Reunion, Pt. III
Pairing: Dramione (Draco x Hermione), Ronsy (Ron x Pansy), Nottgrass (Theo x Daphne), Blinny (Blaise x Ginny), Pottgood (Harry x Luna)
Universe: Post-Hogwarts, EWE
Rating: M for language, sexual scenes
Summary: Continuation of chapter 21, Reunion, Pt. I. The class of 1998 meets up for their 5 year reunion, and all's well that ends well.
Daphne wandered blindly through the castle, wondering whether to be furious or devastated.
Was she really so out of line? she thought morosely, making a face at her dress as it glittered in the dim lighting of the corridor. It had been so lovely and full of promise when she'd put it on, and now it just seemed gaudy and gratuitous. Like you, she told herself fiercely. All sparkle and no substance.
She was turning the corner, fighting tears, when she was suddenly hit by a tiny, sprinting figure in an equally blinding shimmer, causing Daphne to stumble and their dresses to become hopelessly tangled.
"Stupid gown," the other woman growled, looking up, and Daphne swallowed a gasp.
"Oh," Daphne said, wiping at her eyes. "Sorry, Gr- er. Hermione."
"Oh," Granger said nervously, "I'm sorry, I um - " she continued fidgeting, trying to unhook the snagged beading, "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you coming - "
"It's just as much my fault," Daphne muttered apologetically, marveling at how lovely Granger had gotten since they'd last seen each other. Not that she could ever admit such a thing out loud, being Pansy's best friend. "This is hardly the worst thing to happen to me this evening," she added, biting her trembling lip.
Granger looked up at that, pausing. "Oh," she said quietly, and her overlarge brown eyes softened. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes, everything is magnificent," Daphne sniffed, raising her arm so that Granger might have better access to the snag on her bodice. "I've only been completely horrible to someone who means a great deal to me, and have insulted his book, of course, which I didn't read, because I'm an illiterate degenerate who apparently has no heart - "
At that, Granger finally managed to unhook the snagged fabric and sighed. "You don't mean Theo Nott, do you?"
Daphne let out a frustrated wail, sinking to the floor. "He was right," she sobbed, fanning her skirts out and letting her head lean back against the wall, covering her face with her hands. "Everyone knew, except me!" She let her hands fall, suddenly exhausted. "Stupid me."
Granger hesitated for a moment, but then settled herself carefully beside Daphne on the floor. "Well," she said delicately, "I don't really know if everyone knew."
"You knew," Daphne sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You read it?"
"I did," Granger said slowly. "I was, um." She paused, her face reddening.
"You're witnessing the entire collapse of my psyche here, Granger," Daphne said desperately. "You could at least have mercy on me and share."
"Right, right," Granger said nervously, toying with her fingernails and sighing loudly. "I suppose that's fair."
She looked away for a moment, and Daphne, in her impatience, cleared her throat.
"Right, sorry," Granger said instantly, blushing again. "Well, fine. The truth is, I bought Theo's book because I thought that someone else might, um, make an appearance in it." She stared resolutely at a spot on the floor, not acknowledging Daphne's curious grin. "A friend of his."
"Ah," Daphne said, unable to prevent a tiny chuckle of amusement.
"Anyway," Granger said quickly, "I was expecting it to be about his life or something. Theo's, I mean. A memoir of some sort, I guess - "
"Right?!" Daphne exclaimed, straightening. "Sorry, go on."
" - but it wasn't," Granger continued, looking a bit professorial in her assertion. "It was actually this very lovely, very sensitive study on love," she admitted, and Daphne felt her heart sink in her chest. "It was quite moving, if I'm being honest." Granger looked up, meeting Daphne's eye. "It makes a lot of sense to me that it would be about you."
"I wish I had read it," Daphne said, sighing desperately. "I feel just terrible now, and I - "
"Well," Granger said slowly, "I do have a copy." She picked up her small beaded bag and opened it, reaching so far inside that her arm nearly disappeared.
"Don't you work for the Ministry?" Daphne commented, puzzled. "Isn't that - "
"Do you want the book or not?" Granger interrupted curtly, pulling her arm out and offering it to her. The cover was the same as the many copies Daphne had seen in shop windows; the same plain navy cover with the gold embossed print. A Sky Full of Stars by Theodore Nott.
"Yes," Daphne grumbled, holding a hand out, and Granger placed it in her waiting palm.
She felt a little flutter in her chest at the prospect of holding it and turned eagerly to one of the pages that Granger had dog-eared, holding her breath.
He envied the sun on her face. He envied the fabric on her skin, the words on her lips. He envied more than anything the men who had learned how to make her moan; whose names had escaped, breathless, traipsing off her tongue. Whether many or few, he envied them. He envied their closeness, envied the air they breathed, the lives they led, that they had been there to capture it; the sound of her, of yes, yes, more, harder, deeper - for how many times had he longed to run his tongue along her
"Oh," Granger said, her cheeks tinted pink. "Sorry. That's for something else." She took the book back from Daphne and sought out a different page, handing it back to her. "Try this."
Daphne, who could not fight a smirk at that, nodded silently and bent her head to read the passage.
Love is truly the most humbling force in the world, he learned, bowing his head below the sky full of stars. You imagine there is someone out there whose heart was crafted for yours, whose body was designed to tuck itself into the acuteness of your angles. And then you realize you are wrong - you are so very, very wrong - for how could you be the one for her? How could you be the one for her, when you are so crude, so flawed? And then you learn, in love, that you are destined for pain; for however bright her eyes shine, you and your flaws - and the many ways in which you are a fool - can only be dull in them.
Daphne looked up in alarm. "Oh," she said softly, bringing a hand to her lips.
"What is it?" Granger asked, but Daphne closed her eyes.
You talk about that Nott boy too much, her mother scolded. I don't want you hanging around with him.
Why not? Daphne pleaded. Theo's my friend, Mother, and he -
His family is nothing but worthless, arrogant tyrants, her mother replied angrily. His father is a monster and he will be too. Just watch.
