26. That Red and Pink Holiday

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made from this.

Note: SORRY that this has taken so long to post, but I think the results are worth it. Happy (early) Valentine's Day! This chapter dedicated to my friends E&M, who live in Perth, Australia.

ooo

Chapter 26 – That Red and Pink Holiday

The next day, Draco avoided Hermione as much as possible. He woke early, before her, and went down to the ledge to practice. He spent all morning there, skipping breakfast, and only returned to the house when he couldn't move for hunger. He sat outside on the porch until he was certain Hermione was not in the kitchen, then went inside and fixed himself lunch. He ate on the porch, and returned to the ledge until late afternoon.

Again he waited until he was sure he wouldn't run into Hermione before heading up to his room to shower and relax before dinner. After two hours, his stomach started to rumble. He listened closely, and when he heard someone poking around in the kitchen, he decided it was safe to venture out to grab a plate of food and return to his room.

Draco crept silently down the stairs and went straight into the kitchen. He expected to see something warmed on the stove, a salad, even some bread, but there was nothing. He checked all the cupboards, but there was hardly any food at all, just a few cans of beans and a stick of butter. He groaned inwardly, knowing that now he would have to talk to Hermione.

He grudgingly entered the sitting room, where she was, dreading the encounter, though he really couldn't say why he dreaded it so much. When he saw Hermione, he had to restrain himself from laughing.

She was sitting in the middle of the sofa, still in her pajamas, with tissues strewn all around her. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, her eyes glistened with tears; in one hand she was holding a carton of ice cream and in the other a spoon that was frozen halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were glued to the television screen and fresh streaks ran down her face, falling into her lap.

"Granger," he said.

She jumped and looked at him, not even attempting to freshen herself or at least pretend she wasn't crying. "What?"

"What's for dinner?"

"Huh?"

"Dinner. Food. It's time to eat."

"Oh. Uhm, I'm not cooking. Just fix yourself whatever." She looked back at the telly.

"There's nothing to eat. I already looked."

Hermione paused the movie and gave him more of her attention. "Oh. Really?"

"Yes."

"Hmm… Well, I'm sorry. I guess I haven't been to the shops lately."

"What are you having for dinner?"

"Ice cream. There's plenty in the freezer."

"Ice cream. Ice cream is not dinner, Granger. It's for after dinner."

She shrugged. "I'm eating ice cream for dinner."

"But you need real food."

"Ice cream is real food," she protested.

"No, it's not."

"Well, that's what I'm eating. You can do whatever you wish. Really, there are probably three different flavors. I'm sure you'll find one you like."

"I refuse to eat ice cream for dinner!"

She frowned. "Then don't."

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Take-away?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Granger, are you really not going to fix anything?" She nodded. "Why?"

"Because it's – it's the evil day today, and I want to sit here, like I've been doing all day, and eat ice cream and cry."

"That's ridiculous. Ice cream isn't food, and crying all day will do you no good."

"I don't care, it's what I do when this day comes around and I've no one to spend it with."

"I don't have anyone, and you don't see me rotting my teeth. Honestly, aren't your parents dentists?"

She glared at him. "They were, yes, thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of a really good part." She turned back to the telly and unpaused the movie. Draco was frozen, staring at her, eyes wide. She continued to ignore him, and he let out his breath in relief. She hadn't thought anything about his slip, so before she could notice him staring at her, he stormed from the room and up the stairs.

He went into her room and to the closet with the robes. He removed his favorite set, the robin's egg blue, and huffed back down the stairs. He went into the sitting room and threw the robe at Hermione, who caught it, quite stunned.

"I'm leaving in ten minutes. If you're coming, then put on something nice and for Merlin's sake, do something with your hair." Then he turned and went upstairs, smiling to himself at his comment about her hair. Because he really liked her hair; it was part of her.

Hermione spent half of one of her ten minutes in shock. She then spent another half a minute trying to decide if he was serious. Then an entire minute was spent deciding if she wanted to go. Three things ran through her mind. One, was this a date? It probably was not, since he hadn't really asked her to go. Two, could she get ready in ten – now eight – minutes? That answer was yes. Third, did she want to go anywhere with him on this day, the evil red and pink holiday?

