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Chapter Text

“So this is where the Golden Girl has been all this time.”

Hermione froze when she heard the nickname for the first time in over a year. The voice sounded strangely familiar too, but with her back to the speaker, she couldn’t be too sure. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself it wasn’t who she thought it was. Surely it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

“You know, I never thought of you as the type to hide from your problems,” the woman continued.

Hermione took a deep breath to compose herself before slowly turning to greet none other than Narcissa Malfoy – the Ice Queen herself, and probably the last person Hermione ever wanted to see. All it took was a single look into those cold blue eyes and Hermione was transported right back in time, to when those same eyes simply watched as Bellatrix Lestrange pinned Hermione to the floor and tortured her endlessly. A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine at the memory she’d managed to push down for years.

“I–” Hermione cleared her throat and straightened herself up, determined not to let Narcissa shake her. “I’m not hiding from anything.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear in her expression. “According to the Daily Prophet, you disappeared without a trace last year. Now, here you are in a Muggle café in Paris, of all places. So, tell me, what would you call it, if not hiding?”

Hermione took a quick look around the small shop, but there were no other customers there. They could speak freely to each other without anyone around to overhear their conversation. She couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing.

“What are you even doing here?” Hermione asked, avoiding Narcissa’s question. “I didn’t think a Muggle café was exactly your style. And, shouldn’t you still be in Azkaban, anyway?”

“I was never in Azkaban,” Narcissa said coldly, her features turning to stone in an instant. “I was under house arrest. And, if you were paying any attention to the news lately, you would know that my sentence was appealed a month ago. Mr. Potter spoke on my behalf and the charges against me were dropped.”

“Yeah, right,” Hermione scoffed. “Harry would never do that. Not after what you did to me.”

Another brief image of dark curls and empty blue eyes flashed in her head, and she had to look away from Narcissa for a few seconds to compose herself. Hermione never imagined she would have to see the woman again, let alone speak to her. She quickly shook the image out of her head and slowly brought her focus back to Narcissa.

“As I recall, I did nothing to harm you that evening,” Narcissa said defensively.

“You didn’t do anything to help me, either,” Hermione reminded her quietly.

A heavy silence washed over the two witches, neither of them knowing where to go from there. Narcissa opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but instead she shifted and glanced at the menu behind Hermione, eager for the distraction. Hermione just sighed and tapped her nails on the counter, hoping Narcissa would be gone soon.

“Are you here to order something, or just to interrogate me?” she asked eventually.

“I’ll take a cappuccino to go.”

Hermione was certain a cappuccino had never taken so long to make before. It felt like hours were passing while she steamed the milk, all the while feeling Narcissa’s gaze burning into the back of her head. The rest of the exchange happened without another word being spoken by either of them and then finally, Narcissa was walking away from the counter.

It was only when Narcissa was halfway through the door that a terrible thought crossed Hermione’s mind.

“Mrs. Malfoy!”

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder, one hand still on the door. “It’s Black,” she corrected harshly.

Hermione stared at her, mouth slightly agape. The news of Narcissa’s apparent divorce came as quite the shock – the last time she checked, Narcissa wore her status as a Malfoy proudly. Now, it was like Hermione had just called her the worst insult imaginable.

“I don’t have all day, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa huffed impatiently.

“Right, of course. I just wanted to know…” Hermione chewed her lip for a moment, wondering whether she even wanted to hear the answer to her question. “Should I be expecting an article in the Daily Prophet announcing my whereabouts to the whole wizarding world anytime soon?”

Narcissa didn’t answer straight away, and the longer she stayed quiet, the more Hermione’s nerves grew. There was a tiny voice in the back of her head urging her to run, to head upstairs and pack her bags, just as she’d done that night in London.

She almost didn’t hear it when Narcissa finally murmured, “No.”

“Wait, what?” Hermione let out the breath she’d been holding while Narcissa was deciding her fate. “I–“

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Narcissa interrupted before Hermione could even try to thank her. “I’m not doing you any favours, Ms Granger. I’m simply not ready to reveal my own location to anyone just yet.”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowded streets of Paris and leaving Hermione more confused than ever. So, Narcissa was hiding from something after all.

Of course, out of anyone that could have stumbled upon her, it had to be the one person she hated more than anybody. All she could hope for now was that it was the last she ever saw of Narcissa, and that she wouldn’t sell Hermione out to the Daily Prophet. With any luck, maybe she could go back to the life she’d created for herself without any more reminders of her past.

