Despite its somewhat unfortunate name and in spite of what he heard about Professor Slughorn's infamous Slug Club Christmas parties, Adrian looked forward to attending the one that year. The invite was primarily addressed to Madam Pucey, but Slughorn strongly suggested she bring Adrian along so he could form an acquaintance with him. Once he accompanied his mother to the party, Adrian would, hopefully, have most of the evening to himself. Or rather, to himself and Hermione.

And he looked forward to it with increasing anticipation. Within the relative safety of the castle, they would have both time and space to enjoy themselves. To be young, to live without a war.

Adrian and Madam Pucey arrived at the school to the chill of the Scottish evening. There was a perceptible hint of excitement in the air, and students without an invite loitered the halls and gawked at the invitees. Adrian and Madam Pucey made their way directly to Slughorn's Office, where they were welcomed warmly by the Professor himself.

"Octavia, my dear!" Slughorn exclaimed too loudly, turning several heads towards the entrance. "How wonderful to see you."

Madam Pucey slipped her hand from Adrian's arm, allowed Slughorn take one of her hands in both of his. "It's wonderful to see you as well, Professor. I thank you for thinking of us," she said as he shook her hand with vigour.

"Of course, my dear, of course," he said, continued to hold her hand. He ushered her to a side, then, away from the watching eyes and listening ears, leaned closer. "I'm terribly sorry Thomas couldn't be here," he said, softer, gentler. "My deepest condolences, Madam Pucey, for your husband."

She have him a tight-lipped half-smile, nodded in acknowledgement.

He smiled bracingly in return. "No surprise from my end, I tell you, that your son is the reigning Triwizard Champion. With your brilliance and Mr Pucey's drive, he could have been nothing less."

Madam Pucey smiled amiably then, pulled one of her hands free to reach for Adrian's arm. "Professor Slughorn, might I introduce my elder, Adrian Julius."

Slughorn let go of her hand, reached for Adrian's. "Adrian Pucey. A year sooner or later and I would have had you in my club, young man," he declared, with a force that was almost threatening.

Adrian graciously accepted the compliment. "I will content myself with your Christmas party, Professor."

Slughorn slapped him good-naturedly on the back, then directed them inside with an order to unwind and a promise to find them soon.

Adrian swept the inside of Slughorn's office with his eyes as they entered. It was decorated lavishly and there was an odd sense of being packed closely together despite the size of the room. He didn't find Hermione in the crowd, and assumed she was yet to arrive. He picked up two glasses of mead from a passing House-Elf, passed one to Madam Pucey, resorted to mingling with Slughorn's associates while he waited.

Tiberius arrived shortly after them, Colin Creevy and his camera in tow. Upon seeing Adrian and Madam Pucey. Tiberius did a double take, then dragged Creevy and himself towards them.

"Mother, you remember Colin Creevy?" he asked, his gaze darting briefly to Adrian.

"With the camera in his hands? It's hard not to," she said, mildly amused.

Creevy smiled sheepishly. "Can I get one of you, Madam Pucey?" he asked, holding up his camera. "Or you two, together, would be even better," he added quickly, looking between her and Adrian.

They allowed him to capture them for his collection.

Creevy also urged Tiberius into the frame so he could get one of the three of them. He thanked them profusely then, and slipped into the crowd to photograph the others in the room.

Tiberius quickly excused himself and followed after him.

Adrian narrowed his eyes lightly at Tiberius's retreating back. By the time his drink was nearly empty and he resolved to go after Tiberius, Hermione entered the room.

Adrian's mouth ran dry as he spotted her under the charmed lights, looking decidedly delectable in her peach outfit. He suddenly, fiercely felt how much he missed her. He sipped slowly at his drink as he took in her appearance, only to nearly choke on the mead when Weasley slipped a hand around her waist.

Of course, Weasley was her friend. Adrian knew she was bringing him, she had written to him after all. And yet… seeing Weasley clinging so closely to Hermione made Adrian want to hurl the glass in his hand at Weasley's oversized head.

Adrian rubbed lightly at his jaw, returned his attention back to Madam Pucey's conversation with an old wizard who looked like he would keel over from age any second. He couldn't abandon his mother, not yet, so he resigned himself to brief longing glances in Hermione's direction and subtle glares in Weasley's.

The party was a rather excruciating affair, to say the least. Adrian didn't catch much from any of the conversations around him, distracted as he was by Hermione's presence. He forced himself to slow down with his drink; the night was still young, it was essential to keep his wits about him.

When Adrian had about exhausted his options of people-watching, Hermione approached them, in the company of Luna, Potter, Weasley, and Slughorn.

Slughorn planted Potter in front of Adrian and Madam Pucey. "You know Harry Potter, of course," he introduced grandly. "Can you believe it, he's currently my best student! Absolutely brilliant, I tell you." He turned to Potter then. "Madam Pucey was my best student in her days. She has moved beyond Potions now, of course, to the Wizengamot."

Slughorn turned to Adrian then. "But you do know Harry Potter, obviously," he said, sounding surprised. "Once rivals, but all that is behind you, hopefully," he added, laughed to himself.

