Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or other references to the original work of J.K Rowling. I only own my own mistakes
This chapter contains sexual content and mentions of drugs. You've been warned.
Please review if you like the chapter of have any thoughts. Just the smallest one means the world to me!
-o-o-o-
Why was he so calm? It was unnerving. Hermione had just asked Draco if he'd be interested in watching the Holyhead Harpies play against The Wimbourne Wasps, and to have dinner with Harry and Ginny. He didn't look up from the Daily Prophet, the newspaper he was reading. He continued to sip his coffee, nodding.
"Sure, when?
Hermione bit her lip. "This Friday, so tomorrow."
Draco hummed and put his coffee cup on the kitchen table.
"Did you hear what I said? About dinner with the Potter's afterwards?" she asked apprehensively. Draco turned to the next page and leaned back in his chair.
"Yes, I did, love"
"But-"
Draco finally put the paper down and met her gaze. "What? Did you want me to say no?" he quirked a dark blonde eyebrow. Hermione fiddled with her gold bracelet.
"No." But I expected you to say no, and I had already prepared what I was going to reply to that. Draco looked at her quizzically.
"Well then," he turned to another page, "what time does the game start?"
"At three."
"Ah, perfect," he replied and Hermione frowned, feeling annoyed with how easy he accepted to a double date with her friends; not that she didn't want him to say yes, but she'd expected some resistance. She glared at him and drank her tea, forgetting it was still scolding hot. Fuck, she burned her tongue badly.
Determined not to let it show, she answered.
"Good, then it's settled, I'll let them know we're coming then," she said shortly, still waiting for him to say something, a comment about Harry or something about how he didn't do double dates, or even just a scoff at the idea as a whole. Hermione left the table unsatisfied and put away the remains of her breakfast eggs and tea and decided to get ready for work. When she exited the kitchen area of his flat and started for the bathroom she could swear she heard him chuckle and it increased her irritation.
He was doing it on purpose, he must be, acting so casual and at ease only to frustrate her. In all honesty she knew it shouldn't irritate her, it should make her happy that he was so willing to spend time with her friends, but it didn't and she didn't want to dwell on why that was.
"Git," she mumbled under her breath as she started to coat her lashes with mascara.
"What's that?" His voice startled her and mascara ended up on her eyelid. What a git indeed.
"Brilliant," she mumbled as she wet a cotton pad to remove the black colour from her lid.
"You're in a mood today," he called from the adjoined bedroom.
"I am not!" she exclaimed a little too harshly. This time she was sure he chuckled.
"Are you sexually frustrated dear?" he asked as he entered the bathroom to get ready himself, the smirk plastered on his face made her want to smack it right off.
She hadn't seen him in over a week, and he'd sent her instructions to not touch herself while he was gone, simply because her pleasure was his. She had liked it at first, found it arousing even, but as the days passed it was maddening. He'd returned from New York yesterday and he hadn't even touched her in that way, just asked how her week had been and what she'd been up to.
They'd cozied up on the sofa and watched a movie, like they were just a regular muggle couple. She grimaced at the thought. He hadn't seemed too tired to fuck, and she had expected them to, but no. It was most certainly all part of his game to drive her insane. She had contemplated just throwing herself on him when he'd brushed her breast with his arm reaching for the remote. She was almost convinced he'd done it deliberately.
Yes I am sexually frustrated, she thought. He didn't deserve her honest answer though.
She went to stand in front of, her lips inches from his. "No. You just annoy me, that's all," she answered but the way her fingertips traced over his biceps said otherwise. She left the bathroom to get dressed. Hermione did her best not to look at him as he stepped out of his grey slacks to replace them with a pair of black trousers.
If he could go another day without sex then so could she. She was determined to not be the loser in this game of his.
-o-o-o-
Draco was sure she would be at least a little happy, that he would earn at least a small smile from her when he agreed to go on a somewhat sickening double date. He had nothing against the Weasley girl, didn't really know her at all, but having dinner with scarhead was stretching his boundaries. Yet, he agreed, for her. It only seemed to annoy Hermione more.
