You know, there's a line in here I wrote like literally like a year ago. Which makes me really happy to publish this chapter. I also just really like it so I hope you do too.
I still want to hear from everyone, so please comment, let me know what you think, what I can improve on, whatever you think (as always, lovely to hear from you, buddybuddy96 ;))
Love,
Cherry
"Thank you, Lavender. You too." Hermione said politely, and she wasn't lying. Lavender looked very pretty in her pale purple (what some might call lavender) flowing robes, but the focus of the room was on Hermione, like they were waiting for a storm to erupt. She didn't deign Lavender with further discussion and instead focussed on the bit of gold glitter that had fallen to her cheek. "How do you remove glitter?" She turned to Ginny, who gladly helped her friend avoid the new woman in her ex-fiancé's life.
"No idea. Magic doesn't have an answer for glitter." Ginny responded and swabbed at the fallen glitter with a wet cotton ball. It helped a little, but also removed Hermione's foundation, which Ginny reapplied.
"You do look beautiful, by the way." Ginny spoke quietly as Lavender approached her friends across the room. "You know that, right?"
"I'm willing to concede I look better than normal." Hermione agreed, not feeling vain enough to call herself beautiful.
"Oh hush." Ginny fixed a strand of hair that fought against the Sleakeazy potion. "You're either being humble or too daft to know how beautiful you really are. Any man would be lucky to have you." Ginny knew that her initial reason for picking this robe was to make Ron remember what he'd lost, but now she was beginning to think they might attract new eyes, perhaps a set that belonged to a certain Slytherin (if he even attended these galas, of course), and she was all right with that.
"Thank you, Ginny, but I hope that any man lucky enough to have me is lucky because of something I've done, not just the way I look."
"Oh you know what I mean." Ginny nudged Hermione's arm as they stood next to each other, pressing the wrinkles out of their garments with just a touch of magic.
There was a knock at the door and a woman with a scroll poked her head in, calling for Hermione. As one of the Golden Trio, she would be making an entrance to the event with Harry and Ron, and the woman beckoning for her was an indication that it was nearly time. A knot rapidly formed in Hermione's gut at the realisation that she was going to see Ron tonight for more than five minutes in a bookshop. That he was here with his new partner, and that Harry had to be in the middle of all of it. None of it could be less pleasant.
"See you later, then." Hermione smiled tightly at Ginny, and tried to ignore the set of blue eyes trained on her as she made her way to the door. Ginny squeezed her hand once before letting go, waving all the while.
"If you'll follow me, Miss Granger." The woman requested, and two walked through the hallways until they made it to a set of doors one flight of stairs above the Great Hall, where Hermione could see wizards and witches still filing in. The woman opened one door and gestured for Hermione to enter.
"Someone will come get you when it's time." She explained and Hermione thanked her before stepping into the room, which looked to be a classroom, judging by the desks and chalkboard at the opposite end of the room. Though she had expected Harry and Ron, the room was empty, for which Hermione was grateful. At least she'd have another moment or two to prepare herself for the inevitable. She walked around the space to expend energy, reading the charts that lined the walls when she heard the doors behind her open. She didn't turn immediately, recognising Ron's voice first, followed shortly by Harry's. They were discussing a case, and Hermione didn't plan to interrupt, but when she turned, she locked eyes with Ron, who stopped speaking mid-sentence.
"Hermione." He greeted, though it sounded like he was surprised to see her. Maybe it was just surprise at seeing her so made up.
"Evening, boys." She responded, approaching the two slowly. Hermione hugged Harry first, and - though it was awkward - turned to Ron to give him a brief hug. As she stepped back, she noticed the hammering of her heart was beginning to slow. "Looking forward to the gala?"
"Hardly." Harry spoke, well aware Ron was still formulating his thoughts from when he first saw Hermione in her radiant robes. "Do you know they handed me a speech this morning they expect me to give tonight? I can't learn it that quickly."
"How much do you have memorised?" Hermione asked, trying to focus on Harry's conundrum rather than Ron, who was still staring at her. Hermione understood why, having had a similar reaction when she saw herself, but it was becoming uncomfortable and she began to regret not just wearing a set of robes from her wardrobe.
"About half." Harry answered. "I can't seem to remember this part about the Ministry's role." He pulled the script from inside his robes and showed Hermione. She snorted as she read it.
"No wonder you can't remember it, it's utter rubbish. 'The Ministry supported Dumbledore and me through our journey to defeating Lord Voldemort, protecting its citizens from the dangers that lurked undetected.' Did Fudge write this?"
"No." Harry sighed. "But now that they're under new power, it's more important than ever that the people trust their government."
"Harry, did you just recite propaganda?" Hermione asked, smiling a little.
