Draco Black grew up in a small muggle village with more sheep than people. A hedge with a garden door that did not latch separated his backyard from his Aunt and Uncle’s garden. Draco spent his childhood outside tinkering with muggle cars in his Uncle Ted’s garage, catching lighting bugs in his mother’s garden, and playing knights and dragons with his cousin Dora.
Behind well-warded windows and doors, Draco watched his Aunt and Mother run their basement Apothecary business. Draco would sit on the counter and watch as his mother lovingly packaged up brews and place them in a cupboard that magically transported them to their storefront in Diagon Alley. The Hebridean Apothecary was named for the sheep that nibbled on his mother’s turnips in the winter (and that his mother and aunt were undoubtedly the black sheep of their pureblood family). They had a quiet and steady business that had even gathered the attention of some of the bigger pureblood families---the current Lady Malfoy swore by his mother’s nighttime facial cream.
Draco never knew his father, but he was well-loved and felt irrevocable magic flow through all parts of his wizarding and muggle existence. He could never imagine living without access to muggle comic books or watching Dora change her nose to a rabbit’s in protest of the health cleanse his mother had put them all on for a month. “Best of both worlds, I reckon,” his Uncle Ted had told him when he managed to turn his hatchback invisible. Draco thought he couldn’t be more right.
✧✧✧
Hermione Grange grew up in a neat townhome, a few streets from Diagon Alley. Her father had claimed the location was a compromise as it was close to both her parent’s places of work. Her mother would also scoff good naturally and remind him that he could disappear at a moment’s notice (this routine always seemed to get a large chuckle from her parents’ half-blood friends at parties). Her parents had met when her father had wished to learn more about muggle dentistry for his work at St. Mungo’s, and he had booked more than the appropriate number of dental visits in six months. He claimed it was because of science they fell in love with, and her mother claimed it was actually his impeccable gum health (another joke that got many laughs at those same dinner parties).
Hermione Granger was the daughter of two brilliant people, so it was to no one’s surprise that she was a sponge for information from every corner of the muggle and wizarding worlds. She spent her childhood visiting wizarding libraries and muggle museums. Hermione attended muggle primary school, and her father and grandparents tutored her on the weekends. The paint of her pale blue bedroom was barely visible behind all the stacks of books and bookshelves.
Her father would often brag to his colleges that they raised the most well-rounded witch of her generation. Hermione would blush at his praise, but she couldn’t imagine another life where she didn’t have access to all the knowledge in the world (there simply wouldn’t be enough books to read).
✧✧✧
Hermione Granger and Draco Black entered the Hogwart’s Express within 15 minutes of each other. Draco was precisely on time, while Hermione insisted on being early to secure a seat with a view. Neither is surprised by the invisible barrier to platform nine ¾ or at the sights of owls in cages on top of trunks.
It is not the first time they have been in the same place. At age eight, Hermione had gone with her father to The Hebridean Apothecary and asked the shopkeeper’s son why on earth an Apothocary shop would be named after a sheep. The boy had looked at her and told her it was because they were literally Black Sheep, and Hermione informed him he must mean figuratively. (It was an incident that neither remembered but Narcissa Black enjoyed pointing out years later during a rather important toast.)
Hermione and Draco rode the train for the first time in different cars and took in the sight of Hogwarts from different rowboats. Both their sortings took approximately six minutes, enough to be considered among the hat stalls of their years. Both their ties turn blue, but Hermione made a beeline for the only girl at the table. It’s funny how friendship can be solidified by whom you sit next to on the first day. Hermione and Cho Chang become an inseparable force. Draco took longer to warm up to classmates but found the Slytherin Theodore Nott through a series of shared projects over that first year.
Hermione and Draco make polite small talk for the next seven years, play shared common room games, and both help Ravenclaw win the House Cup four out of their seven years at Hogwarts. They are classmates, and it would be silly to assume they have any shared history at all. They often jostle for the top spot in their year, and they take turns being distracted by things other than school. Hermione had her societies, and Draco enjoyed his position as a chaser on the school team.
