She was only too happy to get out of bed. She dressed quickly, texted her parents where she was going and headed out the front door.
Holland Coffee was only a few blocks from her house, and she was happy to have a chance to go for a run before she had to deal with this whole thing. Her nightmare was still weighing heavily on her mind, but it seemed to lighten as she ran along her street, turning out onto main boulevard that ran along campus. The gingko trees shed their fan shaped leaves in the mild breeze and the sky seemed impossibly clear and blue overhead. The college was not stirring yet, and Hermione arrived at Holland just as it opened without hardly seeing another human being.
Retying her ponytail, she approached the counter and eyed the pastries in the case hungrily.
"I can vouch for the bearclaw." A cheerful voice came from behind the counter. Hermione looked up in surprise to see the big smile of the barista. He was probably college age, with red hair and a lot of freckles. It gave him an impish appearance and Hermione couldn't help but like him immediately. She laughed.
"Okay, you talked me into it. I'll take one, and then can I also get a small vanilla latte?"
The redhead winked. "You got it. Name for the order?"
"Hermione." She said.
"Nice to meet you! I'm Ron." He replied. He pulled a cup from a stack and began writing her name. "So Hermione, are your parents Shakespeare, Greek mythology, or D.H. Lawrence fans?"
She looked at him in surprise. "No one ever guesses D.H. Lawrence!"
He poured her shots into her cup then raised his eyebrows at her. "D.H. Lawrence was right? I knew my Modernism in Literature class was going to have a use someday!"
Hermione almost choked. "You took Modernism in Literature? From Dr. Granger?"
He nodded, then scrutinized her. "Wait. Is that-"
She nodded. "Yeah, that's my mom!"
He put the lid on her latte and handed it to her. "That's awesome. She was one of my favorite teachers Freshman year, and part of the reason I became an English major."
Hermione beamed at this tangential praise. "Ah, I'll tell her. She loves those Freshman classes. So wait, now you're what, a sophomore, junior?"
He nodded. "Sophomore. Just started. I've got Lockhart for Analyzing American Poetry so…" He trailed off with a grimace.
Hermione twisted her face to match his. "That sucks. You know, if you're still in the window to drop classes, you could try Dr. Thompson's Medieval poetry course. He has hardly anyone in that class this term, and he's usually really chill about that kind of thing."
Ron mulled this over and then his big smile returned. "You're a real lifesaver Hermione." Then suddenly he grabbed a pack of shortbreads and tossed them to her. "For my academic advisor." He chuckled.
She laughed. "Thanks, anytime!" Taking her treats, she headed back outside to sit on one of the many seats arranged in front of the coffee shop.
She picked a wide couch off in the corner, though still visible from the street. She tucked the shortbread away in her pocket and took the lid off her latte to let it cool. The town was beginning to wake up now, with dog walkers and the occasional biker out to enjoy the perfect fall day. She checked her phone, they always met at about 8:30 but by now it was almost 9. Anxious, she texted him, then tossed her phone on the seat next to her. Where was he? It was unlike him to be late. He had been angry with her last night, suppose he had done something rash. She was suddenly exhausted by the whole thing. It seemed like nothing she ever said was right. Why couldn't things be easy and fun? She wished for a moment that she could have just one lighthearted conversation with him, like she had just had with Ron. Then she felt a bit guilty. It wasn't Draco's fault; she knew he could be happy and charming. It was this whole thing with his dad. But then again, what was the whole thing with his dad? His parents had seemed perfectly nice. His dad had a powerful personality to be sure, but he had been perfectly friendly. A vision of her dream crossed her mind and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Still, she could hardly blame the man for her own messed up psyche.
She took a sip of her coffee and considered. If Draco ever showed up, she would talk to him. They needed to talk this out. He couldn't continue to shut her out when things were painful for him. She couldn't take his side if she didn't know what it was. She was resolute, righteous, sitting there in the shade when she finally saw Draco crossing the street toward her and all thoughts of Ron's upbeat charm faded from her mind.
Draco was gorgeous, even in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. He was wearing sunglasses and his blond hair was disheveled which only made him look even more like a young James Dean. She waved at him and he wove his way through the chairs on the patio to greet her.
"Hermione!" He exclaimed, and carefully lowered himself into a chair across from her.
She passed the bearclaw to him. "I didn't get you a coffee because I wasn't sure when you'd get here." She explained.
He tore off a piece of the bearclaw and passed it back to her. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I don't have my phone right now."
Hermione squinted at him. "What?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I broke it."
Hermione groaned and leaned back against the couch, rubbing her eyes. "Draco." She almost whispered. "We have got to talk about this. I-I need to know exactly what's going on. Sometimes you talk about your dad like he's a jerk and sometimes like he's the devil incarnate."
The words were tumbling out of her mouth now. "I don't know how to gauge that. And then when I try to talk to you about it, you-you act possessed. You scared me last night."
Her eyes were wide and beseeching. "Just tell me what exactly is going on."
For a long moment he was quiet, and so still Hermione wasn't even sure if he was breathing.
Finally, he spoke. "You want to know the level?" He asked so quietly she could hardly hear him.
Her heart squeezed but she nodded.
He sighed and looked around the empty patio, then slid his sunglasses down his nose to reveal a ghastly sight that made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.
A royal purple bruise colored his left eye, swelling his eye almost shut.
