Author's Note: Happy thanksgiving! I hope everyone had a good holiday, if you celebrate it. I wanted to get this up Wednesday evening, but that didn't happen, so hopefully this will bring a little entertainment to your Friday night. Maybe? I hope? Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think. I'll try to post again soon.

March: Tactics

Narcissa did not suffer herself to kneel in front of a fireplace and stick her head in for anyone. On the other hand, Hermione and Draco had strengthened the wards around their flat in the last few weeks. So it was that Narcissa found herself standing outside their flat and knocking. At 8 in the morning. On a Saturday.

Her knocks went unheeded and she tried again. "Hermione! Draco!"

Hermione rolled over in bed, finding herself face to face with Draco, with her face only inches from his. His platinum hair was disheveled from sleep. "Did you hear something?" she asked.

He made a not-quite-awake-not-quite-asleep sound and his eyelids fluttered once before deciding to stay closed.

Torn between wondering what might have woken her at this hour and her desire not to leave the bed, Hermione closed her own eyes and might possibly have moved fractionally closer to Draco. Faintly, the sound intruded again.

Thump thump thump. "Draco! Hermione!"

"Dammit," Hermione muttered. With considerable regret, she slipped out from under the covers and found her dressing gown on the hook and wrapped it around herself over her pajamas, pausing only long enough to grab her wand. If it wasn't for the fact that she tried to stay on good—or at least neutral—terms with her neighbors, she'd have left the witch out there. But she rather imagined none of her neighbors wanted to listen to Narcissa's voice at this hour on a Saturday any more than she did. She waited by the door for a moment, hoping that maybe Narcissa had gone away. Then she heard her again and opened it, wand in hand. "Narcissa, it's 8 in the morning on a Saturday. Neither I, nor Draco, nor my neighbors need to hear you at my door right now. Please go."

"Oh, Hermione, I should have come sooner…your hair. You are overdue for your six week visit to have it smoothed out again. We'll take care of that this morning. I'm sure they'll squeeze you in, as a favor to me." And she smiled and pushed the door open the rest of the way, sailing gracefully into the living room and seating herself on the couch.

She shut the door, trying to assess the situation. They'd known that silence this week from Narcissa couldn't have been a good sign, but she'd hoped they would have had time to manage something to head her off. Why couldn't the woman have waited a few more hours? She was in no mood to be polite or play Narcissa's games today. "Why are you here?"

"Well, Hermione, neither you nor Draco could spare a moment to respond to my letter last week, and time is slipping away. I thought coming here might persuade you to take an interest in the preparations you need to make," Narcissa explained, utterly calm and rational, with just tinge of sweetness to it, as though she was doing Hermione a favor.

"Narcissa, we have been very busy this week. We are finally enjoying having a bit of a lie-in. I'd appreciate it if you left. Right now." It took all of her self control not to grind her teeth as she got the words out, but her mother's voice reminded her the grinding your teeth was very bad for you.

There was the sound of bare feet on the floor. "Hermione, I thought I heard—Mother, what are you doing here?"

She looked up with a self-satisfied smile. "Well, I thought I'd pay you both a visit since you couldn't spare a moment to respond to my letter. There are details that need attending to and I intend to see them taken care of. First, we need to get Hermione's hair smoothed back out. And then I have a fitting scheduled at 10—both for dress robes and the sort of dress Muggles wear for these things. At noon we'll all go sample possible menu items, I found a caterer with an excellent reputation. Following that—"

"Mother," Draco's voice was sharp. "I like Hermione's hair in its natural state. Furthermore, you had no right to come here today and order us to do anything." He took a breath and looked at Hermione. "It's too early for this. Would you get me some coffee please?"

Hermione hesitated; she could see she was being gotten rid of. Generally if someone wanted to get rid of you there was something you needed to hear.

"Oh, Draco, your coffee can wait. Or better yet, you can get your own coffee while Hermione and I discuss things," Narcissa suggested.

Hermione's expression could only be described as stony. Narcissa was not getting anything she wanted this morning, end of story. She ignored Narcissa entirely and went to the kitchen. "Of course, Draco."

