A/N: Happy Monday! As promised, we finally get to see Draco in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it; let me know what you think!
As always, thank you to TheOtterAndTheDragon for her beta work on this piece!
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Hermione looked around at the witches and wizards gathered around her and swallowed deeply. She'd had to drink a couple more glasses of wine than she'd anticipated at seeing her former classmates stroll through the door of the room she and Harry had reserved in the upper level of the Leaky Cauldron, and she was a little pleased to feel the familiar warmth spreading through her body as the alcohol calmed her nerves a bit.
With one last fortifying breath, she stepped up to the front of the small platform at the front of the room and caught Harry's eye. At his encouraging nod, she cleared her throat and drew the attention of everyone in the room.
"Hello, everyone," she called with a delicate laugh. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Murmurs met her question, but she continued. "I'm so glad to see you all tonight. As I'm sure you're aware since you had to sign waivers, Harry and I are holding a speed dating event tonight, and you all are our guests." She motioned Harry over, and he took his place next to her.
"Right," he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "We've split the group in half by men and women. Women will be remaining at their assigned tables, and the men will be moving from table to table each time the bell chimes. Each date will be given five minutes to determine if you'd like to meet another time. Any questions so far?"
A delicate voice pierced the air in the silence following Harry's question. "What if we would also like to date someone of the same sex? Would that be allowed?" Luna Lovegood's ethereal face peered up at Harry and Hermione.
"Err," Hermione scrambled for an answer. "Unfortunately, we didn't make any plans to include same-sex partners in this speed dating event, though I'm sure we could make some arrangements—"
"That would be lovely," Luna breezed. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to both the women and the men. Of course, if there are any other women that are interested as well."
Next to Hermione, Harry turned beetroot. "Would any other participants like to talk to both the women and the men?" Parvati Patil tentatively raised her hand and smiled at Harry, then Luna. When no one else raised their hands, Luna skipped over to Parvati.
"In that case, we'll just talk after the event," she tittered and smiled at Hermione. Hermione beamed back at her.
"Lovely! Now that that's sorted—" Hermione's statement was cut off as the door to the room swung open. Harry's swift intake of breath next to her was the only thing that alerted her to the fact that she wasn't hallucinating what had walked through the door.
While she'd heard rumours that the Slytherins who had been acquitted of war crimes had been seen in and around Diagon Alley recently, she hadn't seen any of them herself. Not that she was too broken up about the fact, but she was curious what each of them had been doing. After being separated from the trauma of both the war and a childhood of torment by the very people walking through the door, she'd come to accept the fact that they all had been children, albeit misguided children influenced by blood-thirsty parents. She'd begun to nurse a somewhat unhealthy obsession with the disgraced wizards and had found herself scouring articles discussing their comings and goings.
She was disgusted at herself for drinking up the dribble that was in the gossip magazines, but she wanted to understand the people who had differed so greatly from her for so long. She also had to admit that she was drawn to the grey eyes of a certain blond aristocrat who she suspected of feeling more remorse for his actions than any of them had ever given him credit for. That was what she had been harbouring in the shoebox that Harry had stumbled across; for reasons she didn't even understand herself, she'd begun saving newspaper clippings of stories about the former Slytherins. One in particular happened to be the topic of discussion in most of the stories she'd saved, and she watched him take a spot along the back wall, his platinum blond hair shining in the dimly lit room.
She scanned the new arrivals and felt herself distantly putting names to faces as each one came to a halt within the doorway. Blaise Zabini led the charge, his deep brown eyes holding a challenge in them as he stared boldly forward. Next was Pansy Parkinson with her trademark bob and pouty smile, followed by Theodore Nott's overly-confident slouch. Gregory Goyle followed in his wake, whose post-war appearance seemed much more agreeable than his Hogwarts appearance.
Predictably, the platinum menace she'd been far too curious about remained near the back of the group, clad impeccably in a bespoke suit and black wingtips. She realized she'd been staring when her gaze finally reached his face and he quirked an eyebrow over his impossibly perceptive eyes.
