Part I
"Mr Malfoy, sir. Good morning. Sir?"
The proffered salver glinted in the morning sun, and the house-elf's greetings finally roused the bed's occupant. A hand emerged from the rumpled nest of damask and deftly cracked the wax seal after retrieving the parchment. The note was written in dark orange ink by a somewhat childish hand, the letters sporting large loops.
My dear D,
The game's afoot. Things are arranged for next week. Are you still in? Please don't disappoint.
P.
He stretched and took his time rousing, enjoying the quiet clarity of the new day. It was only when the smell of frying bacon and browning toast seeped upstairs that he sat up. The bedroom was lavish, with fresh light streaming through mullioned panes onto deeply coloured embroidered hangings. The surrounding furniture was beautifully balanced between functionality and aesthetics. He ran a hand along the bedpost, noting that a recent waxing had left a sharp, fresh scent. A pitcher of warmed water waited on the table, thick hand towels folded beside it. The house-elf had placed The Daily Prophet on the bedside table, neatly opened to the 'Prophet's Profits' section. It was a typical Malfoy morning.
After washing his face, Draco shrugged on a silk house robe and made his way towards the ornate escritoire. His robe remained untied and the open hanging panels offered teasing glimpses of pale litheness as he crossed the room with customary grace. He ordered his breakfast, to be brought up in twenty minutes, from the waiting house-elf. His demitasse of freshly brewed espresso, however, was brought immediately.
Seated before a clean sheet of parchment, he paused before starting a response. His relationships were the currency of social maneuvering. Post-Voldemort, he'd worked hard at re-establishing his family fortunes and creating associations for his name that weren't despicable. In the process, he'd become accustomed, and indeed partial, to viewing relationships as a game; one whose rules he learned to control. For so many years his life felt proscribed by others and their expectations.
His father.
Voldemort's cult.
Those who expected him to be a dinosaur of a Malfoy once the War was over, holed up in the arcane wreck of his family home.
Well, they were partly right. He was the last Malfoy and he did spend an inordinate amount of time at the Manor. Most of the reason for this was sheer bloody-mindedness. Draco had witnessed the art of manipulation all his life but hadn't had the need to channel it productively, until necessity came calling in the shape of a debt-recovery goblin contracted by Gringotts. Now, thanks to Draco's social-climbing nous and excellent advice from a Muggle investment advisor, he was well on the way to re-establishing his family's fortune. Draco spent time after Recent Events tirelessly refashioning how others perceived his name. The Manor was transformed into a state of luxurious respectability that it had never possessed. In the Wizarding world of the United Kingdom, and a few countries beyond, he'd become known as a Very Good Catch, and his rakish reputation only magnified his appeal. After all, in this post-War society, he was one of the few who carried the bad boy cachet, without the inconvenience of being buried or in Azkaban.
The deep green ink to which Draco was partial soon flowed across the parchment's surface, his penmanship tight and sharp.
P,
Certainly. I'll be arriving in the evening. My congratulations on assembling such a fine crowd. You must have exercised great creativity.
Anticipating my target. Please don't disappoint.
D.
He loved a challenge and she was adept at offering him suitably stimulating ones. It was easy to get complacent about whom he could bed when he was, after all, him. Partners were drawn in by his confident charm and insouciant sexuality, and the luxuriousness of his courtship rites certainly didn't hurt. Not many could resist being wined and dined in private booths in London's finest restaurants, or Flooing impulsively to visit the best Moroccan souks for a weekend. When liaisons failed, as they inevitably did, his lovers found they couldn't divulge its more disreputable details, or the way he had ended it. Draco couldn't understand why others didn't practise self-preservation the way he did. It's not as if he had them under Imperius. It was all in the way he collected strategic confidences, the breathy confessions that flow when lying on silky sheets, sated.
No sooner had he attached the newly sealed note to Naiad's leg and sent the owl on her way than he was being offered another salver.
"Quite the day for clearing correspondence," he muttered as he reached for the next scroll. From the feel of the parchment, he already knew its sender. The paper was sheer. The seal formal. "Ah, my secret admirer."
Mr Malfoy
I am under instruction from the Minister. Several reports require your urgent attention and I am informed that you will not be in office for at least a week. Please send details of your location by return owl and I will convey the documents to you.
