Hermione was at a loss to explain the workings of her mind the past couple of days. Things hadn't been this eventful in her life since the end of the War – but the past few days had been a whirlwind of confusion and peculiarity. On Monday evening she had felt rather bewildered after meeting, who she thought was, Draco Malfoy at her work. It had looked like Draco, even sounded rather like Draco if a little softer spoken, but they clearly were a woman. Her initial thought had been that it must have been a relative – perhaps a cousin from Draco's father's side – who shared the same facial features and bone structure. That thought had been disproved by the fact the girl had known Hermione's name – and it wasn't like there could have been another Malfoy of which they weren't aware of. It had to be Draco – appearing now as a girl. Hermione wondered how she hadn't heard about this – the press had been following the decline and punishment of those who had been Death Eaters with a fine toothed comb. There wasn't much that went on that the world didn't end up reading about. That was how Hermione knew that the Malfoys had actually been mostly pardoned because of a testimony given by Harry. That particular story had ignited the press, and the public, interest for nearly a month – with daily updates as to how they should be punished, debates about why such a long-standing member of the Death Eater order should be effectively getting away with his crimes while other newer members were imprisoned or stripped of belongings and status. Then as it came to light that it was Lucius Malfoy who was assisting in the confiscation, removal and returning of items that had either been stolen from their rightful owners or that were so dangerous they couldn't be allowed to remain in the public domain. Lucius was providing information that was bringing others to justice. The press had loved that too – now he wasn't just an ex-Death Eater, he was a traitorous ex-Death Eater. As Hermione thought about it though she realised that the articles about the Malfoys were always about Lucius – sometimes Narcissa got a little mention, but she couldn't recall seeing anything about Draco, ever. It was like he had suddenly ceased to exist. Perhaps that was because he had ceased to exist, for all intents and purposes the person who Hermione had seen in her work had been Draco, but hadn't at the same time. It was confusing and made Hermione's head ache to think about it.
At first Hermione considered sending a message to Harry, perhaps even Ron as well, to see if they had heard anything or knew anything about what was going on with Draco Malfoy. But then she remembered the threat to keep her nose out and her mouth shut, and that's what she was going to do. After all, she wanted a quiet life – didn't she?
But it seemed that a quiet life was completely off the cards for Hermione. She had been immersed in getting a particularly overcrowded shelf rearranged into piles of specific sections so that they could be filed away, she as carrying a pile of them down to the shelves at the front of the archive when she almost ran into the girl from the previous day. It had certainly given her a fright, stopping dead in her tracks. This person looked like Draco, although now Hermione could see her closed she realised that her features looked softer, she spoke more softly – there was none of that sneer that had so singularly epitomised Draco throughout his school career. This was a genuine apology, Hermione could see that in her eyes. It had legitimately taken her by surprise and she hadn't known how to react other than to agree and nod politely.
It wasn't until Hermione was replacing some of the articles in her arms back onto the shelf that a thought struck her. This was an opportunity that might never present itself again – it was the chance to wipe absolutely everything clean. Her entire history with Malfoy, every nasty word, every spiteful action, every vindictive thought perpetrated by them both over the years – could be entirely evaporated. Fleetingly she allowed herself to be honest – only she could admit to herself how lonely she had been of late, how everyone was doing their own thing – be that with work, friends, or their private lives. It was like they had all managed to compartmentalize their lives, easily slotting different people into their own sections. This was Hermione's chance to do something on her own for herself without needing to consider or concern anyone else. So before she could stop to talk herself out of it, Hermione was chasing after Libelle, right out of the archive and into the street to ask her if she'd like to go for a coffee at some point soon. She had been rather surprised at the courage that she suddenly discovered in actually being able to ask rather than chickening out at the last moment – but she was more surprised by the fact that Libelle wanted to go for a coffee, and she sounded genuinely interested. Clearly she had put all the old stuff in her past behind her. That's what Hermione wanted to do also.
