Hermione spent the entire first scene mentally reviewing the exact phrasing of Draco's letter, which she'd read well more than six times even before showing it to parents. Mum had squealed with delight at the invitation, while Dad just scowled. What did she know? Draco had originally dressed formally, but not flashy. He'd changed after seeing her dress. He'd brought them in at the last minute, to a place where he'd know - of course he'd know - that Xare would be watched and kept away. Draco had commented about traveling incognito.

He'd planned to spy on his mother all along. Was this even a date?

(Out in the lobby, the manager stared at the Phoenix. Turning to the ushers, he said "Is it getting brighter? You see it, right?")

By the second scene Hermione had calmed down. Draco clearly liked her, but maybe he was more nervous than he looked – Draco almost never looked nervous – and he'd clearly be hearing all about this when he got home from Narcissa. She glanced over and saw that Draco was entranced by the play. It clearly had an affect on him, he hadn't been lying about wanting to see it.

And he hadn't really lied to her. He hadn't come out and said all of his motivations, but that didn't indicate what his primary motivation was. This could be a date, in Draco's mind, but also a date with some spying. That made it exotic. Maybe too exotic for a first date said the teenage-girl Hermione. Or maybe he couldn't admit it was a date to himself, and needed an excuse, said her inner librarian. The librarian reminded her of all the books that stated boys matured slower.

By the third scene, which revealed Lights's father as the Auror leading the investigation into the murders committed by his own son, Hermione had built up a convincing internal story where Draco had invited her as a romantic gesture, but had been too worried about rejection to couch it as a date. He hadn't dared hope that Hermione would accept it, hadn't felt worthy of Hermione. A year ago she never would have thought that, but she heard the whispers.

When the curtain fell for intermission Hermione realized she was being silly. Once they were in the lobby, age appropriate drinks in hand, she just asked Draco "Is this a date, exactly?"

"Yes! Of course," he said, a little too forcefully, and Hermione realized Draco might not have been entranced by the play, but had probably spent a good portion of his time worried about his situation and having an internal argument about her. After all, he already knew the plot on stage. She liked that thought.

"It's just," he said, slowly, glancing around to make sure that nobody seemed too near, "a bit of a working date. No, that didn't come out right. I wasn't sure how much of a date you considered it, or if it was just … hanging out. I've spent time with Muggle teenagers, you know. Things are done differently. I thought you'd be treating it like they did. Casually."

"And once you saw how I was dressed," she said and Draco nodded, taking a sip of his drink. Narcissa came out into the Lobby and Draco started to subtly move them into a crowd, not realizing that Xare's eyes glanced in Hermione's direction ever few seconds, providing anyone the ability to track them even if they were fully hidden. Still, Hermione went with him. "I don't see why you'd worry about your mother's dating life. I mean, I can see why it would upset you..."

"I didn't expect her to be with Lockhart!" Draco said, somewhat crestfallen.

"Does that make it better, who she's with? It doesn't matter, it's her business, not yours," but Hermione's voice didn't sound scolding. Draco's offense – a boy judging who a girl dated – offended her. In theory. Since it was his mother ... well, if one of her parent's died Hermione knew she'd be overly protective of the other. She felt Draco deserved a pass. And she was intensely curious. "Who did you expect?"

Draco glanced around again and whispered "Professor Slughorn" and at that moment Hermione forgave Draco's overly protective interest in his mother's dating life. She took Draco's hand firmly in hers, walked them out of the crowd to go and say her sweet and pleasant hello to Narcissa Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart.

Draco was, of course, too polite to refuse. Even if he blanched slightly.

Hermione beamed her most intense smile, "Good evening, Professor. Madam Malfoy."

"Mother. Professor." Draco said formally.

Gilderoy Lockhart may have spent the last few years in a jungle, but he'd spent prior decades living on his looks and his charm and he smiled radiantly, as though running into Draco and Hermione had been all he had hoped for this evening. "Generals," he said, "I must admit I'm surprised to see the two of you here, and looking wonderful."

Narcissa smiled sweetly, "Yes, everyone looks lovely, but I will not participate in this charade." Her smiled faded into a scowl. "But that is a lovely orchid, Hermione. Did Draco pick it out for you? Of course he did, where would you get that. And did he tell you what it symbolizes?"

Hermione knew that subcultures - especially wealthy aristocratic ones - assigned symbolic meanings for colours, flowers, flags, practically anything. Usually it was a game played by the upper class. Judging from Professor's Lockhart reaction, he didn't know what it meant either. But Draco clearly did.

"It doesn't symbolize anything Hermione," Draco said quickly, "it's just all I could find on short notice."

