The morning after didn't come with a hangover, as Ginny had promised. But Hermione felt a throb in her head anyway as all the memories of the night's events flooded into her brain.
Harry, his broken heart; Neville, being cornered into trying with her, even if it was half hearted attempts, it took energy; Viktor, and his fiance, the way he still looked at her; the way Malfoy looked at her when they danced, when she defended Teddy, when he was snogging that woman.
She buried her face in her hands and groaned.
Breakfast with her parents was spent telling them about her night while they beamed proudly at her. They had never been anything but proud of her, and Hermione felt gratitude for them rush from her and she smiled broadly. The feeling never got old.
On her way to her room, she swiped the Prophet that usually arrived by owl through the mail slot and walked lazily to her room. She wanted to browse it for news on Ginny, but was expecting to be annoyed by the contents as usual. She readied her desk to write a letter to Ginny and Harry, the Prophet forgotten for a moment.
Just then, an owl clicked its beak on her window pane. A young proud owl, but somehow, the feathers on his head were overpowered by the wind and swept in all the wrong ways. Hermione opened the window and allowed him to hop in. Hermione scratched his head appreciatively and he hooted before ducking his head to the water bowl.
She detached the letter and opened it.
He left.
~ G
Hermione read it over. She flipped the letter on its face and wrote the first thing that came to her mind.
Left the Vie? The Country? I'm coming over.
HG
She sent the owl out, knowing he might not make it back to the Burrow before she did, but she would give him a head start.
Quickly, she wrote her scribbled note to Harry, asking him how he was doing and if they could meet up soon. And without thinking, she plopped the white lace with an emerald stitched necklace into an envelope and addressed it to Theodore Nott . She also wrote on a small piece of parchment 'Suggestions about the Library to come.'
Blue jeans and white t-shirt with some black trainers was the easiest choice of clothes; complete comfort over her dress last night and surrounded by so much lush things. It evened out how she felt on the inside, it brought a balance back to who Hermione felt she was.
Hermione hadn't thought about it before everything had become busy with visits to the Vie and the Prevalence Ball, but she used to walk every day. She loved walking through the countryside off the side of her neighbourhood that disappeared into a wilderness that begged to be explored. She could sometimes identify magical plants masquerading as muggle ones and would pick them when she could to dry them and store them in her personal apothecary.
Once she was comfortable, satisfied that her purse was filled with the necessities, including her letter to Harry and Theo, she walked beyond the apparition point in the park and into the countryside.
When the sun warmed her skin through and a shimmer gleamed on the surface of her skin, plus her freckles began to show; that was when she decided to apparate to Diagon Alley. She posted her letters at the post office without hesitation, then returned to the apparition point.
In quick succession, she apparated across the countryside and finally stopped at the Burrow. Her head throbbed for a moment from the far travel, and she looked to the sky and breathed, steadying herself. The Burrow during the day still felt foreign, nestled comfortably in the base of some undulating hills and surrounded by low lying wetland.
But the urge to avoid Ron was completely overwhelmed by the need to be there for Ginny.
He's gone. That's what her letter said. That's all she could say.
Hermione walked to the Burrow's door and it opened, inviting her in without a person on the other end of the door. It was a relief that it still recognised her as part of the family. Holding her breath, she stepped over the threshold and looked around. The kitchen was empty but the pans were washing themselves.
The young owl hooted in greeting and Hermione smiled at it. Her letter wasn't on his leg. No one was here. She glanced at the clock and saw Ginny's hand at home. Everyone's else was at Work, Quidditch, or In Transit. Molly was travelling. Ron was safely at Quidditch.
A breath Hermione didn't realise she was holding promptly left her lungs and she walked to the stairs and climbed. Stopping outside Ginny's door, she knocked softly, scared that she would make Ginny want to isolate herself more.
"What?" Ginny said. It sounded as though she intended to be snappy, but she couldn't muster the energy.
"It's me!" Hermione said. She was always unsure what to expect when Ginny wallowed. Ginny was fierce, even in sadness, because her sadness often manifested as a quiet fury and when Ginny was furious, her hexes were forces to be reckoned with.
