9. New Zealand

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize. :)

Note: Here is chapter 9. I truly hope you all like it. Sorry I posted it later than I intended, but that just means another chapter this week. Thank you to all my loyal readers! You make my day with your kind reviews:)

ooo

Chapter 9 – New Zealand

For the next two weeks, Hermione barely saw the two men. She woke after they had already left the house for training, ate breakfast alone, then went to work. She would work her normal business hours, then spend four or five additional hours in the Ministry library working on her task. She would then return to the Edge and there would be food left out for her. Harry and Draco would either be asleep or out, where she didn't know. She saw Draco only once over the two weeks, leaving late at night.

The second Friday, Hermione had an unexpected visitor to her desk in the Auror's office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," said a friendly, Irish accent. Hermione looked up from her paperwork, still frowning slightly at what she had been reading.

"Seamus! Hello, how are you?" she asked, still somewhat distracted.

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. So, what do you make of Harry? It's been two weeks and no one's heard a word."

Hermione forced a look of concern. "I'm really worried; I just hope he's okay, wherever he is."

"The rumor is that Death Eaters got him."

"No! That's not possible! They would be gloating and telling the whole Wizarding world that they have him. Or worse."

"Well, that's the most popular theory going, anyway. So how are you handling it?"

Again she forced herself to appear upset and flustered. "I don't know, we just don't know what to do. He hasn't written me, or Ron, or even the Order. All we can do is forge ahead. We have no reason to panic just now, and it wouldn't help anyone to do so."

He shook his head. "Man, why Potter? It's not fair."

"No, it's not." Hermione started packing her things to leave.

"Say, Hermione, I was wondering… if you don't have plans tomorrow night, would you, uh, like to have dinner?"

She was stunned by his question, and simply stared at him for a second or two before collecting herself. Was he asking her out on a date? What should she do? It really couldn't hurt anything, could it? I mean, he was a friend; surely it was just a friendly catch-up dinner. It couldn't hurt.

"That sounds nice, Seamus. Is Dean coming along?" she asked, hoping to determine if he wanted dinner to be a date. They started walking toward the lift.

He looked awkward, giving her a lopsided grin. "Well, uh, no, I actually haven't asked him, but if you want me to, I can."

"No, no, dinner with you sounds lovely. What time?"

"Uh, six?"

"Perfect."

"Shall I pick you up at your place, then?"

Well, it sounds like a date, she thought. "No, I plan to come in to work tomorrow; with Harry gone there's just a lot of extra work, and I'm behind. How about we meet somewhere?"

"Okay. There's a Muggle place a few blocks over I've been wanting to try. How does that sound?"

"Lovely. I didn't know you ate at Muggle places."

"Hey, if the food's good, I'm not concerned with how it was prepared." He smiled warmly at her.

She laughed. "Spot on!"

"How about I meet you here, and we walk to the café. Since I'm not sure how to tell you to find it."

"That sounds good. We'll meet here, in the lobby at six?"

Seamus nodded. "Yeah. Uhm, Hermione?" They stopped walking. "Do you want it to be a date?" He watched as she made no reaction, then continued, rather quickly, words falling all over each other. "Because that's how I meant it, but if you don't want that, we can go as friends, but if you did, you know, want to see, then I'm up for that too, if you want."

She smiled. "Seamus, a date sounds lovely. Though I can't promise anything. I'm very distracted right now, with Harry missing, and no word from him, and dealing with all the Weasleys… I'm afraid I'll be rather dull company."

"Nonsense; impossible," said Seamus, breathing easily once again. She had reached the Apparation points and stopped walking. He stopped too, smiling before saying goodbye and Disapparating. Hermione sighed and she too Disappeared with a pop!

ooo

Hermione didn't see Harry or Draco that night, and went to bed feeling rather lonely. Seamus asking her out was completely unexpected. They rarely talked when they saw each other at work, just a pleasant wave or smile in passing. He had been one of Harry's roommates at Hogwarts, a decent student, and generally good Gryffindor. For some reason, Seamus' request for a date made her feel lonely. The closest she could get to a relationship was an acquaintance at work.

