DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE.

"Hey, Granger!" Draco shouted through the throng of people. "Granger! Over here!"

"Draco!" Hermione said, smiling at the shop owner as he handed her a colorful bag. "Took you long enough."

Draco's hair was windswept, his clothes were askew, and his face was formed into a deep scowl, but he was still as handsome as ever. Some even whipped their heads around to stare at him. His pale face glowed under his chocolate hair as his ever luminescent eyes matching the overcast sky above.

His scowled even deeper as she promptly ignored him and started to chatter on. What was wrong with this woman? He had tried every trick he had to look like a rugged angel consorting with mere mortals, just to get the naïve brunette to at least notice him. But no, all she does is prattle on about some bloody idiot who was 'nice' and probably not half as good-looking as him.

"So, Phil asked me to go with him to this Concert at the Opera house, but -"

"You hate the bloody Opera." Draco grumbled. This ignoring him thing was a serious blow to his self esteem. It took him a month of haggling to get two weeks off her schedule and she talks about Gil.

Hermione turned, confusion evident in her delicate features. Then, she noticed Draco's scowl and his accusing eyes. Draco scowled even more as the pretty brunette let out a hearty laugh, patting him on his perfectly messed up hair.

"I'm sorry Draco." She cooed, still laughing. She ruffled his hair, making it look much more messier and rugged. "but if you let me finish, you would have heard that I gave the offer up because of our plans."

"So I'm being an obstacle to you now?" Draco pouted. "I'm fine if you blow off our plans for that Will guy. I'll just find another girl to take me around London and entertain me."

Hermione glared at him before playfully teasing, saying, "Honestly, you act like you're on your period. I don't even act like that."

Draco gave her one last glare, crossing his arms before opening them wide. "Fine, I'll tone down the sarcasm and general Malfoy-ishness. So, how do I look?"

"I knew you would be upset if I ignored the appearance." Hermione chuckled, pulling him into a coffee shop. It was old and weathered down, unlike the other establishments surrounding it. But it was cozy and Draco could see why she picked this spot.

"That didn't answer my question." Draco pouted as he pulled a chair for Hermione to sit on. Hermione, meanwhile, used to such gestured from her currently brown-haired friend, decided not to argue like the first few times Draco did this. The morning was too splendid to spoil with another tirade of Manners and Finesse from Draco.

"You look adorable." Hermione smiled, amusement in her eyes.

A skimpily-dressed waitress walked up to them as Draco glared at her, saying, "This" – he gestured towards his form – "is adorable? I think not." He crossed his arms. "It's more of a dashing and rugged look, don't you think?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, kicking him in the shin – which earned her his 'go-to-hell' glare – and nodded sarcastically, saying, "Yes. Yes, I think you're right."

"Uh..." the waitress coughed, staring at Draco. The girl looked so starstruck that Hermione pitied her. Most females had this reaction to her friend. It was amusing to watch sometimes, when they dropped food or stops in their tracks, but she sympathized with the ones who were rendered speechless and immobile. "You're order?"

"You do it, Granger." Draco said nonchalantly, blatantly ignoring another of his already numerous fans. "You're the guide, remember."

"Uh... right." Hermione muttered as she glared at the waitress who was now past the immobility and furiously trying to catch Draco's attention by flashing boobs every 5 seconds. The waitress officially moved towards the annoying division, where most of Draco's fans stand. "One Triple Chocolate Latte, one Caramel cappuccino, and two croissants, please. One vanilla and one Chocolate."

The waitress nodded absentmindedly, still staring at Draco. "What else, sir?"

Hermione glared, but Draco replied before she could open her mouth. "Actually, you can. Scratch the Caramel cappuccino, replace it with whatever she's having."

"But you hate chocolate." Hermione protested, but the waitress was already leaving, flashing underwear as she swayed towards the Kitchen.

"I don't." Draco said, stone faced. "And you're obviously a regular here. You didn't even glance at the menus. Last time I checked, you never go out. Ever."

Hermione scoffed, glaring at him. "My dad and I used to go here. Every Thursday. It was our tradition. You're the first idiot that I brought here."

