So join me for a drink boys
We gonna make a big noise
So don't worry 'bout tomorrow
Take it today
Forget about the cheque we'll get hell to pay

- Have a Drink on Me, AC/DC

What the hell am I supposed to do now, exactly?

Instant dread at the pit of my stomach forms as the glass door behind me shuts, a finality that means I cannot dare return inside the dress shop. So I take a few steps forwards.

Potter and Weasley are walking along back into High Street pretending like I don't exist, periodically checking to see if I'm still following them.

But I don't care, I'm more concerned Hermione is okay in there. Lanka seemed nice enough, and Ginny and Verity are the pep talk kind of ladies, not the bitchy backhanded compliment type. Still, she didn't look too psyched to be trying on dresses in front of them. Again, no clue why.

True, had I not known any girl I'd probably go for Lanka or Verity based on looks alone. But Hermione is very pretty, in an understated subtle way that drives me up the wall. Whenever she decides to look a bit more, she's the best in the room.

Fuck, probably should've told her that. Said she was gorgeous or something a second ago before leaving, boost that confidence…but then she'd probably think I was doing it to make her feel better, that I felt obligated to say such a thing and not cause she's actually deserving of it.

Blah.

I'll do damage control when I get back.

Women.

The dynamic duo are now turning into a shop… Quality Quidditch Supplies, huh?

The nerve.

How could they, the stupid, blithering, conniving…..bastards.

My blood starts to boil and I feel myself seething. They have to be aware that Slytherin Quidditch is cancelled, and yet they'd have the gall to, to…But no, surely they wouldn't have done that on purpose? Surely they wouldn't sink so low as to go in here to spite me?

Of course they would.

I would do it, after all.

I don't want to go in here. I don't want to be here, not with them.

And they don't either.

"Do you insist on coming in here then?" I ask pointedly, quite clearly offended.

They turn around, Potter confused, Weasley with sudden recognition of his actions on his face.

"No, we just came up to the door to stare at it," the fatuous ginger replies like I'm daft.

"Is there a problem, Draco?" Potter asks me, as mock politely as possible.

"Not at all, Harry. Merely, I clearly have no fucking need to go in here seeing as Quidditch is off the table for the year for me." Weasley looks at me in plain disgust and then puts a hand dramatically to his chest.

"Oh Malfoy, I'm so sorry we don't always go to places or do things just to please you. What terrible enemies we've been."

I feel myself flush pink. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it. I don't expect you to cater to my every whim, but if we're supposed to be civil why go somewhere that distinctly irritates the other party involved here?"

"What, are we supposed to keep track of what the Fabulous Ferret likes and dislikes?" Weasley retorts back. What a grouchy arsehole.

"It isn't our fault that the Slytherin's were too cowardly to come back this year to make a team, is it?" Potter adds. "Just come in for god's sake. We all like Quidditch, I thought maybe it would be a common ground to begin on. Would you rather sit at a table grasping at straws of a conversation that wouldn't go anywhere or go in there?"

Neither, I think, but I don't say it aloud.

"I'm just a bit more than peeved that I don't get to be Seeker this year, probably Captain. You're going to be talking incessantly about tactics, what will I have to add to that conversation? And really, why be around supplies I can likely buy through a catalogue?"

"Piss off then," Weasley concedes, throwing his hands out like it's the most obvious action to take and turning to the entrance. "Wait out here."

"Look, do you even want me to try to be around you, or should I just leave?" I ask frankly to the two. They've inched closer and closer to the store, just about to yank open the door.

I fold my arms as they slowly spin around again, with grimaces on their faces.

"Of course we don't want you around, Malfoy. We agreed to have you around because you will be no matter what at school. This is apparently supposed to make us dip our toes to the idea of being friendly instead of plunging into it," Potter says, twisting a proverbial knife into my gut.

"Yeah, what did you think would happen after last night? That everything would magically be alright? No, it takes fucking time, just like it takes time to completely destroy a relationship like you did with us since we were kids. I punched you in the face, does that clue you in to how I resent this whole ordeal? Just because we understand you better doesn't mean we like you. What have you offered us to take kindly to?"

I try to process this information but can't.

I basically did all the shit I did last night for these clowns, and yeah, it's nice if Hermione can see me in a better light, but damn. Not even worth it.

"Dipping your toes to the idea, huh? If you resent me so much, why did you agree at all? I didn't think everything would be just peachy keen, but I thought you might appreciate an effort when it's made. Maybe I should just steer clear of you both to save you the great trouble of being amicable towards me. Maybe I'll just make a schedule with Hermione and have her visit me twice a week at school so you don't have to deal with me like the burden I am."

They look at me with wide eyes, like they did when I exploded at them on the Hogwarts Express first day of term.

"I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron, if you're not there in 2 hours I'm going back to the dress shop," I spit, turning to walk away.

But Potter surprises me with a sigh and then "Malfoy, wait."

I turn around expectantly. "Yes?"

