A/N: The second chapter of the day.

Chapter 2

"Uh…" Hermione began as she tried to overcome her surprise while simultaneously weighing her options. It took a few seconds of her standing with her mouth hanging open before she decided on, "Yes. And yes. Soup sounds more than lovely."

Puddifoot smiled even brighter, saying, "I suppose I would sound that way if I had walked here from the school. Yeh did walk again, did yeh not?"

"I did," was Hermione's reply as she removed her cloak and made her way to the table she favorited in a corner, all the while deciding that focusing on Draco Malfoy in any way would be a bad call on her part. "It clears my head."

"As yeh mentioned yesterday, lass. Yeh a brave one, indeed. Bloody awful out there..." Puddifoot mused aloud as she walked back into the kitchen.

Not even a minute passed wherein Madam Puddifoot stood in the kitchen ladling soup into a large bowl. In this time, the two patrons in the front were forced to sit together in a raw silence; as aware and heavy and quiet as the snow falling on the world outside. Draco didn't so much as lift a utensil to eat. He merely sat at the bar, face downcast, and Hermione simply sat in her chair, her eyes avoiding him at all costs as she sat with a perfect vantage point to appreciate his profile.

She did no such thing, obviously, as she busied herself with checking her grey jumper and black trousers. She reminded herself that she hadn't come here to focus on nonsense as Draco Malfoy. The aim of her visit was fresh food, to support local business rather than local slavery. She'd wanted to have a warm meal before trekking back to the school in the freezing cold.

Hermione did not, not ever, want to share a most uncomfortable silence with Draco Malfoy while they sat as the only two people in an eatery small enough to hear the other breathing. But, as luck would have it, that was exactly what was going to happen.

Madam Puddifoot brought Hermione her soup with the promise of returning with some earl grey and cream, as the younger witch usually ordered her tea. Hermione almost forgot to ask for her creme brulee, but thankfully she remembered, while also having the foresight to ask if she could get it wrapped up so she could take it with her back to the school. She didn't want to spend any extra time at Puddifoot's while Draco was there.

And not just for obvious reasons….

She knew he'd see it.

See her.

He'd recognise that she was not what she once was, because, at his trial, she could tell that he himself was no longer his old self. He was some Draco-esque shell, no longer the extroverted arse hat of days gone by. He'd hardly lifted his head at his trial in mid-September, the one Hermione had had to leave school to attend. He'd only done so once or twice since she entered the restaurant, and only because he'd been addressed by the Madamee. During these instances, he didn't speak, but simply nodded or shook his head at the elder witch in reply.

At some point, Draco had begun eating his soup, and Hermione had done the same. Madam Puddifoot had ensured the happiness of her two patrons- delivering and filling tea cups and water glasses- and once deciding all was well with them (as far as food and drinks go) she moved to the back and continued her evening duties of prepping and cleaning for closing time.

When her soup was almost finished, which didn't take too long, Hermione's creme brulee floated from the back, neatly enclosed in a brown paper take-out box, secured with a deep purple bow. A minute later, Puddifoot came out to personally hand Hermione the bill.

"If you need to stay longer and warm your bones, yeh should! It's only gotten worse out there since yeh arrived," Puddifoot said as she flicked her wand and sent Hermione's bowl back to the kitchen, all while the younger witch fished for tender in the pocket of her cloak.

The war heroine smiled lightly up at the concerned old witch, but shook her head none-the-less. "Thank you, but that seems like all the more reason to head back."

This answer hardly pacified Puddifoot, because she then responded, and in a tone that was more serious than the last. "At least stop by the stables and get a carriage back. The temperature has dropped nearly two degrees in the past half hour."

Hermione considered this information, and said, "If I leave now I'll be fine. Walking is good for me at the moment."

She couldn't help it. At the thought of what haunted her day and night, what caused her to face treacherous weather for the sake of good walk, she had to glance at Draco. She noted he had kept his back to her.

Hermione then looked back to Puddifoot, the old woman looking over her shoulder at her only other patron, then back to Hermione with curiosity in her eyes. But before she could ask anything, Hermione threw her cloak over her shoulders, grabbed up her packaged dessert, and made for the door.

"Thank you, again, Madam Puddifoot," Hermione said as she walked around the old woman, but thought to pause at the door and add, "I'll be back for more of that amazing soup very soon. It was really, very good."

Puddifoot smiled gratefully, and gave a curt nod, but Hermione could see that there was still a tinge of worry in her eyes.

The bell jingled as the door shut behind her, and as she made her first steps back down the cobbles, her inquisitive gaze went through the store-front and landed on Draco one more time. Instead of finding his back, she met the dark grey of his eyes, but only for a second before she carried on.