The remainder of the day seemed to pass painfully slowly, as time tends to do when there is something to look forward to. Hermione was restless all day long, trying to stay busy as a means of distraction—but there was very little to do, thanks to her extreme level of productivity from earlier that week. She finally resigned herself to standing at the cash register, leaning on the counter and tapping her fingers as she watched the second hand on the clock tick by. Florence had left earlier that evening, and Hermione was grateful she had not been around to tease her further.
Finally at 7:55, Marion shuffled up to the counter.
"I don't think it would hurt to close a few minutes early," she said.
Hermione jumped at the sound of her voice, standing up straight and smiling excitedly.
Marion eyed her knowingly and that wise twinkle in her eye returned. "You do not mind, Joan—do you?"
Hermione shook her head a bit too enthusiastically. "Err…non, I don't mind at all," she said as she cleared her throat and looked away in embarrassment. "I already counted the cash register money and filed all our expenses and revenue for today," she admitted with a sheepish grin.
"How…industrious of you," Marion said with a coy smile. "I figured you would be looking forward to getting out of here. Besides, your young man is outside waiting for you."
She turned around so fast it nearly gave her whiplash. There was Draco, leaning casually against the passenger side door of his gleaming silver car, right outside the front window. He appeared to be…whistling? Odd, Hermione thought. His hands were in the pockets of his wool jacket, one eyebrow was raised as his eyes swept over the street, and he wore an expression that made him look incredibly bored.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "How long has he been standing there?" she wondered.
Marion shrugged. "I only noticed him a few minutes ago. But do not be fooled by his nonchalant appearance—I saw him watching you attentively before I walked out here. I think it's safe to assume he is putting on a front for you."
Hermione laughed, thinking that sounded very much like something Draco would do, as Marion started for the front door. Very little escaped the attention of the older lady. Hermione reached under the counter for her messenger bag and her heart began doing that annoying fluttering again. Donning her jacket, she quickly followed after Marion and held the door open for the store owner as they exited.
"Good work today, Joan. I will see you tomorrow morning. Have a good evening with your gentleman," she said, giving Hermione a wink.
Hermione blushed and nodded before turning to face Draco. As soon as his eyes met hers, his face melted into a grin.
"Hey there," he greeted.
She took hurried steps to meet him with a kiss. "Hello," she said softly.
"Ready for dinner?" he asked, opening her door for her.
"Should I have spent the last few hours preparing myself for this meal?" She slid into her seat.
Malfoy nodded in mocking seriousness. "Definitely," he said. "Because you, Granger, are about to have your mind blown."
Hermione laughed at that. "Well I'm definitely excited now."
"As you should be." He winked and closed the door. Hermione settled into her seat and bit her lip, trying to calm the butterflies that were fluttering around in her stomach.
Twenty-five minutes later, Hermione was staring with wide eyes at a rather large house. She wouldn't even quite call it a house! It was a mansion!
"You live here?" She gaped.
Malfoy shrugged. "I like to live in comfort."
Hermione snorted. "Well that much I had gathered. It looks just like Malfoy Mansion."
Draco shook his head as they pulled up the driveway. "It's very different. It's not even as big as it looks on the outside. The mansion was so…open, empty, dark…ominous. My home is very warm and cozy. You'll see. The property is very large, but the house itself…"
He parked at the front of the driveway and turned off the car, throwing Hermione a quick grin before getting out of the car. She opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, looking around and taking in her surroundings.
The long gravel driveway wound in a circle around the front of the house, in the middle of which stood a small area of trees and bushes.
"There are roses here in the spring, and over there—" He motioned towards the yard beside the house (if you could even call the large plot of land a yard) and Hermione's eyes followed him. "Over there—in the summer it's full of sunflowers."
Hermione hummed. "I love sunflowers," she commented. "They're my favorite."
Malfoy observed her, nodding to himself as if making a mental note of this. "I'm not surprised."
Hermione threw him a wry look before taking his hand in hers and they walked to the house together.
"Why do you say that?" she asked as they walked up the three steps to the porch.
"About sunflowers?" He let go of her hand to fumble with his keys and unlock the front door. It was tall and broad, wooden, and a deep, dark burgundy color. Hermione immediately smiled to herself upon associating the color with her House at Hogwarts. She didn't dare vocalize that, though.
"Yeah."
He shrugged as he opened the door. "If I were to guess your favorite flower, that would have been it. It's so…friendly and charming and bright. Like you," he added with a wink as he opened the door and motioned for her to enter.
She frowned. "I wouldn't exactly describe myself as…" She trailed off as she stepped into the house and cast her eyes around. The vaulted ceilings were high with deep warm toned walls. There were paintings hanging on each wall—beautiful pastels and oils of landscapes and oceans. There was a fresh bouquet of lilies on a dresser that sat in the front room beside the door. She walked into the living room—all the furniture was a deep, warm, honey oak color; there were beige leather couches and a large screened TV sitting against the wall. The fireplace was made of white brick, with a rather large oval mirror hanging above it. Draco had been right. The place was warm and inviting—and it wasn't as overly large as it appeared. It was quite cozy. It was definitely big and lavish, but comfortable.
