Friday, May 2nd, 2003.
Commemoration day, part 2: the encounter.
Draco watched with a strange fascination Blaise jump in to save Granger from Derrick's annoying constant babble. He stayed a few steps away though.
"Bole and I are not friends any more." Derrick answered him.
"Oh really? Did you tell that to Granger yet or are you planning on telling her the entire family history first?" Blaise smirked. The lad had some talent. Derrick went red from head to toe in a matter of seconds.
"Two firewhiskeys please." He added with a smirk, and the idiot ex-beater stumbled a bit on his feet before going a few steps away to do his job. Draco couldn't help but chuckle. He saw Granger frown then, but she didn't lift her eyes from her drink and pretended they were not there.
She'd managed her hair in a tight braided bun at the back of her head that made her look like a totally different person. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Draco signed for Blaise, with the tip of his nose, to go sit somewhere else. Blaise shook his head and sat next to her anyway. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. After all, if Blaise angered her, she might scream at the weasel later. He went to sit next to his friend.
Derrick brought two glasses and seemed to hesitate whether to say something to Granger or to piss his pants.
"Go away Dicky." Sighed Blaise. As the older Slytherin did as bid, head bowed, Draco chuckled again. Granger didn't say anything. Which was weird in itself, Blaise was bullying the guy. Draco remembered very precisely a small and bossy know-it-all fiercely defending bullied first years.
"So, Granger? Still not speaking to me? I just saved you, you know." Said Blaise shifting on his stool to look at her. Draco propped his elbows on the bar, nursing his drink, keeping an eye on the exchange. She didn't move, she didn't frown, she just finished her drink. She set the glass down on the counter and righted her dress, about to leave.
"Oh come on! What have I done to you? I'm not nearly as annoying as Dicky!" Blaise exclaimed, visibly frustrated with her behaviour.
She smiled, a tiny and faked smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I just want a little bit of peace and quiet." She droned and stood from her seat.
"What's happened to you?" Blaise's voice had become serious all of a sudden and she abruptly lifted her face to look at him. Draco couldn't help but turn to her too. She seemed to be examining Blaise's face closely for a moment, then she frowned deeply.
"You have your grand-mother's eyes." She said. Draco could only see Blaise's back but he heard him clear his throat awkwardly. This statement was beyond unexpected and odd. She kept looking at him with a thoughtful expression until he finally answered.
"Err … I guess."
"She was a really attentive person too, I'm sorry she passed away." She said, her eyes lowered to the stool she'd stood from. Draco realised her frown was a sad one. Granger had probably bounded with the old lady through work.
"Err … Thanks Granger." She finally turned her back on them, just to sit back down a few stools away.
"What the fuck was that about?" Asked Draco. "She's nuts."
"I don't think she is." Said Blaise, lowering his face to his drink before taking a few large gulps of it. "And something's definitely happened to her. I bet my grandma knew what."
"Really?" Draco was sceptical but Blaise's face told the truth when he nodded.
"Think the weasel did something?" Draco added.
"Maybe." The last syllable went out his mouth slowly, as Blaise saw something behind Draco's shoulder.
"I'll be right back." He said and Draco turned around to see where he was going. Greengrass. Great. Draco scowled and went back to his own drink.
Hermione couldn't deny that Blaise Zabini had taken her attention. She saw him stand and strode to Astoria Greengrass. Apparently he was living up to his reputation. He'd left a scowling Malfoy behind. The blond ferret was nursing his drink with an angry frown when the speeches were introduced by Kingsley Shackelbolt. It was the first smile she caught herself pulling in a while. Hermione decided to stay there, and just turn around on her stool to watch, and apparently the ferret had taken the same decision. Kingsley called Minerva McGonagall to speak first. Soon it would be Harry and Ron's turn, and she would be able to go home.
The ex-transfiguration teacher, now head-mistress of Hogwarts spoke of friendship and unity, of recovery, and moving through past mistakes to a brighter future. She spoke of her students, and her attempts at house unity through competition and games. Apparently she'd set up some sort of intellectual competition among students the past few years, where they had to pair up in every task with a student from a different house. Hermione heard a snort at her right and knew exactly what Malfoy was thinking.
