Hello readers! I apologize for my hiatus, I've been focusing on school and work! But here is the long-awaited 'date' chapter. It is rather short, but there's a reason for it :) Stay tuned! Thank you for your lovely messages and reviews, I appreciate each and everyone of them. Please enjoy this chapter! xx

The trip to Hogsmeade had been spent in an uncomfortable silence. Blaise had barely spoken a word to Hermione the entire time, and she had started to regret her decision to go. It was uncharacteristic of Blaise to be so silent, even she knew that. He barely touched her hand or held her arm, a habit he'd begun almost immediately after they'd started talking—and it was all becoming too weird.

It was safe to say that the last 24 hours had been a whirlwind of strangeness for Hermione.

"Let me," Blaise said, breaking the silence as he pulled Hermione's seat out for her at Madame Puddifoot's.

"Thank you," she replied and sat.

"Pleasure," he grinned, "and I'm sorry for my awkwardness..."

Hermione looked up. So there was something going on.

"Is everything okay?" she pressed.

Blaise sighed, "let's order and we'll talk about it."

She nodded and looked over the selection of tea and food on the menu—but not before noticing the nervous expression on his face.

"I would like an Earl Grey with 1 sugar please," Blaise said to their waitress, "with a lemon cake."

"And for the lady?" the waitress looked at Hermione.

"I'll also have an Earl Grey but with a lemon and 2 sugars," she replied, "and a Battenberg cake instead please." She almost got the chocolate but figured it wouldn't pair well with the tea.

"Coming right up," the woman replied and left.

Hermione immediately snapped her head at Blaise, her patience having left along with the waitress. "So?"

"So… there's something I need to tell you."

Hermione instantly felt herself getting nervous. The waitress returned with their teas and cakes, and Hermione took a sip before replying, "what is it?"

Blaise looked around the nearly empty tea shop and took a sip as well. His expression was unreadable, but his hands were slightly shaking. It wasn't helping Hermione's nerves one bit.

"I just don't want you to hate me," he admitted.

"Blaise, why would I hate you? What is it?"

"I never thought I'd actually feel something for you other than a physical attraction," he began. Hermione said nothing, still confused.

"Last week, at a party in the dungeons we played truth or dare," Blaise continued, "and Pansy decided it would be funny to dare me to bid on you for the auction."

Hermione gasped, but still said nothing. She was mortified. Of course, he would only be interested in her because of a dare. How could anyone see her as anything other than a joke? She was still the same old mud blood Granger to them. People never change.

A lump formed in her throat, so she decided to remain quiet. All she wanted to do was leave, but a bigger part of her wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say.

"In the moment, I was pleased and didn't even find it that funny because I already found you attractive," the boy stated.

"Nice," was all she could say without crying.

"Listen," he pleaded, "from the moment I sat with you in potions, I realized how interesting and lovely you are."

"Everyone starts out liking someone because they find them attractive—at least for the most part," Blaise added, "and I'm telling you all of this because I don't want to start something with you based on a lie."

Hermione was stunned. As much as she was angry about the entire situation, she was more impressed at how honest he was being. It took a brave bloke to admit all this the day after the dare was completed. Blaise could have kept this to himself, but he decided to take the Gryffindor path instead. It didn't excuse his lie, she thought, but hadn't she lied to him somewhat too? Hermione had told him that her kiss with Draco meant nothing, and she never planned on openly admitting that to him.

"Can you please say something?" Blaise said, snapping Hermione out of her daze. She hadn't realized how silent she'd been.

"I don't know what to say."

"Wow," he breathed, "I can't believe I've rendered Hermione Granger speechless."

"You're a git," she replied, "but I don't know how to feel."

"On one hand, I'm furious about being a punchline to a joke again," Hermione spat, "but on the other, I can't help but feel a surprising amount of respect for what you're doing."

"You respect me right now?" he countered in disbelief.

"No, I don't respect you," she corrected, "I respect the fact that you told me the day after your dare was to be completed about it."

"Like I said," Blaise offered, "I didn't want to start something on a lie—I certainly didn't want it to bite me in the arse."

She rolled her eyes.

"But in all seriousness, I completely understand it if you never wanted to talk to me again," he stated.

Hermione took another sip of tea and thought about how much more this would have hurt if it had been Draco. She felt guilty about even thinking it, and decided Blaise was not a bad guy overall. Did it feel shitty that all the Slytherins knew about this dare and were basically mocking her all week? Yes. Did it feel even shittier to lie to Blaise and know she was not planning on telling him? Yes. She didn't want to be a hypocrite, and she wasn't even that mad about this entire thing. If Blaise truly was an arsehole, he would have never told her—plain and simple.

