Chapter Thirteen: A Do-Over

After an internal debate that lasted until day before tryouts, Draco decided not to captain Slytherin's Quidditch team that year. The decision brought a rousing rebuttal from his dorm mates and former team mates alike, but he remained firm on the decision. There was simply not enough time this year, and besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

One of which included what his Godfather droned about as he stood before their Defense class, but Draco found his attention drawn elsewhere. Like to his Housemates' more interesting and lively discussion beside him.

"There's a weekend trip to Hogsmeade coming up," his dorm mate, Theo Nott whispered to Blaise Zabini. "I'll ask her to escort me during Study Hall this afternoon."

"As if she'll say yes to you, Nott," Blaise rolled his eyes at the lame attempt.

"Tempt a bookworm with the possibility of a new book, and she's bound to say yes," Theo smugly gave back, as if he were the only one to think of such a brilliant idea.

The term caught Draco's attention. There was only one bookworm he was aware of in their year.

"I heard Granger's already going steady with Weasley," Blaise countered back to Theo. Draco gagged to himself at the suggestion.

"That's what his sister wants you to believe," Theo whispered back.

"Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott, since you obviously know how to cast a non-verbal spell, please share how you mastered such an ability. No?" Their Defense professor asked as the two teens shook their heads. "Then I suggest you join the rest of the class on page 160," Severus Snape warned the Slytherins with a lifted brow before returning to the front of the class.

But as soon as he had moved away, the two picked up where they left off. All Slytherins knew they had two more warnings before Snape would start deducting points. He was a fellow Snake after all.

Draco butt into the middle of the conversation as it continued in hushed whispers. "You forget Granger's station now. She'll never settle for a Weasley. She has more money than five pathetic generations of Weasleys combined," he sneered, wanting to put them in their place with the ultimate trump card. The fact was the rumor mill was aflame with Granger's love life bothered him to no end, but he would not divulge their betrothal if she was not ready. Her father was their Minister and he did not want to start that relationship off on the wrong foot, after all.

"Which coupled with her father's position, and rather pleasing debut into puberty, makes her the cream of the crop. Or hadn't you noticed, mate?" Theo smirked to the blond.

Draco frowned at them both, "Of course I've noticed." Any hot-blooded male had to be blind, deaf, or dumb not to notice Hermione's subtle, but noticeable shift in attractiveness. It was unexplainable, but she was suddenly more than what she had been before: more engaging, more striking, more mesmerizing. Apparently watching her reach for books on the selves of the library had become a favorite pass-time for males in their year. And wizards, Draco glanced between his two friends as prime examples, wizards were falling over themselves at a chance of a date.

The bloody chit had worked them all in a frenzy, and worse, she seemed not to notice the aftermath left in her wake. She turned down dates to Hogsmeade at mealtimes, and brushed off would-be suitors with a polite, but firm smile that had simpletons fawning over her even more. The Boy-Wonder and Weasel acted as her personal bodyguards, but even Draco did not miss the lingering touches on her back as one red-headed sod led her through a throng of new worshippers. Most of the male population had been twitter-pated with his affianced.

It was enough to make Draco sick.

But he wouldn't dare name the feeling as envy. The fact that these fools drooled over a foregone conclusion was the only thing that kept him sane. With a steadying breath, Draco continued, "But like I said, Granger's head too far in a book to notice the obvious attempts. You'd had better luck with Greengrass or Parkinson," Draco tried to deflect attention from the popular bookworm.

"Mr. Malfoy," a voice drawled above them. All three looked up to see their Defense professor had returned to their desk. "Your classmates and I are riveted to learn what you Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini have discovered. Please do not leave us waiting."

Draco inclined his head respectfully to his Godfather. "Nothing to share here, Professor."

Snape clipped, "Then I insist you three shut it, or it'll be detention this weekend." That had the boys casting their eyes downward, feigning chastisement. Once he moved sufficiently away, they promptly brought up the conversation again.

Draco lingered behind after class had dismissed, feigning interest in a set of dark artefacts near the class windows. His Godfather certainly had eclectic tastes.

"Since you are proficiently on your way in non-verbal spells, I gather there is something else on your mind?"

Predictably, Severus had appeared behind him as soon as the classroom had emptied.

Draco replaced the torturous looking instrument back on the shelf. "Everything is going swimmingly. Does he know?" he asked harmlessly, turning to face his black-clad professor and Godfather.

Severus regarded Draco quietly for a moment, before crossing his arms. "He is aware. He is loath to leave you to such an assignment alone."

"He thinks I would fail?" Draco sneered in disdain.

"He thinks you need assistance," Severus clarified.