Cursing herself, Hermione ripped her gaze away and scanned the others in the crowd, trying to ignore the bemused expression on many of their faces.
"Anyway, as I was saying, now that we've sorted out the same sex couple question, we'll get back to explaining the event." She rubbed her hands on her trousers to clear away the sweat before she wordlessly summoned the two potions that each participant would be using. "Now, each of you have signed a waiver—or will sign a waiver, for the new arrivals."
She handed one of the two vials to Harry, who took it wordlessly. She held up a cylindrical vial for everyone to see. "This is the first potion. It's a variation of Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck." A murmur ran through the crowd, and even Malfoy leaned forward in interest.
"Well Granger, get on with it. What is it?" Pansy Parkinson's bored voice broke the interested silence.
Hermione gritted her teeth at the interruption. "I'm glad you asked, Parkinson. Where Felix Felicis is designed to bring the user good luck for the duration of its use, this variation is brewed with peppermint during its last heating. Since one of the properties of peppermint is to increase confidence, this variation of the potion allows the user to feel more confident during the duration of its use. Combined with the properties of the original Felix Felicis, the user should be more poised and self-assured in their interactions with other people, thus ensuring that their flirting is delivered well to the person of their interest." She tried to ignore Malfoy's nod of approval toward the back of the room.
Neville raised a tentative hand toward the back of the room. When Hermione indicated that he should speak, he quietly asked, "Won't that be a little disingenuous, to make us different than we normally are?"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet voice from the opposite side of the room beat her to it. "Longbottom, I think the purpose of the potion is to provide us with more confidence to say the things that we want to but wouldn't under normal circumstances. If anything, I believe it would make us more authentic to how we normally think anyway." Malfoy flicked his eyes up at Hermione, and she had to force herself not to inhale sharply at his shrewd gaze. "At least, I believe those are Granger's intentions with the potion."
She nodded. "Malfoy is exactly right, Neville. It's not changing who you are as a person; it's just giving you the courage to say and do the things you want to but wouldn't necessarily try because you're unsure of yourself." She met Draco's eyes and smiled tentatively. "Thanks for explaining that so well, Malfoy."
He barely inclined his head in response, but Hermione took it.
Harry, noticing the tension in the room, took the lead on explaining the next vial. It was a slightly smaller, rounded container, and a light pink mist floated near the cork. "This is an isolation of the Amortentia fumes. As I'm sure most of you are aware from Potions with Slughorn, the steam from Amortentia smells differently to each person according to what attracts them." Harry looked to each person in the room. "You don't have to use this if you don't want to. Some of us—" he cut his eyes to Hermione, who pretended to pick lint off her shirt to avoid eye contact. "—are a little nervous about whether or not they might actually hit it off with someone even after the five-minute dates, so you may try this to see if those scents indicate any sort of compatibility with your partners. Since these are only the fumes of the potion, this won't make you love crazed, according to our brief field testing."
Hermione stepped forward following Harry's statement. "That's what the waivers are for—neither of these potions are exactly approved yet, but our tests have yielded no negative results from the use of either. The forms that you are signing indicate that you will not hold Harry or I, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, or the Ministry of Magic accountable for any negative side effects, as these are all completely voluntary. Any questions?"
"So, are you and Potter participating?" Blaise drawled from his lazy slouch against the wall.
Hermione bit her lip, unsure how to answer it. She'd like to participate, but she wasn't sure how professional that would be since she arranged the event herself. Harry saved her from answering, though.
"We'll be participating. It's fairly simple to run, as long as everyone understands the rules. We can set a timer with our wands and it will allow time for each person to move." He looked over at Hermione. "We're both newly single and we have plenty of the potion. We might as well give it a go."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest when Blaise unfolded himself from the wall and rubbed his hands together. "Wow, both the Boy Who Lived and Hogwarts' Golden Girl have come out to play tonight? I never thought I'd see the day. Come on, Granger, give it a go. According to Witch Weekly, you could use a new man to help you get back at old Weaselbee. What have you got to lose?"
