Chapter Text
Cabbages. Carrots. Mushrooms. Bok Choi. Who was growing Bok Choi in Wales? Well, Hermione would not complain for the variety.
I’m choosing my own vegetables, and there’s no one to complain that my selection is too exotic. This is the good life.
Hermione weaved her way in and out of the rows of tables and stalls set up by farmers and vendors and gardening enthusiasts alike. This was her new normal, her new Sunday morning tradition she told herself. Everything still felt so new, so unusual and unsettled, being exactly 6 days into her new life, in her new house, on her new sabbatical, in a new [not strange but different] country. Traditions are for the making!
Hermione wondered about Ron, about how he was handling a suddenly empty house, devoid of womanly input completely, would he go to pot? Nah, he’s a big boy. Hermione told herself for the umpteenth time it felt like, to stop thinking about him. She’d been dreaming of the day she no longer had to worry about him, and the day had come and gone – she was still getting used to the abundance of space in her life, without needing to worry about Ron, or Thalia or Rose.
Two weeks earlier, Hermione and Ron had sat their daughters down; Thalia about to begin her 4th year at Hogwarts, and Rose, about to embark on the Hogwarts Express for the very first time. Rose had not been too surprised at the news, she already knew, Hermione had realized when confusion of a different kind than expected had washed over her youngest’s face: Her head tilting - eyes darting from parent to parent as if not sure why she was being told this at all.
Rose had only asked practical questions:
‘Is this still home?’ ‘Where will my bed go?’ ‘Are we still going to have birthdays all together?’.
Hermione had found it easy to respond to such sensible concerns:
‘This will be daddy’s home, honey,’ ‘You’ll have two beds so you can stay in whichever house you like when you’re not at school.’
Ron pitched in to answer her final question:
“Yes baby, we’re still a family, and birthdays and holidays are a family affair always.”
Rose nodded, a genuinely satisfied smile painting her features, and returned to acting like nothing had really changed, which in many ways it hadn’t.
Thalia however, was caught unawares. Having been at Hogwarts for the final years of her parent’s marriage, she wasn’t just surprised, she was hurt.
“What do you mean, separating? What happened? Is one of you cheating and you’re just hiding it?!”
Hermione had almost wanted to laugh at that, but had worn a serious face while she faced her panicked teenager. Ron spoke to the daughter who took after him in every way that mattered, and Hermione silently pleaded that Thalia would respond to the more like minded parent.
“Thalia sweety, no one’s cheating on anyone, calm down – sit down honey, please.” She frowned and slumped onto the couch next to her sister, angrily swiping away gathering tears. Ron cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his jeans at his knees, looking nervous for the first time during the entire confrontation.
“Your mum and I love each other. I’m not lying - don’t give me those eyes. Hermione, back me up.” Hermione raised her hand and clasped Ron’s on his knee, and together they met Thalia’s fierce gaze as Ron continued.
“We love you both, and we love each other. We’re still special to each other, and always will be. But we’ve decided that we don’t want to live together anymore.”
Rose nodded easily, Thalia remained stone faced.
“We’re family. But we’re not meant to live together. Just like you and your sister are family, but you won’t want to live in the same house forever and ever when you grow up, but you still love each other right?”
Thalia’s tears stopped gathering, and her brow softened as she nodded in agreement. Hermione moved from her spot and knelt before her, lifting her hand, and swiping the wet track on her daughter’s cheek with her sleeve. She spoke softly.
“I’m sorry that we’ve hurt you sweety. If I could go back in time and make it so that your dad and I never want to be apart, I would… but as you know, that’s illegal.” This earned an escaped chuckle from Thalia as she leant into Hermione’s hand, and Ron came to join her on the carpet, holding Rose’s hand while he put one arm around Hermione.
“I wish I could say that nothing will change for you girls, but it will. We’ll all get together for holidays and birthdays. But when you come back from school term, you’ll stay with one of us. Which one of us you girls stay with, and for how long, will always be up to you, and we promise you don’t have to worry about making either your dad or I feel bad about anything.”
“That’s right.” Added Ron as he nudged Thalia’s chin and Rose’s nose in sequence.
They had stayed there a while longer, holding the girls and each other as they talked it through. Rose had remained surprisingly unperturbed the entire evening while they made dinner as usual and played a board game afterwards. Hermione quietly counted it as a success.
Hermione fingered a stray thread on a hessian sack, in a line of tables and stalls all trading different sizes and colour of potatoes, and thought of her daughters at school. Of Rose who would still be getting used to bunking with her housemates in Hufflepuff. Hermione had been surprised to learn that Thalia, who took after Ron, was in Ravenclaw, and Rose who was Hermione in miniature was bunking with the badgers. Thalia has surprised them all by utterly destroying Ron at chess on her first Christmas holidays back at home since starting her magical studies.
