"All right. I'm heading out. You're sure you're OK with everything?" Lavender came out of the back room at Cerise, coat on and handbag on her shoulder.
"I think so!" Hermione turned from where she was straightening a stack of fluffy jumpers. "Extra galleons in the safe, code is 631. Returns with receipt can have cash back. Without receipt it's store credit. And if someone wants alterations by New Year's Eve, they'll have to pay for a rush order."
"Excellent! And I should be back in an hour, although you never know with the queues being what they are." Lavender shuddered delicately. She paused and looked Hermione up and down. "That really does look well on you."
Hermione smoothed her palms over the infamous cashmere jumper dress. "I can't believe you convinced me to wear it."
"Can't you? You've sold three today!" Lavender laughed. "Wait until Cerise hears." She wheeled toward the door. "I'm off," she called, waving a gloved hand.
"See you soon!" Hermione waved back as a gust of freezing cold air blew into the shop, guttering the fragrant candles that lit the small space.
Hermione looked around, checking to see if anything else needed neatening up. It was her second day in the shop and, while she didn't like it quite as well as the cafe in San Cipriano, she had to admit it was fun—and especially entertaining to watch Lavender work. She smiled as she stepped over to adjust a row of dresses. Lav's intuitive empathy meant she knew just how to make people feel good and, as a result, buy a lot of clothes.
Hermione drifted back toward the till, fluffing a throw pillow on the velvet settee in the small sitting area as she passed. She was so glad for Lavender that she'd found this work. Cerise obviously knew what a talent she had too—Hermione's eye went to the rack of gorgeous ball gowns that took pride of place in the center of the room. Lavender had told her they'd come directly from the buying trip to Berlin she'd been on earlier in the month and that Cerise had let her select most of the styles. They'd been flying off the racks since Hermione had arrived despite their shockingly steep price tags.
Hermione leaned on the counter and looked out the windows at the lowering sky and twinkly lights of the crescent. Shoppers rushed by, heavily laden, warm hats low on their foreheads and breath blowing clouds. The year seemed to be going out with a cold, dark blast and Hermoine was suddenly very glad to be in this snug nook, making some much needed gold before returning to school.
She smiled down at the counter, noting a small spot on the polished surface. Ducking down to retrieve the soft cloth kept under the till to fix just such blemishes, she heard the tinkling bell on the door ring softly. She straightened with a warm smile, which froze and then slowly slid off her face as she saw who was standing in the doorway.
Narissa Malfoy.
The door had bumped softly closed before Hermione found her voice.
"Welcome," she croaked, then cleared her throat. "Welcome to Cerise," she said, stronger this time.
Narcissa Malfoy betrayed very little, but stood for a few seconds near the door before gliding forward.
Hermione opened her mouth again, realizing how very little she had in the way of experience or tools that would be useful in interacting with someone when she had: A) Been tortured on their drawing room floor; and B) Slept with their son.
Of course, her brain chose that moment to serve up a very graphic memory of Draco fucking her against the wall in the San Cipriano flat, his mouth on her neck and his fingers on her—
She swallowed. "May I help you find something?"
Narcissa sniffed and Hermione felt a flare of anger. Customer service be damned, she wasn't going to allow herself to be treated poorly.
But it seemed Narcissa's disdain was directed in another direction.
"Malkins has spoilt my order for New Year's Eve robes and I was told that this shop," —she looked around with a faintly incredulous air— "may have a suitable alternative."
Hermione forcibly suppressed all x-rated images and jangly feelings and walked out from behind the counter. "Yes," she said. "We have a variety of options." She moved to a rack at the side of the room. "Traditional robes are here." She grasped the hanger of an intricately embroidered midnight blue set and held it up as Narcissa's eyes swept over it.
"And of course," Hermione continued, a small devil on her shoulder capering the tiniest bit. "There are more modern formal dresses here." She replaced the robes and stepped to the rack in the middle of the room, holding out the corner of a shimmering gold gown she suspected Narcissa would die before wearing.
Narcissa's eyes dipped to the dress, then flicked back up to Hermione. "Bring me the black and the midnight blue robes," she said. "I presume this is the fitting room?" She gestured to the softly draped chamber at the back of the shop.
