Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was it, the summer Hermione would prove she wasn’t a failure. Although it hadn’t started off great, she thought as she looked around her very empty store. The streets outside were already busy. The rush of locals heading to work had been replaced by tourists emerging for breakfast or heading to the beach. She could just make it out from the front window.

Growing up, she had taken for granted how lucky she was to live just five minutes from the ocean, but after spending college in stupid, landlocked Pennsylvania, she never would again. Now she knew how lucky she was to wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the sand, the smell of salt already in her nose.

Empty store, not great, but she did love the moments when the shop wasn’t busy and she could hear the sound of the town waking up, mixing with the ocean waves. It was soothing, and a perfect time to catch up on the accounting she’d been avoiding for weeks. She had promised herself she’d stay on top of the books this quarter, but she was already behind. It was hard to stay motivated when the numbers barely added up to cover the loan payments—worse when they didn’t.

She opened her laptop with a groan, ready to force herself to start when the tinkle of bells above the door alerted her to someone entering the store.

She didn’t even have a chance to slam the laptop shut again before she heard, “HER. MY. NEE,” bellowed from the open doorway.

She would’ve known that voice, and that screaming, anywhere. Luna. Her favorite, well, her only employee, home from college for the summer.

“Luna! I thought you weren’t coming in until later,” she said, leaping across the room to embrace her employee and friend.

“Yeah, well, Mom was already getting on my nerves,” Luna said, rolling her dark eyes but smiling. Luna loved her family, but Hermione remembered what it was like coming home from college and suddenly being treated like a child again.

“She still treating you like you’re fourteen?”

“Yes! When does it stop?”

“Never,” Hermione laughed, thinking about her own mother who still asked if she needed help with laundry every couple of weeks. To be fair, she often did, especially during the summer season. She was so exhausted from trying to keep the store afloat that things like clean clothes and eating often got forgotten. But she never wanted to bother her mom with it. Her mother had enough on her plate without worrying about her too.

Luna plopped down in the cozy reading nook at the front of the shop. The secondhand, plush couch almost enveloped her tiny frame.

“I’ve missed this place. You’d think New York City would have nice places to read, but nothing beats this couch, even if it still kind of smells like my grandma.”

“It does not! I’ve washed those cushions like a billion times since last summer!” Hermione said, taking a whiff and grimacing. “Oh God, it does. Shit. Maybe I use the same detergent as your grandma?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with the laughter she was holding back. “So catch me up! Fill me in on all the good Dover gossip! That’s the other thing missing from New York. Everyone is anonymous. I don’t even have good gossip for the people in my building. I have to make stuff up, and that’s so much less satisfying.”

Hermione smiled and filled Luna in on the messy Meyers divorce, how old man Stephens had called 911 four times in one month for no apparent reason, and the scandalous affair between one of the high school teachers and the principal. By the end, they were both cracking up. Luna was the sister Hermione never had. While she hated not seeing her for most of the year, there was something so special about catching up like this, the shared experience of growing up in a tiny tourist town. Sometimes it sucked, but the gossip made it better.

“And what about you—” Luna started. Hermione knew it was coming. “—and Ronald? Have you sorted that mess out yet?”

She sighed.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”

She’d been avoiding the topic of her ex with everyone, including Luna. She knew that couldn’t last forever. She shook her head, thinking about the irony of trying to keep her own life a secret while spilling everyone else’s.

“It’s as sorted as it’ll ever be. You know we broke up. It’s still over. I have no desire to be with a man who refers to my chosen career as a ‘hobby.’”

He had said much worse, but Luna didn’t need to hear that. No one did. She was so over that man, she didn’t need comforting or to hash out the details. It would’ve been nice in the days after the breakup, but Pansy had been swamped with tax season, and Ginny was newly pregnant. Hermione could handle a few insults on her own. And besides, small town. Ron had been the town’s golden boy. She had decided early on that she would be the bigger person and not ruin that image for him.

“Shit. That’s kind of a dick move,” Luna said.

Hermione flung one of the many throw pillows at her head. “Kind of? It was a super dick move.”

“Okay, now I’m just picturing a penis with a little cape on it,” Luna said, doubling over in laughter.

Hermione had missed this so much, the easiness of talking and laughing with someone. She’d been so stressed lately, it was nice having a twenty-year-old around to bring some joy and immaturity into her life.

“And how is the shop doing? Better than last year?”

“Uh…” Hermione hesitated, wondering how much to tell Luna. She wasn’t ashamed of struggling, it was normal for businesses here to slow down during the off-season. Most of the town depended on tourists in the summer to make up for the rest of the year. Still, she didn’t want Luna to worry or feel like she had to help out more than she already was. She could handle this.

“It’s good. I’m working on getting more online sales to fuel the off-season, but it’s good. And the summer will help.” She hoped the smile she’d managed looked convincing.

Luna narrowed her eyes at her. She’d always been good at reading people, or maybe just good at reading Hermione. They had practically grown up together, both spending time at Luna’s grandma’s house while their moms worked. Hers at the hospital, Luna’s at the diner. Luna could always tell when she was hiding something.

“You know I can help with the online stuff, take over social media for you. You’re getting old, Mi. It’s okay to admit you’re technologically challenged.” Hermione grabbed another pillow, but Luna caught it this time.

“You ass! I’m not that much older than you.” Her eyes crinkled with laughter. “I’m fine, but thank you for wanting to help. You helping out in the shop is already more than enough.” She already depended on her too much. She hated depending on anyone. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her. God, what did it say about her that she needed a twenty-year-old’s help this much? “So are you staying to work or coming back later?”

“I’ll stay. Let me just grab a coffee.” Luna was almost out the door when she whipped around. “What if we added a coffee bar? I bet that would help bring more people in during the off-season, and get customers in earlier during the summer.”

“You know I can’t do that to Rita’s. It’s only two doors down.” It was an unspoken rule of smalltown businesses: don’t open a direct competitor, at least not on the same street. “Anyway, I don’t have the money for that.” She flinched, hoping Luna didn’t notice.

Luna sighed and looked at her with those sad eyes Hermione had been trying to avoid. “I’ll be back before we get too busy.”

“No rush,” she called out. It would probably be a while before they got busy anyway. She felt the smile Luna had brought her fall into a frown the moment she left.

Luna only had one more year until graduation, at most, one more summer working at the shop before she left to chase her own dreams and start her life somewhere else, without Hermione. Of course, she was happy for her. But she’d miss her. Hiring someone else would be out of the question. She could only afford Luna because she refused to take more than minimum wage and often worked much longer hours than they’d agreed upon. Luna would say she was just hanging out to read, but Hermione always found her tidying up or helping customers.

She felt incredibly guilty not being able to pay Luna what she deserved. And that annoying little voice always crept in, reminding her she couldn’t do it on her own. That voice had started to sound a little too much like Ron’s in the past few months.

How many more years can your hobby really last? Just give it up now before you ruin yourself.

She pushed his annoying voice out of her head, pulled her hair into a messy bun, and went back to handling the accounting.

Chapter Text

“Mom,” she groaned into the phone. “I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

She didn’t hear her mother’s reply as she pulled bags of groceries out of her bicycle basket.

“I love you, see you in ten,” she shouted toward the phone before hanging up.

Lifting the three bags into her arms, she knew she should make two trips, but that would take twice as long—and then her mom would call again to demand why she hadn’t shown up to weekly dinner yet.

As much as she loved their time together each week to catch up, it irritated her that her mom didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t always convenient. They had always planned around her mother’s work schedule, since hers was, in theory, more flexible. She knew she could just tell her mom that things were busy or that the store hours weren’t really flexible at all, but she didn’t. Carving out those hours each week was one of the ways she could say thank you to her mom, for all the time her mom had given up for her.

The walk from where she parked her bike to her front door wasn’t far, but a week’s worth of groceries, squished into as few bags as possible, weighed more than her sad muscles were used to. She was struggling before she even reached the porch steps, which was probably why she didn’t see him at first.

The man standing on the porch, the shared porch of the duplex where she lived, was shadowed by the light of the setting sun. She couldn’t make out much, except that he was large.

“Need some help?” he called from the top of the porch. His voice wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t quite as kind as one might expect from someone offering to carry groceries. His arms were crossed across a broad chest, making him look more annoyed than helpful, like she had disturbed him and he was offering only out of obligation.

The other side of the duplex was listed as a short-term rental, so she got a lot of different neighbors throughout the year. She tried her best to avoid them. Not because she didn’t like meeting new people, but because she didn’t want to intrude on vacations, or get mixed up with people who were leaving in a week. She used to be more friendly when she first moved in, stopping to say hello, offering tips on the best restaurants or beaches, but she had quickly learned that only led to awkward goodbyes and a lingering sense of loneliness when they left.

“No, I’m good,” she called up to him. In the fading light, she just barely saw his head shake, clearly not believing she could handle the three bags of food in her arms. The thought made her blood heat, probably causing a flush to creep across her face. She was grateful it was dark enough that he likely didn’t notice. If she hadn’t been determined to carry those bags before, she was now.

She was on the third step when she felt one of the bags begin to slip. She was less than twenty feet from her door, surely she could make it that far. She couldn’t be that weak.

As she got closer to the man, who, for some reason, was still standing on the porch (maybe just hoping to watch her fail), she started to make out his features. His pale, blond hair was messy, sticking in every direction like he’d been running his fingers through it. He was what she’d call classically handsome, strong features, sharp jawline. His eyebrows were pinched together as he watched her, making him look almost pained. She could see his arms flexing as he clenched his fists tighter.

God, he was kind of beautiful. And probably deeply regretting booking a duplex, realizing he’d have to deal with heras a neighbor.

She gave him a tight smile, trying to make it clear she wouldn’t be bothering him. She hadn’t even wanted his help, for Christ’s sake! He started to turn, and she thought she had won the silent battle they were surely having over her ability to carry her own groceries.

But she barely made it to the top of the steps before the slipping bag fully fell out of her arms. The sound of shattering glass made her stomach drop. No pasta for dinner. She had lost.

When she looked up, she saw that he had turned back. His lips were quirked at the corners with the faintest hint of a smile.

“You’re right, you definitely don’t need my help.”

Her eyes narrowed and her face heated again. She wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment. She forced herself to smile at the infuriating man while she picked up the bag and headed inside, leaving the broken jar of marinara sauce in a puddle on the porch.

Once inside, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Why? Why couldn’t anything go right in her life? Why couldn’t a nice older couple be renting the house next door? Why hadn’t she just taken two trips? And what was she going to make for dinner now?

She peeked out the peephole to make sure he wasn’t still standing there before she left for her mom’s. She stepped outside quickly, half-expecting him to pop out and laugh at her. But she stopped on the steps when she noticed something strange: where there should have been a pool of red on the porch, there was only a circle of slightly damp wood.

He had cleaned up her mess?

She just stood there for a moment, staring at the darker patch of porch, trying to understand. Of course she would have cleaned it up later, she just hadn’t had time right then.

She grimaced. Why wouldn’t he think I’d just leave food on the porch?

The only impression he had of her was that she was a stubborn ass in desperate need of assistance but unwilling to accept it. And honestly? That was disturbingly accurate. She hated that in just two minutes, this man had probably already figured out exactly who she was. And instead of ignoring it like a normal person, he had made fun of her.

And she had already managed to become a burden to him,forcing him to care for a neighbor he didn’t want.

It shouldn’t, didn’t, matter what he thought of her. But she couldn’t help but glance back at his door and hope she’d get the chance to show him he was wrong.

Chapter Text

The day before had been slower than Hermione had hoped, although it hadn’t been completely unexpected. People coming in for Memorial Day normally drove in on Friday afternoon, and bookshops weren’t most people’s first stop on vacation.

She made her normal stop at Rita’s on her way to work and picked up a chai tea latte for herself and some ridiculous blended “coffee” for Luna that she had requested. If she couldn’t pay Luna enough, she could at least keep her caffeinated, although Hermione wasn’t sure how much coffee the drink really had in it.

The ocean breeze blew her dress around her ankles. She didn’t typically dress this nicely for work, but tonight was drinks with her friends. She still hadn’t done any makeup though, save for some glorified sunscreen. She would’ve liked to say her hair was in cute, messy waves, but really, it was just this side of a rat’s nest, courtesy of her morning dip in the ocean. Maybe once she got the store under control, she’d finally have time to master her curls.

“Have you seen this new TikTok trend?” Luna said by way of greeting, shoving her phone in Hermione’s face. “It’s hilarious.”

“Uh, no, I don’t use TikTok.”

“Oh my gosh, Hermione, what? You said you had social media handled. How can you handle social media without TikTok? I was only joking yesterday about your age, but now I’m really concerned. Please let me help you.”

Hermione sipped her latte and handed Luna her coffee monstrosity, hoping she’d drop it if she ignored the question. She really didn’t want to keep telling her no. Luna meant well, but Hermione needed to do this on her own. Sink or swim. And she definitely didn’t want to admit that she’d stayed up half the night watching videos on TikTok. It made no sense to her, all these trends you were somehow just supposed to know about? She didn’t have time to scroll on the app constantly.

“Ooh! I can’t believe you actually ordered this for me! Mi, you’re the best.” Bingo. Luna was always easily distracted by sugar.

Hermione took the opportunity to sneak past her and turn the sign on the front door to “Open.” It was a new day. A new opportunity to not mess everything up.

The morning was slow, but by afternoon the shop had started to get busy. People came to a small town thinking they wanted to relax and do nothing, but most of them couldn’t stand it for too long, that’s when they found the bookshop. People needed something to do while they spent days sitting on the beach. The store carried mostly beach reads: thrillers, romances, light fantasy. People didn’t want to read anything too heavy while they were on vacation, figuratively and literally; most of the books were thin and paperback. Helping people find the perfect book was her favorite part of the job. She loved talking about her favorite books and authors, and she had managed to create a career where she did that all day long. It was a dream, really.

Or it had been, until she’d learned all the other things that went into it: inventory, bookkeeping, advertising, social media. Ugh. She could suck it up and accept Luna’s help, but where would she be in a year when Luna was gone?

Looking over the crowded shop brought her so much peace. The days were long, but they were spent doing something she loved. Luna was busy helping some kids who looked about twelve pick out mystery books, they seemed in awe of her as she expressively described some of her favorites. She looked like she was playing charades. Hermione was laughing when the familiar tinkling of bells caught her attention and drew her gaze to the opening door.

Her eyes widened and her breath hitched at the sight of the man who walked inside.

Chapter Text

Shit. The store was already crowded, and this man seemed to take up the rest of the room. Or maybe that was just because all Hermione could focus on was him. She hadn’t gotten a good look the other night, and now she could really see how gorgeous he was.

He was tall and fit, but it was the kind of fitness that came from an active life, not hours at the gym. His blonde hair was neater than before, but still fell freely over his forehead. He looked out of place in trousers and a t-shirt that definitely didn’t come in a four-pack at Walmart. But it was the way his soft grey eyes scanned the room that made Hermione stop and stare.

She was finally understanding what Mr. Darcy meant by “fine eyes.” This man was fine everything.

Hermione forced herself to find something else to do to stop from staring, but her eyes kept flicking up toward him every few seconds. She tried to catch Luna’s gaze, but she might actually have been playing charades with the children now and was too distracted to notice Hermione’s silent plea for help.

Her heart started beating faster, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck to her cheeks. Maybe he wouldn’t buy anything and just leave. But he started reading the spines in the fantasy section.

It was when he began going over the books a second time that Hermione realized he was looking for something specific and not finding it. Shit. She could ask Luna to go help him, but she didn’t want to interrupt her game. She looked like she was having so much fun. At least one of them was.

Hermione took a deep breath and resolved to walk over. It was dark the other night, he probably wouldn’t even recognize her. She put her glasses on for good measure, convinced they would actually disguise her like Clark Kent. She only needed them to read, so everything went a little fuzzy. That was probably good. Maybe she wouldn’t be so distracted by his face.

She let her hair down from its claw clip at the last moment, hoping it would help hide the blush on her skin.

“Hi! Can I help you find anything?” she asked, aiming for friendly, but it must have come out too loud because he jumped.

“Uh…” The man turned and quickly glanced her up and down before his eyes settled somewhere on her face. Hermione wasn’t sure it was her eyes, though. Shit, was there something on her face?

“Yeah, I was looking for The Winged Trials. I’m-”

“Oh. We don’t carry that. I can help you find some much better options if you’re interested in fantasy though.” She turned toward the shelf to start pulling some books but stopped when she felt his eyes still on her.

She couldn’t tell what was happening on his face. His brows pulled together, deep lines forming between them, and his lips pressed into a hard line. The glasses made him a little blurry at this distance, but he looked confused, and almost hurt.

Shit. She had totally just insulted his taste, hadn’t she? Or maybe he finally recognized her.

The silence started to stretch into awkwardness.

“The Winged Trialsis really popular, but I’m just not a fan. I don’t really stock books I don’t like myself.”

“Seriously?” he asked, his voice clipped.

She still couldn’t tell what was happening. Was he confused she didn’t stock the book? Or that a disaster of a person could own a bookshop? Somehow his brows had pulled even tighter together. He still wasn’t looking her in the eye.

Hermione tried to stop herself from rambling to cover the silence, but the words just kept coming.

“Yeah. I own the store because I love recommending books to people. I know that if I don’t like a book, I’d never recommend it. Honestly, I’d probably talk people out of buying them. So why bother stocking them? You know?” She tried a casual laugh, but it landed somewhere between robot and maniacal.

“No. Why don’t you like it?”

“Oh.” She could feel the blush deepening on her cheeks. “The way the author writes female characters is horrendous. It’s like they’re cardboard cutouts just there to fulfill some pointless romance subplot.”

“Oh.”

“I tried reading it when it came out, but it’s as if the author has never met a woman, much less been in a relationship.”

For some reason, Hermione’s mouth had decided slandering the author was the best way to handle this increasingly awkward situation. Her brain wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but her mouth kept going anyway.

“And if he has, he must just be a total asshole. Seriously, let me help you pick out something else. I promise you’ll enjoy it so much more than The Winged Trials.” She smiled, hoping to steer the conversation into more comfortable waters.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly while staring somewhere above her head. After a beat, his eyes returned to hers.

He scoffed. “No, thank you,” and walked out of the store.

Hermione stared after him. She definitely should have interrupted charades.

The weirdness of the interaction stayed with her for the rest of the day. She still didn’t understand what had happened. Was the man really that offended that she didn’t like a book he was interested in? Most people who came into the store liked her blunt honesty, it saved them from reading books they wouldn’t enjoy.

Maybe she had rambled more than usual and it freaked him out. Or maybe he had finally placed her as his annoying neighbor and didn’t want anything to do with her.

Normally, Hermione didn’t let awkward moments like this bother her, but this was twice in twenty-four hours she had made herself look like an incapable fool in front of this guy.

She took a deep breath as she flipped the sign to Closed. Running the shop was amazing, but being on her feet all day and constantly talking to people left her drained. And it was only worse with her brain on overdrive, replaying her awkward run-ins with her new neighbor.

Luna was humming and tidying a stack of books.

“So… can you tell me if I’m going crazy or if that was a super weird interaction?”

“Mi, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going crazy. You arecrazy. But yeah, what happened?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw herself onto the couch, hugging a pillow. She hesitated for a second, wondering if this would just make her feel worse. After a full day of ruminating, she was worried she was the weird one.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“Mi, it’s me. What happened?”

She sighed into the pillow and explained everything as quickly as possible before shoving her face into the cushion.

“He just stood there like I had slapped him across the face or offered to kill his puppy.”

Luna was still cleaning when Hermione finally looked up. She nodded to herself, and Hermione braced for impact.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that was your best moment ever, but I think you already know that. His reaction was weird though. Maybe he just didn’t like a woman telling him his opinion sucks,” Luna said. “What book is that anyway? I don’t recognize the name.” She pulled out her phone to look it up.

“It’s the one about the dude who finds a dragon egg and then goes to some school to learn how to take care of it. It’s not even an original idea. I don’t know why anyone bothered to read it. Oh, and there’s more.”

Luna raised her eyebrows, silently urging her to spill while she scrolled through Wikipedia.

“So he’s kind of living next door to me.”

Luna’s eyes widened, and her face broke into a terrifyingly mischievous grin.

“What?”

“We’ll deal with thatin a moment, but I think I figured out why people like this book.”

“What? Why?”

“The author is hot AF.”

“That is a terrible reason to read a book. Let me see.” Hermione took the phone. “Oh, shit.”

“Right! Look at his cute little dimples! I’d totally read any book he wrote.”

“Fuck.” Hermione could feel her skin heating, her heart pounding against her chest. “No, no, no, no.”

The blush she had finally gotten off her face and neck was returning with a vengeance. Oh God, this was bad. This was so much worse than before.

Luna was still talking about how hot this man was, but Hermione could barely hear her.

What the fuck was she going to do? She was already mortified, and now this stupid conversation was going to haunt her dreams forever.

“Well this is terrible,” she huffed, collapsing back onto the couch.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. This is not a normal response to a hot dude.”

“That hot dude is the guy I word-vomited all over earlier. Oh God. And the guy I’m living next to right now. He looked so pained because I told him I thought he was an asshole.”

Hermione screamed into the pillow, kind of hoping she’d accidentally suffocate herself. Maybe brain damage would erase the memory of today.

When she gave up hope, she realized Luna was laughing, full on, maniacal, falling on the floor laughing. “This is amazing,” Luna howled, tears streaming down her face.

Honestly, Hermione kind of felt like crying too, but she settled for throwing every throw pillow at Luna instead.

“You’re the worst! I’m not buying you your sugar bombs anymore,” she said, even though she knew it was a lie. It was kind of nice having Luna around to make fun of her. At least it distracted her from being too stressed or playing the scene over and over again.

And the more she thought about it, the funnier it got. What were the chances? And she’d only have to see him a handful of times at most before he left. Eventually, this would just be a funny story to tell, once she could do it without turning crimson.

“I’m sorry, but this is really hilarious, Mi. But hey, you have a hot neighbor to ogle for a few days!”

Hermione glared at her. She would be doing her absolute best to avoid that man for the rest of the weekend.

Luna suddenly stopped laughing and shot up on the couch. “But also, why the fuck did he come in and ask for his own book? Like, he really is kind of an asshole.”

Hermione burst out laughing. Thank goodness for Luna.

Chapter Text

Turns out, no makeup had been a great decision that morning. After laugh-crying with Luna for half an hour, she would have had mascara all over her face. Running late to drinks with her two best friends was one thing, but showing up late while looking like a drowned raccoon would be too much for her that day.

Luckily, the bar was only a couple of blocks away from the shop. She didn’t even bother riding her bike over, she decided she’d just walk back to the shop at the end of the night, or walk to work the next morning if she let Ginny drive her home.

She wished she wasn’t so late so she could actually enjoy the walk instead of doing what her fourth grade teacher had referred to as “Disneyland walking.” The sun had barely started to set, but already the sky was painted in a beautiful shade of yellow and orange. She forced herself not to look out at the view and instead turned into The Dunes. The bar was small enough that it didn’t take long to scan the whole room for her friends. How were so many people already sunburned? When she didn’t see them inside, she headed out back to the patio, waving at Joe behind the bar. It was a small-town stereotype that everyone knew everyone, but unfortunately, it was mostly true. She did know most people and definitely anyone who owned a business there.

“How was day two?” Joe asked before she could rush by.

“As well as can be expected,” she shrugged. People didn’t really get bored enough to look for books until at least two full days. “How about you?”

“Pretty good. People start looking for alcohol a bit earlier than books,” he laughed.

She smiled and continued on to find her friends sitting next to the outdoor bar. The Dunes was beach-themed to attract the tourists, complete with waiters in Hawaiian shirts and a tiki bar on the patio. Most locals avoided the tourist spots once summer hit, but her friend Pansy preferred them. She always joked that if she was going to hook up with someone, she’d rather it be someone there for a couple days and not one of the ten men who lived in town.

Ten might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but sometimes it didn’t feel like it. Especially now that they were getting older and people were getting married or leaving. You either had to really think it was going to work out to date someone who lived there, or be prepared to be harassed for the rest of your life about when you were getting back together. She, unfortunately, knew this from experience. At least two people stopped her that day alone to ask when she was going to take Ron back. A year ago, she’d decided to be the bigger person and not tell the town that he was a controlling piece of shit, but that meant she was the girl who broke the heart of the town’s golden boy for no apparent reason.

She wasn’t exactly sure what Ron told people after she ended it, but it was definitely some version of, “It came out of nowhere, I was totally blindsided, I may never get over it.” And he definitely made it clear he was ready to hop back into their relationship whenever she was. To be clear, that would be never.

Gossip was the worst part about living there. She laughed at the irony of having spent the morning filling Luna in on the town gossip, not so much fun when it was about yourself.

She waved at her two friends as they noticed her walking over: Ginny, whom she’d known her entire life, and Pansy, who had joined them in high school. They both smiled and asked how her day had been. Ginny rubbed her belly, probably trying to catch the first kicks of her baby. She’d been trying since she found out she was pregnant, even if she logically knew it would be months. She had cut her hair again since the last time she’d seen her. Ginny’s previously mid-back length red hair was now shoulder-length. She’d wanted it short when the baby arrived but claimed she couldn’t handle the sudden change.

“It was good! How big is the baby now?” she asked, hoping to avoid talking about herself or the store as long as possible. Her friends worried about her working so much, and she hated seeing the hints of fear on their faces when she talked about how the store was doing. At least when she was honest about it. They both supported her dreams of owning a bookshop and were as anxious for it to succeed as she was. She didn’t want them to worry, so she often hid the truth, just a little bit, and mostly during the off-season when sales were slower.

“A mango today! I can’t believe it, I’m almost halfway done. Twenty more weeks and we’ll have a teeny tiny baby to hold and squish.”

She ordered a passion fruit margarita while listening to Ginny talk about how excited she was for her next ultrasound.

“We’ll get to find out the sex and then we’ll be able to seriously think about names.”

“I thought you had already decided names, like years ago?” Pansy asked. She was wearing her suit from work but had taken off her jacket. Her black bob looked as flawless as ever, even after a full day of work. She had no idea how Pansy managed to deal with the heat all summer wearing professional clothes. She herself could barely handle wearing jeans outdoors in the warmer months.

“Well, those are still on the list, but I don’t know if they feel right. You know?”

The way Pansy looked at her, eyes wide, silently pleading her to take over, made it clear she, in fact, did not know. Pansy had always been the most practical of the three of them. When they were in high school daydreaming about baby names, Pansy had only picked two, and she was sure that if Pansy ever had kids, she wouldn’t worry about the feeling of the names at all.

“I totally get it,” she said. “That’s why the shop still doesn’t have a name. Not to compare your unborn child to a store or anything, but I get it.”

“Thank you! I’m glad one of you understands me.” Ginny tried to give Pansy a mock glare but couldn’t keep herself from laughing.

This was how a lot of their conversations went. Ginny was all about feelings and following her heart, and Pansy was practicality and pro-con lists. She fell somewhere in between and was probably why the three of them had been able to stay friends so long. She was able to translate between the two and always helped them find middle ground in arguments, no matter how ridiculous they were.

They were still laughing when the waiter brought over her drink.

“Bring her another one!” Ginny called after him.

“Hey! I haven’t even taken a sip yet!”

“Mi, I can’t have any so you need to drink twice as much to make up for it.”

“I’m not quite sure that’s how it works,” she said, but with how serious Ginny was acting, some part of her doubted her own words. Ginny had a way of convincing anyone to do or believe anything. Something about her excitement and the way she would stare straight into your eyes while feeding you the biggest lie.

“Okay, but if I’m too drunk to bike home, you have to drop me off!”

“Done and done! Honestly, it’s much too easy to convince you of anything. I thought you’d have gotten better at arguing after dating Ron.”

Pansy and she burst into laughter. “Ouch, Gin!”

“I meant because he’s a lawyer! It was a joke!”

Pansy and she were too busy falling over themselves to listen to Ginny’s apologies. She was on the verge of full-on cackling when the waiter came back with her second drink and quickly ran away. She’d need to leave him a big tip for dealing with their stupidity that night.

“Will you two stop it? You’re embarrassing me, and there’s a cute guy looking at us!” Ginny snapped.

“You’re married. And pregnant,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes at her.

“I’m allowed to look.” Ginny inclined her head toward a man sitting alone on the other side of the patio. Pansy glanced quickly to check him out.

“Oh, wow, he is cute.”

“Where?” she said, about to turn around when both her friends stopped her.

“No! Don’t look! It’ll be too obvious,” Ginny said.

“You two are practically yelling. I think it’s already obvious,” she replied but refrained from turning. “Describe him to me then, if I can’t look.”

“He’s totally checking you out, Hermione,” Pansy said.

“There’s three of us sitting here. He could be checking either of you out,” she said. “He could have a pregnancy fetish,” she added to Ginny when she raised her eyebrows at her.

“No, he won’t meet my eyes. He’s totally checking you out, Mi.”

“You should go talk to him!” Ginny said.

“Not interested. I don’t even know what he looks like. You were supposed to describe him!”

“Okay fine, he’s hot. Now go talk to him! For me!” Ginny begged.

“What are men to rocks and mountains,” she said.

“Or friends and booze, for that matter.” Pansy clinked their glasses together.

“Stop quoting Jane Austen and push your tits up!”

She spit her drink out. “Oh my God, Gin!”

“Wow, Ginny, you sound like me!” Pansy laughed.

“I’m sorry. That was aggressive. But the whole point of having single friends is so I can date vicariously through you. And both of you are doing a shit job of dating!”

“And here I thought the point was you loved us,” she teased.

“Okay fine, that too.” The three of them laughed together. Her shoulders relaxed, the stress of the day and the store leaving her body. With these two women, Luna, and her mom, she had no need for anyone else, especially not some random man at The Dunes. She had no desire to go talk to him; she just wanted to spend the evening with her two best friends, joking and teasing like this. But if talking to this guy made Ginny happy, she’d do it. She could handle a few minutes of small talk for her.

“Okay fine, who are you sending me to harass?”

Ginny actually squealed and finally let her turn around to see who they’d been talking about. It took her a moment to spot him across the patio. But as soon as she saw his blonde hair and those fine eyes...

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

“Nope. I changed my mind.”

Why was this happening to her? How was this happening? Of all the places Draco Malfoy could’ve chosen to spend a Saturday night, why thisone? Oh God. This was not just annoying, it was incredibly inconvenient. Now Hermione was going to have to tell her friends what happened today.

She would’ve told them eventually, of course. Just… not right now. Especially not while he was less than a hundred feet away. Maybe she could lie and say he’d been rude? But Luna already knew the truth, and with Ginny and Pansy’s flair for dramatics, they’d probably take it upon themselves to “avenge” her. The last thing Hermione needed after a day of mortification was a very drunk Pansy and a very pregnant Ginny yelling at Draco Malfoy in public.

“No, not interested. Sorry, Ginny.” She prayed they’d just accept that she didn’t find him attractive.

Not likely, considering every man she’d ever been interested in was a slightly uglier version of him.

“What do you mean, Mi? He’s gorgeous,” Pansy said bluntly.

“He is literally your exact type,” Ginny added with a grin.

“Is he though? I don’t know…” Gaslighting her friends was a new low. But desperate times.

“Oh my God, Hermione. Tall, athletic build, well dressed-” Ginny started.

“I mean, look at that jawline,” Pansy cut in. “He’s even blonde, which we all know you love, for some ungodly reason.”

“Seriously, blonde men are the worst.”

Hermione caught herself before defending them. That wouldn’t help her case. She ran her tongue along her teeth and let out a breath. “Fuck. Fine.”

She’d just tell them. Maybe they’d take pity on her and not cause a scene. Unlikely, but worth a shot.

She sank lower into her seat, as if that would make her invisible. “So his name is Draco Malfoy. He’s an author. He came into the store today,” she began. And then she told them the whole story, the accidental insults, the awkwardness, the lingering embarrassment, doing her best to avoid eye contact. Her cheeks burned and she hoped people would think it was just from drinking.

She was suddenly very grateful for the second margarita Ginny had made her order. She downed most of it in one go.

“And he’s definitely notchecking me out,” she finished. “He’s probably picturing me dying in a fire that takes down my store and clears the way for one that only sells his books.”

“Wow,” Pansy said, sucking on a lime. “I’m actually impressed by how far you managed to shove your foot in your mouth.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes before flopping her head down on the table with a groan.

“The only thing keeping me from literally melting into a pool of embarrassment is knowing he’ll be gone on Monday and hopefully never come back.” So much for hiding her feelings. It was hard to keep anything from them, especially when she hadn’t had time to process things herself.

Ginny looked like she was about to explode.

“It’s okay, Gin,” Hermione said flatly. “Let it out.”

“Thank goodness!” Ginny burst into a cackle. It was alarming, given she was the only sober one at the table. But Ginny’s laugh was infectious, and soon Pansy was laughing too.

“You have to admit, it is pretty funny,” Pansy said.

“Okay, fine. It is. Just not right now.”

“No, definitely right now! So what are you going to do about it?” Ginny asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“No. That’s not okay.” Ginny straightened up and waved to the waiter, who had clearly been avoiding them for the last ten minutes. Probably worried he'd already over-served them.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, the dread pooling in her stomach.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Ginny replied innocently. “I’m sending him a drink—Hi! Can you please send that gentleman another of whatever he’s having and give him this?” She scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to the waiter before Hermione could stop her. “And also bring these two tequila shots. Thank you!”

Hermione was sweating. Ginny was not known for subtlety, and she was terrified to know what was on that napkin. She had a pretty strong guess—but she really didn’t want it confirmed.

“What did you write?” Pansy asked casually, like this wasn’t a total meltdown moment.

“Mi’s number. Obviously.”

Hermione froze. She tried to remember all the reasons she loved Ginny. Why she didn’t want to go to Azkaban for murder. She dropped her head back onto the table with a thud, unwilling to look up and see Draco’s reaction.

