Draco didn't know why he'd left an hour early for work or why his feet had pointed in the opposite direction when he'd gotten to the turn that led to the bookshop. Or why he was now walking very definitely in the direction of the café. Perhaps he just needed a coffee after the late night? He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. Best not to analyse too much.

Arriving at the yellow stucco building with the polished wood door and gold-lettered sign, he stopped for a moment, giving himself one last chance to move along. His mind traveled back to the night before: her avid face when she had been telling him about the dancing, her wicked smirk when she'd made that crack about his muggle studies course, the smooth expanse of skin he'd had a hard time keeping his eyes off of...

He leaned his back against the wall, looked up and sighed. If he went in there, knowing she was there—and yes he'd already glimpsed her curly head and graceful movements through the large plate glass windows—it would be an admission of sorts, even if only to himself.

He could walk away now and stay safe on one side of an imaginary line.

Or he could cross it. The thought was already gone as he grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

"Buongiorno," she called at the tinkling of the bell. Her back was to him as she did some intricate thing with a tall glass. "I'll be right with you." Her italian was really quite good—very natural flow and her accent was decent.

"It's nothing," he murmured, stepping up to the bar, hoping to watch her a bit before she realised it was him.

But the instant he spoke, she whipped around and dropped a spoon on the tile floor, the clatter raising heads all around the bustling little space. So much for that plan. Draco raised his brows at her and she reddened. Interesting.

"Uh. Good morning," she stammered in English.

"No, no keep up with the Italian," he leaned against the counter. "It sounds excellent. Your accent is quite good."

She had turned back around. "Not as good as yours." In Italian again, but with a distinctly petulant tone. He laughed lightly and she threw a look over her shoulder at him. "What would you like?"

So many things, Granger. "A cappuccino please."

"To go?"

"For here."

"Table, or bar?" The slight pause before the second option made him seriously consider staying at the bar just to discomfit her further, but he'd really rather take the nice table that had just opened near one of the windows and ostensibly look at the newspaper someone had left behind.

"Table, please."

"I'll bring it right over."

He inclined his head and stepped over to the small, sunlit section and dropped into the chair facing the bar. Picking up the discarded copy of La Repubblica, he began skimming the muggle news, but soon gave up on it. He'd never get used to the static pictures, and besides, there were much more interesting things to look at. She was wearing a skirt today, a calf-length green affair that seemed to wrap around her in some clever way.

Her movements at the massive, belching espresso machine were deft and already practiced. Like everything she attempted, she seemed to have mastered the vagaries of espresso-making in all its permutations, a ritual and culture that had largely eluded Draco thus far. He knew you drank it with milk in the morning and plain after noon, but that was about it. He vastly preferred tea anyway. Another small fact in to weigh in the balance of why the fuck he was here this morning.

She walked over, a tray with a lightly steaming cup, a biscuit and a glass of water balanced on her hand. He folded a corner of the paper down and looked up. Unexpectedly a grin spread across her face.

"What?" he asked, knowing she didn't just have smiles for him.

She pushed her lips down, shaking her head once. "Nothing." But her eyes were still twinkling.

"Come on, Granger. Out with it." He picked up his cup and sipped. The coffee was perfect, hot and rich.

"You just… looked so like a muggle just then! Sitting in a coffee shop, reading the paper."

He raised his brows and took another sip of his cappuccino.

"I guess I'm just having a hard time getting used to it," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make fun."

"I told you to stop apologising. Do I look offended?"

"Well yes, but then you sort of always look slightly offended."

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it.

"Oh god! There I go again!" She wailed, "I'm so—"

"Don't say it." He reached up and almost touched his index finger against her lips. She froze and stared at him for a second, and he didn't move. He saw color bloom slowly up her neck to her cheeks. Unfortunately, at that interesting juncture the bell tinkled on the door.

"Duty calls," she said with a distracted look, as she practically jumped away and hurried to the counter.

For a while he just sat and drank his coffee, watching from behind his newspaper as she interacted with the wide variety of people who came in: listening to her banter and commiserate and gossip, then send them off with a bit of cheer. She was very good at it, and he could tell she enjoyed it too. He wondered if she felt the same as he did about their whole situation, living here, working, ignoring the outside world and their grim reality. He realised he wanted to hear her thoughts about it.