No! Daphne cried, horrified. Not him, Mother, I swear, you don't know him, you don't know what he's like with me -
I know the apple never falls far from the tree, and I know he and his father are well on their way to ruin, her mother warned. Believe me, dear, she cooed, twisting one of Daphne's dark auburn waves around her finger, you don't want a boy like that.
Daphne reached up, finding that Granger's arms were around her and that she was crying, remembering the way she used to feel; the way she might have felt, if she hadn't been so concerned with following the guidelines her name and family had determined for her.
"He's always been my friend," she whispered, resting her forehead on Granger's shoulder. "I didn't think I could let myself - "
"I know the feeling," Granger murmured, nodding. "But things are different now, aren't they?"
"They are," Daphne said, pulling away. She waited for a moment, seeing the genuine look of encouragement on Granger's face, before wiping her eyes dry and smiling.
"Thank you," she said quietly, reaching out to grip one of Granger's hands. "I really appreciate you being so nice to me."
"Oh, no," Granger said, shrugging and looking away. She really was infuriatingly humble, considering. "It's really nothing, I just - "
"Do you know why Pansy hated you so much in school?" Daphne interrupted, deciding to give back a little. It was only right, really, even if Pansy hated her for it. She would get over it.
Granger, not unpredictably, made a face. "Because I was a hopeless little swot," she sighed, "and incurably bossy."
Daphne laughed, rising to her feet and offering Granger a hand, which she accepted. "No," Daphne corrected primly, squeezing her fingers once before releasing them. "Not at all, actually."
"Oh no, something worse?" Granger joked, rolling her eyes.
Daphne laughed again and leaned in, turning to speak directly into her ear. "It's because Draco wouldn't stop staring at you," she whispered, then offered her a wink and strode away, ready to make amends with her new favorite author.
Hermione stood alone in the corridor for a moment, smiling after Daphne, before it occurred to her that she was wasting valuable time.
She was still buzzing from the knowledge that she had finally done it. She had finally kissed Draco Malfoy after years of curiosity, of countless awkward too-long stares and constant thrills of panic when they accidentally touched; after so long of no, don't do it, don't think about it, it had finally happened, and it had been breathtaking and perfect and she had yet to recover - not that running down the stairs had helped in that.
But of course the moment it happened, the moment she realized that kiss was what she had been waiting for - that it was one reason among many that Ron had been . . . not quite right - was the same moment she felt a paralyzing pang of guilt, recognizing vaguely that before she kissed him again - or more than that, as more was surely coming - she had some logistics to sort out. She had to regain her capacity to think straight, and surely there was no way she could do that in the presence of Draco Malfoy, whose lips and face and hands were, with certainty, going to prove distracting.
She shook her head quickly, resolving to recover her ability to process. Did abandoning him in the tower now seem highly illogical? Yes. Did she desperately need the time to think that running around the castle had permitted her? Yes. Should she stop standing pointlessly in this corridor and sort herself out?
Resounding yes.
She took off for the Great Hall and caught the subject of her attention, yanking him to the side.
"Hey!" Ron grunted, scowling. "What is with the women of Hogwarts deciding to manhandle me tonight?"
"Do me a favor and don't explain what that means," Hermione sniffed impatiently. "I just need to tell you something, as I think it's best if I deliver it myself rather than you hearing through the rumor mill that - "
"Yes, go ahead, date Malfoy," Ron cut in with a grumble, rolling his eyes.
"I - what?" Hermione squawked, gaping at him. "Where on earth," she added, "did you come up with such a grossly miscalculated, totally far-fetched - "
"Mione," Ron said, gripping her hands and giving her an exceedingly stern look that, really, she might have given him. "I have known you for thirteen years."
"Yes," she replied, pursing her lips. "And?"
"And I have had the great benefit of learning your little ticks," he continued, patting the top of her head, "and the great misfortune of watching you stare at him for the last couple of years. Combined with my not inconsiderable ability to put two and two together - "
"I never stared at him!" she insisted, drawing her hand defensively to her chest. "I was nothing but completely faithful to you, Ronald - "
"I know that," he interrupted gently, a rare tone of affection returning to his voice for the first time in months. "I know you were, and I know you loved me."
She withered a little, sighing. "I did," she said softly. "I really did."
"And I loved you," he said adamantly, lifting her chin to look her in the eye. "And I still love you as my best friend, Mione, and I always will. I just - " he paused, a slow, languid grin spreading over his lips. "I look forward to being with someone who actually lets me make them happy."
She smiled at that; a sad smile, at the somewhat deflating idea that they were never going to be Ron and Hermione again, but a smile nonetheless.
"I want that for you," she told him. "I really do."
"And I want you to be with someone who can keep up with you," Ron said, shrugging. "Who wants to keep up with you, I guess I should say," he amended thoughtfully, before looking intently at her. "If that's Malfoy, then fine. He seems to have gotten his overall twatting under control in recent years."
"Ron," Hermione groaned. "Really?"
"His general fuckery has been greatly diminished," Ron said loudly, and she brought her hand to her face, massaging her temple.
"Fine," she said curtly, sensing they'd reached their limit of purposeful discourse. "As long as you're not totally destroyed over it - "
"Broken," Ron said dramatically, feigning a stab to the chest. "Bleeding all over the floor - "
"Then I'm going to go for it," she cut in, lifting her chin. "Give me that," she added, gesturing to his glass, and he relinquished it with a scowl. "I need this."
"I need it more," he grumbled, his eyes straying across the room.
"Why?" Hermione said suspiciously, furrowing her brow as she watched him. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," he muttered, clearly lying.
"Ronald," she said warningly, glaring at him.
"Let me just say, I am not going to miss that ball-shriveling look of yours," he said, but at her stomp of impatience, he sighed. "Fine. I just - " he looked at the floor. "I had a thing. Maybe a thing. I don't know."
"What kind of thing?" Hermione asked, nudging him. "Are we talking a crush, or an ulcer?"
"Honestly, both," Ron said, making a face. "Pansy Parkinson," he finally said, scuffing his foot guiltily against the floor.
"Oh," Hermione said, surprised; but upon further reflection, she began nodding slowly. "She is your type," she said slowly. "Controlling and shrill."
"Look what you did to me," Ron sighed in agreement. "I'm ruined."
