Chapter 25:

"A Quidditch game?" Draco echoed Hermione's words after she'd spoken them.

Hermione was nervous about telling him exactly where she intended to take him on their wizarding date. She hated the look of panic that crossed his face at the thought of going somewhere so full of people, so exposed. She put a hand tenderly to his jaw and tilted his face up. "Draco. Listen to me. I want to take you out and show you off, just as you did with me."

"We didn't know anyone! There wasn't going to be some production in the next day's newspaper!" he argued.

"Why keep hiding it? It's only a matter of time before some student here decides they want a few extra galleons in their pocket and then blabs anyway. Are you ashamed of me?" she asked him, stepping between his knees.

His pewter eyes shot up to hers and he narrowed them incredulously. "How could you even think that?"

"That sentiment is mutual," Hermione countered, lightly kissing his lips.

"I'm an ex-Death Eater. I have plenty for you to be ashamed about," he nearly choked out, placing his hands on her hips.

"And yet, I'm not. Hmm…strange," she teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Come to the game with me. You love the Falmouth Falcons."

She could see the twinkle in his eye at the thought of seeing his favorite team play. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nestled her face into the crook of his neck, relishing the feel of his arms enclosing around her. "Draco…I…enjoy being with you. I don't care what others think and despite what you may think, I am so proud to be able to call you my own."

His arms reflexively tightened around her and he placed a docile kiss on her shoulder. "Okay. I'll go. But I just want it on record that I warned you about the negative press ahead of time."

Hermione pulled back and ran her thumbs over his cheekbones. Her reasons for taking him were partly selfish—she just wanted the looming dread of going public with their relationship over and done with. And she wanted the world to see how much he'd changed; how brilliant he was. But she also knew that it was exactly what he needed as well. Draco had a hard time moving forward and he needed to be given gentle nudges in the right direction.

"Remember what Alya said?" she reminded him.

He smiled slightly and nodded. "Clearly growing up away from my parents' influence did her a world of good. She'd be a Gryffindor, for sure."

"Well, isn't there even a little bit of this Gryffindor rubbing off on you?" she teased and only realized the innuendo when his cheeks flushed lightly.

"I suppose we won't be sitting in a box, then?" he asked, pushing her hips back so he could stand.

"Erm," Hermione shifted awkwardly on her feet. "I couldn't afford very good seats. We're kind of high up…"

"I didn't want you buying anything to begin with," he reminded her.

They'd had their first real argument only a few days prior when Hermione insisted that she not tell him where they were going and then insisted on paying. Draco's aristocratic upbringing had him bristling at the idea that the witch would pay for the date. His mother would "beat him with a cleaning broom if she ever found out," he'd argued. But Hermione had stood her ground and he'd sulked.

"Hush. Not this again," she put a finger over his lips. "We are going to go and enjoy watching your favorite team obliterate the opposition."

"Why are you agreeing to go see a game? You hate Quidditch."

"I don't hate it. I just don't care to speak about it every second of every day like Harry and Ron. I don't particularly understand the appeal…except perhaps when it comes to those uniforms," she said, raising her eyebrow at him.

Draco let out a low growl at the back of his throat. "I still have that uniform, witch. I'm not above wearing it just to tease you."

Hermione recalled how delectable his bum looked in those trousers and she swatted his chest. What a tease he was. "Put on some denims and something comfy," she told him, pointing him in the direction of his wardrobe.

"So bossy," he rolled his eyes.

Hermione could see the anxiety in the set of his jaw and knew he was on edge. She felt bad about even asking him to go this public. But they couldn't keep putting off the inevitable. Especially if they were to keep visiting St. Mungo's or Apparating in and out of Hogsmeade. They were playing with fire already.

He moved about, collecting his clothing and Hermione sat lazily in his armchair, lifting a book on Alchemy up and looking over its contents. Draco took a few steps toward his bathroom and then paused, peeking at her from the corner of his eye. He tossed his clothing to the bed and toed off his shoes.

Hermione peered over the top of the book and watched intently as he dragged his shirt over his head and moved to unfasten his belt. The sound of the metal buckle and the sight of his hands unbuttoning his trousers brought a blush to her cheeks. The charm around her neck pulsed quickly—he knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew she was watching.

He tugged his trousers off his narrow hips and turned his back toward her, now feigning modesty. Hermione felt a Malfoy-worthy smirk spread over her face, though she enjoyed the sight of his taut muscles moving under the luminescent skin of his back. He pulled on a pair of dark colored denims and pulled the belt through each loop, slowly and purposefully. Tease. He had an old Slytherin House Quidditch shirt that looked like a striped rugby shirt that he pulled on. He crossed the room and put on a large faced watch, and Hermione noted that he seemed actually embarrassed to have been observed.

"Hmm…not as good as those tan regulation uniform trousers, but they'll do," she noted and he turned around with a complacent smile tugging at his lips.

He crossed the room to where she sat and took the book from her hands and tossed it back on the desk. "What about you, hmm?" he ran a finger in the rips along the front of her jeans. "What is the point of wearing trousers if they have holes along the thighs and knees?"

