Chapter 3:

Spring fades into summer as the days grow warm and humid, and Hermione begins to feel a bit restless in her little cottage. She's never gone this long without regimented work. Her living space sparkles and the garden would not be pleased with additional interference. She needs something to do.

The village is charming and a distraction most days, but window shopping and watching families play in the park is not a viable career option. The only other magical person she's encountered is Malfoy and he seems content to forget that she exists altogether.

Vibrant marquees dot the high street on designated market days; the smiling faces of the proprietors beckon her to sample their goods and make a few purchases. Of course the local bookseller gets more than a bit of her attention–and money–but her favorite stand is the small apothecary selling handmade bath goods.

The pastel salts call out to her and the creamy bars of soap feel luxurious even when dry. Hermione picks up a block of the soap, dotted with lavender blossoms and as she's inhaling the clean, herbaceous aroma a sweet voice calls her attention.

Scorpius is by her side, an infectious smile lighting his face. "I like the peppermint one," he says, offering her a bar with large pieces of mint leaves suspended within.

"Thank you, Scorpius." She takes it and sniffs deeply, the cool bite of mint filling her lungs. "That one would really wake you up in the morning."

"Hey! That's what my dad says!" She giggles at his enthusiasm. "Dad!" Malfoy is speaking with the shop owner and holds his finger up, a silent reminder not to interrupt. Scorpius is obviously well-mannered because he quiets and waits until his father finishes his brief conversation and looks at him once again.

"Oh." His face drops at her presence. "Hello, Granger."

Refusing to bring down her mood, Hermione responds brightly, "Hello, Malfoy. Lovely day isn't it."

Scorpius nods in agreement, his soft blond hair flopping about in his excitement. Malfoy diverts his attention to his son, "What was it you wanted to say, Scorp?"

Scorp. That was cute. Hermione holds her breath not to giggle at the idea of Draco Malfoy being associated with anything cute. "What? Oh yeah... Hermione said the same thing about the peppermint soap." Malfoy looks a bit confused. "That it wakes you up in the morning."

"Ah, yes, of course." Nodding his goodbye to the shop owner he steps around the booth, his hand extended, "Come along Scorpius. We must be getting home for tea."

"Wait, dad. Can Hermione please join us?" Scorpius is smiling up at her so he misses the fortifying breath his father takes as he pinches the bridge of his nose in what Hermione knows is exasperation at what's arguably the sweetest begging she's ever heard.

"I'm sure Granger has far too many important things to do besides have tea with the likes of us."

Hermione's shoulders draw back and her chin juts outs, the muscle memory of her reaction to Malfoy's baiting, then she remembers that little boy. An innocent child, who doesn't know his father once treated her as no more than a stain on the hem of his bespoke robes.

"I'd love to have tea with you. I have some errands to finish first, but I'll be along very shortly. That is, of course," she leans down her face lit with amusement and conspiracy, "if you're certain you want to have tea with the likes of me."

Scorpius wrinkles his nose in the cutest way and glances back at his father, who by now schooled his face to neutrality, "We never have anyone over. I can't wait!" He rushes off in a breeze of messy blond hair and carefree laughter dragging his father behind, looking as if he's been sentenced to an afternoon of torture. Hermione chooses amusement instead of insult that her presence at tea would cause such feelings.

"Well it's about time this happened."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione turns her attention to the woman running the apothecary booth, "About time what happened?"

The woman gives her a knowing smile, "Mr. Malfoy. Having a lady to tea."

Fumbling with her words, Hermione finally stutters out, "Oh, no… I'm sure Malfoy has no interest in me like… that. Be-besides, what would his wife say? Or girlfriend?" She flaps her hands in confusion and frustration, "He's not interested in me." She concludes.

"He's a widower, dear," the woman tells her with a bit of admonition in her voice. Hermione feels aptly chastised at her judgement, but also a bit heartbroken knowing that precious little boy is growing up without a mother. And try as she might, she softens toward Malfoy knowing he's lost his partner, or perhaps the great love in his life; and despite his upbringing is raising a lovely young man.

But she feels the need to clarify her relationship with Malfoy, lest anyone in the town get the wrong idea about the two of them, "We're simply old acquaintances from our school days. I assure you he held no affection for me then, nor does he now." With that, Hermione exchanges her pounds for a variety of bath salts and soaps and hastens away from the booth determined to have an entirely platonic tea with Malfoy and his son.

