Remain Nameless

Chapter 22

Even though it was now Monday morning, Hermione was still a little miffed that Ginny had found the audacity to cackle—cackle!—at the sight of her rushing into the café 15 minutes late Saturday mid-morning.

Ginny had taken great delight at the state of Hermione's hair, the pink welts adorning her neck and collarbone, and the shrewd observation that Hermione still wore the marigold dress she'd told Ginny she'd planned to wear to dinner with Draco. Hermione needed new, less astute, friends.

Even so, Hermione mused as she bustled about her home gathering her work necessities, it was with a certain sort of giddiness that she confided about the romantic development between herself and Draco. And perhaps sensing how happy her friend felt, Ginny hadn't referred to Malfoy as a ferret even once, and agreed to Hermione's proposition of a double date if things were still going well in the next few weeks.

Hermione put that bold suggestion at the back of her mind for now, lest she break out in stress hives. Harry may be one of the kindest people she knew, but her dating Malfoy would be a bitter pill to swallow.

She had quite the day ahead of her at the office, and she began mentally running through her arguments for re-drafting the adoption laws for domestic nifflers as she locked the front door of her townhome behind her. If she could strengthen the household inspection language without making it look like government overreach, then the Wizengamot might eventually—Oh.

She froze in her tracks, halfway down her front steps.

Leaning against her front gate, casual as you please, all long limbs and effortless grace, was Draco. It was a Monday morning, which meant his suit schedule dictated he be wearing one of his custom black ensembles, with his crisp white shirt and black tie. Hermione wondered absently if he would share the name of his tailor, so she could send them a personal "thank you" note.

"Good morning," she said, slightly breathless with surprise as she approached him.

"Granger," he drawled, straightening up to his full, considerable height. "Ready for coffee?"

I'm ready for you to take me back inside and not leave the bed for the foreseeable future.

"Absolutely."

They chatted amicably as they strolled the few blocks to the café together. When they reached the establishment, he held the door for her. Hermione caught the eye of the elderly owner behind the counter, who most certainly noticed Draco and Hermione arriving together, and the woman threw her a sly smile and a wink.

When she placed her bag at their—their!—table and moved to go order her tea, Draco stopped her. "Masala chai? What size do you want today?"

She's so taken aback that she can't even find the words to protest about him buying her tea. Settling in and accepting the fact that she is not still asleep and dreaming, Hermione watched Draco return with two steaming cups in his hands. As he approached the table, Hermione's mind flashed back to that moment a year and some months ago, when he'd stalked angrily up to her table, demanding to know what her game was.

"Seriously Granger? Do you think this is funny?"

Those had been the first words he'd spat at her. She recalled experiencing the shock of a lifetime when she'd looked up from her reading to find an impeccably dressed Draco Malfoy, tense and seething with barely suppressed rage at her in a Muggle café.

Draco's current demeanor could not have been more different. He moved with a relaxed elegance, his posture perfect yet devoid of tension, sitting down across from her and looking content.