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On Friday night, Hermione apparated near Leicester Square to try the new French Bistro, Lumiere des Etoiles, or “starlight” in French. The mid-March evening was cool, promising rain. She smiled at the sight of the peonies which outlined the storefront of the quaint restaurant.

After a terrible day, she was pleased to be spending her evening in such a warm environment.

While waiting for her table to be prepared, a familiar voice surprised her.
“Well if it isn’t Hermione Granger.”

Her jaw locked.
“Cormac! Hi. Wh-what are you doing here?”

His smile sent a queasiness through her. She felt her throat constrict.

“I’m devoted to French culture,” he said, “Made reservations months ago to try the place; I was actually the first on the list due to my connections in the high-end food industry. Are you alone tonight? I could keep you company.”

I may vomit.

Even with her horrible day, no company was much more preferable than his. She had to come up with something quick. She shifted her feet.

“Actually, Draco is on his way to meet me.”

The lie was out before she could think it all the way through.

Cormac’s mouth set in a line. “I see.”

Hermione squinted up and down the cobbled street, looking for Draco, who she knew would not be coming.

“I’m willing to fight for you, you know.” Cormac said. He took a step towards her, his expression intense.

An awkward, choking sound emitted from her throat. After clearing it, she firmly said, “We are not together. And I don’t need you to fight for me.”

A light drizzle began to fall. She forced her eyes to not meet Cormac’s.

“Miss Granger?” The hostess interrupted, “Your table is ready.”

Relieved to be away from him, Hermione followed the hostess to her seat. The faint floral scent followed her inside.

She was led to a small round table with an extra chair across from her.

An idea struck her.

She whipped out her wand and sent a patronus to find and deliver a message to Draco Malfoy.

———————————

“What was that all about?” Narcissa Malfoy asked.

Hermione’s patronus had just alerted Draco of her predicament. His mother, hearing the commotion, had walked into the drawing room right as the otter evaporated.

“Nothing. A friend needing my help.”

“Friend?”

“I have friends, mother.” There was a slight sneer to his tone.

She gave him a doubtful look that he chose to ignore.

Draco stood to leave, his shoes clacking as he walked across the marble floor.
“It’s nothing serious, but I may be a while. Don’t wait dinner on me.”

Narcissa smiled kindly at her son.
“I’ll have Brim send it to your room once you’re back.”

Draco thanked her and took his leave.

————————

He noticed the relief in Hermione’s posture when he got to her - their - table. By way of greeting, she gave him a small peck on the cheek. To Draco’s dismay, he felt his face warm.

He cleared his throat.
“When I asked how France sounded for the weekend, this is not what I had in mind.”

She gave a breathy laugh at his reference to the note he’d sent her earlier that week.

“Truly, thank you,” she said under her breath, “I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.”

He shook his head in response, and reached inside his jacket pocket for his glasses.

The atmosphere was relaxed and charming. A handful of tables were sprinkled throughout the room. Magical starlight twinkled in the air close to the ceiling. From the flowers to the music to the scents wafting from the kitchen, the opening night of Lumiere des Etoiles held high promise.

Draco spotted Cormac across the room from them. Luckily, his back was to them.

Draco shifted his gaze back to his menu.
“How’s your day been?” He asked.

“Not great, actually.”

“Oh?” He looked over his menu at her, but she kept her eyes down.

“I had to put Crookshanks down today and needed to get out of the house.”
She sniffed.

This was the reason for her awful day. Earlier, Hermione had consulted her third magizoologist that week to check on Crookshanks health. He hadn’t been eating and seemed to be in a lot of pain. The healer determined the poor cat’s illness untreatable, and recommended the cat be put down sooner rather than later.

Hermione went on, cheeks wet.
“After… well, after it happened. I mean. When I left, I remembered I had a reservation for this place, and came straight here. That’s when I ran into Cormac and I suppose you know the rest.”

While there was certainly no lost love on Draco’s part for the cat, he knew the pet had been special to her.

“Sorry for your loss. It must have been a rough day,” he worded carefully.

Hermione shook her head as if doing so would stop the tears.
“Thank you. I don’t want to think about it for now; I’d like to just enjoy the evening. Thanks for saving me, again.”

