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Chapter Text

*Hermione*

“Viktor!” Hermione’s voice rang through their flat.

She grabbed her boots and rushed out of the closet, stumbling as she tried to shove her foot into one while making her way towards the full length mirror. 

“Are you ready? We need to be there in five and you know how Oliver gets when he has to wait. Honestly, I don’t know how Gin puts up with him.” She mumbled that last bit under her breath as she tugged her other boot on. 

A quick once over in the mirror, a smooth of her skirt, and she was off again, handbag and jacket in tow. “Viktor, did you hear me?” She called, hurrying towards the Floo.

When she reached the living room, Viktor was standing there with his back to her. 

“There you are, are you all set?” She asked, slipping her jacket on. But he didn’t move. He stood utterly still,  almost as if he was in some kind of trance, not quite aware that Hermione was even there.

“I’m actually looking forward to this dinner tonight,” she went on, undeterred, her eyes lighting up at the thought of Tandoori Chaat and paneer. “They’re supposed to have the best Indian food in London. I read through all the reviews in the last few months and went over the menu, obviously, so I’m fully prepared for our order.” She said it with a teasing smile, though she meant every word. 

Her favorite part of trying a new restaurant, or even revisiting an old favorite, was the ritual of menu studying beforehand, carefully plotting her entire meal. Viktor thought it was mad, but she loved being prepared.

“Now that I think about it, I’m not sure how Gin managed this reservation last minute,” Hermione frowned slightly. “She’ll swear she didn’t Confund anyone, but I don’t believe her. Five Galleons says she cracks after her second drink.” She laughed, walking up behind Viktor and looping her arms around his waist. 

As she pressed closer, her fingers brushed against the edge of a paper clutched tightly in his hands.

Hermione smiled, nuzzling against his back, already guessing what had captured his attention. “Must be a riveting article,” she teased. “Did Lee at least mention how fit you look chasing the snitch, or did he keep it strictly professional and stick to analyzing your Wonky-Faint thing?” She giggled as she squeezed him tighter.

Her voice and touch seemed to snap him out of it. Viktor stepped away suddenly, shoving the Evening Prophet behind his back. His eyes darted around before dropping to the floor near her feet.

“Are you alright?” She asked, unease prickling through her. Her instincts were usually quick to sound the alarm, but she’d been trying to relax that reflex. At least at home. With Viktor.

Maybe too much.

“It’s a Wronski Feint” he corrected quietly, finally acknowledging her, though he still looked dazed.

“Bugger, I can never get that straight,” she murmured, tugging on her sleeves as she took a cautious step closer.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. “Viktor, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He finally met her gaze, his eyes widening as he swallowed hard. And then, all at once, it all started spewing out. 

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. It was a mistake. A one time thing that meant nothing. She meant nothing. Less than nothing. You’re everything to me, Hermione. And fucking Skeeter, will she never quit?” 

He sounded on the verge of tears, but Hermione couldn’t be sure. Nothing was making sense. Her body seemed to know a crash was coming and had shut down in self defense. Her mind felt slow and her stomach hollow. The dinner she’d been looking forward to had become a distant, meaningless thought.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I love everything about you, Hermione, you have to understand.” His words came faster now, more desperate, like repetition could somehow rewrite reality. “This was nothing. I promise you,  it was nothing. I promise, I promise, I promise.” 

Hermione stood there, feeling as though her head was were floating away while her feet remained rooted to the ground. At least she assumed they were, Viktor was still staring at them after all. 

Was she going mad? Is this what losing it felt like? Her head felt thick with Wrackspurts, and that was a deeply unsettling thought.

“It was a mistake. She meant nothing. You have to forgive me. I love you, Min-”

She raised her hand to stop him. She needed a minute to think, to breathe. Maybe Luna had been right all along. All those long nights in the library and now at the Ministry had finally addled her brain at the most inconvenient moment.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

When she finally spoke, her voice sounded smaller than it had in years. “What was a mistake?”

Viktor kept his eyes on the floor, tears now unmistakably running down his cheeks. 

“Who meant nothing, Viktor?” Her question cutting through the unbearable quiet.

He shifted, visibly uncomfortable, then looked up. It seemed his voice had also gone missing ,because when he finally responded she could barely hear him.”Daphne Greengrass.”

“Pardon?” Hermione’s voice trembled as she began to shake, trying to make sense of the words.

But it didn’t make sense. 

They’d been together for three years. Lived in this flat, their home, for the past two. Before that, they’d exchanged owls on and off since the summer after fourth year. He’d met her parents, helped bring them back from Australia, and sat beside her at St. Mungo’s while the healers worked to reverse the memory charm she’d cast on them before the war. Merlin, he’d even become a patient at their dental practice, eager to get to know them and understand her Muggle upbringing. 

She’d spent holidays in Bulgaria with his family, enduring the annual massacre of her name with a sort of grim affection. She’d gone to more Quidditch matches than she could count and more often than not, even left her book at home so she could properly cheer for Viktor with the other WAGs.

And just this week while he’d been away at his match and she was busy putting away laundry, she’d found a little velvet box tucked in his drawer, holding an abhorrently large diamond ring. 

So needless to say, no, she hadn’t seen this coming. 

Maybe she should’ve taken Divination more seriously. Lavender probably would have foreseen this ages ago. Hermione’s future had likely been swirling about in a crystal ball or written clear as day in the dregs of her tea leaves, just waiting for her to open her inner eye and see into the beyond. 

If only she’d taken the time to look and of course believed in such utter nonsense. 

Why were the only things she could think of right now Wrackspurts and Divination?! The ridiculousness of it was what finally snapped something inside of her.

Hermione became vaguely aware of Viktor whispering her name, his voice reverent and low, as he tried to step closer but couldn’t. Without meaning to, she must have cast a Protego, some instinctive reflex of self preservation. She wandlessly lowered the charm but stepped back just the same.

She thought she’d heard him say Daphne Greengrass, but she chose to ignore that for the time being, she barely even knew the witch. Instead, she latched onto something more familiar. 

“What did you say about Rita Skeeter?” She asked, recalling something from his earlier ramble.

Viktor shook his head, swallowing hard before glancing down at the crumpled Evening Prophet still clutched in his hands. 

“Please don’t read it,” he said hoarsely. “I can make this better, I promise you. I need you, Hermione.” 

His voice cracked on her name.

She just stared at him, holding out her hand, having no idea what to say.

Defeated, he handed over the paper. Hermione’s fingers trembled as she took it, saying nothing. She stared at the front page while Viktor began apologizing again, words tumbling out until they all blurred together into the room’s hum.

And there they were, the words that finally started to register. Ready to upend her life, loud and ugly in a bold, jarring font above Rita Skeeter’s byline. 

Has Krum Finally Tired of the Golden Girl and Caught a Sterling Pureblood Witch? 

She hated that bloody nickname and had always known it would one day be turned against her. Rita had probably been counting down the hours, just waiting for Hermione’s war heroine status to go stale.

Beneath the headline was a photograph, taken in haste, at quite a distance, late at night. It was so dark it was hard to tell exactly what she was looking at. A large man, possibly Viktor, was rubbing his hands up and down a fair-haired witch pressed up against an alley wall. 

Her mind grasped for something, anything, to make sense. Maybe it was a dreadful misunderstanding. Maybe Viktor was apologizing for something else. Maybe the Prophet was wrong. Godric knew they’d twisted the truth about her many times in the past. 

That was the hope of someone truly desperate and muddled with Wrackspurts, because in the next instant the man in the photo turned his head. From the back she might have let herself deny it, but his face was unmistakable .

Hermione looked up at Viktor, the real Viktor, her Viktor, not the one that seemed to be laughing at her from the front page. Her eyes blinked and blinked and her breath quickened and thinned as everything he’d been saying finally caught up. Her head felt like it was underwater and she was barely keeping afloat. She knew she couldn’t read the article, she knew her panic would swallow her whole if she stayed.

She set the paper down and turned toward the Floo. 

Viktor moved, trying to block her path. “Minny, talk to me please. Say something”

Tears clung to her lower lashes. Not that name, Minny, the nickname he’d given her back in fourth year when he still struggled with Hermione. It stirred up too many memories. Memories he clearly considered disposable for one night with Daphne fucking Greengrass. 

She couldn’t do this. Not right now. 

“I need-“

Whatever she needed was abruptly cut off by a silver, misty horse galloping through the living room. The Patronus skidded to a halt right in front of her, and Ginny Weasley’s raging voice followed it in, which was oddly comforting, since Hermione lacked the strength to be angry.

“I just saw the Prophet, I’m on my way. That fucking arsehole better be gone by the time I get there or I swear to Merlin, I will beat him senseless with George’s old beater bat. No, better yet, I’ll get Fred and George to and maybe Charlie. Ron’s been wanting to Avada him since fourth year….. it’ll look like an accident. Don’t you move a muscle, I’ll be right there.”

Viktor began pacing. “Fuck,” he hissed, drawing the word out into multiple syllables and raking his hands through his hair. “Hermione, I need you to listen to me. We can sort this out, I know we can.”

She just stood there frozen and helpless. How could she be so utterly stuck? Being stuck miles below the surface in a vault beside a dragon had felt simpler than this. 

Ginny stepped through the Floo at that moment, wand already out. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear that you were not to be here,” she snapped, marching straight up to Viktor.

“You’ve done more than enough, Vicky. Now get out of my way and get even further away from her,” she sneered, then softened at the sight of Hermione. “Let’s pack you a bag and head to my flat, alright?” She asked gently, taking Hermione’s hand and steering her away from Viktor.

Hermione nodded while mumbling a quiet okay as tears began to fall faster.

“Minny, please. I need you here. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” he pleaded

“Didn’t I tell you to get the fu-“ Ginny started, voice rising.

Hermione cut in, and even though it was soft, it sounded as if every other noise in the flat ceased to exist. “Was the ring in your drawer for me?”

Viktor’s eyes widened, blindsided, and Ginny blinked, just as surprised.

“You found the ring?” He asked cautiously, his voice laced with an air of hope.

She nodded.

“Of course it’s for you, Minny. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to propose. I want to be with you forever.” 

Ginny stared at him, blinking madly. “Well, I think you nailed it. Seems like you’ve created the perfect fucking moment.”

Hermione barely heard her. Another question was burning on her tongue, and before she could stop herself, it spilled out. Her Gryffindor bravery choosing now to finally roar.

“Did you sleep with her?”

Ginny moved closer, sliding an arm around Hermione's back, her glare fixed on Viktor.

The hope drained from his face in an instant. “Hermione….” he said, his voice thick with guilt.

“Did you sleep with her, Viktor?”

He nodded and then rushed to add words to that damning motion. “But it was a mistake, I regretted it immediately. I just…I don’t know what came over me. I was so nervous, planning the proposal, worrying you’d say no or think it was too soon to talk about marriage and starting a family. I know how driven and headstrong you are—”

“So it’s my fault you slept with her?” Hermione interrupted quietly. “Because I care about my career and I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mum yet?” Her voice still sounded so small. Too calm. Too fragile. The fury she expected to feel was nowhere in sight. 

Ginny, on the other hand, looked ready to curse his bollocks off.

“No!” Viktor shouted quickly. “No, none of this is your fault. It’s mine. Entirely mine. And I’ll do anything to fix this. I want to marry you, Hermione. Nothing’s changed.”

Ginny let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Fucking wizards. Unbelievable.”

“Maybe nothing’s changed for you,” Hermione said, voice trembling, “but for me….everything has. I need to get out of here.” 

Ginny took her by the arm. “Let’s go get your things and head out.”

“Hermione, ple-” Viktor started, stepping forward.

“No,” Ginny snapped, rounding on him. “We’re done here. I’m taking her back to mine and you can rot for all I care. Don’t even think about contacting her. I’m locking my Floo, and if I so much as catch a glimpse of your Snidget Patronus whizzing by, I’ll come back and hex you so hard it’ll hurt to even think about sitting on a broom ever again.”

Hermione let Ginny lead the way. In her room, she grabbed a bag and began pulling clothes off hangers at random, handing them over while Ginny, ever practical, added pyjamas, toiletries, and a few jumpers. 

Realizing she was being no help at all, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, picking at her nails and trying uselessly to block out the image of Viktor and Daphne.

Before her imagination could betray her completely, Harry’s stag burst into the room, silver light flooding the space. Hermione jumped as the Patronus came to a stop in front of them. 

“Ron and I just saw the paper. We can come get you straightaway.” Harry’s voice echoed, followed by distant shouting. “I’m going to bloody murder him! I always knew he was a twat. Couldn’t get a girl his own age, what a-“ 

“Ron, slow down, that’s not helping.” Harry cut in. “What I was trying to say, Hermione, is we can come right over. Get your things together and send a message back. If we don’t hear from you in five minutes, we’re coming anyway.”

Ron’s voice bellowed after him, “whether that fucking ogre likes it or not!” 

And with that the stag ran off, leaving the two women in silence until Ginny’s mouth curved into a small, wry smile.

“Well,” she said softly, “that was….sweet.” She turned to Hermione, “I’ll head them off though, yea? You've had enough for one night.” 

She smoothed Hermione’s hair down, then pulled her into a fierce hug. Hermione latched on, unwilling to let go. Needing her best friend to keep her upright.

Ginny quickly sent off her own Patronus, letting the boys know she had Hermione and they’d regroup tomorrow. Hermione held on the whole time, Ginny never loosening her grip.

Finally, Ginny pulled back, cupping Hermione’s face in both hands. “Just another minute, okay? We’re almost out of here.”

She grabbed the bag and led Hermione back down the hall. Her wand drawn like this was a battle and not them walking down the hall toward her boyfriend.

Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Hermione couldn’t tell anymore. She could figure that out later. For now, she just wanted to fall asleep and wake up somewhere else

When they reached the living room, Viktor was on the sofa, bent over with his head in his hands. He looked up as soon as he heard them, eyes red rimmed and desperate.

Ginny jabbed her wand out, her glare fierce.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I heard you. I’m not going to stop you or try anything. I just thought I heard Potter and your brother. They’re not coming, are they?” 

“No,” Ginny said coolly. “You lucked out.  You only have to deal with me. For now”

Viktor nodded then turned to Hermione. He looked so lost, which was at such odds to how he normally looked. He was a Seeker, nothing was ever truly lost to him. 

“I’m so sorry, Minny,” he said softly. “I’ll be here, waiting for you. Please come back soon.”

Ginny tightened her grip on Hermione’s  hand once and pulled her into the hearth. Emerald flames roared to life  as Ginny called out their destination. 

Hermione glanced back one last time. Viktor’s face swam before her, blurred by smoke. Or maybe by the haze of an uncertain future.

Either way, she couldn’t tell anymore.

Chapter Text

*Ginny*

Ginny woke early the next morning. Somehow, she’d managed to convince Hermione to take a Dreamless Sleep potion and had successfully headed off Harry and Ron before they could come barging through her Floo late last night. Hermione had been right on the verge of a panic attack, and the last thing she needed was those two bombarding her with questions about Krum.

What Hermione had needed was a good night's sleep and some distance from that wanker. Not that Ginny had phrased it like that at the time, she’d been trying to be comforting, after all. She’d save the proper bashing for tomorrow. Godric knew Ron wouldn’t hold back.

Getting Hermione to take the potion had been easier than expected. She hadn’t even put up a fight, just kept mumbling, “I don’t understand,” and “what am I going to do,” over and over. Ginny had stayed close all night, making sure she didn’t startle awake, but Hermione had slept soundly. So soundly, in fact, that it was now nearly ten in the morning. Completely unheard of for her.

Taking advantage of the rare peace, Ginny popped down to the cafe on the corner for pastries and coffee. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the boys off for much longer, and the tea back at her flat wasn’t nearly strong enough for the day ahead. 

As she walked, she ruminated over just how livid she truly was. She’d always known Quidditch lads were the worst. Hell, she was surrounded by them, both at work and in her personal life, but even that hadn’t prepared her for this. 

Thankfully, the Holyhead Harpies were all women, but the league itself was still a bloody boys’ club. 

She liked Oliver. Well. some parts of him more than others. But she wasn’t delusional. He could be a right arse, especially around his teammates. When the Puddlemere blokes got together, they were insufferable. She avoided them at all costs, preferring to see Wood alone. And in her bed. 

And then, of course, there was Krum. 

What pissed her off the most, was that she’d actually liked Krum. He was funny in his own blunt, brutish way, and he’d brought Hermione into her world of Quidditch. They’d been close all through school, but it wasn’t until after graduation, when Hermione had properly started dating Krum, that they’d become best friends. 

Harry and Ron would probably argue they were still her best friends, that Golden Trio rubbish, but Ginny knew better. Hermione was the sister she’d never had and always wanted.

They may have hunted horocruxes together and survived that never-ending camping trip from hell, but Ginny and Hermione knew everything about each other. They shared all the details.

Well, except for Hermione’s brief dalliance with Ron. Even then, all Ginny knew was that is had been a one time, “in case we die” shag in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts.

In the bloody Chamber of Secrets. 

That was already more than enough information, thank you very much.

Although….part of her did wish Hermione had slept with literally anyone else down there, just so she could ask questions without being emotionally scarred for life. 

Did they destroy the Horocrux before or after? 

Did it occur to either of them that their best friends were inches from death at that exact moment, and that they were shagging in the same spot they’d nearly died a few years earlier? And if so, did it kill the mood? 

Most importantly, did Hermione feel the ghost of Salazar Slytherin judging her while she lost her virginity? Ginny reckoned Hermione might’ve got off on that alone. Being a Muggleborn and fucking a pureblood in Slytherin’s own secret dungeon? It was poetic. Vindictive. Very Hermione.

At the cafe she ordered enough food to feed a small army, knowing Harry and Ron would be over soon and her brother would act like he hadn’t eaten in days. She crammed the pastries into her handbag while no one was looking (thank Merlin for Hermione and her extension charms), balanced the coffees with a sneaky hovering spell, and hurried back to her flat. 

The place was still blissfully quiet when she stepped inside. She set the drinks down carefully and was just reaching for plates when Ron’s silver terrier came tearing through her living room, chased his tail, and leapt up to lick her face. 

Honestly, couldn’t he control this thing? 

“Gin, Harry and I are coming over whether you like it or not. We’ll be there in five.” 

The terrier sat panting but didn’t fade. 

Ron’s voice was back. “And could you maybe have some breakfast for us? I’m starving, and Parvati’s been away for work all week, so there’s no food.” 

“Ron.” She could practically hear Harry rolling his eyes. 

A second later Harry’s voice chimed in. “Sorry about that, Gin. We’ll be over in a few. Just want to make sure she’s okay,”

She’d barely set the plates down when the pair of them came striding through her Floo. 

“That was not five minutes!” Ginny snapped.

Ron grinned, eyes lighting up at the sight of the pastries. “You did get breakfast for us. Have I ever told you you’re the best sister ever?” 

He snatched a pumpkin pasty off the counter and headed straight into the living room.

“Use a plate, you animal!” Ginny huffed. “Mum’s coming over in a few days, and I refuse to sit through another lecture about my embarrassing lack of knowledge on household charms.” She shot a glare at Harry. “Apparently no wizard will ever want me if I can’t keep a home clean. She’s convinced that’s why we broke up.”

“That’s definitely why,” Harry smirked. “Well, that and the fact that you don’t have a cock and I’m into blokes.”

“Nope,” Ron cut in, mouth full of pastry. “No references to the two of you ever being involved. That was a dark time for me.”

“Oh yes,” Harry snarked dryly, “how could I forget what a dark time that was for you.” 

Ginny snorted. She loved when Harry got cheeky. She grabbed her own breakfast and nodded toward the coffees.

“Is she still sleeping?” Harry asked, glancing around like he was on a case.

“Yea,” Ginny sighed. “I gave her a Dreamless Sleep last night, but I thought she’d be up by now.”

Ron spluttered, sending crumbs everywhere. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ron. Clean that up.” Ginny had no idea why she ever let him come over. Clearly, knowledge of household charms had nothing to do with one’s ability to find a match, since Ron and Parvati had been together for years and had a baby on the way.

“She’s not up?! Have you checked on her? Is she breathing?” He brushed the crumbs around in a half-hearted attempt at tidying,  succeeding only in grinding them deeper into the sofa.

“Is she breathing? What….of course she’s breathing, you dolt. Why wouldn’t she be? She’s just having a lie in.” Ginny exhaled before adding, “it was a rough night.”

Harry looked concerned. “When did you get there last night?”

“She already knew. The paper was on the table and they were talking when I flooed over. Well, Krum was talking. More like pleading.”

“What an absolute wanker. She is not taking him back,” Ron started to shout.

“Ron, keep it down! And we can’t tell her what to do, she’s a grown woman and can make her own choices.” Ginny happened to agree with Ron, but knew that wasn’t the approach to take with Hermione. They ate in silence for a few minutes while Ginny worked out her best plan for convincing Hermione to leave Krum. Harry broke into her thoughts.

“Did he really do it? I mean, we saw the photo and read the article….but really? Daphne Greengrass?”

“He did. While also planning his proposal to me. I don’t know if it was simultaneous. Hopefully not. But given the timing, potentially.”

They all turned to look at Hermione, standing in the hallway as if she were a ghost. Ginny hopped up the instant Hermione spoke. 

“I smell coffee. Can I have one?” Everything she said was flat and sure. None of the shaky uncertainty of last night.

“Of course, let me grab it.” Ginny leaned in and kissed the top of Hermione’s head. “Want a scone? I got your favorites, with the jam” 

Hermione nodded, and Ginny squeezed her shoulder before hurrying into the kitchen like Hermione’s life depended on it. “Thanks Gin, that sounds lovely.”

Ginny heard them murmuring while she plated two scones with extra blackcurrant jam and poured Hermione’s coffee into a large mug, adding a dash of cinnamon. She prayed Ron would keep it light until Hermione had at least a few sips. An owl scratched at the window. Based on the time, she suspected it was the Daily Prophet.

She caught Harry’s eye and nodded toward the window. “Can you grab the post?” She mouthed, trying not to let the others see. Hermione and Krum were definitely front page news again, and the last thing she needed was Ron reading it aloud in full theatrical fury. Harry got up with a look of mutual understanding and went to fetch the paper. At least Harry had a filter and knew to tread lightly.

When Ginny came back, Hermione was curled under a blanket and Ron was mercifully occupied with the pastries. Ginny had just sat beside Hermione, handing her the coffee, when Harry stormed back in, the Prophet held aloft. 

“How can we possibly be fucking mum? It’s barely been twelve hours!” He spluttered.

So much for delicacy.

“Honestly, Hermione, you should’ve kept her in that jar,” he grumbled, tossing the paper on the table.

“Thanks, Harry. So glad I had you grab that.” Ginny snatched the Prophet before Ron could reach it. The headline flashed across the front page: Golden Trio Mum After Breakup With Krum. 

Hermione scooted closer, and Ron jumped up and read over her shoulder. 

“Were we supposed to owl her our thoughts in the middle of the bloody night?” Harry grumbled, after giving them a moment to catch up.

Ron, having seen enough, took to pacing, clearly unable to handle this level of anger standing still. “I can go down there right now and—“

“No Ron, please don’t!” Hermione’s voice cut through. Ginny could see how the idea of another Skeeter expose, more invasion of privacy, more humiliation, made Hermione recoil. The Prophet ran the Wizarding World. Hermione may have escaped their flat but this story was inescapable. 

“That’s unnecessary,” Hermione went on. “I actually think it’s best if we all do what she’s suggesting and keep quiet about the whole thing.”

“Really, Hermione? You’re just going to let him get away with this? He should be the one being trashed in the papers, not you!” Ron snatched the Prophet out of Ginnys’ hands and shook it in front of Hermione, like he could possibly hypnotize her into his way of thinking.

Ginny watched Hermione’s face trying to get a read on her. She didn’t look like she completely disagreed with Ron, more just nervous about making things worse. Feeling the train wasn’t about to derail, Ginny climbed aboard. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but….I kind of agree with Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you believe you’re saying that?” 

Ginny ignored him and kept watching Hermione. Hermione put her mug down and worried at her bottom lip. “Even if he was the one blamed, I’ll still be dragged into it. Rita won’t suddenly be fair. She’ll twist it so it looks like my fault he cheated.”

She was right, of course. Rita Skeeter would never write an unbiased piece about Hermione. Few would forgive being trapped in a jar.

“What if Rita didn’t write the story,” Ron’s grin was already forming.

“That’s it!” Harry said, pointing, eyes bright.

“What’s it? What have you two figured out before us?” Ginny asked, gesturing wildly between herself and Hermione. Ron shot her an offended look.

“Parvati can write the article,” he said, turning to Hermione. “She could do a full piece in Witch Weekly that tells what really happened. And I mean, you’re the Golden Girl. Odds are it'd be a cover story.” He smirked.

Hermione looked mildly horrified, but there was a flicker of consideration in her eyes. “It’s actually not a bad idea—“

“No need to sound so shocked, Hermione. Honestly, you two act like I’m bloody Longbottom or something,” Ron interrupted.

“Hey, watch it. We actually like Neville.” 

Ron pulled a face and flicked her a rude hand gesture. Ginny only grinned. 

Hermione giggled before finishing her thought. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. Godric, I don’t even know what I’m doing…..where I’m going to live.” The same look of panic from last night settled over her again, soft and heavy, like a veil.

“You can stay here, of course!” Ginny blurted before Hermione could even finish.

“Where is she supposed to sleep, Gin? On the sofa?” Ron asked, pacing again. 

Harry laughed. “Plus, rumor has it you and Wood are a bit….rambunctious.” 

Ginny smirked. She loved that things between her and Harry had never turned awkward. And loved even more how much he enjoyed winding Ron up.

Ron mimed gagging, scowling at his best friend, “Oi! Harry, no! Why?”

Ginny winked at Harry, “Well, that rumor is true, but we can tone it down.”

“Please, stop. I’m begging you”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for Hermione to move in with me? I’ve got loads of extra space and no boyfriend, so the nightly theatrics won’t be an issue.” Ah, so that’s why Harry brought up Oliver. She was feeling notably less chummy with him now.

Ginny was about to plead her case when Hermione jumped in. “Thank you both, but I couldn’t impose. They’re right, Gin. I’d take up too much space here. And as much as I appreciate it, Harry, I don’t know how comfortable I feel living somewhere the portraits still scream about my blood status.”

Harry winced. “I’ll look back into getting her removed. You said Nott’s good at that sort of curse breaking, right?”

“He is. Especially ones steeped in blood magic. And I’m sure he’d love to help.” Hermione game him a small smile.

“You could stay with Parvati and me…though the baby will be here soon, so that would probably….” he trailed off, realizing of course that Hermione would not want to be roommates with a newborn. “Oh! You could stay at The Burrow. Mum and Dad would absolutely love it, and there are loads of spare rooms. Plus, you’d never go hungry.”

“Thanks Ron,” she smiled warmly. “But as comforting as that sounds, I don’t think moving into The Burrow will help me move on. And I can’t even imagine the headlines Rita would come up with if I moved into your family’s home after my break up with Viktor.” She shuddered and Ginny had to agree.

“Well, I can help you look for a place!” Ginny scooted closer on the sofa, nudging her. “How hard can it be to find a flat in London.”

“Thanks, Gin. That’d be great.” Hermione’s voice wobbled slightly. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I know I’ll be fine without him, and eventually, I’ll feel fine on my own.” She shook her head. “I just didn’t think I would be without him.”

Silence settled over them again, just like it had before Hermione had waltzed in. Everyone seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. Something supportive or lean in for the kill.

Ginny reached her arm around Hermione and pulled her in tight.

“Fuck Krum,” Ron lead with. So the kill it was. “And fuck Greengrass too. Do we even know anything about her?”

“You mean, other than her being a snake who shags famous Quidditch players who aren’t available?” Ginny said scathingly.

Hermione pursed her lips, tilting her head to look at Ginny.  Finally, she nodded. “Yea, I’ll allow that. I’m feeling a bit petty.”

“That’s my girl,” Ginny said proudly.

“I’ve met her sister a few times,” Harry said. “Malfoy’s engaged to her…. or their fathers signed some backwards contract saying they eventually have to marry and pop out pureblood heirs. I’m not entirely sure on the specifics.

Merlin, sometimes Ginny loathed being a pureblood. Her mum could be insufferable, but at least she wasn’t arranging her future. 

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “he brings her around to Ministry events sometimes, though he doesn’t seem to like her much. And as much as I loathe to agree with Malfoy, she is trying.” 

Ron visibly recoiled at the name Malfoy. Honestly, her brother could be so dramatic.

Harry added, “Malfoy never has anything nice to say about the family on the whole, but then again, I’ve never heard him say anything nice about anyone. Or anything, come to think of it.”

“So, even Malfoy can’t stand them. They sound charming.” Ron finally stopped pacing, flopping into an armchair and kicking his feet up.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” Hermione said softly. “She could be the nicest person in the world, and she’d still be the woman Viktor cheated on me with.”

Leave it to Hermione to be insanely logical, even in a crisis. Ginny squeezed her again. “Fuck him.”

“Exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck Krum!” Ron chanted. “And not to bring it up now, but I’ve said it for years. You were always too good for him.” 

“Why start with that if you’re literally bringing it up right now?” Ginny shook her head. Hermione smiled, and out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Harry watching her closely, as if to make sure she really was okay.

“You used to love Viktor,” Hermione pointed out. “Remember the summer before fourth year?”

“I never loved Viktor,” Ron said his name like it was something disgusting stuck to his shoe. Hermione arched a brow. “I respected him as a Seeker almost ten years ago. Now I think he’s gotten a bit lazy. And clearly taken one too many Bludgers to the head.”

Harry nodded in agreement, clearly about to chime in, but Ron ploughed on, his enthusiasm building. “They should rename his Wronski Feint to the ‘Wrong-Saw That One Coming From a Mile Away.’ Amirite?!” His eyes darted between them, waiting for applause.

Ginny chortled, shaking her head, “That’s awful. Ron, you work at a fucking joke shop, how are you this bad at jokes?” 

“I sell jokes, I don’t tell them, Gin.”  He grabbed the pillow wedged behind him and lobbed it at her. The grin spreading across his face was contagious. Even Hermione was laughing now.

Ginny deflected it before it made contact, “Oi! Watch it!”

While laughing and attempting to cram another scone in his mouth, Harry chimed in. “I thought it was pretty good, mate. Rolls right off the tongue, we should test it at the next match.”

As their laughter faded, Ginny picked back up the Daily Prophet from where Ron had tossed it earlier. Beneath the headline was a photo from a month or so ago of Harry, Ron, and Hermione drinking and laughing at a bar in Diagon Alley. Krum had been deliberately cut out. Ginny knew he’d been sitting right next to Hermione, because she’d been across from him. But his absence gave Rita all the space she needed to wildly speculate and spin her usual poisonous nonsense.

“Well, at least you look fit in this photo,” Ginny mused.

“Why does that matter?” Hermione asked, voice rising slightly,. Though Ginny caught her sneaking a glance.

“Well, you’re single now, aren't you?” Ginny narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether Hermione was actually considering taking Krum back. Across from her, Ron and Harry went utterly still, watching her carefully.

Hermione bit her lip, then tugged on it, like she wasn’t sure if biting it was enough. She inhaled deeply, then said so softly on her exhale, “yea, I think so.” She closed her eyes and muttered under her breath, “fucking wrackspurts.” 

No one dared speak, afraid to interrupt whatever was happening inside her head. Then she opened her eyes and said with sudden clarity, “yes, I am. I clearly can’t trust him anymore. And the more I think about it, the more I kind of think he was right.”

“What?” Harry and Ron shouted in unison, disbelief etched on their faces.

“Right?! Hermione, he’s a fucking wanker,” Ginny blurted before she could stop herself.

“It’s just….he’d been bringing up marriage and kids for almost a year and I kept brushing him off. And when I found that ring, the first thing I did was panic.”

“A ring? What ring?” Harry sat up so fast he nearly knocked his coffee over.

Hermione waved a hand as if it were irrelevant. “Oh, I found a ring last week in his drawer while I was tidying up.” 

Ginny had heard her mention the ring last night, but didn’t have all the details. Her shock must’ve been obvious because Hermione reached out and squeezed her shoulder, pulling her from the brief sting of hurt she’d felt at not knowing sooner.

“I was going to tell you,” Hermione said, looking directly at Ginny before glancing at the others. “All of you. I only found it a few days ago, and you were away at a match, Gin. I thought about sending a Patronus or a note, but I wanted to wait until you were back so I could tell you in person.” She shook her head, her voice softening. “It just caught me off guard. Freaked me out, honestly. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I didn’t expect this to be how things ended, but….”

Ginny pulled her into a hug and silently cursed herself for even a second of doubt.

“Anyway,” Hermione exhaled shakily, “it’s not like I found the ring and immediately started planning a wedding, which is clearly what he wanted Maybe he found someone who would though.” Her voice cracked, and she dropped her head into her hands.

“Hermione, I completely agree you shouldn’t take him back, but don’t for one second think he’d ever actually pick Greengrass over you. He cl—“

“But he did, Gin.” Hermione cut her off. “Even if I wasn’t ready to marry him. Or wasn’t sure, I don’t know.” She shook her head, like she was trying to untangle her own thoughts. “It still doesn’t change the fact that he picked someone else. He slept with her while I was at home. Waiting for him.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she crumpled forward, hands covering her face as she started to cry.

Ron rushed to her other side while Harry knelt in front of her rubbing her knees. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’ve got us.”

“And I know you don’t believe this,” Ginny added gently, “but he knows he fucked up. I saw him, Hermione. That’s not what a wizard looks like when he’s moved on.”

“Well, wizards suck,” she said through a hiccuped sob.

“Wizards suck,” Ginny agreed, pressing closer.

“They’re the fucking worst. Wankers, the lot of them,” Harry said.

“Well, except us,” Ron added quickly.

Hermione lifted her face, her eyes swollen and tear tracks weaving patterns down her freckled cheeks. “Except you two.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m going to be okay, right?”

“Of course you are,” Harry said without hesitation. “You’re Hermione fucking Granger. What haven’t you been able to do?”

“It’s Krum who should be worrying,” Ron said grimly. “Because I don’t think anyone comes back from losing you.” He hesitated, then pushed on, “I know we had….our thing—”

Ginny made a dramatic gagging noise. “You mean the thing that shall not be named.” 

Hermione let out a giggle, wiping at her tear stained face.

“You mean the thing where you two decided to take a fuck break in the middle of a battle? Even though you’d been living in a tent together for months with loads of down time before that?”

“Harry!” They all shouted. He just grinned and held up his hands.

Ron rolled his eyes and carried on. “Yea, that thing. Anyway, after that, I was so worried thinking I’d fucked it all up . That I’d lost you as a friend for good. It made me sick. So I can only imagine what he’s feeling now, though he bloody deserves it.” He huffed. “And I just don’t think you come back from that. From knowing you, and then not having you around.”

Hermione’s tears came back with a vengeance. “I was really worried about where you were going with that,” she choked out, voice breaking, “but that was so nice.” She leaned into him, still crying.

“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron said, letting out a small laugh and hugging her tighter.

“He’s right,” Harry added softly, joining in on their Golden Trio moment. “You’re going to be okay. And if you’re not for awhile, that’s okay too. We’ll be here.” 

Ginny had never taken well to being left out, youngest of seven and all that, so she threw herself into the group hug, squeezing Hermione from the other side.

“We love you,” she murmured. “And you’ve got this. We’ve all got this.” 

They stayed like that until Hermione drifted off again not long after. The exhaustion of tears and heartbreak easily overriding one cup of coffee and a full night’s rest.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

Hermione jolted upright, sending a pile of pillows tumbling to the floor as she shot off the sofa. 

“Crookshanks!”

Ginny came running into the living room holding a bottle of liquor in one hand and a lemon in the other. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, I left Crookshanks. Godric, I’m the worst cat mum ever.” She started rubbing a hand down her face, breath coming fast, spiraling now that realization hit. “See? I was right! Motherhood should not be in my immediate future.” 

Ginny crossed the room, arms still full, trying to calm her.

“Hey, none of that. You’re the best cat mum and Crooks knows it.” She gently pushed Hermione back down onto the sofa and took a seat on the coffee table across from her. “Probably the only person he’s ever liked.”

Hermione just stared back at her, bouncing her legs up and down in an attempt to get out her frenetic energy.

“We’ll get him back. Don’t worry.” Ginny scrunched her lips to the side thinking. “Doesn’t Krum leave for a match next week? We can go then, grab Crooks and the rest of your stuff. Or I can go with Harry and Ron anytime. Or we bring the whole lot of us, Weasleys in a pack are scary.”

She grinned and Hermione couldn’t help but grin back, nodding as the energy in her legs slowly started to settle. 

“You’re right, I know he's more than okay without me for a few days. And it’s probably best if I wait until I’ve got somewhere proper to bring him back to. He practically takes care of himself anyway. Still.”

“I’m sure Crooks knows exactly what’s going on. That cat is freaky. He knows a rat when he sees one and is likely giving Krum hell.” She gave Hermione’s shoulder a little nudge before standing to head back to the kitchen.

“You up for a drink?” Ginny’s eyes twinkled, the corner of her mouth picking back up. “Seamus gave me the recipe for that fairy gin cocktail we had at The Wandering Wand. Thought I’d mix some up, get dinner delivered and then we can lay around all night watching those muggle films you love so much.” She wiggled her eyebrows in question.

“That sounds amazing, though can I help? I feel like I’ve been sleeping the whole day.” 

And by the look of the sky outside and the shadows creeping across the flat, she almost had.

“Thank Merlin, your help is seriously needed. This recipe looks about as complicated as a batch of Polyjuice Potion, so I was hoping you would wake up soon. Need that brain of yours.”

~*~

They spent the night and the next three days planted on the sofa, working their way through Seamus’ entire drink menu, ignoring the ever-growing pile of Daily Prophets and watching every romcom Hermione had been able to find. Harry and Ron popped in periodically, mostly to check on her but also to help deplete their frankly excessive alcohol supply.

Viktor had kept his word so far and hadn’t tried to contact her. Though Harry reported back just last night that he’d spotted him in the Ministry atrium that morning on his way up to the DMLE. Any further surveillance was cut short however when Viktor was bombarded by reporters and quickly escaped through the nearest floo. Harry had also let slip the resulting headline; Hermione Granger Unspoken, Leaving Krum Heartbroken. She could only imagine the accompanying photo and utter rubbish lining the pages of that edition.

Her sudden disappearance had become the subject of wide speculation among both Ministry employees and the Wizarding population at large. Which wasn’t surprising, considering Rita Skeeter apparently had a surplus of anti-Golden Girl articles up her robe, and Hermione had never missed an unplanned day of work. Even last year, when she had the flu, she’d shown up, donned in a bubble head charm to ensure she kept her germs to herself. Theo had thought it was ingenious (and hilarious when she sneezed), but Harry was horrified and made sure HR didn’t catch wind of her methods, lest they get any fresh ideas.

So, she wasn’t exactly shocked when an owl appeared at Ginny’s window with a letter from Theo, on the third day of her absence. Of course, she’d let their boss know; she was recovering from heartbreak not insanity. But Bode was likely to be brief with Theo, and Theo Nott did not appreciate briefness.

She opened the window and carefully untied the scroll from the eagle owl’s leg. He cooed and she pet his head 

“Aren’t you handsome?” 

The owl preened under the attention, nibbling at her fingers in approval.

“Hey Gin, do you have any owl treats around,” Hermione called, letting the bird step onto her arm as she wandered into the living room, letter in hand.

“No reading the paper! And don’t give that owl shite, he bit me last time.”

The eagle owl turned his head sharply in the direction of her voice, glaring down the hall like he understood every word. He stretched his wings in a show of pomp. 

Ginny emerged, looking confused. “Where’d that thing come from? He’s not the feathered little twat who delivers the Prophet.”

She clucked her tongue at the owl before strolling over to the window seat, grabbing a few treats out of a small lidded jar on the side table. 

“Must be Theo’s. I recognize his family crest on the seal.”

“I always forget you work with him. Honestly, I kind of forget we even went to school with him. Where was he all those years?” 

The owl pecked away happily at the treats in her hand, all prior irritation forgotten.

“I imagine it was hard to be seen around Malfoy’s ego.”

“Ah yes, the ferret’s charm was suffocating.” Ginny peeked over Hermione’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the letter.

“Hey nosey,” Hermione laughed. “Would you like to read it with me?” 

She unfurled the parchment, eyes scanning over Theo’s sharp, slanted handwriting.

Hermione,

The lab has been unbearably quiet without you here. I’ve taken the liberty of pausing all projects until your return, I know how much you’d hate to miss anything, even if the current lineup is rather pitiful. Though, rumor has it there’s a highly classified raid happening in the next few days, and talk is we may have some serious dark magic on our hands. Maybe even a time turner.

Even so, I’ll wait for you and that formidable brain of yours to get back here. I told Bode I was catching up on our Spellwork Literature and Operating Guidelines. He was thrilled so I’ll need your help with actually writing those when you get back, or we can just obliviate Bode.Your choice.

And just in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, I miss you. Lunch has been a rather dull affair. The other Unspeakables are well, you know, dull. I even deigned to go up to the DMLE and beg Potter to tell me your whereabouts, but  Merlin’s beard, that man is intimidating. The hair and the glasses and that fucking scar…we have a lot to unpack when you get back.

So come back soon. When you’re ready. 

You’re still my favorite witch.

Theo

“Well, he’s much sweeter than I expected. And he’s a Slytherin, we’re sure?”

“He is most definitely a Slytherin,” Hermione giggled at that. Theo was kind and charming, which she hadn’t expected having only known him as Malfoy’s silent friend throughout Hogwarts. He was also cunning and slightly deranged and had a flagrant disregard for the rules, which served as the basis of their fast friendship. 

“Now that I think about it, you two would actually get on quite well.”

Hermione folded the note and glanced at the owl, who had finished his treats and was now staring her down like he was expecting a response.

 “I’m open to meeting some snakes,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Some of them. Others I would very much like to avoid,” She paused, thoughtful. “Or better yet, can you just teach me that curse you used on Marietta?”

Hermione snorted, “It’s only Theo I talk to. And for the last time, I didn’t curse Marietta. I cursed the paper she signed. No one told her to go blabbing. In fact, I explicitly told her to do the opposite.”

Ginny’s grin grew as Hermione explained herself. “You’re terrifying, and I love it.”

Hermione just shook her head. Her friends liked to act like she was this powerful, intimidating witch, but she just did what anyone else would do, if only they’d thought of it first.

“I need to pop off to the burrow for a bit.” Ginny said, already making her way toward the fireplace and grabbing the bowl of floo powder off the mantle. “Mum insists on making us another dinner,” She rolled her eyes. “She thinks it’s insulting that we’d pay a stranger to cook when she cooks a meal every night. My parents really understand nothing. But she made roast, so, it’s hard to say no”

“As much as I love the chicken shop down the street, your mum’s roast is unbeatable. Tell her thank you for me,” Hermione said, fingers twisting through a curl as her stomach gave a nervous flip. She was so grateful to the Weasleys, they always looked out for her, treated her like family, but she just wasn’t ready for that much attention. Not yet. Especially with the looming task of telling her own parents about the breakup. Thank Merlin they didn’t get the Prophet.

“I’d come with you but, I’m just not rea—“

“Hermione,” Ginny cut in gently, “they understand and they support you fully. Mum’s officially off the Prophet. She cancelled their subscription and sent a Howler to the editor. She even kept quiet when Fred and George plotted sending a cauldron of Ton-Tongue Toffees and their latest confection, Writer’s Woe Whips, to Skeeter from a secret admirer.”

A small smile settled on Hermione’s face as tears threatened to breach her lashes, turning her eyes glassy. 

“That’s entirely unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Give them my thanks and let them know I can still meet in a few weeks to go over those new product designs.” 

Ginny nodded, scooping up a palmful of powder before setting the bowl back down.

“Before you go, do you have some parchment and a quill? I should write Theo back.” She lowered her arm so the owl could hop off onto the back of the tufted armchair.

“Yea, second drawer on the left in the kitchen.” A devilish grin overtook her face. “Oh, and let him know I absolutely want to be there for the Harry gossip session. If he gets flustered over the lightning scar, just wait till he hears about the one on Harry’s inner thigh and how it twitches when you—“

“No, no! I do not want to hear about that!” Hermione clapped her hands over her ears. 

Ginny threw her head back laughing as she stepped into the floo. 

“Don’t make me tell you about Ron and how—“

“You bitch.” Ginny pointed at her, a laugh still lighting up her face along with the green flames that whisked her away.

Still grinning, Hermione made her way into the kitchen. Parchment, ink and quill in hand, she settled in at the little, round table in Ginny’s dining nook and started her reply. 

Theo,

You’re too kind. I know what a sacrifice it must be for you to slack off at work, and I do hate the idea of missing a project, no matter how boring you deem them. 

A raid? Whose manor? Is the DMLE handling it? Harry hasn’t mentioned anything, but I’ll press him for details, maybe get him to snag us some actual dark artefacts this time. I’m tired of coming up with counter curses for pillows that make you itch or blankets that never get you quite warm enough.

Also, no obliviation required, I already finished the SLOGs last month when I had some downtime. They’re in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet,  far left.

I miss you too and I’m sorry for my sudden disappearance. Life’s just been a bit shite as of late…as I’m sure you’re aware. But I’ll be back at the start of next week, so try not to blow up our lab before then, alright?

Hermione

P.S. We’re discussing this Harry business first thing when I get in.

P.P.S. Ginny Weasley wants to meet you. How do you feel about a get together, a Hogwarts reunion of sorts?

P.P.P.S. I was serious about the lab, Theo. I don’t know the specifics, because I don’t want to, but I know you have some ‘personal projects’ hidden about. Do not blow up my lab!

She read over the letter, hesitating. Just a moment at the mention of a potential Slytherin/Gryffindor night out. But, finally decided that it likely would never come to fruition, so no harm done. 

The owl, sensing she was finished, fluttered over and extended his feathered leg. She fastened the letter to the small scroll holder, giving the bird a soft pat on the head before opening the window. With a parting hoot, he launched into the cool evening air, leaving her alone for the first time in days.

Alone.

She exhaled slowly, trying to shake the unease that crept in. The quiet used to be comforting, her mind was always occupied, always trying to solve something. Overthinking things was practically a hobby, because just thinking them wasn’t enough. But now? Now she just wanted to move on, start fresh.

With a fresh start in mind, she picked up both the latest Prophet (sans front page) and a stack of flyers for rentals in muggle London that Ron had dropped off earlier that morning. Propping herself up on the sofa, she spread them across her lap, curls twisted messily on her head, barely secured by her vinewood wand, a quill perched between her teeth. She had just circled the fifth flat that looked habitable when the Floo roared to life.

Ginny strolled out, arms full of food. 

“Let me help with that.” Hermione pulled her wand from her curls and cast a quick levitation charm toward the precariously stacked bags and boxes. They floated into the kitchen.

“Thanks! My wand was in my back pocket and she just wouldn’t stop loading more and more things on.” Ginny stretched, then followed the floating feast. “Godric, my mum is insane. But, she sent us trifle, so I’ll allow it.”

Ginny glanced back over her shoulder and asked, “what do you have there?”

“Flats to check out.” Hermione gathered the potential listings, both magical and muggle and handed them over to Ginny before going to grab utensils from the drawer.

Ginny took a fork from Hermione and immediately started eating straight from one of the boxes Mrs. Weasley had packed up. “I’ll be the judge of that. You’re the brightest witch of our age, you can’t be living in a hovel.” She popped a bite of potato in her mouth and smirked at Hermione’s scowl.

“None of them are hovels, honestly, Gin.” Hermione rolled her eyes, diving into a Yorkshire pudding flooded with gravy. “Though it will be an adjustment, going from mine and Viktor’s flat to one of these.” 

She didn’t need the floor to ceiling windows, rooftop terrace or walk in closet, though she would miss those comforts. But after a year of living in a tent with Harry and Ron, any of these places were practically The Savoy.

The library though. That was going to hurt. Hermione had used an extension charm (without authorization from the Ministry) on an extra bedroom to create her dream library, a space that rivaled even Hogwarts. It was almost worth staying with Viktor. Almost.

“This one is a definite no,” Ginny declared, flipping through the listings. “The lighting is all wrong and there’s no fireplace. How am I supposed to Floo over if there is no fireplace?”

“You can veto one. The rest ,I’m going to look at” Hermione jabbed her fork at Ginny, brandishing it like a wand.

“Fine,” Ginny huffed through a mouthful of food. “But I’m coming with you, at least for the first few. I don’t leave for Wales till Friday night, and then Harry and Ron can go with you to see the rest over the weekend.”

“Yes, mum. Whatever you say.”

Ginny’s face was overtaken by her grin and her words carried a tone eerily similar to Mrs. Weasley’s. “You better watch it, Hermione Jean Granger. That is not how I raised you. Keep it up, and I won’t be cooking you meals or helping” she paused for a moment, muttering “more like nagging” under her breath before continuing on, “with your household charms, which are abysmal for a witch of your age.” 

Hermione snorted. “I see it went well with your mum.” She saw the glint of mischief in Ginny’s eyes and grinned back at her. “Of course you’re coming with me. I can’t figure out my lighting needs by myself.” 

Hermione’s grin softened, appreciation shining through as she looked at her best friend. “Really Gin, I can’t thank you enough. For getting me out of there and letting me crash here. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m immensely grateful that you weren’t the one who cheated on me with Daphne Greengrass.”

A laugh bubbled up Ginny’s throat, “Please, you’re stuck with me. You’re my Chosen One.”

Hermione cackled, nearly choking on a bite of roast. “How often have you used that line?”

“A fair bit,” Ginny admitted with a smirk. “But I only really mean it with you. Remember wizards suck.”

“Wizards suck,” Hermione nodded along, agreeing.

“Now,” Ginny said, grabbing the trifle and heading toward the living room, “let’s eat this trifle and get our plan in place. And don’t tell Harry about the Chosen One thing. It’ll go straight to his head.”

~*~

Over the next three days Hermione saw six flats, each somehow worse than the last. 

Ginny found the colors in the first one too garish and the smells at the second flat, which was right off Diagon Alley above a Magical Menagerie, too overpowering. Hermione had to agree, it brought back memories of visiting the penguin house at the zoo with her parents as a child.

After Ginny left for her match, Harry accompanied her to see the next three and he was equally opinionated. The first had a landlord that apparently looked too much like his Uncle Vernon. The next was off Knockturn Alley, gasp, the horror! And the last one was so small, they could barely even squeeze through the “hallway” to the so-called bedroom, a generous term, considering it was more like a glorified closet, and not the type of closet she had shared with Viktor. 

They’d taken turns acting out how she’d greet guests from the toilet and flip the kettle on from the shower. By the end of their tour, they were both laughing so loudly that the owner asked them to please leave and never come back.

Now, she had just one more place to see. She was desperately hoping luck was finally on her side, that this would be the one. But, sadly it seemed, luck was a finite resource and she had apparently used up her share fighting trolls and evil, dark wizards.

Her alarm woke her up late, giving her exactly five minutes to get ready. Three of those were promptly stolen when Ron called via Floo, practically vibrating with excitement and panic.

“Parvati’s having contractions, maybe going into labor, taking her to St. Mungo’s. Sorry, I have to miss the tour.

“Go, you idiot! What are you doing flooing me at a time like this!” She yelled back and though she was stressed, and in a rush, she couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face. “Tell Parvati I’m sending all my luck, Merlin knows I’m not using it. And message me the second you know anything. I can’t wait to meet my little niece or nephew!”

And with that she ran out of Ginny’s flat, her curls wild atop her crown and body swimming in an oversized coat she found hanging at the front door that was likely Oliver’s.

She apparated straight to Diagon Alley, then took off in a mad dash to the rental next to Second Spell Stylings, a new shop specializing in pre-owned wizarding wear.

The building was charming, tucked around a corner and covered in twisting vines of ivy and climbing blooms. A violet arched door stood at the entrance, adorned with a wreath of starry jasmine and a large brass handle that was practically inviting Hermione in. 

She cast a quick Tempus, right on time. Maybe her luck wasn’t completely gone. 

She knocked twice, practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. No one came, so she knocked once more. 

Just as she was pulling her fist back, the door creaked open, revealing a motherly looking, middle aged witch. 

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes! I'm here to see the flat that was listed in the Desirable Dwellings section of the Prophet. My viewing was for 8:30. I’m Hermione.”

The witch’s smile turned sympathetic. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry, someone leased it just last night. I thought they would have contacted you.” She winced, as if she could sense Hermione’s imminent breakdown. “If it falls through, I’d be happy to reach out. Again dear, so very sorry for the trouble”

Hermione’s sudden good mood deflated instantly.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she said, voice tight. “Thank you for your time and sorry for bothering you.” 

She turned around quickly before her tears could betray her and set off at a fast clip down the cobblestone lane. Hermione had just reached the main drag when a flash of light blinded her, causing her steps to falter and her boot to get stuck on a jagged piece of stone. 

Before her life could literally go tumbling to the ground, she caught herself and righted back up. 

That’s when she saw the source of all her troubles, a photographer, who had clearly gotten the galleon shot and was no doubt racing back to make the Evening Prophet’s next edition.

Well, fan-fucking-tastic, this is just what she needed, another article and photo to highlight her disastrous love life. 

Feeling like she had officially hit rock bottom, Hermione decided to embrace it rather then fight it, and made a quick stop at Eeylops Liquor Emporium, because, as it turned out, the famous owl shop had discovered that selling spirits was wildly more lucrative than selling just owls.

She bought a very large bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey and apparated back to Ginny’s, ready to drink her sorrows away and prepare herself for what was sure to be an award winning piece of journalism.

~*~

She was four drinks in when the Evening Prophet arrived. 

Having slept most of her day away, only waking to message Ron back after his false alarm missive, she was now wide awake and ready to be outraged.

 She sent the owl on his way with a few knuts, no treats, and glanced at the front page.

Maybe she did have a touch of the sight or her brain was so logged with firewhiskey that it was causing her to think her inner eye had finally opened. An utterly frazzled photo of herself stared back at her, curls a mess and tripping over thin air. 

That was actually humorous, at least it was now, four drinks in. It was the headline that made her see red.

All That’s Gold Does Not Glitter

By: Rita Skeeter

Self proclaimed Golden Girl, Hermione Granger, was spotted wandering the streets of Wizarding London alone in the early morning hours, her first public appearance since news of her tumultuous breakup with International Quidditch Star and the League’s Best Seeker, Viktor Krum. Sources tell us Ms. Granger is looking for a place to live after Krum kicked her out of his lavish downtown penthouse. 

Not only was she seen, looking less than desirable, perusing available dwellings, but she was also spotted making a stop at Eeylops Liquor Emporium. I personally spoke with Eeylop himself, and though he wouldn’t confirm it, one could tell he had never seen anyone stop in that looked so sad and dejected in his three years of business.

No word yet from Viktor Krum or Ms. Granger, though by the looks of it, one could come to the conclusion that her golden-ness is starting to tarnish.

Misquoting bloody Shakespeare to insult her, a Muggle born? It was inconceivable….unconscionable! 

And hell, maybe she didn’t want to be the Golden Girl anymore. Maybe she wanted to be something different, something new. 

Maybe it was time to become a New Witch.

Chapter Text

*Harry*

Harry left for the Ministry early that morning, knowing it was Hermione’s first day back. It had been over a week since news of her breakup with Krum hit the papers, and the headlines weren’t letting up. Naturally, everyone had an opinion and considered themselves an expert.

Just the other day, he overheard Cressida from the Department of Magical Transportation speculating in the cafe that Krum had grown tired of Hermione stealing his spotlight and was ready to settle down with a less famous witch. Meanwhile, Tomen in the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was positive Krum had finally run out of his three year supply of Amortentia and decided to cut ties before anyone could find out he’d been dosing Hermione with the illegal love potion all along…though how Tomen found out then was quite the conundrum. 

But the worst came from Bitsy in Magical Games and Sports. She claimed she had ‘an in’, since she worked closely with the International Quidditch League. Realistically, she helped manage snack schedules for the under-tens in the Quidditch Sprout League. According to Bitsy, who heard from a coach’s wife’s best friend’s sister’s seamstress, Krum had been cheating on Hermione for years and Daphne was just the latest witch in a line up of many.

After overhearing that last one, Harry stopped going to the Ministry Cafe all together. He’d promised Hermione he’d keep quiet, but his self control was waning.

He couldn’t stop the gossip, but he’d hoped to keep it at bay, at least within the Ministry. After reporters and photographers had hounded Krum the week prior, Harry petitioned to have Aurors stationed near the floo bank to filter out the vultures. However, it was only partially approved. Press could still access the atrium, but weren’t allowed beyond the lift bank unless they had a visitor’s badge. Thankfully, the DMLE was in charge of press clearance, and since Dawlish was an arsehole who rarely approved anything, it was safe to say no one was getting a badge.

But they still had to make it through the atrium, which is why he arrived early with Hermione’s favorite black currant scone and tea latte in hand. 

He was approaching the floos when he saw Malfoy and Theodore Nott standing nearby. Nott’s head was pinging back and forth every time a fireplace lit up in green flames, like he watching a particularly riveting Muggle tennis match. Malfoy, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, twirling his wand between his fingers and looking thoroughly bored.

Harry had a hunch they were all waiting on the same witch. Well, at least Nott was. Harry knew Hermione and Nott worked together in the Department of Mysteries and were unusually close for co-workers. Then again, his perception of close co-workers was likely horribly skewed since he primarily partnered with Malfoy and Dawlish and both of them had brooding and bad moods down to an art.

Hermione popped into view not three minutes later looking slightly flustered but determined despite it. Nott was closer and as Harry suspected, made a beeline straight for her. Malfoy begrudgingly pushed off the wall and followed at a distance. Harry jogged to catch up and was just about to hand over the tea when Nott beat him to it.

“I got your favorite,” Theo said, holding out a cup. “English tea latte. Figured it might help with, you know….the Prophet and Krum shite.”

“Merlin,” Malfoy sighed, already exasperated.

“Thank you, Theo, that was very tho—” Hermione reached for the tea, but Harry stepped in.

“I also got you a tea latte,” he said, lifting his offering, “and a black currant scone.” 

Hermione blinked back at the two cups now being held in front of her face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Malfoy said flatly, glaring at Harry like he’d personally ruined his morning by picking up Hermione breakfast.

Theo, on the other hand, looked like his wildest dreams had come true. “Great minds, Potter.” He winked and lowered his cup. “I’ll put this one under a stasis charm so it’s ready for your afternoon crash.”

“Perfect,” Hermione said, grabbing the tea and bakery bag from Harry. “And thanks, both of you. You didn’t have to—” she waved vaguely at the three of them.

“Of course, I’m walking you in,” Harry said. “I don’t want any of these harpies nagging you.”

He barely finished speaking when a voice cut through. 

“Quillan Embers, The Daily Prophet. Mind if I ask a few questions?”

Before Harry could reply, Malfoy beat him to it, his voice practically a growl. “Yes, we mind.”

“Won’t take but a mo!” Quillan chirped, whipping out his quill and notepad, giving no care to Malfoy’s dismissal, though there was the slightest apprehension in his voice and his eyes nervously darted to the blond a few times. “Are the two of you together now?” He gestured between Hermione and Harry.

They all stared.

“I mean, you’ve been pining after her since the Triwizard Tournament, have you not?” Quillan added, as if this was a widely accepted truth. “When she first met Krum.”

Harry continued to look at him, utterly dumbfounded. What in Merlin’s name was he talking about?

“The Prophet wrote all about it,” Quillan said as he flipped his hair back and preened, gaining back a bit of his confidence from throwing them all off guard. “I wasn’t here at the time, still a young wizard myself. But the stories were some of the Prophet’s most notable work.”

Malfoy was the first to recover. “Potter, shouldn’t we be getting these two to their office?”

Harry gave his head a shake and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Ahhh, yes. Yes, of course. Come on Hermione.” 

He reached to guide her along, placing a hand on her back, right as a camera flashed. 

“Bloody hell.”

Nott stepped to Hermione’s other side and slid his arm around her waist, brushing Harry’s side as he did. Harry jolted at the contact, but quickly relaxed and helped Nott usher her toward the lifts. The cheeky grin typically etched on the Slytherin’s face was replaced with a look of resolve.

“You look fairly close now and reporters saw you together this past weekend,” Quillan called after them.

They picked up speed. Malfoy had taken the lead, and everyone in the atrium was wisely stepping aside. Harry figured Malfoy’s face was doing most of the crowd control.

But Quillan was undeterred. “I believe readers will come to the same conclusion. And the prior break-ups with members of the Weasley family, was that so you could be together?”

A sharp chuckle came from ahead. 

Quillan’s ears perked up and he pounced. “Do you have something to say Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy turned, the most condescending sneer taking shape on his face.

“The best story you can come up with,” Malfoy said, gesturing at Hermione, “is that she would choose Potter over an international Quidditch star? Overrated and washed up in my opinion, but still.” He turned to Harry, his lips curving into a grin. “This Potter? Him?” 

Fucking hell.

Malfoy continued to look at Harry and Hermione and laughed loudly. Harry honestly didn’t know why he continued to work with the prat. He was the Chosen One after all and could likely get any partner he wanted. Why did he do this to himself?

Then, without warning, the laughter vanished. “Now, get out of my face,” Malfoy snapped, turning and leading them all into the lift before the doors slid shut behind them.

Malfoy flicked his wand and a privacy charm shimmered over the space before he moved to hit the button for the Department of Mysteries.

It was silent for a moment, until Nott said brightly, “that went better than expected.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Hermione practically squeaked.

Nott shrugged, grinning. “I thought Draco has going to hex poor Quilly back there and when you think about it, it was rather funny.”

“Utterly hilarious,” Harry deadpanned, still glaring at Malfoy. “That you couldn’t even fathom someone being with me. You were laughing so loud I’m sure the entire Ministry heard you.”

Malfoy smirked and let out a single, smug laugh, “I never said no one would want you, Potter…although.” His smirk widened. “I just laughed at the idea of Granger and you together.”

Harry shook his head as Hermione giggled beside him.

“Thank you Malfoy,” she said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

She too turned to smirk at Harry and the two of them, with identical looks on their faces was something that would haunt his nightmares…thank Godric, they weren’t close.

“Really, though,” Hermione continued, her tone softening, “thank you. All of you. I was rather nervous for the walk in.”

The lift dinged and the smooth voice of the operator echoed above: Department of Mysteries.

Hermione turned and gave Harry a quick hug. “See you at lunch?”

“Yea,” he nodded. “ That spot around the corner. The cafe here’s been….a lot lately.”

She smiled warmly and stepped off the lift with Nott, who tossed some unheard comment over his shoulder at Malfoy.

Just before the doors closed, Nott turned back around. “Oh, and Potter?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.  “I disagree with Draco, I think you’re quite the catch.” 

Malfoy groaned, “Goodbye, Theo.” 

And the lift doors slid shut, while Harry stood there mouth agape, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

*Hermione*

Hermione froze mid-step. “What was that?” She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up.

“What?” Theo tried looking nonchalant, but failed miserably.

“You know exactly what,” she nudged him as they continued toward their office, her grin infectious. “Should we start unpacking right now?”

“You’re a menace, Granger.” His hazel eyes narrowed as he grinned back.

“I’m a menace? You’re the one who was just shamelessly flirting with Harry!” 

Theo gave her a skeptical look. It had only been a week, but she’d missed his particular brand of chaos.

“And you,” he said, “were just thanking Draco for his lovely compliment and valiantly defending your honor.” He fluttered his lashes dramatically, a faux moony look on his face.

“I did no such thing,” she protested, swatting at him, but he darted away with a laugh. 

From a safe distance he called over his shoulder, “sure, Granger, whatever you say.” 

She rolled her eyes, catching up just as they reached their office door. With a flourish of his wand, Theo opened it. “Welcome back! Don’t mind the mess, when I’m alone I tend to loose all sense of reason.”

“Only when your alone?” 

Their office was always on the verge of madness, Hermione being the one to reign it in from time to time. She did well at keeping their files and case notes neat, but the books had a mind of their own….some literally. 

“Oh how I missed you,” he said, ruffling her curls from behind. Then, more seriously, “how are you doing? For real?”

“I’m….okay,” she sighed. “Not exactly looking forward to running into either of them in public. And flat hunting is a nightmare. But, better then I expected. Just a little sad sometimes.”

Theo pulled her into a tight hug, holding her like he meant it. “Krum’s an absolute twat. Always thought you were too good for him, though, to be fair, you’re too good for everyone, Goldie.”

She sniffled, trying so hard to keep her tears at bay, she couldn’t cry on her first day back. She’d promised herself.

He gave her a moment to compose herself, which she greatly appreciated, then continued on. “Even back in fourth year, when all the Slytherins were clamoring about for his attention and fawning over him left and right, especially once he showed up at the Yule Ball with this dishy little thing on his arm. Still couldn’t bring myself to cheer for the guy.” 

She laughed softly, her tears being consumed by Theo’s warmth and charm.

“Was that because you didn't like Krum?” She asked nudging him. “Or because you were cheering for a different Triwizard champion?”

He laughed. “We’re talking about you and your love life right now. And I stand by always thinking he was a twat.”

“I agree,” she said with a firm nod. “He’s a twat.”

Theo burst out laughing. “Say that again near Skeeter or one of those nosey reporters. I’d love to see that in print. ‘Golden Girl Calls Krum a Giant Twat-Quaffle.’ Think of the sales!”

She was laughing now too, “As delightful as that headline is, I think I’ll pass….for now.”

He slung an arm around her shoulders, leading her toward one of the tables covered in dark artefacts beneath a protective bubble charm. “Let me catch you up on the workload. No pillows and blankets this time, we’re got some promising finds.” His face glowed with the excitement of tinkering with cursed objects.

“Yes, please. This is exactly what I need.” And it was.

~*~

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

Hermione glanced in Theo’s general direction, though with the blindfold covering her eyes, she couldn’t see him. “I should hope so, we’ve been at this for almost three hours.”

“No, not about the mirror. Honestly, I don’t even think it’s cursed. More like it spent decades reflecting Crabbe Sr. and finally had enough.” Theo turned and pulled up his mask, making sure to look in the opposite direction, just in case. 

They’d been working on a potentially cursed and overly ornate mirror recovered during a recent raid on Crabbe Manor. It was currently propped against the far wall of their office and had proven to be quite tricky once they removed the protective spell shielding the glass. The blindfolds were utterly ridiculous, but necessary to maintain safety protocols since they couldn’t have any other magic interfering when they did their analysis.

Hermione giggled, still focused on testing the frame.

“I meant about your living situation.”

That made her pause. She turned toward where she thought he was, but was actually the opposite corner. “What about my living situation?”

He shielded his eyes with one arm, and turned to recast the protective charm. “You said the flat search is going terribly and I assume you’re crashing with Potter or one of the Weasleys for the time being?”

“Well, yea, I’m staying at Gin’s, for now while I loo—“ 

Theo spun her around and lifted up the blindfold to her forehead, her curls tangling up around it as he grinned at her. “Move in with me. Us, technically….I do have roommates.” She winced. “But! It’s a townhome in Kensington. Right near that place with the amazing curry, and I know you love curry.”

“Oh, Theo, I don’t know—“

“Before you say no, we’ve got an extra room, and the place is really nice….very sun-soaked and beige-y. Pans decorated the whole thing and spared no expense.” 

She wasn’t exactly sure what sun-soaked or beige-y meant, but they sounded nice and nothing like any of the places she’d looked at over the last few days. But Pans?

“Pansy Parkinson?” She nervously bit her lip after asking.

“Yep. Got disinherited for pulling a runner on her wedding day to some awful, old French wizard and refusing any other pureblood arrangements. Now she’s starting a design studio. The place looks great.”

Hmm, disinherited? Refusing a pureblood match? Well maybe she wasn’t quite so awful anymore.  And Theo wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay….probably.

“Really, I—“

“And think of the experiments we could run without all this Ministry oversight and constraint.” He waved his hands about wildly as if the constraints were actually there.

That was interesting. And truthfully, where else was she going to live. This might be perfect for the time being. “That’s—“

“And! We obviously have a floo, so Potter and the Weasleys can drop in whenever.”

“Theo, sl—“

“No, Hermione, you listen. I think this could be really great, and I do—“

She grabbed his shoulders. “Theo! I think it could work.”

He blinked, stunned. “What? Really?”

“Yea, just….you don’t live with Daphne Greengrass, do you?” She had to make sure, she couldn’t remember if Pansy and Daphne had been friends at school, but she thought it likely.

He gasped, scandalized. “Granger, I’m offended. Absolutely not. In fact, we’re a very anti-Greengrass household. Dislike the whole lot of them….maybe we should start a movement.”

She laughed, relieved.

“Actually, I may even campaign to get them removed from The Sacred 28, not that that means anything, but it would piss Ignatius off.” Theo had that mad look in his eye, the one he always had when an idea was starting to take flight. “I think their claim is rather shaky….if I can take my great great great grandfather at his word, and he was just about the only good Nott. Well, except for me.” His dazzling smile was back and he has looking at her expectantly. 

“So what do you say? About the house not the Anti-Greengrass Movement, we can finalize those details later.”

“I think….it sounds like a possibility. As long as you’re sure you don’t mind.” She wrung her hands nervously, not wanting to get too excited too fast.

“Are you kidding? The Golden Girl as my roommate. Fourth year Theo would’ve absolutely lost his mind. Fuck it, current Theo is losing his mind.” He started bouncing excitedly, which only added to Hermione’s giddiness.

“And Pan—“ She was about to ask if Pansy would really be okay with this when Theo bumped into a table, sending an old grimoire  and a precarious stack of tomes crashing to the floor. The grimoire immediately began shrieking and Theo dove to shut it, cursing under his breath.

Once the book was soothed and the others re-stacked, the moment resumed, though her question went completely forgotten.

 “How about you come by and see the place tonight?” He said, only slightly winded from the literary mayhem.

“That sounds great. I really appreciate it.” She ran over and threw her arms around him. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

His insanity must’ve been contagious, because Hermione found herself thinking, against all odds, that this might actually be one of her better ideas.

~*~

Lunch with Harry was blissfully uneventful, which was exactly what she needed. Thanks to his invisibility cloak and the midday Ministry rush, they were able to sneak out and back in unnoticed. 

She hadn’t mention Theo’s offer. Not because Harry would disapprove, he wasn’t prejudiced about Slytherins, not anymore, but he was protective. Best to wait until it was official.

Ron was another matter entirely. It might be best if he never found out.

She quickly recast the cushioning charm on her heels and freshened her curls before heading out. The townhome was only a ten minute walk from here. Close to Gin’s and it had a library. She was trying very hard not to get too excited

Hermione had always loved walking through the city in the evening, especially at dusk. There was something about this hour, the way the sky felt lower and somehow cozier, the way the glow from pub windows spilled out over the cobblestones, that made everything feel softer. 

She was mentally running through potion recipes to keep from spiraling into a thousand questions about what living with two Slytherins might actually entail when she saw the house come into view.

This was it. She knew instantly.

White stone facade. Arched windows. A dark front door flanked by planters overflowing with ferns and pale green hydrangeas that spilled over onto the garden path and crept halfway up the walls. The whole place shimmered faintly with magic, like it was exhaling.

Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door opened.

Theo stood there, beaming. “Welcome home, Goldie. Come on in.”

“Theo,” she breathed, stepping past him and taking it all in. “This place is amazing. You did not sell this enough.” 

Laughing, he slung an arm around her. “Let me show you the main living area and introduce you…well, not introduce exactly. Reacquaint, maybe.” 

Her nerves, which she thought she’d buried, came barreling back. Why was she so nervous to see Pansy Parkinson again? They were adults now, not school children. She could do this. It’d be fine.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t register what Theo was saying until she looked up.

And saw them.

Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. Tumblers in hand, lounging like they owned the place.

She stopped dead, staring, her mouth slightly open. What the hell were they doing in her new house?

Funnily enough, they looked at her exactly the same way.

Chapter Text

*Draco*

Theo had come home from the Ministry that day, waxing on about how he’d found the perfect person to take over the room Goyle vacated when he buggered off to Latvia. Draco hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now? Now it all clicked. Theo’s ideas usually leaned toward the insane, but this was something else. 

Theo was a complete wanker. 

Draco stared at his best friend, currently standing beside Hermione Granger, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Jar.”

“Oh, come on! Draco, that's ridiculous. This is not what the jar is for.” Theo’s grin hadn’t budged since the wards alerted them someone had crossed onto the property.

To her credit, Granger looked just as confused. Clearly, Theo hadn’t been upfront with her either.

“Theo! You said your roommate was another witch,” she said, leveling him with a look that brought Draco straight back to school.

“Hermione, what are you on about? I said no such thing,” Theo replied, looking slightly bewildered but still giddy.

Draco sat up straighter. “Really, Theo? The damn Golden Girl? Have you lost your mind?” His drawl filled the room while his scowl chilled it.

He knew the two of them were friends, hell, Theo had forced him to wake up early just to pick her up a tea this morning and be waiting in the bloody atrium when she arrived. And Draco had heard about her non-stop for the past week since she hadn’t shown up at the Ministry. At least Potter had the decency to keep his personal life to himself at work, but Theo had even started nagging Potter, which in turn made Potter more irritable towards Draco. Something he hadn’t thought possible.

Granger shot him a withering look, then turned back to Theo. “You said Pansy decorated the place and you used words like sun-soaked and beige-y. I thought it was a safe assumption.”

For fuck’s sake. 

“You actually said ‘sun-soaked’ and ‘beige-y’. It’s London, nothing is sun-soaked.”

He took a long sip of his whiskey, then turned to Blaise, who had remained suspiciously quiet so far. His initial look of confusion was shifting into something else entirely, something Draco couldn’t place. And that worried him. 

“Pans did decorate,” Theo said defensively, narrowing his eyes at Draco. “And I stand by my description. Plus, they really aren’t that bad. Blaise is actually pleasant, the two of you would get on quite well.”

“Thanks for that, Theo,” Draco deadpanned. Theo winked and threw an arm around Granger, likely to make sure she didn’t bolt. He knocked back the rest of his glass and summoned the decanter from the bar.

Blaise finally stared, the grin spreading across his face entirely too smug. “You’re an acquired taste mate. Unlike me, WWB.” 

Draco groaned. “I swear to Merlin—“

“Witches Want Blaise.” Blaise was practically glowing with self satisfaction now.

Fuck, he needed new friends. “What is wrong with you. Jar.”

“I can’t help the truth,” Blaise said, running his hands down his body like a complete arse.

Theo made a face. “I agree with Draco. That was….a lot. Jar.” 

Granger looked caught between a laugh and a grimace, her cheeks going pink, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Draco tried to look away but couldn’t.

Blaise chuckled deeply and flicked his wand, sending a sickle sailing into the Wanker Jar sitting front and center on the mantle.

“What is this jar business about?” She looked vaguely annoyed with herself for even asking, but apparently her thirst for knowledge didn’t discriminate.

“Whenever one of us says something crass, inappropriate, or just deeply wankerish,” Theo explained proudly, “the others can call Jar and make you pay.”

“It’s overflowing,” she observed, concern etched on her face.

“Yea, sometimes we can get a bit—”

Draco decided to capitalize on this moment, he could not handle Granger living with him. “That’s because we’re all a bunch of pricks. It’s unfortunate, really. Best you not move in, hate to ruin your delicate sensibilities.” The sneer on his face likely rivaled Lucius’s.

She likely still loathed him from school. From the war. Sure, she testified at his trial with Potter and Weasley, but that wasn’t for him, it was because of her innate, incorruptible goodness. Which he still hadn’t come to terms with.

Theo rolled his eyes. “We may be wankers from time to time, but this would still be a great place for you. All my points from earlier still stand.” He turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders like he could physically anchor her here.

“It is really nice here. I mean, nothing I saw over the weekend even came close. But—” She trailed off, eyes scanning the space, craning her neck to peer down the different hallways like they might reveal something damning.

Theo didn’t let her voice her concern. “Yes! See? I told you you’d love it here!” He turned slightly, whispering the rest with a dramatic flair. “And yea, I know they kind of suck—“ 

He tilted his head toward Blaise and Draco, who was already rolling his eyes and questioning why he still lived here.

Blaise stood up at that. “Oi! I’ve barely said a word. This is all Draco.” He strolled to the bar, poured himself another drink, and then casually poured two more, levitating them toward Theo and Granger. He raised his own glass. “See? Cordial. Dare I say, delightful.”

Theo raised his too, clinking it against Granger’s despite the fact that she hadn’t actually grabbed hers yet. His grin was back in place, realizing he almost had Blaise’s vote secured.

“Cheers. Let me amend my prior statement, Draco can kind of suck.” 

Blaise gave Theo a gracious nod while Theo turned to smirk at Draco.

“But only before you get to know him,” Theo added, like that somehow made it better. “Besides, none of the Slytherin women would’ve been better.”

Blaise wandered closer to the pair actively trying to overthrow Draco’s life, casually leaning against the mantle like he wasn’t actively participating in a coup.“Yea, Pans is great, just not to live with. But the rest of them? If you think Draco is pissy.…” 

Draco hated his friends. He needed to find new ones immediately.

“Blaise is right,” Theo said, unhelpfully. “I mean, really, Granger, would you have preferred Millicent as my roommate?” 

Even Draco cringed at that. They did sort of have a point, though he would never admit it.

Granger visibly shuddered and looked uneasy for the first time since walking in. “Godric, no. Honestly, I’m still terrified of her. And her fucking cat.”Her shoulders gave a full-body tremble like she remembered something truly scarring.

They all blinked at her.

“What do you have against Millie’s cat?” Blaise asked, head tilted to the side.

She shook her head, her amber eyes wide and serious. "Not now.” 

Then she finally took the glass floating at her fingertips and drank half of it without flinching. Draco watched as a drop of whiskey rolled down her lip and she caught it with her tongue. 

Bloody hell.

He had to shut this down. Immediately.

A beat of silence followed as they all looked at each other, unsure where to steer the conversation next. Until Theo clapped his hands once and jumped back in.

“Well, I think you should move in. We’ve got the space, you need a place, and you’re you. So, this seems pretty obvious to me.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Blaise beat him to it. 

“Where are you staying now? I saw you moved out of that git’s place.” 

Her face warmed at that and she smiled softly back at him.

Draco still couldn’t believe Krum had cheated on her. Blaise was right, what a fucking git. Though git wasn’t the word Draco would’ve chosen. Honestly, he couldn’t believe she’d stayed with Krum for so long. Sure, in fourth year it made a twisted sort of sense. He was a Triwizard Champion, an international Quidditch star, mysterious and brooding when they were all still kids. A bit creepy, in his opinion, but fine. Back then.

But now? She was Hermione Granger. The Golden Girl. And Krum was just some washed-up arsehole who’d clearly lost sight.

“I’m staying with Ginny right now,” she said, unaware of the chaos she was about to trigger. “She was one year below us, Ron’s sister.” She tacked that last bit on as if they didn’t all know exactly who her group of friends were. “Her place is rather small though, and I’m kind of taking over.”

At the mention of the youngest Weasley, Blaise’s entire expression lit up. This was bad. 

“Ohhhh, Ginevra,” he purred.

Draco winced, he’d never heard someone make a name sound so sensual. He felt like he needed a shower. 

“And how close are you two?” Blaise asked, far too casually. “She’s captain of the Harpies now, right?” 

“Yes,” Granger replied slowly. “And she’s my best friend.” 

She sounded unsure, like there might be a right or wrong answer here and she had no idea which was which.

“So….you see each other a lot?” 

Salazar. Draco downed the rest of his whiskey, knowing exactly where this was headed.

Granger narrowed her eyes, still not clocking Blaise’s angle. “Yes, we see each other quite a bit. Her being my best friend and all.”

“So she’d be over here? Often?”

“I mean, I guess? From time to time. If that’s alright?” She glanced between Blaise and Theo, clearly looking for confirmation. 

Like Draco didn’t even live here.

Blaise’s grin was obscene. “How soon can you move in?”

Draco was up in a second. “Absolutely not.”

But Blaise just smirked, and Theo kept on talking to Granger.

“Potter can come over whenever you want too. This’ll be your home, after all.”

“Fucking hell!,” Draco waved a hand between them, “This—this—is not happening."

Blaise gave a dry chuckle, looking amused. He turned to Granger, “Excuse us a moment. Gotta have a quick word with my boys.”

“No. Again, my boys is not a thing” Draco’s lip curled in disgust. “Wanker Jar. Honestly.”

Blaise didn’t argue. Just sent another sickle flying towards the mantle, where it landed on top of the jar causing at least ten other coins to tumble out.

Theo mock bowed to Draco. “Stay put, Hermione. We’ll be right back after dealing with His Royal Highness.” 

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” she said quickly. “If this isn’t going to work, I can—“

“Don’t worry, Granger.” Blaise winked at her. “He’s like this about everything. Very dramatic, you’ll learn.”

She let out a laugh, light and easy, and nodded. “Blaise is right. No problem at all. I’ll show you the library when I get back and your ro—“

“Theo. Now.” 

Draco took off toward the kitchen. He could hear the two of them whispering behind him, clearly conspiring. He had to put a stop to this. It was already too much seeing her around the Ministry, hearing Potter go on about her during the day, and Theo talk about her at home. But living with her?

Seeing her in his space, living where he lives, sleeping where he sleeps, showering where…” 

Fuck. 

He needed more whiskey.

When he reached the kitchen, he summoned the Ogden’s from where he’d left it by his chair. The bottle came whizzing down the hall, nearly clipped Theo in the head and Granger let out a startled scream. 

Draco caught it and didn’t even bother with a glass this time. Just yanked the stopper and took a long pull.

Blaise let out a hearty laugh. “She’s really getting to you this much already?” He reached for the bottle and plucked it out of Draco’s hand. “Well, I’m a yes vote—“

“Yes! I knew you were always my best mate, Zabini,” Theo grinned, smacking him on the shoulder and pulling him into a half hug.

Draco could not handle this. He needed to calm down. 

Blaise laughed again, clearly delighted. “I thought the best part of her moving in would be seeing Ginevra all the time—“

“Merlin, stop saying her name like that.” Draco’s face was covered in a look of disgust.

“But seeing you like this? All flustered and on edge, will bring me oh so much joy.” Blaise hopped up on the counter, reveling in Draco’s annoyance.

“I’m not flustered,” Draco snapped, cracking his knuckles before he started pacing. “I just don’t think it’s a great idea for her to live here.”

“I don’t get why you’re being such a twat about this,” Theo said, shaking his head. “I mean, I know you’re a twat, but this morning you were nice to her. You told that reporter off and almost even complimented her. Sure, it was by dragging Potter, but still.”

Draco turned mid-pace to face him, both hands in his hair, tugging at the roots. “She didn’t live with me then. And that story he was trying to spin was preposterous. No one would believe her and Potter are together. I just said what any rational person would say. Though clearly I don’t live with any of the sort.”

Theo leaned back against the cabinets, watching him like he was a riddle that had just started solving itself. “Does this have anything to do with why you broke it off with Astoria?”

Draco blinked. “Astoria? What does she have to do with this?” He leaned over, snatched the bottle back from Blaise, and started pacing again.

Theo didn’t let up. “It’s just….curious. You end your engagement the same day it comes out that Krum cheated on Granger—“

“Oh, fuck off.” Draco could feel his face heating. Definitely the whiskey.

“And then this morning you’re all gallant, practically dueling reporters in her honor, and now your throwing a tantrum reminiscent of sixth year.” Theo’s grin was infuriating as he tacked on every new piece to his little theory.

Blaise jabbed a finger at Draco, looking far too smug. “And, you did have a thing for her after the Yule Ball.”

Draco groaned. He genuinely hated his friends. Maybe it was time to move back to the Manor.

“Everyone had a thing for her after the Yule Ball,” he muttered. “Can you keep it the fuck down. And I didn’t end it with Astoria on the same day—“

“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Theo drawled. “The same day the article came out about Hermione moving out. My mistake.” 

Theo leaned forward, looking smug as ever, and summoned the bottle right out of Draco’s hand. Bastard.

“I’m still not understanding the correlation,” Draco muttered, jaw tight. “You knew I couldn’t stand Astoria. I only agreed because the contract was written up years ago and to appease my parents.” 

He wanted this conversation to end.

Blaise let out a bark of laughter. “Yea, well you've always been slower than us. Didn’t it take you like all bloody year to fix a cabinet?” 

Draco shoved him off the counter, but Blaise just laughed harder as he staggered.

“Yea, I know you never liked Astoria. None of us did.” Blaise said between chuckles, nodding at Theo. “But you were always fine going through the motions before. So what changed, if it wasn’t her?”

“Nothing changed.” Draco’s voice was clipped. “I just didn’t want to go through with it anymore. There’s no hidden reason. It really is that simple.”

Theo let out a low, skeptical laugh. “Sure, whatever you say mate. But look, at the very least you’ve got something in common with her. You both just got out of a relationship.” 

He fixed Draco with a stare that felt too close, too perceptive. “I really want her to move in. She needs this. After everything with Krum, and the Prophet still dragging her through it. And she’s not at all like what you’re imaging from Hogwarts. I mean, yea, she’s brilliant, but she’s also funny, and nice in a way that’s kind of unnerving, but like, good unnerving. And she treats rules like they’re suggestions. I really think you’d like her.”

Draco already knew all this. Everyone did. She wasn’t just brilliant, she was the brightest witch of their age, who’d also kept Potter and Weasley alive long enough to win the war. And he knew people had fun with her. He’d seen it. At the Ministry with Theo. Laughing in the cafe with her friends. She was always smiling and so was everyone around her. 

None of this was the problem. 

Or maybe it was the problem, Draco was unsure.

“Please Draco,” Theo said, his voice growing serious. “We owe her.” 

Theo obviously wasn’t above shaming Draco into saying yes.

And he wasn’t wrong. They did owe her, Draco specifically. 

And it’s not like she’d be here for long. She was Granger. She’d have a new flat and a better life sorted in a matter of weeks. He wouldn’t be stuck with her forever.

Theo’s eyes lit up. “I see it on your face! I see it, I see it. You’re not going to regret this!.”

Theo was dancing around the kitchen, like a child high on sugar quills. Blaise, meanwhile, wandered over to the cabinets, peering around the kitchen for something. 

“Whimb—“

“Ahhh!” Theo yelled as he cut Blaise off with a shriek, then whipped around to check the hallway. “Do not call the elves,” he whisper shouted. His eyes were wild and his face even more serious then before. “She doesn’t know about them and it will stay that way until all her things are moved in.”

Blaise stared at Theo for a long moment, then doubled over laughing. “Okay, but I get to be there when she finds out you lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie!” Theo hissed. “I just didn’t bring it up. There’s a difference.”

“I’m sure she’ll see it that way,” Draco said, smirking.

Theo looked legitimately scared, but Draco still didn’t think he looked scared enough. Granger was going to murder him. If Draco had to endure her presence day in and day out, at least he had that to look forward to. Theo getting torn apart by the founder of S.P.E.W.

They all froze as soft footsteps padded down the hallway.

Theo threw them both one last pleading look before schooling his features and stepping toward the archway leading into the kitchen. “There you are,” he said smoothly. “I was just about to come get you and share the good news.”

His smile was firmly back in place, as if the elf debacle had never happened. “Old so and so over here,” Theo nodded toward Draco, “has finally come to his senses and agreed that you’d make the perfect roommate. Isn’t that right, Draco?”

Oh, he could not wait for Granger to meet Whimbly and Pucklet and unleash whatever righteous fury she had stored up. Theo was going to get exactly what he deserved. 

