Beta love to mcal. Any leftover mistakes are my own.
Hermione
From Draco, 7:12 A.M.: When would you like to leave for work?
Hermione felt her mobile vibrate from where it was tucked into the seam of her leggings. Glancing at her watch, she already knew who it was. For the last seven days—Not that she was counter, she wasn't—Malfoy had taken her to work. It was an easy habit to fall into, but she was distracted by the fact that she barely knew anything about him at all.
What she knew was little. He had a son, who was four and a half. He was a surgeon. Malfoy was a single parent, but she wasn't likely to ask anything pertaining to that. Though he probably only knew a handful about her, it was unnerving that he knew more.
For instance, in just a week, Malfoy knew how she took her coffee without asking Luna. He knew that she'd only want one of the pumpkin croissants if they were freshly made, and that work on Thursdays required espresso. He was also aware of her tendency to work late on Thursday nights to meet the deadline for Fridays, even though he'd only seen her for one Thursday, and Hermione was certain there would be another extra large coffee sitting for her in the cup holder of his car.
She climbed the steps of her complex, resting her hand along the iron railing.
To Draco, 7:50 A.M.: Just got home from my run. I'll jump in the shower, and get ready. 8:30?
A recurring worry of hers was that she was hindering his daily routine. He'd already told her that he was working nights for the next two weeks. By all rights, she was pretty sure that she already was causing him to shift his life around. Her protests for a ride fell on deaf ears each time, and he told her that she didn't need to walk home in the dark.
Well, she didn't need to, but she could. She'd done it before, Hermione had told him from over the rim of her sweet drink. He put the car into gear and rolled his eyes before ignoring her completely.
From Draco, 7:51 A.M.: Cutting it close, aren't you?
She snorted, tossing her mobile onto the bed before stripping. Leaving her clothes in a sweaty pile in the middle of her bedroom, she took a quick shower. Stepping into the stream of water before it could cool down at all, she exited the glass door in six minutes.
Hermione towel dried her body before eyeing the hair dryer with disdain. No matter, since she'd woken up late. Drying her the best she could in the time she had, Hermione settled for tying it up when it wasn't fully dry. Finishing the morning routine, applying the smallest amount of makeup she could to hide her blemishes, she swiped mascara across her lashes before dressing.
Another new, slightly confusing development was that her appearance had improved. She'd never been lazy by any means, but she loved jeans, loved her sweaters that slipped off the edge of her shoulder. The sudden change to the skirts that had been hanging in the back of her closet for some time hadn't gone unnoticed; Molly and Ginny had been quick to point it out at Sunday dinner this past week.
Despite telling herself that she wasn't looking to impress anyone, Hermione knew it had everything to do with the surgeon that was starting to act more like a friend rather than an acquaintance. Even if that was how it started, it certainly wasn't why it continued. Compliments were nice, but she'd noticed the extra confidence in her step.
It seemed like a small thing, her confidence getting a boost, and it felt silly that a change of clothes had caused it. Hermione stepped into a pair of simple flats while pulling small strands of hair from her bun to frame her face.
She grabbed her handbag on the way out the door, locking the door behind her before hurrying down the steps. His car idled at the curb as usual, the passenger side door already unlocked for her to slip inside. Setting her handbag on the floor, she pulled the belt across her chest.
"Here," Draco said, nodding to the cup sitting between them. "As a medical professional, I feel duty-bound to inform you that your coffee intake is going to be the death of you."
Her nose crinkled when she gave a quiet laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I only drink this much on Thursdays. It's hardly going to kill me."
Before pulling away from the curb, he gave her a terse look. "Maybe you're unaware, but you're not supposed to consume an entire week's worth of espresso in one sitting. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest."
Gently blowing on her coffee, she arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that a medical improbability, Dr Malfoy?"
"Oi, fuck off," he grumbled, but the edge of his lips twitched. "How was the run?"
Small talk, she grimaced. Hermione had never been good with idle chatter designed to fill the silence. "It was fine. I only made it halfway through before visiting with a neighbour. He walks his dog in the mornings, and Fluffy tends to take me down on sight."
He choked on a laugh. "How big is Fluffy?"
A smirk curled her lips as she considered his reaction. "Fluffy is a ninety-kilo Mastiff. Hagrid rescued him from a shelter last year. Poor thing was skin and bone then."
"Jesus Christ. And he just lunges at you?"
"Might be the dog treats I carry in my pocket for him." Hermione shrugged.
"You like dogs then?"
That was a mild way of putting it. "I do. I've never had a dog since my mother had a small allergy, but sometimes I visit the shelter with Hagrid. He likes to volunteer."
"What do you do when you volunteer?" He slowed to a stop, tapping his fingers on the wheel.
Hermione took a good, subtle look when he was staring at the stalled traffic in front of them. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans that looked too good on him, and a dark blue button up. He'd rolled the sleeves up halfway to his elbows, and there was a watch on his left wrist.
Draco cleared his throat.
Right, he'd asked her a question. "Whatever they need. Sometimes I walk dogs, or other times I'll give them a bath. On occasion, they need to be taken to the vet for appointments, but they try to keep that to the employees only."
"Why haven't you adopted one yet if you like them so much?"
