Author's Note: Hello once again! I'm so excited to finally have a new chapter to share with all of you. And, as always, a massive thank you to all you lovely people who continue to follow along with this story. It means so much to me. Of course, I also have to thank the wonderful LightofEvolution who somehow always reads my mind and knows exactly how to make this story better. She just finished publishing her story School's Not Out For Summer, so go check that out if you have a chance. I hope you enjoy this next chapter and let me know what you think :)


Draco shoved his hands into the pockets of his Muggle London appropriate jeans where his recently borrowed books from the library had already been discreetly shrunk and stowed away. The sun that had previously peeked through the typical cloudy England sky was now obscured, and the early evening breeze wove its way down the narrow streets. He and Hermione had been aimlessly walking for over half an hour at this point, but Draco didn't mind in the slightest. It wasn't as if he was in a rush to get home.

"I'm just pointing out that it's quite interesting that war is such a central aspect of all three books," Draco continued with the discussion that he and Hermione had been engaged in since the moment they had stepped foot out of her office. The only lull had been when the Muggle librarian had stared them down for speaking too loudly in the otherwise silent atmosphere, but now that they had left the establishment, they were free to proceed completely unbridled.

Hermione briefly glanced up at him and grinned before returning her focus to the pavement in front of her. "This may come as a shock to you, but war isn't wizard-kind exclusive," she retorted, her mocking manner instantly apparent. "One could even argue that the wizarding style of war is outdated due to all the Muggle technological advances."

Draco snorted. "I understand that you have a tendency to believe that people always know less than you and therefore feel the constant urge to educate others, but I had actually figured that first part out for myself," he joked as they rounded a corner, their strides matching one another. "Yet that doesn't mean I expected the topic to come up in three separate books, so a little warning would have been appreciated! Especially since there's a character referred to as the Dark Lord."

"Believe it or not, Voldemort didn't invent the term. In fact, Tolkien is often credited for coining it," Hermione informed him, clearly not heeding to what he had just said. "Ever since the publication of The Fellowship of the Rings in 1954, that title has often been used to refer to a villain who seeks to control the world around them through the assistance of their loyal followers. Which, if you think about it, is quite the fitting name for Voldemort to choose for himself."

Typically, Draco was uncomfortable with any mention of the man his family used to blindly follow, but in this instance, he merely laughed in amusement. "Are you suggesting that during those years that Tom Riddle laid low after Hogwarts, he was off reading Muggle literature?"

Hermione chuckled, her own laughter joining his. "Of course not! Even he wasn't that big of a hypocrite! Probably just overheard the name somewhere. But it does conjure up a funny thought, doesn't it?"

The mental image made Draco laugh more audibly, picturing a young Tom Riddle, pre-downward spiral into complete maniacal tendencies, casually kicking up his feet and reading Lord of the Rings in his spare time between Horcrux creations and Dark Arts training. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he conceded, snorting a final short laugh through his nose. "Although, I will have to take away a point for you still being an insufferable know-it-all, so I'm afraid you're back to a net of zero."

"Well, that's not fair!" Hermione said, intentionally bumping into him with her shoulder, her smile never flickering. "You clearly enjoyed the factoid, so I demand my point back!"

"Absolutely not," Draco maintained. She arched an eyebrow at him, but he merely shrugged it off. "Sorry, Granger. I don't make the rules."

"Liar," she taunted with a gentle elbow knock into his side. "Admit you found it interesting, and give me my point back."

Draco shook his head. "I will never admit such a thing," he retorted, determined to stand his ground even though they both knew that she was right. His grin widened as he peered down at her and soaked in the warmth her glimmering gaze. "Guess you'll just have to learn how to control that pesky temptation of yours to share random tidbits of knowledge whenever they pop up into that clever brain of yours."

Hermione turned around and started walking backwards, dropping her jaw in feigned disbelief. "Clever?" she repeated. "My, my, Malfoy. Is that a compliment I detect?"

"Alert the Daily Prophet! Draco Malfoy spotted complimenting a Muggle-born!" he proclaimed, his booming voice echoing off the surrounding buildings. Hermione swatted her hand against his shoulder, trying to get him to lower his voice, but his words were mere gibberish to any passersby, so there wasn't any harm. "I can see tomorrow's headline now! 'Breaking News: Malfoy Heir Compliments War Heroine.' And then just underneath, an exposé of every single witch I'm supposedly dating followed by a short paragraph speculating if Hell truly has frozen over."

