Chapter Seventeen: "The Pitch"

"This is going to end in violence."
He was standing with a lean in front of the mirror.

"Will you stop. It's just a Quidditch match."
She had her vision fixed on the curve of his bare back as he covered it up, getting dressed.

Draco was sporting his old summer jersey, sleeveless green and silver checked. With black trousers and extra pads, he spun round, right there in his bedroom, with a look of pained contempt at Hermione.

"'Just a Quidditch match', she says. You don't play Quidditch, love. It's never just a match. You do realize that if I win, they'll be sour and hate me, and if I lose, they'll act like I did it on purpose…..and then be sour and hate me."

Hermione, fidgeting on the end of his bed, felt much too nauseous about what was to come in an hours time to utter any semblance of a chuckle. And wasn't entirely sure if he meant to be funny or not.

"Draco, no I don't. That's why Ginny chose it. She wants to see if you can be a team player, I suspect. Wants to see if you can get along. At least someone is on your side?"

The attempt was not lost on him, and he sighed with a smirk, shaking his head. Stepping to her, noticing the scrunch around her eyes, the tension in her smile, he sat down, seizing her into his arms.

"True. I can't help complaining, sorry," he apologized, smoothing her hair down, chuckling when the unruly curls bounced back up immediately. "I know I've been harping about it all week."

"Everyone else has been as well. Took me snapping at Ron for them to shut up," she murmured into his chest, grinning when it rumbled from laughter as a result.

They'd all went out for lunch on Monday again, for damage control. Molly and Ginny had called everyone from dinner in to apologize to Hermione. She appreciated it, she hadn't expected that anyone would've been willing to show up. Understanding her friends reactions, though not excusing them, after the fact she was actually glad that nobody had decided to make a scene, or say anything in the restaurant. They very well could've become a lot more vocal.
Presently she was rather cross at Harry, who decided he was 'too busy' with work to come to the Burrow, where they were meant to play. Ginny would give him hell later, she knew, yet it wasn't enough to sate her.

"What did old Weasel do? Say he meant to maim me with a bludger?" he inquired, attempting to keep the amusement from his tone. If he was upset that meant he wasn't completely secure around him, didn't it? Threatened, perhaps?

"No, just general grumbling about having to 'play nice with the ferret', and other such things."

"Yeah well, in due time he'll find out I'm such a genuine, lovely person, won't he?"

Staring upwards, she smacked him on the chest as it his expression. "What, aren't I?"

"You have a track record, Mr. Perfect, in case you'd forgotten. Just remember that when you find yourself wondering why everyone around you is tense or looking irritated."

"I fully intend to apologize, you know…..just when the timing benefits me most," he added at the skeptical eyebrow raise she'd flashed him.

"Of course. Shall we then? We can stop for biscuits with coffee or something beforehand. Or tea," she teased, rolling her eyes, standing up.

"Wouldn't you much rather spend our last few minutes here?"

Pulling her by the knees, he wrenched her back on the mattress, bouncing with the spring to both place her down and jump on top of her body as he straddled her hips.

"Maybe I would, but you're going to make it frightfully obvious that we weren't just 'getting ready'."

"I'll be gentle," he murmured, leaning in to caress her cheek before planting his lips on her soft skin, trailing kisses down her neck to her chest. "You're very hard to resist, you know. I have been having quite a hard time restraining myself."

"Hmm, you always talk like you're the only one who might feel like that. I thought you were supposed to be an irresistible Slytherin?"

Wrapping her arms around warm shoulders, she urged him back up to her mouth, knowing fully well what could transpire should he continue south. Keeping it coy and light was her game plan for the moment.

"Maybe to the other pureblood ladies," he breathed in between smooches. "I've always thought you were off-limits to me though, which is why, now that you're mine, I just can't stop myself."

"Now that I'm yours? Am I yours?"

She paused, noticing panic him, his pupils dilating slightly when she looked at him with seriousness.

He propped himself up on his palms, surveying her in a way that caused her breathing to constrict. "I thought, with all this trouble of making amends, that you were. I already said I'm mad about you. And surely I wouldn't be worth a fuss if you didn't like me more than a little. Do you want to be?"

