If I say I'm really sorry, will you forgive me? I can't even tell you how hectic my life has been, but I'm finally back at uni, finally have to be writing my 10,000 word dissertation, and inspiration strikes! How typical?

Anyway, I hope you like this :)

18th November 2017

Hermione ignored the rain that pounded against the windows, as she paced with fidgeting hands across her living room carpet. The house was dusted, hovered, the bathroom and kitchen cleaned and her bed linen changed – all the muggle way. There was nothing left for her to occupy her time with, but she was so nervous she could barely stand it.

After the article had been released, she'd been bombarded with letters, some from people who were sympathetic, others who felt the need to call her out for her mistakes. She'd gotten so many that she'd had to go so far as to ward her PO Box. But it was one letter that had stayed with her, tucked in the back pocket of her favourite pair of jeans that had been playing on her mind.

Draco had promised he would visit her that night after the article, and at first she'd been excited, until she'd had some time to think. It had been two weeks since the article, and two weeks in which she'd fobbed him off with excuse after excuse as to why they couldn't see each other. However, he'd refused to be kept at bay any longer, and Hermione expected him in her living room within minutes.

In her shower that day, and all through work and while she'd cleaned her house, she'd had one-sided conversations, imagining what she might say to Draco. She tried to anticipate his responses, but realised that she really had no idea what he might say. Ten years was a long time to be out of touch with someone, and she knew that before anything could happen, they needed to get to know one another again. Getting that across to Draco, however, was not going to be easy.

She was about to take another turn across her carpet when the man who had occupied her mind for the last few months apparated into her kitchen, hitting his head on the overhead cooker hood.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, walking into the living room rubbing his head and scowling.

Hermione couldn't stop the laugh escaping her. "That's what you get for apparating into someone's house uninvited."

"Uninvited? Your wards let me in, evidently you wanted me here. But crap my head hurts."

Hermione laughed and the two shared a small smile. She loved seeing him like that, like she hadn't seen him in years, unguarded and completely open to her. She delighted that even after all these years apart; in the quiet moments alone she could still read him like a book.

"Tea?" she asked as he came towards her, a sudden nervous energy taking over. She needed a minute to compose herself. Thankfully Draco nodded and sat down on her settee, still rubbing his sore head.

As the kettle boiled Hermione leaned her hands on the counter top and attempted to pull herself together. She just needed a minute, just a minute to remind herself that she was no longer the twenty-something hopelessly in love with someone she could never have a future with. She was almost forty, a mother of two wonderful children, a divorcee and successful in her field. She was Hermione Granger, and this time, she wouldn't allow her heart to run away with her. She had to be sensible.

Of course, the idea of sensible went right out the window when she walked back into the living room to see Draco flicking uninterestedly through the television channels. He had one foot propped up on the coffee table, his coat thrown over the back of the armchair, and his head in the hand of the arm resting along the back of the settee. He looked comfortable, like he did this every day.

"Here you go," she said, placing the mug down on the coaster.

Draco took a sip and smiled as Hermione blew on her cup from her seat as the opposite end of the three seater, she never could understand how he drank his tea so hot. He turned to her and said, "You remember how I like it?"

"Two sugars, plenty of milk, strong enough to stand your spoon in? Yes, I remember." Along with so many other things she'd tried to forget over the years.

He took another sip then looking into his cup spoke quietly, "You like yours weak as a kitten, with one sugar…if you've had a bad day."

Hermione gaped. He'd always had to ask her how she liked her tea. It was such a little thing, but when she'd began seeing Ron it was one of the many things she'd compared between the two of them. How Ron never had to ask how she liked it he knew because he'd noticed, but Draco always had to ask.

"Anyway," he began, placing his cup back on the table and turning to face her, "How does it feel, being a divorcee?"

"Oddly, not much different. I thought I'd be lonely, but I'm not. If fact I'm…quite content."

"Is Mrs Weasley speaking to you yet?" he asked with a smile.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, she got over it; I think Ron had a word. She's not happy, of course, but she's almost realised that it's really none of her business. Almost." There was a beat of silence before she continued. "What about you?"

"What about me, what?"

"Being a divorcee, what's it like?"

His head lolled back against the back of the settee, and he stared at the mottled ceiling as he spoke. "Different than for you, I imagine. Our separation had been planned for a long while. We'd never been in love, at first I think she thought she loved me, until she truly got to know me. It was around Scorpius's fourth birthday that we realised that it really wasn't working. But we'd both had such…dysfunctional childhoods that we wanted to give our son the best we could. So we stayed together, with the caveat that when he went to school, we'd see where we were, and at that point it would be okay for us to go our separate ways."

Hermione was frowning. She could admit that she'd never been passionately in love with Ron, that part of her had always been held back. But he'd been her husband, and she had loved him. "That's very…clinical. You never loved her?"

Draco lifted his head and those steel grey eyes bore into her. The passion and pain within them would have floored her had she been standing. "Never. She was my wife, but she was never more than a good friend. I could never forget you."

"Yet you married her," Hermione said, her tone utterly disbelieving.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, making the almost grey blond hair stand on end. "Haven't we had this conversation?"