That question took most of her sixty seconds to analyze. She was quite comfortable, and nearly at the end of her current film. She would have to change and make herself presentable, and if the robe he'd thrown at her were any indication, they would be going somewhere nice. She remembered the last time they'd gone to dinner – or rather, when she'd been forced to accompany him to a meeting and dinner happened to be convenient. Still there was a part of her that was drawn to him and it was growing stronger each day. Currently it was shouting to her to get up already and change. She had feelings for him, after all, and there was no harm in going to dinner with him.

She ran upstairs and threw off her pajamas, putting on a simple black dress. She panicked briefly over her hair, but had no choice but to put it up. With a sigh, she put her hair in a loose bun atop her head and fastened it with a set of sparkly clips in the shape of birds. That took six minutes; two left. She dabbed on a little lip-gloss, wiped her eyes, and took a quick peek in the mirror. She was actually stunning, but she simply decided that what she saw was good enough for ten minutes, nothing to write home about. Hermione went downstairs and resumed her spot on the sofa with thirty seconds to spare.

Draco came down at exactly ten minutes, wearing black pants, a grey shirt, and black robes. He obviously hadn't expected Hermione to join him, because he went straight for the door without looking for her.

She cleared her throat, and he looked at her. He nearly did a double take when he saw her, sitting on the sofa where he'd left her, looking at him expectantly.

"I thought I would join you," she said primly, rising. Draco's breath caught when he took in the full sight of her. He couldn't believe it was the same girl who'd occupied that seat eleven minutes prior. His heart started beating quite fast, and he couldn't even think of anything witty to say. He just nodded and waited for her to walk to him, drinking in the sight as she moved with poise and grace.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I know a little place," he said, trying to sound as calm as he could, despite the fact that he was most certainly not calm. He was not prepared to see Hermione the way she looked tonight. He thought she was the most beautiful creature on the planet. Or at least in Wales, probably the planet. The insanity he felt the previous week returned full force and kicked him squarely in the gut.

"But you can't exactly just go wandering around, you know."

"I am well aware, thank you for your concern."

"I'm not concerned, just wanted you to think of it."

"And of course, I have." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small vial. "Cheers," he said and drank its contents. Slowly his hair turned black and his eyes blue, as they'd been in New Zealand. "And you'll probably want to assume your alter-ego as well."

Hermione nodded. "I – I'll just be a second," she said, running up the stairs and into her room. In the top right drawer of the dresser, two bottles of the potion she'd created remained. Gingerly she took one of the bottles and looked at it hard. Then she looked in the mirror.

She thought she'd seen, if only for an instant, something in Draco's eyes when he'd seen her in the sitting room. The thoughts she found herself having were a bit scary. For just an instant, he'd actually seemed to be...approving? More than that, he'd even seemed to be...almost awestruck. Practically speechless.

Hermione shook her head to stop her train of though. It she didn't hurry, she had no doubt he'd leave her. With a final smile at herself in the mirror, she drank the potion and watched as her looks changed, her hair returning to the bright blond and her eyes to deep green.

When she came downstairs, Draco was slightly disappointed not to see the Hermione he had come to adore. He knew it was Hermione, but someone it wasn't. His Hermione didn't have perfect hair and green eyes, and he liked her that way. With a sigh, he realized he would probably be able to concentrate and lose the ringing in his brain when she looked like this – other person.

"So really, where are we going?"

"Australia."

"What?"

Draco took her arm in his, took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and smirked. "Hold on," he said, then whisked her away.

They arrived on a dark, seedy-looking street with dilapidated store fronts.

"Er, Malfoy? What's going on?"

"Relax, Granger. It's a wizard establishment." He walked to one of the doors, pulling her behind him. He opened the door and had to nearly push her through it.

Hermione stepped into a very elegant restaurant. Actually, elegant was not the right word; she didn't think there was a right word. It was breathtaking. Rich woods, priceless marble, sparkling crystal, china, silver, and silk were all around her. There were hundreds of lighted candles floating overhead, providing the only source of light. They flickered constantly, so the room was bathed in a flowing light that reminded her of the ocean she'd fallen in love with.

