December 4, 1998. 11:45 PM. Hogwarts Castle.
Draco collapsed on his bed with a loud exhale. His wand arm shook and his eyelids felt heavy as lead. Stiffness across his back and the burning down his throat reminded him of his completed task—far more satisfying than the spell work that nearly drained him of the ability to do so.
Expending that amount of magic would likely effect him for days.
Yet, despite his physical exhaustion, and the long hours he spent awake since that morning, sleep seemed beyond reach.
Still a bit damp from his shower, he remained on top of the covers and sheets, mind restless. At least without class in the morning he could sleep late—if slumber was possible at all.
Visions of jumbled symbols swirled in his thoughts. He did his best to ignore them, tossing and turning to find comfort in his cold bed. As he flopped on his stomach, a warming sensation radiated from the center of his bare chest.
He pushed himself up on his forearms, and when the chain he wore faithfully around his neck swung with the movement, the warmth faded away. Draco sat up, feeling the heat again, and this time gripped the coin in his hand to be sure.
It pulsed in his palm. Granger.
He flipped the charmed coin over to see the image of a rotating map, narrowing in through the halls of Hogwarts, landing with a small white dot inside the Library.
Jumping to his sore feet he pulled on a shirt, grabbed his wand and jogged as inconspicuously as possible from the Dungeons to his waiting witch.
She was pacing in front of the Restricted Section when he found her.
"Granger, are you alright?"
Panic subsided to concern as she turned to him with glistening eyes. She wasn't injured that he could see, but quite stricken. She launched herself into his arms, wrapping him tightly in her own as she buried her head in his chest. Other than her ragged breathing, she was silent, using his proximity to settle her quaking limbs.
He held her firmly, brushing a hand through her hair a way he hoped might sooth her. "What's wrong?"
She stepped back and reached for his hand, "can we go into the Snake Pit? I need…time…alone, with you."
"Of course."
He led the way, taking them below the Library floor. With a flick of his wand, the lanterns and fireplace sparked to life, filling the room with soft light. Granger immediately curled into a ball on the sofa, resting her chin on the tops of her knees. Draco removed a fleece blanket and down pillow from the cabinets above. He handed each to her, and sat by her side.
"What can I do?" His heart thumped painfully. She appeared as exhausted as himself, and almost sickly pale.
Snuggling against him, she weaved her arms around his torso. "I'm not sure. Seeing those…people…reduced to husks…used for who knows what kind of evil…it's tearing me apart. Can you just…hold me?"
At her request, he'd hold her forever and let the rest of the world burn.
He reached for the pillow, placing it behind him and stretched across the comfortably wide sofa. She stayed pressed against his chest while he adjusted their positions. Sprawled on his back, he pulled her closer, so half her body was resting over his. She hooked her leg between his own and lifted her face to pepper languid kisses along his neck and jaw.
However reluctant to halt her attentions to the sensitive skin below his ear, he could feel the tension in her body, and needed to make sure he did everything he could to bring her enough peace to rest.
"Talk to me."
She scooted upwards, resting her head against the pillow along with his. Her eyes, slightly swollen, pooled with tears.
"I wonder if anyone is missing them…mourning those unfortunate souls? Does anyone care?" A huff blew from her lips, caressing his face with warm, cinnamon scented air. "Is that what the Resurrection is about? Killing off the people they consider beneath them, just to turn them into aberrations of nature? It's revolting. And it never ends. We just fought a war—already lost so much. Our childhoods were ripped away from us. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna…you…me…all of us. Stuck—forced—in impossible situations we had no choice but to claw our way out of." She blinked, letting her tears fall in wandering tracks down her nose and cheeks. "And yet death continues to stalk us, literally. When we be able to live and breathe? It's so unfair! I'm so damn tired of it all!"
Her voice choked with emotion. Draco cradled her head, stroking her hair. There was nothing to be said in that moment. He realized as he held her trembling body—what she needed was to let herself express the pain she'd kept bottled up so tightly to protect the fragility of her friends. Too many people counted on her resilience.
"Why? Why us?" She sniffled, then broke into racking sobs.
