Chapter 38: Soiree

Hermione walked back to the dining room/ballroom and moved deftly through small groups of people nodding, smiling and checking to see that everyone was having a good time. She was playing the part of the perfect hostess, but she wasn't feeling it. What she really wanted was for everyone to go home. It seemed to her that even the fairies sitting in the garlands looked tired. She just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for a week and forget this day ever happened.

She found Ron listening to one of his clients from Cornwall talk about how many people it took to cast a concert. Hermione slipped quietly under his arm and he pulled her close to him without breaking conversation with his client. When the fellow from Cornwall excused himself to get another drink, Ron looked down at Hermione and gave her a quick kiss. "Where have you been?"

"I just took a moment to myself," she said.

Concern wrinkled his forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," Hermione said.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes, Ron, I've eaten. Actually, Michelle brought me a plate."

Ron looked down at her. "Really?"

"Yes, like everyone else, she commented on my weight."

Ron pulled her closer. "You'll be yourself in no time. I have all the confidence in the world."

Hermione nodded.

She stayed by his side talking with their guests for another hour before Ron excused himself to go to the loo, and she took the opportunity to slip back out on to the balcony. The night had grown even colder, so she charmed herself a warm spot in the corner and conjured another fag. She hoped Clive wouldn't notice she'd magically nicked another one. She lit it with the end of her wand and took a long drag.

She heard the door open behind her. Immediately she made the cigarette disappear and breathed the smoke out into the night before turning around.

"Don't do that," Ron said as she turned toward him.

"What?"

He frowned at her. "I thought you were done with secrets, besides I already know about this one."

She snapped her fingers and the cigarette reappeared. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be," Ron said walking toward her. "I reckon you deserve a fag after the day you've had."

Hermione looked down at the cigarette in her hand. She took another drag before saying, "I thought it better than getting pissed in front of all these people."

Ron nodded. "Definitely." He leaned over the balcony railing and looked out at the night, after a few moments he turned back to her. "Listen, I'm sorry about this afternoon."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be."

"No," Ron said. "I am sorry. I was too hard on you." He stepped into her warm circle. "Nice," he breathed.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"What I should have done," he continued, "when I got home, was do what I'd been longing to do since I left." He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her.

She opened her mouth to him and felt his tongue slide along hers. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate. When he finally pulled out of the kiss, Hermione said, "I missed you too."

"You don't embarrass me," he said.

Hermione dropped her eyes. She could feel a lump forming in her throat. "I do, and I'm sorry."

"No," Ron said firmly. "I was angry Hermione, angry at the damn paper, angry that you got hurt, angry that all these people were coming to the house when all I wanted to do was hold you and watch the fire in the parlor. I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have gone to Viktor. I should have had him come here."

"Yeah, in retrospect maybe that would have been better. But you know what? You shouldn't have to wonder what the press will think every time you walk out the door or pick up your wand."

Hermione turned away from him and leaned against the balcony railing. She couldn't bear how sweet he could be sometimes.

He stepped behind her and pressed his whole body against hers. She could fell him hard against her bum.

"Ron," she chuckled.

"I want you so bad right now, I can't stand it," he whispered in her ear.

"It's the dress," she dismissed.

"It's not the bloody dress," he growled in her ear. "When are these people going to go home?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight," he said kissing her neck.

"Shouldn't we get back inside?"

"Sod them, let's go upstairs." He thrust against her to emphasize his point.

She laughed and pushed him playfully away. "I don't think so. Come on, we're supposed to be hosting this soiree."

"Fine," he grumbled, "but the minute they're gone, you're mine."

"Well, then," Hermione commented, "I should probably have a sandwich."

People began gathering into one large crowd in the middle of the ballroom as the New Year approached. An enormous champagne fountain appeared on a table in the center of the room. Winky was known for this trick. Apparently, she used to do them for the Crouch's parties, and they had only gotten more elaborate since then. Multi-colored sprays of champagne cascaded into crystal flutes arranged in tiered rings. As people began to gather round taking glasses from the fountain, Hermione began to feel more in the spirit of the occasion. After all, if anyone was ready for this year to be over, she was. She took a champagne flute and started moving toward Ron.

Ron was the one who started the crowd on the countdown. When it reached the final second to the New Year, he grabbed Hermione and kissed her in the middle of the room in the middle of the crowd. He kissed her like their love was new, like he couldn't get enough of her. Even though she knew everyone was clapping for the arrival of the New Year, it felt like they were clapping for her and Ron.