He had counted every day she was gone. Scratch that, he had counted every day, every minute, every second since she had left. (912 days, 32 minutes, and 45 seconds to be exact).  His face showed it, with bruise-like bags under his eyes and forgotten stubble dancing around his jaw. The glasses he wore hung haphazardly; his once stunning grey eyes had dimmed after countless tears. He missed her.

She had forgotten how many days it had been. Losing count after 379, she merely knew it was too long. Her hair, once a frizzy, uncontrollable mess, had been changed into a somewhat manageable pleat snaking down her back. She drew the sleeves of her emerald sweater (his favorite color) down her pale arms, shivering in the cold of the coffee shop. Swallowing down green tea and many regrets, she turned her hazel eyes back to the story waiting to be written in front of her.

The coffee was cold. He sighed in frustration, dragging his slender fingers through curly blonde hair. Once upon a time, he had used a bottle of gel to retain the sophisticated look of his father. But when she had told him he looked like a ‘soaking wet ferret’, and he had thrown the bottles away. To both of their surprise, his hair was actually quite curly, and this proved for intense arguments of whose hair was curlier. He shook his head, even his hair reminded him of her. Straightening his round tortoiseshell glasses, he made his way to the counter of the coffee shop. He cleared his throat to grab the attention of the barista hiding behind a MacBook. She looked up, and grey eyes met hazel.

“Ahem”. A customer’s agitated voice rang through her mind. Snapping out of her reverie, she quickly closed the lid of her computer and flashed the man a smile as she looked up.

“How may I help yo-“ Her forced cheerfulness died in her throat as she found herself looking straight into the eyes of the man she had left.

“Draco” she whispered, surveying his appearance. His blonde hair, short on the sides, stuck up at odd angles. She smiled to herself- he wasn’t using gel anymore. His bright grey eyes, flashing dangerously like she remembered, hid behind circular glasses that complimented his defined cheekbones. The stubble was new, but it barely distracted her from noticing the dark shadows underneath the eyes she loved. He was wearing his beloved leather jacket, a simple dark green long-sleeve, dark black pants, and his favorite lace ups. Besides being taller and more scruffy, he looked the same.

“Draco”.

“Hermione,” he breathed.

His eyes never left hers until she broke his gaze. Her curly hair that had once been everywhere, was somehow constrained into a messy braid. He grinned slightly, even in the braid, tiny curls sprouted in every direction. Her hazel eyes, lightly rimmed with black eyeliner and framed with thick lashes, held so many emotions he had to look away. She had on an emerald green sweater with a white button up underneath. With her straight leg corduroy pants and black loafers, she looked like a librarian. She hadn’t changed a bit. She really did look like a librarian.

“You look like a librarian”

Her eyebrows furred as she looked at him. Draco’s eyes widened as he realized he had spoken out loud.

“Shoot.” He mumbled.

“A LIBRARIAN?” Hermione screeched, standing up straight.

“We meet for the first time in over, I don’t know, a year, and you call me a librarian?! That’s rich Malfoy, really! Shouldn’t have expected anything better honestly!”

Anger, sadness, joy, and all the emotions Draco had been holding back all flooded out when she called him Malfoy.

“Oh! Calling me Malfoy now, are we? Well two can play, Granger,” He sneered.

“At least I had the nerve to say something!”

“Say something?!” She yelled incredulously.

“Calling your ex-fiancé after not seeing her for a while a librarian is not how one goes about reconciling!”

“It was more than a while Hermione,” Draco said, sobering after she had mentioned the ‘fiancé’ part.

“Yeah I know,” Hermione responded, trying to sound nonchalant but failing due to the tears betraying her.

“It was 912 days, 32 minutes, and 45 seconds,”

“You kept count?”

“I loved you, ‘Mione. I would’ve kept counting until the day I died.”

She sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I loved you too.” Hermione whispered.

“I know.”

“And I’m sorry I-“

“I know, Hermione”. Draco said again, his eyes boring into her.

“Then you know why I had to leave.”

“Honestly, I wish you would’ve told me. But I understand now. I’ve had 912 days to think about it.”

Hermione leaned towards him, and Draco thought she was going to hug him. But as the tears began to fall down her face freely, she brushed past him and out into the busy Manhattan street.

Dumbfounded, he turned and ran out into the walkway. Seeing her busy hair bouncing about three feet away, He yelled out over the crowd.

“HERMIONE!” Her head whipped around, tear stained cheeks catching the street lamp’s light.

“I need some time to think, Draco”. She said, walking over and placing her hand on his cheek.

“But,” She stopped him, putting a finger over his lips.

“I need some time to think. Give me time, and then we’ll see,” Hermione whispered. Her eyes gazing up at his. She kissed his cheek softly, then walked away.

Draco reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Have your time, but know I’m counting, starting now.” She smiled the way that had made him fall in love with her, and began walking.

“One second”, He muttered, then paused as he noticed the flash on Hermione’s hand.

She was still wearing the engagement ring.