Author's Note: This piece was written for the Dramione Fanfiction Writers' Trope Fest 2018 where I was randomly given the trope "Blind Date". I hope you enjoy!

I'm not sure whether I'll continue this piece, but there has been interest expressed in seeing this same idea with other pairings. Let me know if you'd have any interest in that...

Thank you to my wonderful alpha and beta on this piece, Kyonomiko and LaBelladone x.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

Draco tightened his slate tie and with one last look in the mirror, adjusted a stray bit of hair. A grimace sat on his lips and a furrow in his brow as his reflection stared back at him.

He checked the time at his wrist, wondering – not for the first time – whether he hadn't gone a bit loopy. In five minutes he would Apparate to the new facilities of Weasley's Wizard Wonders, where the surviving Weasley twin had launched a new experiential business venture.

Draco felt a frisson of nerves chase the length of his spine and nearly owled, for the eighth time that week, to cancel his appointment.

And if it weren't for the fact that the house of Malfoy still operated with archaic laws which dictated he would lose his rights to the estate and his entire inheritance were he not married by the age of thirty, he would have been content to carry on in his self-imposed solitude.

But Draco wasn't particularly interested in being disowned and cast out, and given the Malfoy family's standings following the end of the second wizarding war eleven years ago – despite Draco's persistent efforts to improve his family's image in society – there wasn't exactly a line of women waiting to marry a former Death Eater and disgraced son of a house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Not with the new inclusion and anti-prejudice laws being passed around every corner in the Ministry these days.

The problematic scenario gave him just under a year to find someone willing to marry him. The prospects weren't looking good.

He secured his crystal cufflinks, never mind that no one would see them – a Malfoy always arrived in his best.

It had been with a hard lump in his throat and a bruised ego that Draco had shelved his pride and registered for George Weasley's new dating adventure program – blind adventure dating.

Not only was the setup blind, but the entire date would remain so as well. There would be no way for Draco to identify his date by their appearance or voice, both masked and anonymous – but it would also mean his date wouldn't be able to immediately reject him based on his family name.

Maybe it was the chance Draco needed. He wasn't the spoiled, entitled child who had been branded and forced to participate in events that still caused him night terrors. Not to say he was winning any humanitarian awards – but still. If his date would give him a chance to get to know him…

Draco shook his head, his jaw clenching. The chance of actually finding someone was slim to none – but the date had been arranged according to the compatibility survey he had submitted the week prior. He couldn't help but wonder who he would be spending the afternoon with – and whether he knew the woman.

It was that slim hope – and the fact that Draco had no desire to find himself living on the streets – that had pushed him to apply for the program in the first place.

Pressing his palms against his slacks, ensuring his wand was in his pocket, Draco took a last deep breath and Apparated away.

A witch bustled over to Draco once he arrived in the new Weasley facility, a massive warehouse-style building, although he appeared to only be in a small office of sorts.

"Mr Malfoy," the witch said with a demure smile, "we are so thrilled to have you here today."

Draco blinked and offered the woman a smile in return. She wore magenta and sunflower yellow robes, and he wondered whether it had been of her own volition to wear such a blinding outfit, or whether it was her uniform.

"If you'll please fill out this paperwork," the woman continued, passing him a stack of pages, "and at the bottom is a release of liability waiver – since the facility is so new, you know. There might still be a few… kinks in the program, but it's all perfectly safe of course."

"Kinks," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "Alright, then."

He accepted the paperwork and a self-inking quill and settled into a chair against the wall. Bright, abstract paintings adorned every wall and clashed horribly with the lime green decor. He skimmed through the pages, wondering if his date was already in the building.

It would be just his luck to be stood up on a blind date.

"Is my date here already?" he asked, glancing up at the woman.

"She is," the woman said with a teasing smile. "I think you'll like her!"

Draco pressed his lips together with a short nod. He would have to be the judge of that.

The liability waiver was troubling, but given the magic was experimental, as were all of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' products, Draco imagined it to be a standard waiver.

"Great," Draco clipped as he finished the paperwork and returned the clipboard to the woman.

