Chapter Text
The hair bobble keeping the ponytail on top of Hermione’s head was struggling to hold on as the light rain turned her tight curls into a frizzy mess. Not that Hermione noticed. She was too busy stomping her way down the street, puddles be damned. What were wet shoes when she already had a coffee stain down the front of her light green work robes?
Damn Theodore Nott. Her palms were still sore from clamping her fists tighter and tighter as he sipped from his mug while casually tearing apart her most recent proposal for hippogriff repopulation efforts.
It wasn’t so much the smile on his face as he attacked “Amendment 23: Egg Incubator Material Chart 4(b).” A more calm Hermione may even admit that she didn’t mind all of his opinions — some past critiques actually improved her previous proposals. But she didn’t want to hear it now. Not after she thought she was finally done. Instead, she’d have to go back to the scrolls for a third time.
The hangover Hermione woke up with didn’t help. She stayed up late to cheer for Ginny as the Chudley Cannons faced the Holyhead Harpies in a match that seemed to never end. Even Ron lost his gusto chanting “Weasley Is Our Queen” as the night went on. Both teams’s fans collectively cheered in relief after the Cannons’ seeker finally caught the snitch fluttering around the Harpies’ center goalpost in the early hours of the morning.
And sure, one night out to support a friend seems worth it. But it hasn’t just been one night out. The night before she stayed up late prepping for a ridiculous hearing where smarmy businessmen attempted to convince lawmakers to loosen unicorn regulations — which thankfully her testimony squashed.
And before that, she had spent the night plastering a smile on her face while crowded by fans at a St. Mungo's fundraiser gala. It didn’t help that she kept pulling at the fabric riding up her hips, trying to adjust the old robes bought a decade ago for her first post-war gala. She hadn’t considered the way her body had changed in the decade since she had worn them last.
But they were all she had. Her usual dress robes still smelled like garlic after a cauldron spilled at the last gala she attended, one showcasing young and diverse experimental potioneers. She would have ditched the St. Mungo's event but Neville specifically asked her to attend.
Wind smacked Hermione in the face as she turned the corner. Another gust swept through, knocking over a sign outside a coffee shop in muggle London up the street. Maybe a warm drink could fix it. The rain began to pick up. Her hair bobble finally gave up, splitting and sending her curly mane flying down.
Well, maybe the rain would at least help with the coffee stain on her shirt. She looked down. The brown blob only appeared to have grown.
She curses Nott. Once he started critiquing the line weight for Figure 11(c) on page 112, she lost it. She jumped up to poke the git in the chest. Only she ended up poking the coffee instead, spilling it all over herself. That’s when Mrs. Wilson, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, sighed and told Hermione to take a walk to cool down.
Hermione complied but was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t bother to cast a warming charm to lessen the impact of the rain.
She ripped open the door to the coffee shop and rushed in. Unfortunately, in her haste she steamrolled the person attempting to leave, knocking over a second coffee for the day. Ugh, this day was turning even worse than the Great Grumpits retreat which she never wants to think about again.
This time the coffee landed on an unsuspecting woman. Oh no, her blouse is white. Worse, it’s silk. Hermione groaned. That’ll be expensive to fix at the dry cleaner. Although, if the emerald tennis bracelet on the woman’s wrist is any indication, she might not need to pay for the damages.
Hermione brought her gaze up the woman’s slim frame, taking in the small, square, matching emerald earrings, pulled-back blonde hair, and striking blue eyes.
Wait, she knows those eyes. They’re Narcissa Malfoy’s eyes.
Hermione’s mouth dropped open. She tried to apologise — for running into her, for ruining her blouse, for staring — but words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she ended up opening and closing her mouth like a carp out of water.
A startled Narcissa Malfoy’s shoulders dropped, and a sly smile took over her face. Nodding toward Hermione’s stain, then glancing down at her own, Narcissa cocked a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“This is a bit of a surprising new fashion trend, but I guess if we're all doing it,” she drawled.
Hermione felt a blush creeping up her chest toward her neck. Narcissa was smug.
After continued silence, Narcissa’s smile dropped. “Hermione?”
Hermione clamped her mouth shut for good. Until she remembered that she did actually need to speak. She took a breath.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I was not watching where I was going. Can I please buy you another coffee and perhaps pay for your dry cleaning?”
“Dry cleaning?” Narcissa asked.
“Oh, it’s a muggle way to —”
A loud cough interrupted her. The two looked over to see a queue of people attempting to leave the shop and an employee standing next to them with a mop.
“Oh, oh, so sorry, so sorry. I’m in your way aren’t I. I’ll just …”
Hermione stepped to the side, grabbing Narcissa’s arm to pull her with her so the door was open.
