Sunday, July 6th, 2003.

Astoria left early that morning, and Hermione spent the day growling. Either because of the tremendous headache she had - white wine had just become forbidden, it didn't just hurt, it pounded. Either because a certain blond kissing ferret kept poking her mind.

Hermione wondered if the purple vial Stori had left hadn't managed to completely stop the headache or if it had only come back because of him.

Especially since she had to go to Blaise's at five and knew he'd be there.

As she got ready, she reminded herself of what Stori had said.

Stop thinking, kiss him. Well, easier said than done.

How was she supposed to do it anyway, eh? She was not going to just jump him the next time she saw him.

She wasn't a savage.

Her head hurt.

Stop thinking.

Merlin's furry balls that was impossible to do! When her feelings had been overtaking her thinking before, it seemed in this situation, they just wouldn't bloody help.

She liked him.

She'd kiss him. Whenever they'd found themselves alone. Like a normal person.

She grimaced at the mirror as she got a flash of herself jumping on a very clad and pretty prat as soon as she got out of the chimney at Blaise's.

However much he seemed to want her to, she had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate the jumping thing.

Especially with that post-drinking hungover hair of hers.

You can mock his pale arse around a drink while he complains about your hair.

Right. She'd choke him if she tried anything then. Which she wouldn't because insufferable Blaise was going to be there. She'd only see him for a few minutes, and then she'd go with Blaise.

Of course, that was only if he hadn't taken her lack of acknowledgement the previous day as rejection.

She didn't want things to be awkward or for him to avoid her.

How was she supposed to stop thinking - that was working wonders, wasn't it? - and kiss him if he avoided her?

She could have sent a note, hey, I saw you too late, but that was too short, and she couldn't possibly have found anything else to write that didn't include: also, why did you kiss me? Or do you intend to do it again?

Which was stupid. And too Gryffindor.

Ten minutes before five o'clock, she was fidgeting quite madly and rethinking approximately everything that had been discussed the night before.

Oddly, the pale arse thing kept coming back to the forefront of her thoughts.

As she grabbed the floo powder, she had to breathe a couple of times as not to think of going there and NOT going there and thus end up being stuck between buildings.

She threw the powder in the hearth and frowned at herself.

She was being stupid. Both of them were going to be home. Nothing was going to be said, and nothing was going to change.

She called Blaise's address while entering the hearth, shaking her head and regretting it when the pounding got worse.

Once she eventually landed, quite sure her own idiocy hadn't made her misspeak the address, she couldn't be so sure where she'd gone after all.

She appeared in a cloud of smoke and wondered what had gone wrong with the floo travelling. The smoke didn't dissipate.

It reeked.

She hadn't mispronounced the address.

She quickly cast a dissipating spell, and no, she hadn't landed somewhere else. She was at Blaise's.

"What the … Draco?"

"It's a disaster." He growled. He seemed utterly pissed off. His hair was a mess. A glorious mess. But the reek was somehow stronger than the staring Hermione wanted to do. She could feel nausea coming.

"What is that supposed to be?" She grimaced, taking a careful step to the still fuming cauldron he was standing over.

"Definitely not a shrinking solution." He growled over a thick purple paste coating the inside of his copper cauldron.

"Oh." She swallowed back a chuckle at the consistency of the 'potion'. "You added the rat spleens too early, didn't you?"

"Know-it-all." He mumbled, not looking at her, and sighed, passing his fingers through his hair. "I'm rusty, it seems."

"You can throw that now." She pinched her lips. "It's useless."

"Oh, you think?" He sneered. "I just thought I'd use it as an air freshener."

Hermione simply ignored the sarcasm.

"You know who's good at potions?" She asked instead.

"Bragging doesn't suit you, Granger." He said, not quite looking at her.

"Not me, idiot." She snapped, which made him finally look at her face. "I don't like brewing. I only do it when I can't avoid it." She said. "I was talking about George."

"Weasley?" He pulled a face. "I'd rather drink this than ask him for help."

"Help yourself, then." She smirked.

"Shut it." He scowled, returning to frown at his potion. As he lifted his wand to vanish the contents of the cauldron, she tried again.

"George?"

"No fucking way." He answered, and she had to refrain from barking a laugh as he lifted his wand. "Evanesco."

"Alright." She sighed, bending over the empty cauldron as he returned to his ingredients to start over. "May I, then?" She offered; Blaise wasn't there after all.

He frowned. "You just said …"

"Yes, well," She shrugged. "You look about to kill someone, and until Blaise comes back, I've got nothing better to do."

"Err …"

"Take the leaves." She smirked, tapping her wand on the cauldron with a silent Aguamenti. "I'm not chopping."

"Bossy." She heard him whine, even as he took the leaves. Well, at least he wasn't angry with her, and things weren't awkward in the slightest. She smiled.

"Lame at brewing." She answered with a chuckle, waving her wand for some bluebell flames she hadn't made in years. "I always said I was better than you at potions."

"Oh that you were not." He countered, squinting at her.

"Well, then, prove it."