"Excellent!" the woman exclaimed. "Just ahead, you'll enter the facility and upon entry you'll lose your vision; your voice will also be distorted to your date's ears! If you decide you'd like to leave early, you need simply press this button –" she handed Draco a small remote "– otherwise the date will end when you and your partner complete your adventure together!"

"Right," Draco said, pocketing the button with a grimace. This was all a little more elaborate than he'd been hoping for.

"And when you're ready, go onward to begin your extreme adventure blind date!"

"Extreme?" Draco questioned, turning back to the woman halfway to the door.

"It's fine," she hissed, with a dismissive wave. "It's in the scripts."

Draco shook his head and took another step forward. He muttered to himself, "Here goes nothing," and swung open the door. In an instant, his vision was stolen from him and he found himself stumbling over his own feet in an ungraceful manner. It was a surreal experience – his eyes were open but his vision was black, as if his eyes were closed and he were simply looking at the inside of his eyelids.

Scowling, he waved around for anything he could touch and when his hand hit the wall, he was transported into a seated position somewhere.

Clutching his hands to the bottom of the chair, Draco tried to orientate himself with little success. He debated pressing the button now and just being done with it all.

But a soft voice said, "Hello," and he leaned back in his seat, uncomfortable for making his date wait while he dithered around asking questions.

"Hello," he returned, feeling at once awkward and curious. "How are you?"

"I'm quite fine, thank you," the voice returned. She giggled. "A little nervous. And you?"

It wasn't a voice he recognized – although even if it was someone he knew, her voice would be masked – but it was pretty and melodious.

Draco grinned to himself – there was something about her easy countenance that set him at ease. "I'm also a bit nervous, I can't lie. I've never done anything like this."

He reached through the air before him until he felt the edge of a table. He inched his fingers forward until they found warm ceramic.

"We seem to have been given tea," Draco stated judging by the aroma, taking his cup by the handle and bringing it close to blow on it. "Some adventure, isn't it?"

"Lovely," his date said. "From what I understood coming in, the date gets more adventurous the longer we stay inside. So this must be a warm-up, or an orientation of sorts."

"Fair enough," Draco said with a grin as he took a sip. "So I know we aren't supposed to ask personal, revealing questions – but may I ask what brought you to extreme adventure blind dating in the first place?"

There was a moment of silence in which he wished he hadn't asked – but then the girl snickered. "I've been told I'm a bit too committed to my career, and I need to get out and meet people. To be honest, I was sort of talked into this by a friend."

"Interesting," Draco murmured. He wondered what she did for her career – but it was one of the first questions they weren't meant to be asking one another.

"What about you?" she asked, and Draco could hear the tinkle of china as she moved her teacup. "Surely there are more conventional ways of meeting people."

Draco faltered, not certain whether he wanted to reveal his true reasoning just yet. For all he knew, this woman would be like the others and click her remote to leave the date if she knew of his allegiances during the war, whether against his will or not.

"I'm at the point in my life where I'm interested in settling down," Draco began. "I come from an old family where people often prejudge my name, and I'm more interested in finding someone I care for than someone whose political affiliations may be beneficial."

"That's admirable of you," the girl said, and he thought he heard a smile in her voice. "Most of the old Sacred Twenty-Eight I know of don't think that way."

"A lot of the Sacred Twenty-Eight have had to adapt to modern circumstances," Draco clipped, almost unwittingly giving up his heritage. "But many have still clung to the old ways, kicking and screaming. It's an interesting time in wizarding society."

"I agree," she said. "Shall I presume you were involved in the war?"

Draco was glad she hadn't further specified. "Yes. I was at Hogwarts at the time."

"So we'll be around the same age then," she surmised. There was a pause and then she continued, "It's strange to be hearing your voice but unable to see you. What a bizarre experience."

Draco found he quite liked the way she was quick to share her thoughts. It was an unusual trait as far as most of the women he knew went. Most pureblood witches would contain their thoughts and feelings to the point where it drove Draco insane trying to figure out what they liked or wanted.

It was one reason the few relationships he had been involved in had fallen flat. The women were often shallow and vapid – Draco was looking for neither.

"It certainly is," he said, realizing he had not responded. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"I like to paint." She paused for a moment, and then carried on. "I read a lot; I've been writing a memoir in my spare time, of my experiences in the war."

