A/N: I apologize for the immensely long break, but I just dug up half of the next chapter of this fic that I'd written ages ago and thought I'd give you guys at least one more (monster) chapter. Seriously, I don't know how this chapter got so long. Well, enjoy! If anyone's still reading, that is... lol.

Quick recap of the previous chapter: Hermione throws up on Draco at his bar one night and passes out. Grudgingly, he lets her sleep over. After a hangover, a near-kiss and some accounting, Hermione returns home to find Ron at her doorstep - and, to her surprise, he agrees with her suggestion that they should take a break from their relationship.

xx-xx

Chapter Eight

xx-xx

It had only been a week since he had last seen Hermione, but Draco had already been plagued by countless triggers that had reminded him of her. On Wednesday another overzealous customer had thrown up on the side of the dance floor, and his employees had been rather alarmed when they'd noticed the stupid grin on his face when he was cleaning it up; the next day, when he had walked past the coffee shop he had taken her to, he could have sworn he'd seen her inside, reading a gossip magazine. Then he'd laughed at himself for even considering it. Granger would never read trashy magazines - her 'holier-than-thou' attitude and pride wouldn't let her be caught dead with something like that.

Then today, when he pulled out his accounts book and saw her neat, firm handwriting on last week's page (he'd lied about her 7s, of course - they were perfectly legible), he felt a lurch in gut. He had gone slightly too far last week, but her incessant teasing had warranted it, really. The idea was to shut her up with as little effort as possible. Somehow, he had been foolish enough to listen to his body when it told him that kissing her would be the best way to go about it. It was lucky that he had stopped himself just in time to be able to pass it off as a joke, but simply thinking about how close he had come to actually touching her lips made him break out in cold sweat.

Seeing the accounts also reminded him that he had not gone to Problem Solvers Inc. for quite some time. Clare had kept true to her word and hadn't sent him any assignment-related owls since he had last seen her. She had, however, passed along a nonchalant letter about how much Dean was driving her up the wall with his complaints about his workload - and gee, wouldn't it be really great if somebody could help him out?

Draco had chuckled to himself when he'd read the letter, but didn't pay attention to its contents. Before getting his extra clients, Dean used to complain about not getting enough assignments; either way he was going to complain, so surely the cause of his despair didn't matter very much. Besides, he knew Dean loved his job and the perks that came with it. Suffice to say that there was a strong correlation between the number of assignments he got per week and how much he would boast about getting laid in that same window of time.

It was a practice that was frowned upon, although it didn't really stop any of the agents from indulging in it. In fact, Draco himself had crossed that line a few times and had thought nothing of it - until now. Technically Granger wasn't his client, but for Merlin's sake, he was investing far too much brainpower on her that could be better spent elsewhere.

He sighed, and flipped through his accounts again to check on some expenses from the previous month. Although the major renovations for his bar had been completed some time ago, there was now the matter of finding an interior designer to co-ordinate the furniture with the newly painted walls. He had put it off for long enough, and he had heard more than one customer remark on the odd combination of silver walls and ocher couches.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a grey shape swoop in through a window, and looked up just in time to see the owl come to a graceful stop on the bar stool in front of him. There was a small note tied to its leg. Draco leaned forward and untied it, recognizing Clare's spidery font at once. Ignoring the owl's expectant look, he unfurled the parchment fully to read.

Dear Draco,

That client of yours came around again. She insists on thanking you personally for the service you did her. I told her to sod off, but I thought I'd let you know just in case she turns out to be another stalker. Merlin knows we've had enough of those to deal with.

Clare

PS: Can you pretty please come in and pick up an assignment or two? Dean said he was recognized on the street the other day by a client's furious ex and had to Apparate the hell outta there.

Grimacing, he crumpled up the note and tossed it into the bin. The owl's golden eyes followed the paper ball with interest as it arced through the air. Surmising that surely the blond man would have a treat for it now, the bird turned its feathery head towards Draco again, only to find him once again deep in thought.

