Easter morning felt simultaneously too short and too long, as Grey wasn't expected until the afternoon. When the fated hour arrived, his father left the house to retrieve her and, dressed in a tailored black suit, his hair perfectly styled, Draco waited with his mother on the veranda where a light lunch had been arranged. She seemed completely relaxed, watching the butterflies fluttering about the garden, but it was all Draco could do not to pace. Ever since she had planted the idea in his head that Grey might have feelings for him, he had been anticipating this day.

There were some tests he had to conduct, just to see if it was true…

"Amaris!" his mother exclaimed, drawing him from his thoughts.

There she appeared through the French doors, his father smiling behind her. She looked stunning in a delicate, pale-yellow lace dress that hugged her torso and gently swayed around her knees. Her hair was twisted into a complicated plait and she once again wore the barest hint of make-up. And then his gaze zeroed in on the bracelet around her slender wrist, golden with alternating yellow and green stones, and he went rigid.

What the bloody hell did that mean?

"It's so good to see you, my dear," his mother said, taking her hands and kissing her cheek. "Happy Easter."

If Draco had noticed the bracelet then his mother definitely had. An inquiry would most certainly follow. He only had to be patient.

"Happy Easter," Grey answered back, smiling as brightly at his mother as she did with her friends. "I'm so happy to be here. Thank you for inviting me."

"The pleasure is ours," his mother assured her then glanced back at him.

"Amaris," Draco said as he cleared the distance between them and, bypassing the usual formalities, he slipped his hand lightly around her waist. He leaned into a polite hug, making sure their torsos never touched, but he allowed his cheek to brush against hers as he whispered in her ear, "You look beautiful."

When he leaned out of the hug, he found her cheeks were flushed red.

"Th-thank you," she said so quietly that he barely heard. She swallowed hard then said, "Happy Easter," but her voice held a faint tremor.

Pleased with himself, he smirked and drew her toward the table. He had expected Grey to blush at the compliment, but to see her so caught off-guard was gratifying. Still, he had other tests to run to see how she would react, to see if there was any truth to what his mother had said.

When all four of them had sat, they began nibbling on various finger foods. His father led the conversation, asking Grey all sorts of questions about school and how she was dealing with Dumbledore's departure.

"I'm only sorry so many changes are taking place right as we're faced with our O.W.L.s," she replied diplomatically, and only Draco knew that she had actually been terribly upset to hear their precious Headmaster had fled.

"Yes," his father agreed with the click of his tongue. "I'm sure it must be disruptive to your studies. Quite irresponsible of the former Headmaster."

Grey merely nodded.

"How are your studies coming along?" his mother asked her. "Do you feel prepared for your O.W.L.s?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, stealing a glance at Draco. "But I'm rather free to study. Unlike Draco, so busy with Quidditch, prefect duties, and the Inquisitorial Squad. I can't imagine how you manage to find time to study, but you're one of the top students. You're amazing."

His parents beamed with pride at her praise while Draco narrowed his gaze on her. She wasn't complimenting him for the sake of it. She was steering the conversation away from herself. Draco found himself once again attracted to that cleverness…but he couldn't let her off that easily.

"You're in one club, at least, aren't you?" he asked. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Astronomy," she admitted. "I may not be one for Divination, but I do enjoy the stars."

"No one is for Divination," he muttered. "Except maybe Wendy Weggs, but she's half-mad already."

Grey covered her mouth to hold in her chuckle. Weggs was the Hufflepuff loon, always blurting out strange things and acting even stranger. It was hard not to laugh, even for her fellow Hufflepuffs.

"I heard she missed class that one week because of some stupid prediction," he continued. Grey nodded.

"She divined that Gregory was going to ask her to be his girlfriend," she admitted.

"Goyle?" he blurted in disbelief and she nodded. "Ask her out?"

Grey nodded again. "She refused to come to class because she said he was staring at her. Professor McGonagall had to insist she return."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Complete nutter," he muttered, thinking back to that strange week just shorty after they had returned from Christmas holiday. And then it clicked: Weggs sat at the table in front of Grey's. Weggs thought Goyle was staring at her. Had he actually been staring at Grey…? Son of a—

"How wonderful," his mother said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I wondered how much time you spent together at school, what with being in separate houses, but it seems you're quite close."