But she was nervous… Some distrusting part of her couldn't help but be wary about the whole situation, what if this was a trick or a trap, designed to humiliate her? If that was the case then she was about to walk headlong into it – because a fresh start meant relinquishing the past, not holding on secretly to injustices wanting to be proved wrong. She had to afford the opportunity before deciding whether they both truly were able to have a fresh start. That didn't stop her from being nervous as she pulled clothes from her wardrobe to get ready for work, or for imagining 'what if' scenarios while she was waiting for the kettle to boil during her break. She was worried that she might do or say something offensive, she knew that the subconscious mind isn't always as good at keeping up to date with the conscious mind. All day she kept repeating 'Libelle', trying to force association from the name to the face. After six years of associating the features of that face with Draco's name, Hermione was concerned that something might slip out accidentally. She didn't want to be hurtful or insensitive – she would just have to be extra careful. All day long she felt the peculiarly nervous sensation grow in her stomach, progressing until in the last hour of her work it felt as though that 'butterfly' sensation was trying to burst into her veins and arteries – ready to flood her entire body.
Hermione took her time once it reached 5 o'clock, the anxious feeling having reached quite a peak inside her. She had no wish to be standing around outside waiting – especially as the sky seemed permanently overcast. Libelle was waiting at the bottom of the shallow steps which led up to the archive; she was wearing a pair of very high waisted denim jeans which accentuated the length and slimness of her legs. Hermione had always been relatively average height, but standing to Libelle she felt tiny. Libelle's legs were nearly as tall as she was – there was a pang of jealousy as she looked at Libelle's legs, they were legs which any person would be jealous of.
"Hi." Hermione said as she reached the bottom of the steps.
"Hey," Libelle smiled, she looked just as nervous as Hermione felt; there was a pause as Hermione tried to figure out what to do with himself. She hoped it wouldn't be this awkward the whole time.
"There's a couple of nice coffee shops just around the corner," Hermione began, "They're muggle ones, but they've always been rather nice." She could feel her face burning red as she suggested the muggle coffee shops to someone who had previously intimated that muggles were filth. "But we can go somewhere else if that's not okay…"
"No, that sounds great," Libelle agreed.
"Are you sure?" Hermione bit her lip.
"Really sure," Libelle insisted, "I'm trying to avoid my old haunts, I don't really want people I used to know having more ammunition against me." Hermione began to walk away from the archive, towards the end of the street that spiralled in towards the centre of London.
"Ammunition?" Hermione had asked without even thinking.
"My surname has been dragged through the mud, very publicly and humiliatingly for my parents." For a mere instant Hermione thought she saw the familiar Malfoy sneer on Libelle's face, but it was gone before she could check again and she tried to tell herself that it was her mind playing tricks on her as Libelle continued to speak. "Quite rightly too, I'm not saying they're innocent, or that I'm innocent, because we're not, but the papers will always latch on to some people and, well, Bellatrix is dead and so are half of the other Death Eaters, so it could hardly be them. The Malfoys are a good media choice." Libelle spoke matter of factly, but Hermione could detect the pang of regret that was an undertone. They had paused outside a small café whose glass panelling had steamed up from the heat inside in contrast to the temperature outside.
"Shall we go in here?" Hermione suggested, the cold wind was already biting at the exposed skin of her face and the threat of rain was becoming more present with every passing second.
"Yeah, it looks good." Libelle said, pushing the door open and allowing Hermione to go in front of her. Apart from a group of chattering teenage girls – still in their school uniforms – they were the only other customers in the café.
"What would you like?" Hermione asked, rummaging around in her pocket to find her purse – she knew it was in there, and extension charms had seemed a good idea when she first put them on, but now she could hardly ever find anything.
"Oh, it's alri-" Libelle began to protest; although in thinking about it, she wasn't even sure she had any muggle money on her.
