Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Written for "Troping Thursdays" in Dramione Fanfiction Writers on Facebook.
Hermione had worked in the same bakery for seven years. Every morning for the past six and a half years, Draco Malfoy had entered said bakery and ordered a fresh scone, and a cappuccino to go.
The first few months had been awkward; they had been sworn enemies at school, and then they had fought on opposite sides of the Second Wizarding War. Hermione had not wanted to serve him, but her dedication to her job was stronger than her hatred for the blond bigot.
He had surprised her with the softness of his voice, and his impeccable manners as she took his order, counted out his change, and bade him good day. Their exchanges had stayed brief for years, until one day he had asked her how she was. That was it, but it seemed to be enough to break the ice. She began to ask him how he was in return, and slowly, they each began to expand on their answers of 'good' and 'fine, thanks' to include details about their lives.
Hermione found out that Draco had taken over the Malfoy business, cut ties with the likes of Borgin and other unsavoury characters, and expanded into the corporate world of Muggle London. She told him how she had settled in to a quiet life, was still single, and had realised her passion for baking. As time went by, she came to think of him as something of a friend, though they had never spoken outside of the bakery.
Even when they had both turned up year after year to the annual ball to commemorate the fall of Tom Riddle, they had never done anything more than make eye contact. That was, until one Sunday in June, Malfoy had entered the shop and told Hermione it was his birthday.
Only, she already knew. He had never had his birthday at Hogwarts, as it was in the middle of the Summer holidays, but that hadn't stopped the pretentious teenager from gloating about it the second he boarded the train. He also had the terribly habit of eclipsing anyone else's birthday with tales of his own.
"A solid gold necklace that alerts the wearer to lies?" He would scoff. "That's nothing compared to what my Father bought me for my birthday!"
But that was over a decade ago.
His eyes had grown wide as she reached under the display cabinet and lifted a white box onto the counter. Across the top she had written "Draco" in perfect calligraphy. His jaw had dropped when she had opened the box to reveal a round chocolate mud cake covered in vanilla rosettes.
"Happy birthday," she had whispered. Their eyes had locked for what seemed like an eternity before he quickly thanked her and left the shop without his usual scone and coffee.
A week later, after seven failed attempts, Draco had managed to ask her out.
"You mean, on a date?" Her face was expressionless, but her tone betrayed her shock.
"Yeah," he had smirked. "On a date."
She had accepted, and he had taken her to dinner at a small Italian bistro on the outskirts of Muggle London. After large helpings of bolognaise and gelato, they had apparated to Hogsmeade and strolled down the quaint village, nostalgia enveloping them like a warm hug.
It was there, just outside of the Three Broomsticks, that they had shared their first kiss. He thought she had tasted like cinnamon, and she told him later that she would always attribute vanilla to the thought of his lips.
Just as their friendship had grown over many years and short encounters, their relationship blossomed like a perfect flower; slowly, but breathtakingly. It had been a decade since Draco had first entered the small bakery which he and Hermione now owned together, and today he would be the one to serve her a sugary treat.
He entered the kitchen at three in the morning to find Hermione decorating cookies for the day's sales. She looked up as he entered, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her hair was pulled back from her face, though a few stray curls still danced against her cheeks as she moved. She wiped her hands on the white apron, and Draco fought a chuckle as she stood upright and he noticed a smear of flour on her forehead.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione moved around the workbench to greet him. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he handed her the single cupcake; chocolate, with vanilla icing.
"I wanted to bring you this."
Hermione accepted it and cradled it in her left hand. "It's beautiful," she smiled up at him. "But what - ? Oh!"
She was cut off, the cupcake beginning to melt in her hand. She looked from the mess as it began to drip from her palm on to the floor, back up at Draco, who was still grinning like the Cheshire cat. She glanced back down.
There was no trace of the cupcake; it had disappeared completely to reveal a simple diamond ring, the stone glinting under the overhead lights. Stunned, Hermione looked back up at Draco…but he was no longer standing. She adjusted her gaze lower, finding him on one knee in front of her.
"Oh my God," she choked, tears beginning to blur her vision.
"Hermione," he said. "I don't know what I did to deserve you or the life we have built together, but I know I want to spend the rest of it with you by my side. Will you marry me?"
She was silent for only a second, though Draco would swear it was at least five minutes when it came time to retell the story.
"Yes!" She squealed before launching herself into his arms and sending them both to the floor. Draco didn't mind though; he couldn't think of a better way to break the Health code than by consummating his proposal.