Draco woke up on Friday morning and couldn't help but smile. Hermione lay sleeping beside him, her legs entangled with one of his as he spread out in his bed, and her hair splaying out onto his pillow as well as hers. It hardly mattered that they were both still fully clothed; having Hermione there was enough.

He reached over to his bedside table for his watch and checked the time. Six o'clock. It was much too early to get up by Draco's standards. After getting up once in the middle of the night to check in on Juliet, despite Estelle's assurances that it wasn't necessary, he should have been tired. He couldn't fall back to sleep though.

He studied the girl beside him carefully. She looked at peace, the most relaxed he had seen her all week. Work seemed to be stressing her out a lot. He had no idea why. Work was just work. In his opinion, Hermione just took it too seriously. Sure it was her job and, like she was always saying, she needed it but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. She didn't even like her job. At least he found his job to be mildly amusing.

Draco began to play with Hermione's curls, twisting them around his fingers and pulling gently to watch them spring back. He smiled and once again made the comparison between the Hermione he knew back at Hogwarts and the Hermione he knew now. It was the same girl really. The same values, morals, annoying habits. Although, he had never really gotten to know the Hermione Granger he went to school with. She was just a bushy haired head with a book for a face and a hand in the air.

Draco got up, grabbed his wand, and collected Juliet from her room, taking her with him and going to the kitchens to fix her first bottle of the day. Juliet was wide awake but in a foul mood. Draco hushed her wails and held her on his hip as he moved around and tried to prepare the formula one-handed. Juliet continued to cry. Draco gave up and pulled out his wand, mixing the contents of the bottle magically.

"There," Draco muttered. "Happy with Dad now?" Juliet's response was a calmed gurgle and Draco wiped away the milk dribbling down the little girl's chin. "Alright," he said, "back upstairs. Come on, Julie."

Hermione woke up to the feeling of something…missing. The bed was warm but the sheets beside her were cool. Silk sheets. Where was she?

Green silk sheets. Draco.

Oh Merlin. Everything from the night before was a tad fuzzy from all the wine. She had a bit of a headache. Hermione hesitantly felt beneath the covers. She was fully dressed. Everything was fine. She had just fallen asleep, she assured herself. She blushed, embarrassed by what she had assumed, even though she was by herself.

Where was Draco?

Hermione got up and went into the guest room where her things were. She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and went into the washroom. She brushed her teeth and plaited her hair to the side, splashing some water on her face to wake up. The headache had yet to begin to fade.

She packed away her things and as she went out into the hall to head downstairs she saw Draco coming down the hall with Juliet, bottle in hand and carefully levitating a tray in front of him. He caught sight of Hermione and the tray wobbled a bit as he lost concentration. Hermione rushed forward and took the tray from mid-air. "I'll take this," she said.

"The wine hit you at all?" Draco asked, nodding in the direction of his bedroom.

Hermione carried the tray into his room and placed it on the bedside table. The headache wasn't subsiding. "No…not really," she lied. She looked at the cups on the tray and inhaled. "Mmmm. Tea."

"That one's yours," Draco told her.

"Left?" she asked. "What's the difference?"

"Left," Draco agreed. "And I may have asked Yip to throw in a couple of drops of that pain killing potion."

"Pain killing potion?"

"I just assumed—" But Hermione was already swallowing a mouthful of tea.

"Thank you." She smiled at him. There went her headache. "Hey Juliet," Hermione cooed. "How are you sweets?"

Juliet laughed and smiled.

"Now she's happy," Draco sighed. "You should see this one before she gets her bottle."

"You think I haven't?" Hermione joked. She sipped her tea with a small smile. "So when does our day start?"

"Whenever you're ready," Draco told her with a grin.

Hermione took Juliet from Draco and finished her tea. "Okay. Well, I'll get dressed and then we'll eat breakfast and head out?"

"Sure."

"Is Juliet coming with us?" Hermione asked.