"My lease doesn't allow pets. Maybe when I no longer live in a flat, I'll adopt one finally." Hermione stopped herself from rambling of how she wasn't sure how she'd ever pick one to take home. "Do you have any pets?"
He shook his head. "Tori, uh," he coughed, "didn't like cats or dogs particularly. She didn't want any hair from shedding in the house, but Scorpius loves animals."
She could imagine his son wanted to pet any animal he happened across. "Cute," Hermione smiled. The blunder with his ex's name was smoothed over. It wasn't as if she would ask him about it anyway. "How is Scorpius?"
Draco's smile broadened. "Great, thank you. He asks about you now every time he calls."
Her heart clenched as her eyes widened. That was a surprise. "He does?" She asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the Quibbler. "But I only met him the once."
He parked in front of the door, letting his car idle in the circle drive. "Yes, I know, but you left a lasting impression." His chest rumbled with a laugh. "He asked this morning how you were feeling. I told him you were feeling much better."
Her chest warmed, but her stomach knotted. "He's so sweet."
"Not sure where he got that from," Draco muttered. "He asked how your friend was doing. More specifically he asked, 'Is Mione's friend awake now?'"
Ron was making a good recovery, having been released from the hospital two days earlier. He was walking upright, even though it was with a limp, and he complained about the mandated physical therapy, but he was alive. And that was all she cared about. "Be sure to tell him it's all thanks to you."
She'd thanked him several times already, so she didn't say it again.
"He asked if you hung his drawing on the fridge. Which," Draco swallowed. "I don't expect you to. He's not—anyway, I'm going to tell him you did."
She shouldn't have been offended that he thought she hadn't hung it up. "No, I said I would. I hung it up as soon as I got home. Sent my mum a picture of it actually," Hermione pulled her mobile from her handbag, scrolling for the picture. She held it out, showing him.
"This is immediately after I took you home." He seemed surprised.
Hermione nodded. "I meant what I said."
He stared at it, tilting his head to the side.
"I don't look the best, all things considered." She tried for the casual approach; the picture was simple, just of her standing in front of her fridge, pointing to the drawing with a wide smile on her face.
"All things considered, you look great." He tapped the screen, and she watched as he sent himself the picture. "I hope you don't mind, but it'll make his day."
"It's fine." Hermione grabbed her purse from the floor and her phone from his outstretched hand. "Thank you for bringing me to work again. I know you'll be at the hospital tonight by the time I leave, and—"
He held up a hand. "As long as nothing happens, I should be able to take a break whenever you're ready to go home. It's no problem."
"Luna can pick me up. It's no problem, really."
He waved her off. "It's fine. Have a good day, Granger."
From Draco, 11:01 P.M.: Do you think Luna could take you home? A patient was just brought to the ER and they're prepping him for surgery now.
To Draco, 11:02 P.M.: Of course. Have you eaten?
To Draco, 11:02 P.M.: I know that's not what you're thinking about right now, but just answer the question.
From Draco, 11:03 P.M.: Are you about to offer to bring me dinner?
To Draco, 11:03 P.M.: Do you want it?
From Draco, 11:04 P.M.: I would kill someone for an omelette right now. Don't feel obligated, but if you do, bring me one from that diner down the street from the Three Broomsticks. It's the first one on the menu.
To Draco, 11:05 P.M.: Earl Grey?
From Draco, 11:05 P.M.: Just water, thank you. I won't be replying after this. If you don't stop by, at least let me know you got home.
Hermione stared at her screen, wondering not for the first time what the fuck had she gotten herself into?
Draco
"Some girl brought you food. It's at the nurse's station." Katie poked her head into the room. "She told me to tell you she was taking a cab home, so she'd be fine. Girlfriend?"
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"That's not what Wanda from NeoNatal said."
He rolled his eyes, turning the faucet off. "Wanda from NeoNatal is nosy, and has no idea what she's talking about."
Katie shrugged. "Whatever. She was pretty though. You could do a lot worse. Anyway, food," she reminded him.
"Is she still here?"
"Just left, probably hasn't even made it to the exit yet if you want to catch her." Katie flattened herself against the wall as he briskly walked out of the room. "Alright then."
He hurried down the corridor, making his way through the emergency room. Draco caught sight of her just as she turned down the next corridor. "Granger!"
Appearing around the corner once more, Granger had taken steps backwards. She raised an eyebrow. "Surgery already over?"
He nodded, coming to stand in front of her. "Yes. I didn't think you would really bring me food."
She frowned. "Didn't I offer to? I don't normally say I'll do things and then not do them."
"I didn't mean—Thank you, truly."
"The woman who took my order knew who you were. She asked me if I wanted any sauce, and I said to just throw it in the end since I had no idea what you wanted. Mentioned it was for a friend working a long shift at the hospital, and she knew."
"Oh," he blinked. "Yes, I've been eating there nearly every day at this point. I like the Three Broomsticks, but they don't serve much for dinner."
Granger leaned against the wall, folding her arms over her chest. "You eat there every day?"
Draco raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never go to the grocery. I work so much that I don't make time, and it's easier to pick something up."
"You're kidding." She sniggered. "Draco, do you have any idea how much money you would save if you bought the ingredients and made your omelettes yourself. And yeah, she mentioned that it's the only thing you buy."