"Uh, yes. Please proceed." Hermione held out a gracious hand. "And would you like a glass of elf wine or chilled water?"
Narcissa looked at her as if she smelled something off. "No," she said. "Thank you."
Hermione rolled her eyes internally as she pulled the blue robes and a similar black set off the rack and stowed them on sleek brass hooks in the fitting chamber. "Please," she gestured again. Narcissa stepped close and her eyes traveled over Hermione as she passed. Hermione noted that they were palest blue, rather than the true grey-silver of Draco's. She also noted the fineness of Narcissa's bone structure and the perfection of her skin. She would be spectacularly beautiful if she didn't look so pained all the time.
Hermione moved to pull the fitting room curtain shut then went to a shelf and started re-folding things until a swishing sound heralded Narcissa's emergence from the dressing room.
"The dais there is good for viewing the garment from all angles." Hermione motioned to a small raised platform surrounded by flattering mirrors.
Narcissa stepped up, lithe in the heavy drape of the black robes. Although they almost obscured her in a way—they certainly made her look stiff and formal.
Of course, that was probably what she wanted.
Approaching carefully, Hermione raised questioning eyes to Narcissa's in the mirror, but Narcissa was looking at the rack in the middle of the room. She looked back and Hermione raised her brows.
"Bring me the black one," Narcissa said shortly, making a sharp motion at the muggle ball gowns. She stepped down off the dais as Hermione drew the most conservative of the dresses down and brought it over. Narcissa stood to the side, eyes averted while Hermione hung it alongside the deep blue robes.
"The lines on this one are very beautiful," Hermione ventured, running a hand down the dress's long column and extravagantly ruffled skirt.
Narcissa made an indistinct noise of dismissal and Hermione ducked out, irritation sparking. She went behind the till and straightened return receipts, rather than give in to it, and after a moment the dressing room curtain rustled and Narcissa stepped out again.
Hermione couldn't prevent the faint gasp that came from her throat.
If Narcissa had looked beautiful in the robes, she was completely stunning in the gown. Her figure was highlighted to sleek perfection by the dress's skillful cut, the plunging back showing off her elegant shoulder blades and small waist—while the velvety black of the bodice created a gorgeous contrast against her platinum hair.
Hermione moved closer. In the short amount of time she'd worked in the shop, she had definitely observed one thing. When a person liked the way something looked, they lingered—posing, turning, looking at it from every angle—and when they didn't, they couldn't get out of it fast enough.
Narcissa was lingering.
Hermione watched her turn this way and that, brush the fabric at her hip, twist her hair slightly up off her shoulders. Until she saw Hermione watching her and her eyes narrowed in the mirror.
"Well?" she asked.
Hermione stepped over. "Stunning," she said, shrugging slightly.
Narcissa's gaze slid to the rack of dresses again.
"I do think," Hermione said, and Narcissa's gaze snapped back to hers. "That the ice blue would also be lovely. It's more delicate, ethereal," she said, using words she'd heard Lavender use to describe the garment in question. She took it off the rack and held it up.
Narcissa paused. "All right," she said after a moment. "Bring it in. And the other blue." She flicked her brows toward another style, off the shoulder and quite fitted. She went behind the curtain. "And the cream."
Hermione smiled a bit smugly as she gathered the dresses then passed them through a small aperture in the curtain. She walked back out to the shop, approaching the wall of handbags and accessories and checking that they were orderly, so pleased with herself that she was caught by surprise when the bell on the door tinkled again.
Hermione looked over her shoulder, her breath stopping as something in the flash of dark, arrested movement in the corner of her eye alerted her to just who had entered the shop. She breathed out slowly before she turned around to see Draco, hand still on the doorknob behind him, eyes fixed on her, lips parted in surprise.
Hermione felt her arm, still reaching for the base of a handbag high above her head, drop to her side.
Draco closed his mouth and opened it, but didn't move or speak.
