That's… it? Hermione doesn't think she heard correctly. That's all? After all this, all this heartache and misery and fear, a decade and a half of living with this curse – this is all that's left before it's over?
She didn't realise how resigned she'd been to further problems with recovery. She keeps thinking someone will yank the rug out from under her. Somehow, she can't shove words out of her throat.
"How…" she finally croaks, gaze bouncing between Stotch and Elena like a Quaffle. "How did you do it?"
They share a look, confused and concerned. Elena casts another diagnostic and Hermione fights not to laugh. Her voice is returning to her, just in time. "No, I mean – I know how you did it, I watched you practise it. I just mean... how did you figure it out? How did you do it?"
Stotch seems embarrassed and Hermione wasn't intending to insult the job he's done for her all this time. She begins to backtrack, stumbling over it all and cursing how inarticulate she is.
Elena quickly takes charge. "There have been advancements in Healing over the past years, Hermione. You know that one major development came out of your own lab. This probably wouldn't have been possible several years ago. I'm not saying nobody but me could have figured it out, but I do have the speciality to dig deeper into it."
Hermione does feel foolish, having not expanded her medical team until Draco suggested connecting her with the Durmstrang Institute Healer that the Malfoy family happened to know. And it's not that she blames Stotch. Not at all. She knows he did the best he could, and he'd been reaching out surreptitiously to query other professionals around the world, a question at a time to uphold her desire for privacy.
But she's slowly coming to accept that she'd been existing in a state of general resignation for a long time, even as she protested to herself that she was trying to fight it. She thought she was doing everything possible, but she wasn't really looking outside her own intelligence.
Her own arrogance and stubbornness might have killed her in the end.
Blinking a few times, Hermione refuses to dwell on it any longer. It's done. She can't do anything about any of it now, except be grateful that people forced her to open her eyes and her options alike.
In an odd way, this all comes down to Pansy, Theo, and Blaise dumping Draco out her Floo all those weeks ago.
That is, indeed, an extremely strange thought. Now, Hermione can't look at it any other way.
Harry's got a peculiar expression on his face, too, and Hermione doesn't know why. He saves her the trouble, pointing his wand at the hospital bed and transfiguring the pillow into a feather one.
"Oh, bloody hell, Harry, not that kind," she struggles to yank it out from behind her to throw it at him. "Not that I don't appreciate the effort."
He's begun to cackle and it hits her that he did it on purpose. "You wanker," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
Harry turns to Ginny. "Gin, did you notice the astonishingly excellent sofa in my flat?"
"Next to the straight-back wooden chair with two skinny armrests on it? How could I miss it?"
"Well, before Hermione arrived, it was a single armchair in the whole of the living room. Hermione graciously expanded my options and I'll return the favour now." He squints one eye shut, as if it could possibly make a difference, and Hermione muffles a snort as he transfigures the sheets she's sitting on to a decent sort of comforter. He re-does the pillow more to her liking and tosses it back over.
With a sage look about, Harry concludes, "I think we should leave them be for now. Hermione has some legitimate Healing to complete next. What say the rest of us go to dinner and celebrate?" He winks at her. "I'm sure someone could be bribed to bring you back a bottle of wine or something later, if your prestigious Healing team would permit the breach of hospital rules."
The next morning, the same lightness of being she felt in Amsterdam is still present. Crummy hospital food tastes better than it ever has. Astringent hospital air smells fresh and crisp. Draco's hands and fingers in her hair, on her skin, feel divine. Her sleep even feels more sound, although she can admit that could easily just be her exhaustion combined with the weight lifted from her shoulders.
When has she last slept well? She can't even remember. Probably alongside Draco. Certainly not after she'd left him. She'd spent hours upon hours sleeping or in a general state of miserable semi-consciousness staring at nondescript walls or shoddy carpet, but none of it was quality rest. And then last night, in Amsterdam, back with Draco at last – well, there hadn't been much sleeping.
