Sunday rolled around, and Hermione awoke with knots in her stomach. Despite Draco's arms around her and the warm sunshine pouring in through the window, she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but anxiety over visits this afternoon.

She still hadn't heard a word from Harry or Ron, and though she still believed that Harry was on her side – or that at least he wasn't angry with her – the fact that he hadn't sent her a single letter throughout the week felt like a knife through the heart… or the back.

And, she knew without a doubt that Harry had told Ginny. If he hadn't, Ron certainly had, and the fact that she'd been just as silent didn't bode well for that relationship either.

She was nervous about what may happen, and she wasn't sure which would be worse – them showing up and being angry with her or no one showing up at all. Before she'd even made it out of bed, the bubble of nerves had already morphed into anger, a deep resentment that after all that she'd done for them, all the times she'd put her neck on the line – literally – for them, and they were both just abandoning her.

No, she reminded herself, it's just Ron. Harry is just… busy?

She rolled over with a groan, burying her face in Draco's bare chest and wishing she could just stay here all day and avoid it altogether.

Draco must've sensed her frustration; he woke up and moved just enough to trail his fingers up her spine, breaking goosebumps across her skin. "You okay?"

Throwing her leg over his hips and breathing him in, she huffed and burrowed further beneath the blankets in hopes of stopping her foul mood in its tracks before it completely derailed the entire day.

It wasn't even eight in the morning, and she already wanted the day to be over.

"No." Her words came out garbled, brushing against his shirt as she spoke. "I'm pissed off. I can't believe none of them have even spoken to me."

He stopped his ministrations across her back, and she felt him stiffen, just barely, but enough for her to register it; she knew he blamed himself for all of it, and she knew he still worried that she'd decide he wasn't worth the headache and the strain on her relationships with her friends. She wasn't sure that he would, but before he had the chance to even think about pulling away from her, she'd wrapped her calf around his thigh, locking him in place around her.

The movement stopped whatever thought had been festering in his mind, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt him chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating across her lips.

He brushed his fingers down her spine again and said, "I wasn't going anywhere."

"Good," she said. "I'm sorry my grumpiness woke you up. I don't know what to expect today." With an exasperated sigh, she rolled onto her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling above her and said, "I don't know if I should prepare myself for another argument or for nobody to show at all."

He scooted closer, dropping a kiss to the top of her shoulder, and his lips tickled across her skin as he spoke. "Then let's blow it off."

She turned her head to face him, confused by what he meant. "What?"

"Let's do something else instead." He leaned up enough to hover over her, a soft smile pulling on one side of his lips as he said, "Let me take you out."

Hermione sat up as well, her legs brushing against his thighs and his contagious smile replicated on her face.

Before she could ask him what he had in mind, his face became serious, only the faint hint of a smirk where his full-on smile had been and the remnants of it still dancing in his eyes. "Would you go on a date with me?"

Her own smile grew, along with the growing warmth in her chest. They were in a real relationship. They'd shared it with their friends, in fact, for better or worse, but these normal things that people do in a relationship, going on dates, meeting one another's parents – in a very different way than she'd met his before – a kiss on a doorstep… those things they'd never gotten to share with one another, and it was nice to hear that he wanted all of those things with her too.

His eyes shifted to either side for a split second, and she realized she still hadn't answered him. "Oh, sorry. Yes, I would love to go on a date with you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, which was hilarious. There's no way she would have said no, but apparently her not speaking for a moment had led him to believe maybe she was reconsidering. "You had me worried there," he said, as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and relishing the warmth they always provided.

Rising to her knees, she tried deepening their kiss, tried pushing forward slightly to recline him on their bed, but his hands left her hair, trailing sparks across her shoulders and down her arms to where he stopped, his palms soft but firm against the tops of her arms.

She sat back onto her heels, looking confused – and slightly stung – at his obvious halt to what she was hoping would turn into their normal morning routine now, but instead he only smirked, clearly knowing where she'd been heading, and said, "We haven't even been on a date yet. What kind of man do you take me for, Granger?"