The bedroom door opened and Ginny was at her desk, her wand pointing at the door having used it to open it and allow Hermione in.
"Hey." Hermione said lamely.
"Hey." Ginny said mirroring Hermione's tone.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked.
"Read it, I don't mind." Ginny said. She stuck out her arm and in her fingers was a letter, crushed on one side, an effort to smoothen it had failed. Hermione took it from her and held it up to her face, skimming the elegant letters and trying to make sense of it. It read like someone other than Zabini wrote it.
Gin,
I hate that I have to leave so suddenly. I can't say I regret getting to know you, but I regret not being around you anymore. I hope to return to Britain again, but I must ask that we remain in contact through frequent letters.
My mother has made her need known and she wishes to see me. As I'm sure you're aware, mothers can indeed be very demanding. I hope when I return to you, that you both can meet.
I didn't think anything of it, but when I got more information from her, it seems like the business could benefit from my attention, which is why I won't be returning for a while.
If you don't hear from me right away, I have to apologize. I don't expect to be drowned in work as soon as I return to Italy, but I imagine nothing ever goes as planned, and I know you understand.
I hope this means, at the very least, that we can be friends.
BZ
"He's gone back to Italy?" Hermione said, asking but not really. This was so bizarre. Weren't they dancing and laughing just last night? It read very suspiciously.
"He said 'friends' Hermione. I think that's about it for him and I." Ginny said. Hermione sat on her bed and extended her hand to Ginny's knee and patted it.
"He doesn't seem to want to be gone forever though, so there's hope?" Hermione offered helpfully. She was thinking of Harry, and the awful convenience of the timing. She was torn between being hurt for one friend and relieved for the other.
"Oh please. Like I could ever show my face around him again. He's literally fled the country to get away from me." Ginny said.
"But what happened?" Hermione asked. She couldn't think of anything, but maybe something happened when they were alone last night, after she had left.
"You know as much as I do." Ginny said. "Maybe the Weasley name was too much of a stain on the Zabini name." Ginny laughed a short bark of laughter. Her wand sparked and Hermione eyed it carefully.
"Go to Italy." Hermione said, surprising herself. "Go to Italy, make a wine tour with your Mum. He's sure to notice you then. He'll come back to you."
"I'd make a fool of myself." Ginny said, scoffing.
"Worst case scenario, he doesn't come to you and you get one on one time with your Mum, who let's face it, has been in need of vacation because your brothers suck the soul out of every living thing around them." Hermione said. Ginny smiled, then grinned.
"Yea, yea, that sounds like a good idea." Ginny said. "Good luck to Rita for reporting on me then."
"She wrote a piece on you and Zabini?" Hermione said.
"We had an honorable mention this week, but you had everyone's attention, Granger." Ginny said, some of her humour seeping into her foul mood because she half heartedly wagged her eyebrows.
"What do you mean, I had everyone's attention?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Just then there was a knock at the door followed by a bell chime sound that was a charm at the front door to indicate a visitor. Hermione looked at Ginny. "Who's that?"
"I don't know, mom or the boys wouldn't knock." Ginny said. She uncurled her leg from under her thigh and Hermione followed her out the bedroom and to the front door. Neville stared back at Ginny, mild fear in his eyes.
"Neville?" Hermione said Ginny sidestepped so Hermione could see him fully. He was so tall that Hermione saw his head over Ginny's anyway.
"Sorry about this, Hermione." Neville said. "But can I talk to you?"
"How did you know I was here?" Hermione asked, confused.
"I didn't really. But gran," Neville did a little jerk of his hand, gesturing behind him, "she wanted me to propose quickly, before you were taken by someone else."
"Neville, are you going to ask the Weasley girl to call Ms Granger over?" A stern voice said, making Ginny and Hermione jump. "What's taking so long?"
"Gran, Hermione's here !" Neville said, turning his head slightly to shout over his shoulder.
"Well, do it then! Don't waste anymore time." Gran said. Hermione felt heat rise to her face.