All morning he'd received angry glances from her across the table. It was highly amusing. He was sure he knew the reason for her poor mood and he almost felt sorry for her when she burned her tongue on the scolding hot tea she was chugging down in anger.
He overheard her mumbling something rude from the bathroom and couldn't stop from smiling widely. He'd expected her to be frustrated yes, but not at this level. He wanted very much to fuck her. The way they'd been going at it the week before he left for New York was amazing, but how in the world would they be able to keep up that speed? When he came back yesterday she hadn't initiated anything, and he thought that maybe it was because she needed a break from their strenuous activities, and a relationship was about more than just shagging. Besides, it would only make it so much better when they finally did. By the looks he was receiving this morning he might have misinterpreted last night by a long shot.
Hermione told him he annoyed her an he was about to laugh at the falseness of her complaint when she stepped so close to him he could smell the mint on her breath. Her lips were so close to his, he could just pout his lips the slightest and they he could have her pinned against the tiles of the bathroom wall in no time.
She was definitely teasing him, trying to goat a reaction from him. Draco shook his head in an attempt to escape whatever trance she'd managed to put him in, and joined her in the bedroom.
When he got dressed he admired her stubbornness, he expected her to do something about what was bothering her, but she didn't. If she'd only ask he'd give in to her in a heartbeat, but she had turned this game into something more, a game of who's a sucker for who. He began suspecting the game would drag out until he gave in. If he had learned anything about Hermione it was she was an incredibly sore loser. It had been apparent that time they played wizard's chess the week before he left. She lost and was pouting about it until the next morning. Telling him it was ' a barbaric and pathetic game anyways'. Draco however, took the win with pride.
Before Hermione left for work he eyed her up and down and told her she looked beautiful. Because she did, she always did. Her pleaded skirt swayed around her hips as she walked to grab her bag. When she bent down to pick it up he was sure she was giving him the view on purpose, but he didn't mind it at all.
"Thanks," she managed when she stood back up. When he walked closer to kiss her already felt like he missed her. She bit down on his bottom lip, knowing exactly what it would do to him. When she disappeared in a cloud of green from the chimney, he had a hard on.
Damn witch.
-o-o-o-
Wednesday night at Grimmauld place.
"But is it necessary?" Harry asked while scratching his forehead.
"She is our friend, and she seems really happy. As friends this is what we do," Ginny stated and crossed her arms over her chest.
"But dinner-"
"I swear to Merlin Harry," she was gesturing wildly with her hands now, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. "We are doing this." It wasn't up for discussion. Harry had been Hermione's friend longer than Ginny had, and a closer one too.
Harry mimicked her movements and crossed his arms as well, not letting the subject go at all.
"It's not dinner with Hermione that's the problem it's that Malfoy will be there too," he spat and eyed his wife seriously. She huffed and rested her weight on one leg, the way she always did when she found him annoying.
"Harry James Potter, you are doing this. Malfoy has changed, and I have already promised Hermione you are not holding the same grudges as Ron."
Harry puffed his chest and adjusted his glasses. Apparently being married meant she thought she could promise things on his behalf.
"You will be there, and you will be on your best behaviour." Apparently she could decide things for him too.
"I just don't see it, the two of them. He was awful towards everyone at school, and especially to her," he said because he really couldn't understand it.
When Ginny had told him about Hermione and Malfoy dating he had thought she was joking at first. How, why? It made no sense to him at all. Hermione was the cleverest person he'd ever met, and Malfoy although showing some redeeming qualities after the war, had still been a first class bully throughout their school years at Hogwarts. His stance in the war had little to do with his reluctance towards them dating, he knew Malfoy had his reasons for joining the wrong side. Harry didn't accept it, but he could understand it at some level. But them dating? It was intolerable, his friend deserved better and he thought maybe she was just acting out like she had after the war. He always wished he could have done more for her during that time but she wouldn't let him.