Hermione made a show of rolling her eyes, but her amusement remained apparent as she returned to walking in a normal direction. "You sure do think you're funny don't you?"

"Correction. I know I'm funny," he said with an assured grin. "But the real question is do you find me funny?"

Hermione smiled at him tauntingly. "I will never admit such a thing."

...

There were few things that Hermione enjoyed more than a quality literature discussion, and so far, Draco had proven to be quite the intellectual counterpart — and a rather humorous one at that. She had always known him to be just behind her academically in Hogwarts — the brunette having secretly taken additional pride in beating him on nearly every exam — but doing well in school didn't necessarily mean that someone also had the capacity to hold a stimulating conversation, let alone one that had lasted so long.

Whenever Hermione mentioned to Ron or Harry a book she had read, they typically made snide remarks about how she was the only person who cared so much about the novels. But was it that unusual that she craved someone to discuss her books with? Half the fun of reading was sharing your thoughts once you had finished that final page. Yet after so many years, she had learned to accept that this would always be her two best friends' reaction. Compared to that, talking to Draco was a refreshing change. Not only had she found someone who shared her appreciation of books and could engage in a deep, meaningful conversation, but he also kept her laughing along the way.

She and Draco lazily strolled through the Muggle London streets until they arrived at Hermione's favourite square only a few blocks away from her flat. The autumn leaves had begun to turn subtle shades of red, orange, and yellow, and the soft breeze rattled a few loose, causing them to slowly cascade down onto the grass below. Several other people were scattered across the square's lawn, all savouring one of the final pleasant afternoons of the year.

Not too far away, Hermione spotted a patch of open grass underneath one of the nearby trees. "Why don't we sit for a bit?" she proposed.

"About bloody time!" Draco instantly responded, appearing all too relieved at her suggestion. "My feet started aching around fifteen minutes ago, and I've been seriously contemplating if it was worth the risk to cast a Cushioning Charm on them!"

Hermione had barely stepped off the pavement and onto the square when she felt the sudden pressure of Draco's fingertips pressing into her waist, jerking her closer to him. Hermione's heart temporarily faltered at the unexpected touch and once she had regained her footing, looked up at him in a mixture of shock and bewilderment. But as quickly as his hand had gripped her, it was gone.

"Careful, there, Granger," he warned, motioning his chin towards the evidence of where a Muggle hadn't cleaned up after their pet. "You're lucky I'm more observant than you, or else you'd have a proper mess on your shoes right now."

"Thank you," Hermione said earnestly but then glanced up at him. "Although, I hope you don't expect a medal for being considerate."

Draco beamed at her. "No medal necessary. Your gratitude is sufficient."

When they reached the shaded spot under the tree, Draco removed his jacket and spread it out on the ground. He then sat on the grass and leaned back so that his blond head rested directly in the green blades, missing the jacket completely. Upon first assessment, Hermione stared at the untouched jacket with confusion, determined that Draco was going to adjust his position so that his head rested on top of the fabric, but it never came. He simply remained in his reclined position, his eyelids slowly falling shut.

And then it became clear to her - he had laid out the jacket for her.

After waiting a few more seconds just to make sure that really was Draco's intention, Hermione finally took her seat. She supposed being raised in a Pureblood family came with certain expectations and one of them was that he was always a proper gentleman. Making sure that she didn't step in anything unsavoury and offering his jacket as a blanket were merely extensions of those old-school manners. It was slightly antiquated and fell a bit too strictly along traditional gender roles for Hermione's usual taste, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the simple gestures.

Draco's eyes slowly reopened as he began to fish around in his pocket for something. A few moments later, he revealed a small confectionary bag, pulling out his third Turkish delight of the afternoon.

He extended the bag in her direction. "Want one?" he asked, even though she had turned him down both of the previous times he had offered.

"Still no," she passed. "You're just about the only person I know who actually enjoys them," Hermione commented with a short laugh and a shake of her head as she looked down at him from her seated position. "I was convinced you'd think they were a disappointment after how much they were built up in the book!"