He didn't leave room for any of them to get in a word edgeways in between his praise of Potter, but fortunately soon whisked off the Chosen One to introduce him to the next guest.

And with the buffer that was Slughorn no longer there, the room suddenly grew smaller, the air suddenly grew thicker.

Adrian cleared his throat lightly. "Mother, allow me to introduce, Ms Hermione Granger," Adrian said, feeling strangely vulnerable in the space between them. "And Ronald Weasley," he added as an afterthought.

"Madam Pucey, pleased to meet you," Hermione greeted politely, smiling a tad nervously.

Weasley mumbled a hello, his eyes darting away to where Potter was dragged.

Madam Pucey, her expression unchanged, raised her glass lightly. "Ms Granger," she acknowledged neutrally. "Mr Weasley."

The Weird Sisters started playing a song that sounded like a distant buzz in Adrian's ears. Merlin, he wasn't prepared for Hermione to meet his mother. He wasn't prepared for his mother to meet Hermione. Could it get any worse?

All but dismissing Hermione and Weasley then, Madam Pucey turned her attention to Luna. "Luna, love, I didn't realize you were going to be here tonight," she said genially, reaching for her hands and pulling her closer.

"I didn't realize it either until Harry asked me," Luna said.

Madam Pucey smiled fondly at her. "A missed opportunity for buying a new set of robes. Nevertheless, you look enchanting," she said, eyeing her silver robes. "Adrian, be a dear and dance with Luna. Potter seems far too busy for her."

Not that Adrian minded dancing with Luna, but Hermione was right there and Weasley was tugging her away, gesturing pointedly towards Potter.

Hermione threw Adrian a brief, uncertain glance.

"Adrian," Madam Pucey called again, firmer.

Adrian emptied his drink, dismissed the glass, turned to Hermione. "Might I have the next dance?" he asked, smiled reassuringly. "I'm afraid I'm taken for this one."

Hermione returned his smile, nodded in affirmation. "Okay."

Adrian held out a hand towards Luna. "Shall we dance, Luna?" he asked. Taking her hand without waiting for a reply, without glancing at Madam Pucey, he walked them towards the open dance floor.

His eyes inevitably drifted to Hermione even as he danced with Luna. "Are you having fun, Luna?" he asked distractedly, watching Weasley try to coerce Hermione to dance.

"Oh, very much so," Luna replied happily. "I've had the most eye-opening conversation with Dean Thomas."

Adrian hummed in reply, turned them around so he could keep Hermione in his line of sight.

Blaise Zabini, who was dancing with Daphne Greengrass a few steps away from them, nodded in acknowledgement at Adrian as their eyes met. Adrian merely nodded back, reminding himself of his promise to Tiberius, returned his gaze to Hermione.

As the song changed, Hermione and Weasley started dancing some distance away.

Adrian brought his dance with Luna to an end, led her back towards Madam Pucey. Planting himself next to his mother then, he crossed his arms, resumed Hermione-watching again, taking no care to be subtle about where his attention was.

And his breathing grew tighter as he saw Weasley, his hands lingering on her too long and his expression too smug, lead Hermione all over the room. Adrian did not want to watch them, and he could not bring himself to look away.

He squinted his eyes then, seeing Weasley manoeuvre Hermione away from the middle of the room and towards the sidelines. They came to a sudden stop and Weasley explained something to Hermione. Hermione looked above them, and Adrian followed her gaze, caught sight of the mistletoe hanging up there. Weasley grinned sappily at her, stepped closer.

And Adrian started to cross the floor towards them, as fast as he could move without actually sprinting at full-speed.

Weasley put a hand on Hermione's elbow, leaned towards her even as she seemed to crane her neck away.

Without a second thought, Adrian fired a discreet Reductor Curse above them, not only disintegrating the mistletoe but also shattering the chandelier floating there.

Weasley and Hermione jumped apart at the blast, Weasley ending up right under the falling glass that definitely did not target him, and Hermione back into Adrian's waiting arms.

Hermione turned back to him, an apologetic expression on her face. "Sorry, I – Oh," she blinked in surprise, then smiled in recognition. "Hi, again."

"Hello," he replied, pulled her closer to him, away from Weasley and the glass on the floor.

The commotion seemed to have garnered the attention of everyone in the room. Potter hurried towards them, Slughorn right behind him.

"Miss Granger, I hope you are quite unharmed," Slughorn said, looking sincerely worried.

"Yes, Professor. Entirely unharmed," she answered, smoothing her dress.

Slughorn frowned at the broken chandelier on the floor, summoned an elf to handle the mess.

Weasley glowered at no-one and everyone while Potter attempted to soothe him.

"Nothing to worry about," Slughorn reassured the attendees still watching them warily. "Antique chandeliers, you know how they are."

The party hesitantly returned to its former state.

Adrian stepped around in front of Hermione, bowed lightly to her. "Would you like to dance, Ms Granger?" he asked, extending a hand to her.

She smiled coyly, slipped her hand into his.