Hermione couldn't stop her eyes going over him, taking him in. She hadn't seen him so formal, so magical-looking, in a long time. He was striking in black robes, a glimmer of silver threadwork at his wrists and on his high, standing collar. His cuffs were crisp white, his shoes polished black and his hair was shorter and swept back from his face. Hermione saw the glint of a heavy ring on his finger as he finally moved his hand from the doorknob.
He cleared his throat. "Is my mother here?" he asked, his voice deep and hushed.
"Yes." Hermione stood dumbly as Draco walked slowly forward, his robes parting to reveal slim black trousers, beautifully fitted to his long legs. Bloody gorgeous, bloody gorgeous. Her mind chanted in a loop of idiot attraction until it broke off to helpfully remind her of the time in the hallway in San Cipriano again. She felt her face flood with heat and saw him notice. Saw the slight tilt of his head.
"Erm, would you like to sit down and wait for her?" She forced her mouth into speech and indicated the velvet settee. No way she was offering him bloody elf wine, though.
"Draco, is that you?" Narcissa's modulated tones floated from behind the dressing curtain.
"Yes, mother." He dropped gracefully into the center of the sofa, sat back and crossed his legs at the ankle. Hermione tried very hard not to look at him, instead busying back to the fitting area, where Narcissa was just emerging again.
This time she had a slight smile on her face.
"Oh, ma'am!" Hermione couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth. Narcissa was truly a vision. If the black dress had been stark and elegant, this one was like a fairytale come to life, the icy blue setting off Narcissa's pale colouring and the tightly fitted mermaid cut enhancing her lovely figure.
"Yes, I quite like this one," Narcissa murmured, ascending the dais and twisting to observe herself from all angles. "Draco?"
Hermione turned to see Draco merely raise his brows. She frowned at him out of reflex and watched the corner of his mouth tilt up. "You're both looking at me the exact same way," he said. "And it's very nice, mother."
"'Very nice'," Hermione muttered, reaching down to fluff the hem of the skirt like she'd seen Lav do before. "It's splendid."
She thought she heard the faintest snort from above her, then Narcissa said quietly, "There was a dress in the window…"
"The silver?" Hermione straightened and glanced over her shoulder at the fantastic concoction that was currently starring in the 'winterscape' display to the right of the door. One shouldered, with a very high slit in the leg, it was heavily beaded and Lav had told Hermione each bead had been hand-placed. It was fantastically expensive.
"I'll fetch it," Hermione said, "while you try the other two." It would take some tricky wandwork to get the gown off the mannequin, but she had just remembered the small commission she'd been told she'd make on all sales over a certain sum. If she sold the dress in the window, she'd hit it in one.
She stepped toward the display, smiling slightly at the thought of more galleons, but came to a halt when she saw that long, black-clad legs were blocking her path. She looked down at Draco expectantly to see him looking at her, or more accurately at her body in the cashmere dress. The almost-smile of earlier was gone and his face was tight, his eyes dark slate under creased brows. She saw them slide over her person and realised he was probably noticing for the first time exactly what she was wearing.
A flash of something came over her, but she flicked it away with a toss of her head. He was bloody engaged and she had a right to do whatever she wanted in broom closets.
She cleared her throat slightly in an 'excuse me' tone and Draco's eyes met hers.
But he didn't move his legs.
Oh bloody hell. She stepped one booted foot very deliberately over him, but stopped halfway, caught in his gaze and a sense of being in a familiar position.
God, god, god, he was gorgeous, the shop's low lighting throwing the angles of his face into dramatic relief. His posture was slightly insouciant, a touch petulant—he looked like a brooding prince with his fine, black robes thrown open. Hermione could just picture a crooked crown sitting on his platinum hair.
She could also picture herself stepping closer, straddling him, kissing that infuriatingly beautiful mouth.
Shit, it was just like the bookshop in San Cipriano—the back room—when she'd pushed him down on another velvet sofa and he'd looked up at her and said, "Come here."
Her eyes met his, glittering under his lashes, and she knew he was remembering too, saw the heat wash up his neck and over his jaw. And then she was picturing herself kissing him there too, right on the sharp line of demarcation, kissing him everywhere. She took a breath in and he made a movement (Up? Toward her?) just as another throat-clearing sound intruded on her consciousness.