"I invited you out for coffee, so I'll get it." Hermione insisted, she had found her purse now and she had such a determined look on her face that Libelle daren't argue with her.
"A pot of earl grey tea would be really nice, thank you." Libelle asked, "I'll get a table." As Hermione placed their order with the bored looking barista, Libelle climbed up the few steps to a raised platform which had several more tables and chose a seat. She watched as two of the school girls began dividing their friends' hair up into tiny strands and then braiding it very tightly. It was almost mesmerising watching their fingers twisting and pleating until they reached the end of the strand of hair and one of the other girls would hand them a plastic hair band that would hold the braid from falling out. Libelle had been so engrossed in watching this process that she hadn't noticed Hermione arriving at the table with a tray.
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" Hermione commented, nodding down at the girls. "They must be very well practiced to be able to do it that fast."
"It looks pretty amazing when it's finished." Libelle agreed, "I used to wish I had long enough hair to style, but all I could really do was slick it back. I had it at the bottom of my neck once, but apparently that was too unruly and I was forced to get it cut, which is ironic if you know the length of my father's hair." Libelle gave a faint laugh; it was peculiar – Hermione couldn't have verbalised what she thought this meeting was going to be like, but she certainly hadn't thought they would be sitting talking about hairstyles.
"Your hair is pretty long now though," Hermione told her, Libelle snorted as though in disbelief.
"It's not as long as theirs," She jerked her head in the young girl's direction. "Or yours." She turned to look at Hermione. "I can barely get my hair into two tiny ponytails." Libelle sighed, her hair was a bit of a soft spot with her – she knew that her hair would grow, but it just felt like it was taking a ridiculously long time. And although the pixie cut was fashionable at the moment, Libelle was concerned that that kind of cut would destroy her attempts to look feminine, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't gone through puberty and with short hair she did look like Draco.
"Your hair will be lovely when it's long – sleek and shiny, and blonde." Libelle threw a glance over at Hermione thinking that she had noticed this was a bit of a sore spot for Libelle, and was digging it; but to her surprise Hermione's cheeks had flushed pink after she said that.
"Thank you," Libelle replied, suddenly feeling rather bashful. "Your hair is lovely too – I used to want curly hair when I was little."
"I wish mine would decide whether it wanted to be curly or straight." She plucked at some of the hairs from her ponytail that had strayed over her shoulder. "and not just explode into a massive bush!"
"It's beautiful, different if you know what I mean." Libelle turned her attention back from the girls to their table, she hadn't realised that Hermione had not only bought her tea but there was also two plates with cake on them.
"I didn't know what kind of cake you like, so I just got one of each option." Hermione explained quickly when she noticed that Libelle was looking at them.
"You didn't have to do that!" Libelle protested, feeling slightly embarrassed at Hermione's over generosity.
"It's no problem." Hermione shrugged, "To be honest I wanted some cake and it would have been rude to buy a piece for myself but not for you."
"Well, thank you," Libelle answered, this was partially still peculiar for her that she was sitting right across from Hermione Granger.
"That one's lemon and that's chocolate." Hermione informed, pointing at each cake in turn.
"Can I have the lemon one?" Libelle asked.
"Be my guest." Hermione offered, Libelle reached across the table and picked up the plate.
"Unless, if you want that one I'll have whatever one you don't want."
"If I'm honest, I prefer chocolate over lemon, the darker the better." Hermione admitted, Libelle picked up her fork as this admission came out.
"I've never been the biggest fan of chocolate, I'll stick to bitter and sharp, just like me." Libelle trailed off towards the end of the sentence. Unfortunately for Libelle, Hermione's hearing was better than she expected.
"I don't believe you're either of those things." Hermione said through a mouthful of cake, then instantly looked embarrassed at her lack of manners. She covered her mouth with her hand and flushed a deep shade of pink. "I mean they're not very complimentary words to be using to describe a lemon – zesty, refreshing, tangy… I think they'd be more applicable to you than bitter, or sour." Hermione took a sip of her coffee while Libelle reeled at what Hermione had said.
