Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, magic, settings, etc...belong to JKR. Only the plot and OC are mine. No money is being made. I write to learn.

Chapter 6: First Date

~***~

It had been nearly three weeks since that night.

Three weeks, and I had seen him almost every evening since.

In fact, I had gotten a letter via Owl post from him that same night asking to see me the very next day.

It had not taken me long after that first kiss to realize we were moving much too quickly. Before I had come to my senses, Draco's shirt was half off, and my dress was hiked indecently up my thighs. I had not been with a man in a very long time, and I didn't want my first time in a long time to be a wine induced rut that I was sure to regret. No matter how turned on I was, I had to have some standards. So, I hastily made my exit and not a quarter of an hour later, I'd received the letter inviting me to breakfast at Draco's house the next morning.

He cooked.

And now, it was Friday again. I still had not mentioned my liaison with Draco to my friends or parents. After getting over the initial shock of just who I was seeing, I still didn't think Mum and Dad could handle it.

I didn't really want to think about what Harry, Ginny and Ron would say. My stomach quivered at the thought. I didn't think there was really anything to tell anyway. I shared a few meals — and kisses — with Malfoy. It was hardly anything to make the headline news. Yeah, right.

"Hermione, you busy?"

I pulled myself from my thoughts and saw Ron in the doorway of my office. Draco and I agreed that it would be best not to see each other at work. We had never spoken before, so it would raise questions if suddenly a seventh level employee, other than Ron or Harry, came to see me everyday. I certainly wasn't slick enough to pull off a secret inter-office affair.

"Hello, Ron, come in."

"Can't, I'm supposed to be taking these files," he raised his hand holding the folder, "to the Minister in person. Last time, the memo got lost, never made it to the Minister's desk … it was a mess. Anyway, just came by to tell you that the lot of us are going over to George and Katie's tonight after dinner. See you there."

He didn't wait for my response and took off.

"Ron," I called. I didn't know what I would tell him. "Ron, wait."

His head appeared again in the door way. "What is it?"

I swallowed. "I can't make it tonight."

He stepped fully into the office now, a puzzled expression on his face. "Why, do you have to work late or something?"

I really couldn't be upset. After all, that was what I had been doing for the past several months. "No, I've just got … something to do this evening," I realized I sounded more cryptic than I had meant.

I thanked Merlin that Ron wasn't as intuitive as Harry—and that he was in such a rush to get to the Minister's office. Otherwise I would have had to lie, and I really didn't like lying to my friends. I always felt like they knew me too well and could see right through it.

"Does this have anything to do with a bloke?"

"Why would you ask that?" Oh, no.

"Harry mentioned that you might be seeing someone."

"Really? Since Harry is such an expert on my life, did he happen to mention who it might be? I'm dying to know." I really hoped he hadn't.

Ron shook his head a half second before he answered. "No."

I think he lied, but I smiled anyway. I've never known Harry to keep anything from Ron for long. "Ron, the next time you get curious just ask me right out."

He fixed his blue eyes on me so intensely, I could almost see him working it out in his head. He wanted to mention it, I could tell. Instead, he shrugged. "All right then, I s'pose I'll let everyone know. I've gotta go."

All these years and I think I might have underestimated Ron a little bit.

***

I was more than a little worried that I had fallen into such easiness with Draco, especially after such a short amount of time. I was raised believing that being friends first led to the best relationships. That much had been true for my parents, my father's brother, even Harry and Ginny. So, when Ron and I had finally decided to be—more than friends, I was pretty sure he was it. The it. But, there was always something missing between Ron and me. We did the mundane stuff like the friends that we were, but our love making lacked—something. Lacked, lust and passion. It was good but not enough. I hadn't known what I needed until now.

It scared me that I'd found it in Draco Malfoy. And we hadn't even made love yet. He was someone I didn't know very well, and had certainly never been friends with. At some point in our lives, we had even hated each other. How ironic.

