How many days was it appropriate to wait before she sent Hermione a message? That was the perpetual question going round and round in Libelle's mind. It had been three days since she had been for coffee with Hermione, and Libelle had not forgotten her promise to send Hermione a message – but she hadn't wanted to seem too eager. She couldn't actually get her mind away from their meeting, everything she seemed to do brought her mind back round to Hermione. It was strange – a few months ago she had thought she would never again want to lay eyes upon anyone she had once known during her school days, but Hermione had changed all that. It was odd that one meeting could change all of that. Her college coursework had suddenly taken a back seat in her mind, even though she knew she ought to be focusing on that with mock exams next week and the real ones not much further after. Not even her new friends and their invites out over the weekend could alter the course of her thoughts. It was exacerbated further by the fact that she couldn't quite place what her thoughts and feelings, surrounding Hermione were. She liked Hermione – she always had done when they were at school, but a disdain and class purity had meant that Draco could never have shown anything other than hatred. It made Libelle think about Snape – and the information that Harry Potter had made very public once the War was over – that Snape had loved Lily Evans for so much of his life, yet had been forced into separation because of his house at Hogwarts and the purity of race that that demanded. Hermione had always had that spark that set her apart from other people, she had seen that and wanted to do something about it… Unfortunately Harry and Ron had also noticed the spark in her, and they were more fitting friends than a pureblood Slytherin. But that wasn't who Libelle was anymore – she was disconnected from that identity. For the first time in a few months, Libelle really wished that she could go home and talk to her mother about all of this. She knew she could if she really wanted to, her mother had already had to go through the belief that her son was gay, only to eventually understand that she never had a son in the first place, and although she had been wonderful in terms of what Libelle needed, especially in talking to her father and pacifying him slightly, there were some things that she just couldn't understand… There were some things that Libelle couldn't quite comprehend herself – things that she thought would become simpler once that she had gone through the transition and was living as who she always wanted to be… but so far it hadn't quite worked out like that. Nothing ever seemed to be clear cut – not her current life, not her future, not her relationship with her parents, not her feelings about Hermione. She knew if she went to her mother that she would be listened to, but she couldn't imagine the horror and confusion that would play out on her face if she tried to explain that she had "feelings" for another girl. She had almost tried to explain when she told her about needing to be allowed to live as a woman that this meant ultimately she was heterosexual, rather than a gay man, but now that was all being thrown into contention. What exactly did it mean? Was she some kind of confused, closeted lesbian? Or worse – bisexual – as no one ever seemed to believe that they either existed or were a legitimate orientation. She didn't know, and frankly didn't feel the need to be compartmentalised by a swathe of different labels, none of which ever would categorise who she was. She was Libelle, that was all and – right at this moment – Libelle liked Hermione.

There was a new spring in Hermione's step as she set out for work on Monday morning, she couldn't quite define or even put her finger on her reason for her uplift in mood which had occurred over the weekend. Perhaps it was because the cold winter winds had begun to relinquish their grip on the city, which meant that the weak spring sun was only just beginning to raise the temperature. Hermione had even been able to pad about on her wooden floorboards in bare feet without the fear of them turning blue. The weather generally had an iota of presence on the moods of people that worked in the archive and lived in her block of flats, but it may not have been the only cause for the renewed happiness and buoyancy that Hermione was feeling. A fair amount of that was probably from the realisation that Hermione had had whilst contemplating her conversation with Libelle. Hermione enjoyed working at the archive, but it wasn't what she wanted to do forever – and she might as well walk towards it now otherwise it may never happen. But admitting that she had not seen or heard from Ron or Harry in quite a few months had taken a weight off of her mind; for some reason she felt that it had opened herself up some more. She felt at ease, so her weekend seemed to have been flooded with new options and possibilities, and it all was glorious. It was all down to the conversation that she had with Libelle as well – and how easy and natural that conversation had been. Hermione still had to remind herself that their conversation had actually taken place, it hadn't been some kind of bizarre dream.

Libelle was entirely different to what Hermione had expected – gentle, well mannered, ambitious, and caring – she was a far cry from her former life as a hardened Death Eater and purist. She was blossoming with her new sense of identity – and like how the perfumed scent of petals attracts the honeybee, Hermione felt drawn by Libelle, and hopefully would be able to be part of her blooming. Secretly, when Libelle had said she would like to meet up for coffee and a chat again, something inside Hermione had leapt in excitement. It was one of those sensations where your insides felt like you had missed a step on your way downstairs and momentarily left your stomach behind.

