Author's Note

Ok, here's the bonus Friday evening chapter. Another one (49) tomorrow morning, then Finite Incantatem on Sunday.

Chapter 48

"I'm so glad you could make it, Severus," Narcissa says.

"As if I had a choice. You sent me a Howler when I sent regrets."

Lucius looks at his wife, eyes wide, then turns to Severus. "Surely not. Cissy would never do something so…so…." He gives up trying to find words.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, love," Narcissa replies. "If the man who killed the Dark Lord snubbed us, our rehabilitation would be over before it had begun."

"You're right as usual, my dear."

Narcissa takes Severus's arm and gestures at an attractive witch in silver dress robes. "I'd like to introduce you to my cousin Sophie. She's visiting from France."

"Because getting the man who killed the Dark Lord into your family would do wonders for the rehabilitation project?"

"Well, yes, but I have an idea you may like Sophie. She's very intelligent, got top marks at Beauxbatons. She's pretty, don't you think?"

Severus looks at the witch in question, who is pretty, he supposes, but looks to be twenty-two at most. "When, this past June? I only just got myself out of one marriage to witch who's too young for me. I'm not about to enter into another just to promote your social aspirations."

"Miss Granger! I'm so glad you could join us."

At Lucius's words, Severus turns to find Hermione, dressed in the black satin robes he bought her to wear to Slughorn's party. Her hair is styled the same as it was then, and for a split second he's transported back to that night, when she was still his wife. Then it registers that she's on his godson's arm.

"Hello, Severus," she says.

He nods. "Miss Granger."

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment he thinks she's about to tell him off, but she composes herself and looks at Lucius and Narcissa. "Thank you for inviting me."

Then Draco leads her off into the crowd, and Severus is left standing there, aware that Cissy is saying something to him but it might as well be in Finnish for all he can make sense of it. He walks toward the bar, where he orders a Firewhiskey, then makes his way to the edge of the dance floor to torture himself watching Draco and Hermione waltz. They're a striking couple, and Draco dances well enough to make it appear as though Hermione does as well.

Almost as though she can feel Severus's eyes on her, Hermione looks at him over Draco's shoulder. There is sadness in her gaze, and what he would, if he did not know better, call the same desperate longing that he is concealing from his own expression.

"I shall speak to him, if you wish," Lucius says.

Severus turns. "Speak to whom about what?"

Lucius shakes his head. "I know he believes himself in love with her, but unless she feels the same way about him, he won't be happy with her."

"What makes you think she doesn't?"

Lucius smiles sadly. "Because I'm not blind."

"It's no use, is it, Granger?" Malfoy says when they've Apparated into the garden at her parents' house. At her cocked head, he explains. "Us."

"I've been trying to tell you that. Why have you suddenly come to your senses?"

"Because of the way you look at him."

"Whom?"

"Will you leave off insulting my intelligence, Granger? I realize I'm not quite as brilliant as your ex-husband, but I'm not an imbecile like Potter, either."

"The way you do sweet talk a girl, Malfoy. Is it any wonder you haven't swept me off my feet?"

"He loves you, too," Malfoy says.

Hermione stares at Malfoy, who does not wear the smirk that would suggest he is taking the piss. She shakes her head. "He doesn't."

"He does."

"As if he'd tell you," she scoffs. More to the point, why would Malfoy tell her?

"He didn't," Malfoy says, his gaze serious. "He told you."

"What are you talking about, he told me? He's never said anything of the sort."

"The night I took the potion. The Dark Lord was going to let Dolohov torture and kill Severus. Before he died, he told you he loved you." He pauses, watching her reaction. "And you said you loved him."

Hermione takes a shaky breath and studies Malfoy for a long moment. "You wouldn't make this up, would you? You swear it happened? He really said it?"

"I swear. I'll take a wand oath if you like."

Hermione brings her hands up as if in prayer, her lips touching her index fingers. She closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths. She squeezes her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. When she feels something touch her fingers, she opens her eyes and takes the handkerchief Malfoy is holding out. She wipes away the first tears, which are soon replaced by others, and begins to sob in earnest. Malfoy is the last person she wants to witness her breaking down this way, but there's nothing for it. When she's finally gotten herself together, she takes a shaky breath.

"You look like shit when you've been crying, Granger," Malfoy says. "Just as well you're only interested in my godfather. I really am too pretty for you."

"Git." She blows her nose, grateful that he's opted for humor rather than mockery or—worse—pity. "What happened to me that night?"

He hesitates. "The Dark Lord gave you to me." When she gasps, he continues quickly, "I didn't touch you. I swear."

"Does Severus know? What we both said?"

"No, but I'm going to tell him."

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "I can't believe you weren't going to tell us."

"Which House was I Sorted into, Granger?"

"Oh, my God. I will never understand you people."

"It wasn't my responsibility to tell either of you. All's fair in love and war, and all that. If Severus loved you and wanted you, he should have taken it upon himself to win you."

"Men! Wizards, Muggles, it doesn't matter. You're little better than cavemen, knocking a woman down and dragging her off by her hair."

"I bought you roses and chocolates, Granger. That's hardly dragging you by your hair."

"No, it isn't. And more importantly, you finally did the right thing and told me what Severus and I both said that night."

Malfoy shrugs. "It was also the smart thing. I wanted you, but I wanted you to want me, too. If you're in love with him, you'd never really be mine. So, you see, it really is self-interest after all."

"Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to revise my poor opinion of you, Malfoy."

"Perish the thought."