Draco's voice went from sharp to icy, though he was silent as a stone until he was sure Hermione was out of earshot. "Mother, if you mess this up, I swear…there will be no safe place for you on Earth or under it."

"Draco—"

"I have a surprise planned for Hermione today and tonight, and if you do anything to ruin it, I will see to it that no one ever sells you any sort of beauty potion ever again and I will free both of the house-elves myself."

Narcissa scowled at him, but did not raise her voice. "Draco, plans must be made. You can't go on ignoring me or this situation as they we don't exist."

Draco glared at her. "I am not ignoring anything, but I will deal with it when I choose to. You had no right to come in here uninvited and try to force an itinerary on us today. I like Hermione's hair the way it is. If she wants to do something to it, that is her choice and she will. Everything else can wait."

Hermione came back in then, with an a mug in each hand for herself and Draco, and nothing for Narcissa. While she couldn't hear the exchange between mother and son, she had been watching from the kitchen and could practically feel the energy boiling off of Draco. "Narcissa, this is not your wedding. This is mine and Draco's. The most important thing is that he and I will be standing there together, promising our lives to one another. The second most important thing is the people we've chosen to share that day with. I don't think I want to have the wedding at Malfoy Manor. If I do, I can't share that day with most of my family. Would your relatives be willing to wear Muggle clothes and abstain from magic if we have the wedding at a Muggle venue?" She gave her a steely stare. "We can't make a decision on anything else—not location, not menu, not what we'll wear—until we decide who we want to share that day with. Right now, I don't particularly want to share it with you, so get out. If we need or want your help, we'll ask for it."

The blonde witch looked from her son to her future daughter-in-law, unaccustomed to seeing this level of resistance from them. They seemed quite unified against her. "Draco, you would have your wedding where your family could not be themselves?"

"You're asking Hermione to give up having her family there at all if we have it at the Manor. Frankly, the only person I need to have there is Hermione."

"And the only person I need by my side is Draco. So please, leave. And decide if you want to come back on our terms, when you're invited."

Narcissa pursed her lips. She was not going to win this one, not today. She would do as she would, with or without them. "Very well. I can see when I'm not wanted, and I've never wanted to impose myself on anyone who didn't enjoy my company. I may still be willing to offer my assistance later when you find yourself in over your heads." She stood and walked to the door, Disapparating with a crack the moment she was over the threshold.

Hermione and Draco turned to one another. "We got rid of her," Hermione said, grinning.

"She'll be back. She never gives up this easily," he said sourly, settling himself on the couch.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved him in the shoulder a bit. "You can't even let me have a moment of victory?" She sat down next to him. "You are right, of course she'll be back. But she's not getting us to do anything today." She rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"Well, I already have plans for us today," he drawled. "Couldn't let her spoil them."

It was unusual that they'd managed to succeed against a master manipulator like Narcissa through sheer force of will. Normally they simply tried to stay one step ahead of her and strategized if they had to play catch up. Instead, today it had seemed they were on the same page as far as just flat out rejecting Narcissa's meddling. It was a minor thing, but she had to ask. "You don't think it looks like my head was swallowed by some sort of hairy beast?" Even using the special shampoo, it was nearly back to it's original state of being. The shampoo could help maintain it, but only if she followed it up with a visit to the salon.

Draco chuckled. "It does. But it suits you. I rather imagine that any creature that attacked you would regret it immensely."

She wasn't sure who to take that.

He frowned at the expression on her face. "It's not supposed to be an insult. If I were insulting you, you'd know it." He paused. "I do have plans for us tonight, by the way."

"Were you planning to consult me about them?"

"It's a surprise."

"Eventually, that's not going to be a good excuse. What if I had plans tonight?"

"You'd want to cancel them for this." He smirked.

"And you know me well enough to make that determination?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged casually. "In this case, I think I'm right."

"Then do you know what I want most right now?" she asked quietly, turning her head.

He examined her face carefully. "I'd say, you want to go back to bed and forget this morning with my mother ever happened."

