his heels in Spain? What a concept! How reliable is the source?"
The corner of Draco's mouth lifted. "About as reliable as the numerous claims that my father is in North America. Although one never knows."
They continued talking about Snape's disappearance until the next course arrived. It was cheese of some sort with what Hermione recognized to be arugula dressed with a lively vinaigrette and crisp bread. Genuinely curious, she asked Draco what the cheese was.
"Burrata," he replied. "Do you like it?"
"It's very nice," she answered. Undoubtedly, it was all very nice. If only she could let herself enjoy what she was eating.
She took in the surroundings as they ate, noting the portraits on the wood-panelled walls and the lovely, high, moulded ceilings. The hall was long enough that it took three massive chandeliers quite easily.
The third course was seafood, a cake of crab with chilled cucumber and creme fraiche. Toolip remained in attendance, in the event that their wine glasses needed refilling.
It occurred to Hermione that neither she nor Draco had taken more than a sip or two since the dinner had started. She looked up at him and was startled to note that he was staring down at his plate with a troubled expression.
"You know what? This isn't working for me."
Hermione felt her stomach lurch. "The crab?" she asked, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.
Draco pushed his chair back and threw his napkin on the table. "I have a better idea." He picked up his plate and then held out his hand to her. "Come with me."
All her worries dissolved in the face of the gentle mischief in his eyes. It was enough to make her fall in love with him all over again.
Hermione picked up her own plate and then took his hand. "Where are we going?"
"The library," he announced, in a manner which suggested he hadn't known their intended location either until he had said it. He asked Toolip to redirect the following courses to the Manor's library instead.
A fire had already been built in the long, split level room. In front of the fireplace, Draco pulled off his shoes, sat down cross legged on the thick rug and patted the space beside him. Hermione slipped out of her heels and gladly sank down beside him.
They talked and ate, where possible, with their hands. And this time, there were numerous refills of their wine glasses. Before they knew it, the entire bottle had been finished. Two hours passed by incredibly quickly.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers by the time desert was served.
"I feel bad. I think I ate most of that," Draco said, putting down the spoon he had used to eat Hermione's portion of the chocolate mousse.
She didn't think he looked particularly sorry about it, so she poked him in the ribs.
Hermione then used the tip of her index finger to wipe off the last remaining dab of mousse. She sucked on her finger thoughtfully as she stared into the fire.
Draco watched her. "Tell me this was a good idea."
Hermione distractedly popped out her fingertip from her mouth and only then noticed his glittering gaze. "This was a fantastic idea. I don' t suppose you get to dine like this very often at home?"
Lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and tipped back a healthy swig of wine. "We only used to take our meals in the dining hall. Or on the occasions that Lucius and my mother were both out, I conspired to eat in the kitchens with Toolip. She makes a most excellent Bubble and Squeak. We did have a picnic once on the grounds. Not my mother's idea, obviously, but Goyle and Blaise were over and we were practically wrecking the house. So we were banished outside."
Mention of Blaise didn't have the depressing effect she thought it might have had. Or should have had. It was just a memory. A fond one, apparently, despite everything that had happened. Memories were funny like that. It wasn't always easy to delete the attached emotions, even if you didn't want to recall feeling them. Hermione knew this all too well.
She guessed there was more to the story. "What happened?"
Draco stuck his tongue in his cheek. "It rained. Being in the middle of a sticky summer, we thought it was the best thing that could have happened. We still had out picnic, ate soggy sandwiches and drenched potato salad. Mother had a fit at the amount of mud