Draco's mouth felt dry. He had to assume she'd fought with the Order, then. He said, "I'd be interested to read that."

"So would I!" she exclaimed with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. "It's rather more difficult to recreate some of those experiences on paper than I had imagined it would be."

Despite his nerves and his hand lingering near the button he had been given in case she were to ask what sort of role he had played, Draco grinned at the empty space before him.

"I don't envy you," he replied, "I think I would have trouble with such a thing, as well. But I believe you'll finish it, someday."

"Someday," she sighed, her voice wistful. Draco could tell it was something she was passionate about, and the thought stirred something within him. "And what do you like – don't tell me: Quidditch?"

Draco barked a short laugh. "I used to play more than I do now. I have season tickets to the Falmouth Falcons, but I don't always make every game. I have a couple friends who are more than willing to take them off my hands when I can't."

"Good friends," she snickered. "I have a couple friends like that too."

"I also like to read," Draco nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "And running. I find running to be good for my physical and mental wellbeing."

"Absolutely," she agreed. "I feel that way about most… physical endeavours."

He wasn't certain, but he thought he almost detected a hint of flirtation in her voice. He cleared his throat and chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

"You're very forward," he remarked, his lips twitching.

"So I've been told," she said, her tone flippant.

"I have to assume you aren't a pureblood witch," Draco said. He hesitated for a moment while silence ensued. "And I prefer that."

A sharp intake of breath, and then, "Why is that?"

"You aren't afraid to say what's on your mind, or how you feel. Most pureblood witches are intentionally difficult to read – and I happen to think I'm quite good at reading people." He shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "It's a welcome change, is all."

"Well," she said, her voice soft, "that's nice. I wasn't sure, when you said you were from an old house, whether you would have any interest in someone with lower blood purity."

Draco leaned forward in his seat – he wanted to get to know her better. His hand left the button in his pocket and settled on the table.

He breathed, "It isn't always all it's cracked up to be, you know?" He swallowed, nerves chasing his spine again. "There are a lot of… expectations."

"I can imagine," she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and there was a clinking of china again.

"When I was younger," Draco admitted, "I bought into a lot of the prejudice and misconceptions. But a series of things happened which threw into sharp relief how incredibly wrong that all was."

He could hear her shifting in her seat. "I'm sorry for what you faced, but I'm glad of the lessons you learned through it."

It was the most honest approach to the situation he had ever heard. His brow furrowed and he wished he could see her – wished he knew her name. "What can I call you?"

She pondered for a moment, then said, "Jean."

"Jean," Draco repeated. "That's a lovely name."

"Thank you," she clipped, "and what shall I –"

She cut herself off and Draco's hands tensed on the table as the floor shook beneath them, the teacups clattering against the saucers on the table. He heard her sharp intake of breath and pressed his feet against the ground to be sure it was stable.

"I guess we've made it to the beginning of the adventure," Draco chuckled. "That must mean we've done something right."

"Neither of us have needed to escape yet," she giggled and Draco smiled at the warm sound of it. "I wonder how extreme it's going to get."

"It can't be that bad, right?" Draco pondered. "I mean, the woman said –"

There was another quake across the room and Draco fell forward into the table with a lurch. There was a loud crash as one of the teacups fell to the floor. He drew his wand and attempted to vanish the broken china but the familiar surge of magic through his arm was absent.

"Did they say we won't have use of our magic in here?" Draco asked, startled.

"It was in the paperwork," Jean said, her tone absent. Her voice came from a different spot and Draco surmised she had risen from her seat. "But if anything is wrong, we're to use our buttons."

"Right," Draco said, recalling a small note in the fine print. He had been so nervous he'd rushed through some of the pages. He wondered now what else he had overlooked.

He rose to his feet and inched toward where he had heard her voice, reaching with a hand. He grasped what felt like her arm and sighed with relief that he hadn't blindly waved out and found something more inappropriate.

Her other hand landed on the back of his wrist as she breathed, "Hello," with a laugh. Her fingers played with the crystal link at his cuff for a moment. "You're dressed nicely for a literal blind date."

