Day by Day

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eight: "The One Where Hermione Gets An Invitation, Harry Goes To Hogwarts And Everyone Goes To The Dragon's Lair"

Thursday

The next day, Hermione arrived back from her lunch with Ginny and Priscilla to find Hedwig sitting on top of one of the bookcases in her office, her head under her wing, having a little nap.

Speaking quietly so as not to startle her, Hermione called her name. Hedwig stirred and flexing her wings, dropped down to Hermione's desk, holding out her leg. Hermione removed the small roll of parchment which was from Harry, of course, and read, "Dear Hermione, I'm leaving for Hogwarts before you get home tonight as Dumbledore has asked to see me. I specially want to take you out for dinner tomorrow night - so please say yes. Being hopeful, I've booked us a table at the Dragon's Lair for half past seven just in case and I should be home about six o'clock to get ready. Please send a "yes" back with Hedwig. Love, Harry."

Hermione gazed at Harry's familiar handwriting, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig as she did so. Well, if that isn't one for the books! Dinner at the Dragon's Lair? "Love, Harry"? She wasn't sure how, but she was positive Ginny must have had something to do with this! She didn't know whether to laugh, cry or cringe!

Hedwig hooted softly and Hermione chuckled. 'All right, all right! You want my answer so you can get going, don't you?'

She leant over and picking up one of the small pieces of parchment she kept for short notes wrote, "Dear Harry, YES. Love, Hermione." She smiled as she attached to it Hedwig's leg, watching as she flew into the fireplace to return to Harry.

Friday

Hermione woke Friday morning with the same feeling of excited anticipation she experienced on Christmas mornings at home and she had a huge smile on her face. She leapt out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, humming. As she studied her reflection in the mirror, she felt ridiculously happy. 'Quite the chipper, chirpy little thing this morning, aren't we?' quipped the mirror. Hermione laughed. I feel as though I could explode with happiness! she thought to herself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ginny woke that same morning filled with a mixture of trepidation and a peculiar sort of excitement. As she got ready for work she kept telling herself that the "interview" with Malfoy - Draco, rather - would go as planned and that she, even though she wasn't a really experienced interviewer, would have the upper hand. It's definitely a little weird, but I better think of him as Draco all day so that I don't automatically call him "Malfoy" tonight - it's Draco. Draco. She shivered. Even his name seemed to wield some sort of strange power. To which she was totally immune, of course.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry woke that morning taking a second to realise he was back in his old teacher's quarters at Hogwarts. He'd had a wonderful time dining in the Great Hall once more and received, to his very great surprise and huge embarrassment, a standing ovation from the students. Even from some of the Slytherins! He and the Headmaster had retired to the latter's office after dinner and it was then that Harry found out why it was Dumbledore had asked him to come to Hogwarts. After hearing him out, Harry assured the Professor that he was perfectly capable of dealing with the situation and Dumbledore told him he'd never doubted that, he just wanted to make sure Harry was prepared and informed. They'd spent some time chatting about "old times" and Harry had retired with a wonderful feeling of contentment and peace. Life had, eventually, become wonderful. It had taken him some time to forgive the old Headmaster's procrastination in telling him all he knew but he had come to understand over the years why he had done it. And I suppose now that Voldemort's gone and it's all behind me, it's easier to be more lenient with the old devil, he mused.

Harry stretched then smiled to himself as he put his hands behind his head. He felt good. And happy. And admit it, Potter - just a tiny bit smug. Because he was almost one hundred percent sure that Hermione didn't just see him as Harry-my-best-friend. After recovering from the trauma of "That Dream" (although it wasn't the dream that was traumatic, rather the fact it had been a dream and not real!) he'd recalled what it was that had made that particular night different from all the other nights he'd cooked dinner for the two of them. It had been the look on Hermione's face. And her reaction to him seeing it. Actually, if she hadn't reacted the way she did, he'd probably have accepted whatever explanation she gave him. But she'd reacted as though she'd been caught out - that Harry was never supposed to see that look in her eyes. Why? Because it was for him! And while he didn't know everything about such things, he knew you didn't look at someone who was your friend like that.

And then his best mate, good old clumsy Ron, had come to see him Thursday morning, ostensibly to see if he wanted to go to the Wanderers' Club again that weekend, but it had become obvious fairly quickly that his real motive was to let Harry know that he should "make a move" on Hermione; that he'd been thinking about it and unless Harry took the initiative, things could just drift on and go nowhere. Then he'd suggested that perhaps Harry should take her somewhere special for dinner? He knew an excellent restaurant if he was interested.

Harry suspected Ron had been "prompted" but he wasn't sure by whom. Still, it didn't matter. He told Ron that he was right, and he'd do just that. In fact, he'd ask Hermione out to dinner the very next night. Ron beamed. Harry didn't suspect a thing! Wait till he told Ginny how smoothly he'd managed this, especially when she'd been so concerned and so certain he'd muff it!