Draco swallowed his bite and then shrugged. "Perhaps not 'betray my family' good, but delectable nonetheless."

When he finished the rest of the sweet, his eyes fell closed once more and he released a gentle hum, presumably savouring the fresh fall air sweeping over him. As he blissfully laid there, a peaceful silence fell between them for the first time that day. Hermione considered filling it with one of the many thoughts that ran through her always busy mind, but she peered down at Draco and reconsidered, taking a moment to simply appreciate his presence instead.

It really was nice spending so much time with Draco. With work being so perpetually stressful, she was grateful to have someone who pulled her away from the insanity. Of course, she could always rely on Ron and Harry to serve a similar role, but there was something different about Draco — and it was more than just the fact that they sometimes discussed books together. Being with him made her feel more… herself. Like she didn't need to be concerned about what he thought about her or her opinions, which was a rather odd thought when one considered that he used to torment her solely because of who she innately was. But he had clearly moved beyond that antagonistic nature - a fact Hermione didn't take for granted.

Sitting there with him in the park in the middle of the square, Hermione was completely content, and it appeared as if Draco was too. A small part of her wondered what it would have been like if there had never been a war and the two of them had gotten to be friends during their time at Hogwarts. Or did the war need to happen so that Draco could come to his senses and realise the grave consequences of his mistakes?

In the end, she supposed it didn't make a difference contemplating what could have been. All that mattered was that they had managed to move past their turbulent history and had become friends.

Draco still seemed perfectly at ease, and for a brief moment, Hermione considered laying down beside him. He certainly made it look relaxing. She could even ball up his jacket for them to share as a pillow. But if she dared closed her eyes, Hermione would likely fall asleep in the middle of the square. Her body was still operating on minimal sleep, so she ultimately couldn't risk it, even if he did make it look so incredibly tempting.

So instead Hermione settled on her second choice. The witch pulled out of a couple items from her trusted beaded bag and began writing down some of the highlights from their conversation. Over the past hour or so, Draco had made a few comments about the books that she thought were particularly perceptive that even she hadn't thought of. Granted, she hadn't read any of them in several years and had never read them in such quick succession like he just had, but she was still impressed by his ability to cross-analyse characters and point out related themes among all three novels.

And then there were the moments of the conversation that she merely enjoyed because of the fire Draco had spoken with when he had said it. He'd gone on for ten minutes arguing that C.S. Lewis was either a Squib or had a wizard friend with loose lips, because there was no way that the author just happened to be so eerily accurate with his use of magical elements, citing that the wardrobe was clearly inspired by Vanishing Cabinets and that the use of prophecies was near identical to that in the Wizarding world.

But her favourite part of the afternoon had been when he had ranted about how ridiculous it was that a lion always saves the day. Hermione had full-heartedly laughed as he got particularly heated about the subject. Apparently, it was easier to get over his qualms of blood status than it was to forgo old house rivalries.

There was a rustling from beside her as Draco began to stir, resting both hands over his eyes. "Whatever it is you're mulling over in your brain, I need you to stop. I can practically hear you thinking," he complained, but his subtle teasing tone made it apparent that he wasn't totally sincere.

Hermione shushed him, deciding to give him a hard time in return. "Well now that you've distracted me, I'll have to think twice as hard to remember what it was I wanted to write down," she toyed. "I can't concentrate if you're talking!"

"And I can't relax if you're thinking so loud!"

Hermione playfully kicked him, prompting Draco to curl onto his side and clamp a hand around the point of contact.

"Hey!" he cried. "I'm trying to rest here!"

"Too bad," she tormented.

She repeated the motion, but Draco was much more prepared to respond this time. He grabbed hold of her leg, prompting a squeal out of Hermione as her back fell onto the ground with a thud. Not accepting defeat, Hermione twisted and turned until she wrangled herself free and was able to continue with her short jabs at him.

Not long after, Draco, now fully awake, threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! You win!" he declared as he propped himself up. "Geez, Granger. That's not a very nice way to treat the man who helped you skive out of work this afternoon!"

"Oh, please," Hermione dismissed, ripping a handful of grass out of the ground and throwing it at him. "You insisted on me leaving early!"