Draco shrugged, even as his lips curved into a smirk. "You never know when it'll pay to dress well."

"Life wisdom," she teased, her hand lingering on his wrist. He could feel the heat from her palm coming through his sleeve, her voice so much closer.

There was another jolt to the floor and she stumbled into his chest, righting herself after giving Draco a brief chance to feel her soft curves pressed against him.

"Sorry," she gasped, stepping away, but Draco didn't release her arm. If this was a precursor to something worse, he didn't want to lose track of her in the darkness.

"It's alright," he murmured, rubbing her arm with the pad of his thumb. "It's probably best if we stick together."

"Good idea," she breathed, and he could feel her body tense. "I guess I didn't anticipate what sort of situations this event would be comprised of."

"You probably gave it more consideration than I did," Draco admitted.

There was a heavier quake and Draco landed his free hand on the table as he fell forward. The ground beneath his feet broke apart and shifted into rubble with a great cacophony; it was wholly unnerving to be trapped in an unexpected situation without his vision or his magic.

Her hand caught his, their fingers entwining. Draco guided their hands to the table and he felt her move as she held it with her other hand, her body close enough to his that he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

"Do you smell that?" she whispered, her voice tight. "Something's changed."

Draco took a deep breath in and out; his mind raced as he tried to place the scent. "It's like a rainforest, or a jungle."

"The floor," Jean breathed, kicking at the ground. "It's dirt."

"Come on," Draco said, tugging her away from the table. "Let's see if we can find anything."

They ventured out into the expanse of the room – although Draco wasn't certain they hadn't been transported elsewhere – and after a time the atmosphere changed to dense foliage. Jean clung closer to his hand as they walked together, bumping into him now and again when he stopped to assess the situation.

Although her closeness didn't seem borne of fear, Draco was pleased to note, but rather an interest in keeping together.

"I suppose this is the adventure," he breathed, turning back to face her.

"To be honest, I would have been happy continuing our tea," she snickered.

Draco agreed and gave her hand a squeeze as they ventured deeper into the trees. He could hear the distant call of birds now, and the chattering of rodents. When they paused to listen closer, Draco was certain he could hear the rushing of water and they began a slow and cautious trek in that direction.

"I wonder how far this goes on for," Draco said, growing a little irritated as they paced through the trees, branches slapping at him as they walked. "It appears, this wasn't an occasion to dress nicely."

Despite the levity of the situation, Jean laughed. "Your effort is appreciated all the same."

"Thanks," he chuckled, turning back to her. "I think this would be more fun if we could see one another."

"It's isn't about fun," she hissed, her tone mocking, "it's about extreme adventure dating."

"Of course," Draco snickered. He tugged her against him for a moment as they walked. "How could I forget that part?"

She laughed, her free hand catching his far side, her body warm against his. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest; she smelled lovely, though he couldn't quite place the scent. A breath hitched in Draco's throat at the intimacy of the moment; it was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time.

His thumb grazed the back of her hand and the fingers of her other hand trailed up his side to his chest as she melted against him. Draco swallowed, nearly forgetting why they were there, despite the fact that he wished more than anything he could see who he was on such a harrowing date with. He could feel the faint puffs of her breath on his neck.

His head jerked up at the screeching of birds and rodents; Jean tensed in his arms and drew away, keeping a firm hold of his hand.

The atmosphere in the jungle had grown tense and it took Draco only seconds to realize why, as a distant roar echoed through the trees and reverberated across the canopy.

"Which way did that come from?" Jean breathed at his side, her hand tightening in his.

"From your back, I think," Draco said, making his best estimation on her location relative to his. He tugged her in the opposite direction. "Let's go this way."

But the chorus of shrieking birds only grew louder and more riotous; Draco froze in his steps, getting confused in his orientation with the absence of a significant directional sense.

"It's probably an illusion anyway," she said with a nervous sort of giggle. "Or just a spell. They wouldn't actually hurt us."

Draco asked, "How closely did you read the waiver?" At her silence, he continued, "Furthermore, I was informed there may be some kinks in the program – and if the kinks are magical predators intent on having us for dinner, I'm not going to wait around and see."