"Don't you be all snarky, you stupid –"

"Ron, shut it for a second," Potter says placing his palm out. "Just come in with us Malfoy, okay? The only way we'll be able to get through this is if we get better acquainted, if we all cooperate. And then maybe once I get to know you, I won't loathe you and Hermione together. Too much anyways…"

"And what if I loathe you?" I point out as nicely as possible. "What happens if you do get to know me and decide I'm scum?"

"I can't do anything, can I? That's up to Hermione to decide. If you'd rather be a raging prat that won't try then stay away from us. You'll only isolate her into two realms she has to accommodate to."

Smarter than I thought, Potter. Bringing Granger into the mix to make it more do or die.

Potter can see me calculating this in my mind, and he ticks unable to hide his frustration. "I don't understand why you're even trying to argue this with us, we've only been gone from the girls for a minute and you're challenging our decisions already. I'm not out to get you, okay? If I was, I could have done a whole lot worse, couldn't I? Don't you want a good report back to HQ?"

"Fine, fine, you win. Let's go,"

I motion him inside, sighing, regretting this immediately.

Weasley rolls his eyes and goes in, not before whispering to Potter, "Some prize."

I inhale deeply, trying to calm my insides before entering the gates of hell.

"Oh, Hermione, zis dress I sink would look fabulous on you! A bit short, yes, you can pull zat off zough because you are as well. You have nice long legs." Lanka has pulled down a merlot red slip dress made of silk and handed it to me. Valeria is out to lunch with some of her British friends, leaving her granddaughter to tend to us.

I guess my insecurity is just showing through, because she's been extra nice to me.

It's bad enough that I feel inadequate when I'm top of the class, physically I'm not at the top of Darwin's natural selection for 'Beautiful Woman' award. So it makes my confidence dip lower than humanly possible seeing my ex-boyfriend turn to jelly at the mere sight of her, even if it shouldn't bother me. Ron certainly never fawned on me the way he did with Lanka, even Harry who has an absolute 10 girlfriend had to look away to avoid gaping at her. Draco seemed fairly undeterred by her, but I imagine he has a wide range of high class gorgeous ladies to choose from had appearance been his criterion for a girlfriend.

She's extremely pleasant in general I'll admit, which is why more than anything I feel so jealous. If she were mean, maybe I'd feel justified. But then, Verity wouldn't hang out with somebody negative or catty would she? She is much more like a Ginny than a Lavender.

Perhaps being in the company of such dimes, I feel like a nickel.

"Thanks," I respond finally, smiling as I take it from her even though I don't like the colour.

Why is the colour bad? What do you know about clothes? Clearly she has some idea of what to do, maybe you could play nice, Hermione. She can help you look stunning for Draco; not like she's plotting against you.

My sane mind reels with rationality I should likely listen to. It must be really hard being attractive and kind, it's a combo that makes people hate you I imagine. Perhaps that's why Draco never won Mr. Congeniality, if he was as nice as he was handsome, all the eligible guys would probably axe murder him for attracting all the ladies.

"You alright, 'Mione?" Ginny butts in, speaking softly into my ear next to a rack of evening gowns.

The place is completely filled to the brim with dresses of all occasions and styles. From 1700 English brocade gowns, Regency era dresses of Grecian-style white flowing silk, to American flapper dresses. It's really interesting to be honest, and I'd love to know how Lanka's aunt came across these, but I'm a bit preoccupied in finding a dress to balance and flaunt my good features without being whoreish, whatever that means.

"Fine, why?" I ask, leafing through sequined mini-dresses I could never pull off.

"You just seem…tense." I stop rifling and look to the left at Ginny, who looks amused mingled with worry.

I sigh. "Okay, so,, I feel like an elephant stepped into a room full of swans," I admit. Ginny falters a bit.

"Verity, come over here for a second," she calls, and beckons with her hand. Oh, no.

Verity pats Lanka gently on the shoulder and skips over to us, "Yee-eess, my darlings?"

"Hermione has a case of the shopping blues."

"I do not, I just –"

"Uh uh, shush, you just informed me you think you're not as sexy and gorgeous as we all clearly are, you need a pep talk," Ginny says, shutting my mouth with her palm.

"Oh, and why do you think you're not worthy of lavish affections, and the title of 'beautiful'?" Verity is looking at me with concern, a face I've rarely seen on her usually happy body.

"It's not that….okay, maybe a tad. You both, and Lanka, are just a cut above me in terms of appearance…" I say meekly.

"Not true," Verity dismisses me.

"Then sex appeal at least? I have no experience or business really being the one to, how do I put this, make the boys stare? Whereas you two need to just put on something nice and pop, there you go."

Ginny laughs. "Hermione, I think you fail to remember that yes, it took a while for Ron to notice you were female, but once he did, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, and was insanely jealous of Krum. Viktor may not have liked you because of your looks at first, but likely he saw something there or he wouldn't have asked you to the ball. Cormac liked you too, remember?"

