A/N: Sorry for the confusion with updates in the past week! A lot of functionality on has been broken since Halloween, so I'm crossing my fingers that this chapter posts successfully now. In any case, we're getting close to the end of this story, and I can't believe how far we've come! Your responses to the last chapter were incredible, and as repetitive as it probably sounds, I greatly appreciate your attention and feedback. Thank you so much!
"The court will now hear the testimony of Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class, regarding Theodore Nott's role in the events that took place on Saturday September 5th."
Kingsley's words pulled Hermione from the contemplative trance she'd fallen into while watching today's court proceedings unfold. She wasn't ashamed to admit that her gaze had been locked on Draco's profile for the past few minutes as she hung onto his every word. This pensive state of contemplation was better than giving into the anxious whirlpool that had been expanding in her stomach all morning. She tried not to let any of her emotional inclinations cloud her thinking for the time being, knowing the hardest was yet to come. Around her the courtroom—which had been bustling with palpable energy and human activity only moments ago—stilled in buzzing anticipation of her testimony.
Wearing a look of grim determination, she stiffly moved her limbs for the first time since Draco had left her side to deliver his own testimony before the Wizengamot. Slowly rising from her seat, she made her way towards the podium where Kingsley presided amidst a sea of plum-colored robes. As she walked purposefully across the room, she gave no indication of acknowledging the silent presence of Theodore Nott where he currently sat. He was chained to a monstrosity of a metal chair in the center of the expansive circular room wearing a sullen expression.
It was just shy of two months since Nott had been apprehended and sent to Azkaban for his role in the first ambush at Hogwarts. Although Dementors were no longer guarding the prisoners there, the past 8 weeks seemed to have taken their toll on the young wizard. And yet, despite the visible grime and misery printed across the surface of his skin, he remained defiant. She didn't need to meet his gaze to see the hatred and rage that still shone through the resentful tawny depths of his eyes.
As she crossed the courtroom, her path intersected briefly with Draco's as he returned to their seats near the periphery. It was long enough to make eye contact with him, long enough to see the quiet look of intensity and support he sent her, the slight nod of his head and the encouraging tilt of his lips. She was grateful for the encouragement his silent support provided her, and she smiled minutely in response. By the time she'd made her way to Kingsley's podium though, her smile had disappeared at the thought of what she would have to relive in the next few minutes.
It was Wednesday morning, and both Head students had taken the first half of the day off from school to testify in the first of what promised to be at least a dozen Wizengamot trials centering around the Sons of Salazar's activity at Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey had been adamant that it was too soon for Hermione to be exposing herself to this level of stress and activity given the battering her body had taken in the past few weeks. Draco had agreed with Pomfrey, but he'd also sworn to support Hermione no matter what decision she made. Of course, their well-meaning warnings had done nothing to deter Hermione from wanting to take part in the trial.
I'll testify in as many of these Merlinforsaken trials as it takes to exact justice for what the Sons of Salazar have tried to do, she thought stolidly.
It had been a few months since Hermione had last set foot in the courtrooms deep in the Ministry dungeons, and although she still felt the customary chill that came with knowing only ten floors separated her from the Department of Mysteries and the terrible memories that accompanied it, she knew the suffocating discomfort was worth it in cases like this one. Indeed, it wasn't the only place in the Ministry that now gave her chills.
She came to a stop near the front of the courtroom where Kingsley stood flanked by the nearly fifty other witches and wizards who comprised the Wizengamot. The interim Minister of Magic and Chief Warlock inclined his head at her with warmth shining in his brandy-colored eyes. She responded in kind.
It was no surprise to see the full court present today. This was a formal criminal trial after all, and it was the least of what Theo Nott deserved. She was sure the Wizengamot had been plenty busy during the past few months in the aftermath of Voldemort's reign of terror. Given what she and Draco had uncovered in the past few days, she was sure they'd be even busier in the upcoming weeks.
"Hermione, if you will, please describe the role Theodore Nott played in the events that unfolded the night of Saturday, September 5th at Hogwarts," Kingsley prompted solemnly.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione fortified the mental walls that had by now become her silent companions, and shoved down the swirling anxiety that had yet to abate in her stomach. She haltingly began to tell those gathered in the courtroom the finer details of Nott's role in her abduction that Saturday night.
"Theodore was more than happy to partake in my torture the night of Saturday September 5th, Minister," Hermione said, struggling to keep her eyes from watering at the memory.
