The Black Lion

The Black Lion 

Chapter 16

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor, scowling at his reflection. His robes were immaculate charcoal grey with silver accents that complemented his pale complexion and platinum hair. Yet, he couldn't shake the nagging doubt that churned in his stomach.

‘Tonight I get to show her the real me. Show her that I’m not the boy from Hogwarts’ he thinks as he fixes his hair again. 

"You look fine, Dragon," Narcissa said, standing behind him with a critical but approving eye. "Stop fussing."

"Fine isn't good enough," Draco muttered, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve for the third time. "Don’t you see this is my chance to show her I’ll be a good husband? I don’t want her to think it’s an act."

Narcissa smiles slightly at her son before gently touching his shoulder, “Yes, I know this is your chance to court her but in a way it is an act.”

Frowning Draco glances at his mother in the mirror, “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to show her the wizard you want to be Draco, The wizard you want to be for her. There’s no shame in that. Just don’t try so hard that you forget to be honest.” she responds.

Draco sighed, his hand running through his hair before he thought better of it. "What if I mess this up? She’s… not like anyone else. She’ll see right through me."

"Then don’t give her a reason to," Narcissa said softly. Her voice took on a rare tenderness as she added, "You’ve grown, Draco, she’ll see that."

Nodding Draco inhaled deeply to steady himself. He grabbed the bouquet of enchanted violets he’d spent far too long selecting earlier that day. "Alright. Here goes nothing."

Moments later, Draco stood at the door of Grimmauld Place, the bouquet feeling heavier with every second he waited. When the door finally creaked open, Hermione stepped out, and for a moment, Draco forgot how to breathe. Her hair was arranged in soft curls that framed her face, and her burgundy dress simple yet elegant seemed to glow in the dim light of the hallway.

"Hi," she said, her voice tinged with both warmth and hesitation. Her eyes flickered to the flowers in his hand.

"Hi," Draco managed, to squeak out suddenly feeling uncharacteristically awkward. He thrust the bouquet toward her. "These are for you."

Hermione blinked, then smiled a small, genuine curve of her lips that sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through him. "Thank you. They’re lovely."

Behind her, Regulus Black emerged from the shadows, his piercing gaze landing on Draco like a warning. Draco offered a polite nod, his grip tightening slightly on Hermione’s arm as she stepped out and accepted his offered escort. As they headed toward the Floo, Draco swore he heard Regulus mutter something under his breath, though the words were lost to the crackle of the flames.

The restaurant they arrived at was one of the finest places in Diagon Alley. Its interior is bathed in a warm, golden light from enchanted chandeliers that cast a soft glow over the polished mahogany tables. A quiet hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware.  It seemed as though the conversation suddenly became quiet once they arrived. However, it quickly picked back up.

Pulling out Hermione's chair Draco cached the watchful eye of his mother sitting discreetly at another table with Augusta Longbottom. He smiled and nodded at them while his mother gave him an approving nod.

“This place is beautiful,” she tells him as she looks around the restaurant. 

"I thought you’d appreciate somewhere quiet," Draco said, settling into his chair. "No distractions."

As the waiter handed them menus, Hermione’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked through the menu.

“Did anything on the menu catch your eye?” he asks her trying to start the conversation.

‘Keep on safe topics, start the conversation, and let her guide it’ he thinks.

Hermione studied the menu for a moment before glancing up at him with a raised brow. "Well, it’s all very… French. Any recommendations? Or should I just point to the fanciest-sounding thing and hope for the best?"

Draco smirked, his nerves easing slightly. "The confit de canard is excellent, but if you’re feeling adventurous, there’s always the bouillabaisse. I’d avoid the escargot, though. It’s an acquired taste."

Hermione gave him a mock glare. "You think I’d order snails on a first date? You must think I’m very brave."

"Or curious," Draco countered, his tone light. "Though bravery does seem to be one of your defining traits."

"Flattery already?" she teased, setting the menu down. "You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?"

"Only the honest ones," Draco replied smoothly, though the slight pink tinge to his ears betrayed his nerves.

The waiter returned, taking their orders, and Draco felt a brief moment of relief as the pressure shifted. Once the menus were gone, he focused on Hermione again.

"So," she began, leaning slightly forward, "what made you choose this place? Trying to impress me?"