He could feel the tips of his ears burning. "Admittedly, I'm not very good at cooking."
"I find that hard to believe," Hermione said quietly. "I'll teach you if you like."
"Why?"
"You've gotta learn how. Plus, omelettes are really easy. Think of it as me repaying you for chauffeuring me around all this time."
"Speaking of—"
She shook her head. "Go eat your food, and I will take a taxi home. Please. Should you be leaving the hospital anyway?"
Well, no. Draco swallowed, realising he'd been acting foolishly by thinking he could just leave. "Alright, you're right."
"Usually am." She turned away from him. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "The waitress put extra toast in there for you. I'll see you in the morning. Have a good night." She disappeared around the corner with little else.
Hermione
Three days later, Hermione still didn't have a car. There was a delay, something about her car had smashed against a tree at a certain angle. Though there probably wasn't any angle her car could have hit and it be fine, Hermione sighed and signed the invoice that presented her with for an entirely new plan of repairs.
She'd begun to wish her car had just been utterly totalled, and then she could have signed another five year note. As it was, the repairs would almost cost more than what she owed. It was a cluster fuck, as Ron put it.
Sunday found her at the Three Broomsticks, balancing her phone on her leg while she arranged her computer just how she wanted. The flowery file was set to the right of her computer, precariously close to the sugary drink that was also too close to the edge. Sighing, she moved the cup before it could make a mess and she settled into her chair.
She had at least an hour before Charlie would fetch her for Sunday dinner.
That was another thing. Between Molly wondering if Hermione liked her surgeon friend, and hoping to still get to Hermione as part of the family, legally, she found herself in the middle of a lot. Following the wreck, Charlie announced at the last family dinner that he'd interviewed for a job in London.
He was still waiting to hear back, but they had requested he remain local if he could until a decision. Charlie being, well, himself, proclaimed that he had nothing better to do since he'd already quit his job for the new one; which he hadn't officially gotten, but he said he had a feeling and everyone should go along with it.
Placing her headphones snugly in her ears, she returned to her project. It was nothing for the moment, but she flipped through the pages of ideas. There were only so many ways to take a story, and—
Her headphones were ripped out of her ears. Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as she met Draco's eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" She growled. "You scared the fuck out of me!"
He held up his hand. "I understand that, and I promise that I will leave you alone if you'll do me a favour."
Hermione groaned and closed the lip of her laptop, flipping her folder shut before he could see a list of characteristics that would be too familiar. "What could you possibly want?"
"If it sways you any, it's for Scorpius..."
"You son?" She blinked. "Is he with you?"
"No."
She tilted her head to the side, catching sight of Luna pinching Neville's arse behind the counter. "I don't understand."
Draco took the seat next to her, holding his phone out. "Will you please video chat with my son because he has not stopped asking about you since he met you. He also told me this morning it's not very nice of me to not share friends."
She slapped a hand over her mouth as she let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God."
He shook his head, running his fingers through his gelled hair. "My own son, my four-year-old, told me sharing is caring. And then he told me that I was a jerk."
"Sounds like you are a jerk, withholding his friends, and everything." Her shoe knocked against his shin beneath the table. "You're sure he wants me to call?"
He blew out a sharp breath. "Yes, look!" Draco pointed to his phone where his mother's photo appeared on the screen. "I guarantee that's him already calling."
Hermione crossed her legs beneath the table. "Check before you hand me the phone. No offence, but I don't particularly want to chat with your mum randomly."
He swiped a finger across the screen, holding his mobile up as the rustling in the background on the other side of the line became clear. "Scorp—"
"Jerk." Came a small voice, followed by a grumpy "Hmmph."
Draco shot her a desperate look.
She laughed, taking the phone and propping it up against the napkin dispenser in front of them. "Heard you wanted to talk to me." Hermione smiled. "How are you?"
Scorpius' face lit up, his lips parting in surprise as he clapped his hands. "I'm great! How are you?"
"I'm well. What do you have there?" Hermione pointed toward the bottom of the screen where he clutched something in his hands.
He held up an illustrated book, opening it and showing her the first page. "Dad bought this for me last time I was there."
"Yes," Draco nudged her, whispering. "And we read it fifteen times a day for an entire weekend."
Hermione sipped her drink as Scorpius told her all about his new favourite book. It was about a hero and a dragon, but in the end, they became friends.
As Scorpius exited the screen, presumably to grab something else to show them, she looked at his father. "You bought him a book about dragons? Conceited, maybe?"
"Oh, yes." He snorted, jabbing her in the ribs lightly with his elbow. "Is Hermione for the daughter of Menelaus and Helen, or is it for Shakespeare?"
She lifted her chin. "Shakespeare if you'd really like to know."
"Pretentious, no?"
Hermione jabbed him right back in his ribs, her hit much harder, and left him wheezing as Scorpius reappeared. "Oh, what's that?"
He lifted up one drawing, which Hermione recognised as his father and Scorpius. "This is Daddy and me."
"It's marvellous." Hermione gushed, resting her chin on her knuckles. "Do you like to draw?"
He bobbed his head up and down. "Mumma doesn't like it though."
She looked to Draco, her brows knitting together. It wasn't her business, but Draco's expression revealed that he was just as stunned as her. "What do you mean?" Draco asked. He scooted closer to her, pressing himself into the frame. "She doesn't like that you draw?"
