleased to find her working in such a mundane place.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked as if she might faint. Memories threatened to overwhelm her. Draco. Draco Malfoy. She remembered the last time she had seen him, blood stained and barely alive. He had been there when… Panic was starting to bubble up her throat, threatening to engulf her. She would not give in. She hadn't had a panic attack in months. Her knuckles grew white on the note pad she was holding as she struggled for calm. Not here. Not here. Please not here.

"You might've fooled the teachers at Hogwarts, but you never had me fooled… I knew a filthy," his voice grew so quiet only she could hear as he said, "little Mudblood like you would end up at serving others at some low job." Draco finished coldly. At the insult, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed with anger, and her back straightened. Ah there she is, thought Draco with satisfaction. He much preferred this Hermione to the pale, trembling one of a few moments ago. Why do I care what she looks like or how she's feeling? Draco didn't know the answer to that, but he did know he didn't like seeing her pale and trembling, and had done the only thing he could think of to bring back the fire and passion that was the Hermione Granger he remembered.

"Yes, well, some of us don't have daddy to pay our bills. Now order something or get out." She said in chilly tones that assured him of which she preferred.

"Bring me whatever the Special is. And it had better not be cold." Draco said gaining back some composure as he sneered the last words. He watched her as she retreated back behind the front counter. She had the same bushy brown hair pinned up in a messy bun; Draco had always thought it just begged to be unpinned and taken by the handful as he took her… Draco cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. Merlin. The woman had him in knots. She went from looking at him like he was the incarnation of her worst memories to looking as though he was scum on her shoes in mere moments. He was more unnerved than he wanted to admit by Granger's brief display of vulnerability. She still had the backbone of steel he remembered but she looked…tired, he supposed. Though, it seemed more than that, more than just exhaustion; almost like a bone-deep weariness had settled into her every fiber. The years since the war certainly hadn't been kind to his once nemesis' best friend.

Who would know better? Hadn't he been keeping tabs on her? Naturally as a member of the Auror's office he'd needed to keep an eye on the sole surviving Hero of the Wizarding World. Hadn't he? He thought gruffly as Hermione plunked a thick bowl of soup down onto the table in front of him, nearly spilling it onto his shirt. "Watch it Granger, this suit is worth more than you make in a month." Draco sneered at her.

"Well then I'm sorry I missed. It won't happen again." She said with a sarcastic smile as she turned to go. At a nearby table, a pretty little redheaded toddler sat coloring as her mother finished lunch.

"Granger, I need crackers."

Turning back to Malfoy, she glared at him while she snatched some from a pocket in her apron and slammed them on the table. He took the packet and brought it to his mouth not taking his eyes from her honey colored ones, leading them directly to his mouth. Her breath caught. Malfoy's lips were soft, pink and perfect. "See something you like Granger?" Draco smirked as he correctly identified her intake of breath.

"'Course not. I'm merely appalled at your bad manners. Teeth aren't for opening packages." Hermione said with a little less stiffness as she turned and walked away. You want to kiss Malfoy?! It was one thing when you didn't know who it was! But Malfoy! She berated herself. She couldn't even remember the last time that she had felt lust at all. Before today, she amended. You nearly wet yourself over his silhouette earlier.

Stella, who had been watching the entire exchange, could hardly believe her eyes. Angry Hermione? Not once in the last year had she seen Hermione angry. Hell, I haven't seen anything but heartbreaking sadness. Here's the girl's spirit! Stella thought as Hermione stormed up to the counter Stella was leaning on, to plate a scone. "Well, table four is something to look at, isn't he?"

"Is he? I hadn't noticed. He's insufferable git." Hermione bit out the words as she attacked the scone with more force than was absolutely necessary, causing the whole display to fall to the ground. "OH! This is his fault." Hermione muttered under her breath as she bent down to retrieve the blasted scones. She was so angry; it was several seconds before she noticed they were floating into her hand. Hermione paled and froze. Had anyone noticed? She glanced around quickly to see that Stella was busy helping a customer, and that not a single person was looking her direction. Not quite relieved, Hermione decided to get a broom and dust pan to finish cleaning up the mess. Stay where you are. She thought at the scones; clearly rebellious, they wiggled a bit but stayed where they were. It had been ages since she'd accidentally used magic. In fact she couldn't remember the last time she'd used magic at all. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself and get her emotions under control. You're going to end up in Azkaban if you aren't careful.

"Well, well the Great Hermione Granger doing a magic show for a room full of muggles, what will the ministry think? Tut, tut." Draco drawled in her ear as he leaned over her to hand his check to Stella, who was working the register. Hermione fought the pleasure that blossomed in her chest as the length of him brushed the length of her, his warmth seeping into her back. Frustrated and embarrassed by her reaction to the ferret, Hermione had to bite back a retort as Stella asked, "Was everything to your liking?"

"Yes, Hermione is an excellent waitress. One might even say she was born to do it." Draco said cordially, as Hermione flushed with anger. He threw a smirk over his shoulder as he pushed through the door and out into the chilly London day.