In the meantime, he'd received Dumbledore's owl asking him to come to Hogwarts and had then sent Hedwig off to Hermione's office, waiting nervously for her to return. When she did, the very short, but oh-so-sweet-to-read note she brought him made him feel almost light-headed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione found herself humming again that evening as she went through her wardrobe, looking for the "perfect" dress. The Dragon's Lair was a rather exclusive wizard restaurant, but in an unobtrusive sort of way. Understated. And that's the sort of dress I need, thought Hermione. Black? No, no... Blue? Hmm... No, not blue. And definitely not red! Ah yes! She pulled out a dress she'd only worn once before, surveying it with a critical eye. It seemed to meet all the criteria. After a minute of serious contemplation she smiled triumphantly. Yes, this was the dress!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ginny was far too nervous to hum. She was even too nervous to feel excited about going to the Dragon's Lair, which was her favourite restaurant. For heaven's sake Ginevra, she told herself, pull yourself together! It's not as though you haven't been on plenty of dates - shit, this is NOT a date, what am I thinking? For Merlin's sake, this is Draco-bloody-Malfoy! I'm being paid to do this because it's a work assignment. So why in hell am I so nervous? He unnerves me. That's what it is. He's an unnerving human being. All that matters is that I get answers out of him - as many of them as I can. Then I'll never see him again. And he'll probably be dead before Christmas because of what he's done to his former "friends" and that'll be the end of that. She shivered; what a horrible fate. Going through her wardrobe, she picked out a deep forest green dress that she knew looked sensational on her. It would help her confidence and for some reason, she felt as though she needed all the confidence she could muster.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Once again using a Portkey supplied by Dumbledore, Harry arrived back at the flat he and Hermione shared a little after six o'clock, calling out to Hermione as he headed for his room to begin getting ready.

'Hermione! I'm home!'

'I'm just getting dressed,' Hermione called back from her bedroom.

About twenty minutes later, going over her reflection in the full length mirror on the wall beside her wardrobe with a critical eye, Hermione felt quite pleased. Her dress had a fitted satin underlay that was a deep cinnamon colour with a sheer chiffon overlay of a lighter shade with gold flecks throughout it. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline, showing just the right amount of cleavage. It wasn't too short, or too long - stopping just above her knees. She'd charmed her hair into a soft chignon at the back of her head, held in place with a beautiful gold comb, soft, curling tendrils drifting around her neck and temples. Spraying herself with her favourite perfume, she went to her bed, picking up the matching chiffon shawl and her pale gold evening purse, which matched her shoes, and headed out of her room.

As she passed the bathroom, she could hear Harry moving around inside and smiled, beginning to feel just a touch of nervousness. On reaching the kitchen, she put her purse and shawl on the table and decided she needed a glass of wine to drown the butterflies that were causing havoc in her stomach. There was an opened bottle of white wine in the fridge and she poured herself a glass, standing at the kitchen bench to drink it. Even sitting down seemed beyond her at the moment. Why the hell am I so nervous all of a sudden? she wondered as she took a large mouthful of the cold wine. You know why, you coward. Just admit it. Dinner with Harry. Oh, but it's not just that. The promise of... something. I haven't even seen him since we fell asleep on the lounge the other night, but somehow our relationship - the sense of our friendship - seems to have shifted a little - although I'm not sure why. Or maybe it's just me, more than likely. But I don't know. I guess I don't understand anything right now. I'm just waiting. Anticipating. Hoping. Hoping for Harry. She closed her eyes and smiled. I feel... reckless. Well, not ridiculously so, but just a little reckless. A good sort of reckless.

Harry stopped in the kitchen doorway, arrested by the sight of Hermione standing there with her eyes closed, a secret sort of smile on her face. Then he took in the rest of her - or what he could see above the bench and he swallowed hard. He was going to have to really work at it not to spend most of the night just looking at her, staring at her. She looked - 'Perfect!' Then realised he'd spoken aloud as Hermione's eyes flew open. 'Thank you, kind sir,' she said as she smiled at him, a little disconcerted to find Harry gazing at her with an intensity she'd never seen before. 'Actually, you look just about perfect yourself, Mr Potter,' she told him lightly, eyeing him appreciatively. He wore a black lounge suit with a very pale green shirt and dark green tie; he carried his robes over his arm and she could see that they were lined with a green the same colour as his tie ... and his eyes. He'd never been adventurous in his choice of clothing, but she wouldn't have him any other way. Besides he looked totally, drop dead sexy. He always did.

Taking another sip of her wine, Hermione's smile faded as Harry dropped his robes over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and turned to approach her. He still had that disturbingly intense look in his eyes as he came around the end of the bench; he leaned over to take her glass, putting it down then gathering both her hands in his. The butterflies in her stomach had managed to avoid drowning, the inconsiderate little buggers, and had suddenly acquired the ability to emit some form of electricity that seemed to travel instantly to every nerve in her body while the smile Harry gave her made her heart race at a frightening pace. 'You look truly beautiful, Hermione.'