"Is it working?" Draco quipped, earning an eye roll. He chuckled softly before answering more seriously. "I thought you’d appreciate a place with substance. Somewhere that lets us actually talk without… interruptions."

‘I didn’t want anyone to interrupt our time together.’ crosses through his mind.

Hermione tilted her head, her expression softening. "It’s thoughtful. Thank you."

Draco felt a flicker of pride at her words, though he tried to keep it from showing too much. "You’re welcome. I figured I should make up for all the times I wasn’t exactly… thoughtful."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You mean like third year, when you called me a—"

‘I regret doing that. I just wanted your attention on me.’ another thought filters through his head.

"Let’s not revisit my greatest hits, shall we?" Draco interrupted, holding up a hand.

Hermione laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and Draco felt a tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing down. He smiled brightly happy he was able to make her laugh at that.

The conversation flowed through them easily as they ate their first course. They joked about their time at Hogwarts and as the date went on Draco could feel himself get more comfortable as they talked and joked.

"You’re full of surprises, Malfoy," Hermione said after a particularly clever observation he made about the Ministry’s recent policies. 

"I’ll take that as a compliment," he replied, his tone dry.

"It is," she assured him, her eyes sparkling. "You’ve come a long way from the boy who thought being a prefect made him king of the world."

Draco groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you determined to remind me of every mistake I’ve ever made tonight?"

"Maybe," Hermione said with a grin. "It’s fun seeing you squirm a little."

"Good to know," Draco muttered, though he couldn’t hide his amusement.

Across the room, Narcissa and Augusta observed the scene with interest.

"They seem to be getting on well," Narcissa remarked, sipping her wine.

"She’s got fire," Augusta noted approvingly. "I like that she doesn’t let him off easy."

"She’ll keep him honest," Narcissa agreed.

"And he’s trying," Augusta added. "That boy’s got more nerves than a hippogriff in a dragon sanctuary, but he’s doing well."

Narcissa allowed herself a small smile. "He’ll be fine. He’s more capable than he gives himself credit for."

By the time they left the restaurant and returned to Grimmauld Place, the evening had taken on a comfortable rhythm. Draco escorted Hermione to the door, the chaperones trailing a respectful distance behind.

Draco's thoughts begin to race as he stands beside Hermione. His heart beating fast as he looked at her.

Draco was the first to break the silence. "That went better than I expected," he said, attempting to sound casual, but his voice faltered slightly.

"Yes, I wanted to thank you for tonight," Hermione said, her voice soft. "It was… nice."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Nice? That’s what you’re going with?"

Hermione smiled slightly. "What do you want me to say? It was perfect?"

"It wasn’t perfect," Draco admitted, "but it wasn’t just ‘nice,’ either."

Hermione tilted her head, studying him. "You’re very polished, Draco. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t sometimes."

Her words stung, though Draco kept his composure. "You think I’m putting on a show?"

"I think you’re trying," she said carefully. "But sometimes it feels like you’re hiding behind a mask."

Draco stepped closer, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince someone who’s seen the worst of you that you’ve changed? I’m doing everything I can to show you I’m not that person anymore."

"I know," Hermione replied, her voice rising slightly. "But it’s hard to trust—"

Before she could finish, Draco closed the distance and kissed her. It was sudden and unplanned, his only thought to stop the words that cut too close to his insecurities. For a moment, Hermione froze, then she leaned into the kiss, her hands gripping the front of his robes.

From the shadows, Narcissa and Augusta exchanged a look.

"Well," Augusta said dryly, "that escalated quickly."

Narcissa smirked. "At least he’s being honest now."

A loud cough interrupted the moment, and both Hermione and Draco turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face.

"Well, well," Sirius drawled. "Should I congratulate you, Malfoy, or threaten you?"

Draco groaned, his face flaming as Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling as she stepped inside.

Narcissa and Augusta exchanged knowing looks.

"Well, that was something," Augusta quipped.

"Indeed," Narcissa replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Though I might have to have a word with him about timing."

Draco groaned under his breath as he disapparated home, Sirius’s laughter ringing in his ears.

‘He just had to ruin the moment’ Draco groans mentally.

Sirius shakes his head, “I can’t wait to tell Regulus.” he closes the door a grin on his face as he goes to find his brother to ruin his night. He couldn’t let baby Malfoy have all the fun.