Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's world, not mine.

Crookshanks was curled up in a ball around her feet when Hermione woke up the next morning. She was feeling extremely refreshed. She'd had a very pleasant dream that night. Of course, it was one of those really good dreams that you know was really good, but you can't seem to remember what it was about once you woke up, no matter how hard you tried. At any rate, Hermione was in a good mood.

She left Crookshanks on the bed still sleeping while she showered. When she was done, Hermione settled herself into the kitchen with a cup of tea and the Daily Prophet. She read the paper cover to cover; nothing unusual was going on, or at least nothing unusual had been reported that morning. She made her way back into her bedroom after washing her dishes and got dressed. The final task was to make her bed. Unfortunately for Crookshanks, he had to be kicked off the bed from his rather comfortable spot. "I can't very well leave without making the bed now, can I," she said to the annoyed feline.

That afternoon Hermione found herself rushing to the Leaky Cauldron. She waved hello to Tom as she made her way to the corner table when she, Harry, and Ron always had lunch.

"You're late, Hermione," Ron said, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, if you'd have been any longer we would have had to come find you," Harry added giving her a cheeky smile.

Ron energetically continued, "we just started tracking today at training–you wouldn't believe all the ways the Aurors have to keep tabs on people. Wizard and Muggle ways even! Have you ever heard of a tastellite Hermione?"

"Satellite, Ron," Harry corrected.

Of course she had known about satellites, but she indulged them. Hermione was happy that Harry and Ron had found something (other than Quidditch, of course) that they were so passionate about. She didn't pay them much attention though. Her mind had been elsewhere. In fact, she was having trouble focusing all morning. She kept on thinking about Dra–er, Malfoy, and what she would say to him that night. She couldn't very well give him the third degree. Perhaps if she just went in there and–

"Hello, Hermione, you home?" She shook her head and saw Ron waving his hand in front of her.

"Oh, yeah, sorry guys."

"You alright, Hermione? You seem a bit distracted." Harry wasn't as tactless as Ron about these things.

"Yeah I'm fine," she said brushing them off, "I guess my head's still back at St. Mungo's."

"So Healer training is going well?" Harry asked.

"Yeah it's going really well, actually," she said earnestly. "I mean, it's hard work, but it's really rewarding. And Healer Conrad is really encouraging–she said that if I keep up all the hard work I could be running the hospital one day. Wouldn't that be amazing? I could even build a new wing for creatures like house-elv–"

"Hermione please!" Ron interrupted dramatically. "No more spew talk!"

She got annoyed, "Ron it's not spew! It's S.P.–"

"E.W. Yeah, yeah, we know."

"New subject!" Harry announced. Hermione knew how much he hated when the two of them fought; the last thing he wanted was getting in the middle of one of their ridiculous fights, again.

"So, Hermione," Harry started, "I floo'd you last night, where were you?" Hermione had been so caught off guard she dropped her knife on the floor. Harry started to laugh, "you're going to see a male friend today?" he said rather scandalously.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said quickly; inwardly, she was panicking that Harry knew about her drink with Dra–er, Malfoy the night before.

"You dropped your knife. It's superstition that when you drop your knife–you know what, forget it. I was just teasing anyways. I mean, you're sitting here with two male friends."

"Oh, right." She said as she poked her food around. "And I just fancied a walk last night. I must have missed your floo."

Ron spoke up at her statement. "You fancied a walk? Hermione it was storming last night."

"I know that Ron, I was out before it was raining and got caught in it, thank-you-very-much."

"So where were you then? I floo'd you when it was still raining."

"I went into this place and waited until the storm let up."

"What place?" Harry asked.

"Just some café that was around."