In an effort to keep our … acquaintance private, all of our dates had been at his house. Sounds boring at first, but I liked it. I liked spending time with him. Sure, I felt as if we'd skipped an important step, like we were missing out on something but neither of us could afford to be traditional with our dating habits. So, since we couldn't go out, we stayed in and mostly lounged about in each others arms. We still hadn't advanced past heavy kissing and touching; though, sometimes I thought it might be more of his effort than mine. He had been such a good boy.

Tonight, we were out on his patio sharing a large lounge chair. He was on his back, one hand propped behind his head, the other pinned beneath me. I was on my side, my head resting just below his shoulder.

The air smelled like fresh cut grass. It was late spring or early summer, so the sweet smell of flowers mingled through. I loved his place, but I hadn't mentioned it just yet.

"Tell me something," Draco said.

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "What is it like where you come from? Is it really so different from here?"

"Why?" That one word sounded suspicious even to me.

"No particular reason. I was just—curious."

I was still skeptical, but there was no harm in answering him. I started with the last question.

"No, it's actually not too different. Besides the lack of magical abilities, it's really quite the same." I paused, thinking. "The differences I think are that where we have magic, Muggles have technology."

"Like the telly and computers?"

"Exactly. They have cars and cameras and airplanes that fly faster than any broom."

Malfoy made a noise that sounded like a scoff.

"It's true," I said.

"I know about airplanes, but theirs is science. Ours is all magic."

"Does that make is better? It's still tons of metal suspended high above the ground going at tremendous speed."

He didn't say anything for a while, then, "What about the people?"

I thought about what his simple question might imply. "Some are good. Some are bad. Some are as wealthy as you and some are so poor they don't have food to eat. But they are all just people. Nothing separates them from us—from you, except what you think of them. How we judge them."

He was quiet for a few minutes, and I looked up at him. He looked like he was playing with what I'd just said, rolling it around in his head. After a few more minutes he spoke again, one hand playing with a lock of my hair. "Do you think that if they knew about us, they would accept us?"

I assumed that by 'us' he meant all of us, pure-blood and Muggle-born alike. I thought about it. I didn't think much would be different there either. Some would be just as fascinated with us as Arthur was with Muggles. Some would hate us too, simply because we were different. It was sad but true. "People fear and hate what they don't understand," I said finally.

He didn't say anything. We lay still, and I could hear the steady thudding of his heart beneath my ear. His arm tightened, pulling me closer.

"Sometimes…" Draco started, and then stopped before he tried again. "I keep waiting for you to come to your senses. I keep thinking, I don't deserve this—you. I didn't work hard enough…"

"Are you calling me easy?" I teased.

He didn't laugh. "No, I just—"

I didn't interrupt again. Draco seemed to be on the verge of telling me something that clearly seemed hard for him. I thought sitting up, seeing his eyes, him looking back into mine would be too much pressure. So, I stayed still and quiet, waiting for him to continue. He did.

"All the things I've said, all that happened between us—that happened right in my father's house… Like I said, sorry just seems inadequate. But, I am—I am sorry."

I rolled my head up to meet those carefully guarded gray eyes and saw sorrow. The handful of times that I'd met his eyes over the years, I was certain that I'd never seen anything but disdain. Until recently.

He said, "Your face, so serious. What are you thinking?"

I smiled. "I was just thinking that it sounds like you're all grown up."

The corners of his mouth twitched and he shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"I forgive you, Draco." I settled back against his chest, my cheek over his heart. His arm held me even tighter.

We didn't talk for a long time.

"I received my invitation to the ball a few weeks ago," Draco said finally.

Draco wasn't one to make small talk. I was instantly curious. "Yes, I did, too."

If silence had character, Draco's was … anxious.

"Would you accompany me to the ball this year, Hermione?"

Ah. Whatever I had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. I was flattered and wanted to eagerly accept his invitation like some besotted school girl. But, part of me (that part that is pessimistic and anxious) thought of all the negative attention we would draw simply because of who we were and our blood "difference." Personally, I didn't give one fig about pure-blood or Muggle-born, but not everyone thought that way. My greatest concern was everyone else.

I know, I shouldn't care what anyone else thinks, but I do. That wasn't going to change any time soon.