"No, Neville, don't." Hermione said. "It's fine. Please. I'll tell her I said no."
"I have to, otherwise she'd never leave me alone, Hermione." Neville said, pleading. "She needs to see me do it."
"Fine." Hermione said. She brushed against Ginny as she stepped into the garden and met Neville's grandmother face on. She was tall enough that the height difference between herself and her grandson seemed insignificant. She was thin enough that her robes hung off her like cloth draped on a naked tree, but her expression was so stern and she stood so firmly, even Hermione quelled a little in her presence. Hermione turned to look at Neville. "Come on, Neville."
Neville glanced at her, confused, and Hermione gestured to the floor. She mouthed kneel to Neville who finally understood and came forward to stand before her. Then in full view of his grandmother, Neville kneeled.
"I have carefully selected you, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age, maybe ever, actually, to be my wife. I am extending my family's honour onto you, and hope that you can accept my hand in marriage." Neville said. It sounded rehearsed but he said it with joy, because he knew what would come next.
"No, I'm sorry, Neville. It would never work." Hermione said, trying her hardest to be serious. Because she couldn't believe this was happening, with an audience no less. Hermione turned to his grandmother. "I am honoured by his proposal, and to have been considered an addition to your very noble family, but I cannot accept it."
"Are you trying to play hard to get?" Gran asked, her eyes narrowing. On another day, Hermione would exit as immediately as she could but she stood straight as Neville got to his feet.
"No ma'am. I simply have no interest in getting married, especially when I know my potential spouses seem to either be in love with someone else, is better suited to someone else, or marry because society says so."
"Well. Neville, let's go." Gran said, her eyes flitting off Hermione's face to Neville who was beaming at Hermione. Hermione looked at him and smiled. She leaned in, hugged him, and kissed him on his cheek.
"Go get her." Hermione said against his cheek, hoping it pushed him just enough.
"Thanks Hermione." he said. And he strode past his grandmother and up the hill. Gran stared after him, her outstretched arm fell limply at her side. With a jovial wave, Neville disapparated, the crack filling the silence and overpowering the white noise of the grass around them.
"Where's he gone?" Gran asked no one in particular. She ambled up the hill after him and disapparated.
"Where did he go?" Ginny said, peering out the open door now that the coast was clear.
"I think he might have gone to find Luna." Hermione said.
"Oh! Good for him!" Ginny said. Hermione walked past her and the door shut behind them. The events flowed through her mind and two things stood out. What attention was Ginny talking about and why was Neville rushing? What was she missing?
"Gin." Hermione said slowly. She stopped so suddenly, Ginny ran into her. "Sorry. Gin. What happened? What did you mean by attention, and why was he rushing here to propose?"
"Have you seen the prophet?" Ginny asked. Her eyes widened when Hermione's face only looked lost. "I thought you knew."
"Knew what?" Hermione asked. She thought back to the copy of the Prophet this morning and realised she hadn't even glanced at it. It was rolled up and obscured in her hand, then she wrote back to Ginny, and promptly left. "No, I didn't get to look at it this morning. I came here!"
"Shit, okay. Prepare yourself." Ginny said. They returned to her room, Ginny reclaimed her chair and Hermione sunk into her bed. Ginny threw the Prophet at her and Hermione stared down at the cover, aghast.
She watched herself stumble over and over again, her leg exposed with the flash of her garter, and saw herself look up at Malfoy, wide eyed and blushing. And his eyes had seemed to linger on her chest, though Hermione knew it was on the necklace, his hand pressed firmly to her stomach, stopping her from falling forward. She smiled in the moving photo. When did she smile? And Malfoy's eyes devoured her, if only for a second, before his mask slid into place and they stood again.
Repeat.
She looked like something out of an old movie with a glamorous actress as the lead, smiling, silly, and beautiful. The jewels around her skirt glittered and caught the lights, refracting them in a million directions. She looked like a blushing bride.
"Oh, god." Hermione said, the words a breath. Her chest tightened. Her blood pumped through her body in fury, flooding her vision until her wand sparked in her pocket.