'Thank you,' she whispered; her whole body seemed to be tingling and she wasn't even sure that she was actually breathing.

Harry's voice dropped, becoming even deeper and a little hoarse; Hermione was afraid her legs would give way.

'There's something I want to ask you Hermione and I want you to be truly honest. So,' Harry took a deep, steadying breath, 'do you see me only as a friend, Hermione? For now and for always?'

Oh, shit! She was unable to tear her eyes from his. She felt hypnotised. He's waiting for an answer, she thought, I have to tell him something! But she knew she couldn't lie to him and not being capable of speaking at that moment, she shook her head, ever-so-slightly, unable to believe this was happening.

'Thank God!' he exclaimed quietly as relief washed through him. Hermione felt stunned at his words and knew that was probably just how she looked. Squeezing her hands gently as though to reassure her, Harry said, 'I'm sure we can arrive a little early at the restaurant and have a pre-dinner drink. I think we might need it.'

Putting his arm around her shoulders and Summoning his robes and Hermione's purse and shawl, Harry looked down at her with a smile as he Apparated them both to the Arrival Room at the Dragon's Lair.

As they approached reception, the grey haired maitre d' smiled profusely, recognising Harry instantly, glancing with appreciation at Hermione.

'Mr Potter, such an honour, sir!' he said warmly.

'Sounds like Dobby,' Harry whispered to Hermione. Hermione smiled up at him, feeling a little of the tension leave her, although not for long. Had she imagined what Harry just asked her? No, she hadn't. But it seemed so...surreal! At least he'd said "thank God" and that meant he was glad she didn't just see him as a friend, didn't it? Her head felt as though it contained a whirlpool, coherent thought lost in the currents. Harry was right: they needed a pre-dinner drink. She'd put thinking on hold. Actually, she didn't have a choice - I don't think I could think even if I wanted to! she told herself wryly.

Harry smiled back, assuring Mr Madomo - as he'd introduced himself to them - that a friend had highly recommended the restaurant and they were looking forward to the evening. After being relieved of his robes by a young wizard who appeared at the snap of Mr Madomo's fingers, Harry asked that they be able to have a drink before going to their table as they were a little early. The maitre d' himself guided them to the Dragon's Nest, the restaurant's dimly lit, intimate bar and, leaving them seated in a small, but comfortably padded booth, assuring them a waiter would be with them as soon as possible.

Alone with Harry once more, Hermione became intensely aware of him seated so close beside her. She fussed over folding her shawl and putting it on the seat beside her, placing her purse on top, delaying the moment when she'd have to look at him. Harry watched her, smiling, thinking it was a wonder she couldn't hear his heart pounding. Thank Merlin that when that question had popped into his head he'd followed his impulse and actually asked Hermione outright about whether she looked on him as only a friend. It had felt like an eternity before she gave that small shake of her head; that simple action had turned his world around. He felt as though he could face anything and win. (Which, in fact, he probably could.).

As Harry placed his left arm along the back of the seat and his fingers came to rest on Hermione's shoulder, she felt every muscle in her body tense. She knew she couldn't put the moment off any longer so she turned and looked up at Harry, uncertainty and hope both in her eyes.

'What would you like to drink this evening?' came a charming, smooth voice, startling Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes, then looked back to Hermione.

'Would you like some champagne?' he asked her.

Hermione nodded, smiling, not trusting herself to speak, not really caring what she drank.

'Champagne, it is, please' he told the waiter who nodded and silently glided away.

Hermione's fingers were trying to tie themselves in knots in her lap and she was watching them with what appeared to be total fascination.

'Hermione,' said Harry softly, 'look at me.'

Taking a deep breath, Hermione found she could only raise her eyes as high as Harry's mouth which wasn't a bad thing. It was a very nice mouth... Bringing his free hand up to Hermione's chin, Harry gently tilted her head so that their eyes met.

'Don't be afraid,' he whispered.

'Harry! Hermione! Fancy meeting you two here!' came an excited female voice from across the room.

Hermione watched as Harry's eyes closed, a frown creasing his forehead as he quietly growled, 'What the hell is it now!'

Harry's hand dropped and they both turned to see Ron and Luna walking towards them with their arms around each other, smiling broadly.

As they reached their table, Ron's step faltered when he realised that Hermione looked a little like she did the year she'd been Petrified and Harry was only just short of glowering at him, despite the small - very small - smile on his face.

'We're here to celebrate our five-month anniversary,' exclaimed Luna happily. 'What a wonderful coincidence meeting you here!'

'Wonderful,' echoed Harry, looking at Ron meaningfully.

'And,' continued Luna in a breathless voice,' can you believe it? We ran into Dean speaking to Mr Madomo - he's making special arrangements for himself and Ginny tomorrow night and he gave him what I'm positive was a jeweller's ring box. If you ask me, I think he's going to propose to Ginny!'