"She's with Estelle today," Draco said. "But we should be back for dinner."

"Dinner?" Hermione repeated. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Plans?" Draco guessed. Hermione nodded. "A date?" He immediately wished he hadn't asked. Merlin, if there was ever a reason to eat his own words.

Hermione tensed. She didn't know why topics like these came up between them and in split seconds caused conversations to go from being easy and laid-back to tense and edgy. She hated it. These little things that Draco seemed to pull out of nowhere and stretch bigger and bigger until they were so thin it was dangerous. She kept telling herself it was ridiculous. There was no reason for him to be pressing these things.

But then, that day at Luna's wedding, she swore there was something there. If she was honest with herself, she knew. If she hadn't been so hard-headed then he would have said it. She would have told him, too. But now it seemed too late.

And what if she was wrong? What if it was all just some crazy delusion that only she saw simply because it was what she wanted to see?

Somewhere inside of her she knew that she cared about Draco. Cared more, cared differently, about him than she should if they were only friends. Was it what she thought it was? She was scared. What if it ruined everything they already built up? There would be no going back.

"No," she said, watching his expression relax a bit. "Dinner with my parents actually."

"I should meet your parents," Draco said.

"Er, no." Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Why?" he demanded.

"My parents are a little much," she said.

"Really?" he asked. "Never would have figured since they've got a daughter like you." His voice was coated thickly in sarcasm.

"Oh, shove off," she said, pushing him playfully.

He smirked. "Right. I guess you're more like a lot of much."

She frowned and Draco couldn't help but note how cute she was. "I'm going to get dressed," Hermione said tightly, a slight hint of teasing in her voice. "And," she added, "I'm taking Juliet with me."

"So tell me," Hermione started as she and Draco left Gringotts, "where exactly are we going? And what exactly do people wear to these balls?"

She had thought she'd just get a simple gown to wear, but it seemed this wasn't the case as Draco hadn't even considered going to Diagon Alley and he'd dismissed her suggestion of Hogsmeade. She was beginning to wonder just how much this gown was going to run her. Sure, like any other girl, she enjoyed all the pretty gowns and liked putting on dresses that just looked magical but really, she had to draw a line somewhere. Apparently it was a masquerade ball, too, in the spirit of Halloween and all. What in the world does one wear to a masquerade these days?

Draco took hold of Hermione's hand and pulled her down the busy street until they got out of the throngs of people. He pulled out his wand. "Save the questions," he told her. "Now careful, we're apparating."

Hermione shut her eyes tight and let him pull her a little closer. She felt the terrible yet familiar feeling of apparating for moment before her feet touched solid ground again. Her eyes popped open. "Where are we?"

"Paris."

"Paris?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"No," he said. "Come on. We've got to get going."

Hermione followed Draco down the street. She looked at all of the wizards and witches they passed. They looked…trendy. It was obvious they weren't in muggle Paris, but it didn't matter. It seemed that style was pretty impeccable all throughout Paris.

Suddenly Draco was ushering Hermione into a dress shop. She stepped inside and glanced around. Colourful. There must have been a dress in every colour, every shade, every material, every style. It was incredible. Her eyes widened and Draco laughed. "Wow Hermione," Draco commented, "I never knew anything but books could get you this excited."

Hermione laughed and ran a hand across the long racks of dresses. She looked back at him. Oh, there was more than books and dresses.

Draco called over the saleswoman and explained just what the occasion was. The woman had a French accent, reminding Hermione of Fleur with the way her e's came out long. She wore a pink blouse and a black layered skirt that flounced as she rushed off and began pulling gown after gown after gown from the racks. Hermione turned to Draco. "So do I have to wear a mask?" she asked.

"To a masquerade?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous Hermione."

"Your sarcasm is not needed," Hermione snapped. "I really don't know what these balls are like."

"Yes you wear a mask." Draco chuckled. "But honestly, no one wears them for that long. It's mostly for an entrance."

"Is it supposed to be a costume?"