When the library is crowded, they sometimes share a table in the back.
This is standard practice for the Ranvenclaw’s in their year and nothing unusual, of course.
Hermione pretends not to notice how Draco Balck’s eyes are bluer than his tie in those quiet moments with just the two of them. Draco pretends not to be enchanted with how Hermione’s whole face lights up when she solves a particularly tricky Ancient Rune’s problem.
They graduate and toast their classmates in a final drink in the Ravenclaw common room. Neither expects to see the other again and honestly, they have more exciting summer plans on their minds. Draco is going to Greece with his family and Hermione to Italy with Cho. Despite their careful planning, neither is sure where they want to land now that school is done. So they exchange one last polite goodbye, pack their trunks, and leave.
✧✧✧
Draco Black nearly dropped his giant stack of engineering books at the sight of the familiar curly brown-haired woman sitting at his table in the back of the Oxford Library. Draco is twenty-two and a semester away from finishing his muggle engineer degree. It’s almost the end of the semester, and he had been armed with enough sustenance and reading material to occupy his usual spot tucked in the back of the library or hours. He prefers the isolation and the view of the gardens outside the window.
“Granger,” he said in surprise before he could stop himself. His deep voice cut painfully through the quiet of the library, disrupting the hundreds of books resting on the shelves.
Granger looked up sharply from her open book while simultaneously knocking over her coffee cup on the well-worn table. Draco quickly looked around before slipping his wand out of the sleeve and wordlessly cleaning up the puddle before it could do any damage. Hermione looks relieved and maybe a little impressed at the wordless magic. His mother had taken the time to teach him some wordless spells to use at university amongst the muggles, and Draco thought he was becoming rather proficient.
“What are you doing here, Black?” Granger asked, sounding a little breathless. Draco set his belongings on the edge of the table and sat down. He cast another wordless Muffilato spell on their corner before answering.
“I’m a student here, have been since graduation. How did you find your way to my library table?” he told her, leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk on his face. It was never easy to disarm Hermione Granger, and Draco found her rather pretty with flustered cheeks in her muggle overalls. Her wand is twisted up in her hair, cleverly hiding its presence.
“I hardly think you can own a library table, Black. If you must know, I’ve been taking a few chemistry classes this semester,” Hermione scolded him with a wrinkled nose. Draco chuckled at her indignation.
“What are the Chemistry classes for?” Draco asked her, genuinely curious.
“I did a fair amount of traveling after graduation while I tried to figure out what sort of discipline to pursue. I fell in love with visiting Apothacaries abroad, and I’m trying for an apprenticeship now that I’m home. I thought that the muggle classes might make me a more well-rounded candidate. I’ve found many of the potion experts I’ve applied to be pureblood snobs and unfavorable toward women,” Hermione informed him with a slight eye-roll.
“Science-based disciplines both muggle and magical both seem to fall into similar patterns then. My mother and Aunt had a hell of a time starting their shop and keeping it competitive,” Draco told her sympathetically.
“I’ve actually read a fair bit about them both, the past few months. Their work is absolutely extraordinary,” Hermione told him earnestly. Draco smiled at her fully; his mother had never ceased to amaze him.
“She’s inspired me to open my own business after graduation in the spring. I only hope it’s half as successful as the Apothecary,” Draco told her blushing, he did not usually share his dream with strangers.
“What sort of business?” Hermione asked him with interest.
“My Uncle and I are planning to open a shop that converts muggle inventions into magical ones. I grew up tinkering with muggle cars in his garage, and I’m almost done with my engineering degree. We’re planning to roll out a series of phones and stereos and hopefully move onto cars and larger appliances,” Draco explained.
“That’s brilliant. It amazed me at Hogwarts how detached some people are from the muggle world,” Hermione complimented him. Draco felt his pale face darken in embarrassment and pride.
