Draco paced back and forth in his flat, glancing at the clock every time he turned to face it. He felt like it must be playing tricks on him, there was no way only 10 minutes had passed since he finished getting ready for coffee with Granger. Why had he insisted on meeting up with her? He could have just taken the bait and pretended to be someone impersonating the once-great, now fallen-from-grace Draco Malfoy. Instead, he had admitted to being himself and proceeded to ask her out to coffee. What on earth had come over him. He knew that if there was any hope of returning to the magical world free of scorn he would need to mend his relationships with the people he had hurt, some of whom just happened to be the heroes of the entire fucking world. Of course Saint-Potter had been the one to defeat the elder Malfoy's former master. Draco never considered Voldemort to be his own master, save maybe during 6th year when he was given his task. Even then, however, he was really just doing the mission to bring grace back to the house of Malfoy and save his father from Voldemort's wrath. Draco was too independent minded to be brainwashed by the likes of Voldemort. Sure he believed the teachings upon which he was raised that muggleborns were lesser people and muggles were barely human. After watching Granger lead dumb and dumber (his private names for Potter and Weasley) through the gauntlet of destroying Voldemort's horcruxes, he began second guessing his childhood and what he was taught.

Shortly after the war, Draco had decided to try his hand at living as a muggle to see for himself if there were real differences between wizards and muggles. The initial weeks were very difficult for him. Learning about things like electricity, mobile phones, the underground, and things not to say like house elf, magic (unironically), muggle, wizard, floo, apparate, and any number of other things he had taken for granted his entire life. Once a few weeks had passed, Draco was actually enjoying his life in the non-magical world. He had met some interesting people and even managed to get a job working at the coffee shop he was going to this morning with Granger. He had decided on not wearing his t-shirt with the shop's logo on it, because he only considered it as a ploy to get on Granger's good side. If things went well, he could tell her about his job, which he now had held for an impressive 3.5 years. His ability to exchange the money in his family vault for muggle money made it so he didn't need a more profitable job. He enjoyed serving coffee and all the people he got to meet. He had learned how to be nice, which to be honest, he didn't realize he hadn't been, until he lived in a world where his name meant nothing to anyone.

Draco had mastered the art of flirtatious behavior and despite being what the muggle girls called "hot" had not maintained any serious relationships. Every time he went on more than a few days with non-magical women, he realized that any feelings they had would potentially dissipate when they realized he could do magic and they never would be able too. Draco, being a Malfoy, was proud and too afraid of rejection to let that happen to him. He was always the one to end relationships regardless of how he felt about the ladies in question. While his life in the muggle world was good and he would never want to leave permanently, it would be nice to be welcome in the world in which he was raised. His family had chosen the wrong side in the war, he knew that now, but the wizarding world was not forgiving when it came to former death eaters, especially ones who bore the dark mark.

Draco glanced at the clock and groaned to himself in frustration. Only 5 more minutes had passed and it was only 8:15. He had to find some way to occupy his mind until 8:45 when it would be time to leave to walk to the coffee shop. That would put him there 5 minutes early, which, given how busy Granger was bound to be, should be plenty of time to be there ahead of her, the classy thing to do. He decided to try drawing something to kill the time.

One thing that he had not expected to learn about himself, was that he was an incredibly talented artist. One of the girls he dated in the second year of his muggle life was in art school. She once asked him if he could draw and he instinctively said no, but then corrected himself and told her he'd never tried before (apart from the magical drawings he had done to taunt Potter in school). She gave him a pencil and arranged some objects that were "easy" according to her, to draw. He sat for a while and did his best creating lines to mimic what she had laid out in front of him. When he was finished he could hardly believe what he saw. The drawing in front of him was flawed, but only in minor ways. It looked very similar to the scene in front of him. At that point the girl told him he should audit an art class at her school. He did just that and with time and a few different art classes under his belt, he could now draw very well. People were his tricky area, the faces were difficult to create symmetrical and lifelike. His favorite thing to draw was flower bouquets. They were not too difficult and always fun to color in once he was done making the lines that shaped them.

Draco sat down at his table with his pencils and thought about something to draw. He remembered something he had found quite hilarious happening at the beginning of his second year at Hogwarts but never actually got to see the scene himself. He started with the outline of a huge tree, with a veiny trunk, branches going every which way, just getting the feel for the space the tree should take up on the paper, then he added a detail that would be curious to anyone not attending Hogwarts during the time he was there. There was the vague outline of a small car sticking out of the mess of branches. Draco thought this might be one of his best drawings ever once he finally finished it. He glanced at the clock and realized it was 5 minutes until 9.

"Shite!" He swore to himself. He put on his shoes as quickly as possible and raced out the door. Running as fast as he could, he managed to cut the 10 minute walk into a 4 minute run, placing him at the door with one minute to spare until nine. Much to his dismay, however when he got to Abrewcadabrew he saw a small, curly-haired young woman sitting in a little booth facing the front of the store where he now stood, panting, sweating, and hair jostled. This was not the way he had planned this going at all, when he looked at the witch's face, there was an amused smirk dancing there. Bloody hell! This could have gone so much better. He thought to himself. After a few moments of staring at her, he straightened himself up, flattened his hair with a whispered charm (his wand being in his pocket at all times, of course), and walked through the door.

A/N: Please feel free to review I'd love feedback and would be happy to try to incorporate your ideas into the story.