She hated lying to her friends, but they would give her the third degree about going into a Muggle pub by herself. They'd make her tell them which one it was and then she would risk being seen by them if they suspected she went back. And if they saw her with Dra–er, Malfoy, well then forget about it! She could picture it right now. She'd been in there with Malfoy and then Harry and Ron would walk in. They'd come over to them and Ron would make some remark about how the pub had a vermin problem, as there was a rather large ferret at the bar. Harry would be gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles would turn white–it'd probably take all his strength not to curse Dra–er, Malfoy into oblivion. There would be name calling, a fight, broken glasses. No, she didn't want a scene. She wanted to give Dra–er, Malfoy some time. She just needed to work on him a little.

"Well you're just lucky you didn't catch a cold out in the rain," Ron said, slightly reprimanding.

"Thank you for worrying Mrs. Weasley," she said to Ron with a smirk that rivaled Dra–er, Malfoy's.

At this, Harry started laughing. "Sorry mate, but you did just kind of sound like your mum there." Ron went back to his food, ears turning pink.

When Hermione arrived back at her flat that evening she tried to settle herself down with a book. She couldn't seem to concentrate on Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions though. Finally, she went into her bedroom (Crookshanks hot on her tail) and began searching through her wardrobe. Crookshanks made himself comfortable on the bed and meowed at her curiously.

"I'm meeting Dra–er, Malfoy later," she said to him,"but it's not like I'm changing my clothes for him, you see," she said quickly. "I just don't want to show up at some pub in my good work clothes, that's all." She was still looking for something to wear and continued, "you see, if I show up like this," she said, "he'd probably think I dressed up for him, when, in reality, you and I both know that this is how I'm expected to dress for Healer training. And the last thing I need is for Dra–er, Malfoy, to think that I want to look nice for him. He'd probably take it as me wanting to get him into bed again." Hermione shook her head, "did I tell you about that? About how he thought–" Hermione was interrupted by a loud meow from her bed. "Yes well, needless to say, I don't want him getting any ideas," Hermione said as she pulled out a simple top and some pants. After she showered (she didn't want to smell like a hospital after all) and dressed, she kissed Crookshanks goodbye and left for the Paradise Lost.

She walked there the same way as the day before. Hermione was twenty minutes early–perfect. She'd just survey the area first, make sure there were no Death Eaters or anyone else suspicious hanging around.

A man and woman holding hands, a group of school kids passing around a bag of sweets, a woman pushing a pram while her baby cried inside it, and a boy taking his dog for a walk, all passed by the pub with no notice in the twenty minutes Hermione had been watching. She went to go inside but stopped herself. I can't go in yet. It's too early. I have to make him wait a while first. Oh Merlin, listen to me–I sound like I'm waiting for a guy to pick me up for a date. This is ridiculous. Well, this most certainly is not a date, so I have no reason to be nervous.

Hermione wasn't quite sure why she was nervous to meet him again. She stood outside the pub trying to pluck up her Gryffindor courage. It was another five minutes until she was actually able to go inside.

She found him right away (his blond hair stood out amongst the white and grey hair of the old men), sitting in the exact spot she had left him in. For all she knew, he might not have even left. Once she got closer she reckoned he had to have left the pub sometime last night (or early that morning) as his clothes, though still all black, were different. Hermione approached him without a word. She sat down on the same stool as the day before; there was a drink waiting for her there that she eyed cautiously. Hermione looked over towards Dra–er Malfoy as he took a drink for his glass. Scotch again; the man's consistent at least.

Sensing her eyes on him, he smirked and turned to her. "I knew you'd come back."

Author's note–I think that's a good place to end it. I agonized over this chapter. I actually wrote four different variations of it, before typing this one out. I was originally going to end it before she met up with Draco again, but I thought you guys would like a tease of interaction between these two. No worries, the next chapter is all Draco/Hermione. I actually wrote that whole chapter while I was taking a break from writing this one. That's the thing–I get these great ideas for scenes and I write them out then I try to find a way to fit them into my story which proves difficult at times. But seeing as how the next chapter is written, I should get it up quicker than this one. Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave me some feedback–it really does help.