"Do you want to be mine?" she dodged with a question evenly, unsure of how he'd react to the notion of his soul and more importantly, his affection, becoming possessive.

"Of course I do," he grinned, wide enough to show off his pearly whites. When she didn't respond, he nipped at her nose. "In any other universe, I certainly wouldn't have willingly tried to rub elbows with Potter."

"So what you're saying is you're mad enough about me to want to be my boyfriend?"

"Yes. Can I be?"

And he turned up the charm about a thousand volts with his stupid, silly smirk. Raising himself up so he could watch her intently, he fiddled with her fingers that lay on the sheets.

"Yes."

The way his chest relaxed, the way his smile looked relieved and somehow ecstatic made her know this was the right choice to make. She brought him back to where he'd been and sealed the deal with a kiss.

The Burrow

"Do you really think this is serious?"

Molly had been asking these types of thinly veiled questions all afternoon, and Ginny, though highly tolerant of her mother from years of experience, was about to bloody snap.

"Yes, for Merlin's sake, mum. If you didn't want him to come over, you shouldn't have offered to host. Hermione already feels bad enough that she hid the fact she was seeing Malfoy from me for what, two weeks? She doesn't need you being passive aggressive all the day's long, it'll only cause more anguish."

Garbed in her Harpies uniform, she sincerely hoped that nobody would show up with Hogwarts ones. Harry was off 'doing Auror stuff', and she was already livid enough that now she essentially had to guide the idiots alone. Ron would be insufferable, Fred and George would take the piss, and Arthur had already disappeared into his muggle garage to tinker with toys so he didn't have to face this intruder. She wasn't even entirely sure if Remus or Sirius were coming, she knew Bill and Fleur were too busy with Victoire and having Tonks and Andromeda reel over the news that their unfriendly close relative was wooing an otherwise proper, intelligent girl.

"It's just that you all hated him, and you know dad despises Lucius….he's not a very mature boy from what I've heard. Didn't he almost get that hippogriff killed? I can't quell the feeling that he might be in this to damage, perhaps make a mockery of everyone because he simply can."

Crumbling under logic, Ginny walked into the kitchen from the uncomfortable couch by the fireplace to give her mother a rare hug.

"Yeah, that's what Harry was thinking," she sighed, becoming enveloped by warm arms that seemed hesitant. "It's just…..it's Hermione. I am a bit worried abut her but…" she trailed, thinking of Ron and that terrible night that almost ruined their friendship.

"But, what, dear?"

"She's headstrong, she isn't easily messed about. Blaise turned out to be a slag, but we all thought he wasbetter than that, and it wasn't for very long they were seeing one another. She isn't a fool. And Malfoy, though I can't stand him, hasn't done anything that would testify he's vile lately."

"Well, we best be on our toes. I don't have time for petty name-calling, but when you're a child, that can leave scars. Don't know if Ron will ever recover."

Flashes of Draco calling out her family raced through Ginny's mind. Examining the place that was her home, with it's decrepit creaky walls, and pictures in frames, she shook it all away then. It was better than he'd ever know if he still thought that way….and perhaps he didn't. He had been wrong. And maybe, somehow, he'd realized it.

Of all the times he dared to utter the phrase 'filthy mudblood', whatever it was he'd said to Hermione, it must've been good. People could change, though it seemed implausible for the lot of them that fancied dinner parties over real conversation.

"Guess we'll find out. I don't know how serious it is, it just feels elevated because of our lovely history. Hey look, it's Sirius!"

Apparating into view, he was dressed extremely muggle, in a t-shirt and loose jeans. Prancing outside, leaving her worry in the house, she jumped up onto the grass to engulf him in a hug.

"Hey, hey! Where's Harry?"

"Being an arse. Where's Remus?'" she replied with the Weasley-woman look of scorn that let him know she was pissed more than she'd show at his godson.