"He was the third to... to harm me. He cast the Cruciatus on me, but I–I... I'm not sure how long it lasted. Afterwards, h–he said he'd always wanted t–to do that to me."
She swallowed thickly and forced her eyes to remain trained upon Kingsley. She'd begun to lose her composure more quickly than she'd prepared for. Still, she didn't want to show any additional shred of vulnerability in this courtroom if she could help it, especially not in front of Nott, whose gaze she could feel burning a hole in her back.
"When he was done, he used a hex I'm unfamiliar with to br–break both of my l–legs, to keep me from escaping," she continued tremulously, wishing she could make her voice sound stronger, wishing she could project a more convincing facade of strength.
For some reason this was what caused more gasps to erupt across the courtroom, as if a physical injury were somehow more barbaric than the pain Nott had magically inflicted upon her nerve endings.
"Go on, Hermione," Kingsley encouraged her with a sympathetic gaze.
"He left me laying there," Hermione spoke in choked syllables, "and joined everyone else by the fire a few meters away. A–a few minutes later, he turned on Draco and cast an Incarcerous on him."
She paused here, overcome by the vision of Draco writhing on the floor, illuminated by the fireplace in that hidden room, his face bloody and his body contorted in agony. With sickening clarity, she remembered the inner conflict she'd felt in that moment, forcing herself to disregard his pain and suffering in the interest of her own survival. The memory of it made her nauseous, but she swallowed down the bile and forced herself to continue.
"Nott stood by while Selwyn and Mulciber lifted the modified Imperius curse they'd cast on D–Draco and... and proceeded to torture him with the Cruciatus. When they were done, they Obliviated him..."
She paused to catch her breath, feeling just a few moments away from gasping for it. After a few stilted moments of silence, she continued.
"Theodore was tasked with returning Draco to his quarters. Th–the last I saw of Nott that night, he... he was levitating Draco, unconscious, out of the room at Selwyn's behest."
Kingsley nodded when she finished, and proceeded to ask her a few clarifying questions, which she answered in a daze, still half-lost in her memories of that night.
"Let the record show that Ms. Granger's memories, along with those of Theodore Nott and Elezier Selwyn, corroborate her testimony today, as does the photographic evidence that was recovered at the scene of the crime."
The anxiety in Hermione's gut spiked at the reminder that there was photographic evidence of what had happened that night, but it quickly transformed into roaring anger and shame. She hated to think of what those vile vermin had planned to do with their animated photographs of that night. The thought of it served as kindling to the stuttering fire in her heart. She was tired of being scared, tired of letting her unfortunate brushes with torture control her when she was the one whose dignity and agency had been gravely violated.
It was easier to oblige Kingsley when he asked her to describe Nott's behavior at Hogwarts in the week preceding her abduction. She responded honestly when he asked her if she thought Nott could also have been under the influence of the Imperius curse.
"It's certainly possible, Minister," she responded cautiously, "But I didn't see or hear any indication of it."
"Thank you Hermione, that will be all," Kingsley said, giving her a warm if subtle smile, and gesturing for her to return to her seat.
Her shoulders sagged a few millimeters in relief at his dismissal. She turned and made her way back to her seat beside Draco after what felt like far too many steps. She could feel the curious stares of the packed room on her as she sat—perhaps too comfortably in their eyes—next to one of the wizards responsible for torturing her on the very night she'd just testified about. Of course, it mattered little to her what they thought of the camaraderie that was now apparent between her and the Malfoy heir.
Within seconds after she'd sank into her seat, she felt a soft touch where her hand rested on the bench between them. Although her gaze remained trained upon Kingsley as he called upon a third witness, her attention was split between that and the fingers that had engulfed her trembling hand. She flipped her hand and threaded her fingers through Draco's, squeezing his hand lightly, and he responded in kind.
She allowed herself to become somewhat distracted by his touch, feeling that her job for the morning had been done. She'd testified—that was realistically as much as she could do for the time being, and certainly more than anyone had expected her to do. Given the events of last week—a mostly averted bioweapon explosion in the Great Hall, for fuck's sake—no one had actually expected her to make it to today's trial.
Of course, I love proving people wrong, don't I? she thought wryly. Even to my own detriment.
Under less serious circumstances, she would have even been wearing the ghost of a smirk—surely a sign of Draco's impish ways rubbing off on on her. Unfortunately, this was the exact opposite of a time to relax completely, so she kept her emotions closed off and outwardly maintained a flat expression despite the thread of warmth she felt extending from the place where Draco's hand met hers.