"I don't really get it either, not really," Ginny admitted and uncrossed her arms in resignation. Harry's eyes widened at her confession. "But that's exactly why I want to meet with the two of them together. Hermione is serious about this and from what she explained so is he. We need to be supportive-"
"Fine," Harry interrupted and sat down on the kitchen chair at. Thinking he wasn't fine with it at all, but Ginny had a point.
She usually did.
-o-o-o-
Fantastic, Hermione thought when she ripped one of her stay ups when putting them on; she mended them with her wand and continued with her hair. It would most likely be windy at the audience stand by the quidditch pitch, so she chose to do her hair with purposeful caution, using up a fourth of her bottle of Sleekeazy's hair potion. She hadn't spoken to Draco since yesterday morning, she'd worked late Thursday night and it hadn't made sense to bother him when she finished up. He'd told her he was going to Malfoy manor for afternoon tea with his mother, Narcissa anyway and maybe he spent the night there too. The thought of his family home sent chills down her spine, she pondered what it had been like for him to grow up there.
When she'd gone to bed that night in her own flat she wondered if Draco had told his mother about the two of them, and if so, how she had reacted. She felt something stir in her stomach at the thought.
It was proven difficult to choose an outfit for the quidditch match. Anything that was casual and appropriate for attending a quidditch match wasn't dinner at a restaurant worthy. She sighed and decided on a tight fitted dress in satin with a cowl neckline and straps that tied in a bow at the shoulders. The dress was in a plum shade that felt winter appropriate. She decided on a pair of black pointed toe heels and a dress robe that had a plum coloured collar, matching the dress. They were going to have dinner at a new restaurant in Diagon Alley, so it was suitable to wear a robe than a muggle style trench coat.
When she was coating her lips with gloss she heard the floo-network signalling someone was coming through. With the heels of choice in her hands she hurried to the fireplace in her living room. Draco too had chosen a dress robe, she could make out a grey shirt underneath and a silver silk tie. It shouldn't be allowed for him to wear anything grey or silver; his eyes looked so enchanting she stopped breathing for a few seconds.
Draco was hit with the same delicate amber scent he had that one time they had gone on a date. The colour of her dress practically had him salivating like a fool. She was gorgeous. Would he ever not feel like she took his breath away? It was almost too disappointing to think they would be spending the night in the company of others.
"I'm lost for words. That colour looks amazing on you," he said instead of an ordinary hello.
Hermione looked at him in a way that had his pulse increasing. "We're both way overdressed for a quidditch game." It was meant as a compliment.
Draco smirked. "Oh well, let the people stare," he said, only slightly annoyed with the arrangements, he wasn't one to show up underdressed to a restaurant so he'd rather be overdressed at the match. Apparently she had thought the same thing, and it made him feel a certain kind of way. He gave her a gentle kiss on her lips even though he wanted to kiss her until she gasped for breath.
He'd never been in her flat before. It wasn't half the size of his place, but it was cosy, the living room was filled to the brim with bookshelves, she'd probably had then custom made to reach all the way from the floor to the high ceiling, making any guest question if they were in a living room or in a library. All the books were alphabetised. The door to her study was open and as he peeked inside he felt a sudden urge to clean it. There were books everywhere. It was completely cluttered with parchment and the desk had several ink stains that looked both old and new. Her place felt like a warm embrace, like a true home. There was no mistaking who the owner of the flat was by the number of picture frames of her friends and family. It was so … personal, messy and organised at the same time. He couldn't help but frown slightly, did she even enjoy being at his flat? It seemed cold compared to hers.
"I know it's more cluttered than yours," Hermione said, only slightly embarrassed by how she had left her study, "and it's too small, I feel like I've grown out of it," she admitted when she saw him frowning.