"Oi!" Ginny said, eyeing the smoke that puffed out of Hermione's jeans. "Calm down, huh?"
"Sorry." Hermione said. "I'm going to kill that bitch."
"It gets worse." Ginny said. Hermione's eyes flew up to Ginny's face whose expression was contorted in a grimace. Ginny did a flipping motion with her hand, telling Hermione to turn the page.
The next page was plastered with three photos. One with Hermione kissing Harry on the cheek and smiling at him warmly, another with Neville and her dancing and laughing as he lifted her effortlessly, and the third, to her horror, was Viktor standing in front of her. His eyes roved over her freely, hungry, and Hermione's face was unreadable. She hid her anger in public well, but how she wished now she hadn't. The interaction showed there was something like longing between them, when in fact, Hermione wanted to hurt him.
She flipped back to the front page.
Hermione Granger on the hunt!
Hermione groaned, another jet of sparks against her thigh went unnoticed. She read on.
Last night was the most anticipated night of socialite society since the Prevalence Ball in May. The ball at the Vie was absolutely breathtaking as was all those who were in attendance that night, most noticeably the one and only Hermione Granger.
As seen in the photo, she employs every trick in the book to nab the most eligible bachelor left in Wizarding Britain, Draco Malfoy. Ms Granger wears a dress by an unknown designer. Look at the magic along the skirt of the dress, the shimmering and the way the gems look like falling raindrops.
Mr Malfoy wears a dress designed by a designer only identified as Parisian, and initialled PP. He is seen in white dress robes with what looks to be a satin dress shirt to complement it. He looks rather dashing.
One might say that Ms Granger tried her hardest with Mr Malfoy tonight, as we see a hidden slit in her otherwise modest and pretty dress, make an appearance. Mr Malfoy's eyes could not be ripped away!
Hermione groaned. She clenched her jaw and glared at Ginny who was watching her in anticipation of her reaction.
I," Hermione said, her teeth hurting with the force of her bite, "am going to kill her. She's forgotten that I know about her animagus status. Illegal piece of shit."
"Hey, at least your thing buried anything on Blaise and I." Ginny said. "We get a little article at the end about our blooming relationship, and how pretty we are together." Ginny pointed at a picture in the corner of the third page, because the article went into detail about the theory that Hermione was casting a wide net and hoping to bag a proposal from all of the wizards pictured and then she would get to choose her first choice. Who apparently, was Malfoy.
"I'm glad I can be of service." Hermione said. "I need parchment and a quill."
Ginny surrendered her chair to Hermione and stared out her window instead, leaning on her elbows so that her face was outside and her hair whipped like fire around her face. Hermione wrote furiously, the scratching of the quill on the surface sounded violent enough to rip it.
"I'm going to Diagon Alley to post this. You want to come?" Hermione asked.
"No, but could you send me some chocolate frogs?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded. "Why don't you use Scruffles?"
"That's his name?" Hermione asked. The image of his ruffled feathers formed a smile on her face.
"No, his name is Bo, but have you seen his feathers?" Ginny said, laughing just a little.
"Poor guy." Hermione said. "I need to add something to this letter from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes."
"Man, you have to be angry if you're going to where Ron works." Ginny said, her eyebrows raised.
"I can avoid Ron easily." Hermione said. She got to her feet and hugged Ginny, the gentle breeze blew past them from the window.
"Don't do anything illegal." Ginny said into Hermione's bushy hair that was barely being restrained by the one hair tie.
"You mean anything you would do?" Hermione said with a smirk as she pulled away. "Look out for chocolates."
"Thanks, Granger. George owes me some, so get them at his place."
Hermione shut the door on her way out, satisfied at least that Ginny would be fine after some time. This was nowhere near as bad as it had been post-Harry.
Returning to Diagon Alley and bypassing Bo in the kitchen felt a little like a waste of time. But Hermione needed to remind Rita to keep her pincers away from her and her friends. She had left her unchecked for so long that Rita had gotten brave.
