This is the follow-up to chapter 8 of this collection, if the title didn't give that away. But all you really need to know is that Draco and Hermione are in an established relationship and are watching the 1950 Disney version of 'Cinderella'

Draco tried to keep his mouth shut. He really, really did. Because he had finally learned to recognize a good thing when he had it, and he didn't want to ruin it over something foolish, like inadvertently insulting something his girlfriend obviously loved. Especially given that the aforementioned girlfriend, Hermione Granger, was not one to be taken for granted.

And that was on top of the fact that she had been so excited to show him this thing she called a 'movie'. When she turned it on her face had positively glowed with happiness. It was enchanting, and he hadn't wanted to spoil that.

Also, he was trying desperately to make a good impression. They were at Hermione's parents' house, and it was more than obvious that they did not think very highly of him. They were almost giving his own parents a run for their money on the disapproval front. Not that he could really blame them, they had plenty of good reasons to distrust him. It had been made clear to him that he had a long way to go before he earned their blessing. And he was frankly surprised that they'd left him alone with their daughter long enough to even watch the movie, so he certainly hadn't wanted to make a scene.

The beginning had actually been fairly fascinating; watching the way the muggles had somehow turned a series of drawings into a moving picture had quickly captured his attention. It was ingenious, if he was being really honest. Which had only added to the feeling of being overwhelmed, a feeling he'd experienced quite often since he'd become involved with Hermione.

How wrong he'd been about muggles. It was humiliating and depressing. Once Hermione had consented to be in a relationship with him he'd quickly realized how much he had to learn, but had- grudgingly- accepted that fact, she was more than worth it. It didn't hurt that she was the world's most beautiful tour guide into this foreign land.

So, for awhile, he had been preoccupied enough to ignore the talking mice, and the birds acting as lady's maids, and the way the characters burst into song for no apparent reason. But he had his limits. And those limits took the form of a plump old woman in periwinkle robes who was most certainly not a fairy, but who insisted on calling herself a fairy godmother, and who also made a mockery of magic in a way that made Draco twitchy.

"Bibbity-bobbity-boo!"

If asked later, he would have said that he couldn't help himself when he leapt off the sofa, glaring at his girlfriend, and that he had simply run out of patience when the cartoon woman uttered that nonsensical magical spell.

"Granger, is this a joke? Because on behalf of all wizarding kind, I am offended!"

"What?" She asked, ripping her attention away from the so-called 'television', obviously startled by his outburst.

"This!" He gestured towards the screen. "No wonder muggles fear us if this is the kind magic they think we possess. Does this woman have any real control over herself?" He ranted.

Hermione just stared at him for several moment and then she started to laugh, and he must have looked offended because she made an effort to control her mirth, but she continued to grin at him.

"What?" He couldn't help but gristle even as he paced in front of her, still out of sorts.

"Nothing, it's just that I love you."

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. "What?" Surely he hadn't heard her correctly. But that didn't keep his heart from feeling as if it had stopped, and he longed to reach for her but was too afraid.

She hesitated, but then raised her chin and, like a typical Gryffindor, continued on. "You're just so great. I know this has been trying your patience, but you've been holding your temper for me," she explained with a smile, reaching for him from her seat on the couch.

"No, the other part, Hermione," he insisted.

She dipped her head, laughing quietly, and then she raised her face to look at him again with a smile. "You mean that I love you?"

"That's the important part, my love," he smiled at her in return, unable to believe his good luck, falling back onto the couch next to her.

"Your love?"

"Is it that difficult to believe that I feel the same way?" He scoffed.

"Wow- I yes, it is," she responded, her mouth hanging open, before finally leaning in for a kiss, and he could feel her body was vibrating with emotion.

He heard her tight, hoping she'd somehow absorb the emotion which he couldn't verbalize. "Is there a way muggles celebrate these things?" He asked, hoping that she'd find some way that they could spend some time- truly alone- together as she settled herself under his arm.

"Not really," she chuckled, cutting her eyes at him knowingly, "though you'll probably want to speak to my father eventually, if you want to make this official, and you really need to see the part about the glass slipper," she explained, picking up the remote control (which was a wand, without really being a wand, and Draco was still deciding if that fascinated or terrified him) and adjusting the settings on the movie.

And when it was over he still didn't know if he loved or hated it. It had been ridiculous. But it had also been the impetus for the happiest moment of his life.

He took a breath and raked a hand over his face as he watched Hermione's curls bounce in time to the music at the end of the film, realizing that he was going to be watching that Professor Sprout wannabe in periwinkle robes for the next century- at least. But instead of fleeing in response to the initial fear he felt, he pulled her closer to him.

"A shoe is an incredibly inaccurate way to find a woman," he eventually commented, kissing her forehead.

"It's just a story, Draco." She shot him an indulgent smile, but he could tell that she was grateful for his patience.

He took her point. But just to be certain her engagement ring, which he presented her with just a few months later, was enchanted with all matter of location and protective magic. He wasn't taking his chances with something as delicate as a glass slipper.