Draco walked down the hill, pulling out his phone to dial his driver. Hopefully he would come back and give him a ride. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, trying to keep the cold from seeping into his bones. His umbrella was rather useless at this point—the rain was falling in too many different directions.
His phone wouldn't work. Damn! It was static-y every time he tried to dial. Must be the magical interference, he thought with a huff. He was too close to the manor. He shoved the phone in his jacket pocket and continued down the hill.
When he had walked a good mile or two, he tried again. There was still static, but he was able to get a hold of the driver. He informed Draco he would leave to pick him up immediately.
"Where to?" the driver asked when they were both safely in the car, thirty minutes later.
Draco sighed, turning up the heater to full blast as he shivered. Where to, indeed?
His first thought was to return to Grimmauld Place so he could see Granger, but if he saw her then he would end up explaining what happened with his mother—and he really didn't want to have that conversation right now. He was tired, cold, and his joints were aching almost as badly as his head.
What he did want was some alone time…with a bottle of alcohol. Yes, that sounded nice.
He instructed the driver to take him to a hotel in downtown London.
Draco was silent for the entire drive, simmering and stewing from the backseat as his conversation with his mother ran through his head over and over. It made the driver nervous, he could tell, but the driver seemed to know better than to inquire about his bad mood.
They finally arrived at the hotel—Draco tipped his driver and departed without a word.
When he settled in his hotel room, he took a long hot shower to chase away the cold. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked through his large suite, making a beeline for the small fridge that he knew supplied alcohol when he heard his mobile ring.
He picked it up to see Granger flashing brightly on the screen, and smiled in spite of himself.
"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.
"How are you?" she asked, sounding relieved to be speaking to him. Her voice distorted slightly as a rush of static overtook the line.
"All the better for hearing your voice. How is your evening going?"
"Alright, I suppose. Ron came over earlier, spouting nonsense. Then Harry invited me over to the Burrow for dinner—I'm changing now and was about to head over there. Are you at your mother's? How did it go?"
"Er…no. I decided I didn't want to stay there for the night. I just…I don't like being in that house. I'm at a hotel downtown now."
"Draco, why didn't you just come here instead?"
He sighed, opening the door to the cooler. "It's Potter's house. I don't want to intrude." There was more fuzzy static on the line.
"You're more than welcome here. Honestly. Both Ginny and Harry have specifically said—"
"I know, I know. It just…it feels weird. I don't want to overstep boundaries." He slammed the door to the cooler closed—all it had was wine coolers.
"You're not overstepping boundaries," she assured him.
"Granger, I want to be friends with your friends, okay? I do. And the Potters have been very kind to me. Astonishingly kind. But I need some time."
"Alright. I wasn't trying to push you…"
"I know you weren't," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "It's fine."
The silence between them was heavy before Granger finally broke it with the question he didn't want to answer.
"How did your talk with your mother go? I'm guessing not well, if you're staying at a hotel."
He hesitated. "It went…fine. It was fine."
"Fine?" she repeated, not sounding dubious, as if she didn't believe him for one moment.
"She was…she was actually far more…enthusiastic about it…initially…then I was expecting."
"Enthusiastic? She was enthusiastic?" She paused, and he was willing to bet that she was scrunching up her nose in that adorable way she always did. "I can't picture Narcissa being enthusiastic about anything…"
"Overly enthusiastic," he said with a sigh. "I'm way too tired to discuss it now."
"But that's…good news, isn't it? Are you feeling okay?"
"Just…trust me, Granger. We can talk about it tomorrow. I would really rather not talk about it right now. Please."
There was more static, and she made a sound of frustration.
"Granger?" he called, his voice distorting through the static that returned.
"I'm here," she said. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes, but just barely."
"These bloody phones," she sighed. "It must be the magical interference. I wish there was some way to merge Muggle technology with magic," she grumbled.
Draco paused and it was as if a lightbulb went off in his head. Now there was an idea…
"I have to go to dinner—I'm already late. But I miss you already. Will I see you in the morning?"
The wheels in his head were turning. "Yes, I'll be there bright and early," he assured her.
"Okay. If you change your mind and want to come here, you can…"
He blinked, trying to refocus on their conversation. "Why don't you just come stay the night here with me? I doubt I'd be able to get into Grimmauld Place on my own anyway."
There was more static.
"I hadn't even thought about that," she said, her voice distorting again.
"I'll text you the address and room number," he told her as he got out a pen and paper.
"Okay. I miss you."
"I miss you too, Granger. See you tonight."
"I love you."
He grinned. "I love you too," he said, feeling a sense of lightness and relief as he said the words. He was not giddy. Malfoys were never giddy.
He hung up and picked up the hotel phone, dialing the desk.
