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“Come in,” Hermione called.

In walked her best friend and boss, Harry Potter.

“How’s it going in here?” Harry asked.
Hermione looked to Draco, who shrugged.

“Not bad for his first day,” Hermione replied.

Harry ran a hand through his messy, black hair and sat down on the ground with them.
“I just got out of a meeting with Kingsley. He wants to do a benefit dinner for the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. A fancy evening of dancing and donating. Reason I mention it to the both of you first is it’ll be at Hogwarts...”
He looked between them, but they didn’t seem to understand.

Harry sighed.
“We got an anonymous tip the other day. Chaotic people often choose to act at large functions such as this one; I kind of have a bad feeling. Anyway, I expect a lot of eyes to be on the two of you. It’s no secret how we were in school, and now that you two are together...just be on your guard.”

Draco’s face showed the slightest hint of alarm.
“Should we be worried?”

Having lived through a war on the wrong side, Draco’s mind often went to the worst possible scenarios. In many ways it’s what made him such a skilled auror.

Harry inclined his head.
“Not necessarily. At the least, some remarks might be made. At the worst, I don’t know. Some brash Gryffindor or maybe a guest with old blood prejudice could try to ‘teach either of you a lesson’. It may be nothing, but it’s best to take any tips we receive seriously and adjust from there.” He went on. “I wanted to notify you far enough in advance so you can be prepared. Don’t leave each other alone, don’t start having a fight in the middle of the dinner, that sort of thing.”

“Us fight?” Hermione joked. “Never.”

Harry gave a wry smile as he stood to leave. “I’ve told you you’re no good at sarcasm, Hermione,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Hey you could stay and train with us.”

He spun back at the doorway. “Can’t. I’m meeting Ron and George at the joke shop. They ordered a shipment of new merchandise they want to show me.”

She raised a brow at him. “So, you’re going to go play?”

“Yep. See you.” 

And with that he was gone.

Draco turned to Hermione.
“I think it’s time to practice.”

“Great idea, I’ll reset the dummy.”
She stood to move away from him, but Draco caught her wrist.

“Not what I meant,” he said.

Realization dawned on her.
“Oh! That kind of practice. You mean here? Right now? I’m probably a little sweaty - though - maybe you like that sort of thing?”

“Granger stop talking.”

“Right.”

He pursed his lips to keep from laughing. He found her sudden awkwardness endearing.

“I have an idea,” he said, a hint of mirth in his tone. “Meet me outside Flourish & Blott’s in 2 hours.”

—————————

When Hermione arrived at the stoop of Flourish & Blott’s, the sun shone a warm evening glow on half of the alley. The shops were fairly empty, many already closed for the day. She hadn’t seen Harry, Ron, or George when she passed by the joke shop.

Hermione did her best to not fidget with her hair. Freshly showered, her wild curls were loosely wrapped into a low bun. She had selected a feminine blush-colored dress to wear that did favors for her skin tone. It was the perfect cut for spring: a classic style that hit just above her knees. And though she had no idea what Malfoy had planned, she wanted to feel comfortable and pretty. This dress always did the trick.

“Granger?”
She turned to see Malfoy coming towards her.

He had dressed nice as well, which immediately made her feel better and more nervous at the same time. Charcoal grey slacks and a sweater with a button down showing at the collar and sleeves.

The unhurried up-down he gave her made her cheeks warm.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked.

Draco jerked his head to the side. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, then started fidgeting with her hair.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

Me too, he thought to himself, but he would never say that out loud.

Instead, he said, “Falling in love with me already, Granger? Tsk tsk.”

She rolled her eyes.
“How are you so smug all the time?”

He smirked and nudged her with his shoulder.
“Come on.”

“Where?”

He inclined his head to the storefront and held up a key. The lock turned with a click. He pushed the door open for her, following her inside.

“Can’t believe your head fit through the doorway,” she muttered.

This earned a genuine laugh from Draco, a short burst from his lips.

The familiar bookshop was cheerful despite being empty. Or perhaps Hermione was just happiest when she was surrounded by books. The scent of paperbacks and hardcovers, both old and new, filled the air. Every nook and cranny of the store was stuffed with piles of prose and poetry. The ceiling-high shelves contained row after row of textbooks and literature. 

“How did you get a key to this place?” She whispered.

He shrugged. “I know the owner.”

Hermione threw him a look.
“Well so do I, but you don’t see me with a key, do you?”

She was impressed, and he seemed to notice. Draco briefly wiped his hands on his trousers.

She wandered up the staircase, Draco not far behind. Her fingers trailed down the spines of a nearby stack.
“I love it here,” she said. “This was one of my first stops I made with McGonagall when I bought my supplies for first year.” She smiled at the memory, and then gave a shy grin. “But I suppose we aren’t here for textbooks. Why did you bring me here of all places?”

Here was the question Draco had tried to prepare himself for. Why here? Because he wanted the first place, the first time he kissed her to be somewhere special. Not just at work or at one of their homes. Not just because of a one-side fake, one-side real, relationship. He wanted to do this here because he was trying to show he cared about her past their agreement.

He opened his mouth to tell her so, but nothing came out.

So, he decided to show her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he stepped closer to her, his eyes on the flooring between them. It felt like seconds, it felt like years, before he reached her. He rested his hands at the top of her waist, and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

With their faces inches from each another, Hermione opened her mouth and whispered,
“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Stop talking, Granger.”

Then, his mouth slanted over hers in a gentle, careful kiss.

If Hermione was caught off guard, her recovery time was impressive. Once she responded Draco deepened their kiss. His hands slid from her waist up her sides until one held her neck. The other tangled somewhere in her hair.

After a moment he began to pull away, but felt her grip the front of his sweater. She pulled his body tightly against hers.

Heat burst across his chest. The sensuous, burning feeling scorched its way down his torso, settling below his stomach.

He mentally coached himself: Don’t moan. Don’t moan. Don’t moan.

His fingers blazed a trail across the soft skin of her bare shoulder. One of her hands reached up to hold the back of his neck.

All too soon, Draco broke off the kiss.

He staggered back slightly, thinking cool thoughts.

Hermione also appeared breathless; her hair undone, the curls billowing over one shoulder.

Draco didn’t speak. Not only did he not trust his voice, but he also didn’t want to break this spell. He waited to see her reaction.

“Wow,” she breathed. She looked up at him, her eyes bright. Cheeks flushed. “We kissed.”

A corner of his mouth lifted.

“I think we’re going to have to practice that again,” she said.

“Oh?”

Her blush deepened. “W-well - if we’re this out of breath from just one kiss, I mean. We need to get more comfortable, right?”

Draco’s heart sung at her suggestion.
“Name the time and place, Granger.”