To say Draco was nervous would be a drastic understatement.
He had cleaned his entire flat, top to bottom, no less than five times. He had completed all the paperwork from Malfoy Estate that needed his attention, and he had sent his house elf Millie to fetch fresh vegetables and spices to stock the kitchen with. He had changed his outfit more times than he cared to admit, and it was still too early to pick up Hermione.
Draco sank into the armchair before his fireplace and sighed. His impatience was getting the better of him. Tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair, he considered his flat once more. It was spotless; there was absolutely nothing left to occupy him. The clock ticked quietly on the wall. Draco's knee bounced and his fingers continued tapping on the armrest.
"Sod it," he said and leapt to his feet. Turning on his heel, he apparated to the alley across from White Wolf Designs.
Having already been to the shop earlier that morning, Draco made his way inside and allowed the bell over the door to announce his arrival. The front room was surprisingly empty. He could hear distant humming through one of the doors off to his left and faint voices upstairs. Draco pushed his fingers through his hair and tried to swallow against the lump in his throat. Sweet Merlin, he hoped this date went well. He needed a win.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention, and Draco couldn't help but smile.
Hermione descended the stairs, her heeled booties clicking softly against the wood. Her deep red knit sweater dress fell to her knees and hugged her figure perfectly. Soft brown curls fell around her shoulders, and the red tint to her lips had Draco licking his own. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.
"Hi." He realized he was whispering and said more firmly, "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She stopped in front of him, and he was once again surprised by how much shorter she was than him. Even in heels she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze, and he couldn't help but be amused. Allowing her eyes to wander over him, she said, "You look quite handsome."
Draco smirked confidently, as though he hadn't tried on far too many outfits before settling on this one. "Are you ready to go?"
Tugging on the hem of her dress, Hermione asked, "It's a bit early. Have your house elves already started on dinner?"
"No, Millie has the night off. I'm going to be cooking for you."
"You want to cook me dinner?" She tried not to sound too skeptical at is was a wonderful idea for a date, but the thought of pureblooded Draco Malfoy cooking for her was bordering on the absurd.
"Yes," he answered simply. "Is that alright?"
"Of course." Hermione tilted her head to one side and said, "I'm just surprised you can cook." She had meant for it to sound like a teasing challenge, to appear as though this was something she believed herself to be far superior at. However, a shadow passed over his eyes and his shoulders tightened minutely, and she realized this was a misstep.
Draco fidgeted with his shirt cuff, as though the clothing that fit him so perfectly needed any adjusting, and he avoided her gaze. "My mother taught me to cook," he said. His voice wasn't necessarily cold, but the warmth that had previously been there was gone. He seemed guarded once more. "After our home had been… After those people lived with us, she had trouble sleeping at night. She would wander the manor for hours, avoiding the nightmares that haunted her. Eventually, she found her way into the kitchen and decided to learn how to cook. I joined her merely to keep her company, but she found comfort in our being together, so I attempted to learn with her. So yes, Hermione, I am now rather capable at cooking."
She felt properly chastised. By now, she should know better than to accept the first obvious conclusion when it came to Draco. Nothing was ever as it seemed, and he never did anything without purpose. The thought of Draco and his mother, huddled in a kitchen in the middle of the night and attempting to learn such a muggle art brought a smile to her face. Taking his hand gently, she said, "I would love to cook dinner with you, Draco."
He smiled down at her. The shadow in his gaze still remained, but it had faded somewhat. She was determined to make it vanish entirely.
Hermione grabbed her purse from the coat rack by the door, and they left the shop. She led Draco around the side of the building and into a small alley next door, tucked safely out of the view of any nearby muggles. She looked up at him expectantly and gently squeezed his hand. "Are you ready to apparate us to your flat?"
"Almost." Taking hold of her hips, Draco backed her up against the alley wall. Cupping the back of her head to protect it from the harsh stone behind her, he pulled her up onto her tiptoes and kissed her. The firm press of his lips against hers pulled a soft moan from Hermione. The sound fueled Draco's confidence and made his fingers tighten around her hip. He pulled away and smirked at the sigh that came from Hermione. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and her chest pressed against his as she tried to regain her breathing.