"So close, but not quite. I'm taking a bubble bath. I'm too awake now to go back to sleep. But I do want to drive the memory of your mother's visit out of my skull. If you need to get in there, go now, because I plan to stay in until I can forget she was here." She smiled cheekily and got up, going to search for some scented candles and one of her favorite books.

"Perfect," he said to himself. It would give him time to finish out whatever he needed to for his surprise tonight.

The corridor was unchanged from the last time he'd been there. Really, it was unchanged from the first time he'd been there for the most part. Everything was clean-scrubbed and well-lit. The tidiness of his parents' room was due by and large to the vigilance of the Mediwitch who normally looked after them. She had watched Neville grow and mature. Sometimes she could hardly believe that the tall and quietly powerful man who still came to see Frank and Alice was the same subdued little boy who had accompanied his austere grandmother. She had seen the gentle way he took Drooble's wrappers when his mother gave them to him. Seen him strain to find something cheerful sounding to say. And to just sit in silence with them. Somehow she found it no difficulty to reconcile the man she saw with the stories she'd heard of him, of everything he'd done during the war.

What was a surprise was the company he had today.

"Neville, they're all ready for you. I just brought them some pudding a short while ago," she said kindly. "I'll bring an extra chair for your guest."

"Thank you, Rosemary," he said, holding the hand of the young woman who was with him. "This way."

Neville led Lesley into the room. He could see Rosemary's handiwork in the neat corners of the made beds—though he could see the crinkles where his father had sat down after the bed was made. He saw that there pictures on the wall; several years ago Rosemary had started giving his parents paints and paper—under supervision—his father hadn't taken to it, but there were sunflowers and suns adorning the walls now, painted by his mother, beautiful for the bit of cheer they brought to the room. His mother sat at the table, looking at her untouched pudding with concentration. His father seemed to have eaten half of his and dropped the spoon on the floor.

"Lesley, these are my parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom. Mum, Dad, this is Lesley." He watched them all. His mother merely blinked at him looking more or less directly at him (well his shoulder really), his father started looking for his spoon. Failing to find it (it was near his slipper), he finally took Alice's unused spoon. Neville carried on, keeping his tone of voice even, calm, and light. He frequently found that his tone of voice was as or more important than whatever he said. "We get on quite well. And yellow is here favorite color—just like all the flowers you paint, Mum."

She dug her chin into her own shoulder, as though she was burrowing away inside herself. Neville reached out slowly, carefully, and took her hand with his free one, hoping somehow his touch might be reassuring on some level.

"Neville has your cheek bones, Mrs. Longbottom. I think you would look extra pretty with a chain of daisies in your hair. Would you like it if I brought some back with me next time?" Lesley looked at Alice, smiling, friendly, sincere. She reached under the table and retrieved Frank's spoon, setting it on the table without a noise. He got up and wandered to another part of the room and began opening every drawer on the dresser and closing it.

He took a breath. He was going to marry this girl. "She's right, Mum. They'd look very pretty in your hair."

The sound of Frank opening and shutting the drawers was noticeable and Alice began to look distressed. Neville kept on speaking, saying what came into his mind, holding his mother's hand. Lesley let go of his other hand and got up, going over to check on Frank, though she wasn't sure what she could do. "You're looking good today. I see Rosemary brushed your hair already this morning. You should like Lesley. I love her, Mum. I think I'm going to marry her. If she'll have me. I haven't asked yet."

He was hardly aware of the sound of Lesley assisting his father in opening and shutting drawers, or the realization that she stopped. A single drawer was opened and shut feebly once or twice more before he looked up and realized she was looking at him—she had led his father back over to the bed and sat him down, and now, she was looking at Neville. "Will you? Have me, I mean? I mean…I'm doing this all wrong. I should have planned something. Do I get a do-over?"

Lesley's face broke into a smile and she left the beside to go hug him and kiss him. "You don't need a do-over."

Neville broke into a grin and kissed her back, letting go of his mother's hand.

