Chapter Three

"Smile like you mean it." – The Killers

Hermione didn't know what to wear. Nothing fit right. And since when did she worry about what she wore? All the emotions suddenly in her head and heart and her stomach made her feel sick. She wanted to run. But she couldn't. She wasn't going to back down form a challenge that she'd accepted.

She'd bloody well go to dinner with Draco and she'd make him eat all those damn insults that he'd been flinging at her for weeks on end. That's how it was going to be, and Hermione would have it no other way.

And desperate times called for desperate measures. "Ginny? Yes, it's Hermione. No, nothing's wrong… I just could use some help. Yeah, I've got… a dinner to go to tonight. You wouldn't happen to have any dresses I could borrow, do you?" And in the short span of the conversation, Ginny was in the floo and at her flat, holding a suitcase of some of her dresses. After a few tries, they finally decided that a little black dress was the best wisdom in the book of fashion. It was a delicate dress, with little wisps of sheer fabric on the shoulders, and a v-cut neck, swooping down to end sooner than Hermione was really comfortable with. But Ginny had wooed her into it, and Hermione wasn't going to back out.

A simple pendant necklace, dark dangling earrings, and a dash of makeup, and Hermione felt prepared to take on Draco. The dress ended about mid thigh, flaring a bit to accentuate her waist. It was softly form-fitting, filling her figure out a bit more. She'd taken Draco's advice, or perhaps his counter-advice, and tried to eat a little more. Her clothes were seeming quite loose lately.

"So, are you going to tell me who you're dressing up for? I'm about to explode from the mystery of it all." Ginny was playing with her hair, coaxing it up into delicate tendrils, twisting and clipping and pinning, letting a few strands fall about her face.

"I'm not dressing up. This is battle armor." Hermione turned slightly, a flush on her cheeks. Ginny had noticed the spark in her tawny eyes, wondering, if finally, her friend was coming back.

"Battle armor?" Ginny laughed a little. "The poor fellow is going to be knocked off his feet before you even get in range, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled a small smile, one that managed to reach her eyes, as she felt a bubble of feeling in her stomach again. "That's really the point, Ginny."

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Draco Malfoy was not used to surprises. Admittedly, he could take them, and sometimes, he even did well with them. Especially if they worked out to his advantage. But at this point, it was hard to see how the woman he'd been watching clean up dog shit for the past two months could suddenly make his stomach do a somersault. The dainty shoulder straps begged to be pulled down, revealing creamy skin sprinkled with a few freckles, and the half of her thighs that were covered only led his mind on a wandering fantasy about what the other half looked like. Drawing his eyes up, finally, he met liquid brown eyes with a small smile at the corner of his lips. "Silly me, being afraid you'd under-dress."

Draco's plans changed in that second. He'd originally intended to drag her out to some so-so restaurant and make a last valiant effort to appease Potter. Hermione's shy smile, a real honest to Merlin smile, almost made the past two months of enforced hell worth it. He wasn't proud that he had acquired such a vast knowledge of muggle celebrities in the past few weeks. What a god awful way to spend time.

A few discreet calls before getting in the car and his plan was hatched. Soon they pulled up to one of his favorite five star restaurants, where being a Malfoy was damn near to being the Pope. Seated by the full-length windows that gave a wonderful view of the garden, Draco still had to fight the urge to hold his breath. She was stunning. The candlelight throwing shadows across her face, the small, secretive smile given to him when he made an outrageous comment. Who would've thought he'd actually enjoy himself?

Hermione took a bite of her pasta and listened to Draco ask about the different wines. In all honesty, the only difference Hermione could ever tell between a wine was if it was white or red, and sometimes, those pinkish ones threw her off. Draco finally decided on a late harvest Riesling, agreeing with the wine expert.

She admitted she was a little overwhelmed. She hadn't thought going to dinner with Draco would be such a huge affair. Getting dressed up was a little over the top, but she hadn't been able to help it. She needed something to make her feel like she could stand up straight and defend herself. What was better than a good dose of feminine empowerment?

"So, is this a date?" The question had slipped from her lips before she knew what she was thinking. There was a feeling that she hadn't missed: embarrassment. The blush crept up her cheeks, and she was suddenly glad for the candle light.

