Tea is nice. It really is.

The biscuits are, too. And the eclairs.

But I realize how expensive the menu is here at Lumos. I wonder about my wallet if it'll survive the bill.

"Hermione dear," an elegant voice snaps me out of my reverie.

It never fails to amaze me how Narcissa Malfoy remains to look like she came out of a magazine every time I see her. It's a talent I guess. One that require lots of dedication. And money.

But I still love her.

"How is university?" she continues.

Bland. Boring. Stressful. Expensive. "Good."

Narcissa isn't buying it, I can tell. Her eyebrow is raised, which reminds me so much of Draco.

"Just good?"

"Well, no. It's far from good. But I am good. I think."

"Hmmm," then she grabs her cup and saucer before taking a sip of her jasmine tea. I copy her, for a lack of originality. How genius of you, Hermione Granger.

"I take it you've met my son's current conquest?"

Conquest? "Astoria?" She nods. "Oh, yes. Last night, at Theo's party. She's... lovely. And beautiful."

"Lacks personality, but beautiful indeed."

"Draco's really lucky..."

Narcissa snorts, taking me by surprise. It's so unlikely of her. "I'd say, it's more of the opposite. But then again, my son's taste in women is quite poor. I'm pretty sure you remember Tracey Davis, dear."

Oh, God. It was a disaster.

I never really understood why Draco and Tracey Davis thought it was a great idea to have a little snog in the men's water closet during class hours. Professor Snape, our chemistry teacher at the time, was both horrified and furious, having caught two juniors eating each others mouth. Lucius, Draco's father, and Narcissa, were called in by Headmistress McGonagall, informing them of their son's misbehavior. Draco was forced to help clean the manor that year as punishment. And the two of them were sent to Nurse Pomfrey for weekly lectures about contraceptives and abstinence.

I giggle. "How's Lucius?" I then ask.

"Although he wouldn't say, I'm certain he misses Draco. And you, too."

"I doubt that."

"I've been married to the man for twenty-three years, Hermione. I know him all-too-well."

We stay in the café for a few more hours before leaving. Narcissa invites me to go shopping. I want to. But money...

"As much as I'd want to, I have essays to do. Maybe next time."

Narcissa smiles and gives me a hug. "Let loose a little, dear. You're too stressed. But it was nice seeing you again and I would love it if you come to Wiltshire for Christmas."

"Oh, sure. I'll come and visit."

She's studying me. Her lips are curled downward and it's making me worry. Do I have dirt on my face? Or maybe I put on a little too much blush. Oh no.

"My son really is an idiot..."

I'm confused. I tilt my head a little to the side, questioning her statement. But Narcissa smiles again and pats my cheek. "Nothing, dear."

I watch in amusement as Pansy tries to flip an omelette. She's scowling and obviously frustrated. I bite my fist to refrain from laughing.

I came home to her whisking ingredients in a bowl. She's learning how to cook without the aid of her boyfriend, she said. I figure there's more to it than that, but she won't tell me the other reason why.

"How in honest God Harry is able to do this such thing easily baffles me," she complains through gritted teeth.

"Harry's in culinary school, so..." Pansy gives me the stink eye. I cover my mouth with my palm.

The omelette doesn't look horrible. In fact, it smells quite nice. But Pansy might've over done the red peppers. And the chives.

I scan the kitchen and see mess all around. Well, not really. But the island counter is littered with egg shells, egg splatters, and vegetable stems. The spice rack that Harry gave us for Christmas last year (and one we rarely even use) is gone from its organized state. The tiny spoons are everywhere, and the lids are askew. It's kinda irking me, to be honest.

"Pansy, why are you cooking?" She's been doing it since last month, starting on my birthday when she helped Harry bake the cake they gave me. Then she tried out other recipes that beginners aren't meant to learn yet, much to Harry's dismay, considering how messy the kitchen was during those times. The clutter's toned down a little bit, but still.

"I just want to. And I'm starving. Harry's not coming over today, so sod it all."

"But you don't really cook."

"Maybe I want to be a chef."

"And leave Oxford?"

"Uhuh."

"But your Political Science degree—"

"Hermione, are you going to keep talking or you'll shut up and eat my produce?"

"I'll shut up."

"Good."

She hands me a plate with a hefty serving of the omelette and a fork before sliding on one of the stools beside me.

Pansy's looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to judge her cooking skills. I roll my eyes and take a bite. Swallow, and then— "Nice. A bit salty, but nice."

"Really?"