Her hand pulling the front of his shirt allowed her to steal one more kiss, and then he grinned down at her and said, "Okay, now I'm ready." Draco wrapped his arms tightly around her and apparated them to his flat.
Hermione felt Draco's hands firmly on her back helping to soothe the brief nausea apparating had caused. Taking a deep breath as the queasiness passed, she opened her eyes and eagerly took in her surroundings. She was immediately taken by surprise.
The steel blue walls were the last color she was expecting. Accented with rustic, walnut furniture and eclectic piles of books, the flat was truthfully similar to Hermione's. There were bookshelves stuffed past full and tucked in every available corner with a large fireplace in the center of the room. It all gave the space a distinct feeling of home. She wandered the room slowly, taking in the moving pictures of the Slytherin trio on the mantel and the various book titles holding up a lamp. None of the gloomy aspects of the Slytherin dungeons had carried over into his flat, and there was no resemblance to the opulence of Malfoy Manor. And yet, the soft colors and organized clutter fit this new Draco Malfoy quite well. She felt Draco walk up behind her and turned to face him.
"What do you think," Draco asked tentatively.
Hermione gave him a smile and assured him, "I think it's quite cozy; I like it."
Draco flashed her a grin. "This way to the kitchen," he said. Placing the palm of his hand against the small of her back, he guided her towards the kitchen.
The kitchen was, in a word, formidable. It was a stark difference from the comfortable sitting room they had landed in. Stainless steel and void of color, the black and white space was pristine and very well-kept. Everything clearly had its place, and Hermione felt anxious to even look at the room too hard lest she disturb the careful organization of the place. She hesitated in the doorway and allowed Draco to slip past her.
The ease with which he moved around the kitchen and the comfortable air he gave off eased some of Hermione's discomfort. She took a steadying breath and asked, "So what are we making?"
"I was thinking," Draco said, his voice muffled as he stooped inside one of lower the cabinets. "We could make something easy but still delicious." He reappeared holding a pan and wearing a large grin. "How does ratatouille sound?"
"Sounds perfect." Hermione glanced around the kitchen and asked, "Where's the cookbook?"
Draco stared at her blankly. "Cookbook?"
Assuming cookbooks were a muggle thing, Hermione explained, "Well, it's similar to a potions book. It has recipes and instructions you follow to —"
"No, no, I know what a cookbook is." Draco looked mildly insulted and waved the pan in his hand to emphasize his words. "However, cooking is nothing like potions. Recipes are only recommended; half the fun is in the invention."
"The invention?" Hermione asked incredulously. "You don't just invent recipes, Draco. They're already made for a reason."
He set the pan on the counter and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…" He walked around behind her, took hold of her shoulders and guided her over to another cabinet mounted on the wall. He reached above her and opened it to reveal an overwhelmingly vast array of spices and ingredients. "If you're going to learn to cook with me, you're going to have to learn," he wrapped his hands around her hips and leaned in, lips brushing against her ear and purred, "to loosen up a bit."
Hermione felt a shiver dance down her spine.
"Now," Draco said; his tone was all business and commanded her attention easily. He would make a decent professor, she thought with amusement. "The key to multiple people working in the kitchen together is to always be aware of the other person." He stepped away from her and went to gather the needed vegetables.
She cut her gaze away from the labels and over to Draco in time to catch his eyes sweeping her from head to toes and back again.
"You should always be aware of your partner's movements so that you don't run the risk of bumping into each other." His intense gaze made her skin tingle. "In this sense, cooking is similar to dancing. Try not to step on my toes."
Hermione nodded her understanding, missing the quip and not at all distracted by the way he practically prowled around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and utensils. "What do we need to prepare first?"
Draco hummed in thought and ran his gaze over the vegetables and spices they had set out on the counter.
She took the small moment to appreciate Draco in his element. His posture was relaxed yet confident; this was his domain and he knew it. He was the master of the kitchen, an artist before a blank canvas. Not for the first time, Hermione felt the itch to sketch him. Draco had been blessed with such paint-able features. She allowed her gaze to wander and took in his broad shoulders barely hidden by his black dress shirt. When he turned to speak, his silver lip piercing caught the warm lighting of the kitchen and nearly glowed. It reminded her to ask him back to the tattoo shop for another visit. She would tattoo him for free if he would only ask. Anything to put her designs on his flawless skin again.
