Chapter 22: Draco

New Sensations

"Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing." ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Earlier that week—
Monday, July 2, 2007
The Former Study of Lucius Malfoy
Malfoy Manor

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway of his father's old study, watching as someone named Willy Engelbert—yes, that was his name—bustled around the room, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the once-somber space.

The boy, a slip of a thing, was barely eighteen—and a Hufflepuff. He no longer wore school robes, but he exuded the quintessential Hufflepuff traits, the most relevant of which was the ability to be incredibly annoying.

Draco contemplated cursing Longbottom's future lineage. Longbottom had left the detail of the student's house out of his letters. Willy—honestly, Willy?—had a mop of curly sand-colored hair and an eager grin that never seemed to falter. Draco found the whole thing incredibly irritating, yet part of him was oddly satisfied.

Father would hate this.

The study, with its dark wood paneling and rows of meticulously organized ledgers, had always been a place of quiet authority, a symbol of Lucius Malfoy's control over everything and everyone around him. Now, it was overrun by a teenager who looked like he belonged more in a parochial youth choir than among the relics of pureblood aristocracy.

"William," Draco called out, keeping his tone as formal as possible, "are you ready to begin?"

The boy looked up from the cauldron he was setting up, his grin widening. "It's Willy, actually," he corrected cheerfully, as he had several times that morning.

Draco ignored the correction, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "You've brewed a Pepper-Up Potion before, I assume?"

Willy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, loads of times in class. Professor Slughorn said I've got a knack for potions, and I like making them, so I practiced a lot. But I've never done it outside of the school labs, you know? This place is amazing, Mr. Malfoy. I mean, it's like stepping into history!"

Draco raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly at the boy's earnestness. "It's just a study," he said dismissively, grateful that the boy probably had no idea how the Dark Lord Voldemort had reigned supreme nearby, sometimes in this very room. "I want to see how you work."

Willy's excitement didn't diminish in the slightest as he carefully measured out the ingredients. "I've already chopped the Mandrake root," he explained, "and I've got the fire seeds ready to add once the cauldron's heated."

Draco watched closely, searching for any mistake or minor flaw he could point out. But to his mild irritation, Willy's technique was impeccable. The boy moved naturally, his hands steady and precise as he worked. There was nothing to criticize—no misplaced ingredient, no careless error. It was almost as if the boy was showing off, though Draco knew better than to believe that. Willy was just earnestly good at this, which was impressive and annoying.

"So … Willy," Draco winced, attempting to steer the conversation away from the potion, "why did you decide to pursue an apprenticeship? Surely, there are other things you could be doing with your summer."

Willy didn't look up from his work, and his focus was unwavering. "Well, I've always liked potions, and I want to get better at it. I figure if I can learn from a professional like you, I'll be ahead of the game when I start applying for jobs. Plus, it's always been a good distraction."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "A distraction from what?"

Willy hesitated for the first time, his hands paused over the cauldron. "From everything, I guess."

Draco was curious, but he kept silent. Something about Willy indicated that he was the sort of wizard to talk without the need for probing questions.

Willy sighed, adding the next ingredient to the potion and stirring it clockwise. "You've heard about the Night of Terror. Two months ago, on May Second?"

Draco's expression tightened, and he nodded. "I'm aware of it," he said carefully. "But what does that have to do with you?"

Willy swallowed, his bright demeanor dimming slightly. "I was there. At Hogwarts, I mean. A couple of my friends and I were out near the Forbidden Forest when the werewolves attacked. It was terrifying. They came out of nowhere, and we didn't know what to do. We were surrounded by three of them—they were huge and looked like they were about to kill us."

Draco felt a cold knot of unease forming in his chest. "How did you get away?"

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger!" Willy exclaimed, a note of awe in his voice. "They showed up just in time. Harry Potter took charge and distracted two of the wolves on his own, and Madam Granger faced the other one while my friends and I climbed to the roof of one of the Greenhouses. We tried to help by throwing stink pods at the wolves, but it didn't do much. I don't think I'd be here if it weren't for them. Can you imagine? Saved personally by Harry Potter and Hermione Granger!"

Willy certainly needed to brush up on the history of the Second Wizarding War. "Indeed, I can."

Draco's heart had skipped a beat at the mention of Granger. He kept his expression carefully blank, but his thoughts were racing. He knew she was capable, but hearing Willy speak of her so reverently, recalling how she had saved their lives, was … illuminating.