Draco had a fairly good idea who his client was, but he definitely had no desire to meet her. When he had first accepted the case, he never expected to end up in Granger's bed of all places, but even when he'd snuck in and spotted the familiar bushy brown hair he'd thought that it would just be a job like any other. Who cares if he knew the couple he was to break up? It wasn't the first time, certainly, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Of course, that was what he'd thought. Hermione had proven to be unusually persuasive with her wand and he had somehow tangled himself up in the mess he'd started. It was simply fortunate for him that he'd heard enough gossip about her neighbor's love life from customers at the bar to build up a convincing enough lie, so that he could satisfy the client's request that the couple should not be informed that the incident was, in fact, no accident at all.

He also hadn't expected himself to stand up for her back then at the wedding. What was he trying to prove? It wasn't as if he was still playing his role of a man who had made an innocent mistake and was now trying to right his wrong - after all, she had no longer been in earshot. Looking back on it now, he could see that even then he had already begun to get attached to her. Funnily enough the more he liked her the more his lie seemed to grow, until it rapidly became the elephant in the room that only he could see.

It was fairly clear to him that she also seemed to be developing feelings for him, if her drunken babbling that night and her reluctance to leave the next morning was any indication. Draco thought he'd kept up a fairly cool exterior whenever he interacted with her, but apparently he hadn't tried hard enough.

Almost kissing her can hardly be considered as keeping up a cool exterior, his mind whispered. It's called 'flirting' - surely something you're familiar with.

"I am not," he said heatedly, out loud.

The only response he got was from the owl, which gave him a disgusted look and continued preening itself.

Feeling rather stupid now, Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was supposed to be doing his accounts, not indulging in regret. Damn that Clare for interrupting him. Then there was the problem of the bird sitting in front of him. "Shoo," he told it, waving an arm in its face.

The owl hooted indignantly as his fingers brushed its feathers and pecked him, drawing a pained yelp. Seemingly satisfied that it had had its revenge on the stingy man who refused to give it treats, the owl spread its wings and left through the same window from which it had come.

"Sod you, too," muttered Draco as he nursed his hand.

xxx-xxx

Tuesday morning saw Draco walking out of the Problem Solvers building, having finally succumbed to Clare's - and later, Dean's - pleading. The man had shown up at his bar one evening sporting an impressive black eye that made even Draco wince. That, and the fact that he didn't want to risk Dean coming again and bringing in violent characters, finally swayed him and he grudgingly took on some of the new assignments.

Besides, he figured it would be good to have something to keep himself busy. Compared to all that had happened two weeks ago, normal life was beginning to seem rather dull.

He made his way down Diagon Alley, absent-mindedly noting various things on his to-do list as he did so. Passing the robe shop reminded him that he still hadn't returned Blaise's white dress robes, which were probably lying in a rumpled heap somewhere in Draco's apartment - not that he'd ever tell Blaise that. The man took his fashion seriously and Draco was not one for getting his ass kicked simply over a piece of clothing.

And not far along was the coffee shop. His coffee shop, he liked to call it, even though he had no desire to ever pursue ownership. Despite having had breakfast not too long ago, he couldn't help but stop to look through the menu, peeking surreptitiously through the window as he did so. He had no illusions that she would conveniently be there, giving him an excuse to go in - which was why, when he actually spotted a brown bushy head, he suddenly became quite aware of his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

It's probably not even her, he told himself as his body automatically went through the familiar sequence of pushing open the door, avoiding the parrot, and threading his way through towards his usual table. She was sitting with her back to him, so he couldn't see her face; but something told him that he was right and he decided to take a chance. Breathing in deeply and assuming an air of utter confidence, Draco strode towards the table and pulled out the chair opposite her. Then, he sat down and looked.

To his immense relief, it was Hermione's shell-shocked eyes that greeted him. "D-Draco?" she stammered, and her cup seemed to echo her, clattering slightly as she tried to set it down onto its platter. "I didn't- I mean, of course, this is your-"

"Told you this place was amazing," he said, and she relaxed, nodding in agreement.

