Right, so I realised just now I skipped a chapter last week... whoops. My sincere apologies. This is what was supposed to be posted.
Hermione's flat, Sunday evening
Hermione sat in her favourite chair by the window, musing over her time with Draco. It had been stiff and awkward, but there had been a few moments where it was almost… amicable. And there was something about him that she couldn't quite place. Like he was missing something, some vital component, but he was doing his best to carry on as if nothing was wrong.
She thought back to what Larry had written on his notepad. He seems sad. Like something bad happened and it's still eating at him. Having seen glimpses twice of his distress, although he had tried his best to conceal it, Hermione was inclined to agree. He did seem sad. However, she no longer thought his sadness had anything to do with his poor choices in their final years at Hogwarts. No, it ran deeper than that. She was loath to admit it, but she was intrigued.
Rising from her seat, Hermione moved over her desk and sat, pulling parchment and quill toward her. She penned two identical letters, addressing one to Oliver and one to Charlie, simply explaining that the doormen for the nightclub she sang at had been injured in an incident and were unable to work, leaving the owner short. She knew she was asking a lot, she wrote, but would they be available to cover a few shifts over the course of the next month to six weeks as a favour to her? If they were available, she hoped to organise an informal catch up later in the week between themselves and any other people able to help, in order to organise a roster which would suit everybody's availability.
Sealing and addressing the letters, she rose again and wandered over to the corner of the room where a spotted tawny owl sat regally on a perch. "Athena, can you deliver each of these letters for me, please?" she asked. The owl hooted gently in response and Hermione tied one letter to each leg before moving back over to the window and opening it, allowing Athena to soar into the darkening sky.
Hermione felt confident both men would be willing and able to help, but she still worried about how Oliver would react to the potential presence of Malfoy, Nott and Zabini. It was for this reason she had neglected to mention who the potential 'other people' might be. And anyway, she told herself. There's always a chance either or both of Malfoy's friends will be unable or unwilling to help. She shook her head. It was a futile hope. She didn't know much about the personal relationship Malfoy had with the two men, but she also knew house loyalties ran deep. They were unlikely to refuse him completely.
She sighed and headed to the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate, thoughts of Malfoy in her head again. This time, her mind slipped back to how little she knew about the post-Hogwarts Draco. Frowning in concentration, Hermione tried to recall if she had either heard or read about what Draco had been doing with his time since the trials. Try as she might, nothing came to mind and she huffed in frustration.
She was certain he didn't work at the Ministry, at least. She had been employed there since graduation, first as an Auror and then as an assistant to the current Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. If Malfoy had worked for the Ministry in any capacity, she would have heard. She certainly didn't read much about him in the Daily Prophet. Although - she let out a derisive snort as she remembered - there was occasional mention of him, seen drunk and disorderly in public, often in the company of an equally drunk and disorderly witch (or witches).
The kettle began to whistle, startling Hermione out of her reverie. She added hot water and milk to her drink and took it back to her dependable old chair. Picking up the latest Lee Child book, Echo Burning, she settled back into the comfortable cushions and began to read.
She was interrupted some time later by a tapping at her window. She glanced at her watch and saw it was nearly ten. Strange, she thought. I wouldn't have expected Athena back so soon. Crossing the room, she was surprised to see an imposing but beautiful eagle owl perched on the windowsill. She swung the window out further so it could enter, and it climbed inside. It was too big to easily spread its wings in her small sitting room, so it hopped across the floor and jumped up onto the arm of the sofa. The owl extended its leg, to which a letter was tied, and hooted at her impatiently.
"Hm. You wouldn't be Malfoy's owl, by any chance?" Hermione enquired, amused. The owl tossed its head haughtily in response, causing her to snigger. The animal definitely reminded her of the Draco she was more accustomed to.
Approaching the couch, she untied the letter and examined the script. It was in an elegant copperplate hand that she recognised. Yes, this was definitely Malfoy's writing - she had seen it enough times at Hogwarts to be sure. Hermione ran her fingers over the ink, tracing the shape of the letters as they formed her name.