He wrapped around her as firmly as possible without restricting her breathing while she cried. She tucked her face against the base of his neck, soaking the top of his jumper. But he did not mind. She could use him. Take whatever she needed. He would be the one to give her that safe space where she could let herself fall apart, take the time to remember her strength, and pull herself back together again.
Her tears did not make him uncomfortable. Each drop filled him with resolve, dedication, and the determination to remove the red from his ledger with every action. He would see the Resurrection reduced to ashes in the wind.
The memory of incinerating bodies flashed before his eyes. Yes. I'll burn them all for you. I'll burn the whole world and build it from scratch, for you.
Eventually her breaths evened out, and her body started to relax.
"You're right, Granger. It is unfair. Let yourself be angry, sad, whatever you feel. I'll be here to absorb your punches, or dry your tears." Draco lifted her chin to meet his eyes, "and remember, you feel this way because you are living. You are capable of seeing potential, and bringing it to fruition. Of changing things around you for the better. Because that lion heart of yours is tenacious enough to keep beating until you see the darkness banished by your light."
He kissed her softly on the lips. Slowly, deliberately. With the tenderness he would have died for in his own moments of collapse—those times he thought the world was falling apart, all on top of his shoulders. An offering of shelter.
She responded like a lit match, deepening the kiss with the urging of her tongue, sparking with passion. Her hands wound their way around his neck and into his hair. Using her leg, she hitched herself even closer, digging her heel into his calf painfully.
His body instinctually reacted to her exuberance. His blood sang for her—demanded her. A deep ache thrumming through him with each accelerated beat of his pulse. She rolled her hips against his, and colorful lights exploded behind his closed eyelids. It felt like dying and coming to life all at once.
But this was not the time, not yet.
Draco took a calming breath, and softened his embrace. Tempering their pace with a chaste kiss placed on each of her eyes, he swept his thumbs over her cheeks, eventually trailing a hand down her neck, around her ribcage to her back. He applied pressure to her knotted muscles. Inhaled the hitches in her breath as he returned to her salty lips, licking away any remnants of tears.
She sighed contently. Within Draco's chest, a sweeping sensation made it feel as if he'd been dropped off the edge of a cliff.
He was defenseless against it.
So he succumbed to the plunge willingly.
They settled into a leisurely exploration of their physical expressions. Hands crawling conservatively, lips dancing over pulse points, bodies aligned with synchronized breathing. Giving and taking. Soothing and needing.
Draco suspected he would arrive at this particular point of no return in due time…but not so suddenly. So irrevocably.
Seven years as classmates granted him familiarity with the Gryffindor Golden Girl, learned little things about her, but never taken the time to truly know her. Yet after witnessing her ferocity during the war, he comprehended her fortitude and integrity well. They were no longer a couple of bickering children. Each had been tested in their own way, forged into maturity by the nearness of death.
Watching Granger endure sadistic torture in his own home—never giving in—had been a revelation. In those scream-filled minutes that stretched like hours, Draco did not care who her parents were, or what stupid category she fit into as a witch. She was a marvelous young woman, bearing indescribable pain, for the slim chance it might allow her friends to live. Facing the worst so others like her might have a chance to live without fear. A girl told by the elite of wizarding society she was less than, but who proved over and over that she was so much more.
The past months of constant interaction only served to reinforce what Draco already knew, what the courtship enchantment confirmed: there was no comparison to Hermione Granger. She stood in a class all her own. And for a man who had been groomed to accept nothing less than the very best, there could be no one else for him but her.
She was his beginning and his end.
"Will you stay here with me tonight?" She whispered against his jaw.
Draco pulled her against his chest again, running a finger down her spine. "Yes. Go to sleep now, darling. I'll be right here."
The moment her eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtook her. Draco placed another kiss on the top of her head, drifting off mere moments behind.
. . . . . . .
December 5, 1998. 10 AM. Hogwarts Library.
Summery heat woke Hermione from a deep, dreamless sleep.
She recognized Draco's woodsy scent before realizing the source of her uncomfortable warmth was his slumbering body resting peacefully beneath her own. At some point in the night, their blanket had fallen to the floor, and he removed his jumper. His fair skin shimmered with a sheen of sweat.