He laughed outright at the way she narrowed her eyes at him before leaning down to offer her a chaste kiss, a poor consolation in her opinion.

As silly as she found it – and a bit infuriating if she was being honest – it was also really sweet, and she couldn't help but smile to herself as he got up to change out of his pyjamas. He was trying to give her what she'd asked him for all those weeks ago, "something normal" for once in her life. What they had was anything but normal, but she was loving every minute of it.

Remembering what started this conversation in the first place, her smile fell. She'd have to at least attempt to get in touch with Harry. She didn't want Harry to show up and find that she wasn't even there.

When she mentioned this to Draco, he shook his head. "I'll take care of it."

"What do you mean? You'll talk to Harry?" she asked, unable to restrain the incredulous tone in her voice.

"I'll take care of it," he said again, buttoning his shirt with a self-assured grin on his face.

Well, this should be interesting.

Hermione spent the day working on what few chores she had and reading. Draco had left just after breakfast, saying he needed to exchange galleons for Muggle money. Of course, she'd tried to tell him she had Muggle money, but the horrified look on his face said he would absolutely not be letting her pay. After she'd made fun of his antiquated dating ideas, he bowed extravagantly, with all the pretension of the Pureblood elitist he was raised to be, and brushed his lips across her knuckles with a roguish grin before heading to Alys' office to use her floo.

Hours later, after she'd fussed over her outfit for far longer than she cared to admit, finally transfiguring one of her sweaters into a sweater dress, a soft knock took her attention from the grumbling she was currently doing in front of the mirror.

She rolled her eyes and thought how ridiculous it was that she was even nervous right now. They were already sleeping together for gods' sake; why did a real date have her palms sweating like a First Year?

She checked her reflection one last time. Making sure her belt was straight and her dress front was smooth, she took a breath and opened her door. She hadn't really known what to expect; she'd already convinced herself that this dress wouldn't be enough because he'd certainly show up in something ridiculous like a tux, but she sighed in relief when he stood on the other side of her door wearing a simple black suit coat and slacks.

He was holding a single rose, which he held out to her before brushing a kiss across her cheek. It was strange. After all they'd experienced together, somehow a date, complete with flowers and frills, had a blush that matched the rose in her hand crawling up her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said, lifting the flower to her nose out of habit. Her mother had grown roses when she was younger, and the smell of them always reminded her of dirty knees, leather gloves, and her mother's laughter. But the pain that accompanied the reminder of her loss wasn't stabbing, gutting her as it once had; as was more often than not these days, she felt the longing in her chest, the hollow in the pit of her stomach, but she was able to move past it with a smile as she conjured a vase, sitting it on her desk right beside the top-hat rabbit Draco had given her for her birthday.

She stepped out of her doorway. "I wasn't sure what you had planned, and I didn't really have much here," she said, looking down at her dress a bit self-consciously.

"You look beautiful," he said, offering her his arm as they started down the hall. She twisted her arm through his and gave a coy smile when he brought her hand to his lips and said, "Perfect."

"Thank you." She pulled a curl behind her ear and said, "You…umm… you look very handsome. I mean, you always look handsome, but you…" Why are compliments so hard? Receiving them made her uncomfortable and giving them made her want to throw up.

"What? This old thing?" he said with a smile, giving her an out from her obvious discomfort.

She bumped her hip into his playfully, wondering if he'd always been this charming. Had this Draco always been there, hidden beneath all the snark and self-righteousness, and she'd just never noticed?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her after catching her staring at him as they walked.

"You're amazing."

Her bashful smile morphed into an eyeroll when he said, "I am, aren't I?"

"And then you ruin it when you open your mouth," she said, shaking her head, but twisting her fingers through his regardless.

"It's a gift, really," he said with a wink, "and you love it."

It felt like they spent so much time talking about trauma and all the heavy things in their lives that they didn't always get the opportunity to just be, to savor the moments of being normal people together, but she loved the moments of inconsequential banter with him just as much as the vulnerable ones.

