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Chapter 5: Strangers:

Hermione didn't know a single soul in the whole dining hall, save for Draco Malfoy, but she felt as if every eye was upon them. Perhaps it was because Draco was a Malfoy, and she had to admit, he was very handsome. Perhaps it was because she felt very pretty tonight. On the other hand, perhaps it was because she wanted to be noticed, and was imagining things that weren't really there. Whatever it was, the facts remained the same…Draco was handsome, Hermione felt pretty, and she had been anticipating this night for weeks. Even if it had turned out differently than she had imagined that it would, it didn't negate the fact that she was finally on her blind date, even if it was with a man she probably would never have dated in a million years.

Not that she wouldn't date Draco if he had really asked her. Before she worked for him, she might have, but now she couldn't. She could never date her boss. People would get the wrong impression, and appearances were important to Hermione. She always felt as if she had things to prove to people. She never wanted people to assume that she got things the easy way. She always thought that she had to work harder, be smarter, and better, than everyone else. She didn't want anyone to think that she relied on being Harry's friend to get by, or now, on being Draco's paramour. She wanted judged totally on her own merit, and she didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression about her.

But for this one night, she could pretend. She could pretend that she wasn't Hermione Granger, Muggle born, and he wasn't Draco Malfoy, pureblood, and he wasn't her boss, and she wasn't his employee. They were just two old acquaintances, catching up on old times, or maybe it was even simpler than that. Perhaps they could be two strangers, out on a blind date. That would be even better.

They were shown to their table, given their menus and the wine list, and Hermione leaned forward and said, "I have an idea."

Draco sat back in his chair, opened his menu, but looked at her from over the top. He said, "Please tell me your idea."

"Let's pretend this is a real blind date."

He closed his eyes, felt out for her with his hand and said, "I can't hear you, I'm blind."

She giggled and hit his hand away. She said, "Blind people can hear, silly. What I mean is, let's pretend that we really don't know anything about each other. Instead of being two old friends, catching up on old times, let's pretend we don't know a thing about each other. We can be whoever we want, and do whatever we'd like."

"I want to have sex on the first date, so with your little plan, since I can do whatever I'd like, I can do that, correct?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"After our date is over, if you want to find someone accommodating, go at it," she said with a laugh.

"You're no fun," he said, frowning. Their waiter came and they ordered drinks and food. Then Malfoy leaned forward and said, "Fine, how do we start this little game of yours?"

"With an introduction," she said. "My name is Heather Gardener. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad we decided on the white roses, or I might not have known how to recognized you."

"Heather Gardener?" he repeated and then smirked.

"Stay in character," she harped.

"I am in character. My character is amused that your character has a made up name." He took a drink of water but then cleared his throat, put out his hand and said, "The pleasure is all mine, HEATHER." He took her hand and shook it politely. "My name is Derek Malone. When my friend set us up on this date, I thought you would be an ugly, old thing, but I'm glad you're not."

She glared at him. He leaned forward again and said, "Sorry, but my character is shallow."

"So unlike the real deal," she said softly. He threw a roll at her, which she caught. She said, "What do you do for a living, Dane?"

"Derek."

"Sorry."

"I'm a professional broom racer," he answered.

She choked on her water. "Okay, this isn't going to work. But I do have one request," she stated.

"That I pay for dinner?" he asked.

"No, well yes, but let's really try to get to know each other. Share secrets and things. Things that Draco and Hermione don't know about each other. We can still be us, after all we do it so well, but let's pretend it's still a real blind date. Let's get to know each other. I'll start. I have a birthmark on my right thigh."

"May I see it?" he asked, amused.

"Not likely," she said.

"I have a mole on my left cheek," he said. She looked at his cheek. He shook his head and said, "Other left cheek."

She grinned again and said, "May I see it?'

"Certainly." He stood up and to her mortification, his hands went to his belt.

"Sit down!" she spat. She covered her eyes for a moment. "Maybe later," she added.

Their food arrived and they started to eat when a waiter came up and said, "Is everything alright, Mr. Malfoy? Is the table to your liking? Per your request, when you made the reservations, we saved the best table for you."

"Yes, thank you," Draco said.

Hermione quizzed, "You made this reservation? How did you know all would go well with your plan to get rid of my date?"

"I always get what I want," he said glibly. "Besides, what can I say?"

"What would you have done if I had refused to have dinner with you?" she wondered aloud.

"That was never really an option," he said truthfully. Then he said, "Heather? Really? Heather?"

"I've always wanted to be a Heather," she said again.

"But Heathers should be blond," he surmised.

"That's stupid," she complained. "There are brunettes named Heather."

"I've never dated one, and I've dated a lot of Heathers," he concluded. "You should be a 'Holly'. Holly's have dark hair. Why did you want to pretend to be different people, anyway?"

"You know, it would have been nice, no preconceived notions, we could find out things about each other, real things, not birthmarks and moles, but likes, dreams, hopes and aspirations. We've known each other for eighteen years, yet we don't really know each other," she explained.

The waiter brought their food and wine, and while the man was serving them, Draco thought about what she had said. "You have a point," he said thoughtfully. She did have a point. He knew very little about the real Hermione Granger. "Tell me about you, Hermione."

"Let me ask you something first," she said, suddenly serious. "Why did you go to all of this trouble? Did you really want to date me? I mean why? You've never been interested in me before. You've known me for years, and you've never shown any special attention to me, but then I come to work for you, and suddenly you want to pursue me. Is it all about obtaining the unobtainable? What is that about, anyway? You could have just asked me out, you know, although since we work together now I would have had to say no."

