Took a deep breath in the mirror
Hermione Granger stood in front of the mirror in her small flat, carefully adjusting the navy dress she’d chosen for the evening. It was simple, flattering but understated. It was exactly what she needed—something that made her feel confident, but not flashy. She had spent the last several months trying to rebuild herself after the breakup with Ron, and this blind date was the first step in moving on. Ginny had promised the guy was different. "He’s polite, thoughtful, and maybe a little more mature than your last boyfriend," Ginny had said. Hermione had tried to listen, to believe her friend. But deep down, she wasn’t sure she was ready for another date, or another relationship.
A deep breath. A glance at herself in the mirror. She was fine. She could do this. She was Hermione Granger. Strong, capable, and ready to start fresh. Tonight, she would embrace the possibility of something new. After all, how bad could it be?
He didn’t like it when I wore high heels, but I do
Ron had always hated when she wore heels, saying they were impractical. He never understood why she liked them—why she liked the way they made her feel. Tonight, though, Hermione wore them for herself. She slipped into a pair of black pumps, admiring the way they made her feel taller, more elegant. As she looked at her reflection one last time, a small smile tugged at her lips. Tonight wasn’t about Ron, or what he wanted. Tonight was for her.
With a last check, she grabbed her coat and left her flat, feeling a little flutter in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she was walking into, but she was ready to take the first step.
Turn the lock and put my headphones on
The streets of London were quiet as Hermione walked to the café. She was anxious, the kind of nervous energy that came from having no idea what to expect. To calm herself, she slipped her headphones into her ears, pressing play on a playlist she’d curated for these moments—comforting songs that reminded her that she could get through anything. The gentle melodies of James Taylor floated into her mind, the warm sound filling her head. Ron had always hated this music. "Too slow," he’d said, "too dull." But Hermione had always loved it, finding comfort in the simplicity and depth of the lyrics. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, breathing deeply, trying to center herself.
She was moving on. She was. It was just... a bit harder than she’d anticipated.
Walked in expecting you'd be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave
When Hermione pushed open the door to the café, she immediately felt the weight of the situation. Her heart skipped as she glanced around. She expected to be the first one here, but there, in a seat by the window, was Draco Malfoy. Of all people.
At first, she couldn’t believe it. Her heart leapt into her throat. No way.
There he was—Draco Malfoy. The same boy who had mocked her relentlessly at Hogwarts, who had made her life a living hell with his insults, his arrogance. The same Draco who had been on the wrong side of history during the war. And yet here he was, sitting calmly at a table, looking... nervous? No, that couldn't be right. Nervous was not a word she ever associated with him.
Her stomach dropped, a wave of confusion and suspicion sweeping over her. Ginny had promised her this would be different. But how could this be different when the one person Hermione had never imagined dating was sitting right in front of her?
Draco noticed her then. He lifted his gaze, his pale blue eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, Hermione thought her feet might give out. He was scanning her as if he couldn’t quite believe it either. His expression softened when their eyes locked, and, almost as if by instinct, he stood up.
"Uh, Hermione?" he said hesitantly, a small, awkward smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione blinked, half in disbelief. Her first instinct was to turn and run—to leave and pretend she hadn't seen him. After everything they had been through, how could Ginny think it was a good idea to set her up with him?
He waved slightly, and Hermione noticed something in his eyes—a flicker of uncertainty. This wasn’t the Draco Malfoy she remembered. She braced herself, took a step forward, and forced herself to smile. "Draco," she managed to say, her voice sounding shakier than she intended.
I walk to you, you pull my chair out and help me in, and you don’t know how nice that is, but I do
As she approached the table, Draco stood up and smiled nervously, pushing his chair back. Hermione hesitated, wondering if this was some elaborate joke or if she had walked into a trap. But instead of the usual sneer, Draco seemed... well, unsure. It was like he was trying to make her feel comfortable, but didn’t quite know how to.
She took a cautious step forward, still processing the surreal nature of this encounter. But before she could say anything more, Draco reached out and pulled the chair out for her.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She froze for a second. Draco Malfoy was being polite. Polite? This wasn’t the Draco she had known.
He sat down across from her, watching her carefully. “I hope you don’t mind. I got here a bit early,” Draco said softly, trying to make conversation. But Hermione was still stuck on the fact that Draco Malfoy—the same arrogant, privileged Slytherin—had just pulled out her chair for her.
“You look well,” he added, his voice more sincere than she expected.
The words hung in the air. Hermione didn’t know how to respond at first. Draco Malfoy? The same Draco who had tormented her, who had been one of her worst enemies? He was being considerate? Thoughtful? It didn’t make sense.
She managed a small smile. “Thank you,” she said, still unsure what to make of the whole situation.
And you throw your head back laughing, like a little kid
As they started talking, Hermione realized just how much had changed. Draco was different. Gone was the haughty attitude. Instead, he spoke softly, almost shyly. He talked about life after the war, the changes he had undergone. Hermione was taken aback. She hadn’t expected this side of him. Not by a long shot.
And then, Draco laughed. It was a full, unrestrained laugh that filled the space between them. Hermione stared at him, completely caught off guard. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her laugh like that.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, unable to hide her amusement.
“I don’t know,” Draco said, chuckling again. “It’s just—well, you’re funny.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Me? Funny?”
Draco’s smile widened. “You’re not what I expected either. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into tonight.”
I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny, ‘cause he never did
She couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. For years, she had tried to make Ron laugh, to get him to notice the little things that made her who she was. She’d told jokes, shared moments of wit, but he’d never quite appreciated it. She had spent so much time wondering why he didn’t see her the way she wanted him to. But Draco? Draco was laughing. He was seeing her in a way no one had in a long time, and it made something inside her shift.
Her walls, built from years of disappointment, seemed to crumble just a little.
I’ve been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn, and end, but on a Wednesday in a café, I watched it begin again
She had spent the last several months thinking she was done with love. Her heart had been broken, scarred, and she had convinced herself that it wasn’t worth the pain. But sitting here, across from Draco, the weight of her past seemed to lighten. The awkwardness that had plagued her was beginning to fade, replaced by something new. Something unfamiliar.
She wasn’t sure what it was. She didn’t know if she was ready to call it love, but something about this moment felt different.
In a quiet café on a Wednesday night, Hermione Granger—who had sworn off love—felt the first spark of hope. And for the first time in a long time, she realized that maybe, just maybe, love could begin again.