In the end, it takes more than a few days before Stotch is ready to dismiss her from hospital. Even so, Hermione can't bring herself to voice a single complaint. She feels so, so lucky.
The hospital accommodations weren't so bad. On that first night, Draco took a page from Harry's book and expanded the hospital bed to a double. That still didn't leave a lot of room when his general bulk was accounted for compared to her own, but he utilised every spare centimetre. Every night, he wraps her up entirely, legs and arms all tangled up as if to prevent her from escaping in the night.
Even back at home, he does this. 'Home' becomes his flat, something that still hasn't been directly discussed, but Hermione enjoys how busy the place always is. She loves the peace and quiet of her own flat, but she's held herself isolated for too long. At least for the time being, she enjoys walking into the living room and inevitably into a huge anarchic discussion with three or four of her friends hollering over one another to be heard.
Feedback from the mic squeals through the pub and they all flinch.
"Why does it do that?" Draco shouts in her ear, and although Hermione's hardly an expert with auditory responses or electronic gadgets in general, she leans in.
"I think it happens when he gets too close to it with the thing."
"What thing?"
She has no idea. "Maybe it's from his instrument? Or maybe he's too close to the speaker?"
"The what? Why do they need all those things?"
"Well, it's how Muggles get the volume for the whole pub without magic," she yells as they start back up.
Draco shakes his head. "Inconceivable."
It had been her choice for her birthday, a Muggle tavern near Chinatown, and feedback aside, this band is much more enjoyable than the Shrieking Eels. This one is called Immunity to Iocane, and they have both a male and female singer. So far, there's been far less shrieking.
But the tradition of copious shots could not be escaped no matter the tavern, and Theo arrives with an overflowing tray. Luna's tucked tightly under one elbow and Theo must work quite hard not to upend the tray as he passes them all out.
Pansy declines to get up, choosing to stay with Neville at one of their high-top tables. Theo rolls his eyes and delivers theirs with a sarcastic bow. Ginny and Blaise are standing just to Draco's left, and with all shots properly delivered, they raise them.
"To Hermione's birthday!" Ginny shouts in an unexpectedly quiet break in the music. Half the pub turns to look and Hermione groans as everybody tosses back their shots. In the momentary lull, Harry spots them across the crowd and starts making his way over.
"Harry!" Hermione cries in elation. "You made it!"
"I'm in for the weekend," he confirms, a little out of breath. "Sorry I'm late. And I wanted you to meet someone." Seeming bashful, he glances over his shoulder. "They're getting us drinks just now, but they'll be over in a minute."
"I'm happy for you. I'm so glad you brought them." She hugs him quickly and is about to comment that Harry's drink should hurry up and arrive so she can clink glasses with him when it does.
It's held in the hand of an extremely handsome and fit man, a bit taller than Harry but much broader in the shoulders. Hermione's first guess is that he's a Quidditch player, but Harry probably can't date someone he coaches. Then her brain catches up a bit and she finds herself unable to say anything.
Harry blushes a little pink. "Hermione, this is Taylor."
Taylor extends a hand, clasping Hermione's. "Nice to meet you. Taylor, as Harry mentioned, and I use he or they pronouns. Either works fine."
He turns his hand to Draco next, and introductions are had all around. Harry's a furious tomato colour and Hermione prods him in the side.
"Quite a big thing to drop on us all at once," she teases, watching him stammer a bit before rescuing him. "I'm happy for you, Harry. Thank you for bringing him 'round. It means a lot that you want us to meet him. I told Ginny this in – well, in one of my letters to her, but while I loved the two of you together, I understand that people sometimes grow apart or want different things. She's happy with Blaise and I want you to be happy, too. I love you."
Harry seems a little overcome, so she decides to simply hug him. He grips her tightly but pulls away before long with a wary eye cast at Taylor. They're introducing themselves to Ginny, who is taking everything perfectly in stride. Hermione sees Blaise's hand hidden down the back pocket of her snug denims.
