A/N: Welcome!
Hermione double knotted the laces on her trainers and continued her morning jog. It was bright, smacking early. There was no one out, apart from her elderly neighbours and their caretakers. Admittedly, she didn't live in the liveliest neck of London, but she preferred the quiet to the hustle and bustle. That in mind, she carried on from the block wherein her apartment building was located, to the local park.
It was a beautiful morning. Had it not been for their late night, her boyfriend might even have joined her. She left him at home, snoring, with a small note to explain where she had ventured, as he never seemed to remember.
"Pardon me, miss —"
Mid-way through her third lap, Hermione turned. Leaves skirted around her. Trees swayed. A swift breeze rippled through the park and through the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. Startled, she plucked the music device from her ears, causing the spunky Beatles number to hum in the background. Her eyes bounced from the leaves to the man standing in front of her.
"Sorry for the disturbance, but I've somehow managed to —"
His words cut short, in perfect conjunction with the hitch in her throat.
She gaped.
Dressed head to toe in black, with his white blonde hair tousled from the breeze, and what looked like an award winning Great Dane unleashed and by his side, stood the last man she expected to find.
"Granger," he simply said, unperturbed if not for the twitch of his lip. "Fancy seeing you here."
"I live here," she replied indignantly.
His eyebrow arched. "You live in the park? Surely the life of an Auror isn't so destitute."
She grimaced. "I live in the area."
"Brilliant," he smirked. "Tell me, Granger…what is there to do here, in the armpit of England?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I was in the middle of a jog before you so rudely interrupted me."
His lip quivered with laughter. "Is that what that was?" he asked. "Looked more like an Andean flamingo mating call, to me…"
"Only you would know what that looks like," she snapped back, bitingly.
"Well, yes," he nodded. "I witnessed it not a moment ago."
She pursed her lips. "I'd rather resemble an Andean flamingo than be the creepy man at the park."
"Andean flamingo mating call," he corrected. "And not a successful one, at that."
"I seemed to lure you here just fine," she countered, eyes wide as she realized what she'd said. She looked desperately to the Great Dane. " Er — and who do we have here?"
Malfoy shifted his attention to the canine, using a gloved hand to stroke the animal's Harlequin coat. Only then, did the Great Dane waver from its grounded, statuesque posture. "This is Bishop Faraday."
"Bish —" Her voice cracked with amusement. "Did I hear that correctly?"
Akin to her mocking tone, the man glared at her. "My brother of seven years named him."
She stilled her laughter. "You have a brother?"
"Yes, of seven years." His tone was curt. "Have you gone deaf?"
Hermione ignored the question and made motion to pet the animal, before stopping. "Er — may I?"
Bishop Faraday's owner made no attempt to halt her. She took this as her cue and moved closer to the big dog, stroking it calmly. Tongue flapping and tail wagging, the Harlequin breed Great Dane seemed to love the attention. Hermione laughed, leaning back an inch or two, as he had a lick. Though enormous, he was a stunning creature. It seemed his owner took excellent care of him.
"I bet that's the most action you've had since the Yule Ball," Malfoy remarked, smirking as she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and nose.
Hermione rose from the paved walkway. "You do know pets have to be leashed in this park."
"Did you hear that, boy?" he asked, looking down at the canine. "Granger wants me to tie you down and strip you of your freedom. Evil witch, I know…"
She glared lazily at him. "Since when do you care about animal rights?"
"I care about Bishop Faraday's rights," he corrected.
"Of course."
Malfoy studied her, his attention falling to her feet. His face screwed. "What the bloody hell are those?"
She followed his line of vision. "Trainers…?"
"They have holes in them," he informed her. "You can't possibly have used them that much. Just look at those chicken legs."
Hermione gaped at him. "You certainly haven't matured one bit."
His smirk smoothed out into a dashing grin. "If that's your way of telling me I haven't aged — I know."
"Oh for heaven's sake…" she groaned.
"So tell me," he continued, testing her patience. "What is the old gang up to these days, hmm? Hold on…let me guess." He tapped his chin in thought. "I'm thinking Potter and Weaselette tied the knot and are now expecting their twelfth brat; complete with red hair and terrible fashion sense. As for Weasel King, my guess is that he has resorted to a life alcoholism and opiates, drowning his worthless existence into bottle after bottle, to cope with the fact that his one true love is, in fact, a lesbian, and wants nothing to do with him."
Hermione stared blankly at the man in front her. "Do you have any semblance of a life, or…?"
"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I always knew there was something indicative about that hair."
She sucked in a short breath, frowning at him. "One day, I'm sure you'll tire of being a superficial prat."
"No more than you'll tire of being a self-righteous bint," he retorted, ending with a smile. "Oh come now, Granger. Haven't you missed this? Take a jaunt with me down memory lane."
"By the way," she snapped. "You're wrong. Harry and Ginny broke up ages ago, and I'm to marry Ron in July."
His lip twitched. "Marry?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed, folding her arms assuredly. "I would invite you but…"
"I have plans that month," he passively inserted.
She snorted. "That entire month?"
Malfoy nodded. "Haven't you heard? I'm an important man with important things to do."
"Oh, but of course. I would expect nothing less from someone who's loitering in a park at six o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday," she mockingly added. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"If you must know," he enunciated. "I have an appointment with the local groomer."
"Surely you can afford a proper salon…" she teased.
"Bishop Faraday's usual groomer is on holiday," he explained, glowering at her. "Had I known this town to be filled with such common riffraff, I would never have taken the recommendation seriously."
