Chapter 10: Happy Birthday

Lavender drank Firewhisky like it was a competitive sport. She downed three shots, slamming each glass on the table before turning to Hermione and saying, "Good birthday so far?"

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah, it's been nice."

Her party was in full swing. Harry and Ginny danced together in a way that would have made any of her brothers hit him if they noticed, and Luna... well, Luna wasn't dancing with Ron so much as she was dancing at him. The other guests congregated around the bar, fetching more drinks. This left Hermione alone at the table with Lavender.

"You sure?" Lavender said. "You've been kind of quiet."

For a moment — one shameful, alcohol-fuelled moment — Hermione considered asking Lavender for advice on the George situation. Lavender had, after all, spent many hours in their dorm with Parvati, dissecting the behaviour of boys.

Then Lavender kept talking.

"I haven't seen that look on your face since sixth yea—oh! Is this about that Muggle bloke? That 'secret lover' one? Is he going out with someone else?"

"Um. Something like that."

Nothing like that, actually, but Hermione didn't want to reveal the true story. Not with Lavender and her big mouth listening.

"That bastard." Lavender yanked her into a gardenia-scented hug, her words beginning to slur. "Well, we need to put a smile on your face. I don't care who is snogging some little tart. You are in Happy Birthday Land and you will enjoy yourself. Come on, dance with me. You'll feel better."

To Hermione's surprise, she did end up smiling. Lavender bounced with her around the dance floor until Hermione couldn't tell if she was giddy from the Firewhisky, the spinning, or some combination of the two.

"See?" Lavender said with a giggle. "That's more like it. Want another drink when I get back from the loo?"

"Why not?"

As Lavender scurried away, Ron escaped Luna's dancing to twirl Hermione around until her feet lifted off of the floor. She shrieked, half in elation, half in fear, and squeezed him tight.

"Hey," he said as he set her down, both of them grinning and out of breath. "Did I tell you happy birthday yet?"

"You did, and thank you."

"Having a good time?"

She nodded. "It's improving."

"That's good. Listen, err, I have a question, but first, promise you won't get angry and hit me or anything."

"Why would I be angry?"

"Hell if I know. I just operate under the assumption that pretty much anything I say has the potential to piss you off. Anyway, it's about this 'secret lover' of yours. It's... it's not Perce, is it?"

She did hit him — a light swat on the shoulder, accompanied by a gasp of laughter.

"Ron! You can't be serious. Percy is the one who told you about seeing 'secret lover' on my phone."

"Yeah, but that could've been to throw me off the trail."

"Throw you off the—you're crazy. When did you develop such an imagination?"

Scratching the back of his neck, he raised one shoulder. "I dunno. You're always hanging around him, and talking about stuff you've done with him, and you invited him to your party, and—"

"We work together — at the Ministry and at the shop. And we're friends. That's it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

A sigh passed through his pursed lips. "Thank Merlin. I mean, you and one of my brothers? Can you imagine? It'd be too weird."

Something sank within her. Mumbling an apology, she made her escape from Ron. When she reached the table that was circled by chairs wearing their jackets, she found Draco sitting there, sipping a Gillywater.

"Hey, Granger," he said. "Happy birthday."

"How did you know it was my birthday?"

"It's on the office calendar." With that, he produced a large blue envelope from his cloak pocket. "I've been waiting for it, actually. I was going to give this to you on Monday, but when I saw you here I popped home to grab it."

For a full minute, Hermione stared at the card, considering whether she should check it for curses. When Draco shot her a challenging look, she inched her finger under the flap, half-afraid it would contain bubotuber pus or something else equally unpleasant — like one of her own inventions from the shop.

In the end, she needn't have worried. It was just a card.

