A/N: Hi everyone - long time no see! First of all I'd like to apologise to all of you for taking so long to update this. I never intended for this hiatus to go on for this long, and I have been writing here and there in between but there were various reasons why I couldn't properly get back into it until now. I have every intention of seeing this story through to the end, so let's pick up from where we left off, shall we? ;)

As always, I hope you enjoy!

21

:. The Butterbeer .:

Hermione apparated to Hogsmeade at ten minutes to eight. She'd been debating for ages on whether this would be a good idea or not, but she was cursed with an inexplicable need to be punctual for everything and everyone (despite the fact that she was almost always the only person who was on time for everything).

This is why it surprised her so much to see Draco already standing there when she arrived.

"Draco," she said. "You're early."

"And so are you," he said, bringing out a pocket watch and examining it. "Why the tone of surprise?"

"Nothing."

Draco's arch of an eyebrow was enough indication to tell her that he knew she was lying.

"Alright," she said. "I suppose I had pre-judged you as the 'fashionably late' sort."

"Tut, tut," Draco shook his head. "We can't have that kind of talk from a Head Prefect, can we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile all the same. "Can you honestly blame me for making that judgement? What with the way you swanned around school with that self-righteous manner of yours for all those years."

"Oh, you mean like the way I assumed you'd be early because of your incessant need to be a punctual goody-two-shoes all the time?" Draco countered.

There was a pause, during which Hermione's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Is that the reason you were early tonight?" she asked.

Draco felt his face grow warm. "No," he said abruptly. "I didn't exactly feel like hanging around the house with my mother for longer than necessary just for the sake of being purposefully late."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," said Hermione. "The last I heard it's nowhere near as awkward as it was before between you two."

"Still pretty unbearable," Draco grimaced.

"However will you survive a whole week there before term starts?" Hermione meant this to be a joke, but Draco (predictably) didn't respond to it as such.

"Don't remind me of that," he said. "Tonight is about celebrating, remember? I don't want to think about any negative crap."

"Can't say I blame you there," Hermione said. "So, where shall we go?"

Draco hesitated, realising he had not thought this much through. Not to mention the fact he wasn't particularly comfortable making the call. He didn't know how he – or Hermione – felt about being seen in a public place together.

He deliberated this for a while before reasoning that the pair of them would be pretty much on display once term recommenced anyway. And he had a feeling Pansy wasn't exactly going to keep quiet to the other Slytherins about his 'weakness' of befriending the likes of Hermione Granger and Ernie Macmillan, so that gossip would surely spread like Fiendfyre once it reached the ears of the likes of Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott.

"How do you feel about the Leaky Cauldron?" Draco said.

Hermione eyed his hesitant expression. "How do you feel about it?" she chuckled. "You don't seem too sure."

"No, I am," Draco said decisively. "It's just…" his sentence tailed off. Hermione seemed to understand what was going through his head though, judging by the small smile she gave him.

"The Leaky Cauldron it is," she said brightly, leaving Draco barely any time to feel uncomfortable with how easily the witch seemed to be able to read him these days, before he felt Hermione grip his arm, and they disapparated with a loud pop.

He was very disorientated after they arrived; he really hadn't expected or been prepared for Hermione to initiate side-along apparition. He spun around, frowning at her. She gave a small shrug in response. "You seemed pretty spaced out back there."

"And that was your solution to snap me out of it?" he asked, arching a brow.

"What else would you rather me do?" Hermione replied. "Stand around like an idiot while you're away with the pixies?"

"Well somehow it doesn't seem too much of a stretch that you'd snap your fingers at me and demand my attention like the bossy Gryffindor you are."

"Wow," Hermione mimed checking a watch on her wrist. "Two insults in less than five minutes."

"Is that all?" Draco drawled. "Lucky for you, I have the whole evening to boost that number up."

"Lucky me," Hermione repeated dryly. She quickly hastened to get a pace or two in front of Draco as they walked to the Leaky Cauldron, determined for him to not see the smile that had tugged at her lips. Her head had been bombarded all day with all the 'what if's' of what this meet-up actually was and what it meant; but as long as Draco kept the insults and normal 'Draco' behaviour up, she was comfortable with assuming that this couldn't be a date.

Her assurance and relief lasted for all of a minute, until they entered the Leaky Cauldron and Draco pulled out her seat for her; a gesture that seemed so alien coming from him that she stopped in her tracks and stared at him with wide eyes.