Luckily, or unluckily, her friends had no such restraint.

“The waiter just grabbed the drink,” Ginny narrated. “Looks like beer. Typical.”

“He’s walking over to the table,” Pansy added. “Draco just looked up, he looks confused.”

“You’re supposed to be the mature one,” Hermione said into the table.

“Hey, I’m always pro hooking up with tourists. Much less messy,” Pansy replied with a shrug.

“Or this could be the great love story of your life!” Ginny squealed.

“Not likely,” Hermione muttered. “He seemed like a bit of an ass, and I’m done with men anyway. They all suck in their own way.”

“Not everyone is Ron.”

“Or your dad,” Pansy added. “But I get the sentiment. You can always hook up with him, though. Like you said, he’ll be gone soon. Hate sex is hot, you know?”

“Then why was mine and Ron’s sex life terrible?” Hermione grumbled under her breath.

“Oh my God—he put the napkin in his pocket! I knew he was into you!” Ginny nearly shouted.

“Shh! Ginny!” Hermione sat up, eyes wide. “I’ve decided against murder, but don’t test me.”

“Trust me—he’s into you,” Ginny said with a smirk. “He could’ve left it on the table, but he pocketed it.”

“Ooh! Our shots are here!” Ginny handed out the glasses.

Hermione locked eyes with Pansy. No words were needed, they both knocked their shots back instantly, cutting Ginny off before she could burst into song.

“Tequila,” Ginny started to sing.

“No!” both of them said at once.

Ginny grinned and sat back, smug.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s head broke the surface of the water. She paused, letting the waves crash against her body and carry her toward the shore. The salt stung her eyes, but she didn’t mind. There was no better cure for a hangover than an early morning swim in the ocean.

She’d definitely had more to drink last night than she’d planned, thanks to the awkwardness of everything with Draco. But now, the cold water lapping over her skin felt like it was washing away the stress, the embarrassment, and most importantly, the tequila.

She took one final deep breath, ducked beneath the surface, then headed back toward the beach.

Once on land, she quickly dried off and scrunched her damp hair with the towel. It was a little sandy, but she didn’t care. She threw a tank top and skirt over her bathing suit, packed her things, and started making her way back up the beach. The summer sun was already warming her skin, pulling out the golden undertones and freckling her shoulders and nose. She had freckles all year, but she loved how boldly they bloomed in summer.

Morning swims always reminded her of childhood, those early trips to the beach with her mom, back before everything changed. Before her dad left. That had been a simpler time, when her mom still had the space to be present, before she’d started working back-to-back hospital shifts just to make ends meet. Her mother had become the strongest person Hermione knew, stepping up without a second of hesitation, never letting the absence of Hermione’s father define their lives. Every spare minute she had was spent with Hermione, reading, singing, swimming. Their bond was unshakable.

I need to get her back out here, Hermione thought, casting one last look at the ocean. She inhaled the salty air and started the short walk up the beach toward the road.

Luna had agreed to open the store this morning. “Please, you’d be helping me avoid going to church with my family,”she’d said when Hermione tried to stop her. Hermione never would’ve asked Luna to open, it was summer, after all, but Luna had insisted. And it gave Hermione time for her swim and a rare chance to enjoy coffee sitting down.

She pulled out her phone and texted Luna to ask what ridiculous sugar-laden drink she wanted. As she stepped into Rita’s, a small smile curved her lips.

Rita’s wasn’t the only coffee shop in town, but it was Hermione’s favorite. They made the best scones and breakfast sandwiches in the area. Nestled in the heart of downtown, which really was just a single road, it catered to locals more than tourists. The place wasn’t curated for Instagram; it was warm, well-worn, and honest. A bit like home.

Rita herself had long since passed the business on, but Hermione remembered the woman well. When Hermione was little, her mom would drop her off here while she grocery shopped down the street. Week after week, for nearly a decade, she’d sit in the corner booth with a pastry and a book, eating too many sweets and feeling completely at peace.

Her phone pinged with Luna’s reply: a large blended double mocha. Hermione chuckled, looked up, and immediately locked eyes with the last person she wanted to see this morning.

Draco.

Sitting in her corner booth.

Of course he was here. Why couldn’t he have chosen the Starbucks, or the trendy new hipster café like every other tourist? And why was he staringat her?

Sure, she’d insulted him. And her friends may have mildly harassed him. But a normal person would avoid her after that. That’s what she’d do.

But Draco just stared. Probably crafting some evil plan to systematically ruin her life.

She forced herself to look away and gave her order to the high schooler behind the counter. Then she sat at a table on the opposite end of the café to wait for her chai tea latte, lemon scone, and Luna’s mocha, all to go. Sitting down here no longer felt appealing. He had invaded her safe space.

She did everything in her power not to look at him. She stared at her phone, watched the barista steam milk, counted floor tiles, anything to avoid glancing his way. But she could feel his gaze, like prickles of heat on the back of her neck.

What is his problem? Was he waitingfor her to apologize?

Hermione closed her eyes with a sigh, trying to ignore the flush crawling up her skin. That conversation with him… it hadn’t been a conversation at all. It had been pure, unfiltered rage. Something she should’ve vented to Luna or her friends, not dumped onto a stranger.

A stranger who turned out to be Draco Malfoy.

She cringed. She’d called him an asshole. To his face. Unknowingly, but still. Maybe she should apologize.

Maybe she’d feel better afterward. Maybe her brain would stop replaying the interaction 80 times before bed.

Was it a selfish reason to apologize? Absolutely. But at this point, what did she have to lose?

She grabbed the drinks and scone from the counter, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the booth.

Draco looked down at the floor as she approached, jaw tight. He exhaled loudly, then raised his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah?”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “How are you doing?”

His brows drew together into a deep line. “Fine.”

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. He clearly didn’t want to talk. Maybe he didn’t even recognize her and was just confused why she’d approached... 

“Are you going to insult my writing again? Or just me this time?”

Definitely recognized her.

She pressed her lips together and forced a smile.

“I didn’t know who you were when we talked,” she said. “I wouldn’t have said those things if I’d realized.”

“But you believed them. And you would’ve said them to anyone else.”

“I’m allowed to have an opinion.” His eyebrows twitched upward, a flash of surprise? The only indication she’d managed to throw him off balance.

“Look,” she said, “I actually came over here to apologize-”

“Then apologize.”

The way he said it, curt, demanding, made her spine straighten. Like hell.

“But now I think I’ve changed my mind,” she said coolly. “Obviously, my previous assessment of you was correct. I mean, who tries to buy their own book? I was trying to be nice, but I don’t see the point anymore. You’ll be gone in a couple of days anyway.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are. You're here for Memorial Day, then going back to wherever you came from.”

“Who said I was leaving?” The line between his brows deepened. “I’m staying for at least a month.”

No. No. Nope.

“No one stays here that long,” she said, trying not to sound as panicked as she felt. “People visit their families. They stay for the weekend. Not a month.”

“Well, I am.” He smiled, enjoying every second of her discomfort. “Good thing I have your number. In case I need a cup of sugar. Or maybe I’ll send you the New York Times bestseller list.” He muttered the last part.

She closed her eyes. Ignored it. Higher ground, Hermione. Take the higher ground.

“My friends were being idiots,” she said stiffly. “I won’t apologize for my opinions, but I will apologize for their behavior. They were making fun of me. They shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

Something flickered across his face, something quick, hard to read. Maybe disappointment? But it vanished before she could be sure, replaced by his usual look of mild irritation.

“Don’t,” he said. “You all seemed to be having fun last night.”

He smiled again, smug, like a predator circling its prey. He was enjoying this, watching her squirm. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to leave this conversation feeling better, not worse.

“Well. This has been fun. I’m gonna go. Have a nice month.”

She turned on her heel and walked out as fast as dignity would allow.

“See you around,” he called after her.

She didn’t look back, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

Ugh.

He thought he’d won. He’d stared at her until she cracked. She couldn’t believe she’d almost apologized to him.

That mistake wouldn’t happen again.

She’d ignore him for the entire month he was here. She’d ignore him so hard, he’d be the one knocking on her door. Begging for attention. She’d be so good at ignoring him, they’d have to create a Guinness World Record just for her.

Or he’d cry.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure which outcome she’d prefer.

The World Record might bring in new business, so probably that one.

Chapter Text

Hermione was still reeling from her third awkward encounter with Draco Malfoy in 24 hours when she walked into the bookshop. Luna was blasting Taylor Swift on the speakers. No one was in the store, so Hermione didn’t tell her to turn it down. She handed Luna her drink and joined the dance party she was having behind the counter. They both spun around the room singing “You Belong With Me,” eventually coming together to slow dance to the upbeat music.

“Fearless” was the first album that Hermione had ever purchased for herself. She had grown up listening to incredible female performers: Dolly Parton, Cher, Celine Dion. She had introduced Luna to all these women, including Taylor Swift, while they were growing up. There were so many memories like this from their childhood. Spinning, singing, laughing, while they danced around the yellowing linoleum floor in Luna’s grandmother’s kitchen. Hermione paused and smiled at the young woman who was more like a sister than a friend.

Luna’s grandma had been watching Hermione for two years when Luna was born. She was six years older and had loved getting to have Luna as a pseudo little sister. Even when Hermione didn’t need to be babysat anymore, she had ended up at Luna’s grandma’s, she didn’t want to leave her behind. Didn’t want her to experience being abandoned.

She was incredibly happy for all the time they had together even if she knew it would have to end soon. Luna was graduating college and would move on with her life. As much as Luna loved her mom and her friends, she wasn’t made for the small town life. Not forever. She would move on to her next chapter and leave Hermione here with all the memory and joy of their life together.

She realized she had let the smile fall from her face when Luna turned the music down.

“What’s wrong, boss?” Luna asked. Hermione paused. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to push all her fears and worries onto Luna. She never wanted her to feel like Hermione needed her to stay. Or to worry about Hermione while she was off being amazing in the real world.

“Nothing,” she smiled and hoped it was convincing. “I just saw Draco, the asshole author, at Rita’s. Turns out he’ll be here a month. Yay me!” Hermione waved her hands in mock excitement.

Luna scrunched her face up. “Oh. Sorry, I should have warned you.”

“Warned me?”

“Ya. He came into the store looking for you,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders apologetically. “Or I assumed that’s what he was doing because he came in, didn’t look at any books, and then sat on the couch. I told him you always came in late after breakfast at Rita’s on Sundays, and then he left.” Luna’s lips squeezed tight and her eyes gleamed. She was trying not to smile. Waiting to gauge Hermione’s reaction before she said anything else.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What are you not saying?”

Luna gasped. “I have no idea what you mean?” She was working really hard to keep the corners of her lips down. “But if you happen to be asking for my opinion on why he was looking for you,” her lips finally won out and she had a broad, teasing smile, “I would probably tell you that men don’t typically come looking for women they hate. Especially not really attractive men with adorable dimples.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t think he cares enough to hate me, but I don’t think he likes me, if that’s what you’re implying.” Luna pouted her lips at this. “Our conversation at Rita’s was not pleasant.”

Luna’s face brightened. “But you did talk? That’s a good sign.”

“A good sign of what? That he’s not going to murder me?”

“A good sign that he’s interested!”

Hermione laughed. “You're serious?” she asked when Luna glared at her. “Luna. The man came looking for me to tell me off and he did. And now we are going to mutually ignore each other for the month that he’s here.”

Luna sighed and rolled her eyes at Hermione, as if she was missing something incredibly obvious to the rest of the world.

“Go do something productive,” Hermione said. “Or better yet, go home and enjoy the rest of your day. You deserve a break.”

Luna pouted at her for a moment. “Fine. But I still think I’m right and absolutely reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when you do get together.”

“Bye, Luna!” Hermione called over her shoulder as Luna headed out.

Chapter Text

Hermione stayed at the store longer than she normally would on a Monday. Most people who came for the weekend left Monday morning or by lunch if it was a three-day. There was rarely any foot traffic in the tiny downtown area in the afternoon. Usually, she closed up by 3 and then headed to her mom’s for dinner. But her mom had taken an extra shift and was working tonight, and she really needed to catch up on the accounting stuff she’d been avoiding.

Luna didn’t work that day. She was off celebrating the official start of summer at a Memorial Day barbecue with her high school friends. Hermione put on Dolly Parton and smiled. She was happy to be surrounded by books, listening to her favorite music. And then she remembered why she was there.

“Stupid accounting,” she muttered. She considered calling Pansy to help. But then she’d have to admit to her how far behind she was. And Pansy would see how little she was bringing in. And the zero online sales she’d had last month.

Hermione knew she’d see it eventually, Pansy was her accountant, after all. But it didn’t feel as bad when she only saw the numbers all at once and the good months could balance out the bad ones. And she wasn’t in the mood to have Pansy look at her with her worried eyes or offer to help out. Hermione needed to be able to do this on her own. She couldn’t depend on her friends forever.

Hermione hadn’t bothered to lock the door while she worked; she may as well stay open if she was still in the store. She would take any extra business the universe wanted to throw her way.

Only ten minutes into punching numbers in the spreadsheet Pansy had set up for her, Hermione was ecstatic to hear the tinkling of bells. She immediately took the excuse to slam her laptop shut. Dealing with her financial situation could wait, she had a customer. She smiled broadly at the door until she realized who walked through.

“Oh,” she said as her eyes settled on Draco. His hair was still damp like he had just taken a shower. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans. Hermione quickly scanned his body, hating herself for noticing how good he looked. She cursed herself for shutting her laptop, wishing she had something to do instead of looking at him as he approached.

This would have been the perfect opportunity to show him how much she was ignoring him, and she had ruined it in her excitement.

“How are you?” he asked, full smile with dimples on display.

Hermione looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Fine,” she said. She felt like this was a trick question somehow, that by answering she was giving up some sort of power.

“Great!” Hermione blanched. She didn’t understand what was happening.

“I was hoping you could help me with something.” Hermione’s eyebrows jumped towards her forehead. He chuckled at her obvious surprise. She attempted to regain control of her face.

Round two with Draco, and she was losing again. Hermione was never good at hiding her emotions, but somehow it was worse with him. She hadn’t been able to control her face or her tongue since the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She had a feeling that even if she could, he’d be able to read every minute change in her expression anyway. She needed to work harder at remaining calm, uninterested.

“You seriously want my help?” she asked.

He smiled at her. She could feel her traitorous mouth trying to smile back. Stop it, she snapped at herself. “Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Hermione shot him a look that said We both know why not.He chuckled again, ducking his head as his dimples flashed on his face.

Hermione looked away, reminding her body that they didn’t like this man, but those damn dimples.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m here to edit my new book and I was recently informed that I suck at writing about women.” Hermione choked on a laugh. “So I was hoping you could suggest some books…”

“By authors who don’t suck at writing women?” Hermione finished for him. She pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. She didn’t want to embarrass him, it probably took a lot for him to come here and ask for help. She couldn’t even bring herself to ask her best friends for help.

“And you want my help?” She looked at him suspiciously. Maybe this was all a joke. Some attempt to make fun of her taste. Prove she didn’t know what she was talking about.

“I already said yes.”

“Huh. Okay.” Hermione hopped off her stool and walked around the counter toward him. Wow, he was tall. She hadn’t noticed while she was verbally berating him before. Hermione was only 5’2" so it didn’t take a lot to make her feel short, but now she felt short. She took a couple of steps back so she didn’t have to crane her neck as much.

She let a whisper of a smile touch her face and raised her eyebrows. “Tell me what you like.” This was the fun part, taking someone’s interests and puzzling them together to find the best books for them. She hoped everyone left her store with the book that made them fall madly in love with reading.

“What?”

“Tell me what you like. I need to know the kinds of books you read, what your interests are, what you do for fun. Otherwise, I can’t recommend anything.”

He furrowed his brows. “Just give me what you read.”

“You might not like what I read.” She didn’t understand why this was so hard. It’s not like she asked him to tell her about his childhood or his hopes and dreams.

“I don’t need to like it. I just want examples of whatever you think my book is missing about women.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, about to argue her point further, and then sighed. It wasn’t worth it. If he didn’t want to experience her mad scientist book matchmaker skills, that was on him.

“Fine.” Hermione looked around the shop. “You write fantasy, so I’ll grab a couple fantasy options. You live in New York, so something set there. And then some contemporary romance, so maybe you’ll learn how to talk to women.” She smirked over her shoulder. He met her eyes with a smile and she quickly looked away.

We don’t like him.

Hermione dropped the stack of books on the counter and stepped behind it. She waited for him to look at the books and decide which to take. She figured he’d leave all the romance behind. Instead, he handed her his credit card.

“I’ll take them,” he said when she hesitated to take his card.

She stared blankly at him. “All of them? You didn’t even look at what they are?” Hermione felt like she was losing a fight she didn’t realize was happening.

His eyes flicked up and down her body once. He smiled as they settled back on her face. “I trust you.”

Hermione felt the heat rising up her neck. It felt like a stone dropped in her stomach. She willed herself to look away and grabbed his card, careful to avoid his fingers. She checked him out as quickly as possible, refusing to look up at him even though she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

What game was he playing? Was his plan to make her as uncomfortable as possible? Because it was working.

“Here.” She handed him his card and the receipt. “Have the night you deserve.” The line she pulled out when customers were difficult but she had to seem friendly.

“I will,” he said, smiling at her one last time before leaving her store.

She counted to ten after the door shut behind him and then ran to lock it. Hermione closed her eyes and drew a long breath in through the nose. The exhale came out somewhere between a groan and a scream. She glanced out the door to make sure no one was walking by and heard her.

Hermione needed to go home and stop thinking about Draco.
Fuck.
It might be hard not to think about someone she was sharing a wall with.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Hermione managed to make it through the next few days without running into Draco. She checked her Ring camera religiously before leaving the house to make sure he wasn’t on the shared porch, and she made Luna go get their coffee just in case. While she managed not to see him, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Every interaction they’d had played on a near constant loop in her mind. It had started out as a simple movie marathon of “Hermione’s Most Embarrassing Moments,” but now her brain had decided it was time to start analyzing. She picked apart every word, every look, every smile he’d given her until it had all lost meaning, like when someone thought about a word for so long that it started to feel made-up.

Maybe that’s what this was. Maybe she had just made up the whole thing. Somehow hallucinating an entire man sounded better than facing the reality of the situation.

Hermione let out a loud breath and shoved the books she was holding onto the shelf with more force than necessary.

“You need to take a break,” Luna said, leaning up against the bookshelf next to her.

“I don’t need a break,” Hermione snapped, sharper than she’d meant to. She hadn’t even realized how tightly she’d been holding her jaw.

“You’re scaring the customers.”

Hermione waved her arms around the empty store. “There are no customers.”

“That’s because you’re scaring them away!” Luna laughed, then poked her in the side, forcing Hermione to laugh too despite herself.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione rolled her neck and shoulders with a sigh. “I’m just—”

“Working too hard. You always work too hard. Let me help you.” Luna stuck out her bottom lip dramatically.

Hermione couldn’t believe Luna was actually begging to take on more. She already did so much for her. “Let me do the social media stuff,” Luna continued. “It’ll be one less thing on your plate. You’ll free up more room in your brain for all that overthinking.” She gave Hermione a pointed smile.

“You know you’re a terrifying twenty-year-old, right? You should not be this good at reading people.”

“Ha! It’s not that hard when you’ve been muttering and shaking your head all afternoon. Honestly? All week. What’s going on, Hermione?”

“Nothing.” Hermione hesitated. Luna raised an eyebrow. “No. Seriously. Nothing. You’re right, I’m tired. Let’s close up early. I’ll go home, relax, and be totally fine tomorrow. Promise.

Luna rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if it’s not better tomorrow, you’re telling me what’s going on.”

Hermione nodded. She was grateful to have such a good friend, but she wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about this. She wasn’t about to admit how much Draco was affecting her. All over a couple soft smiles and… cleaning marinara off the porch? She had issues.

Hermione soaked up the late afternoon sun on her bike ride home. The salty breeze off the water whipped through her curls. It would be a nightmare to detangle later, but she loved it. Biking had always been her favorite way to get around town. No one really drove here, especially in the off-season when the traffic lights were literally shut off.

She stopped a block from the house to check the Ring camera. No need to give her brain any more awkward memories to fixate on. The porch was clear, so she hurried home, practically flying up the steps. She slammed the door shut behind her and winced at the loud crack it made.

Thank Merlin Draco didn’t have access to the Airbnb’s Ring camera. He couldn’t watch her make a fool of herself.

Draco: 3. Hermione: 0.

Ugh.

This was totally what he wanted, for her to spend the rest of the month (no, her life) walking on eggshells and hiding in her own town.

She moved quickly through the house, turning on lights as she went. It was small, just one side of a duplex, but Hermione preferred to call it cozy. Lots of rugs, throw pillows, and, most importantly, books. So many books. Two bookshelves in the living room, one in the bedroom, and stacks along the walls where they didn’t fit.

Books never left her. Books didn’t send confusing texts at midnight. Books were safe.

She refilled her water bottle and headed to the bathroom. Tonight would be a spa night. Face mask. Bubble bath. Maybe a glass of wine. She paused to grab a book, she had a few new romances, but settled on an old favorite. Sometimes, familiar characters were the best kind of company.

She was just sinking into the bath when her phone dinged.

She considered ignoring it. But what if it was her mum?

She reached over.

Unknown number. New York area code.

A photo of a book page.

Weird.

Another message popped up.

?:How is this better than mine?

Hermione stared at the page. It was from one of her favorite enemies-to-lovers romances.

Draco.

Of course it was him.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her guessing who it was.

Hermione: Who is this?

The typing dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then again.

Draco: Draco Malfoy.

Hermione: How did you get my number?

Of course she remembered. The memory had haunted her for days. But she wanted him to think he didn’t even register.

Draco: You gave it to me.
Draco: When you bought me a drink.
Draco: At Sandbar.

Hermione:My friends did that. I would never.

Draco:So you do remember.

Damn it.

Hermione: What do you want?

Draco: How is this romance any better than what I wrote? She’s awkward and shy and not doing anything.

Hermione: Finish the book and find out.
Hermione: It’s called a character arc.

She sent a screenshot of a Writing for Dummiespage on character arcs.

Hermione: In case you’re unfamiliar.

Draco: 1. Go charge your phone. 2. Ha ha.

Hermione caught herself grinning. Great. Now she was grinning at her phone like a lovesick teenager.

Hermione: What do you think?

No response.

She was about to toss the phone when the dots reappeared.

Draco: I’m surprised by how much I like it.
Draco: I don’t think I’ve ever read a romance.
Draco: Except for my mum’s tiny historical fictions. But that was… for a different reason.

Hermione: You did not just admit to stealing your mum’s smutty novels.

Draco has unsent a message.

Hermione burst out laughing. A full, stomach-clutching laugh.

Hermione: Too late! I already saw it!

Draco: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t send anything.
Draco: And if I did, you immediately knew what I meant.

Hermione: Yeah, but I’m not ashamed of my reading habits.
Hermione: In fact, I’m reading one of those tiny historical fictions right now.

The dots bounced again.

Draco: Oh, so now we’re just confessing our porn habits? Noted.

Hermione’s face went red. Her brain very much did not need vivid imagery of Draco Malfoy just then.

Hermione: Well now I’m reallyglad I moved my bed away from the wall.

Draco:  So that’s what you were doing.

Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Draco: Why did you move the bed?

She hadn’t replied. Caught up in spiraling thoughts. Part of her wanted to be honest. The other part—the rational one—decided it was better to deflect.

Hermione: Oh, you know… just a little late-night feng shui.

Perfect. Revert back to jokes.

She tossed her phone into the next room, groaned, and sank back into the bath.

She’d check if he replied in the morning.

Or she’d throw her phone into the sea.

One or the other.

Chapter Text

Hermione dressed quickly the next morning, checked the Ring camera, and hurried out the door. She’d gotten used to sleeping in since Luna had been picking up the morning coffee runs lately, but Luna had asked for the morning off today, so Hermione needed to go into Rita’s herself.

Her stomach twisted into a familiar knot. What were the odds Draco would be there this morning anyway?

And maybe seeing him in person wouldn’t be as awkward now. Texting him had been… good. Surprisingly fun, actually. Her cheeks flushed when she remembered how the conversation had ended. If she saw him, she’d just acknowledge him and walk away. No need for conversation.

She parked her bike near the store and walked the rest of the way to Rita’s. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, scanned the room, and exhaled slowly. He wasn’t there. She pushed down the sinking feeling in her chest. She’d worry about what that meant later.

She stepped into line and pulled up Luna’s order on her phone, iced snickerdoodle latte with salted caramel sweet cream. Hermione rolled her eyes. How did Luna even know these drinks existed? Sometimes she wondered if she just made them up, but the baristas never questioned the orders.

Someone stepped into line behind her. She glanced back.

Draco.

Her face immediately broke into a smile, and she turned quickly back around to hide it. What is that about? She forced her expression back to neutral.

“Hey,” Draco said.

She turned to face him. “Oh, hi,” she said, as if she hadn’t realized it was him. She actually had to work to keep the grin off her face. She didn’t understand why she had such a physical reaction to him.

“I finished that book.”

She bit her lip to contain her smile. She hadn’t realized until now how sad she would’ve been if they had reverted back to their previous cool interactions. “Oh, yeah?” she said, trying to sound only vaguely interested, though she was desperate to know what he thought. It was one of her favorites, and for some reason, she needed him to like it.

They placed their orders and stepped aside to wait before he answered.

“Yep.” He smiled at her.

God. Was he going to make her beg for his opinion? Why did she keep putting herself in the losing position?

“Well, what did you think?” she asked, avoiding his gaze to hide how interested she truly was.

He hesitated. She braced herself for him to say it was garbage, or ask about the return policy for the rest of the books he bought.

“Do you want to sit down and talk about it?”

Yes.

She pressed her lips together, trying to suppress her expression. “I have to get to the store. Luna, she works with me, she’ll be wanting her drink.” She pointed to the large, foamy cup that the barista had just set on the counter.

“Oh. Okay.” His smile faltered, and he looked down.

For the second time, Hermione wondered if this whole aloof asshole persona was really just a mask for shyness. It had been less than thirty minutes since she’d sworn “no conversation,” and yet…

She sighed. She was probably going to regret this, but still, she couldn’t help herself. “You could come with me,” she said. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Sounds great!” He grinned, one of his real, softer smiles, and she melted a little. She couldn’t help but smile back.

She shook her head. “You better hope you have the right opinions, Malfoy.”

He laughed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll fight you. Obviously.” She shook her head like it should have been self-evident.

Draco grabbed his drink, and they left the café together. They walked in silence, not awkward, just… quiet. Hermione kept her eyes forward, refusing to sneak glances at his face, afraid of trying to read his expression.

The store was still locked when they arrived.

“Oh. Luna must be running late.” She fished her keys from her bag, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. She flipped on the lights as Draco followed her in.

“Okay. So?” she prompted, drawing the word out dramatically.

Draco dropped onto the couch. “What do you want to know?”

She moved to the opposite side, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Well, did you like it?”

“It’s not what I usually read,” he said with a shrug, like that answered the question.

She raised her eyebrows. “You came back here with me to say that?”

He grinned, just enough for those dimples to peek out. She groaned and pressed her face into the pillow. “You didn’t give me anything to go on for recommendations! I know I could’ve picked books you’d love if I knew more about you.”

“You already seemed to know a lot about me.”

She scoffed. “Everything I said could’ve been read off the dust jacket of your book.”

“So you’ve actually read it?” He leaned in.

She pressed her back into the couch, increasing the space between them. “How else would I know about your tragic attempt at creating a female character?” She took a sip of her coffee. “Anyway. Back to my book. What did you learn?”

He drew his brows together, that distinctive line forming between them.

“What was I supposed to learn? It was just a romance. I don’t see how that’s relevant to my writing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Now she leaned in. “The only purpose of the female character in your book-” She waved her hands, searching for the name.

“Xantha,” he supplied.

“Right. Xantha. Her whole purpose was to be a romantic interest.” Draco looked ready to argue. “No. Don’t try. She literally does nothing else. Which is fine! But it also means, assuming your new female character is similar, that a romance is the perfectway to learn how to write them.”

“Okay.”

She waited, giving him a moment to think it over.

“I still don’t see how thischaracter was any better than what I wrote. She was self conscious and clueless for half the book. Isn’t that bad representation?”

“No!” Hermione smiled. “It’s realrepresentation. Lots of women are self-conscious and clueless. We like to see that we can be heroines too. The point is, she was flawed and she grew. You’re not trying to create the ideal woman, you’re trying to write one with depth. Xantha may as well have introduced herself like, ‘Hi! I’m Xantha and I’m here to have a manly man fall in love with me!’ I think I told you, she read like a cardboard cutout.”

“Yes, you did. Thank you.”

“Touchy?” she laughed. “Well, the goal is for them notto. And anyway, I’d focus on the menin the romance books. I get that the romantic interest won’t have a full novel-length character arc, but the woman can’t be replaceable with a blow-up doll.”

They sat in silence, neither meeting the other’s gaze.

“Did you really not like it?” she asked, picking at the corner of the pillow.

Draco sighed, then looked up and smiled. “It was… better than I expected.”

Her face broke into a wide grin. “Yay! I knewit!”

The door jingled as Luna walked into the store and glanced between the two of them. “What’s going on here?”

Hermione hadn’t realized how close she’d leaned in toward Draco in her excitement. She quickly pressed back into the couch and hugged the pillow tighter.

“Draco was just admitting that he loves reading smut,” Hermione said brightly. “Your absurd drink is here, by the way.”

Draco’s face turned red, and Hermione practically beamed.

Luna took the drink, sipped, and let out a soft moan. “Well, who doesn’t love smut? Especially on a beach vacation.”

“Right? They make the bestbeach reads,” Hermione added.

Draco closed his eyes, as if pretending he wasn’t there.

Hermione loved the easy banter that she and Luna always fell into. And making Draco uncomfortable? An added bonus.

Draco: 3. Hermione: 1.  Finally.

Draco stood up from the couch. “Well, this has been-”

“Enlightening?” Luna supplied.

“Thrilling?” Hermione tried to keep a straight face.

“Enchanting?” Luna stifled her laugh.

“Satisfying?” Hermione added, and they both broke into laughter.

“Sure,” Draco muttered as he walked out the door, shaking his head on his way.

Chapter Text

Luna walked toward Hermione, her eyebrows waggling up and down.
“So, Hermione…” she said, dropping onto the couch and propping her chin on her fists. She grinned and fluttered her eyelashes up at her. “What was going on here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione said, glaring and shaking her head as she got up off the couch. She definitely didn’t want to have this conversation, not with Luna, and definitely not with herself. She wasn’t ready to admit anything about her shifting feelings toward Draco.

She looked at Luna, who was still staring at her, waiting expectantly.

“We were just talking about books. We’re in a bookshop, you know. It’s my job.”

“No, you were talking about smut!” Luna bounced up from the couch, apparently deciding that was enough of an opening. She was already primed to pounce, and Hermione groaned, knowing Luna wouldn’t let it go this time. She was too tenacious for her own good, or at the very least, Hermione’s.

“I was just teasing him. We didn’t even really talk about smut,” Hermione said. Not today at least,she added silently. She waved her hand dismissively and hoped Luna would notice her discomfort and drop it. It would be the first time in their twenty-year friendship, but hey, there was a first time for everything.

“So you admit it!”

Nope. Definitely not letting it go.

“What?”

“You totally like him,” Luna said like it was a fact she was reading out of a book.

Hermione’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to follow the mental gymnastics Luna must be doing to reach that conclusion.

“You wouldn’t be on teasing terms with someone you hated.”

“I never hated him. I hated his book and disliked him on principle. And I think disliking someone leaves room for making fun of them.”

“But you weren’t making fun of him. You said teasing.”

Hermione started to think she might be too old for this conversation. Either her mind was slowing down or Luna had consumed enough sugar to make hers run at the speed of light.

“There’s a difference,” Luna added when Hermione didn’t respond.

“No, there’s not.”

“Yes, there is.” Luna patted her head like she was a child who just didn’t understand the world yet. “Because one gets used in the bedroom.” And with that, she grabbed a duster and began cleaning the bookshelves.

Hermione rubbed at her temples. What had she been thinking bringing Draco back to the store? She knew she’d regret it. She should have let Luna’s drink melt instead.

Even with the headache forming from the conversation, Hermione found herself smiling. Draco was nice. He listened. He didn’t seem to mind the rants she sometimes fell into. And he liked books.

Was the bar really that low after Ronald? Be nice and like books?

She laughed at herself, at how sad that sounded. Luna turned to look, but Hermione waved her off.

Draco actually seemed to enjoy listening to her opinions. Which was strange, considering his books had made her assume he was at least a little misogynistic. Maybe he just didn’t know anything about women. Honestly, it wasn’t surprising the book had been published, there were plenty of novels with one-dimensional female characters.

She remembered how cute he’d looked, blushing while Luna and she teased him. He’d get used to it.

Wait. No. He wouldn’t get used to it. Because he was leaving.

Maybe that’s why this feels so easy, she thought. He’s leaving. So I can act like I would with a customer .She never had an issue joking or chatting with customers. She didn’t hold back with them because their leaving was already built into the interaction.

Hermione shook the idea of him “getting used to her” out of her head and tried to ignore the sudden hollow feeling in her chest. She pushed the thought away as the first customer of the day walked through the door.

No more thinking about Draco today.

Hermione rushed out of the store that evening, already late to drinks with Ginny and Pansy, again. She didn’t know how she always ended up in this situation. But she’d been having such a great conversation with a customer about medieval literature that she couldn’t tear herself away.

He hadn’t managed to convince her to stock any, it wouldn’t sell well, but she always loved talking to someone who was just as passionate about books as she was. It was one of the few things she missed about college. She’d minored in English Lit and practically lived for those few hours each week when she got to debate books in class.