Lifting her head slowly as he inhaled, she studied his relaxed features. Along his hairline, cheeks and in his slightly parted lips, bloomed a carnation pink tinge. With the lack of a piercing stare or snarky smirk, he was an image of sweet serenity. Androgynously beautiful in a way that could inspire the Muses themselves. While his features were best described as being fine or delicate, they also possessed a chiseled sharpness that spoke of ancient heroes or charismatic adventurers, legends preserved in song or painted pottery. Like the lost nobility of a world that existed only in fantasy.
She grazed her fingers under his collar bones, from one side to the other. While her hands had the previous pleasure of familiarizing themselves with the contours of his body, her eyes had not. The sight of his bare torso—from his broad shoulders to the slender tapering of his waist—captivated her attention. Scars decorated his flesh in a macabre reminder of accidents, attacks and near brushes with death. The charmed coin she'd given him after his crash had fallen over his left shoulder, leaving his sculpted chest free of obstruction. By far, the worst among the marks was the one he received from Harry's sectumsempra in sixth year. The puckered line cut diagonally from the bottom of his ribcage on his right, up to the midpoint of his left pectoral. Instead of faded white, or angry red, this scar was deep indigo.
Heart fluttering, she traveled over his skin, planting a sorrowful kiss on every mark, as if the action could remove their invisible counterparts in his memories and psyche.
"Mmm," his rumbling hum alerted her to his consciousness.
Hermione lifted her head to meet his slowly blinking eyes and soft, contented grin.
"Good morning."
He pulled himself up to incline on his elbows. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Very well." Sitting up slowly, she rubbed her eyes and started to run a hand over her hair to tame its morning tussle.
Draco's hand closed over her wrist. "Don't. You look…"
"Wild?"
He smiled like the dawn. "I was going to say adorable, luscious even. But yes, wild applies, too."
As he stretched and swung his feet to the floor, Hermione started folding the discarded blanket to return to its cabinet. "Thank you. For last night. For staying with me. I'm sorry about blubbering all over you."
"No apology necessary." He looked away, scratching the back of his head. "Actually, it's…flattering you are comfortable with me…in that way."
She stood before him, remembering the first time they entered the Snake Pit together, and how she got a real glimpse at the vulnerable expression he wore again now. When she finally felt she understood the Malfoy heir. That had been the moment things changed for her. The connection that seemed to strengthen with every following interaction.
His mercurial eyes roved over hers, and she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. "For the record, you flatter me as well. And as crazy as it sounds you do make me very comfortable."
He reached out to grab her by the hips and pulled, burying his face in her shirt. His muffled voice tickled her stomach, "if I'm not careful you'll turn me into a bloody Hufflepuff."
Hermione giggled, squirming away from his unintentional tickling. "Doubtful."
"What time is it? I'm starving."
She walked to the fireplace to check the clock perched on the mantel, and…shite. Flustered, she checked again, muttering curses under her breath. "It's already ten o'clock! How did we sleep for so long?"
Draco rolled his head, "relax, Granger. It's a Saturday, no one will be in the Library, and there'll still be plenty of food left. Nearly everyone gets a slow start on the weekends."
"What if someone noticed we weren't in our rooms all night?" She paced, throwing her hands in the air. In the back of her mind, she imagined a concerned Ginny relaying to Harry, consulting the Marauder's Map…and oh god.
"They can bugger off and mind their own business."
He stood, pulling on his jumper and transfigured his pajama pants into trousers. Hermione followed his lead and changed her matching plaid set into jeans and a fitted blouse of the same pattern.
Fidgeting with her hair, she marched purposely to the stairs. "I'll head out first. I need to find Ginny."
Draco snatched the back of her shirt. "Hey—" spinning her around, he cradled her jaw to lift her lips within reach. His kiss seared. Branded. More importantly, reminded Hermione that sooner rather than later, she wanted everyone to know. Draco Malfoy belonged with her. He smiled against her mouth, "when you're finished untwisting those knickers, meet me in the Hall?"