Oh god, Narcissa.
Hermione ducked her head and finished stepping over Draco's legs, going to the window and becoming engrossed in carefully extricating the silver dress from the display. When she'd got it down, she floated it back to the dressing area, taking a different path through the shop this time.
She didn't even allow herself to look in Draco's direction as Narcissa went back behind the curtain to exchange the cream gown (also breathtaking) for the silver. Instead, she hovered in the changing area, spelling nonexistent bits of lint from the carpet into a discreet rubbish bin.
Finally the curtain flung open and again and Narcissa emerged, this time her expression reminiscent of certain smirks Hermione had seen on Draco's face. And the look was justified, because this dress was the most stunning of all. Sinuously sexy, it clung to her form like a shimmering second skin, highlighting her breasts almost erotically. Her leg peeking from the long, high slit was perfectly shaped, as was her one, dramatically-revealed shoulder.
Hermione just stared with her mouth hanging open until she heard a voice from behind her.
"Father's not going to like it." Draco was leaning, arms crossed, against the counter.
Narcissa met his eyes in the mirror. "Oh, I think he'll quite like it," she said.
Hermione dearly wanted to laugh, but smothered it, her gaze flying to Draco's reflection and catching his massive eye roll. When he saw her looking, he raised his brows slightly as if to say, 'What?" She shook her head the slightest and redoubled her efforts not to snort.
When Hermione focused on Narcissa again, it was obvious she'd taken in their silent exchange, her elegantly arched brows a little high. But then she smoothed a hand over the dress and turned a last time to view the back.
"Have you made a decision?" Hermione asked, forcing her brain back to her job, thinking there really was no contest. The silver dress was made for Narcissa.
Narcissa blinked at her. "Yes. I'll take them."
"All of them?" Hermione tried not to sputter, but didn't quite manage it.
Narcissa nodded once and stepped down. "Please arrange payment with Ms. Granger, Draco. Just a draft on my personal Gringotts account."
Hermione, after standing gormlessly for a moment, started forward and retrieved the first four dresses from the changing room, mind whirring with calculations of what the total would be for all of them.
Lav was going to fucking lose it.
She approached the counter and looked up as Draco stepped over. He rested his hands on the pitted marble and for a moment it was so like the cafe in San Cipriano that her heart throbbed.
"I'm assuming you'd like these delivered this afternoon?" she asked.
"If that can be arranged." Hermione felt his deep voice to her traitorous toes. She didn't think they'd stood this close in a long while and looking up at him, his eyes lighter now, was also… stimulating.
Damn it.
"Yes, absolutely," she said, writing, "Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," on the heavy parchment of an order form. "And if you'll just put the account instructions here." She indicated the proper line on the form and then tried very hard not to watch his long fingers or the way his hair fell over his forehead as he inked a series of numbers and letters in a bold, familiar script.
Narcissa appeared and Hermione ducked into the changing room to retrieve the silver dress, then calculated the total, trying not to let her giddiness show as she read out the final figure. Narcissa, sedate again in her traditional robes, merely nodded and placed a hand on Draco's arm.
"I saw a necklace in the shop next door. You'll finish here?"
Draco's "yes" held surprise and Hermione felt herself tense.
"Ms. Granger." Narcissa inclined her head regally before turning to sweep out the door.
The shop bell tinkled as Hermione raised her eyes to Draco's face. He was looking at her again, his palms splayed flat on the counter and his eyes searching. He took a breath and Hermione felt herself gather.
But then he just let the breath out and looked down and to the side.
Hermione couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice as she folded the order form and placed it in a neat stack under the counter. "Will there be anything else?"
Draco shook his head and pivoted away, but then paused and turned back. "Thank you," he said, his voice now familiarly raspy. "I think she's very happy."
Hermione's reply was lost as the door tinkled open again and Lavender's bright tones rang out. "What happened to the window? Did someone try on the silver dress—" Lav whirled around, arms full of packages, then went quiet as she took in Draco's presence at the counter.
Her eyes became flinty. "Draco," she said.
