Hermione was on her way to Medici Café for her favorite breakfast of waffles and hot chocolate when Ginny arrived home.

"Looks like Runway Queen had a rough night," she greeted her roommate in light tone. After revealing the details about her first date with Lucius, Hermione reverted to a more private policy. Some things in a relationship just weren't meant to be shared, no matter badly she wanted to rant about the events of last night and the Blue Room. The only thing her friend knew about her break-up was that she and Lucius had a row.

"The after-party nearly did me in. Draco was nice enough to take me home," Ginny explained.

"I saw you two looking rather cozy," Hermione teased.

Ginny's eyes sparkled. "He tried to kiss me."

Hermione resisted the urge to remark at the irony of how two witches could be having a completely different experiences with Malfoy wizards.

"Tried? I take it he didn't succeed."

"Of course not," Ginny said. "I can't make it easy for him. I can't believe he was so bold as to do it in a room full of people. Mum will have a heart attack if it makes a Witch Weekly."

"That's not why you didn't…"

"Merlin, no!" She yawned. "I like him. A lot. But I don't think it's worth to ruin a good friendship for temporary lust. I mean look at you and Ron. It was never the same after you ended things. Ditto for Harry and me. I don't want to have the same thing happen with Draco." Ginny yawned again.

"Ugh, I doubt it'll come to that. Draco strikes me as more mature than those two. And how do you know it's temporary?"

Ginny shrugged. "I can't think about it now. I'm going to bed. I take it you're on your way to reconcile with your own hot blond."

Hermione gave her a sad smile and gave a noncommittal answer before bidding Ginny a good day.

Arriving at Medici Café, she took her usual table by the window and placed her usual order of waffles. As she drank her hot chocolate, she dove into her new novel, waiting for her food to arrive. But her hunger kept her from concentrating on the words she read.

No, it wasn't hunger. As Hermione swallowed a long sip of her drink, all she could think of was Lucius Malfoy — of his lips, of his hands. His voice. His eyes. Like frost…

She stared out the window, lost in her memories. Then she blinked in disbelief at the man crossing the street and striding in the direction of the café.

The blond, perfectly coifed hair, the confident gait, the lofty countenance — there was no mistaking him. It was definitely Lucius. Hermione watched him silently, almost dreamily, through the window, as one does a shark behind the shatter-proof aquarium glass. The contours of his shoulders shifted tensely as he came closer and closer towards the café doors.

Hermione blinked and shook her head. He's coming in here!

She slouched down low in her chair, endeavoring to obscure her face between her hair and her book.

Maybe he won't notice me, she prayed foolishly. Her heart was racing. The bell on the door jingled, and a light summer breeze followed him into the café.

She waited, but nothing happened. She could hear his voice, low yet somehow usurping the upper register chatter of the café's patrons. Cautiously, she peeked over her novel.

He stood at the counter with his back to her, speaking idly with the waitress. She was leaning forward on her elbows, smiling and twirling her lovely chestnut hair between her fingers. Could she be any more obvious?

But really, Hermione couldn't blame her. She was sure she looked at least as foolish on her dates with him. Wizards like that, who have that kind of effect on women — reducing them to puddles with little more than a side-glance and half-smile — they must go through life thinking every woman in the world is shy as a schoolgirl, giggling compulsively at their comments and jokes. They don't realize the power they have over opposite sex. Or maybe they do… Either way, gazing over at him from behind her absurd disguise, Hermione knew she'd never met a man who affected her as severely as Lucius Malfoy.

As if sensing her gaze, Lucius pivoted in her direction. She cursed herself for staring like a dolt and shrank lower in her chair.

"Miss Granger." He didn't sound surprised to see her here. His voice was warm, not at all like his slight last night. She lowered her book.

"Mr. Malfoy." She widened her eyes in mock surprise. "I didn't know you come here."

He stepped toward her table, placing his hand on the chair across from her. "I trust you made it home safe last night."

She dropped her gaze. She could already feel herself slipping back under his spell.

"Yes, sir." Obviously, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.

Sir? She really had no clue how formal she should be around him in public. Was it more proper to address him like that or with the title of his peerage? That presented its own dilemma: does one utilize 'my Lord' or 'Your Lordship' in oral address? Perhaps she should have stuck with Mister.

His brow was knitted slightly. Hermione tilted her head up at him, expecting him to move on.

Why's he staring at me like that?

"You have cream on your nose, Miss Granger."

Her cheeks flushed, and she buried her nose and mouth in the napkin. When Hermione looked up again, he was smirking. And not without a hint of vindictive irony, the waitress chose that moment to come over and deliver her obscenely un-dainty breakfast, plopping the plate down right on top of her book. Lucius's face twitched, suppressing a grin. Having already blushed herself to maximum redness, Hermione merely sustained the hue, staring wordlessly at the sweet waffles before her.

"May I sit here?" he asked.

She nodded. "Please."

