Hi all. Quick author's note to say thanks to all the people who have already favourited or followed this story. It means a lot, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.
I don't own anything except the plot.
It didn't take long. 24 hours after Draco had come to visit her, all twenty Death Eaters had been rounded up and were in custody awaiting sentencing. She made her presentation to the Minister two weeks later, in the presence of a beaming Board of Directors, and the Ball would be going ahead as planned. At Draco's behest, she had not revealed who her source was, despite the media and her boss's pressing requests so they could congratulate and honour them. She only said that it was someone she knew, and someone she trusted, and she was glad that he had come forward.
She did not hear from Draco again after that night, but in an effort to keep in touch with him, she sent him an invitation to the War Memorial Ball. She didn't think he would come - he was still shifty about the war, and didn't know many attendees - but she hoped he would, or that he would at least see her invitation as a desire to hear from him again.
The two months leading up to the event were hectic for Hermione and everyone in her department. It was the biggest event of the year, and everyone important would be there from across the country. It had to go perfectly, they could afford no mistakes, and although the Death Eaters had finally been cornered, many people attending still had political enemies, so one could not be too careful when it came to security measures. She barely saw anyone during the lead-up to the event, including a disgruntled Ron who constantly complained that she was 'barely a proper girlfriend anymore' - which, needless to say, only irritated her more. She didn't need it, not when she was so busy.
The day of the Ball eventually arrived, and with it the height of activity in the Ministry. Every department was in a flurry of bustling and running about with papers and memos, eager to finish for the day and get ready. Hermione dusted off all her work by 5pm and Apparated home, wanting to surprise Ron - after all, she hadn't been seeing much of him lately, and she thought they could have a couple of hours together before the Ball began. She got herself ready, having selected her outfit weeks beforehand in her typically organised fashion, and found herself knocking at the door of the Burrow at 7pm.
"Hermione, dear! Come in, come in!" a flustered Molly Weasley ushered her into the cluttered kitchen. "Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? George, DON'T BE SO LAZY!"
George looked up guiltily from the table, where he had been levitating a sandwich out of the fridge towards him. Under Molly's stern gaze, he got up and walked meekly over to take it from where it hung in midair.
"Honestly. Where was I? Oh, yes, Hermione! Would you like anything, dear?" Molly was already bustling over the other side of the kitchen.
"No, thank you Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine," she replied, trying to suppress a giggle as she exchanged a look with George. "Where's Ron?"
"Out in the yard, I think," Molly replied, "playing Quidditch." Her distaste at the idea of playing Quidditch when they were due at the Ball in two hours was evident.
"Thanks," she said with a smile and made her way out into the yard, carefully stepping round the mess made by the chickens - she was wearing her best shoes, after all. Immediately she saw three figures on broomsticks, flying around a set of makeshift goalposts at the end of the yard.
"Evening!" she shouted up at them, squinting into the setting sun.
Distant greetings issued back at her from the sky, and she smiled and watched them swoop down beside her. Ginny grabbed her in an arm-wrenching hug, and Harry waved, his ruffled and windswept hair even more of a mess than usual. Ron hung back sulkily, clutching his broom and avoiding her gaze.
Once Ginny released her, Hermione walked up to her boyfriend. "Ron? I came home from work early to surprise you," she said happily.
"I wasn't aware you even thought about me anymore," he sulked. "We never see each other."
"Don't be like that, Ron," she said, holding her hand out and touching his arm. "I've had a lot on the past few weeks, I know, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm here now and I want to spend the evening with you."
"Well maybe I want to spend the evening playing Quidditch," Ron said, and without looking at her, he pulled his arm away and promptly mounted his broom again, kicking off towards the goalpost.
Hermione watched him sadly. She had really hoped to reconcile with him tonight. Harry looked at her sympathetically, then mounted his broom and followed Ron. Ginny put her arm round her. "Don't mind my idiot brother. He's just moody. He'll get over it."