"Don't worry," Hermione says into Harry's ear as the band starts back up. "I know she wants you to be happy, too."
"It's just -" his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, still worried. "It is kind of a big thing to drop on everybody, and maybe I should have prefaced things first, or -"
Hermione shakes her head. "Please stop. Even if it takes people by surprise for a minute, like it did with me, we all care about you. We all want you to be happy. Also, he's incredibly sexy, which doesn't hurt anything. Where did you find him?"
Eyes still locked on Taylor, Harry responds, "They're a former professional Quidditch player. They played for Norway a few years back and their younger brother is on my team now. They came to visit and watch some practises, and we… hit it off."
She kisses him on the cheek. "Well done, you. Now go tag along and chat up the others. Taylor's making the rounds quite efficiently."
Leaning back against Draco, she watches the band for a few minutes. Everybody else seems quite occupied and she twists around to look up. "Should we inspect the loo situation?"
This had been one of the perks of choosing a Muggle pub. Draco had once dropped hints about a bit of possible exhibitionism in a Muggle pub, but as the point of contention at the time was the presence of their friends, Hermione's not optimistic about that tonight. That's fine by her; there will be loads of nights in loads of pubs, where it could be just the two of them.
Even so, she would like to investigate the loo opportunity. Draco follows her down the dim hallway, Hermione wrinkling her nose a bit at the residual odour of the pub.
"Might not be as clean," Draco comments, on the same page, and she identifies the derelict bathroom sign with a squint.
"Bugger," she breathes as the door swings shut behind them. It's not a single stall loo. "We can't lock the door."
"We can lock a stall, though."
"That's going to give us hardly any room," she protests, making a careful inspection around.
"Are you saying we're not up to the challenge of close quarters?"
Not at all. But she is glad she's in heels and a skirt, making their heights much more compatible for tight proximity shagging. "But what if someone comes in?"
Draco snorts. Hermione wishes she felt so nonchalant. "I imagine they'll know what's going on. But they won't be able to see anything."
"It might be someone we know, though."
"To take a piss or to shag in the adjacent stall? I have to think that's unlikely, but if it was one of our friends, I'm not sure how I'd feel about it. I'd much rather shag next to some oblivious couple just trying to get off in relative privacy like we are."
"'Relative privacy' is right. Septimus would approve."
"Without a doubt." Draco peeks into each stall and selects what she presumes is the best of a bad lot. He herds her in and flips the latch on the door.
Hermione can't help making it official. "This bathroom is gross."
"Your criteria were 'Muggle' and 'tavern.' It's not like I made site visits to possible options in advance." He stops, looking down and to the side, where a perfect circle is cut into the wall just above the toilet roll. "What the hell is that?"
Hermione coughs out a sudden laugh, hand over her mouth. Next to some thick, black graffiti that says, 'I'm on the Brute Squad,' accompanied by someone's mobile number. "That's, er, called a 'glory hole,' I believe."
"A what?"
"A glory hole."
"…Why?"
"Oh, I have no idea why it's called that. Maybe a more succinct way to say 'Use this hole for a glorious experience?'"
"What sort of experience? What is the point?" Draco's sticking a finger through it to the other stall, wiggling it in the air. He tries to bend down and peer through. There isn't enough room unless he kneels on the floor, something he seems somewhat reluctant to do, and he cracks his elbow on the side of the stall as he stands back up.
"You stick your dick through it."
"…Why?" He's rubbing his elbow, looking somewhat vexed.
"The mystery of it?"
He considers for a long minute, brow furrowed. "I stick my dick in it," he says in a dubious tone. "Are you on the other side?"
"Not necessarily."
"Then I repeat, what is the point?"
"A mysterious and anonymous adventure with a stranger, should you feel so inclined. Perhaps even a glorious one."