He realised he may have already gotten in too deep.

He sighed and thought again about the night before. She had started stiff and defensive, as had he—although they certainly had different ways of expressing that. He snorted softly and glanced up as she called goodbye to a customer. But by the end of the night, at the disco, their conversation about dancing…it had been like the rest of the room had fallen away, talking with her, a connection zipping between them. He'd wanted to talk more, he'd wanted to dance with her.

Fucking Theo.

And wasn't that funny that his admirer—what had her name been? Sofia.—had thought he was with her? He crossed his arms and looked out the window, wondering how he could get back to that place, where they were open.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Hmm?" He started out of his reverie to find her there, standing beside his table. The café seemed to have emptied out, the only other customer sitting outside. She glanced around and sat down.

"It's a muggle expression. It just means 'what are you thinking?'"

Draco squinted at her and opened his mouth. She put her hand up and closed her eyes. "You already know that. I—" She shook her head. "Anyway." He smiled again and she smiled back.

Suddenly inspiration struck.

"So Granger, do you know a lot about muggle music?" he asked.

She frowned. "What? Why, do you? Ohh." Her brow smoothed out. "Last night. The dancing."

Draco nodded.

"Well, I guess I know a bit. My dad is really keen. He plays electric guitar—you know what that is?" She checked in and he nodded. He knew it was loud, at least. "Well, he has a lot of music in his collection. So I was sort of subjected to it. I probably know less about current popular music than most muggles my age, though. The Hogwarts experience was not really conducive, you know? Although Dean Thomas and I have compared notes on occasion. Why do you ask?" She twisted a sugar packet round in her hands and glanced at him keenly.

"I'm interested," he said with a shrug. "I play, of course."

"Oh I didn't know that!"

"I think it's a prerequisite for all pureblood mothers of a certain social class to force their children to learn."

She laughed. "Ah yes, I believe that holds true in both worlds. What do you play?"

"A wizarding type of piano."

"Ah, it's similar in both worlds?"

He nodded. "But what I've heard this summer— which is more than I've ever heard before— intrigues me. It's very different, very expressive. I'd just like to know more." He shifted. "It's the same with books, but I have ample access to those, obviously. I've been reading a lot."

She was nodding along, her elbow on the table and her chin on top of her closed fist. "That's how I felt when I first learned about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. I just wanted to know more. Probably why I put everyone off first year quoting Hogwarts, a History all over the shop." She laughed.

He laughed with her, then sobered, thinking of how he had treated her first year, and many subsequent years. A cold wash of shame crept over him, and he was struck by how generous it was for her to even be sitting here and talking with him like this, about her world and these subjects.

"Hermione," he ventured, and he could hear the gravity in his voice.

"Yes?" She tilted her head, a slight frown on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He looked down at the table and then up at her. He saw realisation replacing the frown. He went on before she could speak. "I can't excuse my behaviour for the first five years of school except to say that I was a spoiled, ignorant shit who ate everything my father fed me without question. But last year—and I know you were briefed." She nodded once, her eyes intent on his. "A lot of last year was me covering, trying to protect my family. But I had already started to doubt, well, more than doubt, for myself."

She was silent for several beats as she looked at him. Then, "Thank you for telling me," she said with a slight nod. They sat for a moment and then she cleared her throat. "So," she said briskly, "if you're going to learn about music, we're going to have to find you a way to listen to it."

"Are there a lot of different ways to do that?"

"Oh yes! CDs, tapes, records, the radio… And you'll need a player." She was tapping her chin and looking off into the distance. "I'll help you find some things."

"Excellent, thank you." He felt absurdly pleased with himself for hitting an excuse to keep talking to her.

"Now," she said, "tell me what you've been reading."

Hermione looked at the clock with a start. She'd been sitting and talking with Draco for thirty minutes and she hadn't run the dishwasher or prepped for the lunch crowd, which would start appearing in roughly twenty-five minutes.

"Shit," she muttered.

His eyes followed hers to the clock. "Shit!" he echoed, jumping up. "I was supposed to open five minutes ago. How much do I owe you for this?" He gestured to the remains of his cappuccino.