Regards
H. Potter
Draco smiled and dropped the note into the bin. After a moment's thought, he picked it out again, smoothing it flat. Now this was an opportunity he hadn't anticipated. It would certainly spice up proceedings and, really, it was a case of the more, the merrier. He even chuckled as he picked a fresh sheet of parchment from the drawer and took up his quill once again.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Are you sure you want to go?" Ron re-read the invitation dubiously.
"Of course, I'll be going. I wish you'd reconsider and join us. Ginny'll be there, with Justin, of course. You never see those two apart these days." Hermione took out her dress robes and tapped them with an anti-wrinkle charm before putting them in her trunk. She hesitated before continuing with her packing. "It's been so many years, Ron. I can't believe you're still so entrenched in Hogwarts prejudice. We work beside Slytherins all the time these days."
"Yeah, but I don't have to like it, you know. It's a character thing, Hermione. They're just not our kind of people."
"Our kind of people?" She shook her head. "Sometimes you sound like a bigot."
Ron stayed silent, looking stubborn.
"You know I'm right. You do this all the time just because you don't want to admit that people can change. We're not teenagers anymore." Hermione pulled the trunk-lid down, muttering to herself, "Not that you'd be able to tell with some people."
"Who else is going?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard the last comment. "I know Harry isn't."
Hermione sighed. They'd been over this half a dozen times ever since that dratted invitation had arrived. What started off as an event she looked forward to had become a catalyst that threw their relationship's dynamic into sharp relief, to its detriment.
"I've told you before who's going, and Harry's not going because he's finishing off a big project, working over the weekend. I'm hoping he might still drop in." She checked the hourglass. "Early start tomorrow. Interview. I'm off to bed."
Ron stared at the doorway long after she'd made her way to the bathroom. He felt judged. She was so ambitious, kept applying for those promotions. Why couldn't she be happy with things the way they were? He hadn't moved a rung on the Daily Prophet's ladder since he finished his sports journalism cadetship six years ago but things were good enough. Weren't they?
His gaze was drawn to the picture on her dresser, as it always was when they argued. The picture was of their wedding day. They were all so young, just a year out of Hogwarts. The event had an air of over-compensatory gaiety in the aftermath of the War. Harry, uncomfortable in his formal robes, waved sheepishly at the photographer. A sea of red hair and freckles occupied the background as the Weasley clan had attended en masse, with Charlie sporting the usual burns and scrapes on his forearms. Ron could see Lee, Seamus and Dean sticking their heads into the frame just in time for the shot. Hermione was there wearing an ivory robe of light, silky stuff interwoven with strands of deep gold. She was looking over her shoulder at the camera, a huge, slow smile appearing as she saw Ron next to Harry. Every time he saw that smile, the weariness washed away.
"I'll be away for about a week. Might drop in on Remus on my way back-" Hermione had returned and rounded the corner of the bed. Ron was pulling his trunk out from under the bed. He started throwing random clothing inside. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like? I'm packing."
She didn't say anything for a short while, watching him sort through his socks for ones without holes in them.
"Well, I'd better owl Pansy and let her know that there'll be one more for the reunion," she finally said. "I'll do it first thing tomorrow."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The Parkinson estate was nestled behind lush hills, and the driveway wound through several woods before ending in a luxurious gravelled loop around a prancing satyr fountain. A Hogwarts reunion at the home of a Slytherin queen bee. It was a symptom of new alliances and attitudes that so many would be attending. A large number of them were also staying on as guests, taking advantage of their host's effusive invitations. After Hogwarts, Pansy had married an incredibly rich, elderly hotelier and had spent most of her time in Europe; wintering in Gdansk, summering in the Mediterranean, and recuperating from her taxing schedule at numerous spas in Lausanne. She had returned to England a couple of years ago: widowed, conspicuous, and the sole beneficiary of a vast estate. She reverted to her maiden name and proceeded to graze over an impressive number of bachelors.
When Justin and Ginny arrived at dusk on Friday, the parking area was already full of cars. It had become quite the trend to dabble in Muggle technology. House-elves awaited arrivals and functioned as valets.