Draco chuckled as he brushed a blade of grass off his shoulder. "I'm not denying it. I'm just saying you should be more appreciative of the fact that you're here with me instead of that boring meeting you initially had scheduled."

He lifted an eyebrow, as if daring her to argue otherwise. Hermione did her best to ignore his piercing grey stare and distracted herself by sweeping her fingers through his hair to help remove a few stray pieces of grass that remained lodged in his fringes. But as she pulled away, his gaze still lingered, and Hermione had to bite down on the inside of her lip to prevent her smile from giving her agreement away.

He may have a point. But, of course, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him so. The man was already too smug as is.

But then his attention flickered away from her, curiosity coming over him as he noticed the items rested next to Hermione's knees. "Is this what you've been writing in? And what is that grey tubular thing?"

Hermione looked down at her notepad and pen. Sometimes it was so easy to forget how little he knew about the Muggle world. "This right here is a notepad. Muggle version of blank parchment that's been bound together," she explained, picking up the spiralled stack of papers. "And this is a pen. It's one of the tools that Muggles use to write. They're much more convenient to travel around with than a quill and inkwell, so I keep one on me. See?" Hermione turned to a blank page in her notepad and doodled swirls across the page. "The ink is already inside the plastic tube, so there's no need to re-dip every other word."

Hermione extended the pen in his direction, and Draco brought it close to his eyes to examine. When he handed it back to her, he gave an impressed nod. "Got to hand it to the Muggles. Some of their inventions aren't complete rubbish."

Off in the distance, six dings of a nearby church bell travelled towards them. Draco's head snapped in their direction, his eyes turning wide at the sound.

"It can't seriously be six already?"

"I guess so," Hermione answered, equally surprised to learn that it was so late. Surely it hadn't been that long since they had left her office!

Draco fell back into the grass and groaned. "I don't want to go home," he griped.

"Then don't," Hermione said simply. Even though they had apparently already spent several hours together, she wasn't ready to call it an evening just yet, and evidently he wasn't either. "I mean, no one's forcing you to leave."

Draco's groan grew louder, running both hands down the length of his face. "Perhaps not physically, but my mother would likely send out a search party if I dare miss dinner again."

A million questions crossed Hermione's mind, but now didn't feel like the time to inquire about the inner workings of the Malfoy family and their apparent dinner expectations. She'd just have to save that for a future date.

As in a future day on the calendar, she clarified to herself, imagining the ridiculous comment Gretchen would assuredly say if she had heard Hermione utter that word.

Draco drew in a deep breath and pushed himself off the ground. When he had stood up, he extended a hand down to Hermione to help her to her feet.

"I guess this means I'll just have to drag you out here again someday soon," Draco concluded as Hermione brushed off the trousers she had worn under her work robes. "At the rate I'm going, I'll be barging into your office the same time Monday afternoon demanding another trip to the library."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "I know these novels aren't terribly long, but how in the name of Merlin are you getting through them so quickly?"

Draco chuckled in amusement. "Says the witch who finished my book in less than twenty-four hours."

"That was different," she defended, feeling a sudden wave of heat flush her cheeks. "Your book was about a topic that personally affected me. And that was a one time thing!"

Draco arched a pale eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that Bookworm Granger wouldn't spend all day reading if she had no other obligations?"

"Of course I would spend some days doing that, but not every day! Surely you have better things to do besides only reading the books I recommend!"

"One would think. Especially with me being a first-class, best-selling author and whatnot," he quipped with a carefree grin. "And yet, in some ways, I'm a mere peasant, wasting half my day just waiting until I get to see you."

Hermione snorted. As if there was even a chance she'd believe that!

But as she prepared to make some sort of snarky remark about the ridiculousness of his statement, her eyes briefly met his. Hidden beneath his teasing facade, Hermione could just barely detect a subtle hint of sincerity and swallowed her comment before it escaped her lips.

Come to think of it, she really didn't know what Draco did outside of their recurring rendezvous. When their conversations hadn't been consumed with the discussion of books, they had been primarily focused on either her work or his - but never on what he did outside of that. Did he still play Quidditch? Keep in contact with any of his old housemates? Hermione sincerely didn't know.