A string quartet sat in the corner, playing an enchanting tune, and as Hermione looked around she gasped. Gold, silver, and precious jewels sparkled on the necks, ears, and fingers of all the women in the room. The men were just as brilliant, though not as flashy. Hermione looked at Draco out of the corner of her eye and noticed something she hadn't seen when she'd examined him at the house – his natural elegance rendered him just as brilliant as all the other men in the room. She felt quite out of place and just a little miserable. She didn't fit in, and she knew it immediately. It wasn't just the lack of flash, but she felt that even the air in the room was too rarified for her to breathe and she knew that everyone there would probably agree with her.

"Malfoy," she hissed. "I don't want to stay here."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I – I just don't."

He was about to respond when the maitre de approached them.

"Ah, Mr. Greene, how lovely to see you this evening. It's been some time since we saw you last. Table for two?" said a man in tuxedo robes with a thick Australian accent.

Draco looked at the man and nodded, flashing a brilliant smile. "Yes, Murphy, that would be perfect."

"Right this way, please." He led Draco and a petrified Hermione to a secluded table overlooking the ocean. "Our best table, of course." He held the chair out for Hermione to sit, which she did, feeling rather unable to breathe. Murphy handed them menus and he handed Draco the wine list.

Draco didn't even open it. "Your best bottle, please," he said, returning the menu.

Murphy smiled warmly. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get for the lady?" he said, turning to address Hermione.

"No, thank you," she said.

Murphy inclined his head with a brief smile and left.

Hermione just stared at the menu in front of her. The food looked incredible, each entrée described in mouth-watering detail with a recommended wine. And there were no prices. She knew that if you had to ask, it cost too much. She put the menu down and looked at Draco, who was studying her intently.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I feel – ridiculous."

"Why?"

"This – this place! It's so…so posh and really too rich for my blood and I feel quite out of my league, to be honest," she hissed, trying not to be too loud, though her heart was drumming inside her chest.

He frowned. "It's a nice restaurant, Granger. Enjoy it."

She scowled. "I'm surprised they even let me in, without the required million-galleon decorations."

"What are you talking about? There are no requirements."

"Have you looked around?" She motioned to the table nearest them. "Look; that woman's ring probably cost more than all the money I could ever make in three lifetimes." She looked at the next table. "And her necklace is so bright, it's painful. I need sunglasses."

"You need what?" he asked, frowning.

"Never mind. My point is that I do not belong here."

"Why not?"

"Please, Malfoy, must we really have this conversation?"

"Hermione, you belong here just as much as every other person here. In fact, you're probably a lot nicer and much less boring than all of them put together. Don't let appearances fool you."

She crossed her arms and continued scowling at him, pushing away the pleasant sensation that bubbled in her stomach at his use of her name. "Easy for you to say."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She paused. "Except this is obviously somewhere you frequent. You belong here; I don't."

"And why not? Because you're not covered in shiny things? You are more captivating without any of that than they could ever be with all the jewels in the world. Don't let yourself be intimidated by people who are no better than you even though they have money. They are all quite jealous of you right now, be sure of that. Old, rich women love to talk about other people; makes them feel important."

Hermione couldn't really hear past the roaring in her ears. He had just said she was captivating. And she knew, though she'd never heard a compliment escape his lips, though she hadn't been sure he was even capable of a nice thought about another person, that he meant it. She was speechless.

"Please, will you relax? Take a look at the menu and choose something."

She did as she was told, too stunned to question or argue. The waiter approached and brought the wine. He poured both of them a glass, and set the bottle on the table in a bucket of ice.

"Have you decided, sir?"

"Yes. I will have the duck." Draco handed the menu to the waiter and they both looked at Hermione.

"The filet of salmon, please," she said, handing her menu in as well.

The waiter nodded and left. Hermione took a few deep breaths to steady her heart. She felt better; Draco was right, money meant nothing. She knew that, she'd always known that, but when she'd realized how seemlessly he fit in, it had made her uncomfortable. It was so easy to forget, tucked away in their own little world, that he came from a totally different world. When she thought about it, she realized that he, himself made it easy to forget. He didn't flaunt what he had, act like a spoiled rich boy. In fact, it seemed he downplayed his wealth, choosing to live in a humble house on a cliff.

"They know you here, as someone else."

He shrugged. "Yeah. I have to eat, don't I?"