"Where do you think they're putting them all?" Justin whispered as they alighted from their VW. It was enthusiastically driven around the corner by a particularly stout house-elf, the slight screeching of tyres making them both wince.
"Probably best not to ask, love." Ginny took his hand and smiled. Justin tapped their luggage with his wand, and the trunks floated behind them as they made their way to the main buildings.
The mansion was huge but relatively devoid of ornament. Residential wings, sporting trefoil casement windows, sprung out each side of the main building. Enchanted ivy curled obediently around each ledge, hugging the hewn stone with leaves bronzed by the setting sun. They arrived at the imposing front doors at the same time as a sleek, dark Rolls glided over the gravel.
"Our timing could be better." Justin's scowl marred his happy, open features as he watched the car's occupant alight. Ginny couldn't help staring either, a blush creeping lightly across her cheeks.
Draco wore black, as usual; a rich, beautiful black that accentuated his light features. His lean stature suited the impeccably cut formal robes, and the high collar lent him a regal air. He reached the portico with confident, languid steps. Ginny noticed that his hair seemed professionally tousled. He wore a small smile on his normally closed face.
"Finch-Fletchley. Weasley. Hello." Draco nodded in greeting. "I believe congratulations are in order?"
Justin put a tight arm around Ginny and smiled, also rather tightly. "Thank you, Malfoy. The Hogwarts grapevine strikes again, I gather."
"Indeed. The situation not helped by the fact that many of us also now work in the Ministry. It's a hot-bed of gossip." Justin's protective move didn't escape Draco's notice and his smiled broadened. "Weasley? How is the clan?"
Ginny was still distracted by the way Draco had said 'hot-bed.'
"Weasley?"
Justin nudged her.
"Oh, er, they're all fine. Fine." Ginny knew there was no need to really tell him how everyone was. Draco had never been known for his interest in others' well-being, particularly where Weasleys were concerned.
The doors opened without a sound, and a spacious entryway appeared behind them.
"Please." Draco gestured smoothly for them to proceed.
They had barely handed over their coats and luggage when the sound of high-heels came clattering towards them.
"Welcome, welcome!" Pansy Parkinson sailed towards them, cocktail in one hand and a small dog under her arm. "Justin, my darling! How is the legal world treating you? Is Judge Winterbottom still keeping a firm hand on his staff?"
Ignoring Draco's muffled laugh, Justin smiled and leant forward to kiss Pansy's cheek. "Hello, Pansy. You are such a dear organising this whole get-together. Winterbottom retired just last week. The whole firm turned out for his farewell, of course. We'll be finding out early next week who his successor will be."
"Why, could it be you?" Pansy's voice was coy.
Justin blushed to the roots of his curly hair, stammering in self-deprecation. "Well, I've had some tough cases lately. Very political. I'd like to think I handled them ok…"
Ginny stopped herself from rolling her eyes as Justin rushed to tell Pansy about the malevolent Gilligan family, the upcoming trial, and his central role in building the case.
Pansy took her time shifting her gaze from Justin. "Ginny, hello. Glad you could make the time to join us," she said, her voice anything but glad.
"Hi, Pansy. Thanks for organising all of this. We've been looking forward to it for ages, haven't we, love?" Ginny took the opportunity to thread her arm through Justin's and spoke with conspiratorial affection.
"Er, yeah, who wouldn't be looking forward to their ten year reunion?" Justin seemed increasingly uncomfortable. Ginny nodded at their hostess and started pulling Justin away.
"Draco, darling." Pansy turned her attention to the quiet figure in the entryway.
He stepped forward and kissed her once on each cheek.
"I thought you were over him?" he asked softly.
"Lost none of your candor I see." Pansy watched the newly engaged couple disappear down the corridor and into the main drawing room. She sighed. "It's not that I want him back. It's just that I don't want her to have him. It's simple, really. But you and I need to talk. Let's go to the library, shall we?"