Offended, Draco mirrored Severus' stance. Arms crossed, he countered, "And you agree with him?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

Haughtily, Draco replied, "Honestly, Severus. Your lack of faith wounds me. I'll show you both, then." Draco picked up his bag, signaling the conversation had come to a close. "Tell him that for me, will you?"

"And the offer of assistance?" Severus pressed, firmly.

"I'd had better luck recruiting Granger for the task," Draco sniffed.

Severus eyed his charge and Godson wearily, "And just how is Ms. Granger?"

Draco shrugged, looking away. "How should I bloody know?" he mumbled.

Severus pressed, "Since the entire schools believes you both to be eligible, I take it you have not gone public with your arrangement."

Draco ran an agitated hand through his hair. "It isn't by choice."

"By your choice, you mean?"

Shooting his Godfather a glare of warning, he amended, "I mean this conversation is over." Then he rather rudely made for the exit. "I'll be in touch on my progress. Good day, Severus," he called over his shoulder, making for the exit. He felt the eyes of his Godfather on his back the entire way.

By the end of October, Draco had reached his limit. His father said once that Malfoys did not inherently share well with others. Maybe it was something like that, or something else entirely he would not name, but he grew frustrated of Hermione's fans pursuing something that was effectively off-limits to him.

As usual, after Study Hall, she walked with the Weasel, who slobbered after her like a dog. She was oblivious, of course.

"Oi, a word?" He threw his head to his right, as their paths crossed. He indicated he needed a moment of privacy to the witch. Her eyes seem to widen at the harmless request, but the ever present and thick-headed Weasel did not receive the memo. "Alone," Draco emphasized to the simpleton.

Ron pulled on Hermione's elbow after she had taken a step towards him. "Come on, Hermione. The ferret can mind his own business."

"And the Weasel can mind his own!" he sneered. "Unlike you, Hermione and I have important matters to discuss." Draco relished the look of contempt that spread in Weasley's vacant blue eyes at his use of her given name.

"What the …"

Hermione seemed to shake out of her trance as she turned to her friend. "It's probably family business or the other. I'll meet up with you in the library?"

"But…" Ron started.

"She said, 'leave', Weaselbee," he pointed out the obvious. "Although I hardly expect you to pick up on subtleties."

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "Draco, stop," she warned as he zeroed in on the contact on his sleeve. Something warm penetrated beneath his Oxford shirt, as he sneered once more to Weasley before grabbing Granger's elbow, leading them down an empty hallway.

They walked until they were sufficiently alone, before he spoke. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he began, "You need to get better control of your fans."

"My fans?" she blinked, confusion evident in her eyes.

Draco looked away, feeling his heart start to race as a fuzziness began to envelop him. What was wrong with him? "I don't know if you're aware, but half the school wants to get close to you because of your father's position, and the other half wants to shag you. It's entirely improper," he finished.

A rosy bloom spread from her nose down to her neck. Perfect pink lips bowed in confusion. She looked to the floor before taking a deep breath. "And you're aware of this how?"

Draco chuckled as he looked back at her. "You can't walk down the corridor without hearing about it. The whole school is fixed on who will escort you to Hogsmeade this weekend."

She lifted honey-colored eyes to his and something in his chest caught. It was enough to make him bite his lip. He looked away so she wouldn't see his physical reaction, but he caught her reply nonetheless.

"I don't want to go with anyone to Hogsmeade."

Unable to respond, he nodded. "Good. I don't want wizards getting ideas about my fiancée." He tried for humor, as tension grew between them.

He chanced a look to find her lifting her gaze to a point over his shoulder, no doubt searching to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

Slowly, she pulled her gaze back to him. He could tell she wrestled with something as she opened her mouth to amend her earlier statement, "Well, there is one whose company I suppose I could tolerate." She wet her lips, whether by accident or purposefully, but it succeeded in drawing his attention to her plump mouth. His mouth went dry as his heart thundered against his chest; it had to be loud enough that she could hear it.

Damn, the rumors were true.

Hermione had him worked up over a single look. Positive he would be fantasizing about her mouth that night, he gave her a languid half-smile as he tried to demure, "Why, Hermione? Are you asking me on a date?"

She bit her lip and swallowed, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. "That is… that is, if you want to, of course. And if you don't already have plans," she rushed out, bravely holding onto his gaze. The blush now turned her neck red.

"Ready to scandalize the populace even further?" he teased with a wiggle of his brow. He stayed put, though he wanted to move a closer to her, inexplicably drawn to petite witch.

Something was different about her.

Pursing her lips, she frowned and crossed her arms, clearly agitated, but still charming enough to amuse. "It's not a date, Malfoy," she reverted to his surname whenever she grew upset or frustration with him. He grew further amused that he knew her well enough to spot the difference.