Harry and Hermione seemed strangely unaffected by this momentous piece of news and Ron, to his credit, was realising that interrupting Harry and Hermione had probably not been his smartest move. Actually, recommending the Dragon's Lair to Harry probably hadn't been a smart move either...especially when he'd already booked a table for himself and Luna the same night. He definitely wouldn't tell Ginny about this part. He decided that it was undoubtedly best if he and Luna gave Harry and Hermione a wide berth tonight.

'Yes, well, I suppose you want to be alone, just as we do, right sweetheart?' he said to Luna.

Luna was about to suggest they should all just have a drink together but something in Ron's eyes stopped her and she smiled at him. 'Of course!' She turned to look at Harry and Hermione, giving them a little wave. 'See you later!' she called softly, Ron steering her out of the bar having decided to follow the wiser course of enjoying their pre-dinner drinks at their table.

As they walked away, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then laughed quietly.

Harry shook his head. 'I'm almost afraid to start another conversation with you in case it brings someone else along to interrupt us!'

'Your champagne, sir,' came the waiter's smooth tones.

He showed no reaction when both Harry and Hermione laughed, simply filling their glasses with a courteous smile before leaving.

'A toast,' said Harry, as they lifted their glasses. As their glasses touched, Harry said, 'To surprises,' and Hermione's breath caught in her throat, remembering the night they'd first made this toast.

Managing to whisper the words of the toast before sipping the ice cold liquid, Hermione tried to fight off the embarrassment she felt welling up at the memory of that night, dropping her eyes.

'Thinking of the night we first made that toast?' Harry asked her quietly.

Hermione nodded, remembering how Harry had caught her gaping at him.

'That was a good night,' he said.

Hermione gave a little groan. 'Harry, it's a little embarrassing for my part, and-' she braved a quick glance at him and saw him smiling at her, a definite twinkle in those green eyes and realised he was teasing her. She gave him a mock glare.

'Sorry,' he said, 'I couldn't help myself! But I have to tell you that seeing that look in your eyes that night has already become one of my favourite memories, even though I haven't been totally certain how much feeling was behind it - all I felt sure of was that it meant you didn't just see me as simply a friend.'

'Well, in that case, given a hundred years or so, I may get over my feeling of embarrassment,' sighed Hermione.

'Good,' Harry murmured, his free hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. 'So now we're friends still, but perhaps so much more. No longer afraid then, Hermione?'

'Well, just a little,' she admitted. 'It just seems so - strange - and awkward - I don't know how to be anyone else with you besides just Hermione-your-best-friend. But I know I want to be. And you?'

'Well, perhaps because I've spent so long thinking about you as more than a friend - feeling for you the way I do - imagining, well, just imagining, and dreaming about you - I guess it feels more like a natural progression to me. Something I've wanted for so long and now it's within my reach. My only fear is that I might not reach it.'

'I think you will,' she whispered, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

'Hermione, I really want to kiss you so desperately right now...' said Harry, putting his glass down so that he would have both hands free to frame her face.

'Please do,' she whispered, putting her glass beside Harry's, then sliding her hands around his neck, her fingers finding their way into his hair. Somehow this felt so right and seemed so natural; she was already forgetting any feelings of strangeness at the idea of being more than friends with Harry. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment before the distance between their mouths slowly became nothing.

As their lips touched, Harry's hand moved swiftly to the back of Hermione's neck, wanting to keep her there forever so that he would never have to stop feeling the way he did right now with her soft, sweet lips beneath his. Hermione knew she'd never felt this way before - that no man had ever made her feel the way Harry did right now. Harry was aware of incredible sensations filling him as he tentatively pushed against Hermione's lips with his tongue and she opened her mouth for him, his tongue exploring her sweet warmth. Finally, they reluctantly drew apart, Hermione's voice quiet and low, 'Oh, Harry that was - indescribable...'

Just like the size of my damn erection! he groaned to himself, thinking how bloody unfair it was that a man's reaction was so visible!

Taking her hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to drop kisses on the back of each of them, he told her, 'More times than I care to count I've tried to imagine what this would be like - kissing you - but I never came close to the reality.'

Gazing into his eyes, she asked, 'So what do we do now? I don't know that I'm going to feel hungry, not really. Not for food, anyway,' she finished wickedly, running her tongue over her lips, feeling sure she could taste him as she did so.

'Ah, Cheeky Hermione has returned to taunt me, has she? Well, I'd love nothing more than to whisk her away but there is something I need to tell you about and it's to do with why Dumbledore asked me to go to Hogwarts, so we need to stay a little while longer and I think we'd better eat something, especially if we're going to finish this champagne.' Harry gave her a crooked smile. 'And it would actually be really helpful if you would stop looking at me like that.'

'Like what?' Hermione asked innocently, not realising her eyes were full of the long suppressed desire and love and just plain lust she felt for Harry.