Now that sensation had passed, Hermione was left with an old restless feeling that wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but that was constantly present. For the past few months all of Hermione's life felt like it was becoming more and more tunnel-visioned, with everything becoming darker and less clear, but suddenly it felt like her eyes had been cleaned and she could now see with 20:20 vision… but that didn't necessarily make her any less confused.

'But you don't really know her.' This really was not the time for Libelle to be having an internal dialogue.

'But I do know her, I knew her at school…' Libelle argued back against the small voice in her head.

'Ah but you don't really know her, you only ever saw her from afar while at school, you never knew her and she didn't know you.' Libelle could almost feel her face configuring into a pout; she needed to be revising, she had a preliminary paper that was going to be marked as though it was going to be lightly marked answers because you were nearly there. So right now Libelle should be focusing on the last minute cramming of information into her brain, but that wasn't what it was allowing her to do. That little voice at the back of her head – her conscience, or tempter, or whatever anyone called it – would not shut up. This exam: she needed to be focusing on it, if only she had a brain and memory like Hermione's. It would have been impossible to notice at school Hermione's capacity for memorizing whole passages of text as easily as though it was song lyrics or your favourite poem. Libelle had a decent enough memory, but no where near that kind of photographic recall… Hermione must have breezed through her exams – she probably would have breezed through them without even trying. She was thinking about Hermione again, rather than her work. She really needed to snap out of it.

"That was horrendous…" Libelle's friend, Ceri ran a hand over her face, pulling her skin and causing her eyes to bulge momentarily. There was a torrent of talking as all of the students emerging from the room that their mock exam had been in burst into speech after nearly two hours of compressing silence. The air felt much more cool and spacious out in the corridor area than it had been in the exam room. "I think my brain might be leaking out of my ears…" Ceri pressed both of her hands to her ears and shook her head slightly; she looked like a dog trying to remove water from its ears. "I hadn't even looked over the subjects that any of the second questions were on! I just had to pick one and try and bluff as much as I could without purely making it up."

"It could have been worse…" Libelle replied calmly, Ceri looked at her scathingly.

"Yes, I could have known none of the questions at all." She quipped back, "It's alright for you, you seem to remember everything without needing to look at it more than once."

"That's not true, and you know that." Libelle refuted, "I have to study and revise just like you do."

"Yeah, but you just look at things once and remember them for the rest of your life!"

"Not quite," Libelle was thinking about what Ceri would say if she met Hermione and witnessed her memory, then she might rethink her attitude about Libelle's brain.

"What?" Ceri asked, as they walked along the corridor towards the entrance of MAE.

"What?" Libelle responded blankly.

"You know what!" Ceri commented, "That brig gin that you've had plastered across your face all morning."

"No I haven't," Libelle could feel her cheeks going red as she denied this – had she really been looking like the grinning idiot?

"Yeah, alright…" Ceri didn't sound at all convinced; there was a pause before Ceri asked. "Who are they then?"

"Who's who?"

"Oh come of it!" Ceri nudged Libelle playfully, she was quite a bit shorter than Libelle but Ceri always managed to poke her bony elbow into the soft spot in Libelle's ribs.

"Ow!" Libelle clutched her ribs. "What?"

"You've spent half of the morning with a dreamy far-away look plastered across your face, which is not like you most of the time." Ceri stated firmly.

"Well-" Libelle began, but Ceri continued over her.

"And we had an exam today, and you normally spend the mornings of exams with your nose jammed in the textbook open, but you barely even looked at it. And you didn't ask me to test you on anything." Ceri said, "Now I'm not saying you need that extra revision, not with the brain you have, it's just fairly unusual for you not to do that revision anyway…" Ceri concluded, she had put her hands on her hips like she wasn't going to accept no as a valid response. "So you either tell me what's going on, or I'll keep poking you until you do." She shot out her hand, prodding Libelle in the ribs once more and causing Libelle to yelp in fright.

"Alright, alright!" Libelle conceded while trying to dodge Ceri's fingers. "It's complicated."