She looked out the large open windows against the back wall, where she could see the grassy landscape rolling out into the dark night. There was a large wooden porch, with a wicker swing that swayed slightly in the breeze.
"This place is very cozy," she told him. "It's…it's nice. I really like it. You're right—it's so different from the Manor."
Draco shrugged. "That's kind of why I chose it."
"I don't see any green," she teased as she shrugged out of her jacket.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, stepping forward to take her jacket and hang it up on the coat rack by the door. "Well I didn't do any of the decorating—obviously. It was like this when I got here. But now that you mention it, this place could do with a little more emerald green…" He looked around the house thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll have it painted this weekend while I'm gone."
Hermione shook her head. "Sure you will. Did you buy this place?"
He nodded. "The owner sold it as is. It was fully furnished when I moved in, and I liked it. Also, I don't really know how to decorate unless it involves magic. So…it stayed like this."
Hermione looked around, and took a deep breath. "Is that dinner I smell? It smells delicious."
Malfoy clapped his hands together. "Right. I'll go check on dinner while you…change. Have a look around, and meet me in the kitchen in five minutes." He kissed her lightly on the cheek before disappearing around the corner. There was a clanging of dishes and pots and pans and Hermione smiled to herself before retrieving her wand.
I'm sure doing a lot of smiling lately, she thought as she placed the wand to her head.
As the familiar tingling feeling faded, she shook out her hair and decided to find a bathroom. She saw a hallway and decided that was her best bet. She passed a few white doors—a closet, an empty guest bedroom, another closet—and finally found the bathroom. It was a half bathroom, just a toilet and a sink. She turned on the swirly brass faucet and splashed some cool water over her face before taking in her mirrored appearance. Honey brown hair, small lips, sharp cheekbones, warm brown eyes—she smiled and she started smoothing down her slightly frizzy hair. Taking a step back, she nodded in approval. She opened the door and followed the smell of food.
"This is so good," Hermione praised, thirty minutes later. They were sitting at a small oak table, covered with a dark purple tablecloth, upon which sat two tall white candles. They were about half way through the meal. Hermione had just returned from the kitchen, where she had retrieved their bottle of wine. She refilled their glasses.
Draco smiled as he picked up his wine glass. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
Hermione dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. "And you said you taught yourself to cook?"
Malfoy glanced at her briefly before looking back down at his plate. "I did," he confirmed before taking a bite of his Blanquette de Veau.
Hermione smiled to herself. "You cooked this traditional French dish all by yourself? My, my, that's quite the feat. I thought this dish tasted familiar, but you must just have French cuisine down to a tee. You're very talented. Maybe you should open a restaurant. I can see it now: Restaurant de Draco. You could open it downtown."
He looked up at her, frowning and narrowing his gray eyes at her. He was quickly growing suspicious at her uncharacteristic praises.
"No, not downtown." She paused, looking thoughtful as she tapped her finger against her lips. "Oh I know! On Barboroque Street," she decided, throwing him a grin.
Malfoy leaned back in his seat, watching her through slitted eyes. "You caught me, didn't you?"
Hermione's grin widened. "If you're referring to the take-out boxes I saw in your trash can, then yes. The ones from Brasserie la Regence? A very nice little restaurant nearby the bookshop—the one I tend to visit regularly."
Draco's shoulders drooped and he sighed. "Alright, alright. You caught me. I didn't cook dinner. I mean, I tried—originally. I really did! I spent the majority of the afternoon attempting to cook meals far above my pay grade. They…err… It didn't work out."
Hermione continued watching him—she was the one looking smug now. "But I thought you were…what did you call yourself? Ah, yes—a culinary artist?"
Malfoy offered a sheepish grin and a shrug. "My culinary masterpieces consist of scrambled eggs and a few other basic staple meals. Although…I did cook bread last week. All by myself," he bragged, tilting his chin up proudly.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical.
Malfoy sagged once again. "Alright, so that nice old lady next door helped me a little," he admitted. "But I'll have you know that I kneaded that dough all on my own."
She chuckled and shook her head as she speared a green bean into her mouth.
"Are you mad?" he asked, his eyes resolutely on his food.
Hermione shook her head once more. "No. For some reason I find it endearing that you resorted to take out after burning an attempted home-cooked meal for me," she said, slightly amazed at herself.
"Endearing, eh?" He nodded to himself, wearing a dopey little grin.
"Although," she said, "I don't know why you thought you could get away with something like that. You know you left the bag from the restaurant right there on the kitchen floor, right?"
Draco winced. "I did?"
Hermione bit her lip as she attempted to stifle a laugh.
Malfoy bit his cheek, scrunching up his nose. "That was a pretty dumb move."
They both burst into laughter and Hermione nodded. "Not your brightest moment," she said between laughs.
They sat there like that, laughing together, for a few more moments before finishing their dinners in comfortable silence with smiles on their faces.