~ The Party ~

The words were flying out of his mouth, but all Hermione took from it was 'irrelevant, useless, boring.'

Anything that wasn't related to next weeks meeting, updated news on the latest case, sex - or even caffeine - might as well have been gibberish. Quite certainly Quidditch was already on the blah list. The party's host was currently going on about his epic Double Eight Loop in the last match against Finland; the UK's star Keeper Arran Charlesby.

Talk of the town as of late, it seemed that the Daily Prophet had kept out how positively boring the young lad was, even more so that his head was as puffed full as a jelly doughnut. Bulging biceps notwithstanding, immaculate suit to match silky smooth black hair…perhaps there was a different reason she kept on listening. Perhaps she didn't quite want to admit she was being shallow.

"So is darling Harry coming then? I did ask the boy to make an appearance," and his booming baritone let out a guffaw. "Although, I wouldn't mind if your friends didn't show up. They'd just distract you from me."

The boy.

If it wasn't that line it was his roaming eyes looking from her breasts further down her scarlet lace hemline.

Suddenly her throat was full of bile. Suddenly the regret of wearing a fitted dress filled in her head. And regret for appearing fab was ridiculous.

"I've no idea when Harry's coming," was the snip, "excuse me." Hips swaying back to the waiter that was circling the room with champagne flutes, she left him to make the round to someone new.

Despite her words, she could guarantee Mr. Potter's imminent arrival. Ginny in tow dressed to the nines…. Ron possibly in tow as well. A thought she had smushed deep into the recess of her skull.

Burying herself in work the past few weeks, there was no time to dwell on boys. And yet the temptation for intimacy was welling somewhere that was far far away from her heart. Still, she maintained that this was the prime of her life. Relationships shouldn't tie her down. They were an unwelcome distraction. She had no time for men, right?

"Right."
And her beeline kept on going towards the French doors that promised warm air and fresh scents.
"I can mingle without someone else leading it, I can be charming…. Okay, well I can be fake."

Whispering courage to herself, she pushed her way to the other side of the parlor, onto the balcony seeking out familiar faces. She found none.

And then…two.

How she missed that smirk right off the bat, she would never know, but there it was standing easily next to Rhys Vaisey, a Slytherin who had been handpicked from the Puddlemere United to be second string to the English national team. The Chaser to Arran's Keep.

Exhaling smoke off into the atmosphere, Draco Malfoy's piercing gaze met hers, but she wouldn't have allowed him more than a second of attention. Still, in that split second she'd seen too much. Soft white hair parted to the side, sporting a much more modern suit than she could have expected from a pureblood.

The last time she'd met the vile thing face to face he'd been in class at Hogwarts, accelerated Seventh Year programs for accessible graduation to the victims of war. They'd been two of ten, her closest friends leaving to the Auror's office or the Quidditch pitch, and she feeling like she couldn't be at peace until she'd taken every last step that was expected of a British Witch to graduate. Though they never talked, he was unreasonably quiet. Never saying a word, nose stuck very much in books as she had been. It was unnerving.

What was more unnerving? He'd beaten her in Potions. The rat!

Perhaps those two mysteries combined were what allowed the distaste to linger.

Turning in her kitten heels, eyes rolling to the back, she didn't expect her name to be what echoed into the house. And yet it was: "Hello Granger."

And what was worse is that it from his mouth.

And what was even worse than that? She was armed and ready before her mind could steady the temper.

"Granger? Really? Are we still thirteen?"

Simper growing wider, he ran his tongue quickly along bare teeth before raising his brows to Vaisey, shifting his weight to the other side.
"Of course not, thought I'd just try it on for old times' sake."

With the silly tone in his voice, her hands were squishing her temples.
"Delightful. Hello to you too, now if you'll excuse me –"

"Oh please, could I have a word?"

"A word?"
NO was screaming through her veins up into her ears, but she chose a less manic approach;
"Perhaps when I've had more to drink."

And she sauntered back into the fray of bodies, spotting the red mane and black mop of her best friends. Praising the punctuality, Ginny's eyes sparkled as she noticed Hermione, bouncing her way over to engulf her in embrace.

"Hey! Merlin, I am so sorry we're late as fuck," she cursed, chugging back her drink. "Harry was working with Ron, I was on the pitch, and then dear brother really wanted to come along. But I told him unless he wanted to watch 50 guys flirting with you all night than to wait until the next – ah!"

"Why did you say that?"
Pushing into her, Ginny staggered back before balancing on her stilettos, grinning like a fox.