"Honestly, I think your mother did that," Hermione told him, grimacing. "Well," she sighed, "if I'm going to try something with Draco, I don't see why you wouldn't try something with Pansy." The words sank in and she looked up at him, her expression pained. "Are we insane? Are we terrible masochists?"
"I definitely am," Ron assured her grimly. "I sent Parkinson after some other bloke and now I'm here, talking to you about it."
"Yikes," Hermione said, taking a long sip of wine and letting it linger on her tongue before swallowing. "Well," she said, deciding to be practical, "who was it?"
"Corner," Ron said, gesturing to where he was talking to Pansy. "I don't know why I didn't stop her," he added glumly.
Hermione squinted at where Pansy and Michael were talking. "Oh Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head. "She looks horribly bored." She patted his shoulder, giving him back his glass. "I changed my mind. You probably do need this."
"You think?" he asked distractedly, taking a sip and staring. "That she's bored, I mean."
"Even if she isn't, I assure you, you're the better option," Hermione said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "You're a good man, Ronald Weasley."
He chuckled at that. "You're a good woman, Hermione Granger," he replied. "I'm just glad we're done trying to live together."
"Oh god, definitely," she agreed, and nudged him forward. "Go get her."
"Fine," he said, patting her head again. "Have a good night, Mione. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Please leave," she sighed, and he obliged, taking a last sip of wine and replacing the glass on an empty tray before setting off to where Pansy had been standing.
"And now," Hermione said out loud to nobody in particular, "I think I'll go find myself my own entitled Slytherin."
"Mhmm," Pansy mumbled indistinctly, listening to Michael Corner go on at length about some sort of real estate investment in Diagon Alley and feeling a bit of fury rise up in her bones at seeing Granger's hand tighten affectionately around Weasley's arm.
Not that Pansy cared, obviously. Not that it mattered. Not that she had spent the last ten minutes with Corner thinking about how curious she was about whether Weasley had actually filled out quite a bit around the shoulders and chest or if it was just her foolish, overactive imagination. She certainly had not been wondering if Weasley would have laughed at her jokes (Corner did not seem to grasp them), or if he had meant what he said about her being pretty. She was quite certain that none of that had happened, was happening, or was ever going to happen.
"Pans," Daphne said breathlessly, suddenly materializing at her side, "have you seen - "
"Oh, Daphne, let me help you!" Pansy cried frantically, grabbing Daphne's arm and turning over her shoulder to call back to Corner. "Sorry, so sorry, friend in need - "
"I'm perfectly fine," Daphne said once they were out of earshot, frowning as she pulled her arm out of Pansy's tight grasp. "What's this?"
"Needed an escape," Pansy sighed. "He's not exactly the thrill of the century," she added, jerking her head to reference Corner.
"Ah, a shame," Daphne said, smirking. "I have to go though, Pans," she said, like she'd just remembered something. "I, um. I just had a very crucial realization, and I - "
"What?" Pansy asked, squinting at her. "Is everything okay?"
"I think so," Daphne said slowly. "Or at least, it will be. It's just - "
"Yes?" Pansy prompted, nudging her. "What is it?"
"I think I'm in love with Theo," Daphne said thoughtfully.
"You are," Pansy agreed, nodding. "I thought you knew that."
"I didn't!" Daphne insisted, shocked. "What do you mean you thought I knew that?"
"I don't know, it seemed obvious," Pansy said, shrugging. "Is that all?"
"I mean, I guess so," Daphne muttered uncertainly. "I guess I didn't think I'd find love somewhere it wasn't supposed to be," she grumbled. "Specifically, right in front of me."
"I know the feeling," Pansy agreed, grimacing, "considering I think I might be interested in Weasley, but only figured that out after I left him to talk to someone else."
If Daphne was startled by the admission, she wisely did not show it.
"At least you didn't first fail to realize he wrote a book for you, and then proceed to insult it to his face," Daphne ventured tentatively.
"I didn't do that, no," Pansy replied. "Though, to be fair, I did violate his face."
"Violate it more," Daphne offered, shrugging. "Like, with your mouth."
"What?" Pansy exclaimed.
"To be totally honest, I'm not sure what I was specifically trying to accomplish with my phrasing, but my intent remains," Daphne mused pleasantly. "Why not just go for it?"
"Oh, I don't know," Pansy began, "maybe because I truly did not intend to fall in love with anyone tonight, and I'm very adamant about not letting him complete me?"
"That . . . seems a bit much for the first night," Daphne sighed. "I really just meant sex."
"Oh," Pansy said, relieved. "That I can probably manage."
She opened her mouth to say more, but felt her stomach lurch as Daphne's eyes widened at something over her shoulder.
"He's coming," Daphne whispered, squealing a little and leaning in to kiss Pansy's cheek. "Good luck."
Pansy, true to form, panicked. "I - Daph, wait - "
"Hi," Weasley said, sidling up to her as Daphne quietly slipped away. "I, um. I may have done something stupid."
"Don't blame yourself, Weasley," Pansy said instantly, falling back on her chronic acerbity. "It's not your fault you were born colorblind," she offered, gesturing to his terrible dress robes.
"I happen to know for a fact that this is a great color on me," he insisted, pouting.
"Did your mother tell you that?" Pansy countered breathlessly. "She lied."
"Okay, what is with - you know what? Nevermind," he sighed, shaking his head. "Glossing over the continuous slights on my mother - "
"What did you do?" Pansy asked quietly. "The stupid thing, I mean. Other than this haircut," she added, reaching up to fuss with a particularly mussed up section.
He seemed to be holding his breath as her fingers brushed over his hair. "I may have," he began, clearing his throat, "failed to have stopped you from talking to Corner. Which may or may not have been stupid," he added, as she brought her hand back to her side, fidgeting in her unexpected struggle not to reach for him, "considering that I would have preferred that you continue talking to me."
"I can talk now," she offered, looking at the floor. "I mean, I'm obviously very busy," she amended quickly, "but if it means you'd be willing to consider a serious conversation about your fashion sense - "
"Stop," he said quietly, reaching out to brush his thumb across her lower lip. "I want to talk to you," he offered, "or not talk. Whatever you want. But I don't want to pretend with you." He took another step towards her and she felt something terrifying course through her veins; she clutched his arms like stairway railings, trying not to fall.