She determined that she would write to both her children when she got home while selecting a few large, sweet potatoes. Home. Her new house, with a bed just for her. A kitchen she could set up just as she pleased. A bathroom with one set of hygiene products. A study with a computer that no one would insist on being privately tutored on how to use, even though they only ever said it was ‘stupid’ and ‘not that cool or useful, actually’.
... A floor she would never have to clean legos off of, rooms that would stay clean for months at a time while the girls were off at school … for months … without her…
Before she could begin to think that if she wasn’t so happy with her new normal she might be getting close to being lonely, she spied a shiny brown boot. It was clean. No shoes were long clean in this village. Where cattle and sheep roamed as freely as domesticated pets, and often were.
(The village of Ys Cae Wyn being one of the very few places in the world where wizarding kind and non were permitted to roam freely amongst each other in full awareness of the circumstances – it seemed to all make for a lot of large animals as the main difference. Something about a natural wellpoint drawing magically attuned beasts to want to be around all the time. Be that as it may, shoes did not stay clean for long.)
Hermione’s eyes slowly traveled from the boot to the very nice, brown knee length coat, an umbrella hooked around an elbow, and two bags of varying veg dangling from his hand.
Holy fucking what.
“Malfoy?”
A beat of silence, aside the bleating, barking, and general hubbub of the only veg market in town at peak time on a Sunday morning. Neatly cropped white blonde hair ruffled in the autumn wind as gray eyes met hers and widened ever so slightly.
“Oh. Hello. Spot of shopping is it?”
Hermione let the same beat pass again before responding.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, good one. Great to see you then.” He smiled, how are his teeth that nice? and continued to move forward in his line to weigh and pay for his parsnips.
Hermione was halfway through nodding, smiling and continuing along her way, before she swivelled and faced him again.
“Hold on – this is Wales. Why are you buying Parsnips in Wales? In clean shoes?”
Her line of questioning baffled even her, but she could not bring herself to care. What is he doing here??
Draco’s smile turned bemused, he moved forward a step as he upgraded to forth in line, and she moved in parallel with him. “I’m stocking up my pantry, because I like roasted parsnips, and I also like looking after my clothes.” She continued to stare baffled, and he sighed and dipped his head just a touch like he was sharing an obvious secret. “Because I live in Wales, and so do all my clothes, shoes, and general belongings.”
Hermione blinked and nodded, and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, those were ridiculous questions, I just haven’t seen you in ages! How’s Scorpius?” Hermione wracked her memory, trying to think of the last occasion she had seen the head of the Malfoy Family, was it Nev & Daph’s Wedding? No that was ages ago…
He smiled at the mention of his son and nodded as they moved up in the line once again – without thought he angled so she could join him in his spot in the line and handed her a parsnip which she accepted on auto pilot.
“Scorp’s doing fine, started his 1st year on Monday. I think he’s doing really well, takes after his mum, his favourite subject is History of magic, much to my chagrin.”
“Oh I bet Luna adores him – although I don’t see her playing favourites to her students.”
The easy flow of conversation carried on as she smiled and forgot about trying to remember their last meeting, her mind instead going to her favourites of the list: That one time at a quidditch final when he somehow wound up drunk and wearing an orange scarf around his forehead, a ministry ball about 6 or 7 years ago maybe, countless pub quizes at the Wyvern’s Cellar on Tuesdays a few years ago when Theo was still in the country and hassling everyone to hang out weekly.
“She is an excellent professor, just on Friday he sent me his first essay, and her grading notes are thorough and balanced. Makes me wish we had a living history professor, I would have taken it more seriously.” Hermione laughed openly at the thought of the ghostly Professor Binns bothering to add notes of critique on an essay, let alone actually be attentive to his students.
“You know that reminds me, I used to absolutely abhor the way you scribbled in the margins of your history textbooks during classes – you and Blaise passing notes to each other in class, not even using a scrap of parchment, just writing directly in the textbooks! A sin!” Draco chuckled with her at the memory, his free hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck, it gave Hermione an excellent view of the wool jumper he was wearing under his coat – dark blue with black fibres through it here and there. It looked so cosy. He looks cosy.
“I’ve learned the error of my ways – my respect for the printed word has shot up since my youth, Weasley. Don’t you worry.”