"Hermione?"
"Hm? Sorry," she mumbled while fighting the blush she could feel warming her cheeks. "Got lost in thought."
Draco smirked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Anything interesting?"
"No, not really."
Obviously not believing her, Draco stepped up close to her and asked, "If it's nothing, why are you turning such a pretty shade of red?"
Which only made her blush harder. Ears burning, she scrambled for an excuse. "It's, um, hot in here?" She cringed internally. That sounded too much like a question.
"Feels fine to me." Draco's eyes gazed into hers, searching for something she couldn't name.
She sighed quietly when he looked away, grateful to be relieved of the heavy weight of his gaze. She suppressed the urge to fan herself.
Draco slowly held his hand up, palm facing her and said, "You have an eyelash on your cheek. I'm going to wipe it off for you, is that alright?"
Confused as to why he felt the need to ask for her permission to chase away an eyelash, Hermione nodded. She became even more confused, however, when he ever so slowly reached towards her face. So slowly that it almost seemed like he wasn't moving at all.
His gaze was wary and searched her face, looking for any indication that she might, what? Run?
"You don't have to approach me like a wild animal," she chuckled. "I'm not going to bite you."
A startled look passed over Draco's face before embarrassment replaced it, and his hand stilled a hair's breadth away from her cheek. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just used to my mother…" He trailed off quietly, and that shadow returned to his eyes.
Hermione reached over and gently placed her hand against his and held it to her cheek. She offered him a smile that she hoped was reassuring and hid her whirlwind of thoughts. She couldn't begin to imagine the things Draco and his mother had suffered while those demons had lived in their home, but she silently promised herself to protect Narcissa Malfoy from every man on the planet.
Draco gave her a small smile back and ran his thumb gently along her cheekbone. His eyes softened, their usually steely gray holding a tender look in them that she had never seen before. He allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy the peace of the moment before finally letting go of her cheek and clearing his throat. "Now then, dicing onions."
Making a mental note to approach the topic at much later, more comfortable time, Hermione grabbed the knife from the counter enthusiastically. "Easy enough, it's just like potions."
He chuckled at her eagerness and used the tip of his finger to slowly lower the knife. "That's wonderful. But first, you have to get the angle of the wrist right."
Hermione held the onion in one hand and knife in the other, then looked at Draco for approval. She had diced thousands of ingredients for potions classes and in the kitchen with her mum, but she had seen enough muggle films to know how this could play out. She kept her face perfectly innocent and held the hand at a rather sloppy angle.
He shook his head and critiqued, "You need to loosen your hold on the knife a bit." He wrapped his arms around her and placed his hands softly over hers, guiding her fingers and wrist into the right positions.
Hermione felt her body go perfectly still as every nerve became acutely aware of his proximity to her, and the skin where he touched her began to tingle. Her heart began to beat rapidly. "Like this?" she asked quietly.
"Perfect," he breathed, lips barely brushing the side of her neck.
She gently set the knife down on the counter and, without turning her head, asked, "My wrist or me?"
He gently guided her to turn around with firm hands on her hips. "You," he said clearly. There was no hesitation in his eyes. "You are perfect."
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Hermione looked at her toes. "Far from it, actually."
Gentle fingers under her chin tilted her face up so her gaze met his. He took a moment to make sure she was looking him in the eye before he whispered, "You are more than I ever thought to look for, and more than I could ever think to deserve. I have been nothing but terrible to you for so long," his voice broke on the last two words as the weight of their history settled heavily on his shoulders. "Thank you for giving me so many chances."
Hermione smiled softly and placed her hands against his chest. "You deserve all of them and more."
This kiss was soft and sweet. So full of a lifetime of unspoken emotions and battles and heavy with promises. It was savored, committed to memory, and treasured. It was spun into a silvery strand of memory that was bound to be repeated endlessly in their minds.
And then it became so much more.