I sigh again. "Viktor asked me because he liked that I didn't follow him round, he's gay remember? Cormac only said yes to the date to add another notch in his tally."

"Hermione," Verity exclaims happily scandalized.

"What! It's true. All that was school-girl stuff, anyways. It's not like I was the one everyone lusted after based on appeal alone, cough cough Ginny. And both of you have had real romance."

"Ron wasn't real?" Ginny prods, a bit upset I can tell by my trained eye.

"He was, I do love him still. Just not….not the way Harry loves you, George loves you. And I've never had somebody feast their eyes on me the way Ron did to Lanka over there, he certainly never did it to me."

"So essentially you're feeling inadequate mingled with jealousy , hmm?"

"Jealous about what?" comes an accented voice from beside Verity. Lanka has come into our conversation, holding Verity's elbow like an old friend does.

"I don't feel particularly attractive today," I muse. Lanka frowns.

"Oh, are you nervous about not selecting a dress zat's good enough? We'll find one, I promise. Draco will be so delighted, you can count on it!" she winks at me. I decide not to divulge her about the fact that she is part of my envy because she is being so considerate.

"Thanks, Lanka," I reply, and I see that Verity is really pleased I didn't get a bit more tight-lipped and rigid at her. It's not her fault she won the genetic lottery, after all.

"What's your main concern, Hermione? About ze dress?"

"Well…" I begin, and Ginny gives me a look that says 'go on, be friendly,'. "I've no idea what to look for in a dress besides the fact that it fits. I want to look nice tomorrow, but should I show boobs? Legs? Both? What constitutes as trashy? Should it be tight or loose? What are Wizarding clubs even like? I've never been to a Muggle one, but it's full of drunk girls and guys from what I hear."

"There are a few trashy girls and guys, but there is at any social gathering. The point of going to a club is having a good time, but not drinking to the excess. You know, talking to friends, strangers, dancing too. We've been to a Muggle club, Lanka and I, and the emphasis is on all those things, but also more on getting the patrons to drink a lot for money. And at least from my experience, magical drinks are far stronger than Muggle ones."

"Really? What makes them different?"

"Just their make, their ingredients. Elf-made or goblin-made wine is especially potent, they only make it for wizards, they have their own brews for themselves. And firewhiskey is really only supposed to be drunk to warm you up, but alas, everyone has their poison of choice, and inebriation leads to carelessness. And that's why there's sort of a strictness in establishments that can get into deep trouble for serving to under-17s as I like to call them."

"Huh," Ginny says. "I wonder why they'd be more strict."

"I guess it's because the community is so much smaller, you know? Most people know each other, families know each other, businesses are rivals blah lah lah. And therefore there isn't the same urgency to get singles ready to mingle or get people drunker so they have a better time talking to strangers or having you know, casual sex," Verity shrugs. "Plus if you get a bad rap everyone knows it."

"Yes, I do feel a bit safer at Wizard clubs comparably because if ze bartender sees you are too drunk he'll cut you off, and plenty of clubs cut you off at 5. Saves you from crazy drunk men."

It seems a bit medieval, a bit too Prohibition-era to myself, I'll admit, to put a regulation on how much one can drink, especially in a club. But seeing as I won't be drinking much, if anything, it doesn't really bother me.

"Interesting," Ginny notes. "Gonna order something strong then," she giggles. Verity smiles and shakes her head.

"So back to dresses, it's formal but not black tie," Verity finishes answering my question.

"Sort of. More like sexier formal dress," Lanka corrects, wiggling her eyebrows. "You won't exactly see ball gowns or long flowing dresses below ze calves."

"Yeah, but all the same, I'm so making the boys wear at least a blazer. They have to look as good as us."

"Good luck, Harry hates dressing up, even though I tell him I'd ravish him in the bathroom if he does," Ginny says coyly.

"Okay, ew," I gag, and Lanka laughs.

"So you've been friends with him long?" She asks me, genuinely interested.

"Yes, since we got to Hogwarts. I consider him my best friend, well my male one. It's odd, we didn't get along, Ron, Harry and I. Thought I was to stroppy. Then they saved me from a mountain troll in first year and I lied to save them from detention. It's just one of those weird things I suppose," I shrug. "We've been through everything really. Harry and I experienced this new magical life together, Ron helped us get used to it. Hogwarts seems like such a dream compared to regular Muggle life in the summer, it's so surreal. I think I'd be lost here without them."

"Ah so sweet. You are muggle-born zen?"

"Yes."

"Me too!" she smiles the widest I've seen her, and for some reason this makes me like her more, the fact she wants to relate to me based on that. "I'll tell you, it was difficult getting into Beauxbatons, ze stupid snobby French witches didn't want me to go zere, but my baba is a witch. And she's pretty well known back in Russia, so why not me?"

"Hermione is the 'Brightest Witch of the Age', so people best be reconsidering their definition of what makes a good wizard," Ginny adds, wherein I blush.

"That's the spirit!" Verity says, putting a fist in the air. "Girl power."

Lanka chuckles again, a girly throaty laugh.