"Obviously I have some kind of severe head trauma," he murmured, "but I don't care. I like you. I want to understand you. I want to learn the things you like, because I bet they're bloody weird and interesting."
"They are," she agreed, swallowing.
"I don't particularly want you to hit me again, but I do want to make you laugh. I want to make you feel beautiful," he added, his eyes scanning her face, "and I want you to believe me when I say it."
"And if I don't?" she asked, struggling to find her voice.
"Then you don't," he said softly, "and I'll try again tomorrow."
"I'm not good at tomorrows," she warned him. "I don't trust them."
"I'm pretty shit at them too," he replied, shrugging. "But I've done scarier things before. Followed a trail of spiders once," he said with a shudder. "Did not care for it."
She hesitated for a moment. The last thing she wanted was for this to go badly; to be humiliated by Ron Weasley would be a disaster to outdo all possible romantic disasters. It would be mortification and tragedy all rolled up in one, and she couldn't bear the thought of him knowing how much he had eased her ailing, or the chance that he might see through all the pieces of herself she had carefully constructed to keep people out.
But then, she was equally afraid that if she didn't take a chance now, she might never rid herself of her thoughts of him. She might never feel his lips on her skin, and that, out of everything, just seemed too impossible to fathom.
She didn't want to let him go.
"Is there somewhere you can meet me?" she asked, and a smile slowly stole across his face.
"What the fuck do you mean goodbye?" Blaise asked again, releasing her to pull away, leaping to his feet and angrily zipping his trousers. "You can't be serious, Ginevra - "
"Stop calling me that!" she exclaimed, struggling to her feet and haughtily lifting her chin. "I don't know why you do it - "
"Ginny is a child's name, and sometimes I want you to behave like an adult," he snapped, crossing his arms. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"Would you please stop being so patronizing?" she huffed back. "You can't fuck me and then call me a child. It's intolerable."
"Explain yourself," Blaise pressed again, trying to bite back his rising temper. It was utterly impossible to have a conversation with her that didn't make him want to shake her or kiss her, and it was particularly unbearable when he couldn't distinguish between the two.
"I can't be with you," she said stubbornly, staring him down from her diminutive height. "I can't. It doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't make sense?" he asked, letting his head drop in exasperation. He was embarrassed by the pleading in his voice, but far too exhausted to hide it. "How can we not make sense to you, Ginny?"
"That's - that's not it," she said quietly, sobering a little at his obvious pain. "It's not you, Blaise, it's - "
"Don't," he warned, thinking he would spontaneously combust if she said what he thought she would. "Don't do it."
"I just ended a long relationship," she sighed. "I can't invest in something right now. I just can't." She looked down, looking vulnerable and beautiful and pulling effortlessly at his heart. "We need to be apart."
"I don't want to be apart," Blaise said mechanically. "I've been away from you long enough."
"Blaise, I - "
"No," he said, and she winced at his volume. "No. Don't I get a say? Don't my feelings count?"
"You're yelling," she said stiffly, grabbing his arm and yanking him into one of the classrooms on the first floor. She cast a quick muffliato before turning back to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You need to calm down," she told him, which only served to infuriate him further.
"How can I possibly calm down?" he countered, taking advantage of the silencing spell to shout to his heart's content. "I'm tired of being in love with you, Ginevra, I'm fucking sick of waiting for you - "
"Love?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "Did you - "
"Yes, I said love!" he spat bitterly, looking everywhere but at her. "I've been in love with you for months. Fuck, I've been in love with you for years. Not that that seems to matter to you in any conceivable way," he added, glowering at her.
"Well - I, that's not - " she sputtered, stumbling backwards. "You - I wasn't - "
"You, Ginevra Weasley, are beautiful, and intelligent, and violent and quick-tempered and alive," he said, advancing on her. "I would be blind and stupid not to love you."
"You shouldn't," she said nervously, tearing at her lip with her teeth. "I'm - I don't know if I -"
"What?" he demanded, taking another step towards her.
"Stop that," she said instantly, brandishing her wand at him. "Don't come any closer."
"Or what?" he scoffed, though he paused in his progression. "You'll hit me with another bat-bogey hex?"
"I might," she snarled. "I've improved them."
"Just tell me the truth, Ginevra," he begged. "Just tell me what you're feeling because I promise - " he took one tentative step. "I promise I won't leave you if you do."
"I don't like this," she said, teeth gritted. "I feel too exposed."
"I was inside you earlier," he reminded her, in case she'd forgotten; though the covetous look on her face told him she had not.
"I'm just afraid," she said slowly, "that if we try to start something right now - if we were in an actual relationship - "
She looked up at him, terrified, and he took another step towards her, nodding reassuringly.
"Go on," he said, and she sighed.
"I'm just afraid you won't like me if you have me all the time," she whispered.
"Ginevra," he sighed, reaching out to trace the line of her jaw. "You fool."
At that, her eyes widened in frustration. "I'm trying to be honest with you!" she sputtered, swatting his hand away. "You asked me to tell you the truth, and I am - "
"I know that, and I'm telling you that you're a fool!" he snapped. "Aren't you listening to me? I'm in love with you - "
"How can you know that?" she pressed. "You've never lived with me - you've never been there when I've left the dishes in the sink for three days in a row, or decided not to fold the laundry, or forgotten to wash my hair - "
"So I'll learn," he retorted impatiently. "I'll learn to love those parts of you because I am so fucking captivated by the rest." He paused to glare at her for good measure. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that I might love you?"
"Because - because you're you!" she insisted, smacking his chest. "You're bloody perfect, and I couldn't ever measure up - "
"You're insane," he said tightly. "Would you like to see my flaws? I have a temper, for one thing," he seethed. "And for another, I process most of my emotions through my dick."
She stared at him.
"You're going to fuck me on this desk, aren't you?" Ginny demanded, backing into it as she finally ran out of room to escape him.
"Probably!" Blaise shouted back, scowling.