'Like you are, right now. Believe me, it's extremely - let's say distracting - and I need to stand up and walk to our table without embarrassing myself,' he said quietly, arching an eyebrow at her.

'Oh my God!' cried Hermione, her eyes widening in realisation, her hand coming up to her mouth, the look in her eyes becoming one of slight shock and mortification.

'Well, it's not that unusual-' began Harry.

'Oh no, it's just that it reminds me - I saw - I mean, the other night - when you were asleep - you - I was - oh, shit!' Hermione finished with a groan.

Harry pounced. 'What? Whenever you swear, Hermione, which isn't often, I've always felt that whatever you were thinking at the time would be extremely interesting.'

Hermione was shaking her head, her hands fluttering, as she murmured, 'No, no, no! It's nothing, really. Really.'

'Liar, liar, pants on fire,' chanted Harry, the childish accusation springing to his tongue as he smiled at her. 'Now, tell me, or else,' he finished in an extremely determined tone.

Hermione stared at him for a second, then laughed, shaking her head once more. 'Oh no, I don't think so! One embarrassing moment is enough, thank you!'

Harry half closed his eyes, looking at her, thinking back...

'You said it reminds you of the other night, when I was asleep,' it wasn't a question; 'and you saw what? Now, let me think, you woke up first - how long was it before you woke me up?'

Hermione started playing tie-your-fingers-in-knots again as she shrugged. 'Not long.'

'But long enough to see - what - ?'

Hermione's voice sounded anguished. 'Harry, I didn't mean to say anything - I mean it's nothing - well it's not nothing, but it's not anything - oh shit!' For Merlin's sake, Hermione! You're pathetic! It's not as though you're a prude or anything - why can't you just tell him you "checked him out"? After all, he sat here not two minutes ago and basically told you he couldn't get up and leave because he was so aroused. So why can't you be just as honest? Because despite everything, you can't help but feel that it's a little unseemly for a woman to admit being so turned on by a man let alone actually TELL him so.

'It's all right, Hermione, I can guess, helped along by your rather revealing reaction! Now, I remember that night I'd been dreaming - about you, incidentally - and that when you woke me up I had a raging hard-on' - and then stopped because he had to laugh at the expression on Hermione's face. He'd discovered over the years that his slightly unusual upbringing, while denying him many learning experiences also failed, by default, to teach him the intrinsically prudish and warped view of human sexuality held by his wretched cousin, Dudley and his equally wretched aunt and uncle. Thank God!

'You were dreaming about me? That was for me?' Despite her amazement, Hermione found she couldn't help a rather smug smile making its appearance. That bulge had been for her...

'Best dream I've ever had,' he told her. 'Mind you, I have no doubt the reality will far surpass anything my imagination has created.'

Hermione stopped breathing, closing her eyes. Now she was thinking about - about - well, nothing in particular, but everything to do with getting naked and making love with Harry. Thank Merlin she didn't have to worry about "raging hard-ons"!

'Okay, we're even now,' she managed to say in a not too shaky voice as she opened her eyes, drawing a deep breath. 'I think we'd better get to our table.'

'While we can,' said Harry as he stood, holding out his hand to her. Smiling at him, Hermione took it, loving it when he pulled her close, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. 'I believe we have enough material here for a very long dinner conversation,' he commented as they left the bar.

The layout of the Dragon's Lair was such that it afforded it's clientele as much privacy as possible in a restaurant and of course, Harry, being who he was, had been given the "best table in the house" as the saying goes. Nevertheless, they did have to pass other tables on the way and it was Harry who spotted Ginny and Malfoy first - mainly because he was looking for them.

'There, to your left,' he whispered into Hermione's ear, his warm breath giving her shivers.

'What?' she asked, turning her head as unobtrusively as possible and catching sight of Ginny sitting at a table for two with Draco Malfoy, seemingly deep in conversation. She gasped, looking at Harry with a horrified expression.

'I didn't know they were coming here!' she exclaimed, without thinking.

'I did,' said Harry.

Hermione then shot him a very puzzled look but he just gave her a slight shake of his head, mouthing "later" at her.

Their waiter led them to a beautifully appointed table on a large, raised dais, overlooking the Thames but screened from the rest of the restaurant by a work of art called the "Dragon Wall": it was a bronze "wall" but it was actually made up of a two dimensional sculptured rendering of one of each of the ten known species of dragons, their waiter informed them. Their table was round, the damask linen beautifully white and the silver service magnificent, outshone only by the crystal stemware. Everything carried the restaurant's logo of the Chinese Fireball Dragon.

The waiter seated Hermione, then Harry, handing them each a featherlight replica of the "Dragon Wall" upon which glistened the menu; the waiter informed them that if they touched the dragon's egg symbol in the lower right hand corner the menu would display the next page. To return to a previous page, they simply need to press the dragon's egg symbol in the lower left hand corner. The waiter pointed to a small figurine of a Chinese Fireball Dragon on the table and told them they simply needed to place a hand over it and he would then know to return to take their order. Before leaving, he once again refilled their glasses.