"Prat."
"So that's a yes?"
Like she wouldn't be counting the seconds away from him. She rolled her eyes, grinning widely, "yes."
. . . . . . .
11 AM. The Great Hall.
A lazy, late breakfast rolled into an early lunch.
As Draco predicted, no one noticed their absence during the night. Having slept heavily, Ginny simply assumed Hermione woke early to meet her secret paramour, as it was an established habit.
Breaking from the tradition of their usual positions across the table from one another, when Hermione joined her friends for their meal, she sat by Draco's side. Their proximity making her like steel to a magnet. It was easy to find opportunities to reach for a particular item—a slice of fruit here, a napkin there—and purposely press herself against him. She'd lean across the table, grazing her shoulder with his, or lifting out of her seat to reach farther, bringing her hip to his elbow.
He took note every time.
Eyes following faithfully. Lips curled into a keen smirk. Color in his complexion.
Draco Malfoy had particular sensibilities. A difficult man to impress. Yet, Hermione was growing more aware of the fact that she yielded a significant power over him. Not with intellectual superiority, or affinity for magic. She wielded the power of a woman.
And she relished it.
Awareness of his desire fanned the flames of her own. None of her other relationships had inspired such lust. Curiosity, yes. Yearning, sure. But her craving to be close to Draco was like an unquenchable thirst.
Hermione was accustomed to tempering certain aspects of herself with different people. It was a defense mechanism adopted early on in desperation to adapt from her position as an outcast. Her friendship with Harry and Ron allowed her to open up more, but never fully, as she had a secret crush to conceal, and a feeling of responsibility to help them succeed.
Yet with Draco, everything was different. First, from mutual distaste, they didn't bother trying to soften any rough edges of their personalities for the sake of the other's comfort. Honesty became a natural byproduct born of desire to cut to the chase. Eventually, they'd come to know each other with inquisitive minds, grounded understanding, and the need to make a connection outside their established circles. Both cracked themselves open for the other to see the dappled shadows of their hearts.
Neither perfect, but similar in their ambitions…their passions.
Now, Hermione's head was filled with the physical distraction that they'd only just begun to discover. The undeniable chemistry between them. The way visual pleasures such as sunlight playing in his hair or the mischievous mystery in his stormy eyes consumed her attention. How his pulse jumped in response to her touch. His battle-strengthened body, and the way it felt pressed up against her own. The metaphorical—and quite literal—heat.
"So, I told Harry about the party," Ginny interrupted her wayward thoughts.
Draco groaned, but was denied the opportunity to make a snide comment due to his mouth being full of generously syrup-soaked waffles. Hermione nudged his leg with her knee.
Theo slumped dramatically, leaning against Luna, "he's not going to bust us, is he?"
"No. As a matter of fact, he agrees that it's a good opportunity to rule out possible Resurrection sympathizers."
"It's not the worst idea to have the Aurors informed of what we're doing," Hermione reasoned. "It will alleviate some obstacles in getting everyone to and from the Room. Could also be worth considering to let Professor McGonagall know…"
"Know what, Ms. Granger?" As if on cue, the woman appeared from behind her, a distinct twinkling present in her eyes.
The group fell silent, all turning to Hermione with expectant expressions.
"Well…umm…"
"No need to fluster yourself," the Headmistress waved her hand. "It never ceases to amaze me how you students remain blissfully unaware how much the teachers of this school pick up from your gossip. You're not as stealthy as you'd all like to believe."
Draco and Theo tensed. Ginny and Luna however, leaned forward, interested in seeing how McGonagall would continue. Hermione felt nervous, yet hopeful the wise witch realized the potential good to come from their party, despite it breaking school rules.
She adjusted her spectacles, meeting each of their eyes heavily. "From what I gather, there is to be a soiree of sorts tonight…for the students of age from all four Houses, correct?"
They nodded solemnly.
"Under normal circumstances, such a gathering is not permitted at Hogwarts without staff supervision. But seeing as these are precarious times…and since I'm assuming a certain two Aurors will be present along with numerous seasoned warriors…I suppose I could instruct the teachers to turn a blind eye. You are no longer children, after all. Consider it an early Christmas gift from your soft-hearted Headmistress."