Scorpius' lower lip trembled, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "I make a mess," he stated. "I leave out papers, and my crayons leave marks on the furniture. I'm not supposed to have them on the couches."
Hermione thought that part sounded reasonable, but didn't like the sound of this woman so far. Not that she knew much about her anyway. Watching as Draco contained his anger was uncomfortable. It was a parent to child moment, and she didn't belong in the middle of it. Hermione moved to stand, to give Draco a moment, but his hand settled on her thigh beneath the table.
"It's fine." He murmured. "Scorpius, I'll talk to her about it. If you make a mess, that's perfectly okay. Messes can be cleaned, but it's important to learn how to clean them yourself as well."
His son nodded with a smile. "Can I show 'Mione my room at Grandmumma's?"
Hermione rested her arms on the table. "I would love to see it."
Scorpius sprinted through the house, carrying the mobile with him as he went. He took time to point out paintings—which he called old and dusty—but didn't give enough time for her to see them. She didn't mind.
So, Hermione spent the hour of free time she'd had for writing on a digital tour of Scorpius' room. He showed her all of his books, his favourite was about a family of dragons. They went through his closet as he showed her all of the cool shirts he had, more of his drawings, and all of his toys.
She didn't have any complaints about how she spent the hour. Really, she was a little sad when Charlie walked into the coffee shop to pick her up. "Scorpius?" Hermione said. "I have to go now, but we'll talk again soon if you want."
He stared at her like he was sizing her up. "You won't mind?"
"Mind? Definitely not, I'd love to talk to you again." She lifted a finger as Charlie neared them, and he gave a nod, standing in place. "Bye for now!"
"Bye, 'Mione! Wait, wait!"
She looked at the screen. "Yes?"
"How is your friend?"
If her heart hadn't melted over the duration of the call itself, the question would have done it. Charlie heard it as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Ron is much better. Thank you, Scorpius."
He waved goodbye before hanging up. Draco slid his fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry to have taken all your time. I thought he would talk for ten minutes at the most."
"Never a bother." Hermione stood and slid her chair beneath the table. Packing her laptop and folders into her bag, she shouldered it. "Really, he's wonderful. I'm thankful that you let me talk to him even though I'm a stranger."
He smirked. "Not quite as much as a stranger as you used to be. You've already met my child and mother."
Her head fell back as she laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
Draco nodded, and she trailed after Charlie to his car.
Draco
He tried cooking an omelette himself after buying all of the ingredients from a local grocery. He threw it in the rubbish bin when it hadn't turned out as well as the one from the restaurant. Grabbing his keys, Draco opted for picking up breakfast instead.
His phone rang as soon as he closed the door. Answering through the car's Bluetooth, his mother's voice came through the speakers. "Good morning, darling."
"Morning,"
There was a clinking sound on the other side of the line, likely his mother stirring her morning tea. "How are you?"
"I'm well. I'm working the night shift this week so I'm picking up breakfast."
She probably rolled her eyes, given the huff that sounded through the speakers. "You should cook for yourself."
Draco deadpanned, "I tried and it was shite. Hermione told me it was easy to make an omelette, which she was right, but she neglected to tell me how it wasn't easy to make them taste good."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Narcissa latched onto them. "Hermione? How did that conversation come about?"
"She brought me food to the hospital; it came up." Following the silence that carried on for a few seconds too long, Draco added, "Don't read into that. We're friends."
There was a swallow. "Of course. She's lovely, and your son is besotted with her. She's all he would talk about yesterday night. Lucius nodded politely, but he may call you to ask who Hermione is."
"She's not my girlfriend if that's what he's going to ask me." Draco came to a stop in traffic, passing The Quibbler as he drove. "Do you know anything about Tori scolding Scorpius when he colours?"
"She mentioned that he left a stain on one of the new sofas, but I hadn't heard anything else. Why?"
He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, switching lanes of traffic as he looked over his shoulder. "He told Hermione and I that Tori didn't like when he drew. I understand making a mess and how it can be frustrating to stain a new couch, but he's four. I haven't talked to her about it, but he seemed upset."
"No doubt. Do let me know how that conversation goes?"
He nodded despite her not being able to see it. "I think you'll hear about it before I have the chance to."
There was an awkward silence as he knew she was about to change the subject, and she was deciding which way to go about it. "How is Hermione after the wreck?" Blunt was best apparently.
"She recovered well, not that she had many injuries to begin with. She was sore for the first couple of days, but now all she says is she'll be better once her car is fixed."
"Oh no!" Narcissa exclaimed. "It must be such a chore to take a cab every day."
Draco snorted loudly. "I'm the cab."
"You take her to work?" Narcissa asked. "And home? How do you manage that around your own schedule? Especially when you work nights since she works a day job as an editor."
His eyes narrowed. "How do you know that she's an editor? I never told you that."
She swallowed. "I know how to use the internet, Draco. Her photo online for The Quibbler is just gorgeous. Have you seen it?"
"I have not."
"I'll send it to you. Do you only take her to work and home, or do you help with any errands she has. Really, you should—"
He cut her off. "We're going grocery shopping the moment she's off today actually. She said she's gone through everything in her pantry now."
"How lovely of you to help her."