She was interrupted suddenly by a large wing slapping her in the face. "Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly. The owl stared balefully at her before looking pointedly around the room. "Treats? Yes, I have some. But there's no need to be rude!" Hermione huffed.
She moved across to her bookshelf and retrieved the jar of treats, taking a handful and bringing them back to the owl. It gulped them down, then regarded her appraisingly before jumping back down to the floor, hopping across the room and out the window, where it took off somewhat clumsily into the night. Turning the letter over again, she slowly opened it, a mix of apprehension, curiosity, and another emotion - was it anticipation? - tingling in her belly.
Malfoy Manor, Sunday Evening
"What's this all about, Draco?" Blaise inquired as he lazed gracefully over a chair in the sitting room off Draco's study.
Theo, who was leaning casually against a wall, nodded in agreement. "Yes, tell us already. Or do you plan to just make us watch you pace all evening?" he sniped.
Draco turned to his two friends. When he had arrived home after having tea with Hermione, he immediately sent Aeneas, his eagle owl, out to deliver urgent letters to Theo and Blaise asking them to come to the manor for dinner that evening, as he needed to ask them both a favour. They had exchanged the necessary small talk during the meal before moving to the sitting room for drinks. Which had led them to the present situation.
"I need your help," he stated simply. "Larry and John are injured and unable to work for the foreseeable immediate future, and the club needs reliable people on the door in their absence."
"And you want us to,what? Take over their position?" Theo frowned.
"Wait, wait, wait!," exclaimed Blaise, holding up a hand. "What's going on? Who are Larry and John? Why can't they work? What club? Someone get me up to speed, here!" He glared at Draco before turning to Theo. "Do you have any idea what he's babbling on about?"
Theo sighed. "I do, unfortunately. It's a rather long story. I'm afraid if I let Drake tell it, we really will be here all night—" he turned to look at Draco "—do you mind if I give him the details?"
Draco sighed. He knew Theo was right. His mind was so muddled over the day's events, he could barely string together a coherent thought. All he could think about was Hermione's large amber eyes which seemed to shine with whichever emotion she was feeling. He wordlessly gestured to Theo to go ahead.
"Right. So, a few weeks go, we were out on the piss and Drake got into a scrap with some muggle at a club. He was getting dragged out as a woman was singing and insisted on going back to find out who she was. He managed to work his way back in, with me supervising, and we found out the singer was Granger—"
"Hermione Granger? Swotty, know-it-all, bushy-haired, Potter's-best-mate Granger?" Blaise interrupted incredulously.
"Yes, that Granger," Theo responded impatiently. "So Drake started going to listen to her sing every weekend, and he somehow made friends with the owner and the doormen, and he was sending Granger gifts anonymously every time he came in—"
"Sending her gifts? What for? I thought he hated her—" Blaise turned to address Draco directly. "I thought you hated her. Why would you go and listen to her sing? Why would you send her gifts?"
"Blaise, are you going to let me finish filling you in, or you going to interrupt me with a barrage of questions every few seconds?" Theo sniped.
"Sorry, sorry." Blaise held up his hands in surrender. "I do have a of of questions, though."
"Well save them until I'm finished, will you?" Blaise nodded in acquiescence and gestured for Theo to continue. "Right. So Granger found out it was Draco sending the gifts and she wasn't happy. She confronted him and indicated she didn't feel comfortable with him being there. That was last weekend. Last night the two muggle men who manage the door to the club were attacked and the establishment robbed in an organised raid. They were injured, as Draco said, and—" Theo looked at Draco for confirmation "—I'm guessing the owner doesn't have anyone immediately available to cover the door for the duration?" Draco nodded in agreement. "So he's called us here to ask if we will help him by helping the muggle owner."