"Thank you, Professor!" Hermione gushed, squeezing Draco's knee under the table.
"Please do remember to be responsible."
"Of course, yes. We will."
Ginny clapped emphatically as Luna let out a peal of joyous laughter. Draco and Theo merely exchanged baffled looks. Tipping her head with a coy smile, Professor McGonagall walked away, mingling amongst the students in the Hall. Hermione watched the Headmistress with a swell of appreciation. The benefit of shared experiences outside the classroom would lend another step toward true unity in the school.
Draco leaned over her shoulder, his breath caressing her ear. "Looks like the only thing you have to worry about now is how to keep your hands off me."
Sitting up rigidly, Hermione turned to him, wrinkling her nose in faux distain.
Theo perched his elbows on the table, flopping forward to rest his chin on a curled fist. "Well this party certainly became less exciting."
"Ye of little faith, my friend."
Draco's wink roused a chorus of devious grins around their group. And Hermione was reminded once again, how even a temporary relief from burden could turn lightened spirits brilliant.
. . . . . . .
9:15 PM. Hogwarts Seventh Floor Corridors.
Hermione's toe caught, scuffing on the floor, causing her to stumble. Draco's hold on her left arm was solely responsible for keeping her from falling.
"Is this really necessary?"
"Come on, Granger. It's all part of the fun." His voice sounded close to her ear, and despite not being able to see it, she could hear his trademark smirk.
Being led blindfolded through the school was definitely not her idea of fun. Especially when she was well aware of the location of the Room of Requirement, giving no logical reason for obscuring one of her senses.
"We'll see how much fun you think it is when you're the one at my mercy."
She felt his muscles tense.
"I sincerely hope to find out."
His low rumbling response made her flush with heat. Would anyone really notice if they arrived late to the party? There were a few empty classrooms nearby where they could steal precious moments alone.
Draco seemed overcome by the same desire as he tugged her into a corner, shoving her back against the wall with a feverish kiss. Without the ability to see his movement, his action sent a thrilling current of electricity through her entire body. Each invisible touch of hands and lips like a crashing wave, sweeping her into his undertow.
Breathless, she muttered his name.
His forehead pressed against hers. "If I didn't take care of that now, I may have become a bit reckless during the party."
"I'm beginning to wonder if that's such a bad thing."
His smiling mouth met her lips again. "You will be the death of me, Hermione Granger."
She drew her wand and playfully jabbed it in his side, teasing, "a possibility that grows stronger every day." Stepping away from the wall, she felt for his arm and moved to his side. "Let's go. I'm curious to see what you serpents have in store for us."
He continued to lead her through the corridor and after turning a corner, she heard the shuffling steps and hushed voices of other students ahead. Draco stopped, shifting from his position at her side. Hermione cocked her head, trying to decipher his movements through sound, when he lifted her right hand.
"Hold still," he instructed as his hand fell away.
"What are y—"
The graze of his fingers returned to her wrist, fidgeting and fastening. The feel of smooth metal brushed against her skin. Using her other hand, Hermione yanked the blindfold over her head. Her eyes met his first—finding him looking smug and satisfied—before falling to her raised hand perched atop his own. Wrapped around her wrist was a delicate gold bracelet. In the center, a gorgeously dark marquise cut emerald was fixed between two clear matching diamonds. The emerald itself had to be nearly two karats, and the diamonds, while more modest in size, caught even the dimmest light, enhancing their brilliance.
"Draco," she exhaled. "This is beautiful, but I can't—"
"Yes, you can," he said firmly, meeting her eyes. "It's a gift. An infinitesimal one at that, as far as I'm concerned. So please…" a teasing curve formed on his lips, "…just say thank you and think of a creative way to show your appreciation to me later."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "have I mentioned you are a complete prat?"
He grinned and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles. "Come on." He tilted his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he led the way once again.