"What's that look for?" he asked, looking half offended, half amused.

"I… what are you doing?" Hermione said lamely.

"Being polite," Draco drawled. "I wasn't raised by trolls, you know."

"You sure act like it sometimes," Hermione said, all of a sudden feeling flustered. Everything about the association of the words 'polite' and 'Draco' made her uncomfortable.

"I'll pull it out and let you fall on your arse if it'll make you feel any better," Draco shrugged. "Either way, just sit on the damn chair, Granger."

"Okay…" Hermione said, not really knowing which option she was agreeing to as she lowered herself onto the seat she hoped Draco had not pulled out. She was relieved to make contact with the chair, and soon settled down onto it, mumbling some form of 'thanks' to him as she removed her jacket.

"Why are you wearing that in summer?" Draco asked, smirking.

"It gets chilly in the evenings!" Hermione replied indignantly.

Draco laughed. "You wouldn't last ten seconds in the Slytherin common room if you think you need to wrap up for this."

Hermione tried to suppress her grimace at the thought of how cold and unwelcoming that place sounded in comparison to the warm and homely Gryffindor tower.

"Are you not going to sit down?" she asked Draco, whom she noticed was still standing beside the table, looking down at her.

"I was going to get the drinks," he replied. "What do you want?"

"Oh," Hermione blinked, having not anticipated this to happen either. She paused momentarily to dig around in her handbag for her purse.

"Put that away, Granger," Draco rolled his eyes. "It's one drink."

Hermione's brows furrowed, not sure what to make of the combination of him doing something nice for her and calling her 'Granger'. These days he only called her that when he was annoyed at her for some reason, so none of this made any sense.

She shook these thoughts away before Draco could catch on. After all, it wasn't impossible he was playing mind games with her, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeming phased. So she put on her best poker face, and requested a Butterbeer.

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "This isn't the first third-year trip to Hogsmeade; you can have something a little stronger you know."

"I know that!" Hermione snapped. "But it's what I want."

"Suit yourself," Draco said, shaking his head as he headed over to the bar. He returned shortly after, setting down Hermione's drink in front of her before taking the seat opposite, a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand. Hermione watched as he began to gently swirl the amber liquid around in the glass before bringing it to his lips.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. One would imagine she'd be used to his little pretentious quirks by now, but apparently she was not… nor did she particularly expect she would at any point, for that matter. She clasped her glass as she mulled this over, but found herself immediately letting go, jumping a little with surprise.

"What?" Draco said coolly in response to Hermione's quizzical expression. "Since you feel like you need a jacket in this weather I asked them to warm it up for you."

Hermione rarely found herself lost for words, but somewhat annoyingly, this was one of those times. Wanting to wind her up was a clear motive for his actions, but she couldn't exactly be sure if his intentions were completely bad. There was a chance, however small; that he'd genuinely thought she needed warming up. Though Hermione was quick to dismiss this, she remained puzzled all the same. Draco certainly hadn't given anything away in his voice – good or bad.

Overcome with a sudden frustration, she grabbed her glass again and brought it to her lips, making sure to draw out her first sip for as long as possible whilst avoiding Draco's eyes.

He smirked across the table; never failing to gain pleasure from seeing the furrowed brows and wide, confused eyes that told him Hermione Granger was stumped.

Despite her qualms about the drink, Hermione felt comforted by the warmth it brought, and she soon began to relax. Questioning every little thing Draco did would only drive her crazy, so she conceded she'd have to try to just go with the flow. But of course, that could be the Butterbeer talking…

"Enjoying that, are you?"

"What?" Hermione spluttered as she choked on her Butterbeer, which she now realised she had still been drinking without drawing breath.

"Are you okay, Granger?" Draco tilted his head and looked at her carefully. "You seem… rather skittish this evening."

'No need to look so damn pleased with yourself about it', Hermione thought irritably as she finally stopped coughing.

"What's it to you?" she quipped evasively.

"Just curious as to know where these apparent nerves have come from all of a sudden," Draco drawled as he took a nonchalant sip of his drink.

"Nerves?!" Hermione's head had shot up at the word like a deer in the headlights. "What possible reason do I have to be nervous?"

Draco expelled an amused snort and arched a brow. He locked eyes with Hermione and spoke slowly… knowingly… "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

Hermione immediately felt blood rush to her cheeks. As her face was already pink from her recent coughing fit, Draco hadn't seemed to notice, and for that she was thankful.

