Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters, just borrowing them.
Summary: Everyone gathers at the Parkinson's for a party.

A/N: Thanks to chanteur dombre for the beta read!

One week after Draco awoke in a cold sweat, fully aware that his feelings for Hermione were more than friendly, and two days after her session with Dr. Friedman (and her subsequent "break-up" with Alex Triblehorn), our fearless will-they-or-will-they-not duo found themselves at the palatial Parkinson estate to celebrate the engagement of Pansy Parkinson to Mitchell Bulstrode. Initially, Pansy's parents had found her pairing with the former Ms. Bulstrode unsavoury, but eventually accepted the union.

It was a slightly overcast spring day and Pansy sat regally in the gazebo on the family grounds, surrounded by Hermione, Daphne Greengrass, Ginny and Luna Lovegood-Longbottom. The witches were "inspecting" her recently acquired engagement ring.

"Darling it's just gorgeous," said Daphne, the former Slytherin's voice dripping with undisguised envy. Hermione was tempted to offer her a handkerchief for the drool.

She had been watching, only half interested, as the witches ooh-ed and ah-ed over the obscenely large piece of jewelry. She gazed dully at the ring, but her mind was primarily fixed on a certain blond she'd seen arrive (from a distance) about 10 minutes earlier. She had not seen him since before Mitchell spat out his brilliant lie, though he'd asked to meet her for coffee several times. Hermione had begged off, telling him she was too busy – which was sort of true – but mainly she'd been avoiding the inevitable confrontation.

Pansy was jabbering on in great detail about carat weight and other such nonsense. "And here's the best part: it was his Grandmum!" she finished dramatically.

Ginny started at that. "You mean it was passed down from Mitchell's grandmum? How romantic."

Pansy pursed her lips. "No, I mean this rock was dear ol' Gran."

Daphne, who had been leaning over the stone – so close she looked like she was going to kiss it – pulled back quickly. "Ewww."

"Oh don't be so squeamish," she scolded. "I think the symbolism is beautiful. 'Circle of Life' and all that shite."

That pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. "Did you just make a Muggle reference?"

Pansy looked at her wisely. "Yes I did, Granger. And you of all people should appreciate this ring. It represents transformation. Life goes on and nothing is static in this world. Even people change."

"Shite happens?" she queried.

"Something like that."

"Just be careful," said Luna, ominously. "You can get a nasty bout of Inherijestitus from transfigured dead relatives."

While Hermione and Pansy pondered the meaning of life and all its implications, Draco, Ron, Harry, Crabbe, Goyle and Neville were having a heated debate in the Parkinson's study.

"Well I think we need to have a stag party for him and get absolutely plastered," said Goyle.

"But," Neville stammered, "what if he wants a hen party?"

"Maybe we should combine them?" offered Draco.

At that moment Mitchell strolled into the room. "Why are you tossers hiding in here?" he asked. "There are dishy birds about." He looked pointedly at Draco, adding, "I even spotted a lioness that needed taming."

Draco let out a tiny (but very distinguished) yelp and chastised himself for telling Mitchell about the dream in a moment of weakness. He'd been pissed, but still.

He tried to sound casual. "What?"

"Granger and Triblehorny are officially done. Kaput. Finito. Over."

Draco didn't even try to hide the light that turned on inside at the words. However, quick on its heels was a sense of paralysing fear. He would never admit this to anyone, but Draco was – and had always been – intimidated by Hermione. Even when he considered her well beneath him, she'd vexed him; the fact that he was now besotted with the witch made it much worse.

His emotions must have been uncharacteristically all over his face because Mitchell gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Aw, is Drakey-poo scared of the bushy-haired Gryffindor?"

Draco shoved him away, swiftly regaining his composure. "Bugger off! Are you daft? Why would I be afraid of Granger?"