"They say it every day at the Ministry." Ron finally spoke. "Try to remind us that they're on our side, and that it's our job to pass that message along to all of Great Britain."
"It'd be a little easier to do if that were actually true." Hermione responded, the flow of the group slowly returning to what it'd once been. "Come, let's work on these lines, Harry." Hermione plucked the scroll from his hands and turned to sit at one of the desks. Harry and Ron followed, Harry sitting opposite Hermione in another row while Ron sat just in front of Hermione.
"Think you can help me too?" Ron asked, fishing a scroll from his robes, which were quite well tailored, Hermione noted. "Mine's not as long as Harry's, but you know I can't memorise anything." He smiled guiltily, much like he did when asking Hermione for help with homework all those years ago, and just like she'd always done, Hermione agreed, and sat with the two, quizzing them on their speeches. By the time they were called on to enter the Great Hall, Harry had nearly all of his memorised, while Ron was able to remember the big picture concepts but not the details. He took notes on the palm of his hand and Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron looked up and noticed he was caught.
"Don't look at me like that, Mione." He moaned. "You got out of doing speeches years ago, and you know I can't say no."
"I 'got out of doing speeches' because I stood up for myself. You might find that works if you tried." She suggested, and she stood to follow Harry out the door.
Harry offered his arm to Hermione as they walked down the stairs and when they'd nearly made it to the doors, Ron rushed down to meet them, standing on the other side of Harry. The three exchanged glances and nervous smiles, and through the doors, heard their muffled introduction, and the doors opened on their own, exposing the trio to a room filled with clapping witches and wizards, as well as flashing cameras.
The mix of noises were nearly deafening, and when they approached the stage, Harry went first, then Hermione, then Ron. They stood together at the lectern as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped aside to make room. Harry stepped forward to the microphones stuck to the edge of the tabletop, laid his script out, and spoke to the room. Hermione was pleased to see that he barely referred back to the parchment, and often edited the original wording to be more in line with something he would say, and when he finished, the crowds clapped politely. Ron stepped up next and gave his speech, and while he didn't fumble his words, he did refer back to his scroll quite frequently, and when Harry nudged Hermione, she looked at what he was pointing to, which was the smudged writing on the inside of Ron's palm. The two snickered like schoolchildren, knowing there was no way Ron could read his notes and that was why he was referring back to the parchment in front of him.
When Ron finished, he stepped back as well, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward to thank everyone for their attendance before asking everyone to sit for dinner.
While bowls of soup appeared in front of each chair at the round tables sprinkled around the room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were asked to pose for photos before they got to sit and eat. Finally in the clear, they found their seats at a table near the front, and Harry took his seat next to Ginny, Ron took his seat between Harry and Lavender, and Hermione sat between Ginny and Neville, who looked all too pleased he wasn't expected to speak publicly, despite being a great part of the reason Harry had been able to defeat Voldemort.
"You know, one day, they may switch roles and have Dumbledore's Army do the speeches." Hermione spoke to Neville over the music. "Then we'll see what you have to say about all the posing."
"They wouldn't dare." Ginny cut in. "We wouldn't allow it, would we Neville?"
"They'd have to find us in the Room of Requirement first." The two shared a naughty smile and Hermione laughed at the familiarity she'd missed. They ate dinner and reminisced about the good times they'd had at Hogwarts, and before dessert, Ron and Lavender left the table to find Pavarti, at which point Luna and Seamus snuck their way into the two open seats and joined the reminiscing. As dinner dwindled to a close, the band picked up the music and couples slowly made their way to the dancefloor below the stage. Ginny stood dragged a less than thrilled Harry with her to dance, and Luna made her way on her own, so Hermione excused herself from the table and looked for more familiar faces to greet and catch up with. After all, she rarely strayed from London, and there were so many people she hadn't seen since sixth year, when she was still a student.
"Hermoine!" Ginny called from a distance, and Hermione turned to try to find where she was. Eventually, the redhead appeared between two former Ravenclaw students and grabbed Hermione by the forearms. "Can we chat for a minute?"
"Yes?" Hermione agreed, though she didn't know what to. Ginny looked panicked.
"Great. I have something to tell you." She began to drag Hermione toward the doors, but the familiar sound of someone clearing their throat stopped them both.
"May I have everyone's attention?" Ron asked from the stage, and even from the back of the room, Hermione could see how pink he looked.
"Oh bloody hell." Ginny muttered. "Look," she turned to Hermione, "he just told me, and I wanted to give you a heads up, but I don't think I'll be able to at this rate."
"A heads up?" Hermione asked, her eyes flitting between Ginny and Ron, the confusion building. "For what?"
"This day marks the end of an era of death and destruction. And I'd like to take the opportunity to put a more positive mark on it. Lav? If you could come up here."