"It's not that I never want to talk to you again," she finally replied, "but I want to feel like I can trust you."

"I understand," the Italian replied, sipping his tea as well.

"I don't know if I ever could trust you," she continued, "you and your friends make me feel uneasy."

"I'm not my friends," he countered.

"No.." Hermione hesitated, "you're not, but you do share many similar traits and for right now, I would simply like to remain friends." She decided it would be best, at least for the time being, if there were no romantic feelings involved. The truth was, Hermione was drained from her last 'romantic' engagement. An even uglier truth was that she didn't think she could ever feel the same way she felt for Draco, for anyone else.

"I'm happy you're still even willing to speak to me," was all he said, as he began eating his cake.

The rest of their date was spent getting to know one another, and Blaise couldn't be happier for the lightheartedness of their conversations. He had expected rage, horror, or even some form of embarrassment from the Gryffindor princess when he made his confession, but none of it came. She'd been upset, but the girl had really kept her composure and almost even forgiven him. The Italian had been pleasantly surprised by Hermione, and he decided then and there that he would work tirelessly to regain her trust.

When they'd finished at Madame Puddifoot's, Blaise had suggested going to the Three Broomsticks to meet their friends and she agreed to join. He supposed that Potter being there made the idea of going less intimidating. Draco wouldn't be there either, so Blaise wouldn't have to worry about Hermione thinking about him. The Italian was still suspicious about last night's kiss, knowing deep down that it meant more than either participant was willing to let on.

As soon as they'd walked into the pub, they were met with… well, everyone. Pansy and Potter were seated at a booth in the corner, Cho Chang and Crabbe were by the bar and many other auction-couples had decided to come as well. Blaise felt a swell of pride course through him, as he knew his date with Hermione had been much classier and intimate than many of his peers. She wasn't the kind of girl you brought to a pub for a first date.

"Blaise!" Pansy motioned for him to join her.

"This will be interesting," Hermione mumbled under her breath as they made their way to the people in question.

Blaise simply smirked, as the sight before him was something he never wanted to forget.

Pansy was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, looking so bored that Blaise almost felt bad for Potter—almost. The Boy-who-lived seemed to be enjoying himself, completely unaware of the disinterest plaguing his date. Potter's lack of self-awareness was quite comical to the Italian, considering his best friend was literally the brightest witch of their age.

"Zabini," Potter finally acknowledged, "'Mione."

"Harry," Hermione smiled, and Blaise couldn't help but stare. She was beautiful, especially with that dazzling smile.

"Hi Pansy," she shifted her gaze, "do you mind if we join you?"

Apparently Blaise hadn't been the only one to notice the look of desperation etched on his housemate's face.

"Not at all!" his friend exclaimed, "please I insist."

The pair of them took their place at their respective housemates' table and began discussing the pleasantness of their own date. As he watched the two Gryffindors make jokes and tease one another, Blaise couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the ease through which Hermione and Potter could comfortably touch each other, without any hesitation or jumpiness. The Gryffindor girl would flinch or slightly cringe whenever Blaise would make attempts to touch her, even in a friendly or non-threatening manner (which was what he always aimed for). Perhaps she simply needed more time, however Blaise's ego had taken a major hit the previous night because of her chemistry with his best friend, and his insecurities had been coming out all bloody day.

"Our date has been pleasant as well," Potter butted in, looking over at Pansy he added, "at least on my end."

Pansy did not return his sentiment; in fact, she changed the subject altogether. Blaise stifled a laugh as he looked at Potter sitting with his head down in silence.

"So, Granger," Pansy looked at the girl with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, "I was sad to see you leave early last night."

Hermione paled, but immediately replied, "you were sad to see me go?"

"Yes," the Slytherin girl replied, "you and Ginny."

"I'll bet," Blaise scoffed.

Pansy sent him the most poisonous look at his words but said nothing.

"We were tired," Hermione said, this time with more composure.

"Tired?" she retorted, "of listening to Blaise's cheesy flirtations or of making out with Malfoy?"

At this, Blaise felt his face immediately go hot. "Pans, what the—" he began, but was immediately interrupted by an even angrier individual.

"I beg your pardon?" Potter exclaimed, "'Mione you did what?"