Hermione crossed the room and locked the front door, peeking out the window to make sure Narcissa wasn’t still hanging around, then returned to the counter to begin her daily routine of cleaning down the shop. It was a task that could easily be accomplished by magic, but she preferred to do it by hand, as it kept her focused on something other than her past. Usually, it was enough to keep her from thinking of all the people she’d left behind, and all the memories she’d much rather forget. But tonight was different.

No matter how hard she scrubbed the machines, she couldn’t keep her mind from drifting this time. She found it odd that Harry didn’t write to tell her about Narcissa’s trial; he usually told her about anything important that went on in London. Then again, it had been a while since she had last heard from him.

It had been a while since she’d heard from any of her friends, really. Maybe they were starting to realise it was pointless to keep writing to someone who had stopped writing back.

A group of teenagers passed by the café, their raucous laughter startling Hermione back to the present. It was only then that she realised she had been scrubbing the same table for almost ten minutes, entirely lost in her thoughts. She let out a deep sigh and finished the rest of the cleanup with a flick of her wand, then headed upstairs to her flat for the evening.

Chapter Text

Much to Hermione’s dismay, it wasn’t long before she and Narcissa met again. In fact, it was the very next day that Narcissa strolled into the café again, instantly drawing Hermione’s attention away from the customer she was talking to as she felt the blood drain from her system.

Judging by the smug expression on Narcissa’s face, nothing good was going to come from this conversation. Hermione’s mind seemed to jump to hundreds of possible conclusions in the few seconds it took the blonde witch to reach the counter. Maybe Narcissa had gone back on her decision and she was there with a Daily Prophet article revealing where Hermione was. Maybe she was coming to blackmail Hermione in return for keeping her secret.

Or, worst of all, she was followed by a gang of former Death Eaters and they were outside, waiting for Narcissa’s cue to swoop in and finish Hermione off once and for all.

With shaky hands; she finished serving the customer ahead of Narcissa and waited until he was out of earshot before addressing the blonde witch.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone less than kind.

“Can’t a woman simply want a coffee without having an underlying reason?” Narcissa replied, though the smirk playing on her lips told a different story.

“Of course.” Hermione couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted to the door, searching for a glimpse of a black cloak, or the glinting of a silver mask reflecting the sunlight. “But you Slytherins never do anything without a reason.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Narcissa admitted. “I just thought it was interesting, that's all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest that the woman was plotting something. “What’s interesting?”

Narcissa’s eyes danced with mirth as she continued to toy with Hermione. “I mean, how long did you think you could get away with it?”

“Get away with what?” Hermione sighed in exasperation, doubting she would ever get a straight answer.

Narcissa looked around at the few customers, who were all too engrossed in their own conversations to be paying her and the younger woman any attention. Regardless, she leaned in closer to whisper, “Well, the magic, of course.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to keep her expression unchanged, but she could still feel the muscles in her face twitch slightly. The heat thst rushed to her cheeks was definitely visible. Somehow she knew better to hope that Narcissa wouldn’t notice it.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said slowly, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

“Please,” Narcissa chuckled. “It’s written all over your face. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I could sense it even before I took a sip of that cappuccino you made me.”

“Look, whatever game you’re playing here, Black–“

“Game?” Narcissa repeated. “Oh, no, I don’t have a game. I actually came here to find out what yours is.”

“What could I possibly stand to gain out of messing with Muggles?” Hermione asked. “There’s only one of us here who would want to do something like that, and it’s certainly not me.”

“What other reason would you have to use magic?” Narcissa asked, choosing to ignore the last remark.

“Why would I tell you anything?” Hermione scoffed. “So you can turn around and report me? Get me thrown into Azkaban? No, thanks.”

Narcissa just stared at her for a moment, then the corners of her mouth tugged upwards in a small, amused grin. Hermione took a deep breath in through her nose and closed her eyes, struggling to keep her frustration under control. This woman was impossible.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, you are far too dramatic, Ms. Granger, even for a Gryffindor. Do you honestly think they would put you in Azkaban for something as simple as this? You could murder the Minister of Magic himself, with a hundred witnesses to testify against you, and still, they wouldn’t arrest you. You’re practically invincible.”

“Now who’s the dramatic one?” Hermione muttered, though she couldn’t deny that this was more than likely something she would get away with, if it ever came down to a trial.