And as if on cue, another wild roar rang out, closer this time, and Draco slipped his free hand into his pocket to clasp his button, just in case they needed to make a quick exit.

"That's a fair thought," Jean gasped beside him. She pulled him forward through the trees, cursing when she must have walked into a branch, but before Draco could sidestep the branch swung back and hit him in the jaw. She stopped and hissed, "Sorry! It was tangled in my hair."

"So long as it wasn't intentional," Draco snickered, squeezing her hand as she pulled him through the heavy jungle.

"Me? Never!" she breathed, and Draco found himself smirking at her tone.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Why do I have a hard time believing that?" He grinned at her huff of laughter. "I get the impression you're all sorts of trouble."

She stopped on the spot and Draco nearly collided with her, ripping his hand out of his pocket in time to catch her hip. He couldn't tell which way she was facing until she said, "I've had enough trouble to last a lifetime."

Draco frowned, wondering if he had crossed some sort of line with this woman he still hardly knew, until she followed up with a laugh.

"But I think, for you, I could go out of my way to be just a bit of trouble."

Her voice was closer than it had been just moments before, and a wry grin teased at Draco's lips. His hand lingered at her hip, his fingers splayed out across the fabric of her jumper. Merlin, he couldn't even see the woman but he felt undeniable chemistry flying between them. He sobered, realizing she might not act so teasing if she knew who he really was.

He swallowed, bracing himself. "Do you –"

A massive quake struck, interrupting Draco's sentence as Jean flew forward, crashing into him and they both tumbled to the ground. He felt a shudder of nausea as he was tossed away, his fingers slipping loose from hers in the violent shake of the earth beneath them. He rolled downwards and across the landscape, his clothes catching on brush and bramble until finally the quaking stopped.

"Jean!" Draco exclaimed, spitting out a mouthful of grass and dirt as he pressed scraped hands against the forest floor and raised to hesitant feet. "Are you alright?"

He waved blindly, cursing this whole blind date scenario at the ensuing silence.

"Jean?" he asked, again, creeping forward with his hands out in front of him. He reached into his pocket and his stomach dropped as he realized his button was gone – it must have flown from his pocket in the fall.

Cursing under his breath, Draco patted the ground where he had landed but found nothing – it could have been lost at any point. He would have to find Jean and hope she still had hers in case things became any more ridiculous.

He inched forward, listening closely but all he could hear was the distant cries of birds and animals. At least the roaring was absent.

His heart leapt with relief when he heard her quiet voice; he frowned at the weak tremble. "Over here – only, come up behind me. Can you place my voice? Don't come up ahead of me."

Draco nodded, and choked out, "Okay. Are you alright?"

"I think I'm bleeding," she said, and Draco moved closer to her voice. "But I can't tell from where, and it doesn't seem too bad. The bigger problem –" a sharp breath hitched in her throat and Draco frowned even as he approached – "is where I landed."

Clenching his jaw, Draco muttered, "Don't move, I'm coming. Do you still have your button?"

Silence and then, "Yes I've got it." She hesitated as Draco approached and said, "I don't think we need to use it – yet."

"I lost mine," Draco said, "somewhere back there, and I haven't a clue where."

His hand landed on the back of her shoulder and he crouched beside her; her hand found his again.

"Don't take another step forward," she whispered.

Draco reached out with his free hand and felt a void where the ground should have been, as if it had abruptly cut off in front of her. Draco swallowed and nodded, settling himself beside her to regroup. "We can go back the way I came."

Then with a scream she scrambled to her feet, yanking him up with her. With a lurch to his stomach, Draco noticed the ground crumbling at his feet as she shoved him to the side, and he nearly lost his battle as half the earth under one of his feet dropped away into the void.

He could feel her terror as he choked, "Run."

He barrelled through the trees with Jean at his side, running headlong into the slapping branches in complete blindness; she kept up with his longer stride and Draco tried his hardest to ignore the ominous rumbling of the ground as they ran, as if it were poised to give out at any second.

There was a loud screech to the left of them and Draco pulled to a stop, assessing the situation. Beside him, her breathing louder than before, Jean asked, "Should I press the button?"

"Does it end the date?" Draco asked, hesitant.

