I Love(d) You (Once)

Chapter Twelve: Founders' Day

Astoria's presence coloured Draco's life in a rose-tint during the next week, and everything seemed new to him, even though he knew on an intrinsic level nothing much had changed. Yet, when the two of them were together in public, they acted in a way no one could deny a steady romance was blossoming. Perhaps it was the change in Draco's smile, for he smiled wider than he did after he had been declared innocent of his alleged Death Eater crimes.

Before, he was in a relationship – or a semblance of a relationship- with a girl who would never responded to his affections. It was a relationship where he had to keep his feelings discreet - so as to not bother her, but now he could freely express whatever he wished. With a person to respond and enjoy his feelings, the mysteries which had pressed against his mind like a constant craving abated, and he was content with just living. And it came to his notice, a great deal of his life was spent in the fine company of Pansy, Blaise, and Astoria, or maybe it was because he only had those three friends.

Pansy held her back straight and coughed to draw the men's attention because she liked being in the company of men, especially when they fought over her. Just the mere thought made her cackle in her sleep. But the conversation taking place had started to dull, for Draco and Astoria had turned to a topic Pansy had little interest in (it wasn't about her of course…).

"Ew, why would you want to know how to tell the difference between the Patil twins?" Pansy wrinkled her nose, deciding the best way to change the topic was to interject and cast her disapproval. She waved her dinner fork at Draco before stabbing it into her slab of steak.

"His job, Pansy, didn't you hear?" said Astoria.

"Who cares about the twins?" Pansy sighed, shaking her head. "I'm more interested in the party your company is planning, Draco."

"Yes, yes, we'll talk about that later," Draco chastised, and he waved her off, trying to stay on topic. "But back to my question first. How would you do it?"

"I still don't understand why you're asking me this."

"You rarely understand things, m'dear." Draco smiled at her.

"Oh, bite me." Pansy slapped Draco away before he could grab hold of her arm and Merlin forbid, bite her.

"Please?"he wheedled.

Pansy tapped her finger on her chin. "Parvarti dresses better and Padma's quieter?"

"What did I miss?" asked Blaise. He had slipped out from their private booth to flirt and… "She turned around and GAH! I almost spilled my drink."

"Draco's coming out of the closet," said Pansy with a straight face.

Blaise grinned. "Always knew you fancied me. I was half convinced that was the reason why you went after Granger. You know, so you can keep the whole theme of unfulfilled desires running."

"I like that he's devoted," Astoria quipped.

Draco groaned. "Don't remind me. I wasted three years of my life."

"Ahem." Pansy whacked Blaise on the shoulder. "He wants to know how to tell the Patil twins apart and he says it's for work, I kid you not."

"Oh, that's easy!"

"Really?"

Blaise held up his hands in front of him. "Tits. Padma's—"

Draco sighed. No way he could compare breast sizes with the Ackerly twins.

Blaise shrugged at his blond friend. "You know what dear ol' Pansy says, tits never lie."

"It's shoes, you prat!"

"Ow," cried Blaise as Pansy him over the bead with her purse for defiling her golden phrase. "Shit, Pansy, what do you carry in that bag of yours? Bricks?"

"It's a purse with my immediate necessaries," she replied.

Draco sipped his drink and sighed. Guess, Plan A's the only plan. He sure as hell hoped Melinda could tell the difference between them.

"So the party, it's going to be on Founder's Day," Draco began as he kept the end of his bargain, and allowed Pansy to take charge and change the topic to her favourite subjects: herself and parties. That was how their friendship worked, a bit of giving and taking.

(At the same time)

When one spoke of giving and taking, Hermione and Ron had to come to mind: Ron gave Hermione space, and she took it. That was also how their relationship worked.

"You're here," Ron said and then Hermione beamed at him. She'd 'taken time off' for two days and when she had come back home, he welcomed her with open arms; no questions asked. That was what she loved about Ron. He had absolute confidence in her knowing to do what was right and he just accepted her for whatever she did and it was nice.

"I'm back," Hermione announced, planting a quick kiss on Ron's lips on her tip-toes. The movement felt mechanical and awkward. Ron's eyes shifted and Hermione tried to give a small smile. The microwave beeped and the smell of "Mac 'n' Cheese' filled their humble abode.

"Glad you are." He finally said, and backed away to place two dishes onto the table.

