The morning air was filled with the sweet and smoky aroma of frying bacon and buttery pancakes. The Potters had spent their early Saturday morning cooking breakfast together as they often did, laughing and chitchatting about their weekend plans while the bacon sizzled away. As they loaded their plates, they heard a loud yawn.
"Good morning," Ginny greeted her sister-in-law, who was stretching and rubbing her eyes. "How'd you sleep?"
"Really well, actually," Hermione was smiling. Her untamable mane stuck out in all directions, but she did not seem to notice.
"Well, that's good news." The redhead was surprised by her answer. Most people would not sleep well after separating from their spouse. "Breakfast?"
"Thanks, Ginny, but I'm actually going to skip it today. I think I'm going to get cleaned up and head down to Diagon Alley."
With her plate full, Ginny brushed past Hermione and entered the dining room. "You sure you're feeling up to that?" Her stomach growled as she sat. "I can tag along if it's just a morning trip—keep you company."
Hermione turned to face her slim sister-in-law and combed her fingers through her hair. The lie fell easily from her lips. She had had quite a lot of practice as of late. "I'm going to meet Katie, actually. We've had this planned for a few days now."
"Katie Bell?" Harry asked, pulling out a chair and sitting beside his wife. He picked up a slab of bacon and chewed on it. "I didn't know you two were still friends."
"We are." It was the truth. Katie worked for the Ministry and once in a great while, they would eat lunch together. Of course, she had been spending less time with Katie and her other coworkers and more time with Draco Malfoy, but Harry and Ginny did not need to know that. "Are you not friends with her anymore, Harry? Her office is closer to yours than it is to mine."
"I suppose we chat in passing," he murmured, cutting into a chocolate chip pancake with the side of his fork.
"Yes, well, I think I'm going to go take a quick shower and head out. I suspect I won't be in until late afternoon, but I'll see you two once we're done?"
"Maybe." Ginny spoke with her mouth full. It was a common Weasley trait. "We're actually meeting with Luna and Rolf for Exploding Snap and butterbeers 'round four. If you're done early, we'll probably catch you on your way in."
Hermione nodded. "Well, have fun. See you later!" With that, she turned on her heel and waltzed to the bathroom.
Neither Harry nor Ginny had ever seen her look happier.
"That was weird," Ginny mumbled, her mouth still quite crammed with mashed bits of bacon and pancake. "You'd think she'd be upset."
Harry simply shrugged. "Rather she act like this than moping about the house."
Ginny ate slowly, her eyes fixated on the spot where Hermione had stood with that mischevious grin on her face. Something was suspicious, but she could not quite put her finger on it.
Early morning snow melted against the windowpanes, quietly dancing in frigid streams of winter melancholy. Fuzzy-brained and lethargic, Draco Malfoy took a cup of peppermint tea to the table. As drooping eyelids begged him for another hour of rest, he sipped on the hardy beverage and let its warmth run through his cold veins.
The holiday season had not gone as he hoped, though it did go as he had expected. Mealtimes were highlighted by his father's nitpicking and his son ravenously clearing his plate so he could retreat to his designated guestroom. Draco tried to exchange pleasantries with them both, and while his mother tried to help, the other two Malfoy males were far too stubborn. Only when Scorpius unwrapped Most Macabre Monstrosities did he show any kind of affection, and it was exceptional gratitude more than anything. Draco had silently thanked Hermione Granger for the recommendation.
Comfort embraced him as the warm familiar liquid ran down his throat. He was not sure if what he was feeling was sadness, loneliness, or sheer boredom. No matter what it was, he did not have the energy to thwart it.
Just as he lifted the teacup to his lips once more, he was interrupted by a knock. Whoever it was, they were knocking rather urgently, so he placed his teacup back on the table, fixed his obsidian robe, and shuffled his feet to the door. As he opened it, he was surprised by arms being thrown around his neck.
"Granger," he heaved, nearly having the wind knocked out of him. "What's this all about?"
"Oh, I'm just having a wonderful morning," she sang, practically skipping inside the cottage. She hung up her jacket and her purse, humming to herself. The blond wizard assumed the tune was a Muggle song since he didn't recognize it. Plucking her shoes off her feet, she frowned and added, "Draco, you look positively distraught. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing." He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it. "I just wasn't expecting you is all."