Hermione grimaced. “Ah, sorry Draco I’ve not seen you in a little while, we’re back to Granger now actually.” His eyes widened, just as he reached the head of the line, and awkwardly turned to pass his handful of parsnips to the man behind the industrial food scale on a little wooden table, Draco handed over a couple of notes and placed the veg in his bag atop the other pre-purchased produce.
Hermione realised then that she was waiting in line to purchase a parsnip of his choosing, and when faced with the man and the scales and the table and a general apathy for parsnips, she thought to herself: when did he give me this?
She paid and they moved away from the stall, focusing on the task as she placed the root vegetable with the others in his bag and hummed slightly. “We separated officially a week ago, told the girls before Rose’s first year at school, and I’ve moved here to be closer to my work at the Uni. We’ve been apart for a few years, keeping it under wraps while Rose was still at home, but now we’re telling our friends and family - as long as it doesn’t make it to the press, I don’t mind who you share it with.”
His eyes had been soft during her explanation, nodding at the appropriate times.
“How did they take it?”
“As well as could be expected.”
Draco sighed, and a hand went to his pocket. “I know you said it was a while coming but, I’m sorry. Doesn’t sound easy.”
“Don’t be,” she smiled again “I’m finally free of my dirty little secret and can live the way I’ve been wanting to for years now. I can read until 4am with the room light on! And Ron can’t whinge about! Haha!” She brightened and pumped a fist into the air with the victory laugh and Draco’s air lightened as she brightened the mood for them both.
“That’s a genuine benefit, I won’t begrudge you that. What’s got you glued to the pages now then?”
While they chatted they had walked outside the veggie market absent mindedly along the way in the direction of her little house. She had apparated here, but she was happy to continue the conversation until they reached his destination.
“Dickens. Our Mutual Friend. Excellent read I recommend it.”
“Oh? I had planned to stop by the library today, I’ll pick it up.”
“Ugh. I love this about you Draco, you actually read, you read because you want to. Dying breed.”
His eyes turned cheeky as he dipped his head to her again. “I know, there simply aren’t enough philanthropic, widowered single fathers who the common folk think of as less than dirt, who also love to read. We truly are the salt of the earth.”
“Oh god with the self-pity.” Her eyes returned the glint of cheek, “Glad to know you’ve grown and changed in the last few years. I suppose you’re still the type to tell a fellow-literary fiend you’d love to run a book club and then never follow up on it?”
She bumped his side as they walked on the dusty gravel street, his shoes were still clean. How???
“I actually have the time for it now funnily enough-for the first time in my life,” He gestured across the way to an empty unpainted storefront with a wide window and closed sign hanging in the door. “My Project: keeping me busy as I while away the hours, letting Pansy run the trust. I haven’t started it yet though – taking a well-deserved holiday before getting stuck in.”
Hermione stared at the empty closed up shop, then back to her walking companion. “Draco Malfoy. You will fix and run a shop? On your own? How do you think you’ll manage that?”
His eyebrows raised in good humour, and he leaned in close to her ear speaking in a whisper that made goosebumps rise on her arms.
“I’m a wizard, Hermione.”
She most certainly did not shiver.
“Very funny. Be in my book-club then, oh master of spare time and weird root vegetables.”
He chuckled and straightened again, snapped the fingers on his free hand and a card appeared in it, he handed it to her, “My mobile and address,” she took the card and another blank one appeared in his hand again along with a tiny stub of a pencil, “let me know yours, too.” He handed off the card and pencil and waited while Hermione scribbled and tried to get used to the fact that Draco Malfoy had a mobile phone. And had conjured the tiniest pencil in existence for her to give him her number with. The significance was not lost on her, and she couldn’t decide whether or not it had been lost on him.
When they each had one card and the pencil was stashed in her pocket, there’s no way I’m not keeping this tiny pencil, he smiled again and she realized awkwardly that he was saying goodbye for now, and his arm raised to go in for a light hug. She raised her arm as well and stepped in, lightly patting his back a couple of times well-meaningly. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and he pressed the side of his face into hers, gave a quick kiss just before her ear, and leaned back again. It all seemed too confusingly normal and friendly, and they were both those things, and had been for years now. Watching their children climb playgrounds together when Astoria was still alive, Daphne taking Thalia to Diagon Alley for her first-year supplies and them all gathering for dinner at the end of the day, all the pub quizzes and holiday parties and birthdays and grief and joy. It had all come and gone and they’d both been there. Only now it was just the two of them – maybe that was why she felt a little bit nervous in her own skin for the first time in what felt like at least half a decade.
“Text me, Granger.” He smiled and disapparated with a soft pop. She shook her head and did the same.