Draco gives his head a frustrated little shake. Hermione's unsure if the 'glory hole' phenomenon has ever made it into wizarding taverns, but she suspects Draco's never been in such an establishment if it has. "So I come in here, stick my dick through that hole, and wait for someone to enter the other stall to… do what? Anything? Seems a tad risky. Do Muggles not value their dicks?"
"I think that generally, they do. But maybe that person just looks at your dick. Maybe you stand there a good while and three more people come and go before one decides to engage." She's laughing too hard to continue.
"The only way I'd want to stick my dick into a mystery hole is if you're on the other side. What you choose to do with it could be a mystery, but that's as mysterious as I'm willing to go."
"Well, we don't have to use it."
The bathroom door bangs open and they both hiss, "Shh!"
Hermione cracks up again and Draco claps a hand over her mouth. She tries to regain her composure as someone does, indeed, enter the adjacent stall.
"What if he -" she whispers into the palm of his hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, praying the person might actually do it. She thinks she'd die with unrestrained hilarity if they did. So far, no dice; the person has a wee and promptly exits. The door bangs again and they wait for further noise.
"We need to crack on," she declares, "before the next arrival either uses the glory hole or comes in here to take a poo. I'm not shagging you next to someone pooing."
"I'm not sure what to say about the fact that you'd apparently rather someone used the glory hole than take a poo in the next stall."
"Oh, hush." Hermione wriggles her skirt up to her hips.
"You'd rather I was shagging you right next to someone else's dick sticking out of the wall than -"
She swats his shoulder, impatient. "Hush, I said, and hurry up."
Ginny pounces on her two minutes after Draco steps to the bar to get them a round. She jerks her head in Pansy's direction, still with Neville at the little table they've all been using. An assortment of empty drinks sits atop it and they're both listening to the music, swaying slightly. Neville's foot taps in place.
"What is it?"
Ginny's eyes are sparkling with barely restrained delight. "She won't move. She won't get up. I've tried all sorts."
Hermione feels her jaw slowly open, slack, as she gawps. "Are they -"
"I think they are. Wait here and watch. I'm going to get a drink. Do you need one?"
She shakes her head 'no,' motioning towards Draco at the bar, and stares at Pansy. Neville is half-leaning, half-sitting on a barstool, one leg thrown out in front of him to brace his weight, and the other slightly bent. Pansy is between his thighs, her loose black skirt rumpled. The lighting is so poor, Hermione can hardly see where they meet just under the shadow of the table.
Merlin's tits, she thinks Ginny's right. The redhead bounces back from the bar with glee, sitting a glass of wine down just out of Pansy's reach on purpose and gesturing to Hermione to join. She does, after catching eyes with Draco on his way back.
"Thanks, Gin," Pansy says, somewhat distantly, but makes no moves to stretch across the table for the wine. Her cheeks are a little pink, but it's warm in the pub. Harry and Taylor are chatting to Theo and Blaise, Luna studying Taylor's lusciously thick locks. Hermione wonders if she's already yanked one out to keep.
"No problem," Ginny breezes, but makes no moves to push Pansy the wine glass. Neville hardly seems to notice, one hand holding his own mug of lager and the other on Pansy's hip. His foot continues to bob with the music.
This provides a very slight rhythmic movement to Pansy, who swallows and obviously tries not to shift. Neville's fingers grip her firmly, but he stays outside her skirt.
"What's going on?" Draco whispers in Hermione's ear, making her jump.
Hm. To tell him subtly, or call Pansy on it right now? Before she's decided, the band picks up speed to an energetic number and Ginny yelps, "Let's go dance! Parkinson?"
"Er, no, you go on. We'll watch the drinks." Pansy waves them off, seeming casual, and Hermione tugs Draco's hand towards Ginny on the dance floor.
He's about to protest, but she grabs him round the neck and whispers, "They're cockwarming."
His eyebrows fly up and he peers over her head. "Now?" He evidently comes to the same conclusion, because he lets out a low whistle. "I'm impressed. I wonder how they're going to end it. He can't Apparate them home from the centre of a Muggle tavern."