She slipped into The Sandbar and waved at Joe.

“They’re out back,” he said with a laugh, knowing she was always running behind.

“Thanks, Joe,” she called as she headed to the patio.

She slid into a chair next to Ginny. It was still early, but the bar was already getting busy. Summer was definitely here. She dropped her bag on the table and walked over to the tiki bar to order, figuring it would be faster than waiting for a server.

The outdoor bar, decked out in campy tiki decor, was covered in palm fronds with torches flickering at either end. She watched the fire dance while she waited for her margarita.

A prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck. She’d completely zoned out.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Draco sitting alone… staring at her.

Why is he always staring?

She lifted her margarita with a half-smile and turned back toward the table. Ginny and Pansy were already watching her expectantly.

She shook her head before they could ask.

“How’s work going, Pansy?” she asked quickly, eager to shift the focus far away from herself for the evening.

“Same as always. Numbers. Boring people. So much fun,” Pansy replied dryly.

Hermione and Ginny knew she loved her job, even if she’d given up trying to make them understand the joys of accounting years ago. They loved that she loved it, and that was enough.

“How’s your accounting going? Will you have everything ready for Q2 taxes?” Pansy asked pointedly.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing. She’d walked herself right into that one. She should have asked baby questions first.

“Oh, um, it’s good. I’m a little behind, but I should be good to go.”

“How far behind? Want me to help you catch up?” Pansy asked, her expression softening.

Hermione hated the worry on her friends’ faces. Normally she just lied to avoid this exact thing. But she’d been so distracted, she’d accidentally answered honestly.

“No, that’s okay. It’s not much to catch up on.”

Pansy nodded slowly, clearly deciding to believe her, for now. But Hermione would have to watch her back; she was definitely the type to pop in and check anyway.

“Well, how are the numbers looking? Have online sales been picking up?”

Hermione wanted to scream. Lie or truth? That was always the question with her friends. She wanted to be honest, but hated people knowing she was struggling. She needed them to believe she could do this. That she was strong enough, resourceful enough, successful enough.

Her best friends had managed to get everything they wanted on their own. What would they think of her if they knew she couldn’t?

“It’s been slower than I’d like…” She shrugged. “But we’ve been so busy, it’s okay. I’m not worried.”

Lie.

“And how’s my little niece?” she asked, reaching out to rub Ginny’s belly. She looked radiant.

“Well, he’s your nephew,” Ginny replied with a wide smile.

“What! You found out and didn’t tell us immediately?”

“I wanted to do it in person!” Ginny smirked and pulled out the sonogram photos.

Hermione and Pansy practically dove across the table, cooing.

“He’s so cute,” Pansy said.

“I can’t believe there’s a whole human inside you,” Hermione added.

“He’s going to have the best aunts,” Ginny said, beaming.

“I think you mean the most annoying,” Pansy laughed.

“Okay, well… that too.”

Their gushing was interrupted by a server placing three margaritas on the table.

“This one’s virgin,” he said, pointing at the glass in front of Ginny.

“We didn’t order these-” Hermione started.

“Shh. Don’t say no to free liquor,” Pansy said, mock-glaring at her.

“It’s from that guy,” the server added, jerking his chin toward a man across the patio.

Hermione’s eyes widened when she saw Draco. “He said, ‘Congratulations.’”

“OMG, are we that loud?” Ginny shouted. Yes, they were. Locals’ rights.

Draco lifted his drink and smiled. Hermione’s friends immediately turned their gazes back to her, raising their brows.

“What?” Hermione said, exasperated. She really thought she’d avoided this conversation. She’d already been grilled by Luna; she didn’t need round two.

“Well obviously this was for you,” Pansy said, gesturing to the drinks.

“What’s going on with the asshole author?” Ginny leaned in, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Nothing is going on. He bought some books yesterday and we talked about one of them for like ten minutes today.”

It didn’t even sound exciting when she said it out loud. Of course, that was because she left out how excited she’d been about it—or the fact that she’d been thinking about him constantly for the last week. But that was hardly important.

“Well, you should change that. He’s cute,” Ginny said.

“And nice,” Pansy added.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The only reason he’s being nice is so I’ll help him fix his crappy writing. Or he’s bored and messing with me so I’ll feel bad about what I said.”

“Do you feel bad?” Ginny asked.

She paused. “I don’t feel bad per se,but I wish I hadn’t said it. Mostly because my brain keeps replaying it on a loop.”

Ginny nodded knowingly.

“And anyway,” Hermione added. “I’m not interested.”

Ginny and Pansy exchanged a look. She could almost hear the silent Uh huh, sure you’re not between them.

“I’m not! And he’s leaving in a month.”

“And?” Pansy said. “Honestly, Hermione, I’m not telling you to marry the guy. But you could go on a date. Or at least sleepwith him.”

Hermione scoffed. She wasn’t as comfortable with casual sex as Pansy.

“I sleep with the tourists all the time,” Pansy continued.

Hermione grinned. “Oh, I know.”

Pansy laughed. “It’s so much better that way. You knowthey’re leaving. No way to get attached. No heartache.”

Hermione didn’t want to know if that last part was meant for her or just part of Pansy’s personal reasons for staying clear of the local dating pool.

“And anyway, you need a rebound after Ron.”

They both knew how much Hermione had been hurt after the breakup. But she wanted them to think she was past it. She was past Ron, completely. But the hurt, the fear of opening herself to someone new only to get hurt again, that was still there. Maybe it always would be.

“I’ll pass,” she said.

Lie or truth? She wasn’t sure anymore.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s usual path from home to the shop took about ten minutes, but today she chose a back road. She could use the fresh air and a little more time outside. Her morning swim usually helped quiet all the noise in her brain, but today there was just too much up there.

She felt like she was losing her grip on everything lately. She was behind on the accounting. She still hadn’t figured out how to improve online sales. She had no ideahow to use TikTok. She knew Luna would help her, Luna would loveto help her, but Hermione needed to learn it herself. Maybe she could ask Luna to just show her the basics?

Ugh.She didn’t have time for this. She hated that being a small business owner now also meant being a content creator. She didn’t have time to make multiple videos a day, and she didn’t understand memes.

The path she took wound its way around most of the town. She’d be late opening the shop, but it didn’t matter if it helped her be more productive today. On one side of the path was a wide expanse of deep blue ocean, and on the other, the adorable cottages that made up her hometown. Her brain was moving so fast she barely noticed the trees she passed. The sound of waves crashing onto the beach was drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. The wind lashing against her face was the only thing keeping her grounded in the moment.

And on top of the usual stress of running a business, she now had Dracoto deal with. Annoyingly attractive Draco, who would be in town for at least another two weeks, who was surprisingly nice and funny…

She closed her eyes and tried to shake him from her thoughts. She just wanted to go one full day without thinking about his eyes or the way he always seemed to be watching her.

When she opened her eyes again, someone came into view as they rounded a corner up ahead. She couldn’t see much from this far away, but they were running, and shirtless.

Of course.

It really wasn’t fair that men could just run around practically naked. Even men with boobs bigger than hers could go shirtless on the beach, but shewould be arrested.

She was so focused on the man’s torso, watching the muscles become clearer and more defined with every step toward her, she didn’t see the fallen branch in the path.

Her bike hit it hard.

She tumbled off.

The last thing she saw before hitting the ground was the sweaty face of the man she’d been ogling—and of course it was Draco—running toward her.

She didn’t think she passed out, but she hit the ground hard enough to lie there, perfectly still, for what felt like just a moment. But it must have been longer, because when she opened her eyes, Draco was already crouched beside her, saying her name over and over.

He sounded worried.

Her body suddenly felt warm.

She shook it off. Of course he was worried. He just saw her fall off her bike like a complete imbecile. He’d have to be a monster not to care even a little.This had nothing to do with her personally.

He reached toward her like he was going to help her up, paused a few inches away, clearly reconsidering. But he must’ve decided her potential injuries outweighed the awkwardness, because he slipped his arm around her back to support her as she sat up.

Her stomach fluttered. Probably just a concussion,she told herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft and hesitant.

She blinked a few times and took a steadying breath. “Hi,” she managed to squeak out. She sounded much smaller than she liked. She didn’t thinkshe was hurt, just… dazed. She looked around the path, her eyes skipping past his very naked torso as quickly as possible.

“You fell off your bike,” Draco said gently.

Her eyes flew to his and she laughed. “Oh, is thatwhat happened?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “I wasn’t sure if you passed out or had a concussion or—”

“Or amnesia?” She kept laughing. He looked genuinely worried, and for some reason that made him cuter. He was just… so cute.

Her eyes wandered down to his chest, to his stomach. She dragged them back up. Too late. He was smiling now.

She didn’t know if it was because he realized she knew who he was—or because he’d caught her checking out his body. Her cheeks flushed. His smile widened. Definitely the latter. Fuck.

“Well, I’m fine, so you can go,” she said, trying to look relaxed. Like she wasn’t covered in dirt and shame.

His smile faded. “I’m not leaving. You don’t even know if you can stand.”

She rolled her eyes and threw her head back. “Of course. You think I’m the damsel in distress and you’re the hero here to save me.”

She turned to glare at him and froze. The soft grey of his eyes had turned almost silver in the morning light. Beautiful.She stared too long. He smiled again.

“Now I knowyou’re not okay. You’re not acting like yourself.”

A warmth trickled down her spine. She had to close her eyes. Maybe she really wasn’tokay. She took a deep breath, opened them again, and avoided his stupidface and his stupidbody.

This whole situation was stupid.

And it was all caused by unfair public nudity laws. Honestly, this was a public health hazard. What if she’d been driving a car? She could be dead.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

She blinked. Her traitorous eyes were staring at his abs again. “Just the absolutely ridiculous gendered double standards that govern our world,” she muttered.

“Oh. I thought you were about to punch me in the gut. That actually makes sense.”

His laugh made her smile. It was warm, like a hug, or being wrapped in soft blankets in the morning.

“Why don’t we try standing up?” he offered.

“I’m really okay,” she said, but took his hand anyway. Just in case. The last thing she wanted was to fall again. He’d definitely insist on taking her to urgent care and she could notsurvive that kind of close proximity right now.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was sore, but he didn’t need to know that. “Okay, well, thanks for your help,” she said, moving toward her bike.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m going to walk you home.”

Her eyes widened. “No, that’s really okay. I’m going to work anyway.”

“Then I’ll walk you to work,” he said. “You just fell off your bike, Hermione. You thinkyou’re fine now, but you might not be in five minutes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m suddenly going to realize my leg is broken.”

“You’re fine. I believe you. But let me walk you or I’ll spend the rest of the day picturing you passed out on the trail and end up searching the woods for your unconscious body.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “If I say no, are you just going to run behind me?”

“Absolutely.”

She rolled her eyes. It was kind of adorable how concerned he was. Ugh.Disliking him would be so much easier if he wasn’t nice. Unless… maybe this was a long con. Maybe he was trying to win her over just to pull some cruel prank later. Yep. That’s it.She felt oddly comforted by the theory.

“Fine. You can walk with me. But you have to push my bike.”

“Deal,” he said, smiling like he’d won.

But Hermione knew shewas the real winner here.

They walked in silence for a while. Hermione kept her mouth shut out of protest; she wasn’t sure why hewas silent. Draco kept glancing at her every few seconds, probably to make sure she wasn’t about to pass out and faceplant on the trail. It made it annoyingly hard to focus on ignoring him.

She sighed and gave up.

“Stop looking at me. I’m fine.”

His face lit up like she’d handed him a puppy. Was he tryingto get her to talk?

“I was wondering how long you could ignore me,” he said, grinning.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said, with as much haughty indifference as she could muster. “I was simply choosing not to talk to you.”

She immediately realized how childish that sounded.

“Are you always this cranky, or just when you injure yourself?”

“Maybe it’s just when I’m around you,” she shot back.

His smile turned playful, teasing. “Glad to know I have such an effect on you.” He winked at her.

He winked. Lord help her. This man was going to destroy her.

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she groaned, drawing the word out with all the drama she could muster.

“Really? Me?” He placed a hand on his bare chest in mock offense. “Do tell me how making sure you didn’t die makes me the worst.”

She clamped her lips together to stop a laugh, but it came out anyway, half snort, half cackle.

“Well, if you must know, you are the reason I fell in the first place.” She waved vaguely toward him. “That-” she gestured to the whole of his very toned torso- “is why I fell. You should seriously wear a shirt.”

His grin widened to full smugness. “You were checking me out.”

He said it like it was an obvious answer to a question she'd never asked.

“And here I thought you hated me, Hermione.”

She pointed at him accusingly. “Hey. I can hate you andfind your abs distracting. Your abs haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Except cause a biking accident,” he said, laughing and shaking his head.

“That’s true,” she said thoughtfully, letting herself glance at his stomach again. So unfair.

“I forgive you,” she said seriously, addressing his abs directly.

She kept a straight face as long as she could, then burst out laughing.

This is absurd,she thought. Walking into town with a shirtless Draco Malfoy and talking to his abs. Absolutely unhinged.

Possibly even more absurd than that time last summer when Ginny had made her enter the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest “for fun.” She’d eaten one hot dog and spent the rest of the time trying not to vomit while five grown men shoved wet buns and mystery meat down their throats.

They reached the bookstore, and Hermione felt relief rush through her. It was like she’d been holding her breath for the past ten minutes. Draco’s presence hadn’t helped the stress clouding her brain, and she was desperate for a few moments alone. She turned to say thank you, and goodbye, but found him staring at her leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, alarmed. “How long have you been bleeding?”

“What?” She looked down. Sure enough, a slow stream of red was trailing down from her knee. “Oh. Just skinned it, I’m fine. Thanks for walking me.”

She stepped inside, expecting him to finally leave. But he followed her in.

“We need to clean that,” he said.

“We?”

He shot her a look. “Sit down. Do you have anything here to clean it with?”

Too stunned to argue, Hermione sank onto the old loveseat near the window.

“There’s a bathroom in the back. Might be something under the sink.”

He crossed the room in three long strides. She stared after him, still trying to catch up with what was happening. Thiswas now officially the most absurd moment of her life.

Draco returned, still shirtless, of course, with a damp cloth and a single bandaid.

“You don’t have any Neosporin,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “So this’ll have to do.”

She reached for the supplies, but instead of handing them to her, he lifted her leg and rested her foot across his knee.

Surely he wasn’t…

Apparently, he was.

He gently began wiping the blood from her knee, working in slow, careful strokes from her injury down to her ankle. His brows pulled tightly together in concentration. His fingers were warm where they touched her skin, and goosebumps prickled up her thigh.

Hermione let her eyes wander over his face. First to those pale, almost-white brows, drawn tight in worry. Down to his eyes, still that same silver-grey from earlier. To his sharp nose, and then his mouth, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he focused.

Her gaze slipped farther, down the defined lines of his neck and collarbones, over his chest and, there it was again, the reason she’d ended up on the ground.

He was just smoothing the bandaid over her knee when the bell above the door jingled.

Hermione jumped. Heat flared in her cheeks.

Luna stepped into the shop. Her eyes widened slightly as they landed on Hermione and Draco, and Draco, still shirtless, kneeling in front of her, her leg draped across his.

“Should I come back later?” Luna asked, her voice teasing. Her lips pressed together to keep from laughing, but her face was already turning pink.

Hermione groaned and dropped her face into her hands. She yanked her leg off Draco’s knee.

“No. We’re done. I fell off my bike.”

Luna looked between the two of them and arched a brow. “Is that supposed to explain this?”

Draco stood, clearly trying not to laugh. “Well, I’ll just get going.”

“Thank you!” Hermione called after him. He paused at the door, gave her a small smile.

“Of course, Hermione.”

As soon as he disappeared, Luna flopped onto the couch beside her, practically vibrating with excitement.

“What in the actual heckjust happened?”

“Nothing,” Hermione muttered. “I fell off my bike, and Draco happened to be jogging by. He insisted on walking me back to the store in case I collapsed or some other ridiculous man-reason.”

Luna gave her a look that screamed I don’t believe you.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better gossip,” Hermione added with a sigh.

Luna’s expression softened into something warmer. “Hermione, I would nevergossip about you. It just… it looked like you were about to melt into him. I was kind of hoping you were ready to move past everything and finally declare your love or something.”

Hermione snorted. “Just that, huh? Yeah, no. I was not about to melt into him.”

Luna laughed, holding up her hands. “Hey, I don’t blame you. He looked good. All shirtless and muscly and sweaty.”

Hermione gave her a look of mock annoyance, but Luna just laughed harder and backed toward the counter.

Hermione followed. “He didlook good, didn’t he?” she mumbled under her breath, the corners of her lips twitching.

Luna whipped around. “OMG he did! His abs, Hermione!”

Hermione let herself smile, then joined Luna in laughing, loud and unapologetic.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s body still ached as she rode her bike home that evening. A few spots along her side were particularly tender, she was fairly certain they’d turn into deep bruises. Hopefully nothing too dramatic. She really didn’t want to show up at the beach looking like someone had taken a baseball bat to her.

Her knee and leg, surprisingly, were fine. The blood earlier had made everything seem worse than it actually was. The cuts had stung a bit when she started pedaling, but now she hardly noticed them.

As she approached the usual spot where she always stopped to check her Ring camera for Draco, she didn’t bother. After everything that had happened earlier, the idea of seeing him on her porch, even for just a few seconds, didn’t seem all that awkward anymore.

It turned out to be a non-issue. When she pulled up to the house, Draco wasn’t outside.

She parked her bike and walked up the steps, glancing toward Draco’s door. She hesitated, considered knocking… but turned toward her own door instead.

She stopped.

There was a small bag hanging from her doorknob.

Her first thought was Luna’s grandmother, who sometimes dropped off food, but this bag was too small and light for that. Curious, Hermione peeked inside.

Antiseptic spray. A tube of Neosporin.

Maybe Luna had told her grandma about the fall? Hermione couldn’t imagine who else would go out of their way to bring her something like this.

She paused in front of the bathroom mirror on the way to the shower and turned to inspect the damage. The bruising wasn’t too terrible, some deep purple patches down her back and thigh. Tender, but manageable. The worst of it was her hip: a massive, nearly black bruise that spread across the left side like a thundercloud.

It was official: shorts were off the table for the next week.

By the time the water had heated to that perfect, scalding level, her phone pinged.

Draco: How are you feeling?

The text shouldn’t have surprised her, not after the way he’d acted that morning, but it still did.

He was just… confusing. None of it made sense. Why did he care so much? He didn’t even like her. He was just using her for whatever he needed this summer, and then he’d leave. That was the plan. That had always been the plan.

The feeling of someone taking care of her was so unfamiliar, it made her chest tighten.

Hermione: Pretty good aside from the internal bleeding

The phone dinged again almost instantly, but she stepped into the shower without checking.

When she got out ten minutes later, the notifications were waiting.

Draco: What??

Draco: What’s going on?

Draco: Please tell me you’re joking.

Well. That had been disturbinglyeasy.

Hermione grinned a little as she towel-dried her hair. Not sure it had been fun, but still—mission accomplished.

She finally picked up her phone.

Hermione: lol I didn’t get hit by a car. I’m fine.

Hermione: The worst is some nasty bruises but they’ll fade.

Draco: What about your knee? Did you get the bag I left on the porch? Clean it off with the antiseptic and then put the Neosporin on with a new bandaid. You don’t want to get an infection.

Hermione stared at the screen.

Wait.The first-aid bag… that had been Draco?

Her brow furrowed. He was becoming more and more confusing by the minute.

Hermione: yes, mom

Humor. Yes. That was safe.

Draco: good :) 

She couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at her lips. It spread slowly, despite her best efforts to suppress it. As she finished applying the Neosporin and carefully bandaged her cuts, she realized she was still smiling.

This is dangerous.

Draco had been supposed to be her annoying, mildly misogynistic neighbor, the one she ignored all summer. But now… he was shifting into something else. Someone she liked spending time with. Someone who made her laugh. Someone who noticedthings.

Someone who was becoming a little too important.

And that was notokay.

She couldn't afford to let herself grow attached. Not again. Not to someone who would be gone in a matter of weeks.

Maybe it was time to take a step back.

Draco needed to go back in the customer box. Someone she treated the way she treated everyone else who came into the shop, polite, professional, distant.

No more texting. No more teasing.

Just business.

The ache in her chest at the thought told her she was right.

Which only made it worse.

Chapter Text

Hermione was surprised when Pansy walked into the bookshop in the middle of the day.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Pansy asked, setting her briefcase down on the counter.

Hermione's face went slack. Today was their accounting day. “You forgot. I should have confirmed.”

Shit. How had she let herself forget this appointment? She glanced toward the pile of sticky notes on her desk masquerading as a planner. Well, it wasn’t that surprising, but it was incredibly inconvenient. Pansy eyed her closely as she stood frozen in the middle of the store, making no move toward the computer.

“I know this isn’t your thing, Hermione. I can take care of it myself. Your password is still the same as high school, yeah?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it again, fumbling for a way to stall her. She’d known this day was coming, they needed to prepare for quarterly taxes, but she usually had time to emotionally prepare for the awkward conversations that inevitably followed.

“Hermione? You good?” Pansy asked, already logging into the computer.

Hermione really should have changed her passwords. That might’ve at least given her a few minutes’ buffer. Maybe she could’ve feigned forgetting it herself and sent Pansy away. With her schedule, it could’ve been weeks before they met again.

“Well, let’s see what we’ve got here. Hmm.”

Hermione watched Pansy’s brows furrow as she scrolled through the numbers, or rather, the lack of numbers. Hermione’s bottom lip was going to be raw soon. Pansy turned, glanced at her, then back to the spreadsheet. Hermione’s leg started to shake.

God. This was going to be a particularly painful day.

“Hermione—” Pansy began, but the bell over the door tinkled.

“Oops, be right back,” Hermione said, a little too quickly. She couldn’t believe she’d just been saved by the bell. And, well, fuck, maybe not saved, as she turned to greet Draco Malfoy strolling into the store.

She sucked in a breath and reminded herself of the boundaries she’d set last night. Professional. Amicable. He was a customer. “Hey! How can I help you?” she said a little too brightly.

Draco almost flinched, his eyes darting around the store.

“Draco! Hi!” Pansy called from behind the desk. Hermione closed her eyes, praying for strength. Could this day possibly get any worse? “I’m Pansy. We haven’t met.”

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, the tops of his cheeks turning pink. “Um, hi.”

The three of them stood in an awkward standoff, each waiting for someone else to break the silence. Hermione’s eyes flicked between her best friend and Draco. And suddenly, she realized this might be the perfect distraction to avoid two separate awkward conversations.

“Draco, this is one of my best friends, Pansy. She’s also my accountant. We’re supposed to be doing… accounting… stuff today. Pansy, this is Draco. He’s the man you and Ginny harassed.”

Pansy attempted to disguise her laugh as a cough, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Certainly not Draco, judging by the way he was hiding a smirk behind his hand.

“To be fair, we were really trying to harass Hermione. You were just collateral damage,” Pansy said with a grin.

“No harm done,” Draco replied, smiling at Hermione. “Worked out for me in the end.”

Hermione swore she could feel Pansy’s smugness from across the room.

“Oh, is that so?” Pansy said innocently.

“Pansy,” Hermione warned. “Maybe we should finish our meeting later…”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Draco said quickly. “You can get back to work. I was just popping in to say hi.”

“No, no,” Pansy waved him off. “Hermione’s right. I’d hate to get in your way. I know you’ve been having extra special meetings here the past few weeks.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. What exactly did she know?

“Luna tells me everything,” Pansy stage-whispered as she walked by. Probably more than everything—everything between the lines.

Draco laughed in surprise. “She seems like quite the character.”

“Oh, she is. I consider her my protégé of mischief. Someone had to take over the high school once Ginny and I graduated.”

“The high school could’ve used a break, honestly,” Hermione replied.

“Without Luna, Principal Lewinsky and Mrs. Smith wouldn’t even be together,” Pansy added.

“What! Luna acted shocked when I told her about that! And she knew?”

“Of course she knew,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “That girl has her hands in everything around this town.”

“I feel like this is a story I want to hear,” Draco chuckled.

“Oh, it definitelyis. I’d tell you now, but I’ve got to get back to work.” She turned and winked—actually winked—at Hermione. “We’re all going out tonight. You should come. I’m sure oneof us will have plenty of time to fill you in on the town’s best gossip.”

Hermione glared at her. The emphasis on onemade it sound like she was planning to lock them in a closet like teenagers playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Draco glanced at her too, but she kept her eyes firmly on Pansy.

“That sounds good. Are you going to The Sandbar again?” he asked.

“Oh no.” Pansy waved him off. “Tonight’s an extra specialnight. So much better as a surprise. Why don’t you pick Hermione up at nine? She’ll explain everything.”

Draco laughed nervously, clearly picking up on the mischief in her tone. Hermione rolled her eyes, mostly used to Pansy’s antics—and mostly grateful they weren’t aimed directly at her this time. Though… maybe they were.

“Well, anyway, I’m off. You two have fun. I’ll see you tonight.” Pansy turned and made pointed eye contact with Hermione. “I will see you tonight. I know where you live. Byeee!”

The door closed behind her, and Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, finally facing Draco again. At least Pansy had left without trying to reschedule their tax meeting. That was a partial win.

She took a deep breath and tried to switch into customer service mode. “Seriously, you don’t have to come tonight. Pansy can be… persistent. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Draco stood frozen for a moment. His brows drew together, and he rubbed the back of his neck. His discomfort made something twist painfully in her chest—but she ignored it. She had to. That boundary needed to stay in place.

“Hermione? Anything else you need?” she asked again, letting her real smile break through.

The relief on his face shattered her resolve.

“No, not really,” he said. “Just walking around and thought I’d pop in.”

“Well, feel free to hang out. I really do need to try and tackle this accounting, unfortunately.” She grimaced. “And seriously, don’t feel obligated about tonight. As you’ve seen, my friends can be kind of annoying.”

Draco’s dimples were on full display as he smiled. “I think it’s great how close you all are.” He shifted on his feet. “Are you okay if I docome tonight? I don’t want to intrude.”

She should’ve said no. Should’ve told him to stay home. But she didn’t.

“No, that’s totally fine. We get plenty of time just the three of us. But I will warn you—it’s probably not what you’re expecting.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer. “Pansy said it should be a surprise, but you’ll tell me now… won’t you?” His voice dropped slightly, and he smirked.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks flushed, and he definitely noticed.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” she said, turning away in a feeble attempt to regain control.

Mistake. He stepped even closer, his breath ghosting against her neck as he spoke.

“Come on, Hermione. I won’t tell.”

She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. “It’s Dolly Parton karaoke night.”

He paused, she assumed in surprise, but then leaned in closer to her ear. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He stepped back, chuckling quietly.

Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. Her skin felt hot. Why did this man have such an effect on her? Well—he was gorgeous, and smart, and possibly, infuriatingly, actually likedher. But aside from that, no idea.

“Hermione, are you okay?” he asked, still laughing, but with a note of concern.

She turned back toward him. “Yeah. Totally fine. Absolutely. So… see you at nine? Or did karaoke scare you off?”

The way he smiled lit up his entire face.

“Don’t worry, Hermione. You’ll definitelysee me at nine.”

And he walked out the door.

And if she stood there too long, staring at the spot he’d just been—well, that was between her and the books.

Chapter Text

They walked together in a decidedly amicable silence for a bit, both enjoying the cool evening air, the breeze blowing off the water.

“That’s great you’re so close to your mom still,” Draco finally broke the silence. “Do you guys talk often? I assume she lives here.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re really close. It’s always just been the two of us, so I don’t really think much of it. We get together for dinner once a week. I was meant to be there tonight, that’s why she called. And yeah, she lives just a couple streets that way.” Hermione pointed in the direction of her mom’s house. The silence fell for another few minutes.

“I only hear from my parents a couple times a year, holidays and when I’ve done something important enough for them to brag about.”

Hermione didn’t really know how to respond to that admission, especially after admitting she assumed weekly dinners were normal. She wondered what that would have been like—growing up without that close relationship—and how it would have affected her.

“That must be lonely,” she said softly.

Draco shrugged and kicked at the dirt along the path. “I suppose. To me, that’s the norm.” He smiled at her, and her heart broke a little. “We were never particularly close, even growing up. Having me was just the next step in their lives. I had everything I ever wanted, but…”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but he let it hang. She wondered what he was going to say.

But… friends, love, acceptance.

The silence felt heavy around them now.

“Mom and I are really close, but I’m always worried about disappointing her. My dad left when I was little, so she did everything for me. I want her to know that I’m grateful and that her effort was worth it.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “I get that. I don’t want them to think their time was wasted.”

They were saying almost the same thing, but something about how he talked about his parents made Hermione think he had actually been made to feel like a disappointment during his life. It made her regret how harsh she’d been about his story earlier. She couldn’t imagine not having the unconditional love and support of her mom to hold her up. He didn’t need more people criticizing him.

She let the conversation drop and continued down the road. She realized they were close to her childhood house. She almost never walked by it because it made her a little sad, but for some reason she wanted to show Draco.

“This is a little bit out of our way, but I want to show you something.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him down a side street. He looked down at where she was touching his arm and smiled at her. Something about it almost made her slide her hand down toward his, but instead she dropped her hand entirely. She turned around and took a deep breath to calm down.

“What is this?” he asked when they stopped in front of the house. It was a classic bungalow style, painted almost the same shade of sage green as the bookshelves at the shop. She hadn’t realized when she first opened it, but it had felt right to have that connection. Considering it was probably the only connection she’d ever have to the house again.

“This is where I grew up as a young child, before my dad left,” Hermione clarified. “After that, my mom couldn’t afford the mortgage alone, so we moved to a smaller house, where she still lives now.”

“It’s beautiful.” He pointed to the sign in the front yard. “Are you going to buy it?”

She laughed, and Draco gave her a funny look.

“Oh, you’re serious? No, I can’t afford this. We don’t all have tons of money from book deals,” she teased.

He turned to her with his brows furrowed. “But the store? It’s doing well. It seems like such a great thing.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. The store seemed like it was doing well? That was a surprise. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to decide how to start. How much to share? “Well, I’m glad it looks like it’s doing well.” That was a nice neutral statement. Internally she nodded at her diplomacy while mourning the loss of not having to pretend with Draco. It had only been a matter of time.

“It looks like it? So it’s not doing well?”

Her eyes widened again. Damn authors actually noticing words. Her friends never would have caught that.

She gave him a tight smile. “No, it’s not doing well. I’ll probably be closing the doors at the end of the summer. I’m honestly just hoping I can sell the leftover stock for enough to cover most of my business loan.” If not, she had no idea what she’d do. She was already resigned to the fact she’d probably need to leave the town to get a job that paid enough—possibly even move back in with her mom.

“How? The store always seems so busy.”

She sighed. “It is during the summer and a couple weekends throughout the year, but it’s just not enough to keep it open year-round.” She shrugged as if she wasn’t about to start crying because her life’s work was crumbling to pieces.

“Are you selling online? I’m sure lots of people who summer here would love to support you during the year.”

“Yeah, I started an online store and never really got it off the ground. I even have all the stock set up and everything, but all the aesthetic—” she waved her hand in front of her, “stuff gets in the way of me launching. And social media is hard.”

“You could hire someone.”

She gave him a look that said are you even listening. “Draco, it’s too late. I’ve lost. I’ve failed. It’s okay, really, let’s just get going.”

“Isn’t Luna studying communications? Surely she could do some of it for you, plus she’s young enough to understand social media.”

Hermione’s heart swelled at hearing him talk about Luna like he knew her. She ignored the thought of why it made her happy that he really knew her friends.

“She’s offered, but honestly I feel like I’m taking advantage of her. And shouldn’t I do this on my own?”

He shook his head. “Why would you need to do it on your own, Hermione? The people around here love you and want to see you succeed. And even I know Luna enough to know that she wouldn’t offer her time if she didn’t mean it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I don’t know, Draco—”

He cut her off by grabbing her shoulders. “Asking for help is not the same as failing.”

She couldn’t help the tear that fell. Draco slowly wiped it from her face, and she stared up into his grey eyes that glowed in the moonlight. She hadn’t felt so supported in a long while. She avoided talking about this with anyone. It was incredibly cathartic to let someone else bear some of this burden with her.

The silence grew between them into a heavy tension.

“Hermione?” Draco’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid to break whatever was happening between them. As much as she didn’t want it to end, she knew she needed to break it before it broke her.

She stepped back and forced a smile. “Sorry for making this so depressing.” The laugh that came out sounded fake even to her own ears. “Come on, let’s go to karaoke.”

The look in Draco’s eyes was a mixture of confusion and hurt. But it only lasted a moment before he collected himself. It scared her when she realized the smirk was his mask. Scared that she knew him well enough to notice. Scared that they were both pretending now.

Chapter Text

“Mom, I really have to go,” Hermione pleaded for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Fine, leave this old lady to die alone,” her mom sighed dramatically across the phone. Hermione groaned internally, not sure if her mom was intentionally or just naturally manipulative at times.

“Again, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do dinner tonight. But we’ve been on the phone for over three hours and I’ve kind of run out of time.” She had already had to prop her mom up in the bathroom so she could shower and get dressed for the evening. She’d already seen everything, Hermione thought. For appearing to be an independent, no-nonsense woman to the rest of the world, Laura Johnson was incredibly needy.

She was her mom. Hermione shouldn’t have said that about her.

“I’m sorry, I really am, Mom. We can do two dinners next week if you want to.” It was getting very close to nine p.m., and she caught herself starting to pull at her cuticles. She was desperate to get off the phone before Draco came over.

“What are you so desperate to leave for? Surely your friends won’t mind you being a few minutes late.”

Biting her lip, Hermione considered telling her mom about Draco, but thought better of it. That would only make it harder to get her off the phone.