Hermione looked like she had been kicked in the teeth. "I mean if it's a bad time—"
"No, not at all! I um—I haven't made anything to eat, I'm afraid. I've been meaning to go for a shop. Can I offer you some tea? It's peppermint." He began fumbling with his robe in the kitchen as Hermione sat down in the neighboring dining room. "I've only just brewed it, so it's still hot."
"That would be lovely, thanks," she called back.
Displeased with the robe's lazy wrinkles, Draco dragged his feet into the dining room. With a swift wave of his wand, a teapot and a teacup levitated from the kitchen and landed in front of her. The tea poured itself as it often did.
"So what brings you here? Hard to believe there's more trouble in paradise judging by your mood." There was a snarky tone about his voice. "Did Weasley make it a whole hour without a drink or setting something on fire?"
"Depends on if you'd call it 'trouble'," Hermione alluded, ignoring his bitter comment. She took a sip of tea, a smile on her blood red lips. "I'm staying with Harry and Ginny."
Draco's grey eyes were drawn to her lipstick-covered mouth. Rarely did she put so much effort into her appearance, but in that moment, she looked just as she had when she was only nineteen. He cursed himself for not getting dressed and fixing his wild locks that morning. "Is that so?"
She gave him a matter-of-fact nod. "As of yesterday."
"How did Weasley take that?" He straightened his back in hopes to look at least a bit more well-mannered. Whatever foul mood he was in was beginning to diminish.
"Exactly how I thought he would," she replied with a shrug. "We had a bit of a fight at Christmas about the kids staying with his parents. It all just sort of piled on."
"Seems like this has been a long time coming," he noted.
"Clearly," she chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of her head. When she planned her day, she expected it to be less nerve-racking. In the time that she had not seen him, Draco had seemingly only grown more handsome. "So how was your Christmas?"
He let out a sigh, deciding that she did not need to know the gory details. "Well, the good news is that Scorpius was quite pleased with that book you recommended."
"I told you. Where'd you find it?"
"Moribund's. The old coot wanted a hundred Galleons for it," the svelte wizard scoffed. "I talked him down to seventy."
"You threatened him," she deduced with a roll of her eyes. Tea rushed down her gullet as she took another drink.
He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Being a Malfoy occasionally has its perks."
"I can't say I'd know much about that." Her eyes were dark.
One hundred Galleons was more than fair for such a rare book, and he certainly had the riches to afford it.
Ambition spun in his silver eyes. "There's always time, Granger."
She choked on her tea, blushing furiously. Apparently, the red lipstick had not been as subtle as she thought.
"If you'll excuse me, I ought to go change into some actual clothes for the day." With that, Draco stood and disappeared down the hallway. Hermione would have never noticed, but he felt a bit self-conscious when he was anything short of aristocratic.
The wild-haired brunette's fingers flew to the edge of her lips, hoping that the product's violet packaging rung true. When she found it in Madam Primpernelle's, it read, "TEA-PROOF! FEAST-PROOF! SNOG-PROOF!" In much smaller letters, it added: "ONLY COMES OFF WITH MADAM PRIMPERNELLE'S SIMPLY MAGICAL MAKEUP REMOVER!"
She heard footfalls coming her way and quickly smoothed her dress, not wanting to get caught fussing over herself. As Draco sauntered into the room, she had to stifle a gasp. While he wore the same all-black button-up and blazer that he usually did, he had a way of always making himself look more attractive. Her cheeks became hot. Judging by the smirk on his face, she was ogling.
"Like what you see?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
Hermione cleared her throat. "You look rather nice, if that's what you're asking."
"'Rather nice' or astonishingly handsome?" As he sat down across from her, he felt much more confident. Taking Hermione Granger's breath away was always one of his favorite hobbies, and based on her reaction, she was nearly his again. He could feel desire emanating from her pallid skin. The almighty Minister for Magic ached for him, and he was not too proud to admit to himself that he ached for her too.
"Both, I suppose," she muttered, resting her chin in her hand. "What were we talking about again? Oh, right. Christmas. How was the rest of it? Anything fun?"
"Nothing worth mentioning. My father spent most of the meal insulting me and barking orders at the help." Hermione glared at him, silently willing him to choose another phrase for his parents' hired house-elf. "Really it went as expected." He finished his tea. "It sounds like yours was more eventful than mine."
"With nearly thirty people in the same house, it's inevitable, don't you think?" She laughed, suddenly finding humor in the previous week's situation. "Ron drank all the eggnog again. Then he tried to fight with me and his mother in front of the entire family. All in all, mine went as expected too, I suppose."
