All I can say is that sometimes life is not on your side. This chapter sat half-written on my computer for months and I just couldn't figure out how to finish it. I haven't had motivation to write and the fact that anyone is still out there reading this story is just incredible to me. So thank you thank you thank you for every review, favorite, follow. Everything. 3

Changing Scenery

Chapter 30: Antici...

Draco woke up on Sunday far earlier than he'd intended to, but he was too excited to sleep. He'd been thinking about their date ever since Hermione had come over and now that the day had finally arrived, sleep had proved elusive. He already had his outfit picked out and he'd booked the reservation at the restaurant right after she'd left on Thursday. There wasn't much left for him to do.

He climbed out of bed, slipping on a pair of house shoes before throwing open the French doors. It was cold and frost covered the grounds, the sun not having come up enough to melt it away, but he ran warm now and he barely felt the cold despite only wearing thin silk pajamas. The fresh air was crisp and biting. He brought one of his wings around to cover his front, encasing himself in a warm cocoon. He asked one of the house elves to bring him some coffee and then lounged in one of the chairs on the balcony until there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called, assuming it was his mother. There wasn't anyone else in the house, and the house elves didn't tend to use the doors when they could just Apparate.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Mother."

"Should you be sitting outside? It's rather cold and you've only just recovered."

Draco shrugged but came inside, closing the doors behind him. "I hadn't really noticed."

"Hm." She looked him over. "You're looking well this morning."

"I'm feeling well," he said. And it was true. The potions that he'd been taking had restored him almost completely back to health. He was still having a little trouble sleeping, but there was very little help for that.

"I'm glad to hear it." She paused. "I hear you're going out with Miss Granger this evening."

Draco wasn't surprised that she knew. The house elves were terrible gossips and his mother prided herself on knowing everything that went on in her house.

"I am."

"Hm," she repeated.

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"She's quite…something."

"Quite brilliant? Quite beautiful? Yes, I would agree." His Veela's hackles were beginning to go up. He could see where she was headed and he wasn't pleased.

Her lips pursed. "Are you certain you want to take her out? One never knows, you know, how such people might behave."

"Such people?" he very nearly growled.

His mother made an expressive motion with her hand. "Don't be daft, Draco."

"I'm not the one being daft," he said darkly.

His mother's face went from polite to icy. "I may have to accept that she is your mate, Draco, and therefore will be around for a great deal of the foreseeable future, but she is not worthy of you. Nothing will change that."

"You're right. Nothing, no war, no Veela magic, will change the fact that she was always worthy of me. I was the one who wasn't worthy of her. I was the selfish, entitled prick who thought that my blood made me superior when it couldn't have mattered less." He looked down at her. "But we all bleed red, don't we, Mother?" he added viciously.

He swept past her, grabbing his wand off the table as he went. He half-walked, half-flew down to the foyer, transfiguring his clothes quickly before throwing open the front doors. He took off from the front step, needing to escape that horrible house.

Diagon Alley was too narrow and crowded for him to land in directly, so he landed in a small park nearby and then walked the rest of the way. Despite the fact that it wasn't yet December, many of the shops already had Yule decorations up. Pine garlands outlined shop windows and little floating lights flashed in different colors. He strode through the crowd, his wings folded up against his back. He had neither the control nor the inclination to put them away completely.

People made way for him, whether because they recognized him, saw his wings, or because they saw the look on his face, he didn't know. His first stop was Twilfitt and Tattings. Madame Lemoux was behind the counter and she looked up when he entered, her general look of disapproval melting away when she recognized him.

She came around the counter, giving him a kiss on each cheek. "Bonjour, Draco. Why have you come today?"

"I'm afraid I'm in urgent need of some clothes." He waved his wind and muttered Finito, reverting his clothes back to his pajamas.

"Ah, oui, I see. I have some finished, they were to be sent tomorrow. You can take them now."

"As always, you are a gem, Madame."

She smiled. "And you a charmer."

