Hermione blushed once again as she tried to prevent herself from openly staring. The heat in her cheeks warmed her face, a welcome change from the blustering wind outside. Draco had led her gently by the hand to a corner table and then wound his way through the chairs and a few customers to get her drink. He looked so rugged with his unkempt hair and low slung trousers and it made Hermione tingle in places she had read existed but never really experienced before. Twisting her palms together she glanced away so that he would not catch her staring, it still felt unreal that they were on a date. No matter who Draco was, or who he had been, he was physically handsome and she felt inadequate beside him, shocked that he might want her like she wanted him.
It was their first official date, though they had been spending an increasing amount of time together in secret meetings, and it had taken Draco a week to convince Hermione to go. At first she had been too shocked by the idea, too torn between excitement and dread to respond. It meant that what was happening between them was not a figment of her imagination; it meant that she would have to own up to exactly those things she had written about to Harry. She didn't want to gather the strength to do so, but after two days he had convinced her. Yet she had panicked once more just yesterday when she realized that such a date would mean food and she suspected no restaurant would have anything she deemed "healthy". Society it seemed no longer knew what eating well meant. Hermione nearly refused to go when she began to think about dessert and whether Draco would want to eat some. In the end she had convinced him to opt for coffee, not a meal.
Tucking a stray tendril behind her ear, a habit she could not break no matter how useless it was, the frizzy wisps managed to escape only seconds after, she glanced towards the window on her left. The sunlight danced across her shoulders and Hogmeade's main street was slightly blurred by the fine layer of dirt on the panes of glass. Wind sent fallen leaves skittering around various pedestrians and under a few carriages being pulled by invisible forces. Cars had been deemed "too muggle" during the terror of Voldemort in England and were only slowly returning in some of the larger cities. Witches and wizards bustled past with a few packages, and children played in muggle clothing, now popular with the younger generation who liked the casual attire on weekends. The town had been overtaken by Voldemort's forces towards the end of the war and had been continuously under attack until little remained. It was rebuilt soon after the Victory, its symbolism for all Hogwarts students being great, but due to the haste of the reconstruction it was now a relatively austere place of concrete and the bright splashes of jewelry or jackets seemed out of place among the gray and brown of the town. Pockets of lingering dark magic remained.
"One coffee," Draco's arm stretched across her vision and placed a steaming mug in front of her "you sure you don't want milk or sugar?" He brushed her shirt as he moved around to sit across from her, and Hermione was glad that her erratic breathing was too shallow to be heard.
She smiled at him and lied, "I'm sure, I like it black," she laughed as Draco shook his head in mock scorn, "I know I'm strange." Yet even as she said it Hermione couldn't help but long for sugar. A pound of it she grimaced as the bitter liquid scalded her tongue. But sugar was something she was not allowed on the diet, it was what made everyone fat, and Hermione no longer wanted to be fat, not when Draco Malfoy sat there quirking that eyebrow and sipping warm ale.
The hot liquid, while being bitter and slightly too strong, settled comfortably in Hermione's empty stomach and she felt a little more content even as the caffeine made her jittery. She sat on her hands when she no longer wanted to see them shake; it was strange how easily caffeine affected her recently, just a sip made her buzz. The feeling was probably magnified though by the blond boy sitting with her.
"So," she began, trying to fill the silence between them. "How's quidditch?" It sounded pathetic in her ears but other topics had evaporated along with the steam of their drinks as her mind blanked.
"Good," Draco remained non committal, "it's definitely different, what with no school houses but we're managing to get more competitive."
"Wait," she hadn't thought about the problem of creating new divisions now that Hogwarts no longer had school houses, "how are you all made into teams then?" How on earth can it be interesting without the old historic rivalries? she wondered.
"By what division of study you're in, whether you want to work in the government later or in the hospitals and so on," he leaned forward and Hermione's eyes couldn't resist drifting towards his lips. "It gets a little tricky with those who have no idea," he laughed "I swear Weasley keeps changing her mind and switching teams every few weeks. Obviously, some kinks have to be worked out."
It took Hermione a few seconds to realize he had been referring to Ginny. "Ginny's playing?" Hermione asked astonished, wrapping her fingers around her mug once more and leaning further towards the table.
"Yeah, you didn't know?" Draco looked a little taken aback and Hermione instantly felt guilty that Draco seemed to be more aware of what her friend was doing than she was. Collapsing back against her seat she tried to remember if Ginny had mentioned to her that she was once again joining the team. The fact that both Harry and Ron had played before the War made it a sore topic and the youngest Weasley had refused to even touch a broom for quite a while after peace was restored.
"No, I guess I didn't," Hermione said, her tone muffled, when had she become so distant that she hadn't noticed her best friend taking such a giant step towards normalcy? Looking up at Draco she tried to smirk and shook her head in an effort to come back to the present. "I seem to have been a little remiss."
Once she had found her way back to normal conversation and timid flirtation, the afternoon passed in a haze of conversation and a growing obsession with Draco's characteristic smirk. After Hermione had finished her third coffee and was beginning to long for a bathroom, Draco stood and pulled at her hand to walk with her out of the building and into the streets leading to Hogwarts.
"We could apparate, if you wanted to," Hermione realized, and she started to pull back a little from his warm frame.
"But I like it better here with you," Draco responded as he narrowed the gap between them and placed his arm around her waist. "Is that ok?" he asked, suddenly hesitant. Smiling she simply nodded. While her mirror told her that she was too ugly to be desired, and her mind told her she was too broken to be worth anything to anyone, Hermione couldn't help taking what Draco was offering.