Whether it was the sudden loss of Neville's hand, or witnessing the display of affection, or simply because it was Saturday, Neville's mother began crying. He looked at her and wasn't sure what to do. "Maybe I should go for today, Mum, Dad. But we'll be back."

"I'll bring you flowers," Lesley promised.

As Neville stood and he and Lesley turned to go, his mother caught his sleeve. She took a bubblegum wrapper out of her pocket and gave it to him.

Draco paced. He'd been over this a dozen times and changed his mind at least that many. The core of the plan had been the same from the start, but the details he had painstakingly argued with himself over. He didn't like to argue, even with himself. Other people should just know he was usually right, and as for arguing with himself…he should simply know which option in any situation is the best.

Ivy would bring the carpet where he wanted it, when he wanted it there. It was simply up to Draco to get Hermione there. He had toyed with the idea of getting her a new dress to wear, but rejected it. She'd rather be comfortable. But she did enjoy dressing up, when she let herself. Maybe he should have revisited getting her a dress.

He had also been unsure of how much of a roll the house-elf ought to play in the evening. He knew how Hermione felt about the life of a house-elf, regardless of the fact that none of his family's current elves particularly wanted freedom.

And of course the most difficult part was his mouth. What on earth was he going to say to her? He wanted to have a plan. To have a goal. He would tell her how he felt. Or maybe he would kiss her and see what happened. Or…or. Or he could just let her enjoy something she'd dreamed about since she was a child and never done.

He ought to be able to at least make a decision about what he wanted to accomplish tonight and he couldn't seem to stick firmly to any decision but to make sure that Hermione got to ride a magic carpet. The calendar was running out. He hardly had more than a week before she might send him packing and not want to see him again. But really, why wouldn't she want to see him again? Wasn't he good company? No one else ever made him doubt himself in quite this way. He didn't like it.

By mid-afternoon, he'd made all his arrangements and was back in the flat. He'd found that Hermione had moved from reading in the tub, to reading sprawled out on the couch. She seemed to be allowing herself a lazy day for the first time in ages. She smiled when he came in. "I was wondering when you'd turn up. I got your note. Things go okay with Blaise?"

"Yes, he just wanted some advice. I had to talk him into not getting Ginny a ridiculous gift, no matter how stunning he thinks she'd look in it."

"How bad was it"?

"Do you think Ginny would want to be wearing angel wings in the bedroom?" he asked wryly.

Hermione snorted. "Yeah. Nice try, Blaise."

Draco made a sound of agreement. "My thoughts exactly." He paused and settled himself in the arm chair. Within a moment, Monarch and had installed himself on Draco's lap. "Have you given any thought to dinner tonight?"

"Not particularly, though I was thinking we ought to go to the market this afternoon. We're out of nearly everything. Again."

"Let's go to the store tomorrow. I had something different in mind tonight."

Hermione gaged the look on his face over the top of her book. "You are up to something. After your mother this morning I'm not sure I'm up for any more surprises today. What happens if I say no?"

"You won't," he said confidently.

Hermione arched her back, stretching to get the kinks out from being reclined on the couch for so much of the day. She settled back down with the book in her hand, pretending not to look at him. "I am really into this book. Not sure I'm up to anything else tonight."

Draco stared at her, slightly amused and slightly frustrated. "You just read that book last month. You said that the plot wasn't exactly the most original, but you were captivated by the characters. You know how it ends. Come with me tonight."

She closed the book. "Will you tell me where we're going?"

"It would spoil the surprise. You are going to enjoy it. Trust me."

Hermione looked at him, contemplating. "If I know you, there's multiple stages of this surprise planned. At least tell me one thing about it or I'm not going."

Draco nodded, giving a mock sort of half bow from his seat. "Fair. I'm taking you to do something you've never done before that you've wanted to do for a long time."

"And when exactly do we have to vanish for this surprise?"

"Not for another few of hours."

A slow smile uncurled on Hermione's face. "Great. Plenty of time for you to help get the groceries."

Draco groaned.