She vanished into the back of the shop and then returned a few minutes later, a set of robes floating behind her. "Try these." She ushered him into a changing room, the curtain swishing closed behind him.

He quickly slipped out of the pajamas, tearing his badly-ripped shirt the rest of the way off to get it over his wings. After pulling on the trousers, he examined the shirt that Madame Lemoux had given him. He was confused for a moment before he realized that it was designed to slip on from the front, with fastenings in the back, as well as a traditional button placket in the front. He pulled it on, using magic to do the fastenings in the back. He looked at himself in the mirror. It looked like a completely ordinary, if exceptionally well-cut, shirt.

The outer robe, a deep green that he was vain enough to admire for how well it complemented his complexion, had two huge slits in the back for his wings. It took a minute for him to get it on, but the slits were long enough for his wings to fit through easily and once it was on, it draped in such a way that the slits were barely noticeable. He admired his appearance for a moment before leaving the dressing room.

Madame Lemoux was waiting when he came out. She fiddled with the drape of the robe and straightened his collar before stepping back and nodding sharply. "Oui."

"Exquisite as always, Madame."

She smiled at him. "The others, they will be delivered. I included those extra things you wanted, as well."

He bent down to brush a kiss against her cheeks. "Merci beaucoup."

She waved a hand. "Away with you, Monsieur."

Draco grinned at her before leaving, satisfied that he now looked his best. He wanted to make an impression. He strode down Diagon Alley, aware that many eyes were on him, some unfriendly, but most curious.

His next stop, and the reason for his trip, was the very, very expensive jeweler that his mother, along with many of the old pureblood families and the nouveau riche half-bloods, favored.

Herr Rochat was a Swiss jeweler who disliked the English, but liked their galleons as long as they weren't Muggle-borns, and so had set up a shop in London on a side street that, until twenty or so years ago, had had a gate that kept out Muggle-borns. Draco intended to make a statement, but Herr Rochat didn't know that, and so he greeted Draco as warmly as he greeted anyone.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy." His accent was much fainter than Madame Lemoux's.

"Good morning, Herr Rochat." He strolled deeper into the shop, a relatively small room with cases lining one side. Herr Rochat sat on a stool behind the cases, a velvet tray dotted with uncut gems in front of him. A perfectly dressed assistant stood behind him. Draco didn't recognize her, but he had no doubt she was probably the daughter of some less well-off branch of a continental pureblood family.

Draco didn't bother to bend over to examine the wares on sale. "I want a necklace."

Herr Rochat's lipsed pursed. "Diamond?"

"Yes, and ruby."

Herr Rochat made a noise that could have been a grunt of agreement. He flicked his fingers at his assistant, who quickly disappeared into the back of the shop. She returned several minutes later carefully levitating three different velvet-cushioned displays.

Draco walked up to the counter to inspect them. He dismissed the first, a simple bracelet of alternating diamonds and rubies, immediately. "Too plain."

The second was interesting – a diamond choker with a ruby drop – but he knew that Hermione would never wear such a thing. "No."

The third was promising. He lifted it off the stand, admiring it.

"Pigeon's blood rubies," Herr Rochat said. "The chain is platinum."

"I'll take it."

Herr Rochat named a price that Hermione would surely scold him for if she ever found out. Though she is very pretty when she's passionate.

He shook off the distracting thoughts and wrote out a bank draft for Gringott's. He left the shop much lighter in wallet but extraordinarily pleased with himself.

Draco was ten minutes early to the restaurant. He knew Hermione was likely to be at least five minutes early, and he wanted to make sure he was there when she arrived.

At five minutes to seven with no sign of her, he grew nervous. There is no reason to be nervous. She will be here, it will be lovely.

Less than a minute later she popped into view, the crack echoing around the small courtyard in front of the restaurant. He stepped forward quickly, balancing her when she slipped on the cobblestones. He noted the high, thin heels she wore. The emerald green heels. He swallowed.

"Good evening, Hermione."

