A week had passed without another Daily Prophet picture of the Malfoy family. There were still articles hypothesizing on what Draco would do now, or if he would be visiting Lucius any time soon, but they were assigned to the middle pages of the Prophet, probably not worth much without facts or a photo.

Hermione closed the paper and tucked it into the drawers next to the cash register. She was fortunate to have enough space at the U-shaped register desk to work on several things at once. She looked around the empty bookshop and breathed in her favorite scent: books. It was probably one of the main reasons she chose to ask for a part-time position at Cornerstone Books. The smell. Hermione missed the Hogwarts library more than her childhood home at times. It was the smell. It reminded her of fixing things, and the power of knowledge, and magic.

The front door squelched open, bringing a gust of wind, and her hair lifted off her neck before settling again. The positioning of Cornerstone Books on the corner of Diagon Alley and Horizont Alley was fortunate for marketability, but unfortunate for the wind tunnels and twisters created on the corner. Hermione patted her hair down and looked up to see the hag that always visited at 11AM on Saturdays. Hermione's heart fell when she realized it was only 11AM.

The hag glanced at Hermione as she scuttled to the back. Hermione chanced a smile but knew it was no use. The hag had never spoken or smiled, eerily reminding Hermione of Bathilda Bagshot – or more accurately, the corpse of Bathilda Bagshot. She had asked Morty about the hag early on, wondering if she should keep an eye out for missing books, but Morty insisted that the hag had been a loyal customer though she'd never bought a thing.

Hermione grabbed up the pile of books to be shelved and headed to the fiction section. She placed them in their rightful spots, rearranging a few misfiled titles in her work. Honestly, who in their right mind would be so disrespectful as to pull a book off a shelf, look at it, and then place it back on another shelf? Hermione had set up a "To Be Filed" basket in every section of the store, hoping that the customers would use it.

A few customers were milling about, some sitting and reading the first few chapters before deciding. Hermione returned to the register desk and began filing yesterday's receipts that Morty had left for her.

"I thought you worked for the Ministry." A voice drawled from the counter.

Hermione whipped around and her eyes popped out of her skull when she saw Draco Malfoy standing at the register. His hair had changed. It was neither slicked back like the early years, nor cropped short like sixth year, but something in between. He had locks of blonde falling over his forehead. He was still lean from Azkaban, but he had more color, if you could call it that. Her eyes passed over his clothes, noting that he had well-tailored grey robes on. He raised a brow at her and she found her voice.

"No. I mean - I mean yes, I do, but not on the weekends. On the weekends I work here."

Draco stared at her, then looked around the store. "Obviously," he said. Hermione's neck grew hot. "But why?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She'd been asked that question multiple times by her friends, by admirers who stumbled upon Cornerstone Books. She'd always been able to answer with little anecdotes like "to keep busy" or "I miss the Hogwarts library" or "I get a discount!" But all of these sounded foolish when talking to Draco Malfoy.

"It's a bookstore. I like books." Hermione could have jumped in front of the Knight Bus right then and there. The blush spread up her jaw and she felt a bead of sweat rolling down her back.

He puffed a tiny laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "I remember." He'd perfected condescension over the years, or else Hermione wouldn't know how to spot it. "I'm picking up a book."

Hermione was abruptly reminded that she worked in a bookstore. A silly thing to forget as it just so happened to be the silliest thing she had ever explained.

"Yes, of course!" That was too chipper. She corrected herself. "Did you have it reserved?" Hermione started moving towards the drawer that held the pre-reserved books. Usually only the wealthy clientele would call ahead to reserve, much preferring to not mix with the consumer rabble.

"It's under Black." Her eyes flicked up to him. He shifted his weight and said, "It's my mother's order."

Curious.

She grabbed the first bag in drawer under "B." The parchment on top read Goblin Wars: Fact or Fiction.

"Oh, this is an excellent one!" She smiled brightly at the bag that held the book. "She hypothesizes that several of the Goblin Rebellions didn't actually take place, and that Wizards created the myths of them to keep the goblins repressed. It's fascinating, actually!" She looked up and was startled when she realized she was gushing to Draco Malfoy about a book. She took a breath. "Your mother has excellent taste in books."