Deciding to cut her some slack, he agreed, "Of course, it isn't. I'll meet you in the courtyard at 4pm this Saturday."

She tucked a curl behind her ear and smiled at him; the blush he favored made an appearance once more.

"Fine. See you at 4pm," she agreed.

They stared at the other for the space of three heartbeats before picking up their satchels and walking off in the opposite direction.

He resisted looking over his shoulder as he walked away, but made it half way down the hallway before turning to watch her walk away. He quickly turned back after catching a generous view of her arse and lean legs. Bloody hell, Theo had been right.

Most pleasing entrance into puberty, indeed.

Just because it wasn't technically a 'date' did not mean Draco would dress any other way. He had not been raised that way. His roommates watched as readied himself with a dapper navy blue button up, a wool jacket, and spiffy black trousers. They continuously peppered him with questions, but he was content to leave them in the dark as he readied himself for the afternoon. He knew they would hear from the rumor mill as he grabbed his scarf and gloves.

Which was completely fine by him.

Draco excelled in confidence in part thanks to an ever-doting mother, and a father who reared him with absolute privilege. And so, it was with all the confidence in the world that he made his way through the lingering students not old enough to visit the local village.

But nearly seventeen years of confidence flew went out the door the moment he approached Granger sitting by the stone fountain. Gone were the non-descript Muggle jeans and ugly sweaters she had been fond of in prior years, and before him stood Narcissa Malfoy's goddaughter. His mother had obviously taught the witch a thing or two while in France, because she looked like breathtaking vision. And she hadn't even turned around yet.

Hermione's hair had been brushed into loose waves and shone, perfectly reflecting the orange-red hues of the setting sun. She wore a deep emerald trench coat; a loose black knit sweater peeked from underneath. Black tights disappeared into comfortable, stylish flats that had him slowing his gait to appreciate the view from behind.

Like always, she sat reading a book unaware of the looks student threw her way as they passed her by in the courtyard.

He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry again, as he coughed behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find him waiting.

Swallowing audibly as she turned, Draco was suddenly hit with a floral aroma that left him weak in the knees. Instinctually, he stepped forward to offer her a hand as she stowed her book.

Pleased and somewhat flustered, she accepted his gloved hand and stood to her feet. Warmth again radiated from her light touch through the confines of his glove. Decorum dictated that he tuck her hand underneath his arm. He was unsure how she would react, but if she was uncomfortable with the contact, he could not tell as he led the out of the courtyard.

"People are staring," she whispered, leaning into him.

He looked down at her, unaware of their growing audience. "Then, let them stare," he found himself saying.

The initial crowds had already made their way down to the village, and he did his best to distract her as they made their way to High Street proper. The poor thing was still uncomfortable with all the attention she attracted.

"Have you heard from your father?" he asked to distract her.

She turned from window-gazing to address him. "I have. There are things he cannot share with me via Post, but it has become increasingly dangerous outside of Hogwarts. I heard from your mother as well."

He was not surprised to hear that. "Oh, really? Did she send you a package full of sweets like she did me?" he winked at her, which caused her to laugh.

Nodding, she confirmed, "She did! It was very kind of her."

"Meddle into your business much?" Draco asked knowing his mother.

Hermione shook her head. "She wrote to wish me a happy birthday and to see how I was faring," she left the sentence hanging, as if there was more to the sentence.

He would have pressed but they had reached the entrance of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. She went straight to the front desk while he browsed the aisles. The shopkeeper dashed to the back before emerging with a wrapped package, to which Hermione paid for and slipped into her coat pocket. Once he had completed his purchase, they exited the store. He guided them to Honeydukes next.

She looked at the vibrant storefront confused. "I'm positive if your mother sent you what she sent me, then you won't need another piece of candy for the entire year."

"Nonsense," he replied, opening the door for her. "You can never have enough chocolate." He followed behind as she entered.

Hermione trailed behind him as he picked out his favorites. She declined when he offered a sample to her. "Come on, Granger. Who doesn't like chocolate?" he teased.

"My adopted parents are dentists! I couldn't possibly," she waved away the pre-offered treat before being taken in by the newest display, "But mints, however." She smiled broadly at the newest assortment of spearmints, peppermints, and cinnamon mints.

Draco came up behind her with a scoop in each hand. "Then by all means…" He began scooping generous handfuls into a pail.

"Draco, really!" she laughed at his antics. Then she tugged at his arm as he scooped more than a generous helping. "Really, that is enough. Eww, not the wintermint!" She halted him as he moved onto the next bucket of mints. Before long, the two teens checked out with his ridiculously large store of chocolate and her ridiculously large store of mints.