"Yes, I have to twist her arm for her to let me because she wants to walk everywhere," Draco muttered. "Any other questions you've been trying to work in?"
His mother laughed. "Only one. How is Ron? He was injured so badly when I met his mother, I was worried he wouldn't make it."
"He's made an excellent recovery, but Hermione tells me he's not happy about physical therapy." He parked in front of the restaurant. "How is your day?"
"Quiet. Your father is away so I can enjoy my morning without hearing about stocks and business deals. Eloise and I are going out for lunch later. Oh! Your birthday is in a couple of weeks, what day can you come to visit?"
"Mother, you don't need to host a party for me."
"Nonsense, you're my son, and I want to celebrate. If you'd like to bring someone, of course, feel free."
"I have said Hermione isn't my girlfriend, haven't I?"
The waitress behind the glass of the restaurant recognised him, waving politely. "I understand that. Even if you'd like to bring just a friend is welcome. As I said, Eloise and I—"
"No," he grumbled. "Tell me she's not trying to match me up with her daughter."
"I wouldn't want to lie."
"Yes, I'll bring someone than," Draco muttered. "I need to go, but I'll call you tomorrow if you like?"
"Sounds lovely. I love you, have a good day."
He murmured the same before pocketing his phone and hurrying inside. He'd just made it to the counter when his phone rang again in his pocket. "I'm sorry, excuse me," Draco stepped out of the way for the next patron, answering it with a grim look on his face as he saw his ex-wife's name. "Hello?"
There were no pleasant, but fake, greetings. "Who the fuck is 'Mione?"
He went rigid, pulling the phone away from his ear dumbfounded. "What?" He asked when he finally did reply. "Hermione is a friend of mine."
There was a crash, followed by a "Goddammit. Friend?" she snarled. "I somehow doubt that, Draco. What, did you just have a young girlfriend while we were going through a divorce and that's why you moved to London."
Draco waved to the waitress waiting for him to order as he stepped back and exited the restaurant. Walking quickly to his car as he told Astoria to hang on while he got himself alone, he slammed his door. "Are you fucking serious? You want to accuse me of infidelity when we both know you were fucking Theo behind my back? In our bed, Tori! In my house!"
"Don't turn this—"
"First of all," He snapped. "Even if Hermione was my girlfriend, it wouldn't be any of your business. We are divorced, which means we're free to pursue whoever we like. I've never, and would never, question you about your choices."
"I don't want some strange fucking woman around my son!" she screamed. "All he'll talk about is this b—woman, and I've never even met her."
"Then meet her if you want!" Draco growled. "I'm not going to apologise for having friends. I didn't choose to introduce Hermione to Scorpius. My mother brought him to the hospital two weeks ago, and Hermione was in a nearly fatal car the same night. She fainted in front Scorpius, that's why he knows her. He fucking drew her a get well card because she was my friend."
Ever the judgemental one, Astoria spat, "I don't want to meet your trashy girlfriend."
"Then I suggest you get used to the fact that Scorpius may see her. She's a close friend, Tori, and he likes her."
"He's four! He doesn't know who he likes!"
He was glad they weren't face to face, though it would have been the easiest way to sort things out. Draco wasn't sure he could stand the sight of her. "If I ask Scorpius how many men have been in our home, what will he tell me?"
She fell silent. "I'm his mother, I get to decide—"
"And I am his father. We have an agreement that was settled in court, Tori."
"I'll take you back if—"
"And I will fucking bury you," Draco replied smoothly. "If you want to meet her for yourself, you can. She's not a terrible person."
All he got in return was a dial tone.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. Lifting his phone, he made a decision as he looked at the clock. She'd be taking a break soon anyway, wouldn't she?
To Hermione, 11:54 A.M.: Lunch?
Hermione
She'd stared at the text, her eyes widening, for two seconds before replying in agreement. She told him that he bring her whatever he chose and that someone from the front desk would direct him to her office, though she could meet him in the lobby if he preferred.
Leaning back in her chair, she looked at the ceiling. The small file containing her handwritten notes for her own story looked back at her from the top of her desk, and she inhaled a sharp breath. While she'd been debating on how to write a love story, researching prompts and the like, it felt like she'd found herself in one. It wasn't going to go that way, she knew, but this was the sort of situation one didn't just find themselves in.
Twenty minutes later, Draco was let into her office by Lisa. The secretary mouthed, "Damn," as she closed the door behind her.
Hermione smoothed her skirt down as she stood, hurrying to take the two drinks he was balancing precariously. "Thank you." As they sat down, she noticed how his jaw was clenched. "What's wrong? She cleared her desk, making enough room for them to eat lunch.
"I'm not sure what you mean." He handed her utensils wrapped in plastic. "I'm fine."
She shook her head. "No, you're really not. Your jaw is clenched, your eyes are narrowed, and you keep glancing around the room as if you're expecting someone to jump out. I don't mind if you don't want to talk about it, but it would just be nice if you told me the truth."
He knee bumped against the underside of her desk. "You're sure?"
Hermione smiled. "I'm a good listener."
"I was married."
Her gaze diverted to his left hand. "I thought it might have been something like that. You're divorcing then?"
He shook his head. "No, we've been divorced since," Draco had to stop to think of it. "last August? The months have blurred together since I'm still dealing with her."
