.

.and as my heart begins to pound, i smiled.

.miguel jontel.

Draco was completely sure that sweating was against the laws written down in the Malfoy Canon - in fact, if his excellent memory served him well, it was discussed briefly in both rule seventeen and twenty five, then explicitly forbidden in rule thirty-three. As he surreptitiously smoothed his hands on his trousers underneath the restaurant table, he felt justified in being worried that he was close to breaking said rule. He had done his best to adhere to this adage all day but Merlin knew that it had been ridiculously difficult. Who could have predicted that successfully asking Hermione Granger on a date could have resulted in today's drama?

Let no one say that Draco Malfoy was faint of heart. He might be a Slytherin through and through, but he had braved the fires of hell to get to this afternoon. Perhaps the better directive would be he had convinced Pansy that he wasn't the man for her, prepped his father for the possibility of a Muggle-born witch as his son's girlfriend, warned off that lowly Cormac McLaggen with copious threats of bodily harm, had a grand total of two civil conversations with Weasley and Potter, before implementing Plan Woo Granger. Set-up had taken approximately seven weeks, in between floundering underneath the monumental Seventh Year workload, but he had been rewarded for his efforts. Preparation made perfect, as Malfoy Canon twelve stated, and preparation had cleared most of the obstacles of asking his target on a date.

Of course, Hermione Granger was by no means easy to obtain. Still, let no one say that Draco Malfoy was not determined. He'd derived no end of satisfaction from the incredulous look she'd thrown him after reading the simple note he'd passed her behind Professor Snape's back, then the downright suspicious one she'd shot across the Great Hall when he'd winked at her. Let's not forget the way her eyes had narrowed after he'd picked up a book she'd dropped in the hallway, or her bemusement after an interesting Care of Magical Creatures class in which they were partnered up to . Well, that last event might have clued her into his feelings. In his defense, she'd been looking so adorably flushed and that single curl had been on the verge of exiting her messy bun that he couldn't have kept his hands from tucking it behind her ear.

Oh yes, the smartest witch of her age had probably got an inkling of Draco Malfoy's intentions towards her.

Still, that didn't explain his current predicament. It seemed as if half the House of Slytherin and almost all of the House of Gryffindor had decided that they too needed to be jammed into Madame Rosmerta's. He was sure that there were more than a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs interspersed in the crowd - all apparently avid watchers of the date that he and Hermione were supposed to be on. He could hardly call it such when Potter and Weasley were busy glaring on his far left, Crabbe and Goyle were whispering quite audbily on his right, and he was hard pressed to hear anything an increasingly irritated Hermione was saying over the buzz of their audience.

He rubbed his hands again and decided that he - they - had had enough. He stood - the movement causing a sudden hush in the bar - and first addressed the crowd.

"I hope you all know that we intend to take points from every House once Hogsmeade is over." Titters exploded and under cover the noise, he whispered to his date over the table. "Shall we leave?"

She looked at once amused and grateful.

"I thought you'd never ask." She made that adorable huffing noise that he'd hated to like before the War, and loved to coax out of her after it. "I've already had a talk with Harry and Ron, and I expected they would have helped ward off this. As Head Girl, I would never dream of abusing my power but I am certainly thinking of it."

She surveyed the crowd with a haughty look that would do his father proud. The thought made him blink a little bit - he really had to stop thinking in the long term. As cocky as he was, he wasn't an idiot. Just because he imagined no other woman could ever be his equal didn't mean Providence would see fit to hand her to him. He had been blessed by the fact that his involvement in the War had been minimal and non-compliant and he'd been blessed by the fact that his godfather had gone straight to Headmaster Dumbledore to vouch for that. She'd seen how inclined to forgive she was, despite how terrible he had been in their earlier years, and he knew it was only this that had gotten them thus far.

Now, if he could only get the rest of Hogwarts school to leave well enough alone he would be able to prove to her that he was more than worth her time.

"I'm glad you agree." Just to really start the rumor mill going, he helped her out of her seat with a proprietary hand at the small of her back. If the action happened to induce gasps out of the crowd and something amusingly like a roar from Potter and Weasley, it was really quite coincidental. He was taking no pleasure out of tormenting two thirds of the Golden Trio. Really. "I'm wondering if anyone will have the guts to follow us out of here."

Hermione broke into a smile that reminded him of why he was worrying about rule thirty-three of the Canon in the first place. He beat down the urge to wipe his hands again and smiled back at her. When she moved forward to navigate the tables - whose residents were suddenly looking extremely interested in the ceiling or their Butterbeers or their food - he had to physically restrain himself from smirking back at the Boy Who Lived and his faithful best friend. When he'd successfully conquered the urge, he followed her out the door and into the snowy Hogsmeade main street. As soon as the door closed behind them, she let out a sigh that rather neatly summed up how he felt about the entire situation.

"Now, we can finally get started," he said. He was prepared when the full force of another smile was turned upon it, and turned the butterflies in his stomach to more productive work - like growling. It was a good thing that the wind was making too much sound for her to hear it. "I'm going to admit that I haven't eaten all day. How does Honeydukes sound to you?"

"Did I make you nervous?" Draco was pleasantly surprised that she felt comfortable enough to tease him already. This was a good sign. "Is that why you haven't eaten yet?"

"And if I said yes?"

He started to walk forward, trusting that she would keep up.

"I would wonder if you were telling the truth," she glanced up at him with a half-smile on her face. "And probably come to the conclusion that you weren't."

"I solemnly swear that Malfoys never lie." She clearly didn't believe him so he revised with a wink. "I solemnly swear that Malfoys never lie outright without reason."

She laughed and the laugh shook him all the way to his core. If anyone had told Draco at age eleven on Platform Nine and Three Quarters that a good portion of his education would be spent mooning over a Muggle-Born witch, he might just about laughed his head off. Or gone off the deep end and hexed the messenger. Now, he couldn't see how he could have possibly stayed away from her. It was amazing how much stronger the effect of her laughter was up close - he felt warmer just by gazing at her. Even the wild hair he used to glorify in making fun of was fascinating - just last week in Charms he'd sat behind her in class and figured out that not only was each individual lock a curly wilderness but she actually had about five different shades of brown. A rich dark chocolate interlaced with everything from auburn to a honeyed hazel to even a russet in the sunlight. It was fortunate that Blaise had gotten in the habit of shocking him with his wand before it became too obvious.

"Come on, come on," Hermione said through laughter, "weren't you supposed to be hungry?"

Never let it be said that Draco Malfoy was a love besotted fool, however. He was determined to conquer the rampaging butterflies and the way his eyes seemed to follow her around whenever she was in the room. He refused to let his mind look past Seventh Year and he refused to fall in love without a fight. Well...sort of. When he took her hand as they continued to wander down Hogsmeade's main road, a future he'd never imagined was unrolling in his mind. When she squeezed to let him know it was alright, he suspected right there and then that he was just going to have to toss the Malfoy Canon out for the afternoon.

Rule thirty-three, amongst others, was well on its way to being broken.

Fin