Blasie wrinkled his nose in distaste. "That doesn't sound like much fun. Why would you go to so much trouble, and pull us into it—" he waved his arm to indicate Theo "—just for a muggle club?"
"For Hermione," Draco answered quietly. "The club and the owner and doormen are important to her. The owner is a good man. He gave me a second chance and I've gotten to know him. He works hard and doesn't deserve to have something like this happen to him."
Blaise stared at Draco, comprehension dawning on his face. "You like her, don't you? You've got a thing for Granger!" He smirked, amused.
"I do not have a thing!" Draco responded fiercely. "I like her, yes. But it isn't so superficial as a thing."
"Whatever." Blaise shrugged. "Unlike some of you, I don't discriminate when it comes to women, he grinned lavisciously. "And they are lining up down the street to spend time with me, for my charm as well as my money."
"I'm well aware of what my attitude towards certain women has been in the past, Blaise," Draco responded snippily. "Can I count on you to help me, or not?"
"Do many women go to this club?" Blaise asked thoughtfully.
"I guess so." Draco shrugged. "I never really paid much attention to the other patrons."
"Okay." He smirked. "Count me in. What do I have to do?"
"Just stand at the door, greet patrons and minimise trouble. Don't let obviously drunk people in. I'm not sure what else there is to it, but Hermione probably will."
"So she knows you planned to ask us to help?" Theo interjected.
"Well, yes. Actually, I had tea with her this afternoon."
Theo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How in Merlin's name did you manage to swing that?" he asked, intrigued.
"I've been asking myself the same question," Draco replied quietly. "I went to check on Larry and John in the hospital and she was arriving as I was leaving. I waited around until she came out, invited her to tea, and she said yes." He shrugged. "I had been so sure she would say no I almost bolted from the building."
"And she doesn't have a problem with a couple of Slytherins around her muggle club? She doesn't think we'll try to harm them?" sniped Blaise.
"Of course not." Draco frowned. "She's more worried about what Oliver Wood will think of a couple of Slytherins around her muggle club."
"Wood?" Blaise snorted. "That colossal twat? He thought he was the king of Quidditch."
Behind him, Theo also snorted back laughter. "I take it she wants to bring Wood into it?"
Draco nodded. "And Weasley."
"Which one?" chimed Theo and Blaise together.
"Charlie. The one who works with dragons in Romania."
"Well thank Merlin for that." Blaise sighed. "I thought you were going to say Ron."
Draco laughed. "Hermione was quite adamant she didn't want to involve him. Or Potter, for that matter."
"Are you sure we're talking about Hermione Granger?" Blaise questioned skeptically. "I thought the golden trio—" he emphasised this with heavy sarcasm "—were never apart."
"She thinks they aren't suitable. Potter's too weedy-looking and Weasley loses his temper too easily." Draco tried his best to restrain his smirk.
Blaise sniggered. "Okay. I think I can handle Wood and the dragon-tamer Weasley." Turning to Theo, he asked "What about you, Nott? Keen for a laugh?"
Theo frowned. "I don't know. Susan would probably prefer I'm not away all weekend for the next couple of months."
"Hermione and I thought we could all get together and organise a roster so that situation is avoided," Draco explained.
"Oh, come on Theo. Where's your house spirit?" Blaise teased.
Theo grumbled to himself, raising his eyes heavenward, and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine," he conceded with the air of a man who knows it is hopeless to refuse. "I'll help, too."
Draco grinned and clapped Theo on the shoulder. "Thanks mate. I really appreciate it." Turning to acknowledge Blaise, he continued. "Thank you both."
"Just make sure you tell us all about it when you finally get Granger into your bed," Blaise replied, giving Draco a lewd wink. "She is a Gryffindor after all, and in my experience with that particular house, the lioness roars loudest between the sheets."
Draco couldn't help reddening at the thought of having Hermione in his bed. Thus far, he had barely dared hope she would one day allow him to kiss her, let alone anything else. "Do you ever think of anything other than sex, Blaise?" he sniped.
