Thank you so much for the all the love you have shown this story! It brings me so much joy to read your comments!

Therefore I am posting a double chapter update for you. You will be getting both Chapter 5 and Chapter 6!

Big thanks to my sweet husband for giving me feedback.

It was late afternoon, and the golden autumn light filtered through the windows of Hermione's cosy flat. Rose sat at the kitchen table, crayons scattered around her as she coloured in a picture of a broomstick, her tongue poking out in concentration. Hermione was at the counter, half-focused on stirring a pot of stew, half-lost in her thoughts. It had been a long day at the Ministry, and she was grateful for this quiet moment with Rose, though her mind kept drifting back to the events of the past few days.

Since their unexpected encounter with Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley, Rose had been surprisingly talkative about the "nice man" who had helped her. Hermione had brushed it off at first, trying to focus on work and other pressing matters. But as she stirred the stew, she couldn't help but think about it—the way that Malfoy had looked at Rose, and how he had seemed so different from the boy she remembered knowing.

"Why are you frowning, Mummy?" Rose asked suddenly, looking up from her drawing.

Hermione blinked, realising she had been scowling into the pot. She forced a smile, turning to face her daughter. "Oh, I'm just thinking, love. What are you drawing?"

"A broomstick!" Rose said proudly, holding up the picture for Hermione to see. "Like the one in the window of the shop!"

Hermione smiled, moving to sit beside Rose at the table. "It's lovely," she said, reaching out to ruffle Rose's curls.

There was a pause, and then, almost casually, Rose asked, "Mummy, how do you know Mr. Draco?"

Hermione's heart gave a small, uncomfortable lurch at the question. She had known it was coming, of course—Rose had mentioned him several times in the past few days—but she had hoped it would pass without much attention. Trying to keep her tone light, Hermione replied, "Mr Malfoy." She corrected. "He's… an old classmate of mine from Hogwarts."

Rose tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Did you know him well?"

Hermione hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "We went to school together, yes, but we weren't exactly friends."

Rose frowned, clearly puzzled. "But he was so nice," she said, her voice full of childish certainty. "He found me and brought me back to you."

Hermione felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name—guilt, perhaps, or maybe reluctance. She didn't know how to explain the complexities of her history with Draco Malfoy to a four-year-old. To Rose, he was simply the man who had been kind to her, who had helped her when she was lost. But to Hermione, Malfoy was a reminder of a time filled with conflict, hatred and old wounds that had never fully healed.

"Yes," Hermione said softly, "he was very kind to you."

The words felt strange on her tongue, like an admission she hadn't been ready to make. She couldn't deny that Malfoy had surprised her. The man who had found Rose, calm and thoughtful, was a far cry from the arrogant boy she had known at Hogwarts. She had expected coldness or indifference from him, but instead, he had been gentle with Rose, and… different. More human than she had ever imagined him being.

Rose seemed satisfied with that, her attention already drifting back to her drawing, but Hermione's mind was still buzzing with thoughts. As she sat there, watching her daughter happily scribble away, she couldn't shake the image of Malfoy's face when he had knelt down to speak with Rose, or the way his tone had softened when he spoke to the little girl. It had been so unexpected—yet quite fitting.

Could people truly change that much?

Hermione pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on the present. It was easier to pretend their lives would remain separate, that the encounter in Diagon Alley had been a one-off. Yet the memory of Malfoy lingered, nagging at the corners of her mind. She had always believed in second chances, in the ability of people to grow and change, but when it came to Draco Malfoy, it felt more complicated than that.

As she stirred the stew again, Hermione's eyes flicked back to Rose. "What else do you remember about Mr Malfoy?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Rose paused in her colouring, thinking hard. "He has funny hair," she said, wrinkling her nose, "and he was really quiet. But he smiled at me, and he didn't let go of my hand until we found you."

Hermione felt another pang at that. She could picture it—Malfoy's stoic face softening as he guided Rose through the busy streets of Diagon Alley, holding her hand to keep her safe. It was an image that didn't fit with her old memories of him, and that unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

"That was nice of him," Hermione said quietly, stirring the stew again. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to her, persistent and intrusive.