Oh," Draco paled, his stony expression suddenly softening. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Hermione shrugged, glancing at the kitchens where the waitress was currently peeking at them with another waitress, this time, a redhead. "Looks like you managed to snare another heart today. The waitress was cute, she would give you anything if you asked for it." Hermione smiled.

Draco's expression turned into offended and then a cold, unreadable one. "I'm not looking for that now."

"But you've been single for what? Two years?" Hermione snorted. "I think it's high time that you thought about dating. It's you're wish, isn't it? To forget? How are you going to do that if you keep flipping off every woman that shows interest in you?"

"Let's focus on your wish first, shall we?" Draco muttered.

"Fine."

"So, what did you have in mind?" Draco asked as the waitress brought their order, flashing more of her assets as she moved around. But he didn't seem to notice because his attention was focused so fiercely on the smiling brunette.

"It's a surprise, dummy." Hermione smiled as she finished eating her croissant. "Now, eat up, we have a long walk ahead of us."

"A bookstore." Draco snorted as they entered the old, faded and decaying building. "I should have known. We have two weeks and you decide to spend it in a cafe, making me eat gross insects and in a mangy bookstore."

"Be nice." Hermione chided. "This bookstore is as old as the other buildings in Diagon Alley. This is a place where no one ever comes to anymore."

"I can see why." Draco scowled as he dragged his pale finger across a dusty volume. "So do you mind explaining why we're here?"

"If you really hate this, then why don't you run off and meet up with your harlotts?" Hermione frowned as she walked towards the upper levels.

Draco snorted, running a little to catch up to Hermione. "Please, Granger." He said, running up the stairs. "If I could be anywhere – and mind you, I could – I would be there with you. Otherwise, who would I annoy?"

"Posh." Hermione mumbled as Draco caught up to her. "And we're not here for the books. They're too ancient to risk light reading. We're here for this."

Hermione pushed open an old wooden door. Quietly, she slipped inside, and Draco quickly followed suit, albeit with a little difficulty since the gap that Hermione created was only big enough to fit her comfortably.

"Wow." Draco breathed as they entered the room. In the center, there was a painting of a girl looking out into the sunset. Her face was tilted sideways, and she had a small smile on her delicate lips. Her eyes were sapphire blue, and almond shaped, and they were glazed, and a dreamy sort of ethereal beauty radiated off from her. The sky around her was gray, the kind of gray that was colorless. It was the kind of gray that hinted of other colors to come, that a happier time was to come. But it wasn't the swirl of colors that attracted Draco, rather, it was the girl herself which surprised him the most. "She... is that you, Hermione?"

"No," the brunette whispered softly. She stepped forward, bathing herself in the soft light that came from the window. She caressed the wooden frame carefully, her back to Draco. "The painting was made in the early 1900s."

"How did you know?" Draco asked, moving to stand next to her.

"It seems like a whole lifetime ago, but I remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday." Hermione said, smiling up at Draco. "It was Summer, and I think it was in our third year. Yes, I think it was. I remember telling him about the punching thing."

"Go on," Draco rolled his eyes, nudging her.

"We were walking down the street when Mr. Stravinsky, the old owner of this shop, went right outside and stopped us in our tracks. He was really old back then, about 90, but he was still strong and light. He walked towards us in his walking cane, staring at me like I was a ghost... in a way, I was. He invited us inside. He was so keen on showing us this room that dad almost made me go outside. But he persevered in the end. He showed us this painting, tears falling from his eyes with every word. Next to the war, it was the saddest thing that I ever saw."

"Come here, you." Draco muttered as he moved to hug the brunette.

"He told us about her." Hermione whispered. "Her name was Katarina du Ciel. She was the daughter of a pair of Aristocrats. Her mother was Russian, and her father was French, but she ultimately grew up in Russia, and she lived in the time where the Romanovs where still a great power in Russia. This painting was Mr. Stravinsky's master piece. He made it when he was 50, and still thinking of her." Hermione sobbed. "Their story is as cliché as it gets, but it's really true. He met her when he was 15 and was working as a Painter's apprentice in St. Petersburg. She had her portrait taken, as was fashionable for society girls to do back then. He told me that she was as snobby as snobs could be, but when he moved the sketch her, her eyes showed such softness and fragility that he couldn't help but get curiouser. He specifically described her as 'a doll, beautiful and perfectly crafted, but her emotions do not control her actions, because the strings that hang on to her are knotted too tightly to her delicate hands'. One thing led to another and soon enough, Katarina was persuading him to run away with her, especially since the revolts and riots against the Aristocrats were beginning to rise."

