Chapter Text
“I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you've never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you're not, I hope you have the courage to start over again.” F. Scott Fitsgerald
Chapter 1
Friday, October 4th
The bell above the pub door chimed loudly as Hermione rushed inside, anxious to avoid getting drenched in the downpour that had just begun. She looked around, pleasantly surprised to find that it was exactly the type of place she’d been on the lookout for. She’d been wandering the little village for upwards of an hour, taking in the shops and enjoying the autumn chill that swept the newly turning leaves along the street and left the tips of her fingers tingling. The breeze had been refreshing at first, but now that her toes were beginning to go numb, she was ready to be inside and out of the cold.
Hermione knew instantly that she could easily whittle away the hours in such a cozy, eclectic little pub. With its tall ceilings, bay windows and array of comfortable armchairs and old wooden tables, she guessed that it must be one of the many historic public houses that were scattered throughout the Cotswolds. She realized suddenly that she could spend hours here if she wanted to. Why shouldn’t she? She had nowhere to be, nothing in particular to accomplish.
The pub was deliciously warm, with a large fire in the hearth and the smell of a freshly baked apple pie coming from the kitchen. She shed her coat and took a look at the other patrons - an elderly woman knitting in an armchair by the fire; a businessman about her age sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey and reading the paper; a college student hunched over her books, furiously taking notes. There were a handful of people occupying the tables - eating a late lunch or working on their laptops. The waitress that stood behind the bar wrapping silverware glanced up at her as she made her way to a cozy window seat with a view of the town square.
“Be right with you, Maam.”
Hermione nodded and sunk into the leather chair, watching as the rain hammered against the window. She sighed deeply and forced her racing mind to still for what felt like the thousandth time that day.
The truth was that she simply was not used to being on Holiday. She felt as though she wasn’t built for it. Granted, she knew that she needed a break from her routine, a chance to get out of her everyday life and work through some things…..but it just felt like too much time alone with her thoughts.
It was easy to get lost in them, to let them spin out of control. Sadness and anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, and each time she pushed everything down, it felt harder and harder to do.
But she wasn’t about to have a breakdown in a pub, so she pushed down the emotion that threatened to bubble over, placed her order with the waitress, and pulled out a well-worn novel to pass the time.
She had all the time in the world, after all.
***
It had taken some strong mental willpower, but after a few minutes, Hermione was able to quiet her racing thoughts. She focused on her reading; on the rich, steaming latte that the waitress had brought over with a beautiful leaf design on the top. She immersed herself in her book but looked up after about an hour to see that the rain had stopped, if only for a few minutes. She was hesitant to leave the warmth of the pub for the quiet chill of the cottage that she had rented. It was just down the road, but it felt a million miles away - especially when she was so cozy and warm.
Making the decision to stay a little longer, she ambled over to the bar to order another drink. She sat several seats away from the businessman, who now had a laptop open and was picking at a slice of apple pie. He looked strangely familiar from the corner of her eye, but she couldn't quite place how she knew him.
“Is the pie any good?” She asked casually, genuinely curious.
“Ya, it’s - Granger?” The man turned towards her and his identity hit her like a ton of bricks.
“Malfoy?” She gaped in surprise. Now that she was looking directly at him, there was no mistaking it. He looked entirely different than the last time she had seen him. She stood and moved to the stool next to him.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” Her eyes swept over him, taking in all the ways he’d changed. His hair had grown a bit darker with age, and he wore it in a very devil may care way - shaggy, hanging around his ears and into his eyes - yet still extremely stylish. His eyes were still the same silvery grey but highlighted with a pair of distinguished, black-framed glasses. He had always been tall and a bit gangly, all sharp angles and aggressive expressions, but now he had soft smile lines around his mouth and two-day-old scruff across his chin that suited him.
This was no longer the same boy that she’d known over a decade ago.
Her eyes scanned down his body, impressed with what she saw. His shoulders were broad and she could see the way his muscles rippled beneath the plaid button-down he wore. He had his cuffs rolled up to the elbow, with both forearms covered in tattoos. He wore a pair of dark jeans and waterproof boots, a rain jacket draped over the back of his chair.
To say that he had aged well would have been putting it mildly.
A muggle outfit, an expensive muggle watch on his wrist, sitting in a muggle pub, working on a muggle laptop? She almost couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Hehem. My eyes are up here Granger.” Draco commented dryly, and she quickly looked up, embarrassed at having been caught giving him a once over. She thanked the universe that she had worn a cute outfit and makeup that day. If she had run into Malfoy wearing old sweats, sporting red-rimmed eyes, she would never have forgiven herself.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, Granger. Please do continue checking me out to your heart’s content.” She sputtered and he laughed. His eyes sparkled delightedly, and really - had he always had such a wonderful laugh?
“Malfoy - I’m just...I’m….” She waved her hands, trying to come up with something to say - anything - to save her from the utter embarrassment that she was currently experiencing. She spluttered and couldn’t even manage to close her mouth, which was still hanging open.
“My God, I’ve rendered the Great Hermione Granger speechless. Now that is a compliment.” He laughed and she could feel her cheeks grow hot. Unfortunately for her, the waitress chose that moment to return to the bar and ask her what she wanted. Hermione simply stared at the waitress, her brain completely short-circuiting, and an awkwardly long pause stretched out between them.