Hermione was still wearing the jeans and t-shirt she'd gone grocery shopping in. Draco had put on a fresh shirt, but hadn't bothered to change out of the rest of the Muggle clothes he'd worn to the market.

"Do I need to change for this surprise?" Hermione had asked.

"No, but you might want to bring a cloak," he had responded, emptying the bread and crackers out of the bag he was holding.

Now Draco and Hermione were ready to go. Hermione had her expandable handbag filled with anything she might possibly need, but she was still wondering what Draco's plan was. She'd have to wait and see. While she didn't like being caught off guard…it was nice of him to want to plan a surprise he thought she'd enjoy. It was the sort of thing that took time and effort that people didn't usually spend on her.

"How are we getting there?"

"Apparation. And…we're gone." He took her arm, and they both turned heel as he side-along Apparated her to their destination. To Hermione's surprise, they were in Hogsmeade of all places.

"All this secrecy for a Butterbeer?" she teased.

Draco scoffed. "Hardly. This way." He led her through town to a little shop and asked her to wait outside for just a moment.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but waited. It wasn't as though she'd encounter anything on the streets of Hogsmeade she hadn't seen before. She watched people passing by: individuals out running errands, couples enjoying a Saturday evening, wizarding families going about their lives in a perfectly ordinary (but magical) way. She did sometimes wonder what it would be like to live in a Wizarding village.

Momentarily, Draco emerged with a rolled up carpet on his shoulder. "This way," he said casually, expecting her to follow him. Hermione could sense the excitement from him and began to suspect what he might have in store for her.

"Is that a picnic blanket?" she asked innocently.

"Not quite." He led her past the edge of town to a bare patch hidden away in the trees. He set the carpet on the ground and unrolled it with a nudge from his foot.

The pattern on it looked rather antique, though the carpet itself appeared to be in good shape. There was a bit of fringe on the two short sides, and the carpet itself was rectangular.

Draco couldn't read the expression on Hermione's face and finally grew impatient. "Well?"

"If that's a flying carpet, it's illegal."

The blonde was sorely tempted to bang his head against one of the nearby trees. "I didn't go buy it on the black market. This is a family heirloom, been gathering dust for decades for the most part. Just this once, Granger, break a rule without your life being at risk. Just for the thrill of it."

She met his gaze. "You know I don't care for heights."

"The view will be worth it. And there won't be any Muggles to see or wizards to turn us in. It's not like riding a broom. I'll avoid any steep dives." A moment of inspiration came to him and he sat himself on the carpet and held out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

And Hermione laughed. He had paid enough attention to the story of her twelve year old self, enamored by a movie about a flying carpet to dig this one out of the Malfoy attic to take it for a joy ride. And to quote the movie. She stepped forward, took his hand, and lowered herself to the carpet. "Okay, Aladdin, how does it work?"

"Speak the command words to activate it, and tilt your body to change directions. Up!" he said.

Hermione suddenly found herself wishing for some sort of handle to grab on to, but it wasn't quite as bad as she expected. While a broom normally went up at an angle, the carpet in fact when straight up into the air. As long as she stayed away from the sides she might just be okay.

"We'll go high enough to avoid getting noticed," Draco explained, taking the carpet higher still.

When they were at a height that satisfied Draco, he leaned forward and to the right slightly, taking them off in the direction of Hogwarts.

"Draco, we can't…"

"No one is going to see us. The first years probably don't even know carpets are illegal."

"No, what I mean is, we can't just fly into Hogwarts' airspace. Haven't you thought about the wards?"

Draco had not. At they were approaching the gate. "We got in last time."

"We Flooed to McGonagall's office and had permission last time."

"Why do you have to know everything?"

"Because telling you right now that the wards are going to knock us backwards is much better than letting us hit them and get knocked backwards in the next five minutes." She paused. "There is a line in Hogwarts, A History that says the gate recognizes friendly influences. Maybe…if we fly under the gate, we'll be able to get in."

The blonde turned to look at Hermione, seeing the way her hair caught in the wind behind her, looking wilder than ever. "Bigger chance of getting seen."

"What's life without just a little risk?" she asked.