But when she really thought about it, she would admit to herself that she had pushed many chances away in the last year or so because she was determined to help Harry finish his battle. Then she could move past all the sadness and despair that came from the War to really let herself live. For her. Then she remembered that even Harry refused to wait. He had married Ginny without telling a soul (yet somehow Malfoy knew), knowing that he had every chance of dying before the end.

Or in the end, most likely. Because when Harry and Voldemort battled, the outcome would change the world. The only question was, would it be for good or bad? How could she even think about romance or – dare she even think it – love, when there was so much pain and suffering in the world? Death Eaters attacked and killed at will, Muggles and magical alike. Did love even really exist in the world? Or was it just a shadow of love, a struggle to escape from the darkness just even for a moment? She wasn't sure, but she felt that other things must come first for her. That was part of being Harry Potter's friend. Others could go on with a semblance of normalcy, loving, and laughing, but she had to remain strong and constant for him. He couldn't have her running through emotions like Lavender Brown went through lipstick.

Hermione had accepted this, and found peace in it. Peace that came from knowing that her place in the world was by Harry's side. She would fight for him and with him until the very end. Then, if they both survived, she would start fresh, pick up the pieces and move forward with her vision for her life.

Despite remembering her friend and everything they had been through since he and Ron had saved her from a giant troll in a bathroom, she still felt lonely. There was still part of her heart that was missing, that had never been filled, and could never be filled with all the friends in the world, or all the books, or all the knowledge she could acquire. She fell asleep, thinking about the hole that only seemed to grow as time passed.

ooo

The next morning, Hermione allowed herself to stay in bed longer than usual. Her thoughts from the previous night still sat heavily on her heart. She dressed for the day, then looked out the window. What she saw made her heart light again, and tears sprung to her eyes as she gazed at the scene in front of her.

The sun was shining brilliantly on the water, and there were dozens of brightly colored sailboats sprinkled over the water's surface. It was a small glimpse of a world where there was no Voldemort, no War, no Death Eaters, no killing spells; a small reminder that the world could be beautiful, even through all the darkness. Light always follows the nighttime. The world would get through this War, and would breathe again. She smiled, and went to the closet that held her robes from Malfoy. With a tiny hop, she decided to wear one on her date with Seamus. After all, the sun was shining, and the world was good.

Hermione gathered her things to take to work in her bag and headed downstairs to eat breakfast before going to work, humming softly. Harry was sitting at the table in the kitchen and he looked up from his papers when she walked in.

"Hermione, wow, you look nice," he said, smiling.

She returned the expression, and said, "I have a date tonight."

Harry's eyed widened in surprise and amusement. "Really? A date? With whom?"

"An employee in the Department of Magical Games and Sports." Harry continued to wait expectantly for a name. "Seamus," she finally said, smiling a little.

"Wow, I had no idea he fancied you."

"Well, it's part of my work to get to know my coworkers better," she said, a twinkle in her eye, "just doing my job."

"So when are you meeting him?"

"After work today," she said, sitting down and putting some of the eggs and meal Harry had made on a plate.

"You're going to work today?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, you don't have to."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"Malfoy thought we should have a day off."

"Oh," she said absently. "Where is he anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "Hasn't come down yet. So, Hermione, what do you want to do today?"

"I have no idea, I haven't had time to think about it."

"Would you like to travel? Somewhere exotic, perhaps?"

"Well, that sounds really nice, but – "

"Wonderful!" he cried, "New Zealand it is, then!"

Hermione frowned. "But Harry, I didn't think you could leave here!"

"Oh, no, I can't. I'll be staying," he said, quickly taking a bite of meal.

"But – then – what?"