Calling the room a library was a misnomer. The room had once held one, as testified by the polished floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that occupied every wall. Since Pansy returned, however, various lots of beautiful first editions and priceless series had been auctioned off. More than a few had found homes in Draco's own collection in Malfoy Manor. With the exception of a few paperbacks of genre Auror thrillers lying on one of the tables, the room was now book-less. Instead, Pansy had filled every shelf with souvenirs and photographs of her travels, gifts from friends overseas and her very valuable collection of Muggle porcelain. The first time she'd excitedly shown Draco the 'Wedgwood' stamp on one of the antique bowls, he'd just frowned in confusion. Its attraction still remained a source of mystery to him, though he knew enough to ask about recent acquisitions as a matter of form.
"Anything new in the Lustre collection?" he asked politely. If he had to choose, there were some with dragon motifs to which he was partial.
"Not recently, no. Haven't had time with organising all this." Pansy waved a hand to indicate the weekend's reunion. "But I'll be meeting with my buyer in Shrewsbury soon. Now, scotch, straight up, isn't it?"
He sat down and nodded, thanking her when she handed him a cut crystal tumbler. His gaze fell on the closest photographs: Pansy a-dragonback in Romania, Pansy on the Champs Elysees clutching shopping-bags of Chanel, Pansy at the Famous Floo in Stalingrad-
"So." She had seated herself in an armchair opposite, perched on the edge.
"So?" Draco watched her with a small smile, waiting.
She laughed. "Right. To the task at hand, then."
"Who is it?" he asked, swirling his scotch slowly.
"You haven't guessed?"
"I hoped I was wrong."
"Well, you're not." Pansy pouted slightly.
He sighed and sat back. "Ginny Weasley."
"You said you wanted a worthy challenge." She sipped her drink. "And there are several degrees of difficulty."
"I should hope there are!" Draco said. "Weasley the Youngest has had a crush on me since before I appeared on the cover of Witch Weekly. It's hardly going to tax me to get her interested-"
Pansy's sly smile broadened and he let her interrupt. "Well, for starters, she's newly engaged."
Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Hardly a difficulty. If anything, that makes things easier. Never underestimate the allure of the last fling. You, of all people, my dear Pansy, should know that." He cocked his glass at her in a mock toast.
"Second, your good mate Ron will also be here this weekend," she said, studiously ignoring his last comment.
"Better." Draco nodded in approval. "Getting to her while Weasel's around, that could take some doing. Actually, a bigger obstacle would be Weasel's other half. She's much more switched on and might intervene with sensible advice before the mission is accomplished. She's here, too, I take it?"
Pansy nodded. "Of course. Can you imagine Goody Granger not attending something like this?"
"Did Potter get back to you?"
Pansy nodded again. "He said he'd try to make it, but that he was a big, important git so wasn't sure if he'd have the time. Or something like that."
Draco stayed silent.
She watched him, eyes narrowing. "You've had a thing for him for years, haven't you? Now he'd be a challenge."
He returned her gaze steadily, eventually unnerving her so that she rushed on. "Anyway, there you have it. Ginny Weasley, this weekend. Think you can do it?"
"You're not requesting full consummation are you? Within one weekend just isn't my style. Too crass." Draco drained the last of his scotch.
"Significant distraction, my dear. That's all I ask." Pansy trailed a manicured finger along his smooth cheek, leaning down to kiss-
"Ms Parkinson. The last guests are here, Miss." The house-elf bobbed up out of nowhere.
Pansy sighed. Their lips were not quite touching, but they were close enough that she felt his curve as he spoke. "To your guests, then, Pansy?"
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The drawing room was pleasantly crowded and buzzing with exclamations as former schoolmates discovered each other a decade on. Rings of dripless candles floated above the gathering, casting a warm glow across excited faces and colourful formal robes. A huge crackling fire that gave off no heat or ash flared happily in the grate. A constant stream of heads appeared in the flames, classmates who couldn't make it to the event calling in to say hello. Members of all four Houses mingled over delicious appetisers and, surprisingly, didn't lapse into cliques later in the evening. There was an unspoken rule that no-one should mention the War, or comment on the depleted ranks of Slytherins in the room.
Pansy had charmed everyone's name-tags so their Hogwarts-aged faces peered out from the tasteful calligraphy beside their House banner. Hermione kept looking at her tag self-consciously, well aware that her unruly teenager's hair was obscuring most of her name as well as the Gryffindor lion. Ron had gone to get her a drink and himself yet another one. He'd been gone for ages, and she spied him across the room catching up with Seamus and Dean amid shouts of laughter. They'll be talking Quidditch, no doubt. Some things never change.