Draco redirected the carpet. They had initially been going on a path that would take them straight toward the lake—he intended for her to have a romantic sunset view of it from the carpet—but he veered now towards the Hogwarts main entrance. This could go extremely wrong, especially if today had been a Hogsmeade day and students were coming and going, but he hadn't seen any in their short time in the village.

As they neared Hogwarts he lowered the carpet, slowing it as they approached the gates. "Are you ready?" he asked. They'd be through in a few seconds, if the wards let them in.

"Ready," Hermione said. She gripped her wand in one hand and the edge of the carpet in the other—she had to hold on to something at least.

The archway let them through.

Hermione grinned smugly at Draco.

"There's no proof that going int the other way would have knocked us back," he said, immediately bringing the carpet higher as they crossed the grounds.

As it was just about dinner time, the grounds seemed deserted. Everyone was indoors. Even at Hagrid's cabin there was no light. When they reached the far side of the lake, the timing was just right. The sun was setting over Hogwarts, the light glinting off the still surface of the lake. It was breathtaking.

They watched it for a few minutes, as the sun sunk down behind the castle.

An a magically amplified voice called out to them, "Whoever you are, you are not leaving these grounds without answering my questions."

The sound froze the blood in Draco's veins. Minerva bloody McGonagall. Of all times, she had to interfere now? He had almost been ready to tell Hermione…something. "Shall we make a run for it?" Draco asked.

Hermione chuckled weakly, but her face was pale. "Better not. She could transfigure life into that tree there and have it snatch us from the air. Down, carpet."

Almost reluctantly, the carpet brought them down in a slow spiral, where they found Minerva McGonagall waiting for them. Her mouth was as thin a line as Hermione had ever seen it, though there was clearly a flicker of surprise at seeing who the intruders into her school were. "Did you think Hogwarts was unguarded, Mr. Malfoy? Ms. Granger? That it was your playground to come romp in at will? On an illegal carpet at that?"

"No, Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione said, deciding to err on the side of politeness. They were still hovering just a few feet above the ground on the carpet. "We just…."

"I thought it would be a nice surprise for Hermione. I know how she hates brooms, and I thought the sight of Hogwarts at sunset from the air was one she should see at least once. I found this old thing in the attic at home not long ago and I just thought…I was only hoping to give her a magical night," Draco said, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he could. Some of it was true.

"Be that as it may, neither of you is a student here any longer, and you have not been for some time, as was recognized by the gate. If you have any desire to visit the school, you should contact me beforehand. And choose a more legal method of transportation. I will give you ten minutes to depart before I take further action." McGonagall gave each of them her most severe stare and departed, trusting them to see themselves out.

As mortified as she was, Hermione could only do her best to avoid laughing until McGonagall was out of earshot. McGonagall had thought they'd come to Hogwarts to shag on a magic carpet. It was just too ridiculous.

Draco was too busy being annoyed and trying to restrategize to find the humor. Damn that McGonagall. She couldn't just leave them be for a few hours? "What is so funny?"

"Just…McGonagall."

He scowled sourly. "Well, we'll have to make alternate arrangements for dinner. Dinner was supposed to appear by the side of the lake in a few minutes."

Hermione frowned. "I know somewhere we could go. It'll be here in a few minutes?"

Draco pushed his hair back, feeling it ruffled by the wind. "It should be."

"Well, I know where we could go, and still be off the grounds, if you don't mind a walk."

A moment later, they were back by the lakeside, and three minutes after that, Ivy had arrived with a basket of dinner, and candles. Draco and Hermione thanked Ivy for coming and took the things from her before sending her back to the Manor. Hermione directed Draco to fly the carpet to the Whomping Willow tree and stop just out of range of it's branches. Hermione took a breath. It had been a long time, but she was fairly certain she knew which was the right knot. She found a long branch on the ground and held it in front of her like a sword. "We'll have a moment or two when the branches stop moving. You'll want to move quickly."

"You're—" He was about to say crazy, but she thrust with her stick and the thrashing limbs of the tree froze.

