There in the doorway to the prefects carriage stood Hermione's ex-husband and another member of the Golden Trio, Ron Weasley. He at first appeared shocked by the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy and stood there gaping like a fish. Slowly though, his mouth closed into a tense line and his eyebrows drew together. Hermione could see a flush rising up to his face from his neck. To say these two men had never gotten along would be a gross understatement. This would not be pretty.
"Malfoy," Ron growled out. He peeked around Draco's shoulder to see who was standing behind him. "And… Mione! What are you doing here?"
"Me?" Hermione pushed past Draco to stand in front of her ex-husband, hands on her hips. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? We agreed that I would ride the train, and you would apparate to Hogsmeade because you wanted to spend time with our children before I got there!"
"Yes, well, I changed my mind!" Ron spluttered. "I decided I wanted to show Gabrielle the train!" He motioned to Gabrielle Delacour, his girlfriend, standing shyly at his side. Hermione rolled her eyes at the way the petite blonde seemed to be tugging at Ronald's sleeve like a child.
"Did you at least let the children know you wouldn't be there to meet them?" Hermione demanded.
"Yes, of course!" Ron stated. "Now answer my question! What are you doing in here with him?"
Malfoy sidled back up next to Hermione, smirk firmly in place, and draped an arm across her shoulders.
"Didn't you know, Weasel?" he asked. "Hermione's my date for the ball."
Hermione gasped. Well, that was news to her. Luckily, Ron was too busy glaring at Malfoy to have heard her startled exclamation.
"You're joking, right?" he asked. "Hermione would never go anywhere with the likes of you."
Malfoy tutted. "Well, she is. Now, if you'll excuse us."
He shut the door in Ron's face, and immediately set the locking charms back in place before crossing back over to the couches.
"How the brightest witch of our age ever ended up with that dunce, I will never know," he muttered. "And 'Mione'? What was that about?"
"To be honest, I always hated that nickname," she said, wandering slowly back to her seat. "I spent ages teaching an international Quidditch star how to pronounce my name correctly, for crying out loud! I don't know why Ronald ever thought I was okay with being called Mione."
"Ugh, I tried, really I did!" she groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "He started calling me that awful name sometime after we started dating, and I tried to express my displeasure, but he just never picked up on it."
"Doesn't surprise me that Weasley's too thick to pick up on something," he chuckled.
"Oh hush," she grinned. She picked her drink back up, staring at it thoughtfully. "It's been so long since I had any firewhiskey. At this rate I'll be quite pissed before the trolley comes round!"
"Please, Granger," Draco drawled. "You haven't even finished your second glass yet."
She felt her cheeks flush. "I know. I guess I'm still just trying to justify why we're getting along so well. It just doesn't make any sense."
"It's like you said earlier. You've been lonely since the divorce. I can relate."
Hermione let out a very unladylike snort. "Doubtful. I'd wager that you have loads of friends ready at your beck and call to listen to you piss and moan your troubles away."
Malfoy's face turned very serious. "I actually have very few people in my life that I can trust with my secrets. I can count them all on one hand in fact."
"So why trust me?" she whispered.
"Let's just say that I can recognize a kindred spirit."
With a clearing of her throat, she asked, "And the ball?"
He shrugged. "Why not? I'm single, you're single. I think the last couple of hours has proven that we could enjoy each other's company long enough."
Hermione debated his words for a moment. He made some good points. And knowing that Ron would be there with Gabrielle Delacour on his arm had Hermione wanting to stand out in a fabulous way at the ball. She hadn't attended any events since she and Ron had separated. She went to work early every morning, stayed holed up in her office, even taking lunch in her office most days. Her weekends were spent curled up in her apartment with her three cats and her books. The most anybody had seen of her in the last two years was that offensive picture from the Prophet. Hence why she'd colored her hair and started applying potions to it regularly, and practicing her makeup charms every morning for the last few weeks, not to mention the amount of time and money she'd spent on the gorgeous red dress. She wanted to make a splash, and having Draco Malfoy as her date would definitely do that.
"Okay, I'm in," she declared.
"Perfect." He grinned and Hermione briefly wondered if she'd just made a deal with the devil.
"Should we have some ground rules?" she asked.
"If you want," he agreed. "I don't really see the need though."
"Oh, I do," she answered. "You say now that you never truly hated me, but it sure didn't feel that way twenty-five to thirty years ago and the same goes for all of the Slytherins."
"Well, you Gryffindors weren't any better!" he argued. "For every hex we threw your way, you hurled one right back."
"True," she conceded. "Which is why I think we need ground rules to ensure that we don't ruin the Memorial Ball with another battle breaking out."
"Okay, fine. Where should we start?"