My friends wouldn't care that he was pure-blooded. They would care that it was a Malfoy. His family had served Voldemort, the most evil dark-wizard in an age. I could understand--I was tortured in his father's house and Draco watched! But people changed, or in Draco's case, their true self emerged. And I was certain my friends weren't going to buy that.

Then, there was Draco's family and friends. I don't care how much they smiled for the cameras, I knew the truth. I knew that they still hated Muggles and Muggle-borns.

I put one hand on his sinewy chest and pushed my self up. I could feel the steady thumping of his heart quicken as he awaited my answer. It was on my tongue to refuse him. It would cause too many problems. The media would feed on it for days—possibly weeks. Our friends would also be unpleasantly surprised. We hadn't been dating long enough to cause that kind of trouble in our lives.

But I looked into his face, his handsome, fair face. His eyes were still guarded, but also as open as I felt he could be at this point. Here, I had a mysterious, attractive man that wanted me. I had wanted this for months, years maybe. If he was willing to ignore the stares just to be with me, then it would be quite stupid of me to push him away, to run from the very thing I wanted.

A crease formed on his forehead beneath the fringe of silky fine blonde hair. It should be against some law of nature for a man to have hair that perfect. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak.

I silenced him the only way I knew how--with a kiss. I loved kissing him. His lips were smooth and dry and soft.

It was chaste but quickly turned into something more. When neither of us could breathe, I pulled away. "Yes," I said. "I would love to go with you."

Draco inhaled deeply and exhaled in one quick blow. "I thought you were going to say no."

I rested my head back onto his shoulder. "I had you scared for a moment, didn't I?"

"You did."

"Hermione," he said after a pause, "I think I want to take you out properly. Is that alright with you? Tomorrow is the last night the Jesters are playing at the theater."

Apparently, he was feeling lucky. But that anxious feeling settled in my chest for the second time in less than an hour.

I wondered if he had wanted to go public this whole time? Was I the reason we'd spent the past three weeks staring at the sky out on his veranda? I felt a little ridiculous; I was making a tiny thing into a very Hagrid-sized problem.

So Malfoy wanted to go to the theater. Hundreds of couples did it quite frequently. Even more, pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns dated each other all the time. What was my worry?

I agreed to go out with him.

I went home that night in a rare optimistic mood. Maybe the fact that it would be Draco and Hermione wouldn't mean as much as I thought it would.

***

By the time Draco showed up at my door to pick me up, I had convinced myself that I wouldn't be nervous. All of that went out of my head as soon as I saw him.

He wore a black suit that looked like they might be worth more than all of my living room furniture, complete with a black dress shirt and a black silk tie. The black made his alabaster skin even more pronounced. His hair had been carefully styled to look neat but messy.

The overall effect was sexy roguishness.

Something in my belly tightened as his eyes swept over me, head to toe and back again.

"Hermione," Draco drawled. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," I said; there was no use trying to be modest. I went through a load of trouble to achieve my look.

I wore a midnight blue satiny dress that fit snugly in all the right places. I'd gotten it on a whim while out shopping with Ginny months ago. I never thought I'd get the chance to wear it so soon, lucky me. I wore more of those skinny-heeled shoes, but I'd been careful about selecting ones that were stylish but not neck-breakingly stylish. I'd also wrapped a black shawl over my shoulders. I wasn't willing to freeze for fashion either.

I wore my hair twisted in a bun that looked more complicated than it was and finished the look with subtle make-up.

"Ready?" Draco asked.

I took one last deep breath. The question seemed ominous. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Draco took my hand. He instinctively licked his lips before he pressed his lips lightly across my knuckles. My skin was cool where the wetness from his lips lingered. I shivered, and he mistook it for something else.

"Relax," he said, "everything will be fine."

I hoped he was right.

The lobby of the theater looked just as it should: high vaulted ceilings, curving staircases to the left and the right leading to the balcony seats, and a grand chandelier. I could barely see through the sea of people though.

It was closing night for the popular comedy group. The lobby was a myriad of colorful dress robes, suits and dresses of almost every fabric known to wizard kind. Draco leaned in and said something to me, but his voice only blended in with the collective murmur of voices.