It was especially important to maintain her impassive facade in the face of the sheer animosity currently suffusing the atmosphere of the room. People seemed to be out for blood after what had happened at Hogwarts last week, and for good reason. Not even the war had brought out so cowardly an attempt to target Hogwarts students as what the Sons of Salazar had attempted only six days ago. Whether intentionally or not, the secret society had lit a tinderbox of simmering ire in a society that had finally had enough. They thirsted for retribution. Nott of course seemed to be soaking it all up.
"Theodore Eminus Nott, you stand accused of materially contributing to the activities of the Sons of Salazar—an organization now categorized as terrorist by the Ministry of Magic. We've now heard your defense, and have heard witnesses speak both for and against you. Before we proceed to sentencing, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Since she and Draco were sitting to his right, they both saw the sneer that immediately spread across Nott's face at Kingsley's words. She knew nothing good would come of this.
"We all know this sham of a trial is just theater for you and wizarding Britain at large, Shacklebolt. You've already kept me in Azkaban for two months. I'm under no illusions about what today's pathetic display of performative justice will yield."
Nott's words caused an uproar in the courtroom. Incensed witches and wizards seated across the room were shouting and booing at Nott, chained as he was in the center of the room. Intriguingly, a smaller contingent of them were cheering at his words, shouting out some of the popular conspiracy slogans that had begun to circulate around magical London.
Bold of them to reveal their allegiences under such circumstances, Hermione mused
"Rest assured, Minister—all you've accomplished today is making a martyr of me. The Sons of Salazar will simply retreat further underground until the time is right again, all the while recruiting and regrouping, growing stronger. We'll remain dormant as long as it takes, until every single one of you pathetic idiots has forgotten about our existence. Then when you least expect it, we'll come slithering back to extract our revenge. Just you wait," Nott snarled arrogantly.
Were it nor for the restraints on his arms and legs, Hermione was sure he would have lunged towards Kingsley in that moment. She shuddered and gripped Draco's hand harder. His thumb began its now familiar path along the back of her hand, and somehow the motion imparted some modicum of calm amidst the fraught atmosphere. In a subtle motion, he shifted his body a few centimeters closer to her, angling himself between her and the people to their left who had cheered at Nott's proclamation.
Unperturbed, Minister Shacklebolt responded firmly while meeting Nott's gaze.
"There will always be good people waiting to meet you and your ilk whenever and wherever you rear your ugly heads, Theodore. In the meantime, I'll do everything I can to foster a society that can do better than the backwards bigotry you preach."
Nott opened his mouth to retort, but Kingsley wordlessly silenced him. Without another word, the Wizengamot began to deliberate amongst themselves. In less than ten minutes—shorter than usual for sentencing at criminal trials, they seemed to have come to a conclusion. Kingsley resumed his position at the podium near the center of the room's far wall.
"All in favor of conviction?"
Despite some hissing across the hall at the clear majority of Wizengamot members who were in favor of convicting Nott, there were no other objections during the vote as each member voiced their judgement. At length, Kingsley nodded decisively and spoke.
"Theodore Eminus Nott, this magical court of law finds you guilty of materially contributing to the activities of the Sons of Salazar, a known terrorist organization. You have been sentenced to thirty years in Azkaban unless you agree to participate in an experimental behavioral modification program sponsored by St. Mungo's. Should you choose to undergo this behavioral modification, your sentence will be reduced down to ten years assuming you comply with the requirements of your imprisonment. Which will you choose?"
From her vantage point, Theo looked unaffected by Kingsley's words. Certainly, something like behavioral modification sounded terrifying, all things considered, but she supposed if it was the difference between one decade spent in prison as opposed to three, it would have probably seemed more enticing to her as well. Then again, Kingsley hadn't exactly been forthcoming just now about what that behavioral modification entailed...
Nott shrugged, unconcerned, "My life's already over. I'll take the reduced sentence. What's the worst that could happen at this rate?"
Peering past the false bravado Nott was clearly projecting, Hermione could sense an undercurrent of resignation in his nonchalant voice.
Kingsley nodded, "Very well then."