Draco pulled her into his embrace. "It's very, you, I like it," he mumbled as he caressed her cheek. They moved to sit down on the sofa. Hermione waved her wand, bringing the two glasses of champagne she had prepared, from her kitchen to the coffee table.
She placed one of the glasses in front of Draco. "Figured we could celebrate it's finally the weekend," she lolled, what she really meant was to offer something to calm their nerves. Not that Draco seemed to need it; it was mostly for her own benefit.
Hermione leaned back on the sofa. Draco raised his glass. "Cheers then," he concurred whilst thinking of how many places in her flat they could christen had they not been playing this stupid, very much unspoken, game. The sexual tension between them had never been more apparent, just a brush of her thigh against his had his breathing going irregular and when he unconsciously put his hand on her shoulder as he spoke her lips parted and he could see her pupils dilating. He silently cursed Harry and Ginny for asking to have dinner tonight even though it was neither of their faults at all. The game was utterly ridiculous and he was determined for it to end sooner rather than later.
"I saw mother yesterday," he said and it caught Hermione's attention. "I told her about you and me, and … she wondered what your plans were for Christmas," he said, but in all honesty they had bickered for while about it all and she'd given him a look of disappointment, that reminded him of how she used to look when scolding him for riding his toy broom inside the house as a child. After some explanations on his part his mother reluctantly and asked if it meant he wouldn't be home for Christmas this year.
It was his idea more than his mother's to invite Hermione, he was sure his mother would be fond of her if she they got a chance to meet. He considered it a first wave in the sea that rocked the raft they were on. Hermione looked at him and he could see she was hesitant by the way she fiddled with the hem of her dress.
The way he worded it made Hermione question what was left unsaid, although he had told her that time the thought his mother might be okay with the two of them, maybe she was. She wanted to ask exactly what Narcissa had said when he told her, but she wasn't sure she was ready for the truth.
"I- I'm going to a cabin in Wales, to focus on work-"
"You are not-
"I need to get some work done, I-
"Can do that another time, not during Christmas, I won't let you spend it alone," he said as if it was his decision to make. Hermione looked at him firmly and he squeezed her thigh as if to reassure her he wouldn't have asked if he didn't think it was a good idea.
"Is Lucius going to be there?" she asked before finishing her glass of champagne at record speed.
"No, mother assured me he wouldn't. It would actually just be the three of us."
Hermione wanted to tell him that his drawing room was the place of many of her nightmares ant the thought of going back there was making her feel like she couldn't breathe. The scar on her wrist suddenly felt freshly carved and when her gaze dropped to it, his followed.
They exchanged looks in silence. "Maybe we could celebrate at my place instead," he said as if he could read her mind.
Hermione hated showing weakness of any kind. "It's not that. I- I'll think about it, okay?" she said and refilled her glass. It was a lie because there was no way in hell she was going there, but she didn't want to allow herself to think about that part of the war, she never allowed herself to do that, not since she'd stopped with the drugs to help cope.
Draco looked at her pensively, like if he was trying to determine if she was telling the truth. She thought he decided she was, maybe because he didn't want to think too much of that time either.
She needed a smoke.
-o-o-o-
Draco felt something he usually never did, the tiniest sliver of nervousness. If things went south tonight Hermione would not be happy. He smoothed down his tie and tried to think of Harry Potter as something else than an obnoxious prat. It was safe to say, he was unsuccessful in his weak efforts. He had Harry had never gotten along, but then again, they had never really tried to either, he was determined to try tonight, for Hermione's benefit, not Harry's.
They had apparated after they'd finished off two glasses of champagne each. Hermione had seemed extraordinarily thirsty and it only made him feel more unsettled for tonight and for Christmas too. He wanted to spend it with Hermione but he couldn't leave his mother alone. His father had said he had to stay in Scotland which Draco thought to be a lie, and he only cared because he felt sorry for his mother.