"Oi, Granger. Listen to the snake. We made a deal!" George piped up from the back of the room.
Though she disagreed with his assessment of the situation, she found she couldn't argue with Blaise. She didn't have anything to lose, and she had made a deal with George.
Before she could change her mind, she nodded and flicked her wand. Another table zoomed forth from the closet and set itself up. With a couple more flicks of her wand, she summoned both an extra vase with flowers and candles to set themselves on the table to set the mood like she had for the others.
"Alright," she called. "Let's get started."
After some awkward shuffling, the witches and wizards in the room finally arranged themselves at the tables. Witches sat at the outside of the table facing inward, and the wizards each took a place opposite them. After taking a moment to send out waivers to the new arrivals, Hermione stood and addressed the room once more.
"Alright, if everyone's settled, we'll get started. Remember that the long vial is the confidence potion and the round vial is the Amortentia variation; you're not required to use either should you choose not to. Each date gets five minutes, and the chiming of the wand will signal you to move to the next partner. Each table has a selection of wines and alcohol to try, and you can summon more from the bar should you find one more agreeable to you." She gave everyone a few beats of silence before she nodded once more. "Alright, time starts—" she tapped her wand and a large clock appeared and floated in the air in the middle of the room. "—now."
Hermione plopped down in the chair and faced Harry, who was sipping a glass of firewhisky. "How in Merlin's pants did I end up agreeing to this?" she moaned.
Harry laughed into his tumbler. "Well, it was your idea to create the event. It's only fair that you reap the fruits of your labour." He tipped his glass to her. "You hear that?"
Hermione strained her ears, but all she could hear was quiet murmuring and occasional laughter from the tables around her as the dates talked back and forth to each other. She looked at Harry with her eyebrows drawn together, perplexed. "Hear what?"
Harry's eyes sparkled at her. "Everyone's talking. There's no hexing. You did this. Five years ago, you wouldn't have caught all of us dead in a room together."
Hermione shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. "I can't really take credit for this. I just gave everyone a place to get together. Everyone has grown up for the most part."
"I think I've met brick walls that take compliments better than you do, 'Mione." He rolled his eyes at her and dodged the rolled-up ball of napkin she threw at him.
"Don't call me that!" she hissed, eyes darting to the side to make sure no one else had heard. She hated nicknames, and Harry couldn't seem to get it through his head. She reached for her empty wine glass and poured herself some more. "I'm just trying to get through this night, that's it." She sighed.
Harry pursed his lips and nodded, surveying the room. Ginny had shown up just before the event started, and he'd been shooting covert looks at her all night. Hermione reached across the table and grabbed his hand.
"Try not to think about it. Like you said, this is supposed to be fun. Loosen up some."
Harry snorted and looked down, toying with the two vials on the table. "Easier said than done. What does your Amortentia smell like?"
Hermione followed his gaze and swallowed her trepidation. She hadn't fully committed to the idea that she would find someone she'd be comfortable dating here, but she hadn't given up all hope. Her eyes darted across the room to study the back of Malfoy's head where he listened to an animated Luna. "I haven't smelled it yet. Have you?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah." He glanced over to where he could see Ginny talking with Seamus Finnegan. "It doesn't smell like her. I'm both relieved and disappointed."
She smiled sadly at him and picked up the longer of the two vials, swirling the red and gold liquid within. Funny how much it resembled the Gryffindor colours when it was supposed to instill a virtue they were rumoured to already have. She looked up and met his curious gaze as she rolled the vial between her fingertips. She gestured with the vial. "I will if you will."
Harry looked between her and the vial in her fingertips. Just as the buzzer rang to indicate the end of the date he nodded. "Deal."
Before she could second guess herself, Hermione uncorked the vial and downed the potion in one gulp. It took a moment, but she felt the potion settle in her stomach. After a few brief moments, during which she covertly slipped the smaller vial unopened into her jeans pockets, she looked up at Harry. "Do you feel anything?"
