Beauty From Pain

Chapter Twenty-Two

To say Draco was nervous would be a drastic understatement.

He had cleaned his entire flat, top to bottom, no less than five times. He had completed all the paperwork from Malfoy Estate that needed his attention, and he had sent his house elf Millie to fetch fresh vegetables and spices to stock the kitchen with. He had changed his outfit more times than he cared to admit, and it was still too early to pick up Hermione.

Draco sank into the armchair before his fireplace and sighed. His impatience was getting the better of him. Tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair, he considered his flat once more. It was spotless; there was absolutely nothing left to occupy him. The clock ticked quietly on the wall. Draco's knee bounced and his fingers continued tapping on the armrest.

"Sod it," he said and leapt to his feet. Turning on his heel, he apparated to the alley across from White Wolf Designs.

Having already been to the shop earlier that morning, Draco made his way inside and allowed the bell over the door to announce his arrival. The front room was surprisingly empty. He could hear distant humming through one of the doors off to his left and faint voices upstairs. Draco pushed his fingers through his hair and tried to swallow against the lump in his throat. Sweet Merlin, he hoped this date went well. He needed a win.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention, and Draco couldn't help but smile.

Hermione descended the stairs, her heeled booties clicking softly against the wood. Her deep red knit sweater dress fell to her knees and hugged her figure perfectly. Soft brown curls fell around her shoulders, and the red tint to her lips had Draco licking his own. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.

"Hi." He realized he was whispering and said more firmly, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She stopped in front of him, and he was once again surprised by how much shorter she was than him. Even in heels she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze, and he couldn't help but be amused. Allowing her eyes to wander over him, she said, "You look quite handsome."

Draco smirked confidently, as though he hadn't tried on far too many outfits before settling on this one. "Are you ready to go?"

Tugging on the hem of her dress, Hermione asked, "It's a bit early. Have your house elves already started on dinner?"

"No, Millie has the night off. I'm going to be cooking for you."

"You want to cook me dinner?" She tried not to sound too skeptical at is was a wonderful idea for a date, but the thought of pureblooded Draco Malfoy cooking for her was bordering on the absurd.

"Yes," he answered simply. "Is that alright?"

"Of course." Hermione tilted her head to one side and said, "I'm just surprised you can cook." She had meant for it to sound like a teasing challenge, to appear as though this was something she believed herself to be far superior at. However, a shadow passed over his eyes and his shoulders tightened minutely, and she realized this was a misstep.

Draco fidgeted with his shirt cuff, as though the clothing that fit him so perfectly needed any adjusting, and he avoided her gaze. "My mother taught me to cook," he said. His voice wasn't necessarily cold, but the warmth that had previously been there was gone. He seemed guarded once more. "After our home had been... After those people lived with us, she had trouble sleeping at night. She would wander the manor for hours, avoiding the nightmares that haunted her. Eventually, she found her way into the kitchen and decided to learn how to cook. I joined her merely to keep her company, but she found comfort in our being together, so I attempted to learn with her. So yes, Hermione, I am now rather capable at cooking."