I felt Draco's hand find mine. Normally, I didn't like being led around in public like a misbehaving child, but I loved the feel of his skin. His skin was impossibly smooth, smoother than a man's skin had any right to be. Yet he was all man: his face angular, his shoulders broad enough to be clearly masculine, his fingers long with a firm grip. He led me toward the left stair case, and a group of people huddled closely together just beside it. I stopped.

We were less than five feet away when the brawny, tall wizard turned, a smile spreading across his face.

"Draco," Goyle called, "We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it."

Draco stopped walking, too. I refused to move forward, and he refused to let go. I was angry. I didn't like surprises; of course, Draco had no idea about that. Not my problem.

"Malfoy," I hissed under my breath.

He couldn't have heard me, but he turned to me just the same. He stepped in front of me and blocked his bulky friend from my view.

"Hermione, please. We would have had to do this sooner or later, right?"

Bugger him, he was right. Maybe it was the please. He rarely said please for anything.

"I just wish you would have told me … do they know?"

He never got to answer my question because Blaise Zabini had come up behind him. His brown hand clapped Draco on the shoulder.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you—" He spotted me, and he stopped talking as if his question had been chopped off in the middle.

I got my answer. Zabini was just as surprised to see me, and Draco gripping my hand, as I was to see him. All of them.

Draco gently squeezed my hand as he turned back to his friends. I'd deal with him later.

"Everyone, you know Hermione." What an opening line.

I waited while everyone finished exchanging meaningful looks. Now, I could see that it was the same group that had been at Magick Spot. Goyle, Zabini, Greengrass, Parkinson, and Lavender.

Pansy and Daphne shared one more meaningful glance than the others. Daphne looked positively peeved. Pansy leaned in to whisper in her ear, but I never got a chance to see Daphne's reaction.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" Lavender asked, sidling up beside me.

Malfoy let go of his death grip on my hand to greet the rest of the group. He kept his eyes on me like he was afraid I was going to make a run for it. Imagine that.

"Hi Lavender," I said. "I'm just here to see the Jesters like everyone else."

She smiled a dazzling smile and narrowed her eyes on me. "I know that. I mean are you dating Draco?" She whispered the last bit like it was a juicy piece of gossip.

Well, at least no one could accuse her of being indirect. I really didn't know how to answer it. What were we telling people? I hadn't even known that we were telling people. At least not tonight.

Luckily, I didn't have to answer. Draco was back at my side, gripping my hand as if his life depended on it.

"We better get inside and get our seats," he said.

Pansy and Daphne were the first through to go up. I noticed they had barely even looked my way.

"We'll talk later," Lavender said. She took Zabini's elbow and started up the stairs, too. Not if I could help it.

"Hermione," Draco said.

"Malfoy," I said and threw up a hand to stop him. I knew that if we talked about this now, it would be a huge row. "Let's just enjoy the evening. We'll discuss it later."

Draco looked like he was struggling to control himself. He probably wasn't used to people cutting him off like that. Good, he'd better get used to it.

He turned and placed a hand low on my back to guide me but didn't try to resume holding my hand.

We had a private box, which meant someone's father was footing the bill for this evening. These people were wealthy, but they didn't yet command the status of their parents. We took our seats just as the lights went dim. Naturally, I'd ended up between Lavender and Malfoy. I suppose it was better than being next any of the others.

I could feel equal energy from each side. They were both itching to talk to me. Right now I didn't want to talk to either. To my relief, Blaise said something to Lavender and pulled her attention from me.

I could only feel Draco's eyes trained on me.

"I really don't see why you're so upset," he whispered. He was close to my ear. I could feel the heat of his breath tickling my lobe. I could smell the mint on his breath. I fought not to react, not to close my eyes and bite my lip. I won, good for me.

The audience erupted into laughter. The opening scene was a battle scene, and one of the actors had just shot a burst of bubbles from his wand at his opponent. I didn't laugh.

"Draco, will you please not talk to me. I'm trying to watch the show." I hadn't even looked at him.

He leaned back over into his space. Moments later, I felt him reach for my hand. I folded my arms across my chest.

"You're being really immature," he finally pointed out.