"I hope so," Hermione said, her eyes following Ron as he flew in loops above their heads. "I know what he wants, and I'm afraid I'm just not going to be enough for him."
"Don't think like that," Ginny insisted. "Look at me and Harry; we make it work fine, and I'm away half the time on Quidditch tours. Women can have careers and relationships at the same time - Ron just has to realise that you're not Molly and you never will be."
"Thanks, Gin," Hermione smiled. "I suppose I'll head home for a bit then. But I'll see you all at the Ball in a couple of hours?"
"Definitely," her friend grinned. "I'm looking forward to it, I suspect now you're in charge you've put on a spectacular show."
Hermione laughed and with a short wave to Harry, Apparated away.
Two hours later, the War Memorial Ball was in full swing. Great banners of gold and silver rippled in the massive hall. House-elves ran to and fro, platters of food in their hands, skipping between the assembled guests. Long tables laden with snacks and drinks lined the edges of the room, with every type of food imaginable and then some; the bar at the back of the room was surrounded with people, jostling to buy rounds of Firewhiskey. Women in beautiful low-backed dresses and men in black tuxedos and bowties made polite conversation, drinks in hands, as the Weird Sisters played their hit songs up on the raised stage. Hermione, standing in the corner, surveyed her handiwork critically, and had to admit that it had all come off perfectly. She could finally relax.
She glanced around, hoping to see the trio enter. She could see Molly and Arthur chatting to Neville Longbottom over by the punch, and George was on the dance floor with Angelina Johnson (to whom he was happily engaged). Charlie was in Romania, Bill and Fleur were arriving later on, and Percy, as ever, had politely declined his invitation, claiming he had to work. She knew it was rubbish - nobody in the Ministry was working tonight - but she had let it slide. She didn't really like Percy much anyway. That just left Ron, Ginny and Harry, and as yet, she hadn't seen any of them.
She also hadn't seen Draco - but she wasn't looking for him, she told herself. She was just curious.
Just as this thought crossed her mind, out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of platinum-blond hair, and incredulously she turned to see Malfoy and his mother enter the room, arm in arm and looking somewhat nervously around. She could tell Draco was feeling the pressure as he was constantly running his free arm through his hair - a sign that he was stressed. She had seen it a lot in the run-up to his exams.
Without even thinking about it, she moved swiftly over to the entrance to greet them. "Draco, how lovely to see you, glad you could make it," she said with a smile, offering her hand to Draco, which he took with a flash of relief in his eyes. "And Mrs. Malfoy. You look lovely tonight." She wasn't lying; Narcissa had clearly spent hours organising her outfit and hairdo (probably, Hermione had to admit, with the assistance of numerous house-elves) and she looked twenty years younger.
"Narcissa, please, dear. I'm so glad we decided to come tonight. I feel it will be a good thing for the Malfoys to be seen in good company once more; it's been far too long since we have mixed with any respectable folk," Narcissa remarked. "And I must thank you, too, Miss Granger, for agreeing to drop old grudges. I know we have no right to expect anything, but we are very grateful for the chance you and Mr. Potter gave us."
"Call me Hermione," Hermione smiled, "and honestly, Narcissa, you and Draco didn't deserve prison, and I'm glad what we did was enough to keep you free. Let's call it water under the bridge, and start again, shall we?"
She led Draco and Narcissa over to a table at the back of the room. "Would anyone like drinks? They're on the house," she winked. "It helps to be the one who organised all this!"
"A Firewhiskey for me, please," Draco said. "On the rocks."
"I'll just have an iced tea, if you don't mind, Hermione," Narcissa said, organising the ruffles on her dress as she sat down.
"Coming right up," Hermione said, and whisked away to the bar. As she waited in line, she glanced back at the table, and was pleased to see Draco looking more relaxed, looking around appreciatively at the room. Drinks in hand, she returned five minutes later and took a seat next to her friend.