"Either I'm in love with you, or I'm going to murder you later," Ginny determined, glaring at him as he picked her up, depositing her roughly on the desk behind her.
"Fine by me," he growled, making good on his promise.
Luna was fully in his arms now and Harry was beginning to realize that he wished he'd tried it sooner.
"Did you make a wish?" he asked, and she looked up, smiling.
"I did," she said, and he wondered how it had not occurred to him to look at her this closely before. In the castle's dim lighting she was practically glowing in the dark, and he found it breathtaking. "Did you?"
"Um," he said, pausing. "No, actually."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Why not?"
"I - " he paused, thinking it through. "I guess because I can't think of anything else I want," he realized, the clarity suddenly dawning on him; the unspeakable rarity of the fulfillment he currently had. He'd been dreading this night, had been so sure it would be awkward and uncomfortable, and instead, this was the most relaxed he'd been in months. "Besides," he said, trying to shake the immensity of that recognition from his mind as he realized she was waiting for an answer, "you're really not supposed to say your wish out loud, anyway."
Luna gave a little giggle. "Oh Harry," she said, giving him a look. "You know muggle jinxes aren't real."
"I - what?" he asked, laughing. "You mean, like wrackspurts?"
"Oh no, wrackspurts are definitely real," she said solemnly. "They look sort of like - "
He wasn't sure what came over him but he couldn't wait any longer to kiss her, and so he didn't. Her lips were soft and full and tasted like strawberries and she was so pliant in his arms; he felt a pang of something, some sharp opposition to the idea that she had gotten all done up for someone who wasn't him, and he held on tighter, pulling her closer, tangling his fingers in her dirty blonde hair. She kissed him back with the kind of breathless desperation that he felt he'd been waiting his whole life for, and when they broke apart, he couldn't help but hate himself for missing it for so long.
"Like I was saying," she managed, "they look a bit like nargles, only the wings are - "
"You are so full of hot nonsense," he gasped appreciatively, and she laughed, bringing her lips back to his as his hands found their way to her hips, pulling her against him.
To his surprise, her hands found the button of his trousers, making quick work of the zipper and taking him in her hand.
"Oh," he said, startled. "Are you sure that you, um - "
"You don't want to?" she asked innocently, sliding her palm against him in a slow, languid stroke. "Would you prefer to wait?"
"I - " he swallowed, trying not to cry out as she brushed her thumb against the tip. "I mean, I suppose I'm not particularly busy at the moment - "
"I suspect it's always been you for me, Harry Potter," she mused absently, her grey eyes wide with sincerity as she looked at him. "Personally, I think it's been you from the beginning."
Oh god, oh god, oh god - "I think you're right," he said, and once he said it, he realized he meant it. "It was you from the beginning," he repeated, stunned. "I mean, I was hoping you'd be here, I didn't even realize - "
She smiled. "If there's one thing I know about you," she said, taking his hand and bringing it to the neckline of her gown, "it's that you eventually figure it out."
"Draco," Granger breathed in relief, appearing out of nowhere and panting, like she'd run there. "There you are."
"There I am?" Draco echoed in disbelief, and Theo fought a laugh at his expression, which was nearly identical to Narcissa's look of indignation. "Granger, I was sitting here composing your eulogy," he sniffed. "I was starting to think you might have fucking fallen off the tower - "
"Theo," Daphne said breathlessly, emerging from the opposite side of the courtyard, "I have to - Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, catching sight of Granger and smiling. "Oh, good for you."
"Oh, hi," Granger said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yes, um - same, I guess."
"You know, I had a dream like this once," Theo remarked, smirking as he let his eyes flick between the two witches.
"Tell me I wasn't there," Draco said, making a face.
"No, you were definitely there," Theo said, shrugging. "And you liked it."
"Please don't give me any reason to regret anything I say before I even say it," Daphne sighed, and Granger ducked her head to hide a laugh, reaching out a hand for Draco.
"Come on," she said softly. "Let me explain?"
Draco flashed Theo an impish grin and winked before dramatically accepting. "Fine," he said, feigning misery. "Though this had better be good, Granger."
She rolled her eyes and gripped his hand, pulling him towards the castle.
"I like her," Theo said aloud, nodding.
"Me too, actually," Daphne noted, watching Draco and Granger disappear.
"Don't tell Pansy," they said at once, and then both looked down shyly, realizing they were alone again.
"So," Daphne said, clasping her hands and looking down at them. "There are some things I need to say to you."
"Same," Theo said, wincing preemptively. "I wasn't entirely fair, I think - "
"Oh no," Daphne interrupted, looking up. "No, Theo, this one's on me - "
" - there's a lot I didn't tell you, and I can't have expected - "
" - I'm the one who didn't read your book, which was so stupid, but now I've - "
" - you shouldn't have to guess my feelings, Daph, I was being ridiculous - "
" - finally looked at it, and I had this realization, but Theo - "
" - the thing is, Daphne, I just - "
" - I'm in love with you," they said in unison, and then they promptly forgot how to breathe.
"What?" they both said. "You go first," they added in chorus, and Theo made a motion to his lips, promising silence and gesturing for her to go ahead.
"Theo," she said quietly, "why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I'm a fucking fool," he asserted, but at her pleading glance, he sighed. "Because I didn't want to hear you tell me you didn't feel the same way," he confessed. "I've just spent so much of my life being in love with you that I thought - stupidly, of course," he said, and she nodded, "that maybe if I could just show you in some hugely significant way, then maybe you might feel the same." He shook his head. "Believe me, the error of my ways has been made clear to me in several different forms today, your rejection included."
"Rejection," she echoed, and smiled. "No, Theo." She came towards him, placing her hands on his hips. "Not at all."
Well, he thought, that sounds bewilderingly like a good thing.
"I'm going to need you to explain that," Theo said slowly. "Possibly over-explain. Imagine you're speaking to a simpleton," he added. "Or even someone just slightly thicker, like Draco."
"Theo," she said, smiling up at him. "Hush."
He nodded.
"The thing is," she began hesitantly, "I think you know as well as I do that my family's expectations are . . . rigid," she determined, and he nodded again. "I was told a long time ago that you were never going to be an option for me, and I think I heard it so much that I started to believe it."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled helplessly, and she reached up, taking his face in her hands.