As Theo was released from his constraints and led out of the courtroom by two Aurors, he threw his head back and shouted, "Long live the Sons of Salazar! Long live the Death Eaters! Long live Voldemort! You idiots have no cl—"
Hermione and Draco remained seated a little longer amidst the flurry of indignant shouts and attempts at physical accostment by some of those in attendance that followed Nott's outburst. They watched as the Aurors flanking him silenced his last ditch efforts at causing a scene while pushing off those who wanted to punish him for his insolence. After a few chaotic moments, they finally led him out of the room. Hermione stared after him feeling nothing but grim satisfaction.
One down, ten to go.
Draco hadn't been prepared for the swell of protective awareness he felt towards Hermione on this excursion. It was perfectly understandable of course, considering the myriad nasty surprises that had been thrown at them lately, but it still felt at odds with what he was used to—and indeed, compared to what those around him expected of him. The wizarding world thought him to be a vindictive and bigoted prat, but that version of him was long gone now. This trial had helped him see that more clearly than ever. It had confirmed what he hadn't been sure was true in his heart and mind until now.
Watching Theo petulantly defend his pureblood ideology before a roomful of some of the most powerful wizards and witches in Britain—Hermione included—had been oddly cathartic for Draco, something he hadn't expected. As infuriating as it had been to watch, it had been all the confirmation Draco needed that no part of him agreed with any of what Theo was saying—none of the dross that had spilled from his former housemate's lips resonated with him any longer.
Outside the confines of Hogwarts like this, Draco felt less defined by the few months that separated him from the world after graduation. Here he felt less like a student and closer to the wizard he wanted to become—like the wizard he seemed to be well on his way to becoming, even if he never could have guessed that this would be how he achieved it. No guile, no cunning. His father would have been furious if he'd had any capacity to care anymore.
He glanced down to the witch at his left as they made their way towards the courtroom's nearest exit, and wondered again how he could have gotten so lucky.
She's all the silver lining I need, he mused as he pushed the door open.
Unfortunately, his contemplative mood was dashed the moment they stepped past the courtroom doors only to be accosted by an eager mass of reporters and onlookers. He reflexively began to reach towards Hermione but held back, unsure if she'd appreciate such an obvious public display of trust between them just yet. It wasn't something they'd spoken about yet. Despite his hesitation to touch her in public, he angled his body to rebuff some of the more eager reporters who were now trying to invade their personal space.
"Hermione! Ms. Granger! How is it that you and Draco Malfoy seem to be so chummy now? Have you really forgiven him for what he did to you?"
"Draco! Do you make a habit of befriending the girls you torture?"
"A statement from either of you—any thoughts on Theodore Nott's sentence? What did you think of the trial?"
The flurry of questions and rush of bodies was disorienting, but it quickly abated with the help of two Aurors who had thankfully waited to escort them out. So intense was the initial crush of interested people that Draco had switched his attention to looking for potential threats—another deranged secret society member with a vendetta, perhaps. He had little time to feel angered by their invasive questions until the crowd had been pushed back slightly by the Auror's shielding spells.
Beside him, Hermione had tensed but otherwise remained silent despite the extremely personal questions being hurled at them as they briskly made their way towards the lift. He admired her composure given the circumstances. They had a brief reprieve from the chaos during their lift ride up to the Ministry atrium, but the peace was short-lived as they were met with a similarly chaotic scene once they exited into the packed first floor, still flanked by the two Aurors. However it was when they left the confines of the Ministry that the real trouble began.
Their group of four had only been outside for a few seconds when someone attempted to launch something at them. Although they'd all drawn their wands prepared to respond, the Auror closest to the projectile responded first. As it turned out, it was a raw egg. The Auror disposed of it without a word while gesturing to one of his other colleagues to take care of the assailant.
"You're a traitorous whore for defending that Malfoy piece of garbage after what he did," someone shouted to their right, the unnatural effect on the person's voice clearly caused by some sort of voice modification spell.
Another piece of food was thrown at them from the same direction, this time thwarted by another nearby Auror and obliterated before it could make contact. Draco watched as the the assailant was apprehended, but he could see that Hermione was incensed and overwhelmed to have to face this so soon after having testified.
Having had enough, Draco leaned towards her to murmer, "Don't listen to them. Those idiots have no clue what they're talking about."
She looked up at him gratefully and nodded. He was temporarily blinded by the flashes of cameras that lit up around them at his words and her nonverbal response. Unfortunately, the Auror's actions did nothing to quell the outraged voices heckling them from multiple directions.
"Your day is coming, Malfoy! You demented piece of filth!"
"You deserve the Kiss just like your father!"