“I agree, we figure it might not be the most alluring shop for purebloods, but there’s plenty of half-bloods and muggleborns who would benefit. I have my final exams coming up soon,” Draco concluded. Hermione looked down at her open book.
“Your welcome to join me while you study at my table,” she told him a little wickedly.
“I wouldn’t want the table to be lonely, Granger,” he told her coyly.
It was easy to study with Granger. It always had been, but maybe now he found himself more aware of her presence and the comfort she bought to the cramped space. They stayed late into the night, and Draco offered to walk her to the spot she usually apparated from after. The night was chilly, and both kept their hands squarely in their pockets as they walked down the sidewalk in easy silence.
“You should write my mother, Granger,” Draco said thoughtfully, his breaths coming out in puffs of smoke.
“Why?” Hermione replied.
“She’s never taken an apprentice before, but if anyone were able to convenience her to, it would be you,” Draco told her confidently. Hermione paused in walking and bit her lip.
“I wouldn’t want you to say anything. I want to get a position on my own merit,” she told him earnestly.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Granger,” Draco told her, smirking.
“I’ll think about it then, Black,” Hermione turned toward the large oak tree she usually disappeared behind.
“I’ll see you around?” she asked him with uncertainty.
“You bet, Granger.” Hermione looked at him with a huge smile that left butterflies in Draco’s stomach long after she disappeared into the chilly night air.
✧✧✧
Hermione Granger carefully measured the fly wings onto the baking scale using ancient dragon bone tweezers that clashed with the muggle kitchen appliance. Hermione was two months shy of her twenty-third birthday and five months into her apprenticeship with Narcissa and Androdema Black. The Black sisters had the cheeriest lab of any that Hermione had set foot in during her travels. Hermione had been surprised by all of the muggle goods strewn around the space, mixing bowls, wooden spoons, and neat leather aprons instead of floor-length robes. Andromeda had sated her curiosity and explained that they inherited a great deal from her husband’s Ted’s mother when they initially started the business. She owned a muggle bakery during her youth. The Black sisters found that the muggle measurement “0.75 g of flies’ wings” led to far more accurate potions than the traditional “seven flies’ wings of medium size”.
Hermione sat behind the shop's counter, preparing dry ingredients for the brew they were tackling this weekend. The potion was one of the sisters’ recipes hoping to aid in hearing loss and would be brewed under the open air under the fool moon this weekend. Narcissa stood at the counter, going over the ledger. Hermione was blown away by Draco’s mother. The woman had almost immediately accepted her application and quickly turned from mentor to almost a friend as she helped Hermoine navigate the tricky climate of potion-making. Narcissa had her blonde hair chopped into a rather elegant long bob with gentle ringlets at the end and wore a sleek silk green pantsuit. Hermione had found herself trying to mimic even a quarter of the grace the older woman carried.
The bell chimed at the door, and Hermione let out a wide grin at the man who appeared. Her Defence Professor had barely changed from Hogwarts though Hermione had made the quiet observation that his monthly visits for the wolfsbane potion had him looking more sharply dressed than she remembered from her Hogwart’s days. Hermione abandoned her counting and came over to the counter with a big smile on her face.
“Professor Lupin!” she greeted him with a big grin.
“I think Remus is just fine now, Hermione,” the older man told her somewhat sheepishly, putting a hand behind his neck in embarrassment.
“How is your apprenticeship coming?” he asked her politely as he looked at Narcissa behind the cash register out of the corner of his eye.
“Hermione has proved to be an apt pupil. We’re very proud to pass our legacy onto her,” Narcissa complimented her. Hermione blushed at the praise.
“I’ll grab your potion Prof-Remus,” Hermione informed him. She disappeared into the back room and took her time to gather his vials. She kept a nosey ear out and listened to the muffled conversation. They sent instead unmalicious barbs at each other before settling into a comfortable conversation.