"What is a 'Yoller' mint?" she asked, inspecting the wrapping of a brown and white-striped candy curiously.

Draco shrugged on the bench they shared, fist deep within his own stash. "Dunno. Oh here, taste this. It's chocolate and mint together." He held the piece of candy up to her lips. Surprised, he watched as she leaned forward and took the pre-offered sweet with her mouth, rather than taking it by hand. The tips of his fingers grazed the gloss on her lips as electricity shot through his arm and straight to his groin.

He had a moment to watch her eyes flutter shut in bliss as she savored the sweet. "Oh, that's heavenly," she moaned. The hood of his eyes lowered – was the little minx teasing him on purpose? She opened her eyes to fix him with a faux-heated glare. "Don't you dare tell my parents."

Oh, now she had to be teasing him.

His gaze dropped to her mouth as she caught a smidge of chocolate on her lip with her tongue. Fuck, he was thinking about her mouth again and all the things that could be done with her tongue.

Forcing his gaze down to his bag, and away from her delectable mouth, Draco cleared his throat not trying to think what Granger found 'heavenly', and the way her perfect bow-shaped mouth moaned in delight. He swallowed thickly, "So, uhh, do Potter and Weasley know you've escaped their protective clutches?"

She licked her teeth clean of any remaining chocolate before she answered him. "Harry is with Ginny at Madam Rosemerta's and Ron is, well, he's practicing at the pitch."

Draco took note of her uncomfortableness. "He doesn't know you're here with me," he replied for her.

She shifted in her seat. "Actually, he does."

His eyes narrowed. "Ahh, I see. Lover's quarrel, then."

Hermione seethed and crossed her arms. The sun had set and with the night air, came a frosty October chill. "He's not my lover," she stressed. "I've heard the rumors about me and him, but they are not true. You, of all people, should know that." She caught his eyes with meaning.

Draco popped another chocolate into his mouth as he regarded her. "Does he know that?"

Hermione groaned. "If he hasn't received the message by now, then I don't know how else to proceed." She sat back on the bench, sighing in frustration.

"You could always tell him the truth," he said simply.

Something in her eyes flashed the moment he mentioned the word 'truth'. She shifted again as her eyes tracked over his face, searching for something he did not know. Feeling as if he were taking a test he had not studied for, he let her read the honesty all over his face. Which was not something he did often.

Draco sat back on the bench with her. Neither one moved their shoulders as they touched. "Though, he's a tad thick-headed. It may take a couple of tries. Merlin, it's like talking to a wall."

She couldn't help but to defend her friend. She was loyal to a fault, he would give her that. "He's just trying to be nice. An unfamiliar concept, I'm sure," she stated meaningfully as she playfully shoved her shoulder into his.

He shoved her back. "I can be nice." To prove said point, he pulled his scarf and gloves from his pockets now warm with his body heat. He placed the scarf around her neck and helped her into the gloves that dwarfed her smaller, cold hands. "Brightest witch of her age forget her winter gear?" he chided.

She blushed and adjusted his scarf around her neck. "To be honest, I thought we wouldn't be out here this long."

He arched a brow at her. "Why?"

"Well, past behavior indicates you would have done something completely infuriating by now…" she began.

"To which you wholly deserved, I'm sure…" he deadpanned.

"And one of us would've likely stormed off in a fit," she finished, interlocking her now-gloved hands.

He tsk-ed her again, "Shows how much you know."

"I guess you're right." She bit her lip, before suddenly offering an outstretched hand. He stared at it until she indicated she wanted him to shake it. "A do-over?" she proposed.

Eyes narrowed, Draco decided Hermione Granger was the most fascinating and confusing witch he had ever met. Both stared at each other for a moment, until he took her hand. But instead of shaking it as she was accustomed to, he turned it over and placed a feather light kiss on the leather that covered her knuckle. "A do-over," he agreed.

They were silent as they allowed the strange, but familiar moment to pass. It was one of those moments Draco knew in his gut he would never forget. Like the day he first rode a broom, or the day he first came to Hogwarts, the memory of him sitting on a bench on High Street placing a chaste kiss to Hermione's hand felt like the small ripple that would grow into a wave.

Draco scratched his head at how he could make the moment last. He wasn't ready for this night to end, just yet. "So, would you care for some hot cocoa?" he offered sincerely.

The witch smiled and stood from the bench, also content to make the moment last just a bit more. "Why, Draco. How nice of you to offer."

an: I couldn't let my birthday pass without presenting you with a present... Til next time!~L

And a sincerest heartfelt hug to my British readers. I stand with you all after the devasting attack in Manchester. 33