Draco shrugged. “I don’t think those were my exact words, but fine. I guess you can move in. But-“ he added, leveling her with a look. “I don’t want to see Potter or Weasley,” he grimaced, “wandering around my home.”

Her smile lit up her whole face and Draco was helpless to look anywhere else.

“Oh my gods, thank you! I promise you won’t even notice I’m here.”

That was doubtful.

“And this is only temporary. I swear, I won’t stay too long.” 

That was what he wanted. Right?

“You can stay as long as you want,” Theo cut in, shooting Draco a pointed glare. “And Potter is more than welcome.” 

Blaise finally ran over, victorious, with a bottle of champagne and four mismatched coupes, clearly proud of himself for locating anything sans elves. “Weasley too. Ginevra, that is. The others….” He didn’t finish that thought and instead popped the cork. Bubbles erupted, spilling over as he filled each glass.

Blaise lifted his with a grin. “To the Golden Girl, our new roommate.” 

Theo followed, beaming. “To us! The new Golden Trio. No. Golden Quartet!”

Granger cringed at every mention of her being golden, but smirked as she raised her glass. “You can just call me Hermione, you know. I promise it won’t kill you.”

They all clinked their glasses. 

Draco was the last to add a toast. He lifted his coupe, eyes on hers. 

“To Granger. And to new beginnings.”

*Hermione*

“Hermione, could you possibly have any more books?” Ron grunted as he stumbled out of the Floo, casting a wary glance around the room. He was lugging boxes from her old flat, though the books had been both shrunken and spelled featherlight, the charms still were no match for Hermione’s collection. “It’s like we’re moving a bloody library.”

“Here, let me get that,” she said, flicking her wand to cast a levitating charm. The boxes floated down the hallway and stacked themselves beside her new bedroom door.

The Floo flared again, and Harry and Ginny stepped out of the green flames, carrying her remaining belongings. 

“Well that’s everything. Except for….” Harry trailed off, making some strange half-sound instead of finishing his sentence, then turned away from her entirely, suddenly very interested in the titles on a nearby bookshelf, her bags still hanging off his shoulder.

“Except for what?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Was Viktor there? Did he not let you take something?”

Ginny dropped the bags she was holding beside the sofa and collapsed into the cushions, her nose turning up at the mention of Viktor. “No, sadly Krum wasn’t there. I would’ve loved to give him a piece of my mind.”

Hermione waved her off, still confused. “Then what is it?” She looked between the three of them. “What are you not telling me?”

“We tried to grab Crookshanks, but you know….” Ron shrugged, clearly unbothered by the news and unafraid to be the one to break it, unlike the others.

At that moment, Blaise, Theo and Malfoy walked into the sitting room, pausing when they saw the pride of Gryffindors. 

“What’s a crooksit?” Blaise asked. 

Malfoy took one look around the room, noticing both Harry and Ron, and groaned. Clearly in deep regret on agreeing to this living arrangement.

Ron gave a low growl in return, and Harry rolled his eyes. Both were visibly straining to keep their opinions about Hermione’s new roommates to themselves.

Hermione ignored them all and rounded on Ron. “I know what?”

“Come on Hermione,” Ron looked over at Harry and Ginny for support, but they both were conveniently looking elsewhere. “He’s just…. not exactly friendly, yea? He tried to eat Scabbers in third year and he’s clawed me no less than twenty times.”

Malfoy snorted out a laugh, not trying to hold it in. Ron glared back at him, annoyed.

“I thought we all knew this?” Ron added to the room at large, looking around as if expecting someone to take his side.

“You cannot hold Scabbers against him! And maybe he claws you because you talk badly about him. He’s very bright.” Honestly, bringing up Scabbers as a knock against Crookshanks was insane, and Ron must know that. “Crooks is an angel.”

At that, Harry choked on what was likely just air and then tried to cover it with a cough. Ron didn’t bother hiding his horror at her word choice and let out a sarcastic bark of laughter. “Yea, he’s an angel alright. That’s why we couldn’t grab him, just flew right out of Gin’s hands.”

“Don’t bring me into this!” Ginny said, pointing at herself, “I think Crooks is a….” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stared, open-mouthed. “A what, Gin?”

“A….fine cat,” Ginny said, her mouth a thin line and the words sounding strangled.

Blaise, who’d been watching Ginny, blinked like he was only just catching up. “You have a cat?” His gaze jumped to Theo, then Malfoy. “Did either of you know this?”

“I knew she had one at Hogwarts,” Draco offered, shrugging. “But truthfully, based on how it looked then, I assumed it had died by now.”

“If only we were all so lucky,” Ron muttered under his breath. 

“What did you just say?” She snapped, both her eyes and hair wide and full of fire.

Everyone collectively took a step back, like someone had lit a fuse. 

Right as she was about to lay into him, a glowing tiger patronus prowled into the room and halted directly in front of Ron. Parvati’s overly exhausted and panicked voice rang out, “I’m having contractions again. I think it’s real this time.” The tiger bolted, unaware it had just saved Ron from Hermione’s wrath. 

He stood there dumbstruck until Harry gave him a little shake. “Mate, you okay?”

“Yea. Fuck. I gotta go.” He raked hands through his hair, then turned to Hermione, “I’m sorry, just let me know and I can talk to Fred or George, maybe send one of them back with you to grab Crooks. Or maybe Charlie, he tames dragons, might be able to handle the beast.”

Before Hermione could respond to her cat being compared to a fire breathing monster, Theo jumped in. “No worries, Weasley. We can go with Granger to get this Crooksy thing. Though I wouldn’t mind you sending that dragon tamer of a brother over here to help with some other things, if you catch my drift.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, looking far too pleased with himself.

Ron shook his head, like hr was trying to dislodge that last comment from taking hold in his brain. “Ugh, not you too. I have to go. Merlin.” He turned for the door. “But we will be talking about this, Hermione.”

“Yes, yes, of course we all will,” Ginny jumped in quickly, waving him off. “Let us know how it goes!”

“And when we can come meet our little niece or nephew!” Hermione called after him, her fury over Crookshanks momentarily forgotten.

“And if you need anything, just message,” Harry added.

Ron shouted his thanks as the front door slammed shut behind him.

Ten seconds of silence passed before Blaise asked again, “You really have a cat? He better not get fur on my suits. They’re designer.”

Ginny snorted. “Don’t worry, you’ll barely notice it. Crooks is a bright orange, so it blends in with everything.”

Blaise gave her a slow smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle some ginger hair getting all over my things, now that I think about it. Could also handle some wrapped around my hand while I—“

“Oh, no! Jar!” Hermione shouted, looking both outraged and extremely proud of herself. She glanced over at Theo and Malfoy for confirmation that she’d done it right. 

Both grinned and nodded their approval.

Blaise just laughed as he sent a sickle toward the Wanker Jar, for the third time since she’d first come over. “Oh, so you think you’re one of us now, Granger?”

Theo beamed. Harry and Ginny looked confused yet intrigued. And Malfoy, he couldn’t stop staring at her, jaw slightly slack.

“How hard could it be?” she said confidently as she winked at Blaise.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

It’d been two days since Hermione moved in with Theo, Blaise and Malfoy. Two days where her friends remained silent on her new living situation. Quite frankly, it was two days longer than she’d expected.

Luck, it seemed, had finally decided to grace her again….mainly by keeping everyone very busy.

Ginny had been away for a match. Harry had been on assignment in Portugal. And Ron was still dealing with Parvati’s neverending false alarms. But luck could only last so long. 

That evening, right when she got home from work, her Nimble Notes started buzzing. And wouldn’t stop. 

The incessant buzz was maddening. It was also, in her opinion, a critical design flaw. One she had repeatedly voiced concerns over to un-listening ears. She supposed George had an excuse, but she’d warned Fred more than once that it was wildly impractical to require users to read and respond to every message before the buzzing would stop.

Each time, Fred would just snort and say, “Hermione, I’m not in business of practicality.”

Which seriously made her question why she’d agreed to be a tester in the first place. 

Nimble Notes was a Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes prototype the twins and Ron were experimenting with. Fred had seen Hermione’s Muggle cell phone once during a night at the pub, and ever since, he’d been obsessed. 

The three Weasley brothers had spent months dismantling phones, charming them, dipping their components in bubbling potions and putting them back together. Nothing worked. During their obsessive experiments they concluded that Muggle tech was too complex, and that wizardkind just wasn’t ready. They could barely handle telly.

Still, they were set on improving magical communication. So they created a messaging system that was less messy and quicker than owls, more private than Patronuses, reached further than interdepartmental memos, and allowed multiple participants, unlike Floo calls. Nimble Notes was the result. Harry, Ginny and Hermione were some of the first testers. And thankfully, George had just delivered the latest version last week, which unlike the last one, hadn’t caught fire….yet.

She reached down into her beaded bag, updated since seventh year, and fumbled around until her fingers closed around the device. One look at the screen and she groaned. 

She knew this was coming. Still didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.

She’d known this was going to be a thing, which is why she’d kept quiet about the flat hunt once her mind was made up. 

When Harry brought up her moving into Grimmauld again over lunch, she’d quickly ordered a treacle tart for them to split and all was forgotten. And when Ginny pulled out the paper later that same night to look at rentals, Hermione had suggested they head to the pub instead. She was hungover for work the next day, but at least she was able to put off this dreaded conversation. 

Present Hermione was pissed at her past self.

The problem was….she wasn’t entirely sure herself.

Sure, the house was beautiful. Her room was even larger than the one she’d shared with Viktor. It had space for all her books and still room to add more. But she’d told herself when she first saw Blaise and Malfoy lounging in their opulent sitting room, with crystal glasses in hand, that she was going to tell Theo no. 

That certainly lasted all of five minutes. 

Because honestly, it was something she’d never normally do, and that made it exciting. It was unexpected. And obviously, doing the expected hadn’t exactly been working out for her.

She flopped down onto her bed with a groan, fearing this wasn’t going to be a quick conversation. With her feet up in the air and her elbows on the bed, she typed her reply.

That took her aback. 

Theo and Blaise being nice to her was one thing. But Malfoy? He seemed to loathe the concept of her even existing near him. Though….he had almost complimented her the other day when yelling at that reporter. And he did toast to “new beginnings” just a few nights ago.

At that precise moment, Theo strolled down the hall and leaned casually against her doorframe, a wicked grin plastered on his face, per usual.

“Want a glass of wine? I was just about to pour myself one.” He raised a brow in question.

“That sounds perfect,” she smiled, legs kicking lazily in the air behind her. “Just need to finish something up and I’ll be right out.” 

His grin grew, clearly pleased. “One other thing, I need your honest opinion on these new robes. Custom order.” He held his arms out, then ran a hand dramatically down one sleeve, finishing the gesture with a shimmy of his hips.

She looked him over, fully taking them in. “They look nice. Really accentuate you arms and I love that color. Do a spin?” 

She twirled a finger, eyebrow raised in expectation.

The twinkle in his eye sharpened into something positively devilish. He took a step back, giving her one last look, then turned.

“Merlin, Theo! Is that your arse?!” 

Hermione shot upright, dropping her Nimble Notes on her bed and covering her face with her hands.

“That’s the custom bit,” he said proudly. “Diagon approved from the front, but Knockturn in the back.” 

The look on his face was utterly devious.

“No. Absolutely not!” She peeked through her fingers to check if he’d turned back around. “If you value our friendship, you’ll never wear those again.”

“I did fear the wizarding world wasn’t quite ready for them yet.” He glanced around thoughtfully.“I’ll give it a year. I’ll go get our drinks.”

And just like that, he turned with zero warning. Arse swaying down the hall.

“THEO!!” 

He tossed his head back with a laugh. “If you don’t want to see it, Hermione, then don’t look.”

“Jar! And you better be changed by the time I get out there,” she yelled after him.

She shook her head, laid back down on her stomach, and reached for her Nimble Notes. Thank Godric she’d sent that “complete gentlemen” message before the whole arse incident.

The screen lit up. A cacophony of messages blinked and buzzed at her. She groaned and started reading.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

That went better then expected. Maybe past Hermione actually knew what she was doing. 

She tucked her Nimble Notes away, changed into her cosy clothes, and headed down the hall to find Theo, hopefully with his arse put away.

He was lounging in the sitting room, dressed in pyjamas, wine in hand, and trademark smirk in place.

“I like this outfit much better,” she said, nodding toward the Wanker Jar. “Did you pay up?” 

She sank into the chair opposite him and reached for her glass, taking a generous gulp.

He laughed. “Of course I did. Though, I think you should be paying me for the show.”

She snorted wine through her nose while laughing, “I’ll consider that for next year.”

Theo raised his glass in cheers, still grinning. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Theo lost in thought while Hermione glanced around the room, still adjusting to it all. 

The guys townhome was so different from her flat with Viktor. Both were large and lavish, but the penthouse had been all cold lines and modern edges, which Viktor favored. This place was warm. Rich woods, soft lighting, overstuff throw pillows, and books on nearly every surface. It was cosy and refined. Inviting, even.

Not at all what she’d expected from a house full of Slytherins. 

Her assumptions about them were unraveling.

Theo’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “What time’s Red getting here tomorrow?”

“Ginny should be here around five, after her training. Which gives us just enough time to get in and grab Crookshanks before Viktor gets back.”

She’d been following his matches closely to make sure nothing had changed. A run-in was the last thing she wanted..

“Alright, perfect. I’ll be there as your muscle.” He flexed for her. “Just in case anything goes awry.”

“I appreciate it. And thanks for being so cool about me having a cat.” She nervously twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. Besides Blaise’s initial freakout, no one had really pushed back, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way. Her and Crooks were a package deal.

Theo grinned. “Of course. As Blaise always says, this place needs more pussy.” 

Hermione’s face froze mid-sip. He burst out laughing at her expression and grabbed his wand to flick another galleon toward the Wanker Jar.

She shook her head, fighting a smile. “Yea, you better pay up.”

*Ginny*

Hermione had clued Ginny in on her new roommates the night before the big move, mere hours before she broke the news to Harry and Ron. 

Her delivery had been classic Hermione. Soft, straightforward, and utterly unbothered.

“Oh yea, I forgot to mention. I’m moving in with Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy. I’d appreciate your understanding. And no I don’t want to hear your thoughts on the matter just yet.” 

Then, without waiting for a response she left for her new home, leaving the boys standing there, stunned silent. Ginny would never forget the bewildered looks on their faces.

She had immediately given them a talking to, threatening them with worse then her famed bat bogey hex if they so much as looked at Hermione or her new roommates in a less than friendly manner.

Of course Ginny understood why Hermione had waited to tell them. It wasn't like they all got along, or even talked for that matter. Harry and Malfoy technically worked together, but that wasn’t by choice. And Ron….well, Ron could hold a grudge better than anyone she knew.

They were obviously worried. Hermione moving in with the Slytherins felt at first like she’d lost it. But the more Ginny thought about it, the more sense it made. 

She’d known Hermione and Theo were close, especially after reading that note. And now that she thought about it, she had told Hermione she was up for hanging out with the Slytherins, and Hermione hadn’t blinked an eye. So, maybe she should have seen this coming. 

Even so, it was going to take time. Time to adjust. Time to trust them with her best friend. 

Because Hermione was vulnerable right now. No matter how hard she pretended like the breakup and constant stream of Prophet articles weren’t getting to her, Ginny knew they were. 

Sure, Hermione had camped out on her sofa for almost a week, making her way through a sizable pile of junk food and a long list of Muggle films. She’d even managed to say a few negative things about Krum when Ginny pressured her. But mostly, she’d been quiet, her anger near non-existent. It was worrying.

Hermione had always been fiery. She stood up for herself and what she believed in and rarely let people walk away unscathed when they crossed a line. This subdued version of her couldn’t last. Ginny hoped a break was imminent. And maybe, moving in with the Slytherins was the start of it. 

Because for once, Hermione had made a choice that wasn’t about anyone else. It wasn’t about what was smart, or right, or expected. It was spontaneous. A little reckless. And Ginny was proud. Concerned, but proud. 

Which is why she agreed to go get the devil cat with them all.

She stepped up to the Floo, exhausted from training but itching to check on her friend. With a deep breathe and a flash of emerald flames, she disappeared. 

When the fire in the hearth died down, she was met with the molten brown gaze of Blaise Zabini. He was standing in front of the fireplace, momentarily stunned by her sudden arrival. His shock quickly dissipated and was replaced with a slow, feline grin. 

“Good afternoon, Ginevra.”

“Hello, Zabini,” she replied, brushing ash off her dress as she walked into their sitting room.

He didn’t move, just looked her up and down with deliberate curiosity. “Is that what one wears to a cat heist? If so, I feel wildly underdressed.”

She was wearing a fitted black dress with long sleeves and a short hem for her date with Oliver, which she was going to after this. She likely would’ve had time to stop back at her flat and get changed post heist, but for some reason, a reason Ginny really didn’t want to think on, she’d gotten ready early.

Her eyes flicked over Blaise. He was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and joggers that did nothing to hide his fit physique beneath. 

Were the Slytherins always this fit? 

Of course, all the girls in her year had gone through the mandatory Malfoy crush. It was basically a right of passage. As was crying alongside Moaning Myrtle in the girl’s loo after realizing what a spectacular arse he was. 

But Blaise? And Theo? She couldn’t remember them even being around back then.

“Crookshanks has high standards. I didn’t want to wear anything that would clash with his coloring,” she grinned back at him. “Had to make him feel appreciated.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Blaise perched on the arm of the chair nearest her, his eyes never leaving her face.

“You’d do well to learn early that Crookshanks is not to be underestimated. Hermione may think he’s a sweet little angel, but he’ll claw your face off if you so much as blink at him wrong.” She meant to taunt him, but he just kept staring, his eyes glazing over. 

She was about to push further when Malfoy walked in, dressed head to toe in the same black outfit as Blaise and looking just as fit. Honestly, what the fuck?

Blaise didn’t seem to notice his friend’s arrival. His gaze finally snapped back into focus, squarely on her chest.

“I’’’ be honest,” he drawled, his smirk downright devilish,  “I didn’t hear a word you just said because I can kind of see your witch hats right now”

“What the fuck did I walk into?” Malfoy dragged a hand through his hair, looking stressed. “Jar! You’re lucky I wasn’t Granger.”

Ginny was laughing and smirking back at Blaise. She was this close to commenting on the wand making itself known in his joggers when Hermione came barreling up behind her, wrapping her in a crushing hug.

“You’re here!” Ginny squeezed her back. “Were you saying something about me, Malfoy?” Hermione looked over inquisitively.

Blaise’s smirk didn’t waver. “He was just saying how excited he is to finally see your pu—“

Malfoy smacked him across the back of the head before he could finish.

“No! No more jokes about my….cat” Hermione cringed, looking horrified.

Ginny doubled over in laughter.

“Oi! Did I miss the last pussy joke? I told you lot to wait till I was here!” Theo strolled in at last, grinning. “Granger, that one doesn’t count, I still get one more.”

Hermione looked ready to argue, but stopped short, her eyes flicking between the three of them, all  standing there in identical black hooded tracksuits.

“What are you wearing?” She asked, desperately trying to hold back her laugh.

Theo gave a spin, “Oh these? Picked them up this morning. Can’t do a proper heist without the proper uniform. I was going to grab you a set as well, but I didn’t know your size.” He eyed her cropped Gryffindor Quidditch sweater and leggings. “I suppose that’ll do….thought next time, we match. Tell me you’ve stolen something before, Granger?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, “For the last time, we’re not stealing anything. He’s my cat. And actually I have.” She paused for dramatic effect, “I broke into Gringotts.” 

She nodded over to Malfoy. “Polyjuiced as your deranged bitch of an aunt. Straight into her vault.”

The Slytherins just stared, eyes widening, jaws dropping. Malfoy looked like he may pass out.

“Bullshit, Granger.” Blaise shook his head, refusing to believe her.

Theo finally snapped his mouth shut. The grin that that spread across his face was downright feral. “I thought that was just a rumor. You, Potter, and Weasley actually broke in, stole something, and got out?”

“Yup.” Hermione popped the p, grinning at their stunned faces. “Any details in the rumor, or is that all you know?”

Ginny hated that she hadn’t been there for the break in and subsequent escape, but she did love seeing the looks of awe on the Slytherin’s faces. Malfoy particularly looked like he was in pain.

At last he found his voice. “How did you get out?” He asked in a near reverent whisper, gaze locked on her, edging closer by the second.

She bit her lip, “I rode a dragon.” 

Malfoy looked like he was about to lose it and Ginny couldn’t help but giggle. “Yes, Hermione rode a dragon, while I was stuck going to school with you arseholes because fu-cking Harry,” she stretched the curse into several syllables, waving her hand for emphasis, “wouldn’t let me come along. Because he was in love with me.” She rolled her eyes. “Only to realize a few months later he wasn’t in love with me at all. And doesn’t even like women.”

Everyone stared at Ginny in silence until Hermione burst out laughing. “Feel better now?”

“Marginally,” Ginny shrugged.

“Wait! Potter likes wizards?” Theo gaped, demanding confirmation.

A resounding, “yes” filled the room.

“And nobody told me?!” Theo looked personally affronted, whipping toward Malfoy first. “How do you know?”

“We’re partners at work. It came up.” Malfoy shrugged, utterly casual.

“But, I’m gay!” Theo practically shouted. He turned to Blaise, “and you knew too?”

Ginny’s head snapped around. “Wait, you’re gay?”

Theo gave her an impatient look. “Yes, catch up!”

“So, you’re really not shagging him,” Ginny said, looking over at Hermione.

Malfoy couldn’t contain his laughter. “You thought Granger was shagging Theo?” He had to sit down to keep from falling over.

Hermione shook her head as Theo chimed in “Fuck off, Draco. It’s not that unbelievable. I could pull the Golden Girl.” He held his hand up in front of Malfoy’s face to shut him up. Malfoy kept laughing anyway. “Back to my point,” Theo said, turning to Blaise, “how did you know?”

“I read it in the Prophet a few years ago. When he and this one,” he nodded at Ginny, “ broke up and he started dating Roger Davies.”

“Roger fucking Davies? With The Chosen One?” Theo dragged both hands through his curls. 

“It wasn’t serious. An on again, off again thing, if it makes you feel better.” Hermione offered with a small sympathetic smile.

“No, it doesn’t make me fell better,” he huffed.

Malfoy finally wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “I hate to interrupt your tantrum, Nott, but we should get the cat. Krum’s supposed to be back tonight, right? I’m fairly certain both you and Potter will still be gay after this is over, so you can work it all out then.”

Theo waved him off, “Yea, fine. Still can’t believe no one told me. But let’s go.” He glanced at Hermione. “We’re talking about this tonight.”

She wrapped an arm around him, patting his shoulder. “Of course, Theo. Whatever you want.”

Chapter Text

*Draco*

Theo pouted for a good ten minutes after announcing he was done with the whole Potter debacle, then insisted they all do some hands in sports chant for good luck before they could finally leave. He was really pushing it, especially considering the matching tracksuits he’d made him and Blaise wear….although, Draco had to admit he did look rather fit.

They followed Granger towards the front door and out into the crisp autumn air. He’d been right behind her and had a very hard time not staring at her arse in those bloody Muggle leggings. Honestly, how was anyone supposed to function when she wore things like that? 

 As they walked, she explained it’d be easiest to take a cab since they weren’t all added to her old Floo connection, and the closest apparition point was a ways off. 

Now that they were all in said cab, Draco could not fathom how this was the best way to get there. He was crammed in the back by the window, Ginny and Blaise squashed in beside him. His knees were practically in his face as he sat opposite Granger, taking up almost all her leg room. Theo was in the front seat, utterly fascinated by the driver. By the buttons, the little lights, the circular thing he kept turning. The driver looked annoyed….he could join the club.

“Could we play some music? Something to pump us up, we’re on our way to stea….see a friend.” Theo said brightly, catching himself just in time.

“I prefer silence,” the driver replied flatly.

“Alrighty then. A silent pump up. I can work with that.” Theo started pumping his fist in the air and turned to grin at the rest of them.

Merlin.

“Your hand's on my leg,” Draco muttered. He looked to his right, Ginny’s bare thigh was clearly visible, her dress having ridden up when she sat down, and Blaise’s hand was not being subtle.

“Your hand’s on my leg,” Blaise shot back. He was trying to sound annoyed, but Draco knew him too well. Where as this cab ride was a nightmare for him, Blaise was clearly living out some twisted dream scenario, pressed up against Weasley with no hope of personal space.

The whole thing was painful. As if it weren’t bad enough being wedged in here with five other adults. All to pick up a cat of all things. Surely, they didn’t all need to be present for that. But, as Theo had explained this morning, that didn’t matter, this was their “first roommate bonding experience” and Draco had better not muck it up.

“No it really isn’t,” Weasley snapped, glaring daggers at Blaise and tugging her dress down. Not that it helped. Blaise grinned down at her legs, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Classic he said, she said,” he murmured.

Ginny huffed and tried to ignore him, though Draco noticed the faintest smile playing on her lips.

“Blaise, don’t make me jar you.” Granger’s swotty tone filled the cab. She’d really taken to The Wanker Jar with alarming enthusiasm, and for some reason, that pleased Draco more than it should have.

“Why are you dressed like that anyways?” Theo asked from the front seat. “I mean, you’ve got the color right, but this seems more of a trouser type ordeal.”

“I’m going out tonight. Oliver just got back from his match and wants to go to some new club. He hates being late, so I thought I’d wear my best for Crooks.” She smoothed down the front of her dress, brushing away imaginary cat hair at the mere mention of the fury beast.

She didn’t look too thrilled about the date. When Draco glanced at Granger, she was biting her lip, clearly holding back from saying something.

“You two do like your Quidditch players,” Theo said, then immediately winced. “I mean….sport playing players?” He lifted his hands up and made a face, realizing he couldn’t name a single Muggle sport.

Luckily, the driver was paying them absolutely no attention. If Draco didn’t know any better, he’d swear the man was occluding. He wished he could occlude right now.

“Smooth,” Draco nodded over at Theo.

“I played qui…sports at school,” Blaise offered, trying to appeal to Ginny.

She patted his leg, a condescending smile lighting her face. “Sure you did.”

“Your hand’s on my leg,” Blaise said again, grinning when she rolled her eyes and pulled away.

“Godric, are we there yet?” Granger groaned, covering her face like the entire ordeal was too much to bear. Draco wholeheartedly agreed.

The rest of the drive passed in blessed silence, broken only by the hum of London traffic and the rhythmic tap of Granger’s shoe. He had to physically stop himself from putting his hand on her leg. No sense starting that idiotic argument again.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a tall, modern building. Granger leaned up front to pay the driver while Draco all but unfolded himself from the back seat, stretching his legs gratefully. She joined them on the pavement and started towards the large glass doors.

Theo stuck an arm out to stop her. “Wait, I thought we’d try something a bit cooler. You know, scale the building or apparate onto the the roof and shimmy through a window. Like in those muggle films?” He looked genuinely disappointed to see her headed for the main entrance. 

Granger stared at him for a second, then continued on, shaking her head.

Theo then leaned over to Draco and whispered, “I’m starting to think the outfits were for naught.” 

Draco exhaled loudly and kept walking.

They followed Granger past the front desk, where an elderly man waved at her. Clearly this Muggle wasn’t privy to their wizarding news….and Krum hadn’t mentioned she no longer lived here. 

“Evening Mr. Watson, just popping up with some friends. Have a good night,” she said warmly, leading them to the lifts. 

Once inside, she pressed her fingertip to a small pad beside the buttons. The lift ascended smoothly, and when the doors slid open they were met with a panoramic view of London from a vast, modern penthouse. 

So this was where Granger had lived.

Draco stepped inside, taking in the sleek minimal space. It looked nothing like her. Not a book in sight. He’d imagined anyplace she lived to be bursting with them. Judging by her current room, which he’d peeked into the other day, she certainly owned enough to fill several shelves. She must have kept them hidden away here. 

It all looked so….cold. And Granger was anything but. She was the definition of warmth.

The doors remained open, but she still hadn’t moved. Ginny stepped up beside her and took her hand. “You’ve got this. And just in case you don’t, remember, I’ve got you.” 

Granger nodded with a watery smile, then stepped forward, their hands clasped. Draco, Blaise, and Theo followed, the soft ping of the lift doors closing behind them.

Theo drifted up next to Granger and leaned his head on her shoulder in a show of moral support. Draco had known for awhile that the two of them were friends, but he hadn’t realized they were this close. Though, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Both were ridiculously swotty, and while Granger was kind and quietly intriguing, Theo was charming and chaotic. Which based on the rumors about her and those two Gryffindor idiots, she had a definite soft spot for chaos.

“So, where’s this feral beast that even Scarhead’s afraid of?” Blaise quipped, wandering around the sleek sofa and further into the spacious sitting room.

“He’s not feral. Or a beast,” Granger shot back,  giving Blaise a withering look. “He just doesn’t care for Harry or Ron much. They weren’t exactly kind to him third year and he’s not one for forgiveness.”

“Smart cat,” Draco muttered under his breath, moving up beside Blaise and leaning casually against the back of the sofa.

As if summoned by her voice, a large, manky orange cat came sauntering down the hallway into the room. The moment he spotted her, he quickened his pace and hopped up onto the sofa.

“Crookshanks,” she breathed, just as he let out a load, throaty mewl.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Blaise stumbled backwards trying to put distance between himself and the half kneazle.

Draco elbowed him hard, just as Crookshanks turned, narrowed his eyes, and hissed.

“Sorry! Sorry. I mean what a beautiful….cat.” Blaise visibly shuddered and edged even further away, half hiding behind Draco.

Granger, completely absorbed in fussing over Crookshanks, didn’t notice Blaise’s obvious fear. But the cat did.

After glaring at Blaise, Crookshanks turned his beady little eyes on Draco and stared. He turned back to give Granger one last nuzzle before flicking his tail up and padding down towards him. He rubbed against Draco’s chest with surprising force, purring loudly. Draco instinctively stroked his fur, looking down with something almost like fondness, until he realized what was happening.

“Do you know Crookshanks?” Granger asked, brow furrowing. Theo and Ginny both looked just as bewildered, while Blaise backed up further, apparently no longer feeling safe behind Draco.

“Do I know Crookshanks?” Draco scoffed. “Yea Granger, me and your cat go way back.”

Feeling braver now that he’d put some distance between himself and the feline, Blaise snorted. “Yea, I’m sure he wishes he’d been petting that pussy for awhile, Granger.”

Draco rolled his eyes and held up a rude hand gesture directed at Zabini. He truly fucking hated his friends sometimes. Both Theo and Ginny were snorting into their sleeves, and even Granger had a smirk on her face, though her cheeks had gone pink. Which did something to Draco he’d rather not examine.

Ginny suddenly bounced on her toes. “Ohhhh, ohhh, can I do it this time? Please?”

“Be my guest, Red. We can make you an honorary housemate.” Theo grinned.

She pointed straight at Blaise. “Wanker Jar! And that’s worth two galleons.”

“Two galleons?! Are you mental, witch?”

“Hermione said no more pussy jokes! Don’t make me up it to three.”

They were all still laughing. Completely caught up in their successful mission and now Blaise and Ginny bickering, that none of them heard the Floo roar to life behind them.

Theo, facing that direction, was the first to react. “Oh shit.”

Granger turned, still smiling, cheeks flushed. “What’s wro—“ she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and froze. Her head snapped around so fast Draco swore he heard her neck crack. “Oh shit.”

Krum stepped out of the Floo and dropped his bags to the floor as he stared at her, utterly stunned. “Hermione.”

They just stood there, locked in place, while the rest of them glanced at one another in awkward silence.

Finally, Ginny snapped into action, pushing Hermione slightly behind her. “We were just leaving.” She turned around, hands firm on Hermione’s shoulders. “Grab Crooks and we’ll get out of here, yeah?”

“Minny, you can’t just leave,” Krum said, voice heavy with frustration. “I’ve given you space, but now it’s time to come home. I need you home.”

What a tosser. Draco may have been many things in his life; a bully, a blood purist (mostly forced on him, and he was long past that), a Death Eater (again, not by choice), an almost murderer. But he would never be a cheater. And to cheat on Granger? Draco couldn’t understand it.

“You need noth—“ Ginny started, storming towards him, but Granger cut her off.

“Thanks, but I should talk to him, Gin.” 

Granger gave her friend’s hand a quick squeeze before stepping forward to face Krum. His shoulders eased immediately, hope flickering through the cracks in his expression. 

The rest of them huddled together awkwardly, attempting to give the pair at least the illusion of privacy as Krum began leading Hermione out of the room and towards the kitchen. Away from them all.

Granger glanced back over her shoulder before following him. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Everyone but Crookshanks stayed put. The cat hopped down from the sofa and pranced off after them, following right on Granger’s heels, looking ready to pounce on Krum if the moment called for it.

They could still see the two of them through the archway, but it was impossible to hear anything. Draco kept his eyes fixed on Krum; the others seeming just as tense. Ginny, in particular, looked ready to hex him into next week.

“Has he always been so massive?” Theo asked, squinting. “I mean, I noticed in fourth year, but thought it was just because he was older than us.”

“Definitely has more of a beater’s build now,” Blaise said, tilting his head to get a closer look. “Although, right now he’s giving more ‘troll in the dungeon’ than Quidditch star…..though that might be the massive coat. Or the fact Granger’s tiny.”

Ginny giggled softly. “Ron calls him ‘the ogre.’ But also, Ron’s hated him since fourth year. Never really got over all that.”

Draco couldn’t believe he actually had something in common with Weasley. He wasn’t sure if that made him an idiot or if it simply meant Weasley was bound to be right about something eventually. 

“About as smart as one too,” Draco muttered.

Theo chortled before asking, “what do you reckon he’s saying?” He leaned in, trying to read their lips. “You don’t think she’d move back in with him do you?” He aimed the question at Ginny, and everyone turned to her.

“No, Hermione’s steadfast once she makes a decision.” Ginny hesitated, biting her lip as if weighing how much to reveal. Then, with the slightest shake of her head, she continued on, “plus, I’m starting to think they wouldn’t have lasted anyway. I don’t know if she‘d have left if he hadn’t cheated, but she wouldn’t have said yes.”

Wouldn’t have lasted? 

Draco had seen them together at Ministry event and Quidditch matches over the years. Krum always looking smug, like he’d snatched the Golden Snitch of girlfriends, and Granger looking just as enchanted as she had at the Yule Ball. He’d also begrudgingly skimmed the Prophet articles fawning over them. Not because he cared, obviously. Just habit.

And what exactly did Ginny mean by she wouldn’t have said yes? Said yes to what? Draco had so many questions, but before he could ask even one, Granger’s sharp, high-pitched voice cut through the room.

“Are those my things?” 

She sprinted over and dropped to her knees in front of a box filled with what looked to be lumpy old rags. She rummaged through it, pulling out more and more of the wretched looking items.

“They are,” she shouted, shoving everything back into the box, picking it up and marching back towards them. She looked absolutely enraged. Her curls were forming a wild halo, the ends practically crackling with magic. Draco was momentarily stunned.

“She looks like your dear Aunt Bella,” Blaise muttered, nudging him.

Draco shot him a murderous look. Blaise raised his hands. “What? Your aunt was hot. A fucking lunatic, but hot nonetheless.”

Ginny and Theo exchanged a skeptical look and then both nodded slowly. “Yea, that tracks.”

Granger reached them again, clutching the box of what, up close, looked less like rags and more like socks. Maybe. Hard to tell. 

Krum emerged from the kitchen just then, shrugging off his coat and calling after. “We’re not done talking about this, Minny.”

Salazar. Draco loathed that nickname. Loathed it even more coming out of Krum’s mouth.

“There’s nothing to talk about Viktor. We’re not together anymore.” She turned to face him fully and then froze. The box slipped from her hands, landing with a thud as half its contents spilled onto the floor. 

Krum looked as though she’d physically struck him, but he tried to school his features. Then he finally seemed to notice Blaise, Theo, and Draco properly. His brow tightened. 

“Hi, Gin,” he said sheepishly, glancing away when Ginny glared daggers at him. “Who are these guys?” His gaze swept over the rest of them, and his tone dropped several degrees. “Malfoy?”

“Oh, him you remember, but not us?” Theo scoffed. “We sat at the same table in the Great Hall for a whole year, Krummy. You wound me.” He clutched at his chest theatrically.

Krum brushed him off, practically ignoring Theo entirely, and focused back on Granger. He opened his mouth, about to plead by the look of it, but she cut him off.

“They’re my roommates,” she started to explain, but then got distracted. “Is that my shirt?” She stepped closer, squinting at the faded material. “That is my shirt! Give me my shirt back.”

Draco couldn’t help staring at the shirt, which was at least two sizes too small for Krum. Emblazoned across his chest were four unmistakable letters, S.P.E.W. A groan escaped before he could stop it. So that’s what the mangy rags were, her elf knittings. Merlin.

“Minny, you gave this to me and I want to keep it. I wore this at every SPEW event.”

Granger looked murderous. “It’s S.P.E.W., not spew, and it’s my thing. I want it back.”

It was all utterly ridiculous, but Draco was nothing if not loyal to a cause, and right now the cause was Granger. He wanted her to have that shirt. He wanted her to have whatever she wanted.

“Give her the shirt, Krum.” He strode forward to stand beside her. Crookshanks wound through his ankles, obviously pleased Draco was defending his witch.

“No, I don’t think so.” Krum’s eyes chilled, looking more like the shark he transformed into during the second task than man. He glanced down at the spilled box between them, “And I knit this hat last Christmas for the elves, so I’m keeping that too.”

He bent to grab the poorly knit hat, but Draco snatched it up first. “What? This hat?” He yanked it on, the wobbly cap mussing his perfectly imperfect styled hair. “I dare you, Krum. Take it off my head.” He pushed his sleeves up, inviting the attempt.

Draco chanced a glance at Granger. She was staring at him, her eyes glassy with just the hint of a smile peeking through. Warmth flared through him. He pressed on. 

“No wonder no elf took this. It’s dreadful. You clearly don’t have Granger’s technique.”

Theo snickered, likely living for this showdown. Blaise stepped forward, reaching down to grab another hat off the floor and shoved it onto his own head.

“You knit one hat and think you have the rights to all this?” Blaise waved his hand over the box and its scattered contents. “Witch made a lot of hats. Do you know how time consuming this must have been for her? Finding a pattern, picking out colors, choosing the yarn type; wool, cashmere, merino, silk, lin—“

“Stop listing yarn types, Zabini” 

Krum looked back and forth between Draco and Blaise, incredulous. “You live with these wizards, Hermione? Come on, come back home where you belong.”

“You know, I don’t like you, Krum. Never have. Ever since you came to Hogwarts acting like what was ours—“ 

Granger lifted a hand, cutting Draco off. She gave him a genuine smile, her cheeks flushed, and her freckles sparkling. He physically couldn’t keep speaking.

“I’ve got this.” She turned back to Krum. “I have a place to live. I spent the last three years putting everything into this relationship. And yes, I know I can be difficult. And I know I was nervous about marriage and kids, but you couldn’t even wait for me. You couldn’t even ask me the question before you cheated.” She exhaled shakily. “Honestly, I’m glad you did, because if you hadn’t, I might have said yes. And you would’ve just hurt me later.”

That must have been what Weasley meant. Krum had been planning on proposing. Draco felt something hot and savage coil in his chest.

“And yes, I’m scared to start over. Especially living with these three, who I wasn’t exactly friends with before.” She shot them a small smile. “But I actually love it there. I was comfortable with you, which was nice after years of being anything but. But maybe that was part of the problem. I shouldn’t settle for comfortable. I need more. I need to be….overwhelmed.”

Draco felt overwhelmed.

Theo swaggered up, looking insanely proud of Granger, and slammed a hat with an abnormally large poof onto his own head. “Give her the shirt back, Krum.”

“What happens if I say no?” Krum asked, glancing warily between them.

“You know what happens,” Blaise said as he marched right up, drew back, and slapped Krum across the face. Hard. “Zabini happens,” he yelled, throwing his arms wide.

Krum clutched his cheek, glaring at Blaise with malice in his eyes, but clearly not eager to escalate. “What the fuck was in your hand?”

“Signet ring, you wanker. What kind of pureblood are you?” Blaise made to go at him again, but Draco jumped in pulling Blaise back while Theo and Ginny grabbed her belongings off the floor.

“Fine, take the shirt,” Krum muttered, yanking it over his head and thrusting it at her. “I thought we were going to handle this like adults, Hermione. I thought you’d let me explain and we could fix this.”

She snatched the shirt and shoved it into her bag. “Well, I thought you were the love of my life, so I guess we were both wrong.” She smiled sadly at him, her voice wobbling. “I deserve someone patient, even when I'm difficult. Someone who won’t choose someone else over me. I want more than this.”

With that she turned away and scooped up Crookshanks, who purred lovingly in her face. Ginny wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into her side. 

“Come on, babe. You’ve done beautifully, now let’s get go celebrate. I’m sure your posh twats have some exorbitantly expensive champagne lying around.” She winked over at Blaise who was standing by the lift with Draco and Theo, still wearing their hats and waiting patiently.

“I think we may have just the thing, Ginevra.” Blaise said with a smirk as the door slid open. 

Granger looked back once at the remnants of her old life then stepped into the lift, looking perfectly content to leave it all behind and start anew.

~*~

That night as he noxed the lights and crawled into bed, he caught sight of a fluffy tail swishing through the air. The orange beast leapt up onto his plush duvet and curled himself into Draco’s side. 

“Yea, yea you manky old thing….it’s good to see you again too.”

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

Hermione woke the next morning to find Crookshanks no longer snuggled up beside her and an owl scratching furiously at her bedroom window. 

“Ughhh, go away” she whined, throwing an arm over her face to block out the relentless sun shining through the gauzy curtains.

The scratching continued. Picking up in intensity.

Mornings were usually Hermione’s thing, but yesterday had drained her and she was nursing the faint hum of a champagne hungover after all the celebrating they’d done last night. She’d known she’d have to speak to Viktor eventually, of course, but she hadn’t anticipated it being so soon. She’d thought she still had days, weeks even, to prepare exactly what to say, in exactly the right way. 

All things considered, she thought she’d done rather well. She wasn’t the brightest witch of her age for nothing.

Hermione begrudgingly sat up and stretched, before finally dragging herself out of bed to deal with the persistent owl. It had to be the morning Prophet, and that was never good news.

She tiptoed over to the window, forgetting she was no longer living out of Ginny’s sitting room, and unlatched it. A small, determine owl swooped in, hopped onto the sill, and stuck out his leg, bearing both the morning edition and a dainty silk pouch for tips. 

Not being able to channel Ginny’s “no tips for the Daily Prophet” rage, Hermione scampered to her bag for a few knuts, dropped them into the pouch, and unfurled the paper. Once freed, the owl hooted reproachfully and flew off into the early morning sunrise.

Hermione had hoped today would be the day her and Viktor’s breakup finally fell out of public interest, relegated to some inside column, if mentioned at all. The Prophet had gone days without a new photo or quote from someone closer to her than the clerk at Eeylop’s Liquor Emporium, so it felt promising. 

She’d assumed they’d focus on Viktor’s latest match and pepper in a few thinly veiled jabs at her while singing his praises, as seemed to be their way. She truly didn’t think she’d be staring back at her own face this morning. 

Perhaps they’d crowned her the brightest witch of her age too soon.

There she was, front page, alongside Ginny, Theo, Blaise, Malfoy, and Crookshanks, who was perched on Draco’s shoulders like a bloody parrot, standing outside her old flat, seconds before piling into the muggle cab. 

Felines, Snakes and a Lion, Oh My!

By: Quillan Embers

Last evening, before the stars shone brightly in the never ending majestic night sky, three snakes and two lions embarked upon a devious quest to snatch a feline as bright as the midday sun. These five miscreants (Hermione Granger, Ginevra Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini) entered the known dwelling of one Viktor Krum, Triwizard competitor, famed Durmstrang alumni and world class seeker for Puddlemere United. It is unknown what transpired in said dwelling on the eve of tonight, but one can surmise that the feisty feline was taken from his loving home and is now being forced to join this bumbling band of scoundrels. 

No comment yet from Krum or any of the alleged cat snatchers. But one can safely surmise from this encounter that Miss Granger has lost all prior sense. Stealing cats and fraternizing with known and supposed Death Eaters, makes one wonder, how far will the Golden Girl fall?

Hermione didn’t know whether to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, the over the top flowery writing (it was a bloody bouquet) or scream at the blatant butchering of Muggle culture. 

It was as though the entire Daily Prophet staff had taken Muggle literature and film classes purely so they could misquote them on purpose, just to get under her skin. Lions came first in the actual quote, and why on earth would he make lion singular but felines plural when there were clearly two lions (which he mentioned in the sodding article) and only one cat? In Hermione’s mind, it had been done for one reason and one reason alone, to drive her absolutely barmy. It was fucking maddening, and regrettably, it was working.

She clutched the paper tightly and stomped out into the hallway, towards the kitchen. She needed tea. Or maybe something stronger.

Theo was already filling the kettle when she walked in, his wand raised with a steady stream of water flowing out. He looked so hopelessly out of place, stumbling about as he attempted to make tea, that she momentarily forgot her ire. 

He glanced over at the sound of her padding in, offering her a sleepy grin. “You’re up early.”

She groaned. “Not by choice. I was hoping to sleep off this champagne headache and wake up gloriously late….like maybe around nine.”

He chuckled as he fiddled with the kettle switch. “You’re making tea the muggle way? Do you always do that?” She already knew the answer. Even if they hadn’t worked together for years, the look of utter bewilderment on his face as he tapped the device with his wand would have given him away. What she couldn’t quite understand was why he was trying it now.

He shuffled from foot to foot, thinking too hard for this hour. “Err, no. This is my first time. A kettle virgin, if you will. I usually pop off to the shops for my morning fix.” He looked oddly uneasy, but Hermione chalked that up to learning a new life skill. Such things were difficult for purebloods. “But, I had Whi….erm, I had a winning idea that we could all start adopting some muggle habits. Make you feel more at home.”

She smiled back at him , swallowing at the sudden sting in her eyes. These bloody Slytherins and their uncanny ability to make her cry. Oddly, the confrontation with Viktor hadn’t made her emotional, she figured it would eventually but it hadn’t yet….and she wasn’t entirely sure what that said about her or their relationship. But the three of them standing up to Viktor over her S.P.E.W. knittings had nearly undone her.

“Lucky for you, I know how to make an excellent cup of tea.” She crossed over to plug in the kettle. “Plugging it in is step one,” she smirked, earning a playful shove from Theo.

“You’ve got the water bit perfect. Then you just pop on the lid and flick the switch.”

“Well, that’s not too bad. Though I doubt you’ll manage to convince Draco to make his own cuppa.” He reached to grab two mugs from the cabinet overhead and then accioed a tea caddy filled with all the best Fortnum & Mason blends.

Once they’d selected their sachets and the tea was brewing, Hermione handed Theo the morning Prophet without a word of warning. He took one look, then another, and immediately began screaming. 

“Merlin, I’m famous!”

“Who’s famous? Surely not you.” Malfoy’s drawl drifted into the kitchen as he came into view. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt and grey joggers that highlighted his assets far too well. And was that….orange fur on his shirt? Surely not. Hermione blinked repeatedly, then with considerable effort, dragged her gaze back up to his face. 

Thankfully he missed her blatant ogling. His eyes were fixed on the electric kettle, suspicion radiating off him as though the appliance had personally insulted his bloodline. He narrowed his eyes and shot Hermione a withering look, as if this was her fault.

“Yes, yes, I know, purebloods can’t make their own cup of tea. I’ll help you this once.” She set about preparing him a mug.

“Where would I be without your kindness, Granger?” He smirked. “Oh yes, that’s right, if you didn’t live here, I’d have my tea prepa—“ 

Theo threw an unused tea bag at his head before he could finish.

“Stop talking about the bloody tea! We’re front page news!” Theo shouted as he waved the paper in Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy snatched it out of his hand as if it was a snitch whizzing by, and began reading while Hermione continued preparing his tea. Theo perched nearby, practically salivating, just waiting to see his own handsome face smirking back up at him again. 

She wasn’t sure how Malfoy would react to being labelled a Death Eater, nor did she think he’d be as excited about being “famous” as Theo. He was already as well known as she was in the Wizarding World. And while Hermione endured her fair share of sexist tripe in the Prophet, specifically from Rita Skeeter and now her new protégé, she was for the most part, adored. The Malfoys….less so.

“Have either of you actually read this?” Malfoy asked, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Not yet,” Theo admitted. “Couldn’t stop staring at myself long enough. Pass it back, yea?”

Hermione risked a glance at Malfoy and found him staring directly at her, his silvery eyes boring into her amber ones. She nodded as she bit at her lip and finished up his tea. “I’m sorry they called you a Death Eater. That was uncalled for. And it’s my drama—“

“Yes, that’s my main issue with the article, Granger.” He rolled his eyes, then scanned the page again before handing it back to a bouncing Theo. “Who in their right fucking mind would call yesterday the eve of tonight?”

“I know! And does one really need to mention that the sky is never ending? Seems a bit superfluous.” Malfoy was scoffing, but not at her. At Quillan bloody Embers. The sound of it made her feel positively giddy. She’d had no one to complain with while reading the last few articles. Now she did.

Theo finally made it past his glowing portrait and down to the actual text. “Does the Prophet have a new word quota I don’t know about? Why not just enlarge the photo and cut half this shite.”

Malfoy nodded sharply. “World class Seeker? Maybe years ago when we were all still in school. Now? He loses more games then he wins….even when he does catch the snitch.” The distaste on his face at the mention of Viktor was hard to miss. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was leftover school animosity or something new.

“And are we miscreants or scoundrels?” Theo asked, looking between them. “Honestly, I like both. I just want to know what the general consensus is. You know, in case I get shirts made.” 

He brightened suddenly. “Ohh, I know! How about ‘She’s My Golden Girl’ shirts for us and a ‘They’re My Death Eaters’ one for Hermione?” His eyes sparkled as he finally broke into full laughter.

She handed each of them a cup of tea before returning to her spot against the kitchen island, sipping on her own. “That’s an idea, for sure,” Hermione said as Malfoy stared at her like she’d taken complete leave of her senses. She shrugged. “Very Muggle and I appreciate it. Especially after the Prophet’s blatant misquoting of Muggle literature and film. First Shakespeare and now The Wizard of Oz.” She mumbled that last bit under her breath, assuming neither of them would know or care what she was on about.

“For real, she needs to get a grip-eth.” Theo flashed her a  dashing smile. “Don’t look so shocked, Hermione, it’s insulting. Shakespeare is all gossip and backstabbing. Straight out of the Slytherin playbook.”

Malfoy merely shrugged, looking entirely in agreement, which raised far too many questions Hermione didn’t get to ask…..because Blaise wandered in, stretching and yawning as Theo piped up. “Look who finally decided to join us.”

“Needed my beauty rest,” Blaise replied, arms still raised before dropping them lazily to his sides. “Clearly the two of you didn’t get enough.” He grimaced at Theo and Malfoy before turning to Hermione. “You, however,  look as beautiful as ever, Granger.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Zabini and took another sip of tea. She chalked it up to the early hour and his perpetual mood, likely worsened by the proximity to the bewildering Muggle kettle.

“Are you all up for the pub tonight? One of Flint’s last nights as a single man.” Blaise paused, staring at the kettle with apprehension before looking to Hermione for help. She waved him on and set to making him a fresh cup. He nodded gratefully. Then, staring directly at Malfoy, he added, “and before you ask, Astoria will not be there.” 

He turned back to Hermione. “And neither will Daphne. So you both can come. No excuses.”

Hermione opened her mouth to supply an excuse when Blaise barrelled right on. “However, Astoria will be at the wedding, and rumor has it she’s coming alone in the hopes of charming you back into proposing to her…..again.”

Hermione blinked. Then blinked again. Surely she’d misheard. Malfoy was engaged. Harry had told her only a few weeks ago. There was no way a Malfoy engagement could end without the Prophet splashing it across every page. Her breakup with Viktor had been everywhere. And they hadn’t even been engaged!

“Oh, bugger!” she exclaimed as she accidentally overfilled the kettle, water spilling down the sides. She quickly flicked her wand to stop the aguamenti and then again to dry the mess. Flustered, she looked up at Malfoy, her face likely flushed after the whole tea fiasco. “Wait, I thought you two were already engaged?”

Malfoy rolled his shoulders, looking throughly annoyed. He set his tea down and carded both hands through his hair before answering. “I never proposed. There was a betrothal contract arranged by our fathers ages ago, which I’ve since nullified. Lucius is on house arrest and stripped of all legal titles, so he’s in no position to make or enforce such frivolities.”

What were the chances that both of their relationships had come crashing down at the same time? One of them leaving a Greengrass, and the other being left for one….or at least that’s how it felt to her. Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the thought, and handed Blaise his tea. 

“Cheers, Granger.”

So Malfoy was single. Entirely single. But when she’d agreed to move in, he’d been engaged. Or so she’d thought. What did it truly matter? It shouldn’t matter in the slightest. Theo and Blaise were also single. So why did she feel…. Odd about it? 

She was so busy trying to decide whether it mattered or didn’t that she missed half the conversation happening around her. She only snapped back to reality when Blaise nudged her shoulder and Theo said her name.

“So what do you say, Hermione? Are you in?” Theo was bouncing again, practically vibrating with pure delight. Blaise’s grin was downright devious, while Malfoy looked as if he’d just lost an argument and wanted to curse them all.

Thinking they meant the pub that evening, she answered without hesitation. “Sure, I’ll go.” 

Judging by Theo’s reaction, that was absolutely not what she’d just agreed to. “Yes! This wedding is going to be brilliant. And don’t worry about being Draco’s date. We all know one Death Eater isn’t enough for you.” He winked at her. “And, oh my gods, everybody’s single! At the same time!” He gestured wildly around at all of them, arms flailing.

“Wait, wait a wedd—“ but she was cut off before she could get the word out. How the fuck had she missed so much of their conversation?!

“Oi, I wasn’t a Death Eater, and neither were you, Nott. Draco’s mark barely even counts. You can’t whinge that much and still be considered a member.” Blaise smirked, dodging when Malfoy swatted at him.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t see the Prophet.” Theo handed the paper to Blaise. “Merlin, what a morning.”

Blaise’s eyes grew wider with every line he read, his grin stretching to match. When he finished, he looked over at Hermione, “So, are we going by the Golden Scoundrels or the Cat Snatchers?” His grin was practically dancing across his lips, he looked nearly as excited as Theo. “Better yet, Pus—“

“No!” She shouted, just as Malfoy ripped the paper from his hands and smacked him on the back of the head with it before he could finish.

Blaise held up his hands in surrender , still laughing, “Alright, alright. But we should definitely get shirts made.”

“That’s what I said!” Theo crowed. The two of them raised their tea cups in a triumphant cheers, utterly chuffed with themselves.

Hermione rubbed at her eyes, her emotions once again at war for the second time that hour. She decided to laugh along with Theo and Blaise and their ridiculous matching shirt scheme. Because the thought of attending a pureblood wedding as Malfoy’s date was simply too much to bear this early in the morning. Or really at any time of day, if she truly thought about it.

~*~

Hermione was getting ready to go out that night, dancing around her room to the Spice Girls while finishing her hair and choosing an outfit. Mid chorus her Nimble Notes started buzzing.

Ginny: Hermionnneee

Ginny had a habit of drinking a bit at her away matches and then drunkenly Nimbleing them all her thoughts. Hermione not so secretly adored it.

Hermione: Ginny! I saw you got the ball through the hoops ten times, that’s amazing!

Ron: Just say scored, Hermione, and it’s a quaffle….not a ball.

Hermione: Sorry, I always forget!

Ginny: Hoop it up! He’s just bitter that his wife is still pregnant and having false alarms almost daily.

Ginny: Do you even leave Mungo’s or do you lot live there now?

Ron: Fuck off, Gin.

Ginny: Wood is waiting, so I will in a minute.

Ron: Bloody hell. Tell Oliver I hate him.

Ron: Is this why you messaged us?

Ginny: No, I messaged Hermione because I wanted to see what her and her snakes are up to.

They were not her snakes, but Hermione decided to let that one slide. At this point, she half suspected Ginny might try to adopt them soon enough. Or at least one of them.

Hermione: We’re going out to the pub. Something about Flint’s last outing as a single man

Ron: And you’re going alone?!

Merlin, why couldn’t Ginny ever message her privately? Hermione loved Ron, his heart was in the right place, but he was so bloody protective. She desperately needed Parvati to have that baby already so he’d have someone else to fuss over.

Hermione: Obviously not. I’m going with Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy

Ron: Hermione….

She wanted to point out that if he thought they were so dangerous, surely she was safer out in public with them than alone with them in their home….but that felt counterproductive.

Ginny: Wish I was there! What are you wearing?

Hermione: My blue strappy dress over that white turtleneck with tights and those new black boots

Ginny: The fuck Krum boots! I LOVE IT!

Hermione may have treated herself to a pair of vintage, knee high, black leather boots at Ginny’s insistence. She’d had a rough go of it lately, and the boots made everything feel infinitely better.

Ginny: Oh!, make sure to mention I'm going out with Wood tonight….just casually around Zabini

Ron: No.

Ron: It’s bad enough that Hermione lives with them all. Also, YOU ARE DATING OLIVER.

Ginny: Wood and I are casual.

Ron: For fuck’s sake.

Hermione knew Ginny would regret bringing up whatever was brewing between her and Blaise once she sobered up, so she stepped in to save her from herself.

Hermione: Harry, you’re awfully quiet. What are you up to?

Ron: Smooth, Hermione.

Harry: Sorry….still at the office. The paperwork is never ending. I never should’ve taken that promotion.

Harry: What pub are you going to? Mind some extra company? I could go for a very, very large drink.

Ginny: Hey! No fair, I want to go out with her!

Hermione: I would love some company. We’re going to Potion & Pint, meet there in an hour?

Harry: You just went out with her, it’s my turn. See you soon!

Hermione: And Gin, I’ll see you right when you get back. I actually need your help with something….

Ron: Oh shit, Parvati’s calling for me

Harry: Good luck!

Hermione: Keep us updated!

Ginny: And let this little babe know his aunt is getting antsy!

Ron: Yes, Gin, I’m sure Parvati will love to hear that you’re getting antsy.

Ginny: I knew she would.

Hermione: See you in a few Harry, and see you soon Gin!

~*~

Potion & Pint was a charming pub down Glowstone Grove, one of the cobblestoned lanes off Diagon Alley. Inside was all dark rich wood, cosy leather seating, arched windows, and moody lighting that made everyone look far more enchanting than they actually were. It was bustling now, the regular Saturday night crowd mixed with a the gathering of Slytherins celebrating Flint’s last hurrah.

“What the fuck is Potter doing here?” Malfoy turned to stare at her, practically growling. The night had been going rather well. They’d said their hellos and congratulations to Flint, and then bought him a few shots before claiming their own table near the back. She was already a glass and a half in, feeling pleasantly devil-may-care, so she didn’t let his typical snark bother her.

She waved him off as she stood , spotting Harry just as the door swung shut behind him. He caught sight of her and grinned broadly, weaving his way through the crowd, though that wasn’t entirely necessary, given people tended to part automatically for the Chosen One.

She glanced back at Malfoy, “I invited him, obviously.” She eyed the table, searching for a spot he could squeeze into.

“He can sit by me, I’ve already made room.” Theo said, answering her unasked question. He looked positively chuffed as he flagged down their waiter for another round.

Malfoy stared at Theo, as if questioning his sanity. 

“What? He’s intriguing….and fit.” Theo fussed with the seating again, ensuring enough space on the bench.

Malfoy looked like he might be sick. “I work with him. I promise you he’s not intriguing. The only mysterious thing about him is how the fuck he managed to defeat Voldermort.”

“That’s obvious isn’t it? She’s standing right there.” Blaise nodded toward Hermione. 

Hermione dipped into a theatrical bow. “You’re welcome,” she giggled as she straightened back up.

Malfoy stared at her for a few seconds, long enough that she wondered, absurdly, if he was enchanted by her. But the lighting must have been deceptive, because the moment he spoke, he sounded thoroughly unamused. 

“I see enough of him at work, Granger, I don’t need to see him on the weekend as well.” 

She took a long sip of her wine, attempting to ignore him, a Herculean effort, given how impossible ignoring Malfoy usually was. In the few days he’d been at the house since she moved in, she’d already learned there was no such thing as winning an argument with him. The only options were, keep arguing or pretend he didn’t exist.

“In fact, I remember telling you I specifically did not want to see him when I wasn’t at the office.” He was right next to her, but in his argumentative state had angled his body even closer, crowding her space despite her standing. Why was he so bloody tall?

“And I remember not caring,” she smirked, stepping away from the table to pull Harry into a proper hug.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I hate when you’re busy and we miss our lunch outings. And working weekends, who do you think you are, me?!” 

She finally released him after holding on longer than was strictly normal, then they both moved to the empty seats. Harry slid in beside Theo and she took the spot between Blaise and Malfoy. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Malfoy muttering under his breath and Theo shooting him a swift, warning look.

“Me too, though it looks like the paperwork is finally coming to an end. I’m caught up on our SLOGs, which Dawlish has been on my arse about.” Just then the waiter arrived with their latest round. Theo passed out the drinks, noticeably skipping Malfoy, having handed his Ogden’s to Harry instead.

“I wouldn’t mind Dawlish on my arse. He’s dishy.” Theo blurted. Malfoy just rolled his eyes, likely at both the comment and his missing whiskey.

Hermione nodded, giggling into her wine. “Oh, completely. Gin and I have thought so since fifth year, whenever he’d pop by for Order meetings,” she said brightly, the elf wine and Theo encouraging her. “Sometimes he was the one to transport us to the Burrow or back to school….one of the only highlights from that year.” 

Harry stared at her, horrified. She and Ginny had never shared that particular bit of gossip with Harry and Ron, but Hermione was feeling light for the first time in weeks, so she let it go.

“Merlin, that’s why you two were always so giggly around headquarters? I had no idea what was wrong with you, thought it was just some girl thing I didn’t understand.”

“Some of the giggling,” she conceded. “But I can’t divulge all my secrets in one night.” Harry shook his head at her tipsy antics, smiling warmly. He’d watched her wallow for weeks, and she knew it pained him not to be able to jump in and fix all her problems.

She could feel Malfoy glancing at her throughout the entire Dawlish conversation. A little tingle ran up her spine every time his eyes met hers. Probably just the elf wine.

“So are you only into older men, Granger,” Blaise finally chimed in, leaning back and sipping on his gin and tonic while grinning. “Or is it just Dawlish and Krum?” 

She bit her bottom lip, idly playing with the stem of her wine glass, then tilted her head as she thought it over. She did seem to favor older wizards, well besides Ron, but that barely counted. “No, I’m an equal opportunist.” She grinned. “Besides, neither of them are that old. Viktor was only three years ahead of us, and Dawlish is what…..ten, maybe twelve years older? And he’s a Ravenclaw.” She said it as though it were the sexist thing a person could be.

Blaise raised his glass towards her, still grinning. “So yes. You do like older men. And apparently Ravenclaws.”

“No, I just like a wizard who knows what he’s doing. I tutored and provided guidance enough while we were at Hogwarts, I don’t have time for that now.” She drained her drink before reaching for the next glass and winking at Blaise.

Harry sighed in mock exasperation, though he was clearly amused. Blaise and Theo outright cackled. “Is that a dig at Weasley? You two were together, right?”

Hermione traced her fingertip around the rim of her glass, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “I don’t fuck and tell.”

Malfoy had already been watching her, but now he stared like he’d forgotten they were in a crowded pub. He lifted his glass to finish it, only to find it empty. 

“I love you like this, Granger,” Blaise whooped, scooting his chair closer. “Are you finally warming up to us, or is this the elf wine talking?”

She twirled one of her curls around her finger and grinned, completely carefree. “What can I say? Elf wine makes me slutty.”

“Me too!” Theo shouted, slapping the table in glee and clinking his glass against hers before taking a massive gulp.

Malfoy abruptly levitated everyone’s empty glasses off the table and stood. “I’m going to go get another round.” He was halfway to the bar before any of them could respond.

She watched him go, kept watching, until Theo’s voice brought her back.

“What is it about Ravenclaws you find so appealing? I’m offended. Slytherins are obviously the best lovers.”

“Ugh, don’t say lovers,” she grimaced, sticking her tongue out. Theo burst into more laughter. 

“Ravenclaws are smart and witty and mysterious. I’ve never been with one, but when I think about it, that seems like my type. And clearly I’ve been going for the wrong sort, so maybe I should change it up.”

“Slytherins are smart, witty, and mysterious. Ravenclaws are stuck up prudes,” Theo declared with the tone of someone who had thoroughly sampled the menu and created an unquestionable ranking. He ruffled his hair and glanced over at Harry, who was paying close attention and nodding along attentively, as though this were vital Auror intel.

“Theo’s right, Granger. You haven’t lived until you’ve been with a Slytherin. And I don’t need copious amounts of elf wine to get slutty….I’m naturally inclined.” Blaise arched an eyebrow at her, a wicked glint in his eye. “Make sure you let Ginevra know.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can let her know yourself. She’ll be over next week.”

“Have I mentioned you’re the best roommate ever? Honestly. Top notch.” Blaise clinked his glass against hers and promptly downed the rest.

The pub was really starting to fill now, and every so often a roar of voices rose up in yet another toast to Flint and his impending nuptials. Hermione craned her neck to find Malfoy at the bar and spotted him chatting with a few other Slytherins while he waited for their drinks. He was raking a hand through his hair and laughing at something the wizard beside him had said. She got entirely lost in the sight of it. His hair sweeping over his brow, the curve of his lips over those strikingly white teeth, and the utterly unfair fact that he was single. When the chair next to her screeched loudly, jolting her back to the present.

Someone very much not Malfoy slid into the empty seat, setting his pint down with a heavy thunk. “Theo, Blaise…..Potter.” The voice beside her was deep and a touch unsettling.

She turned to look and found a wizard who seemed vaguely familiar. Dark brown hair, even darker eyes. Ministry, maybe? Harry and Theo nodded their hellos while Blaise replied, “Montague. What’re you up to tonight? Here to celebrate Flint?”

“Of course. Can’t have him getting married without getting him absolutely pissed first.” He grinned at the group before turning fully towards Hermione. “Graham Montague. I was at Hogwarts too,” he added, head tilting, a playful smile forming. “Though a few years ahead of you.” His voice softened now he was addressing her directly, and he held out his hand.

She placed hers in his, and he held on a little longer than necessary. “I remember now. I’m Hermi—“

He cut her off, smile unwavering, and annoyingly handsome actually. Bloody hell, maybe Blaise was right and she did have a thing for older men. Or maybe it was just the lighting in this damn pub. “Hermione Granger, yes. Even if you weren’t absolutely breathtaking, I’d still know who you are.”

Harry cleared his throat, big brother mode activated, but Montague didn’t so much as glance his way, his eyes locked on Hermione. 

“I’ve actually been meaning to say hello for a few weeks now, but you always look so busy at the Ministry….and to be honest, you’re quite intimidating. Even now, sitting with this lot.” He gave a nervous little laugh, getting more flustered with every word. “Anyways, I’ve been wanting to ask you out. On a date?” His voice wobbled at the end, and though she was completely blindsided, his nerves were strangely endearing.

She stared at him, trying to work out a response. She’d only been single a few weeks. Her breakup with Viktor was still making front page news. She was absolutely not ready to date, but how did she say that without oversharing or crushing the poor man?

How was it possible she could crack the most intricate and dark curses at work, solve scroll length arithmancy equations in an afternoon, and translate runes in six bloody languages, yet lately she couldn’t manage to answer a wizard speaking to her?

As if sensing her hesitation, he qualified his question. “Just lunch. Nothing serious.”

Hermione glanced up at him, then over to Harry and Theo, both of whom looked two seconds away from telling Montague to fuck off but were clearly giving her space. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you, but—“

“No, don’t give me the dreaded but.” His smile twisted into something wounded, and he pressed a hand to his heart as if she’d struck him.

Harry was now drumming his fingers loudly on the table. She wouldn’t be shocked if he whipped out his Auror badge and set it in Montague’s eyeline just to scare him off.

Hermione scrunched up her nose as she pressed on. “It’s just…. I’ve only  just got out of a serious relationship and I’m not ready date yet.”

That made his smile return. “That’s not a no.” 

“Sure sounded like a no to me.” For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t Malfoy have taken one more minute getting the drinks? His timing was impeccable. He hovered their glasses in front of him and sent each one drifting to its owners around the table. Then he fixed Montague with a sharp look, as if his stare alone could make him vacate the chair.

Apparently, it could. Montague blinked, shook his head at Malfoy’s dramatics, and stood. He gave the table a general goodbye before turning back to Hermione, looking slightly crestfallen but committed nonetheless. “I’ll see you around, yea?”

She nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you at work.”

The thought seemed to cheer him up. He sent her one last charming grin while pointedly ignoring Malfoy’s groan. “Have a good night, Hermione.”

She stared after him for a moment, then turned back to the table once he was out of ear shot, biting her bottom lip to hide her grin. 

“What’s got you all smiley? You just turned him down,” Blaise said, thoroughly baffled by her delight.

She shimmied in her chair, catching Theo’s earlier enthusiasm. “I’ve still got it!” She shrieked as she continued dancing about.

Harry snorted. “Of course you’ve still got it. You are the Golden Girl, after all.” His tone was teasing, dripping with mock grandeur.

She scoffed at him. “You’re just jealous no one calls you the Golden Boy.”  

Harry grimaced as the rest of the table burst out laughing.

“Honestly, were you concerned about this?” Blaise stared at her like she’d lost the plot. “I know a whole list of wizards who’d love to get with yo—“ 

Malfoy reached behind her and smacked him upside the head. 

“Oi! How many fucking times are you going to do that today?”

“Stop being an arse and I’ll stop hitting you.”

Blaise’s indignation morphed into a slow, devilish smirk as he looked between Malfoy and Hermione. “I’ll stop if yo—“

Before Malfoy could smack him a third time, Hermione turned and caught his arm, her hand closing around his bicep to keep it from rising. He stilled, staring first at her fingers on his arm and then at her. Heat flared under her skin. 

“Was that necessary?” She asked, more breathlessly than she’d intended.

He rolled his eyes and she quickly let go, reaching for her wineglass and twirling the stem between her fingers. “Yes. Blaise is always an arse.” Blaise snorted at that.

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean with Graham.” 

Malfoy momentarily froze at her use of Montague’s first name, then covered it quickly with a smirk. “Granger, you clearly wanted to say no but didn’t want to hurt the dolt’s feelings. You should be thanking me. Montague’s a wanker.”

Blaise and Theo nodded in solemn agreement. “You’re way too good for him.” 

Theo took a generous sip of his ruby hued wine, a grin curling across his face. “Though I do have it on good authority he’s got a large cock, so that might be fun.”

Malfoy tipped his head back with a groan, but she ignored him entirely.

“How could you possibly know that?” She demanded. Theo looked back at her as though she were the dimmest witch alive. “Not that it matters or anything. That is clearly not the reason I’d date him.”

Blaise let out a laugh. “Sure it isn’t. So you like them older and with a massive cock. Good to know.” He winked at her, and she simply shooed him off as he continued laughing.

“Quidditch locker room, obviously.” Theo turned to Harry. “I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of cocks, haven’t you, Potter?”

Harry almost choked on his whiskey, coughing as Theo slapped him on the back before carrying on. “Careful there, you’ve got to relax your throat so you can swallow it all down. I can demonstrate back at home if you’d like.” His eyes turned positively devious as he stared at Harry.

She caught Malfoy glancing up at the ceiling again as if seeking divine intervention.

“Thanks for the offer,” Harry said, finally recovering, “but I don’t mind choking on something every now and again.” 

Hermione couldn’t stop the giggle that forced its way out. Harry had always been quick and cheeky. Even Theo stared at him, gobsmacked and open mouthed.

“Fucking Salazar! Potter, you’re worse than him.” Malfoy then turned on her. “And that’s jar for you.”

She stared at him, affronted. “Jar? For me? I didn’t even do anything!”

He gave her a look that was pure condescension, as if explaining something very simple to a child. “Potter is your friend, so you’re responsible for him. And you and your slutty aura lured Montague over here after you drowned yourself in elf wine. Which is what caused this whole situation.” He was smirking now, which was infuriating. Mostly because it was distracting.

Blaise nudged her. “Yea, no luring other Slytherins next weekend at the wedding. You’ve got to keep Astoria away.”

Harry’s head swiveled between them, obviously lost at the mention of weddings and Astoria. “What wedding? Flint’s wedding? Are you going, Hermione?” He looked at her and she nodded reluctantly. “And are you not with Astoria anymore?” He turned to Malfoy for clarification.

Malfoy only sighed and took another long drink.

Theo jumped in, eager to fill Harry in. “Malfoy ended the engagement.” Malfoy scoffed loudly. “I’m sorry, betrothal. Very different in pureblood circles. Wouldn’t want to confuse the two.” He waved a hand dismissively. “And yes, Hermione is going as his date to Flint’s wedding….though really she’s going with all of us. I’m aiming to be front page news again.” His entire face lit up at the thought.

Harry looked back at her, concern coloring his face until she gave him a small smile and a nod to show she was fine. 

“Maybe don’t tell Ron about any of this….. and let’s hope that baby comes soon, so he stays distracted.”

Hermione had a sinking suspicion he didn’t just mean the wedding.

Chapter Text

*Ginny*

“Oliver,” she yelled up toward the sky from the back garden, “I’m leaving.”

She honestly couldn’t fathom how he was out flying right now. They’d both only just returned from away matches a few days ago and had been in all day trainings, every day since. Ginny loved Quidditch, but even she needed a breather now and again. Oliver however, only took breaks for clubbing and shagging.

He was a great shag, but even that was beginning to feel a bit stale, not the sex itself, that was still fantastic, but Ginny was starting to realize she might actually want something more. And Oliver didn’t have the patience for more….nor was she convinced she wanted it with him anyway.

“Oi, did you say something?” He called down, not bothering to land.

“Yea, I’m leaving. I going to help Hermione get ready for Flint’s wedding.” She still couldn’t believe Hermione was attending Marcus Flint’s wedding. Or that there was a witch alive willing to marry Marcus Flint.

He hovered above her with his arms stretched out for balance, looking a total wanker. She had the sudden urge to jar him, which made her smile.

“Krum was asking about her,” Oliver went on. “He’s convinced she’s dating one of those blokes she lives with. I told him there’s no way she’d date a Slytherin, let alone Malfoy….can’t even believe she’s living with them.”

She rolled her eyes when he wasn’t looking. They’d already had this conversation, and Ginny had told him, repeatedly, that she wasn’t answering any of Krum’s questions and didn’t want Oliver talking to him about Hermione either. Clearly, that message hadn’t sunk in. 

“Obviously he’s asking about her. She’s a goddess and he’s a fucking oaf who ruined the best thing he ever had.” 

Oliver only shrugged and began some new drill, darting side to side. 

“Look, I’ve got to go,” she said. “And I probably won’t have time to stop by before I leave for Scotland on Monday, so I’ll see you after our next matches?”

She turned toward the conservatory before he could reply, nearly at the door when he called after her, “send me dirty Nimbles if you’ve got the time!” He winked, then added, “Fred told me they added photo capability.”

“Ugh. Stop talking to my brothers!” She yelled back, heading inside towards the Floo as his laugh echoed behind her. Along with her irritation.

~*~

Hermione sat on a poof she’d conjured in front of her full length mirror while Ginny worked her magic on her riotous curls. Her makeup was already done. A lengthening charm to her lashes and a subtle plumping charm on her lips (a trick Fleur had taught her last year). Hermione had also rubbed on a light shimmering oil that gave her skin a soft glow and left her smelling of jasmine and neroli. 

“Soooo….Malfoy’s your date this evening?” Ginny asked, all sweet mischief, twirling a section of Hermione’s hair up with her wand before sticking it in place with a temporary charm.

Hermione giggled. “Subtle, Gin. You already know he is, so why not just ask what you want to ask?”

Ginny met her eyes in the mirror, grin widening. “Do you fancy him?”

“Do I fancy him? What is this a period drama?” Hermione reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, only for Ginny to smack her hand away with her wand.

“No touching the hair! This is a process. Don’t undermine my process.” Hermione held up both hands in surrender, apologizing solemnly. 

“Fine,” Ginny said, “I’ll ask the real question. Do you want to fuck him?” Her grin turned downright wicked.

Hermione snapped her head toward open door then waved her hand to slam it shut and turned the music up for good measure. Then she stared at Ginny, utterly bewildered. A touch too bewildered for Ginny to believe. 

“Of course I don’t want to have sex with him!” Hermione hissed. “I didn’t even want to go to this wedding. They conned me into it!”

“You honestly don’t think he’s fit?” Ginny pressed, watching her reflection carefully while she curled the last tendril.

Hermione let out a tortured little huff. The painful kind. The kind you make when your childhood bully grows up to be disturbingly attractive. A faint blush dusted her cheeks. 

“Of course I think he’s fit. Like you said, they all are. But that doesn’t mean anything. I think lots of wizards are fit.”

Ginny misted the pinned curls with Sleekeazy’s Super Smoothing Elixir. “He definitely wants to fuck you,”  she said, matter of factly before blasting the curls with hot air.

Hermione sat frozen, jaw dropped. 

When the hot air stopped she began stammering, “He do— Of cour— No. No he doesn’t.” 

Ginny just smiled back at her. “Sure. Whatever you say.” She checked over the curls, making sure all was in order. Pleased with how they were coming along, she looked back and asked, “so, who’ve you actually had your eye on, if not Malfoy?” She nudged Hermione’s shoulder, egging her on.

Hermione pursed her lips to the side as she thought. “Well, I told you I let slip to Harry that we both had a crush on Dawlish back at Hogwa—“

“No. That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You don’t honestly want to get with John Dawlish.” Ginny widened her eyes, then shrugged. “Unless you do. In which case, have Harry set you up….maybe you could get him another promotion.” She winked and Hermione snorted behind her raised hands.

“Fine, you’re right. He’s fit, but not exactly my type. Even though truthfully, I’m not sure what my type even is.” Exasperation and confusion colored her features. Leave it to Hermione to think her type needed to be written out and decided upon with no room for deviation. She turned on the poof to face Ginny. “I told you Graham Montague asked me out.”

Hermione had nimbled her the night they got back from the pub, recounting Montague coming on to her….and the boys’ subsequent dismissal of him. Specifically Malfoy’s. Ginny remembered him from Quidditch. Brooding, handsome, the perfect rebound in her opinion.

“Are you going to say yes when he asks you out again?” She waggled her brows as she plopped onto the bed to bring herself level with Hermione.

She shrugged. “You don’t know that he’ll ask me out again. He’ll see me at the wedding with Malfoy and think I’m unavailable.”

“Do you want him to think you’re unavailable?”

“Ughhh, I don’t know, Gin!” She went to tug on her hair, but Ginny shot upright and grabbed her wrists before disaster could strike.

Kneeling in front of her, Ginny held her shoulders. “I think you should just have fun with the boys tonight. Help Malfoy with his ridiculous pureblood drama, and then when Montague asks you out again. Because yes, of course he will, say yes. I know Krum knocked you off kilter, and it’s hard getting back out there after being committed for so long, but like I said, you’ve got this.” She stood and kissed the top of Hermione’s curls. “And I cannot wait to hear about all your dating escapades. I need to know if his cock is as big as Theo claimed.”

Hermione threw her head back laughing, dabbing at her eyes before the tears could wreck havoc on her makeup. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. I don’t deserve you, but to make up for it, I promise to share all the measurements I uncover.”

“You are an angel.” Ginny giggled. “And we absolutely deserve each other. Now let me finish this hair so you can trot off to that wedding with your harem.”

She flicked her wand and all the twirls unfurled at once, cascading down Hermione’s back in soft, ethereal waves.

Hermione stared at her reflection. “Oh, fuck. I look….wow.”

Ginny giggled, brushing the waves lightly and sweeping one side behind her ear, securing it with a delicate, glittering pin. “You look more then wow. You look utterly fuckable. Now go get dressed. I need a minute alone with your dates.”

Hermione stood, admiring the final look one last time before pointing a warning finger at Ginny. “Don’t scare them. And don’t mention fucking me!”

Ginny threw her head back in laughter as she left. “I’ll try not to. I promise.”

~*~

“Don’t you all look smashing,” Ginny announced as she walked into the sitting room. The boys were already dressed and sipping spirits. Each wore a perfectly tailored, expensive looking Muggle suits, an odd choice for a pureblood affair, but serendipitous, considering Hermione’s frock was borderline scandalous by wizarding standards.

Blaise rose the second he saw her, tilting his head in greeting. “Ginevra, a pleasure as always. Can I get you a cocktail?” He emphasized cock with all the subtlety of a Bombarda.

“Zabini.” She nodded back, letting her gaze linger long enough to take in the sharp lines of his jacket and trousers, and the way his belt buckle caught the light. “Thanks, but I’ve got training early tomorrow. Need to be on my game.” She rounded the sofa and perched on the coffee table, facing them. “I’m just here to help Hermione. And have a little chat with you lot.”

Theo grinned. “We promise to be on our best behavior tonight.” He knocked back the rest of his drink before snapping his fingers, the tumbler refilling instantly with whiskey.

“I make no such promises,” Blaise said, turning his nose up as he dropped back into his seat, spreading his legs so wide one knee nearly grazed Ginny’s. “Though you won’t be there, so I’ll probably stay relatively behaved.” He winked then stretched out a little further.

She ignored him. “This is a bit overdue, but seeing as Hermione sprung all this on us and my schedule’s been absolutely maddening, I suppose better late than never.” They all stared back at her, no one daring to interrupt. Her eyes flicked briefly to Blaise again. He looked downright enthralled. Ginny wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet, so she steadied herself and continued on.

“Hermione is the best person I know. If any of you,” she pointed straight at Malfoy, “upset her, I will come here and Avada your arses"

“Me? Why am I being singled out?” He asked, pointing at himself, his rings clinking against the crystal glass as he gestured.

She narrowed her eyes. He knew exactly why. Ginny was fairly certain Malfoy had a slight crush on Hermione, whether he’d realized it himself was debatable. She’d caught him staring more than a few times, not to mention the way he practically salivated when he found out Hermione had ridden a dragon, and his hatred of Krum (and now Montague) reeked of jealousy. 

But there was baggage. Mountains of it. That didn’t even touch on his blood supremacist upbringing or that scar, always glamoured now, on Hermione’s left arm.

Still….he seemed to have changed. He was a prat, yes, but he’d gone along on that frankly ridiculous mission to retrieve Crookshanks. And the cat liked him, which pissed her the fuck off. Harry even said he’d defended Hermione in front of that twat of a reporter, Quillan Embers. Even so, Ginny didn’t know him well enough now to blindly trust him with her best friend.

“Well, these two don’t have the same history with Hermione as you do.” She thought he might argue back, but instead he stared down into his whiskey as though it were a Pensieve replaying memories he desperately wished he could forget. He seemed lost until Theo cleared his throat, glancing over in concern. Malfoy finally lifted his head, his eyes glazed, and nodded. 

“Good. But the warning goes for all of you.” She swept her gaze across the other two. “It’s worth remembering I have six brothers. But if you hurt her, I won’t need them. And you’ll wish it was one of them you had to deal with. Do you understand?”

Malfoy drifted again, clearly caught in shadows of the past. Theo and Blaise nodded solemnly, taking her threat seriously.

“I know you don’t know us well….and what you do know isn’t great,” Theo said, cringing at himself. Ginny had never seen him so serious, the wizard who normally lived in a state of devilish smirk and innuendo now looked almost earnest. “But none of us would ever hurt her. Or stand by and let anyone else. I didn’t have the chance to be her friend at Hogwarts, but I always wanted to. And now that I am, and I get to see up close how amazing and absolutely unhinged she is,” he chuckled, easing the tension. “I’d never risk that.”

Both Blaise and Malfoy tilted their heads in agreement. Malfoy looked solemn. Blaise, meanwhile, watched Ginny like she was a fire blazing.

Silence settled for a moment before Blaise murmured, voice low and scratchy, “fuck. That was hot.” He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees.

Ginny shook her head, though she couldn’t hide her grin. Blaise had that effect. Luckily, she was saved from having responding by Crookshanks strutting into the room, leaping onto the back of the sofa and mewling grandly for attention. All three men turned to look. His bushy tail swished through the air, brushing against Malfoy’s cheek.

A moment later, Hermione stepped out, heels clicking against the wood floor and her scent of jasmine and neroli drifting around her like a spell. She seemed to glow, warm gold radiating off her. 

The thinnest strips of sage green silk clung to her shoulders, practically invisible beneath the current of chocolate curls spilling down her bare arms. Hints of black lace and silk shaped her bodice before flowing down to her ankles, a thigh high slit flashing long, tanned skin.

She chanced a glance at Malfoy, who had shot to his feet the instant Hermione walked in. He looked positively dazed, his glass frozen halfway to his lips, just staring at her as though she were the only thing in existence.

“Salazar. Who let the dirty slut out of the slut house.” Blaise’s elegant prose rang through the room.

Ginny was just about to jar him when another voice cut in. 

“Wow. You look…..wow.”

Hermione smiled shyly at Malfoy, biting her lip. “Thanks,” she breathed, holding his gaze a second longer before turning to Blaise. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”

“What else could it possibly be? You look positively delectable.” Ginny noticed Malfoy tense at that, confirming her suspicions about his ever growing fascination with her friend.

“Seriously, Hermione, did you bathe in elf wine?” Theo asked, wandering over. He held out of his hand, spun her around, and let out a wolf whistle. “Fuck, you’re going to send some barmy old pureblood straight to Mungo’s.”

She might send a young pureblood there as well. Malfoy still looked like he hadn’t taken a proper breath since she entered.

She smirked. “You look quite handsome yourselves. Are those Muggle suits?” Ginny watched Hermione take them in and couldn’t blame her wandering eye.

“Yea, Draco hired a tailor to fit us,” Blaise said, running both hands down his chest and giving his hips a little twist. “I thought he was mad, but I look fit. These are much better than dress robes. Even better then those tracksuits you got us.” He nodded to Theo.

Ginny had to admit, he looked good. Exceptionally good. He would look even better with the suit on her floor. Hermione’s voice, pitched slightly higher, snapped her back to reality. 

“It was your idea to wear suits?” Hermione asked, looking at Malfoy curiously.

He shifted, and though moments ago he couldn’t stop staring at her curls and glowing skin, now he seemed determined to look anywhere else. “Yeah, Pansy said they’re all the rage, and I figured you’d be wearing a Muggle dress.” He finally looked over at her, giving a small, almost nervous nod. Accurate, as it turned out.

“Thank you.” Hermione stared at him, looking stunned. The silence stretched, Ginny looking between them before stepping in to rescue the room.

She rose and strode towards Hermione. “Yes, you all look fit. Too fit for Flint’s wedding. They might not let you in. I’m guessing the bride’s no looker.”

Theo huffed a laugh. “Actually, no one’s seen her yet, so you might be onto something, Red.”

“If I had a galleon for every time I got asked to leave a wedding for looking too fine,” Blaise said, brushing cat hair from his lapel.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’d have nothing.”

Ginny giggled, her eyes drifting over to Blaise once more. Getting stuck on the column of his throat, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his shirt strained perfectly over his chest. 

“You alright, Ginevra,” Blaise murmured.

She heard the smirk in his voice before she saw it. “I’m perfect, Zabini. Thanks for asking.” She blinked a few times to steady herself, then turned back to Hermione.