"Oh, you'll be going with Malfoy." He ducked instinctively, sure she'd throw something at him – fork, bowl, curse.

When he looked back at her, she was just staring at him like he'd sprouted an extra head.

"Hermione?"

"There is no way on this earth I would go anywhere with him!"

"Morning, you two," came his voice.

"Malfoy," said Harry, taking another bite.

"Urrgh!" screamed Hermione.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her and fixed himself some meal. "Anger management issues, Granger? You really should get help for that." He did, however, notice that she wore one of the robes from him. It pleased him.

"Is Harry telling the truth? You expect me to go galloping across the globe with you today?"

He sat down and said, as though he were commenting on the weather, "Yes. I have a meeting, and you need to come."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Yes, of course. But it is crucial that you accompany me. And I assure you, it will be much more interesting than sitting around here all day."

"I could go to work."

"Or come with me to New Zealand."

"I'd rather die," she said, dropping her flatware noisily onto her plate.

"As you wish," he said, shrugging. He finished his oatmeal without another word. Hermione stomped up to her room, slamming the door.

After a few minutes passed in silence, Harry said, "That went well." Then he stood to put water in his bowl to soak it.

"Think she'll come?" asked Draco.

"Yeah. Give her some time to decide it's something she wants to do, instead of something you're making her do or asking her to do. About 10 minutes should do."

"It's been close to that already."

"You'd better be ready to go, then."

They heard a door slam upstairs, and heavy feet on the stairs.

"Fine," she said. "But we're leaving now." She walked outside and waited on the front stair.

Draco smiled at Harry. "You're good." He left and joined Hermione.

"Unfortunately, Granger, I'm going to have to have your arm, since you don't know where we're going."

She rolled her eyes and extended it. He made sure not to actually come in contact with her skin and Apparated them away.

ooo

They landed on the waterfront, where the sun was an hour or so away from setting. For a moment, Hermione thought this was Draco's idea of a sick joke – a romantic sunset? What was he thinking?

"Uh, Granger, come with me, please." She followed, disgusted at herself for even thinking he knew what romance might possibly look like.

They walked down the street of a small beach front town. She liked the shops and smiling people, who weren't in any real hurry to get anywhere. Some even waved. She looked at Malfoy, whose hair was now black.

"You look, decent," he said.

"Nice, Malfoy, the word is nice." She waited for a retort, but got none. "I have to be back by six."

"Why?"

"I have a date."

He tensed, and said, "How nice. Who's the lucky gent?"

"Seamus. Finningan. You remember him?"

"Irish Gryffindor? Brown hair, not too good at school, especially Potions?"

"Yes."

"Nope." She snorted. He led her to a restaurant with a view of the water.

"Your meeting is here?" she asked.

"Yes." They sat down at a table and were given menus. Hermione looked hers over briefly and settled on a fish entrée. Malfoy was still looking at his – or was he? He was pretending to look at it. Just then a middle-aged couple walked in and went to sit outside. Malfoy watched them intently. When Hermione turned to look at them, she saw nothing especially interesting that would take or hold his interest. The waiter came and took their orders.

"This is a Muggle place, Malfoy."

"I know, Granger. But thank you for telling me. You will notice that our attire has not drawn unwanted attention. It has been charmed to appear like Muggle clothes. I do my best to foresee problems and avoid them." He took a sip of his water and looked out the window.

"Since when do you know anything about Muggles?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know a great deal."

She was getting frustrated. He had dragged her here, insisting that he wanted her to come, and now he wouldn't even talk to her. She folded her arms and sat brooding silently. It annoyed her how little the silence seemed to bother him, and she was reminded of their cart ride to Azkaban. It felt like a lifetime ago. Eventually the food came, and they still hadn't spoken again.