"Because it's true. Arran asked me just now if you were waiting for anyone, because you seemed, how did he put it? Irritated. Anything I should know about?" Arching her eyebrow, Hermione went from peeved to sheepish.

"I got here an hour ago, he talked my ear off for about 40, and I think I lasted that long because I was distracted by his clavicles and jaw line."

"And that made you irritated?"
The fit girl was arching her perfect brows, looking like she was stifling a laugh.

"God, Ginny, I haven't had a decent shag in a month. And Arran, though charming…ish, is an arrogant blockhead. Not my type. But I – Okay, I want to see Ron, I've been so flooded lately, it would've been nice."

"So…you were picturing Arran in his knickers, and that's why you're mad?"
Giggling now, Hermione huffed, causing it to only continue.

"No, I was irritated because I feel as if he only invited me because he wanted to get Harry to show up. And then hit on me as if I should feel grateful. I've never spoken to him before this, I doubt he has to Harry more than once. He had the audacity to refer to Harry as 'darling'. Seriously, darling? Like they drink scotch every other weekend, I cannot stand that kind of attitude." Following the trend, Hermione slugged back the rest of her glass, eyeing the room for a sign of a waiter.

"What a putz. It's almost like Slughorn all over again," Ginny grimaced slightly, nodding.

"YES, exactly like – "

"Uh, can we help you?"

Hovering around the two young women was the one and the same white haired man. Draco, hands crossed over his stomach, easy expression lying on his perfectly pale lips. Undeterred by the acidic stare given by a Weasley.

"I just need to speak with Hermione for a second," he lilted her name, watching her reaction as he paused. "Please."

Still in their stances, they exchanged a hefty glance.
"Yeah, don't think that's going to happen Dracooo," Ginny enunciated, swishing her hair back in his general direction, pulling Hermione back to her fiancé, who was doe-eyed speaking to the almost seven foot Seeker who was conversing with him.

{}

The atmosphere was becoming sloppy.

Numerous doses of champagne, the count now lost, Hermione had his lips glued to her neck.

Ron decided to show up anyways, throwing caution to the wind. Immaculate in a suit, hand-me-downs be damned, she couldn't have stayed away is she tried. The shy smile, the gentle manner in which he spoke to everyone - the Viktor Krum fan days long gone. The smouldering gaze she'd received once he came to give her a welcoming squeeze was enough to leave her whole body tingling.

"Ron, stop! Someone is going to see."
Yet she was almost purring, soft fingers tussling hair as she brushed his jaw away.

"Like I give a damn," he responded, winding his arms around her waist, nipping at her nape. "I missed you."

"Mm, I missed you too," she agreed, leaning in. "I thought after our date…"

"Mmm?" he questioned further, pushing them back into the glass of the window pane, the curtains of which they were drifting in and out of.

"I dunno. I was under the impression you wanted to keep things casual, but now this…"

"Hermione, I know you're busy," was the reply, fingers skimming closer and closer to her thighs. "I'm busy too. I assumed when you were ready, you'd come to me. I wanted to appease your hectic schedule. But since you haven't…thought I'd make the first move."

Hermione had no idea how this man, the most insecure boy she'd ever met, had turned into Casanova over a series of five weeks.

"You know I'm crazy for you."

Turning around in order to bestow him with a proper snog, the moment was interrupted by a jubilant voice.
"Ron! Hermione!"

Oblivious as he was, the pair were still glad to see Neville strolling up to them with purpose.
"Hey Neville," they chanted, blushing to their toes.

Nose covered in dirt from a day likely spent in tall grass, Neville waved enthusiastically. Smiling with a gleam, he had reached them before the two had time to detach from one another with respectability.
"I haven't seen you guys in ages, how are you?"

They shot the shit for a few minutes, catching up on the mundane, the jobs they had worked towards, their mostly dull personal lives.
"And Hannah and I were thinking about moving to Iverness, maybe somewhere in the city. She is already talking about having kids, can you believe it? I can't even believe she wants to move in! Ha, can you believe it? With me?!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's amazing Neville. Hey, have you met Arran yet? Really spectacular Keeper. I need to refill my drink but maybe we could mosey on over…"

"YEAH, that'd be great! As soon as I came in, I felt like maybe I'd gotten an invitation by accident? Harry was busy so I sort of...wandered...I don't know, maybe I'm just edgy cause Hannah is away. Anyways, but a bit of something would be nice, maybe it'll calm me down and – "

"WELL, come on then! We can get some bourbon."

