Chapter 8

Over the next month, Hermione and the Malfoys fell into a rhythm. For the first two weeks, Hermione came each day, and the older woman gradually improved enough that the apprentice only needed to come three times a week. Draco was eternally grateful to her, and he was surprised as well as pleased to see how much the muggle physical therapist and the psychiatrist helped his frail mother. Soon she was able to stand and go to the bathroom on her own, and after that began to walk short distances.

In her free time, when Narcissa was resting and didn't need her, Draco and Hermione spent time together, either talking or reading, and Draco found that he came to treasure those moments. Hermione had introduced him to muggle fiction, and he had to admit that he liked some of it. He was especially fond of Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle, but he teased Hermione for her love of Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice.

"I never would have taken you for a romantic, Hermione," he said with a smirk.

"I guess it just goes to show how little you know me," she said snootily, then ruined it by smiling.

Draco did like Mr. Darcy, and told Hermione so. He found that he could relate to the wealthy young man. Mr. Darcy had been told all his life that he was superior to everyone else because of his lineage and wealth, and Darcy had believed it. He had needed a catalyst to change. Draco glanced over at Hermione as he said this and she had smiled at him.

"I am glad he learned to be better," she said, and the look in her eye made him blush.

He was growing dangerously fond of Hermione Granger. He could tell that his mother was too. He didn't know what he was going to do when Narcissa was better and Hermione no longer needed to tend to her. He admitted to himself that he was going to be devastated. Narcissa would be also.

He was seriously considering asking her out. He no longer gave any thought to the fact that she was a muggleborn. It was more likely that an association with him would reflect badly on her. The Malfoys were considered garbage in the wizarding world now, and Hermione was the Golden Girl whom everyone adored. Would she agree to go out with him?

He was desperate enough to take a chance. If she turned him down, at least he would have tried.

They were sitting in the dining room eating lunch on her last day there when he finally got up the courage. She was going to leave in a couple of hours and he would never see her again. He thought that she liked him, that she held some sort of fondness for him. She definitely saw him as a friend. And he had noted, on the brief occasions that they had accidentally touched, that she would shiver or get goosebumps. He thought that she was attracted to him. That was a positive sign, since he wanted to make love to her so badly that at times he thought he would go mad with it. Quite often he had to conceal his hard cock from her if she brushed against him or he got a whiff of her lilac scent. He had taken to jerking off in the shower at night before bed to thoughts of the bewitching healer.

"Hermione," he began hesitantly. It was strange, he'd never been nervous about expressing his interest in a female before. But then at Hogwarts he'd been the spoiled Slytherin prince and he knew that the girls wouldn't turn him down. They had all wanted a wealthy, pureblood husband, and would do anything to get it.

Hermione turned to look at him with a smile. "Yes, Draco?"

His heart twisted, as it did every time he heard his first name from her lips. Lips he wanted to kiss so badly that he actually had to restrain himself from leaning forward to taste them.

"I – I've enjoyed spending time with you while you've been here."

"I've enjoyed spending time with you too," she answered.

"I'd – like to continue to spend time with you," he forced himself to say.

Her brows furrowed. "You would?"

"Yeah." He took in a deep breath. "Would you go on a date with me?" he finally blurted out.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. He held his breath and waited for her to answer. At last she spoke, and he felt elation as well as immense relief at her words.

"I'd love to," she said, smiling at him.

He let out the breath he had been holding, and smiled back at her. "Fabulous! What about Friday night?"

She nodded. "That's fine. I finish work at five. What time do you want to meet?"

"How about seven?" he asked, the truth finally hitting him that this amazing, sexy woman had agreed to go on a date with him. He hadn't been on a date since his days at Hogwarts.

"Sounds good!" she beamed.

When Hermione departed a couple of hours later, Draco allowed himself to feel joy for the first time in years. He was going to see her in two days. Ideas began to circle through his mind. What should he wear? Where would he take her to dinner?

He went to the drawing room where his mother was sitting reading, and sat down next to her. He was so distracted by thoughts of Hermione that he missed his mother's thoughtful stare.

"I'm sorry Hermione's gone," she said at last, causing him to look over at her.

"Me too, but I'm glad you're well enough that she felt safe to leave you," he replied.

She nodded, looking at him with a penetrating gaze. "I wish we could keep in touch with her."

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. "We're going on a date on Friday," he told her.

He was glad to see the delighted smile that spread across his mother's frail features. She had gained weight over the last month but was still thin. "Draco! I'm so pleased! I could tell you were fond of her."

"I am," he admitted.

"I'm very fond of her too," Narcissa told him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. "I couldn't have picked a better girl for you, Draco."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said with a smile. "It's just a date."

But she just smiled at him fondly. "Very well," she said, then turned back to her book.

"You're going on a date with Draco Malfoy?!" Harry yelled, and Hermione winced.

She'd just returned home from Malfoy House, feeling full of happiness. She'd been sad that she wouldn't see Draco or Narcissa after today, and surprised and pleased when Draco asked her out. She'd had no idea he felt anything more than friendship for her.