Shaking his head, he chose not to comment on the lack of Chosen One in the general vicinity. "He's with Tonks, Ted and Andromeda. They were really shocked at the news, as I would be. They're more related to the little idiot than I am. But, I figured I would show up, haven't played in a while, but I get a feeling that nobody is willingly going to be on Draco's team."

"No, neither do I. Doubt Bill and Fleur are coming, they have Victoire, and Charlie is obviously far away. And likely gutted if he had the hots for Hermione," she grimaced.

Why did all her brothers want her best friend? Percy had admired her wit since she went to Hogwarts, Bill told her in confidence she was delightful, even Fred and George had spoken of her at some time or another, though they probably thought she couldn't hear them in their bedroom discussing 'fit ladies'.

"Well, time will tell, surely? When are they meant to be here?"

"It's just past what, four? Soon, I hope. Ron might be late, he only gets off about now."

"We can help your mum, then, eh? Probably has some kind of elaborate set up for food and drink?" he winked, coaxing Ginny back into the house, who became wildly happy she wasn't going to be alone in this awkward quest for alliance.

"God, yes. Took about five hundred centuries preparing vol-au-vents, treacle tarts, and other such delights."

They both stepped into the Burrow, and proceeded to set the table for after the match. It was a nice calm before the imminent chaos that was going to ensue, for Fred, George, and Ron arrived twenty minutes later, in one swift pop.

"So where are they?" Ron asked, the first words out of his mouth, stuffing a pumpkin pasty into his mouth from the stash they'd stopped to buy in Diagon Alley.\

"Don't speak while you're chewing," his mother admonished, a warning he ignored.

"They'll be here soon, Ron. I told her to come later because it might be uncomfortable to just be standing round waiting for people who loathe her boyfriend to come round," she covered, as he scowled with a mouthful of dessert.
In truth, she'd been texting Hermione non-stop, and wanted to give the benefit of the doubt that it was the service out in Ottery St. Catchpole that was buggy, not that they might be sucking the faces off one another and losing track of the time. Punctual as Hermione was, she too was susceptible of being careless when she was horny.

"Afternoon, Weasleys!" Arthur greeted, escaping his confines to make an appearance. "Sirius!"

"Hey, Dad! How goes the vehicle repairs?" Fred asked, passing an amused glance to his twin.

"I hear you got yourself your own bike, Arthur! Hopefully it's treating you as good as mine," Sirius added, clapping the man on the back.

His face lit up, always eager to share his exploits. "It is! I've been taking apart the engine, examining the uh, the um,…..crankshaft!" he finished, snapping his fingers.

"Good good, maybe you can get it working and learn how to ride with me!"

"Over my dead body," Molly spat, who was coming in from the back room where she had gone momentarily to calm herself and grab some mead.

"Oh, come on, mum, it'll help him relax!" George grinned.

"He's certainly going to need it now that we've got a snake in our garden," Fred pointed, where every head whipped to the picture window above the sink.

Hermione, giving a tentative wave, a frightened smile, was standing next to Draco Malfoy, clutching his worn out Nimbus 2001, blank as the realization of where he stood was sinking in.

"Game time," the twins smirked in unison, whilst Molly threw up her hands and steered an Arthur with balled fists up to the master suite for a bit of down time.

"Are they coming on, or staying out?" Fred mused.

"I think they're staying – oh, no, they've stepped forward." George observed.

"Nope, they're staying there; she's prepping him for the overwhelming abundance of ribbing he's about to receive."

"Op, now they're staring again. Will Malfoy sully his 500 galleon boots?"

"I think he might, though he doesn't seem to pleased about it."

"Will you two shut. Up!" Ginny groaned, pushing them apart and stomping outside, their relentless snickers following her out the door.

"Uh, hi, Hermione. Draco," Ginny strangled out, gesturing to him as if she wasn't sure what to do with her hands.

"Hi," they both said, standing next to each other as if they were strangers, not as if they'd just been at it like impassioned teenagers alone for the first time.

Ginny noticed that Hermione's hair was in a bit too perfect ponytail, that Draco had a suspicious purple mark a bit too low on his exposed collar, that they both had rosy cheeks not from the slowly dropping temperature.

