Chapter 1
The migraine pressing against his temples was making it very difficult to focus on the deposition currently glaring up at him from its place at the center of his desk. It was another gloomy day in France, freezing rain smacked his window in heavy pelts. He’d agreed to move to Paris for a year in hopes of getting the Malfoy enterprise back on track on this side of the world, on account of his father being banned from leaving Wizarding London after the war . He’d never imagined the place praised for its nature of romanticism and whimsy would be so…
Depressing.
His social life wasn’t exactly spilling over in London, but he had a few close friends, his family, and the .1 percent of the population that didn’t despise him for his past choices and his part in the war. Here he mainly dealt with muggles, a shocking choice Lucius had made after realizing how much money working outside of the Wizarding world would bring. And while the muggles were much less prejudicial and fully unaware of his status as an ex death eater, it was lonelier here, colder.
His mother was consistent in sending boxes and boxes of magical treats and gifts from home. “Care packages” she’d called them in one of her millions of letters she sent. He was currently doing his very best not to touch the gold dusted croissants shed packed up for him this morning surrounded by various cookies and scones. These were his favorite packages, once a week he’d receive a magically warmed box of baked goods sent by his mother alongside a three page letter detailing the incredible new bakery just opened up in Diagon alley.
His hand was hovering over a treacle tart when his muggle cellphone went off with a text. He’d been hesitant to buy one of the talking texting little machines but now he was certain he couldn’t live without it. You could read actual books all on a tiny little screen, and google.. Merlin’s above, google was everything.
The laugh that rumbled out of him was a cross between shocked and genuinely amused.
Hermione Granger was currently texting him in his little muggle phone box. The Golden girl, brightest witch of her age, and apparently the owner of the newest bakery in Diagon Alley. That was shocking, when he left London last year she was tied up in a Ministry job working her way up to lead Auror beside Potter. Now she owned a bakery and was making special deliveries to his mother every week?
His stomach swooped when another text message came through.
How very professional she was. A business owner, Hermione Granger elbow deep in butter and sugar and flour. Those gorgeous, wild curls seeped in the scent of brown sugar and vanilla. The groan that left his lips was entirely involuntary.
That was mortifying. Violently embarrasing , the kind of embarrasing to turn his cheeks red and make his skin tingle. He should have known his mother would be campaigning to find him a wife while he was hundreds of miles away, she was desperate for him to marry. He figured she wanted a fresh start, the chance to throw a wedding, to have a daughter just as she’s always wanted.
He was just about to apologize for his mother using her bakery as a matchmaking service and hocking her clients when his phone dings again
Of course she wouldn’t. He’s not naive enough to think time and distance would mend the pain he’s caused her.
His heart sped up dangerously fast, he wasn’t sure what she was implying but texting her alone had felt like being splashed with cold water on a hot day. His nerves felt like electricity at the promise of something intimate, something deep. A secret for both of them.
His office phone has been ringing off the hook for the last ten minutes but Dumbledore himself could be calling from beyond and he still wouldn’t leave this cell phone. He hadn’t planned to share so much but her confidence, it was addictive.
He didn’t know this Hermione, the bold, free and confident woman.
Merlin, one conversation with her and he was just as weak kneed as he was at 15 when she walked down the corridor in that gauzy flowy gown for the Yule ball. He’d always been enamored by her, kept hidden by bigotry and prejudice drilled into him by his father. But there was no hiding his obsession. And this new version of Hermione? Soft, sweet and witty. His very favorite sparring partner and his dream all in one. And how had he gotten this lucky? She should never have spoken to him again, not after what his family had put her through during the war. What HE had put her through all of her formative years. But that had always been Hermione Granger hadnt it? Forgiving and warm and a bloody perfect know it all.