She'd grown fond of him in the last month. He was intelligent and quick-witted, and not afraid of her own intelligence. In fact, he reveled in it, and complimented her on it often. She'd never felt so free to express her mind before without fear of mockery or impatience, except with her parents. And she'd grown more and more attracted to Draco as time passed, though she'd hoped she'd hidden it sufficiently from him. But he must be attracted to her too, or he wouldn't have asked her out.

She gave no thought to the fact that he was a social pariah. She'd never cared about things like that. If she liked him, and wanted to date him, she would, no matter what anyone said – including Harry.

"Yes, I am," she told him firmly. "I know you don't like him, Harry, but he's a good man, and he's completely changed from the time we were at school."

"I believe you, Hermione, but to go on a date with him!" Harry looked concerned. "You like him that much?"

"I've grown fond of him," she admitted. "I'm not sure where I see this going, but I want to at least spend more time with him now that Mrs. Malfoy no longer needs me."

"I know, but you can spend time with him without dating him." Harry looked faintly ill.

"I want to date him, Harry," she insisted. "I like him."

Harry gulped. "Okay, okay. If you want to date him…" he trailed off. "I'll accept him, for you, Hermione. You've always been right before. I believe you."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know where this thing with him will go, but I at least want to try."

Harry nodded. "I won't say anything else about it," he vowed. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. "I will. Don't worry about me."

"I always worry about you, Hermione," he said seriously. "I'm well aware that you're the reason I'm still alive and Voldemort is dead. I wouldn't have survived without you."

Hermione's eyes pricked with emotion at her friend's words and tone. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, you stubborn witch," he said, pulling her into a hug. Then he pulled back to look at her. "What will Ron think of this?" he asked, almost nervously.

Hermione sighed with resignation. She had no doubt that Ron would be furious. Despite the fact that he was dating slews of women and had no claim on her, he hated Malfoy and had never been quiet about the fact. She and Ron had patched things up between them, but she was sure he would blow up when he heard the news.

"Maybe we could…not tell him until some time has passed, and I'm sure where this is going with Draco?" she asked with a wince.

Harry sighed but nodded. "That would probably be best," he said, then speared her with a look. "I just hope Malfoy is worthy of you, Hermione."

"Don't worry," she said with a smile. "He is."

When Friday evening rolled around, Draco nervously prepared for his date. He'd never before gone out with a girl he truly cared about. It had never been so important before for him to make a good impression.

He dressed in his typical black jacket and vest with a green tie, hoping he looked attractive to her. He wasn't actually expecting to be able to have sex with her tonight, but he was hoping at least for a kiss. The memories of their kisses the night she had woken him from his nightmare had heatedly flashed through his mind with increasing frequency over the last month. He could still feel her soft curves beneath him, the weight of her breast in his hand, the taste of her lips.

Focusing on something else, he willed his hard cock to subside. It wouldn't help anything to have an erection through dinner.

He'd made reservations at one of his favourite French restaurants. He hoped Hermione would like it. She'd always enjoyed the food that Munch served, and that occasionally included French fare. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and told her not to wait up for him. She gave him a fond smile and told him to have a nice time. Then he disapparated to number 12 Grimmauld Place and knocked on the front door.

He smoothed down his blond hair nervously as he waited for Hermione to answer. He knew Potter lived here and hoped the other man wouldn't cause any problems. He didn't want to get into a fight with Hermione's friend in front of her. That wouldn't help his cause.

A minute later, the door opened, and he gulped as he took in Hermione's form. She was gorgeous in a sleeveless red dress, her curly brown hair falling in silky waves over her shoulders, wearing fuck-me pumps that elevated her height a few inches so that her creamy legs looked even longer. He took her in for a few seconds before he noticed that she was standing there fidgeting, looking nervous.

"You look incredible," he said in a husky voice.

She relaxed. "Thanks. So do you."

He smiled at her. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure. Let me just grab my coat." She reached for the coat rack and took down an elegant grey jacket. "Where are we going?" she asked, taking his arm.

"Le Mistral. It's a French restaurant my mother and I have always enjoyed. They have great seafood."

"Sounds delicious."

With that he disapparated, taking her with him. Seconds later, they appeared before an elegant restaurant that Draco patronized frequently. They remembered him from before the war, and allowed his custom, even if they didn't like it. He was wealthy and tipped well, after all.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy," said the maître d. "We have your table ready if you'll follow me."

Draco followed him to the back of the restaurant where there was a booth in a private nook, Hermione still on his arm. He loved feeling her small hand resting there. It sent tingles through his skin and heated his blood. He could smell her lilac scent and it was intoxicating him.

"Your server will be right with you," said the maître d before walking away.

"This is nice," said Hermione as she sat down.

"I always request this private table," he said. "It's good to get away from the crowd."

She smiled at him sympathetically, no doubt understanding what he wasn't saying. He wanted to get away from the glares and sneers when he was in public.

Their server appeared at the table and handed them menus. "Would you care for a cocktail?" he asked.

Draco looked at his companion. "I'll have a lemon drop please," Hermione said.

"I'd like malt whiskey," Draco told him.

"Whiskey, huh?" Hermione asked with an arched brow once the server had left. She looked amused.

