Silver Painted Moons

The Afterparty

July 2, 2002

00:12

The shining jewel on her head could easily jealous of her radiating eyes. It was like a star had been trapped in them, never guessing how hard it would be to escape her notorious self and set free into the world where people might admire it better and longer, shining only for itself and not her, never guessing how lovely it would feel if it left her eyes and be left alone in a world full of darkness and hate where its shine could be pleased as a mark to the hopeful ones. No, that shine was placed there as a result of the reckless, the brave ones. Hermione placed her hand on top of a beating heart, fearing it will ripe the fragile chest and fall right on her shaken feet, murdering her own self in an attempt to prove something to her overthinking mind, prove something to her self - something she didn't even know there was a needed to prove, a caprice maybe or an answer to a quickly flood-able question she dared not to repeat.

Some glitter was decorating her exposed back and left leg, making the low lighted room in front feel jealous of her sparkling skin looking extra soft and kissable under its touch. She wanted to stop thinking about what she had just done. She wanted to stop thinking about him kissing her back, possessing her body with a simple touch, accessing her mouth in the kindest request of his tongue, owning his placing in front of her as if it was the most normal thing in the whole damn world - her hand rose, smelling it. It almost felt familiar, needing. Intoxicating, yet filled in salvation and care - why the hell did she kiss him? Why? Her knees trembled with the adrenaline of an action, unspeakable, unthinkable, but reckless and desired.

Hermione tried to repeat the plan she had made the day before, a plan she had offered to herself in order to attend the party, a plan she fucked up - attend, speak to no one, that would have been easy, have a drink, watch him from afar, speak to him only if he speaks first, why did she kiss him? Her hand touched her soft, naked lips, feeling them hungry - ''Fuck.'' she mumbled as the idea of him realizing who he kissed popped into her mind and made the fragile heart stop beating. Suddenly every single feeling of euphoria and slowly burning lust, turned into a fear, a fear of him feeling disgust about his lips finding hers, his hands possessing her body, his self owning the place next to her, why the fuck did she have to kiss him?

July 4th, 2002

''It was an amazing night!'' Daphne threw her tired body in the chair behind the desk, ''It was just amazing!'' her hands opened the box of chocolate cake she had brought with her, offering one piece to Hermione. ''Mark and I danced the whole night, the cake was delicious and even if Draco seemed a bit off, he actually said he enjoyed it!'' Hermione smiled at her sloppiness as she was eating the cake.

''He did?'' she found herself sitting on top of her desk, forcing the redness of the otherwise pink cheeks to hide behind thick curly hair framing her face, ''I thought he hated this kind of gatherings - ''

''He did, but he said there was a Cleopatra, who spoiled his night pleasantly.'' she frowned at once, ''What's that Hermione?'' her hand grabbed the card with the lawyer's name written on it - the redness on her cheeks disappeared. Daphne's eyes were looking at her suspiciously, her lips were pressed together - to her experienced now self, Hermione knew the young woman was starting to feel betrayed.

''It's nothing, really.'' a deep breath escaped her lips, ''I have some fairs to sort out.'' her eyes looked at her hands where the cake was waiting to be eaten. Of course she wouldn't tell Daphne why she needed the law enforcer even if she had found herself ready to unleash the remembered reality she now calls hell. If Hermione wanted to be honest with herself, it wasn't the ideal hell one was imagining from the holy books, either was the hell of torture and pain one might build around themselves in huge cauldrons on top of boiling fire. No. This hell, this living hell, was intimate and special. It was a hell of reality, the kind one form from the past, the present and the future one makes based on the decisions being made. It was a hell with phony people and heavy breathing, a hell with sorrow tears instead of happiness, a hell with so much struggle no one could even survive from it - and that reality was making Hermione aware of what had happened to them, of what path she had chosen to follow in this life, of what future she is choosing right now. If she only had a chance to prove that hell wrong, she would have done it already. Pink lips touched each other, fearing of what they might say to those questioning eyes of a woman who trusted her with life's greatest gift - those eyes now daring to ask for the same trust back, ''It's about the war..'' Hermione's voice made Daphne take her eyes away, knowing how haunting those words can be. Deep down, both of them knew, even if both of them had lived it differently - and even if Hermione's hell had a summary, like every good book has, Daphne's summary was still unknown to her.