Blaise hadn't even looked at the Gryffindor girl, as he'd been utterly embarrassed, but it then dawned on him that it must have been a thousand times worse for her.

He looked over, and what he saw only confirmed his suspicion. She was beet red and looked like she was going to either explode with rage or bawl her eyes out.

"What the fuck is your problem Parkinson?" Hermione snapped.

Rage explosion it is, Blaise thought.

Pansy simply smirked, which only infuriated everyone even more. Snaky bitch!

"My problem, Granger," Pansy replied ever so calmly, "is that you're not answering my question."

"Oh, because I really answer to you," Hermione sneered in return.

"It really is a simple question, I wonder why you won't answer it," Pansy looked at Blaise then, and smirked, "she probably doesn't want to hurt your feelings Zabini, wouldn't you agree?"

"Shut it Pans," Blaise snapped back, "you're acting like a right bitch."

"I don't know," Potter interjected, sending a venomous glare to Hermione, "making out with Malfoy seems real bitchy to me."

"What?" Hermione nearly shouted, "how the fuck does that make me bitchy!?"

"It's Malfoy!" was all the boy could drudge up to respond.

"So what? It was a game!"

"Was it though?" Pansy provoked, "it seemed real to me—"

This was going terribly. Blaise knew he needed to think of an escape plan and fast. This conversation was going to end in bloodshed, tears, or some other kind of disaster. He felt terribly for Hermione, she really didn't deserve this kind of treatment—especially not from Pansy.

"You know what Parkinson?" Hermione said bitterly, "if you were jealous, you should have said so."

"Jealous?" Pansy cackled.

"Yes, jealous," Hermione repeated, "you're so miserable to be here with Harry today that you decided to torment me, after I've been nothing but pleasant towards you!"

"And for what?" she continued, "Because you're bored with your own pathetic pureblood life? Or because I kissed your boyfriend? Oh wait, maybe it's because you wanted more time with Ginny! Which one is it, because normal, non-jealous individuals don't up and start embarrassing people in front of their peers for no bloody reason!"

Pansy finally had nothing to say for herself. She'd been completely silenced for the first time—ever. And before Blaise could register what was going on, he watched Hermione get up, throw her butterbeer at Pansy and march out of the pub. It felt like a slow-motion movie sequence, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Pansy immediately shrieked at the drink hitting her face and marched to the bathroom without another word.

Potter simply sat there looking dumbfounded, and Blaise could only imagine he looked the same.

After some time, Blaise realized he should have gone after Hermione, but he felt it would be best if he left her alone for a while.

"Shall we go back?" Potter said, finally breaking the silence.

"Sure," the Italian replied reluctantly.

And with that, the two boys made their way back to Hogwarts. What a day.

Draco had spent his Saturday buried in homework. He'd taken the lack of distractions around him as an opportunity to catch up on everything—but more so to distract himself from the gnawing jealousy that had been eating at him all day. Whenever he would work, the feelings would subside, at least momentarily, and for that he was grateful.

He had finished quite early, however, so the intrusive Granger thoughts had returned, and he felt just as lost as he had before. The Weaselette had all but encouraged him to continue trying to pursue her friend, but he didn't even know where to start.

He knew it was selfish and stupid of him to change his mind about her on a dime, but it was truly beyond him at this point. He kept thinking of how much he'd 'hated' the girl, and the more he thought of it, the more he realized how much of it had been a façade. He knew deep down that if she'd been a pureblood, he probably would have returned her feelings much earlier on.

As it was, his feelings of pureblood supremacy had all but vanished, yet he still knew he could not erase the damage he'd done and the horrible things he'd said to her. Even now, Draco couldn't come up with the right things to say—for Merlin's sake, he couldn't even properly apologize. That much had been clear from their encounter earlier that day.

For the second time that day, Draco left the Slytherin common room and made his way to the Great Hall to find something to eat. He'd realized how hungry he was and was aching for something hardy.

As he approached the main door, he heard faint sobs coming from a nearby alcove. The voice sounded familiar, and he decided to quietly approach the direction of the sound. The hallway was empty, save for him and the person who'd been crying.

Reeling closer to the alcove, he noticed a familiar fragrance, and his heart nearly stopped. After last night, Draco could recognize that smell anywhere. It was her smell. The amber-esque, woody and ever-feminine smell of Hermione Granger—who was now crying alone in an alcove, only to be heard by him. The boy she'd once loved, and now hated with every fibre of her being. At least he'd not made her cry, (at least, that's what he told himself as he finally made himself known to her).