She said nothing.

Just then a third, unexpected voice entered their ears.

"Sarah?" it said. At first it didn't register with Hermione that the voice was addressing her. "Sarah!" it repeated, much closer this time. Hermione looked at Draco, who had an eyebrow raised, looking at her.

In a second, the source of the voice was at their table; it was David Watts. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and stood.

"David, hello," she said, giving him a small hug.

"Wow, you look – stunning."

She blushed a little. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, my parents live in Perth." He shuffled his feet a little and gave an embarrassed smile. "It may be silly, but every year on Valentine's Day I come down here to take them out to eat. I've been doing it for years now, and if I were to ever find someone I'd rather spend the evening with, I think they'd disown me," he said, looking at her with purpose. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just, eating," she said, mentally kicking herself for sounding so stupid; of course she was eating.

"No, in Perth."

"Again, just here for dinner."

Draco cleared his throat. David and Hermione looked at him. Draco stood and extended his hand.

"Andrew Greene."

David accepted it. "David Watts, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. How do you know Sarah?"

David looked at Hermione again, a trace of jealousy plainly written on his features. "She spent a little time with me at the hospital in London. She's very bright."

Hermione smiled, reverting to the acting skills she'd used while at the hospital. "Come now, it was just such a fascinating environment. I couldn't help but be caught up in everything."

David looked a little pained. He smiled at Draco. "So this is why you turned me down, is it?" Draco's attention shot to Hermione, who looked quite unhappy about the direction of the conversation.

"What? Oh, no, Andrew and I are, uh…" --what?-- "friends?" she said, slightly unsure if it was true. Were they friends? Or just acquaintances with a common purpose who lived in the same house. She didn't think that response would please either of them.

Draco's face tightened while David's relaxed a bit, and he continued as if Draco had never interrupted. "Oh. Well, it's great to see you again. You really should come back to the hospital. If you ever need a job, I'll put in a good word for you."

She smiled. "Thank you, I'll remember that."

David took Hermione's hand and kissed it. "See to it that he treats you right, Sarah." She just nodded and David walked away.

Hermione sat down and took a large gulp from her wine glass. She could feel Draco's eyes boring into her, but she wouldn't look at him yet. She looked outside at the ocean instead. It looked much the same as the one she loved, but it wasn't quite as angry.

"Granger," he growled.

She finally looked at him. For a moment, there was something in his eyes-- something raw and angry-- and then it was gone. The wall had gone back up. But it had been…startling, almost frightening in its intensity. The shift in his mood had been so dramatic that she couldn't hold his gaze. "Yes?"

"Explain."

She shrugged. "He is the Healer I shadowed."

He rolled his eyes. "I figured that much out on my own, thanks. He seemed a little more interested in you than as a student."

She swallowed hard. "Yes. I got that impression."

"You turned him down?"

"He asked me out."

"So you didn't go."

"No, I did."

Draco felt like he'd been flying at a hundred miles per hour and then someone put a giant hook around his middle and jerked him backwards at the same rate. It was horribly unpleasant.

"And?"

"And, I told him I was too young for anything serious. I was supposed to be fresh out of Hogwarts."

"That's it?"

"Yes; what more do you want?"

He certainly didn't want to hear any details of their date. So he focused on the part that would get them arguing again and he'd feel on more familiar ground. This jealousy was more than he'd bargained for.

"You went out on a date."

She breathed heavily. "Yes, kind of. But don't freak out. We had dinner in the hospital; I told him I wasn't supposed to go anywhere but there."

"How sweet. Dinner for two across a hospital bed," he sneered, his voice holding more malice than he'd intended.

"It was nothing."

Just then the food arrived.

Didn't look like nothing, Draco thought to himself.

Neither of them spoke for nearly ten minutes. Hermione concentrated on thinking about what an enormous prat Malfoy was.

Draco's thoughts, however, took a much different route. He thought about the Healer, and how he'd looked at Hermione. Well, Sarah really. The man obviously had it bad for her. And he was good. For Merlin's sake, he took his parents out to eat! That spelled G-O-O-D in nearly everyone's book. Good. He dwelt on that a moment. Good.

Hermione deserved someone good. Someone who would shower her with roses and the like, always say nice things to her, and spend his life adoring and loving her unceasingly.