"And you were all in Gryffindor? In Beauxbatons we did not have houses. When I moved to London, I found it interesting zat adults carried pride in their school selections after zey graduated zere."

"Yeah, everyone is really haughty about it," Verity shrugs. "It's also a familial thing you know?"

"Personally, though I'd never admit it to my family, I really did care which house I'm in, and still do. Mum would have cardiac arrest if I were in say, Hufflepuff."

"Yes, it's drilled into our heads to be quite a big deal," I say, "And I suppose it is. It basically tells us at an adolescent age what kind of person we are. I'm happy I was in Gryffindor, but I would've been happy in Ravenclaw."

"You majorly helped to save the wizarding world, if you were in Ravenclaw everyone would've said it was wrong," Ginny says prodding me to tease me.

"Makes sense," I brush her off, not bothering anymore to comment about how everyone had a part, because it's been said a million times. "However, I always said a little house unity couldn't hurt, haven't I?"

"Mmhm, and just how much have you done to unify the rival houses, huh?" Verity winks at me. "Slytherin and Gryffindor have the biggest one after all."

"I don't think Ginny would like to know given my partner of choice," I stutter.

"That means you have done something! Oh, come on, it's not like you're exclusive, you won't even tell us?" She slaps me playfully.

"Yeah, I don't mind. You just said it's as revolting to think about Harry when I tell you stuff. So spill."

"Well, fine. Alright. We became exclusive as of yesterday," I gulp. Verity's mouth opens wide.

"Oh my god! You move fast, girl. I'm proud of you." I turn deeper scarlet and Ginny gapes at me.

"He is pretty cute, if you don't mind me saying so," Lanka adds.

"I don't…don't look at me like that, Ginny!"

"It's Malfoy though, Draco, whatever. Lanka, you have to understand that he used to be the biggest asshole of all time, snide and purist. Teased her, Harry and Ron mercilessly, and his dad is a giant piece of work. It's a great big shock that he likes her, let alone convinced 'Mione that he was worth her time. But he did earn it a bit, and so I haven't beat him to a pulp yet."

I'm glad she left out the part where I was tortured by his aunt. God, our relationship is so weird, it's so unnatural. No wonder people are surprised and disgusted.

"Ah, but ze bad ones are always the ones we want to tame. And control?" she winks at me.

"Tame, no. All we've done is snog! And erm, well I touched his chest." Verity's face becomes totally devilish.

"Oh my god, I totally forgot! You saw him naked already didn't you?" Ginny asks, grimacing.

"WHAT?" Verity asks amazed.

"God, Harry is so bad at keeping secrets," I feel my face flush scarlet from my neck to my ears. Oh, that's right, he touched my boobs today….gonna leave that one out.

"Actually it was Ron, he wanted to use it as blackmail, but decided against it, because it would reflect oddly on him if he was ogling some other guy's manhood." Typical Ron.

"Wait, what happened? Clarify," Verity commands.

I explain to her the ordeal'; she nods intently pauses for a second and then; "Is he packing it?"

"Verity!" I laugh appalled. "I only saw for a few seconds, and since I have nothing to compare it to-"

"Oh, he totally is," Verity squeals.

"Who would've thought – ewww," Ginny shudders.

"Is his chest nice?" Verity prods, pumping my arm up and down like a child.

"Geez, I have no idea if he's 'packing it', I've been too sacred to find out! Do not spread anything, at least not yet. Please," I stress. "Anyways, his chest has a bunch of scars from when Harry hexed him, actually. That was a few years ago. I find them fascinating. But other than that, he's rather thin," I shrug. "I do like that little 'v' of the pelvis muscle, you know what I mean? I mean, Ron had it, but he has a pretty hefty appetite so –"

"Oh god, the 'v' is such a turn on! Thank the stars, George plays Quidditch," she interrupts. "So Hermione, has he seen any of you?"

I know she's curious, but I don't want her to tell her….oh sod it.

"I may have taken my shirt off to change," I test out, and she opens her jaw. "But not my bra. I just wanted to show him I wasn't a prude, I guess, but I suppose I was just teasing him, seeing as all we basically did Sunday was make out," I blurt before it's too late.

"All day long, huh? Girl, you're surprising me every minute."

"Do you want to bang the ferret?" Ginny asks seriously. Lanka snorts at 'ferret' but says nothing while I contemplate that answer.

"I – well, yes. Yes, I do," I decide finally, opting for the truth.

"Oh, well we have to make him work for it," Lanka says. "Going to doll you up nicely and see him squirm."

"I don't want to be mean. I'm not ready anyhow. We've just made it official, I just….it's a chemical thing. Draco feels it too, he told me so. We have a great sexual connection and it's really irksome because I want to wait."

"Wait for what? You're 18! If Ron had had that, you probably would've, right?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't trust Draco yet, I have really great conversations, and he's a good kisser," I note, "which is liekly why I want more. But I still find it a bit hard to be completely open with him, the way he has been with me, you know?"