Hermione had noticed the looks they shared and had taken to trying to give them time alone. Andromeda had confided in her that they had a bit of a love affair in their youth that had ended when their parents had announced Narcissa’s engagement to another man without her sister’s knowledge. Hermione thought quietly that perhaps they would reconcile now that years had passed from initial hurt.
She quietly reentered the shop and put the packaged vials next to Narcissa. She returned the counter to resume her wing counting, catching how Narcissa’s voice hitched when telling him to stay safe this month. Hermione smiled knowingly into the jar of fly wings. It was hard not to silently wish the couple could get back to each other from her position behind the counter. Remus left the shop with one last long glance at Narcissa through the window as the woman returned to the ledger.
“Hermione, do you mind popping back to the lab and checking on the big batch of pepper-up potion,” Narcissa asked her softly. Hermione perked up immediately and tried not to look too pleased about the errand. It was Tuesday, and Draco would be at the garage. The grand opening of Onyx and Amethyst Market would be next month in the storefront next to his mother’s shop, and Draco had been hard at work. She had barely seen him the last month. The past year after their study sessions, she found she missed his presence more than she cared to admit out loud.
“Do you mind if I take my lunch after?” She asked Narcissa innocently. Narcissa looked at her with cool blue eyes, very much like her son’s, and Hermione did everything not to let her cheeks heat up.
“Of course, dear,” Narcissa said. Hermione walked quickly to the back room with a spring in her step.
“Make sure my son eats something as well,” the ordinarily soft-spoken woman all but shouts knowingly after her. Hermione’s whole face was on fire as she apparated to Andromeda’s garden.
Hermione spied Draco’s blonde head in the shed window but made herself check on the potion first (it’s her job, after all). She found Andromeda already bottling it, and the dark-haired woman brushes off her offer of help. Hermione found the errand suddenly suspicious as Andromeda clearly had been brewing all morning but nearly skips up the steps and back into the summer sunshine. She smoothes the edges of the skirt down and makes sure her blouse is tucked in. She’s met with the sight of Draco’s back as he fiddles over a toaster. Ted was leaning on a muggle car smoking. He put out his cigarette at her appearance and gave her a friendly grin.
“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Herbidian Apprentice,” he greeted her. Draco all but falls off his stool as she is announced. Hermione’s stomach is set ablaze at his wide grin. He’s in a tattered muggle flannel rolled up to his elbows. Hermione tried to keep her gaze on his face and not his muscular forearms.
“I’m their only apprentice,” Hermione tells Ted shyly. She knew him the least well out of Draco’s family, but it was hard not to feel comfortable around the cheerful man.
“Nonsense, Andy raves about you. They’ll never have another one after you,” Ted informed her good-naturedly.
“Draco, take this lovely young lady to lunch. I’m going to steal my wife away from her work to make sure she’s eaten,” Ted ordered his nephew playfully before heading out behind her with a chuckle.
“Do you have time?” Hermione asked him uncertainly.
“Always have time for you, Granger. Have to make sure that big brain of yours is properly fueled,” he joked.
He wiped his hands on his jeans before coming over a placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. He grabbed her hand and led her on the familiar walk to the village and the tea shop they frequent there. It’s hard not to cling desperately to his hand, and it killed her sometimes all these faint and lingering touches they shared. Hermione wanted nothing more than to push him into the bushes and kiss him senseless.
He always seemed to have a hand somewhere on her person: resting on her forearm, behind her chair in the potion lab, or resting on her waist. Hermione wondered if it was his mother’s pureblood sensibilities that caused them to move together at a glacier’s pace. She had boyfriends before him, never anything close to love, but the longer she orbits Draco Black, she wonders if he shared in her adventurous spirit or if he had been gathering dust in the library in which she found him again.