In other words, someone very much not him. Though he could imagine he would be able to love her unceasingly, a realization which quite thoroughly shocked him.

Another thought struck him then and he looked across the room to a table where he'd previously dined. Pieces of the memory, which was now as clear as crystal, replayed in his mind: Jane laughing at a joke he'd told, Steve pulling out his wallet and making an exaggerated show of paying the bill when they all knew Draco would be paying. He had brought them here a few times.

There was an uncomfortable shift in his mind as he realized what he'd thought. David had brought his parents here, and he had brought hers, the two people he thought more highly of than anyone else in the world. He'd done it because he truly cared about them and wanted to show them, as David had done for his parents. He'd equated David's act with inherent goodness, only to realize that as he'd done very nearly the identical thing, the same conclusion could be drawn about himself.

He frowned; he'd never thought of himself as good, not once. Even through all he was doing with Harry, all he'd done for Hermione, it wasn't out of any sense of goodness he felt in himself. It had started as self-preservation and though in large part it had remained that way, part of it had undoubtedly evolved into… something else. He genuinely cared about Hermione and wanted to see her through this War safely to a life free of the fear of Voldemort.

He…loved her, a realization that still frightened him. He had assumed he'd never experience what love really was, never having felt it himself. The Grangers' nurturing had started peeling away the layers of decay and Hermione – caring for her – had finished the job. But he'd also realized that he could likely spend his life loving her, something far different from adoring her. To love her, he would have to be part of her life.

The jealousy steam engine slowed to a crawl. This insanity would get him nowhere, and fast. He still couldn't imagine truly being with Hermione, even if he wanted it more than anything in the world. It wasn't right; someone like him shouldn't ever be with someone like her. As he accepted the idea once again, he felt a numbing calm creep over him like a weight on his heart.

There was no way that Draco Malfoy, disgustingly rich and arrogant Pureblood, every witch's dream, was good enough for Hermione Granger, know-it-all, Mudblood. He laughed bitterly to himself at the irony.

Finally he broke the silence. "You should go out with him."

Hermione set her fork down a little too loudly. "Malfoy, please tell me you're not going to start running my personal life too," she hissed.

"No, I was just thinking about it. He seems nice."

She stared at him, unbelieving.

"I did go out with him."

"I know. I meant again."

"Are you going to make me?" she asked bitingly. "Huh? Tell me it'll be good for your mission?"

Draco was sincerely confused. It had looked to him like Hermione had fancied the bloke a bit. He thought she'd jump at the chance to see him again.

"No, I just thought you would want to."

This guy had just done a complete turn around. "Well, you thought wrong."

"Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Really. If I'd wanted to see him again, I would have. I certainly wasn't waiting for your permission."

"But why not? He's good-looking, nice, obviously wealthy – what's not to like?"

Hermione just stared at him. Only moments before, he'd appeared ready to yell at her in the middle of the restaurant over her seeing David – and now he was almost encouraging her to start dating him. In all her time living with him, he'd only ever been ridiculously over-protective and bordering on jealous when she did things with other people. The way he'd looked just moments before, when he'd demanded she explain about David… he'd actually seemed jealous. But that was absurd...wasn't it? She searched his eyes and found only genuine curiosity now, but she couldn't shake the niggling feeling that there was something more going on.

"If you must know, there was no magic."

He blinked. Huh. "We're talking the non-wand and spells kind here, right?"

"Yes."

Huh. He hadn't expected anything remotely like that. Then his stomach clenched and the steam engine roared back to life. Magic. Touch.

"So he touched you, then?"

She frowned. "What?"

"That – magic stuff. You have to touch to feel it."

"Oh," she said, feeling a little squirmy. "Well, no." He was thoroughly confused now and she could tell. "There are other ways to feel the magic, Malfoy."

"I see. What are those other ways? "

"Senses, mostly. For example, sight. Just the sight of that certain someone can give you the shivers in the middle of July." And then a thought shoved its way into her mind about how she felt whenever she saw him right after he'd just awakened – sleepy Malfoy. It had only been once or twice she'd seen it, but the lazy grin he'd worn was burned into her memory. She shivered, just a little, hopefully unnoticeable to him.