"What happened then?" Draco asked, really intrigued.

"He refused. He refused to leave since his craft and work was there. And he paid for it until his death. She was killed. And he never forgave himself for failing her. He moved here to London, and he stopped painting for a while, preferring to run this bookstore instead. But when he grew old, he painted her just as he remembered her. This was his last work."

"Woah." Draco muttered, looking at the painting with a new light. Suddenly, he understood the play of colors that was in them. The old man was still waiting for a new and better tomorrow, as was the girl. "But I still don't get why she looks like you."

"She's a distant relative." Hermione smiled. "I checked. Her father was the uncle of my Great-grandfather."

"Her eyes..."

"I know, it's the same shade as my contacts." The brunette said, moving towards the door. "She's the reason why I chose this particular shade of blue."

"What about Mr. Stravinsky?" Draco inquired, ruffling his hair and following suit. "What happened to him?"

"He died a year after I met him, but it was enough time for him to make me his heir." Hermione said sadly. "His reason was that I was his Katarina. And that she lives in me."

"So you own this bookshop?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh," Draco said, sniffing. "No wonder its falling apart."

Hermione laughed, throwing him a rag – which he caught deftly – as she opened the door into the London air. "I'm planning on fixing it up, but who has the time these days? The kids at the Orphanages need me more than ever and I think I volunteered myself too much."

"You only notice now." Draco snorted in disbelief as he threw the rag aside. "I've been trying to tell you that for the past two years."

"Okay, okay." Hermione said, raising her hands,

"So, where would we go to next?"

"What about Gelato?"

"It's cloudy and chilly, and you want to have ice cream?" Draco said, following her down the street.

"There's always time for gelato," Hermione smiled. She took his hand, pulling him forward as she sprinted off into a dash, "Come on, I know just the place."

"In all the places in London, why do we have to get ice cream here?" Draco complained as he sidestepped what looked like a dead cat's body.

"Because it's the best." Hermione whispered. "Just trust me, okay?"

"Fine." Draco grumbled. "But if my shirt gets ruined, you will buy me another one."

"Alright." Hermione nodded, too happy to argue. "Just come on! We don't have all day."

"Well, if we hadn't stopped by that run down shack of a diner, we wouldn't have this problem and arrive here before lunch."

"Shut up. Lou was really nice to you."

"She thought that I was your 'beau'" Draco muttered, secretly flattered.

"She thinks every man I bring there are my beaux." Hermione frowned. "But she's nice enough."

"Every man?"

"Yeah." Hermione said nonchalantly. "I used to go there with some muggle friends. Though, I never brought anyone from the wizarding community there... well, maybe except Tristan."

"Tristan?" Draco inquired. His face was set in concentration, probably trying to remember if there was a Tristan in their class.

"You don't need to know..." Hermione sighed. Then, she perked up as the little Gelato shop came into view. "Oh look! They're still open!"

"Hey, Hermione! Wait up!" Draco shouted, running towards his brunette companion. "Who's Tristan?"

"No one." Hermione smiled happily, turning her back at him. "Now, choose the flavors that you want! I want Rainbow Chocolate, Cola, and Cherry Blossom, please."

"Cherry Blossom?" Draco asked in disbelief, peering at the selection warily.

"Yeah," Hermione smiled happily as the man behind the counter smiled at her. "It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Hermione!" A man about the same age as they were emerged from the back of the shop. He had golden blonde hair and a pair of black rimmed glasses that rested askew against his also golden eyes. He had color-stained hands and a smile that almost gave Draco a run for his money. Almost. "It's been so long! How are you? And what have you done to your eyes?"

"Hale!" Hermione gushed, letting go of Draco's sweater and leaning over the counter. "I can't believe you noticed the eyes. They're contacts. I thought they would be a quirky little twist."