Of course she didn't mention any of these things, even her Molly Weasley-perfected reproachful look wouldn't have been able to break these two's poker faces.

"Did you want to play Quidditch straight away, then? Mum made some refreshments, but maybe you're not hungry….?"

She was speaking directly to Draco, who was caught off-guard, having never had a single conversation in his life with her outside of her saying 'Leave him alone', and passing looks of equal contempt.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, remembering his manners, and stared her straight in the eyes, as you are meant to, "I'm ready to play, and you seem to be…I mean, unless you wanted to wait."

Never had she seen the arrogant little prick so unprepared to speak. She couldn't help a slightly churlish smile peek onto her lips.
"No, no. I'm totally ready. We're going out back," she pointed with a flick of her thumb, "so feel free to go scope out the field specs. I'm pretty good, if you might recall, so preparation will be necessary. Let me go get the lads."

"She's going to kick my arse, isn't she?" Draco murmured once she was out of sight, as Hermione dragged him by the arm away from view of everyone else.

"Yes, but what she just said to you? The whole intimidation thing? That's the Ginny way of being friendly, so roll with it. She would just hex you if she hated you."

"Lovely to note," Draco gulped, examining the vast acreage of the Weasley home. Hermione left him to explore the ground, settling herself down on the grass to wait for everyone else.
Gnomes were stumbling in and out of hedges next to a frog-filled pond; where Bill and Fleur's wedding had been stood instead a makeshift Quidditch pitch. After all, before she was drafted, Ginny had required a place to practice, and as Hogwarts was off-limits now, she had gotten Harry to help her lump together posts made from old wood.

"So Malfoy, how does it measure up?!"
Draco, who was attempting to gauge the approximate length of the field, spun round to a yelling Fred, who was carrying out the chest full of balls.

"Is it much too primitive for aristocratic tastes?" George added, something Sirius and Ron snorted at, causing the two peacekeeping women to turn to each other and exhale with an eye roll.

"It's bigger actually, than the one I normally used to play on," he told them. They all had decided to wear their Gryffindor jerseys.
in a competitive atmosphere, it was difficult not to feel his ego turn on, as it unwillingly began to be, as he strode up to face his challengers.

"Bigger?" Fred asked with mock astonishment, nudging George as they unclasped the trunk. "Surely not?"

"The Wealthy and Bigoted Club doesn't accommodate terribly bored Slytherin ex-players?"

"Oh, it does," Draco explained deadpan, resting his head on his broom-handle, "it's just so bloody exclusive that they daren't make the field more than 200 ft."

The drawl was there, and so was the snark. But the seriousness was what lacked, and Ginny couldn't fight a giggle.

"A worthy adversary, you might become, dear Malfoy. But you'll have to do better than that," Fred declared, mussing him on the head as he made his way to the middle.

Draco whipped his hand immediately to his scalp, wondering wheat exactly that gesture meant.

"You might try grovelling on your knees," George suggested, with a flick of his brow. "But playing fair is a good start."

"Alright, alright, enough already. Are we going to stand here or are we going to fly?" Ginny butted in, swatting her brothers on the backs of their heads carrying the quaffle into the middle.

"3 on 3, eh? 1 keeper, two chasers? No seekers, I think only one chaser is a bit too boring. Besides, now we're teammates."

Sirius had hauled Ron onto the pitch with him, pushing him to his brothers to get into position. Clapping Draco on the back, he gestured for Fred to come on over.

"Perfectly fine, it's good to be well-rounded, isn't it?"

"Precisely. Now Ginny, you of course are a chaser; George, Fred, aaaand Draco you can be too. I'll be keeper with Ron. Yes?"
Looking for approval, he got equally hearty and reluctant nods.

"Good luck!" Hermione wished to them all from her excluded spot, but reserving a special gaze just for Draco, something that they all unfortunately had caught.

"Actually, I want to be chaser. One of you two be the keeper," Ron huffed.

As if they were mates, Draco exchanged glances with Ginny from across the pitch, who could only offer her pursed lips of embarrassment from her moody sibling.

