Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and the licensed copyright holders including Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money has been exchanged and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to all who've reviewed. You really make my day! I feel so loved! Well...I feel loved except for when people are making 'post now or die' threats--but even those are flattering in a weird way (hee hee!) Okay so...I promise to stop tormenting you soon. There will be conflict resolution in the coming chapters (as in an actually somewhat lengthy conversation-like thing...or maybe just a monologue--don't know yet). And since you've read this far, you should know what warnings apply so I won't bore you repeating them. Ciao for now!
10.
Harry was sullen and withdrawn the rest of the show, torn between admiration and grief and sorrow. He was such a mess he nearly forgot to toss the flowers on stage. During another song where Dragon was at the piano, Hermione elbowed him andhe finally tossed the bouquet of white roses using a touch of wandless magic to ensure they landed right next to Draco on the piano bench.
The singer's look of shock was priceless, as was the outrage that rippled through the crowd. Harry ducked his head at the death glares he received from those seated nearby. Every Bad Faith fan knew that Dragon's favourite roses were blood red or black roses; he hated white roses with a passion. Or so his fans thought. His friends, his family, knew that white roses were really his second favourite kind, and since his first favourite was rare, they were the ones he enjoyed receiving most often.
The show was nearly over, the band had taken their initial bows and retuned for one last encore. The song was long to satisfy the crowd, but the song's lyrics of love, regret and redemption, cut into Harry like a knife. Hands shaking, he threw the sterling rose. This time it was Hermione's surreptitious wandwork that guaranteed it reached it's destination. As the song ended Draco scanned the front row, searching out the one who knew him well enough to give him the right roses. He caught sight of Harry, Hermione, and Ron and paled. For a moment complete terror marred his features. He composed himself quickly though, locked a mask of placid amusement in place, smiled broadly at Bad Faith's fans, and swept off stage.
People hovered about waiting for exits to clear and the Gryffindor trio sat figuring it would be a while before enough people left that they could vacate their seats. They were pretty surprised when a rough and tumble looking roadie approached them.
"Excuse me folks are you…" he looked down at a slip of paper, "Ms. Hermanoninny Granger, Mr. Ron Weasel and Mr. Harry Pothead?" He looked mightily perplexed at the names and he didn't know it, but Draco was getting a bit of his own back, he read them off though just as they were written, well…with one exception.
Harry laughed, "Yes sir, we are."
The man nodded and folded the paper away. "If you'll follow me please. I've been told to escort you backstage."
They looked at each other incredulously but scurried to follow the roadie anyway.
"I haven't heard anyone butcher your name that badly since…well I don't think I've ever heard it butchered that badly," Harry whispered as he tucked his friend's arm in his.
Hermione giggled, "Me neither."
Ron just sulked, "Oh sure—keep saying it's been years but what does he do first chance he gets? Calls me Weasel! I swear that damn ferret next time I see him I'm going to—"
"Going to what Mr. Weasley?" Came a smooth familiar voice from the shadows behind them. Draco stepped out, still dressed in his stage gear.
"Thank you for seeing them safely back here Mark. They may come tomorrow, but whether they have tickets or not please let the office know they are to have backstage access if they so choose."
"You got it Dragon."
"Good night Mark."
"G'night Sir."
Casually, as if his world wasn't tilting on its axis, Draco gracefully took Hermione's arm in his own. "I apologise Ms. Granger if he butchered your name. Mark's a good sort, been with our road crew for years, but he's terrible with anything polysyllabic. By the way, nice wandwork at the end there. If I hadn't known differently, I would have guessed that one of my fans had impeccable aim."
Hermione blinked, utterly confused, this is not how she'd expected things to go. Of course Draco "pawing" his girlfriend was doing nothing for Ron's disposition.
"Now look 'ere ferret. Keep your grubby hands to yourself!" He snatched Hermione's arm away and Draco sighed.
"Weasley, I turned 26 today. I have no interest in maintaining the animosities of our childhood. I have my own son to raise and I hope that I'm raising him not to be the kind of person who makes snap judgements about other people. Leave the past in the past. If that's not what you're here for…to bury the hatchet, so to speak, then why have you come?"
Before he could answer, a blur of messy raven-hair in bright blue pyjamas stumbled into the hallway. "Papaaaaaaaa," Evan whinged. "I wanna go to bed. Can we go back to the house now?"
Draco bent and lifted his son to his hip. He kissed the boy's forehead and smiled sadly, "You're going to have to go with Aunt Mel cub. I have to talk to these people for a little while, but you can sleep in my bed and I'll come snuggle with you and when you wake up I'll be right there."
The young boy's nose wrinkled as he yawned, "Promise?"
"I promise."
Evan rubbed away a bit of sleep and headed back to the lounge and his waiting Aunt Melody. "Hey Papa?" he turned before he reached the door.
"Yes love?"
"I like that song a lot. Thank you."
Draco smiled gently at his son, "I like it lots too, and you're welcome." He reached up and touched the Triquetra at the base of his throat, "And thank you for my birthday present."
The sleepy boy waved, "mmmhmmm...welcome." He turned back once more and sketchily examined Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You look like my Dad," he said to Harry, "but your hair's longer than his. And you sorta look like Gred and Forge," he said to Ron. "I met them at a joke shop today." And apropos of nothing, the boy disappeared into the lounge leaving gobsmacked guests and a wryly chuckling father behind.
Tbc...
A/N: Well they've finally met up with each other, now the question is how will they handle seeing each other again? Will there be drama? angst? fluffiness? You'll find out soon...So Review!
