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The morning golden hour hit the beachside café of a tiny wizarding village off the coast like a charm. It was warm and lazy, with the barest hint of the salty air kissing Hermione’s lips.
Inhaling deeply, she allowed the gratitude to flow from her core out to the universe. All of her friends except Harry were shocked when she announced that her holiday was being extended. That was five years ago and Hermione had yet to leave.
Being here was the first peace she had felt in her entire life and she decided to hold on to it with two hands.
Making her way to the counter to order a morning espresso, she caught sight of him.
There, seated at a corner table, was Draco Sodding Malfoy.
Still impossibly blond, backlit by the rising sun like a celestial being, and sitting in his usual spot like he has for the past three years.
Of course he had a bloody book open and exposed to the salty air like he had no decency.
Hermione approached, letting her sandals scuff the decking so he’d hear her. “Didn’t think I’d find a Malfoy in a place without velvet upholstery and heirloom snobbery.”
He didn’t look up right away. Just turned a page, unbothered. “And I didn’t think I’d have to listen to that same swotty comment again, yet here we are.”
She tilted her head, noting the extra espresso sitting across from him.
Draco finally looked up. “Tragic. My favorite girl who knows everything can’t even come up with a secondary insult.”
His smirk tugged at something she didn’t want to name. But the corner of her mouth curved anyway.
They exchanged barbs like old habits. His voice smooth, her eyes sharp. The beach behind them whispered, and the sun grew higher. For a moment, it felt like something familiar and entirely new at once — two former rivals pretending not to enjoy the game they never stopped playing.
*****
The next time he saw her, it was late. Past her normal closing time and the sky had turned a wonderful almost lavender. Hermione was sitting down in an aisle of the Bruised Apple Bookstore engrossed in reading with a pile of books needing to be shelved from the day’s customers. Clearly she had started the process and became distracted.
Draco took pause to appreciate every detail of her. The way her curls tried to break free of her messy bun, framing her face. Dark eyes were framed by long lashes that fluttered when she found herself trying to solve a problem. Her golden skin had the most perfect dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks that would darken as summer wore on.
She didn’t notice him, naturally.
“Granger.”
She yelped, spinning around. “Merlin’s knickers—Malfoy! You startled me!”
“You didn’t hear me walk in because you’ve got those blasted Muggle things in your ears.” He gestured toward her headphones with a frown.
Hermione crossed her arms. “What do want, Malfoy, other than to pester me about my music habits?”
He stepped forward and placed a small jar on the counter between them. Inside were soft pink flowers, soaking in a glowing moon water rinse.
“I brought you something,” he said. “It’s more Blushmint Lotion for your sunburns. You seemed to like it last year and—”
“I’m don’t —”
“I know. You’re not one to be coddled and you can brew on your own.” His voice was tight with something she couldn’t quite place. “But maybe someone giving a very small gift shouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Let someone give a damn about you.”
That stopped her. Her fingers hovered over the jar, the warmth from his hand still on the glass.
She didn’t say thank you. But she didn’t need to.
*****
Some days later, Hermione heard the tingling of the shop bells as Draco walked in.
“Draco, I will not accept book returns with dog-eared pages. You have got to stop abusing them, honestly.” She snarked as he came closer, chocolate brown eyes dancing with mischief.
Towering over her, but just out of reach, his natural spearmint scent was both soothing and overwhelming. His cheeky grin played across his sharp features making him look younger than usual.
“Now Granger, I do have manners and the upmost respect for your books specifically. Also, Malfoy’s never return items.” Draco sniffed with an air of haughtiness she was sure he practiced in his younger years. “I’m here, because I received an owl about a book I ordered.”
Hermione waved her wand and levitated the potions book from the back of the store to the front counter. Excitement bubbled in her chest at finally seeing what ancient text Draco could have ordered. The preservation ward was still intact from the sender and Hermione couldn’t wait to get a good look.
Draco reversed the ward (when did simple wand work become sexy?) and reverently opened ‘Whispers of the Wandless’.
“What does a Potion’s Master need with a magical theory book, Draco?” Hermione inquired coming around the counter to peer at the book.
When he didn’t answer she glanced up into his silver eyes that seemed shadowed with an unknown weight.
Taking a deep breath, Draco explained, “I know you’ve heard of the epidemic across Wizarding Britain. Witches and Wizards who fought in the war are losing their magical core. Birth rates of Squibs has increased. And…”
“And?” she gently encouraged him.
“This was the first year that there are not any first year muggle students at the magical schools.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Hermione gasped and felt her stomach knot up. Was this on purpose? Is this a cruel joke? Why did she give up her childhood and teen years fighting in a deadly war if muggles aren’t even showing magical tendencies?
“Hermione, breathe.” Came Draco’s calming voice. He cupped her cheek with one hand forcing her eyes to meet his. She felt him bring her other hand to his chest so she could feel the rise and fall of his deep breathing. “I have researched relentlessly and I think the cure is in this book. There is a flower Somnus Lilium that is said to restore magical cores. This journal could be the key and I will do everything in and outside of my power to give Muggles their rightful chance to join the Wizarding World.”
“Will you go get it yourself?” she asked, finally finding her voice.
His thumb barely grazed her cheek as he answered, “if I don’t, who will? St. Mungo’s is losing staff and receiving more patients as wizards and witches come in with the Core Fatigue. Potter and his Aurors can’t afford to go off on a side quest to find an ancient plant.”
The air was tense between them with half a lifetime of words unspoken.
Before she could stop herself, Hermione blurted, “You’ll be careful?”
The famous Draco smirk crept across of his face. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “Don't worry, Granger, I’m entirely too self-preserving to be reckless.”
Hermione indignantly shoved him off of her, butterflies from his touch vanished. “I was referring to the book, Malfoy. It’s a First Edition, you know.”