She searched the stacks for Morty, the sweet older man who owned the shop, but only his wife Maggie emerged. Maggie told her with glassy eyes that Morty had been killed last year in a skirmish with Death Eaters in Diagon Alley.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Maggie smiled at her sadly, and asked what she could help her with.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Er, I was hoping to look for books on magical law."

The moments the words escaped her, something clicked into place.

Maggie nodded and showed her to the proper shelves. By the end of the day, as Hermione carried twelve new books to the counter, she asked Maggie if she needed any help with the shop.

"Oh," Maggie said, frowning. "You're very kind, Miss Granger. But you're quite a celebrity. I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do."

"Not really." Hermione shrugged. "Actually, I'm looking to do some studying. And if it's alright with you, I suppose I could do it here. When it's not too busy, of course."

Maggie's eyes lit up, and she jerked her head in a nod as she fussed with her grey plait.

Hermione was hesitant to leave Narcissa alone in the Manor, but she was delighted by the idea. So Hermione trained with Maggie all day Friday, and worked alone the next day, filing books and trying to balance the ledger between customers. She wrote an owl to Shrapley telling him of her plans, and received a lengthy owl filled with his favorite textbooks. There was a large counter staring down the doorway on a small landing, so she was able to read as many books as she liked while waiting for customers to interrupt her.

By six o'clock on Saturday, she'd finished the first of Shrapley's recommended books. Maggie had come down from her upstairs flat only once or twice to check on her, satisfied with her work.

When it was almost time to close, Hermione darted to the shelves to the right to refile the books she'd been reading.

The bell over the front door chimed.

Her head snapped up from the shelves, and she quickly moved back toward the desk. "I'm sorry, we're just closed—"

Draco stood on the mat. His hair longer than she remembered. His eyes just as grey.

The air rushed out of her lungs, and her knees almost buckled. She braced herself on the counter.

A Muggle coat was pulled up to his ears despite the warm weather. His lips parted, his gaze on her.

She'd seen him a thousand times in her dreams, but never like this. Hermione closed her eyes, begging the vision to last — to keep her heart beating just a little longer before he vanished like mist.

Soft footsteps, closing the distance between them. Not Death Eater boots or dragon leather shoes, but the sound of something entirely new.

She opened her eyes, and he was still there. The handful of yards between them felt like a hair's breadth.