“Maybe I am,” Narcissa agreed with a shrug. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Hermione’s fingers drummed lightly on the counter in front of her, wondering whether she could take that as confirmation that Narcissa wouldn’t turn her over to the authorities. Surely, if she was going to do it, she would have done so before coming to gloat about it. Though, the more she thought about it, she figured that rubbing it in Hermione’s face beforehand was exactly the kind of thing Narcissa would do.

“So…?” she prompted, deciding that she couldn’t take the uncertainty any longer. “Are you going to report me?”

“You’re still worried about that?” Narcissa asked incredulously. “I told you already that I wouldn’t tell anybody where you are, and I can assure you, I never go against my word.”

“And you expect me to just trust you, of all people?” Hermione almost laughed at the idea. As if she would ever believe a single word that came from Narcissa’s mouth. “Not a chance. Not after everything your family put my friends and I through.”

“No, of course not,” Narcissa said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This may come as a shock to you, but I actually don’t care what you think of me. Whether you choose to believe me or not is entirely your decision.”

“I just don’t understand why else you’d be here, if not to threaten me in some way with what you know,” Hermione said defensively.

“Alright, fine. I must admit…”

Hermione waited with bated breath for the blow to land. This was the moment Narcissa would demand something ridiculous in return for keeping her secret. A small part of her was already prepared to accept whatever deal Narcissa wanted to make. She couldn’t bear the idea of giving up this new life she’d created for herself. On the other hand, she was terrified of what Narcissa could possibly want from her.

“…I’m far too curious about this business of yours,” Narcissa continued. “Why open a Muggle café if you’re still going to use magic? What purpose does the magic have, if Muggles can’t notice it?”

Hermione tilted her head slightly. Narcissa’s tone was casual, but there was a sort of urgency behind the questions. Like she’d been thinking about it non-stop since her last visit. Maybe this wasn’t some conspiracy to bring Hermione down after all, and she really was just searching for answers.

“It’s nothing too complicated,” she answered slowly, still doubting Narcissa’s intentions. “I put a few simple enchantments on the machines so that every coffee turns out exactly the way each customer wants. The drinks will always stay at the right temperature until they’ve finished drinking them; the coffee will always be as bitter or sweet as they like it. Just little things like that, really.”

As much as she wanted to, Hermione couldn’t resist giving her the information she was looking for. After all, she knew quite well the desperation that a person could feel when they were trying to figure out something they didn’t quite understand. And, despite her hatred for the woman in front of her, Hermione had to admit she was excited to finally have someone to talk about her ideas with.

“But what’s the goal in doing so?” Narcissa asked. “Earning more money?”

“Merlin, no. I have more money nowadays than I even know what to do with.” Hermione ran her fingers through her hair. Even just the thought of her vault at Gringotts stressed her out. “Nothing about this is for the money. It started out as a hobby, but I just… I like to see people leaving here with a smile on their face. So, if a little bit of illegal magic is what it takes to make someone’s day better, I’m happy to take the risk to give them that.”

Narcissa hummed quietly to herself. “I suppose I should’ve expected nothing less from the Golden Girl.”

“I hate that nickname,” Hermione mumbled. She didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just sort of slipped out.

Narcissa scoffed, showing no sympathy whatsoever.

“At least it’s used in praise towards you. Try being the Ice Queen,” she said, as if each word left a sour taste in her mouth. “Everybody’s least favourite living witch in London. All because I did what I had to do to survive – so that my son would survive! Didn’t you do whatever was necessary to make it through the war, too? Haven’t you ever done things you weren’t proud of in order to protect those you love? As much as you might hate to acknowledge it, Ms. Granger, the only difference between you and I is the side we were born into. ”

Hermione visibly recoiled at the question. An image of her parents’ memories being wiped by her own hand jumped to the forefront of her mind. A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes started to burn in anticipation of tears that hadn’t quite formed yet.

“I have to get back to work,” she said coldly.

“Ms. Granger–“

Something was different about Narcissa’s tone, but Hermione had no intention of finding out what it meant. She had to end the conversation as soon as she could, before she really did start crying in front of Narcissa – not to mention the few customers seated inside the café.

“Goodbye, Ms. Black.”

Narcissa seemed to recognise by Hermione’s tone that there was no use in trying to go back on what she’d said to upset the young witch. So, instead, gave a slight nod in acknowledgment of Hermione’s dismissal, and exited the building. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes tight, trying to gain some sort of control over her emotions before she broke down in the middle of the room.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Hermione’s eyes shot open again. The question came from the same woman she’d been speaking to when Narcissa first arrived. It was one of her regular customers, an older lady called Marie, who liked to come in for a cup of tea and a chat, or a quiet place to read a book.

