July, 1999

"Hey, Granger." Draco said, looking uncomfortable as he walked into the crowded shop.

"Hi Draco." she responded, continuing to tidy the section that some kids had managed to make a mess of. She tried to conceal her surprise.

She hadn't seen him since his father's trial the year before, where she testified somewhat in his favour. She'd mentioned the World Cup, and left out the fact that he'd been rather eager to turn them over to Voldemort when they were brought to the manor...There was already enough damning testimonies stacked against him without hers added to the pile.

Five years in Azkaban was the sentence that had been pronounced. It was a lot less than she'd expected, considering the list of crimes he was accused and found guilty of. She wondered how many people he'd had to pay off. Despite five years sounding like barely more than a slap on the wrist, she wasn't certain, in all honesty, that he would survive his time in Azkaban. What was worse was even if he did, she had no doubt he would be coming out on the other end a deeply altered man.

Azkaban was a medieval establishment, infringing every human right she could list. Of course, no one seemed to care what a shopkeeper had to say about it, even if she did help save the wizarding world. She was wasting so much talent, people seemed eager to tell her. She usually replied in a dignified manner, but once in awhile she slipped up and told them just where they could shove their advice.

Narcissa had publicly distanced herself from Lucius after her own acquittal, trying to make it seem like she was the poor society wife who'd been under her husband's control. Hermione was fairly certain that it was a contributing factor of his sentence; the woman had taken any sympathy the public might direct towards the Malfoy family for her heroic lie to Voldemort and made it her own. There were one too many interviews with Rita Skeeter on the subject for Hermione to find it believable. Nonetheless, she supposed Draco must be glad to have at least one parent not completely vilified by the public.

"I heard you took over this place." he said, looking around at what she'd done. He closed his eyes, some sort of apology on his lips, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. What was there to say? It didn't seem like 'I am sorry' could even begin to cover it. The last time he'd seen her, her and her friends had saved him from certain death, even knowing he'd been chasing down the trio to hand them over to Voldemort. Before that, he'd watched her be tortured on his floor, and he hadn't done a thing. What really kept him from making his apology though was that he knew, given what had been at stake, that he would make the same choices all over again.

He walked over to the stairs, stepping on the bottom one only to find himself being lifted by the step. If he'd taken muggle studies, or had ever ventured into a muggle shopping mall, he would have recognized where she'd gotten her inspiration. At the top, there were a couple tables surrounded by chairs, and a few thinly stocked bookshelves of rather thoroughly used books.

"What is this?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. After glancing over to the counter, checking no one was waiting for help, she stepped onto the stairs herself.

"It's supposed to be a public library...muggles have them. You borrow books, then bring them back. Or you can sit here and browse through them…"

"I like it." Draco said, glancing around.

She snorted. "No one else does." with another sigh, she pulled out one of the books, putting it down on the table and leafing through it. "There aren't enough books yet to draw the more studious crowd - and the subjects represented are hardly light enough for anyone else. Basically, it's just my own collection. And even that's a lot smaller than it used to be...I had to get rid of a lot of them during the war."

"Right." he answered, falling back into awkward silence.

"What brings you to Diagon Alley?" she asked.

"I need to find a birthday present for Astoria Greengrass." he said, cringing slightly at the thought.

"A book?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of a doll. What does one even buy for a child?"

"Isn't Greengrass like...sixteen?"

"Yup." he answered, rolling his eyes.

They stood there in silence one more time. Hermione flipped through the pages of the book on the table once more, trying to occupy herself in the awkward silence. "Did you go back to Hogwarts last year?" she asked.

It was Draco's turn to snort. "No, I don't hate myself that much...it's bad enough just walking in the Alley. I don't even want to imagine what school would have been like - between the Professors looking for reasons to expel me, and everyone else…"

"I'm hardly going to lecture you on the importance of going back to school." Hermione said, gesturing to the shop. "What brought you in?"

"It was always a refuge here...until, well...but when we were younger."

"Hmmm...that's why I wanted to make a library, you know. Mr Flourish made that spot for us in the shop, it would be nice to pass it along. I guess no one needs the hiding place these days."

"He used to bring us hot cocoa." Draco mentioned, smiling at the memory of the man. "You should sell some... and coffee, and tea…"

"Yeah, it might be a better business plan. It's just not the same, you know?"

Draco pulled out a chair and sat, grabbing a book off of the shelf. "By the time you're in your late hundreds, I'm sure you'll find a miserable, lonely kid or two that doesn't quite fit in anywhere to cheer up with cocoa."

She smiled, pulling out her own chair. "I suppose I can adopt stray kneazles in the meantime."

"And put in a coffee shop," he said, gesturing towards a corner, "right there. Old Mr Flourish would never have begrudged you making a profit. I swear, some of his books were so bloody overpriced..."

"I'll think about it."

Hermione looked down at the shop, thinking too much. Small things were better now, the house elf and the man affected by Lycanthropy she employed were proof of that. The initial backlash she'd received for hiring them had faded, and recently, Madam Malkin had followed suit, hiring a house elf of her own who'd been seeking employment. She liked to think that by the time she had children and sent them to Hogwarts, they and their class wouldn't talk about how liberal and how progressive she was for hiring them, that it would be normal to see muggle-borns in the Ministry for Magic, in well paid positions, and that people wouldn't feel the need to commend them for being muggle born and somehow still magical.

Draco stayed a little while longer, and they caught up on the past year, steering clear of any topic too close to any unpleasant memories. It was almost nice to see him again, the more amicable moments of their acquaintance being at the forefront of her mind rather than the worst. He complained about Astoria Greengrass, how the girl followed him and how his mother thought it was just precious. She laughed, and complained about Madam Rowle, who had only come into her shop once, to let her know she would never be back.

When he left a while later, she sat down, smiling to herself. Things hadn't really changed, but they were going to. The Wizarding world would heal, and she would heal, and Draco, and George. Letting out a sigh, she stood up while she ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a loose bun. She walked the few feet over to where Draco had gestured, beginning to clear out the area. She didn't actually need time to think about it, the coffee shop was a brilliant idea.

Thanks for reading! I think this ties up some loose ends...hopefully without seeming too forced.

I'd love to hear what you think, and constructive criticism is always appreciated :)