"So are you going to wait for 'I love you'?" This from Ginny. I can tell she's a bit upset about Ron and I not having the 'spark', but she's also a good friend who wouldn't hold it against me I hope.

"I don't know….I don't know if I can wait that long, honestly. But not tomorrow, not right now." I state firmly.

"Good for you," Verity pats my back. "It's nice to know what you want."

I nod, and Ginny adds, "Yes, and that being said, let's go find a dress! Boy talk tomorrow when we're getting ready, yes?"

"Yes! You all are coming over, we'll do makeup at my place, we're having pre-drinks. We can inform the boys later, George already said it was cool. Now, allons-y!"

Verity races to the back of the store again, Lanka following suit, giggling. Ginny grabs my arm.

"You know, I'm not upset anymore about you and Ron fizzling, this way we'll always be friends," she smiles kindly, reading my mind. "I do feel a bit sad we won't be sisters, however, so now you need to help me find the perfect slut-outfit. I want Harry to want to eat me alive tomorrow," she says frankly. "Make his coming out worth it."

"Okay," I laugh, wishing I had the guts to be so upfront. "And what would a slut-dress entail?"

"Short skirt, shows off my butt, and tries to make my boobs look existent."

"Got it. And what should I look for?" I ask helplessly as Ginny stands back with a finger to her chin, appraising me.

"Something mid-thigh, that shows off your boobies. Tasteful but not overly so. Maybe a deep-v. Get something dark, Malfoy will like that."

"You really think I can pull of 'sexy'?" I ask skeptically.

"Yes!" she bats my hand. "You've been stuck in books too long. Remember Malfoy came to you. He likes you, obviously this started as physical attraction. And then he decided you were amazing enough to risk being banished by mummy-dearest from the aristocracy. You seem so intimidated by him when he is the one everyone despises, he is clearly in awe if you. He should be grovelling at your feet," she winks wickedly.

This idea seeps into my brain, and I realize that I never thought about it that way. She's right, he kissed me. He confessed his attraction to me. I feel my confidence-bar pulling up a little higher, so I'm smiling as I start rifling through the racks.

"So Quidditch World Cup is next year, right? And it's in..."

"Sweden. In Stockholm, the capitol," Weasley answers Potter's stupid question as they look at riding gloves for about the millionth time.

The shopkeeper Willy keeps glaring daggers at me for gracing his beautiful shop, and I'm starting to get really uncomfortable.

"We're going to go, right? We have to go."

"Well…if I have enough yeah, I mean England was actually doing alright this season so they have a chance of getting it."

"Mate, don't worry, I'll cover you, it's really not a big-"

"No, no you will not. I'll find a way…" Weasley says, turning red round the ears.

Potter ticks frustrated as he picks up a golden snitch replica, "Ron, what's the big deal? I owe you for a lifetime of help, alright? And it's not like we have to stay there or anything, we could just Apparate back home so we don't have to pay for a room."

"Maybe they'll let us in for free, defeating Voldemort and all that," Weasley continues, ignoring his friend.

I wonder what that must feel like, being poor. I get why Weasley is upset about it, I mean, I'd hate it if somebody had to pay for me because I couldn't. If it was just a 'I'll get it this time, you get it next', it wouldn't be a big deal. I think it's a pride thing; a power thing.

I like being able to take care of people, after all I told Valeria to put all the dresses bought today on my bill. To me, it's not a problem, and the girls will appreciate it.

Well, they better.

The two walk past me leaning against a free wall, just waiting. They glance at me, and frown all the way to the display beside me of trading cards.

"Are you getting anything, then?" I ask a bit snidely. Or was this a big waste of time.

"Why? Bored? We told you you could gladly leave if you were so uninterested."

"Well, Weasley, I decided to stick around to try and be civil, to disregard your rude comments, but yes I'm bored. I don't need a new broom, nor new equipment as I said."

"We have still this half of the store, so just sit tight and then maybe we'll go somewhere you want."

"But only maybe," Weasley adds unnecessarily.

With that they walk away from me, and I wait.

Two girls enter the store with their Mum. When they see me, immediately Mama Matriarch decides I'm too dangerous to put her kids around, and steers them around and back out.

Willy is now physically angry, basically pointing me out of the shop for existing without saying a single word, so I leave, not wanting to start a scene.

By the time the other two come out, what feels like 65 years, they leave empty handed retreating to the street.

I'm already pissed off when they begin talking to me. "Why are you out here? You said you'd wait, we were looking for you."

"The shopkeeper kicked me out," I say matter-of-factly, unfazed. "So what do you want to do then? We still have more than an hour."

They pause, contemplating me, unsure of what to do with me like I'm a fussy toddler.

"Why'd he kick you out?"

"Because my very being offends him, a family walked out when they saw me. I was merely standing there, behaving." Weasley looks at me as if I'd have the guts to lie to him.

Potter starts to talk then stops.

"What, don't believe me?"

"No, I do. I'm just thinking about where to go next."

