Chapter 14

Hermione stood in front of a small Italian place overlooking the Thames river, the place just oozed of money, and Hermione was suddenly concerned her little black dress was not upscale enough. Seeing as she didn't have time to go home and change again, she took a deep breath and walked in. The foyer was dimly lit and beyond she saw chandeliers glitter among white tables. The restaurant was not very big at all. Hermione looked around, there couldn't be more than twenty, maybe thirty, tables in the entire place. Apparently, this was one of those restaurants where you had to know someone to get a table. She stepped up to the Maitre D', a posh looking man in a tuxedo.

"Reservation?" He asked looking over his glasses at her.

"Malfoy?" Her voice timid.

"Of course. This way, please." The man stepped out from behind his podium and led her to the back of the restaurant with large floor to ceiling windows. The view was stunning as the lights of London danced on the river. Sitting at a small table was Malfoy in a three piece charcoal suit and dark blue tie. He immediately stood up when he saw her.

Hermione nodded as the Maitre 'D showed her the table and pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and the man pushed her chair in for her and Malfoy sat back down after she had sat. "You look lovely," Malfoy complimented her.

"Thank you." She looked around the room again. "Malfoy, this place is extravagant," her voice concerned.

"Yes, I know, but the chef is amazing. He grew up in Italy so the food is very authentic, and he's rumored to be one of the best chefs in the world. Believe me, it's worth it." His voice nonchalant as he looked over the menu.

Hermione looked at her menu, it was one of those restaurants with multiple courses, and she wasn't entirely sure what some of it said. While it was all in English there seemed to be a lot of words she just didn't know, she assumed they were just different types of pasta and sauces that she was unfamiliar with.

Malfoy looked up to see Hermione concentrating very hard on the menu. "Not to be pretentious, but shall I order?"

A small rage roared inside of her, how dare he imply she didn't know what she wanted. She looked up at him and shot a nasty glare, returning to her menu. The truth being she had no idea what to order because she could barely read most of it. She nibbled on her lip, she didn't want to give Draco that power, she didn't want him to choose for her, yet she had no idea what she was looking at. She sighed, and looked up at him.

Malfoy smirked and beckoned the waiter over, and started listing off courses and then stopped to look at her. "Red or white?"

Hermione gave him a small look of confusion before catching on that he was referencing wine. "Depends on the food."

Malfoy smiled again and looked at the waiter, "And your finest Cab." The waiter nodded and walked off. "Glad to see you know how to drink wine."

Hermione's eye brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"You actually care what your wine is paired with. I've been on dates where they refuse to drink one or the other despite the food we're eating, so I'm just glad you care." He shrugged.

Hermione looked at him cautiously. "Thank you?" The waiter returned and poured a small amount of wine in to their glasses.

Malfoy took a sip and looked at Hermione expectantly, she followed suit and nodded the waiter finished his pours and left the bottle on the table as Malfoy requested. "So, shall we begin? I'm sure there is a list of things you want to ask me."

Hermione glared at him, but pulled out a small sheet of paper regardless and looked over the questions, deciding that she should start off small. There were some very heavy questions she wanted to ask and wasn't sure how willing he'd be first thing. "Did you always have a crush? You implied that you had feelings since we first met."

Malfoy thought for a moment. "Yes, it was true that I was attracted to you when we first met, when we were sorted in to separate houses I was disappointed. I hoped you would be a Slytherin."

"Fat chance." Hermione giggled in to her wine glass, sipping as he glared at her.

"I wanted to get to know you but Slytherin's are very exclusive," he continued, trying to ignore her jab. "And when you were sorted in to Gryffindor, I knew there was very little chance we could be friends, house rivalry and all. So I watched you from afar. It was a few weeks before a I found out that you were muggleborn and by then it had grown into a full blown crush." He looked at her carefully. "I was upset to find out that I would never be able to date you, because my parents would never allow it, but, of course, we always want what we can't have, so I spent pretty much our entire first year secretly pining after you. Probably one of the reasons I sought out Potter so much, so I could see you."