"No, you shouldn't be," she said, and her hazel eyes took on the fiery, blazing glimmer that he had always loved. "Because the reason I couldn't see what was right in front of me is the same reason I'm ashamed of the fact that I managed to build a life for myself. That old pureblood garbage," she said, waving her hand like she wished to shove it away from her. "All it did was keep me from seeing what was so obvious, and it keeps me from being proud of myself now. But I love you," she said, her eyes wide, and he wondered for a moment if he might just collapse in her hands. "You've always been there for me, you're the person I want to tell when good things happen to me, you're the only one who makes me better when I'm sad - "
"You're the same, for me," he murmured, and she nodded fiercely.
"There was a moment when you walked away that I thought I might never have you back in my life," she admitted miserably. "And I swear, I missed you more in those few minutes than I've ever missed anyone in my entire life."
He swallowed hard, still wondering if any of this could possibly be real.
"We belong together, Theo Nott, and to hell with my mother," Daphne said, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. "I'll get Astoria out from her house and help her make a life of her own, I'm going to stop worrying about what all the fucking purebloods think, and I'm - " she stopped, her voice breaking as she started to cry. "And I want to be with you, Theo, if you want me - "
"Are you kidding?" he gasped, pulling her into his arms. "Daphne Greengrass, are you fucking insane? I want you," he said firmly, bending to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, her lips. "Of course I want you - I wrote a fucking book for you - "
"I read a bit of it," Daphne admitted, sniffling. "It's beautiful, Theo - "
"Fuck the book," he said loudly, pulling away to look her in the eye. "It doesn't mean anything if I can't just tell you that I love you. That I've loved you since the moment I saw you," he said, shouting it for everyone else to hear, and she laughed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, before he lowered his lips to her ear. "And I will love you for the rest of my life," he promised her, bending to press a kiss to her shoulder.
"Is this what happens at the end of your book?" she asked hopefully, then grimaced. "I'm sorry I haven't read it yet," she sighed, "but I will, I promise - "
"This is for you," he recited, knowing the end by heart. "I don't care if it fails; go on and tear me apart. Because for me, you light up the dark; whether you want it or not, my heart is yours. And if I die in your arms," he finished, pulling back and lifting her chin to look in her eyes, "you'll be my sky, you'll be my stars."
He took a deep breath, letting his fingers travel the beautiful curve of her cheek. "And what a heavenly view," he finished as she raised herself onto her toes, bringing her lips to his.
"That was so beautiful," she whispered, before hanging her head slightly. "And now I feel bad, because I know I should say something equally beautiful," she admitted sheepishly, "but all I really want to do at this point is have sex with you - "
"Oh, fuck, poetry to my ears," he said, grabbing her hand. "Let's go."
"So," Draco drawled, suddenly quite grateful to have a reasonable show of indignation with which to hide behind. "What happened?"
"Sit, please," Granger said, patting the spot on the bench next to her.
"I don't know if that's a good idea for you," he sighed, taking a seat. "Easier for you to run away if we're standing."
"That," she said carefully, "was a one time thing. I promise."
"Well, I don't know about you," he sniffed, "but I think that I deserve - mphmph"
He was abruptly cut off as she grabbed his face, pulling him towards her and kissing him with the kind of vigor he wouldn't have previously assumed she possessed. "Shut up," she gasped, and then she was kissing him again and he promptly abandoned his charade, gripping her hair with one hand and her waist with the other, pulling her impossibly close until she was almost sitting in his lap, the skirt of her gown spread over his legs.
"There is a chance," she began slowly, pulling away with her eyes still closed, "that I did not handle the situation quite as well as I might have done if I were thinking straight."
"I forgive you," he said at once, reaching hungrily for her again, but she stopped him with a laugh.
"No, I owe you an explanation," she said, and he growled in frustration.
"Granger, you're pushing me to insanity," he muttered. "But fine, by all means, explain - I'll just sit here and suffer - "
"I'll fix it later," she promised, and he huffed his agreement. "Just - listen?"
"Listening," he confirmed gruffly, shifting his grip around her so that she was now indeed sitting on his lap, perched there like she had always been meant to curl inside his arms.
"I only broke up with Ron a couple of weeks ago," she said, and he made a face at Weasley's name. "No, don't make that face - it's just that it wasn't that long ago, and I was very, very alarmed by how much I enjoyed kissing you. Which I did," she repeated adamantly. "Enjoy it, I mean. A lot."
"And plan to do more of," he offered, prompting a nod.
"Definitely," she agreed. "But you have to understand, it was scary," she said tentatively, and he buried his face in her shoulder, content to let her get her thoughts out. "I don't think I realized quite how long I've - " she stopped, biting her lip. "How long I've had feelings for you, I guess."
"You guess?" he prodded, hoping for certainty.
"Well, I know," she said, looking a little sulky at having to admit it even as he silently boasted his triumph. "I have feelings for you, which was made very clear to me when I kissed you. Which is what I need to bring up now, because I'm sorry," she added, twisting around to look at him. "If that's not what you want - feelings, I mean - "
"If all I want is sex?" he clarified, frowning.
"Yes. If that's all you want, I don't think I can do it," she determined grimly, staring fixedly at her lap. "Because the truth is, I've really started to make up reasons to go to your office," she confessed, looking at him regretfully. "I mean, you can't possibly think I need your signature on that many things."
"I had wondered," he admitted, chuckling.
"And I'm finally admitting to myself why that is," she said firmly. "So," she sighed, giving him a pointed look, "in conclusion, either you want me, and we do this thing for real, or - "
"Hermione Granger, if you can't see how wholly infatuated I am with you, then you are hardly the witch I thought you were," he informed her, squaring his shoulders and holding her closer in the same motion. "I want you to be mine immediately. I want you to be mine yesterday. I want to go back in time, steal you from under Weasley's nose, and have woken up with you this morning - "
"How about tomorrow morning?" she cut in breathlessly, and he let out a loud groan, pulling her towards him.
"I hope that's a promise," he muttered, resting his forehead against hers. "Because hell if I'm letting you go now."