Hermione knew she couldn't very well make a scene here, and part of her was morbidly curious about how he would explain himself. If he would at all. It seemed unlikely he would air out their dirty linen in such a public setting. Perhaps they'd make polite small-talk and get on their way.

He sat down and unfolded the other napkin, fastidiously straightening the cutlery.

"Coffee, Mr. Malfoy?" the waitress asked him.

Her voice startled Hermione. She actually managed to forget the woman was there. It was uncanny how completely his presence he consumed her focus — his gravity, his magnetism, his charisma, whatever it was. She supposed this waitress probably felt the same way. Women orbited him like moons, tidally locked by the force of his attentions.

"Yes, please."

The waitress trotted off and disappeared into the kitchen. Hermione raised her brow quizzically. Having finished his realignment of the fork and knife, Lucius focused his gaze on her.

Lowering his eyes to her heaping plate, he smiled. "If you have a sweet tooth, Miss Granger, you'll have to try their hvorost."

Their what?

"Thank you," she breathed out, noisily plucking her novel from beneath the plate. "I think I'm fine with this though."

He leaned toward her. "It wasn't a suggestion."

What the hell?

He signaled the nearest waiter and put in a double order. Her stomach turned over. She was so hungry — the smell of food was making her doubly anxious in front of him. But under those eyes, Hermione didn't think she could touch her waffles, let alone his hvorost — whatever that was. The waitress returned with coffee, looking dismayed at having missed a chance to do his bidding.

Is she actually pouting? Hermione squinted. She might have it worse than I do.

She set the mug down and waited to leave until he waved her off.

Lucius took a long, silent sip. "I came here hoping I'd run into you."

All this eye contact was getting tricky for her. He didn't ever seem to need to look at what he was doing. If she tried to follow suit, Hermione knew she'd wind up spilling hot chocolate all over herself.

He tilted his head. "There are some things from last night I'd like to get cleared up."

Right, our break-up.

"Like how I look like a streetwalker with my wares on display?" she couldn't help bringing that up again. It still stung that a man who was so adoring and understanding one moment could become so bitter and vindictive the next. She really didn't know him at all.

He folded his hands on the table. "When I can't use either magic or physical strength, I use my words to fight back. I took my anger out on you. It wasn't fair. I was rotten bastard to say it and I didn't mean it. Not one word. It was a stupid thing to say."

"Yes. It was very cruel," she agreed.

Across from her, he looked vaguely pensive and stormy. For once, his eyes were like cold water instead of solid ice. "I was angry at not hearing from you for ten days. I wanted to give you space to think things over, and then I became irrationally angry when you wouldn't acknowledge me. There you were, all youth and beauty … you could have any wizard you wanted. You could easily share your life with any of them, and I … I knew I was losing you, so I lashed out in the only way I could. It's not an excuse, but it's a defect I need to work on. I hope you can forgive me. I never wanted to embarrass you or to hurt you."

He relaxed in his chair. Hermione was still on pins and needles on hers.

"I don't want to hold a grudge over words," she said quietly, staring into her lap. "Consider yourself forgiven."

It didn't change the fact that they were still broken up.

He reached over to snatch a raspberry from her plate and popped it in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She covered her mouth and laughed.

Cool and cunning Lucius Malfoy can joke around as well? She liked it and could almost let herself relax.

"You have a very pretty laugh," Lucius complimented her.

Her face grew hotter.

He didn't look so ominous anymore, but his gaze was still intense and fixed upon her. It felt almost like their first date again.

"How was the Riga conference?" he asked.

Hermione wanted to keep talking to him, if only to listen to his voice a little longer, but this small-talk getting awfully difficult. Were they supposed act like they were friends now or something? She wasn't sure what he wanted from her now that they were over.

"It went well," she replied, shrinking back in her chair.

Before he could ask any more questions, the waitress had returned with two little trays of hvorost. They looked a like a cross between a beignet and a mandrake root. He thanked her, and she trotted off again, her giddiness replenished.

"You're going to love this," he said, placing several fried pastries in front of her. "It's sweet, but not too sweet — with just a touch of bitterness."

He took a bite, closing his eyes, humming his approval. Hermione's exasperation receded. She bit off her own crispy, crumbly hunk. He was right — it was delicious. Though she supposed any food probably would've tasted magnificent to her at that point. The surface was hard and ridiculously crunchy. Between the two of them, it sounded like they were chewing mouthfuls of crisps, but the inside was creamy and a little bitter. Much better than the soggy waffles she ordered.

"What did you call this again?" she asked, gulping down her second bite.

"Hvorost," he said between crunches. "I presume you didn't try it in Latvia? When I was there, it was a staple in all the tea shops." He swallowed and swilled his coffee.

"No. I didn't get out much."

She stayed brooding in her room, crying bitter tears over a man who deserved no such consideration.

"They use real kefir here. Only place in the city that does," he remarked. His warmness had made a sudden and highly welcome return, and Hermione felt herself relaxing again. Somehow with food in front of him, he seemed a little less predatory and intimidating.