The corners of his pale lips curled. "Sounds like we ought to reassess our holiday traditions."
She emptied her teacup and smiled. "Perhaps so."
A draft of cold air prickled Draco's snowy skin, putting an abrupt halt to his flirtations. "Is it a bit cold in here?"
"Yes, actually." Hermione had been nearly freezing since she entered the room but had not said anything. Her anxiousness only warmed her face.
"Do you mind if I start a fire?" he inquired, standing. "Or will that trigger some sort of terrible flashback from Weasel's stupidity?"
Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. "It's your house."
The tall wizard glided into the sitting room. Hermione found herself watching him from behind, and feeling a bit empty once he was out of eyeshot. Since she was finished with her tea, she stood and took the dishes upon herself. With a quick swish of her wand, the tea set was clean and stored away in the kitchen cupboard.
She padded into the sitting room and plopped onto the sofa. The room was beautiful, and until then, she hadn't realized how little time she had spent there. Most people would have been examining the room, itching to take in every inch of its Gothic magnificence. Hermione, on the other hand, was staring at Draco's back after quickly glancing at each wall. He was bent over the fireplace, muttering to himself about the "damn wet logs".
"So when are you and Weasley finalizing the divorce?" he asked after several minutes of incoherent mumbling.
The brazen question shocked the witch. "Er—I suppose I'm not sure. I only just left him yesterday."
Draco cursed at the damp oak logs once more. They refused to catch fire. "Well, no reason to waste time. He might get the wrong idea. Never been the brightest, that one."
Hermione shifted nervously. "Yes, well, I don't know if I'm going to divorce him just yet. This is all very new."
The blond quickly jerked upward, hitting his head on the fireplace. He rubbed his scalp and glowered at her. "You can't be serious."
"I mean, I just don't know if that's the route to take yet. Ginny and Harry will keep it all out of the papers for now. I can expect Ron not to mention it to anyone important."
"Of course it's the route to take," he spat, squatting back down. Finally, with one last raging swing of his wand, the logs caught aflame. He got to his feet and turned to her. "You've already left him for Merlin's sake. Just finish the bloody job."
Hermione said nothing. Perhaps he was speaking with selfish bias, but he could not help it. Draco Malfoy had only been jealous of Ron Weasley twice in his life: once when Harry Potter chose to befriend him and once when Hermione Granger chose to marry him. She was nearly his again and suddenly she was backtracking.
He took a confident step towards her and lightly ran his fingers under her chin, softly urging her to look up at him. Entranced, she obliged.
"Why are you here, Granger?" He towered over her, standing as she was still sat upon the couch. Her heart lurched once his eyes met hers.
She gulped as he drew his hand away from her face. His drilling gaze kept her focused upwards just as much as the physical touch had. "I-I'm visiting you after Christmas."
Draco did not find her answer to be sufficient. "But why?"
"Well, w-we're friends, yes?"
A smirk crept onto his face. "Do you wear red lipstick to visit all your friends?"
"There's nothing wrong with taking pride in your a-appearance." She stood and balled her fists, but her tone faltered. He did not budge, keen to call her bluff. The woman couldn't even convince herself that she meant what she was saying.
"The Granger I know doesn't give a hippogriff's arse about how she looks unless she's trying to get her hands on something," he pointed out.
"I-I—" He was so close to her that she could smell the nostalgic scent of Fraser fir and musk. It brought back passionate memories of electric lips, sweat-kissed flesh, and carnal yearning.
Draco weaponized his seductive nature, letting his minty breath run over her pale face. "You wouldn't have shown up here giddier than a gnome in Herbology if you had any intention less than being rid of him for good. Admit it."
She stammered for a moment, trying to convince herself that she was too chivalrous to let her desires best her. Draco was attractive, but never had she let things go too far, and she was not about to start. After all, she was still married. If something were to happen between them, it would have to wait.
Alas, her logic failed as his familiar smirk beckoned her. Quickly, she remembered exactly what she was thinking about when she put on the blood red lipstick. In all of the years that she had known Ron, he never made her feel the way that Draco did. Perhaps it was wrong, but deep within her, there was an animalistic need that she had to fulfill.
Before she knew it, her lips were on his.
Author's Note: Extra special thanks to BBHP for all her fabulous feedback. I'd love to hear from more of you too, so leave a review if you have anything to say - positive or negative! :)