"Hermione," Weasley called sullenly.

Hermione seemed startled for a moment, before she turned to him. "Ron, are you all right?"

Weasley scowled lightly at Adrian. "Fine."

"Well, all right," Hermione said, frowned lightly at him. "I'll see you later, then."

Adrian tugged her towards the open floor before Weasley could reply.

He slipped one hand onto her waist, held onto one of her hands with his other. She slipped her free hand onto his shoulder.

"How are your nonverbals?" he asked.

Her brows furrowed lightly even as she smiled. "I'd say pretty good."

He did not comment at her modesty. "How about your wandless?"

Her brows furrowed deeper. "I'm doing okay in class, if that's what you mean. Why?"

He gently tugged her closer. "Because the next time Weasley attempts to impose himself on you, you ought to remind him how good you are."

She flushed lightly, looked down to his chest. "There was a mistletoe," she said, softer.

Adrian raised both eyebrows at her. "Mistletoe or not, I'm not in the habit of trying to snog my friends."

She shifted uncomfortably. "He's a little drunk."

He narrowed his eyes. "Unless he's hammered on Amortentia, that's not the excuse you think it is."

She glanced up at him, frowning lightly. "I don't know what you want me to say," she said. "I wasn't going to snog him."

"No," he said. "But you hardly discouraged his attentions as strongly as you should have."

She grimaced lightly. "He's dating Lavender. Lavender Brown, you know her, right? He's not – he's never told me – we're just friends."

Adrian twisted his lips, unconvinced. "Is that why he was parading you around the room, far worse than Slughorn is parading Potter around?"

Hermione pressed her lips together, gripped his shoulder harder, turned her eyes down to his chest, did not reply.

And Adrian felt the claws of jealousy weaken in the face of her distress. That was not how he wanted the evening to go. Weasley's lack of propriety was hardly her fault.

At that moment, Filch marched Malfoy, who was caught trying to gatecrash the party, towards Slughorn, and the soiree came to another stutter at the commotion.

Stopping their dance, Adrian and Hermione watched the exchange from a distance. Making a quick decision, Adrian leaned closer to her. "Shall we step out for some air?" he asked, gentler.

Hermione nodded stiffly.

They smoothly and easily moved out of Slughorn's office, mutual silence in the space between them.

By unspoken agreement, they walked towards the lake. They reached the bench at the hidden corner, where he had once come across her crying.

Hermione took a seat an arm's reach away from Adrian, and he watched her for a few moments as she wrung her hands in her lap.

He reached over for one of her hands, took it in his. "I'm not blaming you for Weasley's behaviour," he said gently.

She attempted to pull her hand away, but he didn't let go. "Aren't you?" she asked, a bit petulant.

Adrian sighed lightly. "It's a matter of appearances. What am I to imagine? That you don't respect me enough to firmly rebuff him? Or that his advances were welcome?" And with Madam Pucey watching no less. His mother hardly needed another reason to disapprove of Adrian's relationship with Hermione.

She swiftly turned to him. "No, of course not."

"Then it's fortunate some of us aren't hesitant to show off our nonverbals." he concluded.

She furrowed her brows lightly. "It was you," she exclaimed, half-admonishing, half-impressed. "You destroyed the chandelier."

He raised his hands. "You can't prove anything," he said with smug certainty.

Hermione shook her head, smiling lightly, turned back to the lake.

She leaned down then, reaching for her feet. "They're not the most comfortable," she explained, a little sheepish, as she pulled off her heels.

Adrian wet his lips, his gaze transfixed on her bare ankles that were suddenly the hottest sight he had ever seen. Would his hands wrap snugly around them? Were they as soft as they looked? How would she sound if he kissed a path from them, up her calves, up her thighs, all the way to-

"What?" she asked at his continued gaze, a hand lightly rubbing at her foot.

Adrian turned more fully in her direction, ran his eyes wantonly over her form. "Merely admiring the view."

She scoffed lightly, turned to look towards the lake again, her head bowed and attempting to hold back a smile as she coloured in pleasure.

He smoothly inched closer to her, gently brushed his lips against her ear. "To be entirely honest, I've been admiring the view all night," he murmured.

Her breathing grew shaky at his proximity.

He took the opportunity to plant a gentle kiss in the space by her neck, below her ear, her curls tickling his face as he nuzzled the spot, inhaled her scent.

She whimpered then.

And the sound sent his blood rushing south. And Weasley and the party and the war and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

He reached for her hair. "Mistletoe," he said, softer, plucking out the little bit of mistletoe entangled in her curls and holding it out for her to see. "The chandelier was an unfortunate casualty."

Smiling, Hermione reached for it.

Adrian quickly enclosed the mistletoe in a loose fist before she could grab it, and then at her questioning gaze, opened his hand and sent the mistletoe slowly floating upwards.

She followed it with her eyes, tilting her head up as it rose higher and higher, providing him an exquisite view of her bare and tempting neck.

When she lowered her gaze and her smouldering eyes met his, he swiftly moved in to claim her lips with his.