"So how has it been, these last couple of months?" Hermione asked. "I know it can't have been easy, what with Lucius and everything."
"Oh, please, dear," Narcissa cut in, "we are well rid of my husband. He was nothing but a power-hungry maniac, we all know it."
"You loved him, though, didn't you?" Hermione asked.
"It was an arranged marriage," Narcissa sighed. "I had no choice in the matter. Lucius was a good enough husband, I suppose - he worked, and he supported us, and he gave me Draco - but there was no love there. Only tolerance and mutual respect."
"Until Voldemort came into the picture," muttered Draco.
"Indeed. Well, it's behind us now, and he's behind us, and we can move on. I know I shall never be forcing Draco into any kind of marriage - Lucius was trying to insist that he marry that awful Greengrass girl - but I want my son to be happy," Narcissa said.
Draco smiled with a look of genuine affection at his mother, something that Hermione had never seen from him before. A faint smile appeared on her face in return, as she thought what her eleven-year-old self would say if she could see her twenty-one-year-old self sitting at a table with the Malfoys, chatting to Narcissa and thinking about Draco's affectionate eyes. It was all she could do not to chuckle.
The topic moved on from Lucius to Draco's potions career. He had graduated from his apprenticeship now, and was working on the manufacture of a new potion he was in the process of inventing, which would prevent pins and needles. He joked about it being only a minor thing, but he thought if it worked out, he'd be able to sell it to every airline and business centre in the world. The women laughed and they discussed the prospect of Draco's new venture, and Hermione expressed her admiration for his ambition, wondering what new things he would come up with in the future.
After about half an hour of pleasant conversation, though, the night took a sharp turn downhill.
Hermione was rudely interrupted mid-sentence by a fuming Ron Weasley, who stormed up to their table, ears redder than ever. "What do you think you're doing, Hermione?"
"Enjoying my evening with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione replied, turning to face him. "Would you like to join us?"
"Join you? Join you?!" Ron looked like he was about to burst. "You don't spend any time with me - FOR TWO MONTHS - and then you come here and make merry with the Ferret Boy and Mummy dearest? Is that it, then, will you be moving into Malfoy Manor now?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald, you're embarrassing yourself," Hermione said, with an apologetic look at Draco and Narcissa who were watching the exchange with interest. "I came to the Burrow tonight and you said you wanted to play Quidditch, so I left you to it and came to help set up this event. Draco and Narcissa are guests here at my request, and I am enjoying making conversation with them. I think you should go away, find your manners and come back when you can talk like a civilised person."
With that, Hermione turned back to her conversation, leaving a flabbergasted and insulted Ron to storm away towards the toilets.
"I apologise," she said to the Malfoys, "he never did quite accept the water-under-the-bridge concept."
"That's quite alright," Narcissa said, but Draco was staring off in the direction Ron had gone, a strange burning in his eyes that Hermione couldn't quite identify.
"Are you alright, Draco?" she asked gently, shaking his arm.
"Yes- yes, sorry," he said, snapping out of his reverie and returning to the present. "What were we talking about?"
They continued their conversation for a while, but Hermione was still boiling with anger inside about what had happened with Ron, and though she smiled and laughed in all the right places, her heart was no longer in it. How dare he, she thought, how dare he come along and ruin my evening when I was having a perfectly lovely time.
Around 11pm, Hermione excused herself and went to the ladies' room. She had still seen nothing of Ginny or Harry, and was beginning to get concerned about their whereabouts. Neither of them had had a problem with Malfoy after the war, so she didn't think it likely that they were avoiding her based on her company. The only factor could be Ron, telling them she was having sex with Malfoy in the bathroom or something equally ridiculous. He tended to exaggerate when he was upset.
Once she'd got ahold of herself, she straightened up and left the toilets with a smile plastered on her face, determined to see the night through. She would not let Ron take away another moment of her being happy; she would deal with him in the morning.