Such competition would have been a disaster when they'd been at Hogwarts. Hermione imagined herself being paired up with Goyle, or Zabini, or worse Parkinson and couldn't repress a shiver. She understood all too well why this sort of competition was good for the post-war students though, as it would help prevent prejudice, but for her generation, the very idea of such a thing could have led to catastrophe.
Throwing a quick glance at Malfoy she froze. He was watching her with a small smirk. He must have seen her ugly grimace at McGonagall's words. Whatever. The head-mistress went down the small stage and returned to her seat under applause, Hermione forced herself to clap her hands in politeness. Then Kingsley called Ron.
Hermione saw his back walk slowly to the stage, his usual redness creeping up the back of his neck. When he reached the stage she finally saw his face. He was grinning shyly and scanning the room.
Hermione lowered herself on her stool. Of course she heard Malfoy's chuckle as she did so, and of course she ignored it. She damned herself for finishing her glass too quickly as there was no way to hide behind it now. Ron didn't see her though, and she sighed in relief as he started speaking.
He spoke of friendship and support during hard times and Hermione couldn't help her starting anger. He did so with a small smile, nodding to the little crowd at the left. Hermione craned up her neck and caught a few flashes of red hair. Scowling, she saw him toy with his ring finger, as he started speaking about bravery.
He was pretty much showing himself off as a sort of victim of a tragic event, from which he'd recovered thanks to his family and friends, all the while toying with his bloody ring finger. He concluded his speech by linking his recovery to the war, saying it was time to move on, but never to forget. Or whatever, she wasn't really listening any more.
Hermione felt targeted by his entire speech and Ginny's words resounded in her head.
Here I thought all Gryffindors were brave.
So it was what they all thought then? The Weasleys thought of her as a coward, running away after a rough patch. She shook her head in disappointment. She should have know she'd never be a real part of this family. She'd felt it at Fred's funeral, as she'd stayed at the back alone. She'd felt it when Molly had criticised her wedding dress. She'd felt it when things had started to go wrong and all the support she'd gotten had been from Mrs Zabini. She should have known.
Harry was the last one to speak before the party started. He walked to the stage with a serious expression, it was evident he disliked the attention. Usually Hermione would have smiled at his discomfort but his green gaze fell directly on her behind his round glasses and he tried for a smile. Every one turned their head to see who the hero was smiling to and Hermione had no choice but to give the smile back when she felt like running away, possibly stopping by him to slap his little scarred face on her way out. She kept looking only at him and when he started speaking, everyone's attention returned to him. Not that she spared a glance to anyone.
She turned back on her stool and signed Derrick for another drink. The ex-beater obliged quietly and as she sipped at the liquor she tried not to listen to Harry. His speech was about finding each other in the darkest of times. To reach for the others to overcome difficulty. He even quoted Dumbledore. Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one remembers to turn on the light. Fantastic. Sinking deeper in her drink, she snorted. If that wasn't directed at her she wondered what was.
What was she supposed to do? Go to family Sunday brunches? With her ex-husband? And his disapproving family?
Potter and the weasel were two sombre idiots, but that wasn't something new. It was evident their speeches had addressed Granger, even the thickest of trolls could have seen that.
Blaise had eventually come back to sit next to Draco, a shy Astoria Greengrass on his arm but they weren't paying attention to anything else other than their whispered conversation.
When Potter quoted Dumbledore as he always did, he heard a snort. And not a subtle one. Granger had turned her back on the speaker and was apparently trying to drown herself in her drink. Blaise was right, something was off.
The speeches finally ended and all were invited to come grab a drink and some food. When everyone stood, the chairs magically disappeared, and a buffet appeared instead, on tables neatly set along the walls. As half the guest went there, the other half came to the bar and Draco stood to go somewhere else. He turned his head to the left and Granger was already gone.
Blaise and Greengrass followed him as he moved to the less crowded table. A part of the red tribe passed by them and Potter crossed eyes with Draco. He nodded in polite but suspicious acknowledgement, as he always did. It was insufferable and presumptuous but Draco wasn't one to cause a scene in hostile territory, so he nodded back with an icy glare and they passed them.
They reached the table without a single confrontation, which was serious improvement compared to the precedent years. Draco and Blaise were choosing something to mop up the alcohol from their system when Greengrass called loudly:
"Hermione!" Both men startled and looked at each other in utter bewilderment before incredulously turning their gaze to the younger Greengrass. Hermione?