At the apparition point, Hermione quickly modified her appearance by changing the shape of her features, making them rounder. She hid her hair in a big wooly hat that was stuffed into her purse. When she was satisfied that it was enough, she wrapped her face with a shawl and walked to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.
"Hey, Mione." someone greeted her, their voice in her ear. She spun around.
"George!" Hermione said, swatting him away. "How did you know it was me?"
"Don't worry, Mione. Your magic's as good as ever." George said with a smirk and a wink. "It's your perfume, you're the only person I know to wear lavender and rose."
"Oh, thanks for letting me know." Hermione said, all of a sudden aware of how she smelled.
"Yup, don't wear that if you're going to hide from brother dearest." George said. He buried his hands in his pockets and leaned against an archway. "How can I help you on this wondrous day?"
"Listen, I just need some chocolate frogs for your sister."
"Ah, she's in the angry eating phase. Sure thing." George said and promptly turned and walked away. Hermione followed after him.
"I kind of need something to hex someone with. In a letter." Hermione called after him.
"Right. What kind of hex? Wears off after a few minutes, or can't show your face in public for a week?" George said. Hermione's eyes widened at the second option. "Yes, that might sound familiar. I got inspiration from your nice Snitch idea from the DA. The good ol' days."
Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Yea, okay. That one. Seeing as I can't get her to sign anything and do the stupid spell myself."
"That one's on the house, since we nicked your idea and all." George said. He shoved a big brown box into her hands and then walked into the back of the shop. Hermione didn't see Ron anywhere. "If you're looking for my little brother, he's gone to play Quidditch to let off some steam. Something about the Prophet this morning really upset him."
George winked at Hermione and Hermione blushed. She buried her face more into the shawl and wished the box of chocolate frogs were bigger so she could hide and never come out.
Everyone knew.
"None of it's true." she said in a small voice.
"I know, Mione. But even if it were, I'd be happy for you." George said. He held up a piece of parchment and leaned against his shelves. "Now, what do you want it to say? Just tap it and say the word out loud. Then that's the word that would be so gloriously displayed on the target's face for a week in lovely, pus filled mountains."
"You know, you guys were always smart, but you somehow manage to surprise me every time I come in here." Hermione beamed at him.
"Thanks, Mione. Means a lot." George said. He hugged her, warm and welcoming; even if the box was slightly in the way. It had been a long time since she felt like part of the Weasley family, but it was beginning to feel okay again. "Now go forth and cause chaos."
Hermione felt odd, not having paid a single Knut for any of the things she held. She decided to leave her disguise in place because the last thing she wanted was attention garnered from the Prophet, sure to be fresh on people's minds, and walked to the post office. Posting the big box of chocolates required two owls, and the letter to Rita took another. The weight of her anger flew away with that letter and Hermione felt her shoulders relax. She had decided simply on the word Snitch . Inspired by her previous use of the hex and the fact that she could snitch on Rita, she was confident Rita would understand her message.
Thinking about the chocolate she had sent to Ginny, she thought ice cream was a good addition to a care package for Ginny's angry eating. As she was digging in her purse rearranging her Knuts and Sickles, she hit what felt like a wall. Hands grabbed her elbows and steadied her. Hermione looked up to say thank you and instead met molten slate eyes, almost white in the sunlight.
"Fuck." Hermione said, instead of sorry like she intended to.
"Granger." Malfoy said.
"Malfoy." Hermione managed to say, the word heavy in her mouth. "Did I not change my features enough? How did you recognise me?"
"Rose and lavender, a little bit of ink." He gestured at her hands where her fingers were stained. The street buzzed around them, sounds of people murmuring or laughing, their heels clicking across the cobblestone floor, smells of different foods, or the apothecary, and everyone's various perfumes swarmed around her. But Malfoy stood stock still. And it was like the world had stopped.
"I see you've made quite a splash in the social society." Malfoy said. She glared at him. His attention never left her, as though the people brushing past them, swarming and intrusive, didn't exist.