"Or there's sound," she continued. "The sound of the person's voice, or the way he just says your name." Hermione. She could count on both hands the number of times he'd ever said her name, and every time she'd felt a rush, like a wave breaking apart against the cliff wall.

"And there's smell. Maybe he smells a certain way, and every time you smell it, you remember him and the way you felt last time you smelled him." She blushed as he looked at her inquisitively. Her thoughts went to the way she felt every time she woke up with his cloak wrapped around her. She had grown used to breathing his scent nearly every morning.

Oh no, I'm afraid I've got it bad, she thought with dread.

Draco just stared at her. "Oh." He looked at his half-eaten dinner and took a bite. "What about taste?"

"You can't taste a person, Malfoy," she said, trying to steady her voice.

"Sure you can. Kiss them."

"Kissing is touch."

He smirked. "Not if it's French."

Hermione blushed and took another gulp of wine. Draco couldn't help but notice the color that had filled Hermione's cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. A little bubble of male pride swelled in his chest as he realized he could have that kind of effect on her; he already knew she affected him that way.

"Whoa, slow down! I don't want to have to haul you back and hold your head while you retch because you got plastered."

She glared at him. "I can hold it."

"If you say so," he said, thankful for a breath of familiar territory. He knew it wouldn't last long and he'd again be plunged under the surface again. And despite his reluctance to hear her answer, he proceeded to ask what he wanted to know.

"So which sense failed you?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"Well, I find sight highly unreliable. You can think someone is attractive, but then he opens his mouth and you find out he's an idiot and the attraction fades rather quickly."

"Really?" Draco asked, again honestly interested.

"Oh yes. It's one reason I tried to discourage Viktor from talking." She smiled to herself a little. "Sadly, it didn't work."

Viktor Krum. Yuck.

"And sound and smell are so fickle. I really only bank on touch."

"This brings us to my original question. He touched you then?"

"Yes. He did." She wasn't about to give him the details.

"Oh. And no magic."

"No magic. And you can't force it. You can't force magic to exist." She thought of Ron. "Just as much as you can't force it to go away." She said that last part to remind herself that there wasn't anything she could do about the way she felt about him. She would just have to ride it out and hopefully she'd still be in one piece once she landed on the other side.

The rest of the meal was uneventful. Hermione took her last bite of fish and sighed. "That was too delicious."

Draco smiled, a real smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you like dessert?"

Hermione laughed. "No, thank you. I've got ice cream waiting for me at home."

Draco blinked, just registering what she'd said: home. He didn't mention it of course, probably meant nothing.

"All right, I'll call the waiter," he said. Draco paid for the meal, and then they both stood and left the restaurant. Once outside, Hermione sighed again heavily.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes. That was – interesting. Can we go back now?"

"Of course."

They both Disapparated.

When they arrived back at the house, Draco opened the door and let her in first. When they were back in the sitting room, they returned their appearances to normal, and Draco was again rendered breathless by Hermione.

She gave him a little smile. "Thanks for dinner. It went better than last time."

He nodded, but couldn't say anything, still at a loss. He thought she'd never been so beautiful, and it wasn't the fancy robes, the pretty dress, or even her once again out of control hair. There was no one part of her that stood out, signaling that she was lovely; everything together shouted it loudly to every nerve, every cell in his body. It was…Hermione herself, everything that made her who she was, that he found so unutterably attractive. It was daunting to realize that he'd just completely fallen in love with her all over again.

She slowly turned away from him, once again considering his lack of response, and resumed her spot on the sofa amongst the piles of forgotten tissues. Draco cringed slightly as she sat on the robe, but then smiled a little thinking how nice it was that she wasn't concerned about keeping it perfect.

Draco went to his room and changed into faded jeans and an old Slytherin T-shirt. He poked around his room for half an hour, then couldn't resist his desire to be in the same room with Hermione.

She was still sitting and staring at the telly, ice cream in hand. If she hadn't been in the robin's egg blue robes, he wouldn't have known she'd ever moved that evening.

He walked into the room and moved the tissues away with his wand, looking at them disgustedly. Then he sat down on the edge of the sofa. Hermione felt a hundred tiny butterflies collide inside her at his nearness and she wondered when she'd begun being so aware of his presence.