"If that's true, then we need to get you a hobby," she concluded, praying that her response sufficiently addressed his sentiment. Meanwhile, in the back of her mind, she found herself increasingly hoping that this wasn't just another example of him messing with her.

But to her relief, Draco carried on with the conversation, oblivious to the questions darting across her brain. "I expect a full list of options the next time we meet," he said. "I would entertain your recommendations now, but I really do need to get back to the Manor, and knowing you, you would prattle on for twenty minutes, so we better head back to Diagon Alley before you get carried away."

He had barely finished his thought when he began walking towards the Leaky Cauldron, presumably expecting Hermione to follow him, but he quickly noticed that she was no longer at his side. He turned back at her in confusion, the witch still standing in the same spot in the middle of the square.

"I'm actually headed in this direction," she said, pointing the opposite way.

His eyebrows knitted together. "You live in Muggle London?"

"Well, yes," Hermione answered. "I know that's not typical, but after the war, I wanted to return to some of my Muggle roots and be closer to my parents," she explained with a single shrug. She then gave Draco a tight-lipped a smile. "Plus it has the wonderful perk of allowing me to have a Muggle library card."

"In that case, I don't have any objections," Draco returned with a grin of his own. "How far away is it from here?'

"Only about three blocks or so."

Draco pulled a pocket watch out of his robes, only glancing at it for a fraction of a second before returning it. "Eh, I've got time. I'll walk you home."

"That really isn't necessary," Hermione insisted. "I am perfectly capable of walking a few blocks on my own."

Draco smiled. "I have no doubt you are. But just because you can, doesn't mean you have to."

...

"Well, this is me," Hermione said when they reached the front of her building. Hermione dug into her beaded bag a tad longer than usual and eventually retrieved the set of keys to her flat. The metal jingled as she mindlessly fiddled with them between her hands.

"I had fun today," she said, brushing some of her curls behind her ear as the breeze picked up. "But the next time we do this, I may have to introduce you to a Muggle bookstore."

Draco immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not," he countered. "That's a dealbreaker."

"And why's that?"

"Simple," he responded with a taunting grin. "Once you take me to a Muggle bookstore and teach me how to use Muggle currency and all that, I'd be able to go there myself, thus eliminating my need to pester you for your library card, and where's the fun in that?"

Hermione kept her focus on her keys and pressed her lips together to hide her amusement. No, she supposed that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining.

She may have given him a hard time for the way he had stormed into her office earlier that afternoon, but she was ultimately glad that he did. And as strange as it was to admit, she really didn't want to say goodbye to Draco. His promise of another outing on Monday seemed so far off in the future.

"Well, I suppose I can't delay this dinner much longer, can I?" he said with a tinge of remorse, but his expression quickly shifted into a smirk. "But I assure you, Granger, that you can't keep me away from you for too long."

He shot her a parting wink, and Hermione bit down at her bottom lip as he turned away from her and started back towards Diagon Alley.

Monday was definitely too far away.

"Draco, wait!"

He paused in his tracks, and once Hermione caught up to him, she reached into her beaded bag, pulled out her pen, and then grabbed his hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked as the pen's tip connected with the palm of his hand.

He flinched at the unfamiliar tickling sensation of the ballpoint running over his skin as Hermione wrote her message. When she pulled away, he examined the finished product.

"'Tomorrow: Lunch with Granger,' huh?" he read with a pleased look. "What happened to your insistence that I call you Hermione?"

"Well, isn't that what you've been calling me today? All because someone was frustrated with me because he couldn't handle waiting a few hours to know what happens next in the books?"

Draco chuckled. "Yes, but I have the books now, so I suppose I can let you off the hook." He then returned his attention to the words on his hand, momentary concern glossing over him. "This isn't permanent, though, is it?"

"Don't worry. It comes off fairly easy with soap and water," Hermione assured him. "But be careful if I ever introduce permanent markers to you!"

"Let's just stick to one Muggle writing instrument at a time," he remarked. "Now, if you don't stop distracting me, my mother will venture into Muggle London and personally track me down, and I can promise you that's the last thing either of us wants!"

And with that, they once more exchanged their farewells, and Hermione watched Draco as long as she could until he disappeared around the next block.

Only eighteen more hours until she got to see him again.

And in the meantime, she better get started on that potential hobby list.