Late Blooms | Draco Malfoy

Chapter 2

A few days later at the same place, the familiar bell above the door of the café chimed as I stepped inside, greeted by the comforting blend of coffee and freshly baked pastries. However, my usual spot by the window was taken, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw who was sitting there. The same platinum blonde man from my previous visit. He was sipping his brew, lost in thought, his aristocratic features softened by the gentle light filtering through the window.

With a slight nod to myself, I chose a table across from him, setting down my coat and pulling out the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. Yes, I brought a newspaper from the wizarding world. I looked around to see no one was looking and unfolded the paper, revealing the enchanted photographs and bold headlines. After some time passed by, I absentmindedly held the paper up to see the writings clearly. I was reading the paper by looking down under the table most of the time lest people noticing though the cafe was again quiet and very few people were present, sitting far away from the tables that were occupied my me. Just then, I felt a pair of eyes on me.

Glancing up, I caught his gaze. His gray eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through them as they landed on the paper. I quickly folded the paper but it seemed like it was too late. A small, knowing smile played on his lips before he quickly composed himself, returning to his coffee. That's when I realized he looked very familiar. Someone my path never crossed with but somewhat knew who he was. But I could be wrong.

I got up from my seat, grabbing my coat and the newspaper, approaching the counter to pay. Reaching into my pockets for the muggle money, I was surprised when Alaena shook her head with a smile.

"Your order has already been paid for."

Confused, I glanced around the cafe, my eyes landing on him. He was watching me, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place. He raised his cup in a silent toast, acknowledging the unspoken connection between us. I couldn't help but feel myself blush at his doings.

Intrigued and slightly awkward, I walked over to his table.

"Thank you." I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.

He inclined his head slightly, a trace of a smile on his lips.

"It's a pleasure to meet a witch in the muggle world." He replied, his voice smooth and carrying a hint of his refined upbringing. "If you wouldn't mind, take a seat. I'd like to know what brings you here in this specific place."

I took a seat opposite him, my Daily Prophet still in hand. I looked behind to see if anyone was looking. Seeing everyone was busy doing their own things, I flicked my hand, making the newspaper disappear.

"I almost thought a muggle caught me." I laughed lightly. He simply smirked as the waitress came and took the empty cup from the table.

"Thankfully, not a muggle saw that." He replied, extending his hand to me. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy.

The name whispered through my mind, conjuring images of old stories and whispered rumors. He moved with a grace that belied his age, his piercing gray eyes looking at me.

"Y/N Highborn." I shook his hand, a warm smile lingering on my face while my cheeks tingled.

"Highborn." He repeated my surname. "Sounds vaguely familiar. Do I know you?"

"I do not think so, Mr. Malfoy." I answered. "We haven't met but I do know you."

His expression faltered, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. He sighed, looking down.

"I suppose you know all the stories then." He murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "The world sees me as a villain, but... I'm not that person. Not really. Not that my words could change your mind-"

I shook my head, meeting his gaze firmly.

"I don't see you as a bad person at all."

His eyes flickered with surprise, and he leaned forward slightly, intrigued.

"Why? Everyone else does. Why don't you? Did you know I was a Death Eater?"

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully.

"I know everything. Actually I know more about the past than I should probably know. And I don't see you as a villain because I believe people can change. I've read about your past, yes, but I also know about the choices you made during the war, the difficult ones. You were under immense pressure, forced into situations beyond your control. Yet, you didn't become a monster. You hesitated, you questioned, and in the end, you chose not to kill. That matters."

Draco's gaze softened, and he listened intently as I continued.

"Everyone makes mistakes, especially when they're young. What's important is how you grow from them, and you've shown that you can. The fact that you're here, trying to live a normal life, speaks volumes. It shows strength and a desire to move past the darkness. That's not something a true villain would do."

A faint, genuine smile tugged at Draco's lips.

"You're quite perceptive." He said, his voice filled with a newfound respect. "It's rare to find someone who sees beyond the surface, who looks deeper."

I returned his smile, feeling a warm connection forming between us.

"We all have our struggles and our pasts. What matters is who we choose to be now."

Draco nodded, the disappointment in his eyes replaced by a spark of hope and interest.

"You're right." He said thoughtfully. "Thank you for seeing me for who I am, not just who I was."

As the conversation continued, he went on sharing about how his life had been after the war while I listened. How he was still forced into marrying someone he never even met before just for duty and how he was left with a son to raise alone from his late wife. Blood curses were cruel. I comforted him with my words as much as I could and it seemed like he was doing much better now that his son is only two years away from finishing Hogwarts.

In the midst of him talking about his son, I recalled my days serving as a Potions Professor there. After a brief year, I decided to resign because teaching students weren't my thing. The effort that I had to put was too much pressure. My social anxiety level hightened and I couldn't pull myself out of being felt judged. My confidence and patience was weakened. I struggled to be a good professor that they needed.

I decided not to speak of it to him lest interrupting his rambling which I didn't mind at all. I was actually enjoying him venting to me. I was touched and honored that he felt like he could talk about those things to me even though we had just met.