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

'Draco let his shock slip through the dense barrier of calm he had constructed, and Snape, the bastard, had the gall to look smug. "I pride myself in being rather adept at spotting imposters, Ms. Adler, and you certainly are a snake hiding in the eagle's nest, are you not?" '"Yes," I was forced to say, even as my stomach churned. I was, I realized. I was, and I had done a damn good job of fooling everyone, even myself.'