Hermione was sure to wear a hole in her rug with the amount of pacing that she had done lately. But it couldn't be helped; it was a habit that she had developed over the years. Somehow, the act seemed to help her clear her mind and think rationally. And never before did she need that ability more than now.

Because Draco Malfoy was an enigma. And he was due to be here any minute now.

Yesterday, he had sent her an owl asking her if she wanted to hang out again. She'd replied that he could just come over to her flat and that they could figure things out from there.

It all seemed a bit surreal. If you'd asked her ten years ago if she thought she'd ever invite Draco Malfoy into her home, she probably would have died laughing. But here she was, jittery with nervousness and listening closely for a knock at her door.

Of course, they had spent plenty of time together already. At quiet teahouses and fancy restaurants. For walks in the park, where they'd laid on the damp grass to stare up at the stars. She'd even dragged him to a Muggle theatre once, where he had spent the entire movie asking her questions about how the screen and projector worked.

But they had never spent time together at her home. There was something innately personal about it, and the thought sent prickles across her skin.

When the knock came, even though she had been expecting it, she jumped slightly. Subconsciously, she ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it. Taking a deep breath, she rushed forward to answer the door.

If Hermione was being honest with herself, and that was something that was hard to do when it came to this man, the sight of him standing in her doorway, looking like an angel and a demon rolled into one, almost took her breath away.

He smiled, and something about the action seemed mischievous. Before she could question it, Draco had leaned towards her. Her eyes widened as she tried to figure out what to do.

She should probably put a stop to this. But then the only thing between them was their breath, and the logical part of her brain seemed to shut down.

She was now running on nothing but instinct, and, letting her eyes flutter shut, Hermione leaned forward to meet him. And then their lips touched and everything else was gone.

No disapproving family and friends. No words or actions that they both wished they could take back. No bitter pasts. Just both of them together in the moment.

When it was over, and it was over far, far too soon, she turned away from him. Hermione tried to ignore the fierce blush that had swept across her face and cleared her throat nervously. "I thought the kiss was supposed to come at the end of the date."

That same mischievous grin had returned to his face. Taking a step forward and shutting the door behind him, he said, "Well, I didn't think I could wait that long."