"Hardly," Draco said. "Though, you can if you want."

"Hm," Hermione hummed. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you wear a mask?" she asked.

"No." He laughed as though it was absurd.

"A tux then?"

"Of course."

"You've been doing this your whole life, haven't you?" Hermione said. "These extravagant parties, I mean." Draco shrugged. "I've only ever been to one ball," Hermione considered. "Back at Hogwarts. You remember, don't you?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded, "I remember. You made quite the impression there."

"I'm more than books Draco," Hermione pointed out.

"I'm well aware Hermione," he returned.

"Dressing room Miss?" the saleswoman suggested, hidden behind a large pile of dresses hung over her arm. Hermione stared at the bright colours and loud ruffles warily.

"Alright," she agreed. She walked through the racks and followed the saleswoman's bob of ginger hair to the back of the shop. Draco parked himself on an armchair in the private fitting area.

There was a three-way mirror at one end of the fitting area, the other end opening out in the shop. Each fitting room was enclosed by a heavy, soft pink curtain. Hermione took the first dress that was handed to her from Fiona, the saleswoman, and went in to try it on.

"Oh heavens no," Hermione said, staring at her reflection. It was atrocious. Huge bows along the tight, knee-length skirt, one-strapped that looked as if it had been done by accident, and the bodice was ill-fitting. She wasn't sure if the dress was made for someone taller or thinner than her, but Hermione was sure it was hugging her in every wrong place there was and bunching where it really shouldn't have.

She quickly changed out of it and held out a hand, asking politely for the next dress. The dress was in the change room with Hermione less than a second before it darted back out. "Too bright," she said. She vetoed another four dresses based on colour; too pink, too colourful, too grey, too reflective. She rejected two for being too small. She passed on another two gowns for having ridiculously puffy cap sleeves and busy bodices.

By her fourth outburst of frustration, Draco took it upon himself to rifle through Fiona's pile and pull out any dresses that would only further aggravate Hermione. No more sleeves, he decided, no more loud colours and no more frills.

He handed her the next dress.

"Are you crazy?" Hermione asked through the curtain. "I'd have to be five inches taller to wear this!"

"Sorry," Draco shrugged. He handed the dress to Fiona and the petit woman threw her hands up.

"That's nearly a dozen!" she exclaimed. "Darling, what do you want?"

Hermione stuck her head through the heavy curtain. "I...I want a dress. An elegant, pretty gown that makes me feel pretty." Hermione looked between her two audience members with genuine question in her eyes. "Is that a lot to ask?"

"No," Draco said. "Try this one."

Hermione put on the dark blue dress she was handed and stretched behind her to pull the zipper up. She stepped out and stood in front of the three-way mirror. "It doesn't fit right," she sighed. "My hips look huge."

"Oh, stop," Fiona said. She helped Hermione unzip the dress, but before Hermione could hide herself away in the changing stall, the dress fell away from her body.

Draco stared. Hermione was wearing a fitted camisole, so she wasn't standing in just her bra and knickers, but it was definitely a lot more skin than she'd show on purpose. She blushed scarlet as she glanced at Draco.

"Now let's just see here," Fiona said in her slight French accent. "I've never had a woman leave this shop without a perfect dress. And I will not start today." She hummed as she spun Hermione in a complete circle.

Hermione avoided all eye contact with Draco and stared at the floor.

Fiona tapped underneath Hermione's chin with the back of two fingers. "Chin up, chérie." She caught Hermione's blush. "Oh, come now, I'm sure the boyfriend doesn't mind."

"He doesn't mind," Draco threw in. He smirked as Hermione shot him a look.

"Wait right there," Fiona ordered suddenly. She hurried off around the corner and out of Hermione's sight.

It was just Hermione and Draco. Hermione could feel the heat of his gaze on her legs as she moved back to the safe enclosure of the pink curtain. As she turned Draco was able to take notice of every single curve of her body. Every bloody curve. His mind was whirling with indecent thoughts.