He looked up at her and shrugged. "Maybe a little warmer? I can't tell beyond that."
She frowned and looked down at the potion. "Hmm, that's strange. The original test group did say that there were some discrepancies in physical reactions. It should kick in soon though."
A throat clearing next to Harry drew both of their gazes. Blaise leaned against the table, staring down at the two of them with glazed over eyes. He flicked a glance at the large clock in the middle of the room slowly clicking its way to the next date timer. He looked back down his chiselled nose at Harry. "I believe you're in my seat, Potter."
Hermione watched her friend's cheeks blush, and he stuttered as he stood. His gaze lingered on where Blaise's hands rested on the back of the chair as he mumbled an apology. Hermione quirked a brow at Harry's behaviour as he visibly collected himself and shot back at Blaise, "You're welcome to have a seat in my lap if you're in that big of a hurry, Zabini." Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and Harry turned on his heel and stalked to the next table where Susan Bones sat. She and Blaise stared at his back with twin expressions of shock. Only the buzzing of the clock that signalled the beginning of the next round snapped them back to reality and Blaise dropped into the seat Harry had vacated.
"Well, that was certainly an interesting turn of events," he drawled, gaze still lingering on the back of Harry's head.
Hermione chuckled uncomfortably. "You can say that again. Probably the effects of the potion, though. I wouldn't put too much thought into it."
"Hmm, quite right." Blaise spun around in his chair and crossed one long leg over the other. He flicked his wrist lazily and a bottle of whiskey floated over from the bar and gracefully filled his tumbler before floating back to the bar. He sipped from the glass and eyed Hermione over the rim of the glass. "So, Granger. The war ends, and you still can't take the time to figure out how to dress?"
Hermione spluttered on her sip of wine. "Excuse you?" She looked down at the soft cardigan and skinny jeans she'd paired with a sensible pair of flats. "And just what is wrong with my outfit?"
Blaise scoffed. "Please, Granger, you call that an outfit? I think my grandmother dressed more sensibly when we put her in the grave." He rolled his tumbler between his hands as he studied her. "You're supposed to be catching a date, not preparing to dust old books in the back of a library. At least the hair is an improvement."
Hermione knocked back the rest of her wine before she levelled a glare at Blaise. "I'm sorry that not all of us dress like we have a stick shoved sideways up our arse all the time." Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, and she stared at Blaise.
He studied her for a moment before a small smile cracked across his face. "Well, at least you make up for your inability to dress properly with that Gryffindor wit we all know and love."
"Actually, I think that's a result of the potion." She grimaced and held up the vial.
Blaise inclined his head and leaned forward. "Potion or no potion, it's entertaining. So," he splayed his perfectly manicured hands on the table. "What's the story with Potter and the Weaselette?"
Hermione followed Blaise's glance over his shoulder once more and felt her brows draw together as he studied the back of Harry's head. "They're no longer an item, not that it concerns you." She aimed a glare at Blaise until he turned around. "I don't know what you're thinking about doing, Zabini, but I will hex you into oblivion if you hurt my friends."
Blaise snorted. "Granger, I think this feisty side of you is much more you than you're letting on." He stood from the table just as the buzzer rang for the end of the date. "Always a pleasure." With that, he loped away from the table.
Hermione tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. She'd had two dates so far tonight—Harry and Blaise—and neither of them were turning out. Harry was like her brother, so she knew that nothing would come of that, but she'd always harboured a little bit of intrigue about the mysterious Blaise Zabini. However, as he slouched down in his seat across from Luna while eyeing Harry across the room, Hermione knew that her crush had been futile; she had a sinking suspicion that Zabini had shown up for the other half of the duo hosting the event.
Though she could have stewed in her frustration longer, the chair Blaise had recently vacated slid out. A figure in a charcoal suit dropped into it in one fluid motion, and Hermione found her eyes drawn up to impossibly dark eyes and a sinful mouth sipping brandy neat.
"Granger," Draco Malfoy drawled. He dipped his head slightly, maintaining eye contact from beneath long lashes. Her heart stuttered a little bit in her chest.