July 10th, 2002

She didn't notice how fast the day past. She had read a theory once, about what seemed to be a valid question among people of science, regarding time - do we pass through time, or does time pass through us? Up until this very moment, she had never considered it. Maybe it was the endless days she had spent in the same environment, working for the very same goal, maybe it was the growing numbers on top of her birthday cakes, those she couldn't dare think she wants, but now needs as a reminder of what that year had offered her, maybe it just the illusion of time and how much we can succeed in an hour, in a day, in a month. Perhaps we are just motionless in a circle of life, witnessing whatever gift is offered as a prophet, a half man-half god messiah of a hidden world full of magic and war - whatever the case was, time could never be measured.

Her tired body fell on top of the messy bed where numerous clothes were set aside for future use, admiring the calming ceiling with the decorated lamp bathing the room with yellowish colour, warming the already heated space. Her left hand extended to touch the loose sweater dress Daphne gave her. It was so soft, so warm - warmer than the day she spent in her lab, warmer than the feeling of betrayal. Daphne had gifted her a lot of her old clothes, those she had said it didn't quite follow the married persona slowly catching up with her - Hermione knew the young witch was aware of her financial stage and she was secretly thanking her for not mentioning it. She knew it wasn't a secret, especially among Pureblood families who funded some of her work. No matter what, Daphne said nothing - she even offered to show Hermione some thrift stores she discovered those years she spent in Muggle London, telling her all about the vintage power and how much she was appreciated everything someone throws away without a second thought. Daphne was kind like that, giving someone a second chance, someone could call it naive, maybe fools, but Hermione knew she had a big heart, showing it only to people she cares about. She had shared with her a funny story about the very first time she visited a Muggle store, apparently, she didn't know she had to pay for what she picked right that second. She smiled. Daphne says that story much more laughable.

Secretly for the past months she spent with her, she was counting down her words, one by one, trying to realize why the hell she was feeling so comfortable around her, why she was allowing her guards to fall and witnessing the old adored fruit of friendship in her presence. She didn't know why she was feeling closer to her all of the sudden, maybe was the empty spot in her heart of someone worthy her friendship, maybe she just missed the idea of having a friend in her life. To all those moments she spent with her, she realized Daphne never talked about a girl friend in her life either - sure she had her sister, Astoria, but something was telling her they weren't that close anymore. She remembered the old times, were the Greengrass sisters were walking the corridors and giggling about those roaring eyes of boys, she could remember the shining in Daphne's eyes, the relaxed, complete gaze, something that now has only when she talks about Mark - and every time the conversation might reach the thin line of family, Daphne made sure to change the subject, commenting on the weather, the new perfume she found on Vogue, her love of bath salt and cotton blankets she so much needed even at the summer time. Hermione understood how sensitive that part of her life was and even if she wanted to say something nice, she would stay speechless, giving her the time she needs to process whatever was on her mind.

She couldn't blame her, and she wouldn't, but to her defence, Hermione never said a word about her parents either. It seems that both young girls were not feeling comfortable talking about that part of their past. Her hand left from the warm, soft fabric of the gifted cloth and looked at the small scar she had on her forearm. Maybe time does pass through us, only to see us be utterly attracted to what it does to us.

July 12th, 2002

Downtown Wizarding London

13:22

''Do you want to come for brunch this Sunday?'' Daphne placed her arm around hers, ''Mark promised me his famous fluffy pancakes and chocolate crepes!'' she whispered swallowing hard, ''It would be the perfect meet up!'' the excitement in her voice made Hermione smile.

''Can you define brunch?'' she asked and Daphne stopped walking. She looked at her surprised, a bit offended too, wondering if she ever paid attention to whatever word she said the past times she invited over her house, which were numerous, and never accepted. She should be feeling offended, shouldn't she? The back of her throat ached her to start yelling in the middle of the street, but her status was not going to let her to it of course, so she left staring at Hermione in perfect shock and bit anger too. The idea to ask her about the reason not accepting her invitations popped into her mind, but knowing Hermione Granger, she thought she shouldn't even bother to open that conversation with her. ''What?'' Hermione asked with a small smile, realizing her bother.

''Why you always deny my company?'' well, there, she fucked it.

