After more grueling Occlumency practices with marginal progress, more of Hermione's vanishing acts, and a few Friday night detentions later, the first Hogsmeade weekend finally came to be. Thus, it was time for Dean and I's long awaited date.

I'd talked about it with Malfoy the night prior. As with all other things that excite me, he wasn't too enthused about this one.

"After serious therapy and maybe a bloodline transplant, the last thing you need is a proper boyfriend," Malfoy wrinkled his nose when I'd brought it up, and looked like he'd eaten something sour for the rest of the night.

"Don't knock it till you try it," I told him cheerily. "There's still that Hogsmeade date I could set you up for. It's not too late — Harry's on the market, you know."

"For the last time, Holmes, I am not interested in Potter for anything other than his demise." He threw a pickled spider at me and was not pleased when I threw one back.

I was both nervous and excited, and I couldn't seem to stick to one or the other for very long. On one end, it was just like hanging out with Dean normally, except it would just be us, and we might hold hands — maybe even kiss?

On the other hand, I had no idea how to do the latter. I had no idea about anything concerning romance at all. I was shocked when I realized I'd be the first of all my friends to ever do such a thing. What parallel universe had I slipped into?

But it's Dean. Dean is Dean. There's nothing to be nervous about with him, which is thankfully what my mind decided when I met him in the Great Hall. He seemed completely at ease, and I wondered if he too had been as worried as I was.

"Hey you," he tells me with a bright smile.

"Hey yourself," I replied, starting to settle as I fell into step with him on the way out of the castle. "You look nice."

"Do I?" Dean looked down at his own attire. "I wasn't sure if the sweater was too much. Seamus said I was being ridiculous and threatened to beat me with a pillow if I kept freaking out over it."

I giggled at the image, also relieved that Dean was just as nervous as I was. The sweater in question was a warm sort of gold, and felt a bit scratchy when my arm brushed against it. I couldn't imagine what it was like to wear, but I didn't tell him as much for fear of stressing him out even further.

Our conversation flowed easily as we walked toward Hogsmeade. Dean's pinky found mine naturally, and we chatted away until we arrived. We went exploring in all of the different shops, though I didn't buy anything until Honeydukes, where I'd promised to get Harry some Treacle Tart. Dean split off to get something for Seamus' upcoming birthday, and I was surprised to see Malfoy standing by himself near the chocolate section.

"Dark," I remarked from behind him, properly startling him. "Excellent choice."

"You've got a terrible sneaking habit," he told me, but finally selected a box of dark chocolate caramel cauldrons from the shelf. "They're Pansy's favorite. She's had a tough week. We used to go through boxes of these in days when we were little."

His little nostalgic smile fascinates me, and so I eye him knowingly with a smile of my own. "Are you sure there's nothing going on there?"

"Of course not." He wrinkles his nose at the idea. "We're like you and Potter, for lack of a better analogy."

My face twisted up in disgust, and Malfoy snickered. "Yeah, that exactly."

"Where are all your friends, anyway?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. Malfoy grimaced.

"Three Broomsticks," he said. Then he cocked his head. "Your date?"

"He's here too, by the fizzing whizzbees," I indicated with a motion of my head. "Getting goodies for Seamus."

"And you are?" Malfoy eyed the Treacle Tart in my hand.

"Harry's favorite," I told him, silently appreciating the irony of the comparison he'd just made. He seemed to recognize it too, because he let out a soft, amused sort of sound.

"Interesting choice," he decided, though he said nothing derogatory about Harry's sweet preferences. "Well, get back to it then. I'll see you in detention next week."

"The last one, hopefully," I sighed, picturing the few ingredients still scattered on the floor. Malfoy pretended to take great offense.

"Oh? You don't enjoy my company, Holmes?" He teased. I rolled my eyes at him.

"You know I do," I shoulder-checked him as I walked past, up to the register. I reconciled with Dean after I paid for my single item. He looked to be in great distress over which type of whizzbee he wanted to get Seamus. I teased him relentlessly.

"Oh, I don't know," he huffed. "You can't go wrong with classic, but this extra-fizz type looks like something he'd enjoy."

"Get both?" I suggested. "Or you get one and I'll get the other."

"Not a bad idea," Dean and I walked up to the register, deciding on the latter idea. "I saw you talking to Malfoy, by the way," a very uncharacteristic type of scowl crossed his lips, "was he bothering you?"

"No, not at all," I reassured him. "He's buying chocolates for Pansy. It's easy to forget how nice he is, when he's not a total prat."

Dean snorts, "which is?"

"Once in a blue moon, yeah, yeah," I agreed begrudgingly. "He can be good, and I think that's worth sticking up for."

On the way to the Three Broomsticks, I told Dean about how he'd helped Hermione last year while I was out of commission, and how he'd underlined parts of the mythology book to help me understand what he knew.

"It's like he knew for sure I would check it out after him," I remarked, halfway in awe, halfway thoughtful. "I dunno. It's like he understands how I work."