“I don’t mean to ruin your evening. You know I just hate being alone, honey.” Her mom’s voice was much quieter now. Laura knew just the exact buttons to push. Hermione hated making her be alone, considering it was her fault she was alone in the first place. Maybe if Hermione had been an easier kid, her mom would still have had a husband to spend her evenings with instead of needing her daughter to talk to. Maybe if she hadn’t needed all the extracurriculars, her mom would have had more time to make friends instead of working constantly.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I know.” Hermione was almost ready to text her friends to cancel when there was a knock at the door. She closed her eyes and hoped that her mom didn’t hear, or even better, that she was hallucinating. But instead she heard another knock, louder this time, and she groaned.

Hadn’t Draco ever heard of patience? She swore if he rang the doorbell, she’d open the door and strangle him.

“Was that the door, honey? Is Ginny driving you tonight? She’s such a sweet girl, always taking care of everyone. She is going to make such a good mom. I was just talking to Denise the other day—she is so excited to be a grandmother.” Laura paused to sigh wistfully. “Maybe one day I’ll have a grandchild.”

Her newest guilt trip was interrupted by Draco knocking again.

“Well, let the poor girl in, Hermione. Honestly, I didn’t raise you to be rude to your friends.”

“Mom. It’s not Ginny. I need to go.”

“Who is it then? Still, you should answer the door.”

If Hermione closed her eyes and pretended that everyone was gone, maybe it would become true. Maybe she could manifest all the people away and just go read a book and down a bottle of wine.

Her reverie was interrupted by Draco continuously knocking. “Hermione! Are you in there? I would hope if you’re not, say something over the Ring because I’m worried. I don’t want to barge in but I will.”

“Is that Ron?” her mom’s voice was ecstatic. Damn, how had Hermione forgotten she was still on the phone? “Did you finally get back together? Thank goodness! I thought it would never happen.”

“It didn’t happen, Mom. And it will never happen.”

She briefly considered hanging up on her mom, but she would not live that down for weeks, if ever. Her head dropped to her chest and she accepted that she’d have to open the door with her mom still there. “Fuck!”

“Hermione, language!”

She stomped towards the door that Draco was still knocking on. God, he was annoying. She ripped it open with the fakest, sickly sweet smile she could paste on her face.

“Hi, Draco. One second please.” She let him walk in behind her and turned to her mom. “Mom, I have to go now. I love you.”

“Okay, but I expect a lot of updates later.” The woman actually winked at her. “Bye, Draco!” she called out. “And one more thing, Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“Grandchildren. I want grandchildren.” And with that the woman hung up, and Hermione had to physically hold in a scream. Maybe her mom would move on from Ron now that she thought there was another option. Silver linings and all that.

Hermione counted to ten before turning to face Draco, and when she did, he was covering his face, trying to hold in his laughter.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is enjoying themselves. Come on, we’re going to be late.” She stomped towards the door, dragging him behind her.

“I’m not the one who wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Shut it.” Hermione’s shoulders dropped as she closed the door behind them. “Sorry. My mom is a lot at the best of times, and tonight was not that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for talking to your mom, Hermione. I’m sorry for banging down the door. I assumed you were just going back to ignoring me,” he said with a smirk.

Some more of the tension released from her body. “No, I think I’ve given up on the Guinness title.”

He quirked his eyebrows.

“Never mind,” she said, feeling a little better now. It still surprised her how simple it was to fall into easy banter with Draco. It was nice to have someone to just be with. She was pretending a little bit with everyone in her life—it was nice to have someone she could just exist with.

“Well, come on then.” Draco held out his arm for her, like a regency gentleman. “Lead the way, milady.”

Her heart leapt, and for a split second she considered taking his arm. Instead, she scoffed and pushed past him.

Chapter Text

"So, are you singing tonight?"

Hermione’s head snapped to Draco as he held open the door to the bar for her. It was the first thing either of them had said since the almost-moment they had shared. The rest of the walk had passed in increasingly awkward silence as she berated herself for letting him slip so far from the customer box in her mind.

The relief she felt was a little unsettling. It wasn’t that she wanted to spend the rest of the evening avoiding him, but now she wasn’t sure how to act.

“Of course I’m singing! Truly appalled that you have to ask,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock frustration. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a hint of a smile crept across his face. Maybe things could return to how they had been—not exactly the same, but close. If she couldn’t keep him in the customer box, maybe he could be a friend. She could do friends.

“My apologies,” he said. “So what will you be singing then?”

“I have no idea.”

His eyebrows pinched together as he looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Ginny, Pansy, and I always pick each other’s songs, and we don’t get to know what they are until our name is called,” she explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The three of them had been coming to Dolly Parton Karaoke night since they had first gotten fake IDs in college. The first few times, none of them sang. Pansy had thought it would be funny to sign Ginny and Hermione up for a duet of a Dolly song. They had both had an absolute blast screaming along together. Luckily, no one cared if you could actually sing at karaoke. The tradition of picking surprise songs for each other had evolved from there. Now, every month, they played what they lovingly called Dolly Roulette.

“I got to pick Pansy’s song tonight. Don’t tell her, but she’s singing Coat of Many Colors. It’ll be hilarious.” Hermione was already laughing, imagining Pansy’s face when she heard the music start.

“Not Jolene?” Draco asked.

“Please, so basic.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear about ten different versions of Jolene, each more terrifying than the last.”

They joined Hermione’s two best friends at a table in the back corner. Someone was on stage singing 9 to 5, and people were dancing and singing along throughout the bar.

Ginny squealed excitedly when they arrived. “I’m so happy you came! No trip to [TOWN NAME]is complete without listening to strangers butcher the songs of Our Lord and Savior Dolly Parton.”

Draco’s eyes widened, stunned. Hermione just laughed as she slipped into the seat next to Ginny. Initiation by fire was the only way to join the group. He had managed to keep up with Luna, so Hermione wasn’t too worried about him tonight.

“Did Josh not come?” she asked.

Ginny gave an exasperated look. “No. He said he’s reached his yearly quota for Dolly Roulette.”

“We made him sing one time!” Pansy screeched across the table.

“To be fair, we did make him sing Just Because I’m a Woman,” Hermione said, trying desperately to hold in her laughter.

Pansy scoffed. “He claims to be a feminist. He shouldn’t have a problem with that song.”

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. “He was such a good sport. Most men wouldn’t have even gone up there,” Hermione managed between laughs. Ginny had tears rolling down her face, remembering her tight-laced husband on stage, practically reading the words off the screen.

Hermione noticed Draco was still standing, just watching them. “Don’t worry, we won’t make you sing,” she told him.

She couldn’t help smiling when she saw him release a breath. He finally sat, looking more relaxed than a second ago.

“Were you scared?” she teased.

“Well, I wasn’t until you said Dolly Roulette and then Ginny’s husband. I was sure I’d be next up there.” His tone was light, but his shoulders were still tense, his fist clenched in his lap.

Before Hermione could reply, the host announced, “Up next is Pansy singing Coat of Many Colors.”

Hermione burst into laughter as Pansy’s face went bright red.

“You bitch! That’s the worst song!” Pansy yelled, but ran to the stage anyway.

Ginny shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that to her. I shouldn’t have been so nice in my pick for you.”

“What? It’s a classic! Is she going to ruin the mood? Yes. But that’s half the fun.”

As Pansy’s voice carried through the bar, Hermione smiled. She actually had a beautiful voice, which was why Hermione picked such unique songs for her. Dolly’s music required talent, and Pansy had it. Really, she should have been thanking Hermione for the opportunity to show off.

Hermione, however, was nervous about what Ginny had picked for her. Ginny loved to send messages with her choices. Over the years she had used karaoke night to announce a breakup, a new job, and even her pregnancy. Sometimes the songs were random; other times, painfully deliberate.

Ginny turned to Draco. “How’s your new book coming along?”

Hermione realized how badly she’d done at including him. Not everyone could handle the chaos she and her friends created together.

“It’s good. Final round of edits, so it’s pretty much done.”

“And will this one have a blow-up doll as the love interest?” Ginny asked sweetly.

Draco went pale. Hermione nearly choked on her drink.

“Ginny!”

“What? I know you thought so too, Hermione,” Ginny said.

Draco blinked several times, clearly searching for a polite response. Finally, he let out a strained laugh. “I hope not. I’m working to do a better job with my female characters in this one.”

Hermione’s face flushed as her mind flashed back to the first time they had met, when she had insulted his book and his life. Ugh. That moment would haunt her forever.

Pansy returned, red-faced but triumphant, with a beer in hand. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Hermione replied sweetly. “And you were incredible, by the way.”

Pansy’s cheeks pinked. She nodded, then pointed her bottle at Hermione. “I hope Ginny picked a good song for you.”

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. Hermione groaned.

Soon after, Hermione’s name was called: Here You Come Again.

She shot Ginny a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Ginny grinned. “Sometimes a song is just a song.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but went to the stage. When she glanced back, Ginny was chewing her lip, looking between her and Draco.

As the music started, Hermione pushed away the thought and just sang. When her eyes found Draco’s in the crowd, his gaze didn’t leave her. Heat spread through her body, tingling in her fingertips.

By the time she returned to the table, her friends were ready to drag her to the dance floor. Hermione laughed, untethered, until she caught sight of Draco still sitting alone.

On impulse, she reached for his hand. “Come dance with me.”

He smiled, dimples showing, and followed her onto the floor.

Chapter Text

Hermione wished she could blame it on the alcohol. She wished she could blame it on the intoxicating power of Dolly Parton. But she hadn’t drunk that much last night, and Dolly would never betray her like that. She only had herself to blame for the images searing into her memory now—pulling Draco out to dance, Draco’s hand in hers, on her arm, on her waist. His eyes always on her, even when his hands weren’t.

She shivered. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the thoughts before they got worse—before she remembered how she had felt, how she had been happy, excited, *wanting.* Definitely not the feelings of a friend.

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself as she hopped out of bed and walked straight to the shower. She almost hoped for the pangs of a hangover to appear—then she could blame her stupidity on alcohol. But there weren’t any. She felt perfectly fine.

She spent a long time in the shower, hoping the hot water would wash the feeling of Draco’s hands from her body and mind.

What was even more stupid was that nothing had happened. She was flustered and embarrassed over what? Barely holding hands? Dancing together? And they hadn’t even been alone. He might have had his hands on Pansy or Ginny just as much—although that seemed unlikely, considering how often his hands had been on her.

Hermione shook her head, trying to stop the chaotic spiral of rumination she could already feel herself slipping into. She didn’t have time to spend the whole day replaying every touch, smile, and laugh.

Blocking it out—that was how she’d deal with the confusing feelings stirring in her stomach. Block it out and replace it with lots of coffee. Maybe something sweet. Maybe she’d actually try one of the concoctions Luna always ordered. Being wired on sugar and caffeine might keep her mind off everything.

She had stopped checking the Ring camera the past week, but she did today, before quietly slipping out the front door. No Draco. Hopefully today would be a Draco-free day—both in her mind and in life. She texted Luna for her coffee order before hopping on her bike and heading into town.

Iced sugar cookie latte with caramel syrup. It sounded like diabetes in a cup, but she was willing to try anything today.

“Omg! Are we drinking the same thing today?” Luna squealed as Hermione handed her the cup. “I’m excited to see I’m finally rubbing off on you.” Her smile brightened as she took the first sip.

“Don’t get used to it.” Hermione took her own sip. It was actually pretty good—she had worried it would be too sweet, but it was just enough to balance the bitterness of the espresso, like drinking dessert for breakfast. Luna might actually be onto something.

“How was karaoke? I’m so sad I couldn’t be there.”

“It was fine. Same old, same old,” Hermione said, deciding firmly to tuck all her feelings about last night away. No need for any of them to come out now—especially not in front of Luna. She could already see the mischievous smile spreading on her friend’s face, ready to tease and cause trouble. “How was your night?” she deflected quickly, hoping Luna wouldn’t notice. Honestly, she was surprised no one had told her about last night; this town had no secrets.

“Exhausting! Mum made me help with dumplings.” Luna pretended to collapse against the counter. “Which you know I love to eat, but it’s *soo* tedious.”

“Aw, my poor baby,” Hermione teased, patting her on the head. “But where are my dumplings?”

Luna’s eyes narrowed as she slapped Hermione’s hand away. “Dumplings are for friends who share.”

*Shit.* Someone had told her.

“This came for you,” Luna said, handing her an envelope.

Hermione sucked in a breath as she realized it was from the bank. Maybe it was just a credit card offer. Maybe there had been a mysterious deposit of a million dollars in her account. She went to open it—and realized someone already had.

“You opened it. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“It was addressed to the shop, and I work at the shop,” Luna said defensively. “So I think it’s fine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why hadn’t she told one of her oldest friends that she was seriously in debt and barely making payments? Hermione forced what she hoped was a believable smile. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Luna pursed her lips, obviously unconvinced. “It says you missed a payment.”

“I forgot to submit it in time,” Hermione waved her off. “It’s fine. And don’t open my mail anymore.”

“It doesn’t seem fine. Please, ’Mione, let me help. I can do the social media—the online sales would help, right?” Luna’s eyes were full of fear and worry. Not quite pity, but close enough.

And that was why Hermione hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her or feel obligated to help. She wanted people to see the store—see *her*—and feel proud of what she’d accomplished.

Luna was right, though. The online sales *would* help. In reality, she needed them. She depended on the summer months to carry the store through the slower tourist season. And with Amazon devouring the book market, she wasn’t sure how many more years she could survive. If she could just get people interested in buying books online. But how did you convince people to support a small business when it meant paying full price? The question of the century.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Hermione said, turning away so Luna couldn’t read the lie in her eyes.

“’Mia—”

She was cut off by the bells over the door. Hermione almost jumped with joy, literally saved by the bell. Until she saw who was walking through it.

It was as if the universe were playing *How to Embarrass Hermione by 10 a.m.*, a game it seemed to play daily that summer.

“Fuck,” she muttered—apparently not quietly enough, judging by the way Luna turned toward her with wide, questioning eyes and eyebrows nearly at her hairline.

“Hi, Draco,” Luna greeted him, her voice far too sweet. Hermione knew she was about to say something mortifying. “Nice to see you again! Though I’m sad to see you brought a shirt this time,” Luna teased. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I heard you had a good time last night at karaoke,” Luna stage-whispered. Hermione’s eyes shot up, meeting her friend’s gleeful gaze. “I know everything. Well, I’ll be over here,” Luna pointed dramatically toward the opposite corner of the shop, “taking care of some very important business.” She wiggled her eyebrows and sauntered off.

Hermione dropped her face into her hands, suppressing the urge to scream. When she finally looked up, Draco was standing completely still, watching her with wide eyes—the look of a man who knew the woman in front of him was on the verge of a breakdown, and one wrong move might end in disaster.

She took a steadying breath and attempted a smile, though judging by the way Draco’s eyes grew even wider, it wasn’t convincing. “How can I help you?” she asked, forcing her voice into her blandest customer service tone. Any hint of warmth or familiarity might send her into a full mental spiral.

Draco’s mouth opened and closed a few times before any words came out. Was he nervous?

“So, um, you know I’m here to edit my book?” he asked. She nodded. “I’m kind of stuck.”

Her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry?” She didn’t understand why he’d come to tell her that.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I was wondering if you would help me,” he said quickly, as though the words physically hurt to speak.

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?” Shock barely covered it. “I only read books. I don’t write and definitely don’t edit. I’m not sure I’d be much help.”

“That might be better,” he said. “I could use the perspective of a reader.”

“I’m honestly confused why you’d want my help,” she replied. “After my review of your other book…”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I value your opinion.”

Hermione blinked, heat rising in her cheeks. “And I know I can trust you to be honest,” he added.

She didn’t know what to say. It was bizarre. Who had their work torn apart by someone and then askedthat same person to critique the next one?

“So just to be clear—you’re a masochist?” she asked.

Draco tipped his head back and laughed. Hermione pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile.

“Yeah, I must be, right?” he said, grinning.

She lost control of her composure and laughed with him.

“I have questions about my female character and the believability of the romance,” he said after a moment.

“What would you need me to do?”

“Read my book—or part of it—and just tell me what you think.”

“Okay,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Okay? You’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I guess. There are too many crappy female characters out there. I’d hate to let you add another.”

He looked at her then, the soft gray of his eyes bright, almost sparkling. She could easily get lost in them.

“Does tonight work?” he asked.

She nodded, looking away—only to catch Luna standing nearby, very obviously eavesdropping. Hermione shot her a glare, and Luna immediately turned back to her very important businessof rearranging stacks of books.

“Amazing,” Draco said, his tone warm and sincere in a way that made Hermione feel amazing too. “I’ll grab some food for us. I don’t know how long it’ll take, and it’s the least I can do. Thank you so much, Hermione.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes again.

Her heart stumbled, her cheeks flushed, and she smiled back, words completely abandoning her. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

“Seriously, Hermione, you’re amazing.”

Her breath caught, freezing her in place.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he called as he left the shop.

Hermione didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at the spot where Draco had just been. Her face was warm, and everything felt slightly fuzzy. This was nothow she’d expected her morning to go. The memories she’d worked so hard to pack away began to spill out again, flooding her mind with thoughts of Draco.

A loud cough startled her—Luna, of course, now standing right beside her.

“Wow. You guys are, like, obsessed with each other,” Luna said.

Hermione scoffed. “No, definitely not.”

“Okay,” Luna said, hands raised in mock surrender.

“What?” Hermione demanded. She wasn’t obsessed with Draco—but she needed to know why Luna thought that.

“I’m just saying, there was a lot of gazing and smiling and blushing happening.”

Hermione felt the heat return to her face.

“Yep, just like that!” Luna said, pointing triumphantly at her red cheeks.

“My circulatory system is not a representation of my feelings,” Hermione said primly, turning away to find something—anything—to occupy her hands and distract her.

She’d admit it: she was attracted to Draco. There was no point denying that, not with the way her body reacted whenever he was around. But that was verydifferent from having actual feelings for him. And there was no way Draco felt anything for her. She was, at best, a necessary evil in his editing process.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Luna said. “I guess you’ll find out on your date tonight.”

Hermione’s head snapped back toward her. “What do you mean, date? It’s not a date.”

“Hermione, my sweet summer child,” Luna said, shaking her head, “the man just asked you to dinner—in his house. It is 100% a date.”

“No,” Hermione said firmly. “He asked for help on his book. And he offered to get dinner because it’ll be dinner time. It’s nota date.”

“This is the opposite of a date,” she added quickly. “The only way this is a date is if he really isa masochist and enjoys having women tell him he’s wrong.”

God, she hoped it wasn’t a date.

Luna’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “I think that man would enjoy anything—if you’re the one doing it to him.”

Chapter Text

Hermione never thought she would be angry at her good memory or knack for noticing details. But after her mind replayed Draco—maybe—asking her out on a date for the fifteenth time, she was wishing she had amnesia. How many times could she rewind through the same handful of sentences looking for any sign that this evening was a date?

After the first few replays, she was sure Luna was mistaken. But then she started remembering how sheepish and nervous he had acted, every hint of blush, every look started to make her question herself. And now she couldn’t remember what really happened and what was fabricated by her anxiety.

Her entire day was wasted in stress, worrying that the date that she knew wasn’t a date, was a date. Surely, he didn’t think it was. But what if he did? How did one make sure they weren’t on a date without announcing that they’d been freaking out all day? How did she make him realize that they were not on a date and a date would definitely be a mistake?

But would it be a mistake?
Yes.

By the time she was ready to close the store for the day, her head was spinning. She thought of everything she would normally do before a date, so she could do the opposite. It had been almost a year since she’d been on a date and another year since it was with someone new, so she was having a hard time remembering.

Her last first date had been with Ron and that had been very different. He had taken her out of town to a fancy sushi place. She scoffed thinking about the amount of time she had spent getting ready. All for Ron to give her a quick once-over and say she looked nice. In retrospect that should have been a clue about the next couple of years, but she had been too blinded by the amount of effort he seemed to put into the evening. Now she realized he had been showing off, not actually trying to do something nice for her.

She tried to think of the last time she had gone on a casual date, like grabbing a coffee and how she had prepared. It had been a while, since college maybe. All she could think of were things like showering and brushing her teeth, and she thought she needed to do those still.

Wow. Maybe it was time to start dating again.

She immediately shook that thought off. Men sucked and she didn’t need one to make her happy. She was fine on her own.

She knocked on Draco’s door just after 6 p.m. She had decided to shower and brush her teeth—it felt gross not to—but opted for leggings and a t-shirt instead of real clothes. She was casual, not on a date. She had briefly considered walking over in her slippers, but decided that was taking it a little too far. She wanted to seem casual but not like a complete weirdo.

Draco told her to come in and she let herself in the door. She had lived in this duplex for three years and had never been in this side. She half expected it to look like her place, but this side was set up for short-term renters. It had tile floor, perfect for cleaning up sand, minimal furniture, and everything was blue and cream. The coastal vibes were completed with an inordinate amount of shells everywhere.

“Looking for something?” Draco asked, walking out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, Triton’s crown or the entrance to Atlantis. It’s got to be around here somewhere.” She glanced over at him and breathed a sigh of relief to see that he was also dressed casually, including glasses she had never seen before. And damn him for looking even better in them. “I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

He reached up to his face as if he had forgotten they were there. “I wear contacts most of the day.”

She nodded her head, trying not to blurt out that he shouldn’t because he looked hot.

This felt awkward but not like first-date awkward. Just the awkward of two people who really didn’t know how to talk to each other yet.

“Are you hungry? I ordered Chinese.”
“Depends, which restaurant did you get it from?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Golden Palace.”

“Oh thank God. Yeah, I’m starving.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with a silent laugh. “What’s wrong with the other place?”

“Nothing really. I just ate it while super drunk and hungover one time. It was a mistake,” she said, shuddering. “Sometimes I get nauseous just walking by the restaurant still.”

They brought the food to the living room where he had his laptop set up. She sank into the corner of the couch, crossing her feet underneath her. They ate in silence. It was hard to tell if the awkwardness was all in her head. Maybe she was the problem. She was close to faking an emergency when he finally looked up at her.

“How long have you owned the bookstore?”

Small talk. She could do small talk. “This is the third summer we’re open.”

“Did you always know that’s what you wanted to do?”

“Own a store? No. Do something with books? Yes,” she said. “I grew up loving to read. I spent a lot of time entertaining myself while my mom worked and books were the best way until I had a phone. And then in high school I was a teacher’s assistant for the librarian. I LOVED being surrounded by books and helping people pick out what to read.”

“You didn’t want to be a librarian?”

“I considered studying library science but business school seemed like a safer option,” she said, shrugging. “Of course, in retrospect, being a librarian would have been a much more stable job than owning a store in a small town.” Quite the understatement. She loved owning the shop but sometimes her dreams were just her working a salaried job with benefits. Being an adult could really suck.

He nodded his head like he understood. He probably did. Being an author really wasn’t much better, at least until you could break into the business. “I’m sorry the store isn’t doing well,” he said.

She cringed. She hated sharing the bookstore struggles with anyone. She considered deflecting like she had with Luna earlier, but Draco was leaving and well, he already knew most of it anyway. “It does okay in the summer. But I took out a pretty big loan to open it and by February, I’m struggling to make the minimum payments for it. I’m trying to get the online sales to supplement in the winter, but it’s hard to compete with Amazon, you know?”

He rolled his eyes. “I try to support indie bookstores whenever I can. I fell in love with reading at little bookstores in New York. No kid is going to do that while shopping on Amazon.”

“Exactly! Thank you!” No one ever understood why the store was so important to her. People viewed it as her job, a way to make money, nothing more. “Did you always want to write?” she asked.

He nodded noncommittally. “Maybe? I grew up around books too. My parents weren’t around much and my nannies didn’t always speak English, so books kept me company.”

“Nannies?” She tried to keep her smile in. Someone telling you they had no one to talk to growing up wasn’t really something to laugh at.

“Yeah. My parents worked a lot. They were pretty checked out emotionally my entire childhood. I think they only had me because it was the next step in being an adult.”

“Oh shit. Now I feel bad for laughing about it.”

“Don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “I spent a lot of time reading, not a lot of time talking to people. Eventually I learned I could communicate better in writing than out loud.” He lifted his hands as if to say the rest was history.

“So you started writing really young?” He nodded in assent. “So is there, like, some super cringey Wattpad work out there I can find?”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “God, no. I made sure to scrub the internet of all of my teenage writing.”

She laughed and he smiled at her.

“And your parents worked a lot too?” he asked.

She was still smiling as she answered, “Just my mom. My dad left when I was, like, four. My mom is a nurse and worked incredibly hard to take care of us. I ended up hanging out at random places around town or at the hospital.” Her mom had done everything so she could have a happy and semi-normal childhood. “She managed to raise me and become successful and accomplished in her field—and she did it all alone. My mom is literally the strongest person I know.

“And I can only hope to be like her someday. Every day the store doesn’t do well, I feel like I’m failing her, not living up to the example she set for me.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to look up at Draco, afraid to see what was in his eyes. She might not care what he thought, but she still didn’t need to feel the pity. “Hopefully,” she whispered. But she didn’t know if her mom would be, if she knew the truth about the store. The truth about how she was struggling.

She cleared her throat and pulled her smile back up her cheeks. “So the book?”

“Right,” Draco said and reached for his laptop. He opened up a document and turned it to her. “So, this is the introduction of the love interest, Zahara, and then this,” he switched to another screen, “is about the midpoint of the relationship.”

“What about all the middle bits?”

His brows pinched. “What do you mean?”

“Like all the parts that make me actually think they could be a couple? Did the romance novels teach you nothing? I need to see the buildup, not just the meet cute and climax.”

“That would be most of the book…”

“Let me read the whole book then.” He was looking at her like a lost puppy. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder if he’d never had anyone edit with him. But she supposed he really just didn’t understand how to write romance. Sometimes she forgot that not everyone read multiple romance novels a week. “Okay… we can start with this. But email me at least everything in between these scenes and I’ll read them later.”

She pulled the laptop onto her lap and started reading. Immediately, she was shocked by how much better it was. His first book had focused so much on physical description that the female main character ended up feeling like her only quality was being hot. You might not even notice that Zahara was a woman for half this scene if not for the pronouns.

“Is Zahara a blacksmith?” Draco nodded. “Omg, badass,” she said under her breath. She noticed the corner of Draco’s mouth turn up ever so slightly.

He was intently watching her read. His brows were pinched together, the crease on his forehead deep. He kept biting his lower lip and tapping his fingers on his leg. It was honestly adorable. She bet he’d never watched someone read his work, or at least not someone he knew would be brutally honest.

“This is actually really good.”

The adorable puppy-dog eyes returned, but so much brighter and not so lost now. “Really?”

“Definitely,” she said. “Normally, I find the descriptions of women’s bodies kind of creepy, but because she’s doing something so active it actually works and makes sense for him to notice so much about her. And I love that she’s going to have a very concrete purpose in the story. She’s not on the adventure because the main character thinks she’s hot, she’s coming because he needs an accomplished blacksmith. 10 out of 10. Love it.

“My only question is, is he supposed to be surprised she’s a woman? Like is it common in this world for women to have this job? He seems surprised by how beautiful she is but not by her gender. So…”

Draco reached across the couch to take the laptop from her. “Cool, let me write that down because he should be surprised she’s a woman. The world is supposed to be grounded in reality.”

He handed her back the laptop with the next scene pulled up. A few lines in, her eyes went wide. She felt all the blood drain from her face. Draco had just handed her a sex scene to read.

This was fine. She was fine.

She didn’t mind sex in books. Spicy scenes were fun. But she usually didn’t read them in front of people. Definitely not in front of men. And most definitely not in front of men she—annoyingly—found attractive. And really, most definitely not when she was then expected to talk to said man about the scene.

She flicked her eyes at Draco quickly and tried to see if he’d noticed her reaction. But he was looking away, his face slightly pink. Somehow that made her feel better. She audibly exhaled and looked back at the computer.

She could be a mature adult about this.

She continued to read and felt her face scrunching, trying not to visibly cringe. It was so much worse than she thought. She had assumed it would be good, she could give him the thumbs up and move on. But this was bad. Like readers ripped out of the story bad. Like she’d be rolling around on the floor laughing bad. Like women everywhere would simply close the book and never look back bad.

“Do you have any alcohol?”
“What?”
“Because this conversation is going to be easier with alcohol.”

He hesitated but shook his head. She handed him back the laptop and hopped up. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“My house. Where there is alcohol.”

“Tequila or wine?” she asked, holding up both bottles.

“Um—”

“You’re right. Both. Both is good.” She poured two shots and then grabbed glasses for the wine. “Cheers to awkward,” she said as she downed her shot. Draco’s face remained open and surprised but he didn’t hesitate to drink the tequila. She couldn’t stop the laugh that arose as his attempt to hide his cringe. She handed him the wine to chase with. Which actually made the burn worse, but hopefully made the conversation better.

She cleared her throat. “Okay, you ready to do this.” Draco hesitated before looking back at her, the color in his cheeks deepened. She took his silence for a yes.

She decided to scoot closer to share the computer screen with him. Sitting close for this was weird, but she’d rather be able to highlight lines instead of reading them out loud.

She highlighted a section. “This needs to go or at least needs to be changed quite a bit,” she said.

It took him a second to read the highlighted words. “Why?”

Her jaw dropped and she blinked several times. “Why? Are you serious?” He just looked at her, obviously confused. “Okay, um, so…” She wondered if it would be inappropriate to just leave at this point. “Hm. So many women might enjoy doing this, um, but I’ve never heard of someone, um…” Fuck. She just needed to say it. “There is no woman who is going to come simply from giving a blow job.”

Draco’s eyes opened wide before he slowly closed them. His face was bright red. It was like he was Violet Beauregarde but he was turning into a tomato instead of a blueberry. The thought had her laughing. Completely inappropriate time to laugh, but she couldn’t stop once she’d started.

She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.” She looked up and he was smiling at her, his face had returned to a more normal color.

“This is awkward,” he said, laughing nervously. “It’s bad, right?”

She had to cover her face again as she nodded.

“I would rather not write about sex. My publisher insisted.” He’d gone back to sad, lost puppy eyes. The sight softened her.

“Okay. We can fix this,” she said. “How…realistic do you want this to be? Like on a scale of semi-awkward first time seeing each other naked or classic romance novel with three consecutive orgasms.”

“Is that not realistic?” he asked, seriously. She had to school her face into neutrality as she tried not to imagine how many orgasms this man was giving out.

“Not for most people, no.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Oh?

“Well I guess semi-realistic but it’s a book, so maybe not completely?” he said.

“Okay. Cool. Um, so blowjob can stay but she can’t be this excited about it. It’s highly unrealistic. You should just focus on his reactions. Write about how much he’s enjoying it.” She highlighted another section. “Do you know if you have a lot of women readers?” He tilted his head and his brows drew together. “Because if you do, you need to add more foreplay. If you’re writing for men, it probably doesn’t matter.”

“More foreplay?”

God. Why was he making her spell this out for him. “Yeah. Like he should probably go down on her? And that would be the time to add all the stuff about her… reactions… But really this is about him and how the intimacy is drawing them closer. You could even focus less on the physical and more on the emotions here. Without reading the middle bits,” she mock-glared at him. “This seems like the moment he realizes he really likes her or more than likes her. If you’re not comfortable writing sex, you should focus on those feelings rather than what it feels like inside her.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.” She looked up and he was looking at her. She met his eyes. They just sat there, looking at each other. “Is that enough help? Can we be done now?”

His lips tipped up into a smile. “Yeah, I think that’s good for now.”

“Good,” she said, still looking at him. This moment had gone on too long, she knew she needed to look away, but couldn’t get herself to. His eyes were such an interesting shade of grey. So many different colors swirling and mixing together to create the soft color. And somehow they were even more beautiful, brighter, right now while he was smiling.

And for some reason, her brain decided to dart back to wonder if three consecutive orgasms was the norm with him. She felt her face flush and inhaled through her lips. She needed to look away.

She realized Draco wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore; he was looking at her lips. Wait. He wasn’t going to kiss her. Her eyes flicked between his lips and his eyes. She felt herself swallow as his eyes came back to hers. Were they always this close? Why had she thought sitting next to him was the better option?

“Hermione,” he said. His voice barely more than a whisper.

Chapter Text

Hermione slumped against the door and pressed her hands into her eyes. What had she been thinking? How had she let that happen? Her fingers brushed against her lips, and she could almost still feel his—Draco’s—hesitation, the slight pressure.

“No. Nope,” she muttered, shaking her head as she stood up. She couldn’t think about it anymore.

Draco hadn’t followed her. Part of her felt hollow, wishing he had. She willed herself to hear his steps on the porch, imagining that he’d realized it was a mistake as soon as she left. It wasn’t as if she was any great catch—moderately attractive, sharp-tongued, running a business that teetered on the edge of collapse. Not exactly someone anyone would attach themselves to. And yet, he had looked so confused, so hurt. Why?

No. She was done thinking about it. She wasn’t interested—not really. It had been a moment of weakness, a lapse where her body had overruled her reason. It wouldn’t happen again. Draco was leaving. She didn’t need anyone. She didn’t need a distraction.

She felt foolish. She’d have to start checking the Ring camera again. She had let herself enjoy talking to him. Why had she ruined that? Something else to worry about tomorrow—or maybe never.

It wasn’t late enough to sleep, so she did what she always did to escape reality: she read. Hermione looked at the stack of new books waiting to be shelved, then turned to an old comfort: Pride and Prejudice. Pouring a glass of wine, she tumbled into Hertfordshire and the world of the Bennets. The anxiety of the night slipped away as she read about balls, dinners, and catching the eye of Mr. Darcy.

She liked to imagine she was Elizabeth Bennet—but tonight, she was more like Mary. Often overlooked, always present, never quite fitting in. Mary seemed content with her books and her ideals. Perhaps Hermione could be too. But even as she told herself that, sleep carried her off, and she dreamed of Pemberley.

