Ron wiped sweaty palms on his corduroys as he tried to answer the same question for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.
"Er, yeah, I'm not quite sure yet, Minister," he said, looking into Kinglsey Shacklebolt's beaming face. "Taking my time to decide."
"So many opportunities, Mr. Weasley. Especially with your record in the war. All the departments will be clamoring for you. I know Miss Granger already has some offers."
Ron felt his heart drop slightly. "Yes," he said, his mouth dry. "Yes she does."
"Ron!" He heard a voice behind him and was relieved to see his brother George's gangly form making its way towards them through the sea of party guests.
"Sorry, Mr. Shacklebolt," he said when he reached them. "My mum asked me to grab Ron here to help us re-stock drinks."
"Not a problem," Shacklebolt said with a nod. "And remember what I said, Mr. Weasley, many opportunities."
Ron attempted a queasy smile and let George direct him through the crowd.
"Oi Ronnyskins, was he offering you a job?" George asked as they walked, "I thought he was telling you you were sentenced to Azkaban or something with that look on your face."
"I guess so? I'm not sure. Everyone is just so interested in hearing about my future today." Ron nervously cracked his neck. "Wish we could just, you know, celebrate Hermione's graduation."
"Mhm," said George, raising his eyebrows. "War-hero pressure gets all of us sometimes, Sir Ronald. Especially when our girlfriends are too good for us."
"Oh shut up." Ron rolled his eyes. "Where are those drinks mum wanted help with?"
"Fictional," said George, shrugging. "Anyway i've got some stuff to do. Just wanted to save you before you puked on the minister of magic." He left Ron alone in the Burrow's front hall.
It was true, Hermione was far too good for him, Ron thought as he quietly opened the door and slumped on the the front step. He should have gone with her to finish his schoolwork at Hogwarts. Her time away seemed to pull them farther apart than Ron could have guessed.
Of course, he would love to do something impressive-become an auror like Harry wanted. But he felt so strained and tired lately. Why couldn't he just rest on his laurels for a bit?
Ron sighed deeply and took in a lungful of the thick summer night air. He imagined Hermione walking through the ministry being witty and smart as usual, meeting some handsome, talented wizard and never speaking to him again. The image made his stomach flop and his palms sweat more profusely. Ron tried to tell himself he was being silly but the image kept creeping back in.
Suddenly, heard large bangs coming from behind the house. George's fireworks show had begun.
Ron shook his head and stood up. Now that everyone was outside maybe he could have a private glass of firewhiskey and calm down.
Ron crept back into the front hall and waked down into the kitchen. He had just started to pour himself a glass when he heard a faintly familiar, scratchy voice behind him.
"Could you make it two?" said Narcissa Malfoy, who stood in the kitchen doorway. Ron could barely hide his confusion. How had she been invited to Hermione's graduation party? Was this the sign of a death eater attack?
"Miss Granger was kind enough to invite Draco and I to the party during the graduation ceremony," Narcissa said, striding slowly towards Ron, her black robes billowing out to show a leopard print lining. She slipped off one black velvet glove and laid it on the kitchen counter. "The other guests are less than enthusiastic, I believe."
Ron nodded, silently poured a drink and handed it to her. Their fingertips brushed as he handed her the glass, causing tingles to run through his body. He gulped.
This was the closest he had ever actually been to Draco's mother, and he had never realized that she was quite beautiful. Her pale skin was pore-less and clear, and her blue eyes were dark like a stormy sea. Looking into them was almost too much to bear. He concentrated hard on examining the wallpaper instead.
Narcissa sipped her drink and gingerly sat on a kitchen stool, crossing one long, slender leg over the other. She produced a thin sliver case from somewhere in her robes, popped it open and slid out a thin, black cigarette. Though he tried not to look, Ron's eyes followed every movement of her delicate fingers as they caressed the case. Her eyebrow arched as she saw him looking, and she held out the case to offer him a cigarette.
He accepted, and prayed that she would not be able to tell how sweaty his hands were as he fumbled for one. Narcissa lit both with the red-lacquered tip of her right index finger. Ron was mesmerized as it momentarily burst into flames.
As Ron tried not to cough, Narcissa inhaled smoke deeply and closed her eyes.
"This must be stressful for you too," she said after a few silent moments. Fireworks thundered outside and threw a kaleidoscope of colors over one wall of the kitchen.
"Its always difficult to accept being the partner in the shadows," she continued.
Ron had no idea why this woman was talking to him like she knew him. But, her voice was comforting for some reason, and he felt himself relaxing in her presence. He took a drag on his cigarette and watched as the firework colors washed over her face. She brushed away a piece of blonde hair and breathed as if fighting back tears. Ron loved the way the stark blonde laid against her darker locks. He found himself wanting to run a hand through it.
No. This was not happening. This was Draco Malfoy's mum, for Merlin's sake. He would have to excuse himself and perform a memory charm to make himself forget he had even had the thought.
"You wouldn't believe some of the things Lucius has done to me," Narcissa's voice cracked. Before Ron could escape, she placed a hand gently on top of his. "Miss Granger is so lucky to have a man like you, Ron. I know you would never do anything like that."
Ron's voice finally wheezed to life.
"We don't know each other very well, Mrs. Malfoy," he said.
"Oh, but Ron, we've known each other for years now." She gave his hand a little squeeze and stared into his eyes. Her glittering blue irises were taking his breath away.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I should get back to the party."
"Of course." She drew back her hand and clasped her palms together in her lap, casting her eyes down beneath inky black lashes to look at them. "Could you just," she said, holding out her glass, "pour me one more drink?"
What harm could it do? Ron thought. Sitting here with Narcissa was a bit more than bizarre. However it was more enjoyable than being cross examined about his career by 200 party guests.
Ron obliged, trying to keep his hand steady as he poured two more tumblers of firewhiskey for them. Afterwards, he sat down to take a large gulp before heading into the backyard. He then felt Narcissa's hand settle on to his thigh.
"I hope you know I meant what I said. I really do think you're a great man." Ron bit his own lip as he watched Narcissa's full red ones.
"Mrs. Malfoy, are you trying to seduce me?" he asked, shocked at his own frankness.
Narcissa's lips curled into a devious smile.
"Is that what you want, Mr. Weasley?" She inched her face closer to his until he could feel her breath on his face. He nearly pulled away, but then he saw a flash of Hermione and the hypothetical handsome ministry wizard.
So, he stayed, and let her lips connect with his. They embraced as the sound of fireworks died down outside, and moonlight flooded through the kitchen window.