Instinctively, Granger turned her head once he'd been close enough, and immediately glared at him.

"Of course it's you," she sighed, "come here to gloat?"

"Gloat?" Draco replied, "what for? I simply heard someone crying and check it out."

"Right," she sneered, "Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince and charitable shoulder to cry on."

"Like I would ever extend my shoulder to some random person crying," he countered.

"That's right," she snapped, "Merlin forbid any of you Slytherins doing something selfless."

"Anyways," Granger turned away, "just leave me be."

Draco was torn. He felt bad for the usually chipper and swotty girl in front of him, he hated seeing girls cry—especially her, it felt wrong. He wanted to help or comfort her in some way, but he feared he might make it worse.

Nevertheless, his next words came out without any hesitation.

"No."

"No?" she turned back to face him, "what the bloody hell do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean," he gazed at her, "I won't leave you be, at least not until you tell me what's wrong."

She gazed back at him, scrutinizing his expression as if looking for any indication that he was lying or had bad intentions, before decidedly answering him.

"Fine, but not that it's any of your business," she finally replied, "I think you should probably ask your friend."

Draco nearly saw red. Blaise was the reason she was crying alone in an alcove—bloody bastard! He gets a chance to take Hermione out to Hogsmeade and still manages to hurt her and leave her in shambles. Italians with their lack of manners! Draco had been dying for a reason to argue with Blaise, and this was the perfect thing—

"Not Blaise, by the way," Granger added, as she noticed the change of expression on his face.

"If not Zabini, then who?"

Hermione sized him up, as if about to tell him something crazy. "Pug-face Parkinson," she replied, with a bitterness comparable to poison, "your 'girlfriend'".

"Pansy?" Draco scoffed with disbelief, "what could she have done that would leave the great and noble Hermione Granger in such a state?"

Hermione said nothing at this, and simply stared at him with an empty expression. He noticed then, with such proximity, that she had gained a few more freckles around her nose and it suited her. Even with tears in her eyes, she was undoubtedly a beautiful girl, and he couldn't believe how long it had taken him to admit that to himself.

"What?" he finally surrendered to her impenetrable gaze, "why are you looking at me like that?"

She immediately snapped out of her reverie and looked him in the eye before wiping her tears once more.

"I don't think I've ever heard you say my name," she breathed, "and you've never gone this long in a conversation with me, without uttering one insult."

Shame. Shame was all Draco felt in that moment. He was such a fucking arse; the girl was shocked because he'd been half-decent to her and said her bloody name. If shame could be visualized, he was certain that he'd encompassed the look flawlessly, as Hermione nearly looked like she felt bad for him.

"Oh," Draco said, looking down, "I—I'm sorry for that. For all of it. Everything."

"Malfoy, I thought I told you—"

"I know," he interjected, "but I'm still sorry, you don't even know."

"Why now?" she looked at him.

"I guess because I've realized how much of a git I've been in the past, and especially how cruel I was to you—I've thought so much about what I've said and done to you," the boy admitted, "you didn't deserve any of it."

"You—"

"Hold on," Draco continued, "I don't believe in blood supremacy—I don't know if I ever did, but I won't deny having promoted those beliefs on behalf of my father or peers, and for that I'm especially sorry. There's no excuse."

He looked at her once again and noticed that tears had reformed in her eyes. Without thinking, he gently reached over and brushed one stray tear away, earning a gasp from the girl in front of him.

"Do you mean it?" Hermione asked with a shaky voice, her eyes following his finger.

"I never apologize," he countered.

She scoffed, "I guess I'll take it then."

"I'm glad we spoke," Draco said with uncharacteristic awkwardness as he retracted his finger, "and I'll definitely be speaking with Pansy."

"Don't even bother," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Okay," he lied, "but I am rather hungry, would you like to eat something as well?"

"No, I've eaten," she looked at him with a confused expression.

"Right," he said nervously, "I'll see you soon then."

"Okay," Hermione replied, once again confused, "it was nice talking to you?"

She extended her hand, as if shaking on a truce.

Draco looked at her hand, as if not knowing what she was trying to do. Instead of shaking it, he gently grabbed it, placed his delicate lips on it and softly kissed her hand.

"It has been a pleasure," he said, with Hermione's hand still millimetres from his lips.

She simply nodded, unable to speak.

He then released her and made his leave.

Hermione just stared as he walked away, with the overwhelming feeling of goosebumps all over her body and butterflies in her stomach.

Would she ever not be affected by him?

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