"They certainly make the best cinnamon buns I've ever tasted," she said, gesturing to the empty plate in front of her.

A moment of awkward silence followed, where neither of them could bring themselves to look the other in the eye. Hermione was berating herself for still thinking about that near-kiss all those weeks ago, and Draco was equally busy trying to convince himself that no, he wasn't all that glad to talk to her.

Finally Hermione coughed, and broke the moment. "So... how have you been?"

"Things have been looking up since you vomited on me," he said with a mockingly radiant smile.

"I'm sure," she replied dryly, and indicated towards the folders he'd put on the table. "What are those?"

Draco made a face. "I tried to offload all my assignments onto Dean, but that didn't quite work out. He did a bit of a shoddy job with several clients which means I've been told to pick up his slack and fix the problems."

"You mean you're going to pick up your own slack," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Give me a break. I couldn't follow you around and find ways to sneak into people's houses every other night."

"I'm telling you, you shouldn't work at Problem Solvers anymore," she said. "It's a dishonest business."

Draco paused, then gave her a terse smile. "I know. My problem, not yours."

The look on Hermione's face instantly made him regret his choice of words, and he suddenly remembered that he'd never even told her why he was employed at Problem Solvers Inc. There was a part of him that wanted to tell her so that she'd stop thinking he was working there for his own perverted kicks - but the timing wasn't right. Besides, the less they dwelled on the topic, the better for them both.

"Actually, that's not quite true anymore," he said quickly. His head dipped for a moment, then he looked back up at her with a genuinely apologetic look. "You're involved now, too. Sorry."

She stared at him and felt her mouth involuntarily turn into an 'O'. Was that her imagination, or did he finally step over his pride and say what she thought he'd said? Had she been much more irritated at what he'd said she probably would have missed it, but that was definitely...

"Hermione?"

"Y-you apologized," she said, stunned.

"Huh? Oh, right." Draco scratched his head in embarrassment. "Whoop-dee doo. You finally got an apology out of a Malfoy. Well done."

"Like blood from a stone," she muttered, though somewhere inside she felt like prancing around and gloating that she'd wringed it out of him. "But not that it's going to do me any good now. It's too late to salvage things with Ron."

"What happened? Finally decided to stop indulging in bestiality?" he asked her nonchalantly.

Hermione threw him a dirty look. "No, arsehole. I saw him a few weeks ago. We decided it was best for us to take a break from each other."

"Just like that?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow. "Did you get to tell him your side of the story, at least?"

She sighed. "Yes, we explained ourselves. Turns out he was roughly aiming for the same effect with Lavender as I was with you. No points for guessing who told Lavender what was up."

"Well that would explain why your dear neighbor was so good to you that night she took you out," he said thoughtfully. "Guess she's got a conscience after all."

"Parvati's a born gossip. I can't blame her for telling her best friend something that was guaranteed to be fresh news," grinned Hermione. "Besides, I really did enjoy myself that evening. She chose a good time to give me a little pick-me-up."

"If you say so," Draco replied with a shrug, watching as she rolled her eyes again and took a long sip of her tea. He still thought that Parvati had been a little too eager to have him take care of Hermione, whether it was for matchmaking purposes or just so she could enjoy herself without worrying about her unconscious guest, but the two women were neighbors and it was probably best if he didn't incite any ill feelings between them. He'd already caused plenty of uproar in that apartment building.

The only problem was that the woman had probably done a better job than she'd thought. Draco replayed that next morning in his head again, and it was clear as day - he had not even come close to being the aloof jerk that he'd planned on being. Which was a shame, because he'd been practising the whole time she was still asleep upstairs, but as soon as she was actually there his mind had just gone blank. Acting was definitely not his strong point.

And now it was like she was feeding him a tasty morsel of information that he just had to take advantage of. She was effectively single, for Merlin's sake. Anybody on a break from a relationship was fair game. That was the rule, and damned if he didn't want to take up the opportunity.