Hermione looked at her food, blackened Kahawai with asparagus tips in a cream sauce with garlic and herb potatoes. It smelled delicious, and her stomach growled slightly before she picked up her fork. The first bite was incredible; the fish was juicy, moist, and full of flavor. It was by far the best meal she'd had in a very long time. She looked up at Malfoy; he was watching her, an amused expression on his face. He had yet to start eating.

She scowled and looked at his meal – the filet, with broccoli and yams. It looked delicious.

"You going to eat, Malfoy?"

He smirked. "Of course. I'm just enjoying watching you eat is all."

Her scowl deepened. "Well, quit. Eat."

He chuckled, and took a bite. "So, Granger, how's work?"

"What do you care?" she snapped.

He regarded her coolly. "I don't. I got the impression you weren't enjoying the silence, so I attempted to relieve you."

"Well, now that we're talking I find I prefer the silence."

He chuckled again. Oh, this side of him infuriated her. He was so confident and cocky it made her want to scream in frustration. She hated that he knew something she didn't, namely why they were here. She assumed she had some part to play; what other reason could there possibly be to drag her across the globe to eat dinner with him? Surely not for the pleasure of her company. Even through his arrogant mask, she saw that he was not, in fact, enjoying being around her.

A few minutes passed in strained silence. Then he spoke again. "My work is going very well, thank you for asking."

Hermione glared at him. He was smiling lightly, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. As if he hadn't a care in the world. So many faces, so many masks. Which one was the real Malfoy? Was there actually a true face, a part of him that was real? Did he even know which one it was? Right now, he was sporting a jet black hair color that made him look disturbingly pale, almost sickly.

"Why is your hair black?" she demanded.

"I'm wanted here too, you know. I'm pretty much wanted everywhere. But they always look for that signature Malfoy hair. Back in England, simply changing my hair and eye color wouldn't fool someone who was really looking for me, but here, it's enough."

Hermione peered into his eyes and frowned. "They're blue," she said.

"Very good," he said sarcastically, "Stellar observation."

"But, aren't they always?"

Draco put on a hurt face. "Oh, Granger, you don't know what color my eyes are? I'm so hurt!" He casually took another bite of steak, showing her that he could really not care less about her lack of observation.

Hermione scowled and took another bite of her meal, but she couldn't help but wonder what color they really were. She tried to think of a time when she'd looked into them, and during the time he was in Azkaban there were plenty of such occasions, but she couldn't quite capture the color of his eyes; all she remembered was the swirling of emotions – fear, anger, hate, anticipation – that she saw in them. Even the one time he'd allowed her to look deeply into his eyes, she couldn't recall their color.

"How's the fish?" Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as Draco reached his hand over to take a bite from her plate. She stabbed his hand with her fork, not bothering to be gentle about it. "Ow!" he said, retracting his arm and scowling at her.

"Eat your own meal."

"Tsk, tsk, Granger; after all, I'm paying for this meal. And if I want to try your food, I will." He reached over again, and this time Hermione let him take a piece of fish from her plate, though glaring at him relentlessly to assure him she wasn't happy about it. He put the bite into his mouth and as he chewed, he concentrated on the taste of the fish. "It's good; better than mine. I guess you win the meal, Granger."

She rolled her eyes. "Win the meal?"

"Yes. Your selection is better than mine. Would you like to try mine and weigh in with your opinion? You're always so eager to share it, after all."

Hermione did want to try his steak; it was the most expensive dish on the menu, so it was sure to be good, and she had trouble believing her fish was better. But she didn't want to eat off his plate. That was too – familiar.

"Yes, please; would you cut me a piece and give it to me?"

He gave her a quizzical look, then obliged. He handed her his fork, and she took the piece of meat and put it on her plate, then returned his fork. She stabbed the meat with her own fork and put it in her mouth. It was perfect; perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked, perfectly delicious. He was crazy; the filet was by far the better choice.

"Well?" he asked.

"Your meal is better."

He smiled, almost a real smile. "Again, we disagree."

"That's how it's meant to be, isn't it?" she snapped.