We ended up getting a table in the corner, Dean ordering us two butterbeers. I'd never had it before, and was surprised at its sweetness.

"Stuff is divine, isn't it?" He grinned at my reaction. "I had some of this stuff at Seamus' last summer and I think I went through their whole supply in a week."

The conversation drifted into more stories about the summer, which then digressed into stories about last summer, Dean eyeing the pendant on my neck.

"It's nice that you wear it so much," he remarked.

I hadn't gotten back in touch with Anne since last school year, but I wore it every day to carry a part of her with me. It was unusually sentimental for me, but it felt like the right thing to do. I couldn't tell Dean about her though, so I told another truth instead. "Happy memories tied to it, yeah?"

"Yeah." He suddenly snorted, taking another swig from his tankard. "Still can't believe Neville ran over Malfoy's dad."

"God, he was livid." I snickered at the memory. "Malfoy cornered me in that shop, you know. Wouldn't stop making fun of my fanny pack."

Dean eyed me with a level of scrutiny I wasn't used to seeing from him. "You talk about Malfoy an awful lot."

"You brought him up." I reminded him. "And either way, it's not that strange. I get very invested in things that puzzle me."

"Right." Several emotions flitted across Dean's face — curiosity, disappointment, amusement. The nice thing about Dean was that he was easier to read than most. He wore his heart on his sleeve and his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, frowning.

"Nothing." He said quickly, the neutral expression he put on only lasting a few moments. "Well, no, something." He set down his butterbeer and clasped his hands in front of him rather formally. "Lila, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. "I really like you."

"I really like you too, Dean." My frown only grew, and I could feel a pit forming in my stomach. "What's this about?"

He only shook his head with a sad sort of smile. "In the nicest way possible, Lila, you're a bit clueless."

I blinked, because nobody had ever called me that before. "Huh?"

"I'm just not sure we're good for each other, is all." He elaborated further. "And besides, we're still young. I don't want to risk ruining our friendship because neither of us know how to be in a relationship."

"Well, I guess I agree with that." I conceded. I definitely did something wrong, but what was it? Did I talk about Malfoy too much? Probably, but it's not like I said I was in love with him or anything. Just typical, analytical statements about his character. Was that weird?

"Sorry I only told you just now. I hope that's okay with you," Dean looked a little guilty, and I wanted him to stop that immediately. He didn't do anything wrong. It was definitely my fault. "Here's to staying friends?"

I smiled and tried to hide my disappointment. "Of course."

I didn't know why I was so optimistic. Of course I would get dumped on a first date — how very characteristic of me.

"Lila, no man in their right mind would ever let you go," Hermione protested when I told her as much that night.

"He's just a boy," I replied, trying to convince myself just as much as Hermione, "and I'm just a girl. We're too young to know anyway — maybe we aren't right for each other."

As I said this, I watched Dean and Seamus walk into the Great Hall, both looking solemn. Dean and I made eye contact. I smiled softly, and he smiled back, and then I started shoveling peas into my mouth so that I wouldn't start sobbing.

"I think I did something." I frowned at my plate. "It's definitely my fault. I just don't know what."

I made the mistake of asking Malfoy about it in our next detention on Halloween. He laughed at first, but then tried to look sympathetic afterward for my sake. I appreciated the effort, despite feeling a little stung at his brashness.

"I doubt you did anything wrong." Malfoy polished a jar as he set it into the final row on the shelf. We were on the final letter, M, and probably would finish early. "I reckon Thomas finally realized that you're insane and did what was good for him."

I sent him my deadliest glare. "You're a right git, Malfoy. You know that?"

"I'm only joking." He raised his hands in surrender, his demeanor becoming sincere. "But really, Holmes. All you do is run toward danger." He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What made you think a guy you described as 'safe' would be good for you?"

I sniffed. Maybe he had a point, or maybe I was just terrible at all of this. "Well, most people wouldn't want somebody dangerous."

Malfoy sent me a look I couldn't quite decipher. "You're not most people."

I scoffed. "Well neither are you!"

"I know."  Malfoy said meaningfully. Whatever he was trying to tell me, I didn't understand, and so he sighed. "For somebody who loves playing detective, you're unbelievably clueless."

I frowned at the jar in my hand, as though it would answer my ongoing questions. "I wish people would stop telling me that."

Something about the berries in the jar caught my eye. Perhaps it was their pearlescent hue, or perhaps their clean, vanilla scent was escaping through cracks. Despite my better judgement, I unscrewed the top and took a long whiff. This time there were hints of ink and printed paper, of wet earth and peppermint tea.

"Come smell these, Malfoy." I looked at them curiously. He frowned, but obliged, inhaling and using his hand to waft the scent toward him. I could tell the scent hit his nose when he closed his eyes and exhaled. A small, nearly unnoticeable smile graced his lips.

"Merlin," he breathed. "What are these?"