Later, after Rose had gone to bed and the flat had fallen into the familiar quiet of the evening, Hermione found herself sitting on the couch, staring into the flickering fire. Her mind kept circling back to the same thought—Draco Malfoy. She didn't want to involve him in Rose's life, not after everything that had happened between them in the past. But at the same time, she couldn't ignore the way Rose had connected with him so easily. It was rare for Rose to warm to strangers, and yet, with Malfoy, there had been no hesitation.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm the uneasy feelings stirring within her. She didn't owe Malfoy anything, and yet she couldn't shake the memory of his kindness. Maybe, after all these years, Draco Malfoy wasn't the boy she had once known.

But even as she entertained that thought, she felt the familiar walls of caution rising within her. She wasn't ready to trust him—not yet, and certainly not with Rose.

Still, as the night wore on and the firelight flickered across the room, the memory of Malfoy's unexpected gentleness stayed with her, tugging at her thoughts like an unanswered question.

Over the next few weeks, Draco and Granger seemed to find themselves in each other's paths more often than either of them could explain. The first time it happened again, it was in Diagon Alley, not long after their initial encounter. Draco had been browsing the Apothecary, carefully selecting ingredients for his potions, when a voice from behind made him pause.

"Malfoy?" Granger's voice was familiar, but it still caught him off guard, and Draco stiffened before turning slowly.

She was standing at the entrance, holding a few parchment scrolls under her arm, her expression somewhere between surprise and polite acknowledgment. The apothecary was small, dimly lit, and the shelves lined with countless jars and vials gave it a cramped feeling. In that moment, the space felt even smaller as they both stood there, staring at each other.

"Granger," Draco acknowledged, his voice clipped as usual. He gave a slight nod, feeling the familiar urge to leave before the conversation could deepen into anything uncomfortable. The air between them was thick with a shared history neither was eager to revisit, and yet, here they were, face to face.

Granger offered a polite smile, though it was tight, almost forced. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Draco shrugged, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. "I'm here often. Restocking ingredients," he added, his eyes flicking over to the shelves as if to distract himself from the growing awkwardness. "And you?"

She shifted slightly, adjusting the scrolls in her arms. "I'm running a few errands for the Ministry," she explained. "We're working on some new regulations for potions ingredients, so I thought I'd come by and check a few things myself."

There was a brief pause, a silence that seemed to echo louder than it should in such a quiet, crowded shop. Draco glanced at her scrolls, then at the rows of jars on the shelves, already calculating the fastest way out of this conversation. He was good at avoiding unnecessary interactions, and this one felt particularly unnecessary.

"Right," he muttered, taking a step back. "Well, I won't keep you."

Granger's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, as though she was considering whether or not to continue the conversation. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something more, but Draco had already turned, heading toward the door with quick, purposeful strides.

"Malfoy, wait," Granger called out suddenly, her voice softer this time.

Draco froze, his hand hovering near the door, debating whether to keep walking or turn around. Against his better judgement, he turned.

Granger's expression had softened too, her eyes searching his face. "You don't have to rush off just because I am here, you know," she said, her voice lighter, as though trying to ease the tension between them.

Draco raised an eyebrow, masking his discomfort with indifference. "I didn't realise I was rushing," he replied, though the excuse felt weak even as he said it.

Granger tilted her head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It feels like you are trying to escape me," she admitted, but there was no accusation in her tone. Instead, there was a hint of curiosity, as though she couldn't quite figure him out.

Draco shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. He met her gaze, and for a moment, the history between them hung heavy in the air—years of tension, of rivalry, of misunderstandings, of different sides of a war. Yet here she was, standing in front of him with a look that suggested she was willing to let the past be the past.

"I'm not trying to escape you," Draco said, though, even he could hear the hollowness in the words.

Granger studied him for a moment before sighing softly, as though deciding it wasn't worth pursuing further. "Alright," she said, giving him a small, genuine smile. "I'll let you get back to your ingredients then."

