Chapter Text
August 8, 2006
Draco
Draco stepped out into the warm August air and let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for the last twelve hours of his shift. Today wasn’t a particularly horrible day. In all fairness, it was actually a great day. Draco had managed to save two witches from various potion poisoning, mend a wizards shattered ankle and extract a wooden spoon from a very questionable part of another wizards body. He let out a humorless laugh and an involuntary shudder thinking about that procedure.
The sun was just starting to set as Draco began his walk to Diagon Alley. He was meeting Pansy, Theo and Daphne for drinks tonight and figured the extra few steps would be good for him to get some of the stress out of his body. Being a Healer, he spent most of his day running between patients or hunched over charts. He found walking at leisurely pace in the fresh air was always what he needed after a long day.
Draco fell into healing quite by accident. He always assumed he would end up just running what was left of his family’s estate, or become an Auror or even a Potions Master. But then he found himself sitting in a Muggle lecture hall at Oxford (quite the story that incident is) seven years ago listening to the professor talk about emergency medicine and he was sucked in. Not two hours later, he had rushed back to the manor and began his research. He visited and traveled to over eight universities before settling on a Muggle one on the States. Yale took his breath away and Draco knew he had never been more sure of anything in his life when he applied and was surprisingly accepted.
Thankfully the wizarding application process for Yale was not as strenuous as he would later find out to be his Muggle classmates had experienced. He guessed it also helped that his name and reputation hadn’t been heard of in the States so he was accepted solely based on his scores, school reports, and interview. It was truly a breath of fresh air to walk into a room full of people and not one person know or care about your last name.
Narcissa was distraught at the thought of him moving across the ocean but she thankfully understood and visited a few times over the years before her sickness made it difficult to travel. Draco, to everyone's surprise, had even opted to live with other Muggles after a few years. He learned to cook, wash his own clothes, even learned how to build a bookshelf. Draco smiled to himself as he thought back to his years there. It was fun, and even though medical school was difficult and at times challenging, it was the most carefree time of his life. Anytime Draco felt the pressure might get to him, it was always the thought of “you’ve been under more pressure than this” that really pushed him through.
Now, seven years later, he'd recently accepted a position at St. Mungo’s in their emergency department. Draco had hoped to stay abroad a little longer, but when Narcissa's condition worsened, he knew nothing could keep him from coming home. It was just his luck that a position opened for an entry-level Healer so Draco jumped on it. It was a big surprise that he got the position in the first place, given his history. However, the transition back has been relatively easy and he’s enjoyed being home more than he thought he would. Most people have either forgotten about his past, choose to ignore him completely, or want to shag him. Draco lets out another shudder at the amount of times he’s been groped by someone at the hospital or has had a patient fake a faint just for him to catch them.
As Draco nears Diagon Alley, he notices a new shop with bright lights on the corner just before the apparition point. He could have sworn it wasn't there last week when he walked this same path to meet his friends at the Leaky.
He slows his steps as he gets closer to what looks like a bakery storefront. Since Fortescue's never reopened after the War, Diagon Alley had been missing a shop that satisfied Draco’s sweet tooth.
The shop is classically decorated in gold, cream, and black colors. There are awnings that hang over the windows with the name Helen’s sprawled in beautiful cursive. There are a few sets of bistro tables and chairs under the windows for patrons to sit. Draco is almost giddy with excitement at this new addition to the strip.
As he walks up to the window, there is only one word that floats up into his mind,
Magic.
That’s all he can think. This place is pure magic.
It makes him smile since, of course. This being the busiest strip in Wizarding London, of course it would be filled with magic. But it's still breathtaking, and wonderful.
Inside, the shop is bustling with customers looking through the different display cases at the many, many desserts. On the other side of the shop, more tables line the wall where people are sitting, laughing, stuffing their faces full of macaroons, biscuits, cakes, and tarts. He even notices an ice cream machine in the back corner. Above their heads, is a spectacular display of floating lights charmed to look like twinkling stars. For a second, Draco is taken back to the first moment he saw a similar sky in the Great Hall on his first night at Hogwarts.
His eyes flicker down as a mess of wild brown curls begins bobbing around the customers. Draco would know those curls anywhere, he only spent half his childhood staring at the back of them in school. His eyes follow her hair and his breath hitches as he catches his first sight of The Golden Girl in over seven years.
Draco steps closer to the window unconsciously. She smiles down at a young couple sitting at a table and he reads the words on her lips, “Finding everything alright over here?”, as she gathers some empty wrappers and plates from them. She’s wearing a black and gold apron with the same logo pressed onto the front of it that is hanging from the windows. She’s in dark muggle jeans with a light pink jumper and her hair, the wild curls have been contained to a messy bun that sits right at the top of her head. Her cheeks are flushed but she’s…
“Radiant, isn’t she?”
The voice startles Draco so much that he yelps and jumps to the side. Pansy lets out a laugh as she tries to catch him.
“Oh I’m sorry Dray, I thought you heard me walk up.” She tries and fails to keep a smirk off her face as she snakes her arm through his.
With a humph, Draco tries to play it off. He was NOT oogling Hermione Granger. He was… he was simply admiring the bakery.
“I was just appreciating the new addition to the strip here. It’s quite lovely.” He looks back down at Pansy who’s now fully smirking at him.
“Oh sure, your complete loss of self and surroundings had nothing to do with Granger standing right in front of you.” Pansy shoots back.
Instead of giving in, Draco looks back inside the shop and his breath catches.
Hermione.
Hermione is looking straight at him. And he’s looking straight at her. Like a bloody idiot.
It’s like they’re both frozen. Hermione through the window, and Draco… Draco’s stuck in a memory loop of those curls brushing up against his chest, of her brown eyes warm and happy. He blinks and he’s back. Only she’s a million miles away now, her eyes void of warmth and kindness. In fact, they look void of anything at all. Hermione blinks too, and then plasters a fake smile on her face. Draco raises his hand to give her a small wave, but she’s already turned her back to him and by the time Pansy tugs on his arm to keep walking, she’s disappeared behind a back door.