Morning brought a headache. Too much wine. She texted Ginny to ask what she wanted from Rita’s as she got ready. She needed to be at Ginny’s in about an hour to help set up the nursery. Apparently, Ginny’s husband didn’t have the eye for interior design, though Hermione hoped he’d at least assemble the furniture. Knowing Ginny, she probably wouldn’t let him touch it, third-trimester belly and all.

Checking the Ring camera before she left, Hermione groaned at the walk ahead. A bike would have been easier, but carrying breakfast and coffee made that impossible. Everything was close, but not close enough for comfort, especially while nursing a slight hangover. Last night had been one poor decision after another.

“I come bearing gifts,” she called as she stepped into Ginny’s front door.

“Ooh, yay!” Ginny’s voice came from deeper in the house. “I NEED coffee. I can only have one a day, so I’ve been waiting for you.”

Hermione followed the voice down the hall to what would become the nursery. “I cannot imagine only having one cup a day. That’s enough reason to never have kids,” she said, finding Ginny in the glider. “I wasn’t sure which breakfast sandwich you wanted, so I got three—your choice. Or eat all of them and get my nephew big and strong.”

Ginny’s look of gratitude told Hermione she had chosen wisely. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Tired. Exhausted. Hungry. Starving.” Ginny slumped into the chair.

“You know some of those words mean the same thing, right?” Hermione smiled.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Ginny said, suddenly emotional. “I don’t know what I would do without you and Pansy. You guys are my favorite people.” On the brink of tears, Ginny reminded Hermione why extreme mood swings were her friend’s most notable pregnancy symptom.

Hermione took her hand. “Of course I’m here. And I’m glad your husband built the furniture for us,” she said, nodding at the crib and dresser. “I had nightmares of me trying to assemble it while you yelled instructions.”

Ginny laughed, wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t going to let him. I wanted this to be my thing, but he built them last night while I was asleep.”

“He’s the best,” Hermione said, patting Ginny’s belly.

“He really is,” Ginny murmured, staring at the full but bare room before clapping her hands. “Okay, let’s get this nursery put together!”

Hermione laughed at her friend’s sudden change in mood. Though Ginny claimed she wanted help decorating, she had already decided where everything would go. Hermione was merely acting as her arms and legs while Ginny issued commands from the glider.

It only took an hour to get everything in place. Hermione started a load of tiny baby clothes and offered to vacuum, but Ginny shoed her away. Sitting next to her friend, Hermione admired the sage-green walls, cream and green accents, shelves already stacked with books. She was determined that her future nephew would be an avid reader.

“Thank you,” Ginny whispered, tears forming again. “You really are the best friend I could ask for.”

Hermione’s heart swelled. “Do you want to order a pizza?”

“Oh my God, yes!” Ginny cackled.

They settled in the living room, waiting for the pizza. Ginny returned with drinks just as Hermione’s phone chimed.

Draco:Hey. Is everything okay?

Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. She had almost forgotten him today.

“What’s up?” Ginny asked. Hermione showed her the text.

“Not at all,” Hermione admitted. “I kissed Draco last night.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Wow.”

“I mean—we kissed, and then I realized it was happening, freaked out, and ran like a maniac,” Hermione said.

“Wow.” Ginny’s eyes widened.

“So now I think I have to ignore him until he leaves.”

Ginny looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Why? If he wanted you to ignore him, he wouldn’t have texted. You need to reply.”

“Ugh. Why?” Hermione groaned.

“Because you like him,” Ginny said softly, studying her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s beside the point. He’s leaving. By the end of the summer at the latest, he’ll be gone. I’ve been good alone. Happy. Men are distractions at best and life-ruining at worst.”

Ginny sighed. “Not all men are Ron.”

“I know.”

“Honestly, if you’re serious about being happier alone—”

“I am!” Hermione interjected.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s better that you know he’s leaving. You can hang out with him for a month, be friends, be more than friends. Just have fun, Hermione! I’m not saying you need a relationship, but it’s clear you like being around him and… you’re obviously attracted to him.”

“Obviously?” Hermione scoffed.

“Yes. Painfully obvious and a little embarrassing how much you’re pretending it’s not.”

“Okay, fine. But what do I say?” Hermione asked, feeling like a teenager again.

“Two options: tell him the truth that you freaked out, or pretend it didn’t happen and hope he’ll do the same.”

“Pretend,” Hermione said, swallowing. She typed a quick reply and hit send before she could chicken out.

Hermione:Hey! Yeah, everything’s fine!

Ginny laughed. Hermione felt ridiculous and fluttered with nerves when her phone chimed again.

Draco:Great. I knocked on your door, but I guess you weren’t home.

“He knocked on my door,” Hermione muttered.

Ginny nodded. “That’s good. Relax, or I’ll think you really like this guy.”

Hermione texted, stomach twisting.

Hermione:No, I’m at Ginny’s helping set up the nursery. Do you need something? Sugar?

Draco:Ha, no. Will you be at the store later?

Hermione’s stomach did somersaults.

Hermione:Yeah, I’ll be in around 1.

Draco:Okay, if I come by?

Hermione:Of course.

Ginny peered over her shoulder. “This is really good!”

“How? What if he wants to know why I ran away like a weirdo?”

“Just deflect. You’re good at that.” Ginny punched her gently in the arm. Hermione deflated slightly, and Ginny assumed it was about Draco.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. If he wants to talk, just tell him you’d rather be friends.”

“Ugh. Why am I so bad at this?”

“You’re not. You live in a tiny town and haven’t tried to date since Ron. Not a lot of options. Honestly, I support you at least enjoying time with him while he’s here.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Hermione admitted, almost hoping Ginny wouldn’t hear. She did, wrapping her arms around her. “I know not everyone’s Ron, but I’m scared I’ll attract the wrong ones. And Draco seemed… good at first, but what if he’s hiding a shitty side too?”

“I’m so sorry,” Ginny whispered. “I didn’t know it affected you this much.”

Of course she didn’t. No one knew what happened with Ron. “I don’t know. It’s not really, but it’s just kind of always there.”

Ginny rubbed her back. “It’s okay to be scared. He’s leaving, Hermione. Won’t be long enough to hurt you. If you start something, you’ll know it’s ending, and you can block him when he leaves. You say you’re okay alone—you’re strong and independent—but sometimes, a little help takes the pressure off.”

Hermione sniffed, wiping tears. “Thanks, Ginny. Maybe… maybe I’ll just see what happens?”

Ginny beamed. “That sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

Hermione headed to the store feeling emotionally strung out from her conversation with Ginny. She was very clearly not used to sharing. Part of her felt good to have been able to open up to her a bit, but it left her feeling exhausted. She really could have used some more coffee, but she needed to get to the store to let Ginny leave.

Plus, she had told Draco she would be there at one. Ugh. Her stomach did flips while she wondered what he could want to see her for. Maybe he just wanted to hang out? But he probably would have just asked to do that later—it was kind of weird to hang out while she was working.

She sent a silent prayer that he didn’t want to talk about last night. She had never been prepared for that, but now she was way too drained to have that conversation. Although she wouldn’t have hated to know what he was thinking about it. Like, why did he kiss her?

Oh. My. God.

What if he thought she kissed him? Did she kiss him?

What if this wasn’t a “why are you weird” conversation but a “please don’t try to kiss me again” conversation? She couldn’t believe she hadn’t considered that mortifying possibility before now. She almost pulled out her phone to text him not to come. She almost decided to shove this problem under the rug and ignore him until he left.

But then she’d never know, and her brain would never let her stop wondering. She’d forever be trying to figure out what he was thinking, what could have happened.

Maybe Ginny was right, and she had let herself be alone too long. Maybe she owed it to herself to at least try for a little bit. He was leaving. This could be the perfect opportunity to dip her toes back into the world of dating. See if she was ready. Start with a relationship that she knew could never be anything. One that she already knew the ending of. Easily controlled, contained, safe.

She pulled out her phone and told Ginny she’d be a little late. She was going to need caffeine if she wanted any chance of having this conversation.

She found Ginny at the counter ringing someone up when she got to the store. Hermione was immediately hit with the delicious smell of new books as she walked through the door. Helping people find great books was her favorite part of her job, but this smell was a very close second. It made even the slow days better when she could just walk over to the shelves and fill her lungs with the scent.

“Hey boss!” Ginny called as she spotted her. Hermione gave her a wave and dropped herself behind the counter. “Do you need anything before I head out?”

Hermione hesitated. She briefly considered asking her to stay, to listen to her problems, be her emotional buffer with Draco. But she didn’t. She knew she needed to be a big girl and do this alone. She refused to depend on Ginny or her friends for everything. Instead, she smiled at her and said, “No, you’ve already done enough. Go have some fun today!”

“No fun today, sadly. Promised mom I’d help clean the house.” Ginny stuck out her tongue and made a gagging sound.

“Oof. Well, give your mom my love then. I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“Will do! See you later!” And just like that, Ginny was out the door and Hermione was all alone in the store, waiting for Draco.

After standing stupidly around for a few minutes, she realized she had said she’d be in at one, but he hadn’t said when he’d come by.

She put Fearless (Taylor’s Version)on the speakers and walked around the store to see if anything needed to be restocked. Might as well do something productive while she waited. Not like this was her job or anything. She found a couple holes in the shelves and stacks that were dwindling. Some would need to be reordered and some just pulled down from on top of the bookshelves, where she kept extra stock. It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing storage solution, but unfortunately she had decided against turning the bathroom into a stock room.

No matter how many times she had to reach up to these shelves to pull books down, she always pretended she didn’t need a ladder to do it. Needing help to get things was probably the worst part of being so short. That or having to constantly look up at the world. She reached, on her tiptoes, her fingers just barely grazing the spine of the book she was looking for. Love Storywas playing loud enough that she missed the bells alerting her to someone entering the store. She didn’t realize anyone was there until she felt them press into her back and their hand pushed past hers to grab the stack of books.

She whipped herself around so fast she slammed into the bookshelf, hopefully not causing damage—to the shelves, she didn’t care about herself. “Holy shit!”

Draco’s eyes were bright and his smile was tight but teasing, the corners of his mouth twitching with the effort of not laughing.

“It’s not funny!” she tried to push him away, but he caught her hand and held it to his chest. Her heart fluttered.

“It’s kind of funny,” he said, losing the fight with his smile.

“You scared the crap out of me.” She pulled her hand back.

“You literally have bells that tell you when someone comes in. It’s not on me if you blast your music too loud to notice.”

She glared up at him. “There is only one acceptable volume to listen

to listen to our Queen Taylor at.” Hermione pushed away from the shelf and walked toward the counter, trying to put some distance between them. Her brain felt fuzzy and slow now that he was here, as if his presence had drained all the oxygen out of the store and she was starting to enter hypoxia.

“So…” Draco trailed off, reaching up to rub the back of his neck while he walked toward her.

Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She tried to keep her breath steady as her anxiety threatened to take over her body.

“About last night—”

“I’m sorry!” Hermione cut him off before he could continue.

“Oh. Why?”

She needed to maintain control of this conversation. “I’m so sorry for being so weird about it. It was super childish of me to just run out like that. I just wasn’t expecting that, and then I didn’t know what to do, and yeah.”

“Oh. It’s okay. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or if I misread…”

“No! I made it super weird. My fault. I’ve actually really enjoyed hanging out with you, and I don’t want it to be… weird.” God, couldn’t she come up with a better word than that?

“Good. Great.” Draco’s hands formed and released fists over and over.

“So we should hang out again. I mean, if you want to.” Way to keep it casual. Maybe it was a mistake to cut him off; she had been too nervous to hear what he thought happened, but now she felt out of control, trying to cover all her bases.

“Sure. I mean, yeah, that sounds good.” She forced a small, steady smile and tried to keep her hands from trembling.

“Great! When do you leave?”

Draco paused and exhaled. “Um, not sure. Just depends on how the book is going.”

Her brows pinched together. How did he not know when he was leaving? “Okay.”

“So…” Draco took a few breaths and looked around the store. He shook his head and smiled when he looked back at her. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief to see it was one of his real smiles. Maybe she could do this friend thing after all.

“Do you need any help around here? I wasn’t planning on working today.”

“You want to help?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s why I offered.”

“No. That’s okay.”

“You really don’t like accepting help, do you?” He laughed.

“I accept help when I need it. I just don’t need any help today.”

“Well, I want to help. You’d be doing me a favor, giving me something to occupy my time.” His lips curled at the corners.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted. “Okay, fine. I need some stuff off the shelves, and I suppose this is easier than going to find my ladder.”

His head tipped back while he laughed. “Good to know that my help is preferable to a ladder.”

“I wouldn’t say preferable, just the lesser of two evils,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He grabbed his chest in mock offense. “Wow. You wound me, Hermione. I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of me for my height.”

“Of course. What else are men good for?” She pressed her lips into a line, trying to keep from laughing, but the smile on Draco’s face broke her.

Their laughter was interrupted by the bells on the door. Hermione plastered on a warm smile, hoping not to look amused to whoever was coming inside. She only let the smile falter slightly when she realized it was Ron.

They were trying to be friendly, but it didn’t mean she loved having him in here, especially after how clear he had made it that he didn’t care for her aspirations.

“Glad you’re so happy to see me, Hermione,” he said, in a way that sounded pleasant to most, but she could hear the underlying bitterness in his voice.

She tried to keep her smile. Draco was probably the only person in town who didn’t know their history, and she didn’t need to start this tenuous friendship off by sharing all her past relationship drama with him.

“What’s up, Ron?”

“My mom sent me for a book. ‘Part of His World’ or something like that. She reads all that romance stuff.” He waved one hand in front of him, illustrating how little he cared.

“Yeah, probably Part of Your World. She’s been reading Abby Jimenez. I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thanks, Hermione. You’re the best,” Ron said, his smile dripping with the condescension that had filled the end of their relationship.

Hermione walked out from behind the counter to the shelf that housed all the romance novels. She saw Ron turning toward Draco out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t quite hear what was said, but she assumed he introduced himself when they shook hands. Hermione sped up her search for the book. She wanted to get Ron out of the store as fast as possible before anything got weirder between Draco and her.

You’d think she would be able to locate books quickly considering she was the one that shelved them, but no, she had to look through almost the entire section before she found it.

She was just grabbing the book when she saw Draco walking toward the door. “Hey, are you leaving?” she called after him.

He froze in place and didn’t immediately turn around. “Yeah, sorry, I just remembered I have something to do,” he mumbled, only making eye contact for a second before heading out the door.

She stared at the door for a few moments. Maybe she was reading too much into everything right now, but it felt like he was running away. She tried to shake the thought off. She didn’t think she knew Draco well enough to know if that was as odd as it felt to her. Maybe he just had an idea or worked through a plot problem and wanted to go before he forgot. Maybe he did have a call or something he had forgotten about.

The only thing that kept her from spiraling was remembering that Ron was still in the store. She forced herself to walk back to the counter and ring up the book.

“It’s $27.70.”

Ron handed her his card, and she swiped it through the machine. She held the card back out to him, but he grabbed her wrist instead, forcing her to look at him. She lifted her eyebrows, silently asking what.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She pulled her arm back. “Okay, what?”

“Let’s get dinner together.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Seriously? No.”

“Come on. Aren’t you tired of pushing me away?”

“I’m sorry. I’m really trying not to laugh, but I have no interest in getting dinner with you. If there’s something you want to talk about, you can do it now, or if it was just the dinner invitation, you can leave.”

Ron shook his head. “When are you going to get over yourself? When are you going to realize you made a mistake and ask me to take you back?”

The heat of anger rushed to her cheeks. “Get the fuck out, Ron. I’ve tried to be friendly with you, but I won’t anymore if you act like this. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

That seemed to strike a nerve because he was suddenly in her face. “What will be embarrassing is you trying to get anyone in this town to take you seriously once this stupid store fails.”

She leaned in toward him and smiled. “You don’t get a say in my life anymore, Ron. Get the hell out of my store.” She walked around the counter to open the door for him. She smiled as sweetly as possible as he passed. “I hope your mom enjoys her book.”

She audibly sighed and looked around the store as if the answer to what the fuck just happened would be hiding behind a stack of books. If she hadn’t already been emotionally wrung out, she sure was now. Honestly, seeing Ron be as awful as she remembered was incredibly validating. Now she could know that she definitely made the right choice, even if the town forever wished they were still together.

Draco leaving had her feeling hollow. Even though their conversation hadn’t gone exactly the way she hoped, she didn’t think it was bad. And definitely not “escape my presence the first chance you get” bad. He was the one who had asked if she wanted help after all. She was probably reading too much into it. It wasn’t like she really needed his help, but she couldn’t lie and say she wouldn’t have enjoyed the time with him.

Ugh. Although now she did need to go grab the ladder. She headed to the tiny supply closet in the back of the store and paused before opening the door.

She chewed her lip. Should she let him reach out? She finally said fuck it and texted Draco.

She sent him a picture of the ladder.

Hermione: Your replacement isn’t quite as talkative.
Hermione: Want to get dinner later?

She wanted to sit and wait for a response, proof that she was too in her head about him leaving. She gave herself a minute before tucking her phone away and getting back to work.

Chapter Text

Hermione had waited all day for a text that never came. Every time her phone beeped, her heart jumped in her chest, but it was always her mom or Instagram—never what she wanted to see. She couldn’t believe she had let herself get this worked up over a boy who wouldn’t even be in town in a month.

She locked up for the night, still cursing herself. She wasn’t going to let this get to her anymore. He had said he was working, and she had no reason not to believe him. His phone was probably on do not disturb, or he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Either way, it was fine. She was fine.

She gave herself one more moment to freak out and then was done. She headed home, promising herself she wouldn’t care anymore. He would text her or he wouldn’t. And even if he didn’t, it was a small town—they were literally living next door to each other. It was only a matter of time until she saw him again.

By morning, Draco still hadn’t replied. Hermione had hoped to run into him on the porch last night. She had resorted to watching the Ring camera like a stalker that morning, hoping to catch him. How the tables had turned.

She sent him another text asking how the book was going and if he was free tonight. How many days could she ask someone to hang out before it became embarrassingly desperate? She worried that one was the limit, and she was already past it.

She waited as long as she could, watching the camera, before leaving for work. Maybe he would come by today. He had been finding excuses to pop in several times a week since he got there.

She told herself to push Draco out of her mind for the day. She wouldn’t be able to get anything done if she didn’t. And it wasn’t that she had a ton of important work to do, but she did need to seem present to the customers who came in.

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as she walked to work. In less than 24 hours, she had gone from not being sure she even wanted to maintain a friendship with this guy, to obsessing over him. She tried not to dwell on what that meant for more than a second. Honestly, she felt stupid. Maybe he only cared about the chase. Or maybe this was all a way to get back at her for hating his book. She supposed she should be grateful he was showing his true colors before she got any more invested.

It was stupid to be upset that he had bailed out of her life as quickly as he entered, considering she had known he was leaving. The leaving part was part of the appeal of starting whatever this friendship—or relationship—was. Easily controlled. Wouldn’t hurt her.

And yet, here she was, laughing at nothing as she walked to work, all alone.

No Draco at the store that day. She had put her phone away because she kept pulling up the Ring camera feed. It was one thing to stalk him while inside the house, but she was starting to feel really creepy. And what would she have done anyway? Yelled at him through the camera?

Luna’s voice broke through her chaos spiral. “You’re being weird, Hermione.”

“No, I’m not. I’m being perfectly normal.”

Luna’s brows shot up and her lips pressed into a line. “You’re totally right. It’s completely normal to keep pulling and reshelving the same book five times in a row.”

Hermione jumped back and looked at the book in her hand. “Did I really do that?”

“Yeah, you did. Want to tell me what’s going on? Is it the store?”

She exhaled, waiting a moment before answering, deciding if it was worse to talk about the store or actually tell the truth. In the end, she chose neither. Trying to be honest with people hadn’t worked out recently. “Just tired,” she said. “Want to go grab us some coffee?”

Luna eyed her suspiciously, clearly unconvinced. Hermione tried to laugh it off and pushed her credit card into her hand. Luna was hesitant to leave but let her shove her out the door anyway. She knew Hermione well enough to know that she’d tell her when she was ready—or she wouldn’t. Either way, pushing never worked.

The day had actually been relatively busy, and Hermione was tired. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been busy enough to keep her mind from jumping to a million conclusions and imagining every last embarrassing scenario. She was getting jumpy, spinning toward the door whenever the bells announced someone’s arrival. Coffee might not have been the best idea after all.

Part of her wanted to call her girlfriends and go get a drink, but a bigger part of her didn’t want anyone to know how much this was affecting her. This was why she didn’t let new people in. This was why she didn’t date.

Her face burned when she checked her phone in the morning and he still hadn’t texted. Day three of no reply, and she had moved beyond embarrassed to pissed. She was pissed at Draco for blowing her off and pissed at herself for putting herself in this vulnerable position. The worst part was she was still getting excited when her phone rang. She still had to fight the urge to check immediately for a new text from him.

She let herself fume on the ride to work, muttering and shaking her head. She was sure she looked like a lunatic, but she didn’t care. Everyone in town knew her enough to ignore her crazy, and tourists’ opinions didn’t matter—unless they were in the store.

She walked into the store and let the door slam behind her. No one was there, so she was free to seethe for a few more minutes.

“Okay. Now you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Hermione jumped, grabbing her chest at the sound of Luna’s voice. She wasn’t supposed to be there for a few hours. “What the hell, Luna? I didn’t see you.”

“That, plus you not caring about almost shattering your door, equals something is seriously wrong.” Luna tapped the spot next to her on the couch. “Sit. Have some coffee.”

Hermione sat and took the drink from her. “Thanks,” she grumbled. “But nothing is wrong.”

Luna lifted her brows, clearly not believing her. Hermione flopped back onto the couch and covered her face with a pillow. “Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Draco ghosted me,” she spat out, all in one word. It took Luna a minute to decipher.

“What? How could he ghost you, you don’t—” Hermione pushed her face deeper into the pillow, waiting for the realization to hit.

“What the fuck, Hermione.” Luna ripped the pillow away. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Nothing happened really,” Hermione scrunched her face. “We just kissed a little bit, and then I asked him to hang out, and he ghosted me.” She covered her face with her hands now that the pillow was gone.

“Okay.” Luna was hesitant, trying to decide what Hermione needed right now. She didn’t deserve her. “So… do you like him?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Her reaction made it painfully obvious. “I want to say no.”

“Which means yes.”

She nodded, her face still buried in her hands. “How did I let this happen? This was supposed to be only physical if anything. But then he had to go and be a dick. Am I just attracted to dicks? I really want that to not be who I am.”

Luna stifled a laugh. “I don’t think that’s it, Hermione. Maybe you should just go talk to him.”

“I’ve tried—”

“I mean go talk to him in person.”

Hermione looked up at Luna. “But that’s embarrassing.”

“You’re 26 years old. Time to suck it up and confront him, in person, like a big girl.”

“How about I just ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist?”

“Will that work?”

She thought about it, willing herself to believe she could just move on and never think about Draco again. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Luna scooted closer and wrapped her in her arms. “I can watch the store if you want to go now.”

Hermione looked up at her and had to close her eyes against the tears threatening to fill them. “That’s okay. I’ll go after we close later. Thanks, Luna.” She really didn’t deserve all the love and support she got. She was supposed to be her big sister, the one taking care of her and giving advice.

Luna did her best to keep Hermione’s mind off Draco for the rest of the day, cracking jokes, blasting Taylor Swift, and making her dance around the store. Her anxiety and anger calmed down a lot, but she couldn’t quite push Draco out of her head. She still hoped he’d walk through the door or respond to her text. She thought about what she would say when she saw him.

“What if he doesn’t even open the door for me?” she asked Luna as they got closer to the end of the day.

“Then I’ll smash it down, or we can stake out and wait for him to come out. And if he’s so much of a coward that he won’t talk to you, he doesn’t deserve you, Hermione.”

“Draco, it’s Hermione,” she yelled as she knocked on his front door. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to announce herself—maybe she wanted to give him time to prepare, or maybe she wanted to feel like he was choosing to talk to her.

He opened the door, smiling as if he hadn’t been avoiding her for two days. “Hey, what’s up?”

The color drained from her face. A scream bubbled up in her throat. “What’s up?” she said tightly. “What’s up?” Louder this time. She pushed into the house and shut the door. The neighborhood did not need to witness the terror that was about to unfold. “What the actual fuck is your problem?”

Draco’s face fell, eyes wide. “You ignore me for days and then ask ‘what’s up’!”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I told you that I wasn’t!”

“Yeah, but I realized I misunderstood our conversation.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What part of me texting you made you think that?”

“It wasn’t that—”

“Then what?” she screamed.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he whispered.

She took a step back in shock. The anger left her instantly. “What are you talking about?”

“I met your boyfriend at the store the other day. You were there.”

She blinked. It took her a while to puzzle out what he meant. How could he meet a boyfriend she didn’t have? The only person in the store with him was… oh.

“Ron? You think Ron’s my boyfriend?” she asked sharply.

“He told me he was.”

All the anger came bubbling up again. She groaned loudly. “One: Ronald is my EX. We broke up almost a year ago because he’s an asshole. Two: even if I had a boyfriend, I’m allowed to hang out with men. I told you I wasn’t uncomfortable. It’s not your place to decide that I was. Unless this,” she motioned between them, “was only worth your time if the option to get in my pants was there.”

His face reddened. “No.”

Her brows lifted. “No? What?”

“No, that’s not all… I mean, I like—” Draco’s face only got redder as he stammered, whispering with his face toward the ground. “I just thought you were being nice.”

She smiled. Draco was pretty cute when embarrassed. “I wasn’t just being nice,” she said. “And just so we’re clear, I don’t have a boyfriend, you did not make me uncomfortable, I’m just really awkward, and I enjoy spending time with you.”

Draco stared at the ground, rubbing his shoulder. It was kind of adorable, but she tried not to enjoy it too much.

“So do you want to hang out or not?” she asked, leaning slightly to force him to meet her eyes.

His lips tipped up when their eyes met. “Yes.”

She let her face split into a smile. “Okay good! We’re getting pizza.”

“Now?”

She mock-rolled her eyes. “Yes, now. I don’t trust you to decide that this was too awkward to deal with and run and hide from me for half a week again.” She walked around him to the front door. “Come on, my house is more comfortable.”

Chapter Text

“Is it rude to ask why your ex was an asshole?” Draco asked between bites of pizza.

“Well, I think it’s too late to back out of the question,” Hermione said, smiling into her beer bottle before taking a sip. “Aside from running around telling people we’re still dating?”

“Yeah, aside from that.” He smiled at her.

Hermione tried to think of the best way to summarize her relationship with Ron.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Draco said, misunderstanding her silence.

“I know,” she smiled at him. “I’ve never really told anyone. It’s a small town. I tried to be the bigger person and let him save face. But now…” She sighed.

“He wasn’t always an asshole, or at least he hid it well for a while. I’ve known him my entire life—people here love him. He seemed nice, he was nice to me, but he had very strong opinions. He was the kind of guy who felt like he was always right and needed to win every argument. At first, I thought it was good that we were both strong people, independent. But eventually, it was clear he didn’t want me to be independent. He was never mean, but I realized that he wanted me to be something I wasn’t—and when I refused, he got angry.

“After you left the store the other day, he got mad at me. He asked—or more like demanded—that we get back together. Essentially, he threatened that I would have no one else.” She waved her hand through the air, trying to act like this was casual. “What about you? When was your last relationship?”

Draco looked at her with concern, as if he were sorry. She could tell he wanted to keep talking about it, but instead he decided to give her space.

“I told you I’m kind of a hermit,” he laughed. “I date occasionally, but I haven’t been in a relationship since college.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I live so much in my head, in all the worlds I’ve created and writing about. Talking to people has never been easy for me, especially women.”

“You do a pretty good job talking to me.”

“I think you attacking me the first time may have helped,” he chuckled. “It was oddly freeing. I didn’t have to worry about what you thought of me. I already knew, and I couldn’t really make it worse.”

The parallels in their thinking weren’t lost on Hermione. “So you’re not an asshole misogynist—you just really don’t know anything about women?”

Draco’s face lit up with a smile, and he laughed, tipping his head back. Hermione felt warmth flood through her at the sound of him laughing freely, knowing she had caused it.

“So you said your ex didn’t like how much you worked? Sounds controlling.”

“Yeah, in the end it felt like it came out of nowhere. He was never super supportive of the shop, but he wasn’t unsupportive either. He encouraged me at first, and then it was, ‘as long as you’re happy.’ Eventually, it was a hobby he didn’t want to financially support once we got married.”

“Wait, you were engaged?”

Hermione couldn’t keep the laugh in. “Um, no. He told me that while he was proposing.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “He was proposing?”

“Yeah,” she said, pointing to his open mouth. “That’s about how I felt too.” She laughed. “It was the worst proposal ever. I’m glad though, because otherwise I would have married him, and he would have pushed me into the decision later. He wanted his wife to stay home. That’s what his mom did. That’s the life he wanted, and he figured I’d just slip right into the role when he was ready. If the proposal hadn’t been Darcy-level bad, I probably would have ignored all the other red flags and said yes.”

“Darcy-level bad?” His eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Yeah, like Mr. Darcy.” Draco stared blankly at her. “Jane Austen? God, Draco, you’re an author.”

“I know Jane Austen,” he said defensively.

“But you’ve never read Pride and Prejudice.” He shook his head. “Oh my God. Okay, well, I can’t make you read the whole book right now, but I can make you watch the movie.”

“Okay.” He gave her a small smile.

“But do we watch the 2005 or the 1995 version?”

“Whichever is better.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, the 1995 version has Colin Firth in a lake, but it’s like eight hours long. The 2005 version has the amazing hand-flex scene.”

“Hand flex?”

“Yes! Hand flex! Only the peak of slow-burn, angsty, unrequited love. We should probably watch that one anyway, and we can save the eight-hour version for another day.”

“Okay, I trust you,” Draco said, laughing.

“Good. You should.” Hermione hopped off the couch to grab the remote and put on the movie. She owned it, of course; she had bought it during the brief time it had been removed from all her streaming services, thinking she would die without it.

In the past month, she had been more open with Draco than with anyone in a long time. She had shared parts of herself that her friends didn’t even know. And somehow, sitting here watching Pride and Prejudicewith him and giving him all her random knowledge felt more intimate than that. It was something so integral to her life, and maybe it was silly for it to feel important for Draco to like it, but it was incredibly important to her.

She had to physically restrain herself from quoting most of the movie, but Draco’s glares didn’t stop her from adding her own—very necessary—commentary throughout the film, including other movies the actors had been in and differences from the book and other adaptations.

When they reached the scene with the hand flex, Hermione couldn’t help but pause the movie. “Right here!” she shouted, pointing at the screen. “Look at that tension!”

Draco dutifully nodded, pressing his lips together to hide his smile. Hermione bounced on the couch, unable to hold in her excitement. “It’s obvious he already likes her so much. That one tiny touch has him reeling.” She spun around to face Draco. “It’s amazing.”

“Amazing,” he repeated, nodding. “But I bet it would be more amazing if you let me watch the movie.”

“Sorry,” she said, her face heating.

“It’s okay. It’s fun to watch you get this excited.” He reached up to pull her back to the couch before turning the movie back on. Hermione seated herself much closer to him now, with their legs brushing. If she turned to add commentary, their faces would be mere inches apart, so she stayed quiet.

Every place his body touched hers felt electric. She kept glancing at Draco without moving her head but could barely make out his expressions in her periphery.

“What, no more comments?” he asked, his words tickling her ear.

“Maybe I ran out of things to say.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

He felt even closer now, as if leaning in to her, but surely that was just her imagination. Her mind tried to make this moment more than it was. She risked turning her head and found herself looking directly into Draco’s eyes, their faces a breath apart. Heat rushed through her.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said, her voice quiet, unwilling to break the moment with noise.

“Sorry,” he laughed, turning back to the television with a hint of a smile. “I feel like Mr. Collins is just misunderstood,” Draco said a few scenes later. “He’s quirky, and he didn’t have to apologize to the Bennets.”

“Quirky?”

“Yeah, he’s just a little socially awkward. I bet if they took the time to get to know him, they could actually make him better. And isn’t Mary kind of perfect for him anyway?”

Hermione bit her lower lip to hide her smile. “Yeah, she kind of is.”

Draco caught her looking at him. His eyebrows pulled down as if to ask a question. She just shook her head and smiled.

Watching the movie with him felt like sharing a piece of herself, and it felt good—not scary, not nerve-wracking, just good. She knew he would enjoy the movie—let’s be real, who wouldn’t—but to see him actually invested in the characters, to share her opinions, made her insides warm. It was such a small gesture, but one that Ron had never done. He refused to watch “girl movies” with her, and eventually, she had stopped suggesting them.

Maybe that’s why this moment felt so important. She had thought Draco was one thing, and she was slowly realizing that she had it all wrong. Reading his book had made her think he’d be some woman-hating, pompous guy. Every day they spent together, he was proving her wrong and showing her what she had been missing out on.

“You’re not watching the movie,” Draco whispered.

Hermione startled and blushed, realizing she had been staring at him. “I wanted to make sure you liked it,” she said, not lying, just not explaining why she had been zoning out.

“Don’t worry, I really like it,” he said. She couldn’t help but feel like he meant more than the movie. His eyes flicked between her lips and her eyes.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked.

“That depends,” he smiled. “Are you going to run away again?”

“I can’t,” she said, leaning into him. “This is my house, remember? It would be kind of weird if I left.”

When his lips met hers, he was hesitant at first, careful not to spook her. But when she reached up to pull him closer, all hesitation vanished. Their kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, holding all the heat and tension of the night.