"She said wait right there Hermione," he reminded her with sly expression, beckoning her back to where he could see her.

She raised an eyebrow at him but went back to where she had been standing previously. She smirked. "Are you aware that you're staring?"

He pointedly let his gaze flick from her eyes to her legs and back up again. "You've certainly grown up," he commented. "A guy can't help it."

She felt her cheeks flame and she began to fiddle with her hair, just to have something to do. His staring was making her feel warm. She couldn't deny that she was enjoying it. She glanced behind her and realized that with the three way mirror, Draco was getting a full view of every angle of her. Where was Fiona?

"What about these?" Fiona's voice called through the shop. Hermione couldn't see what she was asking about but Draco was able to lean back in his chair to look at whatever she was holding up.

He pointed at things that were hidden from Hermione's view around the corner. "Hell no. Yes. And…I don't know; you'll have to ask her."

Fiona seemed to be having trouble putting one of the gowns back before she came back to the fitting area with two dresses over her shoulders. She held them up. One of them was simple. A deep purple, floor-length number with off the shoulder sleeves and a simple, flowing skirt. It was certainly pretty but held up next to the gown on the right it was nothing. The other one was breathtaking.

Hermione pointed to the one on the right. "That one," she said. "May I try it on?"

"Certainly," Fiona agreed. "It takes a bit of work though. It's going to go over your head. Arms up."

Hermione raised her arms compliantly and ducked a bit as Fiona opened the skirt and guided the dress over Hermione's head. She moved around her to zip up the back while Hermione held the front up to her chest.

It was gorgeous.

"It's vintage," Fiona explained. "I honestly never wanted to sell it. It's beautiful. I want to keep it just to look at it."

Hermione stared at her reflection. The gown was made of pale-champagne coloured silk net and embroidered with sparkling sequins in shades of blue and silver. The bodice fit snugly up to just above her hips before spreading out into many petal shaped layers that overlapped to form the skirt, each petal outlined with the darker sequins.

Anything else with that many sequins Hermione probably would have vetoed. But this was different. It was elegant and beautiful and vintage with an almost modern side to it as well.

"Well would you hate me for buying it then?" Hermione asked.

"With how you look in it?" Fiona asked. "Chérie it'd be crime to hate you. Although I'm sure all of the other girls at the ball will be envious."

"I wouldn't count on it," Hermione said, looking at Fiona in the mirror. "Those girls are far more experienced in all of this ball business than I am. I'm sure they'll all be stunning."

Draco stood from his chair and walked over to stand behind Hermione. "They couldn't even compete," he said softly, placing a hand on her waist and waiting for her to look at him. "Not with you."

Hermione was even more excited to go to the ball now that she had her dress. It was still quite a while away but that was okay. She was glad to have something to look forward to.

Her dress was insanely expensive. At least, by her standards it was. She had never spent that much money on any item of clothing before. But she had been sold on it from the second she put it on and she refused to let Draco pay for it. He insisted that he was the one who had invited her to the ball and therefore he should be allowed to cover all of her expenses of going to ball but she flat out told him that that was ridiculous and that she had money, she'd handle it herself. And she did. It ate up a whole paycheck really, but Hermione decided that for once, she'd let it be worth it.

She bought a silver and dark blue mask to go with the gown and then she and Draco called it quits for the day's shopping revenue. Draco already had a perfectly tailored and suitable tux at home for the ball and insisted that was all he needed, no matter how many times Hermione tried to get him to try on a mask. He distracted her easily with an offer to go out for lunch.

"Lunch sounds so good right now," Hermione said. "I'm starving."

They apparated back into London, Hermione's shopping bags shrunk down to fit into her small handbag. "Come on then." Draco took Hermione's hand and nodded down the street. "There's a pub down that way. Best fish and chips I've ever had."

"Lead the way," Hermione told him.

