"Continue," Hermione Granger said, her bold brown eyes staring straight into his. Malfoy's mouth gave a slight twitch without him really bidding it to. He was simultaneously embarrassed that he'd actually been in so great a hurry as to forget the Obviously Necessary, and appreciating the steel he felt behind her words. Draco Malfoy liked a woman with steel in her spine.
"There's no easy way to say this," Draco Malfoy said, consciously setting aside that Queen's English accent as he spoke, letting his real accent pour through. "We met in London this summer."
Hermione's eyes opened wide, "What were you doing in London this summer?"
Draco responded, soft as silk, "I told you, of course. And then... we did things... you know... things." Draco Malfoy's face had decided, entirely on its own, to go completely scarlet. Draco tried to will the blood back, as blushing was... not terribly manly, now was it?
Hermione, at least, wasn't fainting. Her hand had, however, gone to her mouth, as she whisper-shrieked, "That was you?! I thought you were from halfway across the world - the Caucausus Mountains!"
Draco Malfoy shrugged, half-smirking, "Seems more likely than meeting Pureblood Malfoy in a Muggle pub in the middle of London, don't it?"
Hermione grinned slightly, and then stomped her foot. "So that was why you kissed me!"
Draco Malfoy put his hands behind his back, looking upwards - more than a bit embarrassed at having succumbed to impulse. "Yeah, I'd just figured it out, you know - I thought I'd never see you again."
Hermione said, "Me too."
Draco Malfoy laughed a deep belly laugh, at last saying, "But you were the one who left without even telling me your name!"
"Not to mention you didn't know my face, either." Hermione said, hiding her face in her hands as she laughed.
"Had I thought of disguise, I might have guessed," Malfoy said, studiously studying a bit of the wall behind Hermione.
"What?! WHY?!" Hermione fiercely demanded.
"People tend to modify what they don't like about themselves..." Malfoy said, "And I've lost track of how many times I've commented about your hair."
"Does that mean you don't like looking like a porcelain doll?" Hermione shot back.
"Insults hurt. You thought I didn't care you called me an albino?" Malfoy responded, his steel showing even as he kept his voice low. He smirked suddenly, responding to the unasked question, "I do like being a blond. It's distinctive."
Suddenly, there was someone blocking the light heading into the alcove.
Harry Potter.
Shite
[a/n: Hermione might have known Harry was coming - Draco did NOT. To be fair, Harry didn't just run over, they've been about thirty minutes. And, being Harry, he's spent thirty minutes coming up with increasingly unlikier "why is this happening?"
Snape, for the record, is a trained spy. His disguises do not reflect personal insecurities. Please tell me you weren't thinking this!]