Draco's hands fumbled nervously as he buttoned up his shirt, the third one he'd tried on so far; at first he'd put on his standard black but after checking himself in the mirror he worried that it was too plain and had swapped it out for a green velvet one that Pansy had bought him for Christmas. She argued that it 'made him look younger', but he thought it looked garish against his pale skin. Now he was having second thoughts about the third choice; a Paisley pattern that Blaise had talked him into buying but he had never worn. Looking at it now, he knew why – this was even worse than the green one. He sighed and pulled the shirt roughly off his shoulders. He'd just wear the black silk one.

His phone buzzed and he rolled his eyes as Daphne's name came up on the screen. Answering the call he sat the phone down on the bedside table.

"You're on loudspeaker," he informed her without properly greeting her.

"Nervous?" she asked unperturbed. They knew each other well enough now to surpass formal greetings on the phone.

Bricking it, he thought truthfully.

"Nope," he lied, holding two ties up in front of him, comparing them in his reflection. "What tie should I wear – green or grey?"

"Where are you taking her?" she asked.

"The Century Bar," he replied.

"No tie," she suggested. "And undo the top two buttons of your shirt."

"Really?" he asked uncertainly, discarding the ties onto the bed. "Isn't that going to look a bit casual?"

"I thought this was a casual drink?" asked Daphne with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"It is," he smirked, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Two was too many in his opinion.

"But you're hoping for something more," she chanced.

Maybe, he thought tentatively.

"Like you said," he replied evasively. "It's just a drink."

"With Hermione Granger," she noted, not even trying to disguise her amusement now. Draco frowned as he fiddled with his silver cufflinks.

"I should never have admitted that to you," he mused, but his sister-in-law had a knack for eking out all sorts of sensitive information from Draco; as far as she was concerned, her years in the Auror's office were well-spent simply so she could effectively interrogate him.

"I'm glad you did," she said sincerely. "She obviously made quite the impression on you."

"I knocked the poor woman out with a golf ball," he replied dismissively. "The very least I could do was buy her a drink as way of an apology."

"Of course it is," said retorted in a mockingly sweet voice. "That's why you're getting your knickers in a twist about what tie you should wear. How many times have you changed your shirt already?"

"Just the once," he lied, kneeling to tie his shoelaces.

"Sure," she laughed sounding unconvinced. "Well, what I find most interesting is that this is the first time you've asked someone out for a date of your own volition; every previous date you've had to be coerced into. Admit it Draco, you asked her because you actually like her."

"It's not a date," he reiterated more firmly.

"Of course it's not," she replied appeasingly. "Well you must call me back once your date— ah, excuse me, your drink finishes up. I want to hear all the gory details."

"I'll let you know how it goes," he promised.

"If I don't hear from you until morning, I'll assume that your night went well," she teased. Draco laughed.

"I don't even think a barrelful of Felix Felicis would make me that lucky."

"Stop putting yourself down," she gently chided him. "You're quite the catch you know; you're not hideous-looking—"

"Real boost to my confidence there, Daphne," he grumbled.

"You're independently wealthy, you have lands and titles—" she continued.

"None of which will impress Granger," he pointed out. He shook his head feeling increasingly dispirited, "Nothing I have to offer is of any interest to her. The more I think about it, the less I understand why she agreed to meet me in the first place."

"Because she's obviously interested in you too," she laughed. "Seriously, stop worrying about it. Just go down there and see how it plays out. Just be yourself."

Draco snorted, "I'm afraid that might be what scares her off."

"Then it'll be her loss," she replied lightly. Draco smiled, a swelling feeling of love and appreciation for his sister-in-law filling his chest.

"Thank you, Daphne."

"Any time, dear," she crooned. "Pep talk's over; go enjoy your date."

"Not a date Daphne, but will do," Draco hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. His friends had been trying to encourage him to start dating again for a while now, but so far with little success; the girls Theo set him up with were all at least fifteen years too young for him and it made him cringe to think of dating a girl that was closer to his son's age than his own. Daphne had tried setting him up on dates with a couple of her friends, and while they were friendly enough company, sparks didn't fly either. Draco wanted someone who was on an equal footing to him, someone that would challenge him like Astoria had, but neither did he want a carbon copy of her.

Daphne was right – he didn't ask women out on dates. It had been Astoria that had approached him initially all those years ago, and he hadn't shown any particular interest in the women his friends had tried to set him up with since she'd passed. Hermione Granger on the other hand…

Draco felt something pleasant and warm blossom in the pit of his stomach when he thought about her. There was someone who had always piqued his interests. Even at school, he had been grudgingly fascinated with the young witch; how could this Muggle-born, so lacking in experience of the wizarding world outstrip him in everything? He could admit to himself now that it had been easier to make fun of her than to question everything his parents had always taught him about blood supremacy. But he was older and wiser now to see the fault in his reasoning; Hermione Granger wasn't exceptional in spite of or because of her Muggle-born status – she just was exceptional.

When he had seen her again today he had been momentarily taken aback by the feelings that she had stirred in him; it had been a long time since any woman had sparked his interests, longer still since he had felt that way about anyone other than his wife. Despite their unconventional reunion, he had thrown caution to the wind and had asked her out for a drink. The worst that could happen was that she would refuse and he would resume his holiday playing golf in blissful solitude. But to his surprise and delight she had said yes, though he couldn't quite figure out why. He supposed he'd get his answer tonight.

Draco pulled on his suit jacket and fixed his shirt cuffs, giving himself a last look over in the mirror. He didn't think he looked too bad for his age; his hair was tidy and slicked back, although not as severe as it had been in his school days. He'd grown his hair long when he had been married, but had cut it short soon after Astoria's funeral in a desperate attempt at a fresh start. He hadn't felt much better after doing it, but he thought he suited short hair nonetheless. He hoped that wearing black head to toe didn't look too severe, but it was his most flattering colour. He instinctively reached for his wedding ring and then paused. Even though it had been two years since Astoria had passed, he still considered himself a married man. What would Granger say if she saw him still wearing his ring? Obviously he knew what had happened to Krum – he'd been at the fateful match along with half of the wizarding world – but he hadn't noticed whether she still wore a ring on her hand since she'd been wearing a golfing glove at the time.

He sighed and slipped the band onto the ring finger of his right hand.

The ring still felt like an anchor of sorts; Astoria had always been there to keep his head straight, and wearing the ring even now reminded him of that. But he wasn't sure whether wearing it kept him grounded anymore or it was just holding him back from moving on. Draco tried to shake away the internal conflict raging in him in that moment - between his love for his wife and these new feelings that had arisen in him; it was something to think about for another time, not just before his not-date with Hermione Granger. Striding out of the room with a greater air of confidence than he felt, he told himself that so long as Hermione didn't slap him this time, the night would surely be considered a success.

Unless he knocked her unconscious again.

Not likely, he thought uncertainly. But Merlin, knowing my luck it's not impossible.