The prospect of Apparating mid-coitus sidetracks her a moment. That sensation would be… odd. Hm.
"Maybe the loo will see more action tonight."
"I didn't know Longbottom had it in him," Draco comments, making excuses to turn Hermione and continue watching the pair.
"Apparently, it's one of his favourite things. Pansy told me it became one of her favourites not long after."
"Was it one of your favourites?" he asks, innocently enough but with a glint in his eye.
Hermione can admit now that she'd been preoccupied that day. "But I'm very interested in giving it another go."
"Are you, now?" The glint has spread to both eyes and Draco casts a look around. "What say we join them? Let's see how awkward we can make them, shall we?"
Hermione covers up a snort but can't deny the appeal. "Alright. Go on, then." She follows him back over, as casual as she can manage, and he tucks her between his legs. A bit of fumbling ensues. Pansy and Neville adamantly watch the singer onstage and not their new companions, giving Hermione and Draco an opportunity to get situated. He allows her a bit of wriggling to get comfortable, and she settles in for the long haul.
Ginny looks around as the song comes to an end and finds them both back at the table. Her eyes narrow with intuition and she hollers Blaise's name. He turns and wanders over, leaving Theo and Luna chatting with Taylor and Harry, and Ginny points him to a stool.
"Wait there," she bosses him, stomping off to the loo and leaving Blaise fully baffled.
"What the hell is going on?"
Draco lowers his voice, eyeballing Neville and Pansy. He leans towards the table and Hermione inhales sharply, trying not to shift. He feels distractingly good. The band kicks up again, and Pansy's stare is a bit glossy. "I'm not certain, but I think you're about to get lucky. Better start getting ready, because I bet Weasley comes out here in a newly-transfigured skirt."
Blaise's jaw drops and he follows Draco's line of sight to Neville. With fresh suspicion, he fixes his eyes on Hermione and Draco next. "You must be joking."
"Nope," Hermione pipes out with some effort, already wishing they were back at home – wishing they could try out Apparating there, but another time. This could be a long night.
Ginny returns and Draco was correct. The denims are gone, replaced with a skirt very similar to Pansy's. It comes to just above her knees and is loose, easy to tug up without being obvious about it. Ginny, ever thoughtful, places everybody's drinks within reach on the table and Pansy finally notices they have company again – barely.
"Thanks, Weasley."
"Don't mention it," Ginny sings, manhandling Blaise on the stool. Her bum comes to rest right on his crotch and Hermione sees Blaise attempt to get in position. She wonders if either of them does this with any regularity, and then it fully hits her that all six of them are sitting around the same pair of hightop tables, littered with empty drink glasses and mugs, cockwarming and not saying a single word about it.
The absurdity makes her giggle and she feels Draco twitch. Theo ambles over, the other three in tow, and it finally seems as though Pansy's and Neville's attention has been diverted from the stage.
Theo pulls out a stool for Luna, while Harry asks if anybody needs a round before heading to the bar. A general murmur of assent ripples through the table and Hermione wonders if Ginny is finding this as hilarious as she is.
Pansy's looking around in dawning horror, seeing that the jig is up. Not only have they been spotted, they're actively being emulated. Wide, frozen eyes meet Hermione's, who tries to be reassuring.
"We're all doing it, now. Maybe we can all last longer this way."
"No," Pansy squeaks. "No, this is awful. Strangers are one thing, and I told him -"
"Told me what, love?" Neville rumbles and Pansy visibly quivers. "Be still, now. You know what to do."
"Be like a Gryffindor, remember?" Hermione encourages. She can't recall Neville ever showing this much confidence and assertion, but he seems perfectly at home as he sips his ale.
Luna never seems to doubt the situation, eyes roving around with only mild interest. She tugs on Theo's hand. "Let's go now, Theo. They're all having intercourse. Take me home with you."
Theo begins to cough and Hermione can't hold in her laughter. He'd been the last one to notice when she'd tried to get Draco off under the table at their dinner party, too. Luna pulls Theo away with a generic sort of wave.