“Oh.” Hermione cleared her throat quietly. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Marie gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s never easy running into an ex, is it?”

Hermione was speechless for a few seconds. How on earth had she gotten that impression from her interaction with Narcissa? She shook her head, stammering out her response.

“That’s not– She’s not my–“

“Oh, there’s no need to be embarrassed, dear. I have no judgement against that kind of thing; my grandson is gay, you know.” Marie laughed quietly and shook her head, looking wistful for a moment. “Young love, eh? Always far too complicated. I have to say, I’m glad that part of my life is over. Well, anyway, I should be going. I’ll see you again soon!”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest again, but Marie was already gone by the time she could form a proper sentence again. Great.

“What in Merlin’s name was that about?” she whispered out loud, still staring after the woman. Her day just kept getting weirder by the minute.

She gave herself a minute to compose herself, before getting back to work and trying to forget about the whole conversation with Narcissa. For some reason, though, the blonde witch refused to leave her mind for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Hermione made it through the rest of the week without having to see Narcissa, something she was incredibly grateful for. Even just knowing that the woman was somewhere nearby, in the very same city, made Hermione feel on edge all the time. It was like she was living through the war all over again; constantly having to be on the lookout for Death Eaters and Snatchers. Somehow, her subconscious couldn’t tell the difference between one single witch and a whole army of dark witches and wizards – the level of anxiety bubbling up inside of her felt the exact same in both situations.

But finally, after a week that felt like an eternity, Hermione had two days off with the café being closed where she could relax and focus on anything other than her past life, and the woman haunting her new one. Even though Narcissa hadn’t dared to return to the café after their last meeting, Marie wouldn’t stop asking her about her supposed ‘ex’. No matter how many times Hermione tried to tell her that she had it wrong, Marie wouldn’t believe her. She just kept encouraging Hermione to ‘work things out’ with Narcissa, and insisted that she seemed like a ‘lovely woman’. Hermione had to refrain from laughing in the poor woman’s face when she said that.

After finishing her closing duties before the long-awaited two day break, Hermione stepped out of the café and locked the door behind her with a breath of relief. A bitter gust of wind met her as she stepped out into the street, prompting her to pull her coat tighter around her body. It was already dark out, even though it was still early evening, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to head straight upstairs so she could curl up under a blanket and lose herself in a book. But she had finished the book she was reading the night before, so she had no choice but to make a stop before she could go home.

She untucked her wand beneath her coat and whispered a warming charm to protect her from the cold and set off on her journey. The walk to the library was relatively short, but with how tired and desperate to be at home Hermione was, each step she took made it feel like an eternity had passed. She considered Apparating there to save herself the trouble, but thought better of the idea in the end. The library was located on a busy street and it was too risky to try it, especially at a time when most Muggles would be finishing work and passing by.

At last, Hermione turned a corner and saw her destination in front of her. With a newfound boost of energy, she managed to drag herself forward the last few steps and pushed the door open, shivering at the blast of warmth that surrounded her once she was inside. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the stand just inside the door, greeting the librarian with a smile before she wandered off, losing herself amongst the shelves. Breathing in deeply, she inhaled the comforting scent of the books and finally let herself relax for the first time that entire week.

She strolled aimlessly through the rows of shelves, stopping occasionally when a new book caught her eye, or when she came across one of her favourites and paused to run her fingers along the spine fondly. She could spend hours on end there without ever getting bored – which she had done on many occasions before. It was probably her favourite place in the city; maybe even more than the café, if she were being completely honest with herself.

That was, until she entered a new aisle and noticed someone else at the opposite end of the narrow space. Hermione had to do a double take before her brain fully processed exactly who it was.

Standing just a few feet away from her was the very woman she had gone there to forget about – Narcissa Black.

“Are you following me, Ms. Granger? I must say, I’m flattered,” Narcissa drawled, without even bothering to look away from the book she was inspecting on the shelf.

Hermione let her head fall back against the shelf behind her and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to scream. Of course she would run into Narcissa here too. First the café, then the library; the two places in the city she regarded as her safe havens were both tainted by the witch’s presence. Was there nowhere safe from the Ice Queen?

“What are you doing here?” she asked harshly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this not a public space?” Narcissa replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she pulled the book off the shelf and flicked through the pages, unfazed by Hermione’s outburst.

“Of course it is,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “I just meant… How are you everywhere?”