"Hello, Draco. I hope you weren't waiting long, I meant to be here earlier but- "

"You're early," he interjected, amused. He arranged her arm so it was wrapped around his and then guided her into the restaurant.

A very dignified house elf stood just inside the entrance. "Your cloaks, madame, monsieur?"

Draco turned to Hermione, hands raised slightly, who looked confused for a moment before he saw the knowledge click in her mind. She blushed slightly and unbuttoned her cloak and then turned around to let Draco slip it off her shoulders. He handed it off to the house elf before removing his and handing it off as well.

"Shall we?" He held out his arm again.

She took it again. "Yes, please."

The maître d' seated them quickly at the private booth Draco had specifically requested. He slid in beside her, his thigh brushing hers due to the small table.

Hermione looked around the restaurant and Draco took the time to admire her. She looked delicious. She was in a black dress that looked muggle, the neckline dipping low enough to be right on the edge of scandalous, although the floor-length skirt made up for it. He caught another glimpse of her shoes through the slit in her dress, and he noted the emeralds in her ears as well. His Veela rumbled happily, content in the knowledge that she'd clearly dressed for him.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," he said, interrupting her examination of the flowers in the middle of the table.

She smiled softly. "Thank you. You do as well." She glanced over him. He saw her throat bob.

He grinned. Her reaction was worth every moment he'd spent getting ready. "Would you like something to drink?"

She glanced around, perhaps looking for a menu. "Wine?"

"Of course."

Draco gestured minutely and a server appeared almost immediately.

"Yes, monsieur?"

He ordered a bottle of what he knew to be excellent champagne. The server nodded crisply and then disappeared again.

"I don't think I've ever heard of this restaurant before," Hermione said, turning slightly to face him.

"It's quite good," Draco said, angling his body as well. If it put them even closer, well. That was just a side benefit.

She raised an eyebrow. "It also looks expensive."

Draco shrugged negligently. "The good things often are."

"Just good things?"

Draco smirked, leaning until his lips were just brushing her ear. "The best things can never be bought." He nipped her ear lightly, unable to help himself. He could feel her gasp and felt a deep satisfaction at her reaction.

He pulled away before he could do anything that would scandalize even the French.

She looked at him from under her eyelashes, eyes narrowed. "You're trouble."

His smirk widened. "You already knew that."

Her lips twitched. "I did."

"And if I recall, you're trouble too."

She looked up at him through her lashes in a way that was truly unfair, smirking slightly. "I know."

The server arrived at that moment bearing the champagne and Draco wanted to growl at him for interrupting but resisted. They went through the ritual of Draco tasting it – excellent, as he'd expected – before the server poured them each a glass and then departed, leaving the bottle chilling in ice and two menus behind.

Draco picked up his glass, holding it up to her. She picked hers up as well.

"To you," Draco said.

Hermione smiled. "To us."

Draco couldn't stop the sappy smile that came over his face then. He clinked his glass gently against hers and quickly took a drink to disguise the expression.

They spent the next few minutes looking over the menus. Draco selected his meal fairly quickly and then admired Hermione from the corner of his eye. She looked radiant, but it was more than that. She appeared relaxed in a way she hadn't since they'd become mates.

She caught him looking. "What?"

"You seem happy," he said simply.

She tilted her head. "I am, I think."

"You think?"

She pondered the question for a minute. "I feel like we, the three of us, I mean, are finally on the same page."

Draco could read between the lines. "I never wanted to make you feel like you were on a different page." He took her hand. "You are important to me, Hermione." You couldn't know how important.

She smiled at him. "Thank you. And I think I finally feel that way, too, really. I feel like we're starting to come together."

He studied her for a moment before grinning slowly. "So you had a good date with Harry, then, I take it?"

She flushed a brilliant red that spread down her chest in a way that made him want to rip her dress off.

"Uh, I mean, yes. It was lovely, fine, great, even."

He picked up her hand, turning it over to kiss her palm. "You're blushing, love." He could feel the way her pulse started pounding.

"Well you're not helping," she muttered, cheeks still red.