Draco smirked at her. He could hardly tell her that he needed it to calm his nervousness. He wanted so badly for this date to go well. "The Scots make great whiskey," he said instead.

She laughed softly. "I believe you." She picked up her menu. "What's good here? You said they have great seafood?"

"Yeah, they have an amazing perch in cream sauce. They also have octopus that's quite good."

Hermione's face contorted in disgust. "Octopus?"

Draco couldn't help laughing at the expression on her face. "Have you ever tried octopus?"

"No, and I have no desire to now."

She looked back down at her menu, and Draco pretended to do the same, though he always ordered the same thing when he came here. Surreptitiously he watched her instead.

He hadn't quite gotten his fill of looking at her when she had met him at the door of her house. The red dress hugged her curves lovingly, and he caught a glimpse of her cleavage, which was surprisingly daring for the usually modest muggleborn. Her hair was partially pulled back, and he could see glints of gold and red in the brown curls that fell in waves over her creamy shoulders. He quickly glanced away when she looked up at him, not wanting to be caught staring.

"I think I'll have the lobster thermidor," she said, closing her menu.

He nodded. "A good choice," he replied.

The server arrived with their drinks, and they sipped their cocktails after he had left with their orders. For the first time, Draco didn't know what to say around her. He so badly wanted to make a good impression.

Fortunately, Hermione filled the silence. "When did you first know you didn't want to be a Death Eater?" she asked.

He was surprised by the question – they'd never talked about this – but answered readily enough. "It must have been the summer going into my fifth year at Hogwarts," he said.

"Right after Voldemort returned," she said with understanding.

He nodded. "Yeah. I was terrified of him. I'd met him a few times when my father was hiding him that summer and he scared me shitless. I was relieved to go back to Hogwarts to get away from him."

"But you still joined the Inquisitorial Squad," she said questioningly. "You acted as if you wanted Voldemort to take over."

"Yeah, well, I had to keep up appearances, didn't I? It was especially important in my sixth year. If anyone had known I wanted Voldemort dead, both my mother and I would have been murdered."

"But you got the dark mark anyway."

He nodded. "At the end of fifth year, when I heard that you and Potter had broken into the Ministry and my father had been captured and sent to Azkaban, I was terrified. I knew that I'd be punished for my father's supposed failure."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

Draco took in a shaky breath. He'd never shared this with anyone, but Hermione needed to know the truth about him. And besides, he trusted her.

"Voldemort called us all into the drawing room at Malfoy Manor. All the other Death Eaters were there, as well as my mother. He told me to come before him, and I knew by his menacing tone that he would brook no refusal. My mother's presence there made me obey."

Draco drew in a deep breath. Then he felt Hermione's soft hand taking his larger one where it lay on the top of the table. He gathered courage from her touch and went on.

"They gave me something to bite down on, and then Voldemort put his wand to my forearm and uttered some incantations." He let out a breath at the memory. "It was the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life. I remember screaming and crying, pleading with him, trying to tear myself away from the pain, and the other Death Eaters jeering and laughing at me. The agony seemed to go on forever. Then at last it was over, and I looked down to see the dark mark on my arm." The same arm twitched now where the mark still lay etched under his sleeve.

Hermione's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she said softly. "It must have been horrible."

"No worse than what you've endured, I'm sure."

She smiled sadly, not disagreeing.

Their conversation was interrupted by the server, appearing with their meals. The heavy atmosphere was broken and Draco poured them each a glass from the bottle of crisp white wine he had ordered.

"It's delicious," said Hermione, digging in to her lobster, while Draco started on his salmon.

"I'm glad you like it," he said huskily, mesmerized as he watched her eat. He thought it might be the most erotic thing he had ever seen, watching her pouty lips curve around the fork, hearing the sounds of pleasure she made as she enjoyed her meal. His cock soon became uncomfortably hard, and he forced himself to focus on something else.

"How is your apprenticeship going?" he asked, to distract himself, as he ate his own meal.

Hermione willingly discussed her studies, and he asked perceptive questions. That occupied them until the meal ended, and he asked her if she wanted dessert.

"Absolutely," she said with a smile. "I saw on the menu that they have chocolate mousse, and I'm dying to try it."

Watching her eat the mousse was even more erotic than watching her eat her meal, and he had to constantly distract himself from getting an erection. He didn't know what he was going to do if she didn't let him kiss her at the end of the date. Probably spend the night having cold showers.

Of course, if he didn't fuck her tonight he knew he was going to end up with a cold shower anyway. Either that, or jerk off before bed.

When it was time to leave, he was feeling a pleasant buzz from the finger of whiskey and two glasses of wine. He was loathe for their date to end, but he was hopeful that she'd agree to go out with him again. He thought that it had gone well, and that she'd enjoyed herself.

They apparated before Grimmauld Place's front door, and he prepared to wish her a good night. He inched closer to her, hoping that he could kiss her before he left, when he noticed that she appeared nervous. He felt a pang. Maybe she didn't want to kiss him. Then his breath caught as he heard her tremulous words.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?"

He looked into her flushed face and couldn't help grinning.

"Oh yeah."