"I think so," she whispered.

Draco pressed his lips together; what sort of absurd idea was this anyway?

He still hardly knew the woman, and if they were in literal danger, it would only make sense to escape while they could. But yet – there was something about her, something between them, that Draco didn't know he was ready to walk away from. He clipped, "If you think we should."

He took a few more cautious steps forward, thankful to feel the ground had stabilized once more. His toe nearly slipped off the edge and he put out an arm to stop Jean from stepping forward. Catching his drift, they shifted along the edge of the void to see if there was a way forward.

"I'm not going to, yet," she whispered, and Draco felt a conflicted rush seize his heart, relief despite that the situation kept growing more dangerous. "Here!"

He moved to the sound of her voice, nudging into her side.

"There's a way forward – but it's narrow."

It was an unnerving experience, crossing a narrow bridge of forest floor when on either side there was an absence of anything at all – but Draco ground his teeth and followed Jean onward.

"I can hear water again, over there," she hissed, and made to rush forward but Draco caught her arm.

"We'll be meant to seek out the water," he cautioned. "It's likely a trap."

Jean fell back alongside him, and he could feel the warmth of her body as her arm pressed against his. "Then where do we go?"

"Honestly?" Draco said with a snicker. "I'd sooner be anywhere else." He hesitated, as she drifted a few steps away. "But I don't think I want to end this date yet."

There was no response, and then, "Over here." Draco followed the sound of her voice and found her seated atop a large boulder. "Maybe it's a moment of respite. And – neither do I."

Draco settled beside her, stretching his legs before him. In the distance, the direction in which Jean had heard water, a loud, tortured cry broke the air. She exhaled a sharp breath and a shudder passed Draco's spine at the thought of whatever had made that noise.

He trailed his fingers along the back of her hand, laid on the stone between them.

"Are we allowed to ask one another about Hogwarts?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"I think so," Draco said, tensing himself for the questions that would drive her away. "And before you ask – I was in Slytherin."

Her hand beneath his didn't move. "I guess that isn't entirely surprising, given your blood status."

"What house were you?" he asked, glancing at nothing.

"Gryffindor."

His jaw clenched, but he supposed he wasn't surprised by that, either, given her tenacity and her need to press on, no matter what they had come up against.

"Perhaps we should walk," Jean said, her voice a little softer and less certain. "If we stay in one place too long, I feel like something will find us."

He rose to his feet, pressing his hands against the stone; he winced at the feel against his scraped palms.

"Good idea," Draco said, feeling the air between them a bit more tense, but a hesitant hand slipped into his all the same and they began to walk – away from the water and the wild cry, away from the dirt that had given way beneath their feet.

"What year were you, when the Battle of Hogwarts happened?" Her voice was soft, tentative.

Knowing it would likely give him away, Draco choked, "Seventh."

Jean whispered, "I see." There was a long moment of silence and Draco knew she was working it out in her head – there had only been so many Slytherin males in that year. But then she carried on, "I missed my seventh year. I'm a Muggle-born, you see, and I was –"

"Granger," he breathed. The thought fell like a stone in the pit of his stomach. This woman he had enjoyed his time with, had flirted with and pulled tight against himself – it was Hermione Granger. He swallowed, unsure how he even felt about the idea of her, but he knew it wouldn't be up to him to decide. She would want nothing more to do with him once her clever, intuitive brain pieced it together.

"Hermione Jean Granger." He heard the soft breath she expelled. "There are only a few Slytherins from our year who you could be, but I've got a feeling I know."

Draco waited through a heavy minute, in which his only knowledge that she hadn't left was that he could still feel her hand within his. But then she extracted her hand, lingering near him, and Draco felt the withdrawal as a blow.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft and disappointed, "I think I'm going to push my button. This has been fun, and I'm surprised you gave me a shot at all once you learned I wasn't a pureblood – but I don't think this is going anywhere and I don't want to waste your time. I'm surprised the testing thought the two of us were compatible at all."

"Wait," Draco choked, before she could leave him behind in there. "Please don't go, Granger – who do you think I am?"

She hesitated, but then said, "I think you're Draco Malfoy."