She needed to get a grip.

“You look gorgeous. I told you this dress was perfect.”

Hermione grinned, sliding her fingers down her silk clad sides. “You were right. Though it is a little revealing.”

She heard a choked cough from behind her. “Just the right amount of revealing,” Ginny grinned, giving Hermione’s hair one last look over before waving her wand to cast a flexible freezing charm, keeping all the waves intact and frizz free.

“Are we ready?” Theo asked, downing his drink once again.

They all demonstrated their readiness by following his lead and starting towards the Floo.

“Will they play Muggle music at this thing? I do enjoy dancing at weddings.” Hermione asked hopefully as she made her way over.

Blaise scoffed. “Of course not, Granger. This is not meant to be fun in the least. It’s a pureblood wedding.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She groaned loudly. “Why am I going again?”

“To scare off Astoria.” Theo’s eyes sparkled with wicked delight. “This is the beginning of our Anti-Greengrass Movement.”

“Ah, yes,” Hermione said, as though that meant something to her. It meant fuck all to Ginny, but she liked the sound of it, so she nodded along anyway.

“Well, we’d best get going, kids. The ceremony starts soon and I’ve slept my way through half the guest list, so I’ll need time to find someone new.” 

Her stomach did an odd little drop at Blaise’s quip. 

She knew he was at liberty to sleep with whoever he liked. There was nothing between them, they barely even knew each other. Still, the good mood she’d been in, finally getting to call Malfoy out, getting Hermione all made up, was fizzling fast.

“Maybe Davis will finally be up for a wild night.” She caught him winking at Theo.

“Nimble me tomorrow, Hermione, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Her voice came out a bit louder than planned as she pulled her into a quick hug to mask her sudden discomfort.

“That’s not leaving a lot off the table,” Hermione replied, her voice muffled in all her hair. She then tightened her hold, as if sensing Ginny’s slight shift, and whispered, “I love you, and thank you for everything. Even that threatening thing you did earlier while I was getting dressed.” Ginny could feel her cheeks lift into a grin. “Girl’s night soon, okay?”

The thought cheered her immediately. “I’ll threaten anyone who dares cross my best friend. And I’m holding you to that.”

She stepped back to wave them off. Hermione gave her a warm smile, calling out one more I love you before vanishing into the emerald flames, arm linked through Malfoy’s.

Theo and Blaise stepped in to follow. Theo giving her a jaunty salute as the green flared around him. Blaise though, lingered that extra heartbeat, staring back at her. No comment. No smirk or salacious grin. Just a look she couldn’t quite decipher, one that made her stomach drop all over again.

Chapter Text

*Draco*

Hermione’s slender arm was wrapped tightly around his. He could feel her nerves at being in a new place, flooded with purebloods, and was trying his hardest to think of ways to put her at ease. Though that was proving rather difficult, considering he was nervous himself. His heart had felt felt lodged somewhere between his throat and his gut for the last fifteen minutes, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Thankfully, Theo and Blaise joined them not a minute later, and the four of them made a beeline for the bar. He knew perfectly well they were all of the same mind, alcohol, and copious amounts of it, would be required to get through this evening. 

The one silver lining to this whole bloody night was that his parents wouldn’t be here. Thank Merlin for house arrest.

He leaned down to whisper into Granger’s ear, her curls brushing against his chin as he did. “What would you like?” 

She tilted her face up to his, a faint dusting of rose across her cheeks and nose. “What?” She practically gasped. His chest tightened with instinctive concern and he drew her in closer.

“To drink. What would you like to drink?” 

Her eyes widened, comprehension flashing within them. “Well, I should probably keep the sluttiness to a minimum, considering this dress is already working overtime.” She worried her bottom lip, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “So how about a gin fizz?”

“Keep the elf wine at bay and the gin fizzes coming. Got it.” He winked at her, then slid his arm out from her hold, shivering slightly from the loss of her warmth.

“Come on, Hermione, I’ll give you the pureblood lowdown while these sods fetch our drinks.” Theo smirked back at Draco as he placed a hand on Granger’s lower back and steered her towards a table tucked away in a far corner, draped in deep burgundy velvet.

Green vines and jewel toned irises and roses hung in canopies from the ceiling and adorned every surface at eye level. Their heady scent permeated the hall, and the low hanging blooms cast shifting shadows across the space, lending everyone an air of mystery.

Draco felt as though he’d stepped back in time. The stone castle walls mixed with the heavy brocades and florals made the whole place feel vaguely medieval. It wasn’t his taste, per se, but it wasn’t as gauche as he’d expected anything associated with Flint to be.

“Since when has Flint had class?” Blaise asked, leaning against the bar as they waited for the barman to wander over. “I mean, it’s a bit overdone….but I was expecting Slytherin pendants and bludgers flying about.”

Draco huffed a laugh just as the crisp click of heels approached. A posh, ebony haired witch wearing an expression fully capable of making a grown wizard cry, sidled between them.  

“A bit overdone,”she echoed with a delicate scoff, “says the man wearing emerald cufflinks so large I was nearly blinded on my way over.” A refined laugh slipped through her composure.

Blaise’s eyes sparkled almost as brightly as his oversized emeralds, “Pans, where the fuck have you been?” He pulled her into a side hug, knowing not to touch her perfectly styled fringe.

“As you very well know, I’ve been in Paris this past month for business and a quick hols.” She turned her gaze to Draco before adding, “I got back to England last week and have been here is Sussex overseeing the decor for Marcus and Galina.” 

Zabini chuckled. “Of course you have. I could spot a Parkinson floral arrangement from a Quidditch pitch away.” He kissed her cheek, then leaned over to order their drinks as the barman finally returned.

“Good to see you Pans. I didn’t realize you’d be here….thought that was going to be an extended French holiday.” 

Fuck. Once she discovered Granger had moved in with them, and was here, at this wedding, as his sodding date, she would surely never shut up about it.

She let out an amused, dry laugh and shook her head. Fuck.

“Now Draco, do you honestly think I would miss you showing up to Flint’s wedding with the Golden Girl dangling off your arm.” Her smile was downright feline. “What, galleon sized cufflinks aren’t ostentatious enough for you?”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before releasing a deep exhale. “Pans.”

She shook her head delicately from side to side. “No, no darling. I already know everything. You should know by now Theo is absolutely shite at secrets.” Pansy arched one of her delicate brows at the mere thought of him keeping something from her. “But no need to get your wand in a knot. I harbor no ill will towards Granger. And I honestly can’t wait to see this all play out.”

She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek before whispering, “unlike Theo, I’m quite good at keeping secrets, so no need to sweat, Draco. It doesn’t go with the suit.” She smoothed down her dress and gave him a quick wink before turning towards Blaise. “I’ll see you two around.Need to make sure all these florals are causing just the right amount of drama. Save me a dance.”

Blaise handed her a glass of champagne, and she blew them both a kiss before strutting off and disappearing into the crowd. He floated the rest of their drinks in front of him, levitating a particularly full glass of whiskey to hover at Draco’s eye level.

“I figured you could use a triple after that.” Blaise barked a laugh. “I’m taking it you forgot about Parkinson.”

“Thought she’d be gone for longer,” Draco sighed. “I didn’t realize Flint’s wedding was such a draw.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

As they made their way back to the table Granger and Theo had commandeered, Draco allowed his Auror instincts to scan the room. Just in case any additional horrors lay in wait. Blaise piped up when they were just out of earshot. “I think the draw is quite obvious, mate.”

Draco glanced over to see what he meant, and followed Blaise’s gaze forward. Candles floated above them, nestled amongst tangled vines and fully bloomed merlot-colored roses. They cast a warm glow over her, catching in her curls and making a few strands gleam gold. The name had never fit her more, it was a bewitching sight.

Blaise snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Then he nudged Draco aside and strode up to the table, inserting himself effortlessly into whatever lively conversation Theo and Granger were in the midst of.

Draco set her fizz in front of her. She smiled up at him in thanks just as Theo said, “and that’s Flavius Flint.” He pointed slyly toward a tall, broad chested man a few years their senior across the hall. “He’s rather dishy, and I’ve heard through the grapevine he’s a rather generous lover.” 

Granger crinkled her nose, her freckles rearranging themselves into new constellations, and Theo laughed. “Sorry, forgot your aversion to that word.”

She smacked him lightly as he continued laughing. “The only minor issue with him,” Theo held up his fingers, showing the smallest sliver of space, “is the curse afflicted upon all Flints….absolutely ragged teeth.”

She rolled her eyes so dramatically her amber irises nearly disappeared.

Theo’s eyes sparkled, rushing to finish his absurd theory that Granger would ever deign to find herself under the sheets with a Flint. “But, your parents are dentists, so this could be kismet.”

She snorted, a sound Draco found far more charming than it had any right to be. “In that case, why don’t I just get with the whole lot of them? Do my civic duty, since apparently that got left off the list the last time.” 

Tilting her head, she mused, “why don’t they just fix them with magic?”

“Rumor has it, centuries ago one of the Flint ancestors seriously pissed off a fairy and she cursed the entire line. Spells and charms have no effect.” Blaise said casually, flashing his own perfectly straight teeth. “Clearly, the Zabini ancestors were nothing but altruistic. And in a show of my altruism, I believe I see Tracey over there. Looking in need of some Blaise.”

Granger cringed, though a small giggle escaped before she could smother it.

Blaise stepped away from the table, already prowling towards an unsuspecting Tracey Davis. “Nott, you coming?”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself and not be around to see it.” He winked back at Granger. “Save us a seat won’t you?”

The two of them took off towards a knot of former classmates, leaving him beside her, quietly sipping his whiskey. He became acutely aware that this was the first time he’d ever been alone with her. He worried it might get awkward, but she put that fear to bed within seconds.

“So, Tracey Davis. How did she manage to avoid Blaise’s attention for so long?” She asked, taking a small sip of her drink and giggling as the bubbles tickled her nose.

“She was dating Warrington. He was a few years ahead of us. And a total twat. But they recently split. So now, on top of the break up, she gets to deal with that.” He jerked his chin toward Blaise, who was already mid seduction routine. 

Granger smiled as she glanced over. “What a lucky witch.” Then she looked back at him, pointing her coupe at him with one of those lithe fingers. “And you think everyone is a twat.”

He huffed a laugh. “Most people are twats, Granger. Especially everyone at an event like this.” Draco tipped his head side to side, taking a long pull on his whiskey. “Well, except for you. Which is why tonight you need to remember not to be yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“The goal, if we see Astoria, is to get her to leave and finally understand I will not be changing my mind about the marriage contract. So none of this….” He set his tumbler down and waved his hand vaguely at her, in what he intended to be a gesture at her essence, but which unfortunately looked suspiciously like he was trying to cup her tits. “Gryffindor, accepting, warm, golden thing you’ve got going on.”

She stared back at him, incredulous, her chest rising and falling with irritated breaths. And Merlin help him, that did things to his trousers he wished it didn’t.

“Do you mean being kind?” She looked at him as if he were the most exhausting man alive.

He pointed at her, his Malfoy signet ring catching the candlelight. “Yes. That.”

She rolled her eyes again, for seemingly the umpteenth time that night. “Sure, Malfoy. I’ll make sure that I’m on my worst behavior. Just like my parents always taught me.”

“You’re a quick learner. Has anyone ever told you that?” He smirked. “Ready to head in? Ceremony should be starting soon.”

“Let’s get this over with.” She held out her arm to loop through his, but he boldly ignored the offering and instead slid his arm around her delicate shoulders. She must have siphoned off those Gryffindor tendencies already, so he happily claimed her bravery for himself.

They walked in together, Granger tucked close at his side. And he hated to admit it, but it felt nice. 

There were a few seats together near the back, perfect for their foursome. He and Granger had just sat, his arm still draped over her shoulders because why the hell not, when he saw her. Heading their way.

“Fuck. Okay, there she is…..be cool.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, though the whisper was unnecessary; her hair was a remarkably good sound suppressant. “There she is. She’s coming over. Shit.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and bright with humor. “Who are you telling to be cool? Me or you?”

“Fuck off, Granger. I’m reminding us both.” She giggled prettily and lifted her left hand to interlock her fingers with his, their joined hands resting against her upper arm. She gave him one last look, her eyes mischievous, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. 

It was a look that could end him.

“Hi,” Astoria’s piercing voice cut straight through his thoughts of Granger’s bottom lip.

“Hello Astoria. I didn’t realize you’d be here,” he said cooly.

She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from where his and Granger’s hands sat knotted together, his thumb lazily stroking over her knuckles. “Yea, well Galina’s father and mine are fairly close. And I wanted to be here for Marcus.”

He nodded instead of replying , just as his date spoke up. 

“Draco, you have to introduce me.”

He went momentarily still. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever heard her say his name before. He’d always been rather fond of it. Written in the stars, meant for a creature capable of conquering anything. But hearing it glide off her lips, exhaled on her breath. Fuck.

The whiskey and her scent were clearly getting to him faster than he’d thought. Draco cleared his head, this was not the moment for any of that. And while he still had a bit of that Gryffindor bravery on lone, it wasn’t nearly enough to call her by her first name. 

“Granger, this is Astoria. Astoria, I’m sure you know—“

Astoria cut him off. “Yes, I think everyone in Wizarding Britain knows her,” she said curtly. Then to Granger,“hi.”

“It’s so great to meet you. What was your name again…..Astory?” Granger asked, looking between the two of them, a curious sparkle in her eye. Her hand remained firmly woven with his.

“Astori-a,” Astoria snapped drawing out the final syllable.

“Astorka. Astor-e-a?” Granger carried on blithely, finally pulling her hand from his, no easy feat considering how tightly he’d been holding on. She held out her newly freed hand for Astoria to shake.

Having had enough, Astoria all but shouted her name, making several nearby guests turn and stare.

Granger smiled warmly at the onlookers, then shifted her gaze back to Astoria. “How utterly spellbinding.” Astoria, seething, gave her hand the briefest shake before Granger withdrew and threaded her fingers right back through Draco’s.

Astoria stood there glaring. Draco tried to think of something to say, anything, but coherent thought seemed beyond him…..probably the whiskey, though it had never betrayed him quite like this before.

Acting as though Astoria weren’t even there, Granger shifted into his chest and whispered, just loudly enough for Astoria to hear. “Do we have time?” Those enormous doe eyes lifted to his, all mischief as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Just real quick. I need you now, Draco.”

Bloody hell. Granger was far too good at this. 

He had to pull himself together. Luckily (or unluckily depending on perspective), he had years of practice burying real feelings beneath a carefully crafted mask. Unluckily, he had absolutely no control over his cock, which was now straining against his trousers. 

He readjusted subtly, trying to hide the evidence and murmured,“I don’t want to be real quick with you, love. But I promise we can leave early.”

She licked her bottom lip as she stared up at him with those sparkling eyes. Then eased back into her seat and gave a convincingly startled jump when she noticed Astoria still looming there, trembling with barely contained rage.

“Oh….sorry, I thought you’d gone It was so nice to meeting you, Aster.” The kindest smile graced Granger’s lips.

“It’s Astoria.”

Granger giggled and swatted at her own head playfully, “I give up. This mind of mine.”

Draco couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. The idea of Hermione Granger forgetting anybody's name was absurd. But Merlin, she was convincing. Her and those idiotic friends of hers breaking into Gringotts suddenly seemed a bit more plausible.

“I’ll see you around, Draco,” Astoria said tightly. He nodded back, though he prayed he wouldn’t see her anywhere. Her pin-straight hair whipped over her shoulder as she stalked off, heels clicking far too slowly for his liking.

“Salazar, you were brilliant,” he breathed, slumping back in his seat and spreading his legs into her space. She’d let go of his hand once Astoria left, but she made no move to escape the circle of his arm,. So there it stayed.

“I’m a bloody war hero, Malfoy. Think I can manage making some bint jealous,” she said, turning to glare at him as though deeply offended.

He smirked and nudged her thigh with his. “How could I forget? I’m in the presence of royalty. The Golden Girl herself.”

She shook her head at him, though the smile stayed fixed on her lips as she went to brush a curl from her eyes. As her left arm lifted, he caught the faintest shimmer of a glamour across her forearm, pulling him straight out of the hazy little daydream he’d been drifting in for the past few minutes. Ginny’s warning and her very real concern came back to him at once. This was all an act. He’d do well to remember that.

Before he could sink fully back into his usually brooding self, the lilting sound of a lute carried through the air as Theo and Blaise slipped into the two empty seats beside Granger.

“What’d we miss?” Theo asked, eyebrows bouncing.

“Just Granger, whinging about how desperately she needs me,” Draco said, stretching out and giving her a smug little smirk.

Both his friends chortled. Blaise leaned past the wizard in front of him to peek down the aisle at Astoria. “Greengrass looks exceptionally pissed….though she always does, mind you.”

Draco shrugged in agreement.

The music swelled, and he turned just in time to see the bride and her father start their walk down the aisle, petals drifting around them. He’d only caught the first glimpse of her face when Blaise leaned in.

“Does everyone who went to Durmstrang look like that?”

Draco was wondering the same thing. “Must be something in the water up there….or maybe the cold.”

Theo was trying his hardest not to laugh and failing miserably. “I know you said you’re over Krum, but try not to fantasize about the bride, yeah, Hermione? Poor decorum.”

He could tell she was fighting to keep a straight face, but her attempted scowl was one of the worst he’d ever seen. And frankly, the most adorable. “I promise to keep it in my pants,” she finally said. “Now, please act like gentlemen and watch my ex’s twin marry Marcus Flint.”

Their behavior remained anything but gentlemanly.

~*~

It was one of the longest ceremonies Draco had ever endured. Not that he could complain or really even noticed. His fingers thad spent most of it tracing idle shapes along Granger’s upper arm while she nestled closer to him. Purely for the ruse, of course. Astoria kept glancing back after all.

The four of them had spent the last two hours out on the terrace, dripping in vines and periwinkle irises and charmed to the perfect temperature. Twinkling lights criss crossed the canopy overhead, and a bard in the corner played folk tunes that were largely drowned out by Granger and Theo’s uproarious laughter.

She was in the middle of demonstrating the size of a mountain troll she’d encountered first year (for fuck’s sake, what hadn’t this witch done) when Draco noticed her glass was empty after she’d managed to slosh the last drops over the side.

“I’ll get you another,” he said, smiling at her. “After your flawless performance tonight, I daresay you deserve the whole bar.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Most appreciated,” she replied in a dramatic medieval lilt, clearly the atmosphere and fizzes were going straight to her head. “I’m just going to go powder my nose.”

“Get us another as well. If you’d seen my form with Davis, you’d be praising my flawless performance as well,” Blaise added, chuckling as he held up his and Theo’s empty glasses.

Draco snorted, the dignified sort, and pushed off the table to fetch the next round. He couldn’t quite believe he was actually enjoying Marcus Flint’s wedding. When the invitation had arrived months ago, he’d dreaded the night.

First because of the thought of spending an entire evening of listening to Astoria’s incessant chatter. Her complaints about when their wedding would be and just how much she planned to spend on their first holiday home. Then later, because he’d realized he’d be coming alone, an ever persistent reminder that he was an ex-Death Eater in a world that, by and large, worshipped Harry Potter, and still saw Draco as his counterpart, even now, years after they’d grown up.

But she changed that all. Sure, she was playing a part, and he knew that in the morning they’d return to their “not quite friends” status.

But tonight?

Tonight he was enjoying himself.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar as he waited. He hadn’t been standing there a full minute when he heard the telltale click of heels and an indignant huff he thought he recognized. 

“Pans, I really don’t need your threats right now.”

“Not Pansy,” came a grating voice. 

He exhaled loudly rather than dignify that with a response, wishing he already had a whiskey in hand, but alas, the barman had decided to fetch his pour directly from the source.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Astoria continued, face pinched, tone condescending. “But dating Hermione Granger is low, even for you.”

“She’s a war hero,” he said flatly, echoing Granger from earlier. “Order of Merlin, First Class. Not exactly slumming it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the strength to endure this conversation.

She continued on as if he hadn't spoken. “And you know she won’t commit. That’s why Krum left her.”

“What do you mean, that’s why Krum left her? I’m fairly sure he slept around with your sister, and Granger finally realized what an arse he is and left him.” Where the fuck was the barman with these drinks?

Astoria scoffed. “Please, Draco. She may think she left him, but he went looking for something else because she wouldn’t commit. A man like Krum wants marriage. A family. But a girl like her? She’ll never understand us.” 

The way she said us made Draco livid. He knew exactly what she was skirting around, words he himself had once parroted as a child. But he wasn’t a child anymore. And Granger deserved far so much more. 

“She can’t live off this ‘smartest witch of her age, best friend of the Chosen One’ shite forever.” Astoria even used air quotes around smartest, wproving she clearly had no idea how ridiculous she sounded. “Her fame is already fading and she doesn’t get it, Mu—.”

He spoke straight over her, refusing to let that word leave her mouth. “D you know what this all sounds like?”

She raised her chin, attempting an air of superiority, though envy burned bright in her eyes. “And what is that, pray tell?”

“It sounds like you’re jealous. And the way you keep banging on about Krum, maybe Daphne is too.” It was Astoria’s turn to look livid. “Which, honestly is nothing to be ashamed of. She is rather spectacular.”

“Jealous? Please, Draco.” She flipped her hair and inhaled shakily, trying to regain her composure. “As if I or Daphne have anything to be jealous of. Krum has moved on. He and Daph are moving in together. And you’ll soon realize she’s not the witch you think she is.”

He’d seen Krum not that long ago. He hadn’t looked like a wizard who’d moved on. He’d looked desperate. Draco knew desperation. He’d lived it. It made people irrational. Cruel.

As for Granger “not being the witch he thought she was,” well that was the closet to the truth she’d managed all night. She wasn’t what he’d thought at all. And that was becoming a problem.

“Three whiskeys and one gin fizz,” the barman finally called out, setting the drinks down.

Thank fuck

“Well, as delightful as this has been,” Draco sneered, “I’d best be off. You know how war heroes get. Can’t keep her waiting.”

With a flick of his wand he spelled the drinks to float ahead of him, turning away before she could respond. 

He’d barely rounded the corner when he walked straight into Granger. Relief shot through him, and he moved to slip an arm around her, only to stop short. Something was wrong. Gone was the bright laughing witch from the terrace. She looked lost.

He gripped her shoulders gently. “What’s wrong? What happened?” A current shot up his spine and he felt immediately on guard.

She shook her head, smoothing out her features. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Granger.” He bent down, bringing himself to her eye level. “You may be a genius, but you‘re shite at hiding your feelings." The corner of his mouth quirked, hoping she’d smile back. 

The smallest, watery smile lifted her lips. “My dad always jokes that I wear my heart on my forehead, the sleeve not being conspicuous enough for me. It made for a childhood of never getting anything past my parents….at least, not when they were looking.” Her smile drifted away at the thought.

He continued to stare, fully prepared to wait her out. 

She huffed. “I went to the bar after I finished up in the loo.” She cringed then, gaze dropping to the floor as if eye contact had suddenly become too much “I walked up right as Astoria was telling you about Viktor and Daphne….moving in together.”

“Fuck. Granger—“

She cut him off before he could even get the words out. “I don’t want him back.” She shook her head, as though the idea itself offended her. “I don’t even miss him much, which is quite odd when you think about it. And I suppose rather telling. I just feel tired and sad.” She finally looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining, tears threatening to fall. “It sucks being so easily replaced.”

Draco rose and pulled her in, holding her tight against his chest. His hands slid low on her back, anchoring her. “I know you don’t need my assurances,” he murmured, “but Granger, you were not replaced. I saw Krum, and that is not a man who’s moved on.”

She buried her head in deeper and he tightened his hold, unwilling to let go before she was. 

Just then, Theo and Blaise wandered up, collecting the drinks that had been jabbing into Draco’s shoulder for the last few minutes, waiting further direction. Both took one look at her and their expressions shifted instantly, concern etching their features. Theo cleared his throat gently to announce their presence. 

She pulled away, leaving him unexpectedly cold, and turned to them. “Everything alright?”

Draco gave the two of them a small nod before she spoke.

“Yeah. Just had a bit of a low moment. Nothing to worry about. But I think I’m going to find a seat and drink my troubles away for the rest of the evening.” She glanced around the cavernous space, across the dance floor where couples were gliding about to some dreadful tune, scanning for a chair.

“Not so fast. I believe you owe us a dance,” Blaise said, knocking back his whiskey in one go.

“I don’t know how to waltz I’m afraid.”

Theo mirrored Zabini, tipping his own tumbler back and wiping the trace of whiskey from his chin, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Come on, come dance and show us some of those scandalous Muggle moves. Make these pureblood tossers blush.”

She crinkled her nose as a small giggle escaped. “You want me to make a waltz scandalous? I genuinely don’t think I’m talented enough for that,” she teased.

“No, not a waltz.” Blaise’s eyes lit up as he raised his brows suggestively.“How about some Spice Girls?” 

It wasn’t really a question. Both him and Theo already had their wands out, covertly charming the instruments to start playing their new favorite song.

The shimmering opening of Say You’ll Be There rang out across the hall. Couples mid-waltz slowed, peering around in confusion as Theo and Blaise backed onto the dance floor, shaking their hips as they went and pointing directly at Granger.

Half the couples resumed their waltz stiffly while the other half gawked up at the instruments as if demanding answers. 

“Goldie, get your sad arse out here!” Theo called, shimmying lower and lower. Draco was amazed his trousers were still intact.

He nudged her shoulder, “Come on, they look like absolute twits out there.”

“And you think me going out there will make them look less like twits?” She pointed at herself, giving him a look that clearly labeled him the twit.

He laughed as he removed his cufflinks, two understated gold knots, and began rolling up his sleeves. “Of course not. You’ll simply all look like twits together.”

Her eyes caught briefly on his now bare forearms before she looked back up at him, a hint of a grin. “And what about you?”

“Granger,” he drawled, “it’s impossible for me to look anything less then dashing. I thought you knew this.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” She rolled her eyes playfully.

He turned to face her properly. “You don’t need to be over it all just yet. You can be sad or mad or whatever you bloody well want when we’re back home. But right now,” his eyes crinkled as a grin slowly formed, “you need to say you’ll be there.” He pointed toward the dance floor, where their roommates were currently traumatizing the remaining guests, singing as they went.

She threw her head back in laughter, and it made his heart stop for a moment. “That was truly awful.”

Draco couldn’t stop his cheeks from lifting into a full smile, even if he’d tried. He slapped a hand over his heart and extended the other for her to take. “You wound me, Granger. Now, as Theo said, get your arse out there and show us these moves.”

She slid her hand into his and they headed for the dance floor. Blaise was grinning madly, arms lifted high, while Theo held a champagne bottle to his lips like a microphone, belting, “if you put two and two together you will see what our friendship is four!” He stared at the four of them in wild excitement and shouted, “four! Oh my gods, there are four of us!”

Granger dissolved into laughter as she swayed her hips perfectly to the beat, like she’d danced to this a thousand times. Draco’s own movements were admittedly stiff, but when he twirled her out and back in, something tight in his chest, the thing that had been there his whole life, finally loosened. It was intoxicating.

Theo passed her the champagne. She took a generous swig before handing it to Draco. He tiled it back as Theo spun her around, both of them singing their hearts out.

Blaise belted a particularly loud, “all the joy, yes I swear!” Before they all came together for a deafening, “yes, I swear!” 

Off to the side, Pansy watched with a smirk. When their eyes met, she only shook her head, laughing. That’s when a flash went off in Draco’s periphery.

Not wanting the Prophet to get any more photos than they already had, he began steering the group towards the Floo. Theo shot him a puzzled look until Draco nodded towards the photographer. Understanding dawned instantly. Theo accioed them two more bottles of champagne and helped Draco direct the others off the dance floor, giving an exaggerated bow as they made their escape.

Granger caught on quickly that they were fleeing and skipped along, giddy. Blaise was still singing loudly even though the song had already ended, thanks to a frantic Alisandre and Aries Flint finally forcing the instruments back to classical.

They all stepped into the oversized fireplace at once. Draco reaching up to grab a handful of Floo powder from an ornate vase on the mantle. He threw it down as he called, “Malfoy Townhome.” The green flames swallowed them whole.

Less then a minute later, they tumbled out of their own fireplace in a heap, none of them having realized just how much smaller it was compared to the castle’s.

He heard a sniffle beneath him and pushed up on his arms to look down at a crying Granger.

“Fuck, Granger. What’s wrong, did I hurt you?” He scrambled to his feet and checked her over. When he found no injuries, dread curled in his stomach. Was she upset about leaving? About the Prophet? And the inevitable photos?

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, collecting the tears as she sat curled on the floor. Theo and Blaise had both noticed her crying now and were staring, wide eyed and worried. 

She trembled slightly as she spoke. “That was one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.” A muffled sob broke free, but she continued, “I was feeling so down about Viktor.” Another sob slipped out. “Didn’t even know you all knew the Spice Girls.”

Theo crouched beside her. “Are you crying happy tears?” He asked, sounding genuinely nervous.

She looked up at them, tears still falling as she sniffled and nodded.

“Merlin. You right freaked me out there, Hermione.” He pulled her into a tight hug as he shook his head with a laugh.

Blaise peered down at her, eyes stinging with amusement. “Just want you to know, I don’t care how pathetic that just was, you look hot and I would still totally do you.”

She stared at him, no tears now. “That is sweet, I think,” she said, head tilting, “but still jar.”

“Fuck, that was not sweet. Jar.” Draco muttered, grimacing.

Zabini only laughed as he flicked a galleon into The Wanker Jar, sitting full as ever on the mantle.

Theo stood and helped Granger to her feet. He looked around at the four of them, still in their finery, still breathless, and asked, “anyone up for another round?”

She perked right back up, bouncing once in excitement. “I’ll go get my album.”

Blaise held out a hand to stop her, suddenly sheepish. “It’s actually in my room. I meant to make a copy, but I…. got carried away once it started playing.”

This only made her more delighted. She crinkled her nose, biting her bottom lip as she grinned. “Okay, you go grab the album, we’ll pop the champagne.”

As the vinyl spun, they danced and sang and drank the night away. 

And Draco didn’t take his eyes off her. Not even once.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

Hermione hurried up to the atrium, her heeled boots clicking against the marble floor as she made her way to meet Harry for an afternoon pick me up at Spill the Tea (Leaves). 

The quirky tea stand, a joint venture between Lavender and Luna, had opened a few years back and had quickly become a hit with Ministry personnel.

Despite its popularity, she still favoured the cafe around the corner where she could enjoy her favourite tea latte sans reading. But after the month she’d had, she briefly considered letting one of them take a closer look at her tea leaves. Perhaps a heads up on what was to come would provide her some much needed guidance.

She quickly shook off the thought. Absolutely barmy.

Harry was already there waiting for her, two mugs in hand and a shit eating grin on his face.

“It’s been almost a week, you can stop laughing at me anytime now,” she rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of the teas. “Thanks for this though.” 

She then nodded over to Lavender at the counter, “and for letting me avoid that whole ordeal.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, she wants the cup when you’re done. Apparently your aura is frazzled, so she thinks your leaves will be enlightening.” His voice wavered as he tried, and failed miserably to stifle a laugh. “If only you’d have let her check last week, she may have warned you about your cheeky little incident.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him as he laughed harder.

Harry was still riding the high of a photograph that had made the front page of the Daily Prophet the morning after Flint’s wedding. A never-ending loop of her shaking her arse and singing into a bottle of Dom with Malfoy, Theo and Blaise, while the other guests stared at them, utterly scandalized.

The article, penned by Skeeter (apparently this gossip was too hot for Quillan Embers) gleefully dissected the scene, framing it as an expose on their new found friendship, which unsurprisingly left out all fact in favor of fiction. 

Rita ended the piece with a question to the readers on who was corrupting whom: were the Slytherins tarnishing her good-girl persona with their dubious morals and shadowy pasts or was she besmirching their pureblood pedigrees with her unapologetic Muggle tendencies?

The only mention of Marcus or his new wife came in a footnote at the bottom of the paper, which she was sure they must have loved.

Over the weekend she had been bombarded with a steady steam of laughing face nimbles. Harry had even gone as far as videoing himself crying from laughter, as if the cartoon faces weren’t enough. 

She had to remember to let Fred and George know the new photo update on the Nimble Notes was abhorrent.

Ginny’s approach had been more direct. She'd shown up at their townhome the next morning to the four of them passed out in the sitting room, record needle scratching against vinyl and empty bottles littering the floor. She had a copy of the morning Prophet in hand and it was her delighted cackling that had woken them all from their slumber. 

Ron, thankfully, had been otherwise occupied. Parvati, had finally gone into labor during the wedding. Between celebrating the arrival of Hermione’s darling niece, Ruby, and tending to his new family, he’d been blissfully unaware of the debacle.

Thank Godric for small miracles.

“Aren’t you hilarious, Harry.” She sipped on her tea as they headed to a small cafe table, ignoring the glances and murmurs along the way.

“I have my moments,” he sat down, still chuckling and pushing his wire rimmed frames further up his nose. “We’re still on for Sunday, right? You’re not about to ditch me for Theo are you?”

Harry was her only friend that enjoyed going to the cinema, so they had a standing date every month to gorge on popcorn and see the latest film, whether it was to their taste or not.

“Of course we are. No romances though, I haven’t the stomach for it.” She ignored his second question, wanting to see if he would press further.

She could practically hear his brain churning, wanting to ask but not wanting to sound too curious.

She grinned at him as she lifted her brow, “are you jealous?”

“Of Theodore Nott? Not in the slightest, he may think he’s your new best friend but I’ve been here since we were eleven.” He scoffed, “he’s the one who should be jealous.”

“Oh he is. But not of you….of me.” Harry stared back at her, riveted by this turn in the conversation, as if he hadn’t orchestrated it himself. “Being best friend to the Chosen One is a coveted role. My most crowning achievement,” she said sarcastically with a laugh.

Harry kicked her under the table making her spill her tea, “watch it, or I won’t tell you what I know you’re actually trying to ask me.”

He made a hurried hand gesture, softly imploring her to continue on.

She giggled. “Ginny was over and complaining about how you wouldn’t let her come along seventh year, due to your undying love for her—“

“Oh will she ever get over that? Honestly, it’s been years and I was trying to save her life,” Harry bemoaned, throwing his hands up in frustration.

She nodded along, having heard both sides of this rant a hundred times before. “I know, I know. I told her the same. Anyways, she let slip that you’re gay—“

“And she started with that! Like the two are even remotely related?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“Are you going to let me finish or not?”

“Sorry, sorry. Go on” He took another sip of tea, rendering him incapable of interrupting her again for the time being.

“Thank you.” She continued, “it turns out, he had no idea you’re gay. He mentioned having a crush on you before, so I assumed he knew, but evidently not.”

Harry froze as if he had just locked eyes with a basilisk. His mouth hung open and a dribble of tea slid down his chin. It took him a few moments to realize before he hastily wiped it away.

Her face lit up at his moonstruck look. “He thinks your quite fit.”

He ran his hand through his hair, making it appear even more disheveled as she noticed a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that he was trying desperately to squash. “Well that’s interesting, but not what I was after.”

“You know you’re shite at this right?” She continued giggling and then held up her hand swirling it in front of his face, “I know all your tells. Remember, we’ve been best friends since we were eleven.” 

Before she could start paying him back for the weeks worth of ridiculous nimbles, a dragon patronus swooped in from above. It came to land right in front of Harry and he groaned loudly.

She had never seen his patronus before, but she instantly knew who this belonged to.

“Potter, stop gabbing with Granger and get your arse back here. There’s been an urgent call and we’re needed.” There was a slight pause and Hermione could practically see Malfoy’s smirk, even though only his voice was present. “Well, I’m needed. Dawlish just has you tagging along in case a rogue Avada is thrown and we need a shield. You being impervious to death and all.”

The dragon hovered, its wings stretching elegantly wide. “I’m leaving in three with or without you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “if anyone’s impervious to death around here, it’s him. It’s a wonder no one’s killed him by now.”

“He’s been rather nice to me.”

Harry stood up as he stared at her, his emerald eyes narrowing. He started walking backwards, pointer finger outstretched in her direction, “don’t you dare take his side. A little bit of arse shaking does not put him ahead of me.”

“Never.” She lifted her hand to cross her heart in promise, a delighted grin on her face. “Be careful! Nimble me when you get back and I’ll see you Sunday at three. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, mum,” he yelled before dashing off to the lifts, dodging passersby as he ran.

She quickly finished up her tea, then collected both their mugs and stood when she felt a looming presence behind her.

Lavender was peering over her shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of the dregs left behind in Hermione’s mug. Her face then lit up with a mixture of excitement and dramatic concern.

“Holy cricket! That is one large snake!” She squealed. 

Lavender swiped the mug from her hand then and brought it right up under her nose, staring intently. Her voice then lost a bit of its pep, “but oh, it looks like he doesn’t find his way down to the dungeons, if you catch my drift.” She nudged Hermione’s shoulder, a disappointed yet conspiratorial look painting her face.

Hermione had no clue what she was on about so she just nodded along politely. Half-heartedly reaching for her cup, but to no avail.

Lavender, undeterred, continued on, Gods bless her. “And here it is, the culprit!” She thrust the mug towards Hermione as though it held some grand revelation, though that was wholly unnecessary, since it all looked like wet mush to her. 

“An empty cauldron,” Lavender declared, as if it were obvious.

“An empty cauldron?” Hermione repeated. Unsure why she was asking, but now that she was here, figured she may as well see it through.

“Exactly!” Lavender dropped her voice to a whisper, “it means he’s all looks and no substance.” She grinned mischievously then leaned in slightly, “well, obviously some substance. That is a massive snake.” 

She went to look Hermione up and down, “it might not fit to be completely transparent.”

Hermione spoke louder then she meant to at that, “Thank you, Lavender. That's all very insightful, but I must be off.”

She spun on her heel and started walking away at a fast clip, only slowing down to drop off Harry’s mug at the counter, her’s left in Lavender’s care.

As she made her way to the lifts Lavender called out, “Silver lining though, at least now you’re prepared! And I know I said he doesn’t find his way, but the leaves could be wrong so, don’t forget to lubricate!”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed crimson as she picked up her pace, ignoring the stares from those around her….though, really, what else was new? She stepped into the lift, grateful to find it empty, and leaned back with a sigh. 

She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t help but wonder, who was the snake? It was foolish to care, yet a tiny, completely irrational part of her hoped it wasn’t Malfoy. It couldn’t be, she told herself. 

He wasn’t an empty cauldron, not to her. 

Before it could take hold, she banished the ridiculous thought with practiced efficiency.

By the time the lift doors opened, she had made an unbreakable vow to herself to get her tea elsewhere from now on, no matter how inconvenient.

~*~

She spent the rest of the day with Theo, breaking curses on an array of objects left over from the Crabbe estate raid.

As they made their way to the floos, she felt that maybe Lavender had been on to something, her aura did feel remarkably frazzled. At least she looked it, her curls having grown in size, creating a sort of lion’s mane around her features.

“I'm mixing us the largest drink when we get home.” Theo looked over at her then added with a smirk, “actually, fuck that, let’s just drink it straight.”

“That sounds glorious,” she rolled her shoulders at the thought, starting to relax already.

“Hermione! Hermione, wait up!” A voice called from behind them, accompanied by the sound of pounding feet trying to catch up.

She turned to see Graham Montague jogging towards them, panting and out of breath. “Shit. You’re a hard witch to catch.”

Theo threw his arm around her smirking, “that’s right she is.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile as she gave a bemused shake of her head to Theo before turning to Graham, “sorry, busy day.”

“Of course, you being the an Unspeakable and all, I’m sure all your days are busy.” He beamed back at her and she couldn’t help but return the smile.

He was rather charming.

“Anyways, I just wanted to follow up on our potential date.” He shuffled his feet and stared at the floor for a moment before adding, “I saw you at the wedding with Malfoy, so I thought maybe you were ready to give dating a go again.”

Fuck. She hadn’t considered him taking it that way. She thought if anything he would think her unavailable again. Honestly, men.

“You saw her out with someone else and took that as your opening?” Theo asked incredulously.

Graham continued ignoring Theo, “what do you say, dinner tomorrow night.” He gave her a small wink, “you have to eat dinner….so why not have it with me. And then the quaffle is fully on your pitch.”

He obviously didn’t know about her disinterest in all things quidditch or put two and two together that maybe a quidditch quip was in poor form considering she was only single because her lousy seeker of a boyfriend cheated on her.

But….he was right, it was only dinner and she had gone out with Malfoy, even if it was just pretend. 

And he could be the massive snake! Even if he was an empty cauldron, he could surely fill hers up. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the thought.

“Okay.”

“What?” Theo and Graham said in unison. The former grinning wickedly back at her and the latter looking bewildered.

“Dinner tomorrow night, it’s a date.” She shrugged out from under Theo’s arm and made to continue on to the floo. “Where should I meet you?”

A wide smile took over his face, “Candlelight & Cauldrons. Seven-thirty.”

A giggle bubbled up before she could stop it when he named the restaurant. She mumbled under her breath, “fucking, Lavender.”

“What was that?”

She shook her head and looked up at him, “I’ll see you at seven-thirty.” With a flirty little wave, she added, “night, Graham.”

His gaze turned downright sinful before speaking in a low, smooth tone, “goodnight, Hermione.”

~*~

Theo was still mocking her as they walked into the kitchen where Malfoy and Blaise stood staring at the fridge like it might grow fangs and bite them.

“Bye, Graham, sweet dreams,” Theo crooned in a sickly sweet voice, fluttering his fingers and dipping in a sort of curtsy. 

She shoved him hard, rolling her eyes as she leaned on the counter and tossed her bag down.

Theo doubled over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach. While debating whether or not she should hex him, he finally stood up, gasping for breath

“What are you on about?” Malfoy drawled, as Blaise slammed the fridge shut and accioed a bottle of firewhiskey. Clearly, they were drinking their dinner tonight.

Theo wandered over, ruffling her curls with a grin. “Our dear Hermione is clearly hankering for some cock, considering she just accepted Montague’s ghastly invitation to dinner tomorrow night.”

She scoffed, elbowing him hard in the ribs. “I’m not hankering for some cock, thank you very much!” She turned to face Malfoy and Blaise, “and as much as I appreciate you all saying I was too good for him a few weeks ago, can we just let this one go?”

Blaise looked at her with a playful glint in his eye, “sure sounds like you’re hankering.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him as he laughed.

“Let it go? It’s bloody Montague, he’s a dick!” Malfoy snapped, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Well yes, he wasn’t very pleasant to me at school,” Hermione admitted evenly, “but neither were any of you. And, for the record, he’s been a perfect gentleman the last few times I’ve seen him.” She glanced around the room, daring any of them to disagree.

Theo held up his hands in surrender, a look of pure innocence coloring his face. “Hey, I wasn’t an arse at Hogwarts!”

“Of course, sorry Theo.” She smiled warmly back at him. He was right, though they hadn’t been friends, Theo had always been the one Slytherin to not bully her.

Draco looked outraged, “Why the fuck are you letting him off?”

Hermione waved her hand through the air dismissing his concern while a cheeky grin spread across Theo’s face. “And he’s tall and you know what? He asked me out, so I’m going. If Viktor can move on, then so can I.”

Theo shot her a dazzling smile, “That’s the spirit! Though, I do agree, he is a bit….” He trailed off, his gaze searching the room. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Cunty?” Blaise looked up from pouring them all generous glasses of Ogden’s.

“A complete wanker.” Draco scowled while crossing his arms over his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his forearm veins were pulsing with outrage. Hermione had to stare at the ceiling for a moment to get her thoughts back under control. 

She was going on a date with Graham, an empty cauldron.

“Yea, those both work,” Theo nodded.

Draco continued on after taking a large gulp of the whiskey Blaise had just sent his way, “And seriously, those are your qualifications? Fucking brightest witch of our age and the only thing you’re looking for in a man is that he’s capable of asking a question?”                                                                                  

Hermione drummed her fingers on the counter, exhaling loudly. She couldn’t understand why he cared so much. He was acting like her going on a date was a personal affront to him.

“And he’s not tall. I’m way taller.” Malfoy stood at his fullest height and she bit her lip when she noticed his neck muscles flare.

Laughing softly, Blaise turned to face Hermione and Theo. “I think he lived around those peacocks for too long. I always knew they would rub off on him.”

Theo sputtered out a laugh then moved his head in an odd pecking motion while shouting, “peacaww!”

“What the fuck was that?” Malfoy asked, looking utterly pissed at this whole conversation.

Theo repeated the noise while hopping around the kitchen. “It’s what a peacock says.”

“That’s not the sound peacocks make.”

Blaise lifted his glass in acknowledgment, shrugging, “he would know.”

“Anyways…” Hermione said loudly (while also wondering how they had gotten so offtrack and how the fuck this was her life), “though it may be hard to believe, you are not the basis on which everyone is measured.” Malfoy looked as if he was going to interrupt, but she continued on before he could. “And I think he can manage a bit more then just asking a question, he does work in Magical Cooperation, so he’s not a complete dolt.”

“His uncle got him that position, everybody knows that.” Malfoy’s jaw tightened and she couldn’t understand how he was physically capable of opening it to speak.”You know what Granger, fine, date whomever you like. Just don’t come back here crying when you realize he’s a dick.”

“Do tell me though, if I was right on the dick sizing.” Theo held both hands up, trying to guess an accurate measurement.

At that, Malfoy slammed his drink down and flexed both hands at his sides, “Who am I to judge, you obviously have great taste in men. And hell, I think he’s already fucked both of the Greengrasses so you don’t have to worry about that this time around.”

“Holy fuck, mate.” Blaise huffed, “she’s just going on a date, like we all do.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say as she continued to gnaw at her lip, which was likely to be raw after spending so much time around Malfoy.

Theo moved closer to her, “we care about you, Goldie. Draco just has a fucked up way of showing it. Isn’t that right, you twat?” He sent a nonverbal curse to Malfoy’s knee which caused him to startle.

“Yea, just concerned.” He refused to look at her as he downed the rest of his drink and then headed to the doorway. “I’m going out, have a good date, Granger.” He walked down the hall off to the sitting room without looking back.

“I’m going to go make sure he doesn’t do something stupid…..or someone.” Blaise nodded his farewell and ran off after Malfoy.

Hermione was still standing there, trying to piece together the last fifteen minutes and coming up blank when Theo pulled her in close. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just very protective of his friends and has a flair for the dramatics. Though, that doesn’t excuse what he said, he’s a right wanker.”

“Thanks, Theo, but I don’t think he would consider me a friend.” She didn’t know what her and Malfoy were, though after last weekend she had thought they were making progress. But maybe that was just her reading into his looks and touches and assuming they meant something more, even though she knew they were all fake. Well, at least his were. 

She was shite at lying, always had been. Hell, he had even called her out on it. But pretending to find his banter charming, pretending to want to leave early with him, that was easy.

“That’s the problem, Hermione. He’s realizing that you are his friend.” Theo looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided not to at the last minute.

After this date, she was swearing off men. Way more trouble then they were worth.

“What do you say, you and I over indulge on pasta, elf wine and chocolate cake while gossiping about boys. We’ve worked together for years and I still know next to nothing about what you got up to at Hogwarts.” He was practically vibrating with excitement, hope sparkling in his eyes.

She laughed, “that sounds good, but I’m a horrible cook.”

The twinkle in his eye gleamed mischievously, though he also looked a bit nervous. “Alright, promise you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” She said on a laugh.

“Promise me, Hermione.” He held her shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Fine, I promise….though you’re freaking me out just a little.” She had no idea what could have him acting so odd. He erred on the eccentric side, so there were a lot of ways this could go, which was not reassuring.

“Just remember that I love you and they are happy and free and we pay them a handsome wage with benefits.” His face pinched up in fear.

“Theo.”

He pointed at her as he backed up, putting some space between them now. “You promised.”

She stared, realizing exactly what he had just made her promise to. “Theo.”

His voice sounded small as he called out, “Whimbly. Pucklett.”

A loud crack sounded as two house-elves popped into the kitchen. Their large saucer like eyes scanned the room until they found her. At once, smiles bloomed on their faces and their eyes grew inexplicably larger. They both started jumping up and down, squealing, “It’s her, it be her! Hermione Granger!”

Chapter Text

*Harry*

“So, was it really that bad?”

Hermione groaned as she strolled along the shaded path, popping a leftover sweet in her mouth every so often. She looked over at him and nodded.

The entire film had passed in silence, which, to be fair, was how one was supposed to watch a film (especially at the cinema), but they had never abided by such rules. Hermione wasn’t one for keeping quiet (usually) or following guidelines that didn’t suit her, so she always cast a discrete muffliato and notice-me-not charm as soon as they sat down. That way, they could discuss the film as they watched. It was perfect.

But today was different. She still cast both charms, but every time he went to say something, he’d glance over and notice that telltale spark in her curls. That spark meant she was thoroughly pissed, annoyed beyond measure. Harry’d had his fair share of run ins with “the spark,” and it was always best to let it burn itself out.

A lesson Ron had yet to learn.

Harry huffed a laugh, “can’t have been worse then Cormac, right?”

Her nose crinkled in distaste, “no, he was definitely worse then Cormac. I’d marry Cormac before I went on another date with that tosser.”

Harry stopped mid-step and grabbed her arm. “He didn’t try anything, did he? Or say something?” 

Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He’d known Montague was a piece of shite the moment he stalked up to their table at Potion & Pint. Hell, he’d known since first year, back when Montague strutted around the quidditch pitch like he owned it. “That’s it, I’m going to find him.”

Hermione tugged him back, her curls bouncing as she moved, “slow down, Harry. It’s nothing like that.” She laughed then, the sound light and dismissive. “What were you going to do anyways, detain him for being an obnoxious date?”

He raked a hand through his hair, “yea, maybe I will. So what’d he do that was so horrible, if not, you know, that?”

They resumed their walk to no where in particular, the tension in Harry’s shoulders still evident. 

“I take it you mean beyond just existing?” 

Harry chuckled dryly, “yea, beyond that.”

Hermione let out a long, drawn out sigh. “He talked about quidditch for the first thirty minutes. Even gave me a rundown of Viktor’s latest match, telling me all the ways he’d have played better.”

She turned to him, her amber eyes disappearing behind a dramatic roll.

He smirked back, “It could be wor—“

“I’m not done,” she spoke over him, as they continued along the path. “He then talked about his work in the Magical Cooperation Division, and I was so excited for the change in topic, you know how passionate I am about trade agreements and magical creature regulations.” She shot him an imploring look.

Harry nodded, while pleading to Godric Gryffindor himself that she wouldn’t get started on one of her benefits to free and fair trade lectures. Once she got going it was like trying to get a Blast-Ended Skrewt back in its cage.

“He’s trying to dismantle the Joint Operation of Yondertrade,” she screeched, flinging her hands through the air and scattering sweets everywhere. “He hates J.O.Y., Harry” She paused mid rant, staring down at the now lost chocolates.

“Shit, I was going to eat those. As if teetering me on the edge of boredom and madness for three hours wasn’t enough, now he’s robbing me of my sweets!”

Her voice wavered, the loss of her chocolates clearly pushing her to far. “Let’s go pick up some more. And maybe a drink?”

She pressed her lips together and scrunched them to the side while nodding. “That’s sounds nice, but I’m still not done. I haven’t even told you the worst part….or, well, the second to worst part.”

Harry widened his eyes in mock horror, “what could possibly be worse then him being a harbinger of despair and hating free trade?”

Hermione’s face twisted in disgust, as if just the thought of what she was about to say might make her sick. “He called his cock Graham Jr. and said, and I quote, ‘I’m not a seeker but I would love to catch your Golden Snatch.’” She made a gagging sound as Harry bent over in laughter.

“He did not!” He choked out between large gasps for air. 

“Oh, he did. And, he was serious, like I’d never heard that one before after dating Viktor for three years and being the fucking Golden Girl.” She threw her hands up in the hair with reckless abandon now that all her sweets were gone.

Harry was wheezing. “He’s not very clever. Why go with Graham Jr. when as a wizard he could’ve at least gone with a generic wand related nickname.  Or for fuck’s sake, he’s a Slytherin, call it a basilisk!”

“Empty cauldron, through and through.” She shook her head, pouting. “And you know the worst part of all this? Malfoy was bloody right. I sat through that entire date just to try and prove him and those soggy arse tea leaves wrong….but they weren’t.” She exhaled heavily, her lower lip jutting out further,  “I was.”

Harry slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “It was bound to happen eventually.” He nudged her playfully and a watery smile flickered across her face. “I guess we’ll just have to take Lavender and Theo’s word on the massive part though. Thank Merlin you’re not corroborating it.”

A giggle slipped out before she said, “Maybe I should’ve. There’s no way, Graham Jr. could’ve been worse than actual Graham. I got the raw end of that deal…..or I wish I’d gotten the raw end.” She nudged him back, a mischievous wink thrown his way.

“Ugh, gross!” Harry groaned, but they both burst out laughing as they headed towards the nearest market to replace her fallen chocolates.

They walked in easy silence for a bit before she groaned again, “Malfoy’s going to be intolerable. He was adamant I not go, harping on and on about what a twat Graham is, while being a complete twat himself.”

Harry’d heard about this and it’d caught him off guard. Malfoy rarely cared about anything. Sure, he was a prick, a right nightmare to be partnered with, but he rarely got heated at work. He never seemed invested enough to put up a bother….so this was odd. In fact, Malfoy’s whole demeanor around Hermione was decidedly odd.

“He’s always intolerable, what’s new?”

“He wasn’t at the wedd—“

Harry cut her off with a laugh. “Sorry! I just can’t help picturing the four of you dancing like absolute idiots every time you mention that wedding.” He continued laughing as she whacked him lightly on the head.

“The four of us, or just Theo?”

Damn Hermione and her inability to miss a fucking thing. He’d been thrilled to find out about Theo’s crush. And yea, he thought Theo was fit. He had eyes after all. But he wanted to play it cool. Freshly out of his on-again, now definitely off-again thing with Roger, he wasn’t ready to jump headfirst into anything.

Harry glared at her as she giggled. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She jumped up and down giddily, “don’t worry I won’t say a thing! My lips are sealed.” She then bent at the knees and squealed quietly. “I’m just getting it all out now.”

And that’s why Hermione was his best friend. She just got him and was always genuinely excited for him. He laughed before pulling her along, “come on you menace, let’s get your sweets."

Her excitement didn’t waver, “Yes! And then, want to come over for that drink? You can be my Malfoy buffer. Plus, Theo will be there.” She waggled her brows suggestively.

He pushed open the door to Tesco and held it for her, grinning, “sounds brilliant.”

*Draco*

“Can someone let that bloody bird in?” Draco scowled as he mixed drinks for the four of them. “And cancel our fucking subscription to the Prophet, why are we still getting that rubbish?” 

He was having a shit weekend and it was all Granger’s fault. If she hadn’t of said yes to that damn date with Montague, he would have never ended up at Potion & Pint on Friday, running into Astoria. Thankfully Blaise was there to keep him from making any hasty or dastardly stupid decisions, but he still was forced to deal with her drama. And even now he had to listen to Pansy harp on for hours about what an arsehole he was, effectively ruining their monthly game night.

He’d known from the start that Granger moving in was a bad idea. It was one thing to hear snippets about her from Theo and Potter or read about her in the Prophet. But now he had a front row seat….and it was exactly as excruciating as he’d imagined.

“Where are Whimbly and Pucklet? Since when do you three mix your own drinks and fetch the paper?” Pansy asked.

“We are capable adults, Pans.” Theo joked as he flicked his wand to open the window.

Draco rolled his eyes, “they’re in The Canary Islands on holiday. Apparently, the already four months paid leave we gave them wasn’t enough.”

Pans gave him a knowing look and let out a laugh as Blaise dealt another hand with a smirk on his face. 

“And, I already canceled our subscription.” Theo said. “Red was insistent after last weekend. It’s Hermione who refuses to let it go….masochist, that witch.” 

The sound of wings and rustling paper was quickly followed by Theo’s muttered, “oh fuck.”

Pansy nodded towards the fireplace, her lip curling in a playful grin. “Isn’t that the photograph from last weekend’s issue? The one you had enlarged and framed?” 

Draco wanted to hate that Theo had hung that photo over the mantle, but he couldn’t bring himself to. That night had been unexpectedly good, a fluke for sure, but it had been the best date he’d been on in awhile, maybe even ever. 

Fuck. He wasn’t even good at convincing himself he had been pretending that night..…or that is wasn’t a real date.

“I fail to see how that is in any way relevant, Pans.” Theo waved her off.

She grinned as Blaise asked, “what’d she write this time?” His voice had an edge of concern, as if Granger’s well-being mattered to him.

Theo shook the paper out dramatically and read the headline, “Golden Girl or Gold Digger? Is Miss Granger After More Than Just Glory?” He tossed it on the table, inadvertently covering their cards.

After sending each drink to its rightful owner, Draco sat down and craned his neck to get a better view of the photo. He steeled himself, preparing to see a photo of her and Montague laughing it up on their first date…..or worse.

Would they have had the same easy banter that Draco and her had shared? Did Montague put his arm around her shoulder and pull her in tight while she whispered dirty things in his ear. 

He had to get a fucking grip.

As he spiraled, Pansy tapped her perfectly polished nail on the photo, “that’s not the face of a witch having a good time.” She shrugged her slim shoulders, “a real shame too, because I heard Graham is hu—“

Draco and Theo cut her off simultaneously, though their focus was different.

“I heard that too!”

“She’s not enjoying the date? How can you tell?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he was as chalant as they come.

“Well first of all, it’s Graham, he’s a cunt. No one has fun with him unless they’re naked,” she said as if it was painfully obvious. “And secondly, look at her heels. They’re pointed away from him. It’s body language 101, when you want someone, your toes point towards them.”

Blaise nodded along, looking as though this all made perfect sense. “That sounds right, everyone’s toes are always pointed towards me. It’s honestly becoming a problem.” He winked.

“Jar. And that’s ridiculous.” He tilted his head and gave a slow blink, staring at her. “Where did you hear this?”

She swirled her gin and tonic and said airly, “Luna Lovegood read my tea leaves last week when I popped in for a quick pick-me-up after our lunch.” She cut him off before he could protest, “and spare me your melodramatic monologue on divination, I’m not in the mood.”

Blaise agreed with her, “no one’s ever in that mood, mate.” 

They clinked their glasses together, while Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine. Did Lovegood see someone’s toes in your tea, then?”

“Oh, fuck off. She told me to be on the look out for a dashing eagle-eyed gentleman and that I’d know him by the ethereal tug upon on my heartstrings from the grasp of his talons.”

At that she took a sip of her drink, while the three wizards stared at her unconvinced. Theo spoke up first, “And you got the toe pointing thing from that?”

She just shrugged him off. “You’ll see.”

Just then, the front door swung open and Granger’s warm, infectious laugh drifted their way, followed by Potter’s grating tones.

Theo made a mad dash to hide the Prophet, flinging all the cards off the table in his haste and thinking of no better place to put the paper then underneath his arse. “Hi, Hermione. Potter.” His voice was two pitches higher then normal as he tried to look casual by plastering a manic grin on his face. “You both remember Pansy, right?”

Granger muttered a polite hello, looking a bit nervous.

He hadn’t seen her since Friday night when he had been a right arse. He knew he should apologize, even though he'd been right, she was way too good for Montague. Still, he’d add it to the list, which was already concerningly long since he’d been a twat to her since they were eleven.

“Parkinson. Nott,” Potter nodded. “Are you okay?” He looked mildly concerned as he stepped closer, a large bag in his hand and Granger at his side.

“Fine. Never been better. Weather’s great out there, right?” Theo glanced around the room, “Maybe we should all go for a walk? Get some fresh air, yea?” He stood up, indiscreetly shoving the Prophet in between the cushions.

Draco shot him a disbelieving glare. “Smooth, I don’t think she noticed.”

“I think even Professor Binns would have caught on to that.” Blaise said, laughing.

Granger giggled softly and held her hand out, waiting for Theo to pass her the Prophet. “Thanks, Theo, but I knew it was coming. Truthfully, I was shocked there wasn’t anything in this morning’s issue about my date from hell.”

Draco did a double take. Date from hell? Were the toes right?

Her eyes scanned the article, as she scoffed lightly. Finally, she’d had enough and handed it over to Potter, who groaned as he read the headline. “I know Rita’s never been my biggest fan, but she’s really trying to get back at me with these evening editions after that whole jar thing.”

Theo looked at her confused. “What jar thing? Did you make her pay into the Wanker Jar?” He laughed. “Is that why it’s overflowing?”

“It’s always overflowing and sadly that’s just from the three of you,” she shot back, walking to the bar to pour herself and Potter a drink. 

Once finished, she turned, sent a whiskey flying over to Potter and said casually, “in fourth year, I trapped her in a jar because she wouldn’t stop writing those inflammatory articles about me and Harry….and I guess Viktor, a bit. Seems she’s still not over it.”

Draco stared, words failing him. He couldn’t process anything besides what she’d just said.

“I love seeing people’s faces when they realize how absolutely insane you are.” Potter said on a laugh.

Theo’s face lit up in excitement, as if he were seeing Granger for the first time. “You put a grown woman in a jar….while we were at school?”

She looked utterly baffled by the thought. “What? No. That doesn’t make any sense. How big do you think this jar was? Also, that would’ve been wildly suspicious.” 

She then smirked and it was the most adorable thing Draco had ever seen. “I found out she was an unregistered Animagus. A beetle, to be precise, so I merely trapped a bug.” Her head tilted back and forth in deliberation, “and then yes. I kept her in there for a few weeks while we were at school.”

Fuck.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” Blaise said, his jaw practically on the floor.

Draco agreed. It was insanely hot. How could she stand there looking so innocent while giggling about locking a witch up at fourteen? And why the hell did he find this so attractive?

Theo was practically bouncing as Potter looked on at her proudly.

Pansy, who’d been suspiciously quiet since Granger walked in, finally spoke up, her eyes narrowing with glee. “I hate to interrupt what looks like the start of an all out circle jerk, but I must know, how was the date with Graham?”

Draco could’ve kissed Pansy right then and there. He needed to remember to get her an extra good Christmas present. Not that he cared how her date went….he just wanted Granger to admit he’d been right.

She huffed loudly and flopped into one of the plush armchairs around the coffee table. “It was awful. He’s a total wanker who’s trying to overturn a trade agreement I helped Kingsley campaign for.” Her eyes snapped to Draco, her voice laced with exasperation. “You were right. Are you happy now?”

Pansy’s laugh rang out, joined by Blaise and Theo’s, but Draco barely heard it.

Happy? He was ecstatic. But he bottled it up, letting only a sliver escape through his telltale smirk.

“Granger,” Merlin, he liked saying her name. “I would never bask in your displeasure.” He was and it felt magnificent. “But, I do love being right….though, now that I think about it, I always am. So, I guess I just love my life.”

Potter groaned again, louder then before, as he dropped on the couch nearest Granger but next to Theo. “I told you he’d be insufferable.”

Granger nodded in agreement. “Jar. And put in a lot because that was way too much, even for you.”

He laughed, looking as smug as ever. “I told you he’s the worst.”

“Well, obviously you haven’t met yourself, because I find this conversation even more grating than the one last night,” she quipped.

Still grinning, Draco sent ten galleons soaring into the Wanker Jar, his previous shite weekend now fully forgotten. 

Theo turned to Granger, “so, what are you two up to for the rest of the night?” He raised his brows suggestively. “I meant to invite you to our game night. Typically it’s snakes only….but I think you’re both cunning enough to make the cut. And Merlin knows you’ve got that self-preservation thing down pat, Potter.”

“Oh, Harry’s ability to stay alive has absolutely nothing to do with self-preservation. He’s actually quite shite at it.” She shot Potter a knowing look before continuing, “but, I’d love to join. Anything to forget about this awful weekend.”

Potter snorted. “Thanks, Hermione.” He turned to Theo, “what are we playing?”

“I was just dealing another round of pok—“ Blaise began before Pansy interrupted.

“We were just about to start Two Truths, One Lie. Are you lions familiar?”

What was Pansy playing at? They rarely played that game anymore, unless they were thoroughly pissed. Growing up and practically living together since they were eleven didn’t leave much room for secrets. 

Draco glanced around. Theo, Pansy and Blaise all looked excited, clearly eager to hear the Gryffindor’s secrets. Meanwhile, Granger and Potter shared a small, slightly apprehensive smile. Still, their unrelenting courage was palpable.

“We’ve played a few times. I’m game.” Potter said, taking a long sip of his firewhiskey.

Granger’s grin widened, “me too,” she said brightly. “I’m excellent at this game.”

“She really is. It’s terrifying.” Potter held his newly full glass up in cheers.

Pansy clapped her hands, clearly delighted with her plan. “Brilliant. Let’s start with Granger then, since she’s full of surprises.”

Leaning forward, elbows on her knees and toes bouncing, she tapped her delicate finger against her chin. “Okay, let’s see….I used a time turner third year to attend extra classes.”

Gasps of disbelief sounded through the room, but she just raised a hand, quieting them all down so she could continue.

“My first kiss was Ginny in fourth year. And I had a massive crush on Blaise back at Hogwarts.”

Her cheeks flushed prettily as she finished, and the sight was so disarming that Draco couldn’t even summon annoyance at the Blaise revelation. Though he desperately hoped that was the lie.

The room erupted in chaos. 

“Well, that last one’s obviously true,” Blaise declared, pompously. “And fucking hell, I hope the second one is too.”

Theo jumped to his feet, tugging at his curls. “No way you’ve used a time turner and never told me! And you only used it to attend more classes! Hermione!”

Draco’s mind raced. “The time turner has to be true. You were in Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with me. But I also know you were in Divination with Pans and I distinctly remember seeing you writing an essay for Muggle Studies in the library at that back table in the corner.”

Granger froze, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You remember my class schedule from third year?” Her voice barely above a whisper.

His stomach dropped and he immediately realized his mistake. How the fuck was he supposed to explain why he still knew her class schedule more than a decade later? 

Right as he opened his mouth, ready to bullshit his way through with some excuse, Crookshanks sauntered in, leaping onto Granger’s lap and narrowly avoiding her drink. “Crooks!”

Meowing loudly and stretching luxuriously, he forced Granger to lean back and lift her glass out of reach of his bushy tail. Crookshanks fixed his glowing green eyes on Draco and he gave a subtle nod of gratitude.

That cat. He’d have to remember to get him an extra present as well.

Pansy finally spoke up, having observed everyone with sharp interest. She tipped her head towards Blaise, “sorry love, but I think you’re the lie.”

“It could be her kissing Ginevra,” Blaise gave her a piercing look that slowly morphed into a grin. “No, she totally did.”

“You don’t think Goldie here could fall for a snake?” Theo teased, reaching across Potter to nudge the witch in question.

“Oh, I didn’t say that.” Her gaze locked on Granger’s, “The third one’s a lie.”

Granger scrunched up her face, her freckles catching the light like tiny sparks across her nose. “Fuck, you’re right.”

Potter, more then halfway through his second whiskey, mumbled something suspiciously like, “wrong Slytherin,” just before Granger shoved him hard in the ribs. “Ow, fuck. Sorry.”

“Oh, did you want to go next, Potter?” Asked Pansy with a smirk, she was clearly in charge of this madness.

Potter cleared his throat a few times before starting, “Sure. Right, I snuck into the Slytherin common room.” He threw a sneaky grin Granger’s way and she let out a soft growl of annoyance. 

He chuckled and continued, “Ginny was also my first kiss.” The room erupted in hoots and hollers at that. “And I lived in a cupboard under the stairs at my aunt and uncle’s house for eleven years.”

The room fell deathly silent until Granger burst out laughing, “I thought you were going to go with something like, I was the true Master of Death, not relive your horrifying childhood trauma.”

Potter joined in her laughing, “I needed to prove that I do have some self-preservation skills.”

Theo’s eyes darted between them. “Wait. The Master of Death, like in the children’s story? You had the hallows? All three of them? They’re real?”

The smirk on Potter’s face was down right wicked. “That wasn’t one of mine. Ignore, Hermione.” 

She shoved his shoulder lightly as he laughed.

Draco observed them quietly, not giving a fuck about Potter’s secrets. 

He’d never seen her like this before….up close. He’d seen their trio in passing at school, running to Hagrid’s or pouring over some massive tome in the great hall. But he’d always been at a distance.

Even at the wedding, when they were pressed against each other, there’d still been that distance. Because subconsciously he’d known it hadn’t been the real her. 

This was different. 

“Okay, so that last one has to be true,” Pansy said, grimacing. “Sorry about that, Potter.”

He waved it off, “no problem. They’re dead now.”

“What?!” Theo exclaimed, looking halfway between horrified and horny.

Potter barked out a laugh, “I’m just kidding, they live in Surrey. Very much alive and well.”

Theo’s eyes widened as he playfully pushed Potter’s knee, letting his hand linger a few seconds longer than necessary.

“Do you know, Granger?” Blaise asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied her.

She scoffed, “of course I know.”

“No way he got into the Slytherin common room,” Draco said, but then thought better of it when his gaze slid to her. “Unless….”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.”Yeah, Granger totally got him in.”

“Fuck. What year was this?” Draco looked between them, suddenly wondering if Granger had snuck in too.

“Is that your final answer, that the first and third are true?”

The Slytherins exchanged glances before Theo spoke up with a smirk. “Yea, the second one’s a lie. Red can’t have been both of your first kiss.”

“Fuck.” He turned to Granger, “maybe we are easy to read.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, her expression light and unbothered, not seeming to care too much one way or the other.

Potter looked at him with a grin, “second year.”

Draco turned to look at her, “and you were there too?”

But she just shook her head, an annoyed look drifting across her face. “She was indisposed.” Potter joked.

“How?” He couldn’t help himself, he had to know.

Granger looked at him and her eyes sparkled. She was obviously loving this and, damn it, so was he. “Polyjuice Potion.”

Blaise blurted out, “where the fuck did you get Polyjuice Potion in second year?”

“I brewed it.”

Merlin, she looked unfairly cute when she was being smug.

“Bullshit you did! We were only twelve. Where’d you even get all the ingredients? And where’d you let it simmer without anyone noticing?” Blaise fired off questions one after the other, and with each one, Draco found himself increasingly convinced. She really had brewed Polyjuice Potion in second year.

Her tone was teasing, “I can’t let you know all my secrets. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Did you turn into me,” Theo was vibrating with excitement, “please say Potter drank me.”

Pansy looked over at him with a smirk, “you’re like a puppy, down boy.”

“Why do you have to say it like that? Jar.” Malfoy grimaced as Pansy and Granger laughed.

Potter’s smile turned mischievous. “No, I didn’t turn into you. Though, I’m sure you’d have tasted much better.” 

Draco huffed out a laugh, he had to admit, Potter could keep up with Theo’s antics better than expected.

“But, I don’t think this is part of the game. As Hermione said, we can’t divulge all our secrets at once.”

Theo looked to Granger and then whined. “You and I are having a long chat Monday morning at work. You know how much I love time turners and brewing highly regulated and sometimes illegal potions.”

Her smile widened, “you’re right. My apologies. I’ll tell you the real story about the time turner and maybe even about taking the Polyjuice.”

“I thought Potter said you didn’t take it.” The words were out of Draco’s mouth before he could think them through. He wanted to be in that office Monday morning, hearing all her stories.

“Oh, I took it, there were just some complications.” Crookshanks meowed loudly at that. “But, there was nothing wrong with my brew that time….or the other two times.” 

She winked at him. She actually fucking winked at him.

“The other two times. Who the fuck are you?” Blaise yelled, marching to the bar. “I need another drink. Who’s in?” 

Everyone lifted their glasses and sent them Blaise’s way as Pansy reeled them back on course.

“I think it’s about time we give Granger and Potter a breather, though that was enlightening.” She said, curling her legs up beneath her, “who’s next?”

Blaise’s devilish grin flared from behind the bar, “I’ll go. Can’t have Goldie and Scar Head showing me up. Especially now that I know they’ve both kissed Ginevra.”

Pansy blew him an air kiss and they shared a conspiratorial look that Theo joined in on.

What was that? He knew Pansy had been up to something when she suggested this stupid game. He’d thought it was hearing Granger and Potter’s secrets but she’d seemed to barely care, reading them both easily and guessing correctly on the first try….never even asking follow up questions. He swore, if this had something to do with Lovegood and her fucking toes.

“Let’s see here.” Blaise looked thoughtful as he mixed up two gin and tonics.

“I ignored my date at the Yule Ball because I couldn’t stop staring at someone else.”

Theo sniggered and Pansy let out a delicate snort, both clearly loving where this night was headed.

Draco frowned, “you didn’t even bring a date to the Yule Ball.”

Blaise just shrugged as he poured four whiskeys. “Last month, I completed The Hogwart’s Crest,” he said this with a flourish and as if everyone knew what he was talking about, knowing full well that both Potter and Granger would be lost.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a large, gaudy pin adorned with red, blue, green and yellow gemstones. “The Hogwart’s Crest is completed when you’ve shagged someone from each of the four houses.” His smirk was diabolical. “Daphne, Lavender, Padma and Bones, just last month. I would have told you all sooner, but took forever to get this fucking pin made.”

Draco stared, he was rendered speechless. The pin was the most ostentatious thing he’d ever seen and that was saying something considering he was raised by a man who carried a serpent headed cane as an accessory and kept albino peacocks as pets.

“And just so you know, Granger, Daphne’s a bore. Krum must be kicking himself right now, because I can tell you’d be wil—“

Potter interrupted before Draco could, “I know I don’t live here, but that has to be a jar, right? I mean between that bloody pin and saying my best friend would be a wild shag.”

“Top notch jar usage, Potter,” Theo said laughing as he jostled Potter’s knee. Again, letting his hand linger.

Granger looked moved. “Thank you, Blaise. That actually makes me feel quite a bit better.” She pulled out a galleon and sent in to the jar. “I’ll cover your wanker fee this time.”

Blaise bowed in thanks on his way over with the drinks.

Ridiculous. Like there was anyone who could look at her and not think she would be an amazing fu— No. Draco was not thinking that. He could not think that anymore.

“And lastly, I’ve had a crush on Ginevra since second year.”

“Since second year?” Granger squeaked, “that’s adorable. Ginny’s the best.”

“No, Granger.” Draco rolled his eyes. “He just whipped out a pin the size of his fist, that he had custom made, to commemorate him shagging someone from all four houses. Nothing he does is adorable.” 

She just shrugged. “I think it’s cute if he likes my friend.” She turned to look at Blaise, “I hope that one’s true.” The double gin and tonics were clearly getting to her.

“Of course it’s true. One of the worst kept secrets of our year,” Pansy said, her gaze flicking to Draco. “Theo, you’re up.”

“I’m an open book, but I’m sure I can think of something.” He winked at Pansy as he stood to deliver his secrets. “I’m one house away from completing my Hogwarts Crest….so, Blaise, get another pin ready.”

He summoned his whiskey and took a large gulp before turning to the Gryffindors, “and it’s Gryffindor I’m missing, so if either of you fancy helping out, I can have Zabini put in a rush order.”

They both took a drink as they stared back at him looking unbothered. “I appreciate it, Theo, and while I’d love to be a part of that momentous occasion,” sarcasm dripping from her tone. “I’m going to try swearing off wizards for the time being.”

He couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. She was swearing off wizards. That meant no more dates with arseholes like Montague or anyone else thinking they could take her home. 

“Right, well think on it, Potter. I have references if needed.” Theo took another drink as Draco groaned. 

“Next,” he sent a sly smile Draco’s way. “Seeing Draco in his quidditch kit made me aware of my sexual preferences.”

The room erupted in laughter and just as Draco opened his mouth to make a quip about his stellar, Seeker physique, Granger chimed in through her own laughter, “didn’t it make us all aware?”

She was biting her damn bottom lip, her eyes crinkled mid laugh and fuck.

“I knew you had a thing for quidditch players, Granger.” Blaise teased, his voice full of amusement.

“Hey, we all have our kinks.”

Fuck. His briefs felt uncomfortably tight. He could not sit here listening to her talk about her kinks, which apparently involved him in his kit, for much longer without it becoming painfully obvious how turned on he was. 

He took a long pull of whiskey, barely hearing the laughter and chatter around him. Closing his eyes for three seconds, he begged his body to calm the hell down. When he opened them again, Pansy’s light green eyes were fixed on him, staring at him knowingly.

She shook her head, smirking and he downed another gulp of firewhiskey for good measure.

Thank Merlin, they’d moved on and Theo was now on his last secret. 

“And lastly, I have twelve portkeys, unbeknownst to the Ministry hidden around the house.”

Potter spat out his drink in shock, choking on his laughter as Granger stared at him, her mouth hanging open, “Nott, that’s very illegal. Malfoy and I are aurors. We confiscated a bundle of portkeys just last week”

“And we,” Granger’s lithe hands flailed back and forth between them, “Worked on decommissioning those illegal portkeys. Those wizards are on trial fo—“

Theo held up his hands, “calm down, you lions. That’s the lie. I would never stash twelve portkeys, here, in my own home.”

Potter rolled his eyes and grinned as he knocked into Theo’s shoulder and Granger started giggling, “could you imagine,” she shook her head.

As her and Potter chatted together, Blaise leaned in close to Theo and lowered his voice, “you’ve got more than twelve, don’t you?”

Theo glanced to the side quickly to make sure they weren’t listening before answering under his breath, “possibly….very good chance…..yes, definitely. Do not tell Hermione!”

Draco huffed a laugh as he patted Theo on the back, “she’s going to murder you.”

Blaise sat up as he laughed then looked over to Pansy. “Pans, you’re up. Make them good.”

Pansy shifted on the couch and took a small sip of her drink. 

Draco was nervous. Pansy thrived in uncomfortable situations, especially ones of her own making.

“Alright,” she began, ticking off one finger, “the hat tried to put me in Ravenclaw,” she held up a second, “I’ve had a crush on Draco’s dad ever since second year when I saw him stomping through the halls, with his hair swishing back and forth. What I wouldn’t gi—“

“No. For fuck’s sake, no.” Draco scowled as he shook his head. “And jar.”

She let out a delicate snort, “You can’t just call jar on things you don’t like.” He continued shaking his head. 

“What? He’s fit.” She said, smirking. “Come on, you must know this. Theo, Granger, back me up.”

“Can’t deny he’s popped up in a few dreams of mine.” Theo said, absolutely loving this.

“Jar, now. Both of you!”

Granger giggled, “I’ve only ever really seen him when he was trying to kill me….so it was never top of mind.”

Pansy let out a loud, incredulous laugh as Draco cringed, hating his bloody family.

“But,” Granger added thoughtfully, “he does have nice hair. And eyes. The face structure is quite perfect.” She took a sip of her drink, clearly mulling it over. “Yea, I see the appeal.”

Blaise couldn’t resist. “You know him and Narcissa might let you join, Granger. You could take that old pureblood out for a spin. Really give ol’Skeeter something to write about.” It seemed impossible but his smirk deepened. “Or. His heir is sitting right there. Some say their resemblance is uncanny.”

Granger fell over her words, “Well, that, that is besides the—Pansy isn’t it still your turn? Please, I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting for this all to end.”

Pansy let out a laugh, “sorry, Granger.” She held up a third finger, “lastly, back in sixth year, when Draco and I used to mess around about the castle, I’d frequently shout out the wrong name right as I started coming.”

He was going to murder his friends. Could he even consider them friends anymore? They were taking this Granger thing way too far. So what if he’d had a thing for her? That was ages ago, and it wasn’t even about her, per say. It was just the forbidden nature of it all.

Of course, she was beautiful and brilliant and those curls. And the swotty way she—“

“Draco! Hello, Draco!”  Blaise was practically shouting, snapping him out of his thoughts as the others debated Pansy’s lie. 

“You have insider knowledge. Nott thinks it’s the Ravenclaw thing, but I’m sure it’s the last.”

“I’m torn too,” Granger mused, studying Pansy as if her aura might turn blue and clue her in. “But if Ravenclaw’s true, think, in another life we could have been housemates. I was almost put in Ravenclaw.”

Pansy face softened, as she too now saw Granger fully, thinking about some lost timeline where they had become best friends.

“Who’s name would she have yelled out though? One of you lot?” Potter asked, always the auror, scanning the room like he was on a case.

Draco cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calm. “The last is the lie. She never said the wrong name when we were together, must’ve been with some other bloke.”

Both Granger and Pansy stared at him and for the life of him, he couldn’t read their expressions. Too much whiskey.

He reached for the glass, ready to down the rest, because clearly he wasn’t drunk enough to get through this, when Dawlish's German Shepherd patronus bounded into the room, stopping in front of him.

The dog stood there menacingly, letting out a huff of disapproval, eerily similar to one of Dawlish's before his voice rang out. “Malfoy, the Selwyn raid out in the Highlands went south and they need backup, urgently. Get Potter and meet the team at the DMLE in fifteen. And for Rowena's sake don’t show up pissed this time. Take a sober up, before coming here. I’m not in the mood for your cheek.”

Saved by a fucking raid. He had never loved those idiotic junior aurors more. He owed them each a coffee…assuming they made it out alive.

“Well, I guess that’s me and Potter out.”

“Unfair! Can’t the crime wait. You didn’t have to reveal anything.” Granger stood up looking outraged. It was as always, adorable.

“Sorry, Granger. Maybe next time.” He stood, already heading to the potions cabinet, completely missing her toes pointed directly at him.

“Didn’t realize you were so desperate to know my secrets” He shot her a wink before disappearing down the hall.

The last thing he heard was Blaise’s cheerful voice, “I thought that was all quite illuminating.”

Chapter Text

*Draco*

“I should murder you both,” Draco slammed his leather duffle on the counter, running a hand through his soaking wet hair. “And Pansy…..fucking, Pansy. Why didn’t she stay in France?”

He glanced around the kitchen, suddenly remembering Granger lived with them, a fact he’d been unable to forget all week. Fuck.

Laughing at the half-hearted threat, Theo drawled, “welcome back, sunshine, am I to guess this is about last weekend?” He tilted his head in Draco’s direction, “and no worries, she’s out, so she can’t witness this little tantrum.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. “Of course this is about last weekend, what the fuck was that?”

Theo walked over, reaching to brush a clump of mud off Draco’s coat but before he could make contact Draco slapped his hand away. 

“Touchy,” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, “also, why are you so wet and dirty?”

Blaise chuckled, “I asked Tracey the same thing the other night.”

Theo rolled his eyes and held up a finger to Draco, “one moment.” He then turned to Blaise.“You actually didn’t say that to Davis, and I know because she came up to me at the Ministry the other day. She wanted to know why all of a sudden you aren’t returning her messages after years of badgering her, even when she wasn’t single. At first, I thought the owls were getting lost or you were trying to get her to beg. But then it hit me.”

Theo tapped his temple, a smug grin growing as Blaise scoffed. Draco frowned, feeling slighted. This was supposed to be about him. Since when did Malfoys get told to wait a moment? Nevermind, he’d shower while they sorted out this Tracey Davis nonsense

“You don’t know shit.” Blaise’s muttered, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

Draco turned towards the hall, but Theo’s voice stopped him. 

“Not so fast, you angsty peacock. We’ll get to your concerns in a minute. It’d do you some good to learn the art of patience.” 

Since when did Theo know anything about patience, he was practically a toddler in adult form. Draco sighed and leaned back on the counter, staring at his dirt crusted hands.

Theo’s grin widened as he turned back to Blaise. “Oh don’t I? I was ready to write this all off as your usual wankery with witches, but then I had lunch with Hermione.”

Draco’s head snapped up. What did Granger have to do with Blaise and Tracey?

Blaise shuffled his feet, the look of concern more evident now.

“You’re not getting with Davis because you want to be fucking someone else.” Theo said smirking.

No. No way.

“You want to fuck Granger?!” Draco shot upright, palms slamming into the counter, his forearms flexing.

“No, you twat. He wants to shag Red.” Theo looked at him incredulously. “You’re the one pining for Hermione, but we’ll get to that.”

“I don—“ Theo cut him off with a laugh.

“Spare me. I may have bought into your denial back in fourth, fifth and sixth year, but not now.” His friend waved him off. “Now sit and wait your bloody turn.”

Draco sank into a seat, scowling. He wasn’t pining over Granger. Fuck, he’d been the one against her moving in. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

Theo turned back to Blaise, “so, are you going to deny it too, like this idiot?” He tilted his head towards Draco.

Honestly, why were these his friends?

Blaise rolled his tongue in his cheek, eyes narrowing, “of course I want to shag Ginevra. She’s fit and a fucking quidditch player. But that has nothing to do with Tracey.” He looked around as if searching for a plausible excuse. “I’m just….not interested anymore. People change their minds.”

Draco huffed a laugh. “Wow, that sounded convincing.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’ve had a thing for Granger for what….eleven, twelve years now?” Blaise shot back, smirking.

“Boys, boys.” Theo stepped between them, arms outstretched to stop a fight that wasn’t about to happen. And they called him dramatic? 

“So you’ve both fallen for Gryffindors, it’s not the end of the world. In fact this could be quite excellent.” Theo’s grin was back at full mast, “I wasn’t going to share yet, but since tonight’s all about confessions—“

“I hope you’re not about to tell us you have a crush on Potter, because obviously.” Blaise’s eyes widened as he looked to Theo for confirmation.

Theo looked genuinely surprised. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Everybody knows.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“You bring it up constantly, and you’ve been begging Granger to talk you up to him almost every night. Also, let’s not forget last weekend, you were practically palming his cock in front of us all.”

“Oh, shut it. It was an innocent leg graze. Never knew you were such a prude,” Theo said skeptically before turning to Draco with a dreamy expression. “Did he mention me at all this past week?”

Draco laughed dryly, his eyes sweeping towards the ceiling. “Weren’t you just lecturing us on having a thing for Gryffindors?” Realizing his slip, he quickly added, “not that is applies to me, because I’m not into Granger.”

Blaise mumbled, “yea, you just wish you were in her.”

Draco flipped him a rude gesture, but Theo cut in before he could retort. “I wasn’t lecturing, I was informing you both since you seemed to be unaware. But, whatever, stay in denial.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck like the conversation was physically taxing. “You can tell me all about Potter later,” he added with a wink.  “Now, what’s got your wand in a knot about last weekend?”

Draco groaned dramatically, “You lot were absolute twats during that fucking game. She probably thinks I’m obsessed with her now, thanks to the way you all kept carrying on, or worse, that I’m some pathetic wanker who treats women like shite.”

Blaise huffed out a laugh, clearly relieved they’d moved on from him. “Well…that last bit isn’t far off, you did yell out her name while Pansy was blowing you,” he choked on another laugh. “Back at school, you were rather pathetic when it came to her. But lucky for you, you were such a dick, it was hard to tell unless you knew what to look…..or listen for.”

Draco flicked some loose dirt from his coat toward Blaise, who doubled over in laughter.

“She doesn’t think anything of it,” Theo interjected. “I mean, she’s brilliant, truthfully, it’s scary how smart she is.” His grin widened into something that looked anything but scared, more like delighted, like he was plotting world domination with her. “But, she’s not quick on the uptake with things like this. At least four wizards in the office are obsessed with her and she hasn’t a clue.”

Draco blinked rapidly, his voice catching as he rushed to ask, “fo, four different wizards?”

Theo threw his head back in laughter. “You’re so easy. How the fuck were you a Death Eater?” 

His cackling only stopped when Draco threw a minor stinging jinx his way.

Blaise snorted. “It’s not all bad, mate. She was practically salivating over you in your quidditch kit.”

