She left the apartment in the crackling cold of 7am, in the standard work gear she wore nearly every day; skirt, blouse, pumps and a jacket. She carried a tea in a thermos mug in one hand and expertly juggled her keys and satchel and a novel with her business card marking her page in the other.
He stood across the street with his long graceful fingers nursing a hand rolled cigarette. His other hand was pushed deep into the pocket of his jeans. The signature blonde flash of his hair was bent, studying the ground. When he heard the door slam his eyes jerked up and he took in the figure turning to lock her door. A flash of pain and longing electrified his eyes. Then he seemed to shake it off, a dark mask closing his features to emotion, tossed his smoke on the ground, scrubbed it out with the toe of his old, worn dragon hide boot. He straightened.
"Hermione" he called.
She froze dead and turned her upper body towards him. he wondered briefly if somehow she'd managed to keep her wand when Harry ordered her to go into hiding and if so, whether or not he was about to die in a flash of green light. He swallowed and moistened his lips as she looked quickly around and crossed the road. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a blind alley between the boundary wall of a primary school and a corner store.
"What are you doing here?" she breathed, looking at him intensely. He looked back, stoic.
"You already know that Hermione" he said solemnly. Hermione shifted the weight of her bag, heavy with books.
"You should not be here" she muttered, eyes on her mug. He reached out and took her hand. She flinched; the motion was like a knife to his gut but he didn't let go of her.
"What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked quietly.
Suddenly, she returned his grip and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. He caught his breath; why was grief so becoming to her? It was wrong.
"I can't believe it-" she whispered- "I'm sorry, I-I just can't"
"Hermione-"
"Draco" her voice caught as his name escaped her lips for the first time in a long time. He gripped her upper arms tightly.
"We have to go back, Hermione. Whether it's true or not. Because if it is, we may as well stand and die with our friends and if it's not...well, if it's not we've been in hiding too damn long as it is"
She dropped her cup and satchel and threw her arms around his neck. The abrupt display threw Draco backwards into the brick wall and he held her tightly. Her scent, her glorious scent and warmth and softness and Hermione-ness drowned him, blocked everything out, and he no longer gave a damn if they were seen or caught or killed. He would die the happiest man on earth if he could die like this.
"Oh Draco-"Hhhakjfkjabfkjasshe coughed, starting to sob. He held her as he too began to cry into the familiar, sweet-tasting crook of her neck. These last few weeks had been hellish and too damn long. Neither of them had anyone to talk to who would understand. They'd been trapped in the idealistic shields they'd created for themselves, cut off, scared and alone. Now they were together. Still cut off, still frightened, still unsure. But now they were together. And that made everything a little more okay again.