"Err …" Reluctance was written all over the book-worm's features as she turned around to face her caller. She'd been a step away from the door.
Parkinson, Derrick, Zabini, Malfoy and now Greengrass. Hell had broken loose. Greengrass worked at the ministry for the improper use of magic office and Hermione worked with her regularly. The younger witch was definitely not a blood supremacist, and was fair and hard working but Hermione had no wish to speak with her whatsoever, since she'd been about to discreetly sneak out the door.
"Astoria?" She asked reluctantly as the raven haired pretty witch joined her at the door, leaving two other former Slytherins completely confused and agape at the buffet table.
"I know it's probably not a good time but have you received my letter about the last control I've been the subject of?"
That rang a bell. Greengrass had been controlled on her work on a particular case that somehow was liked to the trial Hermione was preparing. It had nothing to do with her anyhow, just the case she'd worked on. But Hermione couldn't remember reading a letter.
"I didn't get a chance yet." She said, hoping to cut the matter but Greengrass wasn't hearing it like that.
"I have trouble understanding why your office would investigate a Ministry official on a case that is strictly criminal. Am I suspected of anything?" Her tone was flat, and almost as friendly as it always was, but Hermione sensed a bit of tension behind it and decided that she should put aside her wish to run away to reassure the woman.
"Of course not Astoria. It's the potion testing case you worked on we were interested in. It might have a link with a trial I'm preparing."
"Oh. Would you like me to send my reports to your office then?"
"If you wouldn't mind."
"Noted. It would have been a little easier to just ask you know." She frowned disapprovingly.
"I know but I couldn't." Hermione explained. "We have to follow the laws scrupulously for this trial. It's a really delicate case. I couldn't just talk to you, I had to do it the proper way."
"Oh, I understand then. You'll have my reports first thing Monday morning."
"Perfect." Hermione nodded and the pretty witch started away with a smile.
Draco watched the exchange with much surprise. The two women called each other by their first names, and Granger had answered Greengrass' questions right away. They seemed to be in good terms, which was surprising when you heard how vehemently Daphne Greengrass spoke about the Gryffindor bint, as she called her. Her younger sister seemed to have a more tempered opinion of the bushy-haired book-worm.
When Greengrass came back to them, Granger had already disappeared through the doors and left the party.
"You know her?" Asked Blaise.
"We work together sometimes, she's nice." Stated Greengrass with a shrug.
"Not to me." Muttered Blaise.
"Why would she be? You called her mudblood for years." Greengrass' statement was unexpected to say the least. Draco felt somehow targeted by it too and didn't appreciate the accusing tone the witch used.
"I reckon your sister did too." Countered Blaise.
"My sister's always been a bit stupid. We don't believe in those things in the family and Hermione's a fair woman I respect a lot. "
Blaise didn't get a chance to explain himself, and all his chances of sleeping in the little bird's bed that night vanished, as she angrily strode away from them.
Blaise seemed to decide she wasn't worth running after. Up until she started dancing. At that moment he joined her and Draco watched him justify and explain himself with seductive grins and moves from his stool.
All in all, Draco felt a bit disappointed as he apparated back to the manor that night. Though the evening's lack of confrontation had been a respite from years of having to justify his presence to such events, he had expected the golden trio to at least bicker.
Their usual perfect picture of friendship had been slightly shattered as Granger hadn't been part of the usual red tribe crowd, but then the news of her divorce was all over the papers. Anyhow it hadn't been sufficient to break their perfect little picture of friendship, Potter and his bloody smiles at her had vanished people's doubts.
His tipsy mind reflected on the evening a moment, and especially the odd behaviour he'd been the only one to witness from his bar stool. Granger had clearly expressed her incredulity at Potter's tries to reunite the golden thirds. It had been strange to see her sink on her stool grimacing at the weasel - whom she'd been married to for years – or turn her back to Potter to empty a glass firewhiskey in two large gulps without even wincing afterwards.
It had taken Draco many tries to be able to keep his smirking mask on when he drank a glass of firewhiskey in one shot. And it was the bloody book-worm! Uptight, rule maker, ministry head of department, golden arse Granger! He needed to know what was going on with her.