She gave him a watery smile that did weird things to his heartbeat.

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

Soft jazz music filled the space between them. One song ended and another began.

“I think I’m going with the chicken confit, what about you?” She asked.

“Coq au vin,” he replied, “It’s my favorite.”
He began to browse the dessert selection. “The press is going to find out about us, you know.” His brows were raised.

Hermione grimaced, fidgeting with her napkin.
“I know. I never thought it would be a problem because I-“

“Only ever see him at work,” Draco waved the end of her sentence away. “I remember.”

She glared at him.
“You’ve got to stop interrupting me.”

He laid his menu down.
“What’s in this for me?” He asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here. In public with you. There’s no way the two of us leave this brand-new restaurant without at least a photograph in tomorrow’s paper. I agreed to help you back when this was a private matter because tormenting McLaggen happens to be a hobby of mine. However, now that this has gone public, I think it’s fair for me to get something from this agreement.”

“Ah.”  

Hermione sighed internally. She knew this was the cost of asking him to come here tonight, but hadn’t seen a way around it in the moment.

She managed to buy some time, or so she thought, because their waiter had arrived at their table. But the waiter recognized who they were instantly, his eyes bulging as he scribbled down their order.

Once he left, Draco smirked.
“And he’s off to alert his manager that we’re here,” Draco said. “What’s it going to be Granger?”

His eyes searched hers while she searched for something to offer.

Draco’s wealth was no secret, so bribing him with money was out. He also had access to all the same resources and connections as her. They were both at the same level of influence at work. Even his criminal record had been cleared - his fiasco death eater days long gone - and his acceptance in the wizarding world was widely known.

Her forehead creased. “What could I possibly give you that you would want?”

Beneath the table, Draco’s hand tightened into a fist.
“That’s a dangerous question,” he murmured.

Just then their drinks arrived, interrupting the conversation. Draco whispered something to the waiter, who bobbed his head in a furtive manner.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve got it,” Draco finally said.

“No, tell me what you whispered to the waiter.”

“So bossy.”

Her eyes flashed, but Draco was unperturbed.

He took a long pull from his glass before he spoke. “Teach me the Patronus Charm.”

Hermione leaned back in her chair, thinking over his suggestion. She hadn’t noticed before now that he had never used it. Not in training, nor on an Auror mission. Plus, he had looked surprised when she mentioned using a patronus to send an urgent message.

“It’s a difficult spell, of course,” she spoke slow, “Maybe the most powerful defensive spell there is.”

Three heartbeats passed.

“I used to have trouble with it myself,” she added sheepishly.

Draco didn’t respond, just waited for her to sort through her thoughts.

After mulling it over, Hermione grinned.
“All right, Draco Malfoy. I’ll teach you the Patronus Charm in exchange for you to date me until all of this with Cormac and the press has blown over. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So what did you tell the waiter?”

A self-satisfied grin grew on his lips.
“Told them we’d do a photo op for the paper, of course.”

————————

Later that night, Hermione took a long shower in her penthouse flat to scrub the day away. She pulled on her satin pajamas and braided her wet hair. Next, she perused the stack of books by the foot of her bed until she found which one she wanted.

A faint tapping sounded at her window.

Surprised, she whirled around to reach for her wand, but it was unnecessary. The sound came from an eagle owl, a note attached to its leg. She crossed the hardwood floor and lifted the latch, allowing the bird to flap into her bedroom.

Hermione untied the letter and hurried to fill a bowl with water. She talked to the bird in soft tones. The owl hooted cheerfully in thanks for the cool drink.

With her book in one hand and the note in the other, Hermione crawled in bed to begin reading.

H,
I know owls are rather different from cats, but I thought you might enjoy the company for the night.
See you in the papers tomorrow.
D

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was Draco’s thoughtfulness, or the recent loss of Crookshanks, but she began to cry. Losing Crookshanks today had been like losing part of her childhood; the cat had been with her for over a decade.

She hadn't mentioned it to Draco at dinner, but he seemed to know she had been dreading coming back to an empty flat.