Hermione popped a chip into her mouth, nodding. "Since she's Scorpius' mother?"
"Correct. She's the mother of my child; she'll always be a part of my life now. I don't hate that. Tori wasn't always this way."
"Did something happen?"
He sighed. "Scorpius hasn't stopped talking about you, and he talked to Tori about you."
The blood drained from Hermione's face as she dropped her chip. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry if I've caused you this—"
He held a hand out, pausing her. "It's not at all your fault. She called me this morning and accused me of having a girlfriend while we divorcing, meaning you, and that you're the reason I've moved to London. It's preposterous, but once she starts I can't get her to stop."
Hermione swallowed, letting that information sink in. "I'm guessing she didn't believe you when you told her that wasn't true?"
"Even if she did, she'd find something else to say. The main thing and this is what may affect you, is that she's angry I've brought someone around our son. She's never met you."
"I can understand, as much as one can when they don't have children, why she wouldn't be happy. If it's only going to cause problems, I don't have to talk to Scorpius anymore. I don't want to be the reason the two of you are fighting."
"Noble, but no. I told her that I have just as much right as she does and that my friends will be around my son. But the other thing is that while she was screaming that she had never met you, I told her she could meet you."
Hermione slumped in her chair, her lips parting. She wasn't sure what to say to that. "Well, fuck."
"You're angry."
"No," she said slowly. "It makes sense. It's fair to her that she meets who is around her son. I can honour that. It's just that she sounds like a massive pain in the arse, and I'm not looking forward to meeting her."
He chuckled. "I thought you were going to be furious."
"Oh, I am." Hermione drawled. "Not for myself, for you. I don't know who she thinks she is, but it's not her choice who her ex-husband socialises with. I understand that I'm currently only hearing the bad things about her, and there may be good things, but… I have nothing nice to say about her."
He cut into his omelette, steadily ignoring her laugh as she noticed his food.
"Can I ask why you divorced?"
He laid his fork down, looking straight at her. "Our marriage had been circling the drain for a while, and I thought it was me to blame. I wanted to fix it, but then I learned she'd been having an affair since Scorpius turned two. It was my best friend. I went to visit Theo—it was the anniversary of his mother's death—I didn't notice he was hiding anything. But then I looked down and on the table was Tori's wedding set. I knew right then that she was in the house. All of her disappearances and her attitude made sense then. I filed for divorce the next morning."
Her hand raised to her mouth in horror. "Draco, oh my God." Hermione leaned forward, grabbing his hand without thinking. "I'm so sorry."
His thumb swiped across her knuckles. "I've made my peace with it."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say, but you must know it was her loss."
Draco's smile was melancholy at best. "I'm not heartbroken to have lost her at all. Not seeing my son every day, however, is devastating."
Hermione glanced down at the calendar stretching across her desk. "Is she a good mum to him at least?"
He nodded. "For all her faults, no matter how many there are, she's a wonderful mother to Scorpius."
At least there was that then. "It's admirable that you try to maintain a relationship with her. It can't be easy."
He chewed, seemingly debating what he would say next. "What's the story with you and Charlie? The one who picked you up?"
Blinking, Hermione grabbed a chip. "There's nothing to tell. He's like an older brother."
"You aren't together?"
She choked on her food. "No!"
Draco snorted, covering his mouth as he chewed. "Forgive me, I assumed."
"I dated Ron for a long time, thought we would be married by now with a kid or two." She shrugged. "Didn't work out so their mom is trying to pair me off with Charlie so I'm legally a Weasley."
He glanced around the room, from her walls and the various awards placed on the highest shelf. "How's that going for her?"
"Charlie lets her think it might happen so she'll leave him alone about settling down." She glanced up to where he was staring. "Find something interesting?"
"What are they from?"
Rolling her shoulders, and lifting another chip her mouth, she replied, "Creative writing while I was in university mostly." Hermione pulled the drawer to her right open and withdrew a framed check. Sliding it across the desk, she watched as Draco picked it up. "First and only time I ever sold a story."
"This is six years ago," he commented. "Have you never submitted another?"
She shook her head. "No, I haven't finished a story worth a damn since that one. I keep it close so I remember the feeling I had when I succeeded."
Hermione knew what he would ask before he opened his mouth. "Can I read it?"
"If you can find it. It's under a pseudonym." Kicking her heels off below the desk, she grinned. "Good luck with that one."
The clock sounded with each passing second in the corner of her office. "You now know how my marriage ended. Can I ask why your relationship with Ron ended?"
"Mostly because we're incompatible. We argue a lot, and not the sort of arguments forgotten. We've always been better off as friends."
"Is he in love with you?"
She froze. So he has remembered what she'd told him after the wreck. The events of that night were still fuzzy around the edges in places. "No. He doesn't want to be alone and he thinks I can be a safety net."
The impeccably dressed man across from her frowned. "You're much more than a safety net."
She lifted her head. "Thank you," Hermione murmured. "And thank you for lunch as well. How much was mine?"
"Zero cost to you."
"How much cost to you then?"
"It doesn't matter." Draco insisted.
Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbing the bag and pulling the receipt out. He shot out of his chair, snatching it right out of her hand.
Only it ripped. Hermione was left with the side that said how much he'd paid for his food. "For fuck's sake, you're spending too much money on omelettes!" she sniggered.