A sloppy drawing of a bucktoothed beaver decorated the front. A mane of frizzy fake hair was glued to the top of its head — so huge, it nearly hit her in the face as it unfurled. Draco must have used a charm on the envelope similar to the one on her trusty old beaded bag. Upon opening the card, she was treated to a noise that sounded suspiciously like large teeth chewing through the trunk of a tree. The words "Happy birthday, Beaver" were spelled out in wood-grain letters.

"Thanks, I think," she said with a laugh.

Maybe it was because he was being halfway decent to her on her birthday, or maybe it was because she knew he wouldn't sugarcoat anything to avoid hurting her feelings, but whatever the reason behind the next words out of her mouth, they ended up making her night far more bizarre.

"Can I ask you for some advice? Mind you, I'm only doing this because you're, well, here. Though maybe that's better. I don't think I'd want to follow Lavender's advice in this situation."

Lavender would probably tell Hermione to throw herself at George and buy him tacky jewellery, come to think of it.

Steepling his fingers together, Draco rested his elbows on the table. For a fleeting second, Hermione wondered if he'd ever deigned to watch an episode of The Simpsons; in that position, he looked very much like a younger Mr. Burns with hair.

"Hmm," he said. "As long as you promise we will return to sniping at each other on Monday, then fine. I need our blind hatred to get me through the tedium of work."

"Of course. See, there's this guy—"

"Do I know him?"

"Yes. Don't interrupt. Anyway, he just thinks of me as one of his mates. He doesn't even see me as a female. Well, he flirts with me a lot, but he flirts with everyone. It doesn't mean anything to him. I've known him since I was a kid, but we didn't always get on that well. We used to argue quite a lot, actually—"

If Hermione had been looking at his face, she would have noticed his slow-dawning expression of horror as her explanation stretched out.

"Granger, I'm gay."

"Huh?"

"I'm gay."

"Well, okay, but what does that have to do with—oh! You thought I was talking about you?" Irrepressible laughter roared through her body, leaving her coughing and gasping for air. Once she was able to speak through her giggles, she added, "Oh, God. Don't worry. I don't fancy you. Not all. No offence or anything, but just... no."

"Hmph. Likewise."

"Anyway, I already suspected you were gay. I saw you snogging John Bones in the break room once, so that was a pretty big clue."

"Oh." Two spots of bright pink appeared on Draco's cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Right. Carry on, then."

"Well," she said, suppressing another chuckle at his expense, "I don't know what to do. I waited years for Ron to see me as a girl, and by the time he finally did, the spark had faded. I don't want that to happen again. This guy isn't really ready for a serious relationship, and I don't want to risk spoiling our friendship, but I... I think I really like him."

"That's it? Fucking hell. If you want something, go for it instead of whining like a sodding Hufflepuff. Just come out and say it. Oh, and speaking of coming out and saying things..." He gave her a somewhat pleading look as his voice trailed off.

"Don't worry; I won't tell anyone. I didn't think you'd be marching in any pride parades anytime soon."

"Good. Ah, your friend is coming back." He sneered in Lavender's direction. "Guess I'll be leaving, then. Oh, and by the way, your hair looks a fright. I nearly got you a gift certificate for a makeover for your birthday, but I fear the amount it would have cost to get someone to tame that wild beast was beyond even my means." With that, he stalked off into the throng of dancers, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

More than ever, she wanted to talk to Fred again. He would know what to do.

She was still mulling over Draco's words (and only half listening to Lavender's tipsy rambling) when the rest of her friends came back to the table with a familiar, dreadlocked wizard in tow.

"Look what we found!" Ron said, grinning and slapping Lee on the back.

Lee shot Hermione a quick wink as he sank into the chair to her right. "I thought you'd be out with your other half tonight," he whispered in her ear once everyone else was absorbed in their own conversations.

"I don't have an other half."

Before Lee had a chance to do more than grin, Harry passed around shots of Firewhisky to everyone and proposed a toast to the birthday girl. As everyone raised their glasses in Hermione's direction, Lee's eyes widened.

"You should have told us," he said in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, I know. It's too late now, though."

"We'll see about that."