Aroura

Coffee

It had been two days since Draco had accidentally met Lyra at the boutique. Since then, his thoughts had been consumed by the little girl who had looked at him with such curiosity, and the burning question that had been plaguing his mind: Could she really be his daughter? The idea had shaken him to his core.

He hadn't seen Hermione since that encounter, and, truth be told, he wasn't sure if he should try to contact her. He didn't want to seem too eager or intrusive, but the need to know was gnawing at him. He had tried to dismiss the thought—perhaps it was all a coincidence, a fleeting connection—but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

On the morning of the third day after their accidental meeting, Draco found himself wandering the streets of London, lost in his thoughts, aimlessly walking with no destination in mind. He had never been much for wandering, but today, it felt like the only thing that made sense. He passed familiar sights, streets and cafes that once held memories of his younger years. It was as if the city itself was trying to pull him back into his past, into a world he had long since buried.

That was when he saw it—a small, quiet café tucked on the corner of Diagon Alley. It was one of those places that wasn't particularly popular, but offered the kind of peace and solitude that Draco found he craved. The soft murmur of conversations from inside the café mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and for a moment, it felt like the perfect escape. Without thinking, Draco pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, and Draco's eyes scanned the room. It was quiet, the kind of place where people came to escape the rush of the city. He was about to walk to the counter when he stopped dead in his tracks.There, sitting at a small table near the window, was Hermione Granger.

She was sitting with her back to the door, her dark curls pulled back in a simple ponytail. A steaming mug of coffee sat in front of her, and her eyes were focused on the notebook in front of her as she scribbled something down. Draco's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, a feeling he hadn't quite been able to shake since their last encounter. For a moment, it felt as though time had stopped. The years between them seemed to vanish, and in that instant, she was the same Hermione he had known—the one he had loved, the one he had lost.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do. Should he walk away and pretend this was just a coincidence? Or should he approach her and try to make sense of the mess they had both left behind? He knew one thing for sure: he couldn't just walk away. Not now, not with everything hanging in the balance.

Before he could make up his mind, Hermione looked up from her notebook and caught sight of him standing by the door. Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a split second, Draco saw a flicker of recognition, followed by something else—uncertainty, maybe even wariness.

"Draco," she said, her voice soft, almost tentative. "What a surprise."He offered a small, awkward smile. "I could say the same to you."Hermione gestured to the empty chair across from her. "Please, sit down. I wasn't expecting to see you here, but... it's nice to run into you again."

Draco hesitated, but then decided it was better to go with the flow than remain standing like some awkward stranger. He pulled out the chair and sat across from her, feeling the familiar tension in the air, the undercurrent of things left unsaid. The years had passed, but it was clear that the weight of their shared history still lingered between them.

"So, how have you been?" Hermione asked, her voice polite but edged with caution.Draco leaned back in his chair, studying her. He had never been good at small talk, but today, the words seemed especially elusive. "I've been... well. It's been an interesting few years, to say the least." He paused, unsure how much to say. The truth was, he had been so caught up in his own life after the divorce that he hadn't thought much about what had happened between them. Until now.

"Divorce?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.

Draco's lips twitched. "Yes. It didn't end the way I thought it would. But you don't need to hear about all that. You're probably doing better than I am." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "What about you, Hermione? How have you been? Really."

Hermione paused for a moment, considering his question. She wasn't quite sure what to say either. It wasn't like they had kept in touch, and she certainly wasn't expecting Draco to show up in her life again, not like this.

"I'm well," she said, finally offering a soft smile. "I'm back in London for the reunion, as you know, and... well, life's been good. I've been keeping busy with my children."

Draco's gaze flickered for a moment, his mind immediately returning to the little girl he had met at the boutique. "Your children?" he repeated, unsure if he had heard her right.

Hermione nodded, her expression softening as she spoke of them. "Yes, I have two now—Lyra and Sorpious. They're five years old."

At the mention of her children, Draco's heart skipped a beat. Lyra. Sorpious. The names echoed in his mind like a distant memory.

He had to ask. There was no way around it. "Lyra... and Sorpious," he said, his voice faltering slightly. "What are they like?"

Hermione's eyes lit up as she spoke about her children, her motherly love apparent in the way she described them. 

"Lyra is... well, she's a little firecracker. Very curious and independent. She takes after me in a lot of ways, I think. Sorpious is more laid-back. He's kind and sweet, but very quiet. He gets that from his father." Her eyes darkened slightly at the mention of their father, but she quickly masked it, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

Draco's mind raced as she spoke, his thoughts bouncing between the present and the past. There was something about the way Hermione spoke about her children that felt familiar. But it wasn't just the fact that they were her children. No. It was the way Lyra had looked at him—like she knew him. Had she known him?

Unable to keep the question inside any longer, Draco leaned forward, his voice quieter now. "Hermione... is there something you're not telling me?"

Hermione's gaze flickered nervously, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though deciding whether or not to speak the truth. "What do you mean?"

Draco's eyes searched hers, his heart hammering in his chest. "The way Lyra looked at me... she seemed so familiar. Almost like she recognized me. I'm not stupid, Hermione. I've been wondering since we met the other day..." He trailed off, his voice growing quieter. "Is Lyra mine?"

The question hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. Hermione froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had hoped this moment wouldn't come, but there it was. Draco was asking about Lyra—about his daughter.

She hadn't been prepared to tell him yet, but the question had come so directly, and the weight of it was impossible to ignore. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"Draco," she began slowly, her voice steady but soft, "there's a lot you don't know. A lot that I didn't want to tell you at the time. Lyra... she is yours. She's your daughter."

The words hung between them, and Draco sat back, stunned. His mind whirled, trying to comprehend the enormity of what Hermione had just said.

His daughter.

He didn't know what to say, or how to react. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, and for the first time in years, he felt something he hadn't expected—regret. Deep, profound regret.

He could barely breathe. He had a daughter.

"And Scorpius is your so-"

"I HAVE A SON??!?!?" Draco shouted 

"yes" that was all Hermione replied