"When is it not with you?" Ceri pouted as though her breakthrough had been useless; Libelle wasn't entirely sure whether she should be offended by that comment. "Come on, let's go for a drink." Ceri hooked her arm through Libelle's and began to pull her towards the door, but Libelle resisted.

"No, I need to go and study for –" But Ceri was much stronger than Libelle despite a foots' difference in size.

"You're coming for a drink first, and then you can go and study, or stare into space for the next couple of hours." Ceri insisted, Libelle knew there was no point in arguing with Ceri once she had decided something, so she allowed herself to be dragged along the corridors to the entrance and out into the brisk afternoon air.

"Come on, let's go in here." They were hardly a street away from MAE when Ceri shepherded Libelle towards a rather grotty and dingy looking pub.

"What? In here?" Libelle questioned, "Oh come on, you've got to be joking."

"Trust me," Ceri said, pushing Libelle in through the door, past several low sofas surrounding coffee tables and a wood burning stove, and towards the back of the pub where two large windows overlooking a garden that was almost overrun with lavender and violets, Ceri chose a table right by the window, overlooking the garden.

"It's beautiful," Libelle said, looking out into the garden as she sat down.

"I told you to trust me." Ceri smirked, "And it's not just pretty to look at, the barman in here makes the most divine cocktails." She grinned, "So what would you like?"

"I'll have whatever you're having." Libelle replied, Ceri raised her eyebrows and sloped off to the bar. Libelle's head was buzzing in the aftermath of that practice exam, and with the prospect of another one tomorrow. Ceri was leaning over the bar to speak to the barman, Libelle couldn't help but be slightly jealous of Ceri – everything about her was incredibly feminine. Which was strange as she had grown up with her dad and younger brother. Unlike a lot of the other students at MAE, Ceri had received a Hogwarts letter – but it had come as a shock as her dad was a muggle; before that point she had always thought her mum had just run away and started a new family, but it seemed that she had left because she had a secret: she was a witch, and so Ceri and her brother Rhys had magic too. But that hadn't washed with her dad, he thought it must be some kind of elaborate practical joke that someone was playing on them, even when a woman who had called herself Professor McGonagall had turned up at their front door to try and explain to them, he hadn't accepted it. So Ceri, and subsequently her brother, had gone to a muggle high school and been forced to study geography, maths and science all the while knowing that they were different from everyone else who was there. Until her third year when inexplicably a pile of textbooks exploded when she was in a fit of rage at a teacher, the school has accused her of making a bomb with the intention to hurt and she had been expelled. Her dad had gone ballistic at her, but she had no other explanation for what had happened than 'it was magic'. Then she had received an official warning letter from a Ministry of Magic telling her that if she performed any more magic while underage she would be called to a hearing. Ceri had been angry and conflicted, on the one hand she had her dad who wanted the best for her but clearly didn't know what to do about the situation. Then something neither of them had expected happened – Ceri's mother turned up.

Most of Ceri's childhood fantasies concerning her mother began with her appearing in a puff of smoke – and that was before they knew about the magic – but that was what literally happened. Her mother explained that she worked for the Ministry of Magic, and she knew her ex partner and kids had gone off the radar, that Ceri and Rhys weren't at Hogwarts, but she had no idea that they had been going to a muggle high school until Ceri had broke the code of secrecy. Her arrival hadn't gone well to begin with, Ceri realised that it wasn't a fairy tale and not everything could be fixed with a wave a metaphorical wand. Her mother was furious with her father for not letting the two of them go to Hogwarts, but their dad protested – how was he supposed to make valued calculations for his kids if he didn't know anything about the world they were entering into. It had taken a long time, months before Ceri's dad had taken even longer for their dad to realise that they couldn't just pretend that they didn't have magic in them, and if they couldn't just pretend that they didn't have magic in them, and if they did it was more likely to end in ruin – Ceri had demonstrated that already. Eventually their mum had begun to teach them – she took them to buy their first wands and spell books, she taught them the theory and practice behind the major subjects within the wizarding world. They couldn't go to Hogwarts now, they were too late and had missed too much, but at least they were beginning to learn… And that was how Ceri ended up at MAE to do her OWLS and subsequently her NEWTs, to finally get the magical education she had needed – it was the reason she was older than most of the other people in the class, because she had had to catch up with them. She had told all of this to Libelle on their second day in the same class – when it seemed apparent that the two of them were going to get on, and it made Libelle even more impressed. Ceri had a concentration in her magical work that was amazing, but she also retained a grasp of the muggle world that was invaluable – especially in the current wizarding world. Ceri trusted Libelle with all of that, and she didn't seem the sort to open up easily – she was tough and could look after herself. It had felt only appropriate then that Libelle confide some of herself to Ceri, but what she had ended up telling her had only been the tip of the iceberg. Libelle had spoken nothing about her past, her Death Eater history and how she had been involved in the death of one of the greatest wizards of all time; all of that was too difficult to talk about. So instead she had talked about what she felt was obvious – that she was transgender and trying to finally live as a woman full time, and none of that had seemed to faze Ceri at all.