He felt her smile, and a warm contentment settled itself in his chest.
"Oh," Granger said after a moment, nudging him. "Look."
Theo and Daphne emerged from the courtyard holding hands, half-running back through the castle.
"Hey," Draco called out to them, "where are you - "
"Going to catch the portkey," Theo supplied, not slowing down. "Very important business to take care of immediately."
"Let's do lunch tomorrow!" Daphne called brightly - "I'm going to marry this girl," Theo mouthed to Draco, pointing gleefully at Daphne's head - and Granger nodded back, smiling.
"What did he mean, catch the portkey?" Draco asked after they'd disappeared inside the castle, turning to look at Granger.
"In the literal sense? I think he meant the portkey to the Three Broomsticks," Granger said. "We set up a few in case people were interested in staying the night. Rather than drinking and apparating, you know, and risking splinching."
"And in the metaphorical sense?" Draco prompted, smirking.
"Ah, sex, I think," Granger supplied, her cheeks reddening deliciously. "I imagine, anyway."
"Hm," Draco said, clearing his throat. "I don't suppose you would find that portkey interesting, would you?"
"Well, there's another one in thirty minutes," Granger supplied primly, letting her hand drift confusingly to the band of his trousers.
"And until then?" Draco asked, deflating slightly. "Shall we talk more about our feelings?"
"Oh, no," Granger said, laughing. "I'm pretty sold on you, Draco Malfoy."
He couldn't fight a triumphant smirk at that.
"Actually," she continued, "I was thinking we could revisit the Astronomy Tower. The view, you know," she explained, shrugging, and he felt a slow smile spread across his face. "I have a proclivity for heights and, um," she coughed delicately, letting her finger linger on the zipper of his pants. "Recreation."
"Don't be so coy, Granger," he murmured in her ear. "If you want me to fuck you in the tower, all you have to do is ask."
"Please," she purred in his ear, and he leapt to his feet, thinking he'd never heard anything more wonderful than her laughter as it filled the corridor.
"Okay," Ginny sighed, sitting up from where she'd been laying across the desk. "Fine. Let's date."
"Well, please," Blaise drawled snobbily, "don't smother me with your enthusiasm."
"No fuckery, do you hear me?" she told him, sternly pointing a finger in his face. "No flirting with other witches. No being stupidly handsome all the time and running off with someone better."
"Finding someone better? Impossible," he said, smirking. "Someone more sane, possibly, but why would I want that? So boring," he murmured, kissing her neck.
"Don't toy with me," she warned him. "This is what you get, okay? Insanity." She waved her hand around aimlessly. "Unbridled madness."
"Ginevra," he murmured in her ear, and she shivered, furious with his effect on her, desperate to have it forever. "I want you. Only you," he added, kissing the other side of her neck, "and all of you."
"You're cool, but I'm cooler," she reminded him. "You're pretty, but I'm cuter."
"And smarter," he offered. "And mine," he concluded emphatically, taking her in his arms to accentuate the point.
"And yours," she said, feigning a resigned sigh and smiling when she knew he couldn't see.
He held her hand as they walked back to the Great Hall and she let him, deciding it wasn't so bad, really. Being loved. Being loved by him, specifically. Her love with Harry was always rooted in a frustrating inequity, in the owing of her life to him, and in her childish obsession. It had stretched and waned as they aged, and then it didn't fit her anymore, like a jumper she'd adored but outgrown.
But Blaise was different, she realized, sneaking a glimpse at him. There were no exhausted concessions to please her. There was no letting her unreasonable expectations get the better of him. They fought, yes, but there was some understanding, for her, that he was eternally on her side. That he understood her, for all her gaps and rhythms.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he squeezed her hand tightly, and she smiled.
"Shall we take the portkey?" he asked. "I mean, I'm aware we've already - "
"Let's," she determined with a nod.
"You're insatiable, Ginevra," he said, shaking his head, and Ginny turned at a loud gagging sound.
"Sorry," Pansy sniffed falsely. "Something in my throat."
"Heading to the Three Broomsticks, Pans?" Blaise asked smoothly, tucking an arm around Ginny. "Alone?" he added, his face expressionless.
"Yes and yes," she said pompously, just as they caught up with Theo Nott and Daphne Greengrass.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Blaise pronounced, eyeing them. "Did this finally happen?"
"It did," Nott declared, bowing. Daphne backhanded him in the stomach, sighing loudly.
"Oh, look how sad all the other girls are," Pansy said, smirking wickedly and gesturing. They were, indeed, quite crestfallen, Ginny noted with an inward laugh. She didn't know Blaise's friends well, but had some concept of their dynamic - and there was, of course, no getting around the obvious fame of Theo Nott's book.
Ginny had read it, of course, and devoured it. It wasn't erotica, per se, but if she concentrated hard enough -
"So this is a thing?" Daphne asked, smiling between Ginny and Blaise. "I like it, I think."
"As do I," Blaise nodded, and he nudged Ginny forward, offering her access to the portkey. "Just a few seconds, right? Is it midnight on the nose?"
Ginny heard someone confirm the time for him but was distracted by Pansy, who was eyeing something in her hand; it was a note of some kind, and the thin, spindly handwriting looked oddly familiar.
"Hey," Ginny said loudly, blinking in disbelief and pointing to Pansy's note with her free hand, "is that from my - "
"Oops, off we go!" Pansy said loudly, turning bright red as they were all sucked through the air with an uncomfortable slurp.
Ron started to fidget while he waited, wondering if she had changed her mind. They'd agreed it was best not to disappear together - too many questions, obviously, and they were in such a fragile state of only just barely not hating each other anymore - but he wished he hadn't been the one to leave first. He'd mildly enjoyed the walk to Hogsmeade, as it had given him plenty of time to think, of course; not that he'd done much thinking about anything other than loosening Pansy's dark hair from its complicated twist, letting it fall around her bare shoulders, reaching down to her breasts -
He coughed, trying not to delve any further. Wouldn't do for her to walk in on him already at attention.
He stood, pacing the room. This would be terrible for him if she didn't show up, he thought with a grimace, just as a key turned in the lock and she slipped in the door.
