Spilt Wine

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Draco sat in the little cafe by the river, earbuds blaring a song at him, the little notebook laid out on the table, when Hermione walked in.

~

Draco had just finished a cup of tea, when Hermione walked in.

~

Draco waited in line to order, mobile phone in hand ready to read off Hermione's request to the barista, when Hermione walked in.

~

Draco walked in, and Hermione waved over at him from their seat in the window.

He pulled the earbuds out of his ears when he saw her, hit pause on the MP3 player and tucked it away into his pocket, and joined her at the table, foregoing the little line at the counter when he saw she'd ordered for him, and a steaming coffee sat waiting for him.

"I was sensing it was a cappuccino sort of day," she said, rising out of her seat just slightly to meet him in a halfway hug, Rose cradled in the crook of her elbow. "Was I right?"

He smiled – a great big goofy smile – as he removed his coat, hanging it over the back of the chair as he sat down across from her. She was already nursing at her mocha.

"You clairvoyant now, Granger?"

She hummed.

"The limescale in my kettle just really spoke to me this morning."

Draco took to plucking sugar cubes for the glass jar in the middle of the table as he watched her, smirking back at him from across the table, her own mug held aloft as she too watched him. They watched; waited.

He let the three cubes sink into the drink for a moment, before folding in the gentle cocoa powder dusting into the rest of the coffee with his teaspoon before taking a sip.

"Interesting technique." He smiled, licked at the foam that grazed his top lip and said, "You know what the limescale tells me, Hermione?"

Hermione threw her eyebrows up. She had several loose curls hanging around her face and falling into her eyes that day. "What?" She drank from her own cup.

"That it's time to buy some descaler." He let the words fall heavily, tongue pressed to the front of his teeth as he stifled a laugh at his own joke. But he couldn't quite help it, still felt his chest huff as an inaudible chuckle escaped him.

Hermione sighed, let her head loll back as she swung against the chair, shoulders rattling as she shook her head and muttered a quiet little, "Muggle."

She huffed a short little burst f air out of her mouth as she straightened in her seat, before smiling down into her coffee, teeth chewing on the inside of her mouth.

"You know," she said, still just staring down into her drink, "I used to bloody loathe Divination."

"Oh, I know–" He scoffed, cut short by the glare she'd shot up at him so quickly.

"I used to bloody loathe Divination," she repeated, head cocked gently to the side as she spoke, her glare a mere ghost of a whisper on her face. He thought, maybe, she was sad for a moment, the way her brow rested so firmly in place, unwavering as her eyes danced gently beneath her eyelashes, but beneath it all she was smirking, cheeks pulled taught as the corners of her mouth quivered before she spoke, "But maybe if Trelawney had just told me that one day Draco Malfoy would be telling me to buy descaler for my kettle , I'd be a believer."

He scoffed, "That's bullshit."

"Oh absolutely." She shrugged, threw herself upright and continued to drink. "I'd have been smashing crystal balls left, right, and centre."

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