Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter
Chapter one
There's a pounding in her head as she wakes up, and her mouth is strangely dry. If Hermione weren't so sure that she'd never knowingly intoxicate herself to the point of a hangover, she'd have thought that she drank last night.
Then again, she might have, because her memory is strangely messed up. It can't possibly be true that Draco Malfoy slept on her couch last night. The war might be over, but they still have their divides, and those divides run deep enough that they don't converse, much less crash at each other's places.
Hermione purses her lips, doubtful of both possibilities. Then, making up her mind, she throws off the cream covers. The whole situation is improbable, but she still has to check how valid her memory is. She's never known her brain to be faulty before, but there is a first time for everything.
Easing herself out of the bed, she stands up.
The morning air is cold as it hits her bare legs. Summer has come and gone, paving the path to autumn, and as if signaling this, the curtains billow out with the cool breeze, sending a draft of cold air into the room.
She spares a quick glance out the window, in a convenient moment as the thin cloth is blown aside. Muggle London is well into the morning, with cars crowding the streets and the occasional person on the sidewalk. Hermione estimates it to be about nine in the morning, well after the usual time she wakes up.
Shaking her head of intruding thoughts, she drapes a robe over her shoulders, and then walks briskly toward the living room to check her theory.
The couch is empty.
The first thoughts that run through her head are confusion and disconnection. A second later, she catches herself, and glances around her flat to confirm. Everything seems to be in order, with the books lined neatly on the shelf and the beanbag chair lying peacefully beside it.
Nothing happened. Draco Malfoy never slept on her couch.
She can't decide if the feeling that bubbles at the back of her mind is relief or disappointment. It doesn't matter.
Hermione throws the robe onto the black leather sofa and makes her way toward the kitchen for a quick breakfast, when a note stuck on the refrigerator with the Sydney Opera House magnet catches her attention.
And before her brain can protest to the risks of opening something without scanning it for dark spells first, her fingers have already grasped the parchment.
She unfolds it with shaky hands. Her eyes scan it at a million miles a minute, and even though she memorized it the first time through, she reads it again and again and again.
Granger,
I apologize.
-DM
It's a testament to her control that she doesn't throw a tantrum on how cryptic it is as soon as she puts it down.
"Bloody Slytherins."
-:-
"Lavender was at the Burrow for dinner last night," Ginny remarks casually while browsing through a rack of short dresses. Her fingers linger on a bright red cocktail dress, and she takes the hanger off, head tilted with indecision.
"Lavender was there?" Hermione asks over the pile of dresses in her arms. "What was she doing?"
Ginny shrugs lightly, then throws the dress with the rest of them that Hermione holds, almost hitting her in the face. "I don't know," she answers.
She returns back to the rack, and weeds out a pale purple number with a conservative neckline. The back isn't so conservative though, with its transparent cloth. Ginny frowns at it, and then puts it back.
"Was she there for Ron?" Hermione persists, unwilling to give up on finding information on her current boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend.
She's not sure whether to worry or not.
Lavender and Ron were once together, but according to Ginny, the former is with Michael Corner now. Lavender isn't underhand enough to cheat on someone with a taken man, is she?
"I don't know." Ginny pauses for a moment, then meets Hermione's gaze squarely. "Shouldn't you know?"
"Well I don't."
"And that's a problem," Ginny murmurs, snatching a long, black mermaid gown off the rack. She evaluates it quickly, and nods in satisfaction. "I think we have enough," she says, going back to dress shopping. "Let's go try them on."
Hermione trails after her as they walk toward the back of the store, the gears in her mind still turning. She doesn't see Ron so much these days, while he's busy with all the auror stuff. He and Harry are living the dream, so she doesn't find the need to interfere. Still, if Ginny thinks that it's a problem that they don't know what the other does all day, maybe it is.
She once read that communication is a key part of a relationship. Perhaps they're lacking something here.
"Come on, in here," Ginny directs, jolting her out of her thoughts as they reach the change room.
The woman in front of it spares them both a sharp look at the amount of dresses, but it quickly turns to admiration as she recognizes them from the media. She lets them pass easily.
Hermione shakes her head as they approach the room on the far left. "Luna mentioned that the bridesmaid dresses were blue, didn't she?"