"I refuse to add to your overinflated ego." Remembering that he'd promised to take care of everything, she asked a bit sheepishly, "Did you… did you owl Harry?"

"No."

She stopped, pulling him to a halt beside her. "But, if I'm not here, he–"

"I didn't owl him. I went to see him."

This was even more disconcerting. She blinked at him a few times, trying to make sure she'd understood him correctly. "What?"

"I went to his house. Well, to your house, but regardless, I went to see him, and he won't be coming today." He started to walk away as if that were the end, as if the words he was saying didn't sound just absurd coming out of his mouth, but she held his hand in hers and didn't move with him.

Turning back to face her, he said, "I just told him that we were going out and that he didn't need to come today." The way his eyes shot briefly to the left and one side of his mouth twitched said there was a bit more to the story than that. The lift of one eyebrow on her part spurred him to continue, and he gave an exasperated sigh and a very un-Draco roll of his eyes before saying, "And I also told him he was wrong for not speaking to you for the last week."

The words came out all as one, and her mouth fell open in shock. She couldn't believe that he'd visit Harry or that he'd ever consider interfering at all, and for a moment she was too stunned to speak.

Furrowing his brow and his lips pressed together in a thin line, Draco clearly thought that perhaps he'd overstepped. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and said, "Maybe I shouldn't–"

But her lips on his stopped him mid-sentence. When she and Harry had been in a row before, Ron had always taken his side. When Ron had been the one upset with her, Harry either did his best to stay out of it or he sided with Ron as well. Outside of when Ron had abandoned them in the middle of their horcrux hunt and when Harry had called him an idiot two weeks ago, Harry had never stood up for her either. They'd both stood up for her against the Slytherins – Draco included in that – on many occasions, but Harry and Ron had always been a unit for the most part. If one was bothered about something, including something she'd done wrong, they both typically were.

"That was… very sweet," she said after breaking their kiss. Her hands stayed on his face, and she watched as the worry that was in his eyes a split second prior drained away. Dropping off her tiptoes, she added, "Thank you." She hesitated for a second, looking away from him, not entirely sure she really wanted to know the answer, before she asked, "And, what did he say?"

"He isn't angry with you. He said he just didn't want to upset you by saying the wrong thing."

Hermione felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, like a heavy cloud had parted and the sun was shining through. After a week of rattled nerves from Harry's silence, this was great news.

"The she-weasel… umm… I mean, Ginny," he amended quickly when Hermione turned back to glare at him, "she definitely is angry." As Hermione's face fell again, Draco said just as quickly, "With me, not with you. She's angry with me. She accused me of, well, some very nefarious things, and it wasn't until I told them that I can't even do magic that she relented."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, knowing how much it bothered him to admit that part of his sentencing to people.

He shrugged. "I expected it to be much worse," he said, but the pained expression that flashed in his face for a split second told her that it bothered him whether he wanted to admit it or not. She'd learned a lot about him over the last few months, and despite his blowhard confidence and ability to keep everyone at an arm's length, he did care about how people viewed him.

"Thank you… for doing that." She took a breath, not entirely sure she wanted to admit her thoughts out loud. She loved Harry, more than just about anyone else in her life, but he really had never stood behind her on anything in this way. Ron certainly never had. But for some reason, she'd always found herself making excuses for them throughout their friendship, rationalizing the way they'd always taken one another's side. "I really appreciate it. No one… no one has ever stood up for me before. Not like that." Saying it, saying the words out loud was embarrassing somehow, as if it were her fault in some way that they'd never wanted to, and her gaze involuntarily fell to the floor.

He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and tilted her face back up to look at him. His eyes were full of sincerity as he said, "You're worth that and more, you know that, right?"

At that moment, with the comfort of his hand on her cheek and his fingers laced around her own, she really wanted to say to hell with the date and just spend the entire evening back in their room, but knowing how excited he was to take her out, she gave him one more kiss before pulling him toward the doorway, eager for the evening to end already so she could touch him.