"Yes, I'd like someone to run an errand for me. I need a bottle of whiskey—finest bottle you can find. Charge it to my room. And a bottle of champagne on ice in about…oh…" He glanced at his watch, trying to estimate how long it would take Granger to arrive. "…Three hours. Yes. Thank you."
He set the phone back in its cradle and began to scroll through the contacts on his mobile phone. He dialed the number for the most cutthroat and popular businessman he knew.
It rang twice before the man answered. "Hello?"
"Blaise, mate, it's Malfoy. Look, I have a business idea for you."
Meanwhile, Hermione was stepping out of the fireplace at the Weasley home.
"Mione!" came a chorus of voices.
She smiled at everyone before two familiar figures approached her. "George...and Jordan!" she greeted the dark skinned, smiling boy. "Good to see you!"
Jordan grinned. "I'll say. It's a right surprise to see you again! Glad you aren't dead," he said with a wink, pulling her into a side hug.
George grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down on the couch to sit between them.
"You're in trouble, young lady," he told her with a sly grin and a glint in his eyes.
She frowned. "Trouble?" She looked around the room—Harry chased Teddy into the kitchen, laughter echoing behind them, Arthur was sitting on his chair, tinkering with an electric clock, and there was the ruckus of pots and pans and dishes coming from the kitchen. "With whom?"
"With us, of course!" George said. "Isn't that right, Jordan?"
Jordan nodded.
Hermione blinked, feeling a sense of déjà vu at being cornered by the boys—only it was George and Jordan instead of George and Fred. "Okay, why am I in trouble?" she asked, tentatively.
"We heard about your new boyfriend," George told her.
Jordan closed his eyes and shook his head mournfully.
She felt her cheeks begin to warm. "I see."
"You sneak, you!" George reprimanded playfully.
"In all fairness, I did try to tell you," she said. "I came right out and told you I was dating Draco."
"Yes, but I thought you were making a joke!" George insisted, looking properly scandalized.
"A bad joke," Jordan added.
"Yes, a very bad joke," George agreed.
"It's not a joke at all!" she told them, sitting up angrily.
"We know!" George exclaimed. She could practically hear the echo of Fred's voice as he said it.
"Well, you're just going to have to accept it. That's the way it is. Draco and I are together."
George shook his head and Jordan sighed dramatically.
"I wonder if Malfoy is any better at taking a prank than he was at Hogwarts," George wondered aloud.
"Don't you dare!" she threatened. "George Fabian Weasley, I will hex you to oblivion!"
"No promises," he said with a wink. "Come on, Jordan. I think Mum is calling for help in the kitchen."
"George!" she called after him as she rose to her feet, but he disappeared into the kitchen with Jordan following closely behind.
Ginny passed them as they exited, and she sent them a curious look before joining Hermione. "George and Jordan up to no good again?" she asked.
"Does your whole family know about Draco now?"
Ginny nodded with a smile. "Ron announced it today when Harry dragged him over here for dinner."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. What did they say?"
"Nothing initially—they were rather shocked."
She nodded and sat on the couch once more, Ginny settling next to her.
"Are you ready for the game tomorrow?" she asked the redhead.
"Yes," she replied, her eyes lighting up. "Are you?"
Hermione laughed. "As ready as I can be."
"Speaking of Draco, where is he?"
"At a hotel in downtown London," she replied, pulling out her phone to see if he had texted her the address yet. No luck.
"Why?"
"He went to visit Narcissa and break the news about us, but I don't think it went very well. He didn't want to talk about it," she said with another roll of her eyes.
Ginny's eyebrows pinched together. "Why didn't he just come back to Grimmauld Place?"
"I don't think he feels comfortable enough for that. He said he didn't want to overstay his welcome."
Ginny scoffed. "There's no such thing."
"That's what I told him, but you know how Draco is."
"Not really, but I suppose I can guess—proper and etiquette, and all of that."
"I think it will take some time for him to warm up to everyone. How is Ron's…temperament tonight?" Hermione asked.
Her friend shrugged. "As fragile as ever. Claire owled and is on her way, though. She can usually settle his nerves."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Claire? Ron's girlfriend? She's coming?"
Ginny eyed her in amusement. "Of course she is. She always attends these dinners. You know how Mum is—invites the family and everyone the family knows."
Hermione suddenly felt very nervous to meet Claire, and she wasn't sure why. "Does Claire know about me?"
This time, Ginny rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows about you—you're Hermione Granger. And she did go to Hogwarts with us."
"No, I mean—does she know I'm back?"
The redhead frowned at that. "Actually, I'm not entirely certain…"
"Well, what is she like?"
"She's a sweet girl, but shy and quiet. Very girly. When she does talk, it's like…" she made a motion with her hand as if something were falling out of her mouth. "…Blah. Word vomit. She seems a bit vapid—reminds me of Lavender, if I'm going to be completely honest."