"How do you do that?" Libelle asked, astounded.
"Do what?" Hermione said.
"Turn everything around to always look at the positive," Libelle explained, Libelle pushed a piece of cake around her plate. "I don't deserve your kindness." Goosebumps were erupting all along her arms, she hated it when she had to think about the past, she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "I actually don't know how you can stand to be sitting at the same table as me."
"I thought this was going to be a fresh start – for both of us." Hermione said honestly.
"I don't know if I can do that though…" Libelle could feel herself shaking now, "I don't – it's like going back to who I was, and I want to forget that because I was horrible."
"I can't claim innocence either," Hermione shrugged. "But you know what, we've had quite a lot of horrible stuff through the past couple of years, and it's not that we're ever going to be able to forget it, but I want it to shape me for the future."
"I don't know whether to tell you you're ridiculous or incredible." Libelle shook her head. "I… I honestly can't understand, I wish I could."
"I think you've had more to deal with than most though," Hermione responded, Libelle looked up at her like she had just landed from another planet.
"More than facing the Dark Lord?" Libelle snorted, shaking her head and sounding as though he didn't believe a word of it.
"It's different kinds of things to face, isn't it?" The girls who were braiding one another's hair had swapped over now, so a new girl was sitting in the chair and she had begun to sing along with the small radio that the barista had turned on.
"You confuse me." The words came out sharper, much blunter than Libelle had intended them to come out.
"How?"
"I just don't understand how you can move on so readily, but still face the past." Libelle proffered, she placed the fork she had been eating her cake with down onto the table. "I've tried, I've needed to try with a clean slate because I can't intermingle what used to be my life then to what I want my life to be." Hermione still had her fork in her hand, and for a few moments she looked at a piece of cake she had split off of the slice, mashing it down towards the plate.
"Everything I did, with Harry and Ron, with Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix, was to aim for freedom." Hermione explained slowly, pausing in between her phrases: "We spent the last few years at Hogwarts trying to fight for equality, because that was what Voldemort hated – the thought of mudbloods like me being just as worthy of status as those from deserving as wizards." That made Libelle feel rather ashamed, she had always fit into the category of the oppressor rather than the oppressed, she had happily gone along with those who were oppressive to others. Perhaps because she had always known that if they had the truth about her than she would have fitted into the oppressed side and she knew what happened to those who were oppressed: "I've been lucky," Libelle could hardly believe that – Hermione and the rest of the muggle born population had hardly been lucky under the Dark Lord's regime – and Libelle made a noise of dissent. "No I have been, because I am a mudblood and I don't fit the status that was required as acceptable; but despite that I've had friends and people who have stood alongside me during the fight against prejudice. I may not have been equal in the eyes of the Ministry or the Death Eaters, but I have remained free. So I've been lucky… I don't think you've ever been free Libelle." Libelle looked up, Hermione's hazel eyes were not wet or soppy looking, there was a determination about her gaze that Libelle could hardly bear to look away from. It was so pure and strengthening that she suddenly felt like shew was standing in a very bright spotlight. The very core of Libelle, which had once been strengthened like reinforced steel to never bend, splinter or break, now seemed to be reduced to a jelly-like substance which made all of her insides tremble.
"I… I-"Libelle's throat had suddenly constricted and she felt very paranoid, very quickly she pushed her chair back. "I… I'll be back in a minute, uh, I need to go to the bathroom."