Draco nodded, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly. "Good luck with the regulations," he offered, more out of politeness than interest, but the words didn't feel as forced as he'd expected them to.

"Thanks," Granger said, giving him one last nod before turning back to the shelves.

Draco left the apothecary quickly, his steps brisk, but as he walked out into the busy street of Diagon Alley, he couldn't help but feel more unsettled than he had when he'd entered. The encounter had been longer than he'd intended, and for reasons he didn't want to admit, it had left a strange, nagging feeling in his chest.

The second time they crossed paths was at the Ministry, only a few days later. Draco had been called in for a routine meeting regarding potion supplies and regulations—a tedious matter he had little interest in but had to attend nonetheless. He moved through the bustling Atrium, weaving between Ministry workers and enchanted memos, trying to get to his appointment quickly.

Just as he approached the lifts, he spotted Granger standing near one of the fireplaces, deep in conversation with a colleague. Draco immediately slowed his pace, hoping to slip past without being noticed, but as luck would have it, Granger glanced up at the exact moment he drew closer.

Her eyes widened slightly in recognition, and she offered a smile. Draco cursed inwardly but forced a neutral expression as she excused herself from her conversation and made her way over to him.

"Malfoy," she greeted him, her voice polite but with a trace of familiarity that made him uncomfortable, though he couldn't pinpoint why.

"Granger," he replied, nodding stiffly. It still felt odd, the two of them standing together in such an ordinary place, exchanging pleasantries as though they were old acquaintances. "What brings you here?" He regretted the stupid question as soon as it had left his mouth.

She gestured behind her. "Work, as usual. And you?"

"Routine meeting," Draco answered curtly. "Nothing interesting."

There was an awkward pause, the noise of the Ministry buzzing around them as memos flitted overhead and Ministry workers bustled about their day, making the silence between them feel even heavier.

"Well," Granger started, "it's good to see you."

Draco gave a stiff nod, resisting the urge to fidget. "You too."

He turned to go, but before he could take more than a few steps, Granger spoke again. "You're avoiding me, aren't you?"

Draco stopped, his back to her. He hadn't expected her to be so blunt. He slowly turned around to face her, his expression carefully neutral. "I'm not avoiding you," he said, though the lie felt weak, even to him.

Granger raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "You've practically fled every time we've seen each other recently. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were deliberately trying to avoid any kind of conversation."

Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't think we had much to say to each other, that's all."

Her gaze softened slightly, as if she were considering his words carefully. "We don't have to talk about the past, Malfoy. But we could at least be civil."

"I am civil," Draco said defensively, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn't entirely true. He had been deliberately keeping his distance, not because of any lingering hostility, but because being around Granger—and by extension, Rose—was stirring something in him he wasn't ready to confront.

Granger didn't press the issue further, but the awkwardness lingered in the air between them. "Alright," she said finally, her tone gentler than before. "Maybe next time we bump into each other, we could actually have a proper conversation."

Draco didn't respond, but he nodded once more before turning to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. He had tried to avoid her, to keep things simple, but fate seemed to have other plans.

It happened again a week later, this time outside Flourish and Blotts . Draco had been leaving the shop, a few new potions books tucked under his arm, when he nearly collided with Granger at the entrance. The soft chime of the bell over the door rang out as they stood face to face, the unexpected encounter freezing them both in place for a moment.

Granger was holding Rose's hand, the little girl beaming up at her mother while clutching a new book in the other. Rose's bright eyes lit up with recognition as soon as she saw Draco.

"The nice man!" Rose exclaimed happily, tugging on Granger's hand and looking up at Draco with excitement.

Draco stiffened, his eyes darting to Rose, then quickly back to Granger, whose expression showed a flicker of surprise before settling into a polite smile.

"Malfoy," Granger greeted him, nodding. "It seems we can't go a week without bumping into each other."

Draco managed a small, stiff smile, though his gaze briefly shifted back to Rose. Her innocent delight at seeing him was disarming, and it caught him off guard more than he wanted to admit. "It appears so," he said, his voice tight, trying to suppress the discomfort creeping in. When he looked at Rose, the past felt closer than it should.