You're the best," said Hermione, taking a beer out of the fridge for Ron and a bottle of juice herself. They were silent for a moment: Should I bring it up? Or just let it be? The terror which made her to run was no longer present after she spent late nights working on the blue-files with her team. She would not attribute it to anything but a momentary panic.

(Even if it was denial and she knew it.)

She would deal with whatever she thought (was certain) it was later. After she finished her probation. Having made her decision, Hermione turned into the kitchen and tried to strike up a conversation. "This is new." She swung open the metal-mesh cage around their microwave.

"Yeah," Ron said, looking up from his cell-phone to what she was pointing at. He placed down his phone and said, "After the oven explosion, I decided to buy one of the cages to protect our microwave from reacting with our charms. We can do without an oven, but imagine our microwave disappearing… how would we eat? Good thing I saw Seamus the other day. Managed to rope us a discount."

"Hmm." Hermione nodded with approval. She pulled her char in and picked up her knife and fork, feeling as though she were on auto-pilot. A sense of listlessness filled her while they ate in complete silence during their meal, but she couldn't really tell if something was off, for it only took five spoonfuls before Ron and her plates were clean. Even the sauce hadn't escaped their hunger. Hermione grimaced. Her stomach felt as empty as her heart. Ron's face faded into an uneasy look and she tried to smile, but the part of her brain which sent messages to her muscles must have taken a day off, for her lips felt stiff and uncooperative.

This was awkward.

But luckily for her, and utterly contrived for Ron, they were saved by a text message. "It's from Ginny," Ron said, not even reading off the screen of his phone. "She says she's bored and has three tubs of ice-cream in her fridge, we have to go over."

Hermione knew an escape route when she saw one. "Well we must oblige her!" Hermione slipped her arms through Ron's and they Apparated into the Potter's home.

Harry and Ginny greeted them with literal open arms, and Ron and Hermione flew into them for the comfort their friends offered. Compared to the silence of The Nest, the Potter's home glowed with chatter and smiles and Hermione and Ron spent a lovely time at the Potter's. Hermione laughed, snorted and giggled as everyone swapped stories on how their day had been, and their trip to the Potter's was enough to make her forget about her awkward dinner with Ron that night. Snuggled warm and cosy back at her home she realised, maybe it didn't have to get better than this. Maybe this was bliss. It was always awkward when she Returned. She could learn to live with this.

After all, hadn't she done so in the last two years?

(A few weeks later; Founder's Day)

"I need to nip to the tailors to grab my suit," Artie said to Hermione. "I'm done with this by the way."

"And with that," Hermione said, scanning their desk area. "We're pretty much done for the day. Go now, Draco and I can take care with the smaller things. See you tonight."

Artie sighed in relief when Draco gave a small nod and waved him away. After their temporary truce, Draco and Hermione had remained professionally cool with each other and worked like machines. Each day was better than the day before, in a way. Productivity wasn't as high as it was pre-Mar Debacle, but at least there was some cohesion.

When Artie first started, the pair had taken him under their wing, and they were beasts ravishing cases and business-deals. Hermione was a shark. Draco was Porky-Pig (not that Artie would compare Draco to a pig in his face). 'J-Just do it!'—and if just doing something didn't cut it, he'd do it shrewder, harder and meaner. Now they were mellower versions of their past selves. Perhaps Artie had become desensitised to the working environment, but Draco seemed to have lost some of his drive in the past few weeks, whereas Hermione appeared preoccupied, even though she was there at work before he arrived and opted to stayed long after he left.

"See you tonight," said Artie, but Draco was too busy chuckling to himself as he read a message on his phone. Hermione on the other hand, sighed into her cup of coffee.

It was three in the afternoon on a public holiday, so when Artie left the building and made his way along the streets, he bumped shoulders with people dancing and whirling about. Banners of red, green, yellow and purple flapped in the wind; their colours were a stark contrast to the grey trees and melted snow slush. Founders' Day heralded the first day of spring and to commemorate the day Hogwarts opened, was a cause of celebration. Of course, the festive activities paid little heed to schooling and education. In true celebratory fashion, Founders' Day was dedicated to drinking and partying.

"Here you go, mate! Happy Founders' Day!" Somebody shoved a mug of butterbeer towards him— as it was still too early to bring out the spirited goods in this part of town—and it spilt all over his hand.

"Thanks," Artie murmured. The man watched him with anticipation. Artie sighed and threw his head back, downing the entire pint within seconds.