Hermione sighed and smiled, reaching across the table to take Harry's hand. 'This is amazing and wonderful and perfect,' she told him.

'Like you,' he replied, turning his hand over to grasp hers.

'And you!' she shot back with a soft laugh.

Keeping hold of her hand, Harry stood up, drawing her up with him.

'Come here, I want to kiss you properly, not sitting cramped in a booth,' pulling her against him with one arm holding her tightly around the waist, the other settling softly around her neck with his thumb under the side of her jaw, keeping her face tilted up to his. Hermione, one arm wrapped around Harry's neck, the other clutching the lapel of his jacket as if to hold herself up because knew she couldn't stand alone. Hermione felt as though she was about to experience terminal meltdown.

With their lips just touching and their breaths mingling, Harry whispered, 'I love you,' before covering her lips with his. Hermione moaned softly into his mouth, trying to press herself even closer to him, instinctively pressing her hips into him as she became aware of that wonderfully masculine hardness growing against her stomach.

As they drew apart, slightly breathless, their eyes locked and Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the look in Harry's eyes: an intoxicating mix of love and lust.

'Are you sure we have to stay?' she asked, although she knew the answer; Harry would never shirk anything he saw as his duty, especially since it was Dumbledore who had asked him. Damn it.

Reluctantly letting go of her, Harry began explaining what Dumbledore had told him as they took their seats.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ginny wanted to make sure she arrived at the restaurant first and so, after Apparating, she walked out of the Arrival Room at a quarter to eight, heading for reception, glad to see Mr Madomo was there. She went to the Dragon's Lair on a reasonably regular basis, mainly thanks to her job, and was liked and respected by the elderly maitre d'.

'Ah, Miss Weasley! So good to see you again!'

'And always good to see you, too, Mr Madomo. You'll notice I've booked a table for two-'

Mr Madomo then did an unprecedented thing. He interrupted Ginny, apologising profusely for doing so, but, he explained, a rather mysterious gentleman had arrived not ten minutes earlier, saying he was a guest of hers and requesting that he be able to wait in one of the private lounges. The gentleman had not given his name and it was only because he said he knew Ginny that he'd been allowed to stay until it could be either confirmed or not.

Ginny felt a wave of irritation sweep through her. Damn him! What the hell was he doing getting here so early? Probably couldn't stand being in the hovel he's forced to live in any longer than necessary.

'He's actually someone I'm interviewing. I didn't expect him to arrive so early, in fact I came early myself so that I would be here before him. I'm so sorry, Mr Madomo. He wasn't rude, I hope?'

'Oh no, not at all! Extremely polite. Very cultivated gentleman. Seems strangely familiar...'

'Is the gentleman having a drink?' inquired Ginny, ignoring the obvious attempt to draw Malfoy's name out of her; she smiled inwardly at the thought of Malfoy being described as "cultivated". Cultivated, AND prejudiced AND boorish AND a snob more like it! thought Ginny.

'Yes. He ordered a bottle of champagne and said he would appreciate it if you would join him in the lounge before going to your table.'

'Of course I will and thank you for looking after my guest so well, Mr Madomo.'

'My pleasure, as always, Miss Weasley,' he replied, guiding her to the lounge where Malfoy waited for her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

'So is Ginny in danger?' asked Hermione, feeling extremely worried.

'Not really. Dumbledore and I both think that the informant was throwing out a red herring when he said some Death Eaters would try to attack and kill Malfoy tonight, here. It's not very feasible, really, just scare tactics, I think. They'll wait until he's alone somewhere - that's more their style. I'd already booked our table and when Dumbledore told me Ginny was bringing Malfoy here it simply became a matter of me having to keep my eyes and ears open until they leave.'

'Neville told me they don't expect Malfoy to survive the wrath of the remaining Death Eaters,' remarked Hermione.

'No great loss,' answered Harry, 'but I still don't like murder, whatever the reason.'

'Oh, shit!' Hermione's eyes widened with fright.

Harry half groaned, half laughed. 'Hermione, you are not to do that unless you're prepared to tell me exactly what it is that's going through your head to cause it!'

'I just had a horrible thought - what if Ron sees Ginny with Malfoy?'

Harry stared at her. 'Oh, shit! I'd rather face a roomful of Death Eaters!'

'And just as well Dean's been and gone before Ginny arrived!'

Harry shook his head, not wanting to think of what could have been, when his eye was caught by the dragon figurine on the table and he quickly placed his hand over it to summon their waiter.

'We haven't even looked at the menu yet,' Hermione protested.

'It's not the menu I'm worried about. Good service - here he comes already!' Their waiter was hurrying forward in a very dignified way, giving a little bow when he reached their table.

'You are ready to order?' he inquired politely.

'Well, actually, what I'd really like is a word with Mr Madomo as soon as possible if I could.'

