What do you want?

Draco stood outside the restaurant, hands in his pockets, surprised by how much he cared if she showed. He'd asked her on a whim, curious what her answer would be, up for more if that was an option but not expecting it. He admired her and now, with the war behind them, both back for 8th year, he had no problem admitting it. She was the only one here smarter than he was, she didn't back down from a fight, and she threw a good punch. What wasn't there to admire? Oh, and her body. She'd grown up very well, and Draco hadn't missed it. In any case, he hadn't thought he'd actually cared. Admired, sure. Lusted, who wouldn't. But an actual date? It was news to him, and not welcome. He didn't need feelings, especially not about Granger. But it seemed they were there, whether he wanted them or not, given that he couldn't stand still, and kept scuffing his very expensive shoes against the pavement. (Yet another) Tempus informed him it was now or never. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Now or never.

Drap smiled coyly, an eyebrow raised. “Figure it out yourself, Granger. Hogsmeade is this weekend, so there’s opportunity. I’ve certainly got the means. Motive, though? Isn’t that what makes life interesting?”

This was what she had least expected but she found herself pleasantly surprised. “I’ll be thinking about it.” He had a point. She might just go, simply to see what would happen, though she did not completely trust him just yet.

"Reservations are for eight at Intrépide," he said, unable to so his eyes from sweeping down her body and back up. "Wear something nice." He turned to leave, and with a complicated expression, locked eyes and said, "You deserve it, you know. A proper date."