Don't do this, his mind warned him. You're going to be in for a world of pain when she finds out the truth.

That was true. He'd been the one to break her and Weasley up, all for a crapload of gold and silver. The only reason she had fallen for him was because she honestly believed that he had made a mistake, and had been earnestly trying to make up for it by helping her. Which, in the end, he really was doing of his own accord.

Draco glanced over at the woman in question. Hermione was looking at him quizzically, no doubt wondering why he'd suddenly gone so quiet. The mouth from which so many terrible spells and scathing remarks would come out of was quirked slightly to the side. Funny to think he had almost kissed that mouth. He fantasized for a second about what it might feel like to actually do it, and then gave himself the biggest mental slap he had had for a long time.

"Um," said Hermione. There was annoyance on her face now, and her teacup was drained. He'd wasted too much time.

"I was wondering," he began.

"Clearly," she said. "What is it?"

You are going to regret this, his guilty conscience hissed.

I don't care, he thought giddily, then said to her: "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Hermione furrowed her brows. "That depends. Are you asking me on a date?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. What's it to you?" he shot back in panic, then realized how stupid he sounded. "I mean, yes, I am."

She gaped at him and very quickly turned a bright shade of tomato. "Wh-wh-what? I was just kid- I mean, I-"

"Well I wasn't kidding," Draco said, amused by her reaction. "You're a lucky woman. I don't usually do dates, you know. Malfoy time tends to be precious."

"That is not how you get a woman to go on a date with you," she retorted. "Let me tel-"

There was a pause as something evidently clicked in Hermione's head. Then suddenly, she began to smirk.

"This isn't good," he groaned.

She rubbed her hands together in glee. "Oh no, Draco. It's going to be very good. Hey, why don't you show me the fruits of your education in the fine art of courtship? Then maybe I'll think about your proposition."

Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to recall what she was talking about. He thought back to the last time they were in this cafe and what they had discussed. That had been before the wedding, and she had asked him to go with her... Oh Merlin.

In an instant all the memories flooded back to him, overlaid by the shadow of an intense urge to piss himself. "No more feathers," he said sharply, wrapping his arms around himself in protection.

"Aw," said Hermione, looking disappointed. "That had been your best trick. You looked rather adorable in that chair, trying so very hard not to wet your pants."

He flipped her the bird, still piqued that she had managed to force such a scene out of him.

"Try harder," she said in reply, shaking her head sadly. "I'm still not getting the vibe that you really want to go on a date with me."

"You want me to show you my wooing talents? That's easy," he sneered, and then leaned across the table and kissed her.

Cheering erupted somewhere vaguely behind him, but Draco was too busy to pay much attention. Her lips tasted like tea, though it was probably her sheer surprise that was the most delicious. He was quite sure that he had won that little challenge. It had been brave of her to try him without thinking it through, and to be honest he was quite happy to show her what he could do anyway.

Hermione, on the other hand, was not feeling quite so victorious. In fact she wasn't feeling much at all aside from Draco's mouth on hers. Of course, she was immensely shocked and her mind had quickly become devoid of any coherent thought, but the kiss was proving to be much too distracting for her body to come up with some sort of retaliation. Don't let him stop, screeched the one thought she could understand, and she complied, standing up from her chair to grab him roughly by the collar and press herself closer.

"Get a room!" yelled somebody from the other side of the room, and laughter and wolf-whistles followed.

That had the intended effect, and the two leapt apart as if struck by lightning.

Hermione blushed furiously as she smoothed her skirt and sat back down, gulping ineffectively from her empty teacup to try to calm herself down. What had she just done? That had most certainly not been Ron, but she had kissed him back and had wanted it to continue. It had been mere weeks since they'd decided to go on break - not to mention they hadn't even really broken up for real yet.