"Yeah!" The man slapped his back for his efforts and before Artie could escape someone handed him another cup. After three butterbeers, the happy fever was starting to catch onto Artie, and he whistled a tune, carrying an extra spring in his step towards the tailors.

Then it occurred to him it might've been a bad idea to leave his two superiors in an empty building, all by themselves.

Without Artie as their point of communication and mediator (Draco was a believer of hard-love and would rather die than tell Artie he might have a special talent in this field; not that it hadn't become plain after he resolved some of Hermione and Draco's arguments before they got out of hand), their professional façade faded into sharp words towards one another.

It had begun like this:

"Surely you're not planning to take Melinda's offer on two million galleons," Hermione said with her lips pursed. "How are you going to explain that in the paper work? Leave it out? That seems a bit underhanded don't you think?"

Draco couldn't stop his snort. "Underhanded?" He let the word hang in the air and cast her a pointed look which suggested she, of all people… were not allowed to say such things to him—"It is perfectly acceptable for P&P to offer monetary compensation for services in the case."

"And you're going to explain giving two million galleons is justified," Hermione shot back.

"Well obviously the whole amount won't be coming from P&P. Tsk tsk, Granger," he said, and with an extra dose of venom in his voice he added: "I'd have thought you would know better."

Hermione could feel hot anger coursing through her veins. "Using personal resources is cheating!" she said, unwilling to entertain the possibility of losing because he was in a better financial position to offer bribery than she was.

"That's just how it is, Granger."

The conversation ended there, for a while, but only because Hermione had moved to Artie's table, and she had bent down from the chair to turn on their team's computer. Draco frowned as he watched Hermione click and type several characters, puzzled at the fact he won with such a terrible comeback, and confused by her strange reaction towards it. It's so unlike her to concede defeat like this…

Tap. Tap. Tap. The blue light from the monitor lit up Hermione's face as she frowned. "Aha! You are planning something! How are you going to come up with that amount of money? You only have 7422 galleons in your account right now, the rest is locked up in investment—"

"What the fuck, Granger! Did you just look up my financial details? How did you do that?"

"That's what happens you don't log out of your account," Hermione said as a matter of fact. It was unlike Draco to be so sloppy with things like these, but she supposed having no concept of the Internet until a few years ago, and having learn new technology meant slip-ups were more than likely to occur. "Consider your lesson learnt."

"Get off my account now!"

Hermione shrugged and obliged, feeling she might just have stepped over the line there, but even with that, despite her persistent questions and her top-of-class ability to read people, she got nothing more out of Draco. She could, however, rule out Draco borrowing money from his wealthy friends. He was someone to bend and slip around rules, but not one to do so with his pride.

(That night)

"You know how I feel about heights."

"You'll be fine, I'll be right behind you."

Hermione picked up her silver dress and hiked it over her knees as Ron put his arms around her waist and her heels made a clinking sound as she climbed onto iron railings. She leaned into Ron's chest.

"Does it feel like you're flying?" he murmured into her hair.

All she could feel was the icy wind blowing through her dress. The hairdo which had taken her over an hour to fix was by now, beyond repair. The boat hit a large wave and sea spray splashed all over her face as though a glacier had spat at her with frosty vengeance. Whoever had decided to add the scene in the movie couldn't have possibly known how couples he had condemned in the process… She was going to tell Ron this when—

Hermione turned her head to see Draco scowling at the pair in an iconic pose. He turned on his heel and made his way back down onto the top deck. And what is the plan? Hermione abandoned her position and bounded after him as he disappeared into the ship. Ron followed behind Hermione, albeit at a normal walking pace; he quite enjoyed being on the deck of the ship.

A doorman in a red coat, complete with golden buttons and buckles opened double doors and Ron stepped into the ball room. A grandfather clock by the entrance toiled as he entered and he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the influx of light as it had been dark outside. He saw a woman stood beside Hermione and Draco, preening in a china-red gown. Hermione caught sight of him and waved him over. "This way!"

Ron's attention had surrendered itself to the woman perched on Draco's arm, and he scowled at the blond man. Ron motioned Hermione towards him and stepped a few paces back from Draco and his partner. "Who's that?" he whispered, nodding over to Draco's date, unable to keep his eyes off her.

Hermione was more amused than upset at Ron's attention on the beautiful woman before them, and she grinned like she'd been let in on an enormous joke. "You've met her. Try and guess!"

