A/N: Enjoy!
"I still can't believe Harry has pulled this together on his own," Ginny began, sliding into a dress behind a divider in the master bedroom, her Quidditch training uniform at her feet. "I only wish I'd known not to come home dripping in sweat."
Although Hermione had done more than just help Harry with the cake, she figured she should let him have this one. "He's had it in the works since last month if you can believe it."
"Really? Where was this hidden event planning talent when I'd needed his help with the wedding five years ago?"
"Er …"
"Also have I gone mental or was that Malfoy downstairs just now?"
Tensing a bit, Hermione had no words beyond, "Not mental, no."
"Have you made up, then?"
"No, er … Harry must have invited him on his own."
Ginny held the silence a moment. "How do you feel about that?"
"I … don't know. We crossed paths in the corridor earlier but didn't say anything."
"Maybe you should. Say something to him, I mean."
"Do you really think so? You were so against it at dinner the other night."
"Right. I, er … I've been exhausted due to all of the training I've had to do for the match against Puddlemere United next week and may have taken it out on Malfoy just a tad."
Allowing that to sink in, Hermione fell silent, losing herself in thought the longer she had waited. Only as her friend had stepped out from behind the divider, did she snap out of it.
"Is it too much?" Ginny asked, brushing the skirt of her floor length, form-fitting red dress.
"Too much? You look stunning!"
"Thanks," she chuckled, giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek. "For helping Harry with the party as well … because there's no way he's done all of this on his own."
Laughing together, the pair of them hooked arms as they left the master bedroom and went down to the lounge to rejoin the fun. Harry wasted no time, taking the birthday girl by the hand as their song filled the walls of the house. Spinning her into his arms, they danced in front of everyone as though they had been transported to their wedding night.
Hermione watched on from a distance, the smallest trace of a smile dancing across her lips.
"You wouldn't happen to know if there's anymore white wine, would you?" Neville cut in.
Reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the happy couple, Hermione took note of the empty wine bottles scattered across the drinks table. "Er … there should be more in the kitchen. One moment …" She squeezed through the crowd of party guests, slowly making her way to the other side of the house as Against All Odds by Phil Collins whirred in the background.
Quietly approaching the doorway to the kitchen, she heard a pair of voices inside.
"Astoria says she's past it but I just … I don't know," Daphne began, the muted click of her heels punctuating her words as she paced back and forth. "Sometimes I wish Ron would just think, you know? It was hard enough getting our families on board with everything and now he's gone and called my sister a bitch during a lighthearted game of Quidditch in front of everyone …"
"To be fair to him, there's no such thing as a lighthearted game of Quidditch," Malfoy offered, in a joking manner. "In all seriousness, though, if Astoria is past it, does the rest really matter?"
"What if she's just saying she's past it for me?"
"I'd take her at face value. She's never really been the type to hide how she feels."
"Good point," Daphne admitted. "I've overreacted, haven't I?"
"Of course not. Your concerns are valid. I'd just try to speak to him about it first next time. Space is good but only after you've established how you feel."
"I suppose that's true. Distance for the sake of distance is just … prolonged confusion."
"Exactly. You've already taken that first step in coming here tonight to see him."
"Since when are you such a relationship expert?" she furthered, playfully.
He laughed. "A true expert would take their own advice."
"Still not on speaking terms with Hermione, then?"
"Nowhere close. She's been dodging me all night, which … I can't really blame her."
"It wasn't your fault, though."
"It may as well have been. I could have pushed Tracey off of me sooner."
"Bullshit. She borderline assaulted you at that show," Daphne persisted. "And believe me when I say I'm going to give her an earful about it at lunch with Pansy tomorrow."
"Thanks, Daph."
"My pleasure. Stop by the house for dinner one of these days, will you?" she asked, approaching the doorway now.
Hurriedly ducking out of the way, Hermione pressed her back to the wall as Daphne walked past none the wiser. Only after the sound of her footsteps had faded off into the lounge, did Hermione release the breath she had instinctively held in.
Thoughts in disarray, she leaned away from the wall and tucked a stray curl behind her ear as she slowly stepped toward the doorway. Over on the far side of the kitchen, Malfoy was hovering by the sink with his back turned. There was something in his hands, a folded piece of parchment that he swiftly tucked away as the floorboards creaked under the toe of Hermione's heels.
Snapping a look at the doorway, the ends of his pale blond hair fell out of place, shadowing over the uncertainty in his eyes as he caught sight of her from across the kitchen.
Not a word came out.
Only as a group of people came barreling into the kitchen in search of alcohol, did Hermione nod to the back door.
Without missing a beat Malfoy followed her lead, the pair of them slipping out of the kitchen and into the cold outside.
Five Minutes Later
There was silence at first, an ongoing wave of mixed emotions as they hovered on different sides of the back porch.
Draco was the first to speak, setting aside the anxious knot in his chest. "I'm sorry," he began, as the muffled echo of music filled the gaps between each word. "For everything."
Looking to him from across the porch, Granger took that in, her curls fluttering out of place as an unexpected gust of wind enveloped the house. "I am, too," she confessed, hugging her arms in an effort to keep warm.
Without a moment of thought Draco shrugged his jacket off and came closer, draping it over her shoulders. "You've done nothing wrong."
"Haven't I?" she asked, blinking up at him. "It was wrong of me to let my insecurities dictate my feelings."
"I should never have put you in that kind of position in the first place."
"How could you have prevented it? You didn't know she wanted you back."
Sparing a moment to assess that, he glanced down between them as she held his jacket in place against the breeze. "Your hands," he realized, instinctively taking them into his own as he had a look at the red, tender burn marks. "How did this happen?"
"It's nothing," she explained, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. "I was in a rush earlier and had reached for a hot pan without thinking."
Within seconds he retrieved a green pouch from his back pocket, rummaging through it for a vial of Burn Healing Paste. "Hold them out for me a moment," he instructed, as though he were back at work in one of the examination rooms.
Although a little apprehensive at first, she did as she was asked, flicking a swift and anxious look at him as he began spreading the burn paste onto the tender parts of her hands.
"You were just going to walk around with burns all night?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
She hesitated. "I've got Healing supplies at home."
"There's a shop in Diagon Alley that sells travel Healing kits," he went on to add. "I never leave home without mine."
"I can see that."
A small smirk tugged at his lips. Slowly the redness in her hands faded away, leaving just a bit of burn paste residue before he had removed it with just a quick, wordless spell. "Done."
She glanced down at her hands, rubbing her thumbs on the freshly healed skin. "Thanks."
Stepping back, he pocketed his Healing hit. "Essence of Dittany should do the trick as well. It's a bit slower on burns than on cuts and contusions but you probably already know th —"
Without a word she stepped forward, his jacket slipping off of her shoulders and down to her feet as she kissed him on the cheek.
His throat clenched around the last part of his sentence, rendering him silent as he glanced to her after. "What was that for?"
"I'll let you know when I figure it out," she offered, motioning to the door. "Shall we?"
A/N: Thoughts?