Hands in hair, bodies pressed close. Hermione's chest heaved when she forgot to breathe, too caught up in this man who took her by surprise every chance he could.
Draco's head spun as he held her tight, thanking every god he could name for creating such a perfect witch and for making her so forgiving. He kissed her deeply and passionately, aching to show her all the ways he was growing to care for her.
Dinner forgotten, Draco lifted her with ease and set her on an empty kitchen counter. He nudged her legs apart and moved to stand between them, quickly reclaiming her lips. He ran his fingers through Hermione's soft curls then grabbed a handful of them at the back of her head. When he used it to deepen the kiss, Hermione made the most delicious sound he had ever heard, and he was determined to have her make it again.
Finally taking a moment to catch their breath, they pulled apart and rested their foreheads together.
In the quiet moment as they leaned against each other, Draco's mind began to work in overtime. They hadn't even eaten dinner yet, hadn't even made the damn meal, and here he was with her on his kitchen counter. While he would never say no to Hermione Granger on his counter, this wasn't how he intended for the night to go. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to think she was a one night stand. He was supposed to be wooing her, seducing her, not ravishing her twenty minutes into their first date. This night was on its way to becoming yet another colossal failure.
As if she could sense his turmoil, Hermione held his face between her hands and gave him a stern look. "Don't you dare take that back."
He looked startled at her reprimand. "Take what back?"
"The kiss. Don't you dare take it back because I won't."
"I just don't want —"
"No," she cut him off. "Don't think my thoughts for me. I am a grown witch, Draco. If I want to make out with you on your kitchen counter, then I will. I will do as I damn well please."
Draco opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again at a loss for words. There she went again, always taking him by surprise. Hermione had never been meek, but this confidence was so quiet yet so strong. Of course she would do as she pleased, who was he to dictate her decisions?
"If I didn't want you, I wouldn't be here."
She looked so sure, so certain in her decision to be here with him. It erased every doubt he had. Breathing in deeply through his nose to try to settle his racing heart, he said carefully, "You are the most independent individual I have ever met."
"Thank you," she interrupted him, her voice full of pride.
He smiled at her and continued, "I know these last few weeks have been difficult, confusing, and rather embarrassing for both of us."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the memory of Blaise's attempt at romance. Those doves would haunt her.
"I know our history is far from romantic," he added, "but I want to do my best to move past it. I also know my history with women is less than kind."
"That's putting it lightly." The smirk she gave him was Malfoy worthy and told him she was most certainly up-to-date on what the tabloids have reported about his bachelor behavior.
Draco lightly held a hand up over her mouth. "Please stop interrupting. You are making it quite difficult to get my thoughts together." When she didn't say anything else, he took his hand away.
"Is it my interrupting that's making it difficult or," she ran her fingertips lightly down his shirt, over his stomach, and felt his muscles twitch under her touch, "is it something else?"
He grunted quietly and grabbed both of her wrists. "Very distracting."
She smiled wickedly at him. "Do something about it."
"I will," he growled, "as soon as I finish."
A shiver of anticipation danced down her spine. "Speak quickly then."
Draco huffed. "All I was trying to say is that I want us to be exclusive. No other woman could compare to you." His words were rather rushed as her fingers began toying with the buttons of his shirt. "Your kindness, your passion, your intelligence. You deserve everything incredible that this world has to offer. I only hope I can contribute to your happiness."
The most beautiful smile Draco had ever seen lit up Hermione's face. Her eyes glowed with barely concealed laughter. "Of course I want to date you, Draco. I thought that was quite obvious by my being here tonight."
Pure bliss erupted through Draco, filling him with more happiness than he had felt in a very long time. He made a mental note to owl a thank you letter to his mother in the morning and leaned in to kiss Hermione again, but she turned her face to the side and he ended up kissing her cheek.
"I think there's a place that is a somewhat more comfortable than the kitchen counter."
Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The couch?"
Her beautiful laugh echoed through the kitchen. "No, Draco, the bed."
-..-
AN: Anybody else need a glass of water? Haha, but seriously I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it. As always, let me know what you thought! I hope you all have a fantastic weekend, and I will see you again next Thursday!