"I don't think I've met her, I mean—" he said with a rush, "Her face is so distinctive." He hated himself for caring about another woman and for wanting to know. "She does look familiar. But I can't place where I've seen her before… Oh!" he said as he snapped his fingers.

"Who do you think she is?"

"Is she one of Fleur's cousins? She is, isn't she? I must've seen her at the wedding!"

"Weaselbee."

The woman beside him gave Ron a smile. Ron ignored Draco and offered the woman a handshake. "I'm Ron Weasley. What's your name? I believe we've met at Fleur's wedding. Bill's my brother, that is, if you couldn't tell." He patted his red hair. "Not that I'm saying you couldn't figure out my hair is red on your own—that would be stupid. I'm not saying you're stupid though."

Draco burst into laughter. To Ron's immense horror, the woman cackled along with him.

"He thinks you're part-Veela!"

In his defence, thought Hermione. Pansy's newly dyed blonde hair would confuse some people. And she does look stunning tonight.

"Freckle-face, it's me."

Ron looked as though someone had just dropped a spider's nest on his head. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"The one and only!"

"That's impossible," he cried. "No amount of magic could have fixed your face!"

"Who said anything about magic?"

"You!" Ron spluttered.

"Part-Veela!" hooted Pansy.

"Oh, Ron!" Unable to help herself, Hermione started laughing, even if it was at her boyfriend's expense and in front of people she despised. Ron's face turned redder than a sun burnt tomato but he soon saw the hilarity of the situation and began laughing along.

"Inconceivable!" said Ron through gasps of breath, holding his hands up in the air. He shook his head as though he had just been whacked hard over the head with a bat. "And with that awful mistake, I'm going to get myself a drink." He gave Hermione a small hug before he left their small party.

Pansy grabbed onto the crook of Draco's arm. "Where's Astoria?" Pansy asked. "If she dares to miss the party I took so long in planning…"

Draco smiled easily at the mention of her name. "She did take a bit of convincing, but ah…"

Hermione turned her head to the direction Draco and Pansy were looking in. She didn't remember ever bumping across Astoria in her school days; they were a few years apart after all. She was intrigued to find out just who had gotten Draco Malfoy to shout his proclamation of love in a very public place.

"She's here," said Draco, and Hermione turned her attention to the man as he spoke.

Something... something's wrong with his face! It was impossible for Hermione to describe the look of pure adoration on Draco's face, and to Hermione was used to Draco's grimaces, frowns and smirks, it was frankly scaring her. Hermione knew she could be poetic at times, and she could describe only describe the expression formed on his face as he watched Astoria walk towards them, as created by a deity, who had crumbled up stars and placed them into his eyes. Astoria wasn't doing a thing differently from the rest of the people in the room, and her outfit, unlike Pansy's was not attention-grabbing. Except, with every light step in her flowing dress, as she made her way alongside the wall, she was the one holding Draco's smile together.

More than the dress Astoria donned, more than her hair or her naturally beautiful features, it was Draco's reaction at seeing her which made Hermione feel as though she were staring at the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Hi there," Hermione said, almost shy, and Astoria graced her with a kind smile.

A smile was all Astoria could manage. For her, it was one of the strangest meetings. She was now face to face with someone who Draco had held in his highest regard. The discomfort between Draco and Hermione was plain to her. She flicked her eyes over to study Draco's face, who had caught her studying Hermione. His head gave the slightest tilt towards the brunette and his lips curled in disdain.

Rather than being naturally angry at each other, it seems as if they're forcing themselves to hate each other, she observed. There was something ridiculous in the way the two, who were convinced they hated each other, acted.

"Delighted to meet you," Astoria finally said to Hermione. "I've heard a bit about you."

Hermione shifted from one foot to the other. She wondered exactly what she heard! "I'm not that bad," she said.

"I know," Astoria replied carefully. Beside her, Draco and Pansy were nudging one another and were speaking in hushed whispers; their eyes surveying the numerous gambling tables before them and seemingly in an intense discussion.

"That's… good to know," she replied. Hermione did not miss Draco deliberately turning his back towards from her, and she scowled.

"Let's do it," he said to Pansy. "Time to start our plan."

Pansy cracked an evil grin, and they went in opposite directions. Draco to the bar; Pansy to the tables.

"What are they planning?"

"Draco didn't tell you?" Astoria asked.

"No…" Hermione said, "Anything I'm meant to know?"