Narcissa looked around to make sure there were no Muggles within earshot, before leaning closer to Hermione to whisper, “Dark magic, of course.”

Hermione choked on air. “What?” she spluttered loudly. The librarian cleared her throat and glared at Hermione over the rim of her glasses in a silent warning. Hermione waved at the woman sheepishly and whispered an apology before whipping back around to Narcissa. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, don’t be daft, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa scoffed while rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly think I would do something so stupid? I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of your age.”

“Can you really blame me for thinking it was true?” Hermione asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Narcissa sighed and snapped the book shut, finally turning to face Hermione. “Ms. Granger, I came here for some peace and quiet, not to be judged by a woman who hardly knows me. Now, I’m quite sure there is plenty of room for the two of us to be here without us having to cross paths again, so if you don’t mind…”

Narcissa pushed her way past Hermione and disappeared between another row of shelves. Hermione remained glued to the spot, staring at the empty space where Narcissa had been standing a moment before. Suddenly she envisioned spending the next few months, possibly even years, of her life having to dance around Narcissa as she continued to invade all of Hermione’s favourite spots in the city. The idea made her stomach turn. It was almost enough to send her running back to her flat right then so she could pack her life up and return to England.

Almost.

Hermione shook her head, clearing those thoughts out of her mind. Surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to avoid Narcissa. After all, Paris was a big city, and they were just two people amongst thousands.

She sighed and grabbed a random book from the shelf, not caring enough to look at the title, and hurried to the front desk to check it out. Narcissa’s appearance had quickly stolen the excitement of the visit from Hermione, and now all she wanted to do was return home immediately, to the one place she knew Narcissa couldn’t possibly reach her.

Once the librarian handed her back the book, Hermione slipped into a narrow lane between two buildings and Apparated back to her flat, willing to take the risk this time if it meant getting away from Narcissa as quickly as possible. At last, she collapsed onto the sofa with a deep sigh, and lit the fireplace with a flick of her wand. Crookshanks climbed onto her lap and curled up, purring softly as she scratched his head, the gentle vibrations helping to ease her stress.

It took her a second to remember the whole reason she had ventured out in the first place, but she fished the book out of her bag, curious to see which one she had grabbed in her rush to escape. It turned out to be one she had read a number of times before – Great Expectations – but she didn’t mind. It was one of her favourites, so she settled back into the sofa and flicked to the first page, allowing herself to get lost in the words and forget about her own issues for a while.

Chapter Text

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Hermione the next time she saw Narcissa strolling into the café. After she had shown up at the library, Hermione figured the universe was playing some cruel trick on her by having Narcissa appear everywhere she went. It was probably her punishment for leaving so many people behind without an explanation.

Hermione leaned against the counter behind her and crossed her arms as she watched Narcissa walk towards her, wondering what the older witch could possibly want from her this time. Narcissa stopped in front of the counter, seeming almost nervous as her eyes roamed the menu board, avoiding Hermione completely. But that wasn’t possible. Hermione didn't think someone like Narcissa could get nervous, considering the woman surely didn’t possess the ability to feel emotion.

“I have been to every single café in the vicinity, and it’s become apparent that Muggles are incapable of making a cappuccino correctly,” Narcissa muttered, before Hermione could even ask the question that was playing on her mind. She looked pained to admit that Hermione’s coffee had won against all the others, which brought a smirk to the younger witch’s face, even if Narcissa was indirectly insulting Muggles in the process.

“I don’t think it’s a problem with Muggles,” Hermione said, not yet making a move to get Narcissa’s coffee. Narcissa hadn’t technically asked yet, and Hermione certainly wasn’t about to do the older witch any favours. “It’s probably just the enchantments I use that make you think that. I’m sure there would be a few cafés in the wizarding side of the city that would use similar spells. Have you tried any of those?”

“No,” Narcissa answered simply, pursing her lips. Judging by her darkened expression, venturing to the wizarding world was strictly out of the question.

Hermione still wasn’t giving in. She tilted her head, curiosity growing inside her. “What is it with you and Muggle spots these days? I thought anything Muggle-related was beneath you,” she commented. “Why are you avoiding wizarding areas so much?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Narcissa asked with a huff, mirroring Hermione’s position by folding her own arms over her chest. “I’ve had quite enough of those recently, and I certainly don’t owe you any insight into my personal life.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” Hermione said with a shrug. After all, it wasn’t like she actually cared about Narcissa’s desire to stay out of the wizarding side of the city; all she wanted was for the woman to leave her and her café alone.

