A/N: Another early update... Actually, they're probably going to be coming this frequently from now on. Oh, and I took out a chunk of the story between last chapter and this chapter. But don't fret, dear fanfiction lovers—it wasn't relevant to the plot.

Also, there is a technical error in Chapter 4 that a reviewer (athia) informed me of: you can't get Captain Crunch in Britain. For those of you living Captain Crunch-less in Britain, I am very, very sorry.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters and elements belong to J.K. Rowling.

"How's it coming, Hermione?"

I blinked up at my coworker, his trim, elegant, almost effeminate frame leaning against the doorway to my office.

"It's… coming," I said, scratching my scalp through a mess of dark brown curls. "What are you doing?"

He fiddled with his watch as an enchanted paper airplane memo came whizzing past his head and onto my desk. "It's nearly twelve thirty. I was wondering if you wanted to go get lunch with me."

I unfolded the memo and groaned—jury duty next week. "No thanks, Draco. Don't have time."

He smiled his perfect white smile. "Ouch."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I have to have this in by tomorrow morning and I like to edit it, at the very least, twice before then..."

He glided to the chair opposite my desk. "Honestly? You've been working on that damned bill for months. You finished the thing two weeks ago. There isn't a single error in the entire twenty-three pages of it. Believe me—I know. I've read it six times." He sighed and crossed his legs as he fell gracefully into the chair. "All I'm asking is lunch. My treat."

I looked down at the pages of parchment and groaned.

He huffed dramatically. "We can even go into muggle London if it'll make you happy."

I chuckled and set my quill down on the table. "Okay, fine. Let me get my purse."

We walked out to the street and down a few blocks to a café that I picked out. We ordered just as a pair of slender, busty blondes walked into the room and giggled in Draco's direction.

He smirked over his shoulder. "You know, muggle London isn't all that bad…"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to have to lock you up, you man-veela. What would the missus say?"

Draco handed the man at the counter a few bills. "Hmm… maybe something along the lines of, 'Sweet Merlin, my children are going to be gorgeous.'"

"And so modest…" I remarked as the cashier gave him his change.

"Well, they will be Malfoys, won't they?"

We walked over to a table by the window and sat down. Minutes later, a girl with a black apron, thick rimmed glasses and hair up in a messy bun came over and delivered our food. I looked from my plate to Draco's. He had a small salad and I had a sandwich that was about four inches high and took up the entire surface of my plate. Way to be a fatty, Hermione.

"So do you have any plans for Christmas?" he asked.

I swallowed a bite of my mammoth sandwich. "I'm going to the Burr— the Weasley's house. Molly makes enough food to feed an entire clan of giants and everyone is there, so it's nice to see all of them." I wiped my face with my napkin. "And you?"

"Oh, you know—the usual. Mother and Father are going to come and stay with us for a few weeks, which doesn't exactly thrill Astoria. We've still got a million and one things to do before they get here… We'd been having issues with our curtains in the room leading to the terrace? I told you about that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I think so. Couldn't decide on a fabric?"

"Color, fabric… anything, really. I looked through more bolts of fabric… It was a nightmare. She would fall in love with one, then, the next day, she'd hate it. This went on for weeks until, finally, we decided on a green linen with some sort of gauze mess behind it… personally, I don't care what the material of the fabric is so long as it means that this odious project is finished. Anyway, we had them picked out, we got them delivered, and we were getting ready to install them—"

"And risk breaking a nail?!" I asked in mock horror.

"Ha—you're funny. Anyway, we were getting ready to install the curtains when she decided that she couldn't even bare to look at them."

"Really?"

"Yes. I offered that we hold onto them in case she changed her mind, but when I came home the other day, I found that she had set fire to them."

I gaped. "Wow."

"I know, right? The crazy bint… Merlin knows I love her, though."

I grinned. "Aw…"

"What?" he asked, dusting a crumb off his sweater vest.

"You're such a softy," I said, leaning my elbows on the table and sighing dramatically.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, as hard to believe as it is, even Draco Heart-of-Stone Malfoy has the capacity to love." He shook his arm and slung out his wristwatch. "We'd better head back."

Ron was in a noticeably foul mood when I got home. I was sitting at the kitchen table, reading Witch Weekly and drinking a butterbeer when he grumpily ambled into the kitchen. "So you had lunch with Malfoy today," he stated flatly, leafing through the pile of mail.

I gulped down the fizzy liquid in my mouth. "Um, yes, I did. How did you know that?"

He shrugged but didn't look at me. "I was on my way to the Ministry and I saw you sitting in the window of a restaurant."

"Oh."

He didn't so much as turn his head in my direction when walked past me into the living room.

It was about eleven o'clock when I walked up the stairs to go to sleep. Ron was coming back from the bathroom at the end of the hall. He had a towel slung over his shoulder and his hair was still wet.

"Goodnight, Ron," I said on the way to my bedroom.

He turned and looked at me. "Didn't you have that bill due in tomorrow?"

I stopped and smiled, pleasantly surprised that he remembered. "Uh, well, yeah. I do. Why do you ask?"

"Well I was just wondering how you had any time to be going out to lunch on the day before such a big event."

I paused. "Oh. Well, really, I finished it a long time ago. I've mostly been editing for quite a while now."

"And you just decided to stop? Don't you think you should have looked it over again?"

"I must have 'looked it over' more than fifty times, Ron. It's finished."

"Oh, and did Draco convince you of that?"

"Yes, he did," I said cautiously. "I was being unreasonable."

"Huh. Convenient."

"What is wrong with you?" I asked.

"What's wrong with me? Oh, there's nothing wrong with me. There is, however, something very wrong with you," he said with a seething calmness.

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

"What were you doing having lunch with Malfoy?" he demanded.

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"You understood, Hermione—they don't call you the smartest witch in a bloody century for no reason."

"He's my coworker—I might even go as far as to say that he's my friend—and friends go to lunch. It's really not that unusual of a practice." I sighed. "And, frankly, I fail to see how it's any of your business."

"I don't trust him," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ron, he's harmless—you know that."

"Well I still don't like him!"

"That doesn't mean that I can't!" I groaned. "Why do you even care?"

He paused and his expression faltered before he set his jaw again. "I don't," he said and then stormed into his bedroom. His door clattered shut and I was left standing in the dark hallway.

Harry's head popped out of his door and he was clutching his illuminated wand. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, did we wake you up?" I asked apologetically.

"No, I was awake—I just heard a loud noise. Is everything okay?"

Then, Ron's door swung back open. "No, it's not okay, Harry, because Hermione here is sneaking around and having lunch with Draco bloody Malfoy!" He said, hands flourishing about and his face so red that I thought it was going to explode, then slammed the door shut again.

Harry raised an eyebrow at me.

"I need some tea," I said, rubbing my hands over my eyes.

A/N: Reviews! OM NOM NOM NOM.