Draco sighed; he wanted to get through this dinner as quickly as possible. "So, Granger. Tell me something about yourself."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know, something I don't know."

"You don't know anything about me."

Draco almost corrected her, but that would expose a part of him he wasn't ready to expose. He might never want to, but he would have to, eventually.

"Then please," he said, pleasantly, "Enlighten me."

"What would you like to know?"

"I don't know, something. Anything. You choose."

"My favorite book is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen."

He rolled his eyes. "Lovely. Really informative."

"What's yours?"

"What makes you think I like books?"

"Because, you're always reading when you're not doing other things."

"I don't really have one, actually."

"How can you not have a favorite?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, just don't. I like books about Dark Arts and Dark Wizards and the good guys getting shoved into the mud."

Hermione glared at him and resolved not to speak to him again for the rest of the day.

Draco, not knowing of Hermione's resolution, spoke to her again. "So is tonight your first date with Finnigan?"

Hermione promptly forgot her resolution of only 30 seconds as her temper flared. "That is none of your business," she snapped. "When is this meeting of yours, anyway? I want to leave."

"My, but you look lovely when you whine," he said with no hint of amusement in his voice, only anger which he was surprised to find. She continued glaring at him, unable to eat another bite.

"Hermione, I'm just trying to make pleasant conversation, and you are doing anything but."

She nearly dropped her jaw upon hearing him use her name, but she kept her face under perfect control. "Pleasant?" She gave a forced laugh. "You? You wouldn't know what pleasant conversation looked like, even if it pranced through this room with a giant sign flashing, 'this is pleasant conversation!' Do you even know what that means? Because if this is your attempt, then I really must wonder."

His eyes flashed; she smirked, glad that she was finally able to get a rise out of him and wipe that arrogant look off his face.

"Yes, I know what pleasant is, though honestly, I'm much more familiar with unpleasant. Such as now, for example."

"You are insufferable."

"And here I thought we were starting to get along," he said, barely keeping the rage from breaking loose and yelling at her.

"Get along? With you? I'd rather be force-fed to a blast-ended skrewt. You are an evil, spineless, hollow man, Malfoy," she hissed.

There would be no controlling of his tongue as he spoke next. "And you are a stuck-up, whiny, spoiled little girl who thinks she's better than everyone else because she's got her nose stuck in a book all the time. Potter and Weasel always cater to your wishes, don't they? Well know this – I will not; ever. So just shut up already, and quit whining about how mean I am, or how unfair I'm being. I could be a lot worse."

The glare Hermione directed at her dinner companion would have reduced Harry and Ron to blubbering for her forgiveness, but Draco merely looked bored.

"I'm leaving," she spat, tossing her napkin onto the table and standing to walk past him. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Not yet," he hissed, pushing her forcefully back into her chair, though very careful not to hurt her.

Hermione was boiling. She wanted to hurt him, very much and repeatedly. But how? She glanced around the room, looking for inspiration. Her eyes fell on a wine rack, then the waiter. She started to smile maliciously; Draco didn't like the look in her eyes.

"I'll be back," he said, standing. She ignored him as he walked away from their table, but turned to watch him walk outside to the couple who had entered earlier. She tried to hear what they said, but he easily blocked her attempts. She could only watch, and what she saw made her nearly fall out of her chair.

ooo

Draco walked slowly outside, willing his nerves and temper to calm before he spoke. When his breathing had sufficiently slowed, he approached the man and woman that had entered shortly after he and Hermione had.

"Hello!" said Draco, genuinely smiling. The woman stood and hugged him affectionately; the man shook his hand.

"Draco," said the woman, "How are you?"

"I'm – fine. And you?"

"So much better, now that we've seen Hermione."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "About that; I apologize for speaking so harshly to her. She and I – well, I think it's obvious we don't exactly get along."

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," said the man, smiling warmly.

"How is she?" asked the woman.