His eyes maintained her gaze before her anger flared. She felt annoyed that he smelled of everything she loved, because it felt like a false sense of security and friendship. Fake happiness.
"We made a splash, Malfoy. Your pal Skeeter made sure of that." Hermione said.
"She's not any kind of associate of mine." Malfoy said quickly. His eyes flickered to her neck and back up, his lips curled. "I see you've opted to relieve your neck of a weighted collar."
"Like that's any of your concern." Hermione said. She wished she could hex him. It was his fault she was so exposed on the front page of a paper that all of Wizarding Britain will see. Because he had asked her to dance, and it wasn't even a question. "Why is he gone?"
"Who?" Malfoy said without hesitation. Hermione lifted her eyebrows, Malfoy smirked slightly. "Blaise? Didn't he write Weasley? He's gone back to Italy for business."
"Why are you not with him?" Hermione asked. His eyes flashed before the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile.
"Like that's any of your concern." he said. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What does concern me, Malfoy, is that you seem very fond of public displays of affection all of a sudden." Hermione said, remembering his long fingers entwined in the woman's long black hair and how they tugged.
"Why does it peak your interest, Granger?" Malfoy said. His hands were clasped behind his back and he tilted his head slightly to the side, as though surveying someone who had already lost against him in a battle of words.
"Why did Viktor peak yours?" Hermione asked.
"I didn't think you were one for sleeping with otherwise engaged men." Malfoy said. It was succinct and direct, Hermione felt winded.
"You don't know anything." Hermione breathed. "And if I had, you're doing the same. I didn't take you for a whore, either."
Malfoy laughed, his teeth straight and white behind his stretched lips.
"All you saw, Granger, was a kiss." Malfoy's eyes sparkled with humour. He was enjoying this which only made Hermione angrier.
"You were practically dry humping in the lobby!" Hermione said indignantly. "And somehow, it was a stupid picture of you and I on the front page of this morning's Prophet!"
"I'll have it framed, Granger. I'll send one to you so we can have a matching set." Malfoy said. Hermione glared at him. Was he making a joke? Draco Malfoy, making a joke? The humour in his eyes and a smile across his face made him handsome in the midday sun. Not his usual cool, sharp, collected, dangerous beauty, but homey and huggable. Was he always like this?
She stared, and he smiled down at her, as though entertained by her anger.
"There you are!" a voice said. Hermione saw the pale hand snake onto Malfoy's arm before she saw the woman appear next to him.
"Pansy. I said I would wait outside." Malfoy said, glancing down at her. A flicker of annoyance showed in his eyes at her hand on his arm before he returned his attention to Hermione. "This is Pansy Parkinson."
"Lovely to meet you. You have lovely hair, Pansy." Hermione said. Pansy smiled and shook her head back to show it off. She remembered her disguise before she spoke due to Pansy not recognising her. To Hermione's utmost annoyance, she saw the Prophet tucked under her arm.
"Thank you." She turned to Malfoy and pulled the paper from under her arm, unfolding it to show the cover. "Shame she ruined your cover, Draco. I didn't think anyone could be so desperate." Pansy said. She said it so quickly, that Hermione hadn't had time to register what she said before Malfoy glared down at Pansy, his eyebrows furrowed together dangerously.
"Do not speak of her that way." He said. Hermione stood there confused. Was he defending her? Pansy didn't know Hermione was right infront of her, he could have let the insult sit for his own sick pleasure if he wanted to.
Their entire interaction today had confused her. Pansy looked up at him, meeting his glare with her own and Hermione saw on her neck, almost completely hidden by her collar, a deep red blotch.
"Pansy, there's a spell to break up clotted blood that coagulates on the surface of your skin. I'll send you the instructions and incantation. That looks pretty bad." Hermione said. To demonstrate what she meant, she lifted her chin, turned her head and pointed at the same spot on her own neck.
Pansy went pink, Draco's ears followed brightly.
"This was nice, Malfoy." She sidestepped him to walk away from them, both Pansy and Malfoy pink in the face. "Tell Zabini hello for me, and if I ever see him, I'll hex him."