She wandered through the crowd until she found Justin and Ginny in a quieter corner. They were deep in conversation with a Ravenclaw man Hermione didn't recognise.
"Hermione!" Ginny wrapped her in an avid hug. "I was hoping you and Ron would be here tonight."
Justin pecked Hermione on the cheek in greeting and politely asked about her work. They always seemed stuck in small-talk. Hermione focused on not talking about politics as Justin was notorious at the Burrow for his conservative values and awkward pedantry. When he and Percy were there for dinner, the twins didn't know what to do. It was an embarrassment of riches: so much payout material, so little time. Justin at Hogwarts had been such a puppy-like, easy-going boy. Hermione didn't know exactly when he'd transformed into an Earnest Lawyer. Ginny had been with Justin about a year now, going out with him during her internship at his law firm. Hermione had tried to find what it was that Ginny saw in him, looked for that fitting spark, that exclusive understanding of one another. Justin was very nice and polite, always considerate of Ginny, but, well, other than that she was still looking.
"Hermione, you remember Harvey Peeke?" Ginny indicated the man from Ravenclaw whom Hermione didn't remember at all. "Harvey's one of the partners in our firm. Harvey, this is Hermione Granger, my sister-in-law."
Hermione felt a flare of regret at this introduction because, as Harvey looked up and shook her hand, she was thinking he had a beautiful smile.
"Hermione Granger. Of course, I know you by reputation."
"She's the best the Ministry's ever had." The smooth cadences were unmistakable. Hermione turned to see Draco leaning against the doorway just near their group. He was holding an empty glass, his clear eyes fixed on hers.
"Draco, I didn't know you were here." Harvey had obviously met Draco before. "It is indeed a pleasure."
Or maybe he hadn't. Hermione couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"Harvey." Draco nodded acknowledgement. "Good to see you again, too."
An odd silence followed until Justin cleared his throat.
"So, Malfoy, are you staying the whole weekend?"
"Why, yes, Justin, as luck would have it, I am. All weekend." Draco's voice verged on gleeful, his eyes now settled on Ginny. "So, if you need any advice with the upcoming nuptials, be sure to let me know. I'd be delighted to help."
Ginny blushed fit to bust and stared at the floor. The Finch-Fletchleys, devout and religious, were known for their abstemious beliefs, and Justin had regularly declared his virginity at the family dining table, much to the chagrin of Ginny and the hooting delight of her brothers (after Justin left).
"It's nice to have someone who believes in something," she'd snapped at them one time when they'd gone too far. There was a moratorium on honeymoon jokes thereafter.
"You know, florists, caterers, that kind of thing," Draco continued.
"That's so kind of you to clarify," Hermione said, giving him a look.
He inclined his head politely, unable to keep a fleeting smirk off his face.
"Always happy to impart knowledge, Granger. I find great satisfaction in sharing expertise." His voice was a purr.
"Meaning you like being a smart-arse, Malfoy?" Ron had joined them, a couple of drinks under his belt.
Draco turned with a slow smile. "Weasley. You're looking very, er, robust. Married life must agree with you."
"Yeah, you should try it some time, instead of chasing everything in a skirt," Ron retorted, immediately sucking in his small beer-belly and straightening his shoulders.
"I don't chase," Draco said, seeming genuinely affronted, "and they don't always wear skirts." Pointedly, he turned to Harvey, and they drifted off for a tete-a-tete.
"Is he always like that?" Justin asked, his brow furrowed with mild irritation.
"Ferret? Oh, yeah. He's always a pain in the arse-"
"Ron, that's enough with the word 'arse' for tonight, thanks all the same," Hermione interrupted. She turned to face Justin with a look of interest. "You've known Malfoy as long as we have, Justin. Why does his behaviour surprise you?"
"Oh, not Malfoy being Malfoy. We all got used to that at school, right? I mean the, er, salaciousness."
Hermione bit down hard on her tongue and couldn't look at any of them for a moment. She thought she was going to do herself some damage repressing such a guffaw. Ron didn't bother stifling his reaction, and his squawk of laughter made several people turn around.