"Go! I'll be right behind you."

With the carpet on his shoulder and the basket in his other arm, Draco went where he was told. Hermione was just behind him, and shortly he could hear the tree thrashing away again. "Where are we going?"

"Let this one be my surprise," she said. "Keep walking. Lumos!" she said, lighting her wand. "I'll take the basket, so you don't have to carry everything."

At last, they came to the end of the tunnel and Hermione unlocked the door with her wand. "Welcome. I'm not really sure what state things will be in."

The main room was much tidier than the first time Hermione had seen it, a lifetime ago. There was furniture, and some of it was in pieces, but it looked like what could be mended and been. Hermione suspected that it was possible Lupin had come back here during the war, or perhaps someone else Dumbledore had trusted with the secret.

"Where are we?"

"The most haunted building in Britain," Hermione said casually. She set down the basket, feeling anything but casual. Her voice was soft when she added—almost to herself, "It's not haunted anymore. The poor soul who was tortured here is long gone."

Draco had tensed. He'd been hit by snowballs outside of here his third year. "Long gone?"

"It's a long story. But there are no ghosts, no ghouls, no poltergeists, nothing to haunt this place anymore but memories," she said firmly. "Set the carpet down and we'll eat. It doesn't look like any of the chairs were salvageable." While Draco unrolled the carpet and began setting out the food, Hermione lit the candles from the basket. It was dark, but with the glow of her wand and the two candles, they could see one another and the food well enough.

Draco looked at her as he settled back onto the carpet. "I have time for a long story."

Hermione hesitated; it wasn't exactly her secret to tell, but Draco must know some of it already. "Remus Lupin. I'm sure you heard the rumors when he left at the end of our third year. He had his lycanthropy from a young age. Some people would have said he was too dangerous to be at Hogwarts. Dumbledore didn't see it that way. He said that Remus's wizarding talents should be nurtured and he came up with a plan to do that without Remus being a danger to anyone. Remus was one of the nicest men I've ever met. Dumbledore had the Whomping Willow planted at Hogwarts before Remus's first term, and built the tunnel to this house—the Shrieking Shack. Every full moon, Madam Pomfrey would smuggle Remus out of the castle and here. There was no Wolfsbane potion in those days. He tore himself to pieces when he was holed up here, but it was a way for him to continue his education and not to hurt anyone else. The sounds villagers heard and a few encouraging nods from Dumbledore kept the village thinking this place was haunted."

Draco was watching her face. "You really liked him."

"He was one of the sweetest and gentlest men I ever met. Like Hagrid almost but less hairy. You met Remus. He always seemed to want to help us be our best, face our fears…he was a good man." She swallowed.

Draco shrugged, embarrassed. "Never thought a whole lot about him. I did notice that he tried to teach us things—unlike Lockhart and Quirrell. When it came out that Dumbledore had hired a werewolf to teach, the only thing that ran through my mind was the thought that Dumbledore really was a nutter. I guess I didn't look deeper."

Hermione chuckled. "You didn't see much beyond the end of your own nose in those days. You've come quite a way since then."

He took a breath. "I like where I am now. Never thought I wanted to be anywhere else, but…I am. And I like it." Now, say the rest, he admonished himself.

"I like you a lot better this way. You're practically a human being," she said.

It was hard to make out in the candlelight, but he was almost certain she was smiling.

"This has been nice, Draco. It was really sweet of you to plan it. I'm still not sure a carpet is any less unnerving than a broomstick…but at least now I've ridden one. Anything has to be less disconcerting than riding a threstal you can't see."

"Well, I—threstals? You voluntarily got on a threstal?"

"Fifth year. It was the fastest way to get to the Ministry of Magic."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You never cease to surprise me."

There was a moment of quiet between them, a sip of wine, a breath, the faintest sounds of the wind in the trees outside the Shrieking Shack.

"You didn't have to do this, you know. The flying carpet. Dinner. A night away from everything." She imagined he felt rather responsible for his mother disturbing the peace that morning, but she knew better. It wasn't his fault. No one controlled Narcissa Malfoy but Narcissa Malfoy.