The pub was small. Four tables and a bar squeezed into this little area with mirrored walls. But with the smell of frying chips filling the place, it seemed perfect. Her stomach growled.

The four tables were occupied but the bar was open. Draco led the way to two, faded red vinyl covered stools and ordered two plates of fish and chips and a glass of beer. Hermione asked for lemonade.

"This doesn't really seem like your kind of place," Hermione said once they had gotten their drinks.

Draco shrugged. Hermione gave him a skeptical look. It seemed a little dingy for his taste, especially compared to places he usually went to. "You come here often?"

"When I'm in the area." He smirked as he realized what she was thinking. "Why? What do you think of the place?"

"It seems nice," she said. "Of course, I've yet to taste the food so I guess I shouldn't speak too soon." She eyed him curiously. "How'd you find this?"

"Blaise's prick of a cousin brought us here once. It's lacking in ambiance," Draco shrugged, "but the food's good."

"I hope so," Hermione said.

Their food arrived moments later and Hermione tucked in right away. She wasn't kidding when she said she was starving. And Draco sure wasn't kidding when he said the food was good. It was delicious. Crisp chips and perfectly battered fish.

She sipped her lemonade. "This is really good," she said.

"Exactly," Draco agreed with a nod. They ate for a few moments in silence, savouring the food.

"So, I've decided to quit my job," Draco informed her suddenly.

"Quit your job?" Hermione asked. "Definitely?" She waited for Draco's confirming nod before smiling widely, shocked. "When did you decide this?"

"Last night, while we were talking," Draco said. "I'm handing in my two weeks notice Monday morning."

"I'm impressed," Hermione said; her sentiments evident in her expression.

"Thank you." He grinned. "Quit your job with me."

"What?"

"Quit your job with me," he repeated. She looked at him like he was crazy. "Oh come on! We're always talking about it!"

"Jokingly," Hermione said. "We talk about it jokingly."

Draco continued as if she hadn't said a word. "Why don't we do something about it?"

"You are! You're quitting your job! That's great! You don't need it!"

"We," Draco said. "We should do something about it."

"Draco, you talk about quitting your job," she said. "I talk about how I can't quit my job. There's a difference."

"Why can't you quit your job?"

"I need a job. Unlike some people."

"Then get a new job! A job you actually like."

"We've been over this. My job…my job is fine."

"You should like what you do Hermione."

"That's a luxury I can't afford," she said sadly. "But really, I'm so glad for you."

"Sure." Draco smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

"What's what supposed to mean?"

"Your 'sure'," Hermione explained. "To what is it in response?"

"I was merely agreeing with you," Draco told her. She raised an eyebrow. He chuckled and took a swig of his beer. "We'll settle this later."

"Are we going home now?" Hermione asked as they left the pub. She belatedly realized her use of the word 'home' and stumbled to cover it. "I-I mean back to the-your-your manor."

"Hermione, it's okay," Draco said. "It's more of a home with you in it than it was ever before." He didn't know why he said it. Sure it was true. But he didn't mean to say it.

"Um," Hermione looked embarrassed, "thanks."

"Yeah…"

"So…where are we going?" Hermione asked.

"Bookshop," Draco replied.

"Which one?"

"There's a new one in Diagon Alley," he said.

"I haven't heard of any new bookshops opening in Diagon Alley." Hermione looked at Draco curiously. A new bookshop? That'd be interesting. Her face lit up a bit at the idea.

"It's not exactly open yet," Draco said. "Look at you all excited." He smiled at her in amusement.

"If it's not open, why are we going?" she questioned.

He ignored her. "Come on."

Within seconds they had gotten to their destination, standing inside a cozy looking bookshop. There were old, floor to ceiling shelves against the walls and slightly shorter shelves on the floor. There was an open area with a beautiful, oval, antique rug surrounded by comfortable looking armchairs and a loveseat. It smelled like books. Both new and old. And then near the back, Hermione wandered through the shelves, there was a narrow archway passage, about five feet long with the inside walls lined with more books.