Yet, she thought, mortified. She didn't know where her brain had dug up that word and how it had plastered it to the end of her internal monologue, but she was getting more and more confused. Clearly, it had been a bad idea to challenge Draco to something that was, in hindsight, obviously his realm of expertise.

"That was... a surprisingly passionate answer," she heard Draco say, somewhat dazedly.

"It's-it's all your fault!" she screeched. "I didn't mean to do that!"

The infuriatingly familiar smirk was on his face. "Meet you here tomorrow at 6pm, then?"

Hermione felt heat flaring in her cheeks as she threw him a murderous look. "I-"

"Good, good. Dress nicely, alright? Something a little more like what you were wearing at my bar." Draco stood and pushed in his chair, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'll be going, then. See you tomorrow."

"Urgh! I hate you!" hissed Hermione, slamming her hand on the table.

"That's cute," he called as he expertly made his way to the door. "But of course you don't really mean that."

xxx-xxx

It was of little surprise to them both when Draco arrived the next evening to find Hermione already at their table, sulkily downing a pot of tea on her own. In what defiance she could muster, she'd worn an outfit that she thought was the least like the silver minidress. The hoodie was an impulse buy that was incredibly warm but wasn't something any self-respecting living creature would want to be caught dead in, while the track pants had long passed middle age and was heading rapidly into senility. She suspected that even the Salvation Army wouldn't want to touch either of them with a ten-foot pole.

Draco wasn't pleased, but he'd expected her to make things difficult for him. He was actually somewhat impressed that she'd made such an effort to go against his word. Nevertheless, he'd already considered the possibility and had plenty of plans.

"You have never looked less attractive. Quite a feat," he told her, and she simpered at him.

"I do my best for you, darling."

His mouth twitched despite himself. "Much appreciated. Still, this is a momentous occasion in your life, and I can't have you parading around in a sack. Let's go."

Hermione frowned at him. "Go where? I thought we were just going to stay here."

"That wouldn't be much fun. Firstly we're going to get you some proper clothes, and then we'll decide what to do next," announced Draco, pouring the rest of the tea for himself and downing it in a single gulp. In truth he hadn't actually thought much about where he was going to take her tonight, seeing as he'd spent the whole of last night trying to decide whether he should really follow through with his impulse invitation or not, but hopefully he would be able to think of something on the spot.

"You know, I'm quite comfortable in these clothes," said Hermione. "I'd rather not change."

"If I don't make you, you're going to regret it forever when you see yourself in the magazines tomorrow," Draco replied.

She blanched. "Damn. I didn't think of that."

"That incident at Weasley's wedding is going to put you in the spotlight for a while. Don't think you're going to be able to waltz around in any sort of get-up without somebody making a comment about it. Especially with me by your side."

A faint blush tinged her cheeks. "I... see your point. Give me a moment, I'll go home and change."

Draco held up a hand. "No need. I've decided that I'd rather have a trusted advisor orchestrate your outfit tonight than rely on your judgment."

"My judgment is just fine," said Hermione hotly.

"I'm sure it is," he drawled.

Despite her protests, Hermione let Draco lead her to the door and Apparate them both to wherever the hell he had in mind. All the tea and nerves seemed to act on her at once, and when they arrived she had to sit down for a moment on the ground, feeling the world spinning around her head and inside her abdomen.

She had hoped to downplay the significance of the night by treating it as casually as she could, but the fact that he really was taking her out suddenly hit her with the force of a speeding train. Hermione Granger was on a date with Draco Malfoy. It sounded so strange, yet she was undeniably happy about it. Last night had been one of the best nights she'd had since Draco had inadvertently made his way into her life. Despite all the doubt, paranoia and guilt that plagued her, she felt like a schoolgirl again, and had spent way too long deciding what to wear and not nearly enough time on finishing the report that she was supposed to submit at work this morning.

Of course, nothing beat the sheer relief she'd felt when she saw him walk through the door. The biggest niggling thought by far was that he wouldn't show up, but it looked like he hadn't simply been joking after all. Hermione had been both excited and anxious about what that would mean for them.

