"Would you like to go out?" fell out of Hermione's mouth, and her face blazed up maroon, her hands tangled in her lap, squashing the poor slice of toast beyond all hope of rescue and getting butter all over her hands. And Malfoy straightened in his chair and narrowed a steely, intent kind of gaze on her, filled with such a myriad of emotions that she had no hope of identifying them all. He cleared his throat and canted his head to the side, looking at her very carefully.