*I do not own Harry Potter.*
**Thanks, everybody, for your kind words and fun reactions! I'm determined to keep up this writing schedule, so look for another chapter next week.**
Chapter 14
Work. Focus. Head down.
If Hermione could get all the shit done on her desk just by obsessively chanting these words in her head, she would be the most productive witch of the century. Unfortunately, the reality is it's Friday, she told her best friend yesterday that she's sort of dating/occasionally snogging a famous former Death Eater, and the only thing that she can really concentrate on is how soft his lips were last night.
Thankfully, Ginny had been cool and collected when Hermione confessed about Draco. That may have had something to do with the fact that she was utterly trashed, of course, but Hermione would like to believe that her friend was open minded enough to find the idea of their unlikely pairing interesting, at least. She had managed to answer an hour's worth of intense questioning without betraying any of Draco's trust, which was difficult with Ginny's penetrating gaze directed at her, and by the time Ginny needed to floo home, she felt they had reached an understanding. Hermione would continue to keep Ginny in the loop as long as Ginny kept every detail to herself. No else could know yet.
Hermione blew out a huff of frustration at the papers on her desk just as she heard a knock at her door. In walks Ron, whose bright eyes and high color indicate he's already been enjoying the beginning to his weekend. She glanced at the clock before smiling at her friend. 6 PM, on the dot.
"Ready, Mione? Harry's picked out a muggle pub just a few blocks away from here." He grinned at her bashfully and held out her coat.
"And from the looks of it, you've already checked it out. I guess it's a good place? No reporters? No other magical friends?"
"Not a soul. It's a good thing you two know muggle London so well. Without you, Ginny and I would be insane by now. There's no hiding in magical London. And you would think after all these years…" Ron's eyes hardened a bit. It had been tough on all the members of the Golden Trio after the war – and that notoriety and loss of anonymity had spread to Ginny, Luna, Neville, and others, as well. But Ron had taken it the hardest. He spent so many years dreaming of fame and fortune while at Hogwarts, but the realities of this life were often exhausting.
"We've carved out a bit of peace for ourselves, haven't we?" Hermione asked, squeezing Ron into a side hug after she slid on her coat.
He resigned himself to a sigh and a nod. "We have. Thank Merlin. Hey, are you hungry? Want to share a plate of wings with me?"/
Hermione had to laugh. Ron's thoughts were never far from his next meal. At least some things were consistent.
Two pints in and she's feeling a little more loose, a little more free. The good natured laughter of her friends, the warm atmosphere of the pub, and the surprisingly delicious drinks and meal she just consumed all contributed to an overall feeling of contentment. The blustery weather she could see just outside the window helped add to the coziness she felt bubbling up inside her.
Her chosen family of Harry, Ron, and Ginny had gotten her through these difficult post-war years, and she found herself incredibly in that moment to have ended up with such solid, stalwart companions. Just being in their presence made her feel so safe and happy.
It is in this exact frame of mind that Hermione happens to look to her right and find herself immediately taken aback. There's a familiar face sitting in a dark booth in the back of the pub. Only the sight of Rita Skeeter lurking in the shadows would have prompted more surprise. He's in a muggle pub? Full of muggles?
It's moments like these – analyzing her feelings and reactions from afar, as though she's commentating on the moment instead of living it – that Hermione realizes just how much Draco has changed. And my, does that change look good. Draco is reading, peering intently at the book through his glasses. Unaware of an audience, he occasionally reacts to what he's reading with a wide variety of expressions. Watching him read - reading him, as it were - is totally fascinating.
It doesn't hurt that he's dressed in a suit. Three piece, though his jacket is laid out on the seat next to him. Hermione watches as he runs his hand through his hair and reaches for his drink.
As if on cue, her friends start standing up from the table. Scrambling a bit, Hermione rises up to kiss cheeks.
"G'night, Mione. We'll see you on Sunday, right?" Harry is staring at Ginny while he says this, clearly caring very little what her answer is. He's so besotted it's almost sickening.
"Ummm, Sunday. Ummm…."
Ginny helpfully pipes in, seeing the confused look that Hermione shoots her. "Yes, Sunday. You're coming over for dinner at ours. Bring someone if you like." Smiling conspiratorially, she nods her head imperceptibly to the back of the pub. Hermione smiles and then remembers herself, shaking her head ever so slightly at Ginny and turning to a very confused Ron.
"I don't have any bloody idea what all of that was about, girls, and I don't want to know. Let's go, Harry – they're keeping something from us and I have a feeling we don't want any part of it."
"Oh, don't be silly, Ron. Of course I'll be there on Sunday. Have a lovely start to your weekend." She smiles at her friends as they wave from the door, then waits a beat before making her way slowly to the back booth, casting an assortment of charms behind her.