"Fashion," she retorted with a laugh.

"Ah, fashion. Whose? Yours or the rest of the sane world's?"

"I can go change, if you'd like. I'm sure I've got a pair of shapeless khakis and a polo shirt I could wear."

He growled lightly once more, teasing her exposed kneecap with his fingertip. "Don't you dare. I like this strange little edge you have. But we are going to a Quidditch game, not a Muggle concert."

And with that, he retrieved his wand from the table and leaned in to kiss just below her ear, pointing it at her chest. She giggled at his lips tickling her earlobe. When he pulled back, her Clash t-shirt now sported the Falmouth Falcons' crest. She gave him a deep scowl. "Just so you know, I happen to be a staunch Cannons fan," she chided.

He snorted. "Who's their Seeker now?" he asked.

Hermione smirked, knowing he'd caught her. She couldn't name the Seeker…or anyone else for that matter. He grinned. "Thought so. You date me, you cheer for the Falcons until you can formulate a genuine opinion about the teams. Beyond how good their arses look in regulation uniforms."

Hermione laughed loudly and Draco pulled her up from her sitting position, his grin falling as he realized they needed to go to make it on time. She squeezed his hand. "It's going to be okay, Draco."

o-o-o

"Wow…these are terrible seats," Draco remarked, looking at their tickets as they made their way to the stands.

Hermione elbowed him and he let out a jovial laugh. His mood was lightening ever so slightly at the sounds of cheering and the buzz of excitement emanating from the stadium. She took his hand as they walked toward the crowds. It was just as they were approaching their section of the stadium that the first flash of a camera went blinded them. Draco came to a screeching halt and glared at the young man as he lowered his camera. A reporter next to him had a Quick-Quotes Quill, scratching furiously as she rounded on the couple.

"Why, Miss Hermione Granger. And if my eyes don't deceive me, holding hands with none other than the equally-as-elusive Draco Malfoy," she said, her toad-like face brightening with a wide smile.

"That's right," Hermione nodded. "Now if you'll excuse us, we need to be getting to our seats. The game is getting ready to begin."

"Oh, but how about a quick interview, hmmm? Witch Weekly's readers would just love a story about how the War's most sought after heroine has entwined her heart with that of the brooding Death Eater's."

"Draco and I would appreciate you kindly removing yourself from our path. I will not hesitate to hex you," Hermione told the witch.

The reporter narrowed her eyes—toad green to match her ugly features. "It appears Mr. Malfoy's ways have rubbed off on you."

"The last reporter that bothered me and made hateful and salacious comments about an important wizard in my life was kept in a jar on my windowsill. That was when I was fifteen, long before Draco and I started seeing one another. So tell me again how he has negatively influenced my life," the young witch said icily, pushing past her with a harsh shove of the shoulder.

"Damn, love. Vicious," Draco commented under his breath.

Their interaction had raised awareness of their presence and they had drawn quite the nosy crowd. She looked sidelong at Draco and he clenched and unclenched his jaw before raising his chin defiantly, haughtily. He pulled her toward the stairs to climb toward where they were to be seated, placing his hand low on her back possessively. More flashes of cameras from behind him. A few people stared at them, a mix of incredulity, curiosity and a few in disgust. "Dirty Death Eater," someone hissed from their right and Hermione was getting ready to say something when Draco smiled at the wizard widely.

"Three years ago, I would not have hesitated to hex you into oblivion. But, lucky for you, I have the capacity to change. So, I'm going to let your snide remark about me slide. Just this once. Cheers," he told the wizard with a wink.

Hermione felt her heart swell with pride. Yes. Yes, this is what he needed. To finally defend himself. They settled themselves into their seats, carefully selected at the end of the row so no one could refuse to sit next to him. It was cold in the stadium and the pair were bundled heavily. Draco huffed and cast a warming charm over them both so that they could remove the majority of their layers. He draped their belongings over the low wall before them and noted the line of reporters and cameras that were focused on them rather than the game.

"We've got company," he told Hermione with a sour tone.

"Ignore them," she told him, fighting the urge to flip them all the middle finger.

Draco licked his lips and looked beyond the reporters to where the stadium officials were giving the hoops a last-minute check. "I'm sure you brought a book to occupy your time?" he asked, looking over at her.

She gave him a look. "Actually, I didn't."

"You always read at Quidditch games."

"That's because there was nothing worth watching at the Hogwarts' games," she told him, feigning ignorance to his position on the Slytherin team.

He poked her thigh and leaned in to kiss her jaw. More flashes. "You sly little witch. You think you're ever so clever, don't you?"

"You arrogant little wizard. You think you're so good looking that I couldn't drag my eyes away from you?"

"I know I am," he remarked, running a hand over her leg.

She scooted closer to him and settled into his side. He draped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. More flashes. She sighed. "Oh, I can't wait to read what they write for tomorrow."

"That I'm using an Imperius to control you, perhaps?" he suggested.