For the party Draco was dressed in a pair of exquisitely tailored black trousers, matching polished shoes, and a snug, charcoal knit over a white collared shirt. His hair was carefully disheveled—stylish, yet not rigidly preened. Hermione drank in his appearance greedily. From the strong definition of his back to his long, graceful stride, he cut an impressive figure.
She glanced ahead, noticing a quartet of students outside the entrance to the Room. They were dressed sharply as well, a couple removing blindfolds similar to hers, bouncing excitedly for their turn to enter.
Theo had been given the assignment of gatekeeper. He leaned against the wall in his usual unaffected manner, twirling his wand through his fingers as he recited the instructions for passing through the simple, unembellished wooden door.
"One at a time, enter with your wand in hand, but relaxed. You'll pass through a hallway that leads to another door. If you don't encounter any obstacles prior to reaching the door, proceed inside to the party."
A blonde Hufflepuff girl named Sophia went in first. The others, another Hufflepuff and two Slytherins, whispered to each other while they waited for their turn.
As she and Draco approached, Theo pushed himself from his inclined position to greet them enthusiastically.
"Draco, Hermione! I was wondering when you'd show up." He clapped Draco on the shoulder and turned to Hermione, lifting his eyebrows. "You certainly have a lovely glow about you tonight."
She tucked her chin bashfully, running her hands over a bronze velvet wrap skirt that hugged her curves. She'd paired it with a cream, boatneck long-sleeved top, and left her hair in loose waves around her shoulders. Along with her high-heeled shoes and new trinket around her wrist, the ensemble looked festive without being too prim. "Thank you, Theo. You look very handsome yourself."
The hunter green of his button-up—undone at the collar—brought out the mossy color in his dark eyes. He shrugged, mouth curving in a grin, "I aim to please."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Any trouble so far?"
"Not at all," Theo stepped back to open the door again for the next student in queue. "And there's less than a dozen people left on the guest list."
Hermione furrowed her brow and lowered her voice so only Draco and Theo could hear, "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but knowing there aren't any traitors among the upperclassmen doesn't exactly ease my mind."
Theo rolled his shoulders again, "at least we're narrowing down the list. And…" he added with a bright smile, "…we can let loose and have some fun for the night."
Hermione returned his smile, but could not ignore the nervous twist in her stomach. She watched quietly as the next two students walked through the door, mind spinning with possibilities to what lay beyond.
"Go ahead," she said to Draco when it was their turn.
"See you on the other side," he teased with a wiggle of his brows. "You can find me by the bar."
He lifted his hand in a wave to someone behind her before disappearing across the threshold. Hermione turned to see Blaise escorting two blindfolded Ravenclaws through the corridor. He bobbed his head to both her and Theo before helping the others remove their blindfolds and taking off to fetch more.
"Alright Hermione, go on in," Theo opened the door for her with a dramatic flourish of his free hand.
As soon as the door shut behind her, gas lanterns flared to life. Two at a time on either side, the next set lit as she took each step through the dim hallway. Narrow mirrors spaced along the deep green wallpaper reflected her curious expression back to her with wide eyes. Her heels clicked on the black and white checkered floor, but otherwise heard no sound. About halfway through the passage, a light sprinkling of enchanted snow fell from the ceiling positioned so high, she could not see it past the glow of the lanterns. The snowflakes kissed her skin in cold, feather-light brushes before melting away. The experience made her think of Alice going through the looking glass, or stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia.
Finally, she reached the next door. This one, like the previous, was made of dull wood, but in the center the Hogwarts crest had been carved in elaborate detail. She raised her wand, casting lumos to illuminate the familiar image.
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," she read under her breath. Once the words left her lips, the door swung open.
Immediately, her ears were assaulted by boisterous laughter, indistinguishable chatter, and clinking glassware all over a soundtrack of lively jazz music. Hermione's jaw dropped as she scanned the Room. So unlike any of its past formations, there were no windows, and the ceiling sat low overhead. Light came from golden sconces along the walls and three wide, sparkling chandeliers, all reflected by the tin-tiled ceiling. It was as if she'd stepped through a portal in time to a speakeasy in prohibition era New York City.
