Chapter 13: A Night of New Beginnings

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with the hem of her black knee-length dress. The soft fabric was comfortable, and though modest, it fit her perfectly, showing just enough of her figure without making her feel overly exposed. She had finally agreed to it after an intense back-and-forth with Ginny, who had tried to push her toward something far more revealing.

Ginny had grinned in triumph when Hermione relented, pulling a set of red accessories out of her bag. "This dress needs a pop of color," she'd declared, holding up a delicate red necklace, earrings, and shoes. Hermione had protested, of course, saying it felt too much. But, as usual, Ginny won out in the end. Now, Hermione couldn't deny that the red accents brought an unexpected elegance to the outfit.

As Ginny adjusted the necklace around Hermione's neck, she let out a soft sigh. "You look beautiful, Hermione. Trust me, Malfoy won't know what hit him."

Hermione groaned. "It's not a date, Ginny. It's just dinner. I'm going to get to know him, that's all."

Ginny chuckled, shaking her head. "That's what people do on dates, you know. They get to know each other. Stop pretending this is some kind of professional interview."

Hermione bit her lip, unable to deny the logic. "Still," she mumbled, "I don't want to give him the wrong idea."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look. "And what idea would that be?"

Before Hermione could respond, a sharp knock came from the door. Ginny glanced at the clock. "Oh my God! Seven o'clock on the dot." She smirked and shot Hermione a teasing look. "Wow, Hermione, he's made for you. Punctual, just the way you like it."

Hermione felt a sudden surge of anxiety tighten in her chest. She wasn't sure why, but something about this evening was making her nervous. She had insisted this was nothing more than dinner, yet the moment felt charged with an unexpected tension.

"Relax, Hermione," Ginny said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You've got this."

Hermione took a deep breath, nodding. "Right. Just dinner. No big deal."

Ginny turned and headed to the door. As she opened it, Draco Malfoy stood on the other side, looking impeccably put together in a tailored Muggle suit. His crisp white dress shirt was paired with a charcoal gray jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders, while the matching slim-fit trousers completed the polished look. His blonde hair, usually styled in a neat, formal manner, now had a slightly tousled appearance, as if he'd run his fingers through it more than once out of nervousness. It added a casual elegance to his overall presence.

Ginny gave him a sly smile, "Well, Malfoy, you clean up nicely."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing around. "Weasley, didn't expect to see you here."

"It's Porter now," Ginny corrected, giving him a pointed look.

Malfoy's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Ah, right. Forgot you traded one annoying surname for another."

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "At least you've upgraded your wardrobe," she teased, gesturing to his suit.

But Draco wasn't paying attention anymore. His eyes had shifted past Ginny and landed on Hermione as she stepped into view. The teasing smirk on his face disappeared, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. His mouth hung open, ever so slightly, and for a moment, he appeared stunned.

Hermione froze as their eyes met. She had never seen Draco Malfoy like this—out of his usual expensive wizarding robes, standing in her house in a suit that somehow made him look even more striking. His grey eyes, usually sharp and cold, softened as they traced her figure, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that caught her off guard.

For a long, charged moment, the two of them simply stared at each other, neither saying a word. Draco's gaze slowly moved from her shoes to the red accessories that highlighted her neck, then back up to her face. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she saw the way his eyes lingered on her lips.

Ginny, standing between them, glanced back and forth, her grin widening. She stepped aside, giving them space. "Well, I'll leave you two to it, shall I?" she said, her voice light with amusement.

Hermione could feel her heart racing, her mind whirling with thoughts she couldn't quite organize. Draco's expression had shifted now—no longer just surprised but… admiring? The idea that he might be impressed by her felt strangely empowering.

Draco, regaining his composure, cleared his throat and closed his mouth, though his eyes hadn't left hers. "Hermione," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "You… look incredible."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush, and she cursed herself for reacting like a schoolgirl. "Thanks," she muttered, unable to think of anything else to say.

Draco smirked slightly as he held out a long shimmering object. "I have a Portkey. It'll take us exactly where we're going."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "A Portkey? I thought we were heading to the Mystic Rose Hotel. It's not that far."

Draco's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a secretive air. "Trust me, I have a very good reason for using a Portkey."

Hermione narrowed her eyes but found herself drawn in by the sincerity in his expression. Against her usual instincts of caution, she nodded, feeling a strange sense of trust. She reached out and touched the Portkey. In an instant, the world around them swirled and disappeared. When they landed, Hermione steadied herself, blinking rapidly as the scene before her came into focus.