At a complete loss of what to say to try without blatantly changing the subject, she rose from her chair and announced she had to use the bathroom.

"Take your time, Granger," Draco called after her as she walked away. She could practically see his stupid grinning face watching her, and it took every ounce in her willpower to not turn around. That saved her a little composure at least.

Once in the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face, and stared at herself in the mirror. "Get yourself together, Hermione," she hissed to her reflection. "Since when have you let Draco bloody Malfoy get to you like this?"

Of course she had a very good idea what he was playing at, and in all honesty, she was making it way too easy for him.

And with that thought, Hermione stopped thinking about that night as a potential date, and started thinking about it as a challenge to beat Draco at his own game. The only problem was, he was so damn good at it, and she had a poker face that was about as challenging to read as an open book in a glass cabinet.

She may have told herself that after they both attempted to avoid going out with each other that there would be no more running, but there was no way she would allow herself to crack under the influence of Draco's mind games. That meant having to play some of her own…

The only problem was, she had little to no experience or knowledge in how to play him at his own game when he was so adept at it. And she was falling into his traps far too easily.

It was clear that she was going to need another drink.

"Sorry about that," she said sweetly as she joined Draco at the table once more.

"Everything alright now, Granger?" he asked in a cocky voice.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you for having my drink warmed up by the way," she met his gaze and smiled. "It's just how I like it."

Draco clearly hadn't anticipated this reaction from her. His smirk faltered slightly, and his eyes widened, but after clearing his throat he shook whatever it was off and regained his composure with ease. Still, Hermione internally triumphed over this small victory.

Now it was Draco's turn to smile. "I'll remember that," he said in a smooth voice.

His smile grew wider when Hermione involuntarily tensed at his words, though her face remained passive as she looked at him.

There was a determined glint in Draco's eye as he looked back at her. It was a knowing look, which Hermione easily deciphered. He knew she was on to him, and was throwing down the final gauntlet.

They had both acknowledged the previous evening that there would be no more running away, but even so, they were both reluctant to be the first to openly embrace the truth.

Hermione wasn't going to allow herself to be hurt by him again.

He wouldn't allow himself to be rejected by another person when he had lost so much already.

And they were both determined not to be the first one to crack.

For the first time feeling a little nervous himself that night, Draco downed the remaining contents of his glass and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Your drink would be getting cold by now," he said. "Care for another?"

"Please," said Hermione. It felt like she was going to need it.

"Another Butterbeer, I presume?"

Hermione nodded.

"Of course," Draco said with a roll of his eyes as he headed to the bar. This was shaping up to be an interesting evening.

By the time their second drinks were in them, Draco and Hermione were consciously thinking less and less about the stand off that had begun at the beginning of the evening, and by the third, it wasn't crossing their minds at all. In fact, barely anything about them remained guarded or hesitant, and they found themselves talking to one another almost completely naturally.

"I can't believe we actually did it! Sort of," Hermione beamed as the conversation turned to the competition results. Despite being the thing to bring them both here tonight, the topic had been the elephant in the room up until this point. Well… one of the elephants, anyway.

"You and me both," Draco concurred. "I feel like we were bloody robbed of being named the actual Heads, mind you, but –"

"Being named Head Prefects is nothing to be ashamed of," said Hermione.

"Are you telling that to me, or yourself?" Draco laughed, sensing the hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Does that matter?" Hermione asked. "Actually, don't answer that."

"Why not?" Draco asked. "I know you hate it when you're not the best at something."

Hermione's eye twitched. "I hate it when you are the best at something," she said. "There's a difference."

"And yet," Draco smirked. "You could say that being Head Prefect makes me the best student of Slytherin house, and you seemed pretty happy for me –"

"This is different," argued Hermione.

"How?"

"Because," Hermione took a deep breath. "This took a lot more for you to achieve than just using your money or your family name to get yourself ahead."

"Excuse me?" Draco frowned.

"Buying your way onto the Quidditch team and being Snape's favourite in our Potions class?" Hermione supplied. Amusement tugged at her lips when she saw Draco's frown instantly disappear.

"In my defence," he said slowly. "Neither of those things were my idea."

"Debateable, but let's save that for another time," Hermione said. "What I'm trying to say is, it took real strength for you to get through this. And Draco, I've got to say… I'm proud of you."

A silence stretched between them, during which Hermione realised the Butterbeer had lowered her guard perhaps a little too much. She pushed her glass away, and fidgeted, tapping her fingernails on the table as she waited for Draco's response.