My arms wrapped around his neck, holding his face to mine. I thought the short kiss we shared before was nice, but it was nothing compared to this. His tongue swiped across her lower lip, begging entry, and she immediately opened for him. As their tongues met, Draco groaned and the sound made her smile into his mouth. 

His hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. It doesn't take much encouragement for Hermione to end up straddled across his lap on the couch. They both pulled the other in as if they wanted to become one. And maybe that’s exactly what she wanted to happen tonight. Hermione hadn't been intimate with anyone since Ronald, despite the encouragement of her friends to go out for a tourist rebound. It was never something she wanted. But this now, is something she needed. 

Hermione pulled away for air and Draco’s lips trailed down her neck as if they were reluctant to leave her skin. He was sucking on her pulse point and she felt it between her legs. She rocked into him and they both groaned. His tongue swiped at the spot he’d been sucking. 

“Bedroom,” she gasped, barely able to get the word out. 

Draco shocked her when he didn't even bother to detach himself from her neck as he walked down the hall. She was so glad their homes were identical because she was not sure she had the brain power to direct him to her room. 

“God, this is a lot of books,” Draco said as he threw her onto the bed. She didn't have time to respond before he was crawling over her and reacquainting their lips. 

His hand trailed over her stomach to the hem of her shirt. His eyes met hers. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes! Yes, please.” she practically begged. Draco smirked as he pulled her shirt over her head. 

Before Hermione knew what was happening, his mouth was wrapped around one nipple. She gasped and arched beneath him. One hand plucked at the other nipple while the other toyed with the hem of her pants. Draco looked up at her and she nodded before he drew them down her legs. 

She was already so worked up and they'd barely done anything. How can she be so turned on simply by Draco removing her clothes? He sat back and pulled his own shirt off. God, he looked just as good as she remembered him and now she could actually touch him too. 

Hermione reached out to do just that and was surprised when Draco pinned her arm down to the bed. 

“Not yet,” he said. She started to complain but stopped when he brings his head back between her legs. He smirked up at her. “Do you think this counts as research for my book?” Before she had a chance to answer, his tongue swiped through her center and she cried out.

“Fuck. You taste good. I knew you would, Mia.” 

Her mind was completely blank. She was floating as Draco worked her clit with his tongue. She could feel her body climbing towards it’s climax already. For someone who wrote zero foreplay, he sure knew what he was doing. She was so close and Draco pushing a finger inside her sent her hurtling over the edge. She didn't even try to restrain her scream as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. 

As she came down, she met Draco's eyes and he smiled broadly. “You’re so beautiful, Mia.” 

“Fuck.” 

Draco laughed and soon she was too. Sex was never like this with Ron. It was boring almost emotionless. He definitely would never have laughed during it. 

“Condom?” Draco asked and Hermione tilted her head towards the bedside table. He moved to reach inside and his eyebrows shot up. “I see I’ve got some competition.” 

Fuck, she forgot her vibrator was in there. She didn't need to see herself to know her face was bright red. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” 

“No need to apologize Hermione. I’m only kidding. Maybe we can use this sometime,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “But right now, I just want it to be me and you.” 

She pulled his face back to hers and poured all the emotion she was feeling into the kiss. Even if she was confused about what would happen between them.

Draco lined himself up at her entrance and looked at her once more to make sure she was okay with this. God, who knew consent could be so sexy? The feel of him as he pushed into her was perfect. Almost like it was meant to be. She berated her brain for going there. This wasn't some fated romance, it was just two people having really good sex. 

By the sounds Draco was making, she'd say he agreed. 

The feel of him inside her was already so good. She was so lost to the push and pull of their bodies that she was surprised when he reached between them to touch my clit. 

She gasped into his neck and suddenly everything his heightened. She never came during sex but with one touch she could already feel herself racing back toward the edge. She gasped and whined, gripping onto Draco’s back. 

“That’s it, Hermione, let go for me. I’ve got you.” And that did it for her. Her body felt like it was on fire. Her orgasm rushed over her while Draco’s thrusts became more erratic before he stilled. 

Was it weird that she didn't want him to leave? The feel of their bodies so close together was too good to give up so soon. Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around him, hoping that got the idea across. Draco seemed to get it as he rolled them onto their sides, still inside her and not attempting to dislodge her. 

His hand came up to brush the hair away from her face and he gently kissed her. Hermione closed her eyes and let her body relax, feeling completely content and safe for the first time in so long. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere Hermione.” 

She knew he just meant right now, that’s he wan't running from the bed. But part of her wanted to believe he meant he was staying here with her for good. 

Chapter Text

Hermione had always loved her comforter, but something about it was extra comforting that morning. She woke up feeling cocooned in warmth, the faint scent of sandalwood filling her lungs as she relaxed back into the bed for a few more minutes of dozing. She was surprised when she leaned back against something firm and suddenly remembered why the bed felt so warm—and where that delicious scent was coming from. Her sleepy brain had somehow forgotten what had happened last night and who had fallen asleep next to her.

She slowly turned her head to look at Draco, wrapped up in her white linen duvet. He looked so relaxed, so at peace, that a small smile crept across her face. She knew he had said he’d stay, but she hadn’t really expected it, considering he lived only a few feet away. For some reason, the fact that he did made her unexpectedly happy.

Hermione let herself settle back into the bed, happy for a few extra minutes of peace in the morning. She probably should get up. It felt strange to stay in bed with Draco now that she was awake. She was pretty sure morning-after cuddles weren’t a thing with someone you were “just hooking up” with. And that’s what this was, right? But she couldn’t bring herself to move as Draco sleepily nuzzled against her neck. Sleeping Draco clearly seemed content, but what would awake Draco think?

The thought froze her. The comforter suddenly felt a little more constricting, less cozy. Her body warmed uncomfortably, and she swore if she started sweating she’d scream—or at least bolt and never look back. What if Draco thought this was a mistake? Her stomach turned at the idea of him waking up and trying to escape as quickly as possible. But surely he would have left during the night if that were the case. He wouldn’t still be here, wrapping an arm around her, right? Yet he was asleep, and she couldn’t know what he was thinking based on unconscious movements.

She turned back slowly. Draco was beginning to stir, on the verge of waking. If she wanted to get up before him, now was the time. She didn’t know if it would be weirder for him to find her gone or still in bed, waiting for him. She turned back because finding her staring at him would definitely be the weirdest way to wake up.

She decided to get up. This was just sex. She’d make coffee—because that was what she normally did, not for him. She started to rise, but her movement seemed to wake Draco just enough. Before she could sit up, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back down.

Draco’s breath hitched as he fully woke. Instead of pulling away, he tightened his hold and placed a soft kiss behind her ear. Hermione softened into his touch, all her morning anxiety melting into something safe and comforting.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

She was shocked by how right it felt. After a year of being single, she had assumed having a boy in her bed would feel foreign, intrusive even. But it was the opposite. She wasn’t sure if she was more ready than she realized or if she had just picked the right person—someone who made her feel safe, strong, and completely herself, even when she teased him relentlessly. She shoved the thought away quickly; it sounded like much more than just a casual hookup.

“Hi,” she said, turning to face him. She expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. He simply smiled, that peaceful smile she had noticed while he slept, and that was enough to make her melt.

“What time is it?” she asked, reaching for her phone and realizing she was late. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“Is it really late if you’re the boss?” Draco asked, teasing as he tried to pull her back toward the bed, running his hand along her spine. She glared at him.

“Yes, definitely still late if I lose sales.”

He nodded as if he understood, but continued trying to keep her in bed. She finally wriggled free and hurried toward the shower.

Her heart almost stopped when she turned to find him climbing in behind her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking a shower, obviously,” he said, stepping under the water and wrapping his arms around her.

It took considerable willpower not to sink into him, something she didn’t quite have five minutes after waking. “You could go home to shower.”

“Too far,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers.

She scoffed, but it came out more like a giggle. She could feel him smiling against her mouth.

“Plus, you’re not there,” he whispered.

She must have been weak because that was all it took to make her give in to the kiss. Her body rested against his, his hand tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. A small sigh escaped her lips, just enough to remind her she was already late.

“Shower now, kiss later,” she said, gently pushing him back.

He gave a wounded look that quickly morphed into something mischievous. “Helping,” he said with a smirk.

“Uh huh,” she said but made no move to stop him as he began to run the soap over her body. Moving it in long sweeping motions up her arms, down her back, and slowly down her legs. “What are you doing?”

“Being thorough,” he said, flashing a cheeky grin.

“Draco,” she said. Her voice breathy rather than firm. She took a sharp inhale as his mouth closed over the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. She didn't have time for this but still groaned when he pulled away.

“You said no kissing, you didn’t say you don’t have time for this.” 

Her laugh turned into a moan as his attention moved back to between her legs. It took all the strength she had to push Draco away and step out of the shower. 

“No, nope, no time for this either.” she quickly wrapped herself in a towel to stop his eyes from roaming over her body. If he kept looking at her, she was going to lose all motivation to leave. 

“I need coffee,” she muttered, rushing to the kitchen, leaving Draco behind.

“Hermione, slow down. It’ll be okay if you’re a little late,” he called after her, already dressed and looking impossibly good in yesterday’s clothes.

“Easy for you to say,” she said, gesturing toward the mugs and coffee. She ran back to grab a dress, quickly throwing on a favorite sundress and clogs. Her hair was a lost cause, so she tied it up in a messy bun.

She returned to the kitchen, only for Draco to catch her arm and pull her onto his lap.

“Draco, please,” she protested.

“Coffee,” he said, placing a mug in her hand, perfectly prepared.

Her heart leapt in her chest. She leaned against him for a few moments, sipping coffee.

“Can Luna open the store for you?” he asked.

“It’s her day off,” she replied. She could never ask her friend to come in last minute. Draco ran his hands along her arms, and she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She realized she didn’t want to leave.

“Do you want to come with me?” she asked impulsively, scrunching her nose slightly.

“To the store?”

“Yeah. You did offer to help the other day before you ran off. Or you could edit while I work. It’ll probably be slow in the middle of the week.” She felt herself blush, realizing how weird it must sound.

Draco laughed, and it rumbled through her. “My process can work just fine at the store. I’d love to come hang out there today.”

Her heart skipped. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, planting a kiss on her neck. “How could I say no when you practically beg me?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Go get ready. We need to leave in five minutes.”

She followed him onto the porch, letting the morning sun wash over her face. The crisp air felt like a promise of all the possibilities a new day could bring, and she felt a thrill of excitement to see where it might lead.

Chapter Text

"Ron came over for dinner last night.”

Hermione looked up at Ginny. She had been reading on the couch while Hermione worked in the shop today. Ginny had said she was getting restless at home, but now Hermione wondered if she’d just been working up the nerve to start this conversation.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, playing with the tassels on one of the pillows. “He said he ran into you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He came in to buy a book for his mom, like a week ago.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“Not much to mention. He was in and out.”

“Hm.” Ginny went back to reading her book.

Was that it? Hermione had been expecting more prodding, but maybe her breakdown at Ginny’s house finally put a stop to the idea of her and Ronald getting back together.

“He asked about Draco.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much. He’s here for the summer. You’ve hung out a few times. He seems nice.”

Hermione let the silence hang between them for a moment. She considered telling Ginny how her conversation with Ron had gone, but she wasn’t sure what the point would be.

“He wants to get back together with you.”

Hermione glared at her friend. “I’m not interested.”

“I don’t understand what happened. You were so good together. Harry misses going out with you guys.”

Hermione laughed. “Really? Your argument is Harry wants to double date?”

“Well, I don’t know, Hermione! You guys seemed like the perfect couple and then suddenly you weren’t! And you won’t tell anyone what happened.”

Ginny’s voice dropped off at the end. Hermione knew it hurt her to feel like she wasn’t sharing something. She considered telling her—she thought about it all the time—but something always stopped her. She didn’t want to get between Harry and Ron. She didn’t want people to have to choose between them. She didn’t want to find out Ron had been right when everyone chose him over her.

“Nothing happened, Ginny. We just weren’t meant to be. I’m not interested in dating at all right now, you know that.”

Ginny pursed her lips. “I don’t believe that, Hermione. You were basically in tears about it at my house. You wouldn’t be like that if ‘nothing happened.’ And I don’t believe this nonsense about you not wanting to date. What’s going on with Draco then?”

“Ginny, please.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I respect that you don’t want to get back with Ron. I really do, but I wish you would feel safe to talk to me about it.”

“Ginny. You literally had him at your house last night. I don’t want to make things more awkward for everyone than they already are.”

“Okay. I suppose I can understand that,” Ginny said, looking at Hermione with sad eyes. Her expression turned devious a second later. “Now that we have Ronald out of the way, tell me what’s going on with Draco.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hermione said, but the heat rising in her face betrayed her words. Ginny just stared, waiting for her to crack.

“He may or may not have slept at my house the other night.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Slept? Or slept?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, but before she could answer, Draco walked into the shop. Ginny’s expression went feral as he strode over and pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s lips.

“Ah. Slept.”

Draco’s brows furrowed as he pulled away. “What are you two talking about?”

Hermione threw a pillow at Ginny before she could say anything incriminating. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What are you doing here?”

His eyes glanced at Ginny, and he gave Hermione a shy smile. “I was wondering if you were busy tonight. I thought we could go to dinner.”

“Like a date?”

“I mean …” He rubbed the back of his neck, a telltale sign of nervousness that Hermione found adorable. “If you’d like?”

It amazed her that a man who could seem so confident could be so nervous asking her on a date. Her heart fluttered as she nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Aww.” Hermione momentarily forgot Ginny was there and threw another pillow at her.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“No, this is so much better than daytime TV.”

Draco’s face reddened, which only made him more adorable.

“Is seven good?”

“Works for me. Is what I’m wearing fine?”

He took a moment to look her over. “You’re perfect,” he said, face flushing further. “I mean … you look perfect. Uh, what you’re wearing is perfect.”

Hermione could only smile up at him, ignoring Ginny’s giggling in the corner.

“I’ll see you later then, I guess,” Draco said, leaning down to press another quick kiss to her lips before leaving.

As the door closed behind him, Ginny couldn’t contain herself any longer and erupted into full-on giggles, bouncing on the couch.

“You guys are so damn cute, I can’t stand it,” she said. She hopped up. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go reassure Harry that he doesn’t need to worry about finding a double date anymore.”

Chapter Text

Hermione had been staring at the computer screen so long it had gone dark. She exhaled and took a swig of her beer. Every influencer promised that setting up a website was easy—that anyone could do it. Apparently, she wasn’t “anyone.”

She had the domain, the books were all listed, but she had no idea how to make it appealing. How did she make people want to shop there? Part of her wanted to tell herself that done was better than perfect. If the store had some sort of branding beyond her slapdash logo, it might be easier—but she was so lost she doubted she’d ever find her way again.

Her business degree had apparently skipped over practical advice like setting up a store website. Instead, she remembered classes on crafting elevator pitches and… something else that seemed useless now.

She needed this website to be done. The only way to save the store was by expanding, but this damn website might actually be the death of her. She wasn’t even thirty—she shouldn’t be this inept at technology. Yet here she was, two months into the project, no closer to having the store online. She wanted to finish before the summer ended, so she could tell all the tourists about it.

“Hermione?” Draco called from the doorway.

“Yeah? Oh, hey, come in.”

He grinned at her. “I knocked.” He laughed at her furrowed brows. “Guess you didn’t hear me then.”

Hermione shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to set up this stupid website for… shit, two hours.” She threw her head back onto the couch and groaned.

“Not going well?”

“Not going, at all. I know what needs to happen next, I just don’t know how to do it. I want the site to look professional, not like I built it myself. But—let’s be real—that’s exactly what’s happening. The whole thing’s a mess…” She pulled a pillow up to her face and let out a small scream.

“Why don’t you hire someone to—” Draco broke off when he saw her glare.

“With what money?”

“Maybe I can help.” Hermione lowered the pillow when he sat next to her on the couch. “I’m definitely not an expert, but I did my own website. I can mess around with it, if you want.”

She chewed on her lip. “No, that’s okay. You’re busy.” She could use the help, but she needed to be able to do this on her own. Having Draco set up the store’s website wasn’t exactly what she considered setting boundaries.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

Her lip ached from how much she was biting it. How many times had she wished Ron had asked if she needed help? She would have loved for him to be a part of the store, to work with her to create something. But Draco wasn’t her boyfriend. He was just a guy who would be leaving in a few weeks—maybe sooner, considering how much free time he’d had lately.

“I mean—” she started.

“I don’t mean to force myself. I just… I’d like to help, Hermione.”

Her face softened. Him calling her Hermione—it did something to her. Maybe it was okay to work together. “I just want to be able to do this on my own,” she whispered. “How will I know I can, if I let other people handle everything for me?”

Draco smiled and leaned closer to hug her. “You’ve done an amazing job with the store. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak or worse at your job. And this,” he said, motioning to the computer, “isn’t everything. It’s one thing. Let’s look at it together, so you know how to do it when I’m gone.”

A weight landed in Hermione’s stomach. That was the most Draco had ever talked about leaving. He always avoided the question, and she had avoided thinking about it—about why, or when.

She turned to look at him. “When are you leaving?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Draco…”

He looked away sheepishly and tried to take the computer from her. “Let me help you.”

She held it tighter in her lap. “No. Thank you, really, but I can’t rely on your help. I need to do this myself.”

He smiled glumly and nodded, accepting defeat. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said back. “Do you want to order dinner? We can work here or just hang out if you’re done for the day.” She plastered a bright smile on, hoping he’d let her move on.

He sighed but silently agreed, smiling. “Yeah. I still have a bit to do. I’ll grab my laptop.”

They ordered Thai food and worked separately but together. It was surprisingly easy to slip into a companionable silence, working across from each other.

When Hermione had a breakthrough, Draco was there to celebrate with her. When she realized she was wrong, he encouraged her to keep going. She watched him work, saw his eyes dart across the pages he was editing. She smiled every time his brows furrowed when he found a problem, then relaxed again when he solved it.

She noticed his gaze lingering on her and looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He went back to work, but it wasn’t long before she caught his eyes on her again.

“Okay, what is it?” she asked.

“So, I had an idea,” he said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. Hermione couldn’t help smiling when his dimples appeared.

“Second dinner?” she motioned at the empty food boxes scattered across the table.

He laughed but shook his head. “No—at least not right now. I was thinking, what if I promote the store on my Instagram? Once you have the website up, it could help jumpstart online sales.”

“Huh—Draco—”

“Just hear me out. You know how much I love independent bookstores. I think yours is great. It makes sense for me to say so.”

“I don’t even sell your book,” she countered.

“You’ll sell my next one.”

“That’s yet to be decided,” she teased, though she already knew she would. She sighed.

“I promote other bookstores, Hermione. I really should have been sharing about your store all summer.”

She knew he posted about other stores on Instagram, but they’d always been stores doing events for him or with signed books. This would be different. Having Draco publicly support the store would help, and she wouldn’t need to work nearly as hard on social media if she could leverage some of his following. She considered saying yes, but the sinking feeling in her stomach held her back.

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: set boundaries, protect yourself.

“I appreciate the offer, but this is something I need to do on my own,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I need to know that I can. I haven’t had a lot of wins lately, and when the store succeeds, I want to know it was because of me and my work.”

Draco nodded, looking regretful. “Okay. But let me know if you change your mind. Letting people help doesn’t erase all the work you’ve put into the store.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “But you’re leaving, Draco. I don’t want to start depending on your help. I need the store and the website to do well when you’re not here.”

“What about Luna?”

Her brows knit. “What about her?”

“She’s here all the time. I know she’s been begging to help with social media. Why don’t you let her?” Draco’s voice grew excited.

“Because I don’t pay her enough as it is. I can’t ask her to do more than she already does.”

Draco pinned her with a look. “Come on, Hermione. You two are obviously close. Even I can tell she’d love to help. Let her.”

She shook her head, but he continued before she could speak. “At least let her get you started—help set up TikTok and show you how to use it.”

Hermione exhaled deeply. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good girl,” he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek. Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter Text

Hermione walked into the store, expecting to be greeted by a warm and bubbly Luna—or maybe a slow and tired one, considering the time—but instead, Miley Cyrus was blaring over the sound system, and Luna was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around and quickly found her standing on the sofa, singing into a duster like it was a microphone. Hermione had to press her lips together with considerable force to keep from smiling.

“What if I had been a customer?” she tried to yell over the music. Luna just smiled and hopped down to dance in front of her, so Hermione wasn’t sure she had been very successful. She shook her head and searched for the speaker remote, still fighting a grin, until she finally found it.

“What if I wasa customer?” she repeated.

Luna rolled her eyes and kept dancing around the store, swiping dust away as she went.

“Luna. Seriously,” Hermione said, a laugh slipping out.

She turned to face Hermione, lips pursed. “But you weren’t a customer,” she said, as if Hermione was the ridiculous one here.

“If you were any other person—”

“But I’m not! And you love me!” She cheered and skipped over to hug Hermione.

Hermione couldn’t contain her smile anymore. She did love Luna, and honestly, she didn’t mind the music or the dancing. “Just stay off the furniture, and keep the music under 70 decibels during store hours.”

“Whatever, Hermione.” Luna rolled her eyes so dramatically Hermione laughed again.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me!”

“Hm. I’d say I tolerate you,” Hermione teased and gave her a little shove. Ever the drama queen, Luna pretended to be stabbed, stumbling backward until she fell onto the couch. Hermione bent over laughing. “Don’t use stabbing as an excuse to avoid work,” she called.

Luna jumped up, aghast. “I would never! This store is my life, Hermione. I would die for this store. Nay—I literallyjust did die for this store!”

“Should we grab the dictionary and look up the word ‘literally’?”

She giggled and ran back to help Hermione behind the counter. Hermione loved how easy it was to play with Luna. It had always been this way, and she felt lucky to have her here now, helping her turn her dreams into reality.

After Draco had suggested she accept Luna’s help, Hermione had gone back and forth a lot. She had spent so much time thinking she needed to do everything herself, worrying that success would feel less if others helped. But Luna had been with her from day one. She had essentially hired herself, and Hermione was pretty sure she’d help even if Hermione couldn’t pay her. She knew Luna was joking when she said this store was her life—but she had put so much of herself into it. Even when she moved on to bigger things, Hermione knew Luna would always be there for her, giving more love and support than she could ever deserve.

“So, Luna—”

“I swear I didn’t do it!” She threw her hands up in surrender.

“What are you talking about? What did you do?”

Her eyes went wide. “Absolutely nothing.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. “We’ll come back to that later.” Luna beamed up at her, and Hermione wished she had her talent for reading people.

“I was wondering if you were still willing to help with social media stuff,” Hermione said. “And maybe get the website ready to go.”

Luna practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing up and down. If Hermione had been unsure about asking her, the huge smile on her face erased any hesitation.

“OMG, yes, Hermione! Absolutely! I will help!”

Hermione could practically see the gears turning in her head. They were only six years apart, but Luna fully embraced her Gen Z status. She was obsessed with content creation, social media, all that stuff Hermione barely understood.

“I’m glad you’re excited. I was worried you wouldn’t want to.”

She stopped bouncing and furrowed her brows. “Why would you think that, Hermione?”

Hermione scrunched her nose, regretting her honesty. “I don’t know… I just didn’t want to take more of your time. I don’t want to get in the way of your summer.” She shrugged.

Luna pouted. “Hermione. I love working here, and more importantly, I love you. I want to help. I am way better at this stuff”—she waved her phone at Hermione—“than you are. This is going to be so much fun!” She clapped her hands and bounced again.

“Okay. But you can change your mind or stop whenever you want.”

She shook her head and jumped right into planning. “First, we need to set up all your accounts, then start teasing the website release. How close is it?”

Hermione pulled up the website to show her. “Okay, we’ll need some photos of the store and some info—it shouldn’t take too long. I’ve been itching to add to my branding portfolio, so this is perfect.”

Luna kept talking and planning, scribbling things into her phone. Hermione was amazed. What she saw as daunting, tortuous, and time-consuming, Luna saw as something that could be done in a few hours and maybe even be fun. Watching her talk about filming videos, making graphics, and choosing a color palette actually made Hermione excited.

She turned to Hermione. “So, what are your goals for your social media?”

“Um… to sell books?” Hermione offered.

Luna nodded and went back to planning. Apparently, that was an acceptable answer.

Hermione liked seeing this side of Luna. It was a stark contrast to the girl she had walked in on dancing to Malibunot thirty minutes ago. Watching serious, business Luna take over filled her with hope for the store and pride for who her best friend had grown into.

Chapter Text

“Where’s your stuff?” Hermione asked Draco when he walked into the store. Her heart dropped as she wondered if he wasn’t planning on working that day. She had gotten so used to having him around to chat with during the slower parts of the day.

“I thought I could help you out today,” he said, leaning over the counter to give her a quick kiss.

“Oh.” Hermione froze.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“I just…” The corners of his lips tipped up at her as she floundered for an answer. “You must be so busy. I don’t want to take you away from your editing.”

Draco let his mouth slip into a smile. “It’s okay. I need a break; it’ll keep me from going insane.” He laughed.

Hermione wondered if his editing wasn’t going too well. “Okay. If you really want to—”

Draco cut her off with a kiss, and she couldn’t help but smile into his mouth.

It would actually be nice to have someone helping that day; she had some boxes being delivered that would have been a struggle to move on her own.

“Start with this,” she said, handing him the duster. He saluted with it before getting started, and she shook her head, laughing.

They spent the morning in companionable silence, broken only when Draco suggested where she should shelve his book when it came out or dramatically read excerpts from random novels. She had to stop him when he started in on the more erotic romance section.

“Not with customers in the store,” she hissed, snatching a novel from his hand.

“Then I guess I’ll have to buy it, so I can read it to you later tonight.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she reshelved the book.

“Or maybe you can read it to me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I think I’d like to hear you say the word ‘cock’.”

She turned to look at him. “Then you’d be disappointed. That book exclusively uses the word ‘manhood.’”

A lazy smile stretched across his face. “I really like that you know that.”

She turned, hiding her growing blush.

As they added the new books to the catalog system, Hermione couldn’t help but think it all felt so natural. She had worried that having him help would be awkward, but they fell into an easy rhythm, as if he were meant to be there. She could get used to this.

But she couldn’t. Because he was leaving.

She had to remember that this was temporary. That was why it worked so well. He would finish editing his book and then leave. But maybe it would take longer than he thought. If he needed a break, it probably wasn’t going well. Not that she was excited for him to struggle, but it would be nice to have him around for longer than expected.

“I can hear your brain working,” Draco nudged her with his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

“Um, nothing,” she said, then decided to be partially honest. “I was just wondering how editing is going. Am I allowed to ask, or is it like bad luck to talk about?”

Draco laughed, dimples showing on both cheeks. “No, you can ask. It’s actually going really well.”

“What?”

“Everything is just falling into place so easily. I’m actually way ahead of schedule. That’s why I have time to help out today.”

Hermione’s stomach dropped. Ahead of schedule. Did that mean he was going to leave early? She considered asking but thought better of it. She didn’t want to seem desperate or clingy, needing to know his plans.

“Oh. That’s great! I was worried you needed a break because you were stuck,” she said, trying to sound excited for him and not like she was panicking over the “what ifs” she shouldn’t care about.

You knew he was leaving,she told herself. It shouldn’t matter if it’s today, tomorrow, or a month from now. He was always going to leave.

She knew this, but she couldn’t help feeling blindsided. Her chest felt heavy as Draco talked about how great everything was going.

“So when are you leaving?” Hermione regretted the question as soon as the words left her lips. Way to be casual.

Draco’s mouth slowly curled into a smile. “Why? You going to miss me?”

Her face reddened as she scoffed, pushing away. “Uh, no. Definitely not.”

The glimmer in his eyes told her he didn’t believe her. She didn’t know if it should make her happy that he wanted her to miss him, but it just made her stomach drop. Suddenly, she felt nauseous and a little dizzy. God, what she wouldn’t give for a customer to walk in right then and spare her from her own thoughts.

“I’ll miss you too, Hermione,” he whispered into her hair as he passed by.

She couldn’t help the small smile spreading across her face. The heaviness in her body lifted, and she felt like she could float for a few seconds. The realization that he hadn’t said when he was leaving hit her and threatened to pull her back down to earth.

She felt like she shouldn’t be this preoccupied with when a guy she was hooking up with was leaving. Pansy hooked up with tourists all the time and never seemed to care when they left. She wasn’t sure she even noticed. This is more than just hooking up,a voice in Hermione’s mind whispered before she could shut it up. You’re starting to care about him.

Nope. Definitely not. But why not?

She watched Draco from the corner of her eye. He sorted through the new books that had been delivered, putting them into stacks and lining them up so she could add them to the catalog system. He didn’t have to be there, but he was. He understood the importance of this store more than anyone she knew. He wanted the store to succeed, he wanted her to succeed. That had to mean something, right?

But maybe it just meant he was an author who supported bookstores. That she was letting herself fall into a dangerous pattern of depending on someone else. That she was setting herself up to be left, hurt, and alone once again.

She sighed, and Draco looked up, concern flashing in his eyes, but it disappeared when she smiled at him. She had thought knowing he was leaving would keep her from being hurt. All it had done was make her reckless. She had jumped over the carefully built walls around her heart because she thought it didn’t matter. She thought she didn’t care what he thought. But sharing with him had felt good. It had made her happy to connect with someone again, to have someone listen to her and see all the broken pieces she hid from the world. He had started to chip away at those walls, and she worried that when he left, they’d crumble—and no one would be there to help her rebuild them.

She hadn’t needed anyone in so long, but having Draco made her want to be more open and share with people. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet.

The sound of the bell above the door broke her from her thoughts. Her heart stuttered as she watched Draco welcome the customers and help them find the books they were looking for.

Hermione forced herself back into work, trying not to imagine a future where Draco was helping her all the time.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing tonight?” Draco asked as they closed up the store.

“I have to go to dinner with my mom. I already canceled on her last week.” Having weekly dinners with her mother had been a tradition her entire life. Her mother wasn’t always able to be home for dinner, but she made sure to be there at least one night a week. And now that Hermione lived on her own, she still made the effort to go home and spend time with her.

“That’s nice that you two get together so often.”

Hermione wondered if Draco was thinking of his own family, the one he wasn’t close to. She considered inviting him to join them, but she would need to ask her mom for advice first—and she couldn’t exactly do that with Draco around.

“Yeah, I hate to think of her being lonely. And it’s kind of hard to justify not spending time together when I live like two streets away from her.”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Draco said, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. His fingers gently brushed against her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Hermione froze in place, watching him walk away.

Wow. I am in trouble.

“Oh good, I was afraid you would cancel on me again,” her mother said when Hermione let herself in the front door. Hermione closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Her mother didn’t try to be emotionally manipulative, but she didn’t always consider how her comments affected Hermione.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been really busy. I’m at the store every day during the summer.”

Her mother looked at her with a sad smile before waving her hand in the air, as if brushing away the thought. “I know. I know.”

Hermione knew better than anyone how busy her mother had been. Growing up, it had felt like she worked nonstop. She knew her mother had done it all to give her the best possible life, but it had been hard not having her around. Hermione understood how her mother must have felt last week when she had canceled, and knowing that she’d made her feel that way so she could spend time with a boy made her stomach turn.

She wanted to tell her mother about Draco, but suddenly she was scared to admit her feelings. She wanted her mother to wrap her in her arms and tell her everything would be okay, but that wasn’t who her mother was. Her mother was a realist and always told her exactly what she thought, even if it hurt.

“So how is the store doing this summer?”

Hermione stopped in place, her hand hovering above the table. This was not the conversation she had wanted tonight. She hesitated, deciding whether to give her mother the truth or the answer she wanted to hear. It had been so nice to talk about everything with Draco, but she didn’t know if her mother was ready to hear it—or if she was ready to tell anyone else. She looked at her mother and saw all the hope and pride in her eyes.

Her mother had worked so hard her entire life so that Hermione could do something great with hers. Hermione thought back to when she was a kid, right after her dad left, and Luna’s mother, Pandora, used to come over almost every night to talk. No matter how bad her mother was doing, she would tell Pandora how lucky she was that she didn’t have to worry about Hermione. She had been the perfect kid, never getting into trouble, never making messes. She had been easy for her mother to care for, even when life was hard. Hermione had spent her whole life making sure she stayed that way; she didn’t want to give her mother any more stress than she already had. Seeing her mother look at her like that, she knew her mother still wasn’t ready to hear that Hermione was struggling. It would break her heart.

“It’s fantastic!” Hermione willed her eyes to brighten with a wide smile. “It’s tough being so busy all the time, but—”

“But that’s a great problem to have!” Her mother beamed, and the pride on her face only grew. Hermione knew she had done the best thing for her by bending the truth. “Maybe you can hire someone else to help out.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said hesitantly. She obviously couldn’t afford to hire anyone else; she could barely pay Luna. “You know it’s hard for me to let go, though.” She went back to setting the table, trying to maintain her smile.

Her mother laughed. “Oh yes. You are so much like me, needing your hands in everything all the time.” She brought their food to the table—pasta, neither of them able to cook well, so it was usually boiled noodles and store-bought sauce or takeout for their dinners together. “So, someone may have mentioned they saw you with a boy,” she sang.

Hermione lowered her fork and looked at her mother with a straight face. “This town is full of busybodies,” she muttered, which only made her mother smile softly. “Yes, there’s a boy, kind of. Maybe? I don’t know.” She returned to twirling her pasta.

“I had been holding out hope that you’d get back together with Ron. You two were so good together.” Her mother, like most people, didn’t know the truth about what had happened between Hermione and Ron.

“Really? You were the one who made me keep my apartment when I moved in with him.”

Her mother’s eyes hardened. “Yes, and I don’t regret suggesting that. But I still think you two would have been good. He would have taken care of you.”

Hermione clenched her teeth. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. In the end, we weren’t meant for each other.”