"Don't be such a prig, Justin," Ginny muttered, her eyes lingering on Harvey and Draco across the room.
"But, Ginny, don't you think-," Justin began.
Ginny had already fled to the nearest drinks table.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Almost everyone had retired for the evening. Ron had staggered his way back to the room while Hermione was still chatting with Lavender and her Muggle husband Gerry. Pansy had passed through the room a while ago, encouraging everyone to join her for breakfast in the rotunda the next morning. After bidding her old school friend goodnight, Hermione had to admit that a small part of her was envious of Lavender and Gerry's warm, teasing comfort with each other. A small voice in her mind murmured that it'd only been a year and let's see them in about ten years' time. Lost in these thoughts, Hermione was not surprised when she found herself in the wrong corridor. The house was huge, and dark now that the lights were dimmed. She peered at the doors that ranked along the corridor, trying to remember whether hers was remarkable in any way. No luck.
She stopped for a moment, the silence of the mansion pressing all around. Well, this was awkward.
She made a circuit of the house, trying to find Pansy. When that failed, she tried to find the kitchen. There was the off-chance that the house-elves might be able to tell her where she was meant to be.
"Is everything ok, Ms Granger?" A soft voice startled her.
"Mr Peeke! You surprised me." She tried to slow her breathing back to normal.
"It's Harvey, please." The smile flashed again. "Are you lost?"
She chuckled. "Right first time. You, too?"
"Er, not exactly." She couldn't see his face properly but could imagine the blush.
"Ah, right."
As if on cue, a second figure appeared behind him.
"That you, Granger? How confusing." Draco draped a casual arm around Harvey, drawing the other man close. "Trysting with someone?"
"Of course not!"
"Alright, no need to go Finch-Fletchley on us," Draco said.
"I'm trying to find my room," she said through gritted teeth.
"What kind of covering was on the walls?" Draco asked, leaning in to nuzzle Harvey's neck. Harvey grinned and returned the affection.
"Er, I think they were sprites. Very naked ones." She didn't know where to look.
"Ah! The Nymph Room. Rather appropriate." He gave her directions to find the room, which was only a short distance away.
"Thanks. Well, see you at breakfast tomorrow."
"Lunch is more likely, Granger." Draco grinned, and she saw them move smoothly into each other's arms.
She hurried away, embarrassed and inexplicably stirred.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Just about everyone slept in the next day. While breakfast was ready to be served from about seven, the tables weren't going to be full until about ten. Hermione had been awake for hours. She'd gone for a walk around the lush grounds and spent some time alone in the orchards behind the house. The gardeners had enchanted the fruit so they couldn't be plucked until they were fully ripe, so she could only admire their perfection as their waxy skins winked in the sun. She thought the same thoughts she always did when she was solo. Fanciful, seductive thoughts about long overseas journeys, making new friends, and breaking routine. The thoughts also ended where they always did, with a deep sigh.
On her way back to the rotunda, she walked past a series of windows on the east side of the house. The sun turned the panes to mirrors and, given last night's encounter, perhaps it was for the best that she couldn't glimpse the rooms' interiors.
The beautifully proportioned rotunda sat amongst fat, scented hedges. Hermione waved at the others who were already tucking into lavish meals in its luxurious shade. She didn't know any of them very well but gathered her plate and set out to rectify the situation.
A little later, Ginny and Justin turned up, looking tired and out of sorts with each other. Surely they weren't still bickering? It soon became obvious, however, that it was Justin who cold-shouldered his fiancée. Hermione watched Justin avoid Ginny's glances and half-started sentences.
Ginny came and sat by Hermione. Justin paused before the table, looking as if he'd prefer to sit somewhere else if possible. There were few other people there just yet, though, and it would've seemed too deliberate a snub if he chose another table.
"Justin, good morning. Come sit here. There's room." Hermione patted the seat on her other side. She was in no mood to play counsellor. Let them simmer as far away from each other as possible, she thought, and applied herself to the perfect scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. They ate with minimal conversation and occasionaltaut silences.
"May we join you?"
Hermione wondered what she'd done in her life to deserve this company at breakfast. Having almost finished her meal by now, she was just about to make an excuse and flee elsewhere. Courtesy forced her to respond. "Of course, Draco. Harvey, please." She indicated the seats in front of her.