"Lavender." He inclined his head. Lavender's expression didn't change.
"Thank you, again," Draco said after a beat, nodding to Hermione before striding past Lav and out the door.
Lavender stared at Hermione and Hermoine stared back for a good thirty seconds.
"OK, what the fuck just happened?" Lavender started forward.
"Well." Hermione blinked several times. "I sold the silver dress."
⁂
"The single biggest one-time sale in the shop's history! AND we had so many posh purebloods coming in and buying things over the next two days, that we've completely blasted through all Q4 sales projections." Lavender tipped back and chortled, somehow managing to hold her flute of champagne aloft and steady.
Hermione laughed. "I still can't believe it either."
"Tell me about Draco, Lav." Ginny thrust her empty wineglass toward Lavender, who took up the champagne bottle and began pouring. "Hermione's been annoyingly mum."
"Oh, Draco. I didn't see much of him. But what I did..." Lavender shook her head. "As much as one of the most regal boys I've ever seen could have puppy dog eyes?" She cocked her head.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Lav.
"It's true!" Lavender held out her hands.
"Tell me again what he looks like." Olivia grabbed the bottle of champagne and upended it over her glass. "I feel so out of the loop when you Hogwarts girls get together. Enlighten a poor American."
"He's in the paper a fair amount, O." Lavender eyed her roommate. "I'll point him out next time. But he's what?" She looked around at Ginny and Hermione. "Tall, slim, elegant. Gorgeous bones in the face. SILVER eyes. Kind of brooding? Fantastic arse and shoulders. Hermione can tell us more about his co—"
"LAVENDER BROWN!" Hermione thundered.
"You forgot his hair, Lav," Ginny said through gasping laughter. "He has this platinum blond— like almost white—hair." She looked at Olivia and waved her hand over her head then wrinkled her nose. "It's striking, although the way he used to wear it made him look like a real rodent when we were younger. But even I admit he's fairly beautiful now."
"But surely not as beautiful as, say, Theo. I mean—" Olivia widened her eyes.
"That's right, you met Theo last time we were down!" Hermione recalled.
'He's not as beautiful as Theo," Ginny said over Hermione, just as Lavender was loudly expressing the exact opposite opinion.
They looked at each other and said, "REALLY?" at the same time, both of their mouths dropping open.
It said something about Hermione's mood that she just laughed. Uproariously.
If she didn't laugh, she'd cry. And who wanted to cry on what was shaping up to be a glorious New Year's Eve? She leaned over, flipped the cassette of 80s dance music in the player and grabbed a pizza bite.
She, Lavender, Ginny and Olivia were ensconced on various sofas, chairs and cushions in Lav's living room. The fire was going and the wine was chilling. Hermione was already pleasantly buzzed and it was roughly seven o'clock in the evening.
It was going to be a long night.
Hermione made a mental note to drink a glass of water before she let Lavender refill her wine glass again.
Olivia shook her head wonderingly. "God, Hermione, you really have them coming out of your ears."
Hermione's mind snapped back to the topic at hand. "Well actually, I don't have either of them." She shrugged. "BUT that's fine because we DO have three boxes of pizza bites, two salmon pinwheel trays, a packet of mini mowbray pork pies, one family size box of sausage rolls AND a homemade pavlova. And countless biscuits and crisps. And four more bottles of wine! And nowhere to bloody be." Hermione ticked items on her fingers then waved her foot, encased in a fluffy slipper that Lav had given her for Christmas, in the air to general cheers and hoots of appreciation.
"To girls' night in!" Ginny said, holding up her glass. "So much better than being out there." She looked balefully at the window, which revealed freezing rain being driven sideways by gusting wind.
"Here, here!" Hermione raised her glass. It did look miserable and she did not envy anyone trying to brave it. Harry and Ron had been positively envious when she'd left them contemplating their dress robes earlier.
"I really wish I didn't have to go to this party." Olivia, the only one of the girls dressed up, shook a sequined sleeve mournfully and crunched a crisp.
"But you do," Ginny said. "Simply can't let your man go alone to an ex's house on New Year's Eve. Too risky."