"Hermione."

She jumped at his voice and looked up at him. "Uh, sorry. I'm fine. I can't say the same for your Side-Along Apparition skills, though, that was just terrible."

Draco scowled. "Like yours was much better. If you're done sitting around, we'll go inside." He gestured at the shop in front of them.

Hermione's gaze followed his hands and she took in the carefully positioned classic lettering on the shop sign and the elegant gowns on display in the windows. "Draco, we're in the wrong place."

He grabbed her arm and helped her up. "No, we're in just the place we need. Well, you need."

"I'm saving for my pension, you know, I don't have this kind of money lying around."

"It's on me," he replied. "Now let's stop wasting time."

The interior was about as extravagant as Hermione had expected. Crystal chandeliers floated near the ceiling in strategic spots, casting warm light into every corner of the spacious store. There were only a few racks of clothing, but as far as she could see each dress only had one size. This was clearly not a store that catered to the masses. This was the kind of store where if the customer didn't fit into the clothes, it was not the shop that would order more sizes - it was the customer who would be expected to slim down or bulk up.

Surreptitiously Hermione's hand went into the pocket of her hoodie and she pinched her belly. The flab was there, but fortunately it had gone down since she'd stopped having three square meals of ice cream and chocolate every day. If she was lucky they'd find something that would fit.

Draco had gone further into the shop, leaving her to look at the clothes alone. She approached the nearest rack and brushed her fingers through the surprising variety of fabrics. Out of instinct, she picked up a price tag and looked. Quickly she wished she hadn't. Her Gringotts vault was healthily full, but even so the numbers she saw gave her palpitations.

Nevertheless, the gowns were gorgeous. Each piece was cut with the greatest of precision and there was not a loose stitch to be seen anywhere. Her eyes stopped at a sea green dress and she paused, wondering if she dared to handle it. It was one-shoulder, with a subtle smattering of what looked suspiciously like real diamonds around an artful scrunch of fabric that gave it a relaxed yet defined silhouette. Hermione felt her hands itching to reach for the hanger to get a better look, and she was about to comply when she heard Draco's voice.

"... you to find something for her," he was saying to someone. She poked her head out from behind the rack and caught his eye. "Ah, there she is."

"I see why you called me to help," said the dark-skinned man beside him, wrinkling his nose. "Granger, when you change out of those I want you to burn them in a bonfire."

"Zabini?" said Hermione incredulously.

"That's me," said Blaise. "Draco asked me to help pick out something nice for your precious little date tonight."

Draco rolled his eyes in the background. "Just do your job, Blaise. Less talk, more action."

"Trust me, whatever I pick out will get Granger plenty of action." He winked at her.

"Not with you, I hope," said Hermione.

Blaise chuckled. "Still plenty of attitude, huh? Alright, Draco, what did you have in mind for the lovely lady?"

"Hmm," said the blond, scanning the displays. "What about that one? Bring it down for us," he said to the shop assistant.

Hermione stared. It was black, and looked only marginally wider than a belt. "You're kidding."

"It looks shorter than it really is, ma'am," said the shop assistant.

"I'm actually kind of curious to see how it looks," said Blaise, smirking.

"Put it on," commanded Draco.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione. "You wear it!"

Draco stifled a laugh. "That could be interesting. But no, really. I think you'd look great in it. Just give it a try."

She glared at him for a moment, then snatched it from his hands before storming off. A moment later she had disappeared into the changing rooms.

"Interesting choice of woman," commented Blaise. "From what I remember, you hated her."

Draco waved a hand. "A lot has happened since then. Things have changed."

"You were the one who made her single, though."

"I've made amends."

"Does she know that somebody paid y- OW!" yelped Blaise, nursing his shin. "Okay, okay. Calm the hell down."

"Not a word to her. Got it?" hissed Draco.

Blaise made a face. "Fine. Have it your way."