Hermione cleared her throat slightly when she realized she'd been staring. "Malfoy. Good to see you." It came out more question than statement, and she felt her heart quicken when his lips quirked upward slightly.
"Is it?" Hermione didn't deign to answer what she knew was a rhetorical question, so she stared at him expectantly until he sighed and continued. "I guess some things never change, do they Granger?"
She scoffed at him. "And for what reason would they change, Malfoy?" she made a show of looking around herself. The other speed date participants were deep in conversation, though Neville appeared to be in a blind panic as Pansy Parkinson leaned over the table seductively. "I don't think you've given me a reason to believe anything has changed, Malfoy. You disappeared after the war, and before the war you tormented me for my inferior blood status." She raised a brow at him imperiously, daring him to disagree.
To her surprise, he leaned back in his chair and dropped his mildly aggressive pose. "There's that Gryffindor courage we've all come to know and love." She didn't dare to correct his echoed sentiment that the courage was a product of the potion she'd consumed in her nerves to see him and the other Slytherins. "How about I give you a reason to believe that I've changed? Hell, that all the Slytherins have changed. We might surprise you, you know."
Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. After all, he was in the same room as her for the first time since she and Harry had defended him at his trial, and he'd yet to call her any horrid names. "I'll give you one opportunity to prove that you're not as vile as you used to be."
She'd been attempting to throw him off with her comment, but a slow, seductive smirk spread across his lips, and she realized too late that he had counted on her more charitable nature. And now she was stuck.
"One opportunity will be all I need, Granger." Malfoy's smirk turned steely as he let his gaze travel the visible length of her. Hermione shivered as it lingered on the line of her neck, the swell of her breasts, and then back to the bow of her lips. Unbidden warmth pooled in the depths of her stomach when his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. She belatedly realized that she, too, had been staring and cursed inwardly. "Go on a date with me. Tomorrow."
She stared at him mutely for a moment, at a loss for words. When she finally processed both his statement and the fact that they had both very obviously been eye-fucking each other, she blushed. She felt the warmth of it travel up her neck and spread across her cheeks. "I'm sorry, but a date? That's what it'll take to make me realize you've changed?"
Malfoy appeared satisfied with himself. "I figure it's a win-win. You realize that I'm not the big, bad Death Eater I once was, and I get to take out Gryffindor's All-Grown-Up Golden Girl." His smile had an edge to it when he tacked on, "And if the evening goes well, we might just find something else to do. How does that Muggle song go? Take a chance on me?"
"Are you—propositioning me?" Hermione gaped at him, unsure whether she was more shocked at his insinuations or the fact that he knew ABBA.
He leaned back in his chair, the picture of calm and collected, though Hermione could see the molten grey of his eyes piercing into her. He looked hungry, and she found that she rather enjoyed that expression directed at her.
"I'm not propositioning you, I'm asking you on a date that may or may not end up with me taking you back to my flat." Malfoy's words went straight to her gut, and both her heartbeat and slumbering libido perked up. "So, I'll pick you up at your place. For the love of all things magical and good in the world, wear something cute." Malfoy snapped his fingers. "Since you're unsure of the date, I'll have something sent over. Nothing too out there, but it's the least I could do since you're hesitant. I'll pick you up at seven." He stood from the table and offered Hermione a sweeping bow with a smirk on his lips. "Until tomorrow."
Hermione was still reeling a moment later when Neville Longbottom plopped into the chair across from her. His wild-eyed look of confusion made Hermione put her own concern aside.
"Neville?" she inquired tentatively. "Is everything okay?" She had to resist her impulse to throw another wide-eyed look at the smirking blonde walking away from her.
"I think—" he paused a second before looking up at Hermione with a crease between his brows. "I think I just told Pansy Parkinson that I'd fancy a shag with her. And I think she agreed to one?"
Hermione blinked once, twice, before she finally found the words she wanted to say. "I'm sorry, but what in Merlin's pants did you just tell me?"
"Exactly."