The halls were empty as was the porch where all the guests typically sat, devoid of the normal sounds of laughter and excited speech. Since Walt had given them all free reign to come and go as they pleased outside of group activities and therapy, the others had decided to visit with their friends and family at home this week.

When the crack of Apparation rang through the courtyard, Hermione was surprised to see Pansy, and she looked over at Draco questioningly. Before she could ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue, Draco said, "She isn't here for me." Less than a second transpired before another figure Apparated beside Pansy, and Hermione's eyes widened in shock at seeing Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne looked hesitant; her golden hair hung at her shoulders as her eyes scanned the front of the building, like she was looking for some sort of trap. Pansy gave her a small smile and wrapped her arm around Daphne's, gently guiding her toward the porch where Hermione and Draco were standing.

As they walked past, Daphne didn't acknowledge them, nor did she even seem to realize they were standing there. Her face was ashen, and her hand around Pansy's arm was clenched so tightly that it shook as they climbed the few stairs to the top. Pansy kissed Draco's cheek as she walked past, offering Hermione a small nod on the way.

Hermione let out a breath as the two women made it inside The Willows, and Draco said, "Pansy's been trying to get Daphne to come visit for a while now."

"I'm so glad she's here, but…" Hermione glanced back at the door, uncertain about leaving Nicola alone. "Should we stay?" she asked, pulling Draco's hand slightly as he started to walk toward the Apparation point. "Nicola was in pretty bad shape the last time she was here."

Draco followed her gaze to the door then said, "No, Pansy won't leave if Nicola's upset." Seeming to understand Hermione's hesitance, he said, "If you want to stay, we can."

"No, no, you're right." Hermione said, casting one more glance at the door before turning back to him and offering him a smile. "Lead the way, Mr. Malfoy."

After borrowing her wand and pulling her closer to him, his arm wrapped low around her waist and his hand warm against her hip, he Apparated them into what must've been a small magical suburb of Edinburgh. Hermione could see the castle out of the shop window in front of them, and the Apparation point where they'd landed was similar to the one just off Diagon Alley.

Loosening his grip around her waist, Draco slipped her wand into her hand, and she stowed it away in her knee-high boots. Before she could take a seat somewhere, he'd pulled her by the hand out of the shop and into the busy street outside. The sounds and smells of a bustling city overwhelmed her senses, the smell of brewing coffee from a corner coffee shop, voices and laughter, a honking horn. A lush garden covered the few blocks across from them, and Draco turned to her and asked, "Have you ever been here?"

"Once," she replied, and the memory of the one time she'd visited before with her parents played in her mind.

Her parents had been so excited to walk the halls of the castle with her, gushing over the turrets and gothic fireplaces, thrilled to be inside a "real castle!" Hermione hadn't the heart to tell them that she lived in a castle for half the year. Edinburgh Castle was gorgeous and amazing in its own right, but it was no Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had been her second home, and really, in some ways it had felt like her only home, the only place where she felt she could be herself, the only place she truly felt accepted. Having that taken from her would always be heartbreaking.

But, now, with the feel of Draco's hand in hers, his thumb grazing the back of her knuckles as they walked, was not the time to reminisce on heartache or times lost. She glanced at Draco beside her and realized that none of that mattered any longer. It would always hurt – the loss of her parents, her inability to even step foot inside Hogwarts, her home – but just like her memory of her parents when Draco had given her the rose earlier, she was moving on from it. It was no longer her story, but just a chapter of it.

The sun was just beginning to set, the sky full of pink and orange as the sun sank behind the hilltop, and she was surprised when Draco pulled her not further toward the castle up on the hill above them but inside… a barber shop?

"What in the world…" Hermione's words trailed off as they walked inside what appeared to be a barber shop on the outside, but once they'd stepped through the doors, the interior was entirely different. There were no large leather chairs, no sinks lining the walls like an ordinary barber shop; instead, there was nothing but a rickety set of stairs leading down into a small room, with rows of bookshelves lining the walls and a single lamp off to one corner.