He and Grey exchanged glances, silence roaring between them. Her mouth opened to respond but no words came out. Draco was torn between denying it, remaining silent, and taking her hand with a comment on how they try their best, just to see how she would react.

"Now Narcissa, my dear," his father said, saving him from his dilemma. "Let's not embarrass them."

"Oh, all right," she conceded with a smile. "Tea?" And then she summoned Tippy to clear the table and bring them the hot beverage.

"Speaking of tea," Grey said. "Uncle was terribly upset that he was unable to be here today. He insisted I ask you all for tea next week before school resumes."

"That sounds lovely," his mother chirped. "Lucius?"

"We would be happy to come," he told her. "How does Wednesday sound?"

"Perfect," Grey said as the tea appeared on the table. Once the pot had poured them each a cup and sugar had been spooned and stirred, she delicately took her saucer in hand, the bracelet sliding along her wrist as she lifted her cup.

"What a lovely bracelet," his mother observed.

"Thank you," Grey beamed. "It was a Christmas gift from a friend at school. She's in Slytherin." She gently fingered the stones. "Green for Slytherin, yellow for Hufflepuff."

"How sweet," his mother gushed. "Who is your friend?"

Grey briefly glanced at him before replying, "Locke Hayden. She transferred from Ilvermorny in America just this year. Her father took a job at the British Ministry."

"Hayden," his father murmured thoughtfully. "I believe I've heard the name once or twice. Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, if I recall."

"Yes, sir," she said. "He's on the Invisibility Task Force."

"Are you and Ms. Hayden friends?" his mother asked him.

Draco snorted. "Hardly." He looked at Grey. "Amaris is the only one who can stand her." He reveled in the micro-stutter in her expression when he used her first name. "Why is that, exactly?"

"She's nice," she replied quietly.

"To you, maybe," Draco muttered. "She only glares at me."

"You only glare at her," she countered, still speaking quietly, the hint of a smile on her lips. And as they stared at one another, an unspoken understanding passed between them: that they were both committed to carefully hiding the truth behind vague facts. Draco felt himself smiling back at her.

"You do seem to share a love of reading," he said slyly and her cheeks turned pink again.

"Do you?" his mother exclaimed. "What do you read, dear?"

"Yes, what do you read, Grey?" Draco asked before sipping his tea, anxious to learn the truth for himself. He enjoyed the flash of discomfort on her face as she shifted in her chair.

"All sorts of books, really," she said carefully. "I quite enjoy mystery novels."

His father chuckled, glancing at his wife as she clasped her hands together happily.

"So do I," she confessed. "D S Drummer is my favorite."

Grey smiled. "I enjoy his books very much! My favorite is The House with Thirty-Two Rooms, though I haven't read his most recent one and I heard it's his best."

"It's very good," his mother assured her. "I've almost finished it. I'll bring it Wednesday so you can read it."

"That would be wonderful."

The conversation continued as they sipped their tea, mostly his mother and Grey discussing their favorite books. Even his father weighed in once or twice. Draco noticed the way his father kept his eyes on his wife, love shining in them as he watched her happily chatting away. There was a small smile on his face, and Draco knew his joy stemmed from his mother's. Even Draco had to admit that she seemed…brighter with Grey around. Was it because Grey reminded her so much of her dead friend? Or was it the possibility that she may be securing her son's happiness?

If he told his parents the truth about Grey, would they both lose their smile?

"You have a lovely garden, Mrs. Malfoy," Grey said.

"Oh, but you can't even see it all from here. Draco, my love, will you show Amaris around the gardens?"

"She's seen them, mother," he protested even as he stood from his chair.

"Not during the day," she reminded him.

Draco made a show of rolling his eyes as he eased Grey's chair back and offered her his hand. He helped her to her feet and led her by the elbow down the steps and into the gardens. The sun shining overhead brightened the emerald hedges and enriched the colors of the flowers as they slowly traversed the cobblestone paths, pulling further and further away from his parents.

"It's incredibly lovely," she said sincerely as they circled around a fountain. He enjoyed the awe in her voice, and the pride he held for his family home swelled.