The small bathroom was dimly lit, electric fairy lights were twisted around the mirror casting a strange yellow glow on the wall. Libelle clasped either side of the hand basin and put as much weight on it as she thought it could take; she hadn't expected to get this deep, or this serious. She ran her wrists under the cold tap water, trying to cool herself down and giving her a moment to recompose herself – she had thought she was fine, that she was up to it. Splashing a few drops of water onto her face, without dislodging any of the make up that she had so carefully applied this morning. She should stop this right now, go back up to the table and politely thank Hermione for inviting her out for coffee but this wasn't going to work. She didn't really want that though – under the nervousness and worry she felt that Hermione might suddenly decide to spread rumours around, Hermione was actually rather nice… and easy to talk to. It was like she was being taught a lesson, by Hermione Granger of all people, and while that was maybe what she deserved, she didn't know how to respond, without sounding jealous, petty, or without sounding like she had done in the past – a spiteful stuck up bitch with more privilege than sense.
Hermione bit her lip, half of her felt that this was going disastrously and it had been a huge mistake to even think of going for coffee with a Malfoy; the other half of her was rather hopeful, she wanted this to go well. Talking about the War probably hadn't been the best avenue of conversation to go down. Libelle was coming back now, Hermione was astonished by how young she looked – like a little lost child rather than an adult. She perched upon the edge of the chair, as if she was poised to spring, and looking like she was about to say something.
"Sorry," Hermione apologised quickly. "I know the War is not an easy thing to talk about, for anyone. I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."
"No, it's not that." Libelle shook her head slightly. "I think we should talk about the War, let's not allow it to fade into the fear of the past, we have to keep talking about it so it doesn't happen again. It wasn't that that unnerved me, I think your comment about freedom was just a little bit close to the truth for comfort." Libelle grinned nervously.
"I am sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." Hermione repeated, "I won't do it again, I promise." The second girl who had been getting her hair done at the table below was finished now, and flicked her long braided plaits over her shoulder as she stood up to allow the next girl to take her seat; Libelle was mulling over the decision of whether to stay or go now when she wondered about what Hermione had said about the War.
"Do you not talk about the War at all?" Libelle asked curiously, Hermione shook her head, making some of the hair she had tucked behind her ear come tumbling loose in front of her face. "Why not?" Hermione shrugged.
"Don't really have anyone to talk about it." Hermione mumbled, she had finished eating her chocolate cake now but she was still playing with her fork nervously.
"I would have thought that would be something that Ron and Harry would discuss quite a lot." Libelle said casually, she had even made a distinct effort to use Hermione's friends proper names rather than demoralizing nicknames that she had dubbed them whilst at school.
"Oh I suppose they probably do." Hermione told her non-chalantly, "But I haven't seen them since September." Libelle gaped at her, managing to recdover her resolve before Hermione had looked up at her.
"Why not?" Now it was Libelle who was trying not to pry where she wasn't wanted – but Hermione had spent all of her time with Ron and Harry while at school, it seemed strange for them to not be talking in depth.
"I just haven't really…" She said, shifting uncomfortably in her hair. "Both of them are studying to be aurors, and I get that takes a chunk of their time, but I haven't really seen them."
"I thought you and Ron were an item?" Libelle asked lightly, Hermione snorted.
"For about three seconds during and after the War." Hermione said, "But things seem to be good ideas when you might be dead in a couple of hours, but in reality when you've got a whole lot to rebuild, and as Ron had a dead brother – things changed with us, it wasn't the right time." Hermione explained.
"That's a real shame," Libelle replied, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright, you don't need to be sorry." She reassured. "I haven't really seen anyone since the aftermath of the War – the ministry asked me to help them with some things, but there isn't really a paid position with the ministry for what I want to do. I don't really want to be an auror like Ron and Harry do, so I just need some time to think about what I want to do in the future."
"And that's working in a library?" Libelle commented, then realised just how judgemental that statement had sounded.
"No – and yes…" Hermione answered cryptically. "I love books, and I like working with them; I know it's not what I want to do forever, but it's giving me time."
"What do you want to do that there isn't a position for?" Libelle asked.
"I want to do something to help, to work with those less fortunate, the oppressed – get rights and better status for magical creatures, but that's not currently on the ministry's agenda." Hermione responded. "Unfortunately the wizarding world doesn't seem to work in the same way as the muggle one – there aren't really charities in the wizarding world, and I don't have the knowledge to set one up."