Draco is attentive as always at lunch, asking her about her work and listening with rapt attention as she explains potion proportions and brewing times. She does the same when he tells her about the modifications he’s making to the muggle toaster. And they both poke fun at the tension that hangs between his mother and their old professor. It was easy and warm between them, and Hermione pushed down the longing when he wrapped an arm around her on the way back to the garage. She promised to help him stock the following night after her shift. She kissed his cheek before apparating back to the Apothecary. Narcissa shot her knowing looks the rest of the afternoon.
The next day, Narcissa commented on the new pale yellow dress she wears under her leather apron. Hermione made similar comments when Remus returned for a pepper-up potion he forgot the day before. The two women work in comfortable silence the rest of the afternoon, seemingly coming to an impasse. Hermione checked her reflection before heading over the Draco’s shop next store. Narcissa wished her a good night with a knowing wink that made Hermione blush.
The shop is all deep mahogany wood housing with amped-up muggle appliances on their shelves. Hermione looked at the collection of muggle lightbulbs that reflect galaxies all over the space, and Draco appeared from the back carrying a box.
“Are they too much? I wasn’t sure if they were overshadowing the microwaves?” He asked her seriously. Hermione gazed fondly at the Andromeda constellation.
“They’re beautiful, Draco. Maybe some of your best work yet,” she complimented him. Draco shrugged and whispered the charm to return the lights to their typical soft orange hue.
“Andy packed us some sandwiches in the back,” he told her, gesturing to the storeroom. The muggle radio played a mixture of muggle and wizarding tunes as they ate on his workbench. He stood to her left, and Hermione sat on the wooden surface of the bench as they shared sandwiches and crisps. He pulled out some muggle beers. Hermione thought Draco looked nervous as their dinner came to a close.
“I got you something, Granger,” Draco pulled a neat velvet box and moved to stand in front of her. He handed it to and found the floor suddenly very interesting. Hermione took it from him with shaking hands and opened it. She finds a beautiful silver necklace with several tiny emeralds in the small pendant. Hermione was left speechless, and Draco filled the silence with nervous words.
“Ted said your a half-blood, so I should have just taken you muggle bar and snogged you in the alley. Mother said that was unseemly and when she was young, you were supposed to offer courtship with a familial jewel. We don’t have many jewels, but mother said this one was gifted to her by an old love. She thought it might bring us luck. I know courtship is old-fashioned, but whatever is between us is special Granger. I hope you-”
Draco’s rant was cut off by Hermione pulling on his flannel shirt and kissing him with a bruising force. Draco took a moment to respond before he kissed her back with just as much passion. When they break apart, they are smiling identical grins. Hermione lifted her hair out of the way, and Draco clasped the necklace around her neck. Stocking is forgotten, and Hermione was unsure if she’d be able to look at his work table without blushing and picturing him between her thighs, snogging her senseless. (Though as the weeks continue, they do far more than just snog on the table, one night ends with him spending even longer between her thighs as he feasts on what’s between her legs. Hermione is pretty sure they christened every surface of his office over the next year)
✧✧✧
Time continues as it does. They celebrated their second anniversary with a ring that matched her necklace. Hermione ended her apprenticeship as a member of the Black family (technically Granger-Black). She watched with pride when her Mother-in-law and new Aunt carved her name into the Apothecary sign. Draco and Hermione both pop up in academic journals and their businesses flourish. There are Christmases, Easters, and everything in between. When Hermione was pregnant with Lyra, an especially amusing Christmas ended with Remus and Narcissa trapt under the enchanted mistletoe, acknowledging buried feelings to many cheers of their family. (Hermione is fairly certain Draco’s face has never been that red before- it perfectly matches his Christmas jumper). They lay Lyra to sleep in a nursery painted blue with a mobile that projects the night sky on her ceiling. Hermione holds onto Draco’s hand around her waist. She quietly wondered if there had ever been two half-bloods that fit together as well as them and thanked all the stars on her daughter’s ceiling that they returned to each other’s orbit.