Draco dropped with ease into the seat opposite Ginny. Harvey pulled out the chair before Hermione. Both of them looked puffy and woken from recent sleep. They were unshaven and relatively discreet with their body language. Hermione was grateful for the latter, though the way Draco was looking at Ginny unnerved her.
They small-talked for a while.
"Where's your other half, Granger?" Draco curled his hands around his coffee, a lazy glance brushing from Hermione back to Ginny.
"Ron and the lads are off to bond some more," Hermione said, sipping at her tea." I think Neville mentioned he'd be leaving today."
Justin pushed his plate away and fiddled with his serviette. He exuded discomfort.
"So, is everyone joining the jaunt to the lake today?" Harvey broke the quiet, his cup of coffee poised for a sip.
"I'm taking the Rolls if you'd like to come with us." Draco glanced at the unusually hushed threesome before him. Hermione was uncomfortably aware that she was planted between the engaged couple.
"You're taking a car to the lake? I thought Pansy said it wasn't that far away." Ginny's gaze lingered on Draco's face, none too subtly.
"I thought the whole point of a jaunt was to get a bit of fresh air and exercise," Justin said, his voice tight.
Hermione could tell that Draco's chuckle irritated Justin. Even before last night, she knew that he thought Draco was beyond understanding and undesirable company.
"Oh, I've had enough exercise for the moment." Draco stretched back in his chair, languid fingers brushing Harvey's wrist.
Harvey's slight blush was really quite charming, thought Hermione at the same time as she heard Justin's small grunt of disapproval.
Draco's manner changed at the sound. His gaze hardened and the set of his shoulders tensed. His voice, however, stayed soft and smooth. "Something bothering you, Finch-Fletchley?"
Justin ignored Draco altogether and focused on Harvey. "I didn't know you were-"
"What, Justin?" Harvey fixed him with an impatient glare. "We work together. Any reason why I should be telling you how I get my rocks off?"
Justin flushed at the crudity, "No, that's not what I'm saying. I've just never-"
"Oh, we know that." Draco's arch tone was designed to stoke the fire.
From there, the backbiting degenerated even further until Justin stood rapidly, sending his chair skittering back.
"Justin, please-" Ginny half-stood, reaching for his elbow.
He shook her off, the look of betrayal apparent. He left without another word.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Hermione left Ginny's room after calming the other woman down. None of the assurances rang true to her own ears, but she hoped Ginny couldn't discern that. Justin had disappeared with the car and taken his things with him. Ginny wouldn't tell Hermione what they'd fought about the previous evening, only saying that it was significant. Very significant. The debacle at breakfast had been the final straw.
As the door closed with a soft click, Hermione paused and took a deep breath. She'd have to prevent Ron from interfering at this point. Subtlety and tact were not his strong suits. Her smile was sardonic, however, when she remembered that she'd had to work even to find her husband during this weekend. He seemed keen to recreate a bachelorhood of which he'd felt deprived. Raucously single, Seamus and Dean were only too happy to oblige. Neville Longbottom, shattered by a recent separation, could also be found in their inebriated company more often than not. The lads had disappeared to the local pub early on. She didn't expect to see them until that evening.
A soft step halted just beside her, and she looked up to see Draco, who had been waiting outside.
"How long have you been here?" Hermione didn't bother with niceties.
"A few minutes."
"Why?" The look she levelled on him was asking much more than why he was loitering in the corridor.
He returned it in silence.
"I saw the way you've been looking at her since this weekend started." Hermione knew she was on the right track when there was a momentary flicker in his grey eyes. "So, I'll ask again, why?"
"You must be mistaken, Granger. I came to make sure that little Weasley wasn't too distraught. After all, that display this morning may have been incited unnecessarily by me," Draco sighed.
"No, really?"
He didn't react to her acid tone. "I'm here out of concern-"
"No, you're not, Draco. You're here, as always, for your own reasons. She's in no state to deal with you, and you know it." Hermione's eyes were as sharp as her voice. She wasn't entirely sure what his ploy was, but she knew she couldn't let him near Ginny. Ginny's crush on Draco had been obvious to Hermione for years. Most of the other Weasleys were oblivious, as they tended to be about these kinds of things. Ginny was very careful about it for the most part. Hermione knew that Draco had become an avid manipulator of social intercourse. He would have noticed that Ginny was unusually focused on him. What baffled her was his current reciprocal interest.