"Yup," I pop the 'p'. Then another bite. Yum.

She starts to eat. No reaction of some sort. She seems satisfied. A massive difference from her failed attempt of a ratatouille.

We finish the meal in silence and I offer to clean up.

"I'll help since I'm the one who started this mess," she says and I agree.

I take all of the stuff to be washed in the sink. I like to wash by hand. It's almost therapeutic.

We work silently. And I'm rinsing the plates when Pansy asks me, "Does your throat still hurt?"

Odd question. "Not anymore. Why?"

"Hmm, no reason."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

My brows furrow. Weird.

I'm about to walk out of the kitchen when she stops me and tosses an apple. I catch it with less grace due to my horrid reflexes. "What's this?"

"Dessert."

I snort and go to my room to start on my essays.

My mind is occupied for a few hours. And I also do some advanced reading on Professor Tonks' class.

Then my phone's ringing. It's Draco. I pick up and decide to tease him a little bit.

"I'm sorry. It seems that Hermione Granger is busy being a swot, thus, rendering her unavailable to be gloated upon by a certain blond bloke. So please, leave a sordid message for her to ponder on."

He chuckles and it makes me all mushy inside. "You're mental."

"Oh, that must be the message! Goodbye then."

And then he's laughing like a drain. It goes on for a minute. I feel proud. He rarely laughs like this. Wish I can see him.

"My day's definitely skyrocketed. Thank you." He sounds tired.

"My pleasure. But how are you?"

I lean on the headboard and wait for his answer. He's walking, I guess. A soft thump, like he put the phone down on a counter.

His voice sounds a bit far when he speaks. "Knackered. We've been shooting for," then there's a scraping of metal on ceramic, "fifteen hours. And I'm not even the lead actor! I'm just the sidekick. But there are so many rehearsals. And costume changing. The film crew are more irritating today for some reason. And our director's been a pretentious tosser than usual. And it's bloody cold!"

They're in Edinburgh at the moment, filming a heist scene of some sort for the movie that's being directed by avant-garde (I'm rolling my eyes at this) filmmaker, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Fifteen hours? And you flew from London to Edinburgh? Geez. Have you been sleeping?"

He scoffs. "Not a chance, Granger."

I check the time and I gasp. It's already half-past twenty-four. I've been studying for five hours?

I need a break. "Why in the world are you calling me? Go to sleep, Draco."

"I just wanted to hear you."

Oh. "And you need a rest. We can talk again tomorrow, you know?"

"Nah. It's okay."

"Draco," I try to be assertive. But he just chuckles in return.

"You're so adamant. Don't you want to talk to me?"

"Of course I do! And don't think you can manipulate me just because—"

"How's tea with her majesty?"

"—you are a sneaky git. Wait — what?"

"Tea. With mother."

"Oh. It was great. She's still beautiful."

"Hmm. That's good."

"She's quite disappointed you couldn't join."

"Yeah, I know."

"Lucius misses you, too."

"Bollocks. He's just mad he doesn't have anyone to boss around at home."

I laugh. "Maybe."

My eyes are getting droopy. Sleep. I want sleep.

I close my eyes. I can hear him breathing. He was drinking something earlier. Tea or coffee. Now I think he's on his bed, trying to fight off sleep to talk to me. For me.

I just wanted to hear you.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you still with him?"

My eyes open. "What?"

"Weasel."

I shake my head, as if he can see me. "No. We're not together anymore."

"Ah..."

"We just didn't work out. He wanted different things. I wanted different things. So we decided to... separate. It's better off that way."

"Are you okay?"

"I am. It doesn't upset me as much anymore. Plus, I was never in love with Ronald." Because I love you.

"Well..."

"So, you and Astoria Greengrass... Are you guys serious?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. But I really like her and we've been dating for a year and a half."

"Oh. Okay..."

I don't know what to expect. Silly of me to think that he would leave her for me. He doesn't see me that way. I should stop.

He's yawning. "We need to sleep," I tell him.

Thank God he agrees. And we're saying our good nights. I'm about to end it, but then— "So, tomorrow? Can I call you again?"

I smile. "Yes. Good night, Draco." Then I hang up.

I stare at my phone for a few minutes before I decide to slip under the covers. I close my eyes, ready for slumber to take me.

I just wanted to hear you.

Notes from Author Stupid:

A massive thanks to Person11 and Paige.James! Your kind words melt my heart. Really.

To those who followed and liked this story, too. It's nice to know that people are actually reading this. Helps keep me going.

Hope you liked this chapter!