"What's this one?" he asked.

"Pride and Prejudice." He sat watching her and the movie a few minutes, then settled into his seat to be more comfortable.

"Granger, pass the ice cream."

She turned to him, and her breath caught. He looked really handsome in the Muggle clothes with his hair slightly messy. She grinned and handed it to him. "There's only one spoon," she warned, then turned back to the telly.

Draco looked at the spoon, then shrugged and took a large bite. He saw Hermione smile slightly when he did.

Harry came home two hours later to find his housemates in the sitting room. The television was on very low, almost inaudible and the changing scenes provided a flickering, muted light. Empty ice cream cartons littered the floor. Hermione was lying asleep on the sofa, her feet at one end and her head next to Draco who was sitting on the opposite end.

Harry looked to the telly and frowned because he saw what he knew had to be a girl movie, yet Draco was glued to it.

"Hey," said Harry in a whisper, entering the room and sitting on a chair next to the sofa. It was then he noticed that Hermione had on one of her robes from Malfoy, a black dress, and that there were black shoes at the foot of the sofa.

"Hey," said Draco, looking at Harry.

"What's that?" asked Harry, indicating the movie.

"Uhm, what did she call it? Price and Prejudice, I think."

Harry scrunched his nose in distaste. "How can you watch that rubbish?"

"It's actually really good, Potter."

"Whatever." Harry studied Hermione. She looked so peaceful that it hurt him to think of what was ahead for her, for all of them, really. "She's beautiful."

Draco looked at her as well, and without thinking about what he was doing, said, "Yeah, she is."

Harry's eyes widened and he smirked. "Aha!"

Draco looked at Harry. "What?"

"You just agreed that she's beautiful!"

"So? I'm not blind, you know." Draco was irritated that he'd so carelessly let slip his thoughts.

"And what happened tonight?" Harry asked. He was grinning ridiculously and it only served to infuriate Draco further.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I left this morning, she assured me that she would be in her pajamas all day. And she clearly is not in them now."

Draco thought about how he wanted to phrase his answer. "I refused to eat ice cream for dinner. She came with me."

"So you went out?"

"We went to get food."

"Where?"

"What does it matter where?" Harry's grinning was starting to make Draco see spots.

"Was it a date?"

"No!" said Draco, much more loudly than he intended. Hermione stirred, but didn't wake up. At least, that's what they thought.

"Shh!" scolded Harry. "Don't wake her up!"

"If you'd quit asking ridiculous questions, she wouldn't!"

"You're the one getting upset by them and being loud about it."

Draco glared at him. "It wasn't a date."

"Then what was it?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner on what day?"

"The day is inconsequential. She was going to have me eat ice cream."

"Looks like you might have eaten some anyway."

"Pudding."

"Ah. Of course. And 'Pride and Prejudice,' ultimate girl rubbish."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter, get over yourself."

"You said she's beautiful."

"No, you said it. I agreed. It's different."

"Not really. You still think she's beautiful."

"You are so going to get it tomorrow, Harry."

"What are you going to do?"

Draco grinned maniacally. "You'll see. Let's just say it will be unlike any training session we've ever had before."

"Ooh, I'm really scared."

"You should be."

"But I'm not, Malfoy. I mean, you're going soft! 'Pride and Prejudice'?"

"It's good, not that you'd know anything about that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Malfoy. You haven't scared me in a long time."

"But I did scare you. Remember that. Channel that."

Harry stood up, still looking like an escaped mad person, and walked to the edge of the room. "Can't wait to see the scary Malfoy back tomorrow! It'll be like old times!"

Draco rolled his eyes and resumed the movie.

Hermione actually had been roused when Draco had yelled at Harry. She lay still, breathing regularly, listening to their argument. She heard him say he thought she was beautiful. Or agree to it. Whatever. Remembering his compliment from earlier in the evening, Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was floating. Harry soon left the room and Hermione watched a few more minutes of the movie with Draco before falling asleep again with a huge smile on her face.

ooo

A/N: They don't say "dessert" in England; it's pudding. :) OH! And Linwe-Amari wrote a SONG inspired by my story! I cannot tell you how giddy that made me! And the lyrics are awesome. Check it out at Deviant Art.