"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed at the callous way she described Lavender.
Ginny's eyes widened. "Not because she's vapid! That's not what I meant. Sorry," she grimaced.
"Speaking of Lavender—how is she? Has anyone heard from her since…you know?"
"Since becoming a werewolf, you mean?"
Hermione sighed. "That can't have been easy."
"Ron and Lavender are actually close friends." At Hermione's surprised expression, she nodded and continued. "Very close. They talk all the time." She looked around the room before leaning closer. "I think Ron is in love with her."
Hermione jerked back in surprise. "What?"
Ginny nodded. "He won't say a thing about it—I mean, he's dating someone else, for crying out loud—but I can see the expression he gets on his face whenever she's brought up. It's just…sad. Watch—you ask him about her tonight and you can see for yourself."
"I'm not going to ask Ron about his ex-girlfriend if it will make him sad!" she hissed. "That's terribly insensitive."
"Well you should ask him about it anyway—when there's no one else around. He won't even talk to Harry about her."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he disappears for two days after the full moon every month. I'll give you one guess as to where. He requests off work and everything. Then when he comes back, he's sullen and mopey for days. But whenever Harry or I ask him what's wrong, he just shrugs. He won't talk about her at all. But I know he's going to see her. He admitted it once—once."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Shortly after you two broke up."
She reeled at the new information. "Wow. I had no idea. Is she still here in Britain?"
"The one time Ron would let anything slip about her, he said she was in Ireland. I heard she lives on her grandparent's old property out on the moors. No one has really seen her since the war. She doesn't visit or make any public appearances at all."
Hermione frowned at that. She and Lavender were never close—the girl had rather annoyed her in school, to be honest—but it was mostly because they were so different. They had nothing in common, and they valued different things. Lavender preferred divination and staying up late at night to gossip and giggle with her roommates, while Hermione preferred Arithmacy and going to bed early so that she was well rested for her classes—unless she was studying, of course. But Lavender was a lovely girl, and after their brief rivalry during sixth year, any negative feelings Hermione harbored toward her had vanished.
The war had brought out a different side of Lavender—a resourceful, strong side—one that Hermione hadn't expected. And when the girl had been attacked by Greyback… Hermione shivered at the memory. Lavender had very nearly died from her injuries. Fortunately, Madame Pomfrey had been able to save her, but the damage was already done. She had been infected.
Not everyone survived the infection, and the fact that Lavender had been able to pull through it was a testament to her strength. Hermione felt a wave of pity at the knowledge that Lavender was living far away in isolation because of her disease.
She made a note to look into Lavender Brown later.
Just then, a girl with long blonde hair stepped out of the fireplace, shaking soot out of her locks.
"Speaking of Ron's love interests," Ginny mumbled under her breath, raising her hand in greeting. "Hey, Claire."
Hermione blinked. Now she could see what Ginny meant—the resemblance between Claire and Lavender was obvious. They could have been sisters, for crying out loud. She had the same shade and length of blonde hair as Lavender, only it didn't curl as much. They both had round, heart shaped faces, although Claire was considerably paler than the former girl, with far more freckles. Claire was an average height, had the same body type as Lavender, and, like Lavender, had a very warm smile that seemed to light up her entire face.
"Hey Ginny," Claire greeted, taking a step toward her. When her eyes landed on Hermione, she froze and her jaw dropped open.
Hermione rose to her feet. "Hello Claire, I've heard so much about you," she greeted her, stepping forward to shake her hand.
Claire blinked, coming back to her senses, and accepting Hermione's hand. "You're… We thought you were dead!" She blinked again, her face taking on an expression of mortification. "I mean…I'm just… Not that I… Oh, bugger. I'm glad you're alive and well, I'm just…surprised. Ron said you had died—everybody said…"
"Oh," Hermione said with an awkward chuckle. "Well I'm not. Dead, I mean."
Ginny joined them. "She's been hiding in France—unbeknownst to us—but we've forgiven her," she summarized, bumping Hermione with her shoulder.
Hermione smiled at the redhead.
"Wow. When did you—how long have you been back?" Claire asked, trying to catch up.
"Since Thursday," Hermione answered.
Claire's eyes were drawn to the kitchen, where Ron's laughter echoed through the doorway. "Does Ron know? Of course he… How is he…taking it?" she asked, trying and failing to word her sentences carefully.
"He's pretty pissed," Ginny answered for her. "Wouldn't you say?" she asked Hermione.
The brunette nodded. "I'd say that's a fairly accurate statement," she agreed.
Clair blinked rapidly. "Oh. Well I…I think I'll go say hi. Good to…see you again," she said with a half smile before departing from the room.
Hermione and Ginny watched her go.
"I see what you mean about the word vomit," Hermione laughed.
"Poor girl," Ginny commented with a shake of her head.