He didn't know how to respond to her questions and accusations. How could he tell her that he found her attractive, and alluring, and to be truthful, he wanted to get her into bed? Sure, he wanted to get to know her better too, but that was secondary. He said, "I might have had some other agendas."

"Other agendas?"

"You know, you're attractive, I'm attractive. We could have a real lark this weekend, maybe even have some mind-blowing sex, and no one ever need know, even if we do work together. We can be discreet. We could even go back to pretending to be different people. As I said, no one will ever know. What do you say?"

He knew telling her the truth was a mistake, the minute it came out of his mouth, because she was suddenly quiet and solemn. She put her fork down and looked down at her plate. "You don't even want to date, do you? I was worried about going out on a date with you, because we work together, but you weren't even talking about dating. All of this was an elaborate plot to get me in bed, wasn't it?" She didn't raise her voice, or even change her expression. It wasn't as if she was accusing him, but stating a fact. That made Draco angry. Not because she was wrong, but because she was right, and he was found out, and he hated that. He also hated it because now that it was out in the open, he wasn't sure that was his only agenda, but how could he tell her that now?

"I'm tired of you saying stupid things like that. The new Hermione Granger says stupid things," he spat. He took a large drink of his wine to cover for his awkwardness at the fact that he felt like a first-class cad.

She sighed and scooted her chair away from the table. "This date is over, because it wasn't even a date. It wasn't about anything real to you, was it. It was a game. I'm a joke to you, right?"

"Not really," he answered flippantly. "You aren't a joke, because you aren't remotely funny. You're excessively serious, all the time, Granger, and frankly, you're a bit dim. Even I didn't recognized things as they were until now. I hardly think I would have gone to all this trouble if I just wanted a bedmate. I could find someone to have sex with easily. I always have, and probably always will."

She rubbed her forehead with both hands. She stood up and said, "This is going nowhere fast. We can't date, and we apparently can't even have a nice evening together as old friends, because really, Draco, we were never friends." She took the rose out of her hair, placed it on the table, and walked out toward the veranda.

She leaned against the railing and looked out toward the beach below. The evening was warm and the breeze balmy, but still, she placed her hands around herself, not to ward off the cold, but to ward off her never-ending loneliness. She finally placed her hands on the railing and that was when she sensed that she was no longer alone.

She knew he was behind her before he even said a word. He stood so close, she felt fuzzy, whatever that meant. He stood directly behind her, placed his left hand on the column that ran from the railing to the awning, and his right hand beside hers on the railing. She felt the warmth of his body next to hers. He placed his mouth near her ear and then he kissed the spot right behind her ear. She closed her eyes and shuddered. He moved his mouth away and she shrugged her shoulder up near her ear. He leaned forward and kissed behind her ear again. She thought he was being incredibly forward, but she wasn't sure she cared. She shook her head. He took his right hand and skimmed it slowly down her arm. Then he placed his hand over hers on the railing. He kissed behind her ear a third time.

Without turning around, she whispered, "Stop it." She shivered again.

"Why, Miss Heather Gardener, whatever do you mean? I can't help it if it's windy out here." He blew on her neck, and then kissed the spot between her neck and her shoulder. She felt like melting. She shivered once more. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Apparently," she said hoarsely. She turned her head slightly and looked at his 'too near' face. "What are you doing?"

He knew she wasn't referring to the fact that he was being a flirt, and forward, and was kissing her, but he didn't want to think about the implication of her question at the moment. He would rather have her pressed against him, as they were. He moved his left hand down the column, and then down her left arm. He placed the hand that was next to hers on the railing around her waist. She didn't know how to respond. She knew what she wanted to do, but that would be wrong, so she turned her head forward, and stared back out toward the sea.

Here they were employer and employee, strangers really, and yet they were wrapped together like lovers on holiday. His front against her back, she felt safe, warm, and happy. She even felt loved. She felt wanted. She FELT.

He brushed her cheek with his own and said, "Do me a favour. It's going to be the biggest favour anyone has ever asked of you. Don't think. Don't analyze. Don't over indulge your active brain. Have fun. This can be the best damn blind date you've ever had, and that's all it has to be, I promise. I won't press you for anything else." The words were spoken, but he wasn't sure he could hold to them. He wanted it to lead to more, but he also didn't want to spend the weekend alone. "We can do or say or be anyone we want this weekend. No agendas, not from this point on, and no planning or plotting. Let's play it by ear," he suggested, and then to illustrate, he kissed behind her ear again.

She trembled and her hand went to her ear. Without turning around, (if she did, they would be entirely too close) she said, "I'm tired of being alone." He felt her sentiments through ever fiber of his being, and he suddenly realized that he felt as lonely as she felt. She turned slowly, and he backed away just as slowly. She said, "Go back inside, Draco. Our blind date is over."

Well, he tried. He really did. He should have just come outside and apologized. He tried another angle, and it backfired, but he knew when enough was enough. He backed away farther, put his hands up in defeat, and said, "Fine, Hermione. I'll leave you be." He turned and walked back to their table.

She stayed outside for a few more moments, and then she motioned to a waiter and whispered something in his ear. Draco could see her from his chair. He wondered what she was doing. He wondered why he cared.

He started to eat, feeling alone and left out, when he heard a woman clear her throat. He looked up. It was Hermione, and she had a fresh, white rose in her hair. He pushed out his chair, confused, and stood.

She held out her hand and said, "My name is Hermione Granger, and I can tell by the white rose in your lapel that you must be my date. My blind date. I'm sorry I'm late. I was detained by my own stupidity."

He took her hand, and held it gently for a moment and then he said, "I'm Draco Malfoy, and my stupidity has detained me so many times in my life, I couldn't begin to tell you of them all. By the way, I'm happy to meet you."

(Happy Christmas to everyone!)