"Someplace low key. People keep gawping at you and sneering at me, it's pretty tiring," I yawn. "They should at least have the guts to come and say something."

"Yes, because we all really need more attention," Weasley notes sarcastically.

"Like what then, a bar? You know that drinking too much isn't good right, despite what you may think. Tomorrow, you better tone it down; Hermione doesn't drink at all," Potter explains like I'm a moron.

I take a deep sigh. Fucking plebeians.

"Yes, I'm aware. A beer or two, however, even a butterbeer, is not going to kill you. And frankly, you two probably need it after putting up with me the whole day."

They look at each other confused, wondering why I'd use self-deprecating humour to convince them of something.

"I'm going to wet my whistle then, if you aren't. I don't fancy going to more shops with shopkeeper glares following me around, accusing me of terrorist activities and nonsense. I'm going to the Galleon Gate, it's right beside Gringott's. Join me if you must."

I turn to saunter away, hands in my pocket, and the idiotic two surprise me by crunching along behind me.

"What's the Galleon Gate?" I hear Potter whisper to Weasel.

"Dunno, never heard of it."

Again, fucking plebeians.

I refrain from making any comments as we stroll down the lane to the other end of Diagon Alley to the secluded small building to the right of the bank.

It's little known, this pub. Mostly a high society hangout, but even then, I am a bit apprehensive to be going in. In France, the threat of Voldemort wasn't that great (not yet anyways), and since father and mommy dearest go to all the hotspots they've been excused. Thus, I am excused.

But in England, I'm still scum so I'm slightly shaking and wary as I open the door handle.

I meet the eyes of the host standing at the front, not somebody recognize; a man little older than us with a handlebar moustache .

"Identification," He asks lazily. I pull out my wand and hand it to him.

He places it on the standard obsidian stone pedestal. If it smokes under the touch of the wand, you're underage. It' a pretty hard system to beat, manufacturing wands that make you appear 17+ can get you locked up in Azkaban. The only other way is to borrow an older person's wand.

To which most reply upon getting asked, 'kindly fuck off.' Ain't nobody using my wand.

Anyways, since nothing happens when my wand is checked, he lets me go in and I'm pleased to see that it's poorly lit as always. I survey the surroundings and see that besides a ministry witch with a flight assistant and two old warlocks, it's empty. 4 PM is not a popular bar time.

I slide into a corner booth to see that Potter and Weasley have followed me, they occupy the other side together.

"So what's so fancy and amazing about this place, then?" Weasley asks me already bored, flipping open the drink menu that is always placed in the middle of the table.

"I never said it was fancy or amazing, actually. It's just little-known, because the regular masses don't come in here, which is precisely why I do."

"Seems a little pretentious, if you ask me," Weasley continues belittling me as he scans the prices. "Seriously, a galleon for a pint – that's ridiculous."

"Nobody did ask you," I grumble to myself. "It's on me, Weasel. I have a tab, go ahead and drown yourself."

"I'm not taking your charity."

"Nor am I," Potter agrees. "No offense is meant, honestly. I just feel like it's some ploy to try and get us to like you more, paying our way, and that's not fair to you to make that assumption."

Huh.

"Fair enough, Potter. Well, what do you want? I'll get it, there are no waitresses here."

"Butterbeer. Don't need anything else," he tosses some change at me.

Lame.

I look to Weasley.

"Nothing, I need to save my money for tomorrow," he says harshly.

Geez. I walk over to the bar and order a scotch on the rock for myself, and Potter's brew. The bartender is new, a pretty redhead, and she smiles at me as she hands me the drinks. I feel eyes on me, obviously they've spotted her too. They're just waiting for me to put a gun in my mouth so they can pull the trigger for me.

I feel oddly intimidated, the power they hold as my lady's friends is immense. As if I should just buckle out and ignore the courteous employee standing before me. But I can't let them get to me. What are they going to do? Tell Hermione I said 'hello' to a somebody doing their job? No, fuck that.

"Thanks," I finally say, tossing her a galleon tip. Because why the hell not? Weasley can tell Hermoine anything he wants, he's just going to look like a douche out to get me.

"How generous," she nods, flicking up an eyebrow. "Please, come back any time."

I grin, feeling a bit complemented if I'm honest. Nobody has been properly warmed to me for a long time and Valeria and this girl both have been a bit flirtatious if I'm not mistaken. On top of that, memories of this morning flood back to me. Granger's face and her touch, her kisses, her body; her hornyness.

No, I'm not a leper anymore. Thank Merlin.

As I sit back down, I'm still smiling at the thoughts and Weasley childishly remarks "So the bartender is cute, hmm?" along with an accusatory glare.

"Relax, Weasel, she works here," I say tossing the beer to Potter.

"But you were obviously flirting."

"No, I was being polite," I chuckle at his idiocy and swig my delicious drink. Damn I needed this.

"I watched your body language," Weasley counters, as if that has some sort of merit in an argument.