He perked up at that. She had said seeing him in his kit made her aware, even went as far as to say it was one of her kinks. That meant she had thought of him in that way. Maybe she still did….when she was alone, in bed, her hand slipping beneath her knickers….

Fuck. He shook his head sharply, shoving the thought away. Of course she didn’t, because she was Hermione Granger and he was Draco Malfoy, ex Death Eater. Even though he was working on his image and donating as much money as fast as he could, it still didn’t matter. Even though he had given her an apology and she’d accepted, it wasn’t enough. She was golden. And he was forever marked.

“I’ll admit,” he said, more to himself than them,  “I had a small thing for her back when we were kids, but I’ve grown up and moved on.”

Maybe if he said it a few more times he would actually believe it.

Theo rolled his eyes, still rubbing his leg from where the jinx hit. “Yea? Who’ve you moved on with?”

“I’ve been with lots of women,” Draco scoffed defensively. 

Once the war ended and he’d avoided Azkaban (for the most part), he drowned himself in liquor and girls, mostly muggle since to them his dark mark was just a tattoo and his family history unknown.

Theo let out a huff, “Trust me, Draco, the walls are thin, and you’re shite at silencing charms, I know you’ve shagged a lot of women. I meant, who have you actually liked since Granger? Since you don’t like her anymore.” Theo’s brows hung heavy over his disbelieving eyes. “And don’t fucking say Astoria.”

“I don’t like Granger— didn’t like her, for the last time!” He snapped. “It was a small thing, a few daydreams.”

Blaise chuckled, earning him a stinging jinx of his own. “Ow! What the fuck!” He hopped up and down on one leg, trying to relieve the pain. “You desperately need to get laid. Blow off some steam, take a page out of the Hogwarts Express’s book and release that pressure.”

Ugh. Yes, he seriously needed new friends.

Draco groaned and grabbed his bag, heading towards the archway that lead to his room, “I’m going to shower. Just cool it with the Granger shite, I don’t need her thinking I’m some obsessive stalker on top of being a Death Eater.”

Theo snorted while shaking his head like Draco was completely barmy.

As he walked down the hall, he tried not to think about last weekend, the way she bit her lip when she blushed or the way her tawny curls brushed across her collar bone when she spoke or fell into her face when she laughed, releasing that intoxicating scent of neroli and jasmine into the air. 

He was yanked from his reverie by Blaise’s sharp tones, “make sure not to daydream too hard in that shower, huh, mate.”

Draco held his middle finger up over his shoulder, Blaise and Theo’s laughter echoing behind him.

Fuck his friends.

And fuck, Granger. 

No, that was the problem, there would be no fucking Granger.

Fuck.

*Hermione*

It had been nearly a week, and Hermione still couldn’t get last Sunday night out of her head. Sure, she had a penchant for overthinking, but usually, it was about things of more importance, like what was lurking about the castle petrifying students or who was the bloody Half Blood Prince. Not, whose name Draco Malfoy had shouted mid-come or whether she had actually admitted seeing him in his quidditch kit was her kink?!

Fucking Morgana.

She slid to the floor and buried her face in the pillow she’d been fluffing, trying desperately to stop picturing him coming. A groan escaped her, muffled by the pillow, before she muttered “pull yourself together, Hermione. This is ridiculous.”

Standing up with renewed determination, she smacked the pillow one last time and set it just so on the sofa. Then, with a flick of her wand, she cast a quick scourgify on the coffee table. 

Whimbly and Pucklett had decided to extend their vacation in the Canary Islands an extra week, which Hermione wholeheartedly supported, so she’d taken over some of the cleaning duties in their absence.

Her Nimble Notes buzzed obnoxiously in her back pocket, jolting her from her thoughts. “Ridiculous , absolutely ridiculous,” she mumbled, making a mental note to send yet another owl to Fred and George regarding this horrendous “feature.”

Ron: Wandering Wand tonight? Mum and dad are watching Ruby and I need to get out of the house.

Harry: I’m in! Just finishing some field reports, but I should be good to meet around 9?

Hermione: I’d love to, I can meet at 9 as well!

Ginny: Sorry, I’m out. Oliver wants to go to this new club opening tonight….want to go there instead?

Ron: No, absolutely not.

Ron: I cannot go to another one of those muggle clubs again. The music is so loud and all, dun da dun da dun. Just non-stop.

Ron: And why are they always flashing so many lights. It feels like I’m about to be Avada’d

Harry: And it’s so hot. Why is it so bloody hot? Last time even my hands were all sweaty!

Hermione: Could you two possibly sound any older?

Ginny: For real, you’re making me feel like I invited mum and dad out

Ginny: Actually, nevermind. Probably for the best, I’d forgotten about last time….

Hermione  laughed aloud, vividly recalling the unfortunate night two years ago on Halloween.

Hermione: Merlin, me too. Must be a trauma response

Ron: Oh fuck off. Like that was more traumatic then the war

Harry: I don’t know….it might have been

Ron: He looked like Voldemort, and I stand by that!

Ron: How am I supposed to know what a muggle alien looks like?

Harry: I’m with you on the no nose thing, mate. But the eyes and the body. And you know, the fact that we saw him die

Ron: He could’ve had another horcrux we weren’t aware of!

Ginny: And with his last life, he decided to go clubbing and grind up on some unassuming muggles?

Harry: That tracks

Hermione: Muggleborn, who?

Ron: Fuck you lot. The lights were messing with me

Hermione: There was also the shots incident

Ron: Why in Godric’s name would someone I don’t know pour a clear liquid down my throat unless they were dosing me with Veritaserum?!

Hermione: She was a bartender. You ordered us shots

Ron: Not all of us were raised by muggles, Hermione

Ron: Again, fuck you lot.

Ginny: Merlin, I can’t stop laughing. It’s amazing I’m able to forget how embarrassing you are

Ron: You’re breaking wizarding law. According to the Obliviators who arrived on scene, THIS NEVER HAPPENED!

Hermione: Henceforth known as the incident-that-must-not-be-named

Ginny: LLH

Ron: What the bloody hell is LLH?

Ginny: Laughing like a Howler….honestly, even Percy knows that

Harry: LLH

Ron: Fuck. You. All. I’m leaving

Ron: Wandering Wand. 9 o’clock

Ron: Gin, I hope the club sucks

Hermione was still laughing when Malfoy and Blaise stepped through the floo mid-conversation.

“Why do you need to top his birthday? You’re turning twenty-five, not thirteen.” Malfoy’s aristocratic drawl filled the room.

Blaise brushed ash from his sweater and turned to Malfoy with a trying look of patience. “Some of us care about things, Draco. We can’t all be brooding arseholes.” 

As they continued to bicker, Hermione moved to cleaning the shelves and levitating the misplaced books back in place.

“How does this not make you an arsehole? I’m fairly positive only arseholes are in some unacknowledged birthday feud in their twenties.” Malfoy stopped mid-rant, finally realizing Hermione was in the room.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, looking throughly confused.

Her wand was swishing through the air, directing a large volume back to its home on the top shelf while also fluffing a decorative pillow on one of the armchairs with her other hand.

She looked him in the eye and spoke slowly, “Cleaning. You know, getting rid of dust, putting things back where they belong.” She pursed her lips to the side, “very new concept.”

Blaise chuckled as Malfoy furrowed his brow at her, “aren’t you funny, Granger.”

He had an annoying habit of saying her surname constantly. And Hermione had an equally annoying habit of absolutely loving it.

“It’s what I’m known for,” she said with a wink and then rushed to scourgify the credenza, feeling positively mortified. What was it about being around Malfoy that made her loose all common sense?

She spoke quickly, trying to put as much distance between her and that humiliating wink as possible, “is it someone’s birthday?” She started twisting her curls up with her wand to keep her hands busy so they didn’t also betray her with a rogue thumbs up or something worse.

“It’s my twenty-fifth next month, and I’m trying to plan something better then Pucey’s party which was in Vegas.” The pout and look of distress on Blaise’s face tugged at her heartstrings. Hermione had a weakness for championing the underdog and while this was a bit of a stretch, her heart couldn’t tell the difference.

“I can help!” She blurted out. And the moment the words left her mouth, she knew she had to do this. This was exactly what she needed. Something to fully focus on instead of worrying about the Prophet, her depressing love life or the way Malfoy seemed to be slowly consuming her every fucking thought.

“Have you ever thrown a party before?” Blaise still had a vague look of gloom shading his features, but his tone was hopeful.

Hermione leapt at the chance to list off her qualifications. “I helped with Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” she began, biting her bottom lip while wracking her brain for other examples, “Oh! And Gin and I threw Viktor a party last year when he was inducted into the Seeker’s Hall of Fame. It was quite the event.”

Malfoy was staring at her like she was a rune he couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes repeatedly getting snagged on her lip, so much so that she wasn’t entirely sure what was holding it there, her teeth or his glare.

Blaise’s sudden intake of breath broke her from her trance and she quickly released her lip, seeing his excitement. “I remember reading about that party in the Prophet. You had all of Puddlemere United, The Harpies and The Falcons there, right?”

Hermione nodded fervently, getting carried away in his glee. “And a few of the Chusley Cannons”

“It’s the Chudley Cannons, and that isn’t something to brag about,” Malfoy said.

Both her and Blaise ignored him, “I recall that party got real rowdy. Rumor was they had to call in Obliviators the next day to handle some muggles who caught wind of the whole thing.”

Unfortunately, that was true. Turns out when you get a few dozen quidditch players thoroughly trashed, they get a bit wild. 

And now that she thought about it, that was twice that Obliviators needed to be called in when her and her friends got drunk….surely, this must be an everyone problem.

Deciding not to think on it too closely, she said, “There may have been an incident involving a funnel contraption we charmed to reach from our balcony to the ground floor and Oliver’s mouth.” She shrugged and pulled on a curl that had fallen loose around her neck, “but, I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Blaise’s face lit up like a freshly cast lumos, “Granger, you’re hired!”

She jumped up and down, squealing with joy, her curls tumbling free as her wand clattered to the floor. “Thank you, Blaise! I need this. I have so much pent up….energy. And I need an outlet for it.”

Malfoy spat his drink across the table at her declaration. 

“Malfoy, I just cleaned that. Get up!” Shoving him off the sofa, she cast a quick tergeo to siphon up the firewhiskey now showered across the books and trinkets strewn about. He didn’t even argue, allowing her to move him aside like he was in some kind of daze.

“I’m sure we can find someone at the party for you to release all the energy on,” Blaise said suggestively.

“Zabini.” Malfoy’s voice was strained and his jaw rigid as he dried himself off.

Hermione gave him a quizzical look, not knowing what is issue was. Probably just him being annoyed that Blaise was letting her take charge of the party. Well, she’d show him. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m focusing my energy on your birthday right now. Wizards have done nothing but screw me over lately.”

At that precise moment, Theo walked out of the floo, clearly having overhead her and looking wildly offended. “Who are you screwing? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me first!”

“She’s not screwing anyone,” Malfoy cut in sharply before she had a chance.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but then paused, realizing he hadn’t actually said anything untrue or rude. What was he on about?

Theo’s questioning “huh” brought her back to the present.

“I’ve been screwed over, not actually screwed. I’m taking a break from wizards at the moment, remember? That date with Graham was a fluke, I’m back to focusing on me.”

Blaise grinned mischievously, “I’d love to watch you ‘focus on you.’ We could even do it together, maybe invite Ginevra.”

“Merlin, jar!” Hermione yelled as Theo and Malfoy both attempted to hold in their laughs, but failed. “And, I see you both laughing, don’t make me jar you too.”

She cast one last scourgify on the large Persian rug causing them to stumble as it ruffled up with the charm. “Serves you right.”

“Well this was fun, but I need to go get ready, see you all later.” She started walking down the hall when Blaise called after her, “Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. I have plans.”

“Didn’t invite you,” she giggled , disappearing towards her room.

Just as she reached her door she heard Theo muttering, “I can’t find my dueling moccasins anywhere. Have either of you borrowed them?”

“What the fuck are dueling moccasins? No, don’t answer that, just jar!” Malfoy snapped.

Hermione chanced a glance back, catching Malfoy’s exasperated glare aimed at Theo. And for the thousandth time that week she wondered when exactly  the cut of his jaw and the furrow of his brow had become so bloody mesmerizing.

~*~

She was running late. What had started as just one chapter had somehow turned into six, followed by the fastest shower known to wizarding kind and a rushed attempt at hair and makeup. Oh well, it was only Harry and Ron, they’d deal.

Hermione had just turned onto Moonbeam Maze from Diagon Alley when a tall, broad figure stepped directly into her path, blocking the way. She threw out her hands to stop the collision, muttered a quick apology and went to step around the human obstacle. But the behemoth in question placed a hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Minny.”

No. Oh, no, no, no. This could not be happening right now.

“Hermione.” The same deep voice that had once felt like home for three years now echoed through her mind. Trying to take up space she was not willing to give.

“Vi-Viktor,” she replied, somehow finding her strength quickly and standing up taller as she did. “What’re you doing here?”

What she really wanted to say was ‘what the fuck are you doing standing in my way, you lumbering ogre,’ but she kept things civil.

“Just picking up dinner.” He gestured to Hexpress Eats before locking his gaze on her with a longing stare that made her blood boil. “Then I saw you walking this way, so I ran over.”

“Why?”

Viktor blinked, looking slightly confused, but also a bit hopeful since she hadn’t ran yet. “Well, it’s late and I just got out of training and I’m hung—“

“No,” she interrupted his ridiculous response. “Why did you run over to see me?”

He let out a long breath while cracking his neck from side to side in a way that was all too familiar. It was his match day routine, the way he focused before catching the snitch. Her stomach sank. What was he trying to catch now?

His pause stretched painfully long. So long that Hermione was becoming hyper-aware of her face, her hands, her entire being and had absolutely no idea what to do with them. She had just started blinking furiously to stop her eyes from watering when he finally spoke.

“Marry me?”

What the ever loving fuck. 

Marry him?! Was he insane?

So many thoughts were rushing through her head, and just like the last time he had pulled out the rug from under her the only thing she could get out was, “pardon?”

Though, this wasn’t like last time. Her voice wasn’t small and meek and she wasn’t confused. No, this time, she was pissed.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question anymore, just a rushed statement followed by a fumbling attempt to pull out a ring from his pocket.

She glanced down at the ring in his hands, and then back up at his face, which was full of unabashed hope. “Aren’t you with Daphne?”

“She’s not you, Minny.” His voice cracked with pain.

“Viktor, I can’t marry you.”

He reached for her hands, desperate. “Why? Give me a reason why!”

“A reason?” Hermione asked, incredulously. She ripped her hand out of his grasp and started listing out her reasons. “You cheated on me. You humiliated me in front of my friends and coworkers. You let the Prophet drag me through the mud, blaming it all on me. And you are currently dating Daphne, aren’t you?” Her voice was reaching Cornish Pixie levels of shrill.

Hermione stood there, her breath ragged, but feeling better then she had in weeks. It felt freeing to get this all out. Now, all she needed to do was get away.

As if sensing her desperation, her Nimble Notes buzzed its insanely loud tone. And for the first time ever, the noise sounded like music to her ears.

Sighing in relief she made a mental note to cancel her previous mental note on sending Fred and George yet another owl on fixing this feature. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

“Sorry, I’ve got to check this,” she said while digging for the device in her bag.

Ginny: Hermonee can you come het me? 

Ginny: Im drumk and olibers a dick

“Fuck. I need to go.”

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” Viktor asked, his thick brow furrowed in concern.

She ignored him, opening the  MauradersMapApp on her Nimble Notes to track down Ginny’s location. Another feature she’d previously thought invasive, but now seemed completely genius.

Hermione: On my way. Don’t move

She threw her Nimble Notes back in her bag and looked up at Viktor. “In case it wasn’t clear, this,” she waved her hand back and forth between the two of them, “is over. I’m a new witch now.”

And with that, she apparated away, leaving Viktor stunned and alone in the middle of Moonbeam Maze.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

One moment, Hermione was staring at Viktor’s dumbfounded face, the next, she was blinking at a graffitied brick wall in a dark, deserted alleyway.

Thank Godric for the change in scenery.

She flicked on her Nimble Notes, firing off a quick message to Harry and Ron to let them know she wouldn’t make it tonight. Then, she double checked that she was in in the right place, not that she really needed the confirmation. The thumping bass of muggle dance music mixed with drunken laughter and excited screams echoed from around the corner.

With a quick glance to make sure she was alone, she pulled out her wand and transfigured her jeans and jumper into a form-fitted, very short long sleeve dress and her trainers into heeled boots. Satisfied with her quick alterations, Hermione slipped her wand up her sleeve and made her way down the alley.

Her plan was quite simple, albeit potentially illegal, but that was to be expected. Maybe it was her lack of magical upbringing or maybe it was just a complete disregard for laws that didn’t suit her needs, but Hermione’s plans always seemed to teeter on the questionable.

She bypassed the queue entirely, striding up to the bouncer and twisting an errant curl around her finger. “I don’t suppose you could make an exception for me? My friend’s inside waiting.” She bit her lip, smiling at him, wondering whether she’d need to confund him or not.

His gaze dragged over her body before settling on her face. She winked while internally cringing.

“I can make an exception for you, darling,” he said, reaching out to unhook the blue velvet rope.

She barely registered the protests behind her as she slipped inside, quietly congratulating herself for not having to resort to magic. “Five points to Hermione.”

The club was packed. Disgustingly packed. But luckily, she knew how to navigate around. She also had a pretty good idea of where to find Ginny, since she’d been dragged to far too many clubs with her in the past and was painfully familiar with Oliver’s favourite move of confounding the DJ just so he could choose the music. 

Honestly, he was such a fucking wanker. She didn’t know why Ginny put up with him….well she did, but she didn’t think any cock was worth that.

Pushing through the writhing bodies on the dance floor, she squinted through the flashing lights and iridescent bubbles, hoping to see a flash of red hair. A moving spotlight caught a fiery glint and Hermione practically ran toward her, pushing people out of the way and cursing the fact that she couldn’t just apparate over.

She slid up beside Ginny and immediately got a face full of ginger hair as her friend whipped around, screaming at Oliver, who, as predicted, was standing behind the turntables, looking like an utter twat.

“I saw you with your fucking tongue down her throat!” Ginny shouted, her voice barely cutting through the music. Only Hermione and Oliver could hear her, which frankly, was for the best.

“Babe, it wasn’t that bad. Anyway, I thought we could test out her being our third.” Oliver winked as he said this, lazily dragging his finger along the spinning vinyl.

Heat radiated off Ginny in waves, much like the continuous pounding of the repetitive beat. “Whose third? You think I still plan on shagging you tonight?” Her voice had reached an octave only cats could hear.

Hermione stepped between them, placing a steady hand on Ginny’s shoulder in an attempt to calm the inevitable explosion.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ginny moaned as she threw herself into Hermione’s arms.

Hermione squeezed her tight while leveling Oliver with a glare. He however, was either too drunk or too smug to notice. 

“Hermione, fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, his eyes roaming far too slowly over her. His gaze caught on her hemline and overstayed its welcome. “Breakups do you well. You’re looking fitter than ever.”

What the fuck was with wizards tonight, was it a full moon or something?! Her insides raged, but she forced herself to stay composed, especially since Ginny had spun back around, looking dangerously close to hexing him on the spot.

“And you’re just as loathsome as ever. I would love to stick around,” Hermione said cooly, tilting her chin up as she stared at him, pretending to think, “actually, no I wouldn’t.”

She smirked over at him as she pulled Ginny in to leave.

“Fuck you.” Oliver’s voice cut through the music. “Krum was right to leave you..…not worth the fucking effort.”

Ginny tore herself out of Hermione’s grasp and stumbled over to him, jabbing a finger in his face and shaking from either fury or a few too many drinks. 

“Don’t you dare talk about my best friend like that. She’s too perfect for her name to even come out of your shitty arse mouth,” she seethed.

Muggles around them were starting to notice the brewing storm, so Hermione acted fast, tugging Ginny back before they had yet another run in with the Obliviators. Third time would definitely not be a charm.

“Come on Gin, let’s go. He’s not worth it.” Thank Merlin, Ginny let herself be pulled back. 

Hermione looked back at him one last time and added, “besides, he has shite taste in music.”

The smarmy look plastered across Oliver’s face quickly slipped away, replaced by an ugly scowl. “I’ll have you know, I took a course,” he snapped. “Barely even had to confund this DJ.”

“Well, that sucks for songs.” Hermione quipped, looping an arm around Ginny’s waist to keep her upright.

"And we’re done. For good this time. Your technique was getting a bit sloppy,” Ginny said scathingly, having to get in one last parting shot.

Oliver bristled. “My technique is fantast—“

“Both on and off the broom.” Ginny cut him off with a sharp look over her shoulder.

Hermione barely stifled her laugh as Ginny grabbed her hand, and together, they flipped him off in perfect synchrony before pushing their way through the crowd.

As they wove their way off the dance floor, Ginny kept petting Hermione’s arms and dropping messy kisses on top of her head. “You’re the best. The bestest best.”

Hermione giggled at Ginny’s murmurings. “Alright you, let’s get you sorted,” she said softly, leading her towards the loo where it was quieter and a bit less suffocating.

She cast a quick cooling charm, then gathered Ginny’s hair off her neck and twisted it up with her wand. She then discreetly accioed a bottle of water from the bar nearby, Statute of Secrecy be damned.

Looking up at Ginny she asked, “do you want me to go back and curse his cock off or do you just want to come back to mine?”

Ginny giggled, taking a long sip of water. “He can keep his cock. I wasn’t lying, his form’s slipping. Not sure a curse would even be noticeable.”

Hermione laughed, nodding, “duly noted.”

Then her smile softened, “and you’re okay?” She asked, concern lacing her tone.

“I’m okay. Just annoyed and quite drunk.” Ginny stumbled forward on her last words, as if her own body was trying to fly the point home.

“Home we go.” Hermione steadied her with a hand.  “The guys said they were going out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

~*~

The guys hadn’t gone out. Quite the opposite in fact. They were all sprawled across the sitting room, half drunk glasses of firewhiskey in hand, locked in a heated debate on the legitimacy of Theo’s dueling classes.

“Why, the fuck are you even going to these classes?” Malfoy drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Who do you plan on dueling exactly?” His tone burrowed it’s way into Hermione’s brain, taking up permanent residence.

Theo shrugged, “you never know, I’m an Unspeakable, it’s a dangerous profession.”

Blaise chuckled, catching Hermione’s eye as her and Ginny attempted to sneak down the foyer hall. Attempted being the key word, since Ginny currently had all the grace of Hagrid in a tea shop.

The others glanced over as Blaise nodded towards her. “Yea, but you have her as your partner and she took down Voldemort as a teenager. I think she’ll be able to bail you out.”

“Unless she slips because of bad traction,” Malfoy mocked. “I hear it’s brutal out there if your not wearing the right footwear.”

“Oh fuck off about the dueling moccasins, would you?” Theo huffed before tossing back the rest of his drink. “Just try them and I swear you’ll never go back to your regular boots.”

“I’d rather die.”

Theo rolled his eyes and waved him off before turning to Hermione with a broad grin. “What brings you lovely ladies here? Thought you were out with Potter and the male Weasley tonight?”

As Hermione and Ginny fully stepped into the room, the conversation died. All eyes glued on them.

Hermione had hated the way the bouncer and Oliver had leered at her tonight, their lecherous gazes crawling down her body uninvited, getting transfixed on her legs like they were under some crude enchantment.

She did not hate the way Malfoy was looking at her now. 

As if he were staring into the Mirror of Erised and her arse was what was reflected back. 

It made her feel all too aware, as heat coiled in her stomach and goose bumps skittered across her skin. Her gaze was dragged to his like some sort of magical magnetism, and she immediately regretted it. His eyes had darkened and his lips slightly parted as he took in deep, measured breaths. It was overwhelming. 

Ginny was supposed to be the drunk one, but at this precise moment, she wasn’t sure, because she’d never felt more unsteady.

Blaise’s wolf whistle shattered the moment, snapping them both back to reality.

“Don’t you both look ravishing.” Blaise’s stare was locked on Ginny, looking just as lost as Malfoy had a moment ago.

“We do, don’t we?” Ginny giggled drunkenly as she wobbled her way over the the record player, flicking her wand carelessly to bring it to life. “Too bad it was wasted on that fucking tosser.”

Music blasted through the room, and just like that, Ginny was back to dancing as if she’d never left the club. She accioed the bottle of Ogden’s from the bar and it flew through the air so fast she nearly toppled over catching it. “I knew I could have been a seeker. Harry always makes it sound like it’s so hard.”

“Usually the snitch doesn’t fly right at you.” Malfoy said with a smirk. He had apparently recovered from their temporary haze, now back to looking as cool and unaffected as ever.

“Who are you, fucking Madam Hooch?” Ginny shot back before tilting her head up to take another deep gulp.

Hermione swished her wand, turning the whiskey into water before Ginny could drain the entire bottle. Theo and Blaise had both joined her, all of them dancing around the sitting room with absolutely no concern for their dignity.

Malfoy was of course still seated, looking as bored as ever, until he noticed her little swap and snapped his head in her direction. “That was a reserve bottle. Aged for over fifty years.”

“It was gone either way,” she said with a shrug. “At least now we don’t have to see it come back up.”

He shuddered at the thought, but seemed to concede before looking up and taking in the chaos surrounding them. Theo was now spinning dramatically around one of the columns, while Blaise and Ginny had climbed onto the coffee table. 

“Fucking Salazar.”

A small laugh escaped her as she charmed the lights to dim and pulse in a rainbow of colours, adding shimmering bubbles of all sizes that floated from the tip of her wand.

The three of them erupted in cheers as they continued to dance, their moves getting more and more questionable.

Malfoy held out his glass to her, a little more than a shots worth left. “I can tell you’re sober, and nobody should have to see this sober.”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. His smirk was back on full display and the flashing lights caused a kaleidoscope of emotions to flicker across his face. When she reached for the glass, her fingers brushed against his, warm, deft, long. They stayed frozen there for a moment, neither seeming willing to pull away. 

Until a chorus of drunken “yeahs!” broke then apart and she yanked the tumbler from his grip, downing the shot in one go. She had never cared for the taste of firewhiskey, but this was different. It tasted like him.

Malfoy watched her carefully, “so, what happened tonight?”

Hermione glanced over at Ginny who had both arms raised above her head, hips and head swaying in time to the music while Blaise stood slack-jawed and completely entranced. 

An airy chuckle bubbled up as she smiled at them fondly before turning back to Malfoy.

“Oliver Wood and her got into a bit of an argument. They are….or were sort of dating. Or maybe just fucking would be a better way to put it” She shook her head and let out a sigh, “He’s the literal worst. The Wanker Jar would be lost on him, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say something that wouldn’t force him to pay up.”

He arched a brow, “do you two have a thing for arsehole quidditch players or do they just flock to you?”

“Viktor wasn’t as—“

He cut her off, words bubbling out of him like an over-brewed cauldron ready to explode. “No Granger, Krum is an insufferable prick. He is the literal worst. And the absolute dumbest fucking wizard I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something since I’ve known Weasley….the male one, for over a decade.” 

Hermione snorted softly and he flashed her a warm, almost smug smile. She quickly dropped her gaze to their empty glass, his words and that damn charming smile turning over in her ever active mind. 

“You’re right,” she murmured at last. “Not about the Ron bit mind you, but the rest. Thanks, Malfoy.”

Inhaling sharply he slapped a hand over his chest, leaning back in a dramatic fashion. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”

Before she could retort, Ginny’s heel got caught on a marble tray, causing her to scream and slip off the coffee table. Luckily, Blaise caught her just in time.

Hermione stood quickly, ready to assess the damage, but Ginny just threw her head back laughing, not a hint of embarrassment on her face, which was a true testament to how absolutely pissed she was.

With an amused shake of her head, Hermione turned back to Malfoy, “that’s my cue.”

“I’m sorry, the music is just so loud and I couldn’t quite hear what you were saying before.” His teasing tone was impossible to ignore, his eyes practically glittering. “Sounded something like, I was right…..but perhaps I’m mistaken.”

His grin stretched even wider, all of his perfect, sparkling teeth on display.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile still plastered across her face. “Goodnight.”

“Just say it, Granger.” He was smirking like he knew it would unravel her and truthfully, it just might. She needed to get out of here for both her and Ginny’s sake. “I know you’re dying to.”

“Sweet dreams, Malfoy,” she quipped, tossing one last look over her shoulder, catching him leaning forward, openly staring at her arse.

It took him a second to reply, his voice missing its usual snark. “Yea….sweet dreams, Granger.”

Well that was settled, she wouldn’t be transfiguring this dress back anytime soon. That jumper had been a bit shoddy anyways. Also settled, she absolutely wouldn’t be thinking any further about why she wanted Malfoy to stare at her arse. No, that was most definitely not her concern.

What was her concern was Ginny and getting her to bed.

“Come on you, time for bed.” 

Blaise helped Ginny stand, treating her as if she was a breakable newborn and not a fully grown witch who dodged Bludgers for a living.

“But I’m dancing,” Ginny whined, looking up at Hermione petulantly.

Hermione giggled softly, “and you were doing a smashing job. Those were some of your best moves.”

“It’s really just the dress. Makes my tits and legs look amazing.” Ginny was finally standing, attempting to shift her weight from Blaise to Hermione. “Hypnotizes you into thinking I’m much better than I really am.”

Blaise’s eyes widened, “it’s definitely working.”

Ginny straightened to her full height, swaying only slightly. “Do I really have to go to bed?”

Hermione nodded, “unfortunately, yes. Can’t have the star of the Holyhead Harpies breaking an ankle before her match this week.”

“Ugh, fucking quidditch, don’t remind me.” 

They had barely taken a few steps when Ginny suddenly popped up and away from Hermione, looking as if she had just come up with the idea to end all other ideas. 

“We’re swearing off quidditch guys. No more taking then for a ride, no matter how large or good they are at handling their brooms.” She stuck her hand out for Hermione to shake like this was a proper business deal and not a drunken promise to stop shagging professional quidditch players.

Blaise’s ears perked up, as he tried to piece together whatever the hell had happened tonight.

Hermione shook. “Deal, no more quidditch players. Now, bed.”

Ginny smiled, nodding sloppily before leaning over and placing the lightest kiss on Blaise’s cheek, mumbling a soft, “goodnight.” Finally looking content,  she started walking, Hermione’s arm firmly around her, as she lazily waved over her shoulder. “Goodnight, boys.”

Hermione heard Theo and Malfoy’s barely stifled laughter as she guided Ginny into one of their, far too many in her opinion, guest rooms. 

“You’re trouble,” she said, shaking her head and leading Ginny to the bed.

“Yea, but you love it.” 

Ginny practically collapsed in a heap of limbs and tangled hair, somehow looking positively peaceful considering the night she’d had.

“You’re right.” Hermione smiled to herself, remembering saying the same thing to Malfoy not ten minutes ago. 

His answering grin forever burned in her brain….she loved that too.

*Ginny*

“Argh!” She shrieked as she rolled over, falling off a bed that was very much not her own. 

“Bloody hell.”

She groggily rubbed at her eyes and sat up, looking around the room, desperately trying to place where she was. It hit her as she felt the finely woven Persian rug beneath her fingers and took in the thick, ornate moudlings crowning the ceiling. 

She was at Hermione’s.

Only a posh twat would decorate like this.

Memories of last night hazily materialized, and she let her head fall back onto the bed, still feeling slightly tipsy as she stared up at the extravagant chandelier. With a swish of her wand, she cast a quick tempus, two o’clock in the morning.

Ginny thought about crawling back in bed and sleeping for a few more hours. And had it been later, maybe she would have. 

But it wasn’t later. It was two in the morning and nobody made smart decisions at this hour, so why should she start?

She didn’t want to think about it all, in fact she had been actively avoiding thinking about it for the past month. She’d kept shagging Oliver when their busy schedules allowed, went out with him to clubs, sat through the rare dinner, not because she wanted to, but because it’s what she’d always done. And it kept her from thinking about other things.

But she didn’t want to do that anymore.

And if she was being honest, she hadn’t even cared that Oliver kissed someone else, she just wanted an excuse to fight, wanted to be done with it all.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she stood up, noticing the pyjamas Hermione must have changed her into before passing out and the pain potion sitting on her nightstand. She downed it in one go, then slipped into the en-suite to freshen up before stealthily slipping out of her room.

She padded down the hall, making sure to keep her footsteps light, though she wasn’t sure how successful she was. It was pure luck that she knew where to go, she’d seen him once duck inside his room when she’d been over visiting Hermione.

It wasn’t until she knocked that the second thoughts came crashing in. What the fuck was she doing? She’d just broken up with her not quite boyfriend not even five hours ago. 

Realizing her idiocy, she quickly turned to leave, planning to escape back to her bedroom, where it was safe and she wouldn’t die of embarrassment. 

She’d barely made it three steps when the door creaked open behind her.

A half asleep, half dressed Blaise was standing there bleary eyed and blinking at her. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, his abs tightening and those damned V-lines framing his hips were all she could see.

Fucking Morgana.

“See something you like, Ginevra?” His voice was thick with sleep, but her wanton glances seemed to wake him up better then any alarm ever could.

The confidence she usually had in abundance seemed to have drifted away somewhere between her first knock and his abnormally fit chest.

She shook her head, whispering a rushed,“sorry.” Glancing at the floor, refusing to make eye contact, she added, “forget I was here. Merlin knows I’m going to try.”

She turned again, fully prepared to continue her walk of shame when a large, cool hand closed over her shoulder, pulling her back.

“The sheets are horrible in the guest room,” Blaise murmured. “They’re cotton…..and not even Egyptian cotton. Pansy was trying something new.” He looked up at her then, his eyes crinkling slightly around the corners. “That’s probably why you couldn’t sleep and came here, right?”

Ginny bit her lower lip, holding back a grin. “Precisely. I am a famous quidditch player after all, I’m accustomed to the finer things in life.”

At that he stepped back, holding the door open for her.

She walked past him towards the bed, confidence creeping back with every step as she slid onto the less mussed side.

Blaise noxed the lights and laid down so she followed suit. 

A minute or two passed in comfortable silence before she blurted out, “I’m not going to sleep with you.” 

She turned her head slightly to look over at him, realizing that’s exactly what she was getting ready to do. “Well, you know what I mean.”

He chuckled, “You’re here for the sheets and the sheets alone.”

“You’re right.” She stretched her legs out, getting comfortable, “these sheets are much better.”

His smirk softened into something she couldn’t quite make out in the dark. “Goodnight, Ginevra.”

Snuggling in, she gave him one last look under her heavy lashes, waiting for the inevitable wave of unease to crash over her.

But it never came. She felt perfectly at ease lying here next to him

“Goodnight, Blaise,” she said for the second time that night, liking the feel of it on her tongue.

She was already drifting off when she felt his cool fingers slipping around her waist, pulling her in, just a bit closer. 

His breath skimmed the back of her neck, sending heat to pool low in her stomach. And his low, sleep addled voice sent shivers down her spine, “you’re even better than the sheets.”

Ginny wiggled her arse in closer and they both sighed contentedly, falling one after the other.

~*~

Ginny must have been dreaming, she’d never felt this comfortable in her life. So warm, so cosy, so— 

“Argh!” She shrieked, yanking the sheets with her as she rolled away, leaving Blaise completely exposed. His pants were tented and Ginny couldn’t help but think, even in her temporary confusion, that this was another camping trip she desperately wanted to go on.

“I know you came for the sheets, but it’s rude not to share,” he teased, effortlessly tugging her and the bedding back towards him, but being careful not to bring her too close. 

She sat up immediately, not trusting herself to stay horizontal with him any longer. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sighed, “they truly were a dream. Pansy seriously fucked it up in that guest room.”

He chuckled, shifting up against the headboard. He must have practiced this pose, because it was too perfect and overtly casual to be natural. She couldn’t imagine a spot in the room where he'd look better.

“I’ll let her know.”

At that, she stood, brushing the wrinkles from her pyjamas. “Well, I best be off.” Her gaze flicked over him once more. “Again, sorry for waking you last night and then stealing your bed. I promise I won’t make a habit of it.”

“Now don’t go making promises you don’t intend to keep, Ginevra,” he said with a wink.

She shook her head and couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her lips as she made her way to the door, feeling his eyes tracking her every move.

Just as she was about to leave he asked, his voice softer “everything’s okay, right? You’re okay?”

She looked back at him, still smiling, “Yea, I’m okay. More than okay.”

He nodded, his brow furrowed as a devilish grin lifted his lips, “good. Then I don’t feel bad telling you how fucking cute you were last night, practically begging for my cock.”

Ginny gasped, though she was slightly amused. “Oh, fuck off,” she said on a laugh. “I should jar you. And I wasn’t begging for your cock….I got lost in the hallway and just happened to stumble upon your room and your positively delectable sheets.”

“Ah, yes, the sheets. The real draw,” he mused, grinning as his laughter sounded through the room. It was too much, his teasing, his voice, him. She grabbed for the handle before she fully melted into the floor.

“I think you’ve been the one begging,” she shot back as she pulled the door open.

“Always,” he said and Ginny turned one last time before leaving to see him still watching her, still grinning.

Quietly tip toeing down the hall, she prayed Hermione was still asleep so she could slip out unnoticed. She inhaled deeply, wondering again what the fuck she had been thinking, clearly very little, although the sleep had been fantastic.

Reaching the sitting room, she sighed in relief at the darkness, thank Merlin. She did a silent, victorious jig at her good fortune before skipping toward the mantel and grabbing a handful of floo powder, ready to make her escape.

Only to make the grave mistake of looking up.

Hermione sat curled in an armchair, wrapped in a blanket with Crookshanks purring on her lap and a book open in her hands.

Ginny froze and Hermione looked up, locking eyes with her. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face as she shook her head.

“Trouble,” Hermione murmured, pointing a finger at her before Ginny disappeared through the floo.

Well there goes being discreet.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

Hermione made her way up to the Auror offices on the DMLE floor of the Ministry. Her and Harry had plans for lunch at their favourite cafe around the corner, but before they headed out she needed him as back-up… or more accurately, as someone to hold her curls while she vomited from the absolute shite she was about to put herself through, all for the sake of Blaise’s party.

As she walked down the hall to fetch him, she neared Malfoy’s office. She’d passed it a hundred times before on her way to see Harry and had never thought much of it. But now? Her stomach was all a flutter. And it was decidedly not her business to understand why.

Should she just keep walking? Should she pop in to say hello? They were friendly-ish now, or at least friend adjacent, but did that warrant an office visit? Would he think she was being weird or obsessive?

She slowed her steps, quickly coming to a decision that she would stop by and say hi. It wasn’t a big deal.

It was not a big deal. 

Why was she making this into such a big deal?

Fist raised, she stood in front of the heavy wooden door, moving her arm back and forth but never actually knocking, suddenly having second thoughts.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake this is idiotic,” she huffed under her breath, before finally rousing up enough courage to knock. She was a bloody Gryffindor for fuck’s sake. 

Before the door could even open, a low chuckle and an accompanying groan sounded from behind her, and whatever fluttering nonsense had been happening earlier promptly dropped dead.

She turned to find Malfoy standing there, signature smirk firmly in place, looking as if his Quidditch team had just won the World Cup. Beside him stood Harry, who at least had the decency to mirror her embarrassment, though he tried to send her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Did you want me, Granger?” Malfoy practically purred. 

Harry groaned even louder.

Malfoy’s office door may have thrown her for a moment, but Hermione was quick under pressure, and her wit was always beyond measure.

“Harry mentioned he was meeting with you, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be in his office or yours.” She spoke calmly but at the same time sent Harry a desperate look that all but screamed, ‘shut the fuck up’.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought Malfoy looked almost crestfallen. Like he’d actually hoped she was there to see him. And him alone.

Harry thankfully jumped in, sparing them both. “We just finished up. And I’m starved, missed breakfast this morning. You sure we can’t stop by Magical Transportation another time?”

“No, I have to go now before Cormac leaves for the day. He’s never bloody here,” she sighed, exasperated but secretly grateful for the distraction.

She’d tried to catch Cormac in his office at least ten times this week, and not once had he been around. After a bit of light snooping, she’d learned from a co-worker that his workday routine consisted of strolling in late, taking an early lunch, and somehow turning that into an early dismissal. 

She had to see him today, and she had to convince him of her plight. The party depended on it.

Again Harry groaned.

“McLaggen?” Malfoy sneered, looking as though he’d just been force fed bubotuber pus. “What could you possibly need from McLaggen?”

She waved him off, “never you mind.” Then turned to Harry, “ready?”

“Yea, let’s get this over with, I guess.” He trailed after her grumbling.

As expected, Malfoy ignored her. She smiled to herself as she walked away, the flutter swishing back to life.

“Why do you need to see that tosser?” Malfoy called out, sounding less disgusted and more aggravated now.

“I’ll see you at home, Malfoy,” she shot back over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips

He didn’t move. Just stood there outside his office, looking like he was now the one caught in a conundrum. Except, unlike her earlier spiral, his Slytherin instincts and general air of indifference kept him rooted to the spot instead of trailing after them like some overgrown vine.

As the lift doors slid shut, Harry turned to her, shaking his head and choking on a laugh.

She pulled on a curl absentmindedly. “What?” 

Harry’s eyes widened as he held in another laugh, “What the fuck was that? I never told you I was with Malfoy. I mean, yea, I was, but I never told you that.” 

She went to respond, but he beat her to it.

“And what was that weird knock/not knock thing you were doing? If I didn’t know you better, I’d think…” He trailed off, staring at her as the lift pinged. 

“No,” he shouted, incredulously. “You like Malfoy?!”

“Would you keep your fucking voice down,” she hissed through clenched teeth, shoving him out of the lift and into the long Ministry hallway as two older wizards gave them odd glances on their way in.

“Sorry,” he whispered, though still not as quiet as she would have liked. Preferably, she’d like if he just shut up all together.

“But, this is kind of a big deal,” he pressed on, still gaping at her as they strode down the, thankfully deserted, corridor toward the Magical Transportation offices. “You like Malfoy? Ex-Death Eater, school bully, annoying fucking prat, Malfoy!”

“Harry James Potter, will you keep it down!” she snapped, yanking him into an empty conference room the second she spotted one.

The door clicked shut, and she whirled on him. “He’s not any of those things anymore.” She paused, cringing slightly, as she tilted her head in thought. “Well he is annoying. And a prat. But the Death Eater stuff was under duress. And he’s apologized for the rest.”

“Fuck. So you do like him.” Harry’s jaw hung open, wide enough to catch yet another snitch.

“No, I can’t stand him.” 

Harry furrowed his brow, clearly not believing a word of that. 

“Fine,” she huffed, clearly flustered. “I don’t quite know how I feel. I don’t like like him, but I don’t not like like him either. You know? He’s just so… there all the time, looking like that and like… I don’t know how to be.” She ran both hands through her curls, making them billow out wildly. “You know what I mean,” she finished, hands flailing just centimeters from Harry’s face.

Harry stared at her like she was an arithmancy equation he had no hope of solving. “I don’t know. You said ‘like’ an awful lot.”

She inhaled deeply and then closed her eyes to exhale. “Let’s just forget this ever happened and go talk to Cormac before he disappears for lunch and never comes back.”

“Well, I’m definitely not forgetting this, but we can come back to it later.”

She grimaced but nodded.

“Just so you know,” Harry continued, “I don’t care if you do ‘like like’ Malfoy. He’s not the literal worst. I mean…..he pushes the fucking boundary, but I get it.” He tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if trying to piece together a thought. “And he’s different with you. It’s odd.”

Her heart rate picked up, and though she tried to hide her smile and ensuing blush, she just couldn’t.

Ever the auror, Harry used her coloring as evidence. “That. Right there,” he said, jabbing a finger towards her flushed cheeks. “Honestly, how did we ever get away with anything? You’re terrible at hiding shit.”

“It’s a tiny, minuscule really, barely there, crush. You’ve said yourself they’re fit. And you’ve admitted to liking Theo, so get off your high hippogriff.” She put her hands on her hips for good measure, “I’m just getting over Viktor, and the books say this is part of it.”

Harry shrugged, conceding the point. “What books?” 

“Not your concern,” she waved him off. Thinking about the pile of useless self-help books and Witch Weekly articles currently littering her closet floor.

“Now, let’s go.” She took a steadying breath. “And I should warn you, this will be uncomfortable for both of us.” Another breath. “But it’s the only way.”

“Why will this be uncomfortable for either of us?” Harry asked, keeping pace as he followed close behind.

Before she could answer, he reached out grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around, “What exactly do you need McLaggen for? I thought you swore him off after sixth year. You know, when he jammed his tongue down your throat, tasting like dragon balls.” 

Hermione winced as she remembered. 

“Those were your words by the way,” Harry quickly added.

“I know, I know,” she said, nodding her head along with her words. “But he has access to something I want. Something I need for this party.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“You’ll figure it out.” 

And just like that, she pulled him along, all prior hesitancy and nervousness gone from their earlier conversation. She was on a mission.

And when Hermione was on a mission, there was no stopping her.

*Harry*

Hermione glanced at him over her shoulder one last time, catching Harry’s eye as she mouthed, “don’t fuck this up,” before stepping up to McLaggen’s open office door and knocking against the frame. Her prior knocking troubles apparently no longer plagued her.

“Knock, knock,” she sing-songed sweetly. 

McLaggen looked up almost immediately, tearing his gaze from what appeared to be an article in Witch Weekly titled What Your Patronus Says About Your Prowess in the Bedroom.

Must have been a busy day in the Magical Transportation Department.

Harry stood slightly off to the side, visible but also safely positioned so as not to ‘fuck this up’ as Hermione had so eloquently put it. He still had no clue what this was, only that he hated it. 

Although, a small part of him remembered how she’d sweet talked Mr. Weasley’s prodigy, Erie Yenning, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department into letting her charm both a muggle funnel contraption and a set of cups for use in a wizarding drinking game for Krum’s party. And that had turned out to be one hell of a night.

Who knew Hermione’s penchant for disregarding the rules would translate so well into party planning? Or well, he guessed that was still left to be seen.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to spare for me?” She asked, leaning casually against the door frame, popping her hip out ever so slightly and tugging on a loose curl.

Harry grimaced at her blatant flirting. It was painful, worse than when she’d been with Malfoy. He shot her a look, which was promptly ignored as she turned her brightest smile on McLaggen.

McLaggen for his part was riveted. His dark eyes worked overtime, which according to Hermione, was a first for him, as they roamed up and down his best friend’s body.

So this is what she meant by uncomfortable. Lovely.

Finally, McLaggen pushed his copy of Witch Weekly aside and stood, going to perch on the edge of his desk, looking like some sort of overgrown, predatory hawk. “Of course I do, always have more than a moment for the Golden Girl.” He smirked, “What can I help you with?”

“Penelope recently let slip that you got mov—“ Hermione cleared her throat lightly. “Promoted,” she corrected herself, emphasizing the word as if what McLaggen was doing was actually some great honor, “to handling the routes and upkeep of the Knight Bus.”

McLaggen’s smile grew significantly at her slight praise.

She smiled, all innocent charm and pressed on. “I was just wondering….is it still running at all hours or does it take a night off every now and then?”

Why the fuck did she care about the Knight Bus’s schedule?

The look on Hermione’s face, made one thing very clear. She already knew the answer to her question.

McLaggen however, was none the wiser. Though in his defense, his eyes had been glued to her tits for the past minute, so it was likely hard for him to ascertain such things. He shook his head, clearing the encroaching fog that had started to cloud his eyes before finally answering, “uhhh, yea. We’ve lightened the schedule a bit for the winter months. More apparition and floo travel with the cold weather. No one wants to wait outside freezing their bits off, ya know?”

He let out a chortle and Hermione, Merlin help her, laughed right along with him. A little too loudly given that nothing he’d said was even remotely funny. McLaggen obviously disagreed. And he preened at her attention.

“Too right you are. I can see why they put you in charge of something so important.” She winked at McLaggen and Harry thought he may vomit.

He knew next to nothing about how the Magical Transportation Department was run, but he did know that managing the Knight Bus’s schedule was not a high priority task. If anything, it was likely a position that someone got demoted into. McLaggen naturally seemed blissfully unaware of this.

Hermione fluttered her lashes, “so what do you do with the bus when it's not in use?”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

No fucking way. Even she couldn’t be this insane.

“Oh, it just stays parked at a lot alongside those odd red muggle buses.” McLaggen chortled, positively enamored by the sound of his own voice and completely missing the mischievous grin that now overtook Hermione’s face. “What in Godric’s name were they thinking when they came up with those things? I mean only two levels. What a laugh.”

Hermione seemed to miss his latest attempt at a joke, too caught up in the thrill of her plan unfolding.

“Do you think someone could borrow it?” She asked, voice deceptively casual. “Rent it out for a night?” 

She bit her lip trying to hide her excitement, but Harry could tell. He knew her.

And as much as he wanted to groan and put a stop to whatever ridiculous scheme she was brewing, he couldn’t. He too now desperately wanted to know McLaggen’s answer and wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than a resounding yes.

Because that was the thing about Hermione’s ideas. They started out sounding mad. Absolutely harebrained. But the more you thought about them, the more exhilarated you got, even if they never stopped sounding unhinged.

McLaggen really let out a laugh now. “No one’s ever asked that before; suppose I could check the manual.” The thought appeared to have confused him, as if one of them had suggested checking the manual, and in that moment, it was clear to both Harry and Hermione that he would not be checking anything.

In fact, Harry would bet his entire Gringott’s vault that McLaggen wouldn’t even know where to find it.

Hermione continued on, ignoring his comment entirely. “It would just be for a small party, more like a get together really.”

Harry severely doubted that.

She was bouncing now, the excitement needing somewhere to go. “And of course Harry will be there,” she added, pointing at him.

McLaggen blinked in mild surprise, looking shocked to see him standing there. 

“And at least one other auror. So you know, nothing illegal.” She giggled, soft and sweet, already knowing she’d convinced him before he even knew himself.

“I guess that shouldn’t be a problem,” McLaggen shrugged thinking it over. “I mean, it’s never been done before, but it's you two.”

Hermione squealed, jumping for joy and Harry couldn’t help but feel excited along with her. 

“Oh, Cormac, thank you so, so much! Would two weeks from today be possible?”

McLaggen’s cheeks flushed as he ran a hand through his dirty blond waves. “I’ll just need to check with Ernie, but I don’t see why not. He’s always rattling on about the hags on his usual route, so this should actually be right up his alley.”

“Perfect,” Hermione beamed, practically manic with excitement. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

At that McLaggen’s eyes lit up and Harry watched as Hermione’s enthusiasm instantly deflated. Obviously, her excitement had gotten ahead of her mouth and she’d said something she definitely didn’t mean.

“Well,” McLaggen started, eyes gleaming, “we could go for dinner after I meet with Ernie sometime next week.”

Harry could see her mind working hard, frantically, trying to come up with anything to avoid a dinner alone with him.

“I could join you for the meeting with Ernie,” she suggested. “That way I could answer any questions he may have.”

McLaggen smirked, “and then dinner,” his eyebrows raised in question.

“I’ll likely be very busy, what with planning the party and that raid scheduled for next week.” She shot a desperate look at Harry, silently pleading for backup.

Harry sighed. He was already complicit in what was most certainly an unauthorized use of the Knight Bus, so why not lie about an upcoming raid.

“Oh right, the raid.” He tapped his chin, as if thinking hard. “Dark artefacts. Nasty business. From that notorious wizarding family. I know the one you’re speaking of, Hermione. That will cause a lot of late nights” 

She rolled her eyes so only Harry could see and gave him the most disbelieving look, clearly unimpressed with his half-arsed lie.

Bad lie or not, McLaggen bought it. His shoulders slumped and he looked positively downtrodden at the thought of work interfering with their quasi-date.

“Well maybe we could push it all back a week or two unt—“

“What if you came to the party?” Hermione blurted out, cutting him off before he could even think of rescheduling. “It’s not dinner, but…”

She didn’t even finish the thought, but luckily McLaggen didn’t need her to. He was already grinning like he’d just made the house team.

“Sounds perfect, it’s a da—“

“Deal!” Hermione half shouted. “It’s a deal.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and bolted from his office, grabbing Harry by the arm as she went.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you, it being lunch and all,” she called over her shoulder. “Memo me about the meeting with Ernie and I’ll make sure to owl you an invite.”

They were already half way down the corridor before McLaggen could even hope to respond.

As soon as they stepped into the lift, thankfully alone once again, Harry turned to her arms crossed and auror face on.

“You’re throwing a party on the Knight Bus?” His voice was equal parts incredulous and impressed.

His eyebrows then shot up.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!”

*Ginny*

The shrill alarm on Ginny’s Nimble Notes went off, alerting her to a new message just as she hopped out of the shower on one foot, trying and failing not to get water everywhere.

Multiple messages, judging by the ridiculous cacophony now blasting from the small device.

“Shit,” she yelped, stubbing her toe on the vanity in a mad scramble to shut the damn thing up.

Fucking Fred and George.

Hermione: We’re still on for Back to Hogwarts dinner tonight, right?

Harry: I’ll be there

Harry: Though can we still call it Back to Hogwarts dinner? It’s already December

Ron: We can call it whatever Hermione wants as long as she’s making that roast

Ron: Tell me you’re making the roast

Hermione: Yes, I’m making the roast. Whimbley and Pucklett are helping me

Harry: You’re letting them help? What would SPEW say about this?

Hermione: Funny

Hermione: Though, if you ever actually read the leaflet, you’d know that S.P.E.W. is perfectly fine with elves making their own informed choices 

Ron: Harry’s sorry. Tell her you’re sorry, Harry

Harry: I’m sorry. I’m sure Whimbley and Pucklett love helping and that dinner will be fantastic

Ron: Good. Parvati, Ruby and I will be over at six

Ron: And you’re sure the snakes will be okay around a baby?

Hermione: I mean, Theo did hex that baby last week and Blaise has been known to curse them on rare occasions. But I think Ruby should be okay

Harry: Robards brought his grandson around last week, and the baby was oddly enamored with Malfoy. I’m half convinced he slipped him something

Ron: I don’t like either of you

Ron: I’m only coming over for the roast

Ron: Gin? You don’t want to jump in? Joke about how one of the Slytherins might eat my baby?

Hermione: Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald. They would never eat your baby…..they have impeccable manners

Hermione: Where is Gin though? You there?

Harry: Ginny

Harry: Sorry. Felt left out

Still hopping in place, her toe smarting, Ginny hastily typed back:

Ginny: I’m here

Ginny: Sorry, was in the shower

Ginny: And am currently getting ready for the Back to Hogwarts/There Best Be Roast There Dinner as we speak

Hermione: Perfect name

Hermione: Well, I better go. Malfoy’s freaking out about a fire in the kitchen

Hermione: It’s the fucking stove…..spare me

Harry: See you at six

Ginny: I’ll be over a little early. Can’t help with cooking, but I’ll be there for moral support

Hermione: Thank you! I’ll have a drink waiting

Hermione: See you all soon!

Ginny set her Nimble Notes down and stared at herself in the mirror. 

Why the fuck did she say she’d be over early?

It’s like her fingers had gone rogue and decided they were in charge now. Which sounded about right, considering her legs had walked her straight to Blaise’s door and into his bed last weekend.

Ughh. What was wrong with her?

Sure, she’d always been the type to go after what she wanted, but she usually had tact. She wasn’t Ron, bumbling about, making a complete arse out of herself anytime she fancied someone.

Not that she fancied anyone.

She was finally single. Single at the same time as her best friend. And they were both swearing off wizards together.

Sure,  Hermione had come up with this silly little pact on a whim after that disastrous date with Graham, but honestly? Ginny thought it was a solid plan. And Hermione agreed.

They’d sealed the deal earlier this week over drinks at The Wandering Wand, right after Ginny confessed the whole drunken walk and subsequent cuddle with Blaise.

Hermione gasped and laughed in all the right spots and then, of course, completely understood when Ginny explained she just wasn’t ready to take things any further with Blaise…..at least, not right now.

Yea, he was fit. Really fucking fit. And he had that effortless, maddening charm that only Slytherins seemed to master.

Which, seriously, who the fuck was teaching them that kind of nonchalant suaveness? Because it definitely wasn’t Snape. He had less charisma then a lacewing fly.

But the thing was, she didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he liked, didn’t know if he had hobbies. Hell, she didn’t even know what he did for a living. Not that he likely had to do anything, being a fancy, pureblood heir. 

But still, she should know.

She’d never gotten to know Oliver before shagging him and look where that had gotten her. Ginny didn’t want to do that again.

So, she made the pact with Hermione. Even wrapped their pinkies together, which, for some reason, seemed to hold great significance to her best friend.

But also, Ginny’s stomach was currently in knots, and she was more nervous about going to see Blaise today than she’d been before her first Harpies match.

And at the fucking scene of the crime.

Merlin, she had to get it together.

She could do this. She could go over there, be around Blaise and talk to him like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t fallen asleep  in his bed, his arm wrapped around her possessively, her arse pressed up hard against his….

Ginny shook her head wildly, muttering under her breath. “Fuck. Can’t think about that.”

As long as she just never, ever thought about his cock again it would all be fine.

Completely fine.

~*~

This was not fine.

It was, in fact, the exact opposite of fine.

Blaise was there the moment she stepped through the floo, talking with Theo and Malfoy, a tumbler of firewhiskey cradled effortlessly in his firm, deft grip. His grin turned downright devious the second he saw her.

Fucking hell.

Thank Godric Hermione swept into the room right then, her curls piled high on her head, looking like they were held up only by magic and sheer determination. Her face was dusted with both her usual freckles and a smattering of flour, and most importantly, she was holding out an entire mugs worth of elf-made wine.

Ginny could have kissed her.

“Ugh, thank you. I desperately need this,” she groaned, grabbing the mug and taking a deep, grateful gulp, draining half of it in one go.

“Quidditch season that rough?” laughed Theo, lifting his tumbler up to her in cheers.

“Something like that,” she said, clinking her glass against his.

“Ginevra,” Blaise’s deep, smooth tone slithered through the room,  curling around her spine and sinking straight into her bones.

“Zabini,” she replied, risking the smallest glance in his direction. 

A mistake. A terrible, colossal mistake. 

Because the way he was looking at her, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her and reveled in it, made her want to turn around and floo right back home.

She drained the rest of her wine and held her mug out to Hermione for more. A slightly wary look crossed her friend's face, but Hermione obliged, summoning over the bottle and topping off her mug.

Theo chuckled, “are you a lush with the elf wine too? Should we be expecting two slutty witches here tonight?” The thought clearly excited him as he bounced up, now sitting on his heels in the plush armchair. “Because if so, I’m switching to elf wine immediately!”

“Granger, is it really the best idea for you to be throwing back wine around all those open flames? I’d hate for that little robe thing you're wearing to catch fire.” Malfoy looked both genuinely concerned and vaguely hopeful that Hermione’s clothing would go up in a blaze of smoke and flames.

Hermione rolled her eyes hard while taking a very slow, deliberate sip of her wine before deadpanning, “it’s called an apron Malfoy and I assure you I’ll be fine.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, “whatever you say. Just don’t call me to put you out.”

Hermione groaned dramatically. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. I would rather die than ask for your help.” Then she smirked and grabbed Ginny’s arm, dragging her down the hall. “Harry, Ron, Parvati and Ruby should be coming through in a bit. Let them know we’re in the kitchen.”

“I’m not an owl,” Malfoy called after them. “And who the fuck gave them access to our floo?”

Hermione purposely ignored that, grinning at Ginny.

“And don’t eat the baby,” Ginny yelled back over her shoulder. “It’s uncouth.”

Malfoy’s confused, “they think we would eat a baby?” was the last thing they heard before dissolving into a fit of laughter, their giggles echoing down the hallway as they happily walked away from the wizards they were most definitely not falling for.

~*~

“You do realize students have been back at Hogwarts for months now, right?” Malfoy drawled as they all made their way into the elaborately decorated dining room.

Apparently, Whimbley and Pucklett loved a theme just as much as Hermione. The ceiling had been charmed to resemble a starry night sky and lit candles floated overhead, casting a warm glow upon them all. Brass boar’s head pitchers sat on the table, filled to the brim with elf wine and Butterbeer, while decadent silver platters overflowed with buttered peas, mashed potatoes, caramelized carrots, golden Yorkshire puddings and the crowning glory, a perfectly roasted joint of beef.

As they each took their seats, their place settings magically transformed to match their house colors, the table quickly decked out in a sea of red and green. Ruby’s napkin remained the Hogwarts crest, though Ginny could have sworn she saw it flash crimson.

“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied then, what with my boyfriend cheating on me and all,” Hermione quipped, promptly shutting Malfoy up.

Theo cringed slightly at her bluntness. “Well, I think this all looks marvelous. And honestly who doesn’t love celebrating the brilliance of Hogwarts year round.”

“Cheers to that,” Blaise said, raising his glass. “Though you do know Hermione, you can’t earn house points anymore.”

“Which is lucky for you all,” Harry grinned, reaching for the flagon of Butterbeer and pouring himself a hefty glass, “since it would really suck to keep losing to us even into adulthood.”

The Gryffindors and Theo laughed, as Blaise huffed, “yes, how difficult it must’ve been being Dumbledore’s favorites, earning points for things like a well played game of chess and having outstanding moral fiber.”

“That’s very specific, mate. Seems like you’ve been harboring that for some time,” joked Ron, his mouth already stuffed full of potatoes and roast.

“Also, I didn’t earn house points for the moral fiber thing. That was points for the Tri-Wizard tournament,” Harry corrected as all the Slytherins and even Ginny groaned.

Sensing the tension brewing, Hermione quickly jumped in. “Anyways, what else is new with everyone?”

Malfoy took a sip of his wine before not so casually asking, “how was your meeting with McLaggen?”

“What meeting with McLaggen?” Ginny asked at the same time both Ron and Theo blurted, “Cormac?”

“Thanks for that,” Hermione threw Malfoy a glare before reluctantly elaborating. “I needed something from Cormac, so I went to his office a few days ago.” She shrugged, “nothing big.”

“What could you possibly need from that tosser?” Ron asked, only to receive a sharp slap on the arm from Parvati, which made him choke slightly on his Yorkshire pudding.

“That’s what I said,” Malfoy muttered, looking almost disturbed to realize he agreed with Ron. Ginny snorted under her breath.

“I needed something for Blaise’s party.”

Blaise immediately perked up, his interest piqued. “What did you need? Did you get it?”

Hermione’s excitement mirrored his as she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a surprise, but yes, I got it!”

“And Cormac just gave it to you,” Parvati asked skeptically, bouncing Ruby on her knee as she popped a carrot in her mouth.

Hermione hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to answer.

“He asked her out to dinner,” Harry said nonplussed in between bites.

Hermione sent  him a murderous look. 

“I thought you were swearing off wizards?” Theo asked, holding up a bite of peas that appeared to be floating.

Ginny gaped at her. “Yea, what the hell? We just twisted pinkies over it and everything.”

“I’m still swearing off wizards,” Hermione insisted. “He asked, I didn’t say yes.”

Malfoy stared at her over the rim of his glass and paused before taking a sip. “So, you said no?”

“She did not,” Harry answered with a shit-eating grin. “Instead, she invited him to your party.” He turned to nod at Blaise.

Harry was in rare form tonight and though Hermione looked close to avadaing him, Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. She loved him like this.

“Did someone slip you Veritaserum before this meal?” Hermione glowered at him. “I thought that could be kept between us.”

He just smiled and patted her on the head lovingly, continuing on with dinner as if this was all wildly entertaining. Which to be fair, it was.

“Granger! I don’t want a bloody Hufflepuff at my party,” Blaise whined.

“He’s a Gryffindor,” Hermione corrected, before taking a sip of elf wine and then stopping abruptly. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Hufflepuffs,” she quickly amended. “And again, I needed to keep him happy.”

“But why do you need to keep him happy?” Malfoy asked again, looking slightly agitated by the prospect of someone asking Hermione out. Ginny couldn’t help but grin at his little tantrum. “What could he possibly have that you need?”

The table went silent, all eyes fixed on Hermione and Malfoy.

The mystery of McLaggen had officially become the highlight of the evening.

Hermione sighed dramatically, “He’s doing me a favor,” she said shiftily, “now stop asking questions.” 

Then to physically bar herself from saying anything further, she stuffed an absurdly large piece of roast into her mouth and grinned at Malfoy through her overly full cheeks.

Blaise, completely unbothered, leaned forward, “what kind of favor?”

Malfoy, equally determined, pressed, “yea, what kind of favor?”

Hermione just rolled her eyes in response.

“Potter, do you know?” Theo asked, raising a brow.

Harry grinned, popping a bite into his mouth, “yea, but I’m not telling. She’s scary.”

Hermione’s mouth was still full, so instead of replying, she simply pointed  at Harry and nodded.

“Though I do agree with the general consensus that McLaggen is quite a—“ Harry paused as if searching for the right word.

“Cunt,” Malfoy supplied without hesitation.

All the guys at the table nodded along in agreement.

Parvati hastily clapped her hands over Ruby’s ears and elbowed Ron hard, causing him to  splutter, “oi, language!”

“Sorry, little love,” Malfoy cooed in the sweetest voice, flashing Ruby an uncharacteristically warm smile. “I’m not used to having little ones around.” Then turning back to the group, he added with an infuriating smirk, “I meant, he’s a real C-U-N-T.”

Hermione looked as though her ovaries had just burst into flames at the way he spoke to Ruby. Which was particularly concerning, given that he had in fact, just spelled out cunt.

She blinked rapidly, likely trying to break whatever Malfoy-induced trance had taken hold of her. “You—you think that about every guy who’s not one of you” she accused, finally swallowing her food and clearly unable to resist an argument with him.

“Not, true,” Malfoy replied dully, “I think Potter’s a cunt too.”

Harry snorted, shaking his head, “Thanks, Malfoy. So glad that after years of working together and now with you living with my best friend, we’ve finally grown closer.”

“We are not closer.”

“We could be closer, Potter,” Theo quipped with a smirk.

Ron groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, this is quite the dinner. Just like Hogwarts.”

~*~

Whimbley, Pucklett and Crookshanks marched out of the kitchen like a mini dessert brigade, carrying an array of sweets, treacle tart, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, a berry trifle, and even a multi-tiered Hogwarts house themed cake, topped with a glittering Golden Snitch.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione,” Ron jested, “how long did you have them slaving away on this.”

Malfoy laughed outright while the others at least attempted to hide their chuckles. 

Hermione first thanked the elves, before rounding on Ron. “I did not make them do any of this, Ronald. They wanted to, which again, if you had actually read the le—“

“The leaflet, yea, I know.” Ron said, waving her off with a grin. “Print off some more of those, would you?”

Before Hermione could launch into a lecture, Ruby started fussing, little arms stretching out as she squirmed. Ron and Parvati both tried to console her, but she wouldn’t settle.

“She gets a bit fussy at this hour,” Ron said, fumbling to pass Ruby to a waiting Parvati. “Especially around all these snakes.”

The Slytherins grumbled in perfect harmony.

Parvati stood, gently bouncing Ruby as she made her way toward the sitting room, only for Ruby to hurl her toy dragon straight at Malfoy’s head.

Malfoy bent to pick it up, and when he held it back out to her, Ruby miraculously stopped crying. Instead, she just stared at him with her wide glassy eyes, locked onto his cool grey ones, completely mesmerized.

“Bloody hell, your baby has a thing for Malfoy,” teased Ginny.

Ron looked ill. Though, to be fair, that could’ve been due to either the current situation or the truly alarming amount of roast he had personally consumed.

Malfoy, the insufferable prat, only grinned wider and held out his arms. “Hello there, baby.”

Hermione practically vibrated next to Ginny, and looked  on the verge of combusting. Ginny discreetly kicked her under the table, muttering behind her hand, “hold it together.”

Hermione squeaked in acknowledgment, though Ginny didn’t trust her in the slightest. And honestly? She couldn’t blame her. Malfoy and Ruby were quite the sight.

“You think this is hard?” Malfoy mused, rocking Ruby effortlessly in his arms. “She seems quite content. Oh, and don’t worry. I’m quite full from dinner,” he threw Hermione a wicked little wink as he continued to soothe the baby.

“You’re a cunt, Malfoy,” grunted Ron, likely feeling slighted by his own kin.

“Language,” Malfoy shot back, eyebrows raised in faux disapproval.

Parvati, clearly unfazed, took a long gulp of wine.  “I think you’re amazing, Malfoy. Honestly, top notch.” She waved a hand vaguely in Ron’s direction. “Don’t give a flying fuck if my husband thinks you’re a git. My daughter is obviously smitten and too right she is.”

Malfoy raised his glass in cheers to Parvati, Ruby still snug in his other arm.

“This is all very touching, someone alert the Prophet,” Blaise drawled. “But can we get back to the matter at hand. What’s the dress code? Wizarding Flair?”

Everyone, besides Theo, stared back at him in confusion.

“Wizarding Flair?” Ginny repeated, eyebrows raised.

“It’s a birthday party, Zabini, not the opera.” Theo laughed, as if this made any sense whatsoever.

Hermione, ever the problem solver, finished chewing her bite of treacle tart before offering, “I think it’s fine if we just leave the dress code open. Wear what you’d normally wear to a party.”

“Alright, I guess,” Blaise gave a thoughtful nod as he reached for the trifle.

They all ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Theo casually asked, “did you hire a stripper?”

Malfoy, Harry and Ron snorted as Blaise looked positively giddy.

“Why would she hire a stripper,” Ginny smirked, nudging Hermione, “when her crotch is dripping gold.”

The table erupted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny, but the laughter drowned out whatever murderous threats she was considering. 

“I’d sooner dress in Wizarding Flair than strip at this party,” she shot back.

“Don’t make such bold claims, Hermione,” Theo said with a wicked grin, “You never know.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Hermione lifted her glass of elf wine. “One too many of these, and you’ll be begging  me to put my clothes back on.”

Malfoy coughed loudly and abruptly stood, bouncing Ruby up and down as a very pointed distraction.

“I can’t believe I’m going to miss this,” complained Ginny. “Fucking match.”

Blaise froze, forkful of trifle hanging mid-air. “Wait, you’re not coming?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she pouted. Internally, her entire nervous system was in chaos at the fact that he cared. “I’ll be there later in the evening. Hermione will let me know where to meet up.”

Hermione’s curls bounced in agreement as she slipped her arm around Ginny’s shoulders in a comforting squeeze.

Blaise didn’t say anything else for the rest of dinner.

But his eyes?

They never left her.

~*~

Her arms were piled high with leftovers as she made her way to the floo, Hermione still busy in the kitchen listening to Theo and Malfoy’s recipe for ‘Bro Brew’, some ungodly concoction they would mix up back at school that was proven to get you wasted.

Hermione, of course, was delighted. Somehow she could make even ‘Bro Brew’ into some potion project she was determined to get an Outstanding on.

Ginny heard him before she saw him, sliding up beside her, wordlessly levitating the boxes out of her grasp.

“Looks like it’s finally just the two of us, huh?” His grin was slow and teasing, his teeth catching at his bottom lip.

“Oh Godric. You’re about to say something stupid, aren't you?” It took every ounce of willpower to drag her gaze away from his lips.

“Yea. I’m going to marry you, witch.”

She groaned, fully prepared to throttle him back to reality, “Jar, Blaise.”

His smirk never wavered. “Back to Blaise. That’s all I wanted, Ginevra.”

She stepped into the floo, rolling her eyes as he floated her takeaway next to her.

“Good luck at the match,” he murmured. “I’ll be ready to celebrate your win.”

The emerald flames swept her away, but his damn parting wink? It followed her. All the way to bed. Even in her dreams.

Chapter Text

*Draco*

“Are you crying?” Draco asked incredulously as he stared at Blaise slumped against the cold, worn brick facade of what appeared to be a bookshop. Theo and Pansy were whispering back and forth, looking down the street every so often as if in search of something, as they waited for Granger to show. 

She’d barged into Draco’s room late last night, dragging Theo along with her to brief them on the plan, which was incredibly vague. All they had to do was get Blaise to the Leaky Cauldron entrance in Muggle London by eight sharp. No other details. No hints. They’d begged for some sort of clue; well, Theo begged; Draco would never, but she didn’t budge. 

Now it was ten past eight, and Granger was nowhere to be seen.

Blaise was handling it about as well as could be expected. So in short, not well at all.

“No, I’m not crying,” Blaise snapped, hastily dragging both hands down his face in a way that did nothing to convince anyone otherwise. “What if it’s just in the pub?” His lip curled in genuine disgust, like the idea of walking through the doors to their right would be worse than an afternoon tea with Umbridge. He slumped lower, muttering, “Pucey will never let me hear the end of this.”

Draco sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep from hitting one of his oldest mates. “Again, why do you care so much?”

Theo shot Draco a look, begging him to keep quiet, and said, “Hermione said she’s got this handled, yea? And she always does.” He then leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal some top-secret Ministry classified information. “Besides, I heard she had a meeting with McLaggen the other day. And an Ernest Prang.”

“Ernest Prang? Who the fuck is that?” Blaise asked, loud enough to make a few passersby glance their way.

Draco didn’t recognize the name either and was already regretting the mild curiosity that had just sparked.

Theo cast a quick glance around, as if he half expected Granger to leap out from behind a rubbish bin or materialize from a shadowed alcove.

How the hell did Theo even know about this Ernest Prang when, just last night, he’d been pleading with Granger for details, and she wouldn’t give up a damn thing?

Draco narrowed his eyes.“Where did you hear about this meeting?”

Theo ran a hand through his curls, tugging lightly before mumbling way too fast, “I heard about it when I read it aloud out of her planner.”

Pansy snorted delicately behind her perfectly manicured hands.

Draco let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head. “She’s going to murder you.”

“Not if she doesn’t find out.” Theo met his gaze, holding intense eye contact while dramatically jabbing two fingers between them like some telepathic plea. “And, to be fair, she left her planner open on her bed with only a simple locking charm on the door. Anyone could have heard me read it.”

“You’re insane,” Pansy deadpanned.

Draco was positive that wasn’t how such things worked, but it was futile arguing with Theo. 

“Like you’re any better, Pans. You’re the nosiest bitch I know,” Theo retorted.

Blaise finally cut back in, equal parts agitated and intrigued. “Right, so are you actually going to tell us who this mysterious wizard is, or was that all for naught?”

Theo’s signature grin slid effortlessly back into place. “Ernest Prang,” he began, pausing just long enough for suspense, “is the—”

The blaring honk of a horn, followed by screeching tires and the unmistakable thump of bass shaking the pavement beneath their feet ruined Theo’s big reveal.

A triple-decker, violently purple bus came skidding to a halt in front of them. Its many windows flashed with a swirl of neon lights, painting the alley in a dizzying array of colors, and a banner emblazoned with Blaise’s winking face was hung across its side. What must have been Muggle music blasted from within, accompanied by the raucous sounds of what could only be described as a full blown party already raging.

Theo exhaled loudly. “Thanks for stealing my thunder, Prang. Took me all night to figure that out.”

And then, before Draco could even process the absolute shitshow happening in front of him, Granger’s head popped out from the back of the bus. 

“Surprise!” she yelled, grinning wide as she ran over to them.

And holy fucking shite, surprise was right. 

She was wearing a shimmering, semi-transparent black top that made her tits look positively magical and jeans that skimmed her legs perfectly. Her hair was pulled back at the front in a winding, intricate plait with tiny gemstones scattered through her curls, like she was a constellation come to life. 

Everything else faded away, like the rest of the universe was just noise, and all that remained was her.

Too soon, the noise came rushing back in.

“Is that the fucking Knight Bus?!” Blaise practically shrieked, shaking Draco’s shoulder like he could have somehow missed the massive, glowing monstrosity in front of them.

And honestly? He could have, had he seen her first.

Draco shook his head, lips curling into a smirk that felt dangerously close to feral. 

“Granger,” he drawled, “have you gone mad?”

“It’s definitely possible,” she said with a laugh, biting her Salazar-foresaken lip and scrunching her face into the most absurdly adorable grin.

Both Theo and Blaise were buzzing with excitement as they shouted over each other in a chaotic mess of questions. Not that many of them were heard. Thank Merlin the music was loud enough to drown out their nonsense, though somehow, the Muggles nearby remained blissfully unaware.

“Is my party on the bus? Tell me we’re getting on this thing, Granger!” Blaise practically roared, sweeping her up in his arms and spinning her around.

Why the hell hadn’t Draco thought to do that first?

Pansy glanced over, giving him an odd look, before she went back to staring at the bus, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Granger’s laugh spilled out, bright and warm, cutting through the chilled December air better than any Warming Charm. “Yes, your party is on the bus. Everyone’s already on board. Drinks, games, the whole lot. So we should probably get on.”

She was beaming, and so were they. It was infectious.

“This is actually quite popular with Muggles,” she added thoughtfully, leading them toward the bus. “Though I might’ve jazzed it up a bit.”

“Get in, wankers!”the driver hollered, temporarily vanishing his window and casting a Sonorus Charm so they could hear him properly. “We’re going everywhere but underwater.” He looked positively chuffed, pumping his fist in the air before leaning hard on the horn.

“That’s Ernie.” 

Both Draco and Blaise ‘ahhed’ as they nodded toward Theo, who looked smug as hell. Granger sent them a confused glance but didn’t let it slow her down.

“He’s thrilled to be doing this,” she continued, stepping onto the bus as Draco instinctively offered his arm for support. “Apparently, his usual route’s a bit of a bore, and there was something about an unruly hag,” she shrugged.

“And what he said isn't technically true, we’re staying in the UK. The paperwork to set up intercontinental travel for a whole busload of people was astronomical, plus I would’ve had to sweet talk Kingsley.” She turned round to grin back at them as they made their way through a set of doors on the first level. “Which I could’ve done, mind you, but he’s up for reelection next year, and he doesn’t need a scandal on the books”

She winked, and Draco found himself suddenly tight in the trousers at her casual mention of bribing the Minister for Magic.

Holy fuck. She was practically a Malfoy the way she flitted through the Ministry, taking what she wanted with no thought of being told no.

“I don’t know of anyone who's ever ridden this thing,” Theo mused, wide-eyed as they took in the, frankly ridiculous, interior. The space had obviously been enlarged with a fairly massive and impressive Extension Charm. Tables, couches, and clusters of people were everywhere. And as Draco looked closer, he noticed many familiar faces.

An all too familiar face popped up first. 

“I have,” Potter’s cheerful tone spoke loudly over the beat as he sauntered over with an acid green cup in hand, filled with an oddly familiar concoction. “First time was right after blowing up my aunt,” he said, sipping casually before flashing that bloody Chosen One grin. “She was a real cunt.”

“You blew up your aunt? How the hell are you not in Azkaban?” Draco chanced a look at Theo, who looked utterly deranged having learned this.

Potter just shrugged. “Eh. Magical accident. Ministry overlooked it. You know how it is.”

Draco did not know how it was. And judging by the stunned silence from Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, neither did they.

“That is so hot. Since when have Gryffindors been so fucking hot?!” Theo drawled, dragging out each word just to make sure no one missed the full weight of his revelation.

Draco’s head was mindlessly nodding along, fully agreeing, until he caught sight of both Potter and Pansy staring at him with twin looks of pure smugness etched upon their faces. His easy smile faltered.“Enough about Potter,” Blaise cut in, “This is my birthday, and it already looks like it’s going to obliterate Pucey’s sad excuse for a party!” His grin was wide and full of wild energy, eyes darting around like a kid let loose in Zonko’s.

“He’s here,” Granger said in a low, conspiratorial whisper. She nodded upward. “One of the upper levels. I overheard Warrington telling him the same.” 

Blaise and Granger shrieked together, fully united in their birthday feud joy.

Just then, what had to be an entire Quidditch team’s worth of gingers approached, led by the largest one of the bunch. Floating in front of them a fleet of acid green cups and mini shot glasses billowing out smoke, one of each finding its way into the Slytherins’ waiting hands while the rest bobbed around like overly enthusiastic party decor.

Maybe they weren’t so bad, Draco thought, raising his shot up in cheers as they all slammed them back.

“Another one!” one of the Weasleys chanted as more smoking shots flew into everyone’s grasp.

Again Draco downed it and then immediately regretted everything as one of the twins, the one with the golden ear of course, swooped in, slinging an arm around Granger’s shoulders and pulling her in for a squeeze that was entirely too familiar for Draco’s liking. 

“Excellent party, Hermione,” the twin grinned, voice dripping with mischief. “Maybe even better than Krum’s.”

She shot him a dazzling smile. “I do what I can.”

“And what can’t you do?” rumbled the largest, most weathered-looking Weasley. “Haven’t seen you fail at anything yet.”

Draco took it back.

They were all the fucking worst.

He noticed Granger’s face fall for a split second, looking lost and vulnerable, before her full, dazzling smile snapped back into place like it had never left.

“And you won’t tonight,” her eyes sparkled as she taunted the redheaded nightmares. “I plan on kicking your arses in ‘Swig & Flip.’”

“Ooo hoo,” the large one jeered, throwing his head back with a booming laugh. “You think so? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Ron finally stumbled into the conversation, looking positively sloshed with his arm wrapped tightly around an equally pissed Parvati, clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him upright. “Are you snakes in?” he slurred, lurching forward as the bus bumped along.

“Oh, I’m definitely in,” Blaise enthused, tilting back his drink. His eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey! Is this Bro Brew?”

Granger’s grin grew, and fuck, was she pretty.

“Malfoy and Theo taught me how to brew it. It’s quite good,” she said, taking her own sip. “I did add a touch of Murtlap Essence, to counteract the hiccups, but otherwise it’s the same.”

“Why didn’t we think of that?!” Theo groaned, pinging his gaze between Blaise and Draco. “Why didn’t we fucking think to add Murtlap Essence?”

The Weasleys and Potter were all chuckling as Granger flipped her hair, clearly proud of herself.

“I believe when you three were concocting that mess back in fifth year, your main goal was getting drunk,” Pansy said with a sly smirk. “I doubt side effects were a big concern.”

“Thank Godric for Hermione,” the golden eared twin toasted, knocking his cup against hers. “Perce, let’s go find your wife and set up. Harry and Hermione can team up with this lot.”

The broad-shouldered Weasley turned, shouting over his shoulder, “And you’re going down, Goldie.”

Oh fuck no. Granger wasn’t going down anywhere near that brute.

She just laughed and shook her head, turning back to their smaller, and now more intimate group.

“They’re chummy,” Theo noted, clearly not feeling the same levels of animosity that Draco was.

“And fit,” Pansy added, her smirk nothing short of devious. “Tell me, Granger, have you shagged any of them?”

Granger immediately choked on her drink as Potter slapped her back, wheezing with laughter.

“You’re lucky Ginny isn’t here. She hates being reminded that Hermione and Ron fucked.”

“Harry!” Granger slapped him upside the head, sending him stumbling into Theo who caught him, hand lingering on Potter’s hip just a bit too long.

Once Potter was steady again, his grin widened, tipsy and totally unbothered. “What? You did. And in the fucking Chamber of Secrets, no less. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t die when you were down there getting plowed.”

Draco grimaced. Salazar, that was not an image he wanted in his head. How the hell did that weasel ever get so lucky?

“The Chamber of Secrets!” Theo yelled, practically buzzing.

“You’re a kinky little witch, Granger.” Blaise leaned in closer, voice dripping with amusement, “Should’ve guessed.”

“You don’t need to say it like that!” She crinkled her nose in disgust. 

The Slytherins chuckled at her obvious horror in Potter’s phrasing.

“And it wasn’t like that,” she insisted, shooting a glare at Blaise. “We thought we might die. You’d have done the same if the opportunity had presented itself.” 

Potter conceded with a shrug, and surprisingly, everyone seemed to agree.

But Pansy wasn’t done yet. “Really? Ron is the only Weasley you’ve had a go with? When the rest of them look like that?” She nodded over to a table in the back corner of the bus, where their large clan was setting up two rows of cups on a long wooden table. 

Granger hesitated just a second too long. “He’s the only one I’ve really been with… but, I did have quite the crush on Fred back in school.” She shrugged, “We only snogged, though.”

She took another sip of her drink, ignoring the way Potter gaped at her. Theo and Pansy however, nodded in approval, both looking far too pleased with this revelation.

“Does Ginny know?” Potter asked, scandalized, “or Ron?”

“Fuck.” She looked around nervously and then stared into her empty cup. “I knew this Bro Brew was going to bite me in the arse. You cannot tell,” she looked at them all pleadingly.

“I know, though,” came that too-familiar voice. The twin with the golden ear was back, sliding his arm around Granger again, but her waist this time.

Her fucking waist. 

“Practically felt it, being twins and all.” He winked at the group as she groaned and buried her face in his shoulder. “Now come on, Goldie; we’re all set up, and Charlie’s ready to crush you.”

Yes, Draco thought. The Weasleys were, without question, the absolute worst. She was the Golden Girl and the Weasleys were a family of fucking Nifflers, sniffing her out around every damn corner.

As they started walking towards the others, Theo let out a wistful sigh. “What I would’ve given to snog a Weasley twin back at Hogwarts. They were my gay awakening.”

Draco looked at him taken aback, “I thought it was me, in my Quidditch kit, that made you question your preferences.” 

Not that Draco was interested. But a compliment was a compliment. And Malfoys were quite fond of those.

Potter and Blaise both burst into laughter, while Pansy wrinkled her nose in delight. “Merlin, Draco.”

“You in your kit may have opened my eyes,” Theo said, grinning. “But the Weasley twins? Full blown sexual awakening. They’re just so… carefree. You know? Granger gets it.”

Theo nodded toward where George had walked off, arm held tight around Hermione. And fucking hell, she was smiling up at him.

Still laughing, Blaise muttered, “You’re definitely not carefree, mate. You’re a fucking peacock.”

*Hermione*

George’s hand slid lower, settling at the small of her back as they walked. And she knew exactly what he was up to.

“You’re a menace; you know that?” She looked up at him and shook her head, though she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

He laughed, loud and unbothered.“I see the way Malfoy stares at you. And I refuse to turn down a chance at pissing off that git.” His hand moved to her hip and tightened, pulling her in closer. “It’s just in my nature as a Weasley.”

Normally, Hermione was above petty jealousy. She really was. But she wasn’t feeling like it tonight. 

She’d worn this top with Malfoy in mind, and then he had the nerve to show up with Pansy.

Sure, she’d invited Pansy herself, but she hadn’t expected them to arrive together. After that ridiculous night of two truths and a lie, her suspicions of them having been together back at Hogwarts were confirmed, but she’d assumed they were past it. Apparently not. Now that both of their engagements had dissolved, they seemed to have fallen back into old ways.

Hermione had actually wanted to like Pansy. The witch was sharp, her humor quick and cutting, especially when aimed at Malfoy. And her thank you owl for the party invite had been down right delightful. Plus, Theo had mentioned how she’d ditched the forced marriage her parents tried to push on her and launched her own business, even using Muggle inspiration in her designs. She had thought the two would have quite a lot in common once they got over their childhood animosity.

But seemingly they had too much in common. Including their propensity for tall, blonde prats with indecently large hands.

Not that she’d noticed.

So with all that in mind, Hermione leaned into George, both figuratively and literally. And hell, maybe she’d cosy up with Charlie too. The Weasleys were a touchy-feely bunch, but Malfoy didn’t need to know that.

They gathered around the long wooden table, George depositing her on the opposite side, with a cheeky slap to her bum before heading to join his team. Hermione risked a glance at Malfoy; his jaw was tight, and he notably wasn't standing anywhere near Pansy.