That's how Blaise found them that evening. Obviously, he'd been late. Obviously, Hermione had been early. Obviously, Draco's brewing had been a disaster.

Obviously, the goody-two-shoes had decided to help.

Hermione was muttering things at a green simmering cauldron, and Draco was piling perfectly square chopped daisy roots on a scale.

They hadn't even heard him.

Draco turned around exactly when Hermione lifted her hand to receive the roots. She added them quickly, and Draco took her spot in front of the cauldron as she returned to the recipe.

They moved as if coordinated. They exchanged spots again, and Hermione showed Draco something on the recipe with a finger. Draco nodded, and without a word, they were back to their tasks: Draco chopping, measuring, Hermione stirring.

Blaise decided that perhaps, he could go ring shopping alone. He was about to turn around and go when Hermione's voice broke his plans:

"Don't even think about it. We're almost done." She said.

Too bad.

Blaise led Hermione through the courtyard at the Leaky Cauldron's back, walking his usual over-confident step. She found that she didn't mind walking by his side. The few people there on a Sunday watched him with a mix of wariness and awe, visibly uncertain as to trust his looks. It made her smile amusedly. He certainly was nothing he showed.

"I know I'm pretty," He said as they walked. "But if you keep staring, people will wonder if you're trying to poison me again." He winked.

She elbowed him but chuckled fondly as they reached the centre of Diagon Alley. It was a hot day, and the path was clear of the usual crowd. Most shops were closed at this hour, but there was always the wanderer.

"This way." He showed their left, towards a small street a few shops after Witchety clothing. Hermione followed him, and, evidently, deserted alley on a Sunday evening or not, they had to be bothered. Although this time, the nasty sight didn't insult them.

Pansy Parkinson was coming out of the back door of Witchety Clothing, hands-free of any shopping bag, though. She glared at them both with such vehemence Hermione expected her to scream at them. She did not. Blaise suddenly looked about to jump on her, and Hermione decided she didn't want her friend in trouble. A little voice that she ignored still told her that she'd enjoy seeing that very much.

"What's with the staring Parkinson?" She sneered, not even having to make an effort to let venom tint her voice. The pug-nosed bint started, but Hermione cut her: "Tsk tsk." She said, shaking her head. "If I were you, I'd keep my nasty mouth shut."

Pansy seemed to fume as her face turned an angry shade of crimson. She didn't say anything audible, and Blaise took Hermione's arm, chuckling.

"Come, love." He purred, making her laugh.

Once the bitch was out of sight, he chuckled once more. Hermione found no regret for being petty this time. That bitch deserved far worse.

"She's working there now," Blaise said with a sadistic grin which Hermione enjoyed a tad too much. She had a little laugh. And then realised how good it felt to be that mean to someone who took bullying as a hobby. Having former Slytherins around seemed to push away the reasoning that perhaps lowering herself to Parkinson's level wasn't so much of a mature thing to do.

Blaise showed Hermione the way towards an expensive jeweller - he almost snorted; the place sold heirlooms and jewellery that cost about everything filling his mother's saving vault. He held the door for her. He'd made a call a week before and had made sure the shop would be open only for him, hence the Sunday evening errand.

He'd also been quite clear he expected discretion.

As they were greeted directly by the pompous owner, he could see Hermione's frown-scowl at the man's attitude as well as the slight repressed awe when she glanced at their surroundings.

It made him smirk. She was such a Gryffindor.

The owner went straight to business and led them to another room where a selection of rings were displayed on a table, visible wards and charms protecting them.

Hermione gave him an uneasy smile as they started looking, and he suddenly found himself wishing she had good taste. What she wore daily, he hoped, was just pragmatism. Not taste. Because otherwise, he was screwed. Draco would be insufferable in her position, and the only woman he had on hand any other way was Stori herself, and that sure wouldn't do.

As it turned out, Hermione guided him just fine, stating that Stori wouldn't like something too big or expensive that screamed pureblood.

Blaise could only agree.

He couldn't believe he was actually ring shopping, though, and ended up choosing something both of them liked, staring dumbly at the white gold band and round diamond.

The rock screamed expensive but the delicacy of the band gave balance. It was strikingly delicate and beautiful.

Just like Stori. Well, except when she was late in the morning.

No, especially when she was late in the morning.

The very thought made him smile like an idiot.

Once the ring was in its box and paid for, he hesitated a second. Hermione smiled at him. She lifted a hand to take it from him, and he relented, frowning.

She tapped her wand on it, muttering something.

"Here, this way, only you and she can open it." She said, giving the box back.

"Thanks."

She nodded as he pocketed the ring. After thanking the jeweller, they were out on the pavement again.

Hermione's quiet chuckle made him blink.

They were at the brick wall before the Leaky, and he hadn't even realised.

"Nervous?" She smiled.

"Err." He grimaced. "Looks like it."

She patted his shoulder condescendingly. "She'll say yes." She said. "And if not, I'm quite certain you can go back to shagging the whole of England." He blinked. "Or perhaps you'd have to start with Wales now?"