"Of course I do!" Blaise retorted, feigning indignation. "I think about food, and fashion, and how devilishly handsome and successful I am."
Theo shook his head in exasperation and moved to gather his cloak, which had been slung carelessly over the back of a chair, and glanced at Draco. "Just let me know what's happening once you and Granger work out a time, and we'll be there."
Blaise leapt elegantly up from the chair he had been draped across. "That's my cue to leave, too. I've an early start in the morning."
Draco escorted his two friends to the foyer, where they bid their farewells before Theo and Blaise departed via the floo.
Once they had left, Draco paced the silent and empty sitting room, debating with himself. Should he owl Hermione now, or wait until morning? He glanced at the clock over the mantel. It was almost nine-thirty. She would likely still be awake, but would it be an imposition to disturb her at this hour? What if she had gone to bed early? He tugged at his hair and groaned in frustration and anxiety. What he needed was a second opinion. "Pria!"
With a pop, Pria appeared before him. "Master Malfoy calls Pria?" she inquired.
"Pria, should I owl Miss Granger this evening to tell her Theo and Blaise are willing to help, or wait until the morning? Do you think it would be inappropriate to contact her tonight?"
Pria looked uncomfortable. "It is not Pria's place to tell Master Malfoy when he should owl Miss Granger," she replied nervously.
"I'm giving you permission, Pria. I-I don't know what to do," he admitted.
Pria studied Draco's face carefully, her big eyes contemplative and her head slightly tilted to one side. After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke. "Pria thinks Master Malfoy should listen to what his heart tells him."
Draco smiled. "Thank you, Pria. That will be all."
With a bow, the elf disappeared, and Draco was alone once more. He quickly exited the sitting room, moving down the hallway and up the stairs, and entered his study. Sitting at his desk, he took parchment, ink and quill from a drawer. He deliberated for several minutes before writing,
Dear Hermione,
Both Theo and Blaise have agreed to help. They will make themselves available at whatever time suits all involved.
He paused, wanting to write more but not sure what to say. He tapped the quill nervously against the edge of the inkpot several times, thinking. Then he added:
I very much enjoyed having tea with you earlier. I plan to visit John and Larry again tomorrow afternoon after work, around four-thirty. If you are intending to visit them around this time also, perhaps I can take you to dinner afterwards?
Draco frowned. Was that enough? Too much? Too little? He sighed and looked at the clock. If he didn't send the letter now, it really would be too late.
Moving to the open window, he called for his eagle owl. "Aeneas!" The owl preferred to roam the grounds of the manor, rather than be confined indoors. He came and went as he pleased, and this independence could be somewhat of an inconvenience at times. "Where is that blasted owl?" Draco grumbled to himself. "Aeneas!"
After several more moments with no sign of his wayward owl he turned, muttering, to a shelf on the cabinet where he kept a jar of the owl treats Aeneas preferred. Returning to the window, he shook them loudly, looking all the while into the darkness. Suddenly a shape swooped out of the gloom, aiming directly at his head, and Draco instinctively ducked, feeling the air around him move as large wings swished above.
Standing again, he observed the large owl perched on the back of his high-backed chair, staring at him in clear disapproval. In one claw was part of what appeared to be a rat, which Aeneas slowly lifted to his beak. Maintaining eye contact with Draco, the owl proceeded to slowly finish his dinner, dropping small bits of rat entrails onto the seat below.
Draco grimaced. "Must you do that, Aeneas? Look at the mess you've made of my chair." Aeneas clearly had no regard whatsoever for the state of said chair, and fluffed himself in response, causing loose feathers and dirt to drift down and join the mess.
Sighing, Draco picked up the letter and moved over to Aeneas to tie it on. Aeneas promptly nipped at his finger. "What now?" Draco grumbled.