The arena was buzzing with excitement, and they seemed to be walking up stairs for ages. He'd bought two scarfs in the colours of the Holyhead Harpies, green and gold, and draped one around Hermione's neck, it jarred a bit with the colour of her dress, but she didn't seem to mind so he shouldn't either. When they stopped at the middle section and not at the far top Draco eyed her pensively.
"I hate heights," she said matter-of-factly, "so Ginny was kind enough to get us seats here." Her tone made it clear it was not up for debate.
Brilliant, Draco thought. Anyone who knew anything about quidditch knew you wanted seats at the far top for the best view. He took a deep breath. "This is fine," he lied. Hermione accepted the answer even though he was sure she could tell he wasn't truthful. The Malfoy's never had lesser seats than the box seats at the top, surely she knew that and surely she didn't care. For a moment he wondered if the Weasel himself was there. Were they friendly? Like he and Pansy? He shook the thought and concluded Hermione was in fact scared of heights - as pointless of a fear he thought that to be when being a skilled witch who could cushion any fall - and she did hate quidditch after all.
Hermione studied Draco with caution, he was just staring onto the pitch, or, glaring at it would be a more accurate term. What was his problem anyway? It wasn't the worst seats and she was saving him from a run in with Ginny's entire family, her ex's family.
She was obstinate for tonight to go over smoothly, as if tonight would prove if their new, still rather fragile, commitment would work outside of the walls of his flat. She shoved the whole Christmas ordeal to the back of her mind, she had plenty of time to decide on that later on.
She found it sweet that he bought her Holyhead Harpies scarf, not having it in her to tell him she already had three at home and had forgotten to put one on simply because her mind had been occupied with numerous bad things she wanted him to do to her when the champagne and nicotine relaxed her nerves and their conversation about Christmas was left at it. She shook her head at the thought, had her mind always been so filled with filth? Whatever game they had started to play was unsatisfying and she desperately needed for it to end. The game combined with planning for Christmas and worrying about tonight was too much to handle.
They walked to stand by the railing and Hermione reached for his hand. Draco caressed her hand with his thumb and gave her a small smile. There were reporters at every corner, and Hermione couldn't help but feel they were going public with some dirty secret that wasn't dirty at all, well not in that sense anyway.
The places next to them quickly filled with people, the floor made creaking sounds like it would break at any time. Hermione had to reminded herself it was held together with magic and would be able to withstand triple the amount of people on it. Draco squeezed her hand as if he could tell what she was thinking, and she realised that was something that made her like him, he was so, attentive to her, always aware of every small reaction. Maybe it should make her feel squeamish, like she was being looked at through a microscope, but it didn't.
The stand was almost at full capacity, the floors were vibrating and the air was thick in anticipation for today's game.
"It's been ages since I've watched a game," he said in a tone of sincere happiness. He'd probably not been to a game since after the war.
"I'm glad we're doing this then," she replied and leaned closer against him. He was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her body and she thought that this could be the first time she would enjoy watching a game. They earned a few glances from people shoving their way to the front of the railing, but neither of them paid any attention to it. Both were already aware when they accepted to go to the match it would have people talking. There wasn't many in the wizarding society that hadn't read about the Malfoy trials in the Prophet after the war, and Hermione's efforts alongside the famous Harry Potter had escaped no one.
When she overheard a woman's voice saying "why in the world is she with him? Is this a sick joke? He's a death eater" she felt Draco's body tense behind her. She looked over her shoulder but it was impossible to know who had said it. Hermione was met with not only two set of eyes, but about ten people as they walked by and made their way further up the stands.
Draco fought the urge to pull out his wand and dare the person to say it again. He knew something like this was going to happen, and it would happen again. He already felt he was undeserving of being with her, she was pure and amazing and he was tainted with the choices of his past. It didn't help to hear other people think the same.
She met his eyes and she could see there was a storm going on behind his eyes; was it hurt she detected in that storm? She remembered the look from one of the nights in Hogsmeade, when he'd told her he was sorry for the torture she'd endured at his family home. The look on his face reminded her of that same one and she hated it.