"Have you ever been here?" he asked again, but clearly meaning this strange establishment and not Edinburgh itself.

She shook her head, still a little at a loss as to what they were doing, but she followed him down the stairs regardless. He began perusing the shelves, so Hermione did as well. Despite this being the most unique bookstore/barber shop she'd ever seen, she couldn't resist a bookshelf when she saw one. However, before she'd even had a chance to really look, Draco tilted one of the books, and Hermione gave a soft "oh" of surprise and jumped back as the entire shelf swung backwards, revealing a bar on the other side.

They stepped through the hidden doorway, and Hermione was in awe. After her eyes adjusted to the low light, she could fully take in the feel of a 1920s speakeasy – dark leather sofas, raw wood floors and tables, a bar on one side, mirrors lining the wall behind it, and a small stage in one corner.

Draco pulled her toward a table set away from the stage, ending her gaping as she took a seat.

"Have you ever been here?" Hermione asked, an incredulous smile spread across her face. This was not at all the type of place she'd been expecting. When he said that he hadn't, she asked, "How did you even know about this place?"

A jazz band played on the stage in front of them, and Draco spoke up a bit to talk over them. "Blaise. He's gone on a few dates with a Muggle, and she brought him here a few weeks ago. I thought you'd like it."

"I love it," she said, her eyes scanning the bar around them. She felt his fingers wrap around her own again, and she glanced toward their hands resting on the table with a smile. This was different. Obviously, at the Willows everyone was aware of their relationship, but very rarely were they this open. It was only hand-holding, which was hardly anything in comparison to the snogging that Seamus and Parvati had done on more than one occasion as they'd all sat around the bonfire.

Maybe this wasn't much to some, but for Hermione, who two months ago could barely be in the same room as Ron and she certainly wouldn't have been holding his hand or touching him at all for that matter, it was perfect.

"I have no idea what any of this is," Draco said as the band stopped playing, drawing her attention to the drink menu in front of them. "I don't suppose they have any Firewhisky for you." Over the top of the small oil lamp sitting in the middle of their table, he smirked at the grimace she made.

"No, sorry," the bartender said, after making his way over to their table. His waistcoat and newsboy cap said they certainly took the speakeasy vibe seriously here. "We don't carry Firewhisky actually, but we do have the Flaming Harbinger." He motioned toward the menu Draco was holding and pointed toward one of the drinks listed. "It's made with Smokehead whisky, which is similar, but in my opinion is much more peaty and bold."

What? Hermione met Draco's eyes briefly, and clearly they were both thinking the same thing. Was this guy a wizard? Otherwise, how would he know about Firewhisky?

"Hmm," Draco said, looking back down at the menu, the smirk still teasing across his features, "what about butterbeer? Do you have anything with butterbeer?"

Hermione bit her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing as the waiter, once again, proved he either knew far too much about the Wizarding world or he was lying straight through his teeth. "No, but we have the Southern Queen, which I've been told is pretty comparable to Butterbeer. It's just as smooth."

Draco nodded, somehow able to hold it together much better than Hermione was doing. She continued looking down at the menu, hoping the poor guy wouldn't notice that she was fighting the urge to dissolve into giggles. "I'll take the flaming one."

"Wonderful. And for you?" The waiter turned to Hermione, a pleasant smile beneath his curled-up mustache.

"Do you have anything with elf wine?" she asked, and she was surprised at herself that her voice didn't even quake as she spoke.

"Wow, you two really know your drinks," the waiter said, and Hermione was shocked at Draco's ability to nod emphatically at the man as if he wasn't just completely blowing smoke. "We have the RuPaul, which has notes of vanilla and honey, very similar to elf wine."

"I'll take that one then," Hermione said, and she couldn't even look at Draco as the waiter walked away, knowing if she did, she'd be unable to hold her giggles at bay. She covered her mouth with her hand, finally glancing at Draco briefly, and found him also fighting back a grin.