"Moonberries," I told him after reading the label, because then my gaze immediately snapped back to the way he was smiling. He had such a nice smile, one that could melt snow and ice. His lips were chapped in some places where I knew he'd bitten them, a force of habit I've come to recognize for when he concentrates.

"Malfoy." I said suddenly. "I have a strange and sudden urge to kiss you."

"And I have a strange and sudden urge to let you." Clearly the most reasonable of the two of us, he took the jar from my hand and screwed the lid back on, putting it on the shelf where it belongs. "Must be the moonberries."

"Must be." I repeated thoughtfully. My feet walked me toward him outside my own volition. With a smirk, I leaned into his personal space. "I would never want to snog your ugly mug anyway."

"Oh how you wound me." He rolled his eyes, but made no move to back away. If anything, he seemed to be inching closer as well. His eyes were on mine, but flitted down to my lips in a traitorous, telling way. "It'll pass, right?"

My reply came as a mere breath. "Probably."

And then he kissed me. It was short and rather soft, but something in me must have short-circuited, because I leaned in to kiss him again. This time we stayed pressed together for an indiscernible amount of time, his fingers against my cheek and my hand twirled in his tie before a little voice inside me that sounded suspiciously like Ron screeched just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!

That's when I took a step back, eyes wide, and put my fingers to my lips. Malfoy was doing the same, looking like he was about to go into shock.

"Merlin." He whispered, the first of us to speak. "That was . . . certainly not how I expected tonight to go."

"I'm so sorry." I said immediately, eyes glued to the space behind Malfoy's left ear. "What was I thinking? I should have known about their potency — I've read about them in 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi-"

"Shut up. Don't apologize." He lifted his hand between us so I'd stop speaking. His other hand was still over his mouth. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "That was — wow, I —"

My brow creased in worry. "Have they not worn off yet?"

He removed the hand over his mouth to give me a shit-eating grin. "If I said no would you kiss me again to be sure?"

I whirled around, stricken with the effect that said grin had on me. Maybe they hadn't worn off after all, because my heart was hammering. "Alright, let's see if there's an antidote in here—"

"I'm messing with you Holmes," he told me, laughing rather horribly at my reaction. I scowled over my shoulder, flushed to the tips of my ears.

"Hilarious, Malfoy."

I registered footsteps, and backed away from the door just as it opened.

"I suppose you're finished, then?" Professor Snape asked, looking pleased at the lack of ingredients on the floor. We both nodded. He looked between us suspiciously. Somehow, I had a sinking feeling that he knew. "Are you getting along again?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, looking at me slyly. "Very well, actually."

I felt my cheeks flush and a shot him a glare.

"Good," said Professor Snape, nodding. As my annoyance began to fade, I noticed he was looking very grim.

"Is something the matter?" I asked him. Looking at my watch, I noticed it was only 9:20. Why was he here so early?

"There is," he grimaced. "I'll need you both to follow me. Sirius Black has been sighted in the castle."

"What?" I cried. "What happened?"

"He slashed your portrait trying to get into Gryffindor's common room," he said, his expression deadly. "Students are gathered in the Great Hall while the castle is searched."

"You can't be serious," said Malfoy, looking paler than usual. "How did he get in?"

"I have some ideas on the matter," said Professor Snape darkly. "I've informed the Headmaster of them already, but he isn't convinced."

He looked at me meaningfully, and I immediately understood. Who else but one of Sirius Black's closest friends? Who else but Professor Lupin?

The three of us set off down the corridor in silence. All the while, my mind whirled between Sirius Black and Professor Lupin and oh my God I just snogged Malfoy in detention and I hadn't hated it.

We stuck close together until we reached the great double doors. Professor Snape opened them for us and ushered us inside. I really just needed to go to sleep. Malfoy yawned from beside me, showing the sentiment was mutual.

"Not a word?" He raised an eyebrow at me. I nodded.

"Not a peep." I agreed. "Get some rest, then."

"Yeah, you too," Malfoy smirked at me. "I'll try and convince myself that was all a terrible dream."

"Lila! Glad to see you're alright!" Ron rushed over to me, ignoring Malfoy entirely.

"Alright, Weasley?" Malfoy asked anyway, and Ron did a double take. Malfoy didn't even seem to be sure himself what he'd just asked, and he looked vaguely like he regretted it.

"Fine," Ron eyed him warily, but didn't say another word. Malfoy picked a sleeping bag off from the floor and strutted off toward his house. I followed Ron back to where the other Gryffindors were, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"He's rather nice today, isn't he?" Ron remarked.

"Yes, he is," I said, subconsciously touching my lips. Thankfully, Ron didn't notice this.

"We're settled over here — though I doubt anyone's going to get any sleep," Ron said, motioning to a spot beside the wall where all of our friends sat.

I yawned. "I am."

"We'll keep it down for you," he assured me. I laid my bag down between Harry's and Hermione's and slid inside, ignoring everyone's whispered questions. Almost immediately, I was out.