Narcissa leaned down to Hermione and looked into her eyes. Hermione held her breath and raised Occlumency barriers. She might not be able to keep Narcissa Malfoy out, but she'd know. Narcissa just smiled a crocodile's smile and said "I'm not surprised you don't know, even though it's an obvious symbol. Orchids are difficult to breed."

Narcissa stalked away. A few seconds later Professor Lockhart shrugged helplessly and started to turn away. Before he took even a single step Hermione started giggling. By the time he'd caught up to Narcissa, Hermione was laughing loudly.

Hermione, once she controlled herself, offered Draco her arm. "Your mom really doesn't understand me, does she? I didn't grow up in a Jane Austen book."

The ice cream shop, unlike the theatre, had customers of all ages. Teenagers, some nicely dressed and others in the latest shabby fashions, chomped on cones and slurped milkshakes alongside families with small children and older couples. Xare sat on the windowsill, looking in sadly – a young girl cried and screamed after Xare melted her banana split's ice cream and Hermione had scurried back outside before returning.

"Well, I knew the murderer was the protagonist – Muggle literature has anti-heroes, too - although I never understood the appeal," said Hermione, sipping her milkshake, "I just didn't expect the crowd to be cheering him."

"It's just a play, Hermione, it's not like they were..."

"I'm teasing you," said Hermione. "I don't judge people based on escapism. It didn't surprise me that they cheered Lawliet, but that the cheered at all during the play. Muggles might cheer during movies but in a play with actors I hadn't expected it. Although I suppose if you consider it a melodrama and give the victim a mustache to twirl...and in any case, it was an interesting play."

"Yes, similar to a Sherlock Holmes story" Draco said, taking a bite of his chocolate sundae.

"Yes, wait, you've read that?"

Draco paused and held up his hand, silent for a moment, then tapped his forehead. "Brain freeze. A few. It has charm, and I'm told they turned it into plays and movies. In some ways it reminds me of Harry."

"The lack of manners," said Hermione.

"The maniacal focus," Draco added.

"The fact that his companion is ever so much nicer," said Hermione, with a smile.

"Wait, which one of us is Watson in your imagination?" he asked.

"That depends on how we define Watson. If he's a competent soldier cleaning up after Holmes's social failings, that would be me. If he's comedic relief and serving as an audience surrogate, then I'm afraid the role falls to you."

Draco said "It would be the height of folly and rudeness for me to disagree. You are clearly the noble Watson to Harry's Holmes." He raised his spoon in salute, then continued eating. "In all seriousness, the trait that gets me is Holmes ability to quickly winnow down possibilities. If I see a man with ink on his robe, a shabby hat, and a brand new pocketwatch, I merely think he's written a letter and bought a watch more recently than a hat. But Holmes manages to come up with some much more esoteric theory."

"He's just a fictional character, like Lawliet, or Auror L."

"Yes, but you've seen Harry do it. I've seen it. I make some minor statement and then he's deduced the most amazing things." Draco looked down sadly at his empty bowl, then set down his spoon. "The methods he taught us, they can correct mistakes and guide us, but I don't know if he can teach us to make these stunning insights. That may just be his innate genius."

"Harry lent me a book about one of his scientific heroes that said something like, 'There are two types of genius. The first type you look at and say, if only I study harder, practice harder, and spend the long years required for mastery, then I could do that. And the second type, you don't even know where to begin.' Harry does seem like the second type."

"Yes, I mean, I figured out how he did a lot of things from last year. And those things impressed me quite a bit, Neville's Rememberal."

Hermione put down her shake. "You know how Harry did that?" She had to hear this.

"The last piece of the puzzle was when you saved me from bullies. I know you weren't there when you caught me, and I realized … invisibility cloak. I'd already figured out his spinster wicket was a time turner. With the two of those you can do a lot. You aren't wearing yours tonight, I noticed. But it's almost midnight … I can't imagine your parents let you stay out this late."

Hermione blushed. "I put it in my purse. It didn't go well with the dress. And coming back from the dead makes your parents recalibrate curfew hours. But yes, I'm going to be home before ten," she added, feeling a small frisson of delight in keeping her father in the dark.

"That's really good, Draco, I never figured it out."

"Well," he said, "you didn't grow up around magic. Anyway, those tricks are impressive, but not because of what he did. Because I wonder how he managed to get those devices so quickly. But I've seen him, in conversations with Father, quickly infer subtle little details like Holmes would do and smoke out plans. I know he's improvising and not cheating. Or if he is cheating, it's still impressive. Harry's …. flying on a broom while juggling, dodging bludgers, blindfolded. And making it look easy. I don't see how the techniques are going to get us to that level."

"I don't think they will," added Hermione, finishing her milkshake with a small slurp.

"No, but wouldn't it be nice?"