He smirked and took a sip of his wine. "When I went home for summer holiday, let's just say that my father was far from thrilled when he found out about my crush. So I went back second year and was horrible, in hopes that I would be able to antagonize you enough that I would stop liking you. And I guess it worked, I stopped pining after you and it wasn't until fourth year that you were even on my radar again. You were stunning in that dress at the Yule ball. I was not the only head you turned that night. You should have heard the boy's dormitory that night, it didn't matter that you were a muggleborn." Malfoy gave her a smirk, she turned red assuming these were not things to be said in polite company.

"I started harboring feelings again after that. It's actually why Pansy and I broke up that year, she knew something was amiss, but I refused to tell her." He shrugged again. "At that point, though, there were rumors about Voldemort's return and I couldn't risk myself for a stupid crush. So I blocked it out as much as I could, and when he did come back, well, I forced myself to hate you."

Hermione thought for a moment. "And you just hated me from then on?"

Malfoy sighed. "I wish it had been that easy. Our fifth year it was easy enough to keep it going, but when my father failed and I was punished, I was miserable and isolated. Then there was that one night sixth year, when you were on patrol, do you remember?"

Hermione's heart sank. She knew what he was talking about, she had been on prefect's rounds one night in their sixth year, and she had found him crying in the moaning Myrtel's bathroom after hours.

"That night when you were so kind to me after everything that I had done and said to you, it ignited something in me again." His voice was low. "But I was still so terrified of Voldemort that I couldn't see passed him. I thought there was no way he would lose that battle, Potter was just a kid and he was the Dark Lord. By then I had become very good at Occlumency, so I could protect thoughts from him but it was still terrifying to want someone like you." He took another sip. "So, once again, I repressed. Then you just didn't show up for seventh year so I moved on. Or at least I thought I did until you and the two twits were caught." Malfoy's look was hard as he slowly swirled the wine in his glass.

"Is that why you didn't tell them who we were?" Hermione's voice was soft and delicate, as if she was afraid she would break him with her words.

Malfoy gave a weak smile, still watching his wine move around his glass. "I was a coward that day. I could have done something, but I just stood there and watched as she did that too you." The waiter arrived with their first course, waiters always had incredibly bad timing when it came to serious conversation. They nodded and thanked him.

"Malfoy, there wasn't much you could have done," Hermione told him after the waiter left them.

Malfoy looked up at her, his eyes disbelieving. "There was plenty I could have done. I could have stopped her, could have begged her not to hurt you." Malfoy looked at Hermione's arm that was holding her wine glass and, sure enough, the word 'Mudblood' was still carved into her arm, barely noticeable with the angle her arm was, but he could see the scar tissue of the top of the word. His heart clenched with guilt.

Hermione took his hand into hers. "Draco, that woman was a psychopath. There was nothing you could have done to stop her that wouldn't have gotten yourself killed."

Malfoy's heart clenched again, that was the first time she had ever used his first name and the way it rolled off her lips made his heart want to stop. "How can you be so okay with it?" He wondered.

Hermione smiled and picked up her glass, letting go of Malfoy's hand, and took a sip. "We'll just say lots of therapy."

Draco's heart sank a little when she let go of his hand. "Well, I don't know if there are enough therapists in the world to deal with the issues I have."

They continued with lighter chat as they ate their first course, which had been amazing. When they finished, Malfoy pressed on with his story.

"After the three of you escaped, Voldemort only just spared our lives, he was livid. And I was allowed to return to Hogwarts with the explicit instructions to murder you two on sight and to capture Harry if the three of you showed up. Which eventually you did, but the guilt was overwhelming so when we found you in the room of requirement I was sure I was going to have to kill you. But I couldn't, so I mostly threw off Crabbe and Goyle." Malfoy scoffed. "And then I thought I was going to die when you guys took off on the brooms. But once again you shocked me and saved us. Well, two of us. After that, I was trying to remain low key, I didn't want to fight against your side because I knew it was wrong, but if Voldemort won and it turned out that I was fighting with the other side I would have been murdered. But Potter did it."