"Other than being royally put out at being here with me, she's fine. I'm sorry I couldn't get her to talk more about her life; I'm not too good with small talk."

"It's okay, son," said the woman, "We understand."

"How is your plan progressing?" asked the man.

"On schedule. It's still very early, though. There are many things that could go wrong, but I'm confident that we will be able to work through them and accomplish our goal."

"Tell us more about Hermione, please."

Draco sat down with the couple. "Okay, she still works at the Ministry, she's very good at what she does. She can make a mean scrambled egg, she still reads insatiably, and she still throws herself into everything she does full force. She's happy to be helping Harry, but doesn't appreciate the fact that she's also helping me. She misses Ron and Ginny and wishes they knew about our plan as well."

"And she has a date tonight?" asked the woman.

"Yes, apparently."

"How does that make you feel?" she asked.

He clenched his jaw, ground his teeth, and set his lips in a taut line. "I really don't care."

"Uh-huh," said the man, grinning.

"Do you love her?" asked the woman.

Draco had to shake his head to clear the cobwebs. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Do you love her," she repeated.

Upon hearing the question repeated, he concluded that he was not, in fact, losing his hearing, but that the woman sitting across from him had lost her mind. "I'm sorry, but love her? Are you mad? How can you even ask that? You heard us!"

She smiled, that annoying smile that only a mother can pull off, and said, "Yes, I did."

Draco sighed and put his head in his hands. "How could I love her? I don't even know what love is; I don't even know who she is."

"Truth takes time, Draco."

"The truth," he chuckled. "The truth will make her hate me even more than she already does."

"But she'll forgive you," said the woman, putting a gentle hand on his tainted arm.

He absently ran a hand through his hair again. "I don't know, she's got such a stubborn streak. She's so angry; I don't think she will be able to forgive me. Maybe in 30 years…" he thought of her knocking on the door to his small, island cottage, cake in hand, big smile on her face… ring on her finger, children in tow… "But she's got some fire in her. She's absolutely – " What? Was there any one word that could be used to describe her? He shook his head; no, it needed a slew of them. " – she's a whole bunch of things."

The man laughed. "That's Hermione, all right."

"Please be patient with her," pleaded the woman.

"I will. Now, if you don't mind, would you ask her to do the same?" The couple laughed. "Well, I should get back," he said, dreading the moment he would leave these two people and return to the harsh world of reality. "Would you like to continue listening to us? Maybe she'll be more open."

"Please," said the woman. She stood to hug him once more. "And Draco, you know that we love you."

He smiled again, the same genuine smile he reserved only for them. He nodded and turned to go back inside. He felt on top of the world as he slowly walked to the table; his heart, which he'd only recently become acquainted with, felt lighter than it ever had.

Hermione was sitting on their table, looking a little too pleased with herself, and just a tad nervous. Draco was immediately put on guard. He sat down, watching her warily.

She smiled, a smile that was too forced to be genuine, and said, "Hello. Welcome back." There was something in her tone that was cold as ice. He shuddered. "Was that your meeting?" she asked, again too forced to be real. He nodded, every nerve in his body screaming for release from the agony of waiting for the hammer to fall. "I ordered dessert."

He exhaled and nearly laughed with relief. "Oh, that's fine."

"For everyone in the restaurant." Draco's laugh died in his throat, and he stared at her. "And a bottle of wine for each table." His jaw dropped. "And two for our table. Don't want to have to share." She smiled at him with utter loathing and started to eat her dessert, a rich, creamy chocolate cake with fudge and raspberries. She'd ordered him a chocolate chip cookie with a single dollop of cream on top.

Draco could barely speak. "Wh – why? How?"

She waved as if it were nothing. "Oh, don't thank me, Malfoy. I know you can afford it." She happily continued her dessert, savoring each bite for his viewing pleasure.