"So demanding," George quipped, changing spots with Ron as the remounted their brooms for the ready. "Hermione, be a dear and start us off?"

Sauntering to the middle of the field, she snatched the quaffle from Ginny's grasp.

"How many goals til you win, seeing as there's no snitch to end the game?" she inquired.

"Let's say 10," Ginny stated. "Now hurry up!"

"Contact allowed?" Sirius then posed.

"Contact," she nodded. "Starting positions."
Kicking off to level, Fred shot Draco a 'be my guest' look, knowing fully well how talented his sister was at start-up. Glancing only once at Ron, who appeared ready to murder, Draco obliged and centred.

"Ready?"
After a round of yeses, Hermione counted down from three.

Hurling the ball as high as she could, she scampered off the field as the first whoosh resonated through the air. Though she wasn't an expert, she'd watched copious amounts of practices and attended enough games to see who was taking this lightly and who wasn't from the first minute of the game.

It was painfully evident within the beginning five that Ginny and Draco were very good, much better than the others. Sirius and George were equally average at playing keep, while Fred and Ron were decent, simply not as fabulous as they were in their usual positions.

Ginny was going as hard as Ron, refusing to let the fact that it was for fun and a scrimmage be an excuse not to, while Ron seemed incensed to attack Draco at any possible opportunity.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron, will you pass every once in a blue moon?" Ginny shouted.

"Yea, at least the ferret knows how to toss a quaffle!"

"George! Will you please?" Hermione reprimanded, rubbing her temples at this constant stream of jabs she couldn't control.

"Sorry, love! Can't help it now, can I?"

"Maybe now you can!" Ginny laughed as she scored for her side easily with a distracted opponent.

"Nice hit!" Draco commented.

"This is a bloody nightmare, what's the score?"
It was Harry, who had just experienced the surreal scene of his fiancée playing nice with one of his least favourite people. He plopped down next to Hermione, still wearing Ministry robes, pausing the game with his appearance.

"Harry," Ginny waved, floating away from the enemy to come a bit closer. "Nice of you to show up."

"I really was doing work, Ginny, for the last time," he said, in an overly annoyed tone, as if they'd rehashed this a thousand times before.

"The score's 3-2, Potter. We're winning, and you're interrupting," Draco told him, with perhaps a tiny hint of disdain. "Nice to see you too."

"Yeah, can't say the same. Fred's probably done all the scoring so far, anyways. Continue then," he muttered, flailing his arm dismissively.

"Harry."

"Hermione," he fired back, shaking his head at her.

"Come on, son, be kind! Unless you wanna switch out and play keeper?" Sirius asked, slightly exhausted. "I'm an old man you see!"

"Hardly. I'm not in the mood, thanks," he snipped, folding his arms.

"Then lets keep going!" Ron shouted, snarling as if he were an uncontrollable beast.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny, who had hold of the quaffle, commenced flying once again, leaving Hermione to feel slightly discomfited at how stiff one of her best friends was fast becoming.

They watched the match uncomfortably for a while, as each team continued to score. Then it became a bit too much.

"Look, Harry," Hermione began, unable to quell the urge to diffuse any tension, "I know you don't like him, but he's – "

"Different? Yeah, he certainly is. I just don't really get it, though, Hermione," Harry cut off in a clear, measure voice. "He's everything opposite of what you like; kind, tolerant, compassionate. Don't you know he's probably going the route of Blaise? Date you for some type of gain on himself?"

"Maybe Blaise wanted me to be his own personal slave, while looking very unprejudiced along with it. But Draco doesn't," she stated, watching her new beau dodging a swipe from Ginny.

"How can you know that for sure?"

"I can't. It's just not the same at all. I don't…I'm not…it feels better. It feels genuine. You think I don't know the difference?"