Motioning to the other side of the parlour, Ron glimpsed back at Hermione with wide eyes, while she wiggled her brows, sticking out her tongue. Steadying on her feet, it was then the rush of dizziness hit her head from the drink, staggering back slightly on the normally unused shoes making her feet ache.

Sipping on now warm chardonnay, she spun round and steadied. Glance up into the night, the full moon was shining into the shadows of where she stood, stars visible in the indigo skyline. The home she was in situated beautifully on the Thames, the reflections of the evening dancing in the waves.

"It's very nice, isn't it? Wish I'd seen this view before I bought my own place."
Jumping from her skin, she whirled her anxious, pulsing body to witness once again some unwanted company. Company that kept much too close.

"Why do you keep pestering me, Draco? Do you feel so uncomfortable being metres from a non-pure Witch that you have to bother them until they go away? Just, piss me off until I want to smack that dumb grin off your mouth? It's definitely working."
Oh fuck, she was hammered, this was not going to go well.

"Well, well, Granger, didn't peg you as the type to be a heavy drinker. No, you said that you'd speak with me if you had more to drink. You're nearly there to plastered, so here I am. I was completely serious, I need to talk to you."

No glass in his grasp, Hermione surveyed him up and down, seeking for any sort of virtue to this situation; she only saw poison.

"About what?"
Tensing her spine, the vice grip she held onto the wine was what she noticed him staring at, her fingers numbing to white.

"Look, if you're not going to listen, I'll go away. I just heard you RSVP'd to this party and that's the only reason I – "

"What?"
As the tall man was ready to run, Hermione yanked him back by his suit jacket, her face inches from his.
"I'm the only reason you came? Not because of the fabulous press photo ops?" she spat, pointing to Marla Lamonte from Witch Weekly, who was gushing over the players. "Why?"

Clearing his throat, his coolness evaporating for the first time tonight, Hermione felt her focus sharpen despite better judgement.

"I need your help, Granger. Sorry, Hermione," he corrected, stuffing shaky hands into his pockets, batting her away from his lapels. "I know you probably already are going to say no, given that you never responded to my letters, but I'm – I'm scared."
Barely a trace of a whisper, there was too much bizarre, overwhelming information in a few sentences for her to process.

"Your letters? What letters? I didn't get any letters? When did you – Draco, how long has this problem been going on?"

She was hooked.
An easily interested mind was generally a fantastic asset, but now she loathed herself for giving this repeat offender a sliver of a chance to explain himself.

"I sent you a letter to schedule a meeting…I dunno, maybe just over a month ago? I have sent you three in total. Your secretary, upon myself showing up at the Ministry myself, informed me I was only to be approved to see you with a personal request. And sent me on my merry way, with no further questions."

"Oh."
This was news.
This was something that had never happened before.
"I never got them…I'm…I'm – I apologize."

"It's likely a clerical error, not your fault."
Dismissive, she watched slate eyes follow the people darting around the flat, wary of them, unhappy.

"This 'problem' as you stated is something I found about four months ago. And to my awful judgement, it is something I ignored. Ignored it until April 25th."

"April 25th…."

"Yes. And I don't know if this is all too late, but I didn't know where you lived, I have no contacts I could bribe that would have any contact with you, and this is my last resort. I'm afraid that if I don't speak with you soon, I – "

"Hey! What the hell are you doing, Malfoy? Bugging Hermione like she would even want the displeasure of speaking with you."
It was immediately apparent Ron and Neville had done some shots from the heavily stocked bar. Slightly swaying, he stumbled over with ears red as bricks.

"It's okay, Ron, he was only asking me if I'd seen Rhys Davies. Did you want to go find Harry?"
Motioning towards the outside, unlocking the doors, Ron nodded and began to walk with her. Not before giving Draco the most awful glare he could muster.

Hermione flashed her gaze back to indicate that this conversation was far from over, that she intended fully to hear the rest as she slowly exited the doors.

Still holding her lovers hand, the faintest trace of lips rest against her ear as she felt the cool air chilled her to the bone:
"You're in my prophecy, Granger. I'm going to the Department of Mysteries Monday at 10, meet me in the atrium."

And before she could respond, swiveling her curls to follow his movement; he was gone. Out of sight, nowhere to be found, his slender body was caught in peripherals marching out the front entrance. As she watched him from the balcony, shaking hands and donning fake smiles, curiosity overwhelmed her.

A prophecy that included Draco Malfoy also included she...Hermione Granger.