At that moment the changing room door opened, and the shop assistant led Hermione out. "Wow," breathed Draco, a grin creeping onto his face. Cleavage, check. Lots of leg, check. The only thing that took away the sexy from the overall picture was her unkempt hair and polka dot socks, but that could easily be remedied later.

"Major understatement," said Blaise, whistling in appreciation.

"This is way too short," said Hermione. She tugged at the hem to no avail, and the shop assistant gave her a look as if she wanted to slap Hermione's hand away.

Blaise walked around her and made an inspection. "A little tight in some areas, but it could definitely work. You'd get a lot of attention in this dress, Granger, whether you like it or not."

"That would be a problem," mused Draco. "I don't want to be fending off sleazebags all night."

She looked relieved. "Glad we're on the same wavelength. Seriously, can I just go home and change? I promise not to come back in track pants again."

"No way," said Blaise, eyes gleaming as if he'd suddenly found purpose in life. He swiveled around quickly and plucked a red number off a rack behind him. "Try this next!"

"Are we finding me an outfit or playing dress-up?" grumbled Hermione, but she complied and went back into the changing room.

"I'm impressed," Blaise said as he turned to Draco again. "I didn't think she had it in her, but in something like that she could definitely make the list."

"Blaise, don't put her on your fucking list," said Draco. "If you do, I'll burn your entire wardrobe in that bonfire along with Hermione's hideous ensemble." It was common knowledge that Blaise Zabini valued his sartorial collection more than his mother, friends and lovers, and being his best friend Draco was certainly not above making threats to Blaise's most prized possessions if it got him what he wanted.

The brunette clicked his tongue. "Touché, man."

Hermione emerged a second time looking far less uncomfortable. "This one's better," she said, doing a twirl. The full skirt went with her, creating a slightly dizzying effect.

"I don't know," said Draco. "It's a little too classy. Looks like something you'd wear to a Malfoy dinner party."

Blaise put his chin in his hand. "I see what you mean. Well then..." He made another round of the shop, before stopping at the rack that Hermione had been at before. "This one could be nice."

"Is it the dark green one?" asked Hermione, recognizing the selection.

"Uh huh. You like that one?"

"I was thinking about trying it before, but the price tag is a bit intense."

"Those are the new styles for the season, ma'am," explained the shop assistant, sniffling in disdain. "If you'd prefer something more of your economic sta-"

"How much is it, Blaise?" called Draco.

"Couple thousand galleons. No big deal," came the reply.

Draco snorted inelegantly. "If you like it, try it on, Hermione."

"I- well, if you insist," she said hesitantly.

This time Hermione was almost eager to scurry back into the changing rooms, and within moments she was back out looking satisfied with herself. She scanned the men's faces for their reaction and was secretly pleased when she saw that Draco's eyes had glazed over. "Merlin," he muttered.

"We'll take this one," said Blaise quickly to the shop assistant, as if afraid that if they waited any longer the dress would vanish into thin air. "Granger, I never thought I'd say this, but you look amazing."

"Thanks," she replied, blushing.

"Wait. Try these shoes to go with the dress," he said, picking out black pair from a pedestal. She did so and felt herself instantly gain several inches of confidence. "Just as I thought. Perfect."

She glanced over at Draco shyly. "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful," he said, smiling.

Hermione felt her heart leap to her throat. It was three simple words, but with them she felt all her fears and doubts melt away. Evidently her face must have gone a deeper shade of red, because Blaise pouted and said, "Hey, I said you looked amazing. He just said you looked plain ol' beautiful. Why did you go all goo-gaa over his compliment and not mine?"

Laughing, Hermione turned towards him. "Thank you, Blaise. I appreciated your help. Honestly."

He smirked. "Welcome. Go enjoy your date, you two. I'll finish things up here. Draco, you owe me, you hear? Hire some more cute bartenders for me."

"Find your own damn bartenders," snarled Draco. "Hermione, shall we?"

He stretched out his hand, and Hermione took it before she could stop herself. No turning back now, she thought, and found that she didn't really care.

xx-xx