A moment of silence fell between the two witches, both of them refusing to be the first to give up in the unspoken standoff they had seemingly entered into. Hermione was glad Narcissa had at least chosen to come in during a relatively quiet period, otherwise there would’ve been a queue out the door at this stage.

Eventually, Narcissa let out a sigh and shook her head. “Why are either of us avoiding the wizarding world right now, Ms. Granger? Even if I don’t know exactly what your reasoning is, I’m sure it’s not far off of my own. We both know that the entire world has heard about the war in England. If either of us were to show our faces in a wizarding community, we would be recognised immediately, and clearly neither of us want that. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not,” Hermione admitted, looking away from Narcissa for fear that her expression would somehow give everything away.

“I’m not sure why that would be an issue for you, though,” Narcissa continued. “You would have people falling at your feet as a member of the famed ‘Golden Trio’. That’s not exactly something most people would want to hide from.”

“Yes, well…” Hermione trailed off, not knowing how to answer that without spilling her guts to Narcissa, which was something she would definitely not be doing. “So, a cappuccino, right?” she asked instead, cutting the conversation short as she turned towards the machine behind her.

“Please,” Narcissa answered quietly, thankfully choosing not to push the matter any further.

Hermione opened her mouth, automatically preparing to ask the next question she would always ask her customers, but then she hesitated. She was fairly sure Narcissa wouldn’t choose to sit in Hermione’s presence to drink her coffee, but there was always a small chance that Narcissa would surprise her, seeing as she was getting rather good at that. Or, perhaps she would take pleasure in sticking around, just to see Hermione squirm.

Then Hermione realised she was being ridiculous. It was just a question; if Narcissa chose to sit for a while, it didn’t mean they would have to interact. “For here or to go?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Narcissa.

“Oh, I’ll take it to…” Narcissa paused to look out the window for a long second before something apparently changed her mind. “Actually, I’ll stay here.”

Hermione forced her expression to remain neutral as she nodded and let go of the takeaway cup she had already picked up, grabbing a mug instead. “Sure,” she said, hoping to sound nonchalant about Narcissa’s decision. “You can take a seat wherever you’d like and, uh, I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

Narcissa silently accepted the invitation and withdrew from the counter, while Hermione set about grinding the beans. The loud whirring of the machines filled the silence as Hermione worked, though it wasn’t enough of a distraction to clear the tension in the room. Hermione couldn’t help but feel uneasy with her back turned to Narcissa, unable to see what she was doing, but another part of her didn’t even want to look at the woman, so she carried on as if nothing was wrong.

In the time it took Hermione to make the cappuccino, Narcissa had chosen to sit at the furthest table away from the counter, right next to the large window at the front of the café. She had a book open in her hands, the same one she had been holding at the library, but she wasn’t reading it. Instead, she was gazing out the window with a determined look on her face, fully focused on something in particular. When Hermione leaned down to place the mug on the table, she stole a quick glance in the same direction, but she couldn’t figure out what was so interesting about the buildings across the street. Even as Narcissa mumbled a thanks to Hermione, she still didn’t tear her eyes away from whatever it was she was looking at.

Hermione retreated back to her spot behind the counter, but now her focus was split. She tried to distract herself by cleaning down some of the other tables, but she found herself keeping one eye on Narcissa the whole time. Occasionally, something seemed to startle the woman and she would bury her nose in the book, attempting to hide her obvious staring, but a few minutes later she would go right back to staring out the window again.

Hermione frowned, her mind jumping straight to the worst–case scenarios, as it usually did whenever Narcissa was involved in something. And, as usual, those scenarios were also heavily centered around Death Eaters. Like, maybe Narcissa was scouting out some Muggle targets for them to have ‘fun’ with. Or, maybe Hermione was the target, and Narcissa was waiting for the café to empty out before she and her friends made their move – that one was a fear that kept nagging at Hermione ever since Narcissa’s first visit to the café. She tried to tell herself that if Narcissa really did want her dead, then she probably wouldn’t still be breathing right now, but there was still a small part of her that believed Narcissa was somehow luring her into a false sense of security before she struck.

Hermione’s mind continued to run wild with similar ideas of how Narcissa might try to kill her, right up until Narcissa suddenly packed away her book, left a few coins on the table, and exited the building without so much as a glance in the younger woman’s direction. Hermione exhaled slowly, releasing the tension she didn’t even realise she was holding in her shoulders, and collected the payment, glad to be out of the woman’s present at last.