"Do tell her I looked in," he said finally. With a stiff nod, he walked away. She waited till his footsteps rang on the marble floors of the outer corridor before she moved away from the doorway. Just in case, she turned and cast a subtle ward on the door. If anyone other than Ginny crossed the threshold, she'd know.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Draco reached the crest of the knoll just as the sun was starting to dip in the sky. Colourful knots of blankets covered the lakeside, and enchanted umbrellas kept shade handy, changing direction as the sun traced a heated track across the sky. The scattered groups lay back with their bottles of wine and nibbled on what was left of their picnic. A drowsy hum of conversation pervaded the idyllic scene. Harvey approached him and they had a close exchange. With a promise that he'd be back soon and after a covert kiss, Draco turned to go. He nodded at people as he sauntered towards the small pavilion in which Pansy and a few others were ensconced.
She looked up from her nest of plump cushions as he ducked into the space. A half-finished glass of white dangled from her hand. Something in their manner generated a few well-expressed excuses from the others to vacate the enclosure, and Pansy and Draco soon found themselves the only occupants.
Pansy waited a moment, until it was clear he wasn't going to speak first. With a small huff of amusement, she obliged. "How goes the hunt, my dear?"
Draco looked suspiciously at the cushions and pulled a chair in from another area. He made himself comfortable, leaned back and helped himself to a rich, buttery slice of Madeira cake.
Pansy watched him while a smile tugged at her mouth. "I had an interesting chat with the beautiful Harvey Peeke on the way over here. He's quite a dish, one I'm sure you've already savoured."
Draco arched a brow.
"You may not kiss and tell, dearest, but others most certainly do." She laughed. "Particularly when they're very pleased with the proceedings."
He couldn't help a somewhat satisfied smile creeping across his lips. "Mr Peeke is delightful company."
She put her drink down and sat up, her expression becoming more serious. "And the answer to my first question might be-?"
Draco filled her in on this morning's spectacle and its aftermath. Pansy hadn't been privy to it because she was planning for the lake and had breakfasted early.
"It seems you were right yesterday. Granger is more of an obstacle than elder Weasley."
He nodded. "Weasel and his mates seem intent on emptying this county of its beer. He hasn't even been a consideration. Did you hear that Longbottom's separated?"
"Who was he married to, anyway? I don't think I ever had the pleasure." Pansy refilled her glass.
"Someone who was a few years behind us at Hogwarts. Name escapes me. I saw them once in London. She was not unattractive."
"High praise, indeed."
He stared out at the lake for a few moments, his fine features slightly creased with thought. "I have a dispensation to beg."
The fact that Draco had used the word 'beg' caused Pansy to drop the bantering manner and focus her gaze on his. He dropped his eyes first. Interesting.
"I think this weekend's challenge needs to be revoked."
"Did I hear you right? I could've sworn you were asking-"
"Yes, I am."
"Getting a soft spot for little Weasley then?"
He looked irritated. "If the point of the challenge was to cause disharmony between her and Finch-Fletchley, I venture to say that this has been achieved in spades. Mostly, I might add, without my direct interference."
"Still." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she crossed the pavilion to put on a light shawl. The afternoon had turned chilly as the sun edged away. "There was a time when a technicality like that wouldn't have stood in your way."
"I'm not interested in having little Weasley at my beck and call for no reason. Some goals are not worth pursuing." Draco sat back with arms crossed, clearly wanting to be done with the matter.
"Well, then, how about we alter the goal to make it worth your level of prowess?" Pansy's tone was indulgent but no longer light.
He said nothing.
"How about we make the target a little more eminent?" She paused. "How about we make it Potter?"
She noted, again, the fleeting tenseness that was masked almost immediately.
"I don't believe it's fair to have a target who isn't even in the vicinity," Draco said with what Pansy noted was more than a tinge of relief.
"Why, Draco, how remiss of me. I forgot to mention that I received an owl from Potter barely an hour ago. He'll be arriving this evening. For business. Your doing, apparently."
- end Part I -