"I'll be sure to let her know," he said. His expression was unreadable. Almost a cross between bored and amused, if possible.

"Right," she said. "Well, the purchase has been billed to your mother's account." She held the bag out for him. "You're all set."

He took the bag from her. "Why Cornerstone?"

The question stopped her. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then said, "I believe it's because it's located at the corner of Diagon Alley and Hor-"

"I know why it's named Cornerstone." He rolled his eyes and Hermione's cheeks warmed. "Why are you working here and not Flourish and Blotts? I would have thought you'd love to help the First Years pick up their text books and buy their parchment. Host monthly Gilderoy Lockheart fan club meetings."

The idea that he'd spent any time in his entire life thinking about what she would prefer to do after Hogwarts, without laughing endlessly at her of course, had her pulse racing. She tried to look away from his eyes and could not.

"I suppose I like Cornerstone because it's more out of the way. Less likely to be recognized here." The presumption of being recognized sounded silly and arrogant once it was out of her mouth, and Hermione finally tore her eyes away from him and looked down at the desk. She wished he would just leave.

"I used to come here during the summers for the same reasons."

She looked at him. He was staring off over her left shoulder.

"I never saw you here," Hermione said.

He brought his eyes back to her and she wished he hadn't. "That was sort of the point, wasn't it?" he said.

She couldn't read his face. It was completely blank. Her tongue was dry, so she nodded. She watched his eyes rove over her face once before taking his bag and giving her a head tilt, that she supposed was to be a "goodbye" or a "thanks."

And then she got to watch him walk away.

~*~

The next week was a blur. Apparently, the Wizarding world had no qualms about accused murderers anymore if they looked like Draco Malfoy. The Daily Prophet started running stories on Draco's social life, where he went in the evenings, who he was with. Rita Skeeter had developed quite a knack for guessing his schedule, and also a talent for comparing his hair to the golden tones of the gods.

Hermione woke every morning to an article on her bedside table, lovingly cut and placed by Ginny, until Friday morning when the table was bare. Hermione got out of bed and went to the kitchen to find Ginny reading the Prophet while stirring her cereal.

"Good morning," Ginny said.

"Good morning." Hermione grabbed a teacup from the shelf and went to the kettle. "Did the Daily Prophet get sick of printing information on Malfoy, or did you just get sick of cutting them out for me?"

"There was nothing today." Ginny's voice sounded strained. Hermione paused in pouring her water.

"Really?"

"Yep. Nothing."

Hermione rounded the corner of the kitchen and stood with her teacup in one hand and the kettle in the other. "What is it?"

Ginny looked up at her with wide eyes and a closed mouth smile. "What's what?"

"What's in the paper today?"

Ginny sighed and her whole body slumped. "I don't think you should see."

"That's ridiculous. What's in the paper today?"

Ginny frowned and flipped the page to the society section.

"DRACO MALFOY FINDS LOVE"
by Rita Skeeter

Hermione slowly set the kettle down before she dropped it. A picture of Draco entering a restaurant with a tall brunette with silky long hair stared back at her. He placed his hand very low on her back and guided her inside - due to the fact, Hermione could only hypothesize, that she did not possess the brain capacity to walk by herself. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she entered. She was stunning.

"I mean," Ginny started, "It's not love. They're clearly on a first date. I don't recognize her from Hogwarts, so they can't have been courting for very long -"

"I'm fine, Ginny." Hermione pulled the paper towards her to see if Rita Skeeter had identified the woman. Only the words "Bulgarian," "possible model," and "Durmstrang" jumped out to her. Hermione tore her eyes from the picture and looked up at Ginny. "It's stupid to think that he wouldn't be dating. I mean, look at him. He's been idolized all week as an eligible bachelor. And she's... she's terribly beautiful. He's... Well, he's not mine to lose."

Ginny stared at her. "Of course," she said. "I just didn't want you to be... distracted."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you." She took the kettle back to kitchen and began pouring milk into her cup. "Besides," she called out to Ginny, "Maybe it's for the best if he does start to court her. It may help me."

"You're right. I'm so happy that you see it that way. And also," Ginny yelled over her shoulder, "it's good to know that he likes brunettes!"

Hermione snorted and took a sip from her cup, before realizing that she did not steep a teabag. She was drinking hot water with milk.