"He isn't." Hermione began to recognise what this moment was turning into. And she couldn't help but watch as Lavender joined Ron on the stage with wonder in her eyes.
"That he is." Ginny confirmed. "My dimwitted brother is proposing to his girlfriend of three months at the gala that memorializes Voldemort's demise."
"Lavender Annmarie Brown, you're a light in my otherwise dark world. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Cameras flashed as Lavender squealed out a positive reply before tackling Ron to the ground.
"I'm...going to get some air." Hermione spoke, unable to look away from the stage. She backed toward the tall double doors and didn't even hear Ginny call out to her as she rushed outside to an unoccupied terrace. He'd proposed to Lavender. For all to witness, while she stood there and watched. Stood there and listened as he recycled her proposal but replaced her name with another woman's.
Part of her was terrified. Terrified of how casually they had spoken before the gala. How easy it had been to fall into a comfortable pace again, with her friend that she thought she knew better than anyone. A friend she didn't know that well, since she never saw this coming.
The other part of her didn't care. And that terrified her even more. She wasn't happy for Ron, she didn't wish him the best, but she just didn't care that he'd proposed. That he'd taken words he'd once said to her, and told them to another woman. Maybe she really was over him.
She began to shake, and it was initially that she was worried it was due to upset, but as the adrenaline wore off, Hermione realised she was cold, nearly freezing. She pulled out her wand and cast a warming charm, which didn't take, so she did it again, only to produce the same result.
"They restrict warming charms outside of the Great Hall." A smooth voice spoke, and Hermione turned to see Draco appearing from the shadows. "Quite brilliant, really. It keeps everyone inside and together."
"Y-yes. Brilliant." Hermione parroted, her teeth chattering. "Not controlling at all." She said sarcastically, and Draco chuckled, lifting his outermost robe from his shoulders and putting it over Hermione's. She practically moaned from the pre-warmed, wool cloak, and thanked Draco quietly. The two stood side by side, looking over the castle grounds in the light of a nearly full moon.
"I didn't know you attended these." Hermione finally spoke, wrapping herself tighter in the cloak. A secret part of her loved the smell of the cloak, which smelled of the parchment from Draco's desk. She'd begun to miss that smell the more time passed.
"It's my first year." Draco admitted, not mentioning that he knew she attended and that's why he was here. Just to get one more look at her. Possibly one more moment of her time. "It's not exactly good press for a Death Eater to be waltzing around an event praising the end of the Dark Lord."
"Ex-Death Eater." Hermione corrected. "And everyone in that room who matters knows where you stood in the end."
Draco looked at her closely, and unlike she'd felt under Ron's gaze earlier, Hermione felt emboldened and stared straight back at him. She looked at the fine wrinkles that lined his grey eyes. The deeper lines that sat between his brows. She wanted to push them away with her thumb. To touch the white scar that sat under his left eyebrow.
"No one who looks so beautiful should look so miserable, Hermione Granger." He broke the silence, his soft words filling the space between them. "He's more of a fool than ever."
Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and when she went to speak, they heard someone opening one of the doors from the main hall.
"The commis waiter was certain he saw her go through these doors." A voice so unique it could only belong to Rita Skeeter whispered to another, perhaps a floating camera.
Hermione and Draco looked at each other and before either could speak, Draco grabbed her wrist and sprinted off into the grass, dragging Hermione behind him.
"Wait, my shoe!" Hermione hollered as she stepped out of one of her pumps. She reached for it when Draco ripped the other from her foot and threw it toward the one that lay discarded in the grass.
"Forget the damn shoes, Granger, do you want Skeeter finding you?" Draco replied in a hushed yell and continued to pull her toward the shore of the Great Lake, where they hid under a large tree in the shadows. They watched from their hiding spot as Rita stood where they once were, scanning the surroundings for Hermione. When she didn't see her, Rita seemed to harumph before rubbing her arms to warm up and returning inside.
The two released their restricted stance and laughed, well aware they had narrowly avoided getting caught.
"How do you think she would have responded?" Hermione asked Draco. "To seeing us together."
A disappointment tugged at Draco's gut, let down that Hermione thought so poorly of being seen with him. "Not very well, I imagine." He conceded, knowing she was right. No one would respond well to seeing the two together. It was fantasy to think anything else.
"I'll say. Can you imagine the look on her face if she'd known that her fourth year informant was now friends with one of the people he was spying on?" Hermione laughed comfortably and Draco's mood lightened as he realised she hadn't meant insult to him. That she wasn't ashamed of being seen with him.
"Maybe we should find out." Draco suggested, sauntering back up the hill. "Care to wager a bet? I think she'd write that we were star crossed lovers, kept apart by our houses." Draco's heart leapt at the suggestion, wondering when he'd decided to become so cheeky.