"My family has lived here more than ten centuries," he bragged, "but my mother rearranged the gardens herself." Over her shoulder, he spied one of his father's albino peacocks strutting around a clearing and smiled. "Look over there," he murmured, pointing behind her. She turned around and gasped.

"Oh, wow," she breathed. Draco gently nudged her toward the bird with a hand at the small of her back. "He's beautiful!"

As if on cue, the peacock fanned his tailfeathers and she gasped again. He stepped closer to her, her shoulder blade a light touch against his chest. For a moment, she didn't move, too entranced by the bird.

Draco tsked. "Even the bird is flirting with you…"

"He's just showing off," she chuckled, glancing back at him. When she saw how close he stood, she jumped back in surprise.

Draco scoffed. "Careful, Grey." He glanced down at her strappy white shoes with a heel not nearly as tall as what she usually wore. "Or you'll trip and fall on your face."

As they started walking again, he watched how her head swiveled this way and that, her eyes bouncing all around.

"Your home is gorgeous," she told him.

"Of course, it is. What did you expect?"

"I didn't expect otherwise," she assured him. "I'm not surprised. I'm impressed."

Draco gave a single nod in response, affecting a bored demeanor. Inside, however, his pride continued to swell. It wasn't that he cared to impress her, but he was glad to hear that she was impressed.

"Honestly, I was surprised your mother invited me back," Grey continued.

Draco frowned. "Why?"

"I just thought she would have abandoned the idea of matching us now that you and Pansy are official."

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed her roughly by the arm, whirling her around. "We're not official," he snapped. Grey seemed genuinely surprised and, for some reason, that irritated him more than her assumption.

"Oh. You seemed so close recently. I thought she was—"

"She's not my girlfriend," he barked before she could say it.

Grey just stared at him for a long moment, bewildered, before saying, "I'm sorry for assuming."

He released her arm and brushed past her, unsure if he was ready to forgive her. She followed beside him.

"Does Pansy know that I've been coming here?" Grey asked tentatively.

"Why?" he snapped. "What did she say?"

"That no matter what I—how I change my appearance, that you will never be interested in—in a blood traitor."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was the most watered-down version of one of Pansy's insults that he had ever heard. But who was Grey trying to spare? Pansy or herself? Not that knowing the exact words mattered. Draco took a deep breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walked. He had no idea how to respond. He could tell her that Theo was trying to mess with him, but that wouldn't spare her the resulting harassment. He could tell her that Pansy was jealous of her, but that felt like a betrayal to a loyal Slytherin.

"We're being matched, aren't we?" he asked, purposefully avoiding addressing what had been said. "It would be rude of me to date other people."

She glanced at him with one eyebrow furrowed in confusion. "That's just for show."

"Is it?" he sneered. "My mother doesn't think so."

"You know your mother would never match us if she knew you didn't like me. You're free to date whomever you want."

Draco noted that she was always careful to reference how he felt about her but never how she felt about him. Why? Was she trying to avoid creating tension or was she trying to hide her feelings?

Draco stepped in front of her. "Do you intentionally exclude your own feelings from this equation? Are you not also saying you hate me and should be free to date other men?"

Grey's jaw bobbed wordlessly for a moment before she choked out, "I—I don't hate you."

"Liar."

She looked away. "Sometimes, I think I do," she admitted, "but if that was true, I would hate you all the time. And I don't." She looked at him again. "I definitely don't."

"Sometimes?" Draco narrowed his eyes on her, feeling certain that his mother was wrong. If Grey had some kind of interest in him, she wouldn't sometimes hate him. He knew it had been too far-fetched a fancy. One did not fall in love with their tormentor, and he did enjoy tormenting her. "Are you dating someone else?" he asked.

"No!" she blurted immediately.

"Someone you like, then?"

"No."

Draco studied her eyes, looking for a sign of dishonesty, but there was none. "Neither am I," he said, then added, "Dating anyone."

Draco wasn't entirely sure why he told her that. It was true, however. There were plenty of girls at school with romantic interest in him, and indulging was one thing, but to date someone was an entirely different story. Dating implied affection. Affection warranted devotion. Draco was devoted to only three things: his family, himself, and being the best at whatever he put his mind to. If he ever fell in love, he imagined the girl would claim his own spot on that list, and only then would he know it was real.