Mitchell ignored his protest. "Malfoy, I know a strong woman when I see one – hell, I used to be one. If you're not on your toes with Granger you're a bloody fool." Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but Mitchell brushed him off and continued. "Now, you were the worst kind of impotent gutless snivelling little prick when we were younger, but by some kind of miracle you've turned into a rather decent bloke. And you better be thankful – on your knees praising the gods or whoever watches over your skinny arse – that someone like Granger recognizes it. And you sure as hell better not fuck that up."

Draco just stared at him for a moment, gobsmacked by the ferocity of his little speech. While it had been riddled with insults, there was one thing that stood out: Granger recognizes it. Rather than feigning indifference, he dropped the mask. "Are you saying I've really got a chance to fuck it up? You've talked to her?"

He tried to hold it in, but Mitchell couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Yes you do. Now go get her, lion tamer!"

Hermione sat alone in the gazebo, continuing to sift through her confused thoughts. Pansy and the others had headed into the house, but she'd opted to stay outside. The wind had picked up slightly and Hermione's perfectly coiffed up-do was now in grievous danger of coming undone. She should go inside, she kept telling herself. But her feet would not catch up to her brain and she remained fixed on one of the small benches.

Draco approached quietly, unseen by Hermione. As he drew nearer he could see that she was leaning back slightly on her palms and her eyes were shut. He crept up the steps, whatever tiny sounds he made obscured by the whirling wind. Hermione had an unreadable expression on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was coming loose all over the place, as if she'd just gone on a broom ride. She was wearing a rather simple peach-coloured strapless Muggle sundress, her creamy skin flatteringly displayed. Draco just stood watching her for a long moment. She looked positively ravishing, far lovelier than his dreamed image of her. He wasn't the impulsive romantic type, yet he felt a strong urge to rush to her, drop to his knees and praise her beauty to the heavens above.

So, naturally, he insulted her. "Granger, you'd better get inside or that ridiculous nest of yours is going to start attracting the wildlife."

Hermione's eyes shot open and she jolted upright. Draco was standing about a meter away, looking down at her. He was wearing immaculate charcoal grey dress robes and his white-blond hair was blowing in the breeze. Rather then making him look unkempt, the effect was to make him look like some goddamned image off the cover of a heaving-bosom novel. She growled in frustration and her anger was echoed by the sound of thunder in the distance. "Judging by your appearance, I'd say the blimey little fuckers have already arrived." She knew it was a weak comeback, but it was all she could muster.

But what she didn't realize was Draco hadn't heard the words, because her growl of exasperation had brought to mind his dream, which in turn made his hidden feelings come rushing to the surface. "Granger, I..."

She stood quickly, making to get back to the house. Before it was easy to just spar back and forth because it didn't mean anything. Now things were different. It meant everything to her and it was overwhelming.

Draco's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could escape down the steps and away from him. "Wait."

It was just one word, but somehow it managed to be question, answer and prayer all wrapped up in a neat little package. Hermione heard all of this and looked up at him. She took a shaky breath. "What do you want?"

"I..." he began, pulling her back toward the bench. "We need to talk."

Hermione was lost in the mists of his eyes for a moment, but then glanced at the house. In the large window facing the gazebo she could see figures watching. She looked back at Draco. "Not here."

There was another rumble of thunder, this time closer. Draco nodded in agreement. "Okay. Where do you want to go?"

"I have my car here; I'm supposed to meet my mum later. We could go for a drive," she suggested.

Draco gave a little nervous smile. He hated having to travel the Muggle way, but at that moment he would have gone piggyback on a Blast-Ended Skrewt with Hermione. "Okay. Let's go."

Inside, several sets of eyes watched as Hermione and Draco left the gazebo and walked away from the house toward the street.

"Do you think one of us should follow them, just in case?" asked Ron.

Harry, who had a goofy grin on his face and his arm around Ginny, shook his head. "Not unless you want to get hexed."

"Besides, there's no need," said Mitchell. "I put a magical surveillance bug on Malfoy."

"You cheeky tart!" cried Pansy. "Merlin, I love your blooming arse."