"Fuck, no! I won't…" Oh, that smirk was not so Gryffindor. She even laughed when he scowled. "Very funny."

"Well, it woke you up at least." She said. "When are you going to ask?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, lifting his wand. "Soon."

"Good." She smiled this time, going back to her red and gold personality. "I wouldn't worry, if she didn't kick and dump you at the Charity, I don't think anything will make her go now."

"Right." He scowled.

"No need to tempt fate and shag her sister again, though."

She burst out laughing at his face. He closed his mouth, guessing he kind of deserved the banter back and let it slide.

This once.

Blaise insisted Hermione side-along apparated with him to his place to have a drink. As a thank-you of sorts for helping him. Her arse.

He was relentless, though, so she agreed to one single drink. Her headache was gone, after all.

The one single drink turned out to be three, as Blaise showed the ring to Draco, who had thankfully stopped brewing for the evening.

Hermione watched the clock around nine and decided it was time to go.

Although she hadn't expected Blaise to cut her and keep talking until he made Draco recount thoroughly every little detail about his next recipe. Hermione found her interest picked after being too tipsy to notice Blaise's little scheme.

At midnight, she and Draco had scribbled on a random scroll the drafts of at least seven recipes that he would try to improve, their glasses forgotten aside.

The anticipated awkwardness as well.

She could swear she'd heard Blaise mutter 'swots' at some point, but now that the conversation deflated and that Draco had returned his attention to his glass, she realised first, that they'd worked for three hours, and second that Blaise was gone and had probably been keeping her on purpose.

Probably. She snorted, like that existed in the Zabini lexicon.

She thought about her conversation with Stori then but didn't find it in her to just jump on him out of the blue.

She felt very awkward at the thought. But also … she kind of wanted to.

Was she losing her mind?

Nope, his collar was open, was all. That shouldn't be allowed.

"It's late. I should go home." She said, standing hurriedly from her chair.

What a coward she was.

"Take the floo." He said.

"Obviously."

She turned, somewhat defeated, but he followed her to the fireplace.

"Good night." He said, his hands in his pockets and not looking at her.

Did he look… defeated? Well, that made them two.

Did he expect something? A word, at least? Should she mention it?

What would she say? Hey, about that kiss …

What the … She shook her head.

Stop thinking, kiss him. Right.

He still wasn't looking at her, shifting from foot to foot. Which was kind of cute.

Damn, she'd lost it, Draco Malfoy, cute.

She almost laughed, making a decision. She took a deep breath, smiled, and quickly stepped into his personal space.

Before he could even express his surprise, though, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, or rather the corner of his mouth.

She had just the time to see his mouth fall agape as she answered: "Good night, Draco."

The pleased little laugh she had at his face, she wasn't sure he heard as she disappeared with the green flames.

She'd been blushing.

Draco heard it, the little laugh she had. She'd done that on purpose! What purpose, though?

Had she wanted him to kiss her again?

Oh. Oh. What an idiot she liked him too, didn't she?

When he'd caught her staring at a restaurant, she'd blushed.

She'd blushed Friday night. Which was the only reason why he'd kissed her, actually.

She'd been blushing just then!

Draco suddenly felt like cheering. Loudly. And he probably unconsciously did because Blaise stormed out of his bedroom:

"What happened?" His short hair managed to be all over the place, he was in his underwear, and:

"Salazar put some trousers on!" Draco barked, lifting a hand to hide the sight.

"What?" Blaise frowned, lowering his eyes to where Draco avoided looking at all cost. "Oh." He chuckled. "Here I thought these only happened in the morning. Sorry. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you smiling?" Blaise frowned before his eyes grew in size. "Did you kiss her again?" He asked, stepping closer eagerly.

"No." Draco shook his head and decided that he would know anyway. "She wanted me to, though."

"AND YOU DIDN'T?"

Draco jumped as Blaise gripped the counter, looking a fright.

"She kissed my cheek and flooed away it's not like I …"

"YOU HAD ALL EVENING, AND YOU DIDN'T MANAGE TO KISS HER?" The other screamed. He was nuts. And still in his boxers. And …

"Blaise, seriously, are you really arguing with me with an erection?" Draco gagged. "I'm about to throw up."

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!" Blaise barked, waving his hands above his head. "I've been on this for months now! I CAN'T stand it any more! YOU are going to kiss her senseless and be with her next time we see her, or I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND!" He finished, pointing an accusing finger right in Draco's face.

Draco blinked and pushed his hand away.

"Okay." He said.

"Wh … what?" Blaise blinked several times, and Draco cocked his head aside. There it was, when he'd thought he'd be the first to lose him mind, Blaise had beaten him to it.

"Okay." Draco repeated slowly.

"Okay." Blaise blinked again. "You said okay. Okay."

"Don't break." Draco chuckled.

"He says okay just like that, the moron," Blaise mumbled for himself, turning around to go back to his room. "Okay, I'll take care of it. Okay. I can't believe this …"

"Good night." Draco called as the door to Blaise's bedroom banged after him, muffling his voice.