The chic witch had slipped between Theo and Blaise, leaving Malfoy to take the spot directly to Hermione’s right and Harry on her left.

“Alright, quick rundown of the rules, though it’s pretty bloody obvious,” Charlie called out, eyes scanning the table. “First off, wands in your pockets… or your curls,” he shot Hermione a quick wink. “And no wandless spells.”

Everyone nodded, tucking their wands away to avoid temptation.

“Next, starting you with two,” he pointed at Blaise and Percy, who faced off at the far left side of the table, “you swig,” he mimed grabbing the cup placed in front of him and tipping it back, “finish it, and then flip it onto its top. One hand only.” 

He demonstrated, needing three tries to flip it over.

“Except you’re all meant to do it on the first try,” Hermione quipped, shooting a smirk at the Slytherins.

The table erupted in laughter, and Charlie gave her a playful shove.

“Yes, yes, Hermione is the reigning queen of this nonsense,” Charlie grumbled, though his grin said otherwise.

“It’s that Muggle de-density,” Parvati giggled, stumbling slightly into Ron, who then toppled into George.

“No fair; we’ve got drunk Mum and Dad on our team.” George rolled his eyes as he set them both upright. “Pull it together, you two.”

“I think you mean dexterity,” Hermione corrected with a playful wiggle of her fingers.

Malfoy chuckled low, catching her fingers in his for the barest of seconds, his hand warm and annoyingly perfect as his fingers slotted between hers. “I’m sure the swottiness helps too.”

“And the overly competitive nature,” Harry added, smirking.

“‘Mione may be the reignin’ champion, but we’re Weasleys!” Ron cheered, voice thick with Bro Brew, grabbing both Parvati and George’s hands to pump triumphantly over their heads. 

Parvati, not missing a beat, snatched the cup in front of her with her free hand, downed it in one go and set it atop Ron’s head like a crown.

“I did it!” she shrieked just as Ron lifted her and spun her around.

It was a bloody miracle they both didn’t hit the floor.

Charlie shook his head, grinning. “Merlin, how are they already this pissed?”

“They started drinking the moment they handed off Ruby to Mum and Dad.” Percy muttered as he set a new, filled cup in front of Parvati.

“We’re fine. We’re fine!” Ron insisted, though his wobble said otherwise. “Let’s just get this started.” He reached for the nearest drink, only for George to smack his hand away.

“Alright then,” Charlie said through a chuckle. “You can’t start until the person to your left successfully flips their cup. First team to flip all their cups, wins.”

“Sounds easy enough,” grinned Theo. “Let’s start this bitch.”

“Percy. Zabini.” Charlie nodded, and both of them bent in, hands hovering over their drinks like it was a duel.

“Fuck yea, Blaise,” Hermione cheered. “You got this; take him down!”

Pansy smirked, letting out a sharp giggle as Theo joined in with her cheers, while the Weasleys countered with their own drunken rally cries. The loudest coming from Parvati.

Malfoy turned to her, brows high and eyes sparkling. “You’re something else, Granger.” 

And if she didn’t know better, she’d think he said it like ‘something’ was a good thing. A wanted thing.

Maybe too much Bro Brew. Definitely too much Bro Brew.

“I like to win, Malfoy.”

“Me too,” he smiled at her, that dazzling one he did and he bumped his hip into hers, just as Charlie shouted, “go!”

Blaise knocked back the Bro Brew like it was second nature and Hermione figured it probably was. But Percy had him on the flip, landing it in two tries to Blaise’s three.

The cheers erupted instantly. Theo leapt onto Blaise’s back in celebration before sprinting back to his spot when Harry yelled at him. Meanwhile, Parvati and Ron tried, and failed, to toast Percy’s success, earning them both another hand slap from George.

Pansy and Penelope were next, the former mere seconds behind, but she made up for it with her flip, getting it in the first try.

Hermione jumped up and down, screaming, “Girl fucking power!”

That’s when she felt Malfoy’s hands on her shoulders, a firm squeeze as his excitement bled through. His chuckle brushed along the shell of her ear, warm and far too intimate for friend-adjacent. She had to remind herself that he was here with Pansy.

Theo was next, clearly no stranger to Bro Brew, as he finished chugging right as Penelope got her cup flipped. 

“Come on, Nott. It’s my birthday!” Blaise yelled as he shook Pansy in his excitement.

Theo’s flips weren’t as practised though, and he took five tries to get it, allowing for Charlie to catch up.

“Go, Harry,” Hermione shouted.

“Fuck yea, Potter!” Theo echoed and their whole team bounced in excitement as Harry squared off against Parvati, who was somehow the drunkest person there and still had unnervingly perfect Swig & Flip coordination.

Hermione crouched low, hand twitching in anticipation, her whole body coiled and ready for Harry’s cup to land upright. Malfoy leaned in and whispered, “You’ve got this, Granger. I’d always bet on you.”

It shouldn’t have done anything to her, but it did; her insides were practically on fire. She hated that he had this newfound hold over her.

She snatched up the cup the second Harry landed his flip, downed the Bro Brew in four quick gulps, and flipped it over in one go.

The eruption around her was deafening. Everyone except Malfoy tackled her in celebration, shouting like this ridiculous drinking game was somehow meaningful.

And maybe, if she was any less buzzed, she might have realized the weight of it all. Her first family in the Wizarding World, who she still loved greatly, against this new one, slowly becoming something just as significant.

But Hermione didn’t care about any of that right now. All she could see was Malfoy.

She didn’t even know what was happening with the Weasleys. Had Ron managed to stay upright for his turn? Was George done, and they’d already claimed victory? Hermione didn’t know, and right now, she didn’t care.

All she could focus on was the way Malfoy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the flex of his fingers as he set the cup down. Elegant, aristocratic fingers adorned with silver rings that contrasted starkly against the acid green plastic of the cup.

Her grin hurt; it stretched so wide it made her cheeks ache, and her whole body buzzed with excitement and Bro Brew. 

The second Malfoy’s cup stood upright, they threw themselves into each other’s arms like they were the only two people on the goddamn bus.

“Did we win?” Malfoy shouted over her head as he spun her around.

“We won!” Blaise yelled back, and suddenly, the hug wasn’t just the two of them anymore. The Slytherins and Harry piled in, turning it into a chaotic celebration. “Go us!”

Hermione glanced over at the Weasleys for confirmation, and saw Ron balancing both his and George’s cups on his forehead like makeshift horns, while charging at the others and roaring, “Look, I’m an Erumpant. Somebody go find Luna!”

“Merlin, how are you someone’s father,” Percy sighed, pushing him away and towards the other partygoers.

“Hey, that’s my idiot,” Parvati shouted, taking off after him. “Ron, get back here! I think Luna’s upstairs.”

“Scary, they’re in charge of keeping another human alive.” Charlie shook his head, still looking amused. He raised his cup in Hermione’s direction, “Congrats, you lot. Up for another round?”

Hermione pulled away from Malfoy, realizing too late that at some point her hands had drifted down from the nape of his neck and were resting on his chest. Shit.

She slid further back, suddenly hyper-aware of Pansy standing close on Malfoy’s other side. “I need to pop to the loo and check in with Ernie, but you all play.” 

With a small, awkward wave (why the fuck did she wave?), she made her escape.

“Go quick, Goldie,” George shouted after her. “I need your arse back here. You’re on my team next time”

She threw a thumbs up over her shoulder as she sped up. A thumbs up? Seriously? What the fuck was wrong with her hands? They’d gone rogue.

Finally she was alone. Breathing deep, she leaned against the sink, taking a second to collect herself before freshening her lippie. 

As she stared back at her reflection, smoothing a few rebellious curls, the door swung open, and Pansy Parkinson strolled in.

Godric, why did life insist on throwing her its most difficult battles?

Pansy breezed past her to the other sink. “Great party. I’ve never seen Blaise so happy,”

Hermione nodded in her direction. “Thanks. I had to beat Vegas, so you know, the stakes were high.” 

Pansy’s light laugh filled the space. “Ahh, yes. Pucey’s absolute shit show of a birthday. Vegas was a lot for a bunch of snobby, purebloods. All the lights, the constant noise, and so many scantily clad Muggles? The boys barely left the suite.”

“Yes!” Hermione agreed enthusiastically. “What is it with pureblood wizards being completely incapable of handling a few flashing lights? And don’t even get me started on their hesitancy that then morphs into absolute fascination with Muggle women’s fashion. What, are we supposed to just drown in those shapeless robes for every fucking occasion?”

She loved the wizarding world, felt at home in it, belonged in it. But the robes? No. She’d never understand why witches and wizards insisted on wearing those oversized sacks when Muggle clothing was so much more flattering, and the options were endless.

Pansy really laughed now, with none of the perfectly high society restraint she usually carried. “Yes! I’ve tried telling my fr—”

She cut herself off abruptly, rephrasing, “That’s what I’ve been saying for ages.”

“Well you obviously get it,” Hermione gestured toward Pansy’s peridot green, beaded mini dress. “I love your dress. The beading and that cut out; it’s stunning.”

Pansy caught her eye in the mirror and grinned. “Thanks. That top is quite something as well. And your jeans? I think you just about gave Draco a heart attack back there.” She shook her head, still smiling. “I mean, he’s always been an arse guy, but damn, I was amazed he found it in himself to stop staring long enough to flip that bloody cup.”

Hermione’s hand went slack, along with her jaw. Her lip gloss slipped from her fingers, clattering into the sink. 

“I’m sorry wh-what?”

Pansy just laughed, shaking out her bob before smoothing it back into place; not that a single strand looked out of order.

“Draco,” she repeated, amused. “He likes a good arse, and you have a great one. Don’t act like you didn’t notice; you’re supposed to be smart, right?”

“Aren’t you,” Hermione stammered. “Aren’t you two together?”

Now it was Pansy’s turn to look dumbfounded, though her coordination was a bit better since her lippie remained firmly in hand.

“Me and Draco?” she repeated, like the idea was genuinely absurd. “Together? Merlin, no.”

Pansy threw her head back laughing. “I mean, he’s great. One of my closest friends, but no. Him and I have never really worked out that way, not even when I tried to make it work back at Hogwarts.

She shrugged and continued on, “he’s the Malfoy heir, and every pureblood girl our age was raised knowing what an advantageous match that would be.”

It was as if Pansy could sense Hermione’s relief at this but knew she wasn’t ready to discuss it any further. Instead she smoothly pivoted, “another drink?”

Hermione laughed, feeling a weight lift off her chest. “That sounds great, though I’m unsure how much more Bro Brew I can take.” She shook her head, “Noy sure it was meant to be drunk in such large quantities.”

Pansy laughed as they strolled out of the loo, side by side. “Definitely not, Granger. I’m not even sure it was meant to be consumed at all.”

*Harry*

After way too many rounds of Swig & Flip, Harry and the others had somehow found their way up to the second floor, which had been converted into a massive dance floor. It looked just like one of the Muggle clubs Ginny had dragged them to, jammed with people, all writhing against each other to the pounding bass, except with a distinctly magical twist. Orbs floated overhead, flashing in an array of colors in perfect sync with the beat, while trays full of Bro Brew drifted through the air, offering refills to anyone reckless enough to take them. The constant sway of the Knight Bus only seemed to add to the chaos, making the whole thing feel like some sort of fever dream.

All the beds from his previous time aboard were gone, though judging by how close some couples were getting, particularly Neville and Tracey Davis, he imagined they would have come in quite handy. He immediately chased that thought away with a long sip of Bro Brew. Absolutely not thinking about Neville like that.

“Granger can really move,” Blaise yelled over the music.

Harry caught Malfoy looking at her yet again. You’d think she was the damn snitch, the way he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

Harry and the three Slytherins were off to the side playing a very loose, very drunken version of Exploding Snap. Dancing had never been Harry’s thing. Not since the Yule Ball anyways. He’d been avoiding it like the plague ever since.

He grimaced before responding, “Yea, she went to a lot of Muggle clubs with Ginny, Oliver, and Krum… Back when they were a thing.”

Theo knocked his knee against Harry’s, though their legs were already pressed together in the cramped space. “You didn’t go, Potter?”

“Sometimes. Wasn’t really my scene,” Harry said right as his stack of cards exploded in his face. He coughed, shaking the smoke from his hair before taking another sip of his drink. “Wood’s a twat, and watching my ex-girlfriend and practically my sister do that,” he nodded towards Hermione, Pansy, and the Weasleys out on the dance floor, “was not my idea of a great time.”

Blaise and Theo laughed, but Malfoy, still stiff in his overstuffed chair, looked deeply unamused. His gaze flicked back to the dance floor, where George and Charlie were way too close to Hermione for his liking. 

Harry could set him at ease. Let him know she didn’t see either of them that way. But where was the fun in that? Surely Malfoy deserved a bit of suffering at her hands, after years of being the world’s biggest prick.

“And Ron hated it,” Harry added, nodding toward the sofa where Ron was currently passed out, Parvati sprawled out on top of him. “The lights and the music really got to him, but he did great tonight.”

Malfoy finally wrenched his eyes away from Hermione long enough to frown at him. “Potter, he’s been passed out for the past four hours.”

“And someone drew a cock on his face,” Theo snickered.

“That was you, Theo.” Blaise smirked, tossing down a card quickly to avoid the inevitable explosion.

“Oops. Don’t worry though; I charmed it to fade in a few days.”

Even Malfoy laughed at that, though his laughter was quickly extinguished when McLaggen swaggered up to their table, an acid green cup in each hand, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Potter, have you seen Granger anywhere?” He flicked his head in an attempt to get the sweaty curl that was slipping down his forehead back in place. “Slippery little minx, your friend.”

“I think she’s up on the third level, playing a round of strip Wizard’s Chess.” Blaise said smoothly, pumping his eyebrows. “Very tantalizing.”

Harry had never seen McLaggen move so fast. “See you later, lads,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed toward the winding staircase.

The pile of cards and the four wizards around the table exploded into laughter as he disappeared. And just like that, Harry had a sudden realisation; he’d been hanging out with the Slytherins all night and thoroughly enjoying himself. 

What the fuck had Hermione done to him?

They were just about to start another round, Theo’s leg once again pressing firmly into his, when a chorus of chants erupted from the far corner of the dance floor. 

“George! George! George!”

Harry craned his neck, but couldn’t see through the mass of people crowded around the bar. He pushed to his feet, finally getting a glimpse of George’s trainers along with his obnoxiously bright yellow pants suspended in the air.

Hermione and Pansy were next to him, jumping up and down cheering him on as Charlie held his wand aloft, clearly using it to keep George balanced upside down over the keg of Bro Brew he was chugging.

For an absurd amount of time.

Finally, after what seemed like way too much Bro Brew for any rational human, George’s legs began to lower, and after a stumble or two, he stood tall, arms raised in triumph to a deafening roar of cheers.

George scooped Hermione up in celebration as Harry turned back to the others with a grin.

“Thank Godric Ron’s already out or I’d have to be pulling him away from that thing.”

He chuckled, expecting them to laugh too, but no one did.

Harry frowned, then he noticed Malfoy was no longer sitting in the armchair beside him.

He was striding across the dance floor, straight for the keg of Bro Brew.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Blaise asked, his grin going absolutely manic.

“No fucking way,” Theo echoed, jumping up before rushing off after Malfoy.

By the time Harry made it over, Malfoy was already being hoisted up, his dragonhide boots slowly lifting into the air with the help of Theo’s not so steady wand work.

Hermione was by his side in an instant, looking mildly alarmed, but also far too drunk to be properly concerned. “Does he know what he’s doing?”

“I think it’s overwhelmingly clear that he does not,” piped up Pansy from Hermione’s other side.

“Who the fuck cares?” Blaise shouted, “He could not have gotten me a better gift!”

His words were drowned out by the crowd’s deafening chants.

“Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!”

Hermione went right back to jumping up and down, grabbing both Harry and Pansy’s hands. And Harry, despite himself, got swept up in the excitement… though a good portion of his enthusiasm was centered on Monday morning at the office, and how he would never let Malfoy live this down.

Where George had been up there for a laugh, Malfoy had something to prove. Harry wasn’t quite sure why Malfoy felt the need to do this, but Harry was certain it had everything to do with the witch bouncing next to him.

Over a minute later, Theo helped him down. And while it was clear that the Malfoy who went up to that keg was the one he’d always known, the Malfoy who came down was a different person entirely.

With a wild, drunken roar, Malfoy threw his arms up. “Bro Brew!” 

Theo clasped his raised hand in excitement, and Blaise dove on his back.

Harry, Hermione, and Pansy made their way over to the drunken idiot who was still in the midst of celebrating.

“Wow, that was,” Pansy’s voice drifted off before adding one more, “Wow.”

Shaking a finger in her general direction, Harry said, “Yea, that’s about where I’m at too.”

Hermione, ever the champion of Muggle traditions no matter how absurd, beamed. “I thought you were brilliant.”

“So carefree,” Theo said on a laugh. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Let’s go dance.”

Harry considered slipping back to his seat, but then Theo grabbed his hand, and suddenly, saying no wasn’t an option.

~*~

Harry needed air. A breath. Something to ground him before he did something reckless, something he couldn’t take back.

He raked a hand through his hair as if it might clear his head, shake loose the damn Nargles that were doing a bang-up job of making everything fuzzy.

Or maybe it was the Bro Brew. Damn that bloody Bro Brew.

And Theo. Fucking Theo. No, he couldn’t think about fucking Theo. 

Theo, who had pulled him in close, hands skimming up and down his back as they danced, fingers teasing the hem of his shirt, occasionally dragging his nails along Harry’s hip.

Theo, who kept pressing closer, so close that his thigh wedged between Harry’s, and every shift sent a shock down his spine.

Theo, who leaned in close, breath hot against Harry’s neck, lips just shy of his ear as he groaned, “Fuck, Potter,” when Harry’s hand ran up Theo’s leg, over the buttons of his trousers, one finger hooking into his waistband.

That’s when Harry had to leave. 

Rushing out as he pushed his way through the crowd, on the quest for his sanity. Though if anyone asked, he was just looking for the loo.

He stumbled into a small alcove at the back of the bus, where an open window let in a rush of cool air. Harry barely had time to take a deep gulp of it before a firm hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around.

“What the fuck was that,” Theo demanded, still breathless from chasing after him and their glorified humping out on the dance floor. “Why’d you run off?”

Harry had a choice. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe this had always been inevitable.

The fresh air had done nothing to curb his need and the Nargles still had a tight hold on his brain, urging him forward. They, too, wanting to see where this would go.

His hands moved before he could make a decision. One fisting into Theo’s curls, the other latching onto his hip, yanking him flush against him.

There was no turning back now as Theo’s mouth slanted over his own. His tongue traced Harry’s bottom lip before pressing in, pushing Harry back against the wall, aligning their hips and pressing them firmly together.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned into Theo’s mouth, the sound swallowed into his mouth as Theo kept kissing him.

“Not yet, Potter,” Theo teased, pulling back just enough to smirk before trailing his lips down the column of Harry’s throat, feather light and devastating.

“May- Maybe we shou-” Harry started, only to be cut off by a sudden burst of shouting from outside the bus.

Had they stopped? Harry hadn’t even noticed.

The voice sounded familiar. He should have cared, but Theo was still against him, and listening felt impossible. 

That is until Malfoy and Blaise rounded the corner.

“Was that Pans?” Blaise asked, tilting his head toward the open window, as if to get a better listen.

Another voice joined in, picking up in volume, and that one was unmistakable.

“Granger!” Malfoy shouted as he took off running.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

The cold night air felt needed against her heated skin after an hour of dancing with everyone, though most notably with Malfoy. He’d been stiff and reserved at first, until the kegs worth of Bro Brew finally caught up to him, likely surging straight to his brain and flushing out all of his usual restraint.

His hands had been on her. Tentative at first, skimming her arms and then slowly, so slowly, gliding down to her thighs. His front pressed up against her back, and with every passing second, it became harder to keep her head on straight, to not turn around and see if he looked just as wrecked as she felt.

She’d been so wound up, she’d barely even noticed Theo and Harry next to them, lost in their own haze of lust and Bro Brew, grinding against each other like they too were teetering on the edge of something much larger.

So when the bus lurched to a stop and Ernie’s punchy voice filled the cabin, she practically jumped away from Malfoy and the rest of them, mumbling something stupid about needing to thank the driver.

Pansy caught up with her just as she stepped outside, but Hermione needed a moment to calm down. She tilted her head up to the clouded sky, hoping it would settle the pounding in her chest, cool the fire in her veins and dull the dizzying ache between her legs that had her dying to rub up against him for even a shred of relief.

Thank Merlin she hadn’t turned around and completely humiliated herself.

After three steadying breaths, she finally faced Pansy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pansy looked unbothered as she examined her cuticles before glancing up at Hermione, like she was used to people having a full blown crisis after a little public dry humping and found it all a bit boring.

“Talk about what?” she asked innocently, but the small smirk tugging at her lip gave her away. “How you need to go thank the driver? Thought I’d join you.”

Hermione frowned at her, suspicious, but Pansy just stared back.

“Okay,” Hermione finally muttered as they started toward the front of the bus.

They walked in silence for a few strides before Pansy piped back up, “Definitely was not going to mention the massive bulge in Draco’s pants. Or that you looked absolutely possessed by it.”

Hermione did a double take, not because Pansy was wrong, unfortunately, but because it sounded exactly like something Ginny would say. 

And because Hermione was exhausted and positively irritated with herself for once again getting sucked up into the chasm that was Draco Malfoy, she shot back, “Oh, fuck off. We’re not even friends”

Pansy just smirked, completely unbothered by Hermione’s mood or her biting retort.

By the time they reached the driver’s seat, Ernie was nowhere to be found. The party was winding down, and people were trickling off the bus and into the Leaky Cauldron.

“Where could he have gone?” she mumbled to herself, scanning the driver’s compartment before peering around at the faces nearby, searching for any sign of his ridiculous purple hat.

“Goldie!” someone called from a little ways off. 

She turned just in time to see the Weasleys approaching, Ron and Parvati floating limply in front of them, clearly too far gone to walk on their own.

“Oh Ruby,” George chuckled, “if only you could see your dear old mum and dad now.”

Hermione laughed. “Glad they took advantage of their night off and had fun.”

“I think everyone had fun,” Charlie added with a grin, pulling her into a warm hug.

At that moment, Cormac stumbled out of the Knight Bus, draped in a gaggle of giggling Ravenclaw girls as they made their way toward the Leaky.

“Likely, too much fun,” Percy said smartly, watching the group trip over themselves on their way into the pub, clearly in no need of more alcohol.

After giving Hermione one final squeeze, the Weasleys bid her farewell, already laughing about how Molly was sure to fuss over Ron the second they got back to the Burrow.

Charlie called over his shoulder, “I’ll Nimble you before the Holiday Gala, coordinate our looks,” he added with a wink, “and plan where I get to pick up my ravishing date.”

“Oi, don’t forget to have those Nimble Notes front and center in every photo op,” George said with a mischievous grin. “Forget about ol’ Saint Nick, witches and wizards alike are going to be hoping for a Weasley Wizard Wheezes parcel under their tree this year.”

And with that, they too disappeared into the Leaky.

Pansy’s head snapped toward her. “You’re going to the Ministry Gala with him?”

Hermione sighed. “Yes. I needed a date, and since I’m currently swearing off all wizards, Charlie was an easy choice.”

“Because he’s so fit and hung like a dragon?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, watching Hermione closely, clearly trying to glean more.

“I thought I said we’re not friends,” Hermione quipped, though without any real bite. “And I already told you, I’ve only hooked up with Ron.” She tilted her head back and forth considering. “And Fred a bit.”

“So then why was he an easy choice?”

The crowd around them was starting to dwindle down, though the guys still hadn’t made their way over, or even off the bus as far as she could tell.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, debating how much to share. Sure, they’d been chummy in the loo, laughed and danced together the rest of the night, but that hardly made them best friends.

Still, she figured she could trust Pansy enough to vent. “I don’t want to show up alone.”

She pressed her lips together, thinking through how best to phrase her mess of emotions. “It’ll be my first time going without Viktor, and I’m assuming he’ll be there as a special guest for Magical Games and Sports, with Daphne on his arm.” Hermione grimaced at the thought. “So I’d rather spare myself that particular humiliation. Plus, it’s an election year for Kingsley, which means he’ll parade me, Harry and Ron around. Make sure we’re seen as being close.”

“Which we are,” she hastily added. “And I truly admire Kingsley and think he’s perfect for the job, but it’s a lot.”

“And Charlie will make sure I get through the night while still managing to have some resemblance of fun and without being hit on all evening.”

Pansy’s brow furrowed, “So you’re not interested in Ch—”

“No!” Hermione quickly interjected. “No, the Weasleys are basically my family. And while I may have had a slight thing for Ron back at Hogwarts… and also Fred, I don’t anymore. With any of them.”

Pansy was smiling, though it had the distinct edge of someone mid-scheme, but before she could open her mouth, a drunken shout echoed down the alley, making them both spin around.

“Parkinson, is that you? I thought you were still in France.”

“Fuck.” Pansy muttered under her breath, grabbing Hermione’s hand and trying to pull her back towards the bus. “Let’s go, Granger.”

But Hermione couldn’t move because Daphne Greengrass, flanked by Astoria and Millicent Bulstrode, were only a few meters away and closing in fast.

Daphne looked over at the Knight Bus as if it might suddenly transfigure into an Acromantula and devour her whole. Or maybe that was just Hermione’s wishful thinking.

Realizing there was no escape, Pansy turned to face them, plastering on a patronizing smile, Hermione’s hand still firmly in her own. “Daphne. It’s been ages.”

Daphne’s gaze flickered downward, landing on their joined hands. For a brief second, Hermione considered letting go and making a run for it, but she wasn’t a runner. She never had been, and she wasn’t about to start now. 

So instead she stood taller, letting the lingering effects of the Bro Brew churn through her system like a half-baked version of Liquid Luck, and squeezed Pansy’s hand tighter, taking strength from the unlikely but unwavering support emanating from it.

Daphne’s posh tones rang out, “Yes, it certainly has. And clearly a lot has changed for the both of us.” Her smile sharpened into something condescending, something Hermione would have loved to slap right off her face. Then, with a pointed nod in Hermione’s direction, Daphne  added, “Though it seems you’re already quite familiar with my life changes.”

Pansy let out a lilting, saccharine laugh, entirely at odds with her next words.

“If you’re referring to your trashy alleyway affair with Viktor Krum, followed by your desperate attempts to get him to commit and stop pining after Hermione, then yes.” She flashed a diabolical smirk, “I’m well aware.”

The smile that had been painted across Daphne’s face melted right off, replaced by an unfortunate grimace, and Hermione could’ve sworn she heard Millicent cracking her knuckles, immediately bringing her back to second year.

Astoria swooped in before Daphne could recover, her words taking flight faster than a Firebolt, like she’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity to insult Hermione since Flint’s wedding, and perhaps Pansy for even longer.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve lost all propriety ever since you decided you were too good for a marriage contract.” She cast Pansy a slow, deliberate once over before turning her sharp gaze to Hermione.

Under Astoria’s unrelenting scrutiny, Hermione suddenly felt every bead of sweat clinging to her skin, every frizzed curl that had rebelled thanks to her and Malfoy’s rather debauched dancing not fifteen minutes ago. 

“Clearly, you’ve lost sight of things,” Astoria continued coolly. “Too good for a rich pureblood, but not for this social climber?”

“So-social climber?” Hermione blinked, looking around in confusion. “Who? Me?”

She was thoroughly baffled, and, quite frankly, pissed off. Hermione had been called many things over the years, both in the wizarding world and the Muggle world, but social climber had never been on the list.

Did this twit seriously think she had befriended Harry, fought in a war, and chased down literal pieces of Voldemort’s soul for a bit of clout?

The thought was so absurd that she couldn’t help it, a laugh bubbled up in her throat, and once the first one escaped, there was no stopping the rest. She’d blame the Bro Brew. It had already been responsible for every other dumb thing she’d done that night, what was one more indiscretion?

Pansy turned to look at her, first like she’d lost her mind, then with something closer to deep understanding.

Did Bro Brew also enable telepathy? Because Hermione could’ve sworn they were reading each other’s minds. Though, had she been just a touch more sober, she’d have realized their thoughts weren’t all that profound. They were just written clear as day across their faces.

“If I were after fame, I probably would’ve taken a different route, one with significantly fewer chances of, you know, dying.” Hermione tapped her chin, making a whole show of it as she smirked, a smirk that would’ve made even Malfoy proud, and she stupidly wished he were here to see it. “Yea, I know exactly what I’d have done. I’d have gotten with Viktor back in fourth year, whored around with him just enough for the Prophet to pick up the story, then married him and popped out a whole Quidditch team’s worth of Krum babies.”

Everyone went silent, except for Pansy who let out a quick, delighted giggle.

“Oh wait,” Hermione lifted both hands, gesturing dramatically in the air.“That’s what you’re doing.” She leveled her gaze at Daphne.

“You fucking Mudb—” Daphne started, but she never got the chance to finish.

Because Pansy’s fist smacked into her face.

And then all hell broke loose.

*Draco*

Draco was already running toward the screams, taking the winding staircase three steps at a time. He hadn’t waited for the others once he’d heard her yell, but he could feel them hot on his heels, Theo cursing up a storm behind him.

Jumping off the platform and onto the pavement, his eyes darted around until he caught sight of Pansy, who was screeching, “You blast-ended skank!” Immediately followed by a high-pitched shriek and the unmistakable sound of skin smacking skin.

“What the hell is going on?!” Blaise barked beside him as they sprinted toward the front of the bus.

The sight that greeted them was nothing short of fucking chaos. 

Pansy had Daphne pinned to the ground, legs wrapped securely around her like a human vice as she tried to slap her senseless. Astoria, in a desperate attempt to intervene, kept lunging at Pansy, but she was failing spectacularly, her flailing hands doing nothing to budge her. 

And Granger. Granger was clinging to Millicent’s back, yanking on her hair like she was steering a rogue Hippogriff, all while dodging Millicent’s flying fists, which looked powerful enough to knock her out cold.

The scene was so completely unhinged that Draco briefly wondered if the Bro Brew had finally caught up to him and he was hallucinating.

But then Granger’s voice rang out sharp and furious. 

“You and your stupid, fucking cat.” Whatever she had planned to say next was cut off by Millicent’s fist finally landing its mark.

“Fuck.”

Draco and Potter both lunged forward at the same time, Draco catching Granger before she could hit the ground, while Potter used his whole damn body to hold Millicent back, shouting, “Whoa, there now,” like she really was that rampaging Hippogriff Draco had thought of just a moment ago.

Meanwhile, Blaise and Theo had reached Pansy, prying her off Daphne, both taking a few hits themselves in the process.

It was an absolute shitshow.

Luckily, Warrington, Pucey, Miles Bletchley, and Terence Higgs stormed out right after them, jumping in to help hold back the Greengrasses and a still raging Millicent.

Draco spun Hermione around to get a closer look at her, tightening his hold in the same motion, half because he liked the feel of her close and half because he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t launch herself right back into the fight.

From the way Bletchley and Higgs were struggling with Millicent, she still looked ready to kill. Likely over whatever Hermione had said about her damn cat.

Draco’s jaw ticked as he took in the damage; her eye was already swelling, bruises blooming beneath the skin, and when he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she flinched, letting out the tiniest whimper before immediately growling, “Let me back at that fucking bitch.” 

Draco held back his laugh, hearing her whimper and curse in the same breath was adorable.

“You have a black eye, and she’s about three times your size,” he said softly, combing back her curls with his fingers,  checking for any other injuries. “What the hell were you and Pans thinking? What happened?”

At that she fell silent, pushing up on her toes to peer over his shoulder at Pansy before fixing a withering stare on Daphne.

Draco followed her gaze, and then it all clicked.

Daphne was sporting a fresh black eye of her own, along with what looked to be nail scratches down one cheek.

His eyes snapped back to Hermione as he removed his belt and transfigured it into a cold pack.

“Did she say something about Krum?” he asked, pressing the chilled fabric against her swelling eye.

Potter made his way over and Blaise, and Theo managed to steer Pans toward them as well. She looked just as wrecked as Granger, with a swollen lip and a nasty gash on her temple that was slowly dripping blood down the side of her face.

Blaise yanked his shirt off over his head in an instant, using one sleeve to mop up the blood before casting a quick cooling charm on the rest of it and holding it out to Pansy.

“Thanks, Blaise.”

“Was the whole shirt really necessary?” Potter asked, shaking his head.

Blaise just grinned, flexing his pecs. “It is when you look this good.” Then he turned his attention back to Pansy and Hermione, raising a brow. “So are either of you going to tell us what the fuck that was? Don’t get me wrong, it was incredible, a really top notch present, right up there with Malfoy’s keg stand, but why?”

Before either of them could respond, Daphne, clearly still fuming, clearly still incapable of letting anything go, snapped from across the way, “He’s over you. Doubt he even thinks about you at all anymore.”

Hermione wrenched herself out of Draco’s grip, and he immediately reached for her again, hands locking around her arms, passing the cold pack to Potter without taking his eyes off her. 

“Oh yea?” she shot back, tone sharp. “Is that why he cornered me not too far from here just a few weeks ago begging me to marry him?”

Draco’s hold slipped as he stuttered out, “Kr-Krum proposed?” His voice sounded strangled, like the words had physically fought their way out. “To you? A few weeks ago?” He blinked. “And you said no?”

Hermione turned back to him, and, for just a second, all the fight drained from her face. Her eyes widened, well the one did. The other was swollen shut, already turning a shade of purple that ironically matched the Knight Bus quite nicely. But Draco didn’t need both of her eyes open to get lost in them. 

She spoke so softly, “Of course I said no.”

For a fleeting moment, it was just them, trapped inside their own little bubble. And then, naturally, Astoria had to go and pop it.

“As if he’d still want to marry you now that he’s with Daphne. A respectable, pureblood witch.”

The air practically crackled. Everyone had been on edge before, but Astoria made it perfectly clear what had started this whole mess. And while Draco had already been firmly on Pansy and Granger’s side, finding the whole thing wildly hot before she took that hit to the face, now he got it. Now it mattered.

He had once been on the other side of this, had frequently used pureblood the same way Astoria just had; as a weapon, a line drawn in the sand. But not anymore.

Next to him Theo muttered, “Oh hell no.” 

And Pansy, never one to keep things bottled up, snapped, “Fucking watch it Tori or you’ll be looking just as busted as your sister.”

Apparently Hermione thought this a grand idea because she let out a laugh and called sweetly, “He really did do a great job with the ring. I’m sure my sloppy seconds will look lovely on your respectable pureblood finger.” She smirked, “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone it’s a hand me down if you don’t.”

Daphne and Astoria lunged, but Warrington and Pucey were faster, holding them back before all hell could break loose again.

Pansy, Blaise, and Theo were all laughing now as Potter tried valiantly to hold his in, likely trying to maintain some Auror professionalism despite being very much not on the clock.

Pucey’s booming voice cut through the tension, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright ladies, why don’t we all ju—”

“Just because Viktor got temporarily caught up in the war hero fervor surrounding you and pity dated you for a while doesn’t make you special,” Daphne shouted, cutting Pucey off before he could finish.

Potter’s attempt at professionalism completely shattered as he yelled back, “Yea? He pity dated her in fourth year before she was even a war hero? How prophetic of Krum.”

Granger flashed him a grin, but shook her head. “No, she’s right.”

Draco’s hold on her faltered as he did a double take, convinced he must have misheard.

“Hermione,” Theo said quietly, as he stepped closer.

But she just grinned at him before continuing, her voice laced with amusement. “Dating Viktor didn’t make me special. I’m Hermione fucking Granger. I have an Order of Merlin, First Class. I destroyed a bloody Horocrux while you were sitting in fucking Charms class. I got ten O.W.L.s and am literally mentioned by name in the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History.” 

She paused just long enough for her and Potter to seamlessly high five, the grin on his face absolutely manic. 

“My face,” she gestured wildly in front of her own, “is on a Chocolate Frog card, and my best friends are the Chosen One and the youngest ever captain of the Holyhead Harpies……and her brother.”

Draco chuckled at her hasty inclusion of Ron, while Theo loudly cleared his throat and raised a hand when Granger’s gaze flicked over to him.

“And the most brilliant Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.”

Theo preened, nudging Blaise. “She’s talking about me.”

Hermione turned back to Daphne, smirking. “And in fourth year, an international Quidditch star and Triwizard Champion fell for me, even though you were there too.” She tilted her head, voice thick with mock sympathy. “So, by all means, try slipping into my old robes. But don’t be shocked when they don’t make you me, and you’re still just as bitter and insufferable as you are now.”

Granger turned toward their little group, face still flushed, and groaned, “Merlin, somebody wank me when we get home. I sounded more full of myself than Blaise.”

Blaise howled with laughter, looking positively ridiculous still shirtless as he lifted Granger clear off the ground.

Theo wheezing through his own laughter managed to correct her. “I think you mean wanker jar you.” 

Pansy snorted before dissolving into giggles while Granger groaned again, muttering, “Same difference.”

Daphne, unsurprisingly, didn’t find any of it amusing. “You fucking bitch.”

Granger just ignored her as she twirled between Blaise and Theo, effortlessly slipping into a dance, completely unfazed by the fact that she had been in a fist fight and a screaming match not one minute ago.

Honestly, the effects of Bro Brew should be studied.

She reached out a hand, wordlessly inviting Draco in. And for a split second he wished he had one of those Muggle cameras to capture the moment. Freeze it forever.

She looked utterly insane.

Her hair blowing around her face, curls twisting in every direction, the ends sparkling with untamed magic. Her cheeks were flushed the prettiest shade of rose, her lips bitten to a deep, juicy berry. Her eye was swollen shut, but still somehow managed to crinkle at the corner from her wide smile.

It was mesmerizing. Maddening too, because he could barely stand the sight of her hurt. The fact that he had let her get hurt, again.

Astoria’s shrill voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Draco, you’re better than this. When are you going to get over this Muggle fascination and move back into your manor? Take over for your father and stop being brought down by this filth.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to tell her how Hermione was the most magical person he’d ever met, that he had no desire to ever live at the manor again or carry on in his father’s footsteps, but once again Granger beat him to it.

“How does it feel,” she purred, “knowing he tired of your pure blood, but craves my dirty blood?” 

It took all of Draco’s strength to keep his jaw in place and to keep his cock from rising at her words.

She ran her hands up his chest and then tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck before shooting Astoria a smug, taunting look over her shoulder.

Fuck.

He quickly looked over at Potter, hoping his mere existence could kill his rapidly growing problem.

“Krum was the same,” she mused, shifting her gaze to Daphne. “You may be living in my house, sleeping in the bed I picked out, but I guarantee you don’t have him pleading like I did.”

And turned then, and Salazar help him. She pressed her back against his front, dragging his arm around her waist, forcing him to hold her flush against him.

Fuck, he had to think of Potter. Of how annoying he was. Of anything other than how fucking perfect she felt against him.

“Clearly you're not doing something right if he still won’t leave me alone.”

Millicent let out a low growl in her direction, and Draco felt Granger instinctively take a step back into him. His arm tightened on her waist as his other hand rubbed down her arm, his touch more instinct than thought.

“You’re a feisty one,” Warrington drawled, his eyes flicking over Granger’s face before letting them linger down her body in a way Draco absolutely couldn’t stand. “I can see why Malfoy here is enamored with you, what with that pretty face and those lips that I’m sure do a lot more than talking.”

Draco snapped.

He yanked Hermione to the side, stepping in front of her so fast she barely had time to blink before he had her squared off safely behind him and  Potter.

“Fucking watch it, Warrington,” Blaise yelled out, already moving in front of Pansy.

Warrington threw up his hands, as if he meant no harm. “I’m just saying, darling, I wouldn’t mind a little roll in the mud if it meant being with you.”

And just like that, for the second time that night, all hell broke loose.

*Pansy*

Draco was on Warrington before Pansy could even process what he’d just said. 

“Theo, stay with Hermione and Pansy,” Potter yelled as he and Blaise ran in to get Bletchley and Higgs off Draco’s back.

“Merlin,” Granger muttered under her breath, eyes locked on Draco as he drove his fist into Warrington’s face and swatted Bletchley and Higgs away like they were nothing more than rogue Bludgers.

“Fuck, I can’t hit a girl,” Theo whined, eyes darting to Millicent as she stormed toward them. “Pucey, get your fucking witches under control.”

Pansy scoffed, shooting him a glare. “Are you saying we’re your witches, Theodore?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Pans!” Theo huffed, pushing her further behind him. “Is this really the time for one of your feminist rants?”

“Feminism is an all the time thing, Theo,” Pansy snapped, hand firmly on her hip, “Not just when it’s convenient for you.”

Hermione was nodding her head madly in agreement, “Yes! I must have said that exact thing to Harry and Ron at least a hundred times by now.”

“So glad you both are bonding over this right now,” Theo gritted out, still holding them back. “Maybe Millicent wants to weigh in too? PUCEY, WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shouted, jerking his chin toward Millicent, who was still barreling toward them.

Finally, Pucey managed to coral her, though the guys were still going at it. Pansy barely caught Draco’s voice over the chaos. “You’ll never fucking touch her,” he yelled,  before landing another punch to Warrington’s face.

Beside her, Granger let out a whimper. “Why am I finding this so hot?”

“How very feminist of you,” Theo quipped, expertly side stepping away before she could smack him. 

“It must be the Bro Brew,” she said, raking her hands through her curls, eyes still locked on Draco.

Theo looked over at her as if she was deranged. “Yea, sure, blame it on the Bro Brew.”

Before she could snap back, two massive, silvery dogs bounded into the madness, their glowing forms halting in front of Draco and Potter, causing everyone to stop mid-fight.

Potter, never one to waste an opportunity, landed one last punch to Higgs before turning to the Patronus. His gaze then searched the mostly deserted alley, looking for whoever had sent them.

As if on cue, a tall, broad-chested Auror popped on the scene, barely sparing them all a glance before sweeping his wand in a wide arc.

“Immobulus.”

The spell washed over them, freezing everyone in place.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The Auror pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up to the sky like he was asking the gods for patience. “I call for backup to break up a drunken brawl in Diagon Alley and it turns out you two are involved?”

Pansy, unable to move anything but her eyeballs, kept them thoroughly trained on the Auror in front of her.

“I’d expect this from Finnigan, maybe even Jordan, but you two?” He looked over at Draco and then Potter. “Fuck, Malfoy, I didn’t even know you were capable of going out and having fun.”

He paced a few steps before finally waving his wand and wordlessly unfreezing Draco and Potter. “Either of you care to explain?”

“What, the never having fun thing or the,” Draco mimed a punch, his smirk all sharp edges, “the punching thing?”

“Fuck. Are you still drunk, Auror Malfoy?”

“Technically, I’m just Malfoy right now,” Draco said, stretching as he stood. “And, Potter’s drunk too,” he added quickly, trying to redirect some of the heat.

“Oh, cheers for that, Malfoy,” Potter muttered, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his fingers brushed over a tender spot on his cheek. “So glad I jumped in to help you.”

“Help me? I didn’t need your help with these fucking twa—”

“Enough,” the mystery Auror drawled, flicking his wand to cast a silencing spell on both of them.

He let out a slow, measured sigh, turning in a full circle to take them all in. “Merlin.”

“Alright, I’m lifting the spell. No one so much as blinks unless they want to spend the night in a Ministry holding cell.”

“You,” he pointed at Daphne as he swished his wand through the air, releasing them. “What happened to you? One of those idiots,” he jabbed his wand in Draco and Potter’s direction, “better not have done that,” his voice dropped into a low growl.

“N-no,” Daphne stammered, all of her usual aristocratic enunciation stripped away. “She did.”

The Auror’s head swiveled until he landed on Pansy. And for the first time since he’d apparated in, Pansy saw it, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“She… did that?” he looked back at Daphne, all prior semblance of his smile drifting away. “And what caused this altercation?"

At that Daphne froze, like she was back under the spell.

The Auror turned back to Pansy. “Do you want to tell me?”

Pansy flicked her gaze to Granger, just for a second, but the Auror caught it, following her line of sight.

“Fucking hell.” His eyes widened as he took in Hermione’s swollen and bruised face. “Your eye looks… fuck. Is Weasley around here too, or did he miss this little party?”

Granger shook her head, then giggled before slapping a hand over her mouth like she could shove the sound back in. “No, he’s at home. Even drunker than us.” Another giggle escaped, and Theo, who was also giggling, nudged her in the ribs. 

The Auror exhaled sharply, shaking his head before turning back to Pansy with an expectant look on his face. “Anything?”

Pansy finally took him in properly. Dark, thick hair, tousled like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times since arriving. A heavy brow furrowed in impatience. Those thin rimmed, angular glasses perched on his nose, the kind that made a wizard look both intelligent and insanely attractive. And the Muggle attire, which appeared to be thrown on in haste, but still clung to him just right, as if the muscles underneath saw their fair share of field work. It was quite a sight.

He cleared his throat, clearly losing patience with the whole lot of them.

“I punched her because she called Granger a Mudblood,” Pansy said matter of factly. “And honestly, I’d do it again.” She sent an antagonizing wink over to Daphne, relishing the way her face crumbled in outrage.

The undeniably sexy Auror snapped his head to Daphne, who instantly straightened her spine, haughtiness flooding back into her tone. “I want to press charges.”

“That’s definitely within your rights,” the Auror said smoothly, nodding as he pushed those utterly indecent glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Though, technically, since no magic was used, you’ll need to go down to the Muggle police station to file your complaint.” He tilted his head in thought. “But you’ll have to abide by the Statute of Secrecy, so no answering any questions on what caused the fight… or where it happened. Otherwise, I’ll have to bring you in for questioning.” He let out a thoughtful hum, “And the holding cells are pretty full right about now.”

Daphne huffed, stomping her foot as Pansy’s grin widened, so wide that the cut on her lip reopened.

“I’ll tell you what,” the Auror continued, voice edged with finality. “How about you all get on home and get the fuck out of my face before anyone catches wind of what you called the Golden Girl, and I take you in on a loitering charge?” With one last unimpressed look he turned away, heading back to the group and finally releasing Draco and Potter from the silencing charm.

He made his way toward Pansy, pausing just before he got too close. “I’m John,” he said, offering no handshake, no pretense of camaraderie.

“Pansy,” she smirked, but the movement pulled at the cut on her lip. Before she could lift a hand to wipe away the blood, his hand was already there, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, wiping it clean before casting a quick and painless Episkey.

“Thanks,” she muttered breathily.

He just nodded before stepping back, wand at the ready. “Everyone better be gone within ten. And you two,” he glanced at Draco and Potter, “better be in early and sober come Monday morning.”

With a loud crack, he disapparated, and the rest scattered, Pucey pulling the Greengrasses and Millicent along, while Bletchley and Higgs hauled a stumbling Warrington off the ground.

Pansy wandered over to the curb, a delirious smile painting her face as she sighed and stretched out her legs, slipping off her six inch stilettos as she did.

Everyone looked wrecked from the Bro Brew, except for Blaise, who was running circles around them, chanting, “Best night ever!”

Granger plopped down beside her, voice light and casual. “I always thought you were such a bitch back at school.” She turned her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “And you know what? I was right. You’re such a fucking bitch.”

They burst into hysterical laughter as the guys exchanged looks of utter confusion.

“I’m literally never wrong,” Granger added in the swottiest tone Pansy had ever heard, which only made her laugh harder.

“I always thought you were a stuck up, condescending cunt,” Pansy wheezed through her laughter. “And I was also right. You’re such a cunt.”

Through their laughter Pansy barely heard Potter muttering, “Are they okay?”

“I think it’s clear they’re not,” Draco drawled, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe the blood from his brow. 

“Well, should we do something about it?” Potter asked, eyes pinging back and forth between the two witches and Draco.

Theo smirked, clapping a hand on his back. “Not if you want to keep your dick, Potter.”

Hermione threw an arm around Pansy’s shoulder, the two of them still giggling, completely oblivious to the awkward stares and hushed conversation around them.

Because there are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a few bitches is one of them.

Chapter Text

*Ginny*

“Jar,” Malfoy drawled.

“It physically pains me to agree with Malfoy, but, jar!” Harry said on his way to grab the bottle of Ogden’s, clearly too drunk to remember an Accio, but not drunk enough to keep watching Blaise run shirtless around the sitting room, arms pumping as he chanted, “Twenty-five!” 

Blaise didn’t slow. “Twenty-five,” he yelled again before leaping onto the sofa, nearly landing in Parkinson’s lap. “It’s my birthday; I’m exempt from all jarrings.”

“Twenty-five!”

“I’m with you Blaise,” Theo raised his glass. “Live it up. Though, Hermione, I do recall you promising a post-fight wank when we got home.”

“Godric, you’re right,” Hermione exhaled dramatically from where she lay sprawled on the Persian rug. “I can get very territorial,” she admitted, shaking her head. “That was so inappropriate. I’m officially wanker jarring myself.”

Pansy, Ginny, and Theo burst into laughter as she tried to stand, finally managing on her third attempt, gripping Harry’s shoulder for balance.

She grabbed her handbag off the coffee table, fishing out a handful of coins. One Sickle went flying. “This is for the bit about my dirty blood making wizards insatiable.”

She held up another coin to the light, this time a Galleon, twisting it between her fingers. “This one’s for saying Krum pleaded for it.” She squinted at the coin. “I mean he did, but not really something to scream in public.” The coin went pelting at the mantle, missing the Wanker Jar completely.

“And this one,” she slurred, turning to Malfoy, clearly drunk off her fucking arse, “is for rubbing up against your—your,” she cringed, not wanting to say the word. “Your broomstick and bludgers,” she finished, pointing vaguely at his crotch, “I am so sorry.” Another Galleon went soaring, flinging into the wall at top speed.

“Granger, please stop,” Malfoy groaned. “I’ll pay you to stop.”

Laughter exploded around the room.

“Is that Galleon for the arse grinding that happened outside or on the bus?” Theo smirked.

“Yea, that was disgusting by the way,” Harry muttered, taking another swig before Blaise yanked the bottle from his hand. “Something I never need to see again.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Oh look who’s talking, Potter, like you weren’t ru—” 

A shoe flew through the air, smacking him in the chest and almost hitting Crookshanks, who hissed from his spot on Malfoy’s lap. “What the fuck, Theo?”

“Sorry, thought I saw a Wrackspurt near you,” Theo deadpanned, eyes shifted around the room before settling on Harry.

“Fucking hell,” Malfoy muttered, subconsciously clearing the air around his head.

Merlin, how much did they all drink?

“I cannot believe I fucking missed this,” Ginny whined. “It’s bad enough I didn’t get to go on the Knight Bus, but a fight?” She took a quick sip of her gin, “I would’ve loved to punch Daphne in her slag arse face.”

“Pansy got her pretty good,” Hermione grinned, knocking her empty glass against Pansy’s knee.

Parkinson shrugged. “‘Course I did. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to hex her for years.” She dabbed at the cut on her lip. “But punching her was so much better. Just wish I’d gotten Tori too.”

“Hermione’s little show did more than a punch ever could,” Blaise chuckled. “She’ll be thinking about the way you and Draco were at the wedding and tonight for years to come.”

“So will I,” Theo said with a wink, “might even think about it later in bed before I—” 

Draco hurled the shoe back at him before he could finish.

Hermione groaned loudly, sending yet another coin sailing toward the Wanker Jar and miraculously making it in.

Blaise cheered, “Twenty-five!”

“So are you going to tell us what you have against Millie and her cat or not?” Theo demanded, bouncing on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey balanced precariously in hand.

“Yea, Goldie,” Blaise goaded, pouting dramatically. “It is my birthday after all.” He batted his lashes at Hermione.

“And you really went at her,” Malfoy mused, his eyes still stuck on Hermione. Ginny hadn’t seen them drift from her since she found them, bloody and bruised outside the Leaky. “It was something.” 

He said this reverently, like Hermione was his new religion. Or like the memory of her going feral had the potential to make him come at any second… it was hard for Ginny to decide which.

Harry burst out in laughter, sliding right off the couch and onto the floor. “Tell them, Hermione,” he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “It’s been years.”

Hermione stared at him, her one good eye narrowing.  The other was still swollen shut, though the bruise had faded to a soft lavender. 

Ginny had never been great at healing magic, and, as the only one remotely sober enough to even attempt an Episkey on someone’s face, this was the best they could do for now. 

Hermione let out a long suffering sigh before turning to Blaise. “Fine. Consider this your present.” She then turned her gaze on the rest of them and warned, “But I want no comments from anyone, understood?”

No one murmured their agreement, but she went on regardless. Crookshanks, sensing the gravity of the moment (or just loving a cat story) abandoned his previous perch and curled his tangled mess of fur around her arm in a show of moral support.

“Second year,” she began, “we wanted to know who was opening the Chamber of Secrets.” She shot Ginny a reassuring look.

Ginny let out a small snort as her face fell into something between a grimace and a smirk. While she’d thoroughly hated her first year at Hogwarts, she’d come to terms with it, mostly due to the fact that no one had actually died, she’d inadvertently helped take down a Horcrux, and, most importantly, it paved way for this absolute disaster of a Polyjuice mishap. 

She just wished someone had snapped a photo. Though, to be fair, Moaning Myrtle had painted quite the picture for her over the years. Being dead really made her latch onto the details of the living.

Hermione pressed on.“So, as you already know we brewed a batch of Polyjuice Potion, planning to transform into Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent,” her face crinkled in distaste, “and then get Malfoy to finally admit he was the heir of Slytherin.”

A chorus of gasps and guffaws sounded around the room, most notably from Malfoy himself, who let out an indignant scoff. “Excuse me? That is why you snuck into the Slytherin common room?”

“I thought I said no comments,” Hermione said, blinking up at him as though thoroughly confused as to why he’d just interrupted.

“As I was saying,” she rolled her eyes hard, “I brewed the potion flawlessly, as already noted, and had everything set to add the hairs.”

“And Millicent’s cat has something to do with this?” Malfoy asked, his smirk growing, clearly not caring (nor ever agreeing) to her no comments rule.

Theo sat up on his heels, fixated on her every word. “Where’d you keep it?”

“Obviously, that’s why I’m telling the story, Malfoy. Or at least trying to.” Hermione snapped. 

Ginny grinned. She loved drunk Hermione, now that she knew her tells. Before she’d figured them out, things could get quite scary. Hermione oscillated between down for anything and  waspish swot, heavy on the latter when she was hungry.

Deciding to help Malfoy out, before he too received an upper-cut from Hermione, Ginny Accio’d over the plate of biscuits Whimbley had set out for them earlier, sending a few Hermione’s way. She immediately tucked in, moaning and mumbling a quick thanks around a mouthful of shortbread.

Malfoy had honed in on her moan, looking as if it had just qualified Hermione for sainthood, conveniently forgetting their bitchy bickering from a moment ago.

Two bludgers, one bat, Ginny thought.

Harry picked up the story now that Hermione was preoccupied with biscuits. “So, Hermione had the potion brewed and ready to go in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor.”

“In Myrtle’s bathroom?” Malfoy asked. “Salazar, that must have been a nightmare.”

Hermione giggled, a third biscuit halfway to her mouth. “It was; she did not care for me much.”

“Anyways,” Harry continued on, “the hairs from Crabbe and Goyle worked well enough, though it was absolutely revolting being in their bodies.” He shuddered at the memory. “Unfortunately, the hair Hermione had pulled from Millicent’s robe didn’t belong to Millicent. It belonged to—”

“Her cat,” Hermione admitted, grimacing. “I turned into her cat.”

“Polyjuice Potion isn’t approved for animal transformation,” Malfoy said, his face lighting up and sounding like an exact recitation from ‘Advanced Potion Making.’

Ginny quipped, “Twenty points to Slytherin. And no shit, Malfoy.”

He flipped her off as she smirked back, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Theo finally lost his balance and tumbled off the table, howling with laughter. “No fucking way.”

Both Pansy and Blaise were gasping between laughs, barely able to speak.

“You turned into a cat,” Blaise cackled, tears catching on his lashes before rolling down his face.

“How many people did you hiss at?” Pansy asked once she finally caught her breath.

“Did you have the full cat anatomy or just the head?” Theo questioned, still rolling around on the floor.

“Were you you-sized or cat-sized?” Blaise barely got out before exploding into laughter again, now crawling around the room on all fours.

Despite how ridiculous he looked, Ginny couldn’t help but think he pulled it off alarmingly well.

Likely realizing the quickest way through this was to just answer, Hermione started rattling them off. “Four, though it wasn’t exactly a choice, more like instinct.” Crookshanks meowed in agreement. “A sort of cat-human hybrid; my hair stayed, though I did have ears. And I stayed roughly the same size I was then.” She looked around at them all. “Anything else?”

“Yea,” Malfoy drawled, smirk firmly in place. “How much to look through either Potter or Weasley’s memory to get a real look at you?”

Hermione grinned. “Piss off, Malfoy. I was a cat. Use your imagination.”

“Oh, I am,” he said with a wink. “And just know, I’m only letting this whole ‘you tried to unknowingly interrogate me’ thing slide because I now have that mental image forever burned into my brain. Though the real thing…” He trailed off, laughing.

Harry chuckled, “Believe me, it wasn’t fun, and you didn’t tell us shite anyways.”

“Yea, I was holed up in the Hospital Wing for a week, licking my bloody paws for nothing. Believe me, no one wants to see that.”

Blaise snorted, “Come on Granger, you know Malfoy’s been dying to see that pussy.”

“Jar!” Everyone yelled, though their laughter nearly drowned it out along with the resounding scream from Blaise after Malfoy hit him with a stinging jinx.

“Hey! It’s my fucking birthday. Exempt.” Blaise shouted.

As their laughter died down, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, “Before I forget, we’re going to the Ministry Gala together, right?”

Hermione blinked at him, utterly confused, tipping her already empty glass back, not even noticing her drink was long gone. “What?”

“Well, seeing as we’re both single and neither of us can go wit—” Harry paused, quickly correcting himself, “Neither of us wants to go alone, I thought we’d go together.”

The entire group focused in on their conversation as Hermione stared back at him dumbfounded, until suddenly, clarity dawned in her eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“What?” Now it was Harry’s turn to look confused. “Are you going with someone else?”

At that Draco sat up straighter, and Ginny finally noticed Theo looking more serious than she’d seen him all night.

“Wait!” Ginny cut in, eyes narrowing. “We’re supposed to be swearing off wizards together, remember?” She jabbed her finger in Hermione’s direction. “No dating.”

Pansy giggled, leaning forward before casually interjecting, “She’s not dating him.”

“And what the fuck?” Ginny popped up from her seat. “You told Parkinson before me?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy, muttering, “Oh, shush you.” Then turned to Ginny. “It’s not like that. I’m going with your brother.”

Ginny frowned. “Bill?”

“What? No!” Hermione spluttered, looking taken aback. “Why would I go with Bill? He’s married.” She glanced around bewildered. “And has children.”

Honestly, Ginny had no idea why she blurted out, Bill. With so many brothers, sometimes it was just easier to start at the top.

“Ron?” Malfoy practically growled.

“Again, married. Child.” Hermione shook her head. “Is there something you lot want to tell me? Am I giving off a vibe?”

“Well now that you mention it…” Blaise teased.

Hermione shot him a look before continuing. “I’m going with Charlie. And we literally just planned it tonight. I was going to tell you Gin… right when I remembered.”

Ginny nodded slowly as she sank back into her seat, mulling it over. And actually, it wasn’t a horrible idea.

She’d been worried about Hermione showing up alone, having to watch Daphne flitting about on Krum’s arm, getting hounded by photographers, and fending off shoddy journalists sniffing around for a statement on her tumultuous breakup, all while making their thinly veiled digs about her love life versus that of Krum’s.

Charlie was perfect. He’d make sure she avoided all the shitheads likely to get in her way, and he wouldn’t be a complete twat about it.

“You’re right. That’s a good plan,” Ginny admitted, still nodding along. “But fuck, who am I supposed to go with?” She downed the rest of her drink, then reached for Theo’s, polishing that off too. “And I already heard from Angelina that Oliver is bringing some German Pitch Pixie from one of their latest matches.”

“I’ll go with you,” Theo offered, making absolutely sure not to look anywhere but at her.

That could work. 

And just like Theo, Ginny was also playing a game of avoidance. Only where his eyes were carefully steering clear of The Chosen One, her’s were doing everything possible not to land on The Shirtless One.

“It’s a date, Nott.” Ginny held out her hand for him to shake, and he took it, rising up on one knee and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Oh, this will be fun,” she said with a smirk.

“What the fuck?” Harry huffed. “This was supposed to be about me finding a non-date date. Not everyone else getting sorted.”

“Go with Malfoy,” Ginny suggested, trying, and failing, to keep a straight face as her grin fought its way through.

She knew Malfoy’s drawl was coming even before she heard it. 

“Like hell am I going with Potter. I’d sooner go alone.”

“You don’t already have a date?” Hermione asked quietly from the floor. She had shifted up from her previous spread-eagle state and was now slumped against one of the armchairs.

Malfoy swallowed loudly. “No. I’d planned on—”

“I can go with you.” 

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with delight, and Ginny didn’t miss the way Hermione’s head snapped in her direction.

“Oh, this is bloody ridiculous,” Harry bit out. “Who the hell am I supposed to go with?”

Blaise stood up, bent into a deep bow and grinned.

 “At your service, Potter.”

~*~

Ginny woke up sprawled out on the floor, limbs tangled in the aftermath of last night. Hermione was curled up beside her, a mass of curls threatening to overtake both her and Pansy, whose legs were casually draped over Ginny’s own.

With a groggy sigh, she gingerly lifted herself up off the ground, making sure not to wake the others on her way to the loo.

She saw Malfoy, looking obnoxiously posh even in sleep, sprawled out in an armchair. A stark contrast to Harry, who was slumped across the other like a forgotten, crumpled-up robe, his head lolling off the side and hair pointing in every possible direction.

Theo was on the couch, looking like absolute shite and shivering slightly against the late night (or was it early morning?) chill. Lazily, Ginny reached for her wand, tucked safely in her back pocket, and flicked it toward him, floating a blanket to drape around his shoulders.

After freshening up and changing into something more comfortable, she decided she’d rather crawl into a bed than return to her spot wedged between Hermione and Pansy on the sitting room floor. She was just about to snick Hermione’s bedroom door shut when a low voice spoke from down the hall.

“Did you get lost, Ginevra?”

She froze, fingers still on the handle, before stepping back through the door frame, physically incapable of not being drawn in by his tone.

Blaise was still shirtless, black pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips, and his ever present smirk seemingly imprinted into his lips. 

“Need some help?” He prodded.

“Kiss my arse, Zabini.”

“I really do want to do that,” he practically purred, taking a slow step closer. “But it’s late, and I’m tired. I promise to let you sleep if you come to mine.” His voice dipped, “My sheets have been missing you.”

Her feet moved before her brain could tell them not to, not that it would have. They’d been toeing this line for weeks now, and Ginny had neither the patience nor the inclination to be subtle about what she wanted. She doubted Blaise did either.

He held out his hand, and without hesitation, she laced her fingers through his. He grinned before silently leading her down the hall, pausing only to glance around the corner, making sure the others were still lost to their slumber.

The door clicked shut behind them, and without a word, they climbed into bed. Ginny immediately stretched out, luxuriating in the softness of the sheets and the feel of him as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close. 

“Goodnight, Ginevra.”

“Goodnight, Blaise.”

Smiling to herself, she thought back to the last time they’d done this. Would he finish it? Would he say what he’d said the last time?

 She needn’t have worried.

“You’re even better than the sheets,” he hummed against the back of her neck once again, causing her to fall into a fast sleep.

~*~

Ginny woke up all too soon.

The room was still cloaked in darkness, the barest sliver of morning light creeping through the window. Half awake, she shifted back into the warmth behind her, pressing instinctively against him.

“Do you need something, Ginevra?” Blaise murmured, loosening his grip around her waist slightly. “I distinctly remember you telling me to kiss your arse last night. Does the sentiment still stand?” 

His voice was a lazy taunt, and before she could respond, he moved to hover over her, his weight balanced on his forearms, keeping just enough distance that she’d have to reach for him if she wanted more, putting her fully in control.

Her legs spread wider around his thighs, letting him settle in closer.

Fuck. She needed to set some ground rules.

“We’re not dating,” she blurted out, the words escaping before she could think them through.

Blaise smirked. “Obviously,” sarcasm dripping from his tone. “You’re currently swearing off wizards with Granger.” He winked.

“This is just sex,” she clarified. “Sex wasn’t part of the pact.”

“How presumptuous of you to assume I even want to have sex with you,” he teased, just as his cock twitched, pressing up hard against her thigh.

It was her turn to smirk. “And if anyone finds me here, I’m saying you trapped me.”

His brow lifted. “You’re the one who snuck into my bed in the first pla—”

She shifted as if to roll away, lifting his arm off her.

“No, no,” he backtracked immediately, pulling her back beneath him. “I trapped you. Got it.” He dropped his hips, pinning her in place, pressing his full weight into her. “You play a tough game, but of course I already knew that.”

Well if he wanted to play, she had every intention of making him lose.

She arched up, catching his lower lip between her teeth before slanting her mouth over his and kissing him deep and slow.

Blaise’s moan was lost, swallowed up by the press of her tongue against his. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, holding him there like she was intent on this kiss never ending.

He only pulled back when oxygen was no longer an option; his chest heaving as if he’d flown too high, the air too thin.

“Fuck,” he rasped, pupils blown wide.

His gaze flickered over her for a  moment before leaning back down to nip at her jaw and kiss further toward her neck. He ran his tongue over her pulse point before sucking softly at that spot just behind her ear.

Ginny bit back a moan, not wanting him to know how much this was affecting her. But his low chuckle told her he was already well aware.

He slid lower, ghosting kisses down her throat, across the hollow between her collarbones.

“Keep it down, Ginevra.”

Her breath hitched. “Stop calling me Ginevra,” she panted, “Only my parents call me that.”

“What do I call you then?” Blaise murmured, his lips barely skimming the thin edge of her top, the fabric doing next to nothing to hide the way her nipples had already tightened beneath it. 

His mouth swept over one peak, soft and warm even through the cotton, causing her fingers to twist into the sheets.

When she didn’t respond, he repeated himself, this time his lips brushing directly over her nipple as he spoke, “What am I supposed to call you?”

A soft whine slipped from her throat as he used his teeth to tug on her lightly, her shirt still trapped between them as he lifted his gaze, waiting for an answer.

“Ginny. Ju-” Her voice faltered as his tongue flicked over her again. “Just call me Ginny.”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” His smirk was back as he sat up just far enough to pull her top over her head.

She went to pull him in for a kiss, desperate to regain even a shred of control, but he caught her wrist, tangling his fingers with hers as he pinned her arm above her head.

Shaking his head, he murmured, “No, that won’t do. Everyone calls you Ginny.”

He lowered back down, flicking his tongue against her other nipple, causing her toes to curl into the mattress.

“Wea-Weasley,” she gasped, as he twirled his tongue once, twice more around the sensitive peak while softly pinching the other.

“Fuck.” Her breath came heavy now, uneven as he worked his way further down, pausing to press slow, deliberate kisses along each rib. 

He traced the sharp edge of her hip bone with his tongue before looking up at her, head tilted in amusement. “You have six older brothers. I’m not calling you Weasley.”

He slid lower, fingers hooking into her waistband as he slipped her shorts off, leaving her knickers in place.

Settling between her thighs, he hitched her legs over his shoulders before meeting her gaze, and, Merlin, he looked just as wrecked as she felt.

The tip of his tongue trailed along the seam of her knickers, and she arched into his touch with a loud moan.

“Someone’s going to hear you if you don’t keep it down,” he whispered before dragging the flat of his tongue over her core, nipping at the fabric covering her clit.

Her moan only grew louder as she bit down on her knuckles, desperate not to give them away.

“Fuck, Blaise. Fuck.”

His eyes drifted up to hers, dark and smug, her knickers soaking wet and still clinging to his lips. “That feel good, my harpy?”

He repeated his movements, this time lingering against her clit, the heat of his mouth unraveling her.

“No,” she tried to get out between broken whimpers. “No. You, no” She wasn’t making any sense. The only thing making sense was his mouth on her.

He lifted himself slightly as he grinned up at her. “No? You don’t like that?” He traced slow, deliberate circles over the soaked gusset with his finger as he continued talking. “Seems like you like it.”

“I-I like it.” Her moan melted into the pillow she was gripping as his circles got tighter and tighter.

“Then what’s wrong?” he teased, reaching beside her, fingers searching through the sheets.

A moment later her knickers vanished, his discarded wand landing on the floor like it was nothing more than a stray twig.

He asked again, and she could feel every word against her, the vibrations making a shiver run up her spine. 

“What’s wrong, my harpy?” He said it deliberately, knowing exactly what was wrong.

“You’re not calling me your harpy,” she grit out.

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t quite suit you.” His words ghosted over her, his lips and tongue grazing against her bare cunt every other word.

“Blaise,” she whined, finally releasing her grip on the pillow to card her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails along his scalp.

He moaned at the feeling, looking like this was torture for him too. Like he was holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“What about my little lion?” he breathed before twirling his tongue around her clit and sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh, gods.” Her hips jerked up into him, incapable of holding back any longer.

Ginny knew she was being loud, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could focus on was the way his tongue glided over her, the way his fingers slipped inside her, first one, then another. Curling just so against that spot that had her seeing stars.

Her hold on his hair tightened as she started to shake, feeling like she might cry, might completely fall apart, but she was too far gone to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he groaned against her. “You taste so good. I can tell you’re close.” And he sounded like that thought alone had him hanging by a thread.

She couldn’t take it anymore. A scream caught in her throat, her body coiled tight, one breath away from breaking.

“Come for me, little lion. Come right here.” His hands grabbed her hips, guiding her, letting her fully take control and grind down on his tongue as he flattened it.

She barely had time to yank the pillow over her face to muffle the cry that tore from her as her orgasm ripped through her in a way that only Blaise had managed to do.

As she lay there, still trying to catch her breath, he stood up, gripping himself tightly through his joggers, looking like he was barely keeping himself in check.

She closed her eyes, not ready for this to be over, not even close. Every nerve in her body still hummed, aching for him. For more.

Instead, he gently pulled her shorts back up her legs, leaving her knicker-less and wanting more.

“Wa-wait,” Ginny huffed, her breath uneven, still in the midst of coming down from her orgasm. “Aren’t you going to—”

“Aren’t I going to fuck you?” He interrupted as his eyes dragged up her body, pupils still blown wide with lust. “No. Not right now.”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” she whined, once again feeling on the verge of tears. What the bloody hell was wrong with her? She was the one who delighted in making men go crazy, not the other way around.

“Oh, I desperately want to fuck you.” He squeezed himself through his joggers again, the large wet spot at the front making it glaringly obvious just how much he wanted her. “And I will. Many times,” he breathed out, as if needing to tell this last part to himself more than to her. “Just not right now. Need to keep you coming back.”

She let out a frustrated whine, kicking out one of her legs in protest.

He laughed. “There, there my little lion. Don’t roar too loud.”

Smirking, he tucked his still rock hard cock up into his waistband before heading toward the door, “I’ll check and make sure no one’s out there, so that you can sneak off into the guest room like a good girl and pretend you’ve been there all night.” He winked. “When I yell Wanker Jar, make a run for it.”

Ginny wanted to feel annoyed. She was annoyed. But her orgasm had been mind-blowing and worse, this was all just so fucking hot.

Why the fuck was his idiotic plan working on her? 

“How do you know someone will need to be jarred?”

He tilted his head, sending her a look that clearly said, ‘come on’. 

“I live with Malfoy.” 

And with that, he slipped out the door, sending her one last devastating grin, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Wanting more.

*Draco*

Draco woke with a roaring headache. Or was that an actual roar?

No, definitely a headache.

Fuck. How much had he drunk last night?

A loud groan sounded from the floor, followed by a thump. “Oh, bugger.” 

Lifting his head, he squinted at the scene before him. Granger was struggling to crawl out from beneath Pansy and attempting to drag herself toward the hall that led to her room.

“You alright?” he called over, wincing from the too loud sound of his own voice.

She turned back to glare at him, not bothering to get up. One eye was still swollen shut, and her hair had reached a level of chaos he hadn’t thought possible. “No,” she croaked. “I think I’m dying.” 

She swatted at a curl tangled in her lashes, but no matter how many times she tried, it refused to budge. Huffing in frustration, she muttered, “I need to shower. Hopefully wash off this shame.”

Draco chuckled and instantly regretted it as the sound reverberated through his skull like a curse.

Granger continued on her way as he heaved himself upright on shaky legs, making his way to the kitchen and hoping that Whimbley or Pucklett had made tea. There was no way in hell he was using that Muggle contraption Granger insisted on keeping.

“Thank Merlin,” he exhaled as he entered the kitchen, greeted by the glorious sight of an island overflowing with food. Bacon, sausage, toast, his favorite apple cinnamon pastries dusted with crystallized sugar, and most importantly, a large pot of freshly brewed tea.

Draco had just filled his mug when Blaise sauntered in, looking half-crazed.

Shit. They had all really outdone themselves last night.

“You look like hell,” Blaise muttered, grabbing a strip of bacon and shoving it in his mouth.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. Fuck, had Granger noticed?

“You don’t look too great yourself,” Draco shot back. “Why the fuck are you so sweaty?”

“It’s hot in here,” Blaise shrugged.

“It’s fucking December. This place is drafty no matter how many Warming Charms I cast.”

Blaise smirked as he poured himself a cup of tea. “I don’t know, Draco; what can I say? I’m just hot.”

Draco groaned.

“Where is everyone?” Blaise asked, looking around as if someone might be hiding in one of the cabinets.

Draco took a bite of his pastry before answering. “Pans and Potter are still passed out in the sitting room, and Granger crawled off to her room mumbling something about needing a shower. Haven’t seen the other two, but I’m guessing Weasley’s in the guest room and Theo’s—”

“Right here, lads.” 

Theo strolled into the kitchen, entirely too chipper for the absolute state they were all in, heading straight for the spread of food.

Humming to himself, he spread strawberry jam on his toast, licking up a dollop that had dripped onto his thumb. “What a great morning.”

Draco stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck are you not more hungover?”

“Bro Brew rejuvenates me,” Theo declared with a grin. “Reminds me of my youth.”

Draco snorted. “And your mood has nothing to do with your tongue being jammed down Potter’s throat last night?”

“Jar!” Theo gasped, clutching his chest in mock horror, but the delighted crinkle at the corners of his eyes gave him away.

“Yea,” Blaise added, “wanker jar!” He practically yelled down the hall.

Draco frowned. “Who the hell are you talking to? And why are you being so bloody loud?” He took another sip of his tea. “If anyone should be paying up, it’s you,” he said, holding his mug out toward Theo, “For making me see that.”

Theo, completely unbothered, grinned. “You’re welcome. Normally, I charge people to watch something like that.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “So why’d you tell Weasley you’d go as her date then, if you’re in such a good mood over Potter?” 

Theo didn’t answer right away, taking an obnoxiously large bite of his toast. After a quick glance down the hall to make sure it was still just the three of them, he turned back to Draco and gave him a look like he was the stupidest person alive.

“All part of the plan.”

Blaise barked out a laugh. “What, you think you and Granger are the only idiots around here?”

Theo scoffed as he polished off his toast and moved on to a sausage, putting on quite a show as he bit into it.

For fuck’s sake.

“Oh look who’s talking,” Theo shot back, “ You practically start drooling anytime Red walks into a room. No way is she falling for that.”

Blaise smirked, “But you think you’ve got Potter in the bag? I guess we’ll see about that.”

Just then, Pucklett walked in carrying what Draco immediately recognized as the morning Prophet.

Fuck.

Theo’s eyes locked onto the paper, and, like a deranged pixie he did a little skip in Pucklett’s direction. “Toss that here, Pucky, would you? I think we may have a new photo for the wall! And thanks for breakie; it’s delish as always.”

Pucklett blushed and curtsied in thanks before skipping away.

Draco didn’t share in Theo’s excitement, but it seemed Blaise did. 

“Yea, let’s see this. Only wish I would’ve taken off my shirt sooner.” Blaise drawled, grinning.

Unfurling the Prophet, Theo’s face lit up and then immediately fell. He turned on Draco with an accusatory glare. “You’re fucking blocking me! Jar!”

Draco scoffed, ripping the paper out of Theo’s hands. His eyes scanned the page, landing on a photo of Hermione and Pansy mid-fight with Millicent and Daphne, the rest of them rushing in. And then to another photo, one of just him and Granger, her wrapped up in his arms, looking like they were about to….

Merlin.

Blaise let out a bark of laughter. “Look at you two. Bit opportunistic, don’t you think? She’d just taken a hit from Millie.” His smirk was downright devilish. “Oh, and look, there’s me. Definitely one for the wall.”

“Fuck off,” Theo snapped. “How is everyone in this photo but me? I’m contacting the Prophet over this subpar reporting.”

Draco barely spared him a glance. “Have you even read the article?”

“Of course not!” Theo exclaimed. “Who reads the bloody article?”

Draco sighed and looked down to do just that.

Diagon Duel

By: Quillan Embers

Beneath the cover of darkness, our very own Golden Girl, along with her ever-growing band of miscreants and, of course, Harry Potter, ignited an all-out brawl in the heart of Diagon Alley. 

As our dearest readers can see from the photos above, Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson launched an unprovoked attack on their fellow Hogwarts alumni. And where, one might ask, did they learn such dark and highly questionable fighting techniques? Why, none other than known ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy*, pictured above looking quite cozy with Miss Granger.

It appears that both aforementioned witches may have overindulged, gotten a little carried away with the potions, tippled a tad too hard, if you catch my drift. During their wild night of celebrating one Blaise Zabini’s thirty-fifth birthday, the two seemed to take their misfortunes out on an unsuspecting Daphne Greengrass, her sister, Astoria Greengrass, and Millicent Bulstrode, all innocent bystanders, of course.

When asked for a comment, Daphne, who declined to be photographed on account of the horrendous beating she endured, had this to say: 

“I honestly don’t know what came over them. We were just out for a lovely stroll down the Alley when they attacked us. Cleary Miss Granger is still hung up on my Viktor. I sincerely hope she gets the help she so thoroughly needs.”

We also were fortunate enough to bump into Head Auror, John Dawlish, early this morning in his office. He had been the Auror on call and the one to break up, what some are now calling, the Diagon Alley Disaster. Unfortunately, he was far less forthcoming than Miss Greengrass, who we must note, remains a delightful young lady. Dawlish had this to say: 

“I’m going to tell you exactly what I told all of them: get out of my fucking face.”

We do apologize for the language, dear readers, but as you know, journalistic integrity is first and foremost the cornerstone of reporting here at the Daily Prophet.

As in line with our prior articles highlighting Miss Granger and her dubious actions as of late, we must ask: has her reputation finally been tarnished beyond repair? 

Under the article in the finest print imaginable, was the following.

* For legal reasons, the Prophet must note that Draco Malfoy was exonerated of all crimes and, according to numerous testimonials from Order of the Phoenix members, played a pivotal role in aiding their side, along with both his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, and to a lesser extent his father, Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy is now an Auror within the DMLE. When asked about his character, Head Auror John Dawlish had this to say. “Fuck off.” Again, we apologize for the harsh language.

Draco laughed, tossing the paper onto the table for Theo and Blaise to tear into. 

“Maybe it’s best if you don’t read it,” he drawled. “Can’t say either of you will be happy with their reporting.”

Predictably, they immediately rushed to read it.

As they bickered, Draco peeked back over at the photo of him and Granger. It really did look like she’d been about to kiss him. Or maybe he’d been about to kiss her. 

Whatever it was, it was something.

It had to be something

“Thirty, fucking five?!” Blaise bellowed, absolutely scandalized. “Are they insane? Look at this physique, this skin.” He ran a hand down his cheek, highlighting his flawless bone structure and clear complexion. “This Quillan Embers has another thing coming.”

“I’m the only one not mentioned by name!” Theo shrieked. “Not in the bloody photo, and no mention of me at all? I was a fucking Death Eater too! Why do you get all the clout and notoriety?” He was stomping his foot now. “I want a bloody asterisk keeping me from suing their arses for libel!”

Draco chuckled, reaching for another apple pastry, since it seemed his morning was turning around. “Well, at least you’re sure to be in the paper after the gala, taking Weasley and all.” He shook his head. “Which isn’t weird in the slightest.”

Theo grinned, already bouncing back at the thought. “Jealous, Draco?”

“More like sad that he won’t have another photo of him and Granger to add to his pathetic wank bank.” Blaise responded, quick as ever.

Draco scoffed, dismissing them both with a wave of his hand. Like he’d ever need additional material after last night.

“I don’t know,” Theo mused. “That one today should keep him busy for a while. If you want, I can teach you some wrist exercises, really help keep things going. Nothing worse than tight joints.” He tilted his head, pretending to ponder. “Well, I guess an easy gag reflex, but that shouldn’t trouble you… although, I could have a word with Hermione. Just in case you two ever work through this.”

“Oh fuck off,” Draco sneered. “I don’t like her. Well, yea, I like her. She’s grown on me, okay?” 

He really tried to stop talking, to shut the hell up, but it was like his mouth had gone rogue, running off on its own,  spewing out a whole helping of word vomit.

What the fuck had she done to him?

Pathetically, he continued on, “I’ve just been in a bit of a dry spell—”

Blaise interrupted, smirking, “Which is self-inflicted, but do go on.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose before doing just that. “And she does things that are just so fucking hot. Like that fight and the blackmailing Skeeter thing,” he trailed off, shaking his head. “And the bloody dancing. But I don’t like her. It’s a phase. A non-consequential, non-thing.” 

Before he could humiliate himself any further, he jammed the remaining bit of pastry in his mouth.

Blaise bent over in laughter. “That was almost believable.”

“You know some people would say those things are unhinged, red flags even.” Theo’s grin was practically blinding. “Actually, Hermione taught me that. She said that the three of us are walking red flags.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “You literally said last night that you thought it was hot that Potter blew up his aunt.”

“Yea, well, I’m insane.” Theo shot him a look of pure bewilderment, “I thought you knew this.” He pressed on, unbothered. “Listen, I understand. I love Hermione too.”

Draco nearly choked. “Whoa. No, I don’t love her. As I said, I barely even like her. We’re just roommates who can tolerate each other a bit more than we could a few months ago.”

Blaise tilted his head, “And who occasionally dry hump in front of their friends.”

Draco shot him a glare.

Patting Draco on the back as if he were a child, Theo placated him. “Sure you don’t. But, back to my actual point, finding out more about her true nature makes me like her even more than I already did too.” 

He reached for another piece of toast. “Sure, I knew from work that she had some absolutely batshit ideas, but now? Fuck, I think her and I could take over the world. And we’d look so hot doing it. I mean, she rode a fucking dragon with Potter… and that other Weasley. That’s hot shit.” 

Draco swallowed hard, his head nodding of its own accord. 

“Fuuuckkkk,” Theo breathed out. “I get hard thinking about Pot—”

“Nope, stop right there. Jar.” 

Draco flicked his wand, but Theo ducked behind the island, narrowly dodging his jinx.

“You’re a fucking Auror. Work on your aim.” Theo cackled, chucking his toast at Draco. “Or did Dawlish just tell you to fuck off and call it a day?”

Draco flipped him off before snatching one last pastry, it was a rough morning, and headed to his room to take a shower. 

And definitely not thinking about Granger doing the same.

Chapter Text

*Draco*

Draco had known this was coming.

He’d been waiting for their owl for weeks. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d sent a Howler by now. Every time his face appeared in the paper alongside hers, he waited. 

They’d let it go unmentioned the first two times, but Draco knew better than to think they’d stay quiet forever. They were his parents after all. Subtlety was not their strong suit….though avoiding uncomfortable conversations, no matter the cost, absolutely was.

Their owl had come not an hour after the morning Prophet arrived. The letter was short and to the point.

Draco,

Please join us for dinner at The Manor on Wednesday at 7 o’clock.

Feel free to bring a guest.

Love,

Your Mother and Father, who love you dearly

The bit about bringing a guest and the dramatic emphasis on their love was a touch too much. And left no doubt as to what this dinner was really about.

His parents would claim they were reformed. Draco would call them opportunistic. 

Still, they were trying. For him.

Not that Draco had been worried about their approval. It wasn’t like he wanted or needed it, not for Granger, not for anyone. And it wasn’t as if there was even anything to approve of.  They weren’t a thing. Were never going to be a thing. Draco didn’t even want them to be a thing.

So, he got ready for this dinner, already bracing himself for what was sure to be an evening of unbearable awkwardness.

“What are you looking at?” 

Crookshanks, lounging on his bed, simply stared.

Draco scowled. He knew exactly what the cat was thinking.

“Of course I’m not bringing her. Have you lost it?”

The cat narrowed his glowing yellow eyes. 

Perhaps, Draco had lost it. He was, after all, having a conversation with a cat. Though in his defence, this was no ordinary half-kneazle.

He’d noticed Crookshanks around the castle starting in third year, though the cat hadn’t really made himself known until sixth. And somehow, Draco still didn’t know how, the creature had always been there, in the Room of Hidden Things, watching as Draco worked tirelessly on that fucking cabinet.

At first, it had driven him mad. He’d even wondered if Potter was somehow using the manky, old beast to spy on him. But eventually, he’d stopped caring.

Because, whether he liked it or not, Crookshanks had been there. And in those days, that is exactly what Draco had needed.

Whether Crookshanks had an actual affinity for him or just a deep appreciation for the copious amounts of caviar and salmon Draco snuck him, he would never know.

He checked his hair one last time, combing his fingers through the front until it had that perfectly unkempt look he knew his parents hated.

As he turned to leave, Crooks let out a loud, pointed meow.

“Yea, yea, I’ll bring you leftovers,” Draco murmured, watching as the cat curled deeper into his pillows, purring obnoxiously and making damn sure to get his fur everywhere.

~*~

“Darling!” His mother’s voice rang out as he stepped through the Floo, brushing the lingering ash from his collared shirt, only to notice quite a few cat hairs marring the pristine fabric.

“That fucking cat,” he muttered under his breath, casting a hasty scourgify.

“What was that, my dragon?” His mother asked, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Thank Salazar Theo and Blaise weren’t here. They lived for moments like this, endlessly mocking him whenever his mum used that ridiculous nickname. Not that Draco actually minded. His name was one of his favorite things about himself. Well, that and his hair.

He shook his head as he hugged her back. “Nothing, Mum, just cleaning off my shirt.”

She pulled back, her sharp eyes narrowing as they flickered over the fabric. “What is all this orange fluff?”

Merlin. His cleaning charms had always been utter shite. That did it, that bloody menace wasn’t getting any leftovers tonight.

“Just cat hair,” he drawled lazily, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere. He took a step back before she could fuss over him any further. At least he wasn’t in danger of her whipping out her wand to fix it, he doubted his mother even knew the incantation, having likely never encountered a situation that required her to clean up after herself.

“Cat hair?” She echoed, her voice smooth as ever. But Draco knew her well, and he didn’t miss the glint in her eye. “Since when do you have a feline?”

He turned on his heel, heading toward the dining room in the hopes of escaping this conversation, not that it would make much of a difference. He already knew how the entire evening would go.

“I don’t have a feline,” he said, attempting to discreetly brush more of the fur from his shirt. It was a losing battle. “He belongs to one of my roommates.”

His mother’s heels clipped elegantly against the marble floor as she followed. He didn’t even need to look to know she was smiling.

“Oh?” She asked, unmistakable amusement lacing her tone. “Did Theo or Blaise get a cat?”