But what about Grey? Until recently, he hadn't considered her a candidate for romance. Theo and Goyle's interest in her had reminded him that there would be others, but until that very moment, he had mistakenly ignored the possibility that she could be interested in them. Though he believed she was telling the truth when she said she wasn't dating or interested in anyone else, there was still one mystery left unsolved.

"Who did you go to the Yule Ball with?"

"With—" Grey stopped suddenly. "You…you don't know?"

His jaw clenched. He didn't want to admit that he didn't remember seeing her at all, but he couldn't very well pretend he did. "There were other things to hold my interest than who you were dancing with."

"I don't want to say."

"What? It was a year ago. Just spit it out."

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me," he demanded, putting on his controlling tone. She winced.

"Robbie Edgeworth," she mumbled. As the pudgy Hufflepuff with the abrasive personality appeared in his mind, he blinked at her, waiting for her to tell him she was joking. "He asked me and—and he was so sincere. I couldn't say no."

Draco recognized the tell-tale pause when she was correcting a story's version of events. "Sincere," he echoed in disbelief. "I wouldn't think even your idiot friends would have allowed you to subject yourself to Edgeworth for an entire evening. What really happened, Grey? Did he sit on you until you agreed?"

She looked embarrassed as she tried to turn away. His hands flashed out of his pockets and clamped onto her arms, holding her steady in front of him. She refused to meet his eyes.

"He cornered me on the way to dinner," she confessed. "I was late, so everyone was already gone. He wouldn't let me pass until I said yes."

Draco snorted a laugh. "And you still went with him?"

"I said I would," she replied.

Draco released her. "You agreed under duress, Grey," he told her. "You weren't beholden to your word."

Draco shook his head and stepped away, now even more annoyed. It had been bad enough that Goyle had seen Grey looking so beautiful last year, but knowing that a deviant little piggy like Edgeworth had not only seen her, but had been the reason she had dressed up made him almost physically ill.

"I wore the frumpiest dress I could find," Grey said quietly behind him. He whirled around to see her guilt-ridden expression as she stared at the cobblestones beneath her feet. "It was mean, I know, but I panicked. I didn't want him to touch me. So, I borrowed one of Ember's dresses, the plainest one she had."

Ember Ballard was one of Grey's half-blood friends, a Gryffindor. She was both tall and athletic, and about three sizes bigger than Grey. Any dress of hers would have swallowed Grey. She would have looked like an open parachute.

"He was so mortified that he left me standing at the entrance to the Great Hall," Grey finished.

Draco just gaped at her. "But Goyle said—"

"I know." She shrugged. "I don't know why he said that." Suddenly she laughed, the kind of embarrassed laugh one had when trying to find the humor in their humiliation. "He must have terrible taste in women."

Draco couldn't explain the lightness that suddenly stole over him, trying desperately to process everything she had just said and all that it implied. "He left you there?"

"Wouldn't you if I turned up like that?"

"Of course, I would," he blurted. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he added, "But we wouldn't have that problem, would we, Grey? You don't seem to mind me touching you, even if you do hate me sometimes."

The small smile she immediately tried to suppress made Draco think that, just maybe, his mother was on to something after all.

"You're right," she admitted quietly. "I actually enjoy dancing with you."

He instantly smirked, his ego near to bursting, and had to stuff his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching for her. "If you dress up for me, maybe I'll dance with you again." But Draco knew that he absolutely would.

She took hold of her skirt and swished it around her knees. "I did. I have been since summer."

"For me," he specified. "You can't just put on any nice thing."

She dropped the fabric. "Then what do you want me to wear?"

Still smirking, he leaned toward her. "Something green," he purred. "Wear something Slytherin green and I'll dance with you again."

She huffed playfully, as though he were being difficult, and shook her head, but there was still a smile at the corner of her mouth that she struggled to suppress. He feigned nonchalance as he shrugged and motioned her forward, but the truth was that he really hoped she would do it.

They continued walking, passing under an oak. When they came through the other side, all the shade was momentarily gone and the sun shone bright enough that Draco squinted his light-colored eyes against the light. He hated standing in direct sunlight. With his delicate complexion, blond hair, and dark suit, he looked completely haunted.