To anyone else the place would've seemed chock full with books, but Hermione knew there was still space for more. She read a few of the titled spines. Magical books.

"What do you think?" Draco asked.

"It's so charming," she said. "Are we allowed in here though? I mean, you said it wasn't exactly open yet…"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure? No one's here."

"We're here," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean! Won't the owner be angry?"

"I don't know."

"Well maybe we should just go," she said, though her gaze continued to scan shelves and look for unfamiliar books. She made no move to leave.

"Hermione?" Draco waited to get her attention. She didn't even glance at him. "Hermione?" he tried again. She didn't even blink as her fingertips skimmed a few of the old book spines. "Granger!" Draco said sharply.

"Yes?" Hermione turned and looked at him in surprise. Clearly she didn't understand why he had used her surname and in such a snappy tone.

"I've called your name a couple of times now," he told her.

"Oh. Sorry." Hermione looked around once more. "Draco, this is lovely but…is there a reason we're here? Should we be here?"

He laughed. "You know, I did promise you your birthday present today."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Is it from here?"

Draco held out a hand and Hermione took it with a questioning expression. He led her outside of the shop and she frowned slightly at having to leave. Walking her across the street, he turned her to face the shop.

After a moment of silence and just standing there Hermione asked the question. "What are we looking at?"

Draco shook his head at her and gently tilted her face upwards a bit until she focused on what he was showing her. She read the sign carefully. And then she read it again. And again. "Granger Book Corner," she read aloud. "You're kidding."

"Happy birthday," he said.

"Draco, you're…you're…what is this?" she asked meekly.

"Your bookshop," Draco said. "If you want it that is."

At her shocked look he continued. "Before you say anything," he waited, she didn't say anything, "let me just clarify that I bought the shop for you, for your birthday, but I was hoping you'd want to take it and run it, and this could be your job. So you don't have to work at the ministry anymore."

Draco looked at Hermione, watching for a reaction. "Hermione?"

She turned to him and glanced at the shop. "This is really sweet of you," she said. "I mean, I'm not even going to mention how you shouldn't be spending this much money on me and how unnecessary—"

"Sounds like you're mentioning it."

"Look, I just…" She smiled. "This is really nice of you. The biggest thing anyone has ever done for something so small for me."

"Hermione, would working here and doing this make you happy?" Draco asked.

She hesitated to admit it. "Yes," she said quietly.

"Then it's not so small then, is it?" he said.

Hermione smiled shyly at his meaning. "Thank you. This really is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You're welcome," Draco returned. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do," she said. "But this is a really big deal. I can't just accept it like this."

"Then…don't," Draco said reluctantly with a sigh. He ran a hand over his hair and looked at the shop then back at Hermione. "You can think about it, okay? Just promise me that when you think about it you won't think about me or how much this costs. I want you to think about what you want."

"Sure," Hermione agreed. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist in return. He relished the feel of her in his arms and inhaled the scent of honey and vanilla from her. As she began to pull away her cheek brushed his and the heat of her skin felt searing hot against his cooler, pale, complexion. Electricity shot through him and Hermione's stomach flipped. Neither of them really processed what was going on. His nose skimmed lightly across her cheek before his lips captured hers. And she kissed him back, pulling him back as he pulled away. And one of his hands tangled into her hair while the other pulled her closer. And one of her hands was running down his arm as the other slid to rest on his chest. And her lips were warm and soft. And his hands were big and strong.

And suddenly everything was different.

A/N: So there it is. I hope it was worth the wait considering how long this took me. Sorry about that. If any of you are curious about what Hermione's dress looks like you can google Junon dress Dior 1949 and you'll find it easily. I just pictured it to have a slightly longer bodice that stops being fitted closer to her hips.

Please review, I love reading them and they help me write. Constructive critcism is much appreciated. Thank you to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. It meant worlds. Honestly.

Thank you for reading!

Anyways,

Scarlett