The hotel in front of them was breathtaking. Glittering lights illuminated the sleek, modern facade, and palm trees swayed gently in the warm breeze.

"Welcome to Hotel Mystic Rose," Draco announced, pausing for effect before adding, "Los Angeles."

"Los Angeles?!" Hermione exclaimed, stunned. "What's wrong with the one in London?"

Draco chuckled as they were approached by a hotel staff member who began to guide them to their table. "I had a very good reason for the change in plans," he said with a knowing look. "Earlier today, I received a letter from potter. He warned me that Weasley might try to sabotage our dinner."

"Ron?" Hermione's brow furrowed, though she wasn't entirely surprised. "Again?"

Draco shrugged. "Apparently, he hasn't given up yet. I figured it would be best to be one step ahead of him. I told my assistant to make a reservation at the Mystic Rose in London. That's where Weasley thinks we are."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "So, Ron's waiting for us in London?"

Draco smirked. "If all went as planned, yes. Hopefully, he's camped out with whatever scheme he thought of this time."

Hermione shook her head, amused. "That was very clever of you, Draco."

Draco gave a modest shrug, though his eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "Well, I'm glad Potter warned me. Though honestly, I don't know what Weasel's trying to achieve anymore. How many dinners does he plan to ruin?"

"I know, it's ridiculous," Hermione agreed, settling into her chair as they reached their table. "Sabotaging our dinners won't change anything. The only way I'd reject you is if Ron somehow managed to prove that you're a terrible person. But frankly, him messing with our dates isn't going to be enough."

Draco's expression softened at her words, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Hermione smiled, breaking the tension. "Anyway, enough about Ron. Let's talk about something else."

"So, how are you?" Draco asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Hermione blinked at him, caught off guard. "What? What do you mean?"

"You're almost two months pregnant now. How are you feeling? Any morning sickness? Nausea? Vomiting? Are you okay?"

Hermione stared at him, completely unprepared for such a question. Of all the times Ron had come around, declaring his love and trying to win her back, he'd never once asked how she was feeling. But here was Draco Malfoy—her childhood bully—showing genuine concern.

"Well," she began slowly, still processing the unexpected shift, "I do have morning sickness. It usually hits in the morning with vomiting, and I can't eat anything until noon. After that, I'm okay... until the next day." She smiled wryly.

Draco's expression turned melancholy. "My mom used to say she had the same problem when she was pregnant with me. Couldn't eat a thing. But there was this one dish she could manage in the mornings. I wish she were around. Maybe she could help you through this."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy as she responded, "That would have been nice, especially since my parents have no idea what's going on."

Draco's brow furrowed. "They don't? Why not?"

Hermione hesitated, her voice growing soft. "It's... complicated. A serious topic for another day, maybe. But during the war, I made some decisions they didn't agree with. We've been distant ever since."

Draco grimaced slightly but said nothing.

After a moment, Hermione spoke again, eager to shift the conversation. "Anyway, tell me what you've been up to since the war."

Draco sighed, a mix of relief and contemplation in his voice. "Well, after the trials, they put me through a refresher course on Muggle life. I learned about Muggle culture, technology, and I was honestly surprised by some of their inventions. I mean, why don't wizards have television?"

Hermione chuckled softly.

"And phones," Draco continued. "Why can't wizards use something like a phone? Owls are so... Slow."

Hermione smiled. "You sound like a Muggle now."

Draco's smile was wistful. "My father always made Muggles seem beneath us. But once I started learning about them, I realized they're not so different from us. In some ways, they're even ahead."

He paused, his voice softening as he reflected. "After the refresher, they sent me into the Muggle world. I had to get a job, make Muggle friends, and just... blend in. It was hard at first. But after a while, it got easier. I started to appreciate their world."

"So, what's your favorite thing about Muggles?" Hermione asked, curious.

Draco chuckled, glancing down at his forearm. "They look at my Dark Mark and think it's the coolest tattoo in the world," he said with a smirk. "In the wizarding world, I'm always judged—because of my past, my family—but in the Muggle world, I feel... free."

Hermione was taken aback by his answer. Draco Malfoy, feeling free in the Muggle world? It seemed almost unbelievable. Yet, the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt.

The night continued in a comfortable rhythm. Draco asked about her career, genuinely interested. They laughed, reminiscing about old Hogwarts days, though the bitterness of the past had faded. They found themselves talking about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing effortlessly.

By the end of dinner, it was hard to believe that they had once been enemies. Everything just... clicked. It felt natural, easy—even right.

As they stepped outside, Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of certainty. Giving Draco a chance was the right choice.