As though this was a very ordinary request, the waiter nodded and left, with Mr Madomo arriving at their table within three minutes.

Harry stood, thanking him for being so prompt and then proceeded to state his requests which Mr Madomo said would not be a problem for him at all. Harry shook his hand warmly, smiling as he thanked him.

Before he sat down again, he moved his chair around so that he was next to Hermione. 'You're too far away when I'm over there,' he told her as he put his arm across the back of her chair, leaning forward and dropping his head so that he could kiss her just behind the ear, then not being able to stop, trailing soft, deliciously hot little kisses all down her neck to her collarbone, then claiming her lips once more. Hermione felt as though she was on fire and almost started pleading with Harry to take her home - to take her to bed - but stopped herself in time. Later. Once we know Ginny's safe. Then it'll just be us. Placing her hands on each side of Harry's face, she repeated the words he'd whispered to her earlier, 'I love you,' before softly pressing her lips to his, then running the tip of her tongue across his lips and gently sucking on his lower lip, forcing a low growl from Harry. Then she placed her slightly open mouth over Harry's, her tongue gently demanding and gaining entrance to his warm mouth; she tasted the champagne they'd been drinking and simultaneously one of her hands, seemingly of its own accord, dropped to his lap to do what she'd wanted to do that other night, feeling the incredible hardness of his arousal. I can't believe I'm doing this! But oh God he feels amazing! She wasn't able to stop herself from moaning softly into his mouth.

Harry pulled back, breathing deeply. 'Holy Mother of Merlin Hermione! I think we need to keep it down otherwise fifty Death Eaters could storm in here and even if I noticed, I wouldn't bloody care!' He was looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Hermione, her heart pounding, nodded, sitting back and putting her hands demurely in her lap. She gave Harry a rather shaky smile, said, 'You're right. We'll have to wait. Why don't we order? That'll give us something else to think about besides...'

'Besides what we're not even going to talk about right now for the sake of my sanity.' Harry shifted in his chair, trying in vain to get comfortable which to his chagrin Hermione seemed to find amusing.

Hermione smiled as she began reading her menu. I can hardly believe myself! she thought. Being free to flirt with Harry now we both know how the other feels is extremely intoxicating. I can't believe how much I'm enjoying this! Or how much I'm looking forward to getting home...

As Harry read his menu, he couldn't help but wonder if this rather provocative side of Hermione would always be there or if it was just a mixture of champagne, revelations and atmosphere. I've known Hermione-my-friend for more than half my life, he mused, I recently made the acquaintance of Hermione-the-cheeky and tonight I've met Hermione-the-provocative. I wonder how many more Hermiones there are? He smiled to himself. Can't wait to find out...

After perusing their menus, they ordered, then once more began discussing the situation with Ginny and Malfoy and the threat of the Death Eaters. Their meals arrived and they began eating, enjoying the delicious food and finding themselves hungry after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

'Should I call you Draco now, or just when there are other people around?' Ginny's voice was cool and businesslike. She'd waited until Mr Madomo had closed the door behind her before saying anything and was glad she'd spoken first because once her eyes met his, she felt as though she'd been robbed of speech. He was sitting on a comfortable looking Chesterfield style of lounge, with one arm lying along the back, his other hand occupied by a champagne flute. His long legs were stretched out, crossed elegantly at the ankles and he looked totally at home, as though he was once again Lord of the Manor. He was wearing a classic black dinner suit but also had on black, silk robes. If only he was as good as looked, thought Ginny wistfully, because he looks bloody good. But he'll never change... Her next thought frightened her: What a real shame. So she firmly repeated to herself: Interview. Work. That's all.

She noticed his eyes narrow slightly and his whole posture tighten as he took in her appearance, the self-satisfied, superior smirk fading from his face. Ginny knew she looked good and was grateful. The knee-length, deep green satin dress fitted her like a glove; it was strapless and showed off her soft, pale complexion to perfection. She'd used a curling Charm on her hair and soft, red waves hung around her shoulders, emerald pins gleaming at the sides of her head. A strand of small, matched pearls adorned her throat, complementing the pearl studs in her ears.

'Well?' she asked, highlighting the fact that he remained speechless while she was not.

He rose to his feet with a smooth grace, recovering with frightening speed, placing his glass on a small table and closing the distance between them with a few steps, taking her hand in his and bowing slightly. Then he raised her hand to his lips and she felt surprise that his lips were soft and warm, not cool and dry as she'd have expected them to be.

'Ginevra, you look stunning,' he told her in low, melodious tones. 'I am honoured that you are dining with me tonight.'

Ginny closed her eyes, telling herself that his was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The Ferret. The Death Eater. The man who had tried to buy his way out of Azkaban. Who had to resort to turning in his so called friends to get out of prison.

'As you should be,' she retorted softly, at the same time thinking to herself: Considering you're an ex-prisoner and that you are an ex-prisoner because you ratted on people who were supposed to be your friends. And you have absolutely no right to even one iota of sex appeal. None at all.