"In my defence, I did make one this morning. It tasted terrible."
Relaxing in her chair, she only shook her head.
"I'll leave you to get back to work." Draco gathered his trash, boxing up what was left of his food. "Thank you for having lunch with me."
"The door is always open. I enjoyed it. See you in a few hours?"
"Mushrooms, right?" Hermione held up the package, looking across the trolley at Draco.
Currently, he was holding two boxes of cereal, deciding which he wanted through a series of quietly murmured questions such as taste, how much the box contained, and other things. She found it endearing really. At the clearing of her throat, Draco lifted his head. "What did you say?" His eyes darted to the package she held high in her hand. "Yes, please."
She crossed it from the list she'd scribbled. "Alright, milk is close by. I'll go grab that; do you think you can decide on a box of cereal before I get back?"
In a move that wasn't like him, he stuck out his tongue while he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I'll manage."
Hermione did just as she said, grabbing the milk before marking off several items on the list. Carefully bundling milk, a bag of roasted potatoes, and two bags of bagels, she made her back to Draco. He wasn't in the same spot she left him. Looking up and down the aisle, Hermione winced as her arms grew weak while searching through the store. She was about to yell his name when she heard hers.
Pivoting on her heel, she saw that he was leaning on the trolley with a smirk on his face. "Did you get lost?" He straightened as she neared him, taking the potatoes and milk from her hands.
Hermione grinned. The cart was filled now, both with his items and hers. "Did you grab my tea? I get a certain kind."
Draco leaned forward, grabbing a box and tossing it to her. "That one?"
She nodded.
"Not like it was difficult; you wrote down the kind you wanted."
Hermione knew that. More than once, she'd grabbed the wrong one by reaching toward the shelf blindly so she left herself a reminder. Still, Ron had never actually read her lists, choosing to just see 'tea' and operate on that alone. "I didn't know if you read it."
He arched an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I? You wrote it down for a reason, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Hermione replied.
They went through the checkout line together, but she placed the divider between their purchases. The clerk eyed Draco, her cheeks heating up each time she did. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen, and Hermione hid her smile behind her sleeve.
There was certainly something alluring about Draco. Whether it was his eyes, which were a unique shade of grey that she still didn't believe was real, or his build. Tall, and muscular, Draco stood a head and a half taller than her. As always, he was dressed impeccably well, from the leather shoes he wore to the casual pair of jeans that fit him perhaps too well, and the jumper he wore.
He almost always rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms, and the veins standing out from them.
"Hermione," he said. "You can pay now."
Recovering with a cough, Hermione pretended she hadn't been drinking in the sight of him just like the teenage girl behind the counter.
She helped load the bags into the trunk of his car before sliding into the passenger seat. Given the last two weeks, he probably knew the way to her home as well as he knew his own. The drive was quiet, save for the music spilling from the radio. As he parked in front of her complex, she moved to get out but found him following suit.
"What are you doing?"
He opened his trunk, gathering all of her groceries in one hand. "Carrying these in for you? If you don't mind me being in your flat, that is."
Water rippled as she stepped in a puddle, her eyes widening. "Of course I don't mind, but I could carry it. It's not much."
He shook his head, motioning with his free hand. "Lead the way."
Hurrying up her steps, Hermione waved to Michael who was just leaving his own flat. "Hello," she greeted politely.
He opened his mouth, seconds from saying anything, and it snapped shut as he saw Draco standing behind her. "Hello," Michael replied and disappeared down the steps.
She unlocked her door quickly, pushing it open, and immediately locking it behind Draco. "You can just put everything on the kitchen counter. I'll put it all away." Suddenly, her living room felt much smaller as Draco emerged from her kitchen. She could make small talk while he took her to work, or brought her home, but in her flat?
His laughter rumbled in his chest. "You look like you're going to be sick."
Not her best impression, she supposed. "I'm not great with small talk. You're standing there, and I realised I had nothing to say."
Draco made a sound that she thought was a snort. "Right. Well, I think I have something that might fill to space then." He stepped toward her bookcase, his long fingers trailing across the spines of various notebooks.
He pulled out a small one that had been bound by a shop not far from her flat for one of her birthdays. "This is the one that won the award?"
Her mouth fell open. "Are you stalking me? There's no way you walk into my flat for the first time, and just pick it off the shelf."
His smirk was irritating at best as he thumbed the pages. "You're right. The only reason I've been taking you to work isn't to be a dependable friend, but to stalk you. I break in every night."
Hermione choked. "It's absolutely terrifying how you can say that with a straight face. How do I know you haven't been breaking in?"
His shoulders shook. "Because I could never sneak into anything. I may be skilled with my hands, but I swear to you that if I attempt climbing through that window right now, I'll knock everything off the shelf."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Let's see it then."
"You're shitting me."
She cocked her head to the side. "If you do it, I'll let you take that home and read it." Hermione grinned ear to ear as he slapped the small book into her hand. "You're doing it?"
He shot an obscene gesture her way. "At least unlock the window since I also can't pick a lock."
Hermione giggled. "Some stalker you are."
"Yes, well," he pulled the door open. "I can't be good at everything."