“But you and this new boy are?”

“I don’t know, Mom. He’s just here for the summer,” she said quietly, knowing this would almost definitely seal her mother’s opinion of him.

“He’s leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Hermione. Do you like him?” her mother asked gently.

She scrunched her nose and nodded, knowing her mother must think she was an idiot. I think I’m an idiot,she admitted silently. Her mother pinched her nose and sighed.

“Oh, honey. Do you have a plan?”

Hermione shook her head, shame filling her body. She didn’t know what she had expected her mother to say about Draco, but she knew now that it wouldn’t be anything she wanted to hear. Her mother had never fully trusted men after her father. She hadn’t discouraged Hermione from relationships, but she hadn’t always been supportive either. Hermione guessed the only reason her mother had encouraged her relationship with Ron was that he had seemed so settled, so committed. Even then, she had made sure Hermione kept her apartment, just in case.

All the pride that had filled her mother’s eyes was gone now, replaced with something sadder, sharper. Hermione knew it wasn’t because of her, but she couldn’t help feeling small under her mother’s gaze, as if she were a lost child in need of saving.

“What should I do?” Hermione finally asked.

Her mother looked at her tentatively, as if unsure how much truth she wanted to share. Hermione knew that, just as she worked to protect her mother, her mother had worked just as hard to shield her from pain. Her mother took a deep breath.

“I’m not going to tell you all men are bad; you’re too smart to think that anyway. But I am going to tell you to be careful. As much as you might feel, you’ve known this boy for, what, a month?” Hermione nodded, and her mother continued. “Your father and I were married for five years. We had a whole life, we had you—and he still left. Luna grew up without a dad because hers rolled out of town before Pandora even knew she existed.”

Hermione tried to suppress a shudder but failed because her mother reached out and patted her hand.

“Do you miss him?” she asked softly, afraid of the answer.

Her mother paused, considering what Hermione most wanted—needed—to hear. “No. But I miss what could have been. I wish you had grown up with a dad who was here to love and take care of you. I wish you could go through life carefree, without the fear of being left behind.”

“But you never dated or tried to find someone else.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Hermione waited for her to continue, to explain why, but her mother didn’t. That left Hermione to fill in the gaps herself—to believe that her mother never got over it, that she would never fully trust a man again. Who could blame her?

“If you were me, what would you do?” Hermione asked.

Her mother gazed at her with love in her eyes, but something else lingered there—fear, maybe. “I can’t tell you what to do. But I would set boundaries and prepare myself for when he leaves. I don’t think it’s a bad idea to date and have fun, but I don’t want you to get caught up and be left hurt when he’s gone.”

Hermione wanted that to help her, but it didn’t. She wanted her mother’s words to soothe and calm her, to let her leave feeling better about the future, but she only felt worse. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter.

“Does that help?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Good!” Her mother’s eyes lit up again.

Hermione’s stomach relaxed ever so slightly at the sight. Being able to make her mother happy and at ease would always be the best feeling. She hated seeing the fear and sadness in her mother’s eyes. She hated imagining what her mother thought. She didn’t want her mother to worry about her.

She knew her mother had spent most of her life fearing Hermione would fall into the same fate as her or Pandora. But Hermione could make sure it didn’t happen. She could show her mother she’d be okay—happy, fulfilled—without a man in her life.

A small, contented smile settled onto Hermione’s face as she listened to her mother talk about work and friends. She knew what needed to happen to make sure her mother didn’t show her those sad, bitter eyes again. She could set boundaries. She could hop right back over her walls and leave Draco on the other side. It would be what was best for everyone. Draco and she could be friends; they could hook up, they could flirt, as long as she remembered what happened next. He would leave, and she would return to her normal life.

Chapter Text

Luna had become a bit of a tyrant and had renamed her previously unnamed position—Chief Social Media Officer. She even joked that because Hermione refused to call herself CEO, Luna’s position was technically above hers.

They had been working every day for a week to make the website perfect. Luna had turned into the queen of art directing. Every time Hermione did anything, she ended up doing it two or three times so Luna could take photos and videos from different angles. Apparently, Hermione needed a backlog of images to create content throughout the year, when Luna wasn’t there to help.

Hermione grumbled and complained every time Luna made her take something off the shelf or freeze mid-task, but she was incredibly grateful for how much effort Luna was putting in. And it hadn’t all been awful. Some of the best videos they had done were of Hermione’s “book matchmaking” posts or hyper-specific book recommendations.

She had really enjoyed watching Luna bloom into an outspoken boss. Hermione wasn’t sure why she had been so shocked. Luna had never been afraid to speak her mind, but Hermione usually only saw her like this when they were debating what music to play in the shop or ranting about a book she’d just read. Seeing this more professional side of her was like glimpsing into her future.

The thought of Luna moving on and becoming an “adult” usually filled Hermione with dread, but now she was excited to see where Luna went and what she would do—and to see whose butt she’d kick along the way.

“Hermione, hold it right there!” Luna shouted. After a week of this, Hermione had learned to listen, so she froze, balanced on one leg, arm outstretched reaching for a book on a top shelf.

“This will look so cute!” Luna squealed, walking around her and snapping photos.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” Hermione asked. They had taken so many photos over the past week, she was sure there were enough to last until winter break, if not the entire year.

“We probably have enough, but I just want to be sure. I don’t trust you to actually take photos when I’m gone.”

Hermione bit her cheek to hide a guilty smile. As always, Luna knew her too well.

“Yours will be so much better than anything I could do anyway. I’d probably lose followers if I posted any photos I take,” Hermione said.

Luna shook her head and muttered something about her being a boomer. “You’re going to need to make TikToks when I go back to school, though. I can tell you what to do if you need me to. And you can always do more book matchmaking. There have been a lot of comments you can respond to and help the people of the internet find their dream book.”

Hermione almost gave in to her knee-jerk reaction and said no, but she thought about how much fun Luna had had with this and how good she was at it. She believed Luna when she said she wanted to help and didn’t think she was doing it out of obligation.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. But only as long as it doesn’t get in the way of your real work.”

Luna jumped and clapped her hands together. “Yay! I was so sure you’d tell me no. ‘No Luna, I don’t need anyone’s help at all,’” she said in a baritone meant to imitate Hermione.

“Why do I sound like an old man?” Hermione muttered.

“Ooh, speaking of men—”

“Luna, the queen of segues,” Hermione teased.

“What is Draco doing today? Why isn’t he here?” Luna continued, undeterred.

Hermione turned away to hopefully hide her expression. “Um, I don’t know. I guess he’s working today.”

“I thought he always worked here now.”

Hermione shrugged. Draco hadn’t been coming in as often since she had declined his help. She should be happy he was respecting the boundaries she had set, but without him around, she couldn’t remember why it had been so important. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his teasing and jokes. The shop felt quiet now, even with Luna there most days.

And that was exactly why she had needed the boundaries. It was better to feel this now than to feel even worse if she had let herself go further with Draco. They were still hanging out—just not here. The shop was her space, separate from Draco, and she thought it was best that it stayed that way.

“You should let him promote the store, Hermione.”

She glared at her friend. “I don’t like that you talk to each other.”

Luna just laughed. “It’s not like we’re conspiring against you. He wants to help. Let him. Draco isn’t so famous that an Instagram Story is going to skyrocket your career. He’s not taking the success away from you.”

“Fine. But I really don’t like that you talk,” Hermione mumbled. Luna pretended not to hear.

“He must be pretty close to finishing his edits?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, maybe. I haven’t helped him lately.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed at her in a way that made Hermione feel like she was reading something between the lines. Hermione had no idea what secret meaning Luna might be picking up on.

“So, how’s that going?”

“How’s what going?”

She rolled her eyes. “You and Draco?”

“There is no ‘you and Draco,’” Hermione said, suddenly very interested in the photos they had just taken.

“Uh-huh.” Luna nodded slowly. “Hermione, I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“And what do you think I’m going to do?”

“Choose to be alone because you’re afraid of getting hurt.”

Well, shit.

Hermione looked up at her sweet, concerned friend and smiled, hoping it conveyed that she was fine and would be okay when Draco left and definitely wouldn’t miss him. It was a lot to pack into one smile, but she thought she managed it. Luna let her change the subject.

“What time are we launching the website again?”

Luna rolled her eyes like she knew Hermione was changing the subject. “Hermione, you know it’s set for next week. Ooh! Why don’t we do a post about it and then celebrate with booze like it’s New Year’s!”

“Sounds perfect. Will you set up the post?” Hermione asked. She was getting better at asking for help. But the way Luna beamed at her told her she was still surprised when Hermione did.

Chapter Text

“I had the most brilliant idea!” Luna barreled through the front door, late and coffee in hand.

“And what is that, oh great and wise one? And where’s my coffee?” Hermione asked.

“Shit! Sorry, brain occupied with the brilliant, incredible idea.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched Luna’s drink as she walked closer.

“So, dramatic pause, I think we should set up a Kickstarter for the store.” Luna stood with her arms wide, ready to accept her applause.

“For what?”

“For the store, of course, silly.” Luna snatched her drink back.

Hermione resisted rolling her eyes. “Yes, obviously, but like… what would anyone be getting from it?”

“Your book matchmaking!”

Hermione paused, unsure she understood the appeal, waiting for Luna to continue.

Luna paced back and forth, gesturing with her hands like a conductor. “So there would be tiers. Tier 1: like five bucks or something, they fill out a form and you send them a list of a few books. Tier 2: they’d actually purchase the books from the store. I’m not sure how to price that one yet or how many books, but details aren’t important! Tier 3: a hundred bucks maybe, I don’t really know, they get a video call with you where you pick the books with them and then send their picks.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Hermione felt a little guilty profiting from something she did freely in the store, but she supposed it wasn’t free if people ended up buying the books she recommended.

“The matchmaking videos have been doing really well on TikTok, right?” she asked.

“Exactly! This would be like a direct extension of that. Could even eventually be a permanent thing on the website.”

“Then why bother with the Kickstarter?”

“People love a goal. Feeling like they’re working toward something instead of just shopping. You get some money to pay rent, and they get to feel like they did a good deed. Win-win.”

Hermione bristled at the idea of people thinking she needed them to support her like that. She didn’t want to appear desperate. Well… she was desperate.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. Worst-case scenario, she wouldn’t make any money, but she had lots of experience with that anyway.

“Yay!” Luna squealed. “I’ll get it set up to launch with the website.” She skipped toward the computer, eager to start working. “This is going to be good, Hermione, I know it.”

It was a fun day of work. Hermione was excited to finally hand out the bookmarks she had made months ago, her website proudly printed on the front. They slipped one into every book purchased and told customers about it. So many people were thrilled—apparently more people than Hermione had thought were interested in finding an alternative way to buy books. Her heart swelled with more hope than it had in months. Everything finally felt like it was falling into place for her and the store.

Right before closing, Draco swept into the shop, the bells clanging as the door flew open. Hermione’s heart jumped at the sight of him, and she couldn’t stop the smile that leapt to her face.

“You look happy,” she said.

“Or really hopped up on coffee,” Luna laughed from the side of the store where she was cleaning up.

Draco shook his head and muttered something, and Hermione pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

“I am really happy,” he said, sweeping her into his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. Hermione wished she could stop the butterflies that took flight in her stomach whenever he touched her. Her body couldn’t help but wish this was how it would always be for them. “I submitted the book!”

All the butterflies turned to lead, crashing into the pit of her stomach.

“Wow. That’s incredible!” Hermione said, trying to keep the waver of sadness out of her voice. Luna shot her a concerned look, but Draco was too excited to notice—or maybe he just didn’t know Hermione as well as Luna did.

She had known they were getting closer to this moment, but without a set date, part of her mind had hoped it would never come. Draco was leaving. He could be gone tonight, for all she knew.

No matter how much they talked and shared, he had never told her exactly when he planned to leave. She knew he had the house rented through Labor Day, weeks away, but that didn’t mean he would stay. He had no reason to.

“We’re going out to celebrate later—you should come!” Luna called.

“For the website launch?” The fact that Draco knew exactly what she was talking about filled Hermione with warmth, but all the warmth mixed with dread about his departure, leaving her anxious.

“Yeah, we’re hitting publish tonight. We’ll do a New Year’s Eve countdown kind of thing.”

“That’s amazing, Hermione! I’m so proud of you!” Draco spun her around again, his head pressed into her neck. She could feel the dread slowly dissipating as they twirled. Maybe it was ridiculous, but to hear someone say they were proud of her, she couldn’t even explain what it did to her. Her mother had been proud, but without knowing how the store was really doing, that pride often hurt. Draco knew exactly what she had been working through—and was still proud. Proud of her for her work, not just for having a building full of books.

“Hermione, I’m gonna go get some coffee.” She glared at Luna, who already had a half-full cup sitting on the desk, but Luna just winked as she left.

“So you’ll come?” Hermione asked, turning back to Draco. “I don’t want to overshadow you finishing the book. That really is incredible.”

He waved his hand in the air. “It was just editing. What you’ve done is really something worth celebrating. Of course I want to be there for you.”

Hermione’s heart hurt, bouncing between two different emotions. One minute she was feeling the weight of Draco leaving, and the next, the joy of him being there for her. She didn’t want him to go.

The thought hit her like a punch to the face.

She had really thought knowing Draco was leaving would protect her from this kind of hurt. But he had become such a part of her life that nothing would stop the pain when he left. He had gone from someone she couldn’t even apologize to, to someone whose absence she would mourn. She had thought she was so smart.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.

“I’m just sad that you’re leaving,” Hermione admitted, regretting it immediately when she saw something like pain flicker in his eyes. Knowing he could be feeling the same way made it worse.

Draco recovered quickly, trying to bring light back into the conversation. “We don’t have to worry about that yet. Today’s a really important day for you—let’s focus on that.”

But Hermione didn’t feel like celebrating. She didn’t want to go out with her friends. She wanted to listen to sad music and cry. But she knew there would be time for that. There was no point in wasting the last moments she had with Draco that way.

She could be happy and live in the moment—if she tried hard enough.

She nodded, not willing to risk exposing the pain in her voice.

“I really am so proud of you, Hermione. You’re going to do amazing things.”

She had to shut her eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall as Draco leaned in and kissed her forehead. This man had no idea what he had done to her—how he had ruined her.

She took one last breath to steady herself before plastering on the big smile she knew Draco wanted today.

“Are you staying to help today?”

Draco wrapped his arms around her. “I want to be wherever you are today.”

She looked up into his grey eyes and tried to let herself believe that this moment would last—that this wouldn’t lead to anything other than loneliness and pain.

She pushed Draco away with a laugh. “Make yourself useful then and straighten up that table.”

He pulled her in for a long kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”

She exhaled through her nose, trying to maintain the mask she was wearing, the weight of it already exhausting. Just a few hours like this.

And then a night of partying through the pain.

Chapter Text

“10, 9, 8…” They probably looked like lunatics, counting down with shots in hand, but none of them cared.

“7, 6, 5…” Hermione’s three best friends and the man she felt too much for stood around her.

“4, 3, 2…” This was the start of the future. This was her, saving her store.

“1!”

“Ah, I can’t do it!” Hermione cried.

“Oh, give me that.” Luna took her phone and unceremoniously hit the publish button. “Shots!” They all downed their drinks to commemorate the moment.

Hermione laughed, knowing how much she had needed Luna for literally every step of this process. This moment would not have happened if it weren’t for her. She thought she would feel terrible, knowing that she had needed someone else to hold her hand and literally push her forward, but she couldn’t feel anything other than love for all the people surrounding and supporting her.

“Any sales yet?” Ginny asked.

“Ha! Not yet.” Hermione laughed.

“Only a matter of time.” Draco wrapped an arm around her and gently kissed her temple. The moment would have been sweet if not for the three idiots catcalling as if they were making out in front of them.

“You all are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Pansy said. And she was right. These were Hermione’s people. She had let herself believe they wouldn’t be there for her when she needed them. She had listened to her fear for so long and pushed them away, but now she knew there had never been anything to worry about. These people would be there for her, no matter what. And oddly, she had Draco to thank for that. It was like he had been her practice run for being more open with people. He had only ever been meant to be a fling, but he would leave a much more lasting presence than he had probably ever intended.

“Ready to go home?” Draco asked.

“No! One more drink!” Ginny cheered, even though she wasn’t drinking.

“Some of us actually have to get up and work tomorrow.”

She slammed her hand into her chest in mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know, being pregnant is a full-time job.”

“Goodnight!” Hermione called as Draco threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her toward the door.

The night air was cool as they walked outside. The sudden burst of salty sea air made her smile. She could not imagine living anywhere where that was not the first or last thing she smelled in a day.

“Should we walk?”

She raised her brows. “Hate to break it to you, but walking is the only option here.”

Draco laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. I forgot that taxis aren’t really a thing everywhere.”

She smiled but hated having to think about his real home. “Do you miss it?”

They walked in silence, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Maybe he was trying to avoid thinking about reality too.

“There are lots of things that I miss about it, but this,” he paused and nodded toward the ocean, “is kind of hard to say goodbye to.”

She nodded, not sure what else to say, not trusting her voice not to expose the sadness she had been working to hide from him. She wanted to ask if he was staying until Labor Day, but somehow it felt less scary not knowing. Not having an actual number of days to count down toward. Being free to imagine that he wouldn’t leave at all.

Even she knew that was nothing more than a fantasy. Some people were meant for small-town life, and some people needed more. Luna would never be complete here. Her personality and dreams were too big; she needed the wide expanse of the world. Hermione imagined Draco was the same. He wouldn’t be happy in their one-street downtown forever, not after a lifetime in New York.

“I’ll miss you, Hermione.” It was barely more than a whisper, and she cowardly pretended not to hear him. He didn’t repeat himself.

“Are you coming over?” she asked when they reached their neighboring doors.

“Yeah, let me just grab some stuff.” Draco leaned down to kiss her before he headed inside.

Alone for a few moments, Hermione let herself feel everything she had been shoving down all day—the fear of what she was losing when Draco left, the pain of knowing she could have stopped this before it started, and the knowledge that even now she wouldn’t change a thing about this summer.

She washed her face to hide the tears that had slipped out. Her phone chimed like a little cash register, and she leapt from the bathroom, face still dripping wet, to grab it.

“Holy shit.” She had made a sale. Someone had actually bought a book from her store less than an hour after launching it.

She swiped at the phone to see what they had bought and immediately laughed when she saw the customer’s name.

“What’s so funny? Did something happen?” Draco came into the room, trying to hide a smug smile. “You didn’t make a sale already, did you?”

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered.

“What was that?” He walked closer. “Was that ‘wow, Draco, thank you for being my first customer and supporting my dreams?’”

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him. Her heart was beating fast in her chest. Her whole body felt light, like she could lift off the ground and float away in a second. It felt amazing to have someone who saw her and understood why she was doing this. Her friends all worked hard and had their own dreams, but having a “normal” job was so different from what she did. She didn’t get breaks or vacations. Her success, her paycheck, relied solely on how hard she worked—and a little bit of luck. What Draco did was different but so similar. If he stopped working, if he stopped moving forward, he would fail. There was no time to stop and relax and enjoy life for people like them.

She had been running full speed ahead for so long, only to slam into wall after wall. Her friends had been there watching, but never understanding why she had to keep moving. But right now, it was like Draco was running beside her, pacing her, pulling her away from the walls threatening to smash into her face.

And now, with Draco holding her, she felt like she could slow down and maybe just walk for a while. He was grounding her in a way she never knew she needed—or even wanted. He was surrounding her with the type of love she never thought she deserved: support and understanding for her dreams.

She wanted to lean into that feeling. She wanted to let Draco be the rest that she desperately needed. But he was leaving. Would she be able to slow down without him, or was she doomed to go back to the breakneck speed? How long until she was running face-first into another wall?

There were so many times when she read romance novels that she found herself yelling at the main characters to just be adults and talk about their feelings. That this could all be better if they were honest. She needed to apologize to every character she had called immature or stupid, because here she was, knowing what to do and being too scared to even try.

So for once, she chose to just live in this moment. She leaned into the kiss and felt Draco’s warmth seep into her skin. His strong arms wrapped tighter around her body as they pulled her closer. She tipped her head back, lips parting with a sigh. Lightning moved down her spine as his tongue swept into her mouth. She could live off the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against hers. But he pulled away much too soon.

She let a whimper of protest slip out, and he laughed, pushing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Later,” he whispered as his mouth skimmed against her jawline.

Draco pulled her over to sit next to him on her bed. Her lips pouted in a way that surely made her look like a petulant child, still wrapped in her towel, hair dripping wet along her back. She considered getting up and putting clothes on, or at least wrapping her hair so the comforter wouldn’t be soaked.

“I want to talk to you about something.” His words surprised her, and she didn’t have time to hide the shock on her face.

“No! Nothing bad.” She laughed nervously. “Well, that’s a scary way to start a conversation, Draco.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand while the other held onto hers, swiping at the inside of her wrist. “I really want your store to be okay. I want you to be okay.” She started to chew on the inside of her lip, unsure where he was going. “I know you said no before, but I’d like to share about your store, tell people about it.”

Oh.

“Luna actually already convinced me to let you help.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking around the room. “It’s one thing to accept your help, but I felt bad asking.”

“I know you feel like you have to do this on your own. I get that you want to know it was you, but you’ve already done so much. You’ve worked so hard. Getting a little help now doesn’t erase that.”

Hearing that made it hard for Hermione to remember why she hadn’t wanted to accept his help before. Luna’s help had been great; maybe this would be the same. The way he was looking at her and touching her arm made it hard to think. And maybe that’s why this felt different than Luna helping. Luna would be there, even when she moved away. She wasn’t leaving her.

“And something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused and waited for her to look at him again. “I’m wondering if you’d let me invest in the store.”

Even with no idea what he was going to say, that would have never crossed her mind.

“I don’t know, Draco.”

He lowered his head toward hers to catch her gaze. “Please, Hermione, let me do this for you.”

And that look—hearing her nickname—almost made her say yes. She was so close to breaking through the boundaries she’d been trying to put up. A big part of her wanted to say yes, wanted to know what could happen.

But what came out of her mouth was, “No, Draco. I really, really appreciate everything you’ve done. But I need to know that I can do this on my own. I need to feel like this is my win.” Maybe if he were an actual investor, but this felt too personal.

His thumb stopped gliding back and forth along her wrist. She instantly missed the movement.

“I wish you could understand that this wouldn’t take the win away from you. What is so wrong with getting a leg up?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. Ron’s voice floated through her mind, telling her that her bookstore was nothing more than an expensive hobby. That it would amount to nothing. That it was better to give up now than fail and embarrass herself. “It’ll mean more to me if I know I did it.”

Maybe she’d regret saying no to Draco’s help. Maybe this would be the reason she failed and had to close the store. But she needed to do this on her own. Sink or swim. She needed to know that she was the reason, no matter the outcome.

“Okay. But you’ll let me know if you change your mind?”

She nodded, knowing that he’d be long gone before that would ever happen. He’d move on, and her tiny store in her tiny town would be forgotten.

Chapter Text

The amount of time Hermione spent watching the traffic on the website was probably not healthy. But she was addicted to seeing the numbers climb, watching where people were shopping from. For the past couple of days, the total hadn’t gotten higher than one or two. Still, it was exhilarating to know that there was a single person out there looking at her store, potentially buying something, supporting her passion. Even an additional sale or two a day could be all it took to turn the tides in her favor.

“Did you do the Instagram post for today?” Luna asked.

“Um, yeah, of course. I would never forget to do that.” Hermione quickly switched tabs to make sure she had actually published the post they had scheduled for today. She wasn’t great at remembering things like this.

Luna rolled her eyes. “Why did I bother to make you a calendar if I have to remind you every day?”

Hermione batted her eyelashes and grinned. “Because you love me! And look, I did it anyway.”

With Luna as her tutor, Hermione was finally starting to understand social media. She was still terrible at it, but she was improving. Luna forced her to make videos every day—which Luna then fixed—and it was kind of fun. But Hermione was still bad at remembering to post, answer comments, or update stories. She wished she could just post and forget, but Luna insisted she needed to stay active to “grow.”

“I’m sending you a to-do list for the Kickstarter,” Luna said. “There were a couple more requests for Tier 1. You should post the sidewalk sign to Stories! Maybe we could film you doing that too… get more traffic.”

“Okie dokie!” Hermione said, deciding Luna was mostly talking to herself, and headed out front to take a photo of today’s sign. A person on a beach vacation must be in want of a book—Jane Austen, probably.Not her best work, but she thought it was a funny play on the famous line.

“Wow, this post has gotten a lot of likes.”

“Wait, really? Let me see!”

Luna shook her head. “You’re literally on your Instagram account right now.”

Okay, maybe saying she was starting to understand it was an exaggeration. Hermione just did what Luna told her to do, when she told her to do it—and so far, it had been working. The account was growing slowly, and it was fun to connect with other bookstores and people who wanted to shop small. She had also picked up lots of ideas for events for the future, assuming she could keep the store running past the summer.

“Wow. This is way more than normal. That’s exciting!” Her phone chimed. “Ooh, I made a sale! Oh my gosh, there are like ten people on the website right now.” Her heart raced. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“That’s amazing!” Luna said, leaning over to see the map showing where the ten people were shopping from.

“I wonder where they all came from.”

“Who knows. Instagram and TikTok algorithms are unpredictable. But it doesn’t matter, because look at those people!” Luna wrapped her arms around Hermione and squeezed. “I’m so proud of you, Mia.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Hermione said. She had expected needing someone else to help her make the store successful would hurt—but it felt amazing to have Luna there to share it with. Luna had been part of the store since before it existed, back when they were little girls dreaming together. If anyone deserved this win as much as Hermione, it was Luna.

They watched the screen as the number jumped from ten to twenty-five to fifty.

“Holy shit,” Hermione whispered, staring at her phone as notifications of new followers lit up.

“One of our videos must have gone viral!” Luna said.

Hermione was stunned into stillness, unable to move. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Luna grabbed her, bouncing up and down, and Hermione was swept into her physical excitement.

The door opened while they were still buzzing.

“What is going on here?” Draco asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

“The shop is blowing up!” Luna yelled.

“On Instagram,” Hermione amended, seeing Draco’s brows furrow. “Something happened, and we have fifty people on the site right now!”

“Oh, okay. I was worried we needed to evacuate.”

“Was that… a joke?” Hermione asked.

Luna’s face was a combination of shock and disgust. “It was a bad dad joke, barely a joke, Mia.”

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sorry, Luna.” His smile brightened when he looked at Hermione, and her heart skipped a beat. Seeing those dimples would never stop feeling like a reward. “This is incredible, Mia! I knew you could do it.”

His praise made her smile. “I haven’t done anything yet.” There might be more people on the site, but sales hadn’t taken off yet. People always balked at the real prices of books. The fifty people browsing would probably translate to a handful of sales, and that was if she was lucky.

“No matter what, it’s progress. It hasn’t even been a week, right? Luna, can you send me the post? I’ll reshare it.”

She nodded, trying to remind herself that Draco was right. It was going to take time to grow the online side of the business. Right now, she just needed a few extra sales a day to give her hope—that this could work, that keeping the store open past the summer wasn’t stupid, that she wouldn’t default on her loans this year.

She wanted it to be an instant success, but she knew she had to be patient. Easier said than done when your entire life was riding on it.

“Mia, are you okay?” Draco stood directly in front of her. She hadn’t even noticed him move. She hadn’t noticed how silent she’d gone while contemplating the potential demise of her livelihood.

She tried to smile, but it didn’t come out right. “You are not the store,” Draco said, his hands running up and down her arms, comforting and warm. “Your worth is not tied to the success of this store. People will still love you, even if this doesn’t work out.”

God, this man was trying to ruin her forever. In three months, he already knew more about her anxiety and fears than anyone else in her life. Somehow, he knew exactly what she needed to hear. This was supposed to be nothing more than a summer hookup, and she had let him so far into her heart that she didn’t know if she’d ever be fully free of him.

Her walls were starting to crumble, and she worried he was breaking her in ways she didn’t want to admit. She didn’t really want to lose him, but she didn’t know what he wanted. This could all be fun for him, and he could go back to his real life, forgetting all about her. She would be stuck, haunted by his memory forever, fearing no one else would ever understand her the way he had.

She had thought she was happy alone. That she didn’t need or want anyone in her life. But maybe she just hadn’t met the type of person she wanted. Maybe she thought all men would be like Ron—expecting her to give up who she was for them. She had thought her breakup with Ron had hurt, but she already knew that a breakup with Draco would destroy her. It would rip her apart and force her to rebuild herself. Maybe it would be a time of growth. She could relearn what she wanted out of life—but she knew it would be a time of pain.

“Are you free tonight, Mia?” Draco’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I’m making you dinner tonight to celebrate. Can I use your kitchen?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Here, take my keys.” Luna’s eyes lit up in a way Hermione didn’t understand but knew she’d hear about when Draco left. “I should be leaving at about six.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Draco leaned forward to kiss her, and the normalcy of it made her heart flutter.

The door hadn’t even shut behind Draco before Luna couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So, y’all are dating now, or what?”

“We’re not dating,” Hermione said, sharper than she intended, adjusting book displays to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

“Oh really? So you hand your keys out to guys you’re hooking up with?”

She closed her eyes and counted to five before responding, hoping it would hide her defensiveness. “We’re friends. It’s like if I gave you my keys. Totally normal.” She shrugged and feigned calmness.

“If you have to say something is ‘totally normal,’ it usually means it is, in fact, not totally normal.” Luna laughed, and Hermione turned to glare at her.

“It’s okay. You guys are super cute together.”

“Except it’s not okay because he leaves in three months. We’re not dating.” Her facade of not caring slipped on the last words. Luna’s face fell when she realized Hermione wasn’t just annoyed at her teasing.

“Oh, Mia.” Luna ran over to hug her.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. The store’s still open. Just give me a minute.” Hermione pushed past her toward the bathroom. Just a few minutes alone, and she’d be okay. A few minutes, and she could face the rest of the day without falling apart.

Chapter Text

Her email pinged just after close. Luna was cleaning up while they filmed more book matchmaking content. Hermione had been surprised by how many people had supported her, even without shopping in-store. In the week since launching it, she had sent out a handful of recommendation lists, one box of books, and had a Zoom matchmaking session scheduled for next week. It wasn’t life-changing money yet, but every bit helped.

The email was from Kickstarter. Hermione’s fingers crossed, hoping someone had supported one of the higher tiers. Every bit helped, but $100 helped a lot more than $5. Her brows furrowed as she read the email. Once, twice, three times. This had to be a mistake.

“Luna!” she called. “This is… wrong, right?”

“What?”

“This!” Hermione pointed at the screen, stepping back as if it might leap out at her. “It says the Kickstarter is fully funded. But that can’t be right.” A week wasn’t enough time.

“Um, we did have that viral video, but still…” Luna trailed off.

Hermione couldn’t focus on what Luna was doing. Her head was spinning. Part of her wanted to believe it, that people really supported her and believed in her. But a bigger part of her knew it was impossible. She wasn’t meant to luck out like this.

“It’s fully funded,” Luna said flatly, still avoiding eye contact.

“What is it?” Hermione pressed, confused by Luna’s tone.

“Let’s focus on the positive. The store can stay open. You won’t have to stress. Hey, you could even give me a raise,” Luna tried, but her voice lacked enthusiasm.

“Spit it out, Luna.”

She hesitated, then looked Hermione in the eye. “It was Draco. Draco fully funded the project.”

Hermione’s mind went back to the conversation when he had offered to invest in the store. She had said no. Her frustration flashed across her face anyway.

“Mia?”

“I told him not to.”

“What?”

“He asked to invest, and I said no. I can’t believe he went behind my back.”

“Why?” Luna asked, pinching her brows. She could tell Hermione wasn’t sharing the full story.

“It doesn’t matter. I asked him not to, and he did anyway. I’m frustrated.”

Luna shook her head. “It’s too late to take it back. And it’s helping. Maybe it’s okay?”

Hermione exhaled, shoulders drooping. Normal people might be okay, but she felt blindsided. This wasn’t just an Instagram post or extra help—it was thousands of dollars. She thought Draco understood why she couldn’t accept his help. That it would make her feel like she wasn’t trusted to succeed. That she’d be a failure.

Her eyes burned with tears of hurt and anger.

“Go easy on him, Mia. He really cares,” Luna said softly.

Hermione knew he did. And that’s why it hurt so much.

“You’re early,” Draco’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while.”

The door slammed behind her. On the bike ride over, she had tried to think of a plan, but anger clouded her brain. Should she give him a chance to explain? He couldn’t hide it—his full name was on the pledge.

Draco emerged from the kitchen with a glass of wine and leaned down to kiss her. Her heart softened, almost giving in. Almost ignoring the hurt and embarrassment he’d caused. She liked him, and she knew he meant well. But she had spent years prioritizing other people’s feelings over her own.

“I got an interesting email tonight,” Hermione said flatly. “Apparently my Kickstarter is fully funded.”

Draco’s face lit up. “That’s amazing, Mia. Hard work paying off. You should continue those services on the website.”

So he wouldn’t have told her. Maybe he assumed she already knew. But if that were the case, why not mention it?

“Yeah,” she said, tone flat. “I was worried about the work to fulfill everything. But… I suppose I don’t actually have any work to do. Or do you need more recommendations?”

The light drained from Draco’s face. His brows pinched. “Mia…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why?” she asked, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“I was only trying to help.”

“I told you I didn’t want help! I wanted to do this on my own!”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

Her eyes widened. “So you just thought you knew better than me? Knew what I needed?”

“No, of course not. You said you have a hard time asking for help. I thought this was one of those times.”

Curse him for twisting her feelings into logic. “It doesn’t matter what you thought, Draco. I told you not to do this. Thousands of dollars, and now I’ll never know if I could’ve done it alone. This isn’t an Instagram post—this is my future!”