"That man is lying!" Draco said, incredulously.

"Welcome to the Muggle world. You've now met your very first hipster."

Lying or otherwise, the drinks were wonderful. Hermione's was nothing whatsoever like elf wine, but the freeze-dried strawberries were a delicious touch. Draco's had been served covered in a glass top that was filled with thick swirling, grey smoke. When the glass was lifted off the top, the smoke twirled around their heads, and the smell of cinnamon and clove filled the air.

"It really is like Firewhisky," Draco said, his eyes narrowing toward the waiter who was now behind the bar shaking a drink for someone else. "There's no way he's a wizard."

"I think it was just a lucky guess," Hermione said, after they'd finished their cocktails and stood to make it down the street in time for their dinner reservations. But, as they made it back to the door, it swung open of its own accord, and both Hermione and Draco looked back toward the bar where the waiter shot them a wink before turning toward the other customers and sliding his wand surreptitiously into the pocket of his trousers.

"Well, now I feel like an ass," she said as they stepped out into the street, both of them shocked at having met a wizard who was perfectly content allowing them to think he was not only a Muggle but a lying hipster to boot.

They laughed at their incorrect assumption about their poor bartender as they walked toward whatever plans Draco had for them next. The sun had fully set now, and the lights of the city were shining around them, the glow of tail lights and buzzing shop signs as they walked by each window. Hermione remembered this walk years ago with her parents, and she was excited as they stopped in front of The Witchery, the same restaurant she'd dined at with them back then.

Draco beamed at her expectantly, clearly proud of himself for his dining choice, and Hermione thought that was maybe due to the name. "Did you eat here when you visited before?"

She didn't want to kill his mood by admitting to having been here, but she couldn't lie to him either. "I have actually. It was wonderful." He looked slightly crestfallen, so she quickly added, "It was with my parents, a few years ago."

The smile immediately returned to his face. "Wonderful," he said, holding the door open for her with one hand resting on her lower back. "Then you haven't really ever been here."

"What do you mean?" she asked, but he'd already stepped toward the podium. The maître d', a young blonde woman, smiled from ear to ear as they entered, her eyes fixed on Draco.

"How many in your party?" the woman asked, looking through her lashes and leaning forward on the podium.

What a tart!

"Two. We'd like to eat in the garden," he said, adding with a secret smile that had the hostess blushing all the way to her temples, "We've heard it's quite magical."

"Of course," the woman said, blinking a few times as she gathered her wits when she seemed to finally realize that Hermione was there, standing a few feet behind Draco in the small alcove giving her the best side-eye she could muster. "Right this way."

"I think she just fell in love." She elbowed Draco playfully and rolled her eyes as they were led to the back of the restaurant, through rows of tables draped in flawless white linen, mahogany walls, and deep chocolate leather benches.

"Well, now you know what it felt like watching that Shakespeare-quoting buffoon fawn all over you." Hermione laughed at his obvious refusal to even say Paul's name, as if he didn't remember it.

"Touché," she said, wrapping her arm through his as they turned at the end of a long hallway. She'd begun to wonder where they were going, having clearly not seen this side of the restaurant when she'd been here with her parents, when the hostess stopped them at the end of the hallway.

Hermione looked around, but there were no doors; the hallway led to nothing. The hostess waved her hand in front of the tapestry that covered the entire back wall of the hall, and the stone pathway in the middle of the hanging fabric seemed to stretch out and widen in front of them, slowly morphing into real stone that led down a short flight of steps.

After almost a decade in the magical world, Hermione still found herself being amazed when confronted with it in ways that she wasn't expecting, and the gasp that escaped was entirely genuine. Draco turned to her, his eyes dancing at realizing that she was completely surprised with his choice of restaurant.

They stepped through the walkway and down the steps, leaving the hostess behind, and stopped at another podium. Here, the maître d' wore obvious wizarding robes and guided them to their table through a much different setting.