Draco glanced at Grey, wondering if she also suffered the same effects, and was surprised that the sun had not washed out her alabaster complexion, but had given it life, had made her white-blond hair look like lightly spun gold, and her blue eyes shone brightly. With that pale-yellow dress, she was the embodiment of a drop of sunshine.

She must have felt his eyes on her because she looked at him suddenly and, not wanting to be caught staring, he snorted and cast his gaze elsewhere, shaking his head as though something about her was irritating. And there were plenty of things—he need only pick one.

"What?" she asked.

He plucked the first excuse he could think of. "I just can't imagine you playing Quidditch, is all. You look as delicate as the lace you're wearing."

"Why? Because I'm wearing a dress or because the dress is made of lace?"

Because she looked as dainty as his mother and he couldn't imagine her on a broomstick to save his life. But what he answered with was, "Both."

Grey shrugged, face screwing up into what could almost be considered a pout. "I could play Quidditch in this dress," she said with a hint of defensiveness.

"Really?" he drawled, trying to imagine her mounting a broom dressed as she was. It was somehow more erotic than he had expected.

"I've done it before. Played Quidditch in dresses, I mean. Well, not this dress, of course," she rambled.

"Flashing your knickers to every bloke on the pitch?"

"No!" she gasped, scandalized. "Of course not! It was just us girls."

"What girls?"

She hesitated before finally admitting, "Ember and her sisters. She has six of them."

"Merlin's balls, is her family competing with the Weasels?"

Grey cleared her throat, ignoring the jab. "I used to spend my summers at her house. Her eldest sister plays for the Montrose Magpies. She would always join our games when she was home."

"And you played in dresses?"

"Uncle only ever bought me dresses, so it was all I ever brought with me, and none of Ember's clothes fit." She laughed. "You know, it wasn't any different than playing in trousers. It was—well, it was cold," she conceded and then laughed. "But I think that helped motivate me."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I'm sure it's not the most ridiculous thing."

"It's ridiculous," he insisted, unable to stop thinking about her flying around on a broom in a dress. In only a dress.

"It is," she agreed pleasantly, unaware of his fantasy.

They looped back to the house all too quickly and, as they rounded the corner that would put them in view of the veranda, Draco looped his arm around her waist and, letting it slide onto her hip, pulled her flush against his side. Her gaze snapped up to his.

"What are you—"

"Quiet," he commanded.

Then, as he caught his mother's eye, he released her and shoved his hands into his pockets, putting an appropriate amount of space between them. His parents shared a knowing smile. Grey said nothing.

When they returned to the table, the women chatted about the gardens, a topic that eventually wound into others, from herbology to Grey's astronomy club. Draco gradually descended into silence, watching them talk as the sun arced across the sky. A niggling feeling in his gut warned him not to let this go on further. He knew his mother could already envision a long courtship between him and Grey filled with sunny, spring afternoons spent drinking tea, and cozy winter holidays chatting by a fire, just the four of them.

What's your end game anyway? Theo had asked him. Draco didn't know. He didn't have one. He had just been enjoying his mother's parties and Grey's improved wardrobe, enjoying all the new ways to taunt her, the expressions she made, the opportunities to order her around, to put his hands on her. Normally, Draco had no problem toying with other people's feelings until he was bored of it, and that was exactly his plan with Grey, but now that his parents were becoming invested in the outcome, he should drop the act before they were hurt.

But Draco kept his mouth shut and just listened to the conversation until suddenly it was time for her to leave. They all moved to the front of the house and gathered on the driveway. His mother hugged her first.

"We'll see you Wednesday, dear," she said.

Without any more verbal goodbyes, Draco pulled her into another polite embrace and kissed her cheekbone. She offered him a smile that he did not return. And then his father and Grey were gone.

Draco tried to go inside.

"Did you have a nice time?" his mother prompted him, stopping him on the stairs. He just shrugged. She sighed ever so lightly. "It's all right to like the girl, Draco," she said. He glanced back at her. "Your father and I approve."

Draco could only nod in response before immediately retreating to his room.


Author's Note: I really appreciate every review that I get, but to the guest reviewers to whom I can't respond directly: thank you very much for your kind words!