An art deco theme ran throughout in elegant fashion—from the patterned wallpaper to the geometric starburst tiles on the floor. Directly in front of her, across a bustling dance floor, was a long L-shaped bar made of beautifully carved wood, backed by shelves of liquor perched across a mercury glass mirror. She stifled a giggle when she realized the bar was manned by three of Hogwarts' house elves, dressed in old-fashioned collarless button-up shirts, suspender supported trousers and tiny bowler hats. From their tall barstools they performed clever tricks, spinning bottles and pouring drinks magically through the air, filling multiple champagne glasses in one go.
Four sets of round tables and chairs lined the space between the bar and dance floor, creating a buffer between full glasses and recklessly dancing bodies.
At the left end of the Room sat a raised bandstand, complete with a full set of instruments charmed to play the era-specific music that filled the air. On either side were a pair of swinging doors, marked Ladies and Gentlemen, which she presumed were the respective lavatories.
She walked farther inside, noticing to the right, along the wall were two curtain-framed lounge areas with various chaises, ottomans and low cocktail tables, each a jumble of all four House colors. On the stretch of wall behind her sat a row of curved leather booths, already filled with occupants drinking, playing card games and admiring the splendor around them.
"Hermione!" Ginny rushed up from the dance floor, her face flushed from the activity. "Isn't this amazing?"
She let her eyes travel around the Room again. "It really is. I can hardly believe we're in Hogwarts at all!"
"I know, right? Who knew Slytherins were into theme parties?" She laughed, still bouncing in time to the music. "Speaking of, I'm pretty sure I saw Malfoy at the bar with Neville. Want to go over with me? I could use a glass of water."
Hermione nodded, letting Ginny take her hand and pull her between their dancing classmates. Glancing around, she guessed about fifty students were in attendance, enough to fill the space without feeling cramped.
Indeed they found Draco leaning against the bar on one elbow, highball glass in hand, talking animatedly to Neville who sipped a butterbeer between his own contributions to their conversation.
"Sure, the Nimbus models have great handling, but you haven't felt what a broom can do until you've flown a Thunderbolt," Draco was telling Neville as the girls arrived. He stopped and turned to face Hermione, perching both elbows behind him. "So, what do you think, Granger?"
"I love it. Pansy seems to have a great sense for event planning." She smiled, then tipped her head to Neville in greeting, engaging him in polite chit-chat while Ginny ordered her water and Draco called for a glass of champagne.
"Are Harry and Ron here?"
Neville nodded, pointing across the room. "Harry's in that booth over there with Terry, Michael and Seamus. Last I saw Ron he was roaming around…" he shrugged, "…trying to be watchful, I guess."
"Ron will start to relax soon enough," Ginny added. "He'll get caught up in the atmosphere and then we'll have to be the ones keeping an eye on him."
Draco handed Hermione the champagne, speaking low in her ear, "don't forget to watch his hands, and others, too for that matter. You are looking particularly desirable tonight."
She took a sip of her drink to hide her smile.
Ginny eyed her knowingly before letting out a sigh. "You two are hopeless. Hermione, you owe me. Big." With that, she snatched Draco's glass from his hand, setting it on the bar top. She tugged at his sleeve, pulling him toward the dance floor. Turning over her shoulder as she dragged a confused Draco away, she called to Hermione, "finish up that drink and join us."
Catching on, Hermione complied, finishing the glass of champagne with a shiver. She smiled up at Neville, "want to dance?"
"Absolutely," he set down his mostly finished drink and took her hand, following the path Ginny carved through the other dancers.
Among the crowd, Hermione spied Luna and Theo, who twirled themselves closer to where Ginny and Draco slid back and forth in swing-dancing style. Her red hair flared out behind her with their movement, and when Draco curled her in and out for a spin, she bubbled with laughter.
Neville, a talented dancer himself, wouldn't allow them to be outdone. He led Hermione in practiced moves with ease. Loosened by the effects of her quickly finished drink, she found herself wrapped up in the music and rhythm. Surrounded by the laughter of her friends, and catching smiles from the handsome Slytherin who made her heart flutter, she felt her worries slip away.
