Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
"Welcome home, hun." Hermione said as she placed a fresh bottle of wine in front of Ron.
"Thanks, Herm." He replied gratefully, it was painfully obvious what his job at the ministry of magic was doing to him.
Hermione grinned.
"What's a wife for?" She asked sarcastically while grabbing a glass from the cabinet to her left.
Ron looked up at her.
"Hermione," He said happily, standing up to hug her as she placed the glass on the table next to the bottle. "You are too good to me.'
"Of course not, Ronnikens!" She replied. "I just know how to treat men."
Ron glared, though he lacked the menace that they both knew Draco Malfoy still possessed.
Hermione hugged Ron and poured the wine into the glass behind Ron's back.
"Watcha doin?" Ron asked.
"Pouring you some wine, you look like you could use some." Hermione replied as Ron released her and she put the cork back into the bottle and fiddled with a ring on her finger.
"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked her.
"This old thing?" Hermione asked, indicating a ring on her finger with a five-pointed star on it. "I've had this since forever, I thought it was pretty."
"Aren't you going to have some?" Ron asked.
"Sure." Hermione said as she grabbed a glass and poured some into it.
"To us!" She said, raising her near-full glass.
With a soft clink that seemed to reverberate through the well-stocked kitchen, Ron raised his glass and repeated Hermione before raising his glass to his lips in unison with Hermione and drinking almost the entire glass.
"Have you heard from Harry lately?" Hermione asked, placing the glass on the table and sitting down next to Ron at the kitchen table.
"Not lately, I've seen him at work and he seemed a bit ruffled." Ron replied.
"Ruffled?" Hermione asked, worried tone securely in place.
"Yeah, almost like his mind were in a million places at once and, you remember when he slept on our couch for a week after breaking up with Cho?" He asked.
"Yeah." Hermione replied, sounding even more worried than before.
"He is starting to look like that again." Ron said softly. "How old was that wine Hermione?"
"I dunno, Ron. Has Harry said anything to you about anything that might be bothering him?"
"No, he's been pretty silent all week. I think I'm going to be sick.." Ron stood up but immediately fell back into his chair.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
"The whole room, it's spinning... I've got a terrible pain in my stomach... How old is that wine?" He asked again.
"I don't think it's the wine Ron." Hermione said, her tone sounding stretched and uneven.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, his voice cracking.
Hermione lifted her hand to Ron's eye level, and indicated the ring before flipping it open and revealing a small space inside.
"It's not just Pagans who have poison rings, Ron." Hermione said softly.
Ron slid onto the floor with a soft flump, his eyes glassy.
"Good night ickle Ronnikens..."
"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Narcissa Malfoy demanded, the usual sneer in place and the usual hand raised in what effeminately wasn't going to be a salute.
"I'm leaving." Draco said simply. "I'm tired of this place…All of it."
"How dare you speak in that tone to me, young man!" Narcissa shot back.
Draco picked up his bags and started towards the door, but Narcissa stood firmly in his way.
"Listen mum," he said with malice, "I have a job, I have my own Gringotts account, and in fact I have my own apartment! And right now, it's calling my name so, if you'll excuse me…"
"You have an apartment? Without my permission!"
"Why yes, yes I do." Draco said noncommittally.
Narcissa glared.
"Of course without your permission! You know as well as I do that if you gave me permission then father would blame you."
Narcissa softened fractionally.
"But if I just flat out left then he can be free to hate me in peace when he gets out of Azkaban, and not let off his steam on you." Draco said softly.
Narcissa lowered her head and her silver-blonde hair rushed forward in a tide to hide her watering eyes.
Draco dropped his bags and reached forward with one hand to brush the hair out of his mother's face.
"Don't worry, mum, I'll write you every day. I'm nineteen, it's about time that I left." Draco said as he leaned into his mother's opening arms.
"I do love you, son, you can come back anytime." Narcissa said shakily.
Draco eyed the bruises that he could see on his mother's pale shoulders.
"No I can't…"
Harry eyed his apartment coldly, he couldn't stand the place anymore.
Harry turned his head towards the couch and for a brief moment the flickering memory of Cho Chang sprawled across it sent shivers down his spine.
He could still hear her laughter, like the sound of soft tinkling bells…
Harry walked in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, pulled out a container of mustard and closed the refrigerator immediately.
"No matter how delicious, mustard doesn't count as a meal, Harry." He scolded himself, as he turned around.
He could still see Cho with the Chefs hat the she bought from the flea market, her hands firmly wrapped in pot holders, leaning over the oven and pulling out the Christmas ham while trying to blow that one annoying strand of hair out of her eyes.
Suddenly her tinkling laughter turned into a much more annoying ringing noise…
The phone was ringing.
"Rubbish." Harry said as he reached forward with his free hand to grab the phone and raise it to his ear.
"Hello." He said testily, whoever it was should've left him alone…
Harry's eyes widened and the mustard fell to the floor with a clatter as Harry's mouth fell open and his eyes fogged.
"Ron's what!"
Draco Malfoy was always cold.
This simple fact had always managed to surprise his family. And as he sat huddled in front of his too-small space heater he was reminded of when his father had found the small muggle heater under his bed when he was nine.
Draco didn't remember where he had gotten it but he remembered how warm and happy it made him feel. Something about being surrounded by the oh-so-comforting warmth that just made him feel good.
Unfortunately his father didn't agree, it was a muggle appliance, and that made it below Malfoy standards.
After that, Draco had learned to cope with the cold and it now resided in his skin.
Draco sighed.
His father had spent the last few years in and out of Azkaban for various things, assault with a deadly weapon, assault and battery… But somehow, he always seemed to get himself out of it somehow.
Lucius Malfoy was still every bit as frightening as he was.
Draco looked around his sparsely decorated apartment.
"Great!" He said sarcastically, in the direction of his empty refrigerator. "I've given up the mansion life to life in a rubbishy apartment that isn't even fully decorated!"
Suddenly he heard a rather loud crash followed by a few loud bangs and a strangled yell.
Draco's eyes flew to the door that stood between his apartment and the one next to it. He didn't really understand why there was a door there, hell, he didn't even know who lived there.
"If I didn't know any better," Draco mumbled, "I'd say there was an orgy going on in there…"
Draco walked closer to the door and pressed his ear against it.
And as soon as he did he heard a stream of curses and what sounded like a table being kicked over, followed by a yell, and through the door he could clearly understand the words.
"WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO DIE?"
Draco's eyes widened.
"Great… And I thought I'd left all the loonies back at Hogwarts."