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Chapter Forty Two: Raiding Celebrations.
Draco hadn't noticed the hours sliding by or the commotion that had happened a vague while ago. In the Infirmary, Hermione and Draco were isolated. Draco's voice methodically read out each paragraph, while Hermione interrupted with other relevant facts or how it could impact the Order when used a certain way. He kept a running log of notes, while she fidgeted excitedly beside him. Everything else became meaningless as they ploughed through the book, bouncing ideas off one another in a studious manner.
Finally, Hermione slowed and her arms, which had previously been eagerly gesturing only moments before, began to droop. Since the attack, she was quick to tire, as her injuries took much of her energy to heal. As she began to relax back into the pillows, Draco closed the textbook and stood.
"We're not done…" Hermione mumbled and sleepily motioned to him, as if to gesture for him to continue.
"We're done for tonight. You need to sleep." Draco carefully moved her hand to rest on her stomach, "Sleeping helps your recovery."
"But-"
"Tomorrow, Granger." He stated plainly.
She seemed to accept his instruct and moved into a more comfortable position. Her legs remained straight, but her torso curled to one side, and she wrapped her arms around her pillow for comfort. It looked like a strained position, and when Draco had pointed that out to her a few weeks ago, she explained she couldn't sleep unless she was lying sideways. So Draco now propped an extra pillow behind her back and moved items from her reach, as she had a tendency to flail if disturbed, as if she was searching for a weapon or her wand to defend herself. Satisfied that she was settled for the night, he moved to walk away, but her hand shot out and grasped his wrist.
"Thank you." Hermione whispered, "Draco." Then she went back to hugging her pillow and her breathing went slow and shallow.
A small smile twitched on his lips, before he schooled his expression into a stoic mask. He couldn't afford to have warm feelings towards the Gryffindor. They were in a war and one or both of them would probably die. There was no point in pretending otherwise or growing close to people, they would only be taken away. He knew that more than most, having seen so many people die in this cruel war.
Deciding he would attempt to sleep tonight, he pushed the Infirmary doors open and was assaulted by the bright décor. Blinking, he strode down the corridor, cursing the Order's 'genius' distraction techniques.
He paused at the kitchen and cracked the door open, hoping there was fresh pumpkin juice from the earlier raid. A warm light enveloped the room and voices chattered over one another. Stepping in, he looked curiously around, as the wall clock chimed four times. Many of the younger Order members were sat around one of the dining tables, several bottles of amber liquid and a pack of cards scattered across the table top. But what surprised him was the presence of his best friends, sat at one end of the table.
Pansy noticed him hovering by the door and gestured him over. An unusually shy smile painted her pale pink lips and her cheeks were flushed. As he got closer to the group, he identified the bottles of Blishen's Firewhiskey and the telling signs of intoxication brightening usually glum expressions. Reaching over, he took the closest bottle and gulped a mouthful. The familiar burn of whiskey warmed his throat and stomach.
"What are you doing here?" He asked Pansy, as he passed the bottle to Blaise.
"Ask Blaise." She turned pointedly to the dark wizard, who only smirked in reply.
"Glad you could join us, Malfoy!" George exclaimed, as everyone suddenly noticed his presence.
"You're just in time for interrogation!" Fred grinned mischievously. Harry and Ron groaned and reached for a bottle of Firewhiskey each. Apparently, 'interrogation' was something the Gryffindors dreaded too.
"Not 'never have I ever', I barely lived the last one down." Ginny groaned and took the Firewhiskey off Blaise.
Draco resisted the urge to snigger at the childish Gryffindors. A petty game of 'never have I ever' was hardly something to dread. It was a frequent game in Slytherin, a way to get to know everyone's deepest secrets, if you asked the right questions.
"Found them." Luna suddenly appeared at the head of the table and placed a beaded necklace down. She carefully slid each bead off the string and handed it to Dean, who transfigured each bead into a shot glass. The glasses were passed down, Firewhiskey being poured in each as it passed along the two rows.
"One for luck!" George held his glass up in cheer and Fred stood with him.
"And may God have mercy on your confessions!" Fred teased before downing his, barely pausing to clink glasses with his twin. Nervous laughter rattled along the table and shots were tossed back, before glasses were quickly refilled.
"Who's starting?" Ron asked. His cheeks were burning red through his freckles and his hands weren't steady on his glass. Clearly, he had already had his fair share of Firewhiskey and he wasn't going to slow down yet.
"Easy, Ron, Lavender's going to kill you." Harry cautioned his friend. Draco had heard as Lavender's due date crawled closer, she became more irritable and often tearful. He almost pitied the youngest Weasley brother, his normally hormonal partner was currently pumped with extra, and it couldn't be the easiest thing, particularly with her nightmare pregnancy so far.
"No more adult talk." George teased, "It's celebration time."
"Yeah, no one was injured tonight." Fred pointed out, "Here's to fighting Voldy for another day!" Enthusiastic cheers were yelled at this and a round of shots was thrown back with a battle cry.
As Draco threw back his Firewhiskey, he noticed Ginny stumble into Blaise, as she slammed her empty glass back on the table. The smile Blaise flashed her was both confident and seductive and the redhead awkwardly pulled away, unexpectedly blushing. Draco was about to question his friend on what was going on between the two, when the Weasley twins called all to attention, forcing him to push his own curiosity down and focus on not allowing anyone else's curiosity pry too far into his own business. It was going to be an interesting night.