"HERMIONE!" a bundle of red hair and sparkly gold sequins crashed into her.
"Ginny! What on earth is the matter?" Hermione asked, hugging her friend.
"Look!" Ginny drew back and showed Hermione her left hand, which now featured a beautiful golden band topped with an expensive diamond. "Harry proposed! We're getting married!"
"Oh Gin, that's wonderful," Hermione exclaimed, "I'm so happy for you!" And she was. After all that Harry had been through in the war, he more than anyone else deserved to be happy, and now he was going to have a real family of his own. It was almost too much and she began to tear up.
"Don't cry!" Ginny said, alarmed. "I haven't even asked you to be my maid of honour yet!"
That was the tipping point. Hermione smiled as tears ran down her face, to match Ginny's blue eyes which were welling up as hugged her best friend tightly again, so pleased that her two friends were going to be so happy together.
"Have you set a date?" she asked as they began to walk over to the food table.
"Not an exact day, but I know I want a winter wedding," Ginny said. "Can you imagine the Burrow in the snow, fairy lights everywhere, and me in a beautiful white dress?"
"Gin," Hermione said, "that sounds wonderful, but also bloody freezing!"
The two girls laughed as they took some plates and began piling them with snacks. Hermione glanced over at the Malfoys' table once again and was surprised to see that both of them had disappeared - she assumed they must have gone to mingle, or dance. The thought of Draco Malfoy dancing crossed her mind and made her giggle to herself - the concept was absurd.
"Have you seen Ron tonight?" Hermione asked Ginny as they found a table and sat down.
"Briefly," Ginny replied. "Harry and I came in and saw him sitting by himself, glaring into space. We figured you two had had another fight so Harry took him outside to calm down and I came to find you."
"A fight about sums it up," Hermione said, and relayed what had happened. "I was so embarrassed, I couldn't believe it. I might have been harsh but honestly, he can't just come barging in like that and shout at me."
"He's just frustrated," Ginny said contemplatively. "He's hardly seen you, and I know that's not your fault, but he sees it as a lack of commitment rather than dedication to your career. It gets into his head and makes him insecure, and then he takes it out on everyone else."
"I know it's a horrible situation," Hermione said, "I just hope it gets better."
"It will," Ginny affirmed, "and to be honest, it can't have helped, him seeing you with Malfoy. You know he never got over all that childhood stuff. How is Ferret Boy doing anyway?"
They turned the conversation to Draco and his potioneering, and the night whiled away as they caught up. It had been a long time since Ginny and Hermione had had a chance to have a real chat, with her Quidditch schedule and Hermione's hours at the Ministry taking their toll. It was nice to just sit and have a real conversation for once - this was how it felt when she chatted with Draco.
"Excuse me," a voice cut in, and they looked up to see a grinning Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry to interrupt you girls and your gossip, but may I ask my future bride for this dance?"
Ginny squealed and leapt up, holding her hand out to her fiance, and the pair of them headed off onto the dance floor. Hermione sat, finishing her plate of nibbles and observing the atmosphere of the party. She was just about to get up and head to the bar when a tall, black-robed figure stepped in front of her. "Care to dance?"
She grinned up at Draco. "Haven't we caused enough outrage tonight?"
"Not nearly enough," he replied, and took her hand, leading her over to the floor underneath the stage. It was a slow-tempo song, and for a second Hermione was worried, but Draco was ever the gentleman and kept himself at arm's distance, his other hand firmly on her waist. It was nice, she thought, to just dance and forget. After all, this was what the War Memorial Ball had been about - celebrating the future of unity and peace that they had achieved - and as she looked around she saw Seamus Finnegan dancing with Pansy Parkinson, and Luna Lovegood with Neville, and Arthur Weasley with Narcissa Malfoy. This union, this disregard for petty house rivalries, was what they had been trying to achieve, this was what they had fought for; and she was pleased to see it unfolding before her eyes. It was just a shame that not everyone could see how brilliant this newfound harmony was.