"Not properly. You always avoid the question. What was that day like for you?"

Draco sighed and finally looked her in the eyes. He looked tired, she thought, but she wasn't going to let it go. It was true. They'd talked a lot about themselves in the times they'd been together over the last couple of months, but he'd always skirted around the issue of his wedding day, giving off the cuff answers, instead of the truth, like she wanted.

"A blur, to be honest. I just remember looking for you; I looked for you while Astoria walked towards me, while we were married, while I spoke the words that would cement us as man and wife. It was like it wasn't me. I couldn't believe that you had just left me."

Hermione was frowning, worrying her lip between her teeth. She'd never been one to shy away from difficult conversations, except when it came to the ones she really cared about. "And what did you think? That I'd changed my mind?"

"That's exactly what I thought. We weren't exactly best matched. I just kept thinking that maybe you'd come to your senses, or that you'd been lying, or…I don't know. All I know is I was angry."

"And it was up to me to save you?" Hermione asked, her thumping heart getting the better of her and making her voice sharp in the quiet of her living room.

"What?" Draco turned from where he had been staring at the coffee table. He hated thinking about his wedding day, about how alone he'd felt, being left by the one woman he'd truly loved. Only after turning to Hermione did he realise just how angry she was.

"So I didn't turn up, so what? We'd made plans that night before. I'd promised. Didn't you think to look for me? To stand up for yourself, like you were going to, but alone, and say that you weren't going to marry someone you didn't love?"

"Well…I…" Draco felt flummoxed. He hadn't expected this when he'd turned up in her kitchen. In all honesty, now that she was divorced he'd almost hoped they could pick up where they'd left off all those years before. He should have known it could never be so simple.

"Why did you need me to lean against? Why did I have to be the one to help you do what was right?"

Draco laughed lightly. "Because that's who you are."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Hermione Granger. You wear…or you used to…fluffy penguin pyjamas, you look after unloved and forgotten creatures, you strive for good. It's who you are. Me, I'm just a coward, who was too scared of disappointing my father to do anything on my own. You made me feel brave, but as soon as you were gone, when I thought you'd decided it would be too hard, too…naïve and stupid, I just reverted right back."

"I knew it was hard. But I was still ready to do it. Give it all up, for you."

Leaning across, Draco laid a hand on Hermione's where it sat on the cushion between them. "I know, and I should have known it then."

They were quiet a moment, as Hermione played with his long thin fingers. There was tension in her belly, the familiar stirrings of passion that had been sorely lacking for the majority of her marriage. How could she have ever thought to be content with anyone but Draco?

"You didn't used to be like this," she said finally, causing his grey eyes to shift up from where he'd been looking at their joined hands, too.

"Like what?"

"All…" she waved her hand between them, "Open and honest, telling me your feelings."

"I told you how I felt."

Hermione giggled and felt a small flush creep up her chest. "Yes, but it was usually interspersed with fucks and moans. It wasn't like this."

"Well you know, if you'd like, I can always revert back to my old ways?" He shifted towards her until her side was pressed to his chest; he spoke softly into her ear. "Because you look fucking spectacular in those jeans."

Had it been Ron saying that, she'd have pushed him off. She knew what she looked like. She had cellulite on her thighs, stretch marks from carrying two children, lines around her eyes and just this week she'd found three grey hairs. Yet with Draco, she could believe she was attractive, because when he looked at her like that, like he wanted to tear the clothes right off of her, she knew that to him she was.

So instead of brushing off the compliment she simply smiled and said, "Thanks, you're not too bad yourself."

Draco laughed. "Cheers," he replied, running a hand through his hair. Hermione took a moment to look him over, he was still tall, and still slim, though his hair was thinning and there were already permanent lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes, he could still make her feel like he had when they were twenty-two.

"So," he began, not looking up from where he was running his index finger along the seam of her jeans. It was sending chills through her, and she was torn about whether she wanted him to stop or not. "No Hugo?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "No, he's with my mum tonight."

Draco nodded, before wetting his lips and looking up into her hazel eyes. He could see her breathing catch, and he loved seeing her fingers tangled together. It was invigorating, to know he still had such an effect on her. "I don't suppose you want to show me your bedroom now?"

Hermione laughed, and finally found the willpower within her to press her hand to his chest. It was just a small nudge, but with her shift away from him, Draco got the idea and moved back to the opposite end of the settee, not hiding his disappointment.

"There'll be time for that later. I'm not just going to roll into bed with you."

Draco pouted and Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Why not? It's not like we didn't do that before."

"Exactly! We met that night and I just…well I just fell. We didn't go on dates-"

"Yes we did," Draco objected.

"Yeah, okay, to deserted islands where no one would see us. I want to go out to dinner, go dancing, go…walk in a park. I want to be in public, not some dirty little secret."

"You were never-"

"That's exactly what I was to you, and we both know it. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing stopping us now. No familial pride to get in the way, right?"

"Right," Draco smiled, finally realising what she was getting at. "How about tomorrow then?"

"Not so fast. Next week, I'm free on Friday. If you are?"

"For you?" Draco smiled and shifted closer once more, enjoying the smile that lit up her face. "Always."

Let me know what you think :)