In synchronized motion, the three pairs shifted partners. Ginny was swept up by Neville, Luna spun to Draco, and Hermione twirled in tight circles with Theo.
"You're good for him, you know," Theo said when he pulled her close for a spin. "I don't believe I've ever seen him truly happy, until now."
"You really think so?"
Theo craned his neck to look her directly in the eye. "Really. I know you're probably worried about how everyone will react…"
"It's not that," Hermione interrupted, turning her head for a moment to watch Draco and Luna rocking back and forth, she with a silly grin, and he with a proud smirk as they competed with Ginny and Neville for the most impressive maneuvers. "I don't want to be the wedge that drives him apart from his family."
"Ahh," Theo bobbed his head, face solemn. "I understand. But honestly, I don't think Draco is ever going to repair his relationship with his father. He won't be able to get over what he's done, and the position his decisions forced them into."
"What about his mother? Is there any hope there? She did help Harry, after all…"
Theo chewed on his lip. "Maybe. Surprisingly enough the woman does have a heart. I doubt she'd be willing to cut Draco out after coming so close to losing him. But she's also proud. So while she won't force Draco to bend to her preference, I wouldn't expect her to be happy about it. And you can be sure she'll put up a fight."
"I guess I can work with that."
Theo's face brightened with a renewed grin, "and I'll have your back. Narcissa always did find me rather adorable."
As the song drew to an end, Draco tapped Theo on the shoulder. "May I?"
"Of course." Theo bowed, turning to Ginny for the next dance.
The following song had a slower pace, although still upbeat enough to be lively. Draco held her at a respectable distance, however, as they began to sway together, his hand squeezed her hip suggestively. She pinched his shoulder in response. His answering smile was far from apologetic.
"I think Weasley's little scheme worked," Draco inclined his head toward the table where Harry was watching their group, his mouth slanted in an amused lift. "Maybe I should ask him to dance next?"
Hermione tried to cover her unladylike snort with her hand. "Now that would draw some attention for sure."
"I want to tell Pansy and Blaise tonight," he said, pulling her a bit closer with their turn.
"I might try to talk to Harry as well."
"If you're not ready, don't feel like you have to—"
She shook her head. "No, I want to. I don't like keeping secrets from my friends…or hiding how I feel."
Draco faltered. His face morphed into an expression Hermione could not decipher through it's raw intensity. The look suited him well. Well enough to raise gooseflesh on her skin and heat her blood.
"And how do you feel, Granger?"
Other than suddenly feverish? Her stomach did a summersault. Attempting to put into words how she felt about Draco was…complicated. But wasn't that the crux of it? What had grown between them did not happen easily. They had to work through serious emotional baggage, dispose previously conceived notions, and in their journey to cooperation, found the unexpected. A connection that ran so deep, a compatibility so true, Hermione couldn't image a future without it. Draco was her tether to the reimagined world she aspired to build.
He was her hope.
She smiled, tickled by the fact this boy who used to be a sodding nightmare, had become the man of her dreams.
"I feel…" she tightened her grip, drawing a deep breath, "…like I've finally found something I didn't even realize I was looking for…my time with you…well, it's brought me a sense of clarity. Of rightness. I feel like you and I belong…together."
Her eyes dropped to their feet, but swiftly, Draco angled forward into her line of sight and grasped her face between his hands. "Hermione…" his thick voice seemed to stick in his throat. He swallowed in attempt to regain his speech.
As his lips parted, his body jolted from impact of another.
"There you are!" Pansy barged into the space Draco formerly occupied. Her bobbed haircut matched perfectly with a shimmering emerald flapper dress, both elegant and a bit risqué. She grabbed Hermione by the arm, giving a dismissive wave to Draco. "You are coming with me, Princess."
Hermione wanted to dig her heels into the ground to stay and hear what Draco was preparing to say, but Pansy as it turned out, was surprisingly strong.
"What do you want?" She asked the persistent brunette.
"You and I are going to have a drink…or two," she grinned like a shark.
Draco, his face lifting from annoyance to amusement, offered Hermione an apologetic shrug as Pansy started to drag her away.
"To be continued, Granger."
. . . . . . .