Malfoy looked at her as though he knew what was going through her mind although she knew that wasn't possible. Nevertheless, his smile was full of irony as he offered her a glass of champagne which she accepted, glad of having her hands occupied.

He invited her to sit down but she declined, saying she preferred to be seated at their table, reminding him in a coolly courteous voice that this was, after all, an interview and as she had limited time - at his insistence - she wished to utilise it fully.

He was equally courteous as he acquiesced, opening the door for her, then walking beside her and unsettling her further when he placed his hand placed on the small of her back as they made their way to reception.

Once seated, Ginny removed a tiny quill from her purse and a small square of parchment. Malfoy looked at them with a raised eyebrow and Ginny explained it was the latest Quick Quotes Quill - although not the sort that embellished both question and answer as Rita Skeeter's had - and that the parchment was also bewitched to hold everything written on it, a simple charm causing it to replay everything in the order it had been recorded. It had given Ginny an icy moment of recall when she'd first come across Pretzel's Prolific Parchment as it brought to mind Tom Riddle's diary; she'd written her full name across the parchment only to have it disappear in the same manner as her diary entries all those years ago. Still, it was a wonderfully useful thing and she'd gotten used to it.

Malfoy gave a very slight shrug once she'd explained, appearing totally unimpressed.

'Will it record the fact that I think you look quite beautiful tonight? You've obviously been able to work your way out of the poverty in which you were raised.' She felt ice form deep inside herself as she saw an almost feral hunger reveal itself in Malfoy's eyes for just a second before they once again showed nothing but bored appreciation. She recalled Hermione saying that it was probably a good thing she'd be in public with him and at that moment, she couldn't have agreed with anything more. She found herself horrified by the knowledge that she felt drawn to him, despite being repelled by him.

Ignoring his comment, she set the quill and parchment on the side of their table, out of the way, and started speaking softly, 'Interview with Draco Malfoy by Ginny Weasley.'

Malfoy lifted his glass in a silent toast to her. 'Let the questions begin,' he said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One of the requests Harry had made of Mr Madomo was that he be informed when both Ginny and Malfoy and Ron and Luna left the restaurant. He was hoping it wouldn't be too late although he didn't think there was any danger of his becoming sleepy tonight. Harry's other request had been that everything possible be done to prevent Ron and Luna and Ginny and Malfoy seeing each other, and to Mr Madomo's credit, he'd accepted both of Harry's requests without question due, in no small part, to the fact that it was Harry Potter that was asking. And he'd carried out both seemingly without effort.

Once he and Hermione finished their meals, they'd begun telling each other their stories of when and how they became aware of the their attraction to the other - of the many, secret thoughts they'd had about the other; it was a riveting conversation for them as these conversations always are for the ones involved. They revelled and delighted in hearing and revealing - telling all, finding out and knowing. It all became eminently bearable in retrospect now that they knew.

After finishing their champagne, they ordered coffee and dessert and while they drank the coffee, their desserts remained untouched as they continued to talk, totally wrapped up in each other.

When their waiter appeared and politely informed them that, 'Mr Madomo asked me to let you know that all your friends have left and that each couple remained unaware of the other's attendance tonight.' As he picked up their untouched desserts, a look of concern crossed his face. 'Was there something wrong with the food, sir, ma'am?'

Harry waved his hand dismissively, smiling, 'Of course not, we were just too busy talking and forgot about it.'

After the waiter cleared their table and left, Harry and Hermione looked at each other and smiled.

'Ron remains safely unaware of Ginny seeing Malfoy,' said Hermione, 'and Ginny's safe.'

'And home alone,' said Harry.

'Actually, she told me she was intending to go straight back to Dean's...Oh, shit!' cried Hermione.

'Hermione!'

'Oh, Harry - I'm sorry! It's just that you saying Ginny was home alone reminded me of something she told me. She said Malfoy had "visited" her last Tuesday night - uninvited of course. The thing is - how the hell did he get past Ginny's Protector Charms and if he did it then, he could do it tonight!'

Harry looked relieved. 'It's all right, you don't have to worry,' he told her. 'Malfoy isn't so clever, he used a trick either his father or Voldemort would've taught him - it was a trick Death Eaters often used to Apparate uninvited into people's homes. I've already strengthened Ginny's Protector Charm so she won't get anymore uninvited visitors.'

Hermione let out a sigh of relief as Harry stood up, holding out his hand to her.

'Shall we go?' he asked, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes fixed on hers.

With a smile, she stood and placed her hand in his by way of answer. Gathering up her purse and shawl with her free hand, Hermione became aware that those butterflies were in motion again, this time causing her legs to feel decidedly weak and wobbly.

As they walked together into the Departure Room after thanking Mr Madomo and promising they'd return in the near future, they didn't see the indulgent look he gave them. They seem so perfect for each other, he thought to himself, a pleased smile on his face. They surely belong together.

TO BE CONTINUED...