"No. I suppose," Astoria said, and they began engaging in what could only be described as polite but uncomfortable conversation. There was obviously a tension (by the subject matter of Draco) hanging over their heads, and when Hermione and Astoria had ran out of pleasantries and safe topics both women smiled at each other, no better understood by one another than they had initially been. Such was the caveat of small talk.

"Enjoy the evening, Miss Granger," said Astoria. Hermione smiled back at her, wondering if it would be impolite if she took off her high heels and did a runner. Luckily, for Hermione, Astoria headed towards Blaise who had beckoned her towards the drinks table. This left Hermione alone, and she sighed, feeling slightly out of place. Harry and Ginny, both invited – along with past and current and prospective clientele – declined the invitation in lieu of spending the night at The Burrow where everyone but Ron and Hermione had gathered to have some quality family time. She would have gladly skipped out of the Founder's Day party if she had been allowed to. Spending it with family was much better than a cruise ship with drink bars, chandeliers, dance floors and gambling tables.

Though Hermione supposed it was an experience; she had envisioned gambling casinos to be silent and dark; a place with air redolent of smoke and cheap booze. Instead, slot machines made high-pitched squawks above the low buzz of chatter as gamblers took delicate sips from rainbow-coloured martinis at a bar which ran across the length of the floor. The hall was well lit, and near the bar stools were mini-stages, where people laughed and cheered as a variety of acts were performed on them… there she saw Draco and Neat-Jon laughing together. When Draco caught her gaze, he placed his legs over the last empty seat.

Plunk! Across the room Pansy threw a handful of green chips from her black purse. Ron was now nowhere to be seen, so Hermione decided to watch Pansy play—hoping to pick up the game, purely for an educational perspective of course!

Blood-red nails slapped the side of the table as Pansy nagged at the player seated beside her to bet more. Everything about her was loud and attention-drawing. "Go big or go home!" she said as she arranged her green chips into small towers for easy counting.

Hermione gasped at the stash in front of Pansy. "Aren't those chips worth twenty-five galleons each?"

"They sure are."

Money should be spent more sensibly! Feeling out of place but with nothing better to do, Hermione sat back to watch Pansy burn through her trust fund.

(Across the room)

The curtain on the stage a few meters from Draco's right started to rise and Neat-Jon clapped when a skimpily dressed woman wandered onto stage.

"Padding!" Neat-Jon nudged Draco with a stupid smile on his face and he burst out laughing when she began pulling swathes of cloth from her chest. A crowd, mainly of men, gathered around her. Draco's mood lightened at the sight of that. When he asked Pansy if she could re-do something like the Christmas Party last year, Pansy said she was going to organise something even bigger and better. He snorted and shook his head.

"Hm?"

"Just appreciating what Parkinson's done."

"She's good."

"Glad you like her."

"No," said Neat-Jon, pointing at the woman in front. "She's good at what she does. Watch."

Draco tilted his head and watched a volunteer go up onto the stage. The lady gave him a cage and he examined it. He gave a nod before sitting down again. Draco clapped along with everyone who was watching.

"Hocus pocus!" She waved the (obviously fake) wand in the air.

"No matter what generation, wizards enjoy taking the piss out of Muggles don't they?" Draco said, shaking his head. The woman pulled the cloth off the cage and there was a collective gasp. The bird was gone. Genuinely, intrigued, he leaned forward and pointed at the stage. "How did she do that?"

Neat-Jon gave an amused shrug and a wry grin. "Magic."

"She didn't have a wand on her and I'm pretty sure one of the people closer to the stage would have seen something. She couldn't have used a charm."

"That's Muggle Magic for you, turning something into nothing," Neat-Jon said, and he leaned forward, though Draco wasn't sure whether he was trying to figure out how the woman did it, or getting a better look at the woman herself.

The magician replaced the cloth onto the cage and repeated the first step, and she invited the crowd to chant the incarnation with her.

"Hocus Pocus!" came the crowd, even louder this time. With a grand flourish, she removed the cloth and the bird appeared again, in the cage, its wings beating against the bars.

"Impossible!" he stuttered, and the audience let a loud and burst into stunned applause. Performance over and successful, the woman bowed and paraded across the stage, soaking in all the admiration and awe.

Neat-Jon clapped so hard his hands turned white and only stopped his applause when she disappeared off the stage. "Muggle Magic takes away objects and then restores everything back the way it was. Beats normal magic, don't you think?"