Aeneas glared down at the treat jar, momentarily forgotten in Draco's other hand. Shaking his head, he opened the jar and fed the owl several treats. "One of these days, I'm going to donate you to Hogwarts and you can slum it in the owlery with all the plain barn owls," he threatened. Aeneas looked at him contemptuously and held out his foot so Draco could tie the letter to it. "Now take this letter to Hermione Granger."
Without any further acknowledgement, Aeneas took flight, whacking Draco in the face with a wing in the process, and sailed across the room and out into the night.
It wasn't until he had gone that Draco realised Hermione's owl might not be available to send a reply, and he should have instructed Aeneas to wait for a response. Groaning in frustration, he moved to sit in his chair. Feeling something squash beneath him, he suddenly remembered the leavings his owl had so thoughtfully scattered over the seat and swore loudly.
Standing, he wandlessly cast scourgify charms on both the chair and the seat of his trousers before resuming his previous position. Draco opened a drawer beside him and removed several files, intending to distract himself with work for once instead of alcohol. At first he had difficulty focusing, his mind drifting back to what Hermione's answer would be, but eventually he was able to lose himself in his reports.
St Thomas Hospital, Muggle London, Monday afternoon
At promptly at four-thirty the next afternoon, Draco arrived at the hospital with a small wooden box box in his hand, and made his way through the building until he reached the floor where John and Larry were recuperating. He felt the feelings of anxiety begin to bubble up in his chest again as he entered the corridor leading to their room. Trying to remain calm, he knocked and entered the room. Glancing around, his stomach sank slightly to see Hermione was not there, but then he remembered the box in his hand and decided it was probably better that she was absent..
"What a sight for sore eyes! We're goin' mad with boredom in 'ere, 'ain't we Larry?"
Draco turned and smiled at Larry and John, who were sitting up in bed and grinning at him. Well, John was grinning. Larry only managed a grimace, thanks to his recently wired jaw. "How are you both?" he asked. "How is your pain?"
"We've both seen better days, but we'll come right," John replied optimistically.
Nodding, Draco set down the box he had been holding on the bedside cabinet between the two men. "What time do rounds usually occur?" he asked quietly.
John checked the clock on the wall above the door, then said, "About five-thirty. Nurse brings our dinner and meds, pokes and prods us a bit, then buggers off again."
Draco grinned and gently sat on Larry' bed. "Excellent. I bought a sampler for you both to try."
Larry picked up his pad and scribbled, then passed it to Draco. Looks a bit small to have biscuits in it, it read.
With a wicked expression, Draco opened the box. "It's a different kind of sampler." Lying within the box were eight nip-sized bottles of alcohol in two neat rows. Larry grunted happily and slapped Draco on the back, while John just laughed.
"You bloody ratbag. If the nurse finds out about that, we're in big trouble."
"The crime is getting caught." Draco winked in response.
Larry wrote on his pad again, turning it to show both Draco and John. I like this one, it said. He put down the pad and indicated toward the box, asking silently to see it. Draco handed it over and Larry enthusiastically examined the options before selecting a bottle of Famous Grouse whiskey. He plucked a plastic straw from a cup that had been sitting on the bedside cabinet, unscrewed the cap from the bottle and stuck the straw in.
"Don't hold out now, giz a look!" John chided good-naturedly, and Larry handed over the box. John selected a bottle of Jameson and unscrewed the label. "You're going to join us now, aren't you?" he invited, looking at Draco and offering him the box. Draco selected a bottle of Johnnie Walker and unscrewed the cap.
"Cheers!" John toasted, and the three men clinked their bottles and drank. Larry consumed his with amazing precision, deftly inserting the straw into the gap where the nurse had given him his medication the day before and making the liquid disappear.
Suddenly the door opened and they guiltily tried to hide the evidence. "Hello!" Hermione's voice trilled. She entered the room and stopped short, staring at the three men suspiciously. "What are you lot up to?" she asked, frowning.
"Ummm…" said Draco, surreptitiously attempting to slide the empty bottle of liquor into his trouser pocket.