As she turned back to the counter, she locked eyes with Marie, who was smiling like she knew something Hermione didn’t.

“Why don’t you just give her another chance, dear?” Marie said, gesturing towards the table Narcissa had been sitting at.

“How many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between us before you actually believe me?” Hermione asked, shaking her head with an amused smile. As much as the mere thought of Narcissa made her skin crawl, she couldn’t do much except laugh when Marie suggested such things.

As usual, Marie didn’t look convinced. The woman still hadn’t given up on her idea that Hermione and Narcissa were ex–lovers who just needed a push to get back together. “Why else would she sit here all afternoon? She didn’t even turn a single page in her book!”

Hermione hummed and stared at the now empty spot next to the window, the exact same question burning in her mind.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s curiosity was beginning to drive her mad. Even as she was cleaning down the café in the evening, she found that she was now constantly looking out the windows, though she still had no idea what she was looking for. Every time someone passed by the window, she paused whatever task she was doing to watch them, just in case she happened to spot a familiar face.

A small part of her was still expecting to see a Death Eater staring back at her, despite the weeks that had passed with no sign of them. Still, she couldn’t seem to let her guard down since Narcissa had shown up. Clearly something out there was so important to Narcissa that it kept her coming back, and Hermione was determined to figure it out.

She wasn’t even sure why she cared so much. Maybe it was the challenge behind it; the mystery waiting to be solved. It was exactly the kind of thing Hermione loved, and it gave her something to keep her mind busy.

Or maybe it was just the fact that it was the most exciting thing to happen in her life since she moved to Paris.

Either way, she was dying to know the answer, but she wouldn’t dare ask Narcissa about it. Mostly because that would mean actually having to speak to Narcissa, which she wanted to avoid as much as possible. But she also knew Narcissa wouldn’t tell her anything anyway, so she figured it was pointless.

Hermione sighed and snapped back to reality as yet another unknown face passed by the window, forcing herself to resume her current job of mopping the floors. It was already taking her longer than usual to finish closing up, mostly because her curiosity kept getting the better of her, and she was getting more tired by the second.

She almost missed the answer she’d been waiting to find for weeks now as it finally passed by. At first, she thought it was just a trick of the light, or her exhausted mind playing tricks on her. The glimpse of platinum blond hair she caught in the corner of her eye made her do a double take, but it was definitely real.

“How many bloody Malfoys are in this city?” Hermione muttered out loud, hurrying towards the window to make sure it was really him.

She could only see the back of his head as he crossed the road, but she was certain. That hair could only belong to Draco Malfoy. And he was entering the building directly across the street from Hermione’s café; the one that was in perfect view from Narcissa’s table.

Now it all made sense. Or, half of it, at least. It seemed that Narcissa really wasn’t plotting something terrible involving Death Eaters, and she wasn’t stalking some poor, unsuspecting Muggles after all. She was stalking her son. That was somewhat of a relief, at least.

But it just left Hermione with another nagging question – why?

The two days that the café was closed after Hermione spotted Draco felt like the longest two days of her life. All she could think about was how she might approach the subject with Narcissa the next time they crossed paths. Even when she returned to the library, hoping for the first time in her life that she might run into Narcissa there, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe her prayers had finally been answered and Narcissa had finally gone back to England after finding whatever she was searching for. Hermione supposed she could live with never knowing the true reason Narcissa and Draco were both in Paris, if it meant never having to see her again.

But, of course, she would never be so lucky.

Narcissa strolled in at her usual time and went straight to her table, barely glancing in Hermione’s direction as she sat down. If there was one good thing about her visiting the café on such a regular basis, it was that the two women didn’t even have to speak anymore. Hermione had learned that if she just started brewing Narcissa’s cappuccino as soon as she walked in, the need for conversation was nonexistent. Even as she dropped the coffee off at Narcissa’s table, they avoided eye contact.

She still wasn’t exactly happy with the arrangement, but Narcissa was determined to spend her time there, so Hermione had to learn to cope with her existence. It was slowly getting easier, as in, she had stopped feeling like she was in immediate danger whenever Narcissa entered the building. Though, she was still occasionally brought back to that night in Malfoy Manor whenever she was around. That particular memory was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore after pushing it down for so long.

Hermione watched Narcissa closely as she sipped her cappuccino, her eyes trained on the window like always. She didn’t notice just how long she’d been staring for until she realised a pair of blue eyes were suddenly looking right back at her. Narcissa squinted at her suspiciously, as if Hermione was the one planning some kind of ambush this time. In a way, she was probably right.

