Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.

who doesn't love a good ol' slow burn & pining fan fic? . After your 6th year at Hogwarts, the Weasley family invites you to spend the summer at their house. A long-harbored crush on your best friend Ron proves to make your summer at The Burrow very interesting... . p.s: in no way does this fic follow the storyline of the actual books. it's just something light hearted so the events that happen during the Half Blood Prince (such as the burning of the Burrow) don't occur in this story.

"In it's purest form, even time envied love I suppose. Because it was eternal, it didn't have a beginning or an end or anything in between. It just was. It just was, in the same sense that the moon was always inescapably in love with the sun. They were always too far apart to meet, but as the moon set and the sun began to peak over the horizon, and they saw each other for the briefest of fleeting moments, that- that is what love is. And still, all the moon ever got to see was the morning glow from the edges of it's beloved sun, before it's eyes closed and it had to sleep all over again, until it could catch a glimpse of the setting rays that reflected against it's own solitary purity. That's what love was. Never knowing, not quite seeing, but always feeling. Love always felt, always conquered, always was. And this love always was. Always was written in the stars, always was planned by the universe, always was going to break my heart and fix it back up again. Because the stars forbade anything else."

How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco's daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing morning coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can't find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why is morning coffee with Draco Malfoy the only thing that makes sense anymore? *cover art created by @eternallyreadinggoodthings