Chapter 7: Coffee Talk
A/N: Hermione and Draco have coffee
Sunday, January 3, 2021
Hermione felt Draco's hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the door to the coffeehouse just outside of King's Cross Station. A thrill ran up her spine, which she quashed quickly in her embarrassment. She definitely did not need to be thinking about Draco this way. Not him. Not now. There was already too much going on in her life right now. She fleetingly wondered why she had even agreed to have coffee with him.
They ordered and selected a table next to the window overlooking the street. Crowds of Muggles sped by on foot and in their cars; shoppers, commuters, just everyday people doing everyday things in their everyday lives.
Sitting and having a conversation with Draco Malfoy in a Muggle coffee shop was anything but "everyday." Hermione's hands tightened around her steaming mug as she realized that she would actually have to have a conversation with him.
Draco noticed the slight movement of her hands and smirked a bit at her nervousness. Just like a Gryffindor to accept the invitation without thinking it all the way through.
"Nervous?" he asked.
Hermione started. "No. Should I be?" She laughed…nervously.
Draco responded with a raised eyebrow. "If you say so."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each casting about to find a safe, but not inane, topic of conversation. There were so many avenues that were definitely not safe—the past, the war, politics, relationships, family matters.
Draco cleared his throat. "Scorpius tells me that Rose is quite the beater on the Slytherin team. 'Wicked scary on a broom' I believe he said."
Hermione smiled. "She gets her acumen on the broom from her father, but her scariness from me."
"I can see that," he teased. Encouraged by her scoffing laugh, he leaned forward and asked, "But Slytherin? Really? Must have been shockingly heartbreaking."
Matching his tone, Hermione responded with a quirk of her lips. "While the Weasley family was quite flummoxed, I was not completely surprised. As her mother, I have been on the receiving end of her cunning wiles. Although, it was Harry's son Albus who threw most of the family for a loop."
"Yes, Scorpius believes that Albus chose to be sorted into Slytherin because of their quick friendship on the train." Draco scoffed outright.
"I don't know why you sound so surprised." Hermione pursed her lips and took a sip from her mug. "The Sorting Hat does take into account the student's preference. That's why Harry ended up in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I feel that I should be insulted, but I am merely intrigued. Potter, a Slytherin? It does put the years of rule breaking and getting away with it into perspective." He winked to take the sting out of his words.
They both chuckled and then slipped into silence again before the conversation could take them into the uncomfortable area of their shared Hogwarts experiences.
Hermione figured it was her turn to jumpstart the conversation. "So, how is the world of high finance?"
Draco looked at her incredulously and rolled his eyes. "Granger, please. We both know you don't care about the intricacies of wizard finance. I barely care, and I live and breathe it." At her indignant huff, he continued, "What I want to know is what does Hermione Granger-Weasley, crusader for the oppressed, righter of all wrongs in the Wizarding world, have up her sleeve for the next Wizengamot session?"
Instantly suspicious, Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know, Malfoy?"
Draco lifted his hands in surrender. "Nothing nefarious, I assure you. Let's just say that I follow your work closely. Where the Lioness goes, the Wizarding world seems to follow."
"Laying it on thick, aren't you, Malfoy? I mean, I have had my share of legislative failures. Believe me, the glow of the Golden Trio dimmed quickly in the minds and hearts of the Ministry. I do try to make things right for all magical beings. There's so much beauty in our world and in our magic. It's unjust to keep that locked away in the hands of so few, when everyone with magic in them—even Purebloods—could benefit from an equitable, free, and creative society."
Draco grinned at her passion. "I've always loved your fire, Granger. But you do wield more influence than perhaps you know. Maybe not always with the hallowed Wizengamot, but with the average witch and wizard, and definitely with more progressive researchers and financiers."
Hermione's mind began making connections between her work and articles in the Prophet and Witch Weekly over the last few years. Technologies that combined Wizard magic with Muggle science had advanced quickly over the last ten years. Modern residences catering to those who had grown up with familiarity in both worlds had been built in London neighborhoods adjacent to Diagon Alley, St. Mungo's, and the Ministry offices. Both had been made possible by new laws written and sponsored by Hermione earlier in her career, and both were heavily financed in their early stages by private, Wizard sources. In other words, Malfoy Enterprises.
"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you follow political developments at the Ministry to give you an investment edge…" she mused aloud.
"No," Draco cut her off. "Not just any political developments. But those with your hand in them."
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "And how's that working for you?"
"Actually, pretty well," Draco smirked. "Malfoy Enterprises has diversified to withstand economic fluctuations in both worlds, and our portfolio has tripled in the last decade. Any cause you set your mind to support politically is business gold to me. So, that is how it's working for me – lucky in business, but not in love."
"That makes neither of us." Hermione muttered. In response to the question in Draco's eyes, she quietly said, "Ron and I are separating. I guess luck lies in the difference between following your passion and doing what is expected of you."
"That makes both of us."
Silence again descended as both were lost in their own thoughts. Hermione's mind led her back through her adult life and the choices she had made as a young woman. Rarely had she done anything outside her own high expectations for herself. Just that one night. Draco's thoughts had led him back to the same memory.
"Is that why you left?" he asked.
Hermione knew exactly what he meant, but did not want to answer. Life was too raw. "Isn't that heavy conversation for coffee?"
Draco shrugged. "Then have dinner with me, Granger."
Hermione shook her head slightly. "You know, you could call me Hermione."
With a sly grin, he responded, "Why would I do that?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's friendly?"
He leaned closer to her and caught her eye. "Nah, that's not why I would do it."
Hermione flushed and looked down at her hand in his. She couldn't remember when he had taken her hand, or when he had started caressing her knuckles with tender, little circles. Gently, she removed her hand and placed it around her mug. "I can't have dinner with you, Draco. It's too soon for me to go out on a date. I'm not even divorced yet."
Leaning back in his chair, Draco looked her directly in the eye for a moment before he conceded. "Alright, Granger. But you will say 'yes' sooner than you think."