“Thank you,” gruffed a man in a suit, eyeing Hermione’s wizard ropes before opening his umbrella indoors. Hermione flinched as flecks of water hit her. She was so distracted leaving that she forgot to transfigure her robes. She sighed.
After the door shut and the employee had seemingly mopped up most of the mess, Hermione noticed her hand was still holding onto something. She glanced over to see it was an arm. Narcissa’s arm, to be exact. Hermione’s hand instinctively tightened before you she quickly tore it away.
She went to shove her hands in her jean pockets until she remembered she was wearing work robes. She absently rubbed her hand against her leg instead.
Hermione noticed Narcissa was wearing wide-legged navy trousers with discrete vertical stripes. Kitten heels brought the two of them to the same height.
During her failed attempt at a discrete evaluation, Hermione missed Narcissa’s growing smile and indulgent head tilt.
“You said something about buying me a coffee?” Narcissa asked.
“Yes!” Hermione jumped, once again grabbing Narcissa’s arm to drag her toward the line. She froze when she realized she had done it again. Narcissa only chuckled.
“I don’t mind someone taking lead, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa said, before leaning to Hermione, “but I think a light hand on the back is more proper.”
Hermione, whose blush had now thoroughly reached her cheeks, nodded and moved her hand to the small of Narcissa’s back, gently guiding them to the back of the line.
Her palm started tingling as if hit by a Rictusempra.
The two were quiet. Hermione shifted her weight, trying not to stare at the striking woman. At Narcissa . An older man in front of them slowly pulled out cash from her wallet to pay.
“A flat white.”
“Hmm?” Hermione asked, meeting Narcissa’s eyes again.
Narcissa gestured to the coffee down her blouse. The stain. The coffee stain. The coffee Hermione promised to replace.
“Right, right, yes.” Hermione turned forward. The older man shuffled aside and they stepped forward. “Two flat whites, please.”
She paid and they moved to stand further down the coffee bar. The silence grew again.
“This might have been an unconventional start to a conversation, but I am glad you ran into me,” Narcissa broke the silence, eyes still looking toward the coffee bar.
Hermione startled. “You were?”
“Yes,” Narcissa turned to face her fully. Her eyes really were a startling blue. Like the sky on a sunny day. Hermione missed sunny days. “I tried to speak to you at the gala on Tuesday, but you seemed swarmed.”
The blush had firmly grown to her hairline at this point.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“Th— Thank me?”
The subtle pink of Narcissa’s lipstick as her mouth quirked up drew Hermione’s eyes. Wow, her teeth are white.
“Yes. We’ve been trying to raise funds for a new wing at St. Mungo’s for a while now, but the typical philanthropic crowd hasn’t been interested. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Narcissa looked back toward the coffee bar before locking eyes again with Hermione.
“Funding improvements to long-term patient care isn’t quite as attractive as ground-breaking research. But your appearance at our gala helped inspire some reluctant witches and wizards. We reached our goal at the end of the night.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear,” Hermione beamed, her anxiety calming now that they were on a topic she was familiar with. “Neville and his grandmother must be thrilled.”
Narcissa’s smile was blinding. An errant thought flittered through Hermione’s mind: What she would give to see that smile again.
“Yes, they are. I was on my way to meet them at the hospital now. They were visiting the Longbottoms this morning.”
Hermione groaned.
“And now you’ll be walking in with a giant stain on your top. I really must apologise again. I have to make it up to you.”
“You bought me another coffee,” Narcissa teased.
“Mrs. Malfoy, one coffee will not make up for it. Even I can tell that blouse is worth more than one drink.” Hermione grabbed their new beverages as they appeared at the bar, handing one to Narcissa. “I insist.”
“Well, since your quota on flat whites seems to be filled, how about we settle for a glass of wine?” Narcissa said, a spark appearing in her eye. “Madam Hall’s tonight at 8. They have a fantastic selection. And although your stained robe is charming, how about you wear a dress or suit instead? And a bouquet of daffodils wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Oh, erm, yes I gue—”
Narcissa was already at the door. She turned back to Hermione, glanced around, and wandlessly charmed away the stain from her shirt.
“Oh, and it’s Ms. Black now,” she said with a wink.
Narcissa exited as Hermione’s mouth once again turned into that of a carp’s.
Hermione slowly walked back to the Ministry, once again too caught in her thoughts to spell away the now downpour. She walked into her office and paused, her drenched robes leaving a pool at her feet.
“What’s this now, Granger? Forgot basic charms?” Nott asked.
Hermione blinked and looked over at him. “I … I think I have a date.”
Nott looked back surprised before chuckling, “Good for you, Granger.”
Hermione smiled. “Ya, good for me.”