"The only good Malfoy's a dead Malfoy!"
Despite their intent, these scathing recriminations meant nothing to him. If the circumstances had been different, Draco might have even found himself smirking at the crowd's attempts to get under his skin. As it was, he had a better idea for how to handle this confrontation. Straightening to his full height, he decided this was as good a time as ever to tell the world at large what his classmates at Hogwarts were already aware of. He knew a good portion of the crowd would sooner proclaim their love for genital warts than believe him, but at least now his position would be unequivocally stated. He took a step in front of Hermione to shield her from the increased onslaught he was sure his words would cause.
"Let it be known that I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, renounce the Sons of Salazar, disavow myself of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and forsake every stupid bit of pureblood ideology I was indoctrinated to believe. If you remain skeptical of the truth in my words, well, that's your problem—not mine."
The already energetic crowd erupted in a cacophany of noise and flashes of camera lights at his proclamation. People surged in on their groups while shouting questions and recriminations, pushing uncomfortably close from all directions for a few moments before the two flanking Aurors were able to help the two students carve their way through the now seething crowd. Beside him, Hermione looked stressed but unsurprised by his actions. She caught him looking at her and flashed him a faint smile that was quickly dashed by the recriminations that continued to flood in from all around them.
"Good for nothing liar!"
"Don't believe a word he says!"
"Fuck you, blood traitor!"
After a few more tense moments, they reached an area of the sidewalk that was less crowded, and were given the go-ahead by their accompanying Aurors to apparate back to Hogsmeade. As the flash of cameras continued to burst all around them, Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders and drew her closer into his side, deciding to ignore his previous reservations about public displays of affection.
I might as well give everyone something else to gossip about.
With a sly smile, he reached down to whisper quietly in her ear, "Imagine how much more scandalized they'd be if they knew just how well we've gotten to know each other, witch."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, a small blush stole across Hermione's face at his words, but she seemed otherwise unconcerned by his gesture. She looked up at him with a heady mix of incredulity, desire and mirth reflected in her tired gaze.
"So, so incorrigible," she murmured wryly, clearly grateful for the distraction.
With one last nod at the Aurors who had acted as their sentinels on their way out of the courtroom, Draco chuckled. He pulled Hermione closer and disapparated away from the still writhing mass of people surrounding them.
They landed in Hogsmeade to much less fanfare. In fact, Draco was relieved to see that no one seemed to be waiting for them here. Although he remained mostly unruffled by the insults that had been thrown at him, in that moment he'd felt tense at the knowledge that any one of the people in that crowd could have been another Sons of Salazar plant trying to spread fear, uncertainty and destruction as they had in the Great Hall on days earlier. He was supremely relieved nothing had come of his paranoid musings.
As he turned to observe her, he noted that Hermione seemed to have taken the crowd's words much more personally, although not in the way he would have expected. Instead of looking hurt or crestfallen, she looked furious, her lips set in a stubborn grimace as she contemplated whichever aspect of the scene they'd just left behind that bothered her most.
He glanced at the clocktower near the town square, and realizing it was near lunchtime, decided he wasn't quite done spending time with Hermione today.
"If it's all the same to you love, I'd rather not return to the castle just yet. What do you say we grab a bite at the Three Broomsticks first?"
Hermione raised a brow, his words having momentarily distracted her from her angry thoughts.
"Oh was that your plan all along? Finagle a quick date out of me between the trial and our afternoon classes?" she asked drolly.
Draco smirked, relieved to hear her joking with him, "For the record, you're the one who's calling it a date."
She grinned and reached for his hand, "Semantics, really."
He chuckled quietly and took her proffered hand as they began walking in the direction of the Three Broomsticks.
She didn't take it back, he thought with satisfaction, her hand warm in his as he rubbed his thumb along her soft skin. Does she want it to be a date?
She'd been so silent today—it had been hard to tell what state of mind she was in, but he hadn't wanted to pry before the trial. In the days that had elapsed since she'd been released from the Hospital Wing, they'd grown even more at ease in each other's company. Given her behavior just now, he wondered if she was in a better mood than he'd estimated despite that morning's events.
It wasn't until they made their way into an empty corner of the restaurant and ordered food that she revealed the root of her disquiet and showed him just how wrong his estimations of her train of thought today had been. When he asked her what was troubling her, her response was wonderfully open.
