A warm, tingly feeling had followed Hermione for the entire week after Draco's sweet surprise. The weather had turned dry and lovely, and they spent much of their time outside during the day, wandering through the gardens, reading in the shade, and picnicking out on the lawn. Draco had even convinced her to fly with him, though she had laughed her head off when he first approached her carrying two shiny, sporty brooms. It wasn't, she explained, that she  disliked  flying, per se, it was just that every time she  had flown since those classes first year had been a life-or-death situation. Draco's smile had faded at that, and he'd held her close and promised a fun, relaxing afternoon. So Hermione had mounted the broom, hovered a metre above the ground, and zig-zagged her way around the grounds at approximately one tenth of the broom's maximum speed with Draco at her side. 