Ceri came back to the table, carrying two glasses filled with sunset orange liquid.

"What is it?" Libelle asked as Ceri sat down the glass in front of her.

"Sex on the beach." Ceri responded, sipping from the edge of her glass. "It's phenomenal, try it!" Libelle picked up her glass, and it was like a fruity explosion had gone on in her mouth.

"Once again I must bow to your superior knowledge." Libelle agreed, savouring the taste of the cocktail.

"Good," Ceri agreed. "Right, so now are you going to tell me about who you've been grinning over all day?"

"Remember how we went to the archive," Libelle begun, unsure of how much detail she should go into.

"And you went running home claiming that you weren't feeling well?" Ceri injected.

"Yeah," Libelle nodded, "That day. Well I saw someone that I had known at school and I freaked out a little bit."

"So this person, how well did you know them?" Ceri asked, her inflection of her words suggested that she assumed that this was more than just a friendly acquaintance; she wiggled her eyebrows while stirring her cocktail as though to further emphasise this.

"No, not like that." Libelle shook her head. "We didn't get on actually, we were in the same year but got sorted into rival houses." Libelle paused to take a drink of her cocktail, but Ceri didn't speak, she just waited for Libelle to finish. "I wasn't the nicest of people during school, and I panicked because they had only ever known me as…"

"As Draco?" Ceri supplied, Libelle flinched at the mention of her former name.

"Unfortunately yes." Libelle said, "And it's not like I've undergone radical reconstructive surgery or anything, I still look the same as I did at school, mostly anyway."

"Okay, I'm following you so far… Not entirely sure how it ends up with you grinning all over your face." Ceri nodded, she was nearly finished her cocktail already.

"Well when I saw them in the archive and panicked, I kind of shouted… and was maybe a little bit threatening, but I thought they'd go talking to all their friends and news would get out – and I don't need any more rumours circulating about me than there already are." Libelle explained, her words coming out in a gush. "But then I felt really bad about the whole thing so I went back to apologise and we ended up deciding to go for coffee."

"That's with that Hannah girl, or whatever her name was…" Ceri announced unexpectedly.

"What?" Libelle blurted, "You mean Hermione?"

"That was it!" Ceri nodded, "I knew it began with a H."

"How did you know that?" Libelle questioned in a state of disbelief.

"Well you had run off during that archive trip, so you missed us being toured around the special collection bit, and then talked to us about referencing for about an hour. One group got this footery old guy, but we ended up with Hermione." Ceri told her, "If you meant that you wanted to know how I guessed you meant her, then she was the only one working in that archive who was anywhere close to you age. Unless you're secretly in your thirties!" Libelle couldn't help but laugh along with Ceri.

"Alright smart arse, you've got it right." Libelle admitted, "I went for coffee with Hermione on Friday, and at first I thought it was going to be a monumental disaster – but it actually turned out to be really good, and we spoke about doing it again soon, and now I don't know how long I should wait before contacting her again. The whole thing just feels kind of weird."

"Weird how?" Ceri proceeded after a few seconds thought; Libelle unhelpfully shrugged and played with the stirrer in her cocktail.

"It's weird that we actually managed to get along – I wasn't being overdramatic or anything when I said we didn't get along at school." She said and then, taking a drink of her cocktail, added: "And I guess I'm not entirely sure of how I feel about her either."

"As in…?" She asked and this time Libelle nodded.

"Like I thought…" Libelle started, then stopped abruptly. "I don't know."

"Come on, try me." Ceri encouraged.

"Do you want to get another drink?" Libelle suggested, aware that Ceri was sitting with an empty glass in front of her, Ceri raised her eyebrow. "I'm not trying to change the subject, I promise."