"Sorry," she said, pressing the door shut behind her and backing against it. "I, um, had a bit of an encounter with your sister."
Ron blinked. "Please don't bring her up ever again," he said, now trying to clear the image of Ginny from the room he hoped to have sex in.
Pansy grinned, and the pure wickedness of it was enough to put any other thoughts aside. Ron cleared his throat, eyeing her.
"I'm glad you came," he said hoarsely, stepping towards her.
He expected a snotty remark, but she flushed brilliantly, accepting the hand that he offered her and gesturing for him to put it around her waist.
"I guess I decided you look well on me," she returned, and a smile sparked across her face.
"Funny," he commented. "I'm hoping to see how you look on me."
"Oh, wordplay," she noted silkily. "Nice."
"I thought you might like it," he said, realizing as her eyes glittered in the low light of the room that this, for her, was foreplay. "The wordplay. Seems up your alley."
"It's a lifestyle, Weasley, not a party game," she said breathlessly as he reached around, slowly dragging the zipper down her spine.
"Ron," he corrected her, leaning forward to speak in her ear. "I'm going to want you to say my name," he explained, feeling a rush of something inexplicable as he watched her shoulders tense at his voice.
She slipped the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with an audible drop, and he felt his jaw go with it.
"Damn, Parkinson," he gasped, and she bit back a laugh, pulling him by his tie.
"It's Pansy," she told him, falling back onto the bed and pulling him on top of her. "I'm going to want you to say my name," she whispered, and he murmured it against her skin well into the night.
There was no doubt about it. Harry Potter was exceptionally skilled with his penis. Though he did not seem comfortable with that information when she offered it to him, and Luna could not fathom why.
"Really," she said breathlessly, as she loosened her legs from around his hips and he pressed her one last time against the wall, cutting her off with a kiss. "That was quite inspired, Harry. I'm remarkably satisfied."
"I'm glad, I think," he replied uncomfortably, though he did look relieved on some level.
"I worry I'm not accurately expressing myself," she mused, closing her eyes as aftershocks continued to flood through her. "I think in the interest of accuracy, I should lean towards ecstatic, really, but the connotation there isn't quite spot on, or so I'm given to understand - "
"Luna," Harry interrupted, yanking her to him and kissing her slowly, biting down softly on her lip before pulling away to smile at her. "You can just say the sex was good."
"Good?" she echoed dubiously, letting herself sway towards him. "Are you sure, Harry? That seems underwhelming."
"Colloquially, you could say the sex was fucking fantastic," he amended. "Which it was," he added, looking a little hungry at the statement.
She paused, thinking.
"The sex was fucking fantastic," she determined with a nod, smiling as he threw his head back with laughter.
"Come on," he said, pulling her under his arm and leading her back toward the Great Hall. "Let's go see what's left of this reunion."
Luna couldn't help noting how comfortable it was to walk with him, fitted snugly under his arm like a puzzle piece; she was also relieved to see that he was free of any wrackspurts or nargles, and the smile on his face was both handsome and gratifying.
She decided she would have to tuck away the muggle wishing concept. Evidently time symmetry was indeed quite crucial to good fortune.
"Oh, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, approaching swiftly, Lee Jordan at her heels. "I had hoped you would be around for closing remarks, but - "
"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion. The Great Hall was completely emptied, despite the room being littered with empty wine glasses and vacant floating trays.
"Gone, it appears," McGonagall replied with an audible sigh. "I am unsure whether to determine this event a success or failure, to be quite frank - "
"Success," Harry said instantly, and Luna caught a flicker of a smile. "Definitely a success."
"Mm," McGonagall said, suddenly eyeing the two of them with suspicion.
"What are you doing here, Lee?" Harry asked curiously, turning to him. "Wasn't your reunion - "
"Oh, McGona-girl here thought she might need a host," Lee replied jovially, nudging her with an impish grin. "It appears she may have overestimated her ability to throw a party."
"Oh, I don't think that's the problem," Luna informed him, surveying the room and recalling the very interesting energy that had tingled between the guests at the beginning of the night. "I imagine you've simply lost them all to congress."
"Congress?" McGonagall echoed, blinking vacantly. "Whatever do you - "
"Hermione!" Harry said loudly, catching her oncoming form and waving his arms manically. "Good, you're still here."
"Hi Harry," she said breathlessly, pulling Draco Malfoy in her wake. They both seemed consummately tousled, Luna thought, tilting her head in amusement as she eyed the pretty brunette and her uncharacteristically relaxed companion. About time, Luna thought with pleasure, thoroughly relieved to see that Hermione had finally been rid of her stray snabberwitches.
"Speaking of congress," Luna exclaimed in delight, and Harry immediately wrapped her in a very tight hug, entirely eliminating her capacity for speech.
"Well, I suppose we should all head out for the evening," McGonagall said stiffly, eyeing the messy hall. "The elves have all been promised double wages for this, so might as well leave them to their work."
"Oh, lovely," Hermione said brightly. "It really was a wonderful evening, Professor," she added, flush with happiness. "Very special."
McGonagall's gaze flicked skeptically between Hermione and Draco. "I'm going to leave," she sniffed, "before I find out anything I don't want to know."
"That's probably best," Draco agreed, smirking, and McGonagall promptly disappeared, Lee following at her heels.
"Huh," Hermione said, staring after them. "Is it just me, or did that seem like - "
"Congress," Harry supplied, and Luna giggled in his arms.
"Was the sex fucking fantastic?" she asked them, and though Hermione reddened considerably, Draco seemed glad of the question.
"It was," he declared. "Life-alteringly fantastic. Explosively, uninhibitedly, unadulteratedly - "
"We should leave," Hermione cut in instantly, and Harry nodded.
"Let's go," he said, sighing, though he seemed secretly quite pleased. He wove his fingers between Luna's, squeezing them gently.
She smiled.
All was well.
a/n: THE END. Not my neatest ending, but hey, there's a Hermione masturbation joke in there. This one's for nvrlnd-xassy, dr sally, and mechengmama - thank you for your song suggestions! I fear I am missing someone but I fervently hope I am not. Did you guys catch all the embedded songs?