Written for the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition

Round 4: Daffodil - Chivalry

Draco adjusted his jacket for possibly the hundredth time in the past hour and sighed. He was nervous. First dates were always terrifying, but this wasn't just any first date. He had been friends with Hermione Granger for over two years now; he knew what he had to lose.

It had taken him several months after her last breakup to admit to himself that he liked her and weeks since then to work up the courage to actually ask her to dinner, not that he would ever let her know. Women didn't like too much vulnerability.

After a final look in the mirror, he picked up the bouquet of daffodils on his living room table and flooed to Hermione's cottage. She was already waiting, dressed in navy silk, and his breath caught in his chest when she smiled.

"For you, my lady," he said with a bow as he handed over the flowers.

"Your lady? Don't you think that's a bit much, Draco?" Hermione questioned with a quirked brow.

"Can't a man be chivalrous towards his date anymore?" he teased back with a smirk.

"Chivalry! Oh, really," she replied with a mocking glare. "Did you know that chivalry is nothing more than an informal and varying code of conduct developed in the late 12th century? And that it has vastly more to do with the behavior of knights in combat than romance or courting?"

She walked to the front door and Draco followed, a vaguely sappy look on his face. She glanced back at him as she reached for the door handle.

"Whatever are you looking at me like that for?" she asked.

"Like what?" Draco grinned back at her, feeling especially pleased with having ruffled her feathers a little.

"Well, to be honest, you look a little like a lovesick fool." she said impatiently, a vague look of annoyance in her lovely eyes. "There's no need to lay it on so thick when I know this mostly a pity date."

"Oh, well, you're doing that thing again where you lecture me about something I don't know. And I suppose I like it," he quipped, ignoring her self-deprecating comment. "Maybe I am a lovesick fool."

Hermione looked down at her hands, a blush rising to her cheeks. He could tell the exact moment she realized she was still holding the bouquet, her face lit up with recognition and surprise.

"Daffodils…" she murmured. "New beginnings?"

Hermione raised her eyes slowly to meet his, her gaze at once hesitant and hopeful.

"Well, I'd rather hoped it would be just a beginning," he answered. "It's not a pity date, I promise."

His earnest expression had her shaking her head with a smile. She conjured a vase for them and placed her flowers on a side table before reaching out to place her hand through the crook of his arm.

"In that case, lead the way, my good sir," she said with a rare, girlish giggle.