His kissed her again, on her wrist this time, his tongue flicking out briefly to taste her. "That's the idea."

He could feel the heat in his chest. He could feel how she reacted to him. His Veela wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and fly far away to somewhere private. Preferably with Harry already there, naked and waiting. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Not long, if he had his way.

She tugged on her hand and he let it go after a moment, pleased that the blush had yet to fade completely from her cheeks.

"We're in public," she chastised, though he found her expression far from discouraging.

"For now," he agreed.

Hermione rolled her before looking pointedly at her menu. Draco sat back, letting her have her space for the moment.

As soon as she put her menu down, the server returned. They ordered and then they were alone again. He could feel a few eyes on them, but he'd arranged for their table to be private enough that no one would be able to openly stare while still visible enough that Hermione wouldn't feel as though he was trying to hide her away.

Draco took a sip of champagne.

"What-"

"Do- "

"Go ahead," Draco urged.

Hermione fiddled with her wine glass. "Do you, that is, I guess, what are you hoping for? Out of this?"

"Dinner?"

Hermione frowned at him. "No. And you know that's not what I meant."

Draco took her hand, kissing the back in apology. "I know." He sighed, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts. "I won't lie and say I haven't thought about it. Of course I have. This is a rather more serious situation for me, as I'm sure you know."

"I do."

He smiled at her briefly. "I want the three of us. Together. You are, well, you're it for me, the two of you. And I think, even without being a Veela, I would have felt the same given half a chance."

"So you don't regret it?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco considered her question seriously. "While I would have preferred that I found out a different way, I don't regret finding out you were my mate. And I don't wish that it was anyone else. Do you wish things were different? You can still walk away, Hermione."

"No," she said immediately. "I don't want that."

Draco felt something cold and tense inside him relax. He realized that Hermione had never pulled away and he was still holding her hand. He squeezed it gently. "I'm glad."

She smiled softly at him. "I'm not there yet, but I think one day, I'm going to fall in love with you, Draco."

He leaned until his lips were brushing her ear. "I think I'm almost there."

The air of awkwardness eased after their meals arrived and they were each a couple glasses of champagne in. Over dinner they'd talked about some of the interesting cases Hermione had dealt with, and about her leaving the Ministry.

"How do you feel about leaving?" he'd asked.

Hermione had given it due thought. "I feel good. I accomplished what I wanted to, but I was never very fond of the Ministry. I'm glad to be leaving."

"Have you decided what you're going to do after?"

"Not exactly," she'd hedged.

Draco had seen the opportunity. "My company is still looking for a business liaison." He smirked. "I'm sure I could put in a good word for you if you were interested."

She'd rolled her eyes but hadn't shot him down. He let it go, knowing the seed had been planted.

Now they were onto dessert. A faint pink flush glowed along her cheekbones and he was beginning to have difficulty remembering that they were in public and there were only so many indiscretions that could be smoothed over with Galleons.

He watched raptly as Hermione ate another tiny spoonful of the mousse she'd ordered. He plucked the spoon from her fingers when she scooped out another bite, licking it off the spoon himself. He reached out a bit with his Veela as he licked the spoon clean and saw her eyes widen, her pupils dilating. He set down the spoon.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

She licked her lip. "Yeah," she said breathily.

He grinned. "Good."

He pulled out her chair and helped her up. The house elf was waiting when they arrived at the entrance. He slipped her cloak over her shoulders, lingering as he brushed his hands over the material. By the time they made it outside, they were both warm enough that they didn't notice the chill.

Draco hesitated as he took her arm. He wasn't sure if she'd want to go to the manor, and it would be incredibly rude for him to invite himself over to her flat. He had better manners than that. He was fairly sure he did. She bit her lip. He reconsidered.

"Would you like to come to my flat?" Hermione asked. Only the redness in her cheeks betrayed her nervousness. "For coffee?"

Draco very much hoped there would be no coffee. All the better. "I'd love to."

"Okay, great." She clung to his arm tighter and then Apparated them away.