I turned to him, an incredulous look on my face. "Immature? If you were in my place, you'd be the same way."

Draco rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the stage.

About thirty minutes into the show, I could tell that Draco wasn't watching the performance. He hadn't laughed once. Neither had I. There was really no point in spending the entire night in a foul mood. Besides, in my peripheral vision, I could see Lavender and Blaise doing more than holding hands. Great. I stood, and without looking at Draco, I crossed over him and made my way out of the box, down the stairs and into the lobby.

It was deserted, only a few staff members littered the area. I blinked in the sudden brightness. I went to a waiting area in the corner and sat on the bench. A few seconds later, as I knew he would, Draco came out. His face was blank, his pale eyes unreadable.

He sat down next to me, leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. His thigh brushed mine.

"I'm still so angry with you. I can't believe what you did," I said.

"I apologize," he said stiffly. I wondered how much that had cost him.

"Malfoy—" I began.

"No, it's fine. I should have asked you first. I just—" he stopped and fell silent.

"You're absolutely right, you should have asked. I hate surprises. I hate being caught off guard like that and totally unprepared especially in front of your friends." I paused. "I get the feeling that they weren't too happy either."

"It doesn't matter what they think, Hermione."

I laughed so abruptly it sounded condescending, even to me. "Please, you of all people don't care about image?"

"Don't laugh at me," he said. He sat up and turned to me, his gray eyes were so intense. Could eyes the color of storm clouds be fiery?

"Don't do anything like this again, then."

Something in his eyes flared even more, but I never got to know what it was.

"Draco, is everything all right?" Daphne Greengrass was a few feet away. I hadn't even heard her approach.

"Everything is fine, Daphne. Go back to the show," Draco said. He reached for my hand and pulled it into his lap, waiting for her to leave.

"Are you sure, I heard—"

"I said I'm fine. Go back inside."

If looks could kill, the look she gave me would have stopped my heart in its tracks. I slid my eyes to Draco. I realized that just then was the first time I doubted the honesty of Draco's words. Was there more to him and Daphne than he was letting on?

He looked at the clock on the wall.

"The show's almost over. I guess there's no point in going back inside. Do you want to get out of here?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That, with Daphne. She came all the way out here to check on you? Draco," I said and pulled my hand from his. "If there is something between the two of you, tell me now."

Draco didn't blink. "I've told you. There is nothing between us; we're barely friends. You can't think I'm that thick, can you? Why would I bring you along if I were dating Daphne?"

Well. When he said it like that.

I still didn't know if I believed him totally, but I had no choice. Well, I did, but I had no actual proof that he'd lied. I'd take his word this time. I would trust him.

"Let's go," I said finally.

He gathered my hand again and though we were both still angry, I let him pull me close. We had almost made it to the exit doors when I heard it.

"Hermione?"

I turned in slow motion. As if easing the band-aid off, peeling the corners back, would be less painful than snatching it.

I would know Ron Weasley's voice anywhere. I would also know when that voice was upset. Right now, it was very, very upset.

He pulled his hand free of his date's, the pixie woman named Charlotte, and started in our direction. I felt Draco tense up, and I stepped in front of him. Not to protect him because with heels, I was at least three inches shorter than Draco's six foot frame. And he was shorter than Ron by at least two. So, no, I wasn't protecting anyone, but if Ron wanted to hurt Draco, he'd have to hurt me first.

I didn't think he wanted to do that. At least it was what I told myself as I watched the freckles on his face turn an angry scarlet.

"Ron, wait," I said. I put my hand on his chest when he finally reached us. But it was like pulling the leash of an angry dog. It only fed his purpose, and he wasn't hearing me. It wasn't until Charlotte came and put her hand on his arm that he seemed to snap out of his—fit.

"Ron," I said. "Ron, what's wrong with you?"

Draco laughed a bitter, humorless laugh. "It's Weasley. You don't even have to ask."

Ron started at him again, but Charlotte held onto his arm.

I said, "Draco, don't help, please."

Ron finally noticed me. "Since when's he Draco to you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't think here is the place to have this conversation. Let's go—"

"Are you dating him?" He said dating like a much more profane word. I was finally mad.