Draco looked at his cookie. Part of him wanted to reach over and wring her neck, throwing his entire plan out the window. The other part of him threatened to burst out laughing. He smiled at the cookie and its pathetic dollop of cream. "Good one, Granger," he said. He picked up his fork, scooped all the cream from the cookie and put it all in his mouth.

Hermione watched him, the thrill of the deed fading. He just smiled, and – was that a sort of compliment? She'd wholly expected him to yell and make a scene, but instead he simply sat there, obviously enjoying his cookie. She shook her head.

"You are – so – odd, and confusing, Malfoy."

"Thank you," he said, finishing his cookie; it hadn't been very large.

She watched as he placed his fork on the dessert plate and reached for the wine. He poured himself a glass, then filled hers.

"Cheers," he said, then slowly sipped from his glass.

"Malfoy. Those people out there – you actually looked happy, or content, or whatever it takes to make you actually smile. Threw a real wrench into my perfect image of you."

"Sorry for that."

She chuckled. "Who were they?"

"And why would I tell you?"

"They certainly weren't your parents," she said, hoping to be able to extract some amount of information from him, a task at which, up until now, she'd been quite unsuccessful.

Draco instead returned to the snarling person he'd been before his meeting. "Let me make myself perfectly clear. Never speak of my parents again, do you understand?" He wasn't yelling at her, but his tone was so solid, so jagged, that she felt as though he were ripping out her stomach and cutting it apart in front of her. She was scared of him, right now, at this moment. Only in the cart heading to Azkaban had she ever been scared of him before, and in both instances she had mentioned his family. "Do you understand?" he asked through clenched teeth.

She nodded, tears threatening to spill out of their reservoir.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, his anger evaporated. "I don't like talking about them. And I don't like yelling at you." She eyed him warily, as he took another sip from his glass. Then she realized that he had, in a twisted way only he could pull off, apologized. The man sitting across from her boggled her mind.

"Are you finished?" he asked calmly, looking at her half-eaten cake.

"Yes," she said softly.

Draco motioned for the waiter to bring the check. When he saw it, he nearly fell out of his chair.

ooo

"1200 pounds?!" he shouted at her as soon as they were out the door. "What kind of wine did you buy?" To say he was livid was an understatement. His head was throbbing so hard with rage that the edges of his vision were beginning to become obscured.

"Only the best," she said, feigning a look of confusion. "Try some; it's quite good."

"It had better be the best bloody wine in the entire world," he muttered. They walked in stony silence through and out of the village, down to the water where they'd Apparated.

They arrived just in time to watch the sun disappear over the horizon. Hermione gasped. "Oh, it's beautiful," she said. The sky was painted with vibrant colors – pinks, purples, blues, oranges – and the sun sent streaks of light through the clouds.

Hermione sat down in the sand to watch the colors and clouds change. Draco cringed, as the expensive robe he'd bought for her was wrinkled and dirtied by her action. He had to remind himself that he'd bought them for her, and if she wanted to mess them up, that was her right. But a vein in his neck still twitched slightly as he watched her.

"Really, who were they?" came her tiny voice, barely audible over the steady beat of the waves.

Draco opened the bottle of wine he'd taken from the restaurant and sat down beside her, much closer than he had ever been to her before in a non-threatening way. Hermione glanced at him suspiciously, but he only downed a few gulps straight from the bottle. Then he took a few more gulps, then a few more. Maybe he could wash away everything bad he'd ever done.

"People I care about."

"You can care?" she asked, then instantly regretted doing so.

He sighed, looking out at the water. "Granger, that is really getting old. I am a human being, though it may not seem like it most of the time." Another swig; the bottle was now approaching half-empty – or was it half-full? "Yes, I can care. I can maybe even love…" his voice trailed away as he stared, unseeingly, at the vast expanses in front of him. Expanses of water and air. Two things necessary for life. What was life, anyway? Was he living? Was he drowning in it? He made a quick list of everyone he had ever loved in his life. There were two names on it, and they belonged to the couple he had met that evening.