"I suppose we'll see you at home," Theo calls over his shoulder, and everybody ignores him.
"Ginny, I must say, I'm a little surprised. You were incredibly offended when we tried to fool around at dinner that time."
Ginny tosses her hair, catching Blaise in the face with it. He swipes it aside. "Now is different. We're all doing it, and -"
"Are you saying if we were all playing handsy under the table at dinner, it would be alright? So long as the getting off was equally likely for everybody involved?" Draco asks, sceptical. He gives another involuntary twitch and Hermione shudders.
Ginny tilts her head and nods after a brief debate. "That about covers it, I think. Ooh, here comes Harry. Let's embarrass him, shall we?"
"This is quite an introduction for Taylor," Blaise begins to protest, and Hermione can't help agreeing. Poor Taylor. But in for a sickle, in for a galleon.
Ginny seems determined to blow their cover entirely, if only to mortify Harry. Hermione briefly covers her mouth with her hand, mentally bracing herself. Harry is adorable and oblivious, setting drinks down on the table and handing them out. Each of them takes theirs with no fanfare, muttering quick 'thank yous,' and trying not to look at each other for too long. Ginny is the sole exception.
"Harry, do you remember that dinner party when you asked me to Obliviate you after?"
Hermione gasps. "Ginny, don't bring that up! What -" She's not sure why she's so embarrassed since everybody here already knows about that. Well, everybody except Neville and Luna, but Luna's already left with Theo – and Taylor who just met them all, and she flushes bright red.
"I'm not giving more particulars than that!" Ginny exclaims, gaze locked on Harry. A grin spreads across her face as he slowly takes in all three couples.
"Salazar's shaft," Harry says flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Taylor looks bewildered and nobody seems inclined to explain in greater detail.
Pansy seems to take personal affront to Harry's comment. "We were doing it first! Everybody else decided to join in, which is weird, by the way -"
"It's weird that you phrase it like that," says Blaise. "Nobody's 'joining in' at this table. Also, you can't say that because you were first, you have exclusive rights to it. We aren't children claiming seating compartments on the Hogwarts Express."
Pansy begins to sputter, but Harry is doing his best to ignore all of this. "Taylor, I think we should go to the hotel."
"Don't go to a hotel!" Hermione insists, feeling the heat radiate off her cheeks as her oldest friend looks directly at her while she's sitting on Draco's cock. She hears the awkwardness of her offer as soon as it leaves her mouth. "You can stay with us. We have a spare room."
"We'll give you a head start," offers Draco, and that seems to seal it. "Nott might be there already, but he can show you the room."
Harry nods once, quickly, now staring at the wall over Hermione's head – clearly eager to be somewhere else, anywhere else, as quickly as possible. He practically drags Taylor outside, and Ginny and Hermione dissolve in laughter. She can't stay motionless laughing this hard, though, and she feels Draco respond. Finally, he breaks in.
"I, er, thank we should probably go home in shifts, don't you, Zabini?"
"Yes, please do," huffs Pansy in irritation. "All of you scram so Neville and I can enjoy the band."
"Is that what you're doing, Parks?"
A silent stalemate ensues between Draco and Blaise, an unspoken debate of who gets to go home next, or possibly how long should they all wait between departures. At least it's unlikely that Theo and Luna would have begun fooling around on the sofa, right in front of Septimus. Harry and Taylor should have a clean and atraumatic arrival out of the Floo.
"We'll go next," Ginny announces, breaking the silence. "I want to harass Harry."
Blaise groans. "Can annoying your ex be less of a fixation for the rest of the night? Please? It's going to become hard to stay hard."
"Oh, don't threaten me with that. We never see him! It's not as if I'm harassing him daily. Besides, Taylor should know what they're getting into, don't you agree?"
Hermione takes the piss, just a little. "Taylor should know that Harry is the most conventional and conservative Gryffindor they'll ever meet?"