She waved him off. "Please. I've got it. For the drink last night." She caught his eye. "And for the conversation."

He paused in gathering his things and looked back at her. "All right. But only because I'm in a rush."

She waved at him again as he ducked out of the shop, his hair ruffling in the warm wind that was sweeping through town that morning. She also stood and watched him go for a bit before drifting back behind the counter and mechanically taking panini fixings out of the fridge to arrange them for assembly. She'd been so surprised when he'd come in. She was fairly certain she'd mentioned last night that she was working this morning. And she was also fairly certain that he'd never been in before. Had he just wanted to ask her about music? But he didn't need to make a special trip for that, let alone stay and chat.

Was he trying to be friends?

Her hands stopped their brisk movements, the thought arresting her. And she'd forgotten in all the book and music talk that he'd apologised. She stood and stared at nothing for a moment. Why had he done that? What had changed his mind? She realised she very much wanted to know. Maybe if they were friends she could find out… The idea appealed. Maybe a little too much.

Maybe it was too late to be just friends.

She shook her head and brushed away her inner voice impatiently. It was just an attraction. A purely physical attraction. And hadn't she managed to (mostly) hide her attraction and be just friends with Ron for years?

Huh, she guessed she was just freely admitting to herself that she was attracted to Draco Malfoy. He'd made her drop a bloody spoon this morning, leaning against the counter all sleepy grey eyes and tousled hair. She snorted softly and forced her hands to get back to work.

But what about Theo? Didn't she find him attractive too? She conjured his blue eyes and golden curls. Yes, he was also extremely… magnetic. And they had definitely had a moment last night. A couple of moments. And Theo seemed safer somehow, despite his reputation.

She shook her head again. How in the world had she ended up in this position, considering the relative merits of two Slytherins, one of whom was Draco Malfoy? It was beyond comprehension and she had a flash of what she would say to Harry or Ginny or god forbid, Ron, if anything ever came of this.

Maybe nothing ever should. Surely the safest course was to remain friendly and nothing more. Besides, she was almost certain that that was all he could want. He? They? No, she was also almost certain that Theo would be happy to be more than friends. He was more than friends with a lot of girls in town if Lavender's sources were anything to go by. God. Maybe she should talk to Lavender about this. Maybe Lavender would take one of them off her hands. Maybe she was completely delusional and no one harboured secret, lustful feelings toward her.

She laughed out loud at that and lifted a tray of caprese panini into the chilled case. Just then the bell tinkled and a group of older men walked in. She looked up brightly and welcomed them, determined to put everything but lunch out of her mind for the time being.

As the next few days rolled on, Hermione's 'friends' theory gained traction. Draco came in to the café a handful of times and always stayed to chat. They continued to talk about books and music and he would often come with a question about the muggle world for her to answer, which would turn into a conversation about how the same thing worked in the wizarding world and why and what the connection could be and usually a (mostly) friendly argument about which culture influenced the other. Hermione never neglected her customers, but she was mightily tempted to a few times.

Theo had also started coming in very regularly—ostensibly to talk about their course and to practice the areas of speech the instructor sent them home with after each session, but really to flirt, Hermione thought. He kept it light and if she gave him the slightest signal to back off, he always did, but there was a current there that hadn't been before the night of the disco. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but in an idle moment, she found herself wishing she could mix her interaction with the two of them—a little more flirting from Draco and a little more substance from Theo.

Maybe the two of them together make one perfect sort of boy. She laughed to herself as she set the café sign from 'chiuso' to 'aperto' early one morning. She was dusting the bottles on the bar and wondering when she'd ever see Lavender, who had been out late several nights with one of the waiters they'd danced with at the disco, when the bell tinkled. Her earliest customers were almost always two lorry drivers who came in to have a chat and a coffee before they started their deliveries for the day, but it was early even for them. She looked up in surprise to see Draco walking in.

It was chilly at this time of the morning and he was dressed for riding, in a close-cut leather jacket with his helmet under his arm. His hair was mussed and he looked fresh and windblown. His hands were gloved in supple black.