"Yeah," Ginny answers. "Thank Merlin it won't clash with my red hair."
"Remind me again why we need another dress," Hermione mutters, "if we already have the one that Luna picked out."
"Stop subtly complaining," Ginny scolds, throwing open the door. She directs Hermione inside, and watches as she drops the pile on the bench. "Once the ceremony's done you'll be changing, okay? Now use that giant brain of yours and remember that."
She eases the door shut, and Hermione glances back at the dresses. She looks through them one by one, and starts to try on the first one, then changes her mind. The activity is tedious and she's not even sure how Ginny dragged her into wasting her Saturday.
Her mind drifts off to the note still in her pocket, and almost automatically, her lips tighten. There is other stuff to attend to, and this time, her excuse isn't just too much work. Draco Malfoy's motives are just as important as dress buying for Luna's wedding, and she's got one more week for the latter.
Shaking her head, Hermione randomly selects a yellow floor length dress, and unlocks the door.
"I'm done," she says. "I'm wearing this one."
Ginny scans it critically, hazel eyes sharp. Then she shakes her head. "You chose this dress as crudely as you choose your boyfriends, Hermione. Go back and reevaluate."
"But-"she starts to protest.
"No buts. Go back and think about it this time."
Hermione obeys, and as she weaves through the pile, she wonders if the phrase is supposed to have dual meaning.
-:-
The phone rings just as she's finishing up dinner, and Hermione sighs, looking up from the piles of parchment sitting in front of her. She finishes chewing her last mouthful of Chinese takeout, stands up, and then holds the phone to her ear.
Only several people have her number, but she's not sure what her parents or Harry might want.
"Hello?"
"Hermione, is that you?" Harry sounds almost nervous. "Ron wants to talk."
There is a pause, and she frowns, skeptical and angry at the interruption of her work. The Department of Law Enforcement doesn't take just anyone. "Ron wants to talk?" Hermione questions sharply, organizing her thoughts.
She leans against the wall for the moment.
"Yeah," Harry answers solemnly. "Just wait a moment, I'll give the phone to him."
There is shuffling on the other end, and Hermione yawns as there is a not-so-smooth transition from one person to another. As soon as Ron gets a hold of what is probably Harry's cell phone, he yells a greeting into it. Hermione shakes her head, and sighs.
"You do know that you don't have to scream, right?"
"WHAT? What are you talking about?" Ron bellows out. "This muggle contraption felly-tone thingy doesn't work very well long distance, you know."
Hermione takes a moment to process his words, tightening her lips. "Wait… long distance? Where are you?" There is only silence in answer, and she paces back and forth, quickly coming to a conclusion. "You're not at 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry."
"I…" he blusters at first, then trails off. He takes his time replying after that, obviously abashed at giving details away. "No," Ron confirms finally.
More silence.
"Then where are you?"
He sighs, and Ron seems to make the decision to tell her based on the fact that in won't do any harm. "We're in Albania, on private Ministry business," he says, "It will probably be all over the Prophet by Monday, so there's no need to worry."
"Why are you in Albania?" Hermione demands sharply.
"You'll find out tomorrow."
"Why are you in Albania?" she repeats again, and there is a dangerous edge to her voice this time.
"You'll find out tomorrow," Ron counters, equally stubborn.
"Why-"
He cuts her off, tired of the conversation. "Listen Hermione, I asked Harry to call so that I tell you that I can't make it tomorrow night for the date. I'm not going to tell you what he and I are doing right now, okay?"
"So you can't make it, and you're not going to tell me what your business outside of the country is either?" Hermione snaps, starting to raise her voice so that she reflects Ron's greeting at the beginning of the call. She stares angrily at the painted cream wall, frustration seeping from her emotions into her voice. "I can't believe you!"
"Yeah, well I can't believe you either," Ron bites back.
"You back out on me all the time-"
"You think you're so goddamn smart-"
"You're always busy with work-"
"You only think about yourself-"
They hang up at the same time.
-:-
Thank you so much for all the support! It's all very heartwarming and this is really cheesy, but those favourites, follows and reviews totally make my day.
So here I am, dishing out this chapter. Hope y'all like it as much as you liked the prologue. I'm going to try and make Wednesday my update day, but I apologize if I can't get it on time. But anyway, overall, thank you so much, and yeah.