He groaned and could have sworn he heard his mother laugh. Which was disconcerting because he’d rarely heard his mother laugh.

“It’s Granger’s cat,” he explained, though he knew she was already well aware. “I believe I mentioned that Theo invited her to move in with us.”

“Oh, yes,” his mother agreed as she glided to the table, settling gracefully into the chair to Lucius’s right. Unfortunately, his father was already there, a crystal tumbler of Ogden’s in hand. 

“I do recall you mentioning Miss Granger moving in,” she continued. “However, you failed to bring up the cat. I was forced to make an assumption, which I absolutely hate to do, Draco. It’s just so unbecoming for someone of our stature.” Her tone took on a haughtiness at that last bit. “Though, given the state of your shirt and that rather charming photo in the Prophet, the cat does seem very fond of you.”

His father’s ever scrutinizing gaze turned toward him, honing in on the stray ginger hair. “Goes with your hair. Very….carefree.”

Draco inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He willed himself to find the strength to make it through this dinner. He had once thought watching one of his professors get eaten by a snake was the worst thing he’d ever have to endure in this room, but clearly, his former self had lacked imagination.

“She does have a fascination with gingers, doesn't she?” His mother mused. “Let’s hope it’s not a kink.”

For fuck’s sake. He should have never come.

“Sprig!” Draco called out, and with a soft pop, the tiny house elf appeared. Sprig was dressed in an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, adorned with a near perfectly bloomed violet rose on his lapel.

“Master Draco, sir,” Sprig beamed up at him. “What can I get you?”

“Good evening, Sprig. Can I get a double of Ogden’s please,” Draco tilted his head in thought. “No, actually, make that a triple. And have another one ready. Just in case.”

“Coming right up, sir.” 

“Is that really necessary, darling?” His mother asked, swirling her own glass of champagne. Which if her last comment was any indication, this was definitely not her first glass.

“So we’ve already started discussing Miss Granger, then?” Lucius drawled, setting his glass down with a soft clink and casting a knowing smirk over to his wife. “You don’t waste any time do you, dear? Though I had hoped we’d at least make it to dessert before delving into her sexual proclivities.”

Sprig chose that exact moment to pop back into the dining room.

“Thank fuck,” Draco muttered, seizing the glass and downing it in one go.

He coughed a few times, choking on the seemingly endless waterfall of whiskey pouring down this throat. Fuck, did that burn, but it was still preferable to this conversation.

“Language, Draco,” his mother scolded. “And do slow down. I know you are of Black blood, and we have our weaknesses, but we mustn’t succumb to them so easily.”

Yes, that must be it. His illustrious bloodline was definitely the reason he just inhaled three shots of Ogden’s.

“It was just a joke, darling,” she continued airily. “She clearly favours you now. Are you courting her?” 

Draco stiffened. His mother’s expression was both expectant and vaguely disapproving, like no matter his answer, she would find a way to be personally affronted.

“I’m not courting her—“

His father scoffed while his mother let out a delicate laugh, cutting him off before he could even finish. 

“Well, I should hope not!” She declared. “What sort of manners would it show to your future wife if you didn’t even introduce her to your parents before courting? It’s unheard of, Draco. We’ve never even met the poor girl.”

Draco blinked furiously, completely caught off guard. His future wife? Hermione?

“You have met her,” he blurted out. What the fuck kind of response was that? Of all the ways to shut this down, his mouth had apparently chosen to go with that. Seemingly forgetting that she was not his future wife. She wasn’t his anything.

His mother gave a ladylike snort while Lucius waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“Besides that little misunderstanding about her being with Potter,” she said breezily.

His mother clearly didn’t know what a misunderstanding was. They must have taught that right after cleaning charms.

“And that was back when you were all still at Hogwarts,” his father added, looking quite pleased with himself, “and the world was…..different.”

Draco nearly laughed. Different was certainly one way to describe it.

Not the way any sane person would. But his parents were….different.

His empty glass refilled itself with a soft ping, and for not the first time in his life, Draco felt a deep gratitude for house elves. He’d have to tell Granger when he got home, though he’d be sure to leave out all the rest.

Sensing that the conversation wasn’t going as planned, his mother did something entirely unlike her. She pleaded. 

“We just really want to meet her. She’s clearly something to you.”

And once again, his mouth rebelled, saying not what it should, but what it wanted to.

“You’ve both met her,” he stressed, exasperated. “Multiple times.” He looked to his father. “What about in the Department of Mysteries?”

Lucius barely spared him a glance. “What, that little dalliance?” He asked, as if Draco had brought up him running into Granger at a local pub.

“Yes, that little dalliance,” Draco bit out. “The one where you almost murdered her, along with her best friends.”

His father rolled his eyes, like they had been over this a thousand times before. “That was Dolohov,” he said with another casual wave of his hand.  “Quite a nasty old chap. And I’ll have you know, I hit him just in the knick of time to keep him from doing her any real harm. I knew you liked her even then, I wasn’t about to let her die in front of me. You’d have never forgiven me.”

Draco stared at him, utterly at a loss for where to even begin with that statement.

He hadn’t liked her back then. Well. At least not that much. And even if he had, his parents certainly wouldn’t have known. He’d made a point to only bring her up in specific contexts….always something unpleasant. 

Like the way she always knew the answer to every question. Or how her hair took up half their shared potion’s table, filling the air with the scent of jasmine and neroli blossoms. Which obviously he hated.

Yes, he had kept it hidden very well.

“Are you expecting a thank you?” Draco huffed, practically shouting. “Because if so, you should know, you won’t be getting one from me.”

His mother drummed her fingers against the stem of her glass, a nervous little tic Draco was fairly certain was a Pureblood faux pas.

“No! Of course he’s not expecting a thank you,” Narcissa insisted, shooting Lucius a sharp glare, who was clearly waiting for just that. “He’s just letting you know, in his own, however misguided way,” she added, slicing him with another pointed look, “that we approve. Isn’t that right, Lucius?”

Draco heard the distinct thud of his mother’s heel connecting with his father’s shin under the table. 

“Yes. We approve. Wholeheartedly.” Lucius took another sip of his firewhiskey before carrying on. “I thought that’s exactly what I said.” He gave a dramatic sigh and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Your generation is so sensitive. Must’ve been all those Quidditch participation trophies.”

“Must’ve been,” Draco drawled before taking another deep pull from his drink. “But again, I must stress to you both, we aren’t together,” he said, trying to mask the bitter taste the words left in his mouth. “She’s just my roommate.”

“Pish posh,” his mother tittered, setting down her glass as the bottle beside her lifted itself to pour her another. “We’ve seen the papers, darling. Not much to hide after that last photo.”

His father nodded in agreement. “Though it does seem the Daily Prophet has something against her, which is odd. Is she campaigning for the elves that work there to get higher pay? Trying to unionize their printing press? Or, Merlin forbid, advocating for a Muggle editorial staff?”

Draco snorted. That did sound like her.

“No. She blackmailed Rita Skeeter. It seems there’s been bad blood ever since.”

Lucius choked mid-sip. “She what?”

“She found out she was an unregistered Animagus. A beetle. And trapped her in a jar.” His trousers tightened at the thought.

Draco really, really needed to get laid, because if even this was getting him going, while at dinner with his parents, things were looking dire.

“She trapped her in a jar?” Lucius repeated, incredulously. “When?”

“Fourth year.”

Lucius slammed a hand against the table. “You mean to tell me that while you were out there getting attacked by hippogriffs, Miss Granger was blackmailing one of the most infamous and prolific journalists in the Wizarding World?”

Draco sighed. “The hippogriff was third year. And it was just the one.” 

He chanced a look at his mum, who looked positively chuffed about where this conversation was now headed. His father however, was deep in thought.

Then, as if the words had been plaguing him, Lucius finally voiced them.

“Is the Gringotts thing true? Was that really her?” 

Draco just nodded. No need to fan the flames currently singeing up his loins.

“Fuck.” His father exhaled, eyes wide with something that almost looked like awe. “She’d make a great Malfoy.” Then, as if struck by divine intervention, he muttered, “I need to get another book.”

His mother beamed, not even bothering to harp on Lucius for his language.

Merlin, this was bad.

“I feel like you’re not listening to me when I keep saying this, but it begs to be repeated. We are not together.” If they kept this up, someone was going to need to roll Draco out of here based on the alarming rate at which he was throwing back whiskey.

Then his father’s words caught up to him. Another book?

“What do you mean, another book?” Draco asked, suddenly wary.

“We bought a few books about her and her accomplishments,” his mother explained, ever so casually, as if this were normal behavior. “There’s been quite a few written since the war ended. Your father even has her Chocolate Frog card.”

Draco nearly fell out of his seat. 

What the fuck was going on? And more importantly, were they ever going to bloody eat dinner?

“Had to buy twelve of the blasted sweets just to get one of her cards,” Lucius muttered, clearly still bitter. “Got three Dumbledores.” He shook his head, appalled. “I’ll be sure to let her know, she ought to complain.” 

Then his brows lifted, signaling an idea that Draco immediately wanted gone from existence. “Perhaps I could assist.” His father smirked. “We’d make quite a team.”

Nope. Absolutely not. That was a thought he needed obliviated from his mind immediately.

Draco rubbed his temple before addressing this absolute lunacy. 

“I’m not sure where to even begin. But, no. Absolutely not, to all of it. You’re not to buy anymore books—“

His mother cut in swiftly. “If you’d just introduce us.”

“No.”

“We could have her over for dinner.” His father suggested.

Draco seriously questioned if his parents even knew what dinner was at this point, considering he’d seen nary a crumb since stepping through the Floo thirty minutes ago.

“She’s not coming here again.” He shut that down immediately. He would never make her come back to The Manor. He could barely stomach being here, as that night already haunted him enough in his nightmares. He didn’t need it recreated for him.

“Well maybe we could come over there?” His mother tried.

“No. That’s her home.”

She looked slightly discouraged, but also tremendously hopeful. “You care for her.”

Draco let out another long exhale. “Mother, I fear your hearing has gone and you’re in desperate need of a Healer.”

“Maybe you could just introduce us at the Ministry Gala this weekend?” Lucius offered.

Was anyone listening to him? Had someone cast a Silencio on him before he sat down?

“You’re going to the Gala?” This was news to Draco. “I thought you were still on house arrest?”

Lucius smoothed back his ever perfect hair. “Lifted on the first of the month. Good behaviour,” he said smugly before taking another sip of his Ogden’s. “And a sizable donation to the Minister’s re-election campaign.”

Ah. Good to see some things never changed. Malfoy gold was still paving the way for his questionable family.

“She’s not my date.”

Fuck, he hated that. Fucking Weasleys.

“But, you’re friends,” his mother paused, correcting herself with a devilish smirk, “I’m sorry, roommates. So surely you’ll talk?”

“It’s just an introduction, Draco,” his father sighed. “Just let us apologize.”

Apologize? Draco didn’t think his father had ever even apologized to him, let alone to anyone else. But who was he to stand in the way? She deserved this. An apology from his parents and a real, heartfelt one from him.

“Fine,” Draco huffed. “I’ll introduce you. But nothing weird. None of,” he gestured vaguely around the room, searching for the word, “this.”

His mother did a refined little clap. “Excellent,” she chirped. “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Of course we will,” his father agreed smoothly. “This is perfect, I need to shadow a Muggle as part of my Wizengamot ordered community service.”

Draco’s hands lashed out in frustration. Could they not keep it together for more than a minute? Was this what happened in old age?

“She’s not a muggle.” Draco gritted out. “She’s a witch and dare I say more brilliant and powerful than all of us combined.”

“Yes, yes, Draco. I’m well aware.” Lucius intoned dismissively. “But her parents are.”

Draco sighed once more, pressing his fingers into his eye socket to keep from calling for one more Ogden’s. 

“Can we just eat? I promise to introduce you both.”

“Splendid, darling,” his mother said before calling for Sprig, who popped in a moment later with a perfectly plated Beef Wellington.

“Splendid indeed,” his father agreed. “I do hope the fucking Greengrasses are there. Can’t wait to rub it in Wilberforce’s smug arse face that they’re saddling themselves with a washed up, has-been Quidditch player, while the Malfoy’s are adding the Golden Girl to our family tree.”

“Fucking, Salazar,” Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Though, if he was being completely honest, he did rather like the sound of that. So, for once, he let it slide.

~*~

After what felt like the longest, most trying dinner of his life, Draco stepped back through the Floo into his own living room, doggy bag in hand. Well, kitty bag, more precisely.

He’d been hoping for a quiet night, but to his surprise (and, if he was being honest, delight) Granger was still up, curled in a chair with a book open on her lap. Not that she was reading it, considering both Potter and Theo were there, talking loudly over one another.

“You’re back early,” Theo called out. “And how are Lucius and Narcissa this fine evening?”

Both Granger and Potter turned to look at him, and Draco couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. His parents, of all people, reading fucking books about her. Even he hadn’t gone that far. Though, to be fair, he did have the Chocolate Frog card, but that was by chance. Draco always bought ten at a time and ate them all in a row.

Right. Theo had asked him a question.

“They’re,” He paused, trying to find the right words that didn’t give away the fact that his parents were likely in the process of starting up a Granger fan club. “They’re completely barmy as usual. Though a tad less zealous.”

Debatable.

“I heard your father’s finally off house arrest,” Potter said, absently perusing the bookshelves. Since when did Potter read? “Rumor is they’ll be at the Gala.”

“Sadly, that’s true,” Draco muttered, stealing a quick glance at Granger to sense her reaction, but she didn’t so much as blink.

That was better than he could have hoped for, so he decided to give it a go.

“They want to meet you,” he said tentatively in her direction. “Officially or what not and,” he hesitated, searching her face for any sort of adverse reaction but not finding any. “And, they want to apologize. In person.”

Draco caught the pointed look Theo shot him but chose to ignore it.

“To me?” She asked, pointing to herself as if there were some other Hermione Granger in the room.

He nodded. “Yes, to you.”

She nodded back, clearly turning it over in her mind. “Okay,” she said slowly, nodding some more. “That actually sounds nice. I think I’d like to meet them too.”

Fuck. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“What about me?” Potter chimed in. “Do they want to apologize to me?”

Draco shrugged. “They didn’t mention it.”

Potter was mid-scoff when Blaise’s panther Patronus prowled into the center of the room, its sleek form stretching luxuriously before letting out a long, drawn out roar. Then, Blaise’s voice followed, smooth as ever. 

“Just wanted you all to know, the sky is completely clear tonight and the,” there was a brief pause and what sounded like heavy breathing. Was he working out? 

Blaise’s message continued on. “The Draco constellation is in perfect view. Probably looks amazing from the rooftop.” The panther gave a final flick of his tail before Blaise’s voice cut off abruptly and he vanished.

Silence settled over them for a second before Theo yelled. “What are we all waiting for? To the roof!”

With that, they were off, chasing after Theo as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. 

By the time they reached the third level, Potter, slightly out of breath, turned to ask, “wait? Why are we all running up to see this?”

Draco shot him a withering look. “Why are you here again, Potter? Don’t you have your own home?”

Not waiting for a response, he pushed past him, eager to get through the roof hatch and see his namesake shimmering in the sky.

Stepping out onto the terrace, Draco strode to the edge, tilting his head up toward the near cloudless sky, scanning for his favorite constellation

Granger stepped up beside him. “There it is!” She called out, pointing up before grinning over at him.

And he wanted to look up. He really did. But in that moment, he couldn’t imagine the view getting any better. 

She made the normally endless sky seem finite. The stars looked duller, as if his entire world had shrunk, collapsing inward until she was the only thing at its center.

She was still looking at him, her grin fading as her bottom lip caught between her teeth. And he swore he could hear her breathing through the hum of London traffic below.

This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The moment he would fina—

“So, how long do we stand up here and look at this thing?” 

Potter’s voice shattered the moment, yanking them both back to reality.

Draco exhaled sharply, kneading the back of his neck. Right. They weren’t alone.

Maybe it wasn’t just his parents who were completely barmy. 

Maybe he was too.

*Ginny*

Blaise had Ginny pressed up against a brick wall in an alley not far from his townhouse, his thigh wedged between hers as she moved against it. His lips ghosted over her neck, leaving slow deliberate kisses in his wake.

She moaned softly when his tongue dragged along the shell of her ear, his thigh pressing up further into her, the material of her skirt pooled around her waist and the thin fabric of her knickers rubbing up against the soft warmth of his cashmere trousers.

“What was that?” A Muggle voice drifted down the cobblestone path, just meters away.

Ginny turned her head, biting down on her own shoulder to keep from getting them caught.

Blaise chuckled, the heat of it fanning against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. “Never seen a witch bite herself before,” he murmured, teasing. His fingertips trailed down her collarbone, slow and lazy, stopping them at her nipple which was already taut from the December chill and his previous ministrations.

“Can we go to yours?” He asked, his lips following the path of his fingers.

She rocked against him again, harder this time, barely suppressing a moan.

“Can’t,” she panted. “Angelina’s staying with me while her and Fred—,” She broke off with a gasp as his teeth scraped along her pulse point. A moan slipped out and this time she bit down on Blaise, right at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

He groaned low in his throat. 

“While her and Fred work through their shite,” she finally managed to get out, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She barely had a second to gather herself before he licked the pad of his finger and snaked his hand under her jumper, drawing soft, wet circles over her nipple.

Her head tipped back against the bricks. “Fuck. Can we go to yours?” She whined, struggling to keep it together and failing miserably, just as she had every night she’d spent with him this past week.

It’d only been four days since his birthday and this was now their third night together.

“We can,” Blaise rasped, his own breathing uneven now. “But it’s likely that everyone is home.” He pushed his thigh against her, pressing impossibly closer.

“Can’t you,” her words faltered as his other hand went to pull her knickers to the side, and the next time she ground down it was her bare cunt against his thigh.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Can’t you sneak me in?” She tried again, desperate now. “Distract them or something.”

“Okay, yea,” he bit out. “I can do that. Just, give me a moment to think.”

Even as he considered their next move, his hands found her hips, steadying her as she ground down in just the right spot.

“Right there?” He asked as he continued to circle her over his thigh.

“Yes,” she gasped, barely getting the word out before another moan escaped her.

“Good. I’m going to send a Patronus, telling them to go up to the terrace while you and I slip in through the front door.” 

He pulled down the collar of her jumper, exposing her bra and dipped his head, pressing the softest kiss onto the whisper of lace covering the nipple he’d previously missed, all while continuing to guide her on his thigh.

“I just need you to do two things for me,” he murmured. “Think you can handle that, little lion?”

Ginny’s eyes rolled back as she nodded her head, an airy “yes,” falling from her parted lips.

He chuckled again. “Good. I need you to come for me, right here.”

She keened, her body picking up the pace on its own.

“And, I need you to be quiet. We don’t want any Muggles noticing, or our friends.”

He licked across the lace with the flat of his tongue as he fumbled around in his back pocket, jostling Ginny in the most delicious way.

“If you can be a good girl and do both of those things for me, I’ll fuck you the second we get in my room.” He gazed up at her, pupils blown, as they always were when they were like this. “Can you do that for me?”

Of course she could. Though keeping silent would be near impossible. Fuck, it had only been a few days and she was already in way too deep.

“Yes, yes, just send it,” she whined.

He smirked, lifting his head as he pulled out his wand, swishing it through the air. A large jungle cat leapt down, its form sleek and commanding. Blaise looked up to the sky, his head tilting as if assessing the stars before muttering, “good enough,” with a slight shrug.

His cool, effortless tone filled the alleyway, a stark contrast to the way she rutted against his leg, no more than a wanton mess at this point.

“Just wanted you all to know,” he murmured, his wand held firmly in one hand, while the other drifted lower, fingers teasing at the apex of her thighs.

“The sky is completely clear tonight and the—“ Ginny bit back a moan as the cold silver of his signet ring made contact with her clit. Blaise sent her a knowing smirk.

“The Draco constellation is in perfect view.” 

She tried to listen, but the feeling was truly mind numbing and only a few words managed to break through, though none of them made sense. 

The sky was clear? In December? In London?

Constellations? Did he really think they’d all go stargazing in the middle of the city?

“Probably looks amazing from the rooftop.” 

And with that he jabbed his wand in the air sending his Patronus running without so much as a backward glance.

Blaise quickly slipped his wand back into his pocket, his focus never wavering as he continued his ministrations. Letting her use both his thigh and his ring however she saw fit.

Not a moment later, her orgasm overtook her as he slanted his mouth over hers, swallowing down her cries and coaxing out more as his tongue slid against hers.

He pulled back, staring up at her like she’d just won the Quidditch World Cup and not just come in an alleyway, barely hidden from view while making a complete mess of his trousers.

“You’re perfect.” 

It seemed the words slipped out before he could even catch them, swirling through his head and tumbling past his lips too fast, too true.

“So take me home,” she practically purred.

His grin was wicked as he righted her skirt and pulled her jumper back in place. He grabbed her hand and took off down the lane. They ran, fingers tangled, dodging past their unsuspecting Muggle audience, both clearly too drunk on her orgasm to remember something as simple as apparition.

They tried, halfheartedly, to stifle their giddiness as they tip-toed up the front steps to the large ebony glass door of the townhome. But really, there was no hope for it.

Luckily, their friends had taken the bait and the entryway was deserted, though the pounding of footsteps echoed overhead.

“Did you really tell them to go look at the stars?” Ginny asked incredulously. “And they bought it?”

Blaise laughed, leading her straight to his room, not even bothering to check that they’d all gone up to the roof. “I told them the Draco constellation was out and in perfect view. Big difference.” He threw her a devilish grin.

“There’s no way he cares about that,” she scoffed, shaking her head as they reached his door. “You can’t be serious.”

Blaise barely paused. He pushed the door open, pulling her in behind him and in one swift motion, lifted her, pressing her back against the now closed door. 

“You don’t know Draco very well,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear as his hands gripped her tighter, then moved them along his belt. “He’s obsessed with himself. In any form.”

Ginny laughed. “Just like someone else I know.”

He kissed along her jaw before pulling back ever so slightly.

“Who me?” He asked, feigning offense. 

He cast a quick contraception charm, before tossing his wand carelessly behind him. 

“No, the only thing I’m obsessed with is you.” He kissed the tip of her nose as he slid into her, causing her head to knock back against the door.

Fuck. She hoped tonight never ended. And that their friends were more into Astronomy (or Draco) than she’d previously thought.

~*~

Ginny woke early the next morning with a pounding ache between her legs. Both from last night's many rounds and the unshakeable, maddening need she felt whenever Blaise was near.

Or, honestly, just the thought of him.

She slid out of bed, scanning the floor for scattered clothes.

Fuck. Were those her knickers on the lampshade?

She snatched them up, hurriedly pulling her clothes on before ducking into the loo, getting ready as quickly as possible to make a clean break for it before Hermione or anyone else woke up.

“Leaving so soon?”

Shite. So much for sneaking out. Resisting him was hard enough when she wasn’t face to face with him. It was like she was a horny fifth year again or some love drunk girl hopped up on Amortentia.

Not that she was in love.

If she was in love with anything, which she wasn’t, it was his cock.

She pulled on her boot, hopping closer to the door, desperate for space. “This was the last time.”

Blaise stretched, a lazy, knowing grin etched on his face. “That’s what you said the last two times.”

“Yea, well, I mean it this time.”

She didn’t. And he knew it.

“Alright, then how about one more go before you leave?” Blaise shifted up against the headboard, putting his abs on full display.

Stay strong, Ginny. Stay strong. 

“I’ve got training today and I need to get out before Hermione’s up.”

“Suit yourself.” He gestured toward the door as if he were ushering her out. “See you around then.”

“Yea, see you around.” She nodded, slipping out into the hall, peering around corners as she went.

She was just coming up to the kitchen when she heard Hermione and Theo arguing. 

“Theo, that’s ridiculous. She asked you to file the SLOGs, that doesn’t mean she wants to sleep with you.”

“You didn’t hear how she said it though!” Theo cried as Ginny dove behind an absurdly large potted plant. “She really dragged out the S sound, and I swear she was licking her lips when she said it.”

“Well she always does that, her lips are weirdly chapped. She just needs a good lippy.”

“More like she wants to give me a good lippy.” Theo’s riotous laugh echoed down the hall as Ginny bolted back toward safety.

“Jar!” Hermione yelled just as she slipped back into Blaise’s room.

Blaise didn’t even look surprised. “Back so soon?”

She wasted no time, pulling her jumper over her head and kicking off her skirt and boots before crawling on top of him.

“Now, where were we?”

He slid down the headboard, the smirk never leaving his lips as he laid flat and pulled her up to sit on his face.

“I think we were right here,” he said, his breath brushing against her clit, before she grasped hold of the headboard and fully let herself go.

*Hermione*

Hermione came home from work that Friday to find a large, violently purple parcel waiting for her.

The Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes logo flashed across the sides, the whole thing humming ominously.

Just as she reached to prod it with her wand, her Nimble Notes buzzed. Well, buzzed was what it normally did. This was more of a screeching alarm.

Swearing under her breath, she shoved her hand into her bag, elbow deep, fumbling for the damn thing as the noise only grew louder, each ring more insistent.

“Fucking Fred and George,” she muttered, finally grabbing hold of it. The moment she pulled it free, it flashed in a dizzying array of colors and started vibrating.  

Fred: Goldie, we sent you a package!

George: Consider it an early Christmas present from yours truly.

Fred: More like a Christmas present for all your new friends.

Fred: You’re such a trailblazer, befriending all those snakes.

George: And you’re so brilliant.

Fred: And funny.

George: Not to mention brave, courageous, determined. All that shite.

Fred: And beautiful. Quite the looker, really.

Merlin.

Hermione: I would say thanks, but I have the distinct feeling that I’m about to regret ever befriending Ron and, in turn, meeting the two of you.

George: You wound us.

Fred: As if you and ickle Ronnie being friends was a prerequisite to our little threesome.

Hermione needed to get her mind out of the rubbish bin, again, because whenever Fred called them a threesome, it sent her thoughts somewhere they absolutely did not need to be.

Though, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to think of anyone other than her blonde prat of a roommate who kept infiltrating her mind every night when she was alone. And every other moment of the day,  if she were being honest.

Hermione: So what is it that you want from me? Or, as I’ve gathered, from my friends?

George: And she’s back!

Fred: My favorite of the Golden Trio.

George: Everyone’s favorite, be honest.

Hermione: Get on with it.

Fred: We’re just looking for a bit of advertising.

George: You know, let the Wizarding World see their treasured new stars of the Daily Prophet with their “favorite new device that they’d be absolutely lost without.”

Fred: The “It Gift” of the Holiday season.

George: The “hot, new apparatus enchanted with our latest and greatest Spellware” that The Hermione Granger simply could not imagine living without.

Fred: “Intuitive and easy to use,” even for stuffy old Purebloods still working against centuries of incest that have surely addled their brains.

And that did it. Any lingering, wildly inappropriate thoughts about a threesome with the two of them vanished in an instant, as it always did. They would never, ever be able to shut the fuck up.

Hermione: Please stop.

Fred: So, you’ll do it?

Hermione: Yes. I’ll make sure we’re all seen out and about with the Nimble Notes and will make a few asinine statements about how it’s my “preferred form of communication in the Wizarding World.”

Fred: Has anyone ever told you, you’re a genius?

Hermione: If! And only if you turn off that blasted alarm feature.

George: Hermione, love, we’ve been over this.

Fred: The alarm is what makes you be nimble!

Hermione: It’s not practical!

George: And who gives a Peter Pettigrew’s arse about practicality?!

Fred: Surely, not us.

Hermione: Then we haven’t got a deal.

Hermione: Goodnight, boys.

Fred: Wait!

George: We’ll take it under advisement.

Fred: Yes, advisement. Discuss it with our investors.

Hermione: That’s literally the two of you plus Ron and Harry.

George: Yes and as businessmen, we are beholden to our investors…..it’s a real travesty.

Fred: It’s in review, Goldie. Top of the list.

George: So? Do we have ourselves a deal?

She knew damn well that “under advisement” meant next to nothing. Though maybe she could talk to Harry, get him to talk some sense into them. 

And ultimately, how bad could it be? So they all had Nimble Notes. What’s the harm?

Hermione: Fine. Deal.

Chapter Text

*Draco*

“How do you work this fucking thing?” Draco cursed, leaning against the Ministry atrium wall, which was decked out in garlands of evergreen and twinkling fairy lights. He was struggling, and failing, to get his Nimble Notes to shut the hell up.

“Tap the screen, input your password, click the little owl with a note,” Pansy said with a smug grin. “Fuck, that’s cute. Then open the one that’s blinking.” 

She looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Honestly, it’s not fixing a vanishing cabinet, Draco, it’s a Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes product. It’s intuitive. Easy to use.”

She parroted the tagline flawlessly, nails clicking against her screen. The whole thing, quite frankly, gave Draco a headache. 

The bright lights and cacophony of sound it emitted? He could absolutely do without.

Almost as bad as having to endure Celestina Warbeck and her merry band of carolers crooning from the snow dusted, sparkling stage. 

Clearly Shacklebolt had spared no expense for the Holiday Gala. Re-election season and all that.

Pansy shrugged. “Though maybe there’s just a tad too much incest in the Black family tree. Fairly certain someone was shagging a cousin this century.”

“Shagging cousins?” Theo slid up beside them, one arm casually looped around Ginny’s waist, the other cradling a tumbler of firewhiskey. “Are the Crabbes at it again?”

Pansy giggled as Ginny made a face, her opinion on purebloods written all over it. Draco tended to agree.

“No,” Pansy said, lips pursed in thought. “Well, maybe. Could be actually, would explain a few things. But, I was referring to why Draco can’t figure out how to read a message on his Nimble Notes.”

Theo snorted, wiping a bit of firewhiskey off his chin. “You don’t get how to use it? It’s intuitive. Easy to use. Even a dusty old pureblood could….” He paused, the dots connecting. “Actually, yea, that tracks.”

Draco flipped him off while still fumbling with the device. Ginny, more generous than either Pansy or Theo, snatched it from his hands, tapped a few things and opened the new message, effectively silencing it.

He nodded his thanks and floated down three flutes of champagne from a passing tray, each adorned with sugar that looked like sparking snow, and guided them off to their recipients with practiced ease.

Where a tie would’ve been on any normal person, Theo had his Nimble Notes dangling from a sapphire encrusted chain around his neck that matched his velvet midnight suit perfectly.

“What the fuck is that?” Draco asked, visibly appalled.

Theo’s eyes twinkled as he lifted the apparatus into his palm, tilting it just enough to catch the light, ensuring both their group and anyone within ten meters was thoroughly blinded by the gleam off the obscene gemstones.

“Goblin made. Commissioned it especially for tonight,” he said proudly as Draco just stared. “One of a kind.”

“It’s amazing how much effort you put into being a wanker,” Draco drawled, taking a slow sip of his champagne.

“Whereas for you, it just comes naturally,” Theo shot back.

“Likely a symptom of all the incest.” Ginny added with a smirk.

Theo threw his head back laughing, and Draco could’ve sworn he heard Pansy snort behind her champagne.

“Red, you’re a fantastic date. You introduced me to all the Harpies, you roast this posh twat, and you look positively stunning in that icy blue frock.” He spun Ginny around once, then pulled her back in. “It’s honestly a shame I’m gay. We could be quite the pair.’

“You think you and anyone would be, ‘quite the pair,’” Pansy teased.

“Just call it like I see it, Pans.” 

Right then, all their Nimble Notes started chiming in unison.

Draco questioned why he was a part of this.

Or why anyone would want to be a part of this.

Ginny laughed, her fingers tapping out a steady staccato on the screen.

Theo snorted as he read her message.

He’d been waiting for someone to ask.

Both Pansy and Theo looked to him as he quickly hid his curiosity behind another long sip of bubbly.

Their Nimble Notes went off again. And this time, Draco wanted to see.

Ginny looked up suddenly, like she’d just remembered something crucial. “Has anyone seen Krum yet?”

“No. Though I’ve been keeping an eye out for Daphne and Tori.” Pansy said, craning her neck to look around. “Tracey told me they’ll both be here. Apparently, Tori’s coming with one of the beaters on Krum’s team.”

They all glanced at Draco, who was also looking around for the giant oaf and didn’t notice the collective attention until a beat too late. 

“Why are you lot looking at me?”

Theo shrugged. “Oh, no reason. One’s your ex and the other is the gir—“

Draco cut him off, knowing exactly where Theo was headed. “She’s not my ex. What we did was barely considered dating.”

“Is that code for ‘just in it for a shag’?” Ginny asked, a smirk to match Theo’s playing across her lips.

He narrowed his gaze at her as the other’s chuckled. “That’s not what I meant.” He knew she was well aware. She was trouble, exactly like the rest of them. 

“We were only together because of the marriage contract. I never would’ve chosen to be with her.” He paused, swallowing hard. “She’s not my type.”

Pansy didn’t even blink. “We’re all well aware, Draco.”

The buzzing started again.

And just like last time, Draco was curious. And thankful since it had, mercifully, saved him from an unwanted conversation.

“Male Weasley is part of the chat?” Draco asked, looking scandalized. “Who set this up?”

Draco noticed Ginny grimace slightly at the latest exchange, but then he was quickly pulled back under the spell of his Nimble Notes.

Because her name lit up the screen, making his pulse kick up a notch.

Draco’s heart gave an irritating little jolt at the sight of her name and his name, in the same sentence.

“Just show me how to use this bloody thing,” Draco groaned. “How do I make the words?”

Theo cackled, eyes gleaming as he brought the Nimble Notes back up to his face.

“You’re such a fucking cunt.”

“I’ll show you,” Pansy grinned, entirely too pleased, “but only because I like you. And this is honestly just sad.”

Ginny snorted, her Nimble Notes chiming again. Draco found himself unconsciously looking down, hoping that the next message might be from Granger. Preferably telling Weasley and Theo off for being absolute ponces.

“Oh fuck,” Ginny hissed rather loudly, causing a middle aged witch and wizard nearby to send twin looks of judgement their way.

Ginny offered them a cheery little wave before carrying on. “Theo, my delectable date, we’ve got to scurry back to the Games and Sports table,” she moaned dramatically. “Apparently, we’re needed for league holiday photos. Which means—“

“We’re about to get chummy with Krum, Daph and Tori,” Theo said a little too excitedly, before he glanced sideways at Ginny. “And your ex, right? Wood will be there too?” Theo was incapable of asking this without laughing and putting too great an emphasis on ‘Wood.’

Ginny smirked. “Yes, Oliver will also be there. Should be great fun.”

She turned back to Pansy and Draco. “We’ll see you in a bit. If you see Hermione, tell her where I went. And that she looks fab, obviously!” She pointed straight at Draco for that one, holding his gaze and giving him a look.

Theo began tugging her away, flashing Draco a shit-eating grin and waggling his eyebrows. “Good luck with the words, mate. I believe in you."

Draco flipped him off again, earning yet another gasp of disapproval from the same horrified witch nearby. Honestly, they’d all fought in a fucking war, but one middle finger was what sent these people spiraling?

As Theo and Ginny disappeared into the crowd beneath the twinkling canopy of enchanted snowflakes and evergreens, Draco could still hear their voices echoing through the atrium.

“So how many Wood cock jokes are too many?”

“Oh, I don’t believe there’s a limit,” Ginny replied sweetly. “Whenever you feel one building up, just let it come.”

Theo once again howled with laughter, loud and unbothered, as they vanished into the enchanted winter forest together.

*Harry*

“That’s a lot to remember,” Ron huffed, staring at Hermione like she’d just asked him to recite back the opening chapter of A History of Magic.

Harry rolled his eyes. It truly wasn’t. But he held his tongue, especially as he caught the look Hermione shot Ron from where she stood beside Charlie, currently being photographed by one of Parvati’s Witch Weekly colleagues.

“It’s three things, Ronald.” 

The photographer was manhandling them into position. Charlie’s finger’s snug around the small of Hermione’s waist, while hers were clutching her Nimble Notes as if it was a wand and they were in the heart of battle, the other frozen mid-tap. Harry still had no idea how the Weasley twins had convinced both the Ministry and the magazine to center the bloody device in half the gala’s coverage.

Hermione kept smiling. Sharp, dazzling, terrifying, as she muttered through gritted teeth.

“Happy Christmas. Kingsley is a fantastic Minister and should remain in power. And, look at my new, flashy Nimble Notes, the ‘It Gift’ this holiday season.”

Charlie choked out a laugh and gave her waist a subtle squeeze, just as Blaise’s smooth drawl floated over, the classic Slytherin smirk embossed on his lips. “Isn’t it your fucking product, Weasley? As you just reminded us all, not ten minutes ago.”

Ron turned the exact shade of his crushed velvet suit, which perfectly matched both his hair and Parvati’s low cut, sequined dress. 

It was definitely a look..…very Christmassy. Very festive. Very loud. Slightly offensive to the eye.

“I can’t imagine liking you less,” Ron intoned, staring blindly at Blaise.

Well, that wasn’t very Christmassy. 

Harry chuckled to himself, earning twin glares from both wizards. 

Fuck. These drinks Seamus had brewed up were too smooth. He’d already knocked back two Drinks That Shall Not Be Named, they were killer and absolutely delicious.

“Oh, believe me, you could.” Blaise replied smoothly as if he knew something they didn’t. He threw a wink at Harry before casually slipping an arm around his waist.

Harry shook him off, for what had to be the fifth time that evening. 

“What are you doing Zabini?”

“I’m your date,” Blaise said with mock hurt. “Or do you not remember? You wound me, Potter.” 

The twat was most certainly not wounded.

“Alright, you lot are done,” the photographer called. “Kingsley, you’re up. Then we’re all set.”

“Ready for our big moment?” Blaise arched one perfectly shaped brow. “Should I dip you at the bottom of the stairs? Give you a spin? What about a sneaky snog?” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m definitely not up for our tongues touching, but I may be able to swallow back the bile for a quick peck.”

Harry tossed back the rest of his drink and shook his head sharply. Why the fuck had he agreed to this?

Oh, right. Because Theo had snogged him senseless on that bloody bus, ran his hands all over him in the most toe curling way possible and then jumped at the opportunity to take Ginny to the gala.

Well, two could play that game.

“Merlin, no tongue.” Harry said flatly. “If your tongue gets anywhere near mine, I’ll scream.”

“The scream might be what causes our tongues to touch,” Blaise pondered. “Just, you know. Mouth logistics.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and made a conscious decision not to dignify that with a reply.

“A peck. That is all.”

Blaise’s grin turned diabolical. “Okay, but promise me, Potter, you won’t go falling in love with me.”

“You’re such a fucking wanker.”

Harry ignored Blaise’s chortles and made his way toward Hermione, who was leaning forward slightly over the rail, peering down the winding staircase, undoubtedly searching the crowd for a certain platinum haired git.

Blaise slid into line beside him, idly tapping away on his Nimble Notes.

“Who are you messaging?” Harry asked, tilting his head.

Blaise grinned. “Slytherin group chat. Letting them know I’m about to suck face with the Chosen One.”

Hermione let out a tiny snort. “That should be sufficient in overshadowing my not being here with Krum.”

“And the fit dragon tamer on your arm,” Charlie added with a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease.

She winked up at him.

“Granger,” Blaise said, tucking one of her curls behind her ear, though it didn’t stay long. Her hair was wild tonight, practically enchanting and utterly Hermione. “I promise to try my absolute damndest to steal the Prophet’s attention from you.”

He glanced her over, lips twitching. “Though, given you look like that, it’s going to be a bit of a challenge.”

Under his breath, he muttered “Impossible, if Draco were running the Prophet.”

Hermione missed it, distracted by the rising hum of chatter drifting up from the floor below.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “That’s quite a lot of chest you’ve got on display. Sure to turn some heads.”

Blaise grinned and gave an exaggerated flex as his Nimble Notes buzzed, “just being festive.”

Harry glanced down at Blaise’s glowing screen and instantly regretted it.

“Are you mental?” Harry asked incredulously, reading Blaise’s earlier messages.

Another buzz. And again he couldn’t help but read over Blaise’s shoulder once more.

What the hell was Theo on about? Did their hook up mean nothing to him? Harry had thought Theo was just playing some game with this date switch up, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Was he actually apathetic? Or just transfiguring his abundance of interest to look like none?

Either way, Harry was done wondering.

Tonight, he was going to get to the bottom of it. Gala be damned.

*Pansy*

“Another drink?” Pansy asked. 

Draco nodded, and the two of them drifted toward the bar, an elaborate setup framed in evergreens dripping with silver and gold baubles. Real fairies flitted between snow dusted branches, casting a soft, ambient glow over everything.

“A champagne and an Ogden’s please,” Draco said, sliding five galleons across the frosted bar.

The bartender grinned but shook his head, nodding toward a gilded, overly ornate frame off to the side.

Pansy read it, then huffed out a small laugh as Draco sighed beside her. Hermione had mentioned, Seamus’s pub, The Wandering Wand, was bartending the event. Apparently, they were also responsible for naming the drinks.

She attempted to stifle another giggle, absolutely delighted as Draco begrudgingly amended their order. 

“We’ll have a Buckbeak’s Fizz and a Chestnuts Roasting on an Open-Firewhiskey,” he muttered.

“Shut it, Pans,” he growled, as she giggled louder.

“Coming right up!” Cheered the bartender. 

Seven different bottles floated into the air, pouring from various heights into a pair of crystal shakers carved from ice. With a flick of his wand the bartender sent both shakers spiraling overhead in a graceful arc. Snow whipped around them as they mixed, chilling the drinks before pouring into a frost-rimmed tumbler and glittering coupe.

“And are you two on the naughty or nice list this year?”

Pansy flashed a grin. “Naughty, obviously. Especially this one.” She nudged Draco as he continued to look annoyed.

The bartender chuckled, conjuring a red cloud of smoke that settled delicately over their glasses, leaving a swirl of crimson shimmer across the top. He finished each with a cinnamon stick wand.

Draco looked like he wanted to do anything but pick up the ridiculous cocktails. Except that he clearly did.

He plucked both drinks off the bar, handing one to Pansy before taking a sip of his own.

“Fuck, that’s bloody delicious,” he cursed under his breath. 

Pansy had to agree, she had never been too keen on Buckbeak, but his fizz tasted divine.

Draco slid another five galleons over to the bartender without a second thought, and they began to amble off, only to be interrupted.

“Didn’t realize you were the festive type?”

Dawlish’s voice, gruff and eternally unimpressed, cut through the chatter causing them to pause mid-step. Pansy and Draco turned as one.

Draco was watching him with a shrewd, knowing expression, and Pansy caught the moment recognition dawned in Dawlish’s eyes when he finally looked at her.

“I love the holiday season,” Draco said flatly, not so much as cracking a smile. “I exude Christmas cheer.”

Pansy giggled into her drink, some of the shimmer rising from the surface and dusting her cheeks, blending with the flush already warming her skin.

Dawlish snorted before turning to her. “You look different from the last time I saw you.”

She swirled her glass lazily, feigning indifference. “You caught me in an inopportune moment.”

“A low spot?” He asked, smirking slightly, clearly hoping to get a rise out of her.

“I didn’t say that,” she sniffed. “I don’t have low spots.”

“Watch it, Dawlish.” Draco warned, taking another long sip of his cocktail he’d apparently fallen for. “You’re lucky she was tame the last time you saw her. She once headbutted a girl for showing up to a house party in a similar dress.”

Pansy smiled and nodded, remembering Romilda Vane and how she never showed up at a Slytherin party again.

“So you can do it all. Take down a witch and show up looking flawless to a gala.” Dawlish’s gaze drifted down her throat, lingering a little too long on her cleavage peeking out from her black and bronze corseted bodice. 

The compliment was there but his jaw was tight and his expression oddly resigned.

She chose to accept it but ignore the edge, chalking it up to the surliness she’d witnessed in Dawlish so far.

“I’m a renaissance woman,” she said with a wink. “What can I say?”

Just then the music cut, and a deep voice echoed through the atrium.

“Good Evening witches and wizards. We are delighted to have you here tonight to celebrate the holiday season. It’s my pleasure to introduce our guests of honor.”

Dawlish dipped his head, speaking in a hushed tone. “That’s my cue. Off to wait for Kingsley.”

“Malfoy. Miss Parkinson,” he nodded, casting Pansy another glance before heading in the direction of the grand sweeping staircase, its bannisters glistening with enchanted icicles.

Pansy watched him walk away, but she turned right before he looked back over his shoulder, trying to catch one more glimpse of her.

*Draco*

No sooner had Dawlish disappeared than his parents materialized, looking impossibly pristine and wildly out of character, outfitted in the height of Muggle fashion.

Before any of them could speak, the booming voice rang out again.

“Mr. Ronald Weasley and Mrs. Parvati Weasley, née Patil.”

Weasley and Patil (and no, Draco would not be calling her Weasley as well, there were already far too many of them) began descending the grand staircase decked out in scarlet velvet and enough sparkles to blind mere mortals.

“Hello, Darling,” his mother said in a hushed tone, air kissing both his cheeks. “And Pansy, you look lovely as always.”

“As do you,” Pansy replied, nodding toward Narcissa’s gown. “The lavender is perfect. Unexpected, yet dashing for the holidays. I told you, those Muggle designers in Paris are decades ahead of the wizarding ones here.”

Narcissa ran an elegant hand over the delicate beading on her gown, clearly pleased. A delighted smile danced across her lips as she trilled, “same designer as Miss Granger’s, no?”

His mother snuck a look over at him, and he once again wondered how she had ever fooled the Dark Lord. Her thoughts practically lit up across her face, sharp and sparkling on her cheekbones.

“The very same.” Pansy chanced a look at him, her eyes glittering in mischief. “As is Draco’s suit.”

He sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. And the gala had barely even begun. Wonderful.

“Did we miss her?” His father asked, nodding his greeting before lifting Pansy’s hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

Draco refused to answer, on principle.

“Has Miss Granger arrived?” Lucius pressed again, apparently still in the throes of his extremely inconvenient obsession.

Great. This was sure to go over well.

“Oh, trust me, you can’t miss her.” Pansy said sweetly, glancing sideways at Draco. 

And then, with impeccable timing, she nodded toward the top of the staircase. “She’s just about to enter.”

The voice was back, introducing her and yet another fucking Weasley.

“Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Charlie Weasley."

Everything around him stilled, the crowd blurred, the noise dulled and there was only her.

At least, that’s how it felt to Draco.

And maybe Lucius, too. Though it was different for the two Malfoy men. Lucius was merely a fanatic, it was who he was. Draco had far surpassed that. He was now completely overwhelmed.

Her dress was all shades of gold, shifting like sunlight and matching Draco’s suit coat perfectly. The skirt floated around her with every step and the bodice hugged her frame like it had been painted onto her skin, highlighting her shoulders, her collar bones, the long, lithe column of her throat.

And then there was the cutout. Just at her ribs, where her tanned skin peeked through. Dusted in freckles, even there.

Were they everywhere, he wondered.

He lifted his glass to distract himself, to appear unfazed, but it was woefully empty. Much like his head at the moment, as every drop of his Pure blood had decided to race downward at full speed, like it was trying to win the house cup.

It was then that he noticed her hair.

Her fucking hair.

It was everywhere. Wild, beautiful, haloing around her face and tumbling down her back in untamed spirals.

Everywhere except for between his fingers, which is exactly where he wanted it to be.

His empty hand flexed involuntarily as she reached the bottom of the staircase, glanced around as if she'd lost something, then got swept into the crowd, moving in the opposite direction.

He faintly heard the telltale sound of a Nimble Notes but ignored it. It clearly wasn’t a message from her, so why should he care.

“And they don’t know?” His mother mused beside him.

“Completely clueless.” Pansy said, sipping her drink.

“Seems rather obvious,” Lucius murmured, voice laced with dry amusement.

Draco hadn’t really been listening. He was still trying to search for a flash of gold or a crown of curls.

“You’d either have to be an idiot,” Pansy continued, “or the brightest witch of our age not to notice.” 

Both his parents laughed lightly, the sound accompanied by that ever present buzzing.

Draco rolled his eyes. Not this again.

“I don’t like her,” he said as he looked down to check his messages, but saw none there.

Was he hearing phantom noises?

Or had she broken his brain?

Quite possible.

Pansy reached up and patted him on the head, musing up his carefully styled hair. “Like I said, an idiot.”

“Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Blaise Zabini.” 

The announcement echoed through the atrium and Draco watched as the pair descended the stairs, seemingly lost in a battle of wills. Their mouths moved fast and a not so friendly tug of war was going on between their linked arms.

Draco hated that he could guess exactly what they were arguing about. This was about them snogging. 

Merlin, how did they end up here?

Everyone wanted to call him an idiot, but what about this? At least he wasn’t making plans to snog Pansy in a ploy to make Granger jealous.

He once again scanned the crowd trying to find her. That fucking Weasley getting to be her date. Is this what his life was going to come down to? Always being jealous of one Weasley or another because they got his girl. 

Not that she was ‘his girl,’ but in his daydreams he was free to call her whatever he wanted. And fuck did he want to call her his.

Potter and Blaise had reached the bottom of the staircase and veered off in the direction Granger had gone. Draco figured the bickering on the stairs had lead to them realizing the kiss was a very bad idea, thank fuck.

But just as he exhaled a small breath of relief, Blaise dipped Potter dramatically and smashed his face against his own in a kiss that hid not only Potter’s scar but also all resemblance of their decorum.

“That looks like a lot of tongue,” Lucius observed, as if he saw this sort of thing everyday.

“Charming,” Draco remarked dryly. “And not at all out of place at an event with your professional peers.”

His mother tilted her head, trying to get a better look. “Times have changed, my dragon. You should see some of the Muggle films your father and I watch.” 

Pansy let out a sharp laugh just as Potter stumbled upright, looking half crazed, and dragged a grinning Blaise off into the crowd.

Draco decided, for the sake of his own sanity, not to dwell on either Potter and Blaise’s current drama or the deeply concerning cinematic tastes of his parents. What the fuck kind of films were they watching exactly? No, he had enough bubbling in his cauldron without tossing that in as well. So, he decided to redirect his attention to more productive things. Like finding Granger and getting another drink. She was likely parched, and they were delicious. Win, win.

Before Draco could ask if anyone else fancied one, Lucius piped up. 

“We’ll see you kids around,” he said, twining his arm through Narcissa’s as he looked over the crowd, eyes locked on Kingsley. “I’ve just come into a bit of gold I’ve no immediate use for. Maybe the Minister will have some thoughts.”

He smirked knowingly at Draco as he twirled his wand through his fingers, the tiny monitoring charm clipped to it flashing faintly before Lucius tucked it up his shiny, brocade lavender sleeve.

Draco ignored the not so subtle hints at bribery, as he’d been taught to do his whole life. At least this was in service of the greater good. Still, he leveled his parents with a look.

“Do not speak to her.” He glared at them hard. “I’ll introduce you, but no blindsiding her.”

Narcissa turned to Lucius, “do you know what he’s talking about, dear?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Lucius replied smoothly. They both strode off arm in arm, matching Malfoy grins etched on their faces.

Draco once again tilted his drink back and came up empty. “Fuck.” 

Right. He was in search of another drink and a curly haired know it all, who was far too good at disappearing in a crowd.

He once again popped his head up, in search of her.

“You know,” Pansy started, pursing her lips in a dramatic pout. “I feel like I’m at the Yule Ball all over again.”

“I’m not following,”Draco muttered, only half listening, but well aware of what she was trying to imply. Pans was nothing if not predictable. So easy to read.

She giggled mischievously, clearly enjoying herself. “Sure you’re not, Draco,” Pansy taunted. “Though I have to say, her hair looked far better in fourth year. All straight and sleek. Not this wild mane she has going on now.”

Draco’s head snapped toward her, the words leaving his mouth well before his brain could approve them.

“Absolutely not, her curls are perfect. I lo—“

Pansy, mid-sip, choked slightly as she snorted a bit of her drink out through her nose, somehow still managing to look graceful. 

“You’re too easy,” she said, grinning wickedly. “I didn’t think that was going to work on the first try.”

“Fuck off,” Draco groaned and started walking to the bar.

“Just no shagging me later tonight and calling out her name,” she joked, running after him, heels clacking as she tried to catch up.

Draco groaned, now positively desperate to throw back another Chestnuts Roasting on an Open-Firewhiskey and to never attend another winter party with Pansy as his date again.

Chapter Text

*Ginny*

“Well, that was lovely,” Theo drawled, eyes locked on Ginny’s with a look that said the exact opposite.

They’d just survived the endless round of photos, first with the entire league, then a few more where all the dates were dragged in too. Luckily, with so many players (some of them built like trolls) they’d managed to avoid Oliver entirely and had a small buffer between themselves and Krum and Daphne.

Ginny laughed, “Honestly, the fact that I didn’t hex anyone feels like a personal win. Or go full Hermione and Pansy and just beat their arses.” She let out a loud sigh. “Though, fuck, that sounds cathartic.”

“Night’s still young,” Theo said, a wicked glint in his eye. “Also, totally saw you nudge Robbins so she knocked Daphne out of that last frame.”

She scoffed, all for show, not put out in the slightest. “Like I didn’t see that itching jinx you tossed at Astoria?” Her brow arched in question.

Theo just barked out a laugh. 

Astoria had bolted, her date trailing after her on the way to the loo, shoving guests aside like rogue Bludgers and weaving through the scattered pines and glistening tabletops with utter desperation. It had been quite the sight… but still not enough. An inconvenient itch hardly felt like fair penance for insulting her best friend.

“Cheers to us being petty bitches.” Ginny grinned, clinking her glass against his.

“No one gives pettiness enough credit,” Theo bemoaned. “It’s all bravery this and ambition that. But on a night like this? Nothing hits quite like being petty with friends.”

“Are you calling us friends, Theodore Nott?” Ginny asked, her eyes going wide.

“Why, I think I am, Weasley.”

Ginny giggled and was about to agree when a tall figure stepped in front of them, casting her in shadow.

Seemed their luck was ending. Or just beginning if the look on Theo’s face was any indication.

“No time like the present,” Theo muttered under his breath.

Both Daphne and Krum were decked out in green, looking like they’d been primped and prodded within an inch of their lives. Krum’s hair was slicked back so severely that it gave her flashbacks of a school-aged Malfoy. Was that some sort of traditional pureblood aesthetic? Ginny had always thought it was just an unfortunate phase boys went through after getting their hands on their first bottle of Sleekeazy’s. But apparently not. Clearly, this was a look Daphne preferred, because Ginny had never once seen Krum look so ridiculous in all the years he’d been with Hermione.

Ginny slapped on a dazzling smile that was just a touch too wide to be comforting. “Evening, Krum. What brings you here?”

Krum blinked at her, confused, as this was a Ministry Gala. All personnel and Quidditch players were invited, being under the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Daphne, however, didn’t miss a beat. “We were invited, just like you, Miss Weasley,” she said smoothly, looping her arm through Krum’s. “Viktor is an international Quidditch star after all.” 

“Oh, of course. My mistake, I just know you sat out the last game—”

Viktor scowled, but once again, it was Daphne who swooped in, her tone turning icy. “That was due to an injury, as I’m sure you’re well aware.” She fit in a little too well with the winter forest surrounding them.

Ginny shrugged, unbothered. “Thought it might've been due to your slower ascents.” She turned to Theo as if talking just to him now. “Possibly a new trainer?”

She could feel Theo fighting back a grin as he nodded along, all business.

“New trainer?” Krum echoed, baffled. “I don’t have a new trainer. Slower ascent speeds?” He said it like the words personally offended him. Like the word ‘slow’ had never once been uttered in the same sentence as ‘Krum.’

“My dad used to be quick as a whip on a broom,” Ginny mused, lifting her drink to hide her grin. “But age, I’ve heard, just sort of sucks the stamina right out of you.” 

She couldn’t decide who looked more horrified, Krum at the thought of his athletic peak being compared to a middle-aged Ministry worker, or Daphne at the idea of her prized boyfriend no longer being a shiny trophy for her to parade around.

“Maybe your brothers could invent something,” Theo offered, tapping his temple. “A new sweet to combat the side effects of aging?” 

Theo then gasped theatrically, as if a brilliant idea had just popped into his head. He extended a hand toward Krum, offering the advice up as a spectacularly wrapped gift. “Or a Pepper-Up Potion. Might help get those ascents back to their former glory.”

“Yes!” Ginny exclaimed far too loudly, drawing the attention of more than a few nearby guests. “Harry mentioned Dumbledore took them daily in his later years. Really put the pep in his step and that twinkle in his eye.”

She could feel Theo trembling beside her with the effort of holding in his laughter. Which must have been agony; she’d never met someone who laughed as easily or as often.

Krum looked as if he wanted to respond, but his jaw just hung open. Even Daphne appeared at a loss, her usual sharpness dulled now that a few others had started eavesdropping. She clearly didn’t want to encourage Ginny and Theo or sound catty in front of the other players and WAGs.

A voice rang out, deep and warm, echoing through the enchanted pine trees and knocking loose a light dusting of snow from the branches overhead.

“Good Evening, witches and wizards. We are delighted to have you here tonight to celebrate the holiday season. It’s my pleasure to introduce our guests of honor.”

Finally.

Ginny was dying to check in with Hermione.

And see Blaise.

She hadn’t seen him in two days, and that was two days too long; though she’d never admit that out loud. It was hard enough thinking it. Ginny found herself craving him at all hours of the day. The sex was just too good. And that was all it was, a fucking great shag. No emotions, no messy feelings involved. Just an all-consuming carnal need to have his body on hers. 

“Well, we must be off. Golden Trio nonsense, you know,” Theo said brightly, clearly on the same page as her. “Can’t miss Boy Wonder and our Golden Girl.” He cast a look Ginny’s way, before adding, “Oh, and your brother, of course.”

He turned back to Krum and Daphne. “Lovely running into you both. Or more like shuffling with those old knees, am I right?” He nudged Krum’s large shoulder, the latter not so much as swaying, as if he had rooted into the ground like the pine trees around them.

Daphne’s grip on Krum’s thick arm tightened as if frightened he may run off at the mere hint of Hermione. And judging by the pinched look on his face, he seemed to take the casual mention like a Bludger to the bollocks.

“Truly lovely,” Ginny agreed with a saccharine smile. “And Daphne, that dress is stunning. Fleur wore the same one two years ago to the Holiday Gala, and I adored it then too.”

Theo slid his arm around Ginny’s shoulders like they were longtime lovers and not new-found friends bound by quick wit and mutual pettiness. He steered them toward the grand staircase, leaving both Daphne and Krum fuming.

Still not quite satisfied, Ginny tossed one final look over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling beneath the fairy lights.

“Oh, and tell Astoria I’m game whenever she is,” she said sweetly. “Seems only fair since we both missed out on the brawl.”

Once they were out of sight, tucked behind an overgrown pair of evergreens, they both bent over in laughter.

“I think you just about killed her with that dress comment,” Theo wheezed. “The blood drained from her face so fast she looked like a Malfoy. And don’t tell him I said this, but Draco’s probably the only person on the planet who can pull off that level of pallor and still look good. Or even alive.”

“A Pepper-Up Potion,” Ginny gasped between snorts, still catching her breath. “Even my great grand-dad doesn’t need one daily. And the bum knee. Godric.” She straightened, still grinning madly, positively high off their scintillating, one-sided conversation. “Fuck, that was fun.”

They were just about to continue their fun and find their friends when Oliver Wood and his date sauntered up next to them, blocking their view of Ron and Parvati about to make their way down the staircase.

“Evening, Gin,” Wood greeted dryly. “You look nice.”

His gaze dragged slowly down her figure, lingering far too long on her breasts and hips. She knew he’d seen them many times before but it still made her want to wrap herself in Theo’s velvet blazer or hide behind the neighboring pines.

Theo instinctively looped his arm around her once again, ever so slightly tucking her behind him.

“Happy Christmas, Wood,” she replied halfheartedly. 

His date looked deeply uninterested, clearly over the entire evening and the endless stream of forced pleasantries. She faced the staircase, not even pretending to care who Ginny and Theo were.

“So this is who you left me for?” Wood asked abruptly, nodding to Theo.

Ginny stared back at him, momentarily dumbfounded, feeling for a split second, exactly like Daphne had mere minutes ago.

Fuck. That turned fast.

His date whipped her head toward Ginny, then just as quickly back to the stairs. “That whole man matches your hair,” she trilled, her golden blonde pixie cut slicing through the air with each sharp movement.

 Ginny’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

What man?

Matched her what?

Theo peeked over her shoulder and answered, “That’s her brother. He’s not usually wearing that much red.” He made a slight grimace, like the color personally offended him. “It’s usually just the hair.”

“He’s full of holiday cheer,” the blonde muttered in a heavy German accent, already turned away again, thoroughly done with their conversation.

“So, this is the bloke you left me for,” Wood said, no longer asking, just deciding for himself. “Because, you really fucked up my game. Four hour training session, hearty roast, satisfying shag, nine hours of sleep. That was my pre-match routine. Never failed me. Now I’m all out of whack.”

Ginny wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this. But the sheer absurdity of his monologuing snapped her out of her haze, even if she still didn’t feel like responding.

What was the point? He’d already drawn his own conclusions.

Thankfully, Theo jumped in, maybe to ease the tension.

“Fairly certain she left you for her.”

Or to make it worse.

Before anyone could go on, Pixie jumped back in with her ongoing Gala commentary. “Meine Güte!” she exclaimed, slipping into German just as both Ginny and Theo’s Nimble Notes buzzed loudly, drowning out whatever else Oliver’s date was going on about.

It was their side chat; Pansy had started to gossip, mainly about Hermione and Malfoy. Ginny still couldn’t believe the witch had included her.

“What the hell did you just say?” Oliver’s voice carried, but neither Ginny nor Theo responded, having more pressing matters to attend to.

And the current standing of Draco’s cock was much more important than whatever Oliver was whinging about now.

Theo stretched up, scanning the crowd again. Ginny followed his line of sight to the staircase and there they were. Hermione and Charlie descending like some celestial beings.

“Salazar,” Theo exhaled, a grin making its way across his face.

She looked fucking exquisite. But Ginny already knew that, and betting on whether Draco was going to think so felt like wondering whether Hagrid would lose all common sense and immediately forget every safety protocol upon spotting a baby hydra.

An easy grin crept across Ginny’s face before she remembered where she was, and more importantly who she was with. She quickly slid back into a mask of indifference.

Theo shot her a quizzical look, but once again Pixie jumped in. “That man with the golden one, he also looks like you.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but the way she kept staring at Ginny made it clear she was expecting an answer.

“Yea, another brother.”

“Gellert,” Pixie swore under her breath, turning back around for the third time.

Oliver huffed, clearly not appreciating being ignored. “Is anyone going to provide some fucking clarification, or do you plan on ignoring me all night?”

Buzz.

“No way,” Theo mumbled, eyes locked on the upper landing where Harry and Blaise had just stepped into view.

“Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Blaise Zabini.”

As their names were announced, the two began their descent, and Ginny noticed Theo looked just as hypnotized as she felt.

Neither heard Oliver groaning behind them or Pixie’s far too loud whisper. “Fuck, that’s a lot of chest.” 

And then, “Is that Harry Potter’s boyfriend?”

That one they both heard, and let out a resounding, “No,” without ever glancing away from the two men now approaching the bottom steps.

What happened next rendered Ginny utterly speechless.

The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Pixie.

“Mein götter, ist das heiß.”

Theo blinked, turning to look at Pixie, then back at the fleeting figures of Harry and Blaise, then to Ginny, his face slack with disbelief, but the ghost of a mad grin flickering at the corners.

They stood there frozen, staring at each other for Merlin knows how long, on the brink of hysterics until finally Theo’s head fell back as laughter burst out of him.

A-fucking-gain their Nimble Notes buzzed; this time it was the group chat.

Ginny heard Oliver stomp his foot, actually stomp his bloody foot, and whine to his date about how rude everyone was being. But when she quickly glanced up, Pixie didn’t seem to be listening either. She was busy swirling a cinnamon wand through her shimmering cocktail and trying to spear a frosted cranberry on the end with a stunning amount of determination.

“Oh ho,” Theo teased. “Going against your clan and defending that little publicity stunt?”

“I’m not defending it,” Ginny said with a shrug. “They’re grown adults who can kiss whomever they like.”

“How benevolent of you,” he responded, watching her closely. 

“Evening, Ginevra.” 

Blaise sauntered up to their little circle, sending Ginny a wink. 

“You look,” he paused, seemingly lost for words, “awesome.”

She raised a brow and choked on a small laugh.

“What about me?” Theo asked, giving a dramatic twirl. “Don’t I also look awesome?”

“Dashing,” Blaise replied absently, never taking his eyes off Ginny.

She looked him over, taking in his slim, perfectly tailored black suit, the shirt under his jacket cut in a low v, and she licked the last of her champagne off her lips.

Her craving came roaring back, hotter than ever. The mix of him in that suit and being out in public where they actually had to follow some rules, and of course keep their secret shags to themselves, turned Ginny on more than she thought possible.

“That was some kiss,” Pixie spoke up, finally seeming interested in the conversation.

Blaise nodded graciously. “I’ve been told I’m an excellent kisser,” he smirked. “And a very generous lover.”

“Ugh, jar,” Theo groaned. “You’re lucky Draco didn’t hear that one. Merlin.”

Mid-chuckle, Blaise finally glanced around, taking in the rest of the group.

“Do I know you?” His gaze narrowed in on Oliver, calculating. “You look so familiar.”

Oliver perked up, clearly pleased that someone had finally acknowledged him. 

Blaise’s eyes lit up with sudden recognition, and he pointed wildly. “You’re that Hufflepuff chaser,” he said confidently. “Fletch-Fuckley, right?”

Fucking Slytherins. 

Ginny bit her bottom lip to keep from cracking.

Theo immediately choked on the sip he’d just taken, coughing loudly as Blaise pounded on his back, looking slightly concerned.

“No,” Oliver deadpanned, before grabbing Pixie’s hand and stomping away.

What was with him and the stomping tonight?

Had he always done that?

“Did I say something?” Blaise asked, blinking innocently before tossing another wink Ginny’s way.

“Wait!” Theo called after him, and Wood turned back, reluctantly. “I didn’t even get to make a cock joke yet!” 

Blaise squinted after him, then snapped his fingers. “Oh! Wood. Oliver Wood.” He turned to Theo, a smirk pulling at his lip. “That was a hard one.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Theo whined. “That was mine.”

“One’ll come to you eventually,” Blaise said, patting Theo’s shoulder. With his other hand, he reached into his inner jacket pocket, which had clearly been on the receiving end of Hermione’s wand and her infamous extendable charm, and pulled out an exquisitely wrapped package. He turned it slowly in his hands, letting the fairy lights catch on the iridescent silver paper and bow before handing it to Ginny.

“For me?” she asked, batting her lashes.

He only nodded, watching her intently.

She tore off the paper, her brashness at odds with the delicate wrapping. Blaise quickly vanished the scraps with a flick of his wand as she held up a thick glass bottle, her name, Ginevra, etched in an elegant looping script across the front.

“Perfume?” she guessed.

“Yea,” Blaise nodded. “To make you smell nice.”

“You don’t think I smell nice?”

“No. Wait, what? Of course I do,” he stammered, unexpectedly flustered.

Theo chuckled, watching them with an amused glint in his eye as Ginny tilted her head, lips twitching in a barely concealed smirk. She let Blaise stew just long enough before he turned, clearly trying to recover.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked Theo, throwing him a pointed look. “Like off salivating over Potter? Honestly, I don’t know how you stand him. Quite full of himself.”

“Nope,” Theo said with a pop. “I want to be right here.”

Blaise just sighed and turned back to Ginny. “There’s a new shop in Knockturn Alley. I had it made for you.”

She raised her brows, intrigued.

“Base notes of rose,” he said smoothly, “for the color of your skin when you’re flushed.”

Theo looked at them with a discerning eye, his lip quirking up, confused.

“From Quidditch, obviously,” Blaise added, not missing a beat. “Ginger, because, well, Ginevra. And hellebore.” 

He grinned. “Always wanting more.”

Ginny blinked at him, completely caught off guard. She was at a loss for what to say. Which was the second time tonight. What the fuck was happening to her?

She had an odd suspicion that it had everything to do with the smug wizard standing in front of her. And a perfume that likely smelled like utter rubbish. Rose, ginger and hellebore. 

Merlin.

Still, she couldn’t help the smile pulling at her lips. Or the way her fingers tightened around the bottle like it was something worth keeping.

“Thank you, Blaise,” she said softly with a warm smile. “That was very… thoughtful.”

“There you all are!” Hermione’s voice broke them from their reverie as she threw herself at Ginny, wrapping her in a tight, slightly tipsy hug.

Ginny quickly slipped the perfume into her purse, making sure it was nestled in there safely before squeezing Hermione back. She pulled away just enough to give her friend a proper once over.

“Shit, Goldie,” Theo breathed out. “Need me to follow you around as a bodyguard? Keep the feral wizards at bay?”

“Handled,” Charlie cut in, grinning. “Though it’s about as easy as taming a Horntail. Fucking sneaky bastards.”

Hermione waved him off with a flutter of her hand, cheeks flushed. “You both are looking fucking fit yourselves,” she said, her drink nearly sloshing over as she giggled.

“Knocked back a few already, have you?” Theo asked, a charming smile painted on his face.

Hermione was mid-sip when she brought her glass down, leaving a small foam mustache on her upper lip. “The Wiz Fizz and Dragon’s Egg Nog ,” she glanced over at Charlie’s frosted tumbler, “are too good.”

“Wiz Fizz or Wiz Jizz, am I right?” Theo quipped. “Both known to be addicting.”

It was a testament to Hermione’s drunkenness that she laughed instead of jarring Theo on the spot. Ginny, however, was not in such a predicament.

“Jar,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Blaise guffawed, shooting her a look of approval.

Hermione carried on, completely unbothered, “And I need to drink because of your fucking brothers.” She jabbed a finger at Ginny, while trying to look stern, but the foam and her tipsiness weren’t allowing it.

“Which brothers?” Ginny asked, eyeing Charlie. “Better not be you.”

“Please,” he scoffed.

“Of course not Charlie,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I’m talking about Fred and George.”

She licked the foam from her upper lip and pouted. “They somehow convinced Kingsley I should give a speech. Endorsing his re-election, just so they can get a plug on the main stage for their bloody Nimble Notes.”

Hermione whipped her Nimble Notes out, shaking it around. The thing was flashing wildly and appeared to be vibrating as if hundreds of messages were coming in by the minute.

“As if I haven’t already pushed this gods-forsaken thing enough.”

“I think you mean,” came Fred’s voice as he sidled up next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder and smoothly lifting the glass out of her hand and taking a large gulp. “As if you haven’t pushed this hot, new apparatus enchanted with the latest and greatest Spellware technology enough.”

“Hey! That’s mine!” Hermione screeched, snatching her drink back from Fred’s greedy hands.

“Or,” George added,  shouldering his way in on her other side, knocking into Charlie, “ you meant to say the Nimble Notes is practically a gift from the gods.” He gestured between himself and Fred. “And the Golden Girl’s preferred form of communication.”

Her brothers looked as flamboyant as ever, donning suits of marbled purple and the most eye-watering, almost glowing orange, complete with bow ties that shifted colors, gold when they spoke, silver when they didn’t. As if either of them required notice when they were talking; they were impossible to ignore. They also were sporting bejeweled Nimble Notes holders, a gift from Theo, Fred’s dripping with amethysts, while George’s was adorned with large, gaudy citrines. The look was excessive and only something they could pull off.

“Not what I meant at all,” she said with a furrowed brow, her hair sparking at the ends, causing the twins to take a cautionary step back.

“Couldn’t you get Potter or Weasley to do the speech instead?” Theo asked.

They all started laughing at the thought, even Hermione.

“Oh yea, let’s put Ron up there,” Fred cackled. “That’ll sell some product.”

George turned to Hermione, grinning. “Plus, our little deal. How’s that working out?”

Hermione sighed, her hair settling back into its normal chaos. “I love it. The vibrating is so much better than the blaring noise. Though, if it could just be silenc-”

Fred cut her off, “Do you hear that, George? I believe we’re being summoned. Mustn’t keep our adoring fans waiting.” 

“We really appreciate it, Hermione,” George added, sincerely. “And we’ll think about possibly, one day, in the far off future, maybe, adding a sil-” He cut himself off abruptly, shuddering. “No, sorry I can’t even say it. Vibration is all you get.” 

He sent her a wink, and both brothers spun on their heels and strutted off, tapping away on their Nimble Notes, not giving any care to the magical pings practically radiating from them as they walked through the crowd.

Hermione drained the last of her drink then moaned. “I need another.”

She glanced around, likely in search of the bar before she turned back with what Ginny assumed Hermione thought was an air of nonchalance (it wasn’t) and asked, far too casually, “Has anyone seen Malfoy? And Pansy,” she tacked on in a rush.

Ginny grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes in return.

“I believe I saw his shock of blonde hair heading to the bar,” Blaise offered. “Potter’s somewhere over there as well. Or at least that’s where I left him.”

Hermione nodded along, though she looked to be under serious strain from not immediately turning and searching for the prat.

Theo piped up, “Still can’t believe Potter went along with that kiss.”

Blaise chuckled and leaned in, voice low and conspiratorial. “I’ll let you lot in on a little secret.” He tilted his head, and they all leaned closer like they were about to be handed Ministry-level intel. “It was all an Illusionment Charm.”

“You didn’t kiss?” Ginny blurted, louder than intended.

Blaise didn’t seem to mind, still smiling at her. “Barely a graze. All for show.” He shot a glance at Hermione. “And to take a bit of heat off this one.” 

Ginny was stunned silent. 

They didn’t kiss.

Not that it had bothered her. Or that she’d thought it meant anything other than Blaise being a smug and showy wanker.

But still.

Theo perked up at the news, bouncing on his toes as he scanned the crowd.

“I appreciate it,” Hermione said, looking up at Blaise with a grateful smile. “Even though it was probably unnecessary. I think I’m finally old news.” She squealed a little, positively giddy at the thought of her and Viktor no longer being Daily Prophet fodder.

Ginny and Theo locked eyes and came to a mutual and silent agreement to keep their conversation with Krum and Daphne to themselves.

“Well,” Theo said with a flourish, “I’m off to wander. Maybe grab another drink. Find the Malfoys. Get the low-down on those dirty movies they’ve been watching.”

Ginny giggled, edging ever so closer to Blaise.

“Dirty movies?” Charlie asked, intrigued. “The Malfoys? As in the blonde git’s parents?"

Theo nodded solemnly. “The things our elders are into these days. Truly worrying,” he said with a delighted smile. 

“You good?” He looked to Ginny. “Blaise will look after you, and I’ll come find you in a bit for a dance.” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

“We best be off too,” Charlie said, bumping his hip into Hermione’s. “One more Wiz Fizz for good luck, not that you need it, and then off to find Kingsley.”

She most definitely didn’t need it. Charlie had lived with dragons out in Romania for far too long, likely having the tolerance of a Norwegian Ridgeback by now. Hermione’s was closer to that of a Pygmy Puff’s.

“You just get me,” Hermione smiled up at him warmly as he chuckled.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Ginny said, wholeheartedly. “Though maybe ditch the heels before the speech; don’t want to topple over.”

“See, that’s why we’re best friends,” Hermione beamed before stumbling off and sending them a cheery wave.

Charlie kept a tight and steady hold on her, expertly steering her every time she tried to veer off course.

Ginny could still hear Hermione’s cheerful slurring as they disappeared into the crowd. “Fuck, what would I do without you Weasleys.” She paused. “Actually, I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren't for your pesky brothers.”

“They’re the worst,” Charlie agreed.

Ginny turned back to Blaise, a smile now seemingly permanent.

“That should be some speech,” he joked. “She seems to be in a good headspace.”

“Oh, Hermione will be fine. She was made for this.” Ginny pursed her lips. “Though she does tend to get a little extra passionate about her feelings and beliefs after a few drinks.”

Blaise leaned in, just enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne, and for her eyes to wander, briefly to the way his chest flexed with the movement. “How about after her speech, you and I get a little extra passionate?” He arched his brow in question.

“I’m told there’s an excellent supply closet, right down the hall by the lifts. We could meet there, and I’ll give you the rest of your gift.”

“The rest of my gift?” Ginny asked, a little breathless.

“I think you’ll find I have another wrapped package for you,” he practically purred.

“Can I unwrap this one with my teeth?” she mused, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck.” Blaise blinked rapidly and shook his head in what seemed like a desperate attempt to get his cock to settle down. When that failed, he discreetly slipped his wand down his sleeve, casting a nearly silent Notice-Me-Not along the bulge in his trousers.

“You’ll be the death of me, witch,” he muttered, guiding her toward the dance floor.

He intertwined their fingers, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and pulled her into a flawless waltz. Blaise spun her through the maze of other couples dancing as she went to place her head on his shoulder, her lips next to his ear.

“Don’t die yet,” she murmured. “I haven’t had my fill.”

He chuckled dryly. “What about last time being the last time?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Whatever you want, little lion."

*Harry*

“I’ll have another We Wiz You a Merry Christmas , please,” Harry said, tossing five sickles onto the bar, feeling rather generous this holiday season.

The bartender rolled his eyes and turned around without a word, not even bothering to pocket the tip.

“Did you get a pay cut, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as he slid up beside him, pulling a glittering handful of Galleons from his pocket.

The bartender was just tossing the spirits needed for Harry’s drink up in the air, all floating above his head doing a merry foxtrot when he froze and made a beeline for Malfoy.

“Mr. Malfoy, having a splendid evening I hope,” he practically simpered. “What can I get for you?”

Malfoy flashed a smug grin Harry’s way. “Thanks, Whitman. I’ll take another one of your absolutely divine Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Firewhisky .”

“Coming right up,” the bartender, Whitman apparently, chirped, already looking much livelier.

Malfoy skated ten Galleons across the icy bar top, then turned to lean back, exuding wealth and insufferability.

“You’re such a twat,” Harry bemoaned.

“What, because I know how to tip?” Malfoy asked, looking positively smarmy. “I’m sure Whitman would say you’re the twat, Scar Head.”

“Also,” he added, unfortunately continuing, “excellent call on that snog. Nothing says holiday cheer like twisting tongues with Blaise in front of all your colleagues.”

Harry chose not to respond, opting instead to watch the crowd and pretend this conversation wasn’t happening.

Whitman returned with their drinks, offering Malfoy an enthusiastic happy holiday and a blessed yule while ignoring Harry entirely.

So saving the Wizarding World had an expiration date. Noted.

Malfoy chuckled to himself as they strode over to a small table nestled in a cluster of snow-drenched evergreens.

Once they were settled, drinks in hand, Malfoy gave Harry a sharp look. “What the fuck is that?”

Harry blinked. “What the fuck is what?”

Malfoy set his drink down and pointed accusingly at Harry’s glass looking outraged. “That thing on your drink. Is that a biscuit?”

For fuck’s sake.

“Yea, it’s a ginger biscuit. It’s delicious.”

“I didn’t get a biscuit,” Malfoy said, sounding dejected. “All I got was this cinnamon wand. Which I had thought rather cheeky up until now.”

“I’m not giving you my biscuit,” Harry warned, taking a protective step back, biscuit firmly in hand.

“I don’t want a biscuit your fingers touched. Are you deranged?”

“What are you two bickering about?” Dawlish asked as he walked up, his wand peeking out from the holster under his lapis blue, silk suit jacket.

“My biscuit,” Harry said flatly.

Dawlish pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something that sounded like, “Why do I try.”

“How’s your night?” Malfoy asked, indifferently. “Busy with the Minister?”

Dawlish’s head bobbed once, more of a decisive tilt than a proper nod. “He’s got Hermione giving a speech, so we’ve been setting up. Not that either of you were anywhere to be found.”

At that, Malfoy straightened, running a hand through his carefully tousled hair before gripping it lightly at the back like he may physically pull the stress out of his scalp.

“Granger’s speaking?” he repeated, brow furrowing. “Giving a speech for Kingsley?”

“Literally what I just said, Malfoy,” Dawlish deadpanned, taking a sip of his drink. Harry noticed it wasn’t adorned with a biscuit or cinnamon wand. It was just plain liquor, no holiday cheer at all. 

How boring.

“Why do you care?” Dawlish carried on, eyeing Malfoy. “Didn’t take you for a fan of Ministry speeches.”

Malfoy hesitated, shifting on his feet before answering in a low voice, “I just haven’t seen her all night.”

“Aren’t you here with a date?” Dawlish asked pointedly. Harry wasn’t sure how he did it, but it sounded like a threat.

Malfoy was peering around the towering evergreens when he turned back with a crooked grin. “Pans?”

Harry, now a full-on spectator to this unfolding mess, took a sip of his gingerbread-flavored drink.

Fuck, did he love Christmas.

“Yes. Pansy,” Dawlish clarified, looking far past annoyed.

“Pansy and Malfoy aren’t dating,” Harry interjected, in an upbeat tone. “She just pitied him, because he’s sad and alone.”

“Oh, fuck off, Potter,” Malfoy snapped. “Like you and Blaise are here as an actual date. At least I’m not snogging Pans in the middle of the fucking atrium in a desperate attempt to mak-”

“It was a fake snog!” Harry half shouted, almost dropping his biscuit.

Dawlish stared at them both through half-lidded eyes, breathing deeply as if it was required to continue standing in their vicinity.

“Fake?” Draco repeated, incredulous. “I saw your tongues.”

“Rowena,” Dawlish exhaled like a curse.

“An Illusionment Charm,” Harry admitted, bringing his voice back down to a normal level.

“An Illusionment Charm?” Draco echoed, clearly confused. “Why in Merlin’s name would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t actually want our tongues to touch. Are you deranged? ” Harry threw Malfoy’s earlier question back in his smug face.

“I can’t believe I’m involving myself in this,” Dawlish muttered, setting his drink down and bracing both hands on the snow-dusted high-top table like he needed physical support to endure this. “But I think what Malfoy meant was, why were you snogging in the first place? Not why use an Illusionment Charm.” He blinked rapidly, as if this all was too much. “Fuck, this is so stupid. Is this what your lives are always like?”

Harry glanced at Malfoy, debating how much to share. Blaise being Blaise was one thing. But the stuff about Theo, which Malfoy had already alluded to, was another matter entirely.

“Reasons.” he said plainly. “Mostly to knock Hermione off the front page for once. She deserves a break. And as you know, Blaise is more than happy to take her place.”

Malfoy’s brow furrowed, and then a moment later he gave a small, almost imperceptible, nod, which coming from him, was the emotional equivalent of a standing ovation. High praise, in Malfoy terms. At least when directed at Harry.

“That’s weirdly noble,” Dawlish said. “So what you’re telling me is, neither of you are actually dating the people you showed up with tonight?”

Harry’s Auror brain was never not switched on, it was just how he was wired. And judging by the slight tilt of Malfoy’s head, the git had picked up on it too. There was something just a bit too pointed in Dawlish’s delivery.

“Why are you so curious?” Malfoy asked, a roguish grin creeping across his face.

Dawlish shrugged. “I’m not. Just thought it odd a witch could stand you. You’re moody.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Malfoy fired back. “Witch Weekly said I’m a catch. Reformed. Excellent bone structure.”

“They also said Potter’s mysterious and reserved,” Dawlish scoffed, rolling his eyes. But all his usual bite was gone.

“I’m flattered you read the article,” Harry teased, jumping on Dawlish’s rare good mood. “Were you hoping to take our friendship out of the office? Get to know each other better?” 

Dawlish threw back the rest of his drink like it was Gillywater, cracked his knuckles, and slid his hands into his pockets before walking away.

“What a wanker,” Malfoy said, “though I’ve never seen him in such a good mood.” 

Harry nodded in agreement, and they fell into a marginally comfortable silence as they finished their drinks. Harry was watching a cluster of fairies glowing on a nearby branch, in the midst of what appeared to be an epic snow-ball battle, when he glanced over and caught Malfoy scanning the crowd again.

“Why don’t you just go find her?” Harry asked. “Or message her? You’ve got a Nimble Notes now.”

Malfoy turned his head slow and deliberate, like it physically pained him, and fixed Harry with a look that could’ve rivaled a mild Crucio.

Harry lifted both hands in surrender. “Sorry. Forgot you haven’t quite mastered the words yet.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lip. “For what it’s worth, I’m positive she’d want to see you. Especially before this speech.”

Harry watched the marble mask Malfoy usually wore crack, just slightly.

“I’m sure she’s plenty busy,” Malfoy said. “What with Dragon Weasley and She Weasley and Matching Weasleys and Idiot Weasley. Probably forgetting one.”

“Two, actually,” Harry said, his grin more prominent now. “Hot Wife Weasley, and Hope You’re Never Alone With Him For Too Long Because He’s a Bore Weasley.”

Malfoy huffed out half a laugh, but stayed frozen in place, staring down at his empty drink, the lights from the enchanted ceiling glinting off the rim of his icy tumbler.

He looked downright pathetic.

And Harry couldn’t stand it. Not at Christmas.

“She was looking for you,” he blurted out.

Malfoy’s head snapped up. “What?”

“She was looking for you after we finished up with the photos,” Harry repeated. “She wants to see you, Malfoy, and don’t ask me why, because honestly, I haven’t the faintest fucking clue. But I know my friend, and I know she’s still looking.”

Something shifted. Malfoy’s mouth tugged into a real smile, soft, unsure, and utterly jarring after a decade and a half of nothing but smirks and withering sneers.

“Right.” Malfoy nodded once. “I’ll see you around, Potter. Thanks.”

Good Godric. A smile from both Dawlish and Malfoy, he was on fucking fire!

That deserved another drink.

~*~

“At the bar.”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Theo said smoothly, flipping up four Galleons that landed ceremoniously onto the counter, one after the other in a neat little stack.

Harry groaned, “Fucking Slytherins.”

“Who’s fucking a Slytherin?” Theo asked, his smirk lighting up like a Christmas tree. “What have you heard? Because I’ve got theories. Mad ones.”

Harry just watched the bottles twirl and the snow whirl behind the bar. The now-infamous gingerbread house shaped biscuit floated up from a golden tray, hovered beneath a shimmering enchanted sugar shaker, and got one, two dustings of caramelized sugar crystals before drifting over alongside the drink itself in a swirl of snowflakes.

“Salazar. What the fuck are you drinking, Potter?”

“We Wiz You a Merry Christmas ,” the bartender said with a flirtatious wink, before swiping the tip and sauntering off, sending another glance back at Theo, who thankfully missed it as he was still inspecting the drink.

“Back at you,” Theo murmured, lifting the glass and his eyes to Harry. He nodded toward a table tucked further behind the pines, hidden in its own little glade.

“Merlin, this is good!” Theo exclaimed after taking a rather large gulp. “And I get to eat the biscuit too?”

Harry chuckled. He’d wanted to play it cool, be more aloof, but the wizard made it near impossible. Especially now, with sugar clinging to his lips and his suit cut so perfectly close to his figure. Harry couldn’t stop imagining what it’d feel like to touch him again. Taste him.

The only thing keeping Harry from completely losing his mind was that ridiculous bejeweled chain around Theo’s neck. But even that, so quintessentially Theo, felt more like a lure than a deterrent.

“Potter,” Theo warned, his eyes darkening. “Stop fucking staring at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to come lick this sugar off my lips right here in front of everyone.”

Theo was trying to smirk, to joke, but it just came out low and desperate, almost like a whimper.

And it instantly made Harry hard.

Which of course caught Theo’s notice. His eyes dropped to the growing length in Harry’s trousers and stayed there.