"How did she do it?" Draco scratched his head in wonder. A technician hefted the cage up onto his shoulder and followed her out. Maybe I could go backstage and check it out later on...

"And that my friend, is the beauty of it. Magicians show you everything you're supposed to know, so if you can figure it out in time, you win. Otherwise…" he shrugged and gave Draco a smirk. "You're the fool."

(Three martinis later)

Three martinis later, Pansy was up twice of what Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes made in half of a good year. She yawned and she pushed a mountain of chips into the betting circle. The dealer, used to big bets by this time of the night, winked at her and wished her luck.

"You can do it, lovely lady!"

"You know if you kiss me, you're bound to get an incredible hand…"

Somewhere between Hermione's first and second martini, Pansy had built herself an audience and now a crowd surrounded her, urging her to bet and play on. Ron had met back up with Hermione, but was subsequently swept away in conversation with those still enthralled with his infamous recounts of the War. Hermione preferred not to be around when he talked about the past, for she wanted to dissociate herself from the War Heroine image which often worked against her during her handling of the cases at work.

Pansy who flourished under attention, gave a ditzy giggle when she won again. She pulled in the round's chips towards her chest. There were so many of them, she had stopped bothering to stack them.

Well on her way into the fourth martini, it came to Hermione, and in her rapidly declining state of sobriety, she had figured out Draco's Grand Plan. She'd been staring at it for the whole time. Gambling. Draco Malfoy was planning to raise funds by gambling.

Hermione gave a huge guffaw and a few people turned to look at her. "Unbelievable," she said as she moved away from the gambling tables, suddenly disgusted at the spectacle. On her way out, she spied Ron in the centre of a massive group. His animated expressions and the awed looks on people's faces meant the story had yet to finish.

There were a few people outside, mostly those like her, were starting to feel the effects of the night. When she saw the two people leaning against the ship railing were Artie and Martha, she went to greet them.

"Artie, we need to step up our game," she announced.

"Now? Unk. Kkkkkk." Artie slurred. His bowtie was loose and it hung on one side of his neck and he'd lost his jacket. In the morning he'd sincerely regret downing the extra shot because Ellen had egged him on. Said girlfriend had fallen asleep in his arms before she retired in one of the cabins.

"Artie! This is serious. It's not going to look good if we lose this case to him."

"Chill out," said Martha, downing her glass. She looked much more presentable by Artie, but she beamed at her in a way only alcohol could make you smile. "Draco's got a plan and you should trust him to come through. But why the hell aren't you part of it? I thought you two were like the Three Musketeers who came in a pair."

Artie snorted. "They had a huge falling out. Surprised you didn't notice." He made eyes at Martha. "It's all hush-hush, shhhhhhhhhh," said Artie. "But on the night they got demoted, they pushed the emergency button on the elevator and spent some time together alone."

Martha stage-whispered and stroked her imaginary beard. "Suspicious! The plot thickens."

"We're having a competition to see who can show get the results first, that's all." Hermione scowled. Her eyes narrowed and she decided it would be best to go back inside, for she remembered the expression on Draco's face just before she went out for fresh air. For someone who appeared to have been partying for the better portion of the night, Draco appeared to have done limited socialising with Astoria, who he would logically choose to spend the most time with, clients and networking or not … and the way he stretched out his leg across the chair (even though it was to deter her from joining him) and the tiredness of his face looked like he had been… working.

Curiosity plagued Hermione as she trailed back to Pansy's table, and her suspicions mounted when she saw Draco standing behind Pansy. Pansy, too busy flirting, did not notice Draco's presence and she blew kisses to everyone around her. She turned to the man on the right and batted her lashes. "I feel like something sugary but with heaps of alcohol. Be a dear and get me something, will you?"

Maybe this is all an elaborate scheme to woo Pansy, Hermione pondered. That was why Astoria wasn't around and he chose to stick by Pansy. Come to think of it, the whole night he had always positioned himself in the line of Pansy's sight. It was so he could look at her, and she could look at him. And the drink; why else would Pansy ask one of her suitors to get her a drink if it weren't to flaunt her many suitors in front of his face? Pansy only had a few drinks, but each time she asked for one, Draco was near the table.

Now that she thought about it, it was obvious. Hermione gave a smug smile.

At least she was still attune to the inner workings to Draco's mind.

And the plot thickens, dun dun dun.

Though I'm not completely satisfied with the chapter - in particular, the obscene length, here it is, and I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for all those who have favourited, followed and reviewed. Until next time!