"I know, I know." Olivia looked at her watch and put a hand to her sleek black hair. "It's so weird that we're going to her party. I'm too nice, I swear." She held up a hand. "But if it's shitty, I'm dragging him back here."
"That's a plan," Lav said, sticking a spoon directly into the pavlova.
"Harry and Ron made noises about coming over later too. I think they're feeling less than excited about this Ministry thing. I told them I wasn't sure, though." Hermione shot a quick look at Ginny, who shrugged.
"I don't mind," she said. "I ripped the seal off seeing Harry over Christmas, so I'm not particularly bothered. As long as they don't eat my pork pies. And as long as you don't mind?" Ginny looked at Lavender. "I mean, speaking of exes coming to parties. And Annika will be with Ron."
Lav waved an airy hand. "Oh, that's fine. She and I get along famously. I love how uncomfortable it makes your brother too. He'll really be squirming with both of us here."
"See," Ginny said, pointing at Lav. "I knew I liked you."
"I knew you two would be dangerous together," Hermione chimed in. "And last night was proof." They'd been out very late at the dance club due to Ginny and Lavender, who now leaned toward each other for a high five.
"That was. So fun," Lavender declared. "But I am so glad we're not out there tonight. Sorry, O." She frowned at Olivia, who pouted back. "So when can we expect Harry and Ron?" she asked Hermione.
"Harry said something about having to stay there for the bells. So it will be after midnight."
"Harry Potter." Olivia shook her head. "Heard about him all my life. I have to admit, it's very surreal to be hanging out with his friends. Or his ex, I guess?" She grimaced at Ginny. "How long did you go out?" She put out a hand. "If you don't mind me asking of course."
"I don't mind." Ginny smiled swiftly. "And it was on and off for nearly two years. But he was gone for more than half of it." She stared into the fire. "We had two good bits: one right before and one right after everything everyone knows about happened. Then he told me he wasn't ready for anything serious and cut me loose." She took a deep drink of her wine.
"Oh shit. I'm sorry." Olivia lunged over and patted Ginny's hand.
"It's actually fine." Ginny rolled her neck. "And he's right. We're too bloody young. I've actually been quite enjoying myself in his absence," she said after a moment, a wicked look overtaking her face.
"You slag!" Lavender cried. "You've been holding out! Who is it?"
"Elias Page. He's my year. Keeper for Hufflepuff."
"He's very handsome." Hermione leaned across Ginny and wiggled her eyebrows at Lav. "One of these tall, golden types. Sweet. Fit. Uncomplicated. Likes our Gin quite a lot." Ginny pushed her and she fell over, giggling.
"It's not serious!" Ginny protested. "It's casual!"
"That sounds like just what you need! No more of these broody boyfriends. Give us the fit, uncomplicated ones!" Lavender shouted.
"Amazing," Olivia said. "So you're set, Ginny. And Lavender has at least three fish on the line last time I checked." She turned to Hermione. "But what's going on with you? A beautiful, regal boy made puppy eyes at you in the shop? Or is something going on with Theo? God," she placed a hand over her heart, "is he gorgeous."
Hermione leaned back on the couch arm. "It's complicated," she sighed.
Lavender stuck her tongue all the way out of her mouth. "It's stupidly complicated, O," she said. "And frankly a little depressing on this fine night when we have so many drinks and snacks. Suffice to say that Hermione used to be with Draco—the shop boy—but he's now ENGAGED to someone else, and she was recently dating Theo, but it looks like they're probably going back to being just friends."
"Ugh. That sucks about Theo. And engaged!? At what, nineteen?" Olivia was aghast.
"Pureblood nonsense," Lav said.
"But he's obviously not over you? With the eyes in the shop?" Olivia blinked at Hermione.
"Who bloody knows?" Hermione said, completely forgetting her water strategy and reaching over to open another bottle of wine.
"What actually happened with him?" Ginny asked. "I still haven't got the whole story."
"Nothing happened except that he looked very good and I was completely obvious about noticing." Hermione wrestled with the cork until it eased free. "This is why I need to let Theo go." She pointed her glass at Lavender, who flopped backwards in her chair.
