A/N: I OBVIOUSLY DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER RELATED THINGS.
Draco's feet were heavy in the snow, dragging deep long prints with every step he took. He inhaled slowly, as if the ice in the air would slice his throat if he breathed too quickly. Morning was growing warm as the sun rose above the horizon. The light was just dim enough that every building was a shadow. It was quiet and lonely. He loved it.
Every morning at dawn, Draco walked from his parent's new house on the outskirts of muggle London to a small café he'd found, not far from King's Cross station. He'd stay there at a table in the window, and enjoy a few cups of tea, or a coffee if he was feeling frisky.
A waitress there, Francie, had become somewhat of an acquaintance. She always had a reserved sign saving his table. As soon as he walked through the door, she could tell by his demeanor if that was a English Breakfast or Dark Roast with a drop of honey sort of day.
Today was a dark roast day.
The familiar clang of the bell at the door sent a warm calmness down Draco's spine. Francie's dark eyes popped up from under the counter, where Draco undoubtedly assumed she was cleaning up after dropping something again. She wasn't the most graceful of humans, but it was easy to look past. "Morning, Draco!" She called over to him. "I'll have your cup out to you as soon as I can!"
Draco slid his wool jacket from his shoulders and hung it on his chair before he plopped into it. "Take your time. I see you've spilled already. Pretty early for that to start, don't you think?" His tone was dry, but he looked up to see her grinning, albeit rolling her eyes.
"Always such a gentleman, you are." She laughed. "And yes. My own cappuccino, too." She frowned at the ground. "Cup was just too bloody hot."
Draco smirked, picking up a nearby newspaper. Four pages in and half his coffee downed, the door clattered again. Draco had no intention on putting down his paper and seeing who it was, as he didn't care in the slightest. That is, until Francie screamed a name he hadn't heard in years.
"HERMIONE!"
Draco paused. That name is too common to not be Granger. Slowly, he lowered the pages, just in time to see Francie embrace the big-haired Brainiac.
"I was in the neighborhood and just had to stop by and say hi!" Hermione smiled at the barista, following her to the main counter. "How have things been? How are your parents?"
Draco scowled. They were too familiar for his comfort, but he couldn't stop staring and listening. "Oh you know, Dad' been busy at the clinic. And Mum's all huge in the lawyer world," The girls shared a quiet chuckle. "How are your parents though? How are you? I feel like I never see you anymore." Francie reached across the counter and held Hermione's hand.
Granger awkwardly shoved her hair behind her ear. "Oh, this business overseas is really eating my time. I'll be in town more often soon though, and I promise we can see each other more." She smiled fondly at Francie. Draco was so confused. How did these too know each other? Why were they so friendly?
Francie noticed Draco staring. "Need a refill, Draco?"
Hermione became noticeably stiff. Draco's body went cold.
"N-no." He stuttered. "I'm good."
Hermione turned to face him. "Hello, Draco."
Draco nodded quickly. "Granger."
Francie looked between the two. "You know Draco?"
Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts, turning back to the barista. "Yes, Francie, we went to the same private school."
"Small fucking world if you ask me," Francie laughed loudly. She gestured to Hermione, looking at Draco. "Hermione's my cousin!"