"Hermione, you're here!" Scorpius' smile beams up at her from beyond the threshold and she presents him a twine wrapped package to him. He takes it from her hand and sniffs it, his eyes growing wide at the aroma emanating from the box. He runs off leaving her standing on the stoop with the door wide open. "Dad! There's something chocolate in here!"

Malfoy drifts into view in the doorway opposite Hermione, shifting with a practiced ease to allow Scorpius passage. One eyebrow veers upward as he considers her, "Did you expect an engraved invitation?" And with that, he disappears into the next room. This is obviously the warmest reception she can expect from him so she steps inside and pulls the door closed behind her.

The front room is bright and inviting, with soft furniture in neutral colors punctuated with a bright throw pillow here and there; a basket of colorful toys sits at the end of the sofa.

It's exactly as she would expect a room in this charming house, but in direct opposition to the Malfoy she's known since she was eleven. Though it's fair to suppose that as life has changed her perhaps it's changed him too; especially knowing that he's lost his wife.

Pounding footsteps precede Scorpius's reentry to the front room, "Come on, Hermione. The tea's getting cold." He grabs her hand and almost drags her through to the small dining area. The table is set with simple white china, beautiful, but utilitarian. But the fragrance of the tea is intoxicating. Chamomile with a hint of mint, a promise of tranquility and relaxation, and she resolves to remain calm throughout this social experiment that is tea with Draco Malfoy.

"Join us won't you, Granger." He might be teasing her, but Hermione smiles at him and thanks him quietly as she takes the chair across from him at the small table.

Scorpius clambers into the chair between them and begins to fill his plate with the chocolate tarts she picked up from the bakery. The three of them are quiet as teacups are filled and the offerings sampled, and Scorpius slurps his tea and nibbles on a tart, the chocolate filling leaving a ring around his mouth and a bright shine to his icy blue eyes. He shares a smile with Hermione and the two of them giggle a moment before the clearing of a throat draws her attention across the table.

A placid smile graces her lips as she tilts her head in question to Malfoy. He's wholly unaffected and sips his tea with that aristocratic air he was born to possess. "So, Granger, what heroic things have you undoubtedly been up to these last few years?"

A scowl would be bad manners, so she tries to cover her irritation with a sip of tea before she answers. "Nothing heroic I'm afraid. I was working at the Ministry until recently." She goes for self-deprecating, a defense mechanism she employs often to try and avoid talking about herself, especially since she doesn't see her time at the Ministry as productive or enriching to herself or the Wizarding world at large.

Malfoy, of course, can always be counted on to draw her into a debate. "I can imagine having to toe the line was difficult for you after all those years of unchecked rule breaking."

"Hermione," Scorpius is earnest, "breaking the rules is naughty."

"You're absolutely right, Scorpius. Rules exist for a reason." Looking from Scorpius to Malfoy she continues, "And I assure you, any rule breaking I took part in was to protect myself and those I loved from danger."

"Well, that is something I can agree with," Malfoy reaches over to run his hand over Scorpius's hair, "Protecting those you love." The young man stuffs another tart in his mouth unaware of the depth of conversation taking place around him.

The remainder of tea is quiet. Soon the cups are drained and only one tart remains, which Hermione assures Scorpius he can have. Malfoy gathers the cups and the crumb strewn platter, and she knows that's her cue to leave.

Scorpius is rolling on the floor trying to attract Ollie with a string and she hears the rush of water in the adjoining kitchen. Distracted as she is by the comfortable domestic scene and the loneliness she knows awaits her at her own warm cottage, she doesn't stop to think about the fact that Draco Malfoy is washing dishes.

"Scorpius, don't forget the evening chores," Malfoy calls and Scorpius jumps up from his place on the floor, bidding her a hasty farewell as he and Ollie bound out the back door.

"Bye, Scorpius. See you around, Malfoy" She mutters, her posture slumped as she leaves their home and trudges across yet another field toward her solitude.

She doesn't see the grey eyes that peer through the kitchen window watching as the late afternoon light glints off her windblown curls, contemplating the series of events that brought the tenacious and resourceful witch into their lives.

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