"Look, you've apologized. You don't have to keep up this tête-à-tête anymore. Consider us parting on good terms," she said.

He stopped chewing and rubbed the napkin on the corners of his mouth. "I don't want us to part on any terms."

Hermione's heart nearly stopped. His stare could have given her frostbite. She shuddered, but spoke again, "You could have fooled me. I may not have a lot of experience in relationships, but I know what a break-up looks like."

He cut her off, raising his palm, "I know I handled things in the Blue Room very badly, but I didn't want to lose you. I still don't." His eyes became warmer as they searched her face. "Things moved faster between us than either one of us had probably expected, which raised some unfair expectations. Our relationship is new and there are some things I had no right to expect of you. I demanded your absolute trust without giving you anything in return and not disclosing things from my past that might affect how you see me."

"I read The Spectator's article about you and me … and Lady Violet," Hermione confessed. "For tabloid rubbish, it was eerily accurate."

He drew his mouth into a wry smile. "I hope I don't need to remind you about taking what you read with a grain of salt."

She shook her head, flushing. "I've had enough run-ins with Rita Skeeter to ignore muck. It's only when facts check out that I become concerned." Taking a deep breath, she went on, "I understand that you do not want to encourage speculation about your love life. I also know that if our relationship became public knowledge, it would create a firestorm in the press. Therefore, I don't mind keeping things quite and having as much privacy as we can while it's all so new with us. However, for this same reason, I don't know why you would want to flame gossip concerning your relationship with Lady Violet. It's one thing not to publicly acknowledge me at this point, but it's another to have someone else bandied about the press as the woman in your life. It's humiliating and I did feel threatened when I saw how comfortable she was being all over you."

He nodded. "I know we have important things to discuss in private. Why don't you come for tea later today at Lowndes House and we can clear the air? I have some things to explain to you and once you have all the information, you can decide if you're better off ending things with me."

"Um … okay." She picked at her hvorost, feeling rather uneasy and anxious with the silence that settled over them.

Lucius reached across the table again to steal another raspberry from her neglected waffles.

"I once knew a witch who was allergic to fruit," he mused, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Curious. And such a terrible shame." He popped the berry into his mouth. "Do you have any allergies?"

"No."

How can any of this possibly interest him? she wondered. Why does he care?

Her anxiety was on the verge of boiling over again. Her eyes danced around, avoiding his. He sipped his coffee and set the mug down beside her waffles, untouched and now stone-cold at the edge of the table. Hermione grimaced at them; she was too full from the hvorost to finish them.

"I think your eyes are larger than your stomach, Hermione," he spoke dryly. "Shall we have them bring you a box?"

Hermione watched in quiet disbelief as he actually snapped his fingers, and the waitress appeared at the side of their table with eagerness and obedience of a house-elf.

He definitely knows what he does to women, Hermione thought nervously.

"Box this up for Miss Granger, please." He laid an excessive amount of Galleons on the table.

Hermione started to decline, but he ignored her. His eyes were on his wristwatch, then he stood up.

"You'll excuse me, Hermione. I have an appointment. Will five o'clock work for you?"

She nodded again.

"Good. I'll see you then." He touched her shoulder. "I look forward to it."

When he walked out the door, the spell was lifted. Hermione exhaled slowly. Her mind was racing, trying to fit together all the strange, disparate pieces of the past twenty-four hours. Like the shard of a glass mirror, her hope that talking to him again might bring into focus some of her confusion had shattered, splintering into a thousand new, still-more vexing questions. She stared at the empty mug; a single dark stripe of coffee staining its porcelain exterior. It was like at any moment he might return to reclaim it.

Shivering, opened her book again and began reading.

When she returned home, Hermione must have tried on over a dozen outfits. What does one wear to a tea with an ex? Or almost an ex?

She didn't want to look overtly sexy for fear of sending the wrong message. Her outfit had to make it clear that she was coming for tea and nothing more.

"Hermione," Ginny knocked on her open door, sticking her head in. "I come bearing gifts from the Earl-who-makes-me-hurl."

"You mean your future father-in-law?" Hermione teased her.

The redhead cringed. "Her-mio-ne! You're so bad. Maybe I'll just keep these for myself." She held up a bouquet of Sunblaze roses. They were Hermione's favorite flowers with vivid pink edges accenting the sun yellow petals.

Hermione snatched them away, sticking her tongue out at Ginny. When the witch left her room, Hermione read the card. It had no message, only Lucius's name card.

Feeling sly, Hermione poked her head out the door. "Ginny!" she called out. "May I borrow your blue dress again?"

It may be only tea. They may not reconcile. But it didn't hurt to take a rule out of Ginny Weasley's playbook, and remind Lucius Malfoy of what he was missing. Besides, she needed her own armament if she had to spend more time under his dissecting eyes.

Thank you all for reading and sharing your comments! I can't believe this story has over 200 followers. You're the best :)

Hugs,

Lana