"Unlike yourself, not every breathing female I come across is viewed as a sex object or a puzzle to be figured out, sometimes they're just girls."

"What are you saying?" He asks angrily. "That I objectify them?"

Yes, actually. Spot on, although I don't say that of course.

"I'm saying you need to chill out. You're looking for reasons to continually hate me and be suspicious of me when I'm not doing anything wrong. Hate me for what I've already done, that's justified."

Weasley is confused at that statement, perhaps he thought I'd be grovelling for forgiveness (not bloody likely) instead of giving him permission.

"But if we hate you for what you've done, wouldn't we have reason to suspect you on these grounds?" Potter asks seriously, his butterbeer already half-drained. Seems as if his outward tolerance is higher than mine.

"Yes, but Weaselbee hates me because I'm dating his ex-girlfriend and is using my past to shield the fact."

"No, I hate you for both, actually," he replies simply. "I'll try to get along for Hermione's sake, but doesn't mean I ever have to like you."

Potter looks extremely awkward. And I imagine I would feel like that too, bein the in-between.

I'm actually glad he hasn't stepped in yet because I love pushing Weasley's buttons as much as possible.

"Ah, okay, glad we can be honest. So honestly, you haven`t been trying at all frankly. You`ve been hostile."

"It's been a few days, gimme a break."

"Alright, fine. But can I ask you a favour?" I drain the glass.

Potter's eyes go wide, Weasley narrows his gaze at me; "Maybe… what is it?"

"Tomorrow night is the last night I have to spend with Granger before going back to school. I know you despise me and are going to be on Malfoy-Watch, but for the love of all thing's sacred, please just let me be. Leave me alone and don't try to sabotage, even if you plan to again."

He looks me in the face for the first time, studying me.

"Look, I understand that this is painful, for both of you. I know you fucking hate me, and I know you want me out of your life. When I get back to our lovely institution, everyone will be spitting on me for corrupting the prim and proper witch they know and love. I'm not going to get to be close to her at all, and you know it. And I can deal with that, I can, but if you are trying to fuck me over on top of that… That's your choice, but give me tomorrow. Please. Just consider that I've tried to show you something about myself that I wouldn't have dared to a year ago. Consider that I'm trying to change."

Weasley takes no stock of what I've said, but Potter I see, is actually affected by my words. He looks at his empty glass, green eyes full of emotion.

"Wait, you don't care if we try to fuck you over?"

"Of course I do. But there's nothing I can do, is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you convince her enough that she's 'making a mistake' she's going to pick you over me."

"Of course she would. You've only been seeing her for less than a week, and you're already acting like you've been together for years. It's creepy."

"I like her a lot, Weasley. It's unfamiliar territory," I reply defensively, surprising myself. "You have the upper hand and I know it."

"Well, er, good." Weasley says pathetically to me, looking at me strangely.

"Yeah…I'm getting another scotch, want a top up Potter?" He nods still in a daze and I don't even bother to ask the Weasel lest he lecture me about his poverty. It's not like I offered to pay for World Cup tickets, I offered him a fucking drink.

"'Nother round?" the bar maiden asks chuckling. "Stiff of conversation, are you?"

I look to the clock misunderstanding her and realize good god; It's been only 10 minutes. Ten. I still have another hour and a half.

I roll my eyes, pay for the drinks and decide to 'grasp at straws', have a little fun to make gingey squirm.

"So Lanka is pretty attractive huh, Weasel? What'd you think?"

Potter snaps to attention for a moment as dear Ronald flushes red, embarrassed, ready to defend.

"Could barely say hello, you must like her."

"That's none of your bloody business, frankly. Worry about Hermione like you said you wanted to, and I'll worry about my date."

Damn, the boys can't even play. So fucking mind-numbingly ludicrous.

"What colour dress do you think Ginny's going to get then, Potter? Bets?" He grimaces at me.

"Don't call her Ginny, it's weird."

"Fine, shall I resort to Weaselette? Cause that's so much better uh?" He gives me a look.

"Just – I don't know…"

"Well come on then, I'm trying to make a conversation. Girls! Don't blokes talk about women? I bet you anything Lanka will don a blue dress, Verity something red, your girlfriend purple or green, and Hermione…I'm honestly stumped."

"Probably blue like she did at the Yule Ball," Weasley blurts before he can stop himself.

"Maybe white?" Potter adds. "I don't know, she's not exactly the most adventurous when it comes to clothes, is she? She's never been too bothered."

"Yeah, except for on dates," Weasley mutters. Dear lord, I can only pray to Krishna that she would wear something naughty and dark tomorrow like she did for Dean, but alas, I suspect Potter is right. She certainly has a knack at school and in everyday dressing like a vestal virgin.

Yet, tomorrow is a special occasion…I'm not getting my hopes up, and besides, she could wear the frilliest pink monstrosity and I'd still likely want to fuck her.

"D'you think Lanka's been with a lot of blokes?" Weasley asks specifically to Potter. That's about the dumbest, most obvious questions in history. "I mean, speaking of dates…what does she expect, do you reckon? I have nice enough clothes I guess, but should I like, get her flowers or something?"