"See, I just don't know if I agree with that!" Lav moaned to the ceiling.
"What you all need," Ginny said, picking up a salmon pinwheel and sticking it whole in her mouth, "is something casual!"
Everyone burst into laughter, Hermione nodding her agreement and Lavender shouting that she had something casual with three blokes and could highly recommend it. Olivia then said something about highly recommending Lav learn how to cast a better silencing charm, which devolved things still further.
They were all wiping their eyes and gasping when the doorbell rang.
"That will be Colin," Olivia said, getting up and letting her boyfriend into the flat. A quick round of introductions and a drink later and they were off down the stairs with shouted goodbyes.
"Shall we watch the film?" Lavender said, holding up a DVD case and moving toward the TV that Hermione had floo'd over from Grimmauld. "Still can't believe Harry and your dad rigged this up." She smiled at Ginny.
"Yeah, mum said working on it was the only thing that made him happy there for a while." Ginny looked down and Hermione leaned over and put an arm around her.
"Well it's bloody amazing," she said. "I've watched several films on it this holiday and it worked a treat."
Ginny smiled and tapped her head to Hermione's. "This will be my first one."
"You've never seen a muggle film?" Lavender looked over her shoulder in surprise. "What about when you were in Ireland?"
"It just didn't occur to me." Ginny shrugged.
"Well, I hope this is a good one," Lav said, taking the disc out of the case. "Clueless," she read, shooting a questioning look at Hermione.
"Oh, it's good." Hermione said, getting up and taking the disc out of Lavender's hands. "This is my own copy. You two are going to love it. It's loosely based on Emma."
They both looked at her blankly.
"Emma by Jane Austen?"
The blank looks deepened.
"Oh my god, you two," Hermione sputtered. "Right, I know what I'm getting you for your birthdays!" She slotted the disc in the player with a shake of her head.
"Here, have we got any more wine?" Ginny waved her empty glass. The film was long over and it was getting quite close to midnight. A burst of energy that had led to an impromptu dance party had fizzled and Hermione was now draped over a cushion on the floor, while Lav and Ginny lounged on the sofa.
"Of course we do," Lavender said, getting up. "I had a feeling we might be thirsty tonight so I bought extra."
"We have more than five bottles?" Hermione peered up and counted empties littering the tables and floor.
"I like to be prepared!" Lavender's voice drifted down the short hallway from the kitchen. "Besides," she said, walking back into the living room, cold bottle in hand. "The boys might drop by soon. And Olivia."
Ginny groaned.
"I thought you said it was OK!" Hermione sat up. "I sent Harry a message while you were in the loo!"
"No, no it's fine." Ginny flapped her hand. "I was just feeling a lot stronger earlier in the night." She heaved a huge sigh.
"I know what you mean," Hermione said, suddenly feeling herself deflate. "Wonder what Theo's doing right now. And Draco. At the same bloody party..." She rolled her eyes.
"Oh gods. They are, aren't they? That might not go well. Theo really has it in for Draco, doesn't he?" Ginny stared at Hermione, her eyes wide.
"No, I talked to him earlier today." Hermione waved a hand. "He's going to be on his best behaviour. I told him not to antagonise anyone on my behalf."
"You talked to him!? Why didn't you tell me!?" Lavender flopped back into her chair after topping up Ginny's glass.
"What was there to say? Other than, 'Check out Draco's mum's dress. I sold it to her.'" Hermione looked morosely at the fire.
"Did he offer to come down again?" Lavender asked softly.
"He did not." Hermione didn't look up.
Lavender made a sound of frustration and Ginny groaned again.
"No, no!" Hermione talked over them. "I'm not letting us all slide into a depression over this. I'm not." She stood up and refilled her glass, feeling a theory coming on. "See it's like. I talked to McGonagall before I left for break and she put it so well. She said," Hermione screwed up her face, trying to remember the Headmistress's exact words. "She said I was 'too bright and promising to be hinging anything I do on someone else's plans.' And that I shouldn't let 'distractions'" —Hermione put the word in air quotes— "by which she clearly meant boys—get in the way of that."