She looked up at Draco again to see him smiling down at her, grey eyes no longer guarded and angry, but warm and soft. "It really is nice to see you, Draco. We should do things together more often," she said.
"I agree," he replied, giving her a twirl. "I have been far too busy with work recently, but the potion is about to be ready, and when it is, I'll have a lot more time on my hands - it will be nice to socialise properly again."
"Do you still see anyone from school much?" Hermione asked.
"Not really," he admitted. "The old crowd never really got back together after...everything. Some of us went one way and some of us went another. Pansy's still around, but she's engaged to Greg now so they spend most of their time together."
"Greg...as in Goyle?" Hermione stifled a snigger.
"Don't laugh!" Draco admonished, though he was struggling to hide a smirk as well. "He was devastated after...well, you know what happened to Vince...and she was there for him. I think it's good for them. Gets her away from following me like a lost puppy all the time, anyway."
"God, I remember that, she was unbearable," Hermione laughed.
"Try being the one she's fixated on," Draco muttered, only making her laugh all the harder. "I swear, after second year I never got a minute's peace."
After their laughter died down, he continued. "Blaise and I keep in touch, but he's living in Italy at the moment with his mother. Lucky bastard. And Theo Nott's still about, he works down the road from me so we meet up for lunch occasionally."
"That's nice," Hermione said. "I always liked Theo a bit more than the rest of you Slytherins. He picked up my books for me once outside the library. And he always smiled at me when nobody was looking."
"That's 'cause he fancied you," Draco said flippantly.
"What?! He did not!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing furiously.
"Did so. He used to talk about it in the common room - about fifth year onwards I think. Obviously he tried to pretend it was just to get you into bed - Mudblood this and Gryffindor Princess that - but we all knew he liked you."
"God, I had no idea," Hermione said, scanning the room as if he would suddenly appear.
"Why, do you go for the skinny quiet blokes then?" Draco teased. "Would we have seen an epic cross-House romance between you and Theo?"
"Not my type," Hermione said, scrunching her nose up, "plus, he used to pick his nose in Transfiguration. Massive turn off." They burst into laughter again.
They had been dancing for four songs before Hermione realised that the music had changed, and they were in fact waltzing to a fast, bouncy tune. They lapsed once again into hysterics and left the dance floor for the bar. How lovely it was to see Draco smile and hear him laugh, thought Hermione as he grinned at her and signalled the bartender. He was nothing like the snotty brat she had grown up with, or the tense and stressed Draco of seventh year. For the first time in a long time, she could tell he was genuinely happy.
They sat, conversing about books and drinking Firewhiskey well into the small hours. Hermione found him engaging, delightful and intelligent, and for the first time in a long time, she could sit and debate with an intellectual equal about the things she liked to talk about. She had no thought of Ron all night until Draco mentioned him suddenly.
"The Weasel then. You two must have been together a while now."
She grimaced. "Yes. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, although it was sort of going on before that. I suppose we just sort of...drifted together, you know? Harry had Ginny and it was only natural that I would end up dating Ron."
"You don't sound too thrilled about it," Draco comented, watching her over the rim of his glass.
"I was at first," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I liked the idea of being a real part of the Weasley family, at the thought of having such a large and wonderful family. Being an only child, and somewhat mature for my age, I've always been a bit of a lonely person."
"So you only liked him because of his brothers?" Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Well, no," Hermione defended, "I mean...we get along, and he treats me nicely. It's great when the four of us - me, Ron, Harry and Ginny, I mean - are all hanging out."
"That's the problem, though, Hermione," Draco said in earnest. "When you're all together. It sounds to me like you don't really love the Weasel like you want to. Not really. I mean, take my advice or don't, but the exchange I witnessed earlier was not one of a happy young couple."
"Well, we've both been stressed recently," Hermione said, "I've been at work a lot."