“Is that a present in your pocket, Potter?” he wondered, a bit of his swagger returning now that he was back in control. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Harry shook his head as he took another sip, mostly to keep his hands busy. Keep them to himself. “I thought you’d have better lines than that?”

“Don’t need lines,” Theo said, finally looking up from Harry’s cock. “Lines are for people like Blaise. People who think the wrapping is as important as the gift.” He licked his lips, his eyes boring into Harry’s, “I’m more about giving.”

Fuck.

Harry swallowed hard, though he hadn’t taken a sip. His drink sat forgotten on the table.

“How about I show you how giving I can be?” Theo’s voice sounded breathless, but the smirk was still there, taunting Harry, drawing him in.

“There’s an excellent supply closet,” he went on.

“Right by the lifts,” Harry finished.

Theo’s cheeks rose, color flushing across his face as he laughed low. “So, you know the one. Meet me there after Hermione’s speech, and you can give me that present.”

Harry exhaled sharply, adjusting his trousers, trying to calm and hide his now throbbing cock. He only managed a nod as Theo backed away, face gleeful and positively smug.

“The kiss wasn’t real,” Harry called out, not knowing why he felt the need to explain.

“I know,” Theo said with a wink, disappearing back to the dance floor.

Holy hell, Hermione’s speech couldn’t come soon enough.

*Pansy*

Pansy walked up to the sink, lip gloss in hand and was just about to glide it on when she noticed Hermione’s reflection in the mirror, sitting on the loo floor behind her.

“What’re you doing here?” Pansy mused.

She cast a quick scourgify followed by a barrier charm, then dropped down beside the clearly spiraling witch.

“Did someone say something?” she asked, voice sharpening. “Was it Krum? Daphne? Because I will take a bitch down right here.”

Hermione turned to her with glassy eyes, then promptly burst into uncontrollable giggles. “I really like that you’re such a cunt.”

“I thought we established that you’re the cunt and I’m the bitch.”

An older witch touching up her hair charms at the mirror gasped in horror.

“Oh, spare me,” Pansy groaned. “Move along if you can’t handle proper witch’s room chatter.”

Hermione pressed her lips together, trying to contain another laugh as the scandalized witch made a hasty exit, leaving them alone.

“No, I haven’t seen either of them,” Hermione said after a moment, her laughter fading but her mood surprisingly upbeat for someone sitting on a public wash room floor. “But I’m guessing Ginny and Theo did based on the conspiratorial look they shared when Viktor’s name came up.”

Pansy eyed her carefully, searching for any signs of real distress, but aside from the clear buzz, Hermione seemed quite alright.

“So what brings you to this glamorous spot?”

“Hiding,” Hermione whispered as if someone else might hear and drag her out.

“Who could possibly be worse than the loo floor?” Pansy asked. “Is Graham out there?”

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head as she fiddled with the clasp on her tiny beaded bag. “No, it’s no one. Or maybe it’s everyone.” She paused then turned to look up at Pansy. “I have to give a speech for Kingsley, and I’m just a wee bit drunk.” 

That was definitely an understatement.

“And I’m nervous,” she added. “Everyone’s going to be staring at me and thinking about him and just… feeling sorry for me.”

Pansy barked out a laugh that echoed off the green tiled walls.

“Feeling sorry for you?” she repeated. “Granger, do you honestly believe that? I know you can be dense and oblivious to the most obvious of things, but even you can’t be that thick.” 

She gestured vaguely to the party beyond the door. “They call you the Golden Girl. The Brightest Witch of Our Age. And hell, look at you. No one that matters gives a fuck that Krum cheated on you. You don’t need to score an Outstanding in every single part of your life. Though, I’d say you’re definitely Exceeding Expectations in the friends department.”

Pansy grinned at her before leaning  in, voice firm, “Now pick yourself up, go give that speech, and for the love of Merlin stop drinking until you do.”

“That was rather inspirational,” Hermione said, a tear catching on her bottom lashes. “You should do posters.”

Her Nimble Notes vibrated in her lap, drawing both of their eyes down.

The messages came slowly. But once they started it was like they never wanted to stop.

Pansy looked up from the glowing screen and over to Hermione. She was still staring down as a slow smile made its way across her face. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she let out a soft laugh before glancing up, utterly bewitched.

“He learned how to use it,” Hermione said in a hushed voice.

“Must’ve had something important to say.”

Hermione read the messages again before slowly standing and tucking the Nimble Notes back into her bag, though not before giving it a final glance, her smile stretching even wider.

“Know what you're going to say?” Pansy asked, rising with her. Being friends with Gryffindors was a new world entirely.

Hermione nodded, a bit dazed. “I’ve got an idea.” 

“You’ll be great. But you know that,” Pansy nodded toward her bag containing her Nimble Notes and the messages from Draco. “And if you somehow completely cock it up, we’ll all still cheer. Blaise and Theo likely louder than if you didn’t.”

She reached to smooth the back of Hermione’s dress and tuck a few stray curls back into place. “And of course, Malfoy will be there if you need him,” she teased, raising a brow suggestively.

“Oh, fuck off,” Hermione said while rolling her eyes hard. “And to think I was just about to thank you and tell you what a great friend you’ve been.”

“You don’t need to tell me, I’m well aware.” Pansy said while casting a freshening spell across both their faces. “Now get out there and go make Draco proud.”

Hermione flipped her off on her way out, walking backward with a grin. “Still a bitch,” she called, smirking.

~*~

She swore she could hear Blaise’s laugh from where she was leaning against the atrium wall.

“Oh no, not you too,” came Dawlish’s voice, making Pansy startle, her Nimble Notes slipping out of her hands.

He cast an unbelievably quick Arresto Momentum, halting the device centimeters before it smashed onto the floor. He scooped it up, long fingers wrapping around the device and held it out to her. Their touch lingering just a fraction too long.

“Saved it,” he drawled.

Pansy slipped the Nimble Notes into her clutch, ignoring the flashing alerts as she cast a quick, wordless Silenco over the bag. It didn’t completely silence the thing, but it did enough.

“My hero,” she said, smiling coyly.

“It’s why I became an Auror,” he teased, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard before.

“To help damsels in distress?” she guessed, a slight edge lacing her words. 

He let out a sudden bark of laughter before really looking at her, a grin still tugging at his mouth. 

“Only a fool would mistake you for a damsel, Pansy. And while I may be surrounded by them daily,” he shook his head, “I’m not one myself.”

The way he said her name made her skin prickle; she could practically feel the flush rushing up her chest, blooming hot across her cheeks.

“Speaking of said fools,” he went on. “I heard you’re here with Malfoy. As a friend.” He raked a hand through his thick brown hair. “Or out of pity, if Potter’s to be believed."

She let out a dainty snort, the blush deepening across her nose. 

“Asking about me, are you?

He slipped a hand in his trouser pocket. “Maybe."

Pansy couldn’t help but drink him in, just like she had a few weeks back in the alley when he’d broken up their drunken fight. He looked just as fit now as he had then. Broad chest, suit fitting like a charm, hair just as deliciously mussed, perhaps he was always slightly stressed, running his hands through it. The only thing missing were the glasses.

She was just about to ask when Lucius Malfoy sauntered over, all casual grace and inherited arrogance

Apparently, the short stint in Azkaban had done nothing to dim his spirit, the only real signs were his shorter hair and updated vocabulary.

“Miss Parkinson. Auror Dawlish.” Lucius inclined his head, a smirk ghosting over his lips that made him look uncannily like Draco. “So sorry to interrupt. I just need to borrow Pansy for a moment.”

“No problem,” Dawlish said, giving her a pointed look. “Be good.”

“Of course. Always on my best behavior,” Lucius said in a rehearsed tone, “I take my probation very seriously.”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t step out of line,” Dawlish grinned. “I was talking to her.” He tilted his head toward Pansy. “No scratching or head butting anyone.”

“In this gown?” she simpered. “That would be terribly impractical.”

“But not impossible,” Dawlish finished for her, smiling down at her with a glint in his eye. “I need to go find Kingsley and Hermione anyway; it’s nearly time for her speech.”

At that, Lucius’s eyes lit up, momentarily forgetting whatever scheme he’d previously been planning. 

“Miss Granger’s giving a speech?” he asked, positively gleeful.

Pansy couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out; thankfully Lucius didn’t notice, blissfully unaware. Dawlish however caught it, shooting her a rather curious look, his brow tilting up.

“She is,” Dawlish said, his voice returning to something a bit more formal as he kept an eye on Lucius, always searching for signs of old habits, though Pansy knew there were none left… at least not where Hermione was concerned. “So, I’ll be off.” He turned back to Pansy, pausing for a moment. “See you around, Parks .”

“Parks?” she repeated, her grin stretching wide, cheeks heating all over again. 

Fuck, she needed to get herself under control. She had a reputation to maintain.

He tilted his head, grin deepening. “Just testing it out.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding, somehow managing not to giggle as she tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “See you around.”

She caught him glancing back once as he walked away, smirking to himself.

“Oh, to be young again,” Lucius mused, pulling her back to reality.

She blinked, turning to him.

“What is it?” Pansy asked, starting to feel the first flickers of concern. “Is something wrong with Draco? Or Narcissa?”

“No, no. Nothing like that, dear.” Lucius leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. 

“How do you feel about helping me get rid of a dragon tamer?”

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

Hermione couldn’t stop rereading his texts.

Specifically, ‘And I’ll be there. In case you need me.’

Her eyes refused to look up, stuck on the same line, over and over. Dissecting every word. Shifting the emphasis with each pass.

I’ll be there.

I’ll be there.

In case you need me.

In case you need me.

In case you need me.

She wanted him here. Not there.

And she did need him.

She told herself she was reading the texts one last time. Just one more pass. Eyes glued to the glowing screen, lips moving unconsciously, apparently speaking out loud, when she collided straight into a tall figure, wobbling precariously on her golden heels.

“Who haven’t you been able to find?” a kind voice asked, hands steadying her by the shoulders.

Hermione looked up to see Zacharius Smith smiling down at her. His hands lingered longer than necessary, not that she noticed. She was too busy thinking about Malfoy comparing her to a Thestral and wondering what other haunting similes he might come up with. Maybe whisper them in her ear, his breath warm against her neck.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Zacharius asked, his hands still on her.

She gave her head a sharp shake, trying to clear the thoughts that had crept in, thoughts that had gone straight down her spine, leaving a shiver in their wake. Zacharius grinned, clearly assuming he was the cause.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, stepping back just enough to reclaim solid footing. Well, as solid as anything could feel after four Wiz Fizzes.

Merlin, why had she drank so many?

“I was just looking for—”

“There you are.” Charlie’s warm tone filled the space as he slid up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, knowing full well she needed the support. “Dawlish and Shacklebolt are looking for you. It’s go time.”

“Oh, joy,” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie gave a low chuckle as she leaned into him.

She looked back to Zacharius with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry for bumping into you. I was just going over my speech, clearly not paying attention.” She gestured up to the stage where Dawlish was standing off to the side, looming.

“Oh!” Zacharius gasped. “An official Hermione Granger speech? Well I better go get a closer spot.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “See you at the Internal Affairs Ministry training next week. I’m heading it up in the new year.” His chest puffed with pride.

“Marvelous,” she said, barely registering what he’d said. Her mind was already elsewhere. Split between speech prep and the simple, aching truth, she wanted to see Malfoy.

“I’ll see you then,” she called back to Zacharius as Charlie guided her away.

For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, her eyes swept the crowd searching for him.

Where was he?

He said he’d be there.

“You ready?” Dawlish asked, eyes flicking from her unsteady stance to Charlie’s arm wrapped tight around her like a lifeline.

“Of course she is,” Charlie championed, throwing her a warm grin. He bent down so they were eye to eye and waited for her gaze to meet his.

She gave one last glance toward the front of the stage before finally bringing her amber eyes to Charlie’s inviting navy blue ones.

“You’ve got this,” he said in a hushed voice so only she could hear. “You’re Hermione fucking Granger. And this is just a speech for a bunch of dowdy old wizards.”

She shut her eyes for a beat, pulling in a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re right. How bad could it be?”

“Most of Wizarding Britain is here,” drawled Dawlish, ever the ray of sunshine. “And the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly are covering it for the ones who aren’t. Though, they’ve already caught you with your metaphorical wand in a knot, so maybe Weasley’s right.”

“As charming as ever, Dawlish,” Charlie replied, shooting him an incredulous look. “Maybe cool it on the pep talk.” He added under his breath, “Don’t listen to him, Hermione. He’s just surly.” 

Dawlish still heard. He smiled, though ‘smile’ was generous. It was more the idea of one. A suggestion of an upper lip twitch. Still, it might’ve been the most pleasant expression she’d ever seen him wear.

Why did she always find the most curmudgeonly men attractive?

“I’m actually of the mind Hermione will do a fine job,” Dawlish said. And even though it was objectively kind, for him, it still came out rather harsh. “No matter how questionable her taste in friends is.” 

That hint of a smile was back, and now it was also making a proposition around his eyes. “Though I do believe Pansy and the rest of your lot would defend you against any naysayers.”

“Oh, she’d definitely throw down,” Hermione said with a soft huff of laughter. “She threatened to do just that in the loo not ten minutes ago. You might want to keep a close eye on her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Charlie gave Dawlish a long, measured look before turning back to her. “You’ll be great, Goldie. And I’ll be there. Out in the crowd, in case you need me.”

Fuck.

I’ll be there. 

In case you need me.

She smiled back at Charlie, gave a small nod, and followed Dawlish up on stage, positioning herself just off to the side, half-shielded by a towering pine.

An antique microphone floated midair in front of them, it too was frosted in the same glittering ice that covered the tabletops scattered throughout the atrium. 

Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Dawlish. She’d never really been afraid of public speaking, not exactly, but the idea of facing hundreds of witches and wizards who’d likely spent the last few months whispering about her in corridors or reading about her imploding love life over their morning tea made her stomach tighten. 

“Thank you all for joining us here tonight,” Dawlish’s voice rang through the space. “As some of you may know, I’m John Dawlish, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a loyal supporter and friend,” he added on fondly, “to Minister Shacklebolt.” 

“Public speaking isn’t exactly my forte.” A smattering of laughter rose from somewhere in the crowd, enough to make him roll his eyes. 

“My fellow Aurors seem to agree, so luckily for you all, you won’t have to listen to me for long. I’m only here to introduce someone far more eloquent.”

More laughter filled the room,  followed by hushed murmurs speculating who he’d be introducing.

“She really needs no introduction, as she’s been a household name for most of you for over a decade, and, more importantly, she’s been saving our arses since the age of eleven.”

A loud cheer broke out from the crowd, seemingly from the same cluster that had laughed earlier. She chanced a peek, but the tree still blocked most of her view; she was only able to catch a blur of shifting robes and movement.

“Now some of you might be tempted to attribute all that life saving business to Harry Potter.” 

Another cheer and scattered clapping wound its way through the guests. Dawlish’s grin returned, sharp and knowing. 

“But I can say, with confidence, after working with him for a few years now, that Harry was just the face. The branding slapped on that whole operation. She was the brains.”

Laughter swelled, and Dawlish paused, letting it rise and fall before delivering his last line. “It is my and the Minister’s great pleasure to introduce, Hermione Granger."

Hermione had been risking another glance through the snow-dusted branches and didn’t hear Dawlish call her name until he cleared his throat loudly and repeated himself. 

“Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbled under her breath as she stepped out from behind the evergreen, only to immediately slip on a patch of ice.

Why the fuck would they ice the ground, she thought madly, regaining her balance. Halfway to the microphone, she gave up, kicked off her heels and looped the thin gold straps around her fingers before continuing barefoot.

She fixed her eyes on the frosted microphone, using it as an anchor to keep from being swept under by the sea of faces just a few steps below, cheering, or maybe waiting for her to spectacularly fuck this up.

“Thanks, Dawlish,” she said, managing a smile

He gave her a half sort of hug and a rare, reassuring nod before disappearing behind the same evergreen that had shielded her only moments ago. Her last line of defence now gone.

Hermione crouched to set her heels gently on the stage, then, in an effort to keep from fidgeting, slid her hands into the hidden pockets stitched into a fold of her skirt.

“Umm. Hi,” she said into the microphone.

A few light hearted chuckles floated up from the crowd.

She looked out, not really at anyone, just over them, until her eyes found a sprig of mistletoe in the back of the atrium, tied in a silvery bow.

Probably teaming with nargles.

Focus, Hermione. Focus.

“I’ve known Minister Shacklebolt, Kingsley,” she added with a warm smile, “since I was sixteen. A few years into my very exhausting work of saving all your arses.” 

The laughter came quickly. She threw a cheeky grin over her shoulder at Dawlish, who rolled his eyes, though again she saw that hint of a smile.

“I met him at the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. It was…. an odd summer,” she said, lips quirking in understatement. “Everything was shifting. Being Muggle born, with parents who had no idea what was really going on, and who I kept in the dark, made everything feel that much scarier.”

She bit her lip. So many secrets, so much pretending.

“Well, and my taste in best friends probably didn’t help matters either.” 

The laughter was back, louder this time. And someone in the crowd shouted, “hey, you love us!”

She laughed too, nodding. “I do.”

This time, she let herself look, really look, and there they were, Ron (definitely the shouter), Parvati beside him, Harry and Theo just in front, Ginny and Blaise to their right.

But still no Malfoy.

“I never really felt settled that year,” she continued. “Always on edge, waiting for something to explode. But whenever Kingsley showed up, whether it was for a meeting or just dinner, the whole house would shift. I’d feel calm again. Like myself. Like a normal teenage witch, not just some chess piece in a war.”

Her voice caught a little. Maybe it was the speech dredging up old memories, or the combination of four gins on an empty stomach, but the calm she’d just spoken of felt frustratingly far away.

“I’ve not met many people who carry that sort of presence. Who offer a net when things start spiraling. But Kingsley did. He still does. Even now, when things aren’t quite so tumultuous.”

She needed that net now.

Why was she even giving this speech?

She wasn’t qualified for this. She was a mess.

Emotionally unhinged, more than mildly tipsy and barefoot for Merlin’s sake.

She was this close to scrapping the rest entirely, summoning a flute of champagne and toasting to the current and reigning minister, when she finally felt it.

His eyes on her.

She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. Like some intrinsic magic or maybe just muscle memory.

She looked up and there they were. Silvery eyes locked onto hers, steady and sure. Grounding her better than that bloody mistletoe or microphone ever could.

He grinned and mouthed, I’m here.

And just like that, he brought her back. The lyrics he’d recited at that wedding months ago floated through her mind like a charm….say you’ll be there.

Her whole face lit up with a smile she didn’t even try to hide.

The toast could wait. So could the champagne. Like she needed another bevvy anyway.

“It’s funny,” she said, stepping closer to the mic, steadier now. “I consider myself a true Gryffindor.” 

His grin curved into that maddening, familiar smirk and somehow it was exactly what she needed. 

“I’m headstrong, stubborn, tend to rush into things and make rash decisions…..all grounded in logic, of course. But still.” A ripple of laughter. “And I look fantastic in red,” she added, glancing at her dress with a smirk of her own, “and gold.”

She wanted to cringe at her own words, but the gin was a magic of its own.

She distinctly heard Ginny catcall and another laugh drift through the crowd. Even Malfoy was laughing, nodding along in agreement, like he too thought she looked fantastic in gold.

She’d absolutely lose sleep over that later.

“And I used to harbor a deep and frankly unnatural hatred for all Slytherins.”

The laughter swelled again. And then if on cue, Theo’s voice rang out from somewhere off to the left. “And what changed that, Goldie?” 

He was framing his face with his hands while grinning madly.

Hermione shook her head laughing. “Yea, you helped, Theo. But even before that, there was Kingsley. Though I didn’t know it at the time.” 

Her voice softened. 

“I remember when I found out. I was outraged, as any self-respecting Gryffindor would be.”

She glanced over at Kingsley, who was already watching her with that quiet, steady pride of his.

“But then I remembered, or maybe realized for the first time, that our house doesn’t define us. And maybe more importantly, that my hatred for Slytherins wasn’t righteous. It was lazy.”

The room quieted, just slightly. Leaning in.

“As it turns out, snakes aren’t half bad.” 

Her friends cheered. Harry, Ginny, Parvati, even Ron gave a begrudging grunt of agreement. When her eyes found Malfoy again, he lifted his glass in a toast.

She didn’t look away. Not this time. Not after spending her whole night not being able to look at him. 

“They’re cunning and determined. They face challenges head on, even when they have absolutely no idea what they’re doing. They’re resourceful and perceptive. Always watching. Always one step ahead.”

Her gaze was still locked on his. Those sea storm eyes pulling her in. Pulling her under.

“Charismatic to an unnerving degree. Try not falling for one. Nearly impossible.”

Blaise’s laugh echoed through the atrium, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, remembering where she was and that she was still speaking to an entire room full of people.

“And their loyalty,” she went on, “knows no bounds. Once you’re one of them, you’re in for life. And with Kingsley, we are who he’s loyal to. He’s proved that. Over and over.

She glanced around the room, brow knitting slightly. 

“Some might say I’ve left out a key Slytherin trait. Self preservation.” 

She took a breath.

“But I’ve never seen that. Not with Regulus. Not with Professor Snape. Not with Kingsley. And not with Ma—“ she caught herself, her heart hammering against her ribs, “my friends.”

She paused again, collecting herself. 

“Kingsley, you’ve kept me safe by putting yourself in danger more times than I can count. In this very Ministry building. On a thestral, hundreds of feet in the air. At a wedding, throwing yourself into chaos just to get word to us. At Hogwarts during the battle. And now, here, everyday, as our Minister.”

She paused again, then added quietly, “one night, when I was on the run with Harry and Ron, during what would’ve been our seventh year, we turned on the Wizarding Wireless and heard Kingsley’s voice, or I guess, Royal’s.” 

She turned to wink over at Kingsley who wore a knowing grin.

“I hadn’t been sleeping. I’d been scared out of my mind. And then his voice came through the speakers. And for a moment, I felt peace.” 

She swallowed. “I remember what he said. ‘We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’”

She hadn’t wanted to give this speech. She still didn’t and she was nearly done.

But as she stood there, two things became clear, Kingsley Shacklebolt had shaped her life more than she’d realized and she could deliver the fuck out of a speech. Even drunk.

“That’s the kind of man Kingsley is. The kind of Minister. One who leads with loyalty and treats everyone like they matter. Because to him, they do.”

She finally summoned that glass of champagne. It careened dangerously close to a tall woman’s elaborate hairdo before swerving at the last second. Somehow, Hermione caught it midair like a bloody Seeker.

Must be the gin.

“Cheers to Minister Shacklebolt.” 

She lifted her glass, and the room echoed back in a chorus of toasts and raised flutes.

Just when she thought she was finally done, and free to go find Malfoy, her Nimble Notes started chiming wildly from somewhere deep inside her beaded bag. The vibration charm clearly no longer in effect.

She groaned and looked up, immediately making eye contact with the twins who were standing front and center, dazzling grins plastered across their faces.

She gave the microphone a half-hearted tap and leaned back in, pulling everyone's attention once again.

“And I would be remiss,” she said quickly, trying to make her voice sound excited, “if I didn’t tell you all about my new, favorite Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes product, the Nimble Notes.”

“Patent pending!” Fred hollered from the front row.

George helpfully conjured a floating, flashing orange sign that hovered above their heads, urging her to read the copy.

Godric.

“The hot, new apparatus enchanted with the latest and greatest Spellware for quick and easy communication in the Wizarding World,” she read off, though it was rather difficult since the words were flashing at her and moving at the speed of a Firebolt.

Fred was gesticulating wildly with his own Nimble Notes, trying to get her to model off hers in the same fashion, like she was in a bloody catalog.

She was not drunk enough for this.

“It’s so intuitive and easy to use that even a —“ she cut herself off, bent down to cover the microphone and hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m not saying that, are you both insane?”

They beamed up at her, entirely unbothered.

“Don’t answer that,” she muttered, then straightened and turned back to the crowd, desperate to wrap this up.

“—even a delightful witch or wizard like yourselves could figure it out,” she improvised.

“So, pick up the ‘it’ gift this holiday season and step boldly into the future with Nimble Notes.”

She looked back at them for confirmation that she’d done her part. Their smiles were still on full display so she took that as a yes.

“On Yule special for only twenty five galleons if you buy before the holidays and tell them at check out, Goldie here sent you.” Fred called out, hopping up onto the stage with ease. “Test one out tonight and we’ll even give you an exclusive preview of our brand new dating widget coming in the new year, SwipeWitchWiz!”

George popped up beside him, accio’d a nearby table with a flourish, and had it land perfectly in front of them, displaying a row of glittering test devices.

“Need to break up with that tosser you regret dating but a patronus feels too conspicuous?” George asked in an overly rehearsed tone. 

“Need to send an invite but your owl’s molting and moody?” Fred chimed in, equally over the top. 

“Need to let your mate know you’ll be there in five, with your dad’s highly illegal flying car, but you’ve no way to reach him?”

“Nimble Notes,” they sang out in unison.

Hermione took that as her official cue to leave. She shoved her once again vibrating device back into her bag, grabbed her heels, and made her way off the stage with a small wave to the twins.

She had one goal, find Malfoy. That’s it. No more speeches. No more product plugs. Just find him.

But as she reached the steps, just about to slip reluctantly back into her heels, she spotted them, Quillan Embers and a pack of Daily Prophet photographers standing directly in her path. Their cameras already clicking like mad.

She tried to push past, ignoring Quillan’s question before he could even ask it, but before she could make it five steps, her previously clear escape route was suddenly blocked. 

Viktor and Daphne.

Daphne was gazing longingly at the cameras, already striking a pose, while Viktor was staring straight at Hermione. 

His eyes full of wounded confusion and his cheeks flushed with something that looked very much like betrayal.

She froze, not knowing what to do. Viktor and Daphne ahead of her and a mob of photographers behind her, caging her in.

And just when Hermione thought the situation couldn’t possibly get worse, Viktor dropped to one knee and took Daphne’s hand in his.

Hermione’s heart stopped as his eyes stayed locked on hers, unblinking, as if he physically couldn’t look at the woman whose hand he was now holding, his girlfriend….or soon to be fiancé.

She’d been foolish to think this couldn’t get worse. Hadn’t she literally given a speech that touched on this exact phenomenon?

Because of course. Of course it could get worse.

Everything blurred. She could vaguely hear Viktor mumbling something to Daphne and Quillan Embers directing the photographers behind her like it was a bloody film set. “Get her in the shot!” He barked, ensuring Hermione’s heartbreak was forever immortalized in print.

The cameras continued to flash wildly, framing Viktor and Daphne in the foreground while she stood in the back looking discarded and utterly lost. Much like the photos of Blaise and Harry’s snog, likely now relegated to the inner pages, if not the bin.

Her hand fumbled through her bag, elbow deep, fishing for her Nimble Notes with shaking fingers when a jolt of platinum blonde hair caught her eye.

He rushed up to her, swiftly shoving two photographers aside as she saw his wand slip down his lavender brocade jacket sleeve effortlessly, but discreet enough no one further away would catch it.

“Glacius Maxima,” he said in a whisper. His words not carrying over the din, but the spell hitting its mark.

Hermione watched as all the camera flashes stopped abruptly, a frostbitten wave enveloping the awful, clicking monstrosities, like a dementor had swooped in with the sole goal of sucking up the film, feasting on the memories captured within.

“Let’s get you out of here, Miss Granger.”

The calm aristocratic drawl cut through the chaos, just as she looked up to see that her savior was a Malfoy. Just not her Malfoy.

Lucius stepped forward, moving to pull her away, but his arm froze before touching down. It hovered above her shoulders as he made eye contact and bowed his head in a sort of question, as if asking permission. Hermione bowed her head in return and leaned in, closing the space first.

He guided her away with the elegance of someone long used to commanding a room, a dry laugh escaping him as they slipped through the crowd, everyone too busy gawking at the frozen cameras, throwing out guesses, each more ridiculous than the last.

“Did you do that?” One flustered photographer asked, balancing his camera on frost numbed fingertips.

“Did I do that?! Of course not!” Quillan Embers, practically shrieked. “Maybe the charm on the stage extended?”

“Or the snowstorm whipping around the bar blew over?” Another dimwit chimed in helpfully.

“Or maybe,” Lucius Malfoy muttered under his breath as they strolled further away, “one of the several hundred magical guests in attendance cast a spell on their woefully un-protegoed equipment.”

“Unimaginable,” Hermione said, with a mock gasp.

“Only to the unimaginative,” Lucius replied smoothly, a smirk curling across his face. One that rivaled the other Malfoy’s, if that was even possible. “And lucky for us, Miss Granger, most wizards are rather unimaginative.”

They stepped up alongside yet another Malfoy, still not hers, and Hermione couldn’t help the slightly nervous smile that tugged at her lip.

“That they are,” she said in agreement. Then, glancing between Lucius and Narcissa, she added, “and it’s Hermione. You can call me Hermione.”

*Theo*

“And what changed that, Goldie?”  Theo called out. 

Harry elbowed him playfully in the ribs as Theo used his hands to artfully frame his face, grinning mischievously up at Hermione, who was still mid-speech on stage.

She’d started off a little shaky, more nervous than he’d ever seen her, and just a touch sloshed, but the booze seemed to be doing its job now. Her nerves had turned into cheek, which was much more familiar territory for her.

Still, chatting with your mates and speaking in front of a crowd full of shit heads, which Theo unequivocally considered everyone here except their own little group to be, were two very different things.

Harry leaned in closer and Theo casually dragged his hand down the length of the wizard’s pant leg. Harry hissed quietly through his teeth.

“Will you keep it down,” Harry muttered, half amused. “Or do you want everyone looking over here?”

“I don’t recall you telling off Weasley or Male Weasley when they made a scene,” Theo said, nodding behind him and shooting a smirk at Ron.

“Oi! Male Weasley is not my fucking name,” Ron groaned. “I’m Weasley. She’s She Weasley.” 

He jabbed a finger at Ginny, as if that settled it. Theo’s smirk only deepened.

“You’re a menace,” Harry whispered, lips brushing Theo’s ear. That fleeting contact was enough to make his blood rush south.

“I think Male Weasley suits you,” Parvati hummed, settling back against Ron’s chest.

“It’s the principle, Parv. I’m the original. Not her,” Ron whined.

“Actually,” Blaise cut in, voice low so as not to disturb nearby guests. “You’re not the original anything. You’re the sixth kid. The last boy.”

“Why the fuck are you even here?” Ron bemoaned, as the rest of them snickered. “I guess you were right earlier, I could like you less.”

Blaise gave him a devilish smirk. “Would you like me to push it even further? I could eas—“

Ginny stomped on Blaise’s foot. “Shut it. I’m trying to hear Hermione.”

They all turned back just in time.

“As it turns out, snakes aren’t half bad.” 

Their group let out a cheer. Harry and Ginny were the loudest of the Gryffindors with Ron joining in only after Parvati smacked him in the chest.

Theo continued listening, keeping his eyes on Hermione. She was looking just off to the right, her gaze a little too fixed, a little too warm.

He followed it and grinned.

Draco was standing there, wearing the same stupidly enamored smile Hermione had onstage.

“They’re cunning and determined—“

It was like she was speaking directly to him. Like the rest of them had ceased to exist.

“They’re resourceful and perceptive—“

Theo turned to Harry, about to point it out, but saw the shaggy haired wizard had already put two and two together. His eyes pinged back and forth between the two oblivious sods.

“Try not to fall for one—“

“Holy fuck,” Ginny hissed.

“Nearly impossible.”

Blaise let out a sharp breath of laughter, as they watched Hermione’s tribute to Kingsley take a sharp left turn into something far more personal.

Ron looked around as if confunded. “Wait…..is she still talking about Shacklebolt?”

“Was she ever?” Harry mumbled under his breath, inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, she’s getting edgy,” Blaise said, practically vibrating with glee. “But I’ve got to agree, the whole self-preservation bit is way overblown. Sure, I’ve got a survival instinct like anyone else, but I seriously prioritize other’s needs over my own.”

Theo caught the wink he tossed Ginny’s way and shockingly she didn’t scoff. She just blushed.

“Ugh, disgusting,” Ron groaned, dragging a hand down his face and letting it rest there. “No one wants to hear about your needs.”

“I think it’s quite nice,” Parvati said, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. “Hermione’s right, that old prejudice is outdated and beneath us. Plus,” she added with a sly grin, “everyone wants a bloke who puts their needs first.”

“Parv,” Ron moaned, rather loudly, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her in closer.

“Need some lessons, Weasley?” Blaise asked, one brow lifting up.

Ron made a face, not deigning to reply.

“I’m sorry,” Blaise continued smoothly, “I meant Male Weasley. I know Ginevra’s not in need of any lessons.”

Before Ron could bite back, Harry stepped between them. “Will you both fucking shut up. We’re supposed to be listening to Hermione.”

Fuck. Potter was hot when he got bossy. 

Theo briefly wondered what he was like during an interrogation. Maybe Draco would share a memory. Or better yet, maybe Potter would be up for a bit of role play.

Hermione’s voice snapped him out of that thought spiral, one he fully intended to revisit later.

“I remember what he said. We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

“Bloody hell, she’s good at this,” Theo said, impressed. “Even with that intense Slytherin love fest in the middle.”

“I quite enjoyed that part,” Blaise said bluntly.

“Oh me too,” Theo agreed. “Might make her recite it nightly. A new bedtime story.”

“Instant classic,” Ginny quipped. “Watch your back, Babbity Rabbity, your days are numbered.”

“Yea, and no one’s ever jerked off to Babbity Rabbity, but I know someone who’ll be getting off to this tonight,” Blaise said with a slow grin.

“Merlin,” Ron exhaled, sounding pained.

“Hey,” Theo shrugged, “don’t make assumptions. I’ve always thought Babbity Rabbity was fit.”

Harry snorted, his whole face crinkling into that stupidly adorable grin.

Male Weasley, however was not quite as charmed. Theo could tell by the long suffering eye roll he gave before going to make a quick escape as soon as Hermione wrapped up.

“Come on, Parv. Let’s go see Fred and George. Help with the sales.”

They waved their goodbyes and strolled off through the atrium, heading toward the stage where a large crowd had started to gather.

“I’m off as well,” Ginny trilled. “Need to freshen up.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before spinning on her heel and taking off in the direction of the loo.

Not even a minute later, Blaise looked around conspicuously, fingers hooked in his belt loops. “Me too. Need to talk to….uh….Pucey.”

He glanced around vaguely, nodded to himself, then added, “later, lads.”

“Well shite,” Theo muttered. “Thought it was going to take forever to get rid of them." 

“Must be our lucky night,” Harry said, grinning. His eyes raked down Theo like he was already unwrapping him, right there under the enchanted atrium ceiling, beside the now frozen Fountain of Magical Brethren, fairies skating in loops around the icy pool. “I’d say we should find Hermione before sneaking off, but I’m guessing she’s a little busy.”

“Oh, yea?” Theo teased. “Do you know something, Potter? Care to share?”

Harry’s tongue ran across his bottom lip before he leaned in, barely a breath away and whispered, “I know my cock’s been straining against my trousers ever since you mentioned us hooking up again. And if I don’t get you in that closet in the next five minutes, my notice-me-not charm failing, which has been on its last breath since you ran your hand down my leg earlier, is going to be the least of my problems.”

At that moment a hippogriff could’ve flown in, declared himself the new Minister for Magic and Theo wouldn’t have noticed.

He tried to keep his eyes on Harry’s face, but it was impossible. Knowing Potter had been using a charm to keep himself in check for the last hour made something inside Theo positively combust. He risked a glance down, right as the charm gave out.

“Fuck, Potter,” Theo moaned, voice low and wrecked. “Go now, I’ll follow in just a minute.”

Harry looked like speech had abandoned him entirely. He gave Theo one last desperate look before nodding and disappearing down the lift corridor.

Hermione was right. Slytherins had no inherent instinct for self preservation. Because whatever this thing was with Potter?

It had the capacity to utterly destroy him.

And Theo was more than willing to let it.

~*~

Theo walked at a fast clip, ducking behind a few vaguely familiar looking Ministry employees before finally making his way to the lifts.

It was a well known but rarely discussed Ministry secret that the supply closets nearby were often used for hookups. Sure, they technically housed the odd cleaning supply, but more often than not they were empty, dimly lit, and just off the main thoroughfare, making them the ideal place for a quick shag.

He’d used one once before, though that particular experience had been less than stellar. Terry Boot was a lackluster lay. But now? Now, Theo could barely contain the pulse of excitement flowing through him.

Potter was right behind that door and though they’d been together once before…well heavily snogged in a dark corner while feeling each other up, this felt different. 

This was more than just some random hook up. At least for Theo. He liked Potter….Harry. He was funny, with that dry, irreverent sense of humor Theo adored. Loyal to a fault. Fiercely protective of his friends, which Theo respected more than he let on. And maybe most dangerous of all, Harry was quickly becoming the kind of person Theo wanted around. Constantly.

There was something about him, unnameable, addictive. Like Theo finally understood why he was The fucking Chosen One, prophecy be damned.

He paced in front of the door, reaching for the handle three separate times before finally grabbing on, twisting and pulling it open.

Only to be greeted by an absolute horror show.

“No. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.” Theo repeated, eyes wide, unable to look away from the scene in front of him.

“No,” he said again through clenched teeth, hands flying to his face as he dug his fingers into his eye sockets and dragged them down slowly, as if that might erase what he’d just seen.

“Okay, calm down,” Blaise said evenly, far too composed, his ever present smirk firmly in place.

He shifted slightly, turning himself and Ginny, who was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, so that his naked body blocked most of hers. Unfortunately, this maneuver left his bare arse directly in Theo’s line of sight.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Theo spat, flicking his wand and levitating Blaise’s suit coat into the air like a makeshift privacy screen.

Ginny at least had the decency to look slightly mortified, head tipped back against the wall Blaise had her pressed up against and her hand shielding her eyes from the glowing corridor lights.

“Shut the door,” Blaise muttered.

Without thinking, Theo stepped in and yanked the door shut behind him.

“I meant shut the door and leave, you absolute knob,” Blaise groaned. “Why in Salazar’s name would you take that as an invitation?”

Theo stared at him, forcing his gaze to stay above the neck, not nearly as difficult as it had been with Harry.

“I didn’t take it as an invitation, you twat,” Theo snapped in a low voice. “I’m just a little—“ He cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose and very intentionally not taking a deep breath, because the cramped room reeked of sex.

“I’m sorry, but how the fuck is someone like you,” he gestured at Blaise, “shagging someone like her?”

Ginny finally spoke up. “Oh, thank you, Theo.”

“Wh- What?” Blaise whipped his head toward her, his smirk faltering. “What do you mean thank you, Theo?”

“And!” He added, turning back to Theo, “I’m a fucking catch. Witch Weekly named me one of their thir—“

Theo cut in, “thirty under thirty most eligible wizards. Yes, I know. It’s framed in the foyer and you bring it up constantly. That still doesn’t explain this.”

Blaise grinned again, evidently reinvigorated by the reminder of his Witch Weekly article, and the fact that he was currently stark naked with Ginny Weasley.

“Listen mate, it’s really important to us that this,” Blaise trailed off, looking to Ginny for help.

She just bit her lip, grinning at him.

Blaise shut his eyes and groaned softly at the look before carrying on. “This thing remains a secret.”

They both looked at Theo expectantly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on some no wizards pact with Hermione?” He asked, raising a brow at Ginny.

She exhaled and readjusted herself in Blaise’s arms, being mindful of their flimsy covering. “Yes, for dating. This is just sex.” She looked forward to Blaise and grinned. “Really, really, mind-numbingly good sex.”

Theo groaned loudly and muttered to himself, “I need to get out of here.”

“Quickly,” Blaise nodded in agreement. “Because I seriously can’t hold off much longer, so unless Ginevra has an exhibitionist kink I’ve yet to learn about, you really need to go.”

“Fuck, I hate keeping secrets,” Theo whined.

“But you will,” Blaise said, leaving no room for argument. “Unless you want me thinking too much on why you were sneaking into random Ministry closets during the gala.”

“Thanks, Theo,” Ginny said again, but this time more sincerely.

He just shook his head at Ginny. “You’re really testing our new found friendship, Red.”

“See? We’re all one big happy, dysfunctional family, just like Hermione alluded to,” Blaise noted cheerfully. “Now, leave."

“Right,” Theo muttered, turning around quickly and opening the door just a sliver. “Be safe, kids.” 

He slipped out and rushed down the corridor, needing to put as much space as possible between himself and Blaise’s inevitable release. Reaching the end of the hall, he leaned back against the tiled wall, slid to the floor and banged his head lightly, attempting to clear his mind.

It wasn’t working.

Theo took a deep breath, feeling fairly lightheaded. Either from trying to hold his breath for so long or from the sheer inability to process what he’d walked in on.

“Are you alright?” A short wizard in a pointy hat asked, strolling down the same corridor Theo was currently having a mental breakdown in.

“Does it look like I’m alright?” Theo asked sarcastically, raking his hands through his waves and pulling hard at the roots, trying to ease the tension that had settled in his shoulders. “Of course I’m not. Nobody would be alright after seeing that.”

The tiny wizard recoiled slightly, then started walking faster. “No need to get shirty with me.”

“You think this is shirty?” Theo half shouted, though the wizard had already rounded the corner. “I’m fucking coping.”

His Nimble Notes buzzed against his chest. Theo yanked it up from its bejeweled chain, still breathing deep.

Theo let out a soft chortle. Gods, that joke was awful. He kind of loved it.

Okay, he just needed to clear his head. This wasn’t his problem. He was merely an innocent bystander. 

An innocent bystander who desperately needed to find the right supply closet and preferably forget that his roommate was now getting off with Potter’s ex-girlfriend.

Fuucck. Somebody needed to Obliviate him. Immediately.

He stood up and started back down the corridor, eyeing each door he passed warily, too scared to actually open any of them, terrified of what or who he might find next.

Theo was just about to check his Nimble Notes again when an arm reached out from the shadows and pulled him into the nearest closet.

The door slammed shut behind him, plunging them into near darkness. The only light came from a small, softly glowing orb in the corner.

He knew it was Harry though.

It smelled like Harry. Like whiskey and warm spices and sugar.

Like that fucking gingerbread drink incarnate.

“Took you long enough,” Harry murmured, voice thick, as he pressed Theo back against the wall, crowding him in, their hips flush. “I had plenty of time to plan exactly what I want to do to you.” 

Theo let out a shaky breath as Harry ground against him, hands trailing up his sides before settling on his chest. He nudged the Nimble Notes aside with a low chuckle.

“Oh yea?” Theo rasped, his voice trembling as his eyes adjusted to the dark, finally catching the grin on Harry’s face. “And what’s that, Potter?”

“You’re so festive,” he said, sliding a hand beneath Theo’s velvet jacket and down the placket of buttons, each one popping open as his finger traced over it, the magic, Harry’s magic, dancing across his skin.

Theo shivered, the air suddenly feeling too thin as Harry’s hands continued their descent, sliding to his waistband.

Harry’s fingers skated around his waist before dipping below the band, just for a moment. Then he looked up, his eyes dark and half-lidded.

Theo’s head fell back against the wall, his breaths coming shallow and fast

His trousers dropped to the floor, pooling around his ankles as Potter leaned in close, lips just grazing his ear. 

“Full of holiday cheer,” he whispered, causing Theo to thrust his hips forward right into Harry’s waiting hand.

Theo moaned at the contact, too loud, probably, since they had forgotten to cast a silencing charm. But Harry swallowed it down, twisting his tongue with Theo’s, and it was like they were right back on that bus.

Harry, who’d mentioned having a plan earlier, seemed to get lost and Theo was all too willing to join him. His fingers tangled in Harry’s perpetually mussed hair and Theo reveled in the knowledge that it was his doing now. That when they left this closet, Potter would walk around with Theo’s touch all over him.

Harry pulled back, pupils blown wide and looking thoroughly wrecked. A lazy grin pulled at his lips before he dropped to his knees, licking Theo through his shorts.

Theo’s moan echoed through the cramped room not having anyone to stifle it with a quick snog this time.

“Now let it snow,” Harry said with the most mischievous grin, trailing a finger down the front of Theo’s pants right over the throbbing line of his cock. With a soft pop the silken material vanished.

Theo could barely think, barely breathe. In the span of five minutes, he’d gone from expecting some heavy snogging, maybe getting caught up enough to end up on his knees, to walking in on Blaise and Ginny doing the unexplainable, to this.

He tried to regain some control. “Aren’t you a little ho, ho, ho,” he panted, aiming for a smirk but barely managing half a grin.

Potter looked up at him, completely unaffected, his tongue running along his bottom lip mere centimeters from Theo’s cock.

Theo’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, and Harry’s grin only grew wider.

“Get that look off your face,” Theo groaned, breath hitching.

“What? I like holiday cheer,” Harry mused.

“I like you,” Theo said, staring down at him, his eyes dark and hungry.

Harry flattened his tongue and licked from the base of his shaft up to the tip, swirling his tongue once, twice before looking back up at him.

“Fuck.” Theo moaned, “I like that too.”

“Oh, you like that?” Harry asked, still circling his tongue around the aching head of Theo’s cock, licking up the bead of precum that spilled out.

That almost undid him. Harry had barely started, hadn’t even taken him fully into his mouth and Theo was already on the edge. What the hell was happening to him?

“What about this?” Harry asked before sliding his mouth over Theo, completely surrounding him.

Theo’s legs trembled and he tried to find purchase on the wall behind him but there was nothing to hold onto. He felt like he was falling. Falling for Potter. For Harry. Which was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. 

It was why he hadn’t been all that pissed at Draco and Blaise for interrupting them last time. Why he’d asked Ginny to be his date to this fucking gala, that was clearly out to ruin him. He’d needed space, time to keep his head on straight, but now it was like he couldn’t think at all.

“Fuck,” he hissed, the word dragged out in a ragged groan, “Potter, if you don’t stop…”

But his words stopped as Harry moved faster, hollowing his cheeks and snaking his arms around Theo’s waist, grabbing his arse and pulling him in even closer.

Theo was losing it. Thank Salazar Harry was practically holding him up, because his legs felt like jelly, his pulse pounding in his ears.

The tension coiled tight in his gut, a shiver traveled down his spine and Harry must have felt it too, because his tongue started up again with the perfect amount of pressure on the underside of his cock before flicking over the tip.

And Theo shattered, hips jerking as he came down Harry’s throat.

Harry didn’t pull away, just kept going, slowing down his movements, a smug grin starting to form at the corner of his mouth. His mouth which was still wrapped around Theo, still driving him completely insane.

He finally pulled off, wiping at the corners of his mouth before leaning back in to lick up the last trail of come dripping down Theo. Then Harry stood, making sure to keep a tight hold on him.

“Sorry about your pants, they seemed quite nice, all silky and smooth and I just vanished them away,” Harry said, biting his lip, that maddening grin still lingering.

Theo threw his head back and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “I think I can let that slide, Potter.”

“I’ll be more patient next time,” Harry said, voice still gravely as Theo leaned forward to kiss him again.

“There’s a next time?” Theo asked, trying to hold his excitement close. Not wanting to sound too desperate, too eager.

For the first time that night Harry almost looked nervous, like he thought Theo might say no to the idea of a next time. It was a positively daft thought. And the furthest thing from the truth.

Theo stepped in closer, needing to close the gap, to reassure him. “Well, I can’t promise to be patient next time either,” he said, his words a low murmur against Harry’s lips. “In fact, I think you’ll find I’m quite impatient. I could show you tonight. Back at mine.”

Harry’s grin was back, “Now that,” he said, sliding his hands down Theo’s back, “sounds like a very happy holiday.”

~*~

Theo and Harry slipped back into the gala unnoticed, weaving through the crowd, staying close but not too close,  given they hadn’t arrived together.  Just as they stepped up to a table, Pansy appeared, looking both relieved and furious. 

Fuck. Had anyone noticed they’d been gone? It couldn’t have been that long.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” Pansy’s eyes flicked over Theo’s shoulder and her scowl deepened. “You four.”

Theo turned to see Blaise and Ginny strolling up, also maintaining that ‘not quite friends’ distance.

“Did you miss me, Pans?” Theo asked, flashing her a wicked grin to brighten her mood.

“Think we traded you for the lions?” Blaise teased. “Don’t worry, I still love you.”

“Will you dickheads shut up?” Pansy snapped. “Krum proposed.”

They all just stared at her for a beat, utterly silent.

“Krum what?” Harry asked, disbelievingly.

“To who?” Ginny demanded, shoving past Blaise and Theo to get closer to Pansy. “Hermione?”

Pansy shook her head, her fringe sweeping across her forehead. “No. To Daphne. But Hermione was right there, or at least she had been. Photographers swarmed them, and I lost sight of her.”

“Fuck. Where is she now?” Ginny asked, practically shouting as she reached up on the tops of her toes to scan the crowd.

“I don’t know,” Pansy huffed. “I’ve been looking for her, for Draco, for any of you for ages now.”

“Why didn’t you message us?” Theo asked.

Apparently not the right thing to say. Pansy looked ready to explode. “I did, you absolute twat. I messaged all of you. Numerous times.”

Fuck. Theo vaguely remembered hearing a chime, but it was hard to notice anything with Potter’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

Fuck. Focus.

“Okay, let’s split up and look for her,” Blaise said, sounding far calmer than Theo felt.

“And Draco,” Theo added. “If he knows, he's either spiraling or desperately trying to find her while also spiraling.”

They were about to scatter in different directions when Harry called out. “Hey. Isn’t that them? Dancing.”

*Draco*

Draco had been on the precipice of a full blown spiral until he saw her walk out on stage, slip, then rip her shoes off like they’d personally wronged her.

It was then that he stopped obsessing over the unanswered messages he’d sent her. Obviously, she’d been busy and adorably just a little bit pissed.

He’d planned to be waiting for her when she got off stage. Her speech had been perfect, exactly as he’d known it would be. At times, it felt like she was speaking just to him. 

On a whim, he took a slight detour, grabbing two flutes of champagne off a floating tray to toast to her brilliance. But when he turned back around she was gone. All he could see was a throng of reporters and an obnoxious swell of Prophet cameras.

For fuck’s sake.

Draco tried to push through the crowd but it was near impossible. Luckily, he was tall enough to see over most of the witches and wizards blocking his way. But once he could actually see, she was nowhere to be found.

Great. He’d lost her again. She was faster and harder to catch than a fucking snitch.

Just then, his Nimble Notes buzzed in his pocket and he nearly dropped the champagne in his rush to check it.

A dopey grin spread across his face before he could stop it.

Buzz.

Draco tipped back one of the flutes, feeling like this was definitely a moment to celebrate. She wanted to see him. Obviously.

Buzz.

Bloody hell.

He’d specifically told them not to talk to her, not to even breathe the same air as her until he was there. But of course they didn’t listen. When had they ever listened? 

Buzz.

Draco quickened his already fast pace, heart pounding at the thought of finally getting to talk to her, and the fact that she was currently with his parents.

When he caught sight of them, he nearly tripped over his own feet. She didn’t look annoyed or uncomfortable. If anything she looked at ease. And were they laughing?

His parents had always considered laughing in public beneath them. Thought it made them look welcoming, approachable. The horror.

Draco stepped up next to her, close enough that the skirt of her dress brushed against his leg.

“And what is it you do at the Ministry, Miss Granger?” Lucius asked, sounding genuinely curious, even though Draco was sure he already knew.

Granger glanced over at him, her expression softening as she let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing. She stepped closer to him, one of his legs now completely tangled in the folds of her dress.

“I’m an Unspeakable,” she said, turning back to Lucius and Narcissa. “I actually work very closely with Theo.”

“Theodore Nott?” Narcissa’s brow arched slightly. “He must be a good partner. Very intelligent young man, always has been.”

“Yes. I really got rather lucky being teamed up with him,” Granger said, her tone warm. “He’s also the reason Malfoy,” she nudged her shoulder into his side and he couldn’t help but grin,” got stuck with me as a roommate. And please, like I said, call me Hermione. You did save me back there.”

Draco’s gaze darted between the three of them, perplexed. “Save you?”

Granger’s expression faltered slightly, and for once both his parents looked almost solemn. Like they weren’t sure how to say what happened. 

“Ummm,” she started, glancing down. “Krum proposed to Daphne and—“

“Here?” Draco nearly shouted, standing up straighter and raking a hand through his hair as he scanned the room for that arsehole.

“Yea,” Granger said a little timidly. “And unfortunately I was right there. So was the Daily Prophet.” 

She looked up at him, eyes wide and searching, and all he wanted to do was pull her close, feel her in his arms, reassure himself that she was okay.

“But your father helped me get away,” she said.

“And ensured that those photographs are….unusable.” Lucius added on lazily, inspecting the intricate embroidery on his jacket sleeve as though the whole thing was but a minor inconvenience.

“Nothing illegal, I hope?” Draco asked, though he didn’t much care, so long as she was okay.

Lucius tsked, looking affronted that Draco would even think such a thing. “Just a quick cooling charm. It was getting a bit stuffy in here.”

“And my drink needed a quick freeze,” Granger added with a sly smirk. “It was starting to perspire.”

Lucius looked positively delighted, like it was Christmas Morning and he’d awoken to find he was, against all odds, on the Nice List. Though that was nothing compared to the look on his mother’s face. She was practically sparkling, as though she’d already picked out the napkins and was now weighing the merits of a spring versus autumn wedding.

“Right you are Miss Granger—“ Lucius stopped to correct himself. “I mean, Hermione.”

Draco didn’t even call her Hermione. Barely even thought of her as such, though it was nice.

Hermione.

Hermione.

“Hermione!” Someone shouted, rushing up to them. “There you are!”

Another fucking Weasley.

Charlie Weasley stopped in front of her, looking her over, not in a lecherous way, but in a genuine, are-you-okay kind of way. Which Draco begrudgingly appreciated.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Weasley said, voice softening. “I heard…about the whole Krum thing.”

“I’m okay. Really.” Hermione cut in. And she did sound okay. “Just a little caught off guard. I wouldn’t go so far as to wish them a lifetime of happiness,” she said with a small smile. “But they deserve each other and I’d be quite chuffed if I never had to see either of them again.”

Lucius let out a surprised huff of laughter, drawing Weasley’s attention to the rest of them. He shot the Malfoys a quick, confused look before turning back to Hermione.

“I should’ve known you’d be okay,” Weasley teased, a grin breaking through. “You’re so fucking logical.”

“I’ve been known to let it slip now and then,” Hermione said, lips twitching into a grin. “But don’t tell. I’d hate for it to tarnish my image.”

Dragon Weasley laughed, shaking his head. Then his expression sobered. “I have some potentially bad news.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, while Draco and his parents watched. Lucius’s grin only widened.

“I just got a message from the reserve back in Romania,” he said, exhaling heavily, “There’s been some sort of dragon fiasco that apparently only I can fix.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I hate to leave you like this, but I can go track down Fred or George—“

“Please don’t,” she said quickly, hands raised as if she could physically push that suggestion back into his mouth.

Weasley chuckled at her insistence. “Yea, I guess modeling off the Nimble Notes for the rest of the evening does sound pretty bleak.”

“It does,” Hermione said, laughing. “And besides, I’ve got Malfoy here now.” 

She looked up at Draco, her eyes twinkling and her brow raising just slightly. “He knows where I live.”

Fuck.

It took all his strength to keep his jaw in place, to keep from grabbing her and Apparating them back home. To where they both lived. Rooms right next to each other.

“You’ll keep an eye on her?” Weasley asked, looking directly at Draco.

Had someone slipped Felix Felicis in that champagne he’d downed? Because his night had been looking significantly up since then.

“Of course,” Draco said immediately, leaving no room for doubt.

Weasley pulled Hermione in for a hug and though Draco absolutely hated it, it meant the bloke was leaving, so he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hope everything goes well with the dragons,” Lucius drawled, eyes glinting. “What rotten luck that they should act up now.”

Weasley huffed out a laugh. “Dragons, they’re very unpredictable.”

“That they are,” Lucius said with a stiff nod, his upper lip twitching ever so slightly as Weasley finally made his exit, leaving the four of them alone again.

“Why don’t the two of you go dance?” Narcissa said, hope tingeing her voice, “I don’t believe I’ve seen either of you out there tonight.”

Hermione turned to Draco, eyes soft, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink.

“It is my favorite part of any Ministry event,” she said, looking up at him with those large doe eyes. “Well that and the open bar, but I think I may have hit that a bit too hard earlier.”

Draco chuckled. “The drinks were rather good,” he agreed, holding his hand out to her, waiting for her to slip her cool fingers into his.

“You kids have fun,” Lucius called, and Draco led her onto the dance floor, wrapping his arm around her waist and weaving his fingers through hers.

They moved in silence for the first few turns around the floor, the soft crooning of Celestina Warbeck filling the room. For once, he didn’t find her music completely intolerable. The twinkling lights above caught the gold strands of her curls, and her ever present flush mixed with the freckles dusting her cheeks.

“So, how’s your night going,” he asked, cringing after the words left his mouth.

She burst into laughter and though it was at his expense, he didn’t mind it one bit.

“How’s my night?” She repeated, eyes still sparkling.

Draco dropped his head, groaning. “Shit. That was awful—“

“No, no, it’s alright,” she said quickly, her smile never waning. “My night’s gone about as expected. Though the proposal was a bit of a shock,” she shook her head. “Thank Merlin your father was there.”

Draco snorted. “Words that have never been said before,” he huffed out a laugh. “Are you sure you’re alright, Granger?”

She just nodded, looking content.

“So,” Draco said, leaning in just a bit closer, “what would make your night better?” He’d do damn near anything if it meant making her happy.

Hermione crinkled her nose in thought, her lips pouting, looking insanely kissable. Then her eyes brightened, but she kept quiet.

“What is it?” He asked, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice. “I can tell you’ve thought of something.”

“Oh, can you?” Her tone haughty yet still teasing. Fuck, he loved talking to her.

“It’s written all over your face.”

She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound light and effervescent and so fucking pretty. “Written on my face?”

“Yea. Right there, in the crinkles.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “My face does not have crinkles.”

Draco brought his hand up, keeping their fingers intertwined, and brushed the pad of his thumb gently against the faint lines at the corner of her eye.

“You do,” he said, his voice low and a little too honest. “They’re quite nice. And they say you know exactly what would make this disaster of an evening better.”

She swallowed and his gaze dropped to the lithe column of her throat, wanting to lean in, wanting to feel it against his lips.

Her voice broke through his thoughts. “I’d like to see the holiday lights.”

“The holiday lights?” He echoed, brow furrowing.

“In Muggle London,” Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. “They put up the most spectacular twinkle lights. It’s almost like magic.” She smiled and he swore he could feel it right in his chest. “I meant to go see them this year. Ride on one of those double decker buses, you know, sort of like the Knight Bus?”

He nodded, recalling those odd, bright red things weaving through Muggle traffic.

“They drive you past all the best displays while playing Christmas carols,” she said, looking pensieve. “My parents and I used to go when I was a girl. Just thought it’d be nice to go again.”

He let his arm slip from around her waist, the sudden chill biting where her warmth had just been, but kept hold of her hand as he led her off the dance floor.

“Malfoy,” she called after him. “Where are we going?”

He glanced back at her, brows furrowed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “To see the holiday lights of course.”

“But, it’s nearly midnight. Surely all the buses have stopped by now.”

Draco raised his brow, eyes gleaming as he twirled his wand between the fingers of his free hand.

~*~

“Where are we going again?” Pansy trilled, following behind in her sky high heels.

Draco had tried to sneak just him and Hermione out, but their entire group had seen them leaving the dance floor and begged to tag along, feigning worry for Hermione. Even Dawlish was with them, which was rather concerning. At least they were Weasley free, well besides Red, but she barely counted anymore now that she’d started to grow on him. And his parents had stayed behind….Theo mentioned he saw them both slip down the lift corridor. Draco was choosing not to think too hard on that.

“To see the holiday lights,” Hermione said excitedly. “Though, it is quite late, so no one get your hopes up.”

She said it like someone who’s hopes were definitely up. Draco shot her a look, as if to say, please, I’ve got this. 

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but thankfully, one of those red monstrosities with no top popped up. It looked practically deserted, save for the driver leaning against the side, puffing away on a pipe.

Draco quickened his pace right as Blaise whined, “how much further until we get to these holiday lights?”

He ignored that, striding up to the Muggle bloke and plastering on his most charming smile.

“Good evening, sir.” Draco was nothing if not exceptionally well mannered. “Are you still doing the dr-driving,” he looked to Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded, her grin wide and encouraging, “the driving to see the holiday lights?” He asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to confund this old Muggle since he was a little unsure how well a driver could steer under such conditions.

“Sorry, lad,” the man said after a long exhale of sweet smelling smoke. “Last route just ended.”

Draco saw Hermione’s shoulders deflate, and, well, he just couldn’t have that.

“What if I gave you this watch,” he said, sliding the large Muggle timepiece off his wrist and holding it out.

The man’s eyes widened. “Is that a real Rolex?”

Draco nodded, though he couldn’t fathom why the man needed to ask. It wasn’t like he’d transfigured it or something. But he guessed perhaps that wasn’t enough, so he reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. He was new to this money contraption, but so far he’d found himself quite the fan, so much more practical than lugging around a sack of Galleons.

“And this,” Draco said, handing over a thick stack of colorful paper.

The man snatched them up, counting quickly, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “That’s two thousand pounds,” he said, sounding awestruck.

Draco had absolutely no idea what that meant, but the man seemed rather pleased, so it must’ve been enough.

“Do we have a deal?” Draco asked, holding out his hand to shake. “One more drive around with the….” he looked back over his shoulder to count them all. “Eight of us. With the Christmas carols,” he quickly added, eyes darting to Hermione who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“And the hats, Draco!” Theo yelled out, already on the bus with Potter, rummaging through a box of red and white hats. “Get the hats!”

“And the hats,” Draco repeated, looking to the driver for confirmation.

“You can take the whole bloody box,” the man said, grinning wide. “But I gotta warn you, they usually turn off the lights at midnight.”

Draco nodded, not caring in the slightest. “Yea, we can deal with that.”

“Well then, all aboard,” the driver shouted cheerfully as they all piled onto the bus. Theo plopped a hat onto each of their heads as they clambered up the twisting stairs to the open-air top deck.

“What exactly are we doing again?” Dawlish asked, looking ridiculous with a red and white pom hat perched crookedly over his furrowed brow. Pansy sat next to him on a bench, already turned around to gossip with Blaise.

“I honestly don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, Dawlish,” Draco drawled, settling into the seat next to Hermione. “This isn’t a work assignment.”

Potter barked out a laugh. “He’s just a big fan of Christmas, and us apparently. Couldn’t stay away.”

“We’re seeing the holiday lights!” Hermione squealed, looking so giddy Draco half expected her to float away. The hat sat atop her wild curls and in that moment, Draco was quite sure he’d never have problems casting a Patronus again.

Dawlish still looked like that clarified nothing, but he nodded at her anyway then turned to scowl at Potter. Pansy’s thigh pressed against his seemed to temper any actual anger.

Theo flopped down next to Potter, draping an arm around his shoulders like he did it every day.

“What the fuck is that about?” Pansy asked, pointing at the two of them as though they were committing some great offense. The offense being not clueing her in before everyone else.

“We’re testing things out,” Theo said confidently, then leaned in and pressed a quick, casual kiss to Potter’s cheek.

“What?!” Hermione yelled. “For real?”

“Would I lie, Goldie?” Theo asked, eyes gleaming with mischief, though his jaw was just a touch too tight. Draco caught the quick flick of his gaze toward Blaise and immediately decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever that was.

“Well, I’m so happy for you both,” Hermione said, just as the Christmas carols crackled to life and the driver’s voice echoed across the upper deck.

“Is he using a Sonorus charm?” Draco asked, looking at her inquisitively.

“No,” she laughed, smiling over at him. “It’s just the speaker system.”

He nodded like that meant anything to him, determined not to look as clueless as Dawlish.

“What’s that gods awful smell?” Pansy asked, wrinkling her nose and looking around the bus for the culprit.

“It’s me,” Red said, tossing a look at Blaise and shaking her head.

Blaise’s brows shot up, eyes dancing with delight. “You’re wearing my perfume?”

“I am.”

Blaise shook his head, looking both smug and incredulous. “That’s the hellebore. It’s…..not to everyone’s taste.”

“Can’t imagine it’s to anyones,” Dawlish muttered, as he moved in closer to Pansy. 

“Why are you here again?” Blaise drawled. “Does Pans need a chaperone?”

Pansy turned around in her seat to give Blaise the finger just as it started to snow.

“Is it snowing?” Potter shouted, as big, fluffy flakes started drifting down slowly.

“It is!” Granger called back, tilting her head up to the sky. “It’s snowing,” Snowflakes settled in her curls and her eyes went impossibly wide as she turned to Draco.

She was so pretty he couldn't help but stare. He begrudgingly pulled his eyes away, too soon for his liking, as they came upon the first intersection.

Draco could see the strands of lights hanging from tall poles, dark and lifeless, the entire road swallowed in shadow. Not even the moon brightening them up.

He slid his wand down his sleeve and cast a quick, “lumos,” and all at once the lights flared to life.

“Holy fuck,” Theo muttered, followed by Dawlish’s awestruck, “Rowena,” as his head swiveled in every direction, taking in the glow as he smiled at Pansy.

Draco turned to Hermione, leaning in close, close enough to catch the scent of jasmine and champagne, losing himself for just a second. “Is this what you had in mind?”

Hermione’s eyes were on the lights, her face bathed in their soft, golden glow. “No,” she breathed, voice reverent. “This is so much more.”

He didn’t have the nerve to sling his arm around her like Theo did with Potter or gift her some awful bottle of perfume like Blaise, or tag along like a weird unwanted family member like Dawlish. But he did press in closer, feeling the brush of her curls against his cheek, letting the warmth of her laugh seep into his bones. And right then, he made a silent promise to himself, whatever it took to keep that look on her face, he’d do it.

Chapter Text

*Hermione*

“Merlin,” Hermione huffed, her breath visible in the frigid, morning air as she bent over at the waist, her forearms resting against her thighs. “I’m so tired.” They’d stopped at a zebra crossing and she was seriously considering making this corner her new permanent address.

Beside her, Ginny bounced in place to keep moving, even though this was their first break in fifteen minutes. “We’ve barely made it three kilometers. Two more if you actually want to finish that 5k you‘ve been banging on about."

“I’ve not been banging on about it,” Hermione said, straightening up just as the signal flashed for them to cross. “Justin’s organizing a Ministry 5k and I thought some exercise would be good for my health. Clear my head a bit.”

They started jogging again, slow and reluctant on Hermione’s part. The only motivator being the chill nipping at her legging clad arse.

Ginny meanwhile, jogged backwards across the road, grinning as she kept an eye on Hermione. “Right. So no surly blonde prat haunting your every thought?” She tapped her temple as she jumped back onto the pavement.

“He has nothing to do with it.” Hermione said flatly, slowing to a walk as she cast a wandless warming charm. She was not running another bloody step.

“Oh really?” Ginny teased, falling in beside her. “Because you definitely look like someone who’s out here for the fun of it and not trying to outpace an emotional crisis. Which fair, I’d be a wreck too if Oliver proposed to someone in front of me. But I know you and I know your face.” Ginny reached out to poke Hermione’s cheek. “And this isn’t your Krum crisis face. That’s been gone for a while now.”

“I’m not thinking about him,” Hermione lied, swatting her hand away. “Much.”

In truth, she’d barely thought about anything but Malfoy.

She supposed she should’ve been thinking about Krum and Daphne and their whole engagement spectacle, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. There were far more pressing matters to obsess over, like how Malfoy hadn’t kissed her at the gala. Not after those messages. Not after that dance. Not after that fucking bus ride he paid for with his Rolex and two thousand quid like it was pocket change.

He hadn’t kissed her.

Which could really only mean one thing, he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. Because if that hadn’t been the moment, if none of those moments had been the moment, then clearly she’d imagined it all. 

And that was likely where things began to fall apart. When she started thinking of their time together as moments.

Because moments carried weight. Moments meant something. 

And if someone let a moment pass without doing a damn thing, then maybe it wasn’t a moment to them at all.

Maybe this was just what Malfoy did for his friends. Lavish gestures, perfectly timed distractions, expensive, magical bus rides to see holiday lights. He was rich enough to romanticize the mundane.

And Hermione had fallen for it.

Ginny’s voice cut through her quiet introspection, though maybe she’d been right and emotional crisis was the more accurate term. “Sure you’re not,” she said, pushing open the door to a cafe and stepping inside.

Hermione blinked, confused but grateful. “I thought we still had two kilometers left?”

Ginny’s laugh echoed through the warm, coffee scented space. “Please,” she said with a shake of her head. “Your scrawny legs weren’t making it to the next corner let alone two more kilometers. Plus, I think your brain’s run enough circles for one day.”

Without giving her a chance to argue, Ginny steered her toward the back of the cafe, weaving through spindly tables and people cradling warm drinks, all trying to escape the biting chill outside. When Hermione looked up, she spotted Pansy and Theo waiting at a back table with twin grins on their faces and four foamy lattes in front of them.

This was much better than running. In fact, she should revise her New Year’s resolutions; less running, more cafes. After the 5k of course. She wasn’t a quitter.

“Wow, this must be serious,” Hermione said as she sank into one of the chairs, stretching her sore legs out under the table. She reached for a mug, the heat from the cup warming her bones and the caffeine softening the chaos in her head. “I didn’t know you were capable of being vertical at this hour,” she added, eyeing Pansy. “You should’ve come on the run with us.”

Pansy scoffed, her nails clicking against the marble tabletop. “As I’ve already told you many times, I don’t run. I’m a witch in perfect health and fit as fuck. Why would I voluntarily suffer?” 

Theo snorted, grinning as he took a sip from his latte. “Exactly why I didn’t go either.”

Hermione tilted her head, mug hovering near her lips. “There are supposed to be mental health benefits. Endorphins. Calming effects.”

“Yea,” Pansy said dryly, “you look super calm.”

“Those must kick in at four kilometers,” Ginny quipped, pulling her thick Weasley knit hat off her head and shaking out her hair.

“So,” Pansy started, narrowing her eyes at Hermione. “How are you doing?"

The concern on Pansy’s face was almost unsettling. Disorienting, even. It was strange reconciling the Pansy Parkinson of her Hogwarts days with the almost pleasant (though still cunty) witch now sitting across from her.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said stiffly, sipping her latte like it might shield her from any follow-up questions.

“That good, huh?” Theo said cheerfully. “At least the trip home must've been nice? Seeing your parents. A break from all this.”

It wasn’t. Not really. 

She’d finally told them about the break up. Felt like the right time, considering Viktor hadn’t come with her and was now engaged to someone else.

And then she’d spent the rest of her time reliving the gala in excruciating detail. Over and over. 

“It was fine,” Hermione nearly repeated herself.

“How many times do you think you can say fine before we all start buying it?” Pansy asked with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t bother arguing. She took another sip of her latte and tried to remember why she’d ever decided jogging was a good idea. If anything, it just gave her more uninterrupted thinking time. And apparently, more opportunities for ambushes like this one.

“At least there weren’t any photos in the Prophet,” Ginny offered. “And the article was practically tame by Skeeter’s standards. She only made, what, three thinly veiled comments about how sozzled you were during that speech? And barely a word on the Slytherin praise. ”

Hermione nodded, remembering the headline, “Ministry’s Golden Trio Glows at Gala: Tipsy Toasts, Mistletoe Kisses, and The Most Charmed Gift This Yule.” Ginny wasn’t wrong, it was practically a glowing review. Possibly the kindest thing Rita Skeeter had ever written about her, which was deeply unnerving.

“Don’t remind me,” Theo grumbled, slamming his mug down hard enough to slosh foam over the edge. “I’m furious with Lucius. This is the one time he decides to be noble? Typical.”

Hermione laughed before she could help it.

“Not that I wanted the photos of those twats splashed across the society pages,” Theo added quickly. “But still. Would’ve made them look ridiculous. And let’s be honest, you looked fucking fit. So did I,” he added, dropping his chin onto his hand and pouting.

“Why don’t you just have Potter take you out?” Pansy teased. “That’ll get you on the front page.”

Theo sighed, face still in his hand and looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “We’re taking it slow.”

“And was this your idea or Harry’s?” Hermione asked, amused.

“Oh no,” Theo said, sitting up with a wag of his finger. “We’re not turning this around on me. This is about you and your mess. And believe me, it kills me not to talk about myself.”

“I don’t have a mess,” she said unconvincingly. “I’m really okay with Viktor and Daphne being engaged. I mean, would  I have preferred not to have had a front row seat to it all? Sure, but otherwise I’m good. Completely over him.”

“Yea, yea,” Pansy said, waving a hand. “No one gives a flying fuck about Krum. We’re talking about you and Draco.”

Hermione tried to play dumb, but subtlety had never been her strength. Her brain wouldn’t allow it, likely found the act offensive “What about us?” 

She desperately wished her curls were down so she could hide behind them. Too late. The blush was already creeping up her neck.

“What about us?” Theo repeated in a mockingly dreamy voice. “Oh right, I forgot, Draco takes all his mates on overly thoughtful, wildly romantic bus rides.”

“He did take all of you,” Hermione said matter of factly.

Pansy and Ginny both scoffed as Theo spluttered. “Well, that’s besides the point. He was pissed we were all there.”

“Especially Dawlish,” Ginny added and Pansy’s eyes lit up at the mention.

“He was just being kind,” Hermione said too quickly. “He knew I was having a shite night, and I mentioned wanting to see the lights.”

And she really needed to start believing that. He was her roommate, for Merlin’s sake. She couldn’t keep thinking about him like this, it was rather pathetic.

“Yea,” Ginny laughed, “because that’s what Malfoy’s known for…..his kindness.”

“That’s really all it was,” Hermione insisted, more to herself than anyone. “He just dislikes me slightly less than he used to.”

Pansy shook her head with an incredulous look and muttered what sounded like “idiot” under her breath, but miraculously let it go. For now.

“Definitely wasn’t kind to me,” Theo muttered into his latte. “Called me a wanker at least ten times that night.”

“I hate to break this to you,” Ginny said, barely containing a laugh, “but…”

“Oh, is that how our friendship works now, Red?” Theo cut in, raising a brow and giving her a pointed look.

“Can we even be friends anymore?” Ginny teased, “I mean, you’re getting it on with my ex.”

“Oh, but getting it o—“ Theo started, but was promptly cut off when a woman passing them slipped and landed directly in his lap, stammering out apologies and blushing furiously.

Hermione cast a quick Tergeo under her breath to clean the spilled drinks while Theo helped the Muggle to her feet, all while trying to keep a straight face. Ginny jumped back in, effectively saving them from whatever Theo had been about to share.

“Harry does seem quite happy.”

“By his enthusiasm in the Ministry supply closet, I’d say very happy.” Theo said, eyes gleaming and his grin half mad. He too seemed quite happy.

“No wonder you came back with that creepy grin on your face,” Pansy murmured. “I should’ve recognized it. You, Blaise, and Draco have such obvious tells.”

“My just-been-blown face is not creepy,” Theo said, scandalized. “It’s charming.”

“You never had a creepy grin when you were sneaking off with Terry.” Hermione said thoughtfully.

Pansy and Ginny chuckled as Theo held up his hands, exasperated. “I never have a creepy grin. Never.”

“Now that I think about it,” Pansy mused, “Blaise has also been looking rather content lately—“

“Why do you say he looks content, but I look creepy?”

Pansy waved him off, and Theo turned to Hermione for support, but she just grinned into her mug.

“Has he been hooking up with Tracey?” Pansy asked, leaning in.

Hermione lowered her cup, ready. “He’s definitely hooking up with someone. Keeps sneaking her in every night and out every morning.” She let out a short laugh, then added. “I’m starting to wonder what’s wrong with her.”

Ginny choked on her sip as Theo said with a smirk, “maybe she’s a real bitch and he’s sparing us the displeasure.”

“Maybe she’s a Hufflepuff,” Pansy said with a dramatic shudder, practically gagging on her sip as if there were nothing worse.

“Maybe she’s missing a nose or something,” Hermione added, grinning. “Looking a little Voldermort-y.”

Ginny visibly cringed at the mental image.

“Too soon?” Hermione asked innocently.

“Too soon,” Theo agreed, looking mildly horrified as he went to finish the rest of his latte.

Hermione nodded, swirling the last bit of foam in her cup. After a beat of silence, the words tumbled out, unfiltered and just a little desperate.

“So….is everyone having sex but me?”

Theo looked over at her. “Well, Potter and I haven’t shagged yet, still haven’t earned that Hogwarts Crest,” he said with a grin. His grin only widened as he added, “and Draco’s definitely not fucking anyone.”

“Yea, his cock hasn’t seen anything but his own fist in ages, I’d wager,” Pansy said.

Hermione did not want to think about Malfoy’s sex life. Couldn’t. Though knowing he was in the same spot was oddly reassuring. Possibly arousing, they did share a wall.

Pansy, with a reluctant sigh went on, “I haven’t been with anyone since I pity shagged Adrian’s older brother, Julian, about a month ago.”

“Since when do you pity anyone?” Hermione asked, suspicious.

“I pitied myself,” Pansy huffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “It’s hard not being fucked regularly. Makes me go a little stir crazy”

Ginny and Theo nodded solemnly. The sexual frustration nearly palpable at the small table.

“Yes!” Hermione burst out, agreeing with sudden, wild energy. “I’m just so…..twirly.”

Ginny snorted, a laugh bubbling up her throat, while Pansy and Theo stared back at her confused.

“Twirly?” Theo echoed, eyebrows high.

“Oh, Godric,” Ginny said on a giggle. “I forgot that’s what you call it.”

“Call what that?” Theo asked, jostling Ginny’s shoulder. “Why does everyone insist on speaking in code half the bloody time?”

“Twirly is her word for horny,” Ginny explained, her face which was already flushed from their run and the caffeine practically glowed.

Theo’s eyes lit up and Pansy joined in their laughter.

“Oh, Goldie!” Theo cackled. “You’ve got the dirty twirls.”

“I’ve got the dirty twirls bad,” Hermione groaned, slumping back in her chair.

They all broke into laughter, loud enough that the tables nearby turned to stare, though none of them noticed.

“How long’s it been?” Pansy asked, suddenly serious.

Hermione just shook her head, not wanting to say it out loud.

The first month after her and Krum broke up, she hadn’t really thought about it. She’d been too shocked by the whole thing, too busy finding a new place to live, too consumed with adjusting to Theo, Blaise and Malfoy, to worry about her sex life. Not to mention work had been crazy, and if Hermione excelled at anything, it was hyper-focusing and compartmentalizing. It was almost another form of her magic.

But by the second month, the lack of sex started making itself known. The twirls were undeniable.

So was Malfoy.

“Too long.”

“Krum?” Theo asked gently. Thankfully, without making her sound too pitiful or tragic.

Hermione nodded, eyes dropping to her mug. She wished there was more latte. Or better yet, something stronger.

“I tried,” she sighed. “Really thought Graham might’ve at least slowed the twirls…..but, no.”

“Well, I could’ve told you that,” Pansy said, her nose turning up with a disdainful sniff. “He’s the worst.” She then turned her ever sharp eye on Ginny. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet through all of this. Twirls not plaguing you?”

Hermione’s head snapped up, joining the other two in their collective stare.

“Nothing serious or exclusive,” Ginny said, eyes flicking to Hermione. “Our pact is still going strong, I’m not seeing anyone. Just a casual thing now and again. Helps me relax after games.”

Hermione nodded knowingly. She was intimately aware with how serious Quidditch players were about their pre and post game rituals. And how perpetually twirly they all were, at least in her experience.

“Which,” Ginny added, subtly flicking her wand to cast a quick Tempus, “reminds me, I need to get going. Training this afternoon.”

“You’re still coming out tomorrow night, right?” Hermione asked, already mentally preparing for the cold walk to the apparition point. No way she was running now. Her muscles were cooled and that would just spell disaster.

“Of course,” Ginny said, standing up and stretching out one leg then the other.“What pub are we meeting at? Potion & Pint?”

“Actually,” Hermione said, smiling as she glanced around the table, “I thought we could try somewhere new.”

~*~

“Where are we meeting?” Malfoy asked as he stepped up to their Floo, green powder slipping between his tightly clenched fingers. 

His sleeves were rolled up, forearms on full display. Corded muscle, indecently pronounced veins, and that fucking dark mark. Hermione was having an increasingly difficult time not finding it all ridiculously attractive. Which was possibly something she should seek therapy for.

“Granger?” His voice cut through her highly questionable train of thought. Because, really, a Muggleborn like her should not find that tattoo so unbelievably hot, no matter what set of arms it was adorning. And yet…. here she was.

“Pardon?” Her eyes snapped back up to his face, where naturally, he was already smirking. Like he knew his arms were distracting and had rolled his sleeves for this precise moment.

Fuck. No. This was not a moment. 

“Where are we meeting?” He repeated, slower this time, his eyebrows joining his smirk in taunting her.

“Herbologie,” she said, doing her best to hold his gaze. Not that it helped, those silver misted eyes and that ridiculous hair falling across his brow were just as distracting. He was her roommate. Her not-kissing-her, not-wanting-to-kiss-her roommate. She had to stop this.

“It’s a new juice bar in Diagon Alley. Neville opened it recently.”

“A juice bar?” He echoed, like this was his first time encountering the word juice.

“It’s healthy,” she provided, as if that would help. “You know, fruits, vegetables, vitamins.”

“Well thanks, Granger,” he drawled, his smugness reaching new levels. “I’d been dreading today’s raid, but it sounds vastly preferable to whatever the hell a juice bar is.”

His sarcasm somehow settled her. It didn’t make his whole presence less distracting, on the contrary, she found his bite to be one of her favorite things about him. But it was easier to ignore the way his wand holster perfectly framed his stupidly lean, broad chest when he was being a complete arse. 

Yes, she definitely needed to look into that therapy.

“For your sake, I hope the raid goes quickly then,” she said with a smirk of her own as he stepped into the flames. “I’ll save a juice for you.”

~*~

Blaise, Ginny, Pansy, Theo and Hermione were all seated at a long, beechwood table, each with a tall glass of untouched, neon-bright juice and a small shot glass filled with an earthy brown elixir that smelled like fresh soil with a hint of pond scum.

“Why are we here again?” Blaise asked, not for the first time.

“Hermione’s trying to be healthy,” Pansy said, lifting a glass of dark red liquid and giving it a whiff. Her face twisted like she’d been hoping it was blood and whatever she smelled was worse.

“It’s her New Year’s resolution,” Theo practically purred, dragging out resolution with far too much relish.

Hermione shot him a sharp look, trying to suss out whatever game he was playing, but he just waved her off, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Blaise frowned at Theo’s comment, but chose to ignore it. “And how exactly is this healthy?” He held up the shot glass. “It looks like the Prefect’s bathwater after an intense Quidditch match.”

“Gross,” Ginny groaned, eyeing the drink with even more disdain.

“Maybe if you knew my cleaning charms,” Theo cut in smoothly, flashing Blaise a pointed look, “you wouldn’t have that visual.”

Blaise looked vaguely confused at that, then just smirked and pushed on. “Seriously though, what am I supposed to do with this? And don’t say drink it because it smells less like Neville grew this and more like it could’ve come out of his Longbottom.”

“I’m with Blaise,” Pansy said, raising her glass to clink his in solidarity. The motion was second nature for them both, but she faltered mid-sip, gagging slightly. “And to think we’re doing this instead of going to the pub like sane people all because you’re horny.”

Ginny snorted, and Theo nearly lost it. Thank Merlin no one had been drinking just then or they all would have been covered in juice.

“Pansy!” Hermione shrieked. “It’s twirly. And I told you that in confidence.”

“It’s only Blaise,” Pansy said in her defence. “And who among us doesn’t get a little twirly from time to time? Blaise probably more than most.”

Blaise was nodding enthusiastically. “Granger, you’ve got to get that out of your system. And this,” he held up his glass again, “is not the answer.”

“It’s practically radiating off you,” Theo added, grinning. “Like some magnetized pull, drawing my cock right in. Like you’re trying to steal it.”

Theo emphasized the word steal and chanced a quick look at Blaise.

“Oh, fuck off,” Hermione shot back, laughing despite herself. She raised her verdant hued drink to her lips for a tentative sip, only to choke mid-motion when she spotted Malfoy approaching their table, flanked by Harry. His signature inquisitive look was already creeping across his face.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Granger,” Malfoy drawled as he slid into the seat next to her, eyeing the glasses with revulsion. “But for arguments sake, what did Theo do this time?”

“Oi!” Theo threw his hands up, full offense taken, only to turn and spot Harry chuckling as he slid into the seat beside him.

 “And you! You’re meant to be on my side!” 

Harry only grinned, wholly unapologetic. “I just got here. I’m neutral. Though Hermione is usually right.”

“Theo thinks Granger’s giving off a ‘twirly’ aura,” Blaise said, his smirk growing at an infuriating pace.

Harry made a face, knowing exactly what twirly meant. “Yea, I’m with Hermione. Ow, Theo,” he said on a laugh rubbing his shoulder that Theo had just elbowed.

“Twirly?” Malfoy repeated, just as one of Neville’s coworkers dropped off two more glasses of juice and shots of the ominous brown liquid.

They both murmured thanks, though their expressions screamed absolutely not. Malfoy ran a long finger down his glass, collecting condensation with the tip.

Merlin.

And now she was jealous of a glass. Brilliant.

“Yes, doesn’t she look extra twirly today?” Blaise said with great satisfaction, clearly delighted with himself.

Malfoy stared at the juice for a second longer, then turned that maddening attention to her. His gaze swept slowly, far too slowly, over her face, pausing at her curls. His teeth grazed his lower lip, and she had to take a sip just to hide the blush that threatened to betray her completely.

“Your curls do look a bit different,” he said finally, head tilting ever so slightly. “Softer somehow.”

The almost-smile that pulled at his mouth was barely there, but she saw it.

Unfortunately, so did everyone else.

She needed to pivot. Immediately.

“New Sleekeazy’s product,” she said quickly, gesturing vaguely. “Beachier waves. More of a…..relaxed look.”

“We’re not anywhere near a fucking beach,” Harry said, squinting at her hair as though trying to see a difference.

“And it’s winter.” Theo chimed in, smirk still firmly in place.

“I know something that would make you look more relaxed,” Blaise piped up.

“Well, I’m testing it out,” Hermione cut him off firmly. “New Year. New Me.”

Malfoy gave her curls another once over, slow again, deliberate. Not that he had really looked away this whole time.

“I think it looks nice,” he said, voice lower now. “Twirly suits you.”

“Thanks,” she managed, though the word was entirely swallowed by Blaise’s sudden bark of laughter and the chorus of giggles from Pansy and Ginny. 

“And there it is!” Blaise crowed, while Theo practically fell apart beside him, cackling.

Malfoy blinked at the group in mild bewilderment. “Is there something in this?” He asked, lifting his carrot-orange drink and sniffing before taking a bold gulp. “No. Just plants then.”

Theo picked himself up and stood from his chair, a crumpled scroll in hand. “Speaking of New Year’s resolutions,” he said loudly, projecting over the laughter. “It seems Hermione isn’t the only one trying to improve herself.”

Everyone looked up at him with interest, waiting for the reveal.

Everyone except Blaise, whose eyes went unbelievably wide, his usual air of effortless confidence vanishing in an instant.“Where the fuck did you find that?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Theo dangled the scroll between his fingers, stepping up onto the chair as Blaise lunged to grab it. “Pucklet found it while she was cleaning. Saw my name on it and assumed it was mine.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked, scooting to the edge of her seat, clearly interpreting Blaise’s unease as a sign of something juicy.