They looked to be immersed in a forest; The roof was open to show the night sky, very similar to the Great Hall, and stars twinkled, glittering in the inky black above them. Vines and ivy covered the walls, looping in and out and around one another, so dense that the walls behind them were completely hidden. And the smell of open wind, damp earth, and honeysuckle filled the room. There was really no other way to describe it – it smelled like fall and morning dew.

Beneath it all, there was an obvious undercurrent of magic, and Hermione's arms broke out in chills as she felt it reaching toward her own, weaving through it somehow. It felt like everything Hermione had ever read of Beltane, as if they'd taken the charge of magic, the electrical current of fire and birth and creation and somehow consigned it here in the middle of Edinburgh.

It was beautiful.

Hermione realized she'd been gaping, in awe of the room around her and feeling the surge of power ghost across her skin, and all the while, Draco had been staring at her in the same way. His eyes trailed across her face, his lips just slightly parted, as he watched her in fascination, as if she'd somehow held him spellbound in the same way this place had her.

Her heart began to race as a thought crossed her mind.

He'd been looking at her like he was in love.

The waiter approached, pulling her attention from Draco as he told them of the night's menu. They both ordered, and the glasses in front of them were instantly filled with deep crimson wine.

As soon as the waiter stepped away, Hermione said, "This place is… well, magical. I can…" She wasn't sure how to describe it exactly. "I can feel it," she finished, looking toward him once again after casting her eyes around the room, taking in the moonlight shining down on them and the very few other customers.

"All of Edinburgh was built atop a ley line," he said. "There are hidden places like this all over the city." His smile grew, now with a hint of something else behind it; his eyes were sparkling in amusement, and when she looked at him, a question on her lips, he added, "I can't believe I know something you don't."

She rolled her eyes at him, but honestly, she felt like it said something about their relationship that she wasn't at all bothered that he did, in fact, know something she didn't. It was… well, quite frankly, it was downright sexy.

"I can't believe I was right above this, and I didn't even know." She would've loved to have shown this to her parents, but they'd always been a bit put-off by her magic. They were exceedingly proud of her, always gushing over her accomplishments and abilities, but when it came down to her actually using magic in front of them, they'd never really come around to the idea. So as much as she would've loved to share this with them, the charge in the air, the smell of earth all around them, they likely would've been extremely uncomfortable.

"It's amazing," she said with a smile, and his face lit up like the candle burning between them.

The food was even more remarkable than she expected it to be, and their conversation flowed as easily as it always did. Throughout the night, her mind returned to the way he'd been looking at her before, when she'd caught him completely unguarded, openly watching her, and she realized how much she wanted her assumption to be correct. They'd talked about wanting this to be more than a fling; they both wanted it to be real, wanted it to continue after they left The Willows, though they hadn't exactly hammered out the details of that.

But the idea that he could love her had her heart hammering in her chest, but in a way very different than it had with Ron. There was no trace of anxiety, no sweaty palms or approaching hyperventilation; instead, she felt excitement – at the possibility of what they could have, at the possibility that he could care for her in such a way.

Once he paid their check, she assumed they'd be heading back to The Willows, but she was surprised when they stopped at the top of the stairs and he pulled a small disc from his pocket, a large gothic W in the center. He offered her his hand again, bringing it to his lips and brushing them across her knuckles once before they were pulled from the room in a swirl and landed in the middle of an expansive suite.

The entire room was covered in lush burgundy furnishings. Tapestries hung from floor to ceiling on every wall, and the largest bed Hermione had ever seen was positioned against one side, with golden tassels hanging from the velvet canopy.

She turned to Draco and found him looking at her in the same way he'd been looking at her before. One side of his mouth quirked up as he said, "I hope this wasn't too presumptive. Taking you to a hotel after our first date."

Cocky Draco didn't make an appearance very often, but he had been showing that side of himself much more frequently of late; with the smug expression on his face right now, looking down at her like a treasure, he was downright irresistible.

"What kind of woman do you take me for?" Hermione asked, repeating his words back to him from that morning as she closed the short distance between them.