Hermione shrugged, ''Would I be here if I am denying your company?'' she frowned when Daphne looked sceptical - shit, Hermione thought, realizing what was going on. She bit the inside of her cheek. Yes, she had been avoiding being at the Greengrass residence, not because she was feeling uncomfortable around her, but the idea of seeing Astoria and Draco under the same roof won't be pleased to witness. Over the past month Hermione and Daphne's slowly growing friendship, she had asked about their living situation in a perfectly elusive way that could make every Slytherin bitch jealous, only to find out they bought two apartments in Muggle London, connecting them with a beautiful staircase Daphne designed pridefully, her and Mark living on the first floor, because the apartment was bigger and lighter, which Daphne loved and Astoria hated, with the last one living on the top floor, where the big tree had been thoughtfully grown faster than any other in the neighberhood covering the living room, dining room and kitchen with heavy shadow, offering cool weather in the summer and plenty of amazingly stunning view in the winter time where its leaves were fallen and the naked skin was filled with snow and rain drops - Daphne said Astoria loved it, as much as her lover boy, making Hermione never dare to even consider the idea of them together. Now that she was thinking about it, she hadn't seen them together in his party either -

''Draco!'' Daphne shouted, throwing her arm in the air and shaking it like from side to side, ''Draco!'' she called him again and her Hermione froze to her stop.

''Shit - '' she mumbled and looked over her shoulder, his tall shadow moving towards them, making her wonder if the shadow of that special tree outside their apartment was indeed his favourite thing - her breath filled with his scent and her eyes -

''What are you doing here, Nana?'' his voice made her heart beat faster than before. ''Hello.'' he looked at her and she rose her eyes slowly, carefully, as if she was afraid to see him in person after their kiss - their kiss. Her lips parted and she focused on his for a second, watching them smirking, not even showing his handsome smile, his perfectly placed teeth, he never had to put braces on, not like her at least, when she spent a summer with irons in her mouth, not wanted to be told beaver again. ''Granger.'' he greeted and she looked at him in the eye now - grey storming vibration finding ruthlessly beating heart as a familiar taste of warm milk and Christmas cookies.

''Malfoy.'' she forced herself to take her eyes off him, but she couldn't. She had been trapped, just like the time he spelled her, just like the time he looked at her when he was ordering his tea - a tea he was holding at the moment, his long arm resting next to him as if it was something strange to his body, something borrowed - he was in pain, wasn't he -

''How is your shoulder?'' a smile decorated Hermione's lips, like the kind she used to have when she knew an answer no one else knew, or when she wasn't picked to say her answer and someone else said it wrong - it made him frown looking down at her, ''Blaise says it was a nasty fall.'' Daphne made a grin.

''Yes.'' he took his eyes off Hermione, ''Yes, I - I am alright. A bit sore, nothing a good old healing potion cannot fix.'' his voice was reassuring, but Hermione knew he didn't take the potion, ''Why - '' he looked at the two girls, ''How are you two - ''

''Hermione is a friend!'' Daphne said without a bit of shame and with a pride in the back of her eye.

Draco smirked, ''I didn't know you were capable to form new friendships - ''

''Fuck you, you git!'' she whispered with a smile, squeezing his pained shoulder, ''Do not dare to embarrass me!'' and to Hermione's surprise, Draco laughed, marking the very first time she heard him laughing. ''Will you join us for Sunday's brunch?'' she asked him and Hermione looked at her with a small frown, why is she invites him to his own house -

''Sunday you say?'' his whole body tightened, ''I am afraid I will have to miss this one.'' his eyes left Daphne's. He was feeling ashamed about something, Hermione was certain.

''Oh? Oh!'' Daphne's eyes widened, ''It's this weekend - '' Draco didn't even flinch. ''Well, we haven't run out of Sundays, have we.'' her smile was encouraging, if only he had seen it.

December, 2002

AGASTOPIA the word was making his eyes bleed. He started to hate that game.

''That is not a word.'' he giggled a little, blinking twice as she was writing down her score.

''Yes, it is!'' she rolled her eyes in a matter-of-factly-way, ''Accio!'' her arm rose in the air, ''Admiration of a particular part of someone's body. The visual enjoyment of the appearance of a specific physical aspect of another.'' she read out loud, pointing the word. ''And that's 175 points for me.'' she smiled gloriously at him, ''I love Scram - ''

''I hate it.'' he nodded, ''It's a stupid game - ''

''That's because you are losing!'' she heard him laughing and she looked at his calm face, where flames warming it carefully.

''I see it as a progressive enlightenment of the uneducated.''

''Please, you wouldn't call yourself uneducated - hey!'' she looked at his smug face.

''Cacophony, a harsh, discordant mixture of sounds - ''

''I know what it means - ''

''175 points.'' he smirked, ''Thanks for the O, I needed it.'' he winked and she tried hard to look mad, but failed when he softly smiled at her.