"Just talking about football, love," John added cherrily.
Hermione, clearly not buying it, strode over to the beds and spied the box sitting open on John's bed. "Alcohol? What's the meaning of this?" She rounded on Draco, her eyes flashing. "I suppose this is your doing?" she snapped furiously. "What on earth were you thinking, Malfoy?"
Draco found himself frozen, quite intimidated by Hermione's piercing glare and tone. "Uh... I-well—" he stuttered. Merlin's beard, she's scarier than ever! his panicked mind gibbered. What if she punches me again? Then a worse thought occurred to him. What if she never wants to speak to or associate with me again?
"It's my fault, love." John said quietly.
Draco's head whipped toward him in perfect synchronicity with Hermione's. .
"Your fault?" Hermione questioned.
"Wait—" Draco pleaded at the same time.
"Explain yourself," Hermione demanded, hands on hips, as she fixed John with a hard stare.
John looked slightly shamefaced as he explained. "Well, Larry 'ere kept dreamin' of whiskey, and it 'ad an effect on me, too. A man gets a cravin' for a good nip, you see. We know we're not supposed to 'ave anythin' to drink, but Larry's in 'ere at least one more night and I might be lookin' at two if the doc doesn't like the look of me leg." He glanced at Hermione, an apologetic expression on his face. "I asked Draco 'ere to smuggle us in a box of the little bottles, so we could have a sneaky nightcap."
Hermione rounded back on Draco. "Is that true?" she asked.
Draco felt a subtle nudge against his leg, which he took to be a sign from Larry to go with the story. Thankfully Hermione did not seem to have noticed the movement, so focussed was she on boring her amber brown eyes into his grey ones.
Not trusting himself to speak more than a few words, he nodded and managed to croak, "Er, yes. That's right."
"And you didn't think so say no?" she challenged.
"Go easy on 'im, love," John interrupted. "He did say if we needed anything we should ask. I was the one who took liberties with that offer. If you're goin' to be cross with anyone, it should be me for askin'—" he paused, and glanced sideways at Larry "—and Larry over there for puttin' the idea in my 'ead in the first place."
"Oi!" Larry objected, muffled by his rigid jaw.
Gasping, Hermione momentarily forgot her displeasure and exclaimed "Larry! It's good to hear you speak!"
"It hurts a bit," Larry explained. "Face still sore. Be easier in a few days."
"Well don't go overdoing it then," Hermione responded in a bossy tone, although her voice had softened. "Let yourself heal up a bit more." Turning back to Draco, she appeared sheepish. "I apologise for jumping to conclusions," she said softly.
"It's no bother." Draco responded, relieved now the heat was off.
Frowning again, Hermione looked sternly from John to Larry. "But no more cheeky requests, you hear? I'm sure you're not supposed to take alcohol with your medications."
"No more cheeky requests," John agreed. "But we've all 'ad one. Why don't you partake as well?" he encouraged, winking at her conspiratorially and indicating the box.
Hermione huffed. "Absolutely not! It would set a poor example."
"But we're uneven now," John rationalised. "You know we're just goin' to divvy up the last bottles between us anyway, and if there are only four left it avoids disagreements."
Hermione's mouth twitched as she tried to keep a straight face, and Draco's stomach did a little flip in response. He had no idea why that little tick affected him so, but out of her many facial expressions it was one of his favourites.
Sighing in mock resignation, Hermione pulled the box toward her and examined the remaining bottles. Selecting a bottle of Canadian Club, she unscrewed the top and downed the contents quickly.
Stashing the empty bottle in her handbag, she removed a packet of gum, removed a piece and began to chew. "How do you intend to remove the alcohol from your breath?" she asked the men. They stared at her, clearly having not considered this problem. Smirking, she stood. I'll be right back." With that, she exited the room.
Draco quickly turned to John. "You didn't have to save my ass like that," he said gratefully. "But thank you all the same. I thought she was going to punch me again."
