Chapter Text
Hermione was working the night shift at a coffee shop in central London, it was easier since during the day she was studying to be a nurse. Hermione sighed to herself; she felt lonely. She hadn’t spent a lot of time with her best friends, Harry and Ron, in awhile due to her break-up with Ron. But all the same Hermione missed Ron as her friend and Ron’s family, the Weasley’s, as she had become very close with them in the past seven years since she had met Ron at school. The break up with Ron had strained her relationship with Mrs Weasley, and, of course, Ron, but most of Ron’s siblings saw the break up coming. One of Ron’s brothers, George was a quiet supporter. He had never been the same since his twin brother’s untimely death, but he was nice to Hermione and she paid him back by visiting him regularly to make sure he was eating properly.
Tonight was not one of the nights she had a scheduled visit to see George, but Hermione was bored, and while she wanted to hang out with Harry she didn’t feel comfortable because of Ginny, Harry’s girlfriend and Ron’s little sister, was a little more distant and cold, wanting to side with her brother, but also understanding why it hadn’t worked out.
Hermione thought about popping in to see George after she had closed the shop. The manager had to leave early because her wife had gone into labour, it was a quiet night and she knew Hermione would be able to close the store by herself. It was seven-thirty, so only another half hour until Hermione could close the store. Since it was quiet Hermione had already started on the nightly cleaning duties. Hermione had the radio on a specialty station just for the Holiday season, she was in the back washing the dishes. The dishwasher broke last week and the manager had been too preoccupied to get it fixed. Humming a christmas carol to herself, Hermione missed the bell ringing when someone had entered the store.
“Excuse me,” a bored-sounding male voice called over the radio, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts,
“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, drying her hands on her apron, “Sorry, how can I help you?” she asked, rounding the corner, and almost stopping dead in her tracks. A very handsome aristocratic-looking man was standing in front of her, he had high-cheekbones and a pointed nose, his platinum-blond hair slicked back, accentuating his features and making him look unapproachable and intimidating, his charcoal business impeccably tailored. Hermione nervously straightened her apron, smiling at the customer she had never seen before.
“I’ll have a large latte, with soy milk and hazelnut syrup,” the blond man asked, Hermione was sure he wasn’t much older then she was, yet he looked so polished.
“Sure, I’ll get started on that now, do you want it in a mug or a takeaway cup?” Hermione said politely, as was the customer service response, the man sighed, his eyes roaming over the small coffee shop. She was nervous, their usual clientele didn’t look so intimidating, and those that did were regulars. However, this handsome stranger made her nervous, and when Hermione Granger was nervous because of a handsome man, she talked a lot.
“Mug, I guess,” The customer said, glancing behind out the window, where they could see rain starting to pour down,
“So, I haven’t seen you around here before, are you visiting London on business or leisure?” Hermione chatted as she worked the coffee machine.
“uh,” The man hesitated, “Business for the most part. Do you own this place?”
Hermione laughed, “No, my boss had to leave early; her wife is in labour. I just work here so I can pay for uni and eat,” she was grinning, enjoying talking to someone, “do you own your own business?”
“I inherited my father’s business recently. I’m in London going over some accounts,”
Hermione let out an impressed whistle, “How old are you? That’s impressive you’re able to own a company. I hope nothing too bad happened to your father,”
The man gave a nonchalant shrug, eyeing the rain outside trying to gauge if it will let up soon.
“What are you studying?” He asked out of the blue.
“Nursing,” Hermione grinned with pride, “I want to help people, and both my parents are dentists, so medicine is in the family I guess,” she trailed off, with a laugh
“Why not be a doctor?” He asked with a smirk,
“Nurses do a lot more than doctors!” she huffed, sticking her nose up in defiance, while foaming his soy milk.
“How long have you been studying?” He asked, still smirking,
“September,” Hermione replied hesitantly
“So, two months?” He asked, she nodded, unsure of his motivations, he nodded in return, “Well, working in customer service will help in dealing with patients and their families, that’s for sure.”
Hermione opened her mouth to argue that she had fine customer service skills, but he interrupted before she could tell him she was offended.
“I’m sure you’re fine, I was just thinking about some of the medical professionals I’ve had to deal with; they could use some help with customer service,” he shook his head and sighed.
“Here’s your hazelnut soy latte, mister?” Hermione asked, placing the mug on the counter.
“Malfoy,” Draco said, reaching for the mug,
“Oh,” Hermione responded recalling the events six months ago where Lucius Malfoy was involved with the tragedy that had happened at the student protests, the one many protesters had been killed at, including Fred Weasley; George's twin brother. Lucius had been investigated and found not guilty but it was decided by Malfoy Incorporated’s board that Lucius had lost the trust of the company, Lucius’ son, Draco, had been put in charge of the company, even if he was only eighteen.
“Yeah, that Malfoy,” He smirked sadly, blowing on his hot coffee before sipping on it.
“Uh, that's five pounds,” Hermione stuttered, avoiding eye contact when Malfoy had handed her money. By the time it had come for her to return his change she had decided.
“Whatever happened in the past had nothing to do with you, right? The news said you were at school in Paris. I hope no one takes out their frustrations on you.” Hermione had stated, hoping to give Draco some peace of mind in some small way.
Draco was shocked. He hadn't been talked to like that in all his life. He was used to being placated and more recently patronized. This person had no reason that she knew of to be nice to him. She looked young enough to have been affected in some by the the protests.This young woman was endearing. When he had walked in to get out of the weather and pull himself together after a difficult meeting and caught her singing in the kitchen he was already struck by her and the charming smile she gave to him. He already knew this was a bad idea.
“Thanks, Hermione?” Draco gestured to her name badge.
Hermione gave Draco a warm smile, “No problem. How's your coffee?”
“Really good,” he complimented, “You should reconsider your career path,”
“Prat,” Hermione laughed, starting to clean the bench-tops, “We’re getting close to closing time, would you like a biscuit or slice of cake on the house?”
“Wouldn't that be stealing?” Draco asked
“Well, we make our cakes fresh every morning, and the previous night's leftovers get donated to poor university students and the homeless people who live around here,” she explained
“Hmm, considering I'm neither I'll have to pass on that offer,” Draco smiled, taking another sip of his coffee and eyeing the woman blushing before him, “It's a good idea, though, donating food like that. I'll bet the business people who come in here wouldn't appreciate stale food, even if it is still edible.”
The were disturbed by a severe looking middle aged woman bursting through the door, and a large man in a suit behind her holding an umbrella.
“Draco, so this is where you were. I've been looking for you. How dare you leave me there with the Nott’s, You know how vile I think they are. Don't you ever walk out on a meeting again, do you hear me?”
“Yes, mother,” Draco replied in the same bored time as earlier, “excuse me, it's time for me to go. Thank you for the coffee.” He drawled at Hermione, placing his half-full mug on the counter in front of Hermione.
“Anytime, come back soon,” Hermione said as he left the coffee shop, not knowing if he heard her.