"I certainly don't see how it concerns you, Ron."

His eyes went wide. I could see too much white around the blue. "His father was practically screwing Vol—Him. He's a Death Eater, Hermione. Just because the Ministry can't prove it, doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Can you prove it, Weasley?" Draco said.

Ron either didn't hear him or wisely chose to ignore him. But, I knew it wasn't true. No Dark Mark marred Draco left forearm. If he ever did Voldemort's work, it had been by force. I didn't think any of that would matter to Ron. He narrowed his blue, blue eyes on mine and put both his hand on my shoulders.

"Hermione, he watched while his aunt tried to kill you. You deserve better than him. I would prefer you to come to me than him." He thrust his chin in Draco's direction.

Ah, so that was it. He thought I was so desperate for love that I went to any man that would have me. I said as much. "So, that's what you think Ron? I'd become lonely and desperate and in the grip of my pathetic loneliness I turned to the arms of any man that would have me? Those arms happened to be Draco?" I jerked myself free of his hands.

"Hermione, that's not what I said."

"It's not what you said, but it's what you meant, Ronald." I looked at Charlotte Bell, who hadn't made a peep throughout this whole thing. "I'm so sorry you had to see this."

She cast her eyes downward. She didn't reply, but her cheeks flushed almost as red as Ron's.

That was odd. What did she have to be ashamed of? I wanted to ask, but I wanted to be out of there even more. "Come on, Draco, let's go," I said instead.

I had turned to leave, but Ron's hand on my wrist stopped me. I looked back, but not at his face. I stared at his hand on the bare skin of my wrist. He held me, and I looked at the joining of our bodies trying to radiate complete disapproval. Most people will back off when your reaction to their touch is that strong. He didn't.

"Hermione, you can't leave with him," Ron said. His voice was too calm, too steady for the type of request he was making.

"Let go of me, Ron." His grip tightened, and that first spark of panic that said this has the potential to get out of hand thrilled through me.

I pulled my arm, testing him. My hand wasn't going anywhere.

"Ron, let go of me," I tried again, louder. Maybe reversing the wording would work.

"Ms. is everything all right here?" I looked up and an usher peered at us from a safe distance. He was tall, almost as tall as Ron and big. Not fat, but solid, as if he ate steak and potatoes and lifted baby thestrals.

"I'm fine," I said in a voice that did not match the situation. "Ron, let go. You're causing a scene." I whispered the last part.

"Hermione, you cannot leave with Malfoy," he said.

"Sir," the usher said. "I think you should take your hands off the lady."

"This is my—" but I never got to hear what I was to Ron because Draco's fist came out of nowhere to smash into Ron's nose.

Ron went down, a hand covering his nose, but I could already see blood running down his face.

I whirled around, "Draco! Why did you hit him? Have you all gone mad?"

Draco just looked down at the other man with a pleased expression on his face. He shook his hand and flexed the fingers like they do in the Muggle films.

The usher ran over to check on Ron. "Sir, are you okay? Do you need to see a mediwizard?"

Ron jerked from the man's touch and stood, swaying to his feet. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

The usher looked at Draco and me. "Ms. I'm going to have to ask you and your friend to leave the premises, or I'll need to call the authorities."

But I didn't hear what he said, not really. I just looked at Ron, my friend. He had moved his hand. I didn't think his nose was broken, but blood had run down his chin, a few crimson drops stained the gleaming white dress shirt under his robes like some kind of macabre painting.

I said, "I am so sorry, Ron."

"Did you hear me, ma'am? You need to leave."

"Come on, Hermione. Let's go," Draco said.

I looked at Ron one last time. We went.


Notes: Thanks to my beta, BookofSecrets, she's great! So, I really didn't want to write Angry!Ron. I wonder why he always turns out to be really upset in fanfiction? But after I wrote and re-wrote the end of the chapter, he was still angry. I think he was more shocked than angry, though. We'll see. Also, this is where the story really picks up (to me at least). Lots of things happen after this... I'm wondering, do any of you have any ideas as to who the killer is?

Thank you for reading and for your reviews...I value the compliments as well as the critiques!