Now, Hermione had been enjoying Draco, enjoying getting to know his agile mind, trying to get comfortable with the fact that she was drawn to the rest of him too. But she hadn't let herself feel anything like that pure wash of lust that had come over her the day at The Pools before she'd known who he was. There lies danger, her inner voice would practically shout at her. So she had been keeping a tight rein.

But this. This was too much. And as he stalked with his long stride across the café floor to the counter, the lust swept back with a vengeance that destroyed any barrier she feebly tried to erect. Her breath sped. Her hands, which suddenly ached to unzip the jacket, push it off his shoulders and run up under the white t-shirt she could see peeking out underneath, twitched against the counter. She gripped it tightly and forced a strangled Boungiorno from her lips, which also ached— to whisper up the column of his throat to his sharp jaw and then his lips. God.

She saw a small frown appear between his eyes and mentally shook herself. She must look like she was having a stomach cramp, or a minor stroke. She forced a smile. "You're here early." It came out oddly mechanical and slightly mad at the same time. Brilliant.

He tilted his head and laid his gloved hands on the counter. "Are you well?"

"Fine, just fine. Slight headache, this morning. Probably dehydrated!" And now she sounded manic. She forced herself to tone it down, taking a discreet deep breath. Which actually didn't help because it contained a whiff of the clean scent she had come to associate with him, blended with the leather from the jacket. Shit. She wheeled away and started pulling glassware from counters and levers on machines, not exactly sure what she was doing. "Your usual?"

"Ah, no, actually. May I just have a doppio?"

"Of course," she chanced a quick look over her shoulder. Still incredibly gorgeous, yes. "At a table or are you off?" she inclined her head toward all his gear.

"I'm going. I'll just toss it off, quickly."

Toss one off; good idea for later. God! What had come over her!? She forced her brain to heel and turned with a smile. "And where are you going?" She did not look at his throat as he drained the coffee Italian style, in one quick swallow.

"Up into the hills. I haven't been past the monastery before, but a chap in the shop was telling me how beautiful it is the further you go. And it's my day off, so…"

Hermione glanced around the shop and lowered her voice. "But isn't that past the wards?"

He looked away. "Yes, but I'm bringing my wand."

"Draco, I don't want—" Her hand went out involuntarily and she almost touched her fingers to his gloved wrist.

"I'll be fine." He brought his eyes back to hers, "I just. Sometimes I feel a bit trapped here. As lovely as it is." He looked away again, out the window. "And I miss flying so much I can taste it."

She sighed and it struck her that Harry would be the exact same in this situation. She wondered what Draco would think of that if she told him. She also wondered what she would say to Harry if it were him standing here. She'd probably give him a blistering scold, but she found she couldn't quite do that now.

"Just... be careful. All right?"

He looked down at her and his eyes darkened. "I will."

The atmosphere was suddenly charged and Hermione felt all those physical reactions she had finally gotten under control, flare up again. Draco kept her gaze until she could have sworn his eyes dropped to her mouth.

She was about to say something—someone needed to—or maybe she should just reach up and wrap her palm around the back of his neck, tug him down and…see what happened. But in the vague distance she heard the door open and someone start to come in. Draco's eyes cut to the sound and his posture instantly changed, stiffening and loosening at the same time. Hermione ripped her eyes away from him and saw what was unmistakably Theo, his back to them as he pushed through the door, holding a box and a sheaf of flowers.

"I come bearing verdura for study!" he called, "and fiori for you," he added, his voice lowering as he turned and took in the scene.

"Good morning," said Draco, a funny sort of emphasis to the words. Hermione had the distinct impression that he hadn't seen Theo in the flat the night before. Maybe because Theo reddened slightly and looked annoyed.

"Going somewhere?" Theo said, a little pointedly.

"Yes." Draco seemed to recall himself. "I'm off for a ride. Long one. Won't be back until this evening, I imagine. Will you be out again?"

Aha!

"No, I don't have to work tonight," Theo said, his eyes narrowing, then moving between Hermione and Draco before the corner of his mouth tilted up the smallest bit.

"Hello, Theo." Hermione thought it was time to interject. "You've brought props for our vegetable market practice?"