"It obviously doesn't seem to have affected you like it did me," she began, pausing to take a sip of her tea, "But what they said about us earlier—it bothered me. Those weren't the words of people who want the best for our society. They were the words of lunatics intent on indiscriminately meting out punishment. I doubt rehabilitation is even part of their vocabulary."
Draco scoffed, "You're giving those idiots too much credit, then. Why should their opinion of you matter at all when you could wipe the floor with them in a duel? They represent a loud but small minority of magical folk, and the louder they squawk, the closer I guarantee they are to obsolescence."
He could tell she was flattered by his offhand compliment, even if he hadn't meant it to be anything but a statement of fact. Of course, she immediately tried to temper his statement with caveats of her own, but he would hear none of her objections.
Their food was delivered a few minutes later, interrupting the playful banter they'd devolved into. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while they ate their first meals of the day, as neither of them had found the time nor the stomach to eat breakfast before the trial.
Hermione finished eating before him and watched his movements with a strange expression her face. Curious to hear the words he could sense building behind her warm gaze, he quickly shoved the last few forkfuls of food on his plate into his mouth, wondering what she was so hesitant to say out loud. When she noticed he was done with his meal, she tilted her head and regarded him with a speculative expression.
"We were photographed on our way out of the Ministry by no less than 8 photographers today," she said pensively, pausing to take another sip of her drink before continuing, "I counted."
Draco wasn't sure why her casual statement surprised him—I should have expected no less from the Golden Girl—but he found himself once again impressed by her observational skills. She continued voicing her train of thought.
"And as innocent as it was, our embrace before disapparating earlier will almost certainly raise some eyebrows. Of course, our behavior towards each other at the trial itself would have already caused a similar reaction, I'm sure. By tomorrow morning I expect photographs of us will most likely be making the rounds across printed media whether we like it or not. Your little declaration outside the Ministry just now all but guarantees it."
Draco sighed, knowing she was right. The same thing had occurred to him as soon as they'd landed in Hogsmeade, but he'd been reluctant to bring it up, unwilling to potentially destroy the easy rhythm that had developed between them so recently. He'd been prepared to face rejection days ago when the possibility of Hermione's romantic interest had seemed like an impossibility. But now that he knew she reciprocated his feelings? The thought of a rejection from her felt immense and unbearable in comparison. And yet, if push came to shove he knew he would force himself to swallow down that bitter pill if it was what she wanted. However, her next few words set his heart galloping in a completely different direction.
"Whether we actually choose to explore whatever this is between us or not, people will have already formed an opinion about us based on the unified front we presented at the trial today—and plenty of them will want to punish us for it for one twisted reason or another."
She paused, and seemed to search carefully for her next words.
"The thing is," she continued slowly, "It's clear we're both attracted to each other, as improbable as that sounds given our history. So why take that public recrimination laying down? Why not really give them something to grouse about?"
Draco was stunned by what he was hearing, the bustling sounds of the lunchtime crowd around them fading into the background as he processed her words. It was one thing for her to admit she liked him—it was far different for her to admit she wanted to explore something more.
"Are you saying you want to be in a relationship with me?"
Hermione nodded, her umber gaze shining with caution and courage, and the spark she'd lit in the depths of his heart ignited within his chest. He felt a swell of affection grow for her once he fully recognized the vulnerability and trust she was showing in even discussing any of this with him.
My brave little witch.
"It sounds ludicrous, of course," she responded frankly, "But as you said earlier—why should anyone's opinion of us matter? I like you Draco, and I'm so incredibly tired of denying myself a chance at happiness."
Draco felt full to bursting, and briefly wondered if this was all a dream. He'd had plenty of them featuring Hermione lately, but none like this. Even his psyche had refrained from imagining her suggesting the idea of a relationship with him, perhaps assuming it would be too outlandish of a possibility. He was thrilled that Hermione had proven even his subconscious wrong by taking matters into her own hands, and felt too euphoric to care about the many reasons why this wouldn't be nearly as easy as it sounded.
"Hermione," he said solemnly while reaching out to grab her left hand where it rested across from him, "I would love nothing more than to show you exactly what you've been missing out on."
His pompous words caused a huge smile to spread across her face, and Draco basked in the warmth and satisfaction of knowing he had been the cause of it.
"You're absolutely insufferable," she said rolling her eyes, but her huge smile remained intact.
"Love, you haven't seen anything yet," he teased after they'd paid for their meal and started their trek back to the castle.
I can't wait to show you how good we can be together.