"Why do you say that?"
Ginny snorted. "Because it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that Ron doesn't love her."
"Harry didn't mention anything like that. He said…he said Ron quite liked her."
Ginny cast a sardonic expression her way. "Harry is a lot of things, but intuitive to matters of the heart is not one of them. I'm pretty sure if I had left it up to him, we never would have gotten together."
Hermione nodded. "That's a fair point."
Dinner was awkward—or maybe Hermione was imagining it. She told herself that she was probably being paranoid and overly sensitive, but it felt like she just couldn't get into the dynamic of the people around her. She felt isolated somehow. She sat between Ginny and Arthur, and everyone ate their food as the conversation and laughter flowed without her.
Ron cast several pensive and almost irritated looks at her throughout their meal—probably due to the fact that she had hexed him earlier—and Claire spent the meal looking between Ron and Hermione, as if watching for any kind of abnormal vibes.
Maybe Ginny was right—maybe Ron and Claire's relationship wasn't as solid as Harry made it sound.
After dessert, they all piled into the living room, settling in their respective places. Harry and George began a game of exploding snap, Ron challenged Angelina to a game of Wizard's chess while Claire sat by and watched in silence, Ginny and Jordan began discussing Quidditch stats, and Molly played with Teddy on the floor. She was leaning against the door frame with a cup of tea in her hands when Arthur approached her.
"Hello, Hermione," he greeted, taking a sip of tea from his own cup.
"Hi Arthur," she returned with a smile. "Did you manage to fix that electric clock?"
He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. "I did. I've gotten quite the hang of Muggle technology since you were here last."
She chuckled. "Good, I'm glad."
"Yes." His expression went very serious. "I wanted to speak with you about something, actually, and I hope I'm not intruding."
She blinked in surprise. "Oh. Okay, well go ahead."
"Ron informed us that you're dating Draco Malfoy."
She sighed.
"Don't misunderstand, I'm not upset," he assured her. "Although I am quite surprised!" He chuckled. "But your personal decisions are your own to make. You'll certainly be receiving enough negative feedback from the rest of the world—you won't receive any here."
She smiled gratefully. "Thank you. You and Molly are like parents to me, I don't know if I could handle any estrangement due to disapproval."
"And you're like a second daughter to us, Hermione, I assure you. You are loved very much by everyone in this home, I hope you realize that."
She nodded, feeling rather emotional at his words.
"And I don't need to warn you to be careful—Merlin knows you're one of the most careful witches I've ever met. I know you can handle yourself."
"Thank you," she repeated.
"Ron told us about his theories," he told her as he took another sip of tea. "I know he's a brash child, and you two don't always get along. But try not to be too hard on him. His concern for you is genuine, if not slightly misguided."
She bit the inside of her cheek.
"He cares for you, Hermione—we all do. He has a big heart. He does all his thinking and acting with his heart, and doesn't always rationalize before acting."
She nodded. This was true.
"I would just advise you not to lose a lifetime long friendship over a romantic interest. That doesn't mean that Draco isn't important to you—I'm sure he is. But be patient with Ron. If Draco Malfoy has indeed changed as you and Harry say he has, then Ron will come around. It will just take some time."
She sighed. "I'm not so certain. He hates Draco so much."
The man took on a tired expression. "I'm afraid that might be partly my fault. I was always very open about my dislike for the Malfoy family. Ron might have internalized my disgust for the Malfoys a bit more than I wanted him to."
Molly looked up at them from across the room, and a look of concern flashed across her face as her eyes met Hermione's before Teddy held up a toy and she turned her attention back to him with a smile.
"What does Molly have to say about it?" she asked him.
"Molly is very much like Ron," he said with a laugh. "Ron inherited the Prewett temper—and he got it from her. She'll come around—they both will." He clapped her on the shoulder before walking away.
"Arthur?" she called after him.
He turned back to her with raised eyebrows.
"Thank you," she told him.
He smiled and nodded before moving to his favorite chair, where he slumped into it with his cup of tea.
Everyone hates Ron! I don't hate Ron-I hate his character in the movies, because they watered him down and took all his good qualities and gave them to Hermione-but he's not a bad guy! Sure, he's irritating at times, and I hate him and Hermione together. They were a terrible match. But I don't want to bash Ron in this fic. I think he is a far more complicated character than most fanfics give him credit for, and I think it's a cheap way out to just bash him and make him into the enemy. Also, I couldn't stand the thought of Lavender dying, it made me sad because it was just too tragic. She was a little annoying, but she was so sweet and nice. So in my fic, she's alive. And a werewolf. Tragic. More on that later ;) This chapter was long, but I wanted to make sure I could paint an accurate vision of all of the characters-including the Weasleys, because they're all important.
Anyway, stay tuned for more very soon. The Quidditch game is up next!