"What do you take me for?" Hale snorted. He moved closer and examined Hermione's eyes some more, wiping his hands with an already multi-colored rag. "Curiouser though, is that you'd choose the exact same shade as Ms. Du Ciel's."

"You caught me." Hermione smiled as she hugged him. His glasses became even more askew as they brushed against her hair. Hermione, meanwhile, hugged him like there was no tomorrow."I just had to."

"I understand." He beamed, hugging her with equal fervor. "But the natural shade of your eyes was more beautiful."

"Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder." Hermione chuckled, breaking the hug. "You know that."

"Of course." Hale smiled. "I taught you that."

Before Hermione could reply, Draco decided that he had enough of being treated like a lamppost and make his presence known. He coughed not-so-nondescriptly. And he flashed the mustard-haired freak (in his opinion, dull-eyed too) his award-winning smirk-smile. That won him the hearts of all those who preferred men (except Hermione, whom he thought was really a lesbian after the first few weeks, who was never really susceptible to any of his charms) and unnerved those who didn't.

Hale stiffened, eying Draco warily. He leaned over and extended his hand to Draco, saying, "Hello, I don't believe that we've met. My name is Hale Williams,"

"Draco Malfoy." Draco said, smirking now. He shook Hale's hands briefly, frowning at him slightly.

"Draco, come on, give your order." Hermione prodded as the man behind the counter handed her the ice cream. "Hale's creations here are to die for."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes at her. " I've seen better."

Hermione slapped his forearm, glaring at him and saying, "Be nice."

"You two dating?" Hale said, raising an eyebrow and glaring stonily at Draco.

Draco answered an affirmative as he reached towards Hermione, pulling closer to him. Meanwhile, Hermione answered a negative and slapped Draco's hand away.

"Actually, we're friends" Hermione smiled. Then, Hale seemed to exhale in relief. It was Draco's turn to glare stonily at the blonde.

"I want Chilly Explosion, Fiery Fury, and Spice Grenade."

"Are you sure, Draco?" Hale said, his expression smug. " A man such as yourself may not be able to handle the spice. I recommend maybe Fairy Lace and the Children's special for you."

"Just give me the order." Draco said grimly. "Gold."

"Why, only a man who doesn't know its value would bestow it to someone he dislikes." Hale smirked. He scooped Draco's order and handed it to him. "Silver."

"No, actually, I gave it to you because I know that it would be inferior to me." Draco said as Hermione glared at the two of them and he took the

"I never thought that Gold was inferior to silver." Hale smirked, crossing his arms. He raised his eyebrows and glared at Draco stonily again.

This time, it was Draco who flashed his winning smile. "Actually, it's not silver. It's platinum. And I'm sure that you know that gold doesn't have the shine or luster that platinum does... but looking at you, I don't think you know that."

"That is enough!" Hermione said, glaring at the two of them. "Both of you stop this stupid game and at least act like adults!"

"Sorry," both of them said.

"Hermione, come on," Draco said, taking her hand and pulling her away, giving the golden haired idiot one last piercing glare.

Draco puked into the toilet bowl again, cursing everything and anything that had a trace of gold in them. The bloody ice cream would be the death of him if his reactions to it wouldn't stop.

"Draco, here." Hermione said, handing him a glass of milk. "It would stop some of the burning sensations."

"Thanks," Draco whispered, breathing unevenly, downing the milk in one go.

"You shouldn't order anything as strong again." Hermione chuckled, wiping the sweat from her friend's brow. Somehow, even if Draco had suffered hell and back, he still looked as if he was about to shoot for some topnotch ad. Typical.

"We should never go back there." Draco said, glancing towards the clock. It had read 5:00 and the sun was slowly sinking.

"You won't but I will," Hermione said defiantly. "Hale is a close friend, plus, he's a muggle. He's one of the few muggle friends I have left.

Draco grumbled a protest, but otherwise remained silent. Hermione helped him up and led him to the guest bedroom – which had effectively become his in the past two years – and set him on the bed.

"When you wake up," Hermione smiled, tucking him in. "Food will be ready."

"Stay." Draco mumbled, pouting petulantly, like a five-year-old child, but Hermione was already at the doorway, her petite frame silhouetted in the faint yellow light. Somehow, even if she didn't hear him, he knew that she would always be there.