“Yes, do share,” Hermione added, her voice laced with anticipation.

“So glad you asked. This right here is—“

“Jar!” Blaise shouted, now on his feet. “Come on, Draco, you’re my boy. Back me up here.”

Malfoy sneered, though it wasn’t the same as the ones Hermione remembered from Hogwarts. This one was still condescending, still slightly appalled, but there was a flicker of humour behind it. A bit of warmth. She didn’t know if it was new, or if she’d just never known where to look.

“No. We’ve been over this ‘my boy’ is not a thing,” Draco replied, tired,  like it was a well-worn argument between them. But then the corner of his lips quirked upward, and Godric it was distracting, Hermione felt suddenly, irrationally overheated. 

“And I’m with them,” he added, nodding toward Ginny and Hermione, “I want to know what’s on this scroll you’re so desperate to keep hidden.”

He threw a quick wink Hermione’s way and she about melted.

Theo cleared his throat in an overly dramatic fashion. “May I present to you, Blaise Zabini’s New Year’s Resolutions.”

Harry chuckled at the fanfare, which only set Blaise off again.

“Watch it, Chosen One.”

Harry laughed harder as he clapped Blaise on the back. “No, I think you’re the Chosen One now.”

Pansy let out a delighted trill. “What the fuck did you put on there, Blaise? It can’t be worse than this shit.” She swirled her glass and sent Hermione a smirk.

“The juice is not bad!” Hermione protested.

“Oh, it’s dreadful, Granger,” Malfoy teased, leaning into her space. One arm rested casually along the back of her chair as his hand drifted over her shoulder, fingers brushing close to her cheek as he pointed up at Blaise. “But this? This is going to be so much worse.”

She turned slightly to look at him, and found him so close, her lips nearly grazed the sharp line of his cheek, pulled up in a smirk. His eyes were still on her, even as Theo and Blaise continued trying to command the room’s attention.

“Tell us!” Ginny implored, grinning ear to ear even as Blaise sent her a desperate look.

“Just pick a color of Pygmy Puff and buy one already,” Theo read off the scroll, barely holding back his laughter.

“Salazar, you’re embarrassing,” Pansy groaned, covering her face as her shoulders shook.

“Oh, shut it, Pans,” Blaise snapped. “Witches think they’re cute.”

Laughter erupted around the table as multiple voices rang out, “jar!”

“I’m feeling generous this new year,” Ginny said sweetly. “Purple’s definitely your color. I’ll have my brothers send one over.”

Blaise just groaned as Theo carried on, looking up at them all with humor glazing his eyes. “Start floating the idea that everyone calls me The Blaise of Glory.”

Ginny gagged, though Hermione couldn’t tell if it was from the horrendous nickname or the sip of juice she’d just taken. Honestly, it was probably a lethal combination.

“It’s amazing you find anyone willing to shag you,” Pansy said, shaking her head as a tiny snort escaped.

“Who are these witches?” Harry laughed. “I’d love to meet one and ask what went wrong in her childhood. Who was the absolute plonker who pushed her into your arms?”

Blaise’s face lit up with devilish glee. “Oh Potter, well then do—“

Ginny elbowed him sharply, “please read on.”

Theo cleared his throat again, louder this time, and practically shouted the last resolution. “Find out where Theo gets his charm….and steal it.”

“I mean, I get why you’d want some of this,” Theo said, waving a hand over his body with a self-satisfied flourish. He even managed a spin on the chair, surprisingly graceful, and probably only possible thanks to the juice. “But steal it? Why not just ask me to share?”

“Why don’t you want to steal my charm?” Malfoy asked, sounding genuinely affronted.

“That’s your problem with this, Draco?” Pansy blinked at him, incredulous. Harry and Ginny burst out laughing beside her. 

“Your charm is much harder to steal, mate,” Theo replied simply, his smile wide and way too pleased with itself. “All of it’s sitting miles beneath the surface, in your Gringotts vaults.”

Malfoy flipped him off as Hermione leaned forward. “I could steal it. I totally could.”

Malfoy let out a deep throaty chuckle right next to her and his hand rose to tousle her curls as he murmured so only she could hear, “no doubt you could, Granger.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Blaise’s exasperated voice cut through the laughter. “What have I ever done to you?”

“You mean besides trying to steal my charm?”

“It’s a compliment,” Blaise pouted, lifting his glass for a dramatic gulp, clearly forgetting what was in it. “Merlin, I hate that there’s no whiskey in this.”

Theo hopped down from his chair and slid back into his as the laughter around them slowly died down.

“So,” Blaise said grimacing through another sip, “now that we’ve all heard mine and Granger’s embarrassing resolutions, anyone else want to share?” 

“Mine is not embarrassing.”

“You’re running a 5k, Granger,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes, “and you’ve made us all drink juice.” She thankfully left off any mention of the twirls being the real motivator behind Hermione’s sudden change of pace, to which Hermione was entirely grateful.

“It’s rather nice here,” Hermione replied. She glanced around the sunlit space (though it was evening), with its towering fruit trees and multi-colored vegetables vines winding up the walls and snaking around the corners and door frames. It wasn’t a pub, but that wasn’t a fair comparison.

“I plan to continue being amazing at Quidditch,” Ginny piped up brightly.

“That’s not a resolution,” Harry argued. “You’re not changing anything.”

Ginny flipped her hair. “Why would I?”

Malfoy huffed a laugh, “I’m with Weasley. I’ve nothing to improve.”

Harry started counting on his fingers. “Your attitude, your overall tone, the way you say Potter, the fact it takes you a bloody year to type a message on your Nimble Notes and you only use your pointer finger, always—“

“Potter, these are supposed to be resolutions, not a list of your petty grievances.”

“I could help you with your Nimble Notes,” Hermione chimed in, and regretted it the second the words left her lips.

As if she wasn’t already struggling enough just being near him without getting overwhelmed. Yes, brilliant plan, why not add watching his long lithe fingers move in slow motion while pretending it’s educational.

Excellent.

“Thanks, Granger,” Malfoy said, his tone soft and his eyes practically searing into her before Harry cut back in.

“I’m going to try and stay sane at work, especially after that raid tonight,” Harry moaned. “We’re going to be filing paperwork for months.”

Malfoy groaned, and Hermione turned to look at them both. “Oh yea, how’d it go?”

“You two,” Harry gestured between her and Theo, “are going to be very busy.”

“There was an entire cellar packed full of artefacts we couldn’t even get into yet, it was warded so heavily.” Malfoy added.

Hermione and Theo lit up, practically bouncing in excitement as they clinked their glasses together in a cheer.

Malfoy was still staring at her, something unreadable passing across his face. She smiled back, too giddy at the thought of cursed objects and endless hours of work to think much of it.

Maybe she should be working more, maybe running wasn’t the thing to get her head back on straight. Something to think about later.

Pansy was staring at both her and Malfoy when she picked up their earlier conversation. “My resolution is to get my twirls under control.”

Malfoy tilted his head, brow furrowing as he turned slowly to face her. “Twirls? Your hair is straight. What exactly is there to control?”

Hermione shot Pansy a sharp look, but either she didn’t notice or was ignoring it entirely, judging by the riot of  laughter coming from her, Ginny, and Theo.

“Me too,” Theo piped up, winking at Harry. “These twirls have gotten unruly.”

Hermione could tell Harry was trying to groan and brush Theo off for her sake, but he couldn’t quite manage it, his smile kept creeping through, persistent and wide. Clearly, the twirls were a shared affliction.

“Be nice,” Blaise cut in, aiming the words at Malfoy, his eyes sparkling with a kind of mirth this juice bar had likely never seen before. “And maybe I’ll clue you in.”

Hermione found herself hoping Malfoy wouldn’t be nice. She wanted him to be his usual arrogant, insufferable self. Which, thankfully, seemed like a safe bet.

Blaise raised his shot glass, deliberately avoiding eye contact with whatever was inside. The rest followed suit, all warily lifting their own.

“To making good decisions,” Blaise declared.

“And to taming these fucking twirls!” Theo shouted full of enthusiasm.

“Taming the twirls!” The group echoed, except for Malfoy who looked utterly baffled.

They all downed their Longbottom shots with varying degrees of success, followed by a chorus of muttered curses about the abomination that had just touched their tongues.

“Alright,” Ginny groaned, “can we go to the fucking pub now?”

Chapter Text

*Ginny*

“Fuck, Ginevra,” Blaise let out on a low groan, voice wrecked as he slid into her from behind.

She was bent over the kitchen table. The same one she’d eaten dinner at with her parents the night before.

This was clearly a better use for it.

“Just a little—” 

But Ginny wasn’t able to get the words out, as a strained sound ripped from her throat as Blaise pushed in harder. She arched her back and stretched up higher on her tiptoes, desperate to feel him hit that one spot.

Blaise somehow knew exactly what she needed, like he always did, and adjusted his grip accordingly. One hand tightened around her hip, lifting her up slightly, as his other took its time finding her clit.

When they got there his fingers were slick, obscenely so, coated in spit and moving in lazy, practiced circles as he kept thrusting into her with maddening precision.

Ginny knees started to shake as his body pressed hers further into the table.

“Blaise. Blaise.” she gasped, voice high and near frantic, not knowing how much longer she could hold on.

It was always like this with him. She’d thought her and Oliver’s sex life had been good. Good enough to warrant him being a colossal arse more than half the time. But she’d been wrong. It was nothing compared to this.

“I’ve got you.” Blaise murmured against her neck as he fought to catch his breath. “Come on, Gin. I’ve got you.”

Her vision blurred at the edges and she swore she could she stars flashing as her orgasm crashed over her. A broken moan leaving her lips right as someone started knocking at her front door.

“Fuck,” Blaise panted, drawing the word out, his voice ragged as he came hard behind her.

“Fuck,” Ginny echoed, snapping her head up to look at the door and trying to gather herself as the last waves rolled through her.

“Hey, Gin?” Hermione’s voice floated through the door after another knock. “Are you alright?”

“Shit, I completely forgot,” Ginny hissed, trying to twist and shove Blaise off her, which was rather difficult, considering he was still very much inside her.  “You need to hide. Hermione’s here for our morning run.”

Blaise pulled out and stepped back, staring at her, dazed and unblinking like she’d just spoken Mermish.

“Gin!” The knocking started up again, peppered with Hermione’s concerned calls.

“Blaise,” she reiterated, half whispering, half shouting. “You need to hide. Hermione is at the fucking door!”

“One moment!” Ginny called out, trying to keep her voice casual. “Just getting….”

She looked at Blaise for help, which was a horrible idea and a show of how truly fucked she really was.

Why was she keeping secrets from her best friend again? This shite was going to take years off her life.

“Showering?” Blaise offered with a shrug and an infuriating amount of calm.

Ginny went with it before she could think things through. “Getting out of the shower! Just a minute!”

“The shower?” She turned toward Blaise and smacked his shoulder. “I’m not wet!”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” His grin and cock growing at an alarming rate considering the situation and that they’d just shagged mere minutes ago.  “You’re definitely—“

“Not the fucking time,” she growled, dragging him down the hall while yanking her knickers back up with the other hand. “Get in my room and stay there.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, pressing her up against the wall. His tongue slid along hers and his teeth scraped against her bottom lip, making her breathless yet again. It was almost enough to make her forget Hermione was standing on the other side of the door. His lips went to move to her neck before she reluctantly shoved him away.

“Stay quiet and don’t come out until we’ve left.” She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, running her tongue along it, feeling his bite marks.

“I love these sweet nothings you whisper to me after a passionate round of lo—“

“Do not call it love making,” Ginny cut him off as he laughed, still completely naked and without a care in the world. “And where the fuck are your clothes?”

“Accio clothes,” Blaise called lazily, a smirk tugging at his lips as his briefs came flying directly at her head.

She batted them away with a roll of her eyes and rushed to her closest, pulling on a pair of leggings and slipping into her trainers. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head, held in place by one hand as she searched the piles of clothes littered on the floor for her hat. 

“Fuck, where is it?” She muttered, digging through discarded tops and dresses with increasing desperation.

“You better hurry,” Blaise said as he pulled on his joggers, right as Hermione’s muffled shout echoed through the door, “Gin, it’s fucking freezing out here! Hurry!”

Ginny whined in frustration, letting her hair fall into her face as she now searched with both hands. She needed that hat. Needed to hide her hair, which was not in fact wet, because she had not been in the shower.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Blaise asked smugly, a chunky maroon and gold knit hat dangling off the tip of his finger.

She popped up with the reflexes of a seasoned Chaser and snatched it from him before he could pull it back. Not quick enough though to avoid the arm that snaked around her waist and pulled her in for one last kiss.

This time she got lost in it, feeling his chest pressed against hers and his hands pulling her flush to him.

“You’ve got to go,” he hummed against her lips and she pouted up at him. 

He chuckled softly, brushing his hands down her sides. “You’re cute when you pout. Also cute in this little ensemble,” he added, his voice deep. “Though you might want to put a top on.”

“Shit,” she muttered, pulling away, grabbing her oversized Gryffindor Quidditch jumper she usually slept in and tugging it over her head.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “So much red and gold. I’m giving you my jersey next time you’re over. We need to fix this.”

She mockingly rolled her eyes as she walked backward toward the door, unwilling to take her eyes off him. “Want me to wear it tonight?”

He closed his eyes for just a moment and exhaled slowly. “Yea. With nothing else.”

“I think I can manage that,” she said, running her tongue along her lip. “I’ll Nimble you tonight. And stay hidden until we’re gone.”

“Of course my little lion. Wouldn’t dream of anyone finding out about us.”

Us, she thought and smiled.

She cast him one last look, matching his grin, then closed her bedroom door and sprinted down the hall just as Hermione resumed knocking with renewed determination. Ginny swung the door open right as Hermione opened her mouth to call out again.

“Finally!” Hermione screeched, jogging  in place to keep warm, her curls bouncing wildly like they had a mind of their own. “I’ve practically run five kilometers just waiting out here.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Ginny said quickly, shutting and locking the door behind her. “Lost track of time, thought I had enough to squeeze in a quick shower.”

Hermione gave her a confused look, her eyes narrowing in on her hat, which had to have looked crazy with all her hair bundled up beneath it.

“Is your hair still wet under there?” She asked curiously. “Surely you had enough time for a drying charm.”

Fuck.

Why hadn’t she thought of a drying charm?!

Of course her hair wouldn’t have been wet!

A hat? That was her go-to? She was a pureblood witch, for Godric’s sake.

Apparently, Blaise had shagged all the common sense right out of her.

“I’m….” She dropped into a lunge to buy herself a few extra seconds. “I’m trying out a new air drying technique. Read about it in a Muggle magazine.”

She bent low over her knee, to stretch, but mostly to hide her face.

“I think I read that same article,” Hermione mused. “I’ve wanted to try it, but the curls get so fussy.” She tugged on a strand until it straightened, then let it spring back.

“Yea, and you’re already trying out that relaxed, beachy wave look,” Ginny teased, before popping up and taking off down the pavement at a slow jog.

Hermione fell into pace beside her, already looking like she was mentally counting down the seconds until they were done. “Ha-ha,” she deadpanned. “But actually, now that you mention the twirls,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, as if any Muggle would have a clue. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes?” Ginny prompted, glancing over to see Hermione’s face bunched up, her eyes shut in a tight squeeze and her lips curled in.

“I think you all are right,” Hermione finally said once she’d relaxed, a bit breathless but determined. “I think I need to get laid.”

Ginny threw her head back and exhaled like she’d been holding it in for days. “Finally.”

Hermione elbowed her but Ginny could see the smile hidden on her face.

“Who’s the lucky bloke?”

Hermione lightly shook her head. “I’ve no one in mind.”

Lie, Ginny thought. But she’d let her have it. It wasn’t like Ginny wasn’t keeping one of her own.

“I’m just opening myself up to the possibilities.”

“Literally?” Ginny grinned, weaving around a group of older men strolling the opposite way. “Because if so, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of takers.”

Hermione snorted, struggling to keep up. “No, not literally. But I think I’m ready for a fling. Something fun. Non-serious.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Ginny said truthfully. “Exactly what you need.”

And it was. Hermione had been so tightly wound since breaking it off with Krum and then moving in with Malfoy. She desperately needed to let loose and get some relief.

“And it doesn’t go against our pact?” Hermione panted, glancing over with a thoughtful look.

That damn pact. Ginny hadn’t expected Hermione to actually remember it, let alone take it so seriously. At the time it’d seemed like a brilliant idea. Oliver and Krum had both been the literal worst. And she’d been of a ‘who really needs men’ mindset. She had a hand and a Muggle vibrator, that surely would suffice.

Though, Hermione was proof that Slytherins could fuck that right up.

“No, it doesn’t go against the pact,” she reassured her. “I’ve had a few flings since Oliver.”

Which wasn’t technically true. There had only been Blaise. But it was non-serious, just for fun. So it counted. 

They ran in silence for a while, Ginny deep in thought about Blaise and what the two of them were actually doing and Hermione likely convincing herself there was anyone she wanted to shag besides Malfoy.

“No feelings. Just shags,” Ginny said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them, her voice more confident than she felt.

Hermione nodded. “Just shags.”

Right then, Ginny’s Nimble Notes buzzed in her pocket, practically alerting everyone in a block radius that she had a message. She slipped it out for a quick sneaky glance, knowing exactly who it was from and being careful Hermione didn’t see. 

Thankfully, they now were ten minutes into the run, which meant Hermione was nearly entirely focused on not falling over.

No feelings. Just shags.

*Hermione*

Hermione’s calves were burning, and despite finishing the run (only three bloody kilometers) over two hours ago, she still hadn’t quite caught her breath. 

She hated running . Hated it. And she couldn’t wait for this idiotic 5k to be over and buried in the past where it belonged.

Damn Justin Finch-Fletchley and his stupid ideas about inserting Muggle traditions into wizarding culture.

It didn’t help that today was mandatory Internal Affairs safety training for both the Aurors and the Unspeakables, which meant an hour of standing through a hands-on practical demonstration. In other words, spells she already knew, taught at a pace that could put even Professor Binns to sleep.

“The safety of yourselves and those around you is of the utmost importance,” Zacharias Smith droned on. “Which is why it’s essential to remain focused while casting.”

Theo leaned in, whispering just loud enough for Hermione to hear. “Why does the Ministry force us to sit through this dull-arse training every single year.”

“I don’t know,” she said in a hushed voice, glancing sideways at him. “Maybe because certain people think casting spells mid-chew while mumbling through a chocolate croissant is a good idea. And what should’ve been a harmless summoning charm turned into a minor explosion that destroyed a rare artifact”

“That was one time,” Theo said, feigning deep offense.

“It was actually twice,” Dawlish cut in dryly from behind them. “In the past six months. I have to keep an Auror on call for your office at all times.”

Theo looked back at the tall, broad shouldered Head Auror, who was staring unblinkingly ahead, his gaze never drifting from Zacharias, who was currently demonstrating the world’s slowest swish and flick. 

“Well, that’s because our line of work is incredibly dangerous.”

“Sure,” Dawlish replied flatly, his tone as clipped as ever, eyes still tracking the painfully precise wand movement like it might suddenly turn interesting.

“Has he always been around or is this a new thing?” Theo asked Hermione, subtly pointing behind him at Dawlish, making no real effort to keep his voice down. “Did I miss something?”

Malfoy leaned into the narrow space between them, his shoulder brushing her arm. “He’s always been here, likely since the dawn of time,” he said with a smirk. He pulled back slightly adding, “we’re just so lucky in the DMLE to have him leading the way.”

Harry coughed out a laugh he tried to keep concealed as a low groan rumbled from Dawlish’s direction.

“You grow more hilarious and more fucking irritating by the day, Auror Malfoy.” Not a pinch of humor colored his tone. “Now all of you, bog off and go practise.”

“Practise?” Harry repeated, confused, though already moving, not in the mood to test Dawlish’s limits like Malfoy clearly was. “But we’re watching the demonst—“

“Alright everyone,” Zacharias’s voice rang out from the front. “Partner up and take turns practising the spells we just reviewed. I’ll be making rounds to observe your wand work and pronunciation.”

Theo leaned over to Harry. “Like I need help with my wand work.” He gave him a playful shove that made Harry snort.

“And remember,” Zacharias added as everyone began breaking into pairs, “the three F’s of charm work. Focus. Forward. Firm.”

Malfoy snorted. “More like a fucking waste of time.”

“Sod it,” Dawlish bit out. “Nott partner with Granger. Potter, you’re with Malfoy. Merlin knows the two of you need more practise working well together.”

“You don’t work well with anyone,” Malfoy shot back, brow raised in disbelief.

“I said sod it,” Dawlish muttered, rolling his eyes as he stalked off to check on his other Aurors, clearly done with the four of them.

They drifted toward the back of the Ministry conference room, the surrounding pairs giving them a wide berth. Likely because Theo’s casting mishaps were practically legendary at this point.

“Ready Goldie?” Theo teased. “I’m summoning that clip straight out of your curls.”

“No, Theo,” she pleaded, clutching the clip securely against her crown with her free hand.

He laughed and raised his voice, calling out to an overly pompous Zacharias making the rounds, “Oi, Smith! What exactly are we summoning? Do you have feathers, or is this a free for all? Strip Ministry training?” 

He waggled his eyebrows, earning a ripple of snorts and laughter from the nearby trainees.

“Godric, let’s hope not,” Harry said. “I don’t fancy seeing half these people without their robes.”

Malfoy looked over at him curiously. “But the other half, you’re game for?”

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said dryly, echoing Dawlish as he alternated between practising the wand movements for the summoning and levitation charms.

“Bollocks,” Zacharius cursed softly. “Right, let me get the feathers.”

A few moments later, fifty feathers drifted around the room, riding a gentle current of air that hadn’t been there a second ago. A little flashy, but objectively impressive. Hermione found herself reconsidering whether Zacharias Smith was as much of a bore as she’d originally assumed.

She and Theo went back and forth, playing an odd version of Muggle catch. Levitating the feather out of each other’s grasp and making it fly into their outstretched hand. Just like Malfoy had said, a fucking waste of time.

As boredom set in with the year one charm work, they started to get more precise with their spells. Adding in a bit of pizazz.

She held the feather out at arms length, swaying it through the air to toy with him. Theo grinned and raised his wand with theatrical flair.

“Accio,” he said, crisp and clear.

The feather zipped from her fingers and landed perfectly behind his ear.

Hermione flashed him a toothy grin right as someone stepped up beside her. 

“Nice work, Nott,” Zacharias said, clearly impressed. “Great focus.” His eyes then flicked to her. “Let’s see you try, Hermione.”

She held out her vinewood wand, letting it balance delicately against her fingertips as she gracefully, yet purposefully arched it through the air, calling out, “Accio.”

The feather floated from Theo’s grip and hovered perfectly at the tip of her wand.

Hermione sent Theo a smug little wink, just as Zacharias’s voice cut back in. 

“Excellent, Hermione. Seriously, you should be teaching the class.”

Merlin, no. She’d rather go for a run.

“Though, if I may,” he continued, stepping closer until he was directly behind her. “I thought I could show you the added flourish to summon all of them at once.”

Her curiosity sparked, of course she’d read the theory, been tested on it in her N.E.W.T.s, but she’d never used it in practice. She turned her head to reply, but quickly faced forward again when she realized just how close his face was to hers. Far too close for a professional setting. 

“Yes, please,” she said, her tone even, though unease prickled at her spine.

Zacharias reached for her wand hand, fingers curling around hers, adjusting her grip until it was tighter. “This variation’s got a sharper finish, you’ll want a firmer hold. That’s it,” he murmured.  “Perfect pressure.” 

Then he stepped in fully and pressed flush against her back, his free hand settling on her hip.

Hermione blinked.

She could’ve sworn she heard a scoff and a stifled laugh just to her left.

“The incantation stays the same,” Zacharius continued, low and much too close, his breath fanning across her cheek. “The arch movement as well, but at the end you add a quick jab forward. Keep your stance solid, you’ll need to put a bit of force behind it.”

The laughter around her was definitely louder now, and that one was unmistakably Theo’s. Not that she was paying it much attention.

She was focused. Looking forward. With a firm hold.

The chance to be a star pupil in your twenties didn’t come around often, and Hermione Granger was absolutely going to take it.

With Zacharias guiding her hand, she swept her wand in a graceful arc, then snapped it forward.

“Accio.”

All fifty feathers scattered throughout the room responded at once, swooshing through the conference room as if on an errant breeze and clustering together in a weightless plume that bobbed at her eye level.

She couldn’t contain her squeal of delight as Zacharias pulled her in for a celebratory one-armed hug. 

“Brilliant, Hermione. That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone pick that up.”

She flushed at the praise. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Smith!” Malfoy shouted, startling them both. “Are you planning to assist anyone else, or is Granger the only one that matters?”

She turned to glare at him, but was diverted when a deep laugh stole her attention. Dawlish, of all people, let out a deep,throaty chuckle a few feet away, coughing into his fist in a poor attempt to recover. 

“I better carry on,” Zacharias muttered, suddenly looking far less confident. He waved his wand, sending the feathers drifting back to the other pairs, most of whom were now unabashedly staring.

“But maybe after this session, we could talk more?” He added quickly.  “About some charm variation techniques?”

“I’d like that,” she said brightly, already thinking about the spell tailorings she’d flagged in the latest Charmed Chronicle. “I’ll come find you.”

Zaharias walked off toward the front of the room, but not before chancing a glance back at her and flashing a quick smile. 

“Nice firm hold, Hermione,” Theo said through a snort. “Perfect pressure. You really know how to grip a shaft.”

“Oh, fuck off, Theo.” Her nose wrinkled as her mouth pulled to the side. “He was just being helpful.”

Malfoy scoffed loudly as he and Harry wandered over. “Helpful? He was trying to get in your knickers.”

“He’s teaching a training seminar,” Hermione said, brushing them both off as wildly off kilter. “He’s doing his job.”

“Or wanting you to do a job,” Theo mumbled, setting both him and Harry off in another fit of laughter.

“Not you too, Harry,” she chastised, turning to him with a look of betrayal.

“He was a bit….forward,” Harry admitted, edging closer to Theo like he was seeking safety in numbers. “I mean, you’re already the best at charms here. And he’s not exactly getting handsy with Susan.”

Hermione followed his nod toward the front corner of the room. Zacharius was now working with Susan Bones, standing beside her as he demonstrated the correct motion with his own wand. No hand on her hip. No fingers mixed with hers, holding the wand together. No advanced charm theory tucked in as a bonus.

Still.

“In his defence,” Theo started with a smirk, “forward is one of the three F’s. Feeling you up, though? Definitely not.”

“He didn’t feel me up,”Hermione said firmly, as if that was positively ridiculous. 

She looked to Harry for back up. Surely he would agree Zacharius Smith wasn’t out here copping a feel in front of half the department.

Harry’s hand went straight to his hair, pulling at the roots, and he gave her a rather tight looking grin.

“Harry,” she implored.

“He was very focused on you,” he said in his defense. “And he was flushed.”

“Flushed,” Theo repeated with a laugh. “Salazar, there are so many F’s in charms!”

“It’s a move, Granger,” Malfoy said, finally sounding more relaxed now that Zacharias had taken his attention elsewhere. “Everyone knows it’s a move. Coming up behind a witch to help her with something. Talking low to her when you’re close. Letting your hand wander, linger a little.”

Maybe he was right. Zacharius had gotten quite close, but Hermione wasn’t in the mood to back down. Especially not when challenged. Especially not with him.

“He just has different teaching styles for different students,” she replied primly, with that particular tone she usually reserved for correcting professors.

“Yea, the fit ones,” Theo interjected. “Fit! Another F!”

She didn’t deign him a reply, just rolled her eyes as Malfoy chuckled smugly and stepped in closer, lowering his voice. 

“Oh, is that it, Granger? Just his teaching style.”

He had a way of saying her name that made her entire body go taut. It made her feel him. Everywhere he was, and worse, everywhere he wasn’t. Everywhere she wanted him to be. 

And it wasn’t even her first name.

“Then let me help you with your levitation charm,” he all but purred. 

Malfoy was right behind her now, his breath teasing her skin, his lips just shy of grazing the shell of her ear.

“Because I noticed the other week when you were trying to reach for a book on the top shelf, your form was a little….shaky.”

“A little shaky?” She snapped, whipping her head to the side. And no, she clearly hadn’t learned a damn thing from Zacharias and what happens when you’re too close to someone else and quickly turn. Or maybe she had and just didn’t care.

He was bent low, face at her eye level, and his gray misty eyes locked onto her amber ones. They studied each other for a moment, wordlessly deciding on how far to take this.

Apparently, Malfoy hadn’t had enough. 

“A touch shaky,” he said, maddeningly calm. “But if you just follow the three F’s, you’ll have no problem at all” 

The way he said F was absolutely diabolical. It was downright filthy.

She knew he was trying to prove a point, but Merlin, he was doing a very effective job at it.

“Oh, fuck off,” she shot back, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Haven’t made it to that F yet. Always such an overachiever”

She groaned outwardly, which was too close to a moan for comfort. But her body was on fire. His proximity, his words, his fucking smell. It was intoxicating.

And nothing at all like Zacharias Smith.

Malfoy shifted, sliding his leg between hers. His boot nudged one of hers wider, spreading her stance, and suddenly all she could think about was the heat blooming between her thighs, the damp cling of her knickers. 

“He did not spread my legs,” she grit through her teeth.

“You just need to widen your stance,” he whispered, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. Even if his breath hitched, just slightly. “And relax your shoulders. You’re so tense.”

They stilled.

His leg stayed right there, between hers. His chest pressed to her back, practically molded to her spine. Her curls were probably swallowing him whole.

With Zacharias, she’d felt different. Not uncomfortable, but not like this. She’d been focused, eager to learn something new.

She wasn’t focused now. Not even a little. Her brain had turned to static, every coherent thought drowned out by the feeling of him against her. Just like on the Knight Bus, too much, too fast, and utterly undeniable.

“And that’s time.” Zacharias’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension and yanking her back to the real world. 

Back to the Ministry.

Back to the middle of a bloody work day.

Malfoy pulled away instantly, stepping back and letting the cool air rush in to take his place.

“Great work everyone,” Zacharias called. “Just remember the three F’s, focus, forward, and firm. And you’re casting mishaps will be a thing of the past.”

“Hmmm,” Theo pondered, looking equal parts contemplative and mischievous. “Is he sure those are the only F’s involved? Because this whole training felt like it was veering straight toward frottage, fondling and fu—“

“Merlin, I need to get out of here,” Hermione cut him off sharply before he could deliver the final F. She caught Malfoy’s low groan and Theo and Harry’s stifled chortles at her side.

“You’re always welcome to visit my colleagues and me in Internal Affairs,” Zacharius continued cheerfully. “And we hope to see everyone at the first annual Ministry 5k in two weeks!”

“Still think it was just his teaching style, Granger?” Malfoy drawled as the four of them lingered at the back, waiting for the room to clear.

“I think everyone learns differently—“

“And you learn best through touch,” he said, that fucking grin stretching wide across his face as he lifted his brow in challenge. “With someone’s hands on you, telling you exactly what to do. And then their inevitable praise when, of course, you do it better than anyone ever expected.”

Her mouth had gone dry.

Though, unfortunately, that was not the current state of her knickers.

She wanted to think of something sharp, something biting, to come back at him with. She was trying to think. But it was impossible with the image of his hands on her, telling her where to touch him, where he’d touch her, and how she’d react. And the praise that would drip from his tongue when she did something just right.

“Gods, what the fuck is wrong with you,” Harry groaned, looking ill. “Jar! I don’t care that I don’t live there. I’m calling it.”

Malfoy was still watching her, though his smirk had faded. And even though Hermione’s third eye had woefully never opened (and likely didn’t exist) she knew exactly what was playing out in his mind. The same reel looping in hers.

“Auror Malfoy. Auror Potter.” Dawlish’s bark echoed from the front of the now nearly empty room. “We’ve still got paperwork from the Rosier raid. If we ever want to hand off those artifacts to the Unspeakables, we need to push it through.”

Malfoy blinked like he was coming out of a trance.

Harry exhaled a long suffering sigh and peeled away with his shoulders already sagging. 

“Kill me now,” Malfoy muttered darkly, as the two of them nodded their goodbyes and took off after Dawlish down the long Ministry corridor.

“See you at lunch,” Theo called after them before turning to Hermione and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You alright?” He teased. “Need a cold shower?”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Just internalizing the training. You should try it. Might prevent future mishaps”

“You think what just happened is going to prevent future mishaps?” He laughed loudly as they strolled toward the door.

“Yes,” she said, “I intend to be more focused in my casting.”

“Yea, me too.”

They passed by Zacharias, who had his back to them, still chatting with another wizard while packing up his bag.

“I’m just going to—“

“Flirt it up in peace, now that you’re no longer being glared at by a moody peacock?” Theo interrupted, grinning like the menace he was.

She elbowed him hard, but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m going to ask him about a few new undetectable extension charm variants I read about in—“

“Sounds like flirting,” Theo said over his shoulder, already halfway to the door. He winked. “Just remember your F’s. Be frisky and filthy. And if all else fails, fall back on fellatio and a sneaky finger.”

“Theo!” She hissed, hoping beyond words that no one else heard.

*Pansy*

Pansy fumbled around in her handbag, digging for the Galleons she was certain she’d tossed in last weekend after one too many at the pub.

“Fuck,” she muttered, shifting her tray to the edge of the counter before she dropped the whole bloody thing.

Where the fuck were they? 

She hated the Ministry cafe. The whole ordeal was barbaric. Picking at food other people’s grubby fingers had hovered over, then lugging it around on a flimsy plastic tray because hover charms had been banned after one too many crashes. Absolutely uncivilized.

Finally, her fingers closed around a stack of coins buried beneath her Nimble Notes and five different lipsticks. She pulled them out, holding the Galleons up triumphantly, ready to drop them into the cafe witch’s palm when she unexpectedly spoke up. 

“Card only.”

“Card only?” Pansy blinked. “What in Salazar’s name does that mean?”

The witch gave her a withering look, then lazily pointed a silver painted nail toward the sign on the counter.

It read in obnoxiously large block lettering: “CARD ONLY.” 

Below in glittering cursive: “The Ministry has gone coin-less! Visit the nearest Gringott’s kiosk to get your new Ministry Cafe Card today!”

Pansy stared. “But I’m a guest. Surely you can still take these. They’re gold.”

The witch just sucked loudly on an acid pop, unmoved by both the gold and Pansy’s indignation.

Pansy huffed, already pulling out her Nimble Notes to message Hermione a full tirade, when a tall figure walked up behind her.

Without a word, he leaned in close, arm brushing hers as he reached past her shoulder and held out a sleek, black metal card to the witch who’d just made Pansy’s shit list.

“Hi Victoria,” Dawlish rasped, his voice low and unbearably hot. “Add hers to mine will you?”

The witch, Victoria apparently, rolled her tongue around the acid pop once more before pulling it from her mouth with a loud, suggestive pop.

But Dawlish didn’t seem to notice. His arm hung heavy beside Pansy’s face, the sleeve of his crisp Oxford rolled to the elbow. His forearm flexed as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“This cafe and their fucking cards only policy. What a pain in my arse.”

Pansy’s head snapped to the side, a breathy “yes,” escaping before she could stop it. “What utter tripe.”

She bit her lip as he grinned at her. Their bodies somehow inched even closer.

Victoria cleared her throat loudly, clearly unimpressed, before tapping her wand a bit harshly against his card.

Without taking his eyes off Pansy, Dawlish pocketed the card with ease and gestured for her to go ahead of him, brushing his hand against her arm as he did.

“Thanks for that,” she said, weaving through a mess of frazzled Ministry employees. “I was about to make Hermione pay for this shit. I owe you”

She held up a sad looking chip before delicately popping it between her teeth and biting.

He definitely noticed that.

He shook his head and let out a low rumble of laughter. “How about you let me take you to dinner?”

She nearly dropped her tray on the spot, but he caught it, steadying it and her with an ease that made her knees a little less reliable.

“What?”

“Dinner,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, that meal in the evening where we sit down and order food that hasn’t been touched by everyone I work with?”

She blinked up at him, speechless. Which was frankly alarming. She always had something to say. That was sort of her thing.

“You do owe me,” he said, smirking down at her.

“Yes,” she blurted out. Not clever or coy. Just garish Gryffindor energy, apparently.

Fuck, had they started to rub off on her?

“It’s a date then,” he said, smiling as he pulled out a Nimble Notes and shook his head with an exaggerated eye roll.

She let out a soft snort. “Oh, so you got one?”

They were now completely blocking the flow of traffic in the cafe, people brushing past, muttering under their breath, but Pansy didn’t care.

“How else was I supposed to message the enchanting witch I almost arrested?”

Her lips curved as she shook her head and he let out another soft laugh.

“I’ll see you around, Parks. Specifically at dinner. This Saturday.”

She lifted her chin, the barest smirk playing at her mouth. “I’ll be there.”

~*~

She found a wide eyed Hermione not a minute later, sitting at a table nearby, looking absolutely shell shocked.

“Did Dawlish just ask you out?” She practically screeched. “And did you say yes?”

“How the fuck did you hear that?” Pansy asked, sliding into the seat across from her.

Hermione shook her head, sandwich dangling forgotten in her hand. “I didn’t. It's just, he never smiles. And he looked practically giddy just now, could’ve put Theo to shame. And you—“

“I what?”

Hermione giggled. “You just looked happy. Pleasant. It’s not a bad thing.”

Pansy picked up her fork and poked around her salad, searching for a piece of lettuce that looked half decent.

“Speak for yourself. Not all of us are the Golden Girl. Nor do we want to be.”

“Ugh, you and me both,” Hermione groaned, finally taking a bite of her sandwich.

Pansy pointed her fork at her. “It’s tough when everyone loves you,” she said, sliding the bite into her mouth. “So, aside from me being asked out by possibly the fittest wizard I’ve seen in maybe ever, how’s your day going? Any hot dates yourself?” 

She asked it jokingly, but the flicker that crossed Hermione’s face made her pause.

“Oh fuck, did you get asked out too?”

Hermione shook her head, but the look lingered. “No, no charming wizard swept me off my feet, which, by the way we are absolutely circling back to later.” She took a sip of her fizzy drink, chewing on the straw. “But….Zacharias Smith is coming over tonight to help with an extension charm on my closet.”

She abruptly cut herself off, stuffing an enormous bite of sandwich in her mouth just as Draco and Theo dropped into the seats beside them. Hermione’s eyes went wide once again, and she leaned back, trying to duck out of Draco’s line of sight as she shook her head rapidly at Pansy.

Pansy grinned.

Interesting.

Hermione didn’t want Draco knowing about Smith. The two of them had been driving each other crazy for months now. Hell, Draco had been obsessed with her for years, more than a bloody decade. It was pathetic. Maddening. Kind of tragic, honestly. And Pansy was so very over it.

“This is a girl’s lunch,” Pansy announced pointedly, turning to the boys.

“Well, as long as you don’t plan on lecturing us on feminism in the modern age,” Draco drawled, pouring a packet of sugar into his tea, “I think we’ll be alright.”

“I just might,” Pansy started, but Theo jumped in.

“I think you should take a feminist stand on those twirls plaguing you,” he said looking at Hermione, already three bites into his sandwich. “Take charge. Get your little bean twirled.”

“Oh gods, no,” Pansy shrieked, as Hermione slapped her hands over her ears and brought her head down to the table. “Never call it that again. Thank Merlin you’re gay.”

“Jar,” Draco said at once, glaring at Theo as if he were the worst person in the world.

“What? I thought that’s what it was called!”

Draco turned to Hermione, whose face was still buried in her arms, a slow flush starting to make itself known beneath the collar of his shirt. “So ‘twirls’ does mean horny?”

“Someone just end me now,” she muttered, voice muffled by the table. “This is worse than torture.”

“So you need to get fucked. Who doesn’t?” Pansy said airily, spearing a cherry tomato like it had personally offended her.

“She’s got a point, you know?” Theo said around another mouthful of sandwich, just as Potter slid into the open seat beside him.

“What’d I miss?” He asked, looking around the table and then added, “what’s wrong with her?” He held up his pumpkin juice to gesture at Hermione, who was just now lifting her head. Her face a perfect Gryffindor crimson.

“I called Hermione’s clit a little bean—“

“Fuck, Theo!”

“Would you stop? Please!”

“Avada me now!”

“Sorry, sorry! Won’t say it again,” Theo rushed, his hands raised trying to placate the four of them. “And Draco knows ‘twirls’ mean horny. I think you’re all caught up.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Potter muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I asked. Just say nothing next time.”

“That’s it,” Pansy said solemnly, reaching out to tug Hermione upright. “I know you’re on your little health kick, but  honestly? A stiff cock would do more for your mental health than a jog ever could.”

“Must we talk about this again?” Hermione asked, before taking a slow, deliberate bite of her apple. “Haven’t I been through enough?”

“Bean through,” Theo muttered with a snort, ducking just in time to avoid Draco’s swipe.

“Sorry! For real this time,” he called from under the table, cackling, “I’m done.”

Hermione groaned, visibly pouting as Potter reached across the table to pat her arm.

Pansy tried to catch Draco’s eye. She gave him a look, the look, that clearly said get your shit together, you absolute knob. How could he get so close at the gala, only to fumble the landing? No kiss. No follow up. It was so unlike him. And furthermore, he refused to talk about it, no matter how much Pansy badgered him. 

If he wasn’t going to do something, she’d have to push.

“Maybe you and Smith can grab dinner after he helps with that little extension charm?”

“You’re going out with Smith?” Potter asked, turning to Hermione.

But Draco’s voice barreled over him.

“Smith is coming over?” He blurted out, “To help with extension charms? Why the fuck do you need help with extension charms? See, I told you it was a move.”

Hermione shut her eyes and exhaled loudly. “What did you think my frantic head shaking meant, Pansy?”

“I thought maybe your sandwich had gone bad,” Pansy lied with a careless shrug. “It looks rather dreadful.”

Hermione sighed, throwing her napkin onto her place, and shoving the rest of her lunch away.

“So the flirting did work,” Theo said as he raised a brow. “Did you use my tips or did you really just talk about spell variations?”

He and Potter were looking at her with genuine curiosity. Draco, however, looked murderous.

“Am I missing something?” Pansy asked, turning to Theo since he was always the most forthcoming. “Did you all watch her flirt with Smith? Isn’t he a Hufflepuff? It couldn’t have been that hard.”

Theo immediately dissolved into giggles again. Potter smiled at him, his eyes lingering, before finally turning to Pansy.

“We had Internal Affairs training this morning.” He sucked on his teeth and glanced between Hermione and Draco before adding. “Smith might’ve been a touch more focused on Hermione than anyone else there.”

“A touch?” Draco scoffed, one arm slung across the table, the other gesturing wildly. “He had his hands all over her.”

“No more than you did,” Theo said, his grin mad and absolutely shameless.

Hermione had taken up scrolling on her Nimble Notes in an effort to ignore them all while Potter nodded, agreeing with Theo.

“Yea, that was uncalled for.”

“I was trying to make a point,” Draco snapped.

Hermione looked up and slammed her device down loudly. “Well, your point wasn’t made. He was helping me cast an advanced and tricky spell, just like he’s going to tonight.”

She gave Draco a tight closed lip smile.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Then it won’t be a problem if I stay home tonight. Maybe I’ll learn something too.”

Hermione inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes, holding it for a beat. “Be my guest. It’s not a date, so the more the merrier.”

“Perfect.”

Draco took a long sip of his tea as they stared at each other with narrowed eyes, seemingly forgetting about everyone else at the table.

They were entertaining. If not complete and total idiots.

“Soooo….” Theo broke the silence. “You’re not going to fuck him and satiate the twirls?”

Hermione exhaled slowly and turned to Pansy with a wicked gleam in her eye. 

Pansy clocked it a second too late.

“Pansy’s going on a date with Dawlish.”

Chaos broke out around the table as Hermione picked her apple backup taking another bite as she sent Pansy a triumphant wink.

It was exactly what Pansy would have done. Exactly what she had done.

That fucking cunt.

Merlin, did Pansy love her.

~*~

What a fucking lunch.

And honestly, how was the Ministry still managing to mess up chips and a salad. It was a classic for a reason, and dead simple at that.

Still, shitty food aside, it hadn’t been half bad, Pansy thought as she now stood waiting at Spill the Tea (Leaves).

Hermione had actually apologized for dropping the Dawlish bomb. She’d even threatened to hex Draco, Theo, and Potter if they dared make one more comment about Pansy dating a wizard old enough to be their father. And she’d insisted Pansy come over to get ready before the date, as some sort of penance.

Not that the apology was necessary. Pansy required a friend as ruthless as herself. She respected that about Hermione.

Agreeing to a tea run at Spill the Tea (Leaves) though? That was apparently where she drew the line. So here Pansy stood, alone, tapping her heel in an even staccato on the harlequin tiled marble floors, trying not to check her Nimble Notes yet again for a message from John.

He was at work and it’d only been an hour.

Still. She was Pansy Parkinson. She knew her worth.

“What can I get you?” A cheerful voice floated up from behind the counter, right as a loud crash echoed from the same direction.

“Oh shite. Knew that was going to happen,” the voice sounded again, calm as ever despite the chaos, though still no person in sight.

Lavender Brown finally popped up, a lilac handkerchief holding back her blonde waves, casting a quick Reparo with a fantastical swish of her wand. She turned to Pansy with a dreamy smile.

“What can I get you, Parkinson?”

“I’ll have an Earl Grey, one sugar. To go.”

Hermione had warned her about Lavender and Luna’s obsession with reading tea leaves and their habit of lurking about, desperate to snatch up your empty mug and peer dramatically into your future.

“Are you in a rush?” Lavender asked, already scooping out leaves from a pale pink ceramic canister. “Or can I brew it here and give you one of our new ‘Readings on the Go’?”

Pansy grinned. “A reading’s fine.”

At that, Lavender let out a squeal and began moving faster, dropping the sachet into a pearly pale green teapot before raising her wand and summoning a stream of boiling water.

“Shan’t be but a mo,” Lavender said, practically in a daze as she fussed with the pot, setting it atop a thick quartz pedestal and arranged a glittering ring of crystals around it.

It was a good thing Hermione had decided to sit this one out.

Pansy watched the performance unfold with growing skepticism. She’d enjoyed Divination well enough at Hogwarts, though she’d always thought Trelawny positively barmy, but hadn’t kept up with the practice since graduation.

Lavender lifted her arms above her head, shimmering scarves in each hand as she did a final twirl, chanting, “reveal the unknown, shine a light on the present, open our eyes to the now.” 

With a practised flick of her wand, she poured the tea from a dizzying height into a tall, fluted mug. Pansy could’ve sworn it sparkled on the way down.

The mug floated over to her, a lid popping into place just as her hands wrapped around it, steam still billowing out the top.

Lavender turned her attention to the teapot, holding it with careful hands, making sure not to jostle as she carried it to the counter and set it between them. They both leaned in.

Lavender gasped theatrically. Pansy raised an eyebrow.

“See something good?” She asked dryly.

“Oh yes,” Lavender breathed, eye flitting across the leaves as she twisted her head in a myriad of angles, looking at them from every vantage point.

“Well?” Pansy pressed. Beginning to think maybe Hermione had a point.

Another full minute passed and Pansy resumed her heel tapping, a now irritated tempo.

Finally, Lavender looked up with a far off gaze. “A man is going to approach you,” she said slowly, her lips quirking to the side as she paused, as if searching the beyond for her next words, which was frankly ridiculous. Wasn’t this supposed to be written in the tea leaves?

“Tall. Dark hair. Broad chest. Important,” Lavender went on. “Maybe even some sort of leader.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. She set her mug carefully on the counter, suddenly intrigued.

“He’s going to ask you a question. Something that excites you.”

No fucking way.

“It’s night. I see the stars twinkling and candles glowing. Soft music playing in the background,” Lavender’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s all very romantic.”

“You see all that?” Pansy asked, absolutely gobsmacked. “In the bloody tea leaves.”

Lavender looked up then, her eyes crinkled in a smile.

“No,” she said with a light giggle. “I was standing behind you at the cafe. Heard everything. And he is oh so dreamy.” 

Well, that settled it. Hermione was always right. And Pansy would never, ever tell her about this.

She plucked her mug off the counter, entirely annoyed at Lavender’s whole shtick and turned to go after dropping a stack of Sickles.

“I did see lips, though!” Lavender called after her. “In the leaves. Drifting closer, but not quite touching. I think he’s the dashing eagle-eyed gentleman from your last reading with Luna. I can practically feel the talons.”

Pansy nodded with a soft snort, remembering Luna’s reading from a few months back.

“Thanks, Brown,” she lifted her mug up in cheers.

Lavender smiled, scooping up the silver coins. “We’re actually card onl—“

“Keep the change,” Pansy cut in, already strutting toward the Floo when her Nimble Notes chimed.

*Draco*

Draco jabbed at the lift button, repeatedly. He was late. 

Not that he technically had anywhere to be. He was just going home. But Granger and Smith had likely left hours ago.

Fuck Dawlish and his never ending piles of paperwork that always needed to be completed immediately.

Draco had hoped Pansy saying yes to him might make the man slightly less of a complete twat, but apparently not.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Where is the fucking lift?”

Just then, the doors slid open and he rushed inside, practically punching the button for the atrium.

“Doors clos—“ the ethereal voice began, only to be interrupted by an arm wedging through. The doors glided back open to reveal Harry fucking Potter.

“Potter,” Draco drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The door was closing. You couldn’t wait thirty seconds and take your chosen arse into the next available lift.”

The doors slid shut again to the sound of Potter’s irritating laugh.

“Wow,” he said with a shake of his stupid, scarred head. “This whole Smith thing is really getting to you, huh?”

And just like that, the irritation of the whole day. The whole fucking year, caught up with him.

“Yes. It’s getting to me,” Draco practically spewed out. “She’s swearing off all wizards, and he’s trying to claw his way in like the fucking badger he is.”

Potter leaned against the corner of the lift, laughing louder now. “Who knew a Hufflepuff could get under your skin like this.”

“And,” he added smugly, “the swearing off wizards thing doesn’t include shagging.”

“A Hufflepuff is not un—“ Draco cut himself off mid-rant, catching up belatedly. “It doesn’t include shagging?”

“Nope,” Potter said with a pop, his grin turning strangely Theo-ish, which was deeply unsettling. “They made some sort of amendment or clarification, not quite sure. Something about Ginny needing to get laid to stay on her game, and now Hermione’s finally admitting to, you know…. a touch of horniness.”

Draco’s vision went fuzzy. 

He’d been holding himself back, not wanting to push when she was clearly going through some type of witch empowerment after her breakup with Krum. Also, she was intimidating. And brilliant. And distractingly gorgeous. Draco was completely obsessed and absolutely terrified of cocking the whole thing up.

“Are you going to press the button?” Potter asked, sarcasm coloring his tone. “Or are we standing in this lift all night while Smith teaches Hermione advanced extension charms?”

“Fuck,” Draco hissed, jabbing the button again with unnecessary force.

Potter laughed and Draco didn’t think he’d ever heard a sound so annoying until he remembered Smith and his fucking three F’s from that morning.

“She’s not going to shag him. I’m just messing with you,” Potter said. “You’re just so easy when you’re all worked up. It’s cute.”

He ignored that last bit with an irritated wave of his hand. “How do you know?”

“Because I know,” Potter replied, like it was the most insulting question he’d ever heard. “She’s my best friend. And he’s not her type.”

The lift doors finally opened, revealing the atrium. Draco didn’t wait as he leapt forward, heading straight for the Floo. Feeling slightly relieved at Potter’s words but still not wanting to put anything to chance.

“Have fun,” Potter called after him, voice now faint. “You can buy me a pint this weekend as thanks for the insight.”

Draco lifted a hand in a dismissive wave, already stepping into the green flames, determined not to relax until he saw them both with his own eyes. Not touching and at least three meters apart.

Preferably five.

~*~

“You got so drenched,” Smith said, his voice the first thing Draco heard as he Flooed in.

The emerald flames surrounding him appeared to turn red with his fury just as Granger’s giggle rang out down the hall.

“Next time I’ll know to cast a shield charm before trying that move. Who knew such a large gush would—“

“Malfoy,” Granger half shouted as her and Smith nearly stepped right into him.

They’d been walking down the hall, Granger’s curls slightly limp as she held her wand aloft, jetting out bursts of hot air.

“You’re home,” she said softly, an odd, though maybe relieved look crossing her face.

“I’m home,” Draco echoed, gaze flicking between her damp hair and Smith’s smug expression.

“We just finished expanding my closet,” she said with a smile, then wrinkling her nose slightly. “And then tried to enlarge the shower, but the Muggle plumbing proved a bit of an issue, hence this,” she held up one of her wet curls.

Thank fuck.

So it was just the shower that had gotten her wet, not—

He stopped that thought right there.

“We were just about to have a drink, if you’d—“ Hermione continued.

“I’d love to join,” Draco cut in quickly, not giving Smith a chance to block him out.

Smith stretched up at that, cracking his neck before looking between Draco and Granger with increasing intensity.

“What do you drink, Smith?” Draco asked condescendingly. “An elf wine spritzer like Granger?”

She shot him a withering look as he sauntered over to the bar.

“You know I don’t favor spritzers, Malfoy,” she said tightly, then added under her breath, barely loud enough for him to catch. “And I’m laying off the elf wine.”

“That’s right,” Draco murmured, smirking. “A gin and tonic then. That work for you?” He asked, glancing briefly at Smith though he couldn’t care less what he favored and began mixing three.

Granger joined him a moment later, after he heard her politely tell Smith to make himself at home.

Over Draco’s dead body would that tosser be making this his home.

“You know,” she said in a low, very swotty tone, “you don’t always need to be such a colossal prick. I’ve got it on good authority that you’re actually quite nice. Damn right delightful when you want to be.”

He perked up at that, pouring a generous measure of gin into each glass.

“And I know you favor Slytherins.”

Not true he thought, but he kept quiet, adding lime wedges to both his and Granger’s drinks, purposefully skipping Smith’s. As if that git deserved a garnish.

“But I promise the rest of us aren’t that bad. Just dip your wand into the pool of possibilities.” 

She winced the moment the words left her mouth and Draco let out a low, amused laugh.

“You know what I meant,” she added quickly, flustered now.

“Sure, Granger,” he said, lips twitching. “I’ll just dip my wand right in.”

Her face flushed the most tempting shade of rose and gods did he so desperately want to do just that.

With a shake of his head he floated the three glasses over to the coffee table and dropped onto the sofa, across from Smith.

And to his immense satisfaction, Granger came to sit right beside him.

~*~

The evening so far hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.

Smith was a complete wanker, flirting shamelessly with Granger while she continued to ignore it, but at least she was sitting next to him. And with each sip of her cocktail, she kept shifting closer.

“I’m going to pop into the loo,” Smith said abruptly, setting his drink down and hopping quickly to his feet.

Granger leaned forward to point down the hall, giving directions he didn’t quite catch. Everything sort of fuzzed out once he noticed the top two buttons of her blouse had come undone, revealing the lacy edge of a black bra and the gentle curves of her breasts.

He was still very much staring when she leaned back, thankfully oblivious to where his eyes had wandered.

“See?” She said, curling her legs beneath her and flashing him the most adorable naive smile. “Told you he doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

He scoffed and took a long pull of his drink. “Oh, you are so wrong, Granger. He most definitely wants to shag you. He’s practically drooling. You honestly can’t tell?” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’m seriously worried for you if you can’t tell when a bloke’s into you.”

She rolled her eyes, likely about to toss out some clever retort, when she froze, nearly dropping her glass. 

He turned to see what had startled her, and there stood Smith. In nothing but his briefs.

It took every ounce of Draco’s self control not to shout, “I told you so!” Instead, he let out a dignified, “fucking hell.”

Ever the Gryffindor and purveyor of just the right words, Granger stared wide eyed and stammered, “ummm…. Zacha—Zachar,” she fumbled, then finally managed. “Where are your trousers?”

Smith looked at them both nervously, though not nearly nervous enough, in Draco’s opinion.

“I’ve never done this before,” Smith gestured between the three of them. “This is what’s happening right? A threesome?”

Draco blinked. Then said, slowly, “I did not see this coming.” 

~*~

Draco had no idea how the hell he’d ended up here, outside Granger’s bedroom with her standing next to him and Smith waiting inside like some eager sacrificial virgin.

“I love watching you be wrong, Granger,” he said smugly, his voice all confidence while his inside twirled in knots.

She crossed her arms tight across her chest and furrowed her brow. “I might’ve been slightly off,” she snapped, “but I wasn’t completely wrong. He’s clearly into you too. And you missed that.” She gave him a sickly sweet smile before adding in a mocking tone. “I’m worried for you.”

He snorted and stepped closer, crowding her gently toward the door. “Well then, if you’re not wrong, go join him. Dip your tits into the pool of possibility or whatever poetic nonsense you said earlier.”

Draco pushed the door open wide, daring her to step through. “Let’s do this, Smith. Let’s get it on.”

“One moment,” she squeaked, slamming the door shut so fast the frame rattled. She whirled on him, pointing furiously at the door. “You would seriously go through with this? Have a threesome with him just to prove me wrong?”

“Oh, I think we could do a lot worse than Smith,” Draco drawled, still trying to put on an air of confidence, refusing to let her win. “He’s practically a savant with the charms.”

“Fine,” she said, eyes locked on his, voice tremulous but stubborn as fuck. “Then let’s have a threesome.”

And with that, she opened the door wide and walked right in. No hesitation. No glance back. No pause for Draco to get them out of this.

He groaned and dropped his head back against the doorframe with a dull thud before following in after her.

Draco absolutely did not want to have a threesome with fucking Zacharias Smith, but he hated the idea of Smith being alone with her even more. That, he couldn’t stand.

He joined them, forming an awkward triangle, the three of them standing like they were about to summon a dark spirit, or sacrifice one. Probably Draco’s own dignity.

“Alright,” Smith began brightly, and Draco resisted the sudden, overwhelming urge to punch him. “The most important thing is that we communicate. Keep the conversation flowing.”

Granger nodded, rolling her shoulders back and doing a few light stretches. It was oddly cute until Smith opened his mouth again.

“In a menage a trois,” he said, gesturing like he was hosting a fucking Ministry training. “You must keep….menaging.”

Granger tilted her head, trying to follow his logic, or his butchering of the French language. “Oui?”

“For the love of Merlin,” Draco groaned, raking both his hands through his hair, “no French.”

He looked between them, completely exasperated. “This is really happening. With him. You and me, we’re actually doing this with Smith here.”

Smith thankfully wasn’t listening as he made his way over to the record player in the corner of Granger’s room. 

“I’m going to put on some music. Loosen us all up.”

“Sure,” she muttered distractedly, still locked in a stare off with Draco neither of them blinking, both silently daring the other to be the first to back down.

“I’m not backing down,” Draco said, answering their internal debate out loud.

“Good. Me either,” she shot back, her hand moving to her hip just as the sultry beat of a song kicked on.

Of course. Granger and her fucking Spice Girls. Could Smith not even get the track right. There were three of them here, not two.

“Say it’s over and it’s over,” Draco rushed out as Smith came up behind him, and clamped both hands down on his shoulders in a rough squeeze.

Draco winced, shoulders jerking up instinctively. Across from him, Granger was trying to smother a laugh, her lips pulled in tight, though her eyes still looked like she might scream.

“I’m going to unbutton your shirt now,” Smith breathed in his ear, fingers skimming down Draco’s chest and working open the buttons one by one. “But you’ll be in charge of removing my briefs and Hermione’s knickers.”

“Salazar,” Draco groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to imagine it was Granger’s hands on him instead, teasing his buttons open, asking him to pull down her knickers.

His eyes flew open as Smith undid the last button letting his shirt hang open. 

“You might call him the panty wizard,” Granger said with a grin. Acting a bit too smug considering Smith was sure to turn his attention on her next.

He shot her a glare and took a step closer just as Smith shifted behind him.

“You two get it started,” Smith said in a low tone, as he took Granger’s hand and placed it on Draco’s bare chest.

With nowhere to go, she brought her other hand up, sliding it under his shirt to match. Her grip was firm, possessive. He’d probably bruise. He relished the feeling.

“Are we doing this?” He asked her, trying to read her face, hoping like hell she wasn’t serious.

“Yes, Malfoy. We’re really doing this.”

Fuck. He couldn’t believe his first time with her was going to involve someone else.

“Then let’s do this.” He pulled her up against him, and the second her body met his, he hardened almost instantly.

“Malfoy, I will do this.”

She pressed in even closer. There was no way she didn’t feel his cock pulsating against her ribs, but she didn’t seem to care. Her hands wandered lower, one thumb slipping beneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Just say you were wrong, and this is over,” his voice cracked with a shaky mix of fear and wanting. “I know you can’t do this, Granger. But I can. I really can.”

And he could. He was sure of it. He wanted her. He didn’t give a fuck who else was in the room.

Speaking of which, where the hell was Smith?

Everything else had blurred out the moment her hands touched him.

“I want this,” she said, raising her chin and sinking her teeth into her bottom lip like she was trying to destroy him, and gods it was working.

Her breath came fast, her chest rising and falling, making him realize just how thin her top was. The lace of her bra peeking out again. And fuck, were her nipples hard?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been standing at the edge for months now and this was too much. 

His hands reached up, one tangling in her curls at the back of her head, the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushed across her cheek and then her lip. She let out the most desperate sounding whimper that somehow made him impossibly harder.

He leaned in so close their lips nearly touched—

“This is making me so hot.”

Draco froze.

That wasn’t Hermione’s voice.

He blinked and pulled back just a fraction, confused and disoriented.

“Fine! I was wrong!” Granger practically shouted, stepping away and throwing her hands in the air, though her chest was still heaving and her eyes were still glassy and glued to his lips.

“Thank, fuck,” Draco exhaled, immediately stepping between her and Smith, though he kept a respectable distance. Mostly.

“Sorry Zacharius,” she said, drifting closer to Draco. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Smith looked around, utterly baffled. “We’re not doing this?”

“We’re not doing this,” Draco repeated, rolling his shoulders, trying and failing to shake out the tension.

Granger had collapsed onto the edge of her bed, both her hands in her curls, pulling hard like she could physically extract the memory from her skull.

“This happens,” Smith offered, nodding to them reassuringly, but notably not suffering from the build up like they seemed to be. 

“Happens more often than you’d think, actually. Nothing to feel bad about. Maybe we try again another da—“

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Blaise’s incredulous voice cut through the room. 

His eyes darted around taking in the scene. Granger disheveled on the bed, Draco’s shirt open and breathing heavy with a noticeable hard-on, Smith standing there shocked in nothing but his briefs. And his grin spread with every new detail.

Fuck. Draco had left the door open.

“Whoa,” Smith said, hands up and finally looking rattled. “I’m not ready for a four-way. I’m going to have to bow out.”

Granger let out a whimper and buried her face further in her hands just as Blaise’s eyes somehow widened even more.

“No fucking way,” Blaise choked out before absolutely loosing it. “This is one serious way to combat the twirls!”

Granger groaned louder as Smith took his chance and edged toward the door, giving Blaise a polite nod as he passed.

“I’ll see you both at the Ministry,” he said casually and then vanished without another word.

“Merlin. I have to quit,” Granger mumbled into her hands.

Draco nodded in silent agreement. Though there was a more pressing issue at hand and it was still painfully throbbing in his pants.

“I need to,” Draco motioned vaguely toward the door, then made his exit. He didn’t trust himself to look at Granger again without doing something monumentally stupid.

“Yea, I have to go and…” she agreed, standing up and physically shoving Blaise into the hall before slamming her door shut behind them.

Draco moved quickly, driven by pure, desperate instinct. He wasn’t sure he’d ever needed to wank this badly in his entire life.

“Can’t wait to unpack this all later,” Blaise called after him, still howling with laughter. “Theo is never going to forgive you for not inviting him!”

Draco ignored him. He could barely think, barely breathe, just slammed his door shut and made straight for the shower like his life depended on it.

*Blaise*

Blaise stood frozen in the hall, utterly stunned by what he’d just walked in on.

He’d fully expected that one day soon he’d catch Draco and Granger mid-snog or mid-naked row or mid-something. They could only remain oblivious idiots for so long.

But Zacharias Smith? That had not been on his list of plausible outcomes.

Draco must have been down bad. Worse than he’d previously thought.

He was going to absolutely revel in telling Theo about this.

From behind Draco’s door, the shower roared to life. A moment later, a soft buzzing sound filtered out from Granger’s. Then, nothing. Eerily silent.

For once Draco had remembered his silencing charms. Though apparently, closing a bloody door was still a step too far.

Blaise pulled out his Nimble Notes with a grin, realizing this was the perfect window to sneak Ginevra in. Hopefully she was home from training.

He stared at the glowing screen, grinning so hard his face hurt.

Chapter Text

*Harry*

Harry trudged groggily down the stairs toward the kitchen, yawning and stretching as he went, his eyelids still mostly shut. He no longer had to hop over the third step before the landing, no more risk of it swallowing his foot whole and leaving him stuck for twenty minutes. Theo had fixed it earlier this week when he came by after work.

At first, Harry felt guilty, making Theo do more curse breaking after clocking out from the Ministry. But he quickly learned Theo loved tinkering with centuries old dark magic. And he really loved the things Harry did with his mouth to thank him.

Harry stepped onto the cold kitchen tile with a sleepy smile and made for the Muggle coffee machine when a voice stopped him.

“I already made you a cup.”

He froze, suddenly wide awake and very aware he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just pyjama bottoms, since he hadn’t been expecting company for at least another fifteen minutes. 

Hermione sat at his kitchen table, a half drunk mug in hand, looking completely crazed. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her hair about three times it’s normal size, and her clothes looked far too professional for a Saturday morning. Slightly rumpled too, like she’d slept in them. Had she worn that to the Ministry yesterday?

“Sorry,” she said, voice high pitched, almost shrill. “I’ve been up all night. Just thinking. Thought I’d show up for breakfast early.”

Harry eased into the chair across from her, careful not to spook her, seeing as she had the dazed, twitchy energy of a baby deer.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured, lifting the mug and taking a sip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

He stared at her, his own eyes now nearly matching hers in size behind his glasses, a grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.

“About all this.” he said, waving vaguely in her direction. “Clearly something happened.”

Hermione’s mouth pinched up in thought.

“No, nothing happened.” Her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed. “Technically.”

“Technically?” Harry repeated, voice rising.

But she didn’t elaborate, just nodded like that settled it. Technically, nothing happened.

What the fuck did that mean?

He watched as she drained the rest of her coffee, summoned the carafe with a wandless flick of her finger, refilled her mug to the brim, then downed half of the boiling liquid without so much as a wince.

“So nothing happened,” he said slowly, “but you’re here early, in my kitchen, trying to drink all the coffee left in Britain?”

Another nod.

“How long have you been here?” He asked before taking another sip.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, and flicked her finger again, though this time she cast a quick Tempus.

8:55

“Oh, only about four hours,” she said casually from behind her mug.

“You’ve been here since five?!” 

“Give or take, yea.” She finished her coffee in one long gulp and started fidgeting in her seat. 

Harry wasn’t sure if the bouncing was from the ungodly amount of caffeine she’d just inhaled, an urgent need to pee, or a barely contained urge to confess why she’d been sitting in his depressing kitchen since dawn.

“Hermione,” he said, reaching across the table to gently still her tapping fingers. “Tell me what’s going on. It can’t be that bad, you said nothing happened.”

“It can still be that bad.” She took a deep breath and attempted to twist her curls back, though it did nothing to tame them. And then added, “but you’re right. I need to tell someone.”

Harry leaned in, heart rate picking up speed as his mind jumped to the end of yesterday.  Malfoy in the lift with him, the weird look on his face, and his subsequent mad dash to the Floo to interrupt Hermione and Zacharias’s not-date.

“Did Malfoy do something stupid? Or was it Smith?” He asked, voice sharp and a little too fast.

Hermione made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and pulled a face that didn’t quite confirm or deny anything. Her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug.

“Define stupid?”

“Hermione,” Harry warned, a note of real concern slipping in. “Did either of them do or say something to hurt you or—“

“No, no!” She cut in quickly, shaking her head so fast her curls bounced like a lion’s mane. “It’s nothing like that. Honestly, Harry.”

“Then what is it? What could possibly be that ba—“

Two things happened at once, interrupting Harry. The Floo flared to life behind them, and Hermione blurted, “I almost had a threesome with Zacharias and Malfoy.”

“Wh- You what? With who?!”

“Bloody hell,” came Ron’s voice. “Please tell me you two are playing some twisted game where you list off things you’d rather die than do.”

Harry and Hermione turned toward the fireplace to see Ron, Parvati and Ruby standing there, arms laden with boxes and jaws on the floor. Ruby let out a delighted, gummy laugh.

Harry didn’t respond, just stared back at Hermione, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. There was no way he’d heard her correctly. There couldn't be.

But…

Parvati broke the silence by sweeping over to Hermione and dropping into the seat beside her. She plopped Ruby on her lap with practiced ease, both of them now beaming at Hermione like this was the best thing to happen all week. 

“We could not have arrived at a better time,” Parvati said, eyes sparkling. “Did you seriously almost have a threesome with Draco Malfoy and Zacharias Smith? Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Parv! For Merlin’s sake!” Ron shouted, still wearing a look of deep offense as he dumped the boxes of Molly’s cooking on the counter. “And Harry, where the hell is your shirt?”

Hermione buried her face in her hands as Harry looked down, abruptly remembering he was still shirtless. With a quick flick of his wand, he summoned the closest shirt, definitely not clean and unmistakably Theo’s, and quickly pulled it on over his head.

Parvati leaned in closer, ignoring her husband entirely. “Come on. This is a safe space. We all support your absolutely unhinged sex life.”

“It’s not a sex life if it didn’t happen,” Hermione muttered from between her fingers. Then quickly added, “and for the record, I’m glad that the threesome didn’t happen.”

Harry was pretty sure she definitely emphasized the word threesome, but he chose not to dwell on it.

“But it almost did?” Harry asked, eyes still wide. “You were really considering shagging them both? Together?”

Hermione cringed.

Parvati bounced in excitement, her grin stretching across her whole face which was then instantly mirrored by Ruby.

“Please, Hermione. Please say you didn’t,” Ron practically begged, leaning on the counter like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Please say you did,” Parvati countered excitedly. “I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Parvati,” Ron groaned. “What the actual fuck?”

“Language, Ron,” Parvati said, covering Ruby’s ears to the baby’s amusement. “And we’re married with a baby. I deserve some thrills.” She turned back to Hermione, “so tell me, how big are their cocks?”

“Murder me, Harry,” Ron muttered, pouring coffees for him and Parvati, then dragging himself to the table like he was walking to the gallows.

“I didn’t see either of their cocks—“

“Silver lining,” Ron muttered.

“In the flesh,” she added, then visibly shuddered at her word choice. “But I did feel some upward movement.”

Ron and Harry groaned loudly as Parvati squealed.

“So, what stopped it?” Parvati asked, sounding a little put out by the ‘almost’ in Hermione’s not quite threesome.

“I did. Verbally. But I know Malfoy didn’t want to be there.”

“Then why was he?” Ron asked before he could stop himself. Hermione, Malfoy, and Smith were a car crash and they all couldn’t help but gawk and try to piece together what caused the wreck.  “He’s a big boy—“

“Yea he is,” Parvati said with a wink, nudging Hermione.

“I meant,” Ron said loudly, rolling his eyes at his wife, “he’s an adult. He didn’t have to stay if he didn’t want to.”

“We were in an argument,” Hermione explained. “He thought Zacharias wanted to shag me—“

“Which obviously, he did,” Harry interrupted, annoyed to be agreeing with Malfoy.

“Malfoy was just trying to get under my skin.”

“Good to see it didn’t work,” Ron deadpanned.

Hermione shot him a look before continuing. “It wasn’t just about me. Zacharias didn’t take his clothes off until Malfoy showed up.”

“Godric,” Ron and Parvati said at the same time, though in wildly different tones.

“Wait, Smith really just took his clothes off and—” Ron glanced at Ruby to make sure she wasn’t listening, clearly forgetting she was a literal baby. “And expected both you and Malfoy to be game?”

“Pretty much,” Hermione nodded. “He’d just finished helping me with the extension charm on my closet when Malfoy got home.” She twisted a curl in thought. “Malfoy made us all a drink, went out of his way to be rude to Zacharias, we chatted for a bit, and then Zacharias excused himself to go to the loo and—” 

She made a quick ta-da motion with her hands. “Came back in just his briefs and asked if this is what we were doing.”

Harry burst out laughing. “Fuck. I would’ve killed to see Malfoy’s face.”

“Not very patient or modest for a Hufflepuff,” Ron joked, seemingly over his discomfort, for the moment.

“What happened next?” Parvati practically screeched, starting to bounce again, though now it looked more like a full-body vibration. “When did you feel the upward movement and whose cock was it? Please say it was Malfoys.”

Ron’s disgust made a dramatic return as he nearly spit out the sip he’d just taken.

Before Hermione could confirm whose cock had made its presence known, the Floo lit up again and a harried looking Ginny stepped out, breathless and flushed like she’d started their 5k early and sprinted here.

She rushed to the open seat beside Hermione. “I just heard. Fuck. Tell me everything.” 

Parvati’s mouth flew open, clearly unwilling to waste another second before getting to the good stuff when Hermione stopped her with a raised hand.

“Wait. How do you know?”

They all turned to stare at Ginny.

How did she know? Besides the four of them Harry assumed only Malfoy and Smith knew. Possibly Blaise or Theo, but Gin wouldn’t have talked to either of them between late last night and early this morning.

He squinted, engaging full Auror mode. Her hair was tousled, either from a morning flight or possibly a morning shag. Merlin. Harry did not want to think about that. Her cheeks were pink. Again, possibly from a few loops on her Nimbus or….a different kind of acrobatics. And her shirt. Was it on inside out?

Ginny’s eyes widened just a touch too wide as she fumbled for an answer. Hermione, however, didn’t seem to notice. Too deep in a spiral, likely wondering who else knew.

“Smith and Spinnet are second cousins,” Ginny said, like it might explain something.

Hermione blinked at her. “What does that have to do with anything?” Her voice hit a pitch best reserved for banshees, her mouth still open in horror.

“Well,” Ginny started, glancing around the table, “the Wizarding World is small. You know that. Alicia mentioned it this morning at conditioning. Smith must’ve said something to her after he left last night.”

She ended that sentence far more confidently than she’d started. 

Harry kept watching her. Something was off. Sure, she wasn’t wrong, the Wizarding World was insanely small and ridiculously prone to gossip. And Smith did love to gab. It was practically Ministry protocol to avoid getting trapped in a lift with him or risk losing the rest of your day.

But do second cousins really talk that often? And about their sex lives?

Harry had yet to share his bedroom proclivities with Dudley, and he felt good keeping it that way.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Hermione whined as her head shook back and forth and her face pinched in tight. “I’m going to have to move to America,” she said, whipping around to face Harry. “Transfer to MACUSA.” Then she spun toward Ginny. “I don’t want to go to America.”

Harry reached out and gave her hand a firm squeeze. “You’re not transferring to MACUSA. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Yea, I’m sure this kind of thing happens all the time,” Ron added, though he didn’t sound convinced. And neither did anyone else considering the looks they all shot him.

“Whether or not this has ever happened before is irrelevant. No one is going to fucking America,” Ginny snapped, glaring at Ron before grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and scooting in closer. “It’s not that bad. Now, tell us everything, and we’ll sort this all out.”

Parvati jumped in before Hermione could respond, delivering a rapid-fire recap that earned several groans from Ron in the process.

“So,” Ginny said, now just as eager as Parvati, “whose cock was it?” Hermione shot quick looks at both Harry and Ron, grimacing, before turning back to Parvati and Gin.

“Malfoy’s.”

The screech that followed was unlike anything Harry had ever heard. Parvati and Ginny’s enthusiasm was nearly uncontainable, even Hermione seemed to absorb some of it and was looking a touch less peaky. 

Though Ron may have taken on her previous pallor, clearly struggling under the collective glee surrounding Malfoy’s cock.

“What happened next?”

“Where was Zacharias?”

The questions overlapped, and upon hearing the other, both Ginny and Parvati nodded furiously and echoed, “that too.”

Hermione shut her eyes tight like that might make them all disappear. And then, possibly in an effort to rip the plaster off, she just let it all spew out. 

“Zacharias started behind Malfoy and unbuttoned his shirt—“

“Good Godric,” Ron interjected, suddenly standing and going to pilfer through one of the boxes he’d brought over. But Harry noticed him strain an ear closer, so as not to miss a word.

“Then he put my hands on Malfoy and told us to get started while he went to put on some music. Or maybe he had already turned on the music, I forget where he was.”

Ginny pulled her legs up onto the chair and did some sort of excited scooch, banging her heels in anticipation.

“While he was distracted with the record, Malfoy and I argued some more. We were both trying to get the other to back down.”

The room had gone silent. Even Ruby stopped hurling her dummy and just stared.

“We finally agreed neither of us was going to cave. And then Malfoy pulled me in close. I think my hands were on his chest? Or maybe his waist, I don't really recall. His hands were in my hair and on my jaw.”

“So hot,” Parvati breathed. Then hastily added on, “did he pull your hair? Why is it so hot when they pull on your hair?”

Hermione nodded, eyes unfocused like she was replaying it all in her head. 

Ron made a sound like he’d just swallowed something wrong.

“Pulling hair?” He repeated, horrified.

The girls didn’t answer, but Harry sent him a confirming nod, mind flashing back to that Ministry closet and Theo’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Of his own fingers threading through Theo’s hair just upstairs.

“Is that when you felt his cock?” Ginny asked.

“Yea,” Hermione responded, almost breathless.

“Was it….” Parvati paused, searching for the words, “satisfactory in size?”.

Hermione nodded again, her bottom lip likely worried away by now.

“Did you kiss?” Parvati almost screamed, causing Ruby to shriek as well.

“No.” Hermione said quickly, way too quickly.

Harry knew she had a thing for Malfoy. It wasn’t just about him being fit, no matter what she said. Plenty of wizards were fit. But no other wizard would’ve landed her in this mess.

“Why not?” Ginny whined. “Did Zacharias fuck it up?”

“No, he didn’t—“ She cut herself off, pausing like she was either trying to recall what happened or struggling to word it just right. “He said something right as we were about to kiss, and it just startled me. Made me realize that he’d be watching while Malfoy and I—“

She stopped again and reached for her mug, taking a sip without seeming to notice it was empty. Harry wasn’t even sure if she realized she was in his kitchen and not still with Malfoy, about to be cock blocked by Smith. 

Poor Zacharias. Clueless that neither of them wanted anything to do with him, just each other. Harry let out a quiet laugh, picturing the whole insane debacle.

“I was just so twirly,” Hermione said, “I think it broke my brain.”

“The twirls do manifest differently in everyone,” Ginny offered, pulling Hermione in for a side hug.

“And you are an overachiever,” Ron added through a mouthful of toast, now fully committed to the breakfast his mum had sent over. “Though I guess in this situation, you didn’t really achieve much. Besides letting everyone know you’re down to fu—“

“I think what my ever-thoughtful and so tactful husband is trying to say,” Parvati cut in loudly, shooting Ron a scathing look, “is that maybe you were aiming for extra credit that wasn’t needed. Sure, shagging two wizards sounds stimulating and like an all out great time—” 

Ron let out a very disgruntled noise that Parvati thoroughly ignored. 

“But is that really what you want right now? Sure, your twirls said yes. But I think you knew what you actually wanted.”

“To get shagged,” Ginny clarified for literally no one. Harry was sure even Ruby could understand at this point. “By one person.”

No one said who that one person was. They didn’t need to.

Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “What am I even supposed to do? Like Ron so eloquently pointed out, now everyone knows I’m down to fuck!”

“Then control the narrative,” Parvati said, rising to bounce a fussy Ruby on her hip.

“Control the narrative?” Hermione mumbled through her fingers. Ginny tried to soothe her, but her curls were crackling with random static bursts.

“You still haven’t said anything publicly since the Krum breakup” Parvati went on, “Even though him and Daphne have done countless interviews; on you, their new relationship, his career , their upcoming wedding.…”

She paced slowly, Ruby letting out well timed coos like she was in full support. “You need a rebrand. You’re a modern day, successful, single witch. The Wizarding World lives for gossip and you’re prime material.”

“Which is exactly why I shouldn’t do what I know you’re about to suggest,” Hermione said, sitting up and reaching again for her coffee. Ron noticed and quickly topped her up. “I don’t want to bring more attention to myself. My life is a mess.” 

And it was, Harry thought. But so was his. He’d had a drawn out and rather public break-up (or more accurately, parting of ways) with Roger Davies. Then snogged Blaise at a Ministry party and promptly blew Theo in a coat closet. 

Were the Slytherins to blame? Had they infected both him and Hermione with their own brand of chaos? It was tempting to think, but realistically, he and Hermione were already a bit tumultuous before she moved in with the lot of them. And Ginny, oddly, seemed more stable than ever since breaking it off with Oliver. Though, something was definitely up with her too.

“Hermione,” Parvati said gently, “they’re going to talk about you regardless. Whether this near threesome leaks through second cousins or not, you’re hot shit And we all love to talk about hot shite. So why not choose what they talk about?”

“It’s quite a good idea,” Ron said, rejoining the table and dropping down the plates of food he hadn’t yet eaten. “Think I came up with it months ago, in fact.”

“Congrats, Ron,” Ginny joked. “You’ve finally had a good idea. I’ll owl mum.”

Ron flipped her off as he went in for another breakfast sausage.

“Fine,” Hermione sighed, reaching for a piece of toast. “I’ll do it. I’ll sit for your article. But I don’t want Marietta doing the photos. She always manages to get my bad side.”

“No Marietta,” Parvati agreed excitedly. “So you’ll really do it? Let me interview you for Witch Weekly?”

“I guess. But no mention of the threesome, obviously. And no Krum.”

“No threesome. No Krum,” Parvati repeated. “Merlin. What a fantastic morning!”

The table burst into laughter as Hermione arched a brow and muttered dryly, “really great.”

*Draco*

Draco had made a lot of mistakes in his life. A lot of deeply fucked up choices. 

He’d sort of assumed that by now, things would be smooth sailing. Sure, he was an ex-Death Eater and a bit of a social outcast, but his wealth, his family’s long standing legacy, and their penchant for switching allegiances at just the right moment kept him comfortably afloat.

Because really, after living with the Dark Lord and being threatened into attempted murder as a teenager, how much worse could things really get? Apparently he hadn’t spent enough time around Zacharias Smith at Hogwarts. Because that absolute twat had managed to blow his life right up.

He’d been making actual progress with Granger. They weren’t exactly friends, but they were friendly. Acquaintances. Roommates. Jovial bickering co-workers who shared mutual friends. It was something.

Then Smith came barreling in with his bright idea for a threesome. Like tossing a fucking Bombarda at Draco’s sanity.

Of course he didn’t want to shag Smith. He didn’t even want the idea of Smith doing anything vaguely intimate with anyone, let alone himself, in his head.

But the idea of her with him, drove him completely mental.

And the worst part? A very serious, very horny part of him knew he would’ve gone along with it. Just to be with her.

He’d been so worked up last night he’d completely lost the ability to think rationally. He’d only stopped when she did. Thank Salazar.

Still, he’d been so wrapped up in it all he’d had to wank four times in the past ten hours, and he’d been sleeping for a good deal of them.

With a groan Draco lifted himself out of bed. He trudged to the door, casting a quick Accio and yanking on the shirt that flew into his waiting hand. Then, bracing himself, he tentatively opened the door.

He prayed to any god that would listen that she wasn’t home. And he felt fairly confident she wasn’t. She was probably mid-meltdown at Potter’s or Weasley’s by now.

As Draco dragged himself into the kitchen, it seemed the gods had answered his prayers, Granger wasn’t here. Though, in hindsight, he probably should’ve been more specific, covered more contingencies.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Pansy shouted the moment she saw him.

She was perched on the counter, tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other, glaring at him.

“Good morning to you too,” he drawled, making his way toward the kettle.

“No, I will not say good morning, Draco,” she snapped, taking a sharp drag from her cigarette and blowing out smoke in a thin stream. “Have you lost your mind?”

Maybe tea wasn’t the answer. Perhaps a glass of Ogden’s would be better.

“So, I’m guessing Blaise told you.”

“Of course Blaise told us!” Pansy screeched. “You think Zabini can keep a fucking secret? You’re lucky we’re the only ones he told.”

“Hey,” Blaise said with mock offense. “I can keep a secret. I just didn’t want to keep this one. You’re all welcome by the way.”

“You can fuck off,” Draco said as he flicked the switch on the kettle and dropped a teabag into his mug, just like Granger had shown him. Then he turned to Pansy. “And why are you so upset?”

“Why am I upset?” She repeated, scandalized. “Because I like Hermione. We’ve just became actual friends, and you’re going to cock it all up!”

“So the rest of us aren’t allowed to be friends with her just because you got there first?”

Theo made a disgruntled sound from across the kitchen. Draco hadn’t even noticed he was here, he’d been so uncharacteristically quiet up until now.

She snorted. “Oh, is that what you call what you did last night? Becoming friends? Let me clue you in, friendship usually doesn’t start naked. And it definitely doesn’t start with a third person neither of you want involved.”

“Though it can,” Blaise said with a sage nod.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m still not sure how this is your problem, Pans.”

“I just don’t want you ruining this for me. Or for her.” She took another long drag and then added as an afterthought, “and fine, for you too.”

The concern for him was clearly begrudging, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. He got it. He didn’t want to ruin it either.

“Fix it,” Pansy said firmly, vanishing her cigarette butt. Then, her tone shifted instantly, and she perked up. “Now that that’s sorted. Tell us everything.”

Draco groaned. “I thought Blaise already told you.”

“He just said he walked  in on you all naked—“

“Nobody was naked,” Draco cut in sharply, shooting a withering look at Blaise.

“Sorry, you weren’t here to deny it,” Blaise shrugged, grinning. “I added a few embellishments. Don’t worry they were all tasteful.”

“No,” Draco snapped. “No, fucking embellishments. Are you insane?”

Theo let out another exasperated huff.

Draco’s head swiveled toward him. “Do you want to say something?”

Theo was slouched against the counter, chewing on the string of his sweatshirt, giving Draco the same unimpressed look he usually saved for the Magical Resources team, specifically when they showed up once a year to confiscate and destroy the collection of illegal wards and  instruments he’d spent months carefully hiding. He crossed his arms and turned his nose up at Draco. “No.”

Draco turned to Pansy. “What’s his fucking problem?”

A grin split across Pansy’s face just as Blaise let out a deep chuckle. But before she could answer, Theo’s voice rang out.

“What’s my fucking problem?” Theo echoed. “Maybe my fucking problem is I’ve been asking you to be my third for literal years, Draco. Years. And then I find out from Blaise that you went and did the dirty with Hermione. My Hermione,” he practically shrieked, making Draco’s ears ache. “And Zacharias fucking Smith. I’ve never even heard you mention Smith before yesterday. What the hell does he have that I don’t?”

“You have got to be jok—“

“And under my roof. My own bloody roof!” Theo yelled, before falling back into a pout.

Honestly, Draco should have seen this coming, that his friends would somehow make his mortifying situation entirely about them.

Weren’t friends supposed to be supportive in moments like this? Tell you it wasn’t that bad, that everything was going to be alright?