Rose tugged again on her mother's sleeve, her enthusiasm boundless. "Mummy, can I tell him about the book we got?"

Granger glanced at Draco, a fleeting awkwardness passing between them before she nodded. "Of course, sweetheart."

Rose proudly held up her new book, her small face glowing with excitement. "It's about a little witch who learns to fly on a broomstick! I'm going to read it all by myself."

Draco smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching up despite himself. The tension in his chest, however, only grew. "That's… very impressive, Rose."

The simple exchange between him and Rose, light-hearted though it was, tugged at something deep inside him, a discomfort he hadn't quite been able to shake. It wasn't that he disliked the child—far from it—but there was something about her innocence, her easy trust, that stirred feelings he wasn't used to facing. They weren't wholly unpleasant, but they were unfamiliar and unsettling, like the warmth of a fire that's just a bit too close.

He glanced at Granger again, who was watching the interaction with a soft, careful look, her gaze unreadable. For a fleeting moment, he thought of how different his life might have been if such moments had been a regular occurrence for him—small exchanges filled with curiosity and uncomplicated war.

Her eyes were watchful, but there was no hint of animosity like there had been all those years ago. Still, Draco couldn't help but wonder where Weasley was in all this. Shouldn't he be here? With them? His absence nagged at Draco's mind. It seemed unnatural, though Draco wasn't sure why it bothered him. This was the second or third time he had run into Granger and Rose alone.

Before the conversation could linger too long, Draco gave a slight nod toward Granger. "I should get going," he said, making an effort to keep his tone polite but firm. The air between them felt heavier than it should, and he needed to escape before it grew any more suffocating.

Granger seemed to understand. "Of course," she said softly. "It was… nice bumping into you." Her smile was genuine, though Draco could sense the same awkwardness he felt mirrored in her expression.

Draco nodded once more, his face unreadable, and turned to walk away. He weaved through the bustling crowd of Diagon Alley, but the further he went, the more the encounter gnawed at him. It had been happening far too often—these chance meetings, the way their lives seemed to cross unexpectedly. And every time, it left him with that same unsettled feeling, as though fate was pulling them into each other's orbit no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance.

As he disappeared into the sea of shoppers, Draco couldn't help but feel as though some invisible force was toying with him, continuously drawing him back into Granger's path, back into this strange limbo where their past was never fully acknowledged but always present. He knew one thing for certain—each encounter left him more rattled than the last, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pretending it didn't affect him.

It was a crisp, cool morning in Diagon Alley, the kind where the early light filtered through the swirling mist, casting a soft glow over the cobbled streets. Draco had been to the Apothecary again, restocking a few rare ingredients. The chill in the air made him pull his cloak tighter as he walked down the lane, his thoughts already on the brewing he had planned for the afternoon.

As he turned a corner, lost in his own thoughts, he stopped short when he saw Granger standing just outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour , her breath forming small clouds in the cool air. She was looking at the menu posted on the shop window, seemingly deep in thought. Rose stood beside her, bundled up in a warm jacket, her curls bouncing as she tried to peer into the shop's window.

Draco hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to turn back or continue walking. But it was too late—Rose spotted him first.

"Mummy! Look, it's Mr Malfoy again!" Rose's excited voice carried across the street.

Granger looked up quickly, her eyes widening as they locked onto Draco's. For a brief moment, he considered nodding politely and moving on, but something about the familiar scene—Granger with Rose, the simple domesticity of it—made him pause. The awkwardness that usually sat between them seemed to waver, as though they had finally run into each other enough times to dull its sharp edges.

"Malfoy," Granger greeted him, her voice softer than usual, almost as though the frequency of their encounters had worn down her formal tone. "You're out early."

"I could say the same for you," Draco replied, offering a faint smile. His usual instinct to retreat wasn't as strong this time. "It's not exactly the warmest day for ice cream."

Granger laughed softly, surprising him. "No, it's not, but Rose has been asking since last night, so…" She gave a small shrug, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Rose tugged on Granger's sleeve. "Mummy promised," she said with the kind of seriousness only a child could muster. "Even if it's cold."