"Though its not something I'm good at, or have any experience with. Or even want to, really, but in truth there are different kinds of love, and I can feel at least one of them. But that other one; I'm quite certain that's impossible for me." He took another gulp of the wine and stared into the bottle's opening. "I'm going to get drunk," he said, tossing the bottle back again. But no liquid made its way into his mouth, and he opened his eyes to find that he was no longer holding the bottle.

It was in Hermione's hands. "No," she said, as though that were all it took to convince him that her idea was the better one. He watched in tipsy horror as she poured the rest of the bottle into the ocean.

"Hey!" he half-yelled, "I paid 1200 pounds for that!"

"Oh well," she said. "Drinking rots your brain. And slows your reflexes. And makes you fat."

"Does not," he protested, as she handed the empty bottle to him. He looked into it once more; it really was all gone. Draco could feel that bushy, numb feeling that comes with drinking too much, and he decided it really must rot your brain. "Oh, Granger, you're no fun."

"If that's what you call fun, then I'm not sorry. Can we please go now?"

"Fine," he said, trying to stand. He'd effectively consumed over half a bottle of wine in the space of five minutes. Standing wasn't going to come naturally anymore. He stumbled a little bit and walked toward her, then fell onto his knees when a wave of – something – hit him. "Mother," he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and helped him stand. Then she linked arms with him and Disapparated them both back to England.

When the familiar spinning stopped, they found themselves standing on the front porch of Malfoy's house. Draco was unable to discern that they had, in fact, stopped spinning. "Wow," he said, trying to steady himself on the doorframe. He made a mental note that drinking, being drunk, or trying to get drunk did not go well with Apparating.

Hermione forced Draco into the house. Harry was in the drawing room. "Malfoy's drunk," she said.

"Am not!" he cried, ripping his arm out of her grasp and then promptly stumbling into the wall. "Oops, over corrected. Won't happen again."

"Draco, it's only two in the afternoon. Really, you have a problem," kidded Harry.

"I do not," he whined, "I only had – "

"Half the bottle!" said Hermione.

"It was really good!"

Draco stumbled into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. Harry and Hermione heard him shout, "Ah-hah!"

"So, how was New Zealand?" Harry asked her.

"Beautiful. The trip? Horrible."

"Why?"

"Him."

Draco returned to the drawing room, now quite sober. "Hermione made me spend 1200 pounds because she is an angry, spiteful person. Everyone in the restaurant got wine and dessert, courtesy of moi."

"Ouch," said Harry, grinning at Hermione. "So, how was the meeting?" he asked, glancing at Draco.

"Fine. It was fine. Everything is fine."

"Lovely," said Hermione impatiently. "I'm off then."

Draco spun around to face her. "Your date isn't until six!" he said, emphasizing the word date.

"I'm going to stop at work first," she said, casting him a glaring smile.

"I gave you the day off!" he said, anger returning to voice.

"To do with as I please. Since the first half wasn't at all, I'm going to ensure a pleasurable remainder of the day." She gave him a self-satisfied smirk and departed through the front door. Seconds later they heard the distinctive sound of Disapparation.

Draco crashed onto the couch, sighing heavily, feeling as though he'd spent the entire day fighting Death Eaters, or fighting against a skilled Legillimens.

"How were they?" asked Harry.

"They were wonderful. Hermione and I fought, as usual."

"Did they hear?"

"Of course. I apologized, but still felt bad doing it in front of them."

"I'm sure they understood," said Harry.

"They seemed to."

Silence.

"You still planning on waiting?"

"Of course. You know that."

Harry sighed and stood. "Yes, I know that's your plan. Want to duel?"

Draco looked up at the dark-haired man. "Why does no one want a day off?" Harry said nothing, only grinned. "Yes, fine; let's go." He stood and followed Harry outside.

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it:)