"Proud of me?"

There was no annoyance or defensive attitude in his tone - Hermione had expected him to call her out on pitying him again, but he seemed genuinely puzzled, and upon seeing this, Hermione started to relax again.

"I mean, you didn't make life easy for me a lot of the time," she laughed. "But I think I managed to get through to you a bit. There's no comparison to the Malfoy I know now compared to the one who flat-out swore that" there was no way in hell" he'd ever work with me."

"Well, I don't know if that's strictly true. You were badgering me so much I ended up talking to you just to get you to leave me alone."

"And how did that work out for you?" Hermione asked quietly, meeting his grey eyes.

"Not very well: couldn't get rid of you after that, could I?" Draco said softly, the side of his mouth being tugged into something that wasn't quite a smile nor a smirk.

"Apparently not," Hermione laughed, trying to ignore how madly her heart was thumping right then.

"Suppose it went to my advantage though," Draco drawled, not breaking eye contact. "I don't think I would've done half of the stuff I did if it wasn't for you nagging on at me about my mum and trying to be civil and, well everything really."

"I'll take that as a back-handed compliment, shall I?" she said dryly.

"Take it how you want, Hermione," Draco said. "It's the only time I'm going to say it."

'I couldn't have done it without you,' continued the voice inside Draco's head. Even with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed there were just some things he wasn't ready to say out loud.

"I suppose I can live with that," Hermione smiled back. And for the first time that evening, she didn't care about the fact that she didn't know what he really meant. "Cheers to us."

She raised her glass and clicked it against Draco's, her mind wandering back to something he'd said earlier.

"What makes you think you know me so well as to say that I hate not being the best?" she asked as soon as she'd taken a sip of her drink.

"You're joking, right?" Draco laughed. "I'm not the one whose Boggart would turn into someone telling me I'd failed a class. I'm not the one who threw a tantrum in first year flying class when my broom wasn't the first to respond –"

"What?" Hermione's face reddened as the frustration and humiliation of that memory passed through her mind.

"Don't play dumb, Granger," Draco smirked. Was it Hermione's imagination or was the use of her surname sounding almost… affectionate now?

"I'm not," she blurted. "I just… how do you remember that?"

Draco opened his mouth. Then closed it again. "You know, I haven't got any idea," he eventually said before quickly adding, "Must have just stuck with me since us Slytherins had a good laugh about it afterwards."

"Right," Hermione said absently, unaware of the fact Draco was looking at her calculatingly.

"Why do you care so much about being the best?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"It's not about being the best." Hermione instinctively snapped defensively. "Sorry," she took a deep breath. "It was never about wanting to be the best. More about wanting to prove myself; prove that I'm worthy of my magic."

"But why would you think -? Oh." Draco felt a guilty knot form in his stomach.

"Yes. Because I'm a Muggleborn," said Hermione, chewing her lip in thought. She opened her mouth to continue but Draco cut her off.

"You don't have to carry on," he said, "I'm sorry I asked –"

"No, no, it's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm actually kind of glad that you did."

"Why?" Draco frowned.

"Well I suppose because now you know me a bit better." Hermione tried to smile, but Draco could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. And as she lifted her head to drain the contents of her glass, he was overcome with an overwhelming urge to cheer her up.

A lump formed in his throat as he built up the inner strength to do something that, for fear of seeming weak, every fibre of his being was telling him not to do. But this was Hermione, and Draco knew he owed her at least this.

"Hermione," he began. His voice came out somewhat strained, and it sounded a lower pitch than usual. He had the full attention of the girl opposite him, who had met his gaze, a curious expression on her face. "I'm only going to say this once," he continued. "But for what it's worth, you're a fantastic witch. And you shouldn't ever think you aren't worthy of magic."

A small blush tinted Hermione's cheeks, and she smiled almost shyly as her eyes dropped to the table. The two of them sat immersed in their own thoughts for a while in a comfortable silence as patrons entered and exited the pub around them.

Hermione wanted to talk more, but it felt like the time for casual conversation had passed. She suddenly remembered that she'd told Ron and Harry she was having dinner at her parents' house, and they'd be expecting her back by now, and so she finally lifted her head and broke the silence.

"It's getting late," she said quietly.

"Hm?" Draco's head snapped up, having apparently just been jerked from his own train of thought. "Oh, right. Yeah. Should probably head off."