“Can I help you, Ms. Granger?” Narcissa asked, appearing pleasant for the sake of the few customers nearby, but her voice was laced with steel. “For someone who couldn’t even look me in the eye the last few times we spoke, you’re certainly taking an interest now.”

Hermione’s first instinct was to shrink away from the woman, but thankfully, she managed to keep her composure. She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from Narcissa, making a show of restocking the shelves. Narcissa’s eyes were practically burning a hole in the back of her head, and Hermione smirked to herself, knowing she was succeeding in making the woman squirm.

“How’s Draco doing?” she asked casually, glancing over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Narcissa’s reaction.

Narcissa had gone so still, Hermione wondered if she’d somehow accidentally uttered a spell to turn her to stone. The only movement she made was to straighten her posture, though it ended up looking far too stiff to be comfortable.

“He–“ Narcissa’s voice came out shaky and she paused to clear her throat before continuing in a steadier tone. “He’s perfectly fine. Why do you ask? As far as I’m aware, you two were never on friendly terms.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione laughed, waving the idea off with one hand. “We definitely weren’t. Far from it, even. I was just curious.”

Narcissa hummed quietly in response, still eyeing Hermione carefully. “I see.”

She turned her head back to the window then, attempting to cut the conversation short, but Hermione wasn’t quite finished. She stepped out from behind the counter and made her way to Narcissa’s spot, leaning against an empty table next to hers with her arms folded.

“I was surprised, though,” Hermione said slowly.

She couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to taunt Narcissa in the same way she had done to her before. Narcissa let out a deep sigh and dropped her decoy book onto the table with a heavy thump.

“Why is that?” she asked, tapping her nails in a steady rhythm along the rim of her mug. Hermione’s satisfaction only grew with every slight twitch of the woman’s eyebrows, or how her voice had almost risen an entire octave in pitch as Hermione’s game went on.

“Well, to find out that Draco also happens to be here, in Paris,” Hermione answered, a hint of smugness creeping into her tone.

“Well, of course he is,” Narcissa scoffed, like it should’ve been obvious that Draco would be there too, but she couldn’t quite meet Hermione’s eyes anymore. “We thought a break from England would do us both some good.”

“Is that so?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at Narcissa, desperately trying to figure the woman out. There was something different about the woman since the last time Hermione had seen her in England, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“What exactly are you implying, Ms. Granger?” Narcissa snapped, her ice-cold demeanour returning in a flash. Hermione swore she felt a chill as the change took place.

“I’m not implying anything.” Hermione’s gaze drifted out the window and fell on the building she had seen Draco entering. “But the facts are that Draco seems to either live or work in that building across the road, and you just happen to spend practically all of your time sitting alone in a café with a perfect view of the building in question. This café, which happens to be run by a Muggleborn and, as good as my coffee is, I don’t believe it’s good enough for you to want to spend your time with someone so far beneath you. He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

Narcissa turned her head away from Hermione, but she didn’t say anything to confirm or deny the statement. Still, her reaction was proof enough. Hermione was definitely on the right track. Before she could stop it, a short laugh escaped her lips, drawing Narcissa’s attention back to her in the form of a glare.

“I can’t say I’m surprised that he left after everything you and your husband put him through,” Hermione continued, shaking her head. “You know, even though he made my life a living hell from the day we started school, I have to admit, I actually kind of admire him right now for finally standing up for himself.”

“What gives you the right to comment on what my family went through during the war?” Narcissa asked, standing up so that she was looking down on Hermione. “You don’t know what it was like for us. I did everything in my power to protect my son.”

“Forcing him to become a Death Eater at sixteen years of age was protecting him?” Hermione shot back. “Yeah, some great parenting that is. Do you honestly think he’ll ever speak to you again after that?”

Narcissa pointed a finger at Hermione’s chest and opened her mouth to speak, but then something stopped her. She hesitated for a moment, frozen in place, before she gave up entirely and stormed out of the café without saying another word. Hermione stared at the empty seat in front of her, shocked by her own words towards the older woman. Had she taken things a step too far?

But before she could feel too guilty about the argument, she remembered that it was still Narcissa Black she was talking about. The woman had watched her getting tortured like it was nothing; she’d probably even enjoyed it. And, technically, everything Hermione said was true.

In the end, she decided she was being ridiculous. Shaking off the guilt, she began clearing off Narcissa’s table and returned to her place behind the counter to carry on with the day.