"I'll bet," Draco said, gesturing around them, "Putting all this together must have taken an extraordinary amount of effort. It's a wonderful event."
Hermione blushed. She never heard compliments about her work. "Thanks, Draco."
"Well," he said, sliding off his stool, "I had better go and find Mother and take her home."
"You're going already?" Hermione asked, disappointed. "There's still another hour to go."
"Yes," Draco said, "but Mother doesn't do well with late nights; and besides," he added, nodding over her shoulder, "your dearly beloved is on his way over here, and he doesn't look too happy to see me."
Hermione glanced over to see Ron threading his way through the crowd towards them, a frown etched on his freckly face. "Alright then, Draco. Are we still on for lunch on Monday?"
"I'll pick you up from the Ministry at one," Draco promised, and leant down to kiss her hand gently. "Thank you for a fantastic evening."
"My pleasure," Hermione answered with a smile, and watched his retreating back as he edged his way into the throng of people in search of Narcissa. How much some people could change.
"Hermione," a different voice sounded behind her, and she inwardly braced herself and swung round to face Ron.
"Hello Ron. Have you calmed down?"
"Yes," he said apologetically, shuffling his feet. "I was wrong to come up and yell at you. You did come to the Burrow to see me, and I blew you off. I shouldn't have. I was just angry."
"It's ok, Ron," she said gently. "I know it's been tough the last couple of months, but it'll get better from here. The stress of this whole mad event is over and I can concentrate on us now."
"But 'Mione, I don't understand about Malfoy," Ron said, the frown appearing again between his brows. "Why were you talking to him, and dancing with him all night? He's scum."
"Not any more," she replied in a warning tone. "You know we put all that behind us, Ron, and I can't see why you can't do that as well. He was a perfect gentleman tonight."
"He's up to something, 'Mione, I swear," Ron insisted. "I'm going to find out what he's doing."
"Oh, grow up," Hermione said snappishly, "we're not eleven anymore. He's matured into a perfectly nice man, who's sorry for his past. It's just a shame you can't let it go as well. Harry and I have."
"He's plotting against us," Ron said, his ears reddening again, "and I'm going to find out how."
"Do what you want," Hermione said, "but I'll have no part of it, as far as I'm concerned he's fine. In fact, he's taking me out to lunch on Monday afternoon to discuss his new potion."
"Lunch?" Ron spluttered. "Since when do you lunch with Malfoy?"
"Since he politely asked me tonight to accompany him to lunch next week to get my input on his new project," Hermione responded. "It's really not a big issue. It's just like my having lunch with Harry."
"I'm coming," Ron said. "If you're going to lunch with Malfoy, I'm going to be there."
"Why on earth would you want to? You can't stand him," Hermione said. "You're just going to come along, spout abuse at him, accuse him of plotting and quite frankly spoil everyone's lunchtime. Honestly, Ron, I can't deal with that, so if you don't mind, we'll be lunching alone."
Ron was quiet for a moment. "He's your source, isn't he? For the Death Eater roundup. He told you where to find them."
"Ron-" Hermione began, holding up a hand.
"No, don't 'Ron' me. He was in contact with his Death Eater pals the whole time, wasn't he, and then just decided to give them up? Why? What's in it for him?" Ron was ranting now. "You, Hermione, he wants you, and I have to know why! Is he trying to get to Harry, d'you think?"
"No, I don't, Ron, and I'm tired of this conversation," Hermione sighed, getting up off her bar stool. The hall was starting to empty now, as people gradually dwindled home. "If you've convinced yourself that Malfoy is still a Death Eater, then you'd be wrong, but you're free to waste as much time as you want chasing him, just don't talk to me about it. I'm going to start helping them clear up this mess."
"I'm just trying to protect you, 'Mione," Ron said in a small voice. "I love you."
She softened slightly. "Draco isn't a threat to us anymore, Ron. You don't need to protect me. But thank you for looking out for me. I know you always do."