"Oh, right…" she gathered. "You're lost. That's why you stopped me."
He said nothing.
Hermione scratched the top of her head. "Sod it," she decided. "I'll take you to the groomer. For Bishop's sake, not yours."
"His name is Bishop Faraday…" Malfoy corrected.
She paid him no mind, choosing instead to focus on the Great Dane.
Bishop sprung on all four legs, following her as she led him and his owner down the main road. The town was quaint, with a population smaller than that of Ottery St. Catchpole. But she preferred quaint. It was nice being able to come home to a calm, peaceful town after a full day at the office. Never having to worry about the odd criminal. Being able to sleep through the night, without waking up to police sirens. It was a nice life.
"So your parents had another child?" Hermione asked, tossing a sideways look at Malfoy.
"My father did."
She tensed up a little. "Oh." Her face blanched. "I — I had no idea."
"Neither did I," he added, focused on the road. "Until a year ago."
"Er —" Her stomach clenched. "Do you — Do you want to talk about it?"
For a moment it appeared he wasn't going to say anything, and then his breathing changed. "I just — I never imagined my father would do such a thing. He's a difficult man, sure, but I would never have pegged him to be an adulterer," he voiced. "…and my mother, she's devastated."
"I'm so sorry," Hermione said to him. "What about your brother? Does he understand the situation?"
"He does," the man confirmed. "It's hard not to understand, when the other kids bully you."
She sucked in a sharp breath, heartbroken. "But he's only seven…"
"I know. It's terrible," he uttered, holding the conversation a moment longer, before looking at her with a strange twinkle in his eyes. "I'm completely kidding, by the way…"
Hermione froze, mid-step.
It didn't register at first, but when it did…
"You incorrigible little —" She swatted his chest. "That was not funny!"
Malfoy ducked, hissing with laughter. "Glad to see that saviour complex is still firmly in tact," he snorted, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. "Say, Granger…haven't you learned never to trust a Slytherin?"
"Pardon me for trying," she snapped.
"Oh, come now…"
Hermione ignored him, again focusing on Bishop instead of his owner. Had it not been for the Great Dane, she would have abandoned Malfoy on the main road and carried on with her jog. She quite liked the mild-mannered canine. Most dogs she knew would have launched at whomever attacked their owner, but this one seemed rather affectionate towards her.
"I think Bishop Faraday likes you," Malfoy inserted, hands in his pockets as he raced to match her stride.
She rolled her eyes.
There was no chance in hell she would engage him in conversation. Not after what he'd done.
"So," he continued, crossing the street with her and his dog. "Are you going to ignore me the whole way there? If so, I'll take the time to explain a few things. I lied about the adultery, but not the bit about having a brother. I do have one. He was assigned to me as part of the big-brother-little-brother programme and I swear to you, even though there is no biological relation, he's quite convincing."
Her ears perked, when she heard the bit about the programme. She wouldn't have guessed Malfoy to be the charitable type, but she figured it was part of his sentence. After all, he had participated in Death Eater activities during the war. There was no telling the amount of work he had to do in reparation.
"His name is Edric," Malfoy continued. "If that interests you at all."
"Poor Edric," she said. "I can't imagine what he must go through, having to see you on a regular basis."
"I think you can," the man disagreed. "We went to school together. Don't you remember?"
Hermione responded to this with an animated shudder. "I've spent the past eight years trying to forget."
"Trying and failing," he winked, delivering a swift arch to her brow.
The brunette shook her head and forged onward. If she didn't know any better, she would have perceived that last comment as flirtatious. Sick to her stomach, she was glad when arrived at their destination. It was a square building with panelled white walls and an adorable hand-painted sign to indicate the services. An old post office, repurposed into a grooming facility.
"Here we are," Hermione declared, coming to a gradual halt.
Malfoy stood beside her, eyeing the building with a note of disapproval. "Are you sure this is the place?"
"Quite," she affirmed, nodding to the sign. "Says so over there."
He grimaced, glancing to his left where Bishop was sat. "Sorry, mate. Looks like you'll have to endure the lower end until Johanna is back in town."
Hermione looked to the Great Dane, smiling. "Oh, he doesn't mind. Do you, Bishop?" The dog panted at her excitedly, leaping to her side and giving her face another lick. "Good boy!"
'If you don't mind, I'd like to have my dog back," Malfoy requested, sharply.
She laughed, playing around for a few seconds until sending Bishop up the front porch. She then turned to his owner and scratched the side of her head. "Well, it was interesting seeing you again…I think."
"Oh, don't get too sentimental," he teased. "I'll be back tomorrow."
Hermione gaped at him. "Er — what?"
Malfoy tossed her an obvious look. "I have more than one dog that needs grooming, Granger."
Her face blanched a little. "Well, then I suppose it's good you now know how to get here on your own."
"Ah, yes…" he nodded. "But I need a place to walk my dog, as well. You don't happen to know where I can find a place like that, do you? A park, perhaps."
She grimaced.
The man chuckled in response. "See you tomorrow," he winked. "Memory Lane. Six o'clock sharp."
On pure instinct, she corrected him. "It's called Kettleburn Park."
By this point, he had ascended the steps and knocked on the front door. Someone moved on the other side and with one look back at her, he smiled. "Memory Lane. Six o'clock sharp," he repeated. "I'll bring my Icarus Fly Kicks, and you bring those….trainer things."
Hermione swallowed, rather hard. She had a couple things to figure out.
1. Find out what "Icarus Fly Kicks" are, and whether they're illegal and/or explosive.
2. Find another park.
A/N: Hope you liked it!