"It's no bother, lad." John smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Can't 'ave you gettin' into her bad books again now, can we?" Looking interested, he asked, "what's this about punching you again?"
"I made her exceptionally angry at school, once." Draco explained. "She stormed up to me and punched me square in the jaw. It was completely unexpected." he rubbed the spot as he recollected. "It hurt like hell." John and Larry both chuckled in response.
Hermione returned several minutes later with a bottle of orange juice. "I got this from the vending machine down the corridor," she explained. It will conceal the smell." Opening the bottle, she poured it between Larry's and John's cups and handed one to each man. "I considered leaving you hanging, considering you're an accomplice—" she smirked at Draco "—but I'll let you have a piece of gum instead." Reaching back into her handbag, she removed the gum for a second time and handed it to Draco, who nodded his thanks and took a piece.
Barely ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door and the nurse walked in, wheeling a small trolley. "Dinner's a bit early tonight!" she stated energetically.
Larry sighed mournfully and turned his hand to his notepad once again, before passing it around the group. I'm sick of liquid food already, the note said. I would kill for a burger and chips.
Hermione clucked in sympathy and gave Larry a hug, while Draco clapped him gently on the shoulder.
"Right, I should probably be off and let you get on with it," Draco stated, coming to his feet. "Let me know how you both go with your release date from this prison."
His comment earned him a frown from the nurse. Draco pretended not to notice, instead turning to farewell the men lying in the beds either side of him.
"I should be going, too," added Hermione. She carefully hugged each man in turn and placed a kiss upon their cheeks.
Heading to the door together, Hermione and Draco paused at the threshold to look back and wave before stepping out into the corridor.
Outside in the corridor, they stood awkwardly together. Draco took a deep breath and asked the question that had been plaguing him the previous evening. "Will you join me for dinner tonight?"
His heart leapt when she bit her lip and nodded.
"Yes, thank you. I'd like that." She paused, looking up at him. "I would have replied last night, but I had already sent my owl to deliver letters to Oliver and Charlie."
They started walking toward the lifts. "I'm sorry. I should have thought to ask Aeneas to wait for your reply."
Her eyes lit up. "His name is Aeneas? How lovely! What made you choose such a name?"
Draco shrugged. "I like Greek Mythology." By now they had reached the lifts. "Where would you like to go for dinner?"
The doors dinged and they stepped in. "Do you like Indian food?" Hermione asked.
"Never tried it. What's it like?" Draco replied.
Hermione gasped in shock. "You've-you've never tried Indian food? Get out of here!"
He smirked. "I'm a wizard who doesn't often frequent the muggle world and so my experience with muggle things is, as you'd expect, limited."
They reached the ground floor and stepped out of the lift, making their way toward the exit.
Hermione snorted in amusement. "Except when it come to mocktails and bars, you mean."
Draco coloured in embarrassment at being caught out liking the colourful and creative drinks, and Hermione giggled at his discomfort.
"There's nothing wrong with liking mocktails." She smiled at him. "And Lloyd is like our very own Elmo McElroy, minus the explosive concoctions. We call him the mix master." Draco looked confused, and Hermione explained. "It's an action movie about a man who is a master chemist. He was creating new drugs for criminals and has a propensity for creating chaos and swearing. It's brilliant."
By now they had exited the building and were standing on the street. "The restaurant where I usually go is on the other side of the city. We'll need transportation," Hermione said, looking at him meaningfully as muggles moved busily around them. Draco nodded in understanding and they walked to the apparition point they had used the previous day.
On arrival, Hermione offered her arm. "It'll be quicker if you side-along with me. Can't have you getting lost." She smirked at Draco, who sniffed.
"I'll have you know I have an excellent navigational ability," he retorted, thrusting his chin forward. Hermione simply rolled her eyes in response and continued to hold her arm extended.
Draco took it and they swirled out of sight.