Draco shook his head. “It’s your success, your hard work. One post doesn’t change that. All I did was give you a boost. You’re the one who’s going to make this work long-term.”

“Argh! You don’t get it. All that work was wasted because I needed you to step in. This isn’t mine—it’s yours!”

“And why is needing help so bad?”

“Because this isn’t real, Draco!” she yelled. “You’re here for the summer and then back to your life. This is my life, my future. I need to know I can do it alone without someone who won’t care in two months.”

He paused. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know. It’s the truth.” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to disappear.

“Mia…” His voice was soft, gentle.

“I got into this knowing you would leave. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Mia…that’s not—”

“It’s okay, Draco.”

“No, it’s not. Mia, please look at me.” She wiped away tears and finally faced him. He looked devastated.

“I’m not leaving you, Mia.”

“I can’t believe you just did,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” he said, hands flying to his face, pacing. “Yes, I’m going back to New York, but I’m not leaving you. It’s different.”

She knew it was different to him. But she also knew it would only be a matter of time before her life moved on without him.

“Draco, I don’t want to pretend. This was never meant to happen. We need to be okay with that.”

His eyes shimmered with hurt, then hardened. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. Of course she didn’t want this, but reality had no room for wishes.

“Goodbye, Mia.” He started to speak again, then shook his head, offering a tight-lipped smile before leaving.

Hermione stood alone in the middle of the room, silent tears spilling into her hands. She had accomplished the impossible—the Kickstarter was fully funded—but she felt like she had lost herself in the process.

Chapter Text

Hermione didn’t know how long she had stood there before sinking to the floor. She told herself that wallowing was okay for tonight. She could let herself feel whatever she needed to feel, and tomorrow it would have to go away. She pretended that was possible. It made her feel a little better for about a second.

Eventually, she ran out of tears and just sat in silence on the floor, staring at the door that Draco had walked out of. Part of her hoped he would come back, let her take it all back, prove her wrong. But the smarter part of her knew that would never happen. She had successfully sabotaged any chance of happiness just to protect herself. Great idea, Mia.

After the sun had set, she decided to get off the floor. She grabbed ice cream, a fuzzy blanket, and curled up on the couch. The only thing with a chance to make her feel better was Colin Firth emerging from a lake, dripping wet. So she did the only sensible thing she had done all day and put on Pride and Prejudice.

By the time Jane was sniffling at Netherfield, Ginny and Pansy had arrived. They didn’t mention how they knew she needed them, and Hermione pretended it didn’t mean anything that Draco would have called them. They walked through the door silently and surrounded her with their love. The tears started up again. Neither of her friends said a word, giving her the space to decide when she was ready to talk. She wasn’t sure she would ever be truly ready.

This hurt so much more than ending her two-year relationship had. She pretended that didn’t mean anything either.

“I want a Mr. Collins,” Hermione said.

“No, you don’t,” Pansy responded.

“Yes, I do. Easy, emotionless, separate lives. That sounds perfect.”

“So you didn’t put this movie on to watch Darcy and Elizabeth?”

Hermione growled and sank lower into the couch, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of being right. Of course she wanted someone to love her so completely that they would upend their life for her. But in the real world, that kind of love could only end in pain.

“Love sounds good until it ends,” she said, ignoring the looks exchanged behind her back. “My last two attempts ended in soul-crushing, self-esteem-ruining disasters.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Ginny said.

“No, not dramatic enough.” Hermione sounded like a petulant child, but she wasn’t wrong. If they actually knew the truth, they wouldn’t think she was overreacting. But that’s what happens when you hide things from your best friends—they can’t fully understand. “I wasn’t exactly honest about my breakup with Ron.”

They both gave her confused looks. “Ron? Not Draco?” Pansy asked.

Hermione took a deep breath, telling herself she would feel better after spring, that this would only hurt for a moment. “The breakup with Ron really affected me. It kind of screwed me up, if I’m being honest.”

She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“We know, that was a big change,” Pansy said. “You were together for so long; it was a lot to be a part of.”

“No,” Mia shook her head. “It was more than that. He really screwed me up at the end.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked. “You said you grew apart, that it was mutual.”

Hermione exhaled, hoping they would understand. “That wasn’t true. Ron wanted to get married—but only if I closed the shop first.” She waited for their shock and outrage before continuing. “He told me it was a failure. That I was a failure. That everyone thought so. He said it was annoying to hear me complain about the shop, and implied everyone else felt the same.”

“Hermione, that’s not true,” Ginny said, holding her hands. “Please tell me you didn’t believe that.”

Hermione laughed nervously. “I did. Ron may have been an ass, but I never knew him to lie.”

“Is this why you didn’t tell us about the loan?” Pansy asked. Hermione looked up at her, stunned.

“I do your taxes, I’m polite, not stupid. I assumed you’d talk about it when ready. But I guess you wouldn’t have.”

“That dick!” Ginny shouted. “I can’t believe he said that. I’ve spent the last year being nice to him, having him over for dinner. Ugh.”

“Don’t tell Harry, I don’t want to get between them.”

“Oh, I am telling Harry. That mean thinks of you as his sister. We’ll be lucky if there's any Ronald left when he’s through with him.”

Hermione smiled weakly. She had spent the past year assuming the worst, fearing that Ron was right and that her friends would leave her behind. She didn’t want to take sides because she knew she’d lose. But that hadn’t been fair to them or to their friendship. They were here for her, just like they always would be.

“And Draco?” Pansy asked.

“I told Draco about it, and he did something that triggered those feelings. Made me feel like I couldn’t succeed on my own, that the store was a failure. I thought he understood me, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You told Draco but not us?” Ginny asked, eyes watering.

“It was like telling someone I’d never see again. He wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“But that changed?”

Mia nodded sheepishly. Her friends let her sit in silence. She knew they were processing too.

“Draco’s gone. He left.” She whispered, almost as a reminder.

“Well, actually he’s still next door,” Ginny said. Pansy lightly slapped her behind Hermione’s back, and she stifled a laugh at their silent war.

“What Ginny means is that he’s not leaving because he wants to. You kind of pushed him away. He cares about you, Mia. We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t called us.”

Mia covered her face. She knew he cared. She knew he’d try if she let him. She knew she was the one hurting herself. But she didn’t know how to stop.

“Can we just not use logic tonight, please? I just need to be sad for a while.”

Pansy bit her lip, weighing if it was okay to let her wallow. Ginny slapped her lightly, and Hermione let out a laugh. It felt good. Her two best friends were taking care of her.

“I promise I’ll let you counsel me on good decisions tomorrow,” Hermione said.

Pansy gave her a sad smile and nodded. They all settled back into the couch and hit play on the movie.

Chapter Text

Hermione had called off work in the morning, which was a fancy way of saying she had texted Luna and lied about being sick. Being the absolute best person in the world, Luna had gone in early to cover for her and believed her. Hermione didn’t know if no one had told Luna what happened or if she was just being nice and letting her avoid talking about it.

She spent the day doing absolutely nothing. It was awful. Note to self: next time you have a summer fling, don’t let them come to your house, or everything you own will remind you of them. She had to hide her phone to avoid watching the Ring camera feed. She didn’t know if she was hoping to see Draco moving out of the apartment or holding up a sign that said “Hermione, I love you.” But she hadn’t seen him at all before shoving the phone under her pillow for the rest of the day.

All she wanted to do was sit on the couch, eat more ice cream, and watch romantic movies—aka cry. But she had to go to dinner with her mom tonight instead. She could have called off that too, but she would have had to either tell her mom the truth or lie about being sick. And lying about being sick didn’t work as well when your mom was a nurse. So off to her mom’s she went. She showered and put on the easiest outfit that still made her look like a fully functioning human. She had spent years perfecting the art of hiding her emotions from her mom, so tonight shouldn’t be too difficult—just slightly annoying.

It didn’t make her feel like a stellar daughter to think of this time with her mom as annoying. She reminded herself to pull on her big girl pants, plaster a smile on her face, and enjoy the evening. She was incredibly lucky to have her mom in her life. She should be grateful for a parent who wanted to know what was going on, even if she never actually heard the whole truth.

She loved her mom. She loved these dinners most of the time, but when she was in the mood for wallowing, having to act happy for anyone was going to suck.

She stopped in front of her mom’s door and gave herself a few moments to pull out her excited, happy-daughter mask. When she felt like she had adequately hidden any trace of pain, she let herself in. The feeling of warmth and love immediately surrounded her when she walked into her mom’s house—her house. The sweet and spicy scent that was her mom filled her nose, and it actually brought a true smile to her face. The sound of music drew her toward the kitchen. Her mom was dancing to Cher and heating up dinner.

“There you are!” her mom said, the happiness in her voice almost breaking Hermione’s heart. She felt like such an awful daughter. She couldn’t believe she had been thinking about how painful this dinner would be not ten minutes ago. “There’s wine and appetizers on the table.”

Hermione raised her brows in surprise. “Appetizers?”

Her mom laughed and waved her off. “Well, chips. But for us, that’s appetizers, right?”

And for some reason, that moment caused Hermione’s perfect daughter mask to crack. She grabbed at it, trying to stop it from slipping off her face, but it was no use. Within a moment, she was crying into a bag of tortilla chips, unable to stop the tears streaming down her face.

Her mom’s face twisted with worry as she came to stand in front of her. “Honey, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m so sorry. Just give me a minute.”

Her mom lifted her arms to comfort her but hesitated, unsure what to do. Neither of them were used to these roles. Hermione wasn’t sure her mom had ever seen her cry; she had never let her.

“Why are you sorry? Tell me what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Hermione did feel sick to her stomach. The guilt was eating her from the inside. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m fine.” She hesitated, still unsure if she wanted to be honest with her mom. “It’s just about a boy. It’s stupid. I’m being stupid.” She tried to brush her mom away and head to the bathroom to clean herself up, but her mom stopped her by pulling her into an embrace.

“Why are you apologizing, honey? You’re not being stupid at all. Is this that author guy? What did he do? Do I need to go kick his butt?”

Hermione choked out a laugh. “No, you don’t need to do that. I wanted to be better, smarter, for you. You told me to set boundaries, and I totally messed that up. This is my mistake. I don’t want you to have to worry about it.” About me,she added mentally, wiping the tears from her eyes. Hopefully, she could keep them dry for the rest of dinner.

“I’m your mom. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “You’ve always been so busy. I don’t want to add anything else to your plate.”

Her mom’s face pinched with concern. “What do you mean, Hermione? You are the most important part of my life. If something is going on with you, I want to know about it. Come sit down. Tell me about the boy.”

She let her mom guide her to the couch and pulled her down next to her. Her mom wrapped her arms around her and brushed her hair back. Her heart ached, wishing this had been how it was her whole life—wishing she had let her mom be the parent and take care of her.

And so she told her. She told her about Draco, about how it was supposed to be meaningless, how she thought dating someone with an expiration date would make it easier. She told her how wrong she had been. “I really tried to set boundaries after you told me to. But I think it was too late. And now he’s gone—or will be soon.”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She looked up at her mom, confused. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who messed up.”

“Oh, baby, no. I think I’m the one who messed up here.” Her mom laughed at her own language; she never cursed. “I didn’t realize my decisions would affect you so much. I shouldn’t have told you to set hard boundaries. I shouldn’t have spent years letting you see how scared I was of men and relationships. That wasn’t fair to you. Why didn’t you tell me how you really felt about him?”

There had been a lot of truth tonight. She wasn’t sure if they were ready for the truth about their relationship—that she had kept her mom out of so much of her life.

“Would you believe me if I said I was protecting you?” She let her head hang and looked up at her mom. Her brows pinched together, then softened.

“You were always so stressed growing up. You were doing so much, had so much to worry about. I didn’t want to add to that. And I guess I just got used to not telling you things that might make you worried.”

“What haven’t you told me?” Her mom’s voice wobbled. Hermione closed her eyes, unsure what she would do if she saw her mom cry.

“Bad grades growing up. Colleges I applied to. Issues in my relationships.” She hesitated. “How much the store is struggling.”

Her mom covered her mouth in shock. “No, Hermione, tell me that’s not true.”

She nodded in shame. This was the feeling she had been protecting her mom from all these years—or maybe she had been protecting herself. She had learned at a young age that a parent’s love wasn’t as unconditional as people claim. She decided early on that she needed to be the perfect child. She wouldn’t risk losing her parents’ love.

“Anything else?” her mom asked, her voice firmer now.

This was the big truth she had kept for the past few years. The truth she hadn’t shared with anyone. “I found Dad.” Her mom’s brows shot up. “I thought maybe he’d want to know me. But he has his own family now. I didn’t bother going to meet him.” She recalled the winter two years ago when she drove to northern New Jersey to track down Gregory. As far as she knew, her mom hadn’t had contact with him in years, but she thought maybe he’d want a relationship with his grown daughter, now that she could take it on without needing his help.

She had been shocked to find his lawn littered with children’s toys. His children’s toys. Apparently, he didn’t mind the work of taking care of kids—he just didn’t want her or her mom. She had left before he or any member of his new family saw her. It was better that way.

“I just wanted to be perfect for you. I didn’t want you to have to worry about me. So I became really self-reliant,” a euphemism for refusing to ask for help. “I didn’t want to have to ask you for help.”

Her mom just shook her head, eyes downcast. Hermione didn’t know if she was angry, sad, or unsure how to respond anymore.

“I’m so sorry that you didn’t think you could show me how much you were struggling. It wasn’t your job to protect me like that.”

“I think I saw how strong you were, how well you were able to take care of me on your own, and wanted to do the same. I wanted to do everything myself, to prove that I was strong like you.”

“But you didn’t do it on your own. You had the whole town supporting you. How many different people watched you growing up? Yeah, I didn’t have a partner in the home, but I had so many people helping me. I wasn’t strong because I did it on my own. I was strong because I asked for help when I needed it.”

Her words hit Hermione like a slap across the face. Of course she remembered growing up, spending time with Luna’s grandma and sitting at Rita’s. But they had become such a normal part of her life, she never thought of them as helping her mom—they were almost part of the family.

She thought of Pansy, Ginny, Luna, and the people in her life who were like family. They had always been there for her. Been her biggest cheerleaders. Forced their partners or parents to help her move heavy boxes into the store. Luna working there every summer instead of taking internships. Pansy doing her taxes every year. Ginny offering her time for free when she needed an extra hand. She never needed to ask them for help because they were always there, offering it without hesitation.

Even during the past year, when she had started to pull away, afraid she had burdened them with her problems, they were always reaching back out. How many happy hours and dinners had she been talked into? How could she have ever thought they didn’t actually care about her? She had let people who didn’t care cast a shadow over every other relationship in her life. And because of it, she might lose someone she really cared about.

“Now I don’t know what happened with this author boy,” her mom said. “But I don’t want you to lose someone you care about because other men in your life have mistreated you.”

“But he left, Mom. He did exactly what I thought he’d do.”

“Did you ask him to stay?” Hermione hid her face in a pillow, unwilling to admit that she had done the opposite—pushed him right out of her life, hurt herself so he couldn’t have the chance to do it himself.

Her mom hummed to herself, thinking. “Physically and emotionally leaving are two different things, Hermione. You’ll have to decide which one he actually did.”

Chapter Text

Hermione decided to do something she had been avoiding for days. She watched an interview of Draco. It had been over a month since she had seen him. Every day she struggled to keep him out of her thoughts, and every day she failed. But so far, she had avoided looking at any of the media coming out about his new book, the book she had helped him finish.

It was one thing to think about him, to relive the moments they had spent together, but it hurt too much to see how he was doing now. To know that he was out there, living and enjoying his life. To know that he was gone and she would probably never see him again.

She opened his Instagram page on the computer and clicked through to the link he had posted of the interview. She took a deep breath before hitting play, bracing herself for seeing Draco’s face, hearing his voice. As he was introduced and the camera panned to him, she had to force herself to keep her eyes open. She needed to be able to get over this, and watching this would hopefully be the first step toward closure for her. She glanced over at the Advanced Reader Copy of his book—sent a couple of days ago—sitting on her counter. Reading that should have been the first step, but she had been too much of a coward to even get herself to open it.

She listened to Draco talk about the plot of his book, and it brought back so many memories of them hunched over his laptop, reading and editing together. She was sure it had turned out beautifully. She knew that his blacksmith character had turned out incredible. As the interview went on, she hardly heard Draco’s answers. She was too lost in the memories, the regret for what could have been between them, if she had been different, better. If she hadn’t pushed and shoved Draco out of her life simply because she expected him to leave anyway. If she had simply been brave enough to ask him to stay.

The interview was coming to a close, and the host asked Draco who his favorite character in the book was. Draco laughed, and that sound sent shivers down Hermione’s spine. She missed that sound. She missed the feel of that laugh against her ear as they had lain next to each other in bed.

“I feel like I should say Malrik, but it’s definitely Zahara the blacksmith. And it’s less about the actual character, but about how she came about.”

“Well, now you have to tell us the story,” the host pressed.

Hermione inhaled sharply, knowing—or hoping she knew—what that story was. Draco rubbed at the back of his neck, as if deciding how much he wanted to share. “Well, I’ve been informed that I suck at writing women.” The host and Draco laughed together. “And while I was editing the book in, I met this incredible woman who helped me see that and really helped me shape Zahara into the character she is.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine many people thinking you’re bad at writing anything,” the host said.

Draco chuckled. “Yeah, well, Hermione—” Hermione gasped. That was her old name in the dedication. “That’s her name. She owns a bookstore and she did not shy away from telling me what she thought. Which I’m very grateful for. I needed that. I needed her help and her vision to make my writing better. To make me better.”

Hermione didn’t hear the rest of the interview. She stared at Draco on the screen, covering her mouth, shocked. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the tears dripping off her chin. She could not believe what she had just heard. She knew Draco didn’t hate her—he had continued to promote the store after he left—but she would never have believed he would speak so kindly of her, and definitely not so publicly. She also could not believe how open he had been about needing help. He was willing to share with thousands what she couldn’t do with the people closest to her.

She let the tears continue to fall down her face until she heard the bell on the door ring. She tried to quickly scrub her face clear, but stopped when she realized it was Luna walking in.

“Oh, Hermione,” Luna said, quickly crossing the store to wrap her arms around her. “Tell me what’s wrong, Hermione. Let me help you.”

The words reminded Hermione so much of what she used to hear Luna’s mom say to hers in the months after her dad left, when she’d come over to comfort her while she had been in bed. She didn’t try to stop the laugh that bubbled out of her as she realized their lives had come full circle.

“What’s funny?” Luna asked.

“You’re comforting me after a boy left me, just like your mom used to do with mine. I think she said those exact words.” Hermione choked out between sobs-turned-laughs.

“And then your mom did the same for mine,” Luna laughed. “It’s really not funny though.” She pulled back to look Hermione in the face. “And a boy didn’t leave you, Hermione.”

“Then where is he?” Hermione asked, even though she knew what Luna meant. She could have pretended that she didn’t when he had kept sharing the store because he shared lots of independent bookstores. She could have even pretended when he sent the ARC—maybe he just wanted her to actually stock his books. But after watching the interview, she knew she couldn’t pretend anymore. Yeah, he had physically left, but it was like he was waiting in the wings, just waiting for her to be ready to let him into her life for real.

“You know where he is, Hermione.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you do it?” Luna asked.

She didn’t need to say what it was. Hermione knew Luna meant why she had shoved him away. She had done her best to push Draco away to save herself from the heartbreak of him leaving. She had opened up to him and been more honest with him about her struggles than she had been with even her best friends, and she had gotten scared. She had been so scared that he would be just like Ron, like her dad. That she had shared too much, let him see too much of her, and he would turn away from it.

“I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Oh, Hermione.”

She covered her face as the tears started to fall again. “I know. It was stupid. I’ve been stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Luna pulled her hands away and smiled at her. “You were protecting yourself. You’ve never been the best at being honest with us. I usually have to force information out of you. It’s okay that you got scared. We both have a shitty track record with the men in our life, I get it, I do.”

Hermione sniffled and tried to smile.

“But he hasn’t left. He’s out there cheering you on still. You didn’t scare him off. You’re not going to scare me off, or Pansy and Ginny, or your mom.”

She looked up at Luna, her best friend, her sister, and the tears she had just stopped started all over again. This time from gratitude that she had such amazing people in her corner. She had let herself be blinded by the worst people in her life so that she couldn’t see the best people for what they were. She had been distancing herself from her favorite people, thinking they would one day realize she wasn’t worth their time.

She bobbed her head in response to Luna, unable to find the words to express herself anymore, to express how lucky she felt to have had her in her life for the past twenty years. But Luna knew. She wrapped Hermione up in her arms and yet again acted like the big sister in the relationship.

“I love you,” Hermione whispered.

“I know,” Luna said, then laughed as she pulled away.

“You ass.”

Luna gave her one more look and quirked her mouth to the side. “Have you read it yet?” She pointed with her head to the book sitting on the counter.

Hermione knew Luna had been reading it while she was working. She left it out on the desk, a silent encouragement for Hermione to pick it up. Hermione wanted to read it. She would read it eventually.

She shook her head at Luna. “I’m not ready yet.”

Luna sighed but nodded. “I really think you should read it.”

“Is it that good?”

“I would think you should read it even if it was the worst book in the world.”

“Why?”

“He sees you, Hermione. Maybe you should try to see him.”

“Wow. Deep.”

“I know,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at Hermione as she headed back out the door. “But seriously, promise me you’ll read it.”

“Okay, I swear I’ll read it.” Hermione crossed her heart as she promised.

With Luna gone, Hermione stared at the book on the counter. She willed herself to reach for it, but her arms didn’t listen. “Come on, Hermione. Stop being a chicken,” she said to herself.

She turned away from it. She wasn’t ready. Reading the book felt too much like closure, like she was closing out the too-short chapter of her life Draco had been in. If she never read it, she could just stretch it out forever. Never fully say goodbye to him. She let out a heavy breath. She knew that wouldn’t serve her in the long run. Draco was gone, and she needed to be ready to let go.

She looked at the book over her shoulder. “Okay. Fine,” she muttered. She shut her eyes tight and picked up the book. She slowly opened her eyes and gnawed on her lower lip as she opened the cover. She flipped through to the first page, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of the dedication.

No. There was no way.

She turned the page back, and sure enough it read:

"To Hermione, the Zahara to my Malrik (I hope you’ll stock this one)."

She was stunned. Who dedicated a book to someone they had known for two months? This book was supposed to be the end of a chapter, not the start of the next one.

She walked over to the couch and flung herself down. She opened the book to the first chapter and started to read.

Chapter Text

Hermione closed the book and lay back on her couch. She had made the executive decision to relocate to her actual house about halfway through the book, and she was very glad she had, because the emotions she was having were definitely not meant for public places. She had never felt more seen in her life. She knew Zahara had been written before she met Draco, but she was Zahara.

Her struggle to feel loved, to feel like she was good enough, deserving enough of her friends, was everything she had hidden so well from everyone—except for Draco. He was the one person she had let see that side of herself. And he hadn’t been scared of it. He hadn’t thought she was weak or wrong somehow. He thought she was strong and brave, and maybe a little badass if he really saw her as Zahara.

And Draco could have been her Malrik. He could have been the person to help her take her walls down and grow alongside her, but she had shoved him right out of her life like a coward. And yet, he was somehow still here, reminding her of these truths about herself in the form of his beautiful words. She wanted to hate him for not just leaving her in peace, for continuing to take up space in her heart and mind. But she couldn’t. She just wished he could be taking up physical space in her life instead.

There was a knock at her door. It was late, no reason for anyone to be there. She assumed it was one of her friends, probably Luna, checking if she was okay after reading the book. She rolled her eyes at how annoyingly caring they were.

She opened the front door and froze in place. Her mind struggled to keep up with what she was seeing. It wasn’t Luna at the door, or Ginny or Pansy. It wasn’t even a woman. She looked up and her eyes locked with the beautiful grey of Draco’s eyes. She closed her eyes and breathed in the soft, sandalwood scent of him. She felt him step closer. Her eyes shot open, and she reflexively stepped back.

“Hermione.” Her name was barely a whisper, a question and a plea.

“What are you doing here?” she told her stupid heart to stop beating so fast, to stop hoping for anything. Hope was only going to lead to more pain.

“Can I come inside?”

She looked up into his face, open and hopeful, but with a sadness behind it. She chewed her bottom lip. This wasn’t a great idea, she knew that. She knew she was opening herself back up to pain, opening up a wound that had barely started to heal. But hadn’t she just wished he could be here with her? She found herself nodding anyway, stepping back to let him into her house.

He reached out for her, and she shook her head. She might be willing to let him into her space again, but she wasn’t ready for him to touch her. The feel of his skin on hers would ruin any progress she had made in getting over him. She wasn’t that much of a masochist.

Something like hurt flickered over Draco’s face for a moment but was gone, replaced by a hesitant smile.

“Draco, what are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you. I’ve missed you.”

She groaned and moved to sit on the couch, holding a pillow to her chest like a shield, trying to protect herself from everything she was feeling. “I can’t do this, Draco. You left. You can’t just walk back in whenever you want.”

Draco sat on the opposite side of the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible. Part of her wanted to move further away, but another part of her was begging him to close the space. She told that part to shut up.

“I left because that’s what you wanted. You told me to leave.”

She exhaled and looked away.

“I’m here now, Hermione, because I didn’t want to leave. I want to be here, with you.”

She looked back at him, eyes narrowed, trying to discern what he meant. What the truth was.

He noticed the book sitting on the couch between them, and his mouth quirked into a smile. “Did you read my book?”

She huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah, I just finished.”

His smile widened. “What did you think?”

What did she think? What could she say that wouldn’t feel like cracking her chest open and showing him all of her? “I think I’ll actually stock this one in the store.”

Draco’s eyes widened; clearly, that was not what he had expected to hear. She had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling.

“The dedication was… nice too. I guess.” She looked away to hide the flush on her cheeks. The couch shifted slightly as Draco inched closer, barely, testing to gauge her reaction. “I wasn’t going to read it. Luna told me to.”

His mouth quirked at the corner. “I know. I told her to make you read it.” He shifted a little closer. “I know how stubborn you can be.”

She turned to scoff at him and realized there was only a foot between them now. Her traitorous body tried to lean closer to his warmth.

“Why’d you push me away, Hermione? What happened? I don’t believe it was really about the money.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. Maybe this would be good for them, for her. Closure. Clear the air, and then they could both move on with their lives. “I was scared. Everyone leaves. You were going to leave me. I guess I wanted some kind of control over the situation.”

His hand twitched toward hers; he hesitated but then decided to risk it and grab her hand. A shudder moved through her body, but she didn’t pull away. She let him intertwine their fingers together, his thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand. The familiarity of it made tears prick at the corners of her eyes. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest for the past month had finally lifted, and she could take a full breath again.

This didn’t feel like closure. It felt like coming home.

“Hermione, I’m not going anywhere. I will never hurt you.”

Her tears started to fall when her eyes met his. Draco wiped them away and pressed his forehead to hers. She didn’t pull away. She wanted so desperately to believe what he was saying, to hear it as truth.

“How can you say that?”

He pulled away with a mischievous look on his face. “I have something to show you. Come on.” He pulled her up off the couch with him.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I want to prove to you that I’m here with you, until you don’t want me anymore.”

That would never happen.

Chapter Text

They walked hand in hand down the dark streets. With summer over, few people were out in the evening anymore, and even fewer at night. It was always a weird adjustment, even after a lifetime of it. But the quiet, local’s summer was always Hermione’s favorite time of year—when it was still warm, but the streets weren’t packed with tourists and the beaches were quiet.

“Where are we going?” she asked. They were walking down familiar streets, but she had no idea what Draco could have to show her here. How there could be anything to prove that he wasn’t going to leave and hurt her.

“You’ll see,” Draco said with a laugh.

They turned down a street incredibly familiar to Hermione, one that brought back the few bittersweet memories of her early childhood, before her dad left, when her family had been complete and happy.

“Draco, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer but stopped in front of a house—her house, or rather her childhood house, the house they had had to move out of when her dad left because her mom couldn’t afford it on her own. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She shook her head, confused. “Draco. What are we doing here?”

Draco had walked past it once before, and she had told him about it in passing, how sad it made her to know it would never be hers again. Tears began gathering in her eyes.

“I told you, I’m not leaving.”

“Okay… and how does showing me my old house prove that?” Anger slipped into her voice. She felt stupid, hurt, and stupid.

“I bought it.”

“Is that a joke?”

“That would be a really terrible joke, Hermione.”

Her body felt like it was buzzing. “I don’t understand. You don’t live here.”

“I do now.”

Her brows knit together. “But why?”

“Because I want to be here with you. I want to live here with you.”

She whipped around to face him. “You want me to move in with you?”

“Yes.” Draco’s face was open and honest, not a hint of humor. Hermione still didn’t quite believe or understand what was happening.

“But why?” she asked one more time.

Draco looked at her like she was missing something completely obvious to the rest of the world. “Because I love you.”

“What?”

“I. Love. You.”

She didn’t hesitate. She sprang forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and smashed her lips to his. Draco’s body locked up with surprise at first, but he immediately gripped her tight and deepened the kiss. One hand threaded through her hair, the other rested on her back, pulling her as close as possible. His tongue swept across her lips, and she parted them with a sigh. She wanted this moment to last forever.

But then she realized she had forgotten something. She pulled back with a start, holding Draco’s face in her hands and looking up into the swirling colors of his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Draco smiled, both dimples showing, before pulling her back against him.

Chapter Text

7 Months Later

“You know we sell more books than just yours, right?”

Draco looked at Hermione with feigned confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve heard you recommend your book to at least four people already today.”

“Okay, but this time it really was the best option for what they were looking for!”

“And what about the poor girl that wanted a beachy romance?”

“My book has romance!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s okay because I’m your best salesman.”

“It’s kind of hard to say no when you’re showing people your picture on the back of the book.”

Draco tipped his head back and laughed loudly. “It’s really a great sales tactic.”

Hermione just shook her head and went back to checking their online sales. She needed to print out tracking labels and pull the books from the shelves before heading home. It had been so busy that she’d considered closing the online store for the summer season—it took more time than she had to package and ship all the orders. Draco had convinced her to give it a couple of weeks to see how it went, though. If sales stayed this high, she might be able to hire someone to handle shipping. That would be ideal, but she was still hesitant to bring in a new employee.

Even with the store doing so well, Hermione worried that it could all be ripped away at any moment. That there was no way being ahead on the loan payments could last forever. But sales only increased, with the near-constant promotion by famous author Draco. He’d also managed to get several of his author friends to do events at the shop, which brought in a lot of business during the off-season.

It was hard to believe that this time last summer, she had thought she would be shutting the doors on the shop forever.

“I’m going to head home to write. You good here?” Draco’s arms wrapped around her, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Yeah, I’m just going to work on getting some orders boxed up before closing.”

“Don’t stay too late. And seriously, think about hiring someone. You work too hard.”

She pushed him toward the door. “Hmm, I’ll think about it. I won’t be long. Should I pick up something for dinner?”

Draco’s face split into a mischievous grin. “No need. I’ve got it handled.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as he walked out the door. She didn’t know what he was up to, but that look never meant anything good.

She was stacking up the boxes by the back door to take to the post office tomorrow when the bells on the door rang. She turned to tell the person they were closed but was interrupted by a screeching voice.

“HER. MI. OH. NEE!”

Her face lit up into a smile. Luna.

“The prodigal daughter returns!” Hermione teased, pulling her into a bear hug. Luna rolled her eyes but didn’t try too hard to stop her. “I thought you weren’t coming home this summer.”

“Yeah, well I decided I didn’t want to miss Memorial Day here. So I’m here for the weekend.”

“Come on, I’m just heading out, walk with me?” Luna nodded. “How’s the internship going?”

“It’s incredible.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’m having so much fun. I really need to thank Draco for the contact at his publisher.”

“He’s home now, you can come in.”

Luna gave her a weird look. “Um, definitely not going to do that.”

Hermione’s brows knit together. “Why not?”

“Isn’t it your anniversary? I’m not interrupting that. I think Draco would actually murder me.”

“What are you talking about? It’s not our—” Her mouth dropped open, and she froze. She had totally forgotten. A year ago today, Draco had laughed at her as she covered her porch with marinara sauce. She had completely forgotten.

“I think it’s bad that I remembered and you didn’t.”

“How did you even know about that?”

Luna waved her hands around noncommittally.

“Were you sent to retrieve me? Never mind, don’t answer that.” Hermione shook her head and let out a sigh. Luna just laughed and pulled her to start walking again.

“Have a good night.” Luna winked at her when she left Hermione at her front porch.

Hermione looked up at her childhood home, a house she had never thought she would get to live in again. Her life had really taken an unexpected turn last year.

She walked inside, expecting to find Draco waiting impatiently at the door for her. But he wasn’t there. She looked around the living area and couldn’t find him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, and there was no food cooking or ready on the table.

“Huh.” Where could he be? “Draco?” she called through the house.

“Up here!”

She followed his voice up the stairs toward their room. She paused and felt the carving of her initials she had made in the banister before they moved out.

As she walked into their room, she was met with the soothing smell of eucalyptus. The bathroom was covered in candles and filled with steam from the filled bathtub. Draco had set up a TV dinner tray next to the tub with her favorite Thai takeout.

“What’s all this?” she asked, smiling.

“I told you, you’re working too hard.” Draco kissed her lightly on the lips before pulling her toward the bath.

She let him undress her and step into the hot bath. Sighing, her muscles instantly started to relax. Draco turned to walk away, but she grabbed his hand. “Are you not getting in?”

He smiled and shook his head. She frowned at him. “You’ve been working just as hard as me. You deserve a break too.”

Draco knelt down to kiss her again, more deeply this time. She smiled into his lips.

“Just let me take care of you, Hermione.”

She pulled away slightly to look into the swirling colors of his eyes and decided to let him.