28th July, 2000

Friday

8:30 AM

It was a quiet morning. The sun shone brightly through the huge windows, making patterns on the dark wood floor and a light breeze rustled the beautiful pink cherry trees outside. The room was a big one, huge windows covering the back wall, emerald green wallpaper in diamond shapes on the other three. A wardrobe was on the left side, almost reaching the ceiling. It was unexpectedly small, but had an undetectable extension charm making any amount of clothing fit. Next to the wardrobe was a door leading to the elegant marble bathroom. To the other side was a bookshelf, stretched all the way along the side, the wallpaper still visible. There were two chairs, big and black and regal, in the close right corner, a side table between them.

In the very centre was a bed, the cream bedding halfway across the side of the mattress and the green pillows strewn about. On the bed was a girl, the huge blankets dwarfing her already small body. Her brown hair was fanned out on either side of her head and her hand hung off the right side. The warmth of the sun crept up the sheets, then caressed her cheek and continued creeping up the bed. A soft groan escaped the brunette's lips and she turned onto her other side.

Friday, July 28th, she thought tiredly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her brown eyes. They widened as she remembered what day it was. Malfoy and I have a date. She fell back on her bed and put a pillow over her face. Isn't my life simply lovely?

A knock on the door jarred her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called, pulling the blanket further up her body to cover any bare skin.

The door opened a crack and someone poked their head in. Hermione rolled her head to the side to see who, and scrambled to sit up when she saw who it was. "Mrs Malfoy, good morning," she greeted, a nod in her direction.

"Narcissa," the regal woman corrected. "You might be my future daughter-in-law, after all."

A tight smile and response. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Narcissa laughed and stepped all the way in. "Draco's taken quite a liking to you. If he thought you as annoying as he told, he would have sent you home that same day as Miss Weasley."

Hermione blushed and she shifted to look more alert. She was painfully aware of the huge frizz she called hair and her hands unconsciously went to smooth it down. "He's just sending the really annoying people away. I'm going next."

"Well, it's half eight, dear. Draco's got a surprise for you. Dress casual." Narcissa left the room with an amused look on her face.

Hermione's face went right back in her pillow.

Draco, whilst Hermione got ready, was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Hermione had been there for thirty-two days and he was utterly surprised that it'd been so long. It felt like a week for him.

He no longer paid any attention on his dates with other women (save Astoria and Luna, for Astoria was like family to him and Blaise would surely kill him if he sent Luna home), instead he used the time to think about Granger, against his will.

They still didn't get along very well, fighting when they're alone, being unwillingly civil when they were in public. Draco thought he'd take this Friday to figure out what he and Hermione were, if they were anything other than enemies.

Enemies. That word used to be so simple. She hated him, and he hated her. But now, it held so much meaning. Enemy: a person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something. They fought about the simplest things—seating arrangements, different colours, the toilet seat being left up—but were they proper opposed to each other?

A wall clock caught his eye. Nine o'clock. Draco reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom to shower before his day properly begun.

Eloise Midgen and Fay Dunbar warmly greeted Hermione when she got down. Hermione figured they only felt sorry for her, that Malfoy had chosen to let her stay rather than send her away when he could.

"It's half nine, Hermione," Eloise said, walking with her and Fay into the dining room, "and it looks like Malfoy's gone insane."

When they emerged into the elegant room, Hermione's gaze focused upon the former Slytherin. Her mouth promptly dropped open. Malfoy wore a grey V-neck T-shirt with a green jumper on top, black trousers covering the upper half of his pale legs. Brown sneakers adorned his feet and his sleeves were bunched up to his elbows. He looked fit, much to Hermione's irritation.

"Like what you see, Granger?" He called from where he was at the other side of the room. All heads swivelled towards her. When Hermione's eyes travelled back to his face, she saw the familiar smirk on his lips.

"I'm not so sure what I see," she muttered, although the echo of her voice carried across the hall.

Malfoy scowled. "Just get over here."

"You're wearing muggle clothes, Malfoy," Hermione told him when she came within speaking range.