He swallowed. "Actually, I did."

"It's not your fault your mother ruined our Saturday morning. You didn't have to try to make up for it. But thank you."

Draco raked his fingers through his hair. He had tried to find the words earlier and had never managed to settle on any. Surely his mouth wouldn't fail him now. "We're not here because of her. We're here because of you."

"Me?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She leaned a bit to the left, trying to see his face more clearly in the dim light. Did he just possibly look…nervous? She pushed her hair back behind her ear.

"You're one of the most frustrating and strange and neurotic and wonderful people I've ever met. Every time I think I have you figured out, you still manage to surprise me. I've never known anyone who makes me feel the way you do. You make me think, and laugh—not always intentionally—and want to be better. Regardless of the Wizengamot's decision, I don't think I want to go our separate ways. Or at least, not without finding out first whether there is something else here. It's coming out all wrong," he said, aggravated, reaching across the carpet for her hand.

Hermione found herself with a lump in her throat. It was half a moment before she managed to speak. She almost couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth. "Are you saying you like me? That you want to be with me in a real sense? Not just…the charade we've put on." Her brain started to try to connect the dots, the surprises, all the days he'd gone out of his way to make sure she had a good day. He cared.

"I'm not asking to marry you," he clarified, "I just want to see. I've been happy lately, with you. Really happy. And I want to know if it's real. I could be imagining it, but I think you're happy too. I mean, I tried to make you happy. Are you?" None of the words were coming out right. None of it was sounding the way it was supposed to. Even the Weasel must have been more suave than this.

"I have been. I mean, I am. I wasn't really sure what's real and what's not. But I knew that whatever it is we have, I like it. I thought you might want to leave after the hearing; I was almost glad to have the verdict postponed so there was an excuse for you to stay." She pursed her lips. "Draco, yes or no, do you like me…romantically?"

His eyes took her in—the bushy hair, the mouth that never stopped talking, eyes that could take in a whole room at a glance and assess the situation. All the things about her that he couldn't appreciate when he was younger, he did now. "Yes. Absolutely."

Her mouth turned up in a smile at the certain of his voice. "I like you too. Let's…let's take this all one step at a time. Maybe…maybe we should have a date."

He snorted. "What would you call this?"

"Touché." She paused. "What if we start with a kiss? Here? Just us. Where no one else can see."

"I'd like that," he said, quietly. "Let's do this properly."

He stood up and pulled her to her feet, the two of them stepping around the plates to get close to one another. They looked at one another for a moment, practically awkward teenagers about to share a first kiss. It wasn't that far from the truth. Draco raised his hand, resting his thumb on Hermione's cheek and brushing it, letting his fingers slip into the hair at the nape of her neck. He felt her hand holding his other one, and her other hand came up to rest on his side. They were close enough to feel one another's breath.

Hermione closed the last half inch of a gap between them and their lips met, warm and firm. Chest to chest they stood, hearts pounding. The fireworks they'd sensed before—kissing whenever they had an excuse—were nothing compared to being able to let go and kiss one another the way they'd wanted to. Hermione heard a quiet moan and wasn't sure if it was hers or Draco's. It didn't matter.

It was long minutes before they broke away, lips slightly swollen and hair a mess.

"Well, chemistry…check," Hermione said to herself. "Where do we go from here?"

"We could go home," Draco suggested. "Unless you'd rather hang around in a shack filled with broken furniture."

"Taking you home on the first date, I don't know…" she teased. "Let's go home. But you're not getting into my knickers. One step at a time."

He brushed his thumb over her cheek one more time before lowering his hand. "Fine by me, just so long as I don't have to sleep on that awful couch again."

"I think I can trust you in my bed." One step at a time. For right now…she was happy. They could kiss. And she could freely admit that she wanted to fall asleep with his arms around her, not just wake up with them accidentally there. She took a long breath and let it out. She wasn't sure where they were going, but at least now they were on the same highway.

Author's Note: Good? Bad? Ugly? I'm almost afraid to find out...but tell me.