"No, it's not that," he countered, matching her gaze at this intruder from the corner of his grassy eyes. "But it could have taken you longer to realize what Blaise was doing, right? Before he decided to get wasted and be reckless. And I just can't envision a planet on which Draco Malfoy would ever want to do something for anybody but himself. Why else has he not had any proper relationships? Too conceited to even try for deception, the way others might do. Maybe he's seeing that that's the right tactic to go by. He's going to hurt you one day with words or worse."

Hermione couldn't believe what he was saying, not because she hadn't ever considered any of this (she had, a million times), but because of the certainty in which he'd said it.

"Harry, I know you are worried about me, but I can handle myself. Trust me, I know he's not the same kid who used to laugh at me when we were thirteen. Did you ever notice that after fifth year he was never quite as mean? Never said a word to me or you, really at all."

Exhaling, realizing she wouldn't quit, Harry hunched his shoulders. "I suppose, but it's not like time erases everything, or erases the fact that those things were said."

"I know….I know. Just please give him a chance."

Grabbing hold of her hand, with an intemperate expression but defiant stare, he looked at her.

"For you, I will. Just don't expect me to be particularly enthusiastic about it."

"Thanks, Harry. Seriously," she squeezed back, "that really means – "

"RON!"

A dull sickening thunk was heard in sudden silence. Hermione flickered her sight to the match to see Draco falling gracelessly off his broom, smacking spine first onto the grass.

"Draco!"

Sprinting over to his limp form, he had a severely pained expression on him. Hermione bent over, afraid to touch him, noticing a hefty red mark above his left eyebrow. The quaffle was settled beside his head.

Next thing she knew, Sirius was right beside her, settling on his knees to prop up Draco's neck, make sure he was conscious: "Y'alright there, lad? Must've hurt."

Groaning, he opened his scrunched up eyes and attempted a wan smirk.

"Yeah," he wheezed, sitting up. "It was a little painful."

"Easy," Hermione fussed, rubbing his arm soothingly.

"Ron, you bloody threw the quaffle straight hard at his face on purpose!" Ginny snarled, tossing her broom to the ground, stomping over to her brother on the other side. "That's not how I want to play!"

"I didn't do it on purpose, I was tying to pass it to you, Ginny, coz you were yelling at me that I wasn't!"

"Come on now, Ron, we all saw it," Fred piped up, shaking his head like he was a misbehaving child.

"Not a very nice thing, not a nice thing at all" George agreed.

"He's overreacting. You're fine, aren't you?" Ron questioned, wandering past him to go to Harry.

"Maybe not fine," Draco grumbled, "but I'll live."
He then was attempting to stand up to a chorus of 'No, don'ts!'.

"Merlin, let's just go inside, we forfeit because of Ron's piss poor attitude," Ginny grumbled, swishing past Harry with the signature wave of her mane. The slam of the door echoed onto the field.

A second later, Molly was tottering from her wake, slapping a palm to her cheek.

"Oh, is everyone alright? Is everything…..Harry dear, I didn't even see you! Why is Ginny so upset?"

"Draco here's had a bit of a spill. Ron's not been playing a very fair game, mum. But it's over, so we're going to eat, yeh?" Fred suggested, to grunts of approval.

"Shall I put on some tea?"

"Please," Hermione requested.
Draping her arms around Draco, taking him from Sirius, she brushed her lips over his nape once as she embraced him.

"I'll help," Harry muttered, marching away with Ron astride, both suddenly appearing stressed at the appearance of their current and future mother.

"Reckon they feel a bit guilty?" George nudged Sirius.

"Nah, just that they've been caught being less than stellar. Up you get, lad. Let's go and have some nosh."

Draco looked up into his cousin's face, lightly disoriented, wondering if he was genuine or not before accepting his hand that he'd extended.

"Are you in pain?" Hermione whispered, once he was upright. Grabbing his forehead, she pecked his bruise.

Flexing his back, he winced, and she incessantly massaged up and down his shoulder blades to the little dimples that existed above his bottom as they walked up to the house.

Shivering under her touch, he spun round, peeked to see if everyone was still there, and when the coast was clear, crushed her into him and snogged her.

"I was," he broke away, "but you have a way of making every grievance petty and minor. I'll admit though, my arse hurts something fierce."