Ginny approves. "Yes! That! We're making Harry look like a lovely, quiet, and respectable partner. I'm trying to help."
"'Help,' is it?" She scoffs in return, eyebrows raised. "Maybe Taylor doesn't want 'quiet and respectable.' Maybe Taylor would rather like some cockwarming. Or maybe they'd be excited about the glory hole in the loo. Did anybody else notice that, by the way?"
Silence falls over the table as they all look at each other. Neville blinks twice and Pansy clears her throat.
Under the pretence of wanting to see what a glory hole is, Blaise drags Ginny off to the loo shortly after. Hermione presumes they Apparate safely from the privacy of one of the stalls.
While Neville watches the band with an admirable dedication, Hermione can't help trapping Pansy's eye. They're the only two couples left and the situation is so ridiculous. Her mouth quirks up at the corner, shoulders shaking as she tries to hold it in, but she can't. She starts to laugh again and Pansy barks out a single, harsh guffaw.
All of a sudden, the two are laughing so hard Hermione feels her stomach begin to cramp. Draco has completely abandoned any efforts to hold her perfectly still but Neville is a different story. He pulls Pansy's hair from the side of her neck and whispers something in her ear. Pansy trembles under his fingers, a visceral kind of shudder moving through her torso like a wave, and places both her hands flat on the table. She inhales and exhales deeply to centre herself.
"We're going to be here a while yet," she manages with delicacy and Neville murmurs his approval.
"Shall we assume you won't be stopping by our flat for a nightcap?" Hermione posits innocently.
Pansy's eyes flick to the side as if she could see Neville there, but she doesn't turn her head. She doesn't move. Her tongue wets her lipstick as she says, "Not tonight. But do have as much fun as we're going to have, won't you?"
"As much fun as we're having," Neville corrects and Hermione sees Pansy try to hold in another quiver of anticipation. She barely moves her head in a demure dip of assent while Hermione wriggles discreetly off Draco's lap. Time to go.
Back at their flat, Draco's grateful people at least had the presence of mind to move away from the fireplace. They step out without causing a pile of witches in the living room, though Draco wouldn't have minded being part of one. Full debates are being had, everybody in arms about something or other.
"- can't believe you were doing that -"
"It was Hermione's birthday, and -"
"What does that have to do with -"
"- was absolutely ridiculous, the lot of you -"
"Whose idea was it in the first place?"
"Pansy's," Hermione and Ginny say at once, which probably isn't strictly true. Although, who knows? Hermione said it had become Pansy's favourite.
"I ask yet again, what was happening?" Septimus bellows over the din, looking supremely interested.
"Cockwarming," Draco and Blaise say at once, and Draco's gratified to see Septimus look confused for a change.
"Is that what it sounds like?"
"Apparently," Potter contributes with a sigh, looking weary and long-suffering. Draco, remembering his endless comportment classes, notices that at least his guests appear to have refreshments. He moves to pour himself a glass of firewhisky and his fiancé a white wine.
Taylor – whose last name Draco didn't catch – may be somewhat drunk, or maybe he's just affectionate. He pulls Potter down onto his lap in Draco's favourite armchair. Potter, in turn, grabs for Hermione's hand and motions for her to take the chair adjacent.
"Are you coming to the World Cup, then?" he asks with a slight slur and Draco realises Potter, too, is a bit drunk.
"Of course I am! How could you think I won't? I'm sure Draco will get the seats that will most infuriate Lucius."
Septimus is studying Hermione with intensity, his hand clasping his pointy chin in thought. Draco is debating which World Cup seats would infuriate his father the most (top box, obviously, but the seats in the front row or the seats next to the Minister?) when he overhears something about stable design and layout, whether for one horse or perhaps a second, and he realises Septimus has swapped metaphors.
Draco's fiancé might also be a bit past tipsy, as she blinks several times before cottoning on. She turns a vibrant red and separates her hand from Potter's.