Draco looked down at Rose, whose bright, innocent gaze made something inside him soften. He crouched down slightly, meeting her at eye level. "You must really like ice cream then."

Rose nodded eagerly, her eyes wide. "I like the chocolate kind best. What about you?"

Draco hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. "Lemon Sherbert," he said after a pause, as if admitting a deep secret. "Simple, but it works."

Rose grinned, clearly pleased with his answer. "Mummy likes lemon sherbert too!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.

Draco straightened up, and for the first time since their many encounters began, he felt the tension between him and Granger ease. The cold formality they had maintained over the weeks seemed to thaw, if only slightly.

"You're really good with her," Granger said suddenly, her tone soft, almost tentative. Draco turned to her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow. "I've never been around children much," he admitted quietly, glancing back at Rose, who was now distracted by something in the shop window. "But… she's different."

Granger gave him a small smile, one that felt more real than the polite ones they had exchanged in the past. "She likes you, you know. Thinks you're nice."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond to that. The idea that Rose, so innocent and full of life, could look at him and think him nice was something he hadn't expected. He cleared his throat, feeling the urge to deflect. "She's a smart girl," he said, keeping his tone light. "It's probably her mother's influence."

Granger's smile grew, and for the first time in what felt like years, Draco saw a glimpse of the girl she had been at Hogwarts—the sharp, quick-witted Granger who had always been a step ahead of everyone else.

"I'd like to think so," Granger said with a chuckle, then added, "Though I suspect her stubbornness comes from her father."

At the mention of Rose's father, Draco's mind drifted to Weasley again, the absent figure he had yet to see. But he kept the question to himself, not wanting to disrupt the unexpected ease of their conversation.

"So," Granger continued, her tone still light but more casual than before, "are you working on anything interesting? I assume your visits to the apothecary are for more than just the basics."

Draco smirked, a familiar sense of pride in his craft slipping into his voice. "Just experimenting with a few variations of some potions. Nothing too exciting yet."

"Ever the perfectionist," Granger noted with a smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Still brewing even after all this time."

Draco shrugged. "It's one of the few things I'm good at," he said simply. "It keeps me occupied."

There was a pause, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time. Instead, they stood there, both of them momentarily lost in the simplicity of their conversation, neither one in a hurry to rush away.

"Malfoy," Granger began hesitantly, her voice softer, "you don't have to keep avoiding me."

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her statement. "I'm not—"

"You are," she interrupted gently, her eyes searching his. "I understand why, believe me. We've both got… history. But it doesn't always have to be this awkward, does it?"

Draco looked at her for a long moment, his mind swirling with thoughts. She wasn't wrong. He had been keeping his distance, avoiding anything that might resemble a deeper connection. But standing there now, with Granger's calm, genuine gaze and Rose's cheerful chatter filling the space between them, he found himself wondering if perhaps it didn't always have to be difficult.

"I suppose not," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Granger smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that seemed to warm the chilly air around them. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

Draco glanced at Rose, who had returned to her mother's side and was tugging on Granger's sleeve again. "Mummy, can we get ice cream now?" she asked, her voice full of impatience.

Granger chuckled and looked at Draco one last time. "It was good talking to you, Malfoy."

Draco nodded. "You too, Granger."

As Granger and Rose turned to head into the shop, Draco stood there for a moment, watching them go. The lingering tension that had always hung between them had faded, replaced by something quieter, something that felt almost like… understanding.

He turned and walked back into the busy street, his steps slower this time. For once, the encounter hadn't left him unsettled. Instead, it left him with a strange sense of calm—an unfamiliar feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

I will post Chapter 6 immediately after this one.

I wrote this chapter as a montage as I needed their interactions to evolve a bit quicker than if every encounter was a. chapter on its own.

I apologise if it confuses you that I sometimes write Granger or Malfoy, when it is one or the other's POV, when I most of the time write Hermione or Draco. Sometimes one fits more than the other. But eventually it will only be Hermione or Draco. I hope that made sense?