After unlocking the door, Hermione settled on her sofa, and a thought crossed her mind. She really, really, hoped none of her neighbours saw the scene and called the police. He managed to get one foot inside before realising he was never going to fit through that way. Grumbling that he was glad he went to medical school and ignoring her outburst of laughter, Draco finally climbed through...
...And knocked every single last thing off of her shelf before his shoe caused a vase to break against the floor. Draco crawled into the floor, lying on his back while glaring at her. "I've never done anything so ridiculous in my life."
She grinned and handed the short story over. "Come see me when you're done."
Hermione
He dropped the book on her table while she sipped her drink. "You finished, I take it?"
He glared at her, his jaw clenched as he pushed the offensive story toward her. "She died." He hissed, ripping a seat out and sinking into it. "And yes, I finished. It wasn't very long, which didn't matter considering how much you packed into it."
A smile curved her lips. "Thank you."
Shaking a finger at her, he continued. "I'm not complimenting you, not yet anyway. You killed her, Granger! Absolutely killed her!"
Luna was watching them from behind the counter.
Closing her laptop, Hermione nodded. "I'm aware. I wrote it actually. I wrote that scene first on the back of a napkin in the middle of a coffee shop in France."
"You wrote her dying first?"
Hermione nodded again. Crossing her legs in her chair, she laid her hands in her lap. "I was inspired by something that happened while I was in the coffee shop. Obviously, I didn't plan it, but it just stuck."
Draco tabled his anger that the main character was dead for the time being. "You were inspired by a true event? What was it?"
Blinking, she swallowed. It wasn't something that normally happened. Her friends knew she wrote, of course, but they didn't take an interest in the process of it. "Um, there was a car wreck outside of the coffee shop. Patrons ran out of the shop in an attempt to help, but the husband was killed. I've never felt that sort of devastation before. I was one of the ones outside, and I tried to help the wife. I never got her name."
"You spoke to her?"
"I sat with her while emergency responders arrived. She cried into my shoulder, and told me that when the other vehicle cut them off, her husband was in the middle of laughing, and telling her he loved her." A chill ran down her spine. "She told me it was like hearing every goodbye she'd ever heard at once."
"Oh, God." Draco blanched. "I can't imagine—"
"It's terrifying, isn't it? To love someone even though anything could happen? I try not to think about it, and I wrote that scene only because there were all of these knots in the pit of my stomach."
His knee bumped against hers. He said nothing. Maybe he didn't know what to say.
"I used the feelings I had, and then I didn't find it until it fell out of my bag some months later. From there, I was just noticing things in other couples. Ron and I were on the downslope of our own relationship, so I was more observant when it came to others."
He leaned forward, resting his cheek against his hand as his elbow sat against the table. "How did you come up with the idea? Do you remember?"
Tucking a curl behind her ear, she remembered exactly how it had come about. "Yes. I was laying in bed, almost asleep, and it just happened. Like I said, I'd been observant. The scene kept sounding in my head, playing like a movie over and over again, so I built a story around it. Everything has an end, you know? It has to, so I worked backwards from that. It's the first time I've ever done it."
"It bloody well worked. This is the only time you've been published?"
"Besides my own articles and editorials, yes. I haven't been able to write anything worthwhile for a long time. I create projects, but none of them is what I want."
"Writer's block?" Draco guessed, fumbling.
She smiled. "Something like that. I worked on a fantasy novel, or the plot of one, for a few weeks in January for my New Years resolution, but fantasy is not my niche. Not one bit."
He looked at her curiously. "To be completely clear, I don't know anything about writing a book, but from what I read you've already found your niche."
"What do you mean?"
"I just mean that when I do read, it's typically not a romance novel, but I'll tell you I didn't set this down from the time I started it after leaving your flat. It lingered all throughout my shift at the hospital as well. As I said, all I can offer is my opinion, but it's not knowledgeable."
Hermione shifted in her seat. "You read it. I'd love to hear what you thought."
"The descriptions were visceral without being too descriptive, I thought. In the beginning, I was expecting a short love story since it starts while they're young, childhood friends who grow into adulthood with the other. You managed to capture snapshots of memories without lingering, which I enjoyed, and then it twisted."
He cleared his throat. "When she visited her physician and they told her the results, that there was nothing they could do, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut."
She tapped her pen against the table. "I'm always surprised to hear something I've written was enjoyed. Was there anything you would have changed? Or anything you noticed as the reader?"
He took a moment. "I think the first complaint I'd have is that I wanted it to be longer, but only because I'm not joking: I couldn't put it down. You're talented. You should be published right now, and reaping the royalties."
Hermione's cheeks burned. "Let's not get hasty here. You've read one thing."
"If the rest are as good as this, or even better, I stand by what I said. I can't offer anything for constructive criticism as I have no complaints. What I meant by you've found your niche, I think it's romance."
She grimaced. "At the risk of sounding like I am not a grown woman, I don't even know how to write about love. I drank so much wine drinking that, and it's a miracle it was—"
"You're putting yourself down. Don't. You hit something here, Hermione. I don't know what you want to write, but I think you could do it again. Maybe with less heartbreak, or maybe just the same."
She glanced at him, then flipped her notes open and scribbled on her stray characterization page: Encouraging. Reassuring.
June looks to be promising with fake dating and all of that. Thank you for reading! Until next month!