"Yes!" Theo thumped the box down on the bar. "A good variety. All the cook asks is that we handle them carefully."

"I think I can do that," Hermione said, smiling at him. He shot back a brilliant grin.

Draco shifted toward the door with a small, impatient movement. "I'm off," he said. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Of course." Hermione turned away from Theo and toward Draco. "And do be careful." She frowned.

His posture softened slightly and he nodded once before turning toward the door. Hermione watched him, his broad shoulders tapering to his lean waist, and felt the heat flare again. Just as she was about to tear her eyes away and turn her attention back to Theo, Draco turned.

"Don't forget you're coming out with me someday," he said, his eyes glinting. Dangerous, the word drifted through Hermione's mind like a leaf on a current. He popped his helmet back on his head while she stared dumbly. What? "On the bike," he prompted.

"Oh right, yes!" She was maybe a little too loud, so she modulated. "We'll do ." He nodded again and was gone.

Hermione turned her attention back to Theo, who was lounging against the counter and regarding her with a very speculative squint to his eyes.

"So. Vegetables." Hermione took a noisy breath and narrowed her eyes at him. "It's very early in the morning for vegetables."

His eyes widened. "Which is why I was hoping for a coffee and a cornetto first. Can you join me?" He gestured to a table.

"Hmm, let me think..." Hermione glanced exaggeratedly around the very empty café. "Yes, I believe I can spare a few minutes."

"Excellent." Theo leaned even more deeply into the counter and turned the full force of his dimple on her. She was caught there for a moment, marveling at how she could even notice anything about him after what Draco had just done to her, when an extremely loud engine revved outside and suddenly Draco himself went tearing by, a blur on his black machine. Hermione glanced at the clock. The neighbours must have loved that.

Theo looked over his shoulder and shook his head. Hermione thought she heard him mutter something about a 'show off wanker' as he lifted his box over to the table near the window.

"These are for me?" Hermione lifted the bunch of bright flowers Theo had left behind.

"Yes, the stall at the market was just opening as I took the veg from the restaurant. Couldn't resist."

"Thank you. That was very kind of you. I'll just put them in water and make our coffees." Hermione turned away as Theo stretched back in his chair.

"You're very welcome." He yawned as he spoke and Hermione had to resist the urge to ask why, if he and Draco had both been up so early, they hadn't seen each other until they arrived here. He'd probably had a late night last night. She wondered with whom. Lavender's sources had placed him with a couple of local girls since he'd arrived, but Hermione didn't put it past him to have other options. She remembered Lavender mentioning the table full of young women he'd been waiting on the other night.

He looked out the window and she watched him surreptitiously as she made their cappuccinos. His profile was elegant and yet that air of roguishness always seemed to be just outside the frame, even when he was pensive. Probably down to the dimple, or the slight uptilt to the corners of his mouth…

Just then he turned and totally caught her looking. His brows lifted slightly over the clear blue of his irises and Hermione realised that his eyes were what really did it. Warm and expressive, dark fringed with a constant hint of humour in their depths—crinkles at the corners, and such a striking color against his tanned skin. As they looked at each other he did a little something with them and suddenly Hermione was aware that she was being smoldered at. Huh, she bet that was effective. She even felt a little flutter in her heartbeat.

"I bet that's effective," she said as she brought the coffees over.

"The 'look'?" His face was completely guileless now.

"Yeah. Blimey." Hermione dropped into the seat across from him.

"Gets me some numbers." He sniffed, and she laughed. "Did it work on you at all?" He tilted his head.

"A little, yeah." Hermione nodded vigorously and took a sip of her coffee.

"I could tell. A little heat here" he reached over and touched her cheekbone with the tip of his finger, "and here," he touched the other, letting his finger slide softly off her face. For the second time that morning the atmosphere in the little café was suddenly fraught.

Hermione wondered what she had become. Vividly picturing kissing two completely different boys within the space of twenty minutes? But then she shrugged it off. Theo was a flirt, a very good looking one, and she was seventeen years old. It was totally natural.

Draco on the other hand…

She brushed that thought aside and fixed Theo with a mock-severe look. "Now, now. Drink your coffee so we can get to studying before my customers arrive, or I decide that doing this from behind the counter is safer."