Draco chewed thoughtfully for a second before replacing his fork. The wine had been delivered, and after taking a sip, he shrugged. "If you're really counting, this would be our 34th date."

Hermione laughed, a hesitant sound, as if she wasn't sure she was doing it right. "Are we really counting then?" She took an appreciative taste of the wine, the chilled sweetness taking a bite off her nerves as she relaxed into the chair just a little.

"I am." Draco swirled the wine in his cup absently, as he looked up from under his lashes at her, grey eyes seeming more translucent in the lighting, as he added quietly, "Unless you object." The thoughts in his head were swimming contradictions. He was sure Potter would be mad if he tried to sleep with Granger. But the very atmosphere encouraged such thoughts. Delicate wine, candle light, fantastic food… and a little black dress that would be so terribly easy to slip off her.

Pushing a noodle around, Hermione shook her head. "I… don't object." Her stomach fluttered a bit as she glanced up at him, quickly pulling her wine glass towards herself to try and hide her anxious air. She'd never thought Draco was attractive before. His ferret incident had pretty much settled her on the deal. He was a ferret, through and through. But this… was a different side of him.

A navy blue button down shirt, bringing out his eyes and setting his hair into high contrast, complimented his refined presence. And he was refined, Hermione was sad to admit. He'd grown up, into quite a different person than she'd first imagined he would. He was funny, charming, handsome, and determined, too. Smoothing a hand down the dress, which had indeed felt all too short when Draco's eyes had roamed up her legs, Hermione set her fork down.

The dinner passed more comfortably after that, Draco telling her winsome stories of his dealings with the general populace, having turned himself into a modern day business man. Soon laughter came easier to her, seeming to spill over and light up his grey eyes each time a giggle came from her.

When it was time to leave, instead of steering her to the car, Draco led her to the garden behind the restaurant. Finding her heels too confining, Hermione soon kicked them off, leaning against a bench to slip them off. Draco watched her from afar, an unsettling expression in his eyes.

"What?" Straightening, Hermione let the shoes dangle from her fingers. The path was smooth cobblestone, and her toes had been starting to complain.

"Nothing." Draco shrugged, waiting for her to catch up. But Hermione got the feeling there was something there, something more in those grey eyes than he'd been willing to admit. They walked in silence, standing close, but not touching. Draco wanted to. Very much so. But the problem was that he was so afraid he'd break her. She was fragile, he knew that. So he would take it slow. The former Slytherin had already concluded in his sneaky little mind that she was going to be his, though. He was a patient man. So he would bide his time and woo her as needed.

The evening ending was almost as nerve wracking to Hermione as the beginning had been. But Draco was the perfect gentleman; dropping her off, walking her to her door, and, to her surprise, sneaking a soft kiss. She'd been unlocking her door one second, and he'd said something. She turned, not really thinking about it, then his lips had been on hers.

All the feelings in the past few days, they had been nothing compared to that kiss. The needling, the taunting… nothing had burned into her mind like his kiss. Soft, was the first impression, then warm. The heat in her face and hands and the pit of her stomach made her giddy. When he pulled baack (too soon in Hermione's opinion), her cheeks were flushed and her hand with the key was trembling. Flashing a smirk, Draco steadied her hand, helping her unlock the door.

Taking a step inside, Hermione watched him. Seconds before he turned, she managed to reach out and grab his jacket. "Tea?" She asked, licking her lips nervously as her mouth seemed to be as dry as it had been the day Ron had finally admitted he'd loved her.

Confusion, then surprise, and finally gratitude seemed to flit on Draco's face, before he nodded, removing his hat as snowflakes began to fall outside. Hermione thought it was amazing that she was suddenly able to recognize all these emotions on his face. It was a wonder, surely. She'd never thought Draco was open about his emotions, and it took her a second (as she put the kettle on the stove) to realize that he wasn't open.

She was just good at reading him.

A/N: Happy Halloween! I decided yet again to upload early; this story is getting a lot of attention. Probably one more chapter, then maybe an epilogue. So. Enjoy! And be safe. Don't eat any unopened candy and be sure to travel with friends. /parental instincts