"Really? I had no idea." Silence ensued.

The smell of delicious food filled her senses and she reached for a scone and some raspberry jam. Whilst the number of eyes on her receded, the red tinge to her cheeks did as well.

Nearly twenty long minutes later, Hermione and Draco were in the car heading to a destination Hermione did not know.

"Where's Luna?" The dreamy girl wasn't in the hall this morning and Hermione knew Luna wasn't one to sleep in late.

"Blaise took her out this morning," Malfoy said. "He came in quite early to tell me—didn't even wait until a reasonable time. Just, 'I'm taking Luna out to look for nargles.' No knocking, no 'Good morning, Draco. How are you?' Just, 'I'm taking my stupid little girlfriend to look for stupid little creatures,' and he's gone."

Instead of getting into a quarrel about calling Luna and her nargles stupid (Hermione did think the creatures were stupid, but that was besides the point), Hermione chose to move on and say, "It's lovely that Blaise is changing for her. I can't imagine anyone who could do that for me." Especially Malfoy, she thought, reminded of the little kiss they shared. Definitely not Malfoy. Even though he was currently wearing muggle clothes.

"I think," the man next to her said softly, "that they're changing for each other. Blaise is participating in Lovegood's little escapades, and Lovegood is just spending time with Blaise, being more down to earth and understanding him. Blaise has been through a lot and Lovegood's oblivious and dreamlike tendencies help him take his mind off it."

"Oh," she whispered, unable to help but think of how Luna and Zabini remind her of her and Malfoy. Zabini was Malfoy, who went through a lot and is in pain, hating to be alone and think. Luna was Hermione, being different from others, having those little things they each enjoyed that was strange to other people.

"So," Malfoy cleared his throat and turned towards her as much as he could on the seat, "where do you think I'm taking you?"

"I don't know, but muggle clothes suggest someplace muggle," Hermione laughed. "I can't believe you're wearing them!"

A scowl found Malfoy's face once again. "Do I look that bad?"

"No, I'm just surprised you'd wear anything muggle at all." An embarrassed pause, then softly, "You actually look really good."

"As usual." Hermione shook her head at him. Once his confidence was back, he was as cocky as ever.

They settled into an uncomfortable silence again.

"How long is this drive?" Hermione asked tiredly as she reclined her seat.

Malfoy looked at her, shielding his eyes from the sun shining through the opposite window. "An hour and fifty-four minutes."

"And how long has it been?"

"Half an hour."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Couldn't we have just apparated?"

She could tell the Slytherin hoped she wouldn't notice the fingers he had fiddling in his lap. "I just thought you'd like to do something muggle."

A smile spread across her lips and Malfoy twisted his lips into an unfamiliar endearing and crooked grin. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never seen Malfoy smiled before, so Hermione regretted its quick disappearance.

"You know," she started, changing the subject before the thick silence came again, "Harry and Ginny haven't written anything lately."

"Really?" But she can tell he knew something.

"Have you been intercepting my owls?" Accusingly.

A smirk flitted across Malfoy's face. "No." No explanation.

"Where are we even going?"

"You'll see, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Hermione."

They were finally out of the car. An hour and fifty-four minutes is way longer than I thought.

The place they got out at wasn't anything special. From what Hermione saw, it was only a library—the London Library—and Hermione loved it, with the leather bound books and old brown wood and the musty smell of old books. She didn't see what was so special.

"I've brought you to a book signing with J.K. Rowling," Draco said, as if reading her thoughts.

"J.K. Rowling?" she asked incredulously. "You mean the woman who wrote The Casual Vacancy?"

"I don't know. I've never read a book by her in my life," was the infuriating response.

Hermione studiously ignored him and instead practically bounded towards the door.

The blasted signing took way too long, in Draco's opinion. Just standing and waiting and talking and more waiting and more standing and then, when they're finally at the beginning of the line, there's even more waiting because J.K. needed a new pen and then there's the signing and more talking and then a picture and talking and standing and (finally) leaving. But it made Granger happy so he didn't complain. Alright, well he might have complained a little bit. Or a lot. Okay, so he probably annoyed her to death by his complaining, but that's beside the point.