She pressed her lips to his, savoring the wine from dinner on his tongue as she was filled with the taste of him. It was somehow different being here alone, just him and her, hands brushing across skin, shedding clothes and pulling one another close. His fingers drew electricity along her spine, white hot as shooting stars, and his lips were fire on her throat, peppering embers and drawing his name from her own. Through the night, they stayed wrapped around one another, legs entangled and his hands in her hair, and she tasted salt as she kissed him.

They were drawn to one another like the moon pulls the tide, and though Hermione dared not ask what he was feeling, fearing to put on a name on whatever comfort it was they'd seemed to find in one another, she knew how she felt. She knew the flame growing inside her chest was more than just this moment, more than just the desire of being with him now.

As she stared down at him, the fire in his eyes bringing faint tendrils of blue to the surface and the dancing light of the sconces painting their skin in the orange of sunset, she knew she loved him. She knew she wanted forever.

They awoke the next morning to the sound of Hermione's wand rattling across the nightstand, and they were all too quickly reminded of needing to be back at The Willows for breakfast. Typically, the morning sun woke them long before her alarm, but here, with the heavy drapes blocking out the sunlight, they'd managed to oversleep.

She reached behind her without looking, feeling around for familiar vine wood, and the wand ceased its clattering as soon as she touched it. Pointing it toward the curtains, she flicked her wand and pulled them open just enough for soft light to peek through.

"Good morning," Hermione said, snuggling back beneath his arms and the warmth of the blankets.

"Morning." He peeked one eye open briefly before closing it again and pulling his arms tighter around her. "I could get used to this," he said, gliding his fingertips across her back and filling her heart with warmth, and she had to fight the urge to keep from throwing her bare leg over his hip.

They'd never actually slept naked. She honestly had never thought she'd be this comfortable with anyone, but she wasn't at all concerned about waking up with his bare skin on hers. She thought she'd rather like to do it every morning, actually.

The familiar longing began pooling in her abdomen as his hand drifted south, trailing across her bum and flattening out on her thigh. She wanted nothing more than to let him continue as he tried to pull her leg over his hip; she could feel the evidence of his desire currently poking into her other hip as he nuzzled his face into her curls, lips barely brushing across her throat.

"As much as I'd love for you to keep doing that," she said, and he immediately stopped, pulling back to look at her, "we have ten minutes before breakfast, and I don't want to give Walt reason to not let us out again."

The petulant look on his face reminded her entirely too much of the huffy little boy he once was, and she couldn't hold back her smile as she leaned in to kiss him.

"But I have no plans after breakfast," she said, scratching her nails softly up the nape of his neck and then gently nipping his bottom lip. She'd learned pretty quickly all the things that he liked, and she knew this was one of them. She was nothing if not a quick study.

She wasn't disappointed; he gave a soft growl and said, "If you intend on making it to breakfast on time, then you can't do that."

She quickly pulled away from him, laughing as he reached for her a second too late, and she scrambled to the bathroom.

They made it back to The Willows just in time for breakfast, though they were the very last to arrive. Nobody seemed to have even noticed that they weren't here the night before, and Hermione reminded herself to ask Draco later if he'd cleared their overnight stay with Walt beforehand.

Draco seemed to have not forgotten the words she'd spoken to him this morning in bed, because his hands were already on her before they'd made it back to her room. Thankfully, they were the only two in the hallway.

The moment the door closed behind them, his lips were on hers, eager and insistent, and as she returned the kiss with just as vigor, her foot slipped on something in the floor, sliding it out from beneath her. She would've hit the floor if not for his arms around her.

She leaned down to pick up an envelope that must've been slid beneath her door at some point while they were gone. She would've just let it lay, her mind being on other things at the moment, but the seal on the back had demanded her attention – a large A with red letters stamped across it reading, "INMATE MAIL."

She flipped the envelope over, and across the front was the same red stamp, and above her name in the top left corner read, "INMATE CORRESPONDENCE – FOR LUCIUS A. MALFOY, #32348."