He was snickering, but she was smouldering.

"Mm, well maybe later I can rub that better."

And then she pranced up to the door, holding his broom for him, waiting for him to come in as he swallowed the lump in his throat while trying o quell the raging hard-on that was blossoming in his too-tight trousers.

"Welcome to our home…tea? We have earl grey and chamomile."

Molly Weasley, like the queen of homemaking she was, was grasping two steaming teapots, thrusting them at the couple as they made it in, plastering a welcoming smile on.

"Thank you," Draco replied with brows skyrocketed. "Earl grey would be lovely, thanks."

"Crumpets and tarts in the other room, Arthur's lighting the fire now if you'd like to settle in."

As he was passing her to make way to the sofa, Mrs. Weasley gasped when she noticed the bump on Draco's crown. "Oh dear, that looks nasty. I have some Bump be Gone, you should go sit down."

"It's nothing, really. All part of the game," he reassured her.

Ron rolled his eyes, grabbing a scone off the kitchen counter before retreating to the back.

"I've seen the extent Ginny's injuries, and some were not pretty. Now. Sit! Honestly, why do people even play Quidditch," she mumbled, rushing out of the room to her medical cabinet presumable.

Ginny had returned in regular dress, Harry in tow, and she snatched a plate, dumping random items onto it before beckoning Draco and Hermione to come along.

"That's mum's way of being a good host, so you best obey her, mate."

Tossing tarts into his hands and grabbing a fork and knife, Draco sauntered into the den, sinking uneasily into the corner chair, so as not to enrage the sneering Weasley not a metre from him. And when his girlfriend went to sit next to Ron on the couch with some tea, he regretted his move. As her hand brushed his when she settled, he couldn't quite stop images of them naked and moaning flooding in and out of his head, of them holding hands in intimate position.

A minor detail it was that they'd banged, he didn't actually think he would've ended up with her at all when he told her so; now his skin was crawling. He desired to punch his pissy face in, because up til now he thought Ron was sour from only his presence, but it could very well be cause by something else. Something with green eyes and ugly thoughts.

Ginny fell in a heap onto the plush carpet, warming her back with the flames, as Harry occupied the empty space beside Ron, moody and quiet that he promised to zip his lips and be kind.

"You're really going to help the little bugger out, Molly?"

"For heaven's sake, Arthur. He's Hermione's boyfriend, act with some dignity!"

Voice resonating through the hall, the parents were arguing now, thinking their harsh whisper couldn't be heard behind the scenes.

"Dignity? Really, dear? After all the torment? Think it's time he is put on the spot to answer for himself."

Everyone's eyes were suddenly stuck on Draco, who tried his damndest to appear unfazed as he reacted by sipping from his tea-cup. Blank eyes, relaxed mouth, indifferent expression. That was the trick that he was taught years ago by his mother.

"You're as bad as Fred and George, honestly."

"Bad as us? Surely not!" Fred exclaimed, bustling past his mum, who appeared after him as he too joined the pitiful party.

"You know they probably heard all that," George added, leaning into the frame, gazing at the stiff twenty-somethings with nothing to say.

Molly ignored him and pushed him away to get to her injured guest.
"Now, this might sting a bit, but you'll feel better."

The most out of his element he felt all day, Draco's composure slipped at her surprisingly gentle touch, a drop of potion on cloth to his forehead while she used her free hand to grasp the back of his head. Dabbing the wound, Hermione caught his eye, passing him a smile as he took the pain like a champ, barely wincing and offering a gracious "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, darling," she replied with a tight grin, patting him on the shoulder. "Food good?"

A resounding 'yes' was pronounced as she left the room to go 'cook the roast.'

Another kerfuffle was brewing elsewhere again, and Sirius emerged crunching an apple as he convened with the rest along with Arthur, whose head looked ready to explode.

"So, Draco, how's your dad? Still a giant twat?"

"Uh…"

He was at a loss on how to answer to sniggers from the twins and Harry.