"More like kept apart by our blood." Hermione retorted, far enough from the castle to cast a warming charm over her now bare feet. "Not like I'd let any article about me from that woman ever get published."
"Ah yes, you know of her animagus, don't you?" Draco asked, trying to avoid the blood comment. He knew it was true, but he hated to give it voice. "Kept her in a cage?"
"A jar." Hermione corrected, looking at Draco closely. "How did you know that?"
"I might've seen you carrying a very shiny green and blue beetle in your lap on the train back to London. Put two and two together and wondered why I hadn't thought to do that first."
"But you were her informant." Hermione noted, slowly walking through the grass. Draco followed her, the two walking just off the stony shore of the Great Lake.
"Yes, but she wouldn't leave me alone after I helped her. Owl after owl came to my home all summer reminding me that I had a friend at the Daily Prophet, should I ever have something to share. Unfortunately for Skeeter, the summer between fourth and fifth year was not so pleasant and I might've sent several of those Weasley paint bombs to her office, marked as gifts from her adoring fans."
Hermione snorted and covered her mouth, knowing of the Fred and George product Draco was talking about. The paint bombs exploded once touched, and the more you moved, the more the paint spread. Most didn't find out that the way to clean the mess was to stand perfectly still until the entire room was covered in a garishly bright coat of paint.
"You didn't." Hermione gushed, and when Draco nodded, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Hermione placed a hand on his upper arm and squeezed it happily. "That's brilliant, Draco! Why didn't I ever think of that?"
"Because you clearly lack the petty intelligence I excel in." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, acutely aware of when Hermione's grip slackened and dropped from his arm.
The two walked along the beach in silence, and while Hermione was just enjoying the time away from the gala, Draco was working up the courage to ask Hermione a very important question.
"So how's your research going?" He finally asked. "I haven't seen any books come back to my doorstep. Does that mean you're still using them?"
"Yes and no." Hermione sighed, explaining her dilemma to Draco, who listened patiently. She told him of her findings, of her contact at Mahoutokoro, and her discussion with Neville. "So I'm at an impasse, now. Waiting for confirmation from Neville, and if he says no, then I'll need to find another source to provide me the information. I might have to find another source anyway, because I don't think they'll be too keen to send samples if they do agree to give the information to Neville."
"I can help." Draco offered. "I have plenty of resources in Japan and South Korea that would help you locate the plant."
"Would you?" Hermione asked incredulously, slowing her pace to a stop. "That would be more than I could ever ask for." She hadn't expected the offer, so to receive it was a gift; one that she might not ever be able to repay.
"It would be my honor to provide you assistance." Draco confirmed. "And perhaps, if you're feeling indebted, you might be able to help me with my search." He floated the idea, nervous for her reaction. He hadn't wanted to ask for help, but Hermione had been right about the writing in Caulfield's notes, and she'd known the language almost immediately. What other assistance could he provide her in his hunt for his parents' murderer?
"Oh?" Hermione questioned, aware of Draco's search, but not of the details. "What does that mean?"
"It means I've hid a dead end. Again." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Those symbols you translated; they came from a journal kept by a man I hired to investigate my parents' murder. I fired him long ago, but I'm struggling to make sense of his notes. To understand what is conjecture and what I should be looking further into. And you, Granger, well, you're brilliant. And I trust you. Unwaveringly."
Hermione mulled over what Draco said, and nodded once. "Okay."
"Okay?" He asked, not quite believing her answer.
"Yes, okay." Hermione laughed quietly, unhooking the clasp that kept Draco's cloak around her shoulders. "I'm working the evening this week, so I'll see you Saturday? At ten?"
"Yes, that works." Draco nodded excitedly. He hadn't expected her to agree so quickly. Every time he'd ever asked for support from someone, he had to pay them or plead for their help. This was different. But so was Hermione.
"I'll see you then, then." Hermione tried to hide her grin but couldn't quite as she took off the cloak, handed it back to Draco, and began the walk back to the castle.
"See you then." Draco grinned too, feeling hopeful for the first time in quite a while. Hermione had that effect on him.
"You know, you needn't bribe me with favors." Hermione smiled coyly, looking back to Draco. "I would do it for you."
Scratch that. Hermione had more than one effect on Draco. She had many effects on him. Hope. Excitement. Curiosity. Eagerness. Obsession. Desire. Love.
As he watched her retreat up the hill in her billowing, red gown, bending down briefly to pick up her discarded shoes, Draco knew he was in far too deep to ever climb back out, but in this moment, watching the accomplished witch retreat under the moonlight, Draco didn't want to change a thing. Nothing could ever compare to Hermione Granger, and Draco felt lucky to know her, even if she never loved him the way he did her.
"I saw the two of you making eyes at each other at the gala." Neville admitted, his ears turning red. "I thought this might all be for him, so he'd want to help you."