And his heart dropped, the last shred of hope that she might have been wrong – but really, when was Granger ever wrong – fading away.

He didn't bother affirming her guess. "I'd like it if you stayed. But I'll understand if you need to go."

"I appreciate your efforts, Malfoy," she said, "but I think we both know there is too much history here for this to ever go anywhere."

"The war was over more than a decade ago, Granger," he muttered. "Like I told you before, I've moved past all the prejudiced nonsense that led me down that path."

"I know you have," she said, and her tone was a bit softer. "I've seen the contributions you've made, and the reparations after the war. I know the efforts you've made to improve your family's name. And I think it's great. It was wonderful the way you assisted in the renovations at Hogwarts."

"Then what?" he asked, perhaps harsher than intended. "I've had a fun time with you, Granger –" he swallowed, steeling himself – "and I'd be interested in seeing you again."

"Seriously?" Granger breathed, and he wished now, more than anything, he could see the look on her face. He wondered why he hadn't guessed her identity before. There weren't many women like Hermione Granger. "You don't think it's a mistake that we've been put together?"

"I think this experience has been a lot of things," Draco said, snickering, "but a mistake isn't one of them."

She shifted beside him – he could still feel her presence alongside his shoulder – and her pinky finger bumped against his. She let out a long sigh. "Let's see if we can get out of this jungle… and then, we can take it from there."

He murmured, "I think I can deal with that." He grinned, nudging into her with his shoulder. "I should have known it was you when you said you had a branch stuck in your hair." For effect, he reached up and tugged one of her loose curls when his hand found her hair.

She scoffed and shoved him back but didn't move away. "I should have known you'd be the only one to wear bleeding crystal cufflinks to a literal blind date."

"You said you appreciated the effort," Draco grinned.

"I did," Granger clipped. "But that doesn't mean it isn't overkill, just a little."

Draco chuckled and shook his head, realizing they had stopped walking in the middle of the pathway again. He advanced a few steps, grateful to feel her presence moving alongside him, though he wished she would take his hand again. "Let's see if anything else is going to happen."

They ventured forward with cautious steps, and when her fingers danced along the tips of his own Draco took her hand and entwined it with his.

"It's still safer if we stick together," he teased, then sobered. "I know you're hesitant, Granger, but I'd like a chance to prove to you that this… could be a good thing."

There was silence as they walked but the tension began to settle and Draco felt his shoulder sag with relief from the nerves that had arisen when she had announced she didn't want to carry on with their date anymore.

"I can't believe you're Malfoy," she said after a while and he tried to picture the look on her face. "You're so… polite."

"Yes," he drawled, "I was raised in such a way, you know. Honestly, Granger, I'm fully aware I used to be a complete tosser, and if it helps, I apologize for the way I treated you at Hogwarts. I never expected you to be my date today, but I'm not surprised we tested compatible, now that I'm really thinking about it."

She fell silent for a moment, and Draco knew she was thinking. She admitted, "It does help. But it was a long time ago. And if you're willing to let the past stay in the past –"

"I am," Draco said. He opened his mouth to say more but slammed his mouth shut at a sudden, vicious downpour that released above them. He pressed his eyes tight against the onslaught of water, holding Granger's hand firm within his.

She released a noise of irritation and he chuckled. "Let's try and find some shelter!"

Draco nodded and realized she couldn't see him, so he tugged her onward, quickening their pace, hoping to find some respite beneath the thick jungle canopy above them – but the rain kept on.

Soon the ground became so saturated with water Draco could no longer run, easing forward as his shoes slipped and squelched in the mud – he shuddered to think about the cost if they were ruined.

Granger stumbled at his side, tugging his hand down and he pulled her back, tighter against him until she regained her footing.

"There has to be somewhere!" she exclaimed, her words all but drowned out by the unrelenting torrent.

They advanced forward again, making poor progress in the rain until Draco crushed his foot into something, cursing as he drew it back, and he reached out blindly for the source of his discomfort.

"It's a rock wall," he groaned, running a hand along the smooth surface. "Wait – it goes in."

"A cave?" Granger offered, pushing forward alongside him, and she slipped beneath the rock ledge with an exhale of relief. "A grotto, more like."