"Oh no, sir, just, ah, one horse for my stable. One stall for – for one horse, I think. One ship in my harbour."
Septimus accepts this without further comment and turns to Ginny, next. "Now you, young lady, you were once with him." He points to Potter. "And now you're with Master Zabini. Is your stable design also of the singular variety?"
"Yes, sir." Ginny looks as if she's being interrogated by McGonagall. Draco half expects her to cross her knees and clasp her hands together.
"Have you ever tried two stallions?"
Blaise begins coughing violently as Ginny, undoubtedly fuelled by alcohol (Draco must need to replenish the bar inventory by now), says, "Two – ah, two mares, sir, but never two stallions."
Blaise might choke. Draco begins to grow concerned, and even Potter's eyes are growing larger and larger as he gawps at Ginny. Luna breaks the atmosphere neatly, appearing in the doorway with Theo.
Septimus's attention is properly diverted and Ginny looks quite relieved. She pats Blaise on the hand as Septimus starts, "Nott boy."
Also long-suffering, Theo heaves a sigh. "Nott man, please. I beg of you. I promise, there's no latent confusion on the part of my witch."
"You look rather dishevelled, Master Nott, and your witch does not. I daresay your attentions haven't been thorough."
"He was quite thorough," Luna contributes with her wide blue eyes fixed on the portrait. "I prefer mussing his hair. It's enjoyable."
"Were you part of the group cockwarming, earlier?"
Blaise openly objects. "It wasn't 'group' anything -" but Luna speaks at the same time and somehow, her high voice carries further than his baritone.
"Not Theo and me. I've never done it before." Luna pauses and gives Theo an appraising up-and-down. "But I would try it."
"We, er -" Theo gulps, nervous about being put on the spot. All side conversations have fallen silent. Draco's entertained to see Taylor looking entertained, not at all intimidated by the chaos of the flat. Theo's eyes flicker around and he begins again. "I need a bit more time before we can give it a go."
Draco would love to see this, if only metaphorically. Theodore Nott can't hold still to save his life. Theodore Nott makes a perpetual habit of exorbitant physical contact, and while he does delight in ending up on the floor or on a sofa, this is somewhat different.
"Might I see how it's done?" Septimus prompts, one eyebrow arched.
There it is. Draco knew it was only a matter of time. He leans against the nearest wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. He surveys the room for reactions. It's still dead silent, the only auditory anomaly the muffled chuckles from behind various hands. Everyone stares at Theo, who is steadily beginning to sweat.
Luna finally breaks it, seeming supremely unconcerned. "I don't mind, Theo. But if you're not very sure…" she trails off but can't hide the tone of optimism in her voice.
Theo seems unwilling to be the lone opposition. Luna concludes while still giving him an out. "We could just try it."
Blaise snorts. "Yes, go on, Nott. Show Lord Malfoy how it goes. I think Ginny and I are going to retire to our chambers, and if everybody else agrees, Theo and Luna could have the living room to themselves." He lifts his eyebrows suggestively, draping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. She wants to protest but Blaise whispers something in her ear, and she brightens precipitously, nodding along.
Harry clears his throat. "Yes, we should probably go to bed, too. Taylor?" He extends a hand to Taylor, who takes it and stands.
"I suppose that leaves us," Hermione says. Draco thinks he hears more than a little reluctance and wonders what else his feisty fiancé might have in mind. "Ready for bed?"
Is he ever. There hadn't been a satisfactory conclusion to their later activities in the bar. He looks at Theo, trying to convey appropriate warning.
"Stay out here if you like, Nott, but everybody uses silencing charms!" The last words come out louder, as Blaise and Ginny are already making the turn into Blaise's room. "If you don't use a silencing charm, we'll all assume it was on purpose!"
Draco steers Hermione in the direction of their room, and she stops dead centre in the hall as they pass the kitchen. "Grab the honey," she hisses under her breath.
Draco is happy to.
Begun July 23, 2023
Finished September 25, 2023