Their second course arrived and it was just as delectable as the first. Hermione was amazed that food could be this good, and the fact that Malfoy had ordered food she was truly enjoying was surprising, though there were still three courses to go. "So why not say something eighth year?" She asked, putting her silverware down to be cleared before the next dish.

"Well I'm pretty sure you were with Weaselbee at that time, and I was working through my own things at that point," he said simply. "Believe me, it did cross my mind, you were trying so hard to be civil that year that I thought I maybe had a chance, but I was still struggling with my condition and my entire family was being put on trial so I had other things to think about."

Hermione nodded, that all made sense. "So why now then?"

Malfoy thought for a long moment. "Well, the first night I let my instincts get away from me, that paired with alcohol, my self control around you was the lowest it's ever been. I spent the next few days trying to decide how to handle it. Now correct me if I'm wrong but when I kissed you that night you didn't fight it, which led me to believe that there may have been a chance."

Hermione contemplated that on their third dish, and while it was exceptional, she was too consumed in Malfoy's point to really appreciate it. "Honestly, I don't know, Malfoy." She finished the last few bites, they had spent this course in silence as Hermione thought of what to say. "You haven't said anything wrong yet, and I'm just apprehensive about all of this."

Malfoy chuckled. "I'm unsure too. I mean, I have been attracted to you in the past and I am once again, but we have so much history and most of it is bad."

Hermione nodded. She looked down at her paper. He had covered a lot of the questions that she wanted answered with the first question. She looked at him apprehensively. "Why didn't you go full Death Eater?"

Malfoy nodded, he was not surprised by this question. "Honestly, Voldemort never wanted me, even though I was pureblood. After Greyback contaminated me, I was unworthy to bear his mark. He still wanted me to do his bidding and obey, but I was not good enough. That's when it clicked in my head that all of it was wrong, the murder, torture for supremacy. I was unworthy of Voldemort because of something that was forced on me, much like muggleborns and muggles." He took a long drink. " I also realized that blood is blood, no mater who it came out of it was still red. That no matter blood purity, everyone reacts the same when crucio-ed, they still contort and scream in pain. When faced with an Avada, everyone begs for mercy."

Draco stretched out on his bed, replaying the nights progress in his head. Hermione had seemed a lot less adverse to him after dinner, which gave him small hope. She even used his first name, he had never heard his name roll off of someone lips with such a softness. Draco. He smiled. Merlin, he hoped she would say it more, but the words that had followed his name, those were the important ones. For whatever reason, Hermione did not hold it against him. She didn't blame him for standing like a coward and watch her be tortured. Draco mulled over this. But why? Now he desperately wished he had asked her. He breathed deeply. Hermione was an enigma to him. Maybe that's what the good side just did: they forgave, unlike his side who held grudges and hurt people for mistakes.

There was something that bothered Draco about their date, however. After dinner Draco suggested that they walk around a park nearby and, much to his surprise, Hermione had agreed. As they strolled on the moon light path, the nagging feeling came back. The same one he had felt why he had been playing Qudditch, like someone was watching them, more specifically him. Draco kept looking over his shoulder, which of course Hermione noticed. He waved her off, not wanting to ruin how well the night was going.

When they ran out of park to stroll they found a secluded area and apparated back to her house. Once again, Hermione surprised him when she tentatively leaned forward and softly kissed him on the cheek. Draco swore his heart was about to fly out of his chest as her lips caressed his skin. This witch enchanted and bewildered him at every turn. She thanked him for a lovely evening and left him standing on her stoop. Draco smiled deeper and shook his head. Maybe, for the first time in his life, something was going his way and, dare he think it, maybe he'd be truly happy.

Monsters don't deserve to be happy. He growled and punched the empty bed beside him. Fuck.