"That would be an interesting job!" Libelle exclaimed.
"It would be, but it's not an option – at the moment, but hopefully in the future it might be." Hermione agreed, "But that's enough about my boring life, what are you doing with yourself?" For a moment Libelle paused, looking at Hermione – it seemed that she was rather lonely. Not just lonely in the needing a bit of company today way, but lonely in the way that made the back of her eyes a little bit darker – and most people weren't aware of that dark hole until they experienced it for themselves, and then you could recognise it in someone else.
"Your life doesn't sound boring." Libelle protested, although it was granted, she could never imagine herself working in a library.
"Well it is to me, and I'm living it." Hermione said plainly, "I'd much rather hear about your life than mine. What are you doing at the moment?" It was no longer a pleasant request, Hermione's tone of voice made it plainly clear that she was finished with that part of the conversation.
"I'm taking my NEWTs at college." Libelle said eventually. "I wanted to get my NEWTs, well I need to get into the training programme."
"What training programme is it that you're wanting to do?" Hermione asked.
"Healer training." Libelle said quietly.
"Really?" Hermione sounded genuinely interested.
"Yeah," Libelle replied, "It's all I ever wanted to do since I was little."
"Well that's different…" Hermione said, "I got the impression from your father that you didn't need to work, and a healer is quite a demanding job."
"My father never wanted to work, not really – but I couldn't stand all that pomp and circumstance of monetary donations to generous causes – all that sucking up to people." Libelle answered, "It might have suited him fine, but I want to actually do something with my life rather than live off money I haven't earned."
"That's very noble." Hermione expressed, "That shows the kind of person that you are and the character that you have."
"I don't mean it to be noble." Libelle shook her head.
"No, I know…" Hermione told her, "But I think I made a lot of misjudgements about you when I was at school."
"You didn't know me when I was at school, no one did – so any judgements that you did make were about Draco, and that doesn't matter anymore." She said very concisely, and she was smiling so Hermione knew she wasn't annoyed or upset by those comments. "You know," Libelle leant forwards so her forearms were rested on the table, taking care so as not to disturb the cup, saucer and dessert plate. "I was worried about this – coming for coffee – I didn't know what was going to happen." She said honestly, "I didn't know whether you would hold a grudge from the past, or just want to find out why I'm wearing skirts now, but I don't think that I made a mistake in coming – I did right at the beginning, but you've proved me wrong and I'm pleasantly surprised."
Me too, I'm glad it's not been too traumatising. I just thought I should make a start on repairing some old burnt bridges." Hermione smiled.
"Well I think our bridge was burnt pretty badly from both sides, so it'll need both of us to repair it." Libelle acknowledged, "But I'd like to do that also."
"That's great." Hermione nodded, Libelle glanced up at the clock mounted above the barista's counter.
"Look, I'm going to have to go…" Libelle said, "I've got quite a lot of work for tomorrow, but it'd be really nice if we could do this again – meet up for coffee and a chat."
"That's alright," Hermione responded, "I don't want to keep you back."
"Can I send you an owl to arrange another time to meet up for coffee?"
"As long as you're sure." Hermione agreed.
"I'm sure," Libelle confirmed, she was collecting together her bag and coat. "I'll look forwards to it." Hermione was tempted to make a sceptical remark about that, until she looked up and saw Libelle's face – which was not sneering or sarky, but happy – genuinely open to what she had just suggested, and she felt herself soften.
"Me too." She replied, not loud enough for Libelle to be aware of.
"I'll see you later then." Libelle had picked up her bag and headed down the stairs off the little raised platform and out the café door, stopping to give a half wave as the door shut. The misted windows from the condensation inside the café meant Hermione couldn't tell if Libelle had looked back.
A/N: Hey, I'd love to know what you think/feel about this chapter! Or the entire story so far! :)