“We’ll both have a glass of Glenfiddich, and she’ll have a piece of the pie, please. Put it on my tab. Thanks, Emma.” The waitress - Emma - raised her eyebrows at the pair of them but smiled and went to work pouring their drinks. Hermione turned back to him and gave him an awkward grin.
“Thanks for that. I am just completely shocked to see you here.” Malfoy merely took a bite of his pie and nodded.
“Well, I live just down the street, so it really should be me that’s shocked to see you here.”
“Wait, you live here? Also, you’re working on a laptop ? What happened and what have you done with Pureblood Prince Draco Malfoy?” She questioned, taking a long sip of the whiskey the waitress had brought her. She coughed a bit and he chuckled at her, not unkindly.
“I think you’ll be happy to hear that Pureblood Prince Draco Malfoy has been dead and buried for years now. And yes, I sit on the board of Malfoy Industries and help manage our muggle investments, so I use a laptop. I even have a cell phone .” He whispered conspiratorially and Hermione laughed. She was immediately impressed - very few witches and wizards could - or even wanted to - operate muggle devices. Hermione took a bite of her pie and nodded, digesting this unexpected information.
“And you live in the Cotswolds? It’s a bit far to commute to London from here.”
“I do most of my work online and by phone, so I rarely have to go into the office. We - my ex and I, I mean - lived in the Manor until our divorce a couple of years ago. I tried out a flat in London for a bit but it just didn’t suit. Needed a slower pace...But, enough about me. What brings you to the Cotswolds?” She saw him adjust his watch band a little nervously like he was afraid he’d said too much. She marveled at this information - Purebloods, especially Sacred 28 Purebloods - did not get divorced. She wondered what the story was there, but not wishing to appear nosy, she let it drop. Hermione heaved a sigh and took a long sip from her glass, draining it and signaling for another.
“My friends kept insisting I needed a holiday, so I finally decided to give it a shot. It also felt like the right time to just ...get away for awhile”
“Terrorizing everyone, were you?” They both laughed and he winked at her. A shiver ran down her spine and she busied her hands with another bite of pie.
“So what’s your opinion so far? Any plans for while you’re here?” He asked politely.
“Well I just got here yesterday afternoon, and I was planning on getting some work done but no luck yet. In fact, I've been thinking about heading home tomorrow.” Draco nearly choked in surprise and let out a singularly loud guffaw.
“We made quite an impression on you then, have we? You hated it so much you’re leaving after one day? And also, what’s this about working during your holiday anyway?”
“I’m a writer - I’m guessing you knew that?” He nodded in understanding. “So I was hoping to get started on the next novel that my publisher is demanding, but I’ve had a terrible case of writer’s block. I’m usually quite good at doing trips on my own...but it’s been difficult this time for a….a few reasons. But the change of scenery hasn’t done any good for my work yet, so-”
“I see. And you’ve determined this after only 24 hours?” He turned to her with an eyebrow raised and fixed her with a stare that was so reminiscent of Severus Snape that she almost flinched.
“Well...um…” She spluttered, and although he ducked his head and tried to hide the grin that brightened his face, she caught it anyway.
Instead of embarrassing her further by commenting on her inability to put two coherent thoughts together, he simply finished the last bite of his pie while fishing some bills out of his wallet and tossing them on the bar.
“Listen, I’m expecting a business call in a few - oh bugger here he is - Hey Greg, ya I-” He mouthed sorry to her and turned away, taking the call.
Hermione leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The whiskey had calmed her nerves a bit but she still couldn’t believe that she was sitting in a muggle pub speaking with Draco Malfoy, of all people.
“Sorry about that, Hermione.” He stood and shrugged on a coat, packed up his laptop and pulled out a business card. Hermione’s brain stuttered again at the casual way he said her name. Hermione. She’d always been Granger to him, but it would make sense that this new man would have a different name for her as well. She quite liked the sound of it rolling off his tongue.
“I’ve actually got to get going, but here’s my card if you change your mind about leaving. I’d love to do some more catching up.” He handed her the card and winked at her once more before striding purposely out the door, the bell chiming loudly in his wake. She looked down at the muggle business card, which had a cell number as well as an email address. Still reeling from the experience, she drained her whiskey and ordered another before returning to her chair by the window.
Afternoon slid into evening and her book sat forgotten on the little table beside her. She listened to the chatter of other patrons as the pub grew busy, and watched the passerby hurrying along to get out of the rain; all the while trying to reconcile the man she had just met with the boy that she hadn’t seen in over 13 years.
Eventually, she grew tired and she forced herself to troop back into the cold.
She walked briskly through the town and down the road to the quaint little cottage she was supposed to be inhabiting over the next several months.
She lit a fire in the hearth, slid on her favorite pair of flannel pajamas and curled up on the couch. Normally she would spend her evening reading, or watching the telly, or chatting with a friend on the phone, but none of those things even occurred to her. Instead, she sat and watched the flames, and listened to the patter of rain until the early hours of the morning, her mind filled with the echoes of her past.