"Thank you, Draco," Granger said giddily as she laid her head down on his shoulder, her new books safely wrapped in paper, then put in her back.

"So, I take you to a signing and we're suddenly on first name basis, Hermione?" He didn't move her head.

"Anyone who gets me a book signing with my favourite author in the world will be my friend forever," she replied, "and this is the longest we've spent together, I think. It's already half twelve and I'm starving. Where to for lunch?"

"You'll see, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Hermione."

The Wolseley was just as elegant as the name. Granger hadn't been there before, but Draco obviously did when he was escorted to a table and promptly given bread with olive oil, along with their glasses of ice water.

"Why does this table have three more seats than needed?" She'd asked a question the minute they sat down. Draco couldn't decide if it was endearing or just plain annoying.

"You'll see, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Hermione."

When they walked in, Hermione couldn't decide whether to punch or kiss Draco (again!). One had emerald green eyes, infuriatingly messy black hair and silver spectacles strewn about his face. Hermione was only just noticing the Slytherin colours in his appearance and chastised herself. Malfoy cannot be growing on me already! Next had long red hair and slate blue eyes and was wearing a smirk stolen right off Malfoy. Lastly, one that surprised Hermione, had ginger hair and ginger freckles and ginger skin (she could have sworn he did) and blue apologetic eyes but didn't say a word.

Hermione only gaped at Malfoy and then her friends, over and over.

"Are you quite finished, Granger?" Malfoy asked, his smirk turning amused on his face.

"That's why they haven't been owling me! You've been setting this up for a week!" She spoke accusingly, uncaringly.

If Malfoy was hurt, he hid it well. "Maybe I did."

"Have you done it with anyone else?"

"I've never repeated anything I've done with you." The kiss. And they stared each other in the face and the moment was gone.

So, Hermione threw her arms around her friends and thanked Merlin that Malfoy did have a heart after all.

The rest of the day was filled with laughing at talking and sniping and scolding and apologising and fun.

Evening came quickly for them. Draco had been cruelly dragged into the conversation by Hermione, and (regrettably) enjoyed himself. Now, they were alone, walking through the streets of London, hearing the music from the restaurant across the street, seeing the orange tinge of streetlights and feel the warm summer night envelop them. And they loved it.

They stopped on a bench, waiting for a bus to take them home. (Their original driver went home after their previous ride.)

"I really enjoyed myself, Malfoy." Hermione smiled at him as she cut at the carefully crafted comfortable quiet (say that three times fast!) between them.

"Good," he replied, just as snarky as ever, just as insufferable as ever, "or this whole day would have been in vain."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself too," but now he was endearingly snarky, endearingly insufferable, "or my coming would have been in vain." She always had a retort forming in her head before the insult spewed from her lips.

But she didn't want insults.

Another silence. She didn't like it.

"Thanks, Draco."

"For what?" A curious glance in her direction.

"Helping me enjoy myself."

"Oh, please." A scoff. "All I did was get your friends to come and—"

"Not just that." Interrupted. "You did all that for me. A know-it-all Mudblood Gryffindor you've despised since the beginning." Mudblood. The word pierced her heart.

"Don't call yourself that, Hermione." Fierce indignance.

Close together.

Realisation.

And then their lips smashed together in a frenzy of fireworks and smoke and Hermione couldn't think anymore, for Draco's lips were soft and talented and drowned her and she had to kiss back. And then their arms were around each other, kissing, snogging each other fiercely, wanting to be close, closer to each other. Feeling the soft breeze but unable to acknowledge it, the breath stolen from their lungs and they had to pull away. The last kiss Draco gave her was soft and gentle and sweet like an apple dipped in honey, no tongues, no teeth, just plain enjoyment and care for the other and not wanting to let them go, not wanting to let the moment pass.

And when they leant their foreheads against each other's, exhilarated, out of breath, eyes closed, smiling, they knew their hearts were finally full.