"Aren't you? There's no way I could have brought myself to kiss those lips otherwise," she teased, trying to keep his mood lighthearted.

Draco merely hummed and she nuzzled her head closer to him. "I'm only joking."

"I know," he replied.

The announcer's voice boomed out and the two teams were introduced. Draco stood in unreserved excitement as the Falcons mounted their brooms. Hermione smiled. It was so rare that the normally quiet and reserved pure-blood ever had a moment of fun where he could cheer and laugh and be free. He didn't even seem too bothered by the flashes aimed toward them.

For over an hour, they watched the game proceed. Draco talked nonstop about what was taking place, the techniques of each player and what made each valuable to their respective teams. Hermione hated speaking about Quidditch with her two best friends. She found it dull, no matter their level of excitement. And she did usually read. But she found she loved the way Draco spoke quickly, flinched appropriately when players were hit with Bludgers, and cheered adamantly when the golden Snitch made its first appearance.

It was about the moment when the Falcons' Seeker called a time-out that Hermione and Draco's faces appeared on the large screens on either side of the pitch. "It appears our very own Hermione Granger, one of the three saviors of the wizarding world, is in attendance today. And who is that she's with? It couldn't possibly be Draco Malfoy!"

Draco looked on in horrified mortification and Hermione saw a short little, pimple-faced wizard pointing a camera at them and his wand at the camera, projecting their image onto the screens. The commentary continued about why she would be seen in public with the Malfoy heir. "Does he want to use her status for his gain? Is it young love?"

Draco grimaced and looked down at his hands dejectedly. "I told you this was a bad idea, Granger. But you never want to listen to me!"

"I don't care what they're saying," she told him, looking at his face on the screen instead of next to her.

"Why? This is what it will always be like, Granger. I told you this since day one. Why would you even want to come here?" he asked, putting his face into his hands and rubbing his eyes.

Hermione looked at the sad set of Draco's shoulders and the look of unbridled determination she had on her own face. She turned her eyes to the wizard with the camera, a smug look on his face and she gave him a blatant and obvious wink. They wanted a show? She was going to give them one. She would not settle for them trying to embarrass the one man she would give everything in her being to please. The one man she adored more than anything else in the entire world. It was about time she told him exactly why she wanted to be here, watching the Falcons obliterate the Cannons with him. "Draco, look at me," she placed a tender hand over his, pulling it away from his face.

He drew in a sharp breath, staring at his shoes. "Why don't we get out of here? I'll take you to a Muggle restaurant."

"You look at me right this instant, Draco Lucius Malfoy," she told him, in a tone she was certain reminded him of his mother if the way his eyes snapped to hers was any indication.

She put her hands on either side of his face, taking in the embarrassed and anguished look his eyes held. "I love you, Draco."

His eyebrows lifted toward his hairline and a faint blush rose to his cheeks as a small smile tugged at his lips. She grinned and ran a finger over his heated skin. "I am here because I love you. I wanted to bring you to something that I knew you'd enjoy—which you have. Forget everyone else. Let them talk. I absolutely adore you. Spending time with you, your personality, the way you try to be the unworthy, broken man but fall into being the caring, loving and selfless one instead. I want to be with you every day for the rest of my life. Fuck them," she told him, gesturing to the reporters.

Draco grinned at her language—it sounded like something he would say. "I love you," she added one more time, for good measure, before bringing her lips to his.

He pulled back. "I love you, too, Granger. I've just been too cowardly to say it aloud. I'm sorry for that."

She silenced him with another kiss and it registered that the shouts and 'boos' now coming from the crowd had nothing to do with the game. Everyone was going wild at the image of them kissing. Shouts of, "But he followed You-Know-Who!" mingled with, "Go get him, girl!" Draco smiled against her lips, unaffected by the words of the naysayers—his witch loved him. He was on top of the world. Fuck them.

"Well," she said, pulling back slightly, "You can tell me every day for the rest of our lives, then. As penance for your egregious error."

He brought his lips to hers once more, brushing them and pulling back a hairsbreadth, and whispered, "I love you," before pushing a hand under her curls and pulling her face into his. She deepened the kiss, smiling as she gripped the front of his shirt in her fists. Draco finally pulled back, laughing breathlessly. "Do you ever do anything low-key?" he asked her, finally looking toward the reporters once more. "Flying dragons out of the Bank's belly. Professing your love for a Death Eater in front of two thousand people and, by tomorrow morning, everyone in the wizarding world."

"Ex-Death Eater, if you please."

Draco laughed heartily, no longer caring about any of the negative things that were floating through the air around them. There was a fair share of people cheering them on—over half—and Hermione knew, that was enough for him. There were people willing to accept his existence and there were people who approved of him capturing the Golden Girl's heart. Hermione looked at him, at the pretty rose flush painted across his cheeks, the toothy grin that seemed to be permanently stuck on his face. He was an incredible man, and he was all hers. Things were beginning to finally look up for him and she was so thankful she was by his side to witness it all.

o-o-o

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