"Alright," Ceri agreed, she delved into her bag to try and find some money.

"It's okay, I'll get it." Libelle insisted. At the bar she fumbled in her purse, trying to locate the muggle money that she had decided to carry around for times like this.

"What can I get you darling?" A well built man behind the bar asked Libelle, instantly making her nervous about the name of the drink she was ordering.

"Can I have two s… two of the same?" She chickened out, gesturing at the table that she and Ceri were occupying.

"Of course, two sex on the beaches coming right up!" He responded, reaching underneath the bar for two glasses and grinning. Libelle felt rather awkward as she stood and watched him mix up the drinks, then retrieve her change from the till. "There you go darling." He handed across her change and winked as she picked up both of the glasses, Libelle could feel her cheeks burning scarlet in response.

"So, you're not sure how you feel about her because…" Ceri asked, hardly giving Libelle time to sit down.

"I guess part of my reasoning for convincing my parents to allow me to live as Libelle is because that effectively makes me heterosexual."

"Would it have really mattered to them otherwise?" Ceri inquired.

"I don't think it would have to my mother, I think she realised how unhappy it was making me." Libelle answered honestly. "I'm not so sure my father would have taken the same attitude." The words were painful for Libelle to admit. "I think he would have seen it as less of a disgrace than having a gay son."

"Why would that be a disgrace?" Ceri sounded genuinely confused at this.

"My father is very old fashioned," Libelle expanded, "Three years ago that he was telling me he had found a suitable marriage match for me – a young lady who would fit in with the respectability of our family, and would be of the correct upbringing and demureness to bear a child with the Malfoy name."

"You've got to be kidding me! Tell me you're not serious about that!" Ceri was staring at Libelle with her eyes wide, absolutely astounded by this bit of information.

"No I'm deadly serious…" Libelle told her, "That was the initial reason that I told my parents I was gay, to try and get out of that marriage."

"That's insane 'Belle!" Ceri had clasped her hands over her mouth. "And how did they react to that?"

"Not well…" Libelle told her, "That's kind of why the prospect of me being a straight woman was more appealing than being gay."

"And now you're not sure where you stand?" Ceri asked, "Because you've got feelings for someone who doesn't fit the picture perfect ideals that your parents have for you." Libelle downed the last of what was in her first glass.

"Well yeah…" Libelle sighed, "And I don't know how to go about telling them that."

"Do you need to tell them just yet?" Ceri asked, she had nearly finished her second cocktail and was beginning to eye up Libelle's unstarted one.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this Hermione – do you know if she feels the same way as you do?" Ceri said, Libelle shrugged. "Why don't you just let things play out? Go for another coffee, spend some time with her before worrying yourself about something that might not matter in the long run."

"And if it does matter in the long run? Maybe not her, but what if there's another girl that comes along?" She asked, sounding rather agitated.

"Then it happens." Ceri placated, "What if the man of your dreams comes along? You can cross whatever bridge when you come to it, you don't need to spend time now planning alternate routes."

"I guess so…" Libelle agreed, then before Ceri could pounce on Libelle's full glass, she picked it up and nearly drained it. There was a small silence as Libelle played with the glace cherry on her cocktail stick which had been in her drink.

"She must be pretty nice if she's been the reason for you grinning so much." Ceri commented.

"She is nice." Libelle nodded. "Really nice."

"Then stop hanging around, send her a message and see if she wants to go for a coffee! Or better still, invite her to get cocktails with you, get to know her and then you'll be able to plan from there."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Libelle agreed.

"Of course I am, I'm always right!" Ceri responded with a wink.

"I'll send her an owl tonight." Libelle decided.

"And?"

"I'll send you one if she gets back to me." Libelle assured her. "I'll keep you up to date."

"You'd better, it might be the only thing that will keep me awake during the horrors of studying for tomorrow."

"We probably shouldn't have been drinking cocktails tonight." Libelle muttered.

"If anything the alcohol might make revision more interesting." Ceri sighed, she was gathering her purse and other belongings into her bag, getting ready to leave. "Come on then," Ceri linked her arm through Libelle's once they were both on their feet. "And I expect an owl tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest – okay? No chickening out!"

"Okay." Libelle agreed as they left the pub.

A/N: I'd love to know what you think/feel about this story :)