"Great," Draco muttered, following her and pressing himself against a back wall, sheltered by an overhanging ledge. Water coursed past and Draco surmised there was indeed some sort of pond or stream here.

He was soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and the water was giving him a chill.

He could feel Granger trembling beside him, her teeth chattering as she said, "Some date this is!"

"More than I would have expected, especially blinded," Draco agreed. "But really, I'd never do this again!"

"Neither would I!" She laughed, ducking her forehead against his shoulder. "I think that's enough, do you? Now that we know who the other is?"

"Press the button," Draco choked as his breathing slowed and he felt his skin freezing beneath his soaked clothing.

Her hand came up to his chest, and he felt the small remote in her fingers. Her thumb snapped down on the button –

Nothing happened.

She pressed it again, and Draco could hear the faint clicking sound through the angry rush of water still rushing past beyond the ledge. Giggling, she said, "It doesn't even work!"

Huffing, Draco took the remote from her hand and tried it himself – nothing. His feet slipped a little on the wet stone and he scowled, handing the remote back to Granger.

"Bloody kinks my arse," he grumbled. Her laughter sounded bright and more like her usual voice than it had before, and he glanced up in surprise.

He blinked several times, imagining he had seen a flicker of something.

"Is the spell wearing off?" she asked, her hand tightening within his. "You sounded very Malfoy just then."

"It's hard to say," he said, the mud and water in his shoes sliding as he took a step forward and Draco released a sound of disgust. Granger snickered and his eyes narrowed.

He gave her a nudge toward the stream just past the entrance and her feet slipped backward into the soft, wet ground beyond the stone ridge until she lost her balance and slipped – pulling Draco with her.

"Mud," Draco groaned as he landed on his back beside her.

"Are you going to survive?" Granger teased. Draco smirked and shoved her further down into the mud, slopping a handful of it into her hair.

"Just fine, thanks," he clipped at her cry of irritation.

Granger huffed and planted two muddy hands into his chest in order to rise; Draco scowled at the feel of mud sliding up his sides and tugged her down by the wrist. She landed with a decided lack of grace on his chest, her face hovering somewhere near his.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but clamped his lips shut as she slathered a handful of mud into his hair and across his temples.

"Granger," he growled in warning, and rolled her into the mud on her side; his breathing hitched as he realized how close she was. Her body slid against his with a layer of mud between them, but he could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips; she made no move to pull away.

Draco's fingers caught the collar of her jumper, slick with mud, and slipped to the back of her neck into the base of her filthy curls.

He didn't have time to register anything before she leaned in, catching his lips with hers; Draco's heart seized and began to race as her hands drifted to his jaw. His eyes fell shut as he returned the kiss, and her lips were silken against his. His stomach chased into his throat at the way her touch made him feel and when she released a soft sort of whimper, Draco tugged her closer, his tongue tracing her lips to meet hers.

With a huff of breath, her hands slipped into his hair and she pressed tighter against him, despite the mud, and Draco couldn't bring himself to care as he shifted her beneath him, one hand moving to trace her side as the other cradled the back of her head.

Granger broke away with a sharp breath, and Draco's eyes opened – to meet hers. Brown eyes stared back at him, set in a face he'd recognize anywhere, and soft lips that he wanted to kiss again and again. Her hair was thick with mud, and there were a few scrapes and cuts he could see.

"Malfoy," she gasped, her fingers carding through his hair. Then her lips spread wide into a grin and she laughed. "You're filthy. For a moment I thought you weren't blond anymore!"

Draco grinned, realizing he was slathered in mud, soaked through to the bone, and covered in innumerable scratches from the tree branches and the fall through the brush.

Glancing behind him, Draco could see a door at the far end of the cavernous space. Then he looked back down at Granger, lying beneath him, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

He pressed his lips against hers once more, in a lingering kiss, and then drew back.

"Sod this place," he muttered, staring down at her chocolate gaze. "What do you say we get cleaned up then I'll take you for a real date?"

Her lips curved with a slow smile and she nodded, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She landed pressed against him, her hands settling on his sides. Draco grinned, his heart beating a frantic cadence inside his chest when she said, "I think I'd like that very much."