Hermione was a little surprised he hadn't made some kind of snarky remark about her calling this 'late', but she didn't comment, and allowed Draco to help her into her jacket without complaint. Her brain felt too fuzzy to even begin to overthink anything he was doing again, so she just accepted it.

The two of them exited into the cool night air, and walked back to the spot where they apparated in. It was at this point when the silence became a little awkward, as they both realised they had no idea how to say goodbye to one another.

"Thank you for tonight," Hermione spoke first. "For the drinks, too."

Draco nodded his acceptance. "And thank you, Granger, for…" Everything. "…You know."

Hermione seemed to understand what he was getting at, and simply smiled up at him in return. They were illuminated only by a couple of street lamps and the moonlight, and as Draco looked down at Hermione, he suddenly became aware of how… nice she looked. The amber light made her usually pale skin seem warm and golden, let yellow highlights brighten her brown hair and burn what looked like dancing flames in her eyes.

Draco felt mesmerized at seeing Hermione, quite literally, in this new light. It was only when something on her lip caught his eye did he break out of her spell, and remember to breathe again.

A smile tugged at his lips. "You really are a big kid," he said softly. "You've got a Butterbeer 'stache and everything."

"Oh god," Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth. "Where is it?"

Draco attempted several times to point out the location of the Butterbeer foam on his own mouth, but he resigned all hope in Hermione's ability to remove it after her fourth fumble.

"For Merlin's sake, let me do it," he sighed, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing Hermione's mouth, muttering under his breath. "It's no wonder you were never a Quidditch player; your hand-eye coordination sucks…"

"What?" Hermione said.

"Nothing," replied Draco. "Now shut up for once - you're making me miss."

Hermione did as she was told, though she wanted to object to the way Draco was holding her chin still as if she were an unruly child who spilled food all over her mouth.

"Is it gone?" Hermione asked when Draco finally removed the handkerchief from her face.

"Yeah," Draco said softly, re-pocketing the handkerchief. "I think I got it."

"You 'thin-?'" Hermione began a sarcastic remark, but the sudden pressure of Draco's mouth on hers cut her off mid-sentence. For someone usually so calculated, Draco's move came completely out of nowhere, leaving her surprised and breathless.

The hand that had previously had a firm hold of her chin was now gently caressing the side of her face, the other hand resting on the back of her head as he kissed her. And she kissed him.

This wasn't like the other kisses, where there'd been more than a little hesitation and doubt on somebody's part. This time, both of them responded completely instinctively. Despite all of Hermione's resolve, everything Harry had said to her about being careful, it felt so right. Draco felt so right.

Hermione let out a small sigh, and Draco responded by pulling her even closer, deepening the kiss, tasting Butterbeer on her lips and tongue. Now that he was kissing her he didn't want to stop. It felt like he'd been holding himself back from doing this for a long time. He didn't want to think too much into how long, but tonight he'd just known it wouldn't be long until he cracked. He supposed this effectively meant he'd lost the battle of wills he'd been having against Hermione, but he couldn't care less at this point.

The two of them remained lost in the feeling of one another until two drunken wizards walked by on the opposite side of the street, and began whistling at them and shouting lewd remarks.

Hermione and Draco sprang apart immediately, but did not let go of each other. They just laughed, and rested their foreheads together, catching their breath; completely unsure what to think about what just happened.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Draco whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead before reluctantly pulling away from her. "See you soon."

"See you soon," Hermione whispered back, waving Draco goodbye as he span on his heel and disapparated.

When he'd gone, she retrieved her wand from her bag, and took a composing breath before apparating to The Burrow. She was greeted by Molly Weasley at the door, and then began climbing the stairs to find her friends; her head still swimming and the ghost of Draco's kiss still tingling her lips.

Draco arrived at his destination rather unceremoniously; only now was he beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed that evening. He'd lost his footing on landing, and stumbled, ending up as a heap on the floor.

He picked himself up quickly and dusted himself down, looking around this way and that to confirm nobody had noticed. It's funny that that was his primary concern, really – he was lucky to not have splinched himself from apparating after drinking.

Draco was back in Hogsmeade, where he'd met Hermione at the start of the evening. He'd originally intended to return home, but after what had just happened, he found himself desperately craving a Butterbeer.

A faint smile playing on his lips, he looked straight ahead, and headed towards The Three Broomsticks.

To be continued…

A/N: A shorter chapter than normal but hopefully it was a goody! As always, your comments are always greatly appreciated :)