"How about we all agree on getting them one flower, all different for creativity, so nobody outshines the other?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"George would think it's a good idea."

"Don't call him George. And no he wouldn't."

"Fine, I'm getting Hermione a dozen roses and you'll all look like assholes."

Potter shakes his head and rubs his temple. "You two are like feuding toddlers. Just appreciate that we have attractive dates and let's get a move on."

"No, it's good is we establish these kinds of things, isn't it? It's levelling the playing field so your lady isn't jealous for no reason."

"Yeah well, nobody is going to be jealous of you. Trust me."

'Trust me'. What a dick.

"I'm getting another drink."

Just one more hour, one more.

"OOH! You've found ze dresses alright my ladies?" Valeria comes floating in back from her lunch date, looking merry and bright. "Everyone satisfied?"

"Yes, oh my goodness, baba. We tried on about a million each, but we got zem all right," Lanka winks at us.

I'm actually exhausted, I guess I didn't realize how tiring trying on lots of clothes were, I must have put on at least 30.

They're all hanging up in the back in covers, and tomorrow we're going to retrieve them so the boys don't have any clue on what they look like. We're going to Verity's house for pre-drinks so we're getting ready there where the boys will meet us. Verity and Lanka are really into this secret surprise idea, and their enthusiasm has rubbed a bit off on me. I'm actually really looking forward to dress up and seeing Draco react to the selection we collectively made, because it's going to be a bit of a shock (Ginny had to push me for about an hour).

"Great! Fantastic. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Now, about the payment…" Valeria edges in, clapping her hands.

"Oh, George I think is paying for Ginny's, he'll be here any minute. And I – "

"Oh no, your friend Draco has already paid for all of them, I was merely telling you because I was under the impression that he hadn't told you."

"Wait, what?" Ginny blurts out, a little ticked.

God. Draco, why?

"That's so generous!" Lanka says, unsure if she should be cheery or not, trying to break any forming tension.

"It is, too much so. Look, and no offense to you Hermione, but I don't want him to pay for my dress. I appreciate the gesture, I know why he's doing it, but we barely know the kid and it's just- I know George is going to take it personally, even if he won't say anything. He and the other guys will view it as trying to gain control."

"No, I know. I think he wanted to try to do something nice, it's just the way he's used to. We're just not used to it. Having somebody so er, money un-conscious in the circle."

"But that's really mean if we reject it, isn't it? After all, to him it's probably like picking up the tab at an outing rather than outlandishly appearing to outshine the other boys. He was being nice. We should encourage it, no?" Verity says, and I'm so happy she's willing to defend him.

"Well then, what do we do?"

"You know what, I'll talk to George, explain it. If he's fine with it, then we'll let it go, yes? If he's emasculated for whatever reason, he can pay for Ginny's. I have no problem with taking handouts, I'm freaking broke, man."

"Pay for Ginny's what?" comes the voice of George, who managed to enter the main showroom without us hearing him enter.

"Georgie! Come here, we'll explain, how was the meeting?" She ushers him off to the side just as the other boys make it on in. It's exactly 5:30. Their punctuality worries me, actually. It means they were waiting to get back, or maybe I'm just doubting the progress.

But I realize I'm right as Draco walks straight over to me and hugs me, he's extremely warm. The other two walk to Ginny and Lanka, separate from us.

"Good lord, never again will I be able to endure that," he whispers in my ear.

"Was it really that bad?" I ask a bit amused, rubbing his back.

"No, it could've been much worse actually. I just got plenty of glares and stares, and then we went to a pub and it was awkward as all hell," he explains quietly. "I've had about 4 glasses of scotch, so I'm really sorry."

"You drank?"

"Don't worry, Potter had some butterbeer, Weasley just refused to let me pay for him. Disagreements all round, love."

"Love? Bit out of character, no?"

"Sorry," he shrugs, kissing me once, and I can definitely taste the bitter whiskey scent. He leans in again, surprising me, and says, "I can't wait to go home with you."

"I can't wait for tomorrow night," I say, hoping to rouse him as much as he does me.

"Oh, and why is that?" he smiles devilishly.

"I think you'll like my dress decision," I say vaguely.

"You're teasing me, Granger," he replies, stepping back and scolding me with a pointed finger.

"And for a good reason!" Verity butts in, coming over with George. "The dress is fab."

She nods to me, signalling that George has come to an agreement. I look to him, and he smiles' everything is alright. Once again I'm thankful for having such great friends, understanding that Draco is just trying to not be a giant pain in the arse, but actually sweet for once.

"Good to hear. May I ask what colour palette so I can match?" George snorts, and Verity punches him lightly.

"Actually, no. Just wear something you like, it's not like it's black tie. Trust me when I say you will be floored when we get done with this one, Draco."

Draco smirks, and turns from her attention to mine, surveying me like I'm prey and he's hungry.

"I simply can't wait."