"Let the sea swallow us, remember?" she said. That was what they had agreed on and it was what they were doing now. The cold water was the judgemental stares, causing waves in the sea, and the raft was a place that held only them. He managed a smile that didn't reach his eyes and she wished there was something she could do to prove to him she didn't care what anyone said. He was hers and it was no one else's business.
Luckily the whistle was blown and the game began, having everyone focused on the pitch instead. When the stares ceased Draco silently vowed to not let anyone else's opinions affect him. She was wrapped in his arms and they could all suck it. He'd withstood worse.
-o-o-o-
Hermione spotted Ginny quickly, playing the position of chaser. Admiring how she swished in the air so effortlessly, like the broom was part of her body. She could appreciate the skill it took, but the game itself couldn't hold her attention when there was a tall gorgeous man pressed against her backside. Draco seemed to relax more when the game was in session, and on occasion he even appeared to be enjoying himself.
The elation in the stand was contagious. People were screaming praise and profanities, waving their hands and their scarfs in the air. She turned her head to look at him, his blonde hair was occasionally caught by the wind and his cheeks had a slight pink tint to them, the kind you get when the air is nippy. The way he smiled and the innocent look in his eyes as he simply enjoyed the game made her knees feel week and she decided then and there to end this unsatisfying game they'd been playing for far too long. It was her stubbornness that had dragged it out after all.
"The action is the other way love," he smiled and flashed his pearly white teeth.
It was almost a shame he was so tall, because when she brushed up against him, it barely reached the right spot, she had to stand on her toes for that. His smile turned into a dangerous smirk.
"What is it that you think you're doing?" he quirked an eyebrow and looked at her with big grey eyes.
"Just my way of saying I'm over this game of ours, whatever it is. I give up."
Draco's eyes went wide and she thought she detected something new, it wasn't just lust, it was something more, that look of innocence was still there.
"That's good to know. I surrender too." Forfeiting the game alongside her instead of taking the win. "But you need to stop rubbing up against me, because I can't fuck you in front of all of these people," he said only loud enough for her to hear while his hands tightened around her waist.
She could feel his warm breath on her neck and when she turned her head to the point were her neck would snap with another inch, he kissed her in a way that from the outside would look tenderly, however the way his tongue ravished her mouth was anything but. She bit his bottom lip when the feeling of not having had release for far too long overpowered her.
"Hermione," he said warningly, as if the way he'd just ravished her mouth wasn't just as bad. She pressed her arse firmly against his body.
Her body was trapped tightly between his and the railing. She blamed herself for not declaring defeat when they'd been in her flat earlier, how could she have let that opportunity slip by? He could've taken her on her bed, on her sofa, on the floor of the kitchen. All she would've had to do was initiate it.
The crowd was loud and people were jumping and screaming when the Holyhead Harpies scored the first goal. But they weren't. The images playing in her mind combined with weeks of being unsatisfied had her body ache for his.
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked when he caught the glazed look in her eyes.
"What we've been denying ourselves," she replied shamelessly. His eyes went dark and she knew what that meant.
"Oh yeah?" he smirked and she bit her bottom lip. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I don't know," Hermione said, because the colours on the pitch had started to melt together into a blur. "Let's just leave."
"We can't leave," he said whilst looking around. They were squeezed in tight between people on either side, it would be like trying to walk through tar and they would draw unwanted attention to them. She slid her hand up his thigh just as the The Wimbourne Wasps seeker caught sight of the golden snitch and the crowd was sent into frenzy. How had he ever been able to think this woman was a prude?
"But you look so good in that tie and I feel like I've been on the edge for over a week, I want to-"
"Cum?" he whispered into her ear, and to anyone else it would look like they were just trying to communicate through the sounds of the crowd.
"Yes," she said because her brain had stopped working the second she'd allowed her brain to make up compromising images.