"Here, here!" Lavender yelled and she and Ginny clinked glasses.
"And she's right!" Hermione continued, absently touching her glass to Lavender's proffered one. "Like, none of us should be doing that right now. We should be thinking about ourselves and our futures! I'm going to muggle university. That's what I've decided." Speaking the words aloud, she felt the plan settle with certainty in her mind.
"You have? That's amazing!" Lavender jumped up out of her seat, splashing the rug with wine.
"I have. I've been thinking about it and that's what I want to do. After a gap year. McGonagall said it's been done out of Hogwarts before and that she'll help me."
"And you can come live here for your gap year!" Lav said, excited.
"I will." Hermione said, deciding. "At least for part of it. If I can find a job and a flat."
"Oh, Cerise will give you a job if you want one. She said as much when I floo'd her about your sale. And you can live here for a bit. Or I'm sure Harry would have you."
Hermione nodded. "That's what I was thinking."
"God, that's fucking awesome!" Lav sat back down, a huge grin on her face. Hermione felt her own spirits rise. It really would be fun to live in the city with her friends.
"I have some news too," Ginny said, clearing her throat. "I haven't told anyone yet. Not even mum and dad."
"WHAT!?" Hermione and Lavender both turned to her.
"The Hollyhead Harpies sent a recruiter to watch my last match and she's invited me to tryouts in spring. If I'm good enough, I could join the team as soon as school ends and play in the autumn season." Ginny said the words slowly, as if she still couldn't quite believe they were true.
There was perfect silence in the flat for a moment before Hermione shrieked and heard Lavender do the same. "That's amazing!" Hermione shouted when she was finally able to form words. "But why aren't you telling your mum and dad?"
The huge grin that had bloomed over Ginny's face faltered. "Mum really wants me to follow in Bill's footsteps and work at Gringotts. I'm so good with numbers and she's just got it in her head. It's all she can talk about any time Bill and I are in the same room."
"Well, but I don't think a professional quidditch gig is anything to sneeze at, is it?" Lavender asked gently.
"No, and I know dad would be so proud. But mum thinks it's not stable. I remember her saying that when Charlie made noises about going pro. And I just hate to upset her now." Ginny twisted her hands in her lap.
Hermione got up and sat next to Ginny on the sofa. "Do you want to do it?" she asked, her voice soft.
"More than anything."
"Then," Hermione said. "You're going to do it. And your mum is going to understand. Or maybe she won't. But you can't live your life for someone else—even your parents. And if you need allies, I'll be there and Harry will be there and all your brothers I strongly suspect will be there. Although Ron will be insanely jealous." She nudged Ginny and caught Lavender's quick smile.
Ginny laughed a little but also swiped at her eye. "Thank you," she said. "And I know you're right. I am going to do it. I can't not." She shrugged. "But thank you." She leaned over and hugged Hermione, who squeezed her back.
"Well." Lavender was up again, sifting through the cassettes next to the player. "I have some news too. I was going to wait until it was official, but fuck it." She slotted a cassette in the player and looked up with a smile. "Cerise is making me Assistant Buyer and giving me a raise starting Monday."
"What. The. Fuck!?" Ginny launched off the couch and did a little dance.
"You should have told me!" Hermione yelled. "That's amazing!'
"I knowwww!" Lav started dancing to the track that was playing.
"Wait, I can't believe we haven't put this on yet." Hermione looked at the player.
"What? Why? I don't know what it is. I like the beat, though." Lavender was still dancing to the opening notes and Ginny joined her.
"Oh my god. You purebloods." Hermione shook her head as she got up. "It's Prince. 1999? Song of the night? Probably of the whole new year?" Lavender and Ginny shook their heads. "Which is," —Hermione looked at her watch—" about 10 minutes away."
"Fuck yeah, 1999!" Lavender raised her hands in the air. "The year we are bright! And promising!"
"Thank you, Minerva McGonagall!" Ginny shouted.
"To Minerva!" Hermione said, raising her glass. "And to good advice."
"To university and gap years!"
"To promotions!"
"To fucking professional quidditch tryouts."
"To 1999!"