"I only ask because Arthur and I are curious. You don't seem to be quite as, shall we say snobbish? As you used to be , given that you're sitting in a blood traitor's home," Sirius chose to say, leaning against the brick fireplace, instead of commenting on their wealth.

"He's still a giant twat," he nodded, gaze glued to the floor.

When he looked back up, everyone except Hermione was shocked. The revelation that he'd slag off his own father, the man he worshipped in school, was too much for even harry, who was now studying him like a foreign object.

"Is he? That why you left then? What about dear Narcissa? As I recall she wasn't quite as terrible. She was actually quite a nice cousin before Bella got to her."

Breath uneven, pink around the ears, Sirius realized he'd made a faux-pas by mentioning a relative still locked up in Azkaban.

"Sirius…." Hermione growled, whipping her arm over to grab Draco's twitching palms.

"Sorry, sorry…too far. Really, I am sorry," he apologized, hands in prayer up against his chin, adding on a sheepish tone.

"Fine," Draco uttered. "I left because they forced me to."

"What?" Ginny said, unable to stop herself.
Hermione was hanging onto his every word, having never fully heard the story yet.

"They told me to get a job, essentially. And I was furious. Theodore Nott was joking about me being a stylist because I helped Pansy select a dress for that boat party, said I should get 'paid for my services'."

"Merlin, I hate that bloke," Fred whispered to George, to a nod of agreement.

"It was the day I saw you lot in Knightsbridge, actually, that I went to the shops. And after he'd said it, it was so absurd but somehow fitting because I'm good at it. I thought it would piss my parents off because I decided to move to Muggle London, decided I'd help the muggles because nobody in Wizard Britain actually fancies me at all too. And here I am, successful now after a few months. What a bloody joke."

"Why is it a joke?" Arthur inquired, not malicious at all.

"Because I got here by having money. And the funny thing was that I was being rebellious on purpose and got the opposite effect I desired. My mum was supportive because it is a business that has to do with material objects and important people, and she got me an in with some famous designers who happen to be Muggles. That's all that's happened, it wasn't me working for it at all. I actually like living on my own, but I don't feel any different than I did at home. I'm useless, contributing nothing when I have the means, and I knew it would be that way, so why didn't I stop it before it started?"

"Draco…" Hermione nudged him, to no avail, as his voice became wobbly.

"And now Lucius hates my guts because I had a row with the bloody Parkinson elders for telling them they were bigoted slags. Because I liked Hermione and Pansy decided to mention it to them after that fucking disaster in your flat," he told Hermione, attempting to slyly wipe a tear that was dripping down his cheek. "But I hate him too, he told me I would 'bring dishonour on the whole family' by trying to date somebody who isn't in my exclusive little circle. And now, because I 'betrayed' Blaise and angered the only person who could stand me for more than five minutes, I'm not invited to the party anymore. I'm pretty much alone."

"but you're not," Hermione soothed, "you're not."

"No…yeah, you're right," he smiled, the full-on smile he'd used earlier, with his teeth.

Directing it at her, the others in the room were speechless as they saw the bleary red rims and the genuine emotion on this boy they didn't get along with, and had judged before he arrived today.

"Blimey," is all Sirius managed say, folding his arms quizzically.

Ginny suggested they go for a walk after a moment of silence, and everyone obliged, happy to have an excuse to leave.

And as the rest of the day wore on, perhaps it was a minor shift, but Hermione was quite certain that the view of her new beau had changed in her friends minds, if only a little bit.
And maybe that was wishful thinking, but as she was laughing at a joke Fred made along with Draco by her side as they wandered to the top of a meadow hill, she couldn't help but be deliriously pleased that this hadn't all gone terribly.

"Hey," Draco stopped her once they stopped walking, as everyone else was pointing to Luna's home way out in the distance, "it didn't all end in violence," he whispered.

She giggled, pulling him close for a quick kiss. "No, it started with it, but I think your harrowed speech may have got them thinking."

"Fantastic."

In spite of the company they were in, he hugged her tight, pecking her on the neck until he was seen.

When he pulled away, he burned a hole in her heart with the reflection in his eyes.

"Thanks, Hermione."