"You should be careful," he spoke with emphasis on each word while his hands found their way under her robe, squeezing her arse through the fabric of her dress, "of what you" his fingertips were grazing the thin fabric of her knickers, "ask for love," Two fingers slid inside of her.
Oh fuck. Her breath caught in her throat.
She managed a look around her. Everyone was shoved together one way or another, so their closeness wasn't out of the ordinary. Not that she actually cared right now, not when his fingers were sliding in and out of her at just the perfect pace.
"Not a sound love," he whispered and only seconds after the command, she whimpered. For a brief second she thought he might stop, but instead his speed increased and she was almost there.
"Scchh." He bit down on her earlobe, to anyone else it would look like he kissed her on her neck.
Hermione fought to hold back the many moans threatening to leave her lips, her eyes were glued to the pitch without actually seeing it. His thumb rubbed on her sensitive nub and she felt herself starting to let go, she forced her eyes to stay open, like she was just watching the game intensely. Her cunt gripped his fingers hard as her orgasm consumed her.
Oh Merlin, Oh fuck, Oh Draco.
His body pressed tightly onto hers was the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor when she came back down.
Draco chuckled in her ear. "How was that love?"
"You're crazy," was all she had in her to reply, it was more a compliment than a complaint.
"I could say the same." The smug smirk on his face had her shaking her head and smiling widely, she had no retort; he was speaking the very truth and her knickers were ruined.
-o-o-o-
Harry rubbed his hands together to keep warm, feeling tense and annoyed as he sat in one of the box seats at the quidditch arena next to George. Molly and Arthur were there too, supporting their daughter. The rest of the Weasley siblings were no shows. Harry could understand why Ron had lied and told him he would be away on a mission. His friend clearly wanted to avoid a run in with his ex and Malfoy.
The mere thought of them being a couple had knots forming in his stomach. Ginny had told him not to let Ron in on the news she had shared that night at dinner, so naturally he had. The look on Ron's face when he'd told him was worrying in many ways, he'd turned so white he looked like he was going to either faint or throw up on Harry's shoes. He'd only managed incoherent sentences and a couple of outburst that had his face turn from white to bright red like his hair, and back to white again when he mumbled something about Malfoy touching his precious Hermione. Yes that was the exact phrasing he'd used. At those words Harry excused himself, leaving the room so quickly he almost tripped over his shoelaces.
He drank a bit more firewhiskey from George's hip flask than he should. Determined to look for signs of Hermione's state of mind tonight. Clearly she couldn't be well if she was dating that ferret, it was incomprehensible to him. Tonight felt like a betrayal towards Ron, he should be the one with Hermione tonight, not Malfoy. His friend never really did explain why they had broken up, and he Hermione had avoided him anytime they'd crossed paths at the Ministry. Their breakup had put a wedge between the three of them, and he thought Hermione figure he'd taken Ron's side. He hated it and he missed how close they used to be. Ginny thought their breakup had something to do with intercourse, and it made him feel uncomfortable in many ways.
One does not give up on a relationship only because the sex wasn't perfect. Right?
When he took another sip of the firewhiskey he felt a little guilty for not paying attention to his extraordinary wife on the quidditch pitch.
George pinched his arm and looked at him accusingly. Harry grimaced. "Sorry mate."
He shook his head and took the bottle from Harry's hands "Jeez, could've saved be some," he said after emptying the flask of the last drops. It hadn't even occurred to Harry he'd almost drunk it all himself.
Oh bullocks, he thought when the colours on the pitch started to mesh together and sweat started to form on his forehead. The whiskey did seem to make him more relaxed though, so he leaned back and decided to demand a recap of the game from George before meeting up with Ginny afterwards. She wouldn't be too happy with him to find out he'd emptied George's hip flask during the first half hour of the game.
Oh, to be married.
-o-o-o-
This chapter kept getting longer and longer and I had to separate it into two parts.
Their dinner night will be in the next one!