The slightest frown crossed his features, puzzling Hermione, before he laughed and pulled an eggplant out of the box. "Young beautiful lady," he said, his Italian floridly accented, "What price for this shiny, purple garden vegetable?"

"I grew it, so it is priceless, Signore, but for you three thousand Lira," she responded with a laugh.

Draco woke up in a sweat, his breath coming fast. He propped himself up and wiped his brow, looking at the clock. Just gone one in the morning. They were getting earlier and earlier, the nightmares. He flopped back down and stared into the darkness, trying to will away the sickly feeling that lingered with the images from the dream, but couldn't quite succeed. Suddenly he heard a sound, the key turning in the flat door as it opened and then shut softly. Theo must just be home from the restaurant. He'd be up for at least an hour winding down his day. With a swift movement, Draco pushed up out of bed and grabbed for his trousers. He'd far rather sit up with Theo than lie here shaking.

Theo was already pouring whisky into a second glass as Draco emerged into the sitting room. "Another bad one?" he asked as he turned and held it out.

Draco nodded and took it. "Thanks." He walked over to the window and looked out at the moonlit square. "How was your night?"

"Good, bit boring." Theo settled into one of the armchairs.

"No tables full of nurses?"

"Unfortunately."

Draco heard a cigarette wick to life. "How was your ride?" Theo asked through an exhalation of smoke.

"It was good, yeah. Very beautiful up there and the roads get really challenging. Took all my skill and a stabilising charm not to wipe out a couple of times." Draco took a sip of his whisky and turned to sit on the window ledge. "Surprised to see you so early this morning. Giulia kick you out again?"

Theo cleared his throat. "No, she had an early shift." He coughed lightly. "Surprised to see you at the café at all. I thought you didn't like coffee."

"I'm developing a taste for it."

Theo's snort echoed in the room. "Clearly."

"What about you?" Draco pushed off the ledge and moved to the other chair. He dropped into it and looked at Theo. "I've never known you to … study." Theo had been famous in Slytherin house for rarely being seen cracking a book and yet scoring high marks on all of his essays and exams.

"I study when the subject interests me." Theo held out the pack of cigarettes and Draco took it, tapping one out and catching the lighter Theo tossed his way.

"She won't like being one of a line-up," Draco said, exhaling a long first drag. He knew he shouldn't smoke, but sometimes it was so soothing.

Theo was silent for a while. "She doesn't have to know," he finally said, the words seeming to hang in the silent room. Draco felt a surge of anger and he frowned, opening his mouth to respond, but Theo spoke again. "I mean, I'd stop all that if— " Draco closed his mouth and the anger abated. A little.

He played with Theo's lighter. "She may already know. You're not the most discreet."

Theo groaned. "I know. Fuck."

"Do you really like her?"

"Do you?" Theo's eyes flashed through the gloom and Draco's mouth curled up.

"I asked you first."

"Ok, I'll bite. And yes. As I said before, she's different than I thought she was. Clever but not rigid. And she's not just clever, she's quick. Fun. I feel stimulated around her."

Draco snickered.

"Fuck you, you know what I mean."

Draco knew exactly what he meant. "Never known you to keep it in your pants for one girl though, Theo. Even Daph—"

"Don't say her name, please." Theo's voice was suddenly tight.

"All right. Shit. I didn't know that was still a sore spot." Draco put his hand up as Theo closed his eyes and shook his head. Draco took a drag and exhaled. "Would have used it more if I had."

Theo gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Cunt."

Draco shot him a grin through the darkness.

They sat quietly, smoking and drinking as the light from a silvery moon started to creep across the floor.

After a while Theo spoke up again. "But I'd consider backing off," he looked over at Draco, his face calculating. "If you really liked her, I mean."

YES, the word rose up in Draco's throat, but when he opened his mouth, it didn't make it past his lips. Instead, "No need," he said, as he pushed up out of his chair.

"Really?" Theo squinted up at him.

"I told you before, I don't want complications." Draco said, and it was like he was reminding himself too. He turned to walk back down the hall, "I'm going to attempt sleep again. G'night."

"Night," Theo called, but Draco never heard him go to bed.