Willy continued, seemingly oblivious to Draco's internal turmoil. "We got into so much trouble. Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall were fuming! I thought I was about to be expelled—and just a few weeks before NEWTs, too! I was so stressed, and I had already collapsed from exhaustion earlier that week. I snuck into the library overnight to review for Transfiguration a few days in a row, and that was a terrible idea. I'm not very good at transfiguration, though, and I needed an acceptable to apply for apprenticeships. We haven't gotten the results yet, but I'm pretty sure I got it."

He smiled, and Draco marveled at his ability to gab and brew simultaneously. "Anyway, my friends Imogene and Phoebe were really worried about me, and there's this rumor that if you touch the White Tomb on the night of a full moon, you'll remember everything you need for your exams no problem—"

"The White Tomb," Draco repeated. "Albus Dumbledore's tomb?"

"Yes," Willy replied, stirring in the fire seeds with a practiced hand. "I knew it was a bad idea, but Imogene got really into it like it would be a rite of passage for us, and we were about to graduate—I think she was getting a bit sentimental, and none of us had decided what we were going to do after NEWTs. I don't know. I think she hoped the Tomb would help her have an epiphany."

"That is very foolish," Draco remarked sharply. He wondered if Willy knew Draco had helped put Dumbledore in that tomb, but he was afraid to ask.

"Very foolish," Willy agreed solemnly. "So yeah, after that night, it was very traumatic. I'm glad there haven't been any more attacks since then. You won't find anyone more committed to following the Ministry Curfew than me, Mr. Malfoy! But after that night, while I was studying in the weeks after—potions helped me focus, you know? Keep my mind off things. My mum always says my mind works too fast, and I think having so many things to concentrate on while brewing calms me down."

Draco nodded, his gaze drifting to the potion bubbling steadily in the cauldron. Willy had done everything right—there was nothing more to add. The potion would be ready soon, and it would be perfect.

"Willy," Draco said, the name slipping out more naturally this time, "you've done well. You can continue using this study as your lab. Can you keep making batches of pepper-up until lunchtime?"

Willy grinned, his earlier solemnity replaced by his usual enthusiasm. "Got it, Mr. Malfoy. I'll do my best."

Draco gave a curt nod. "I will be working on some other projects in my personal lab."

"Can I see?" Willy asked hopefully.

"No," was Draco's curt reply, and he almost laughed at the teenager's wilted expression. "Now, one other thing. Your Gringott's vault will receive weekly payments for your work here from the Charitable Potions Trust. That's what we're doing here. Every potion you make will donated to St. Mungo's Hospital."

"Amazing!" Willy exclaimed. He was now at the finishing steps of the potion. "I'm just happy to be able to brew for real, outside of school. I can't wait to tell my mum that I'm actually getting paid."

"Do you want to know how much?" Draco asked wryly, struck dumb in the presence of someone who did not have weekly business and financial lectures with their father.

"Okay!"

Draco told him the rate and was instantly alarmed by Willy's shocked expression.

"But that's more than my older brother makes, and he works in the Department of Magical Transportation!"

Draco had no reply other than to shrug. Ministry salaries were indeed beyond pitiful.

"And I'll be taking some time off to visit my mother in France next month, so while I'm gone, you'll take over most of the tasks for the trust. Your payment will increase accordingly."

Willy just looked at him with his mouth gaping. Eventually, he nodded.

"See you later, then," Draco said, leaving the study. He should ask Muffy to keep an eye on Willy because Draco knew he could brew a potion, but his loquacious, bustling energy worried him. Draco had swept through the Manor several times over the years—on top of the initial Ministry raids—but he wasn't confident that his father didn't have more dark artifacts stored in various crevices and corners.

As he walked away, though, his thoughts were not on his potion, the study, or even on Willy Engelbert. They were on Hermione Granger and the inexplicable pull he felt whenever her name was mentioned.

Three Days Later—
Thursday, July 5, 2007

"Willy, I need you to—" Draco stopped short. The study was empty. A copper cauldron sat in stasis, and another had been cleaned and emptied, its contents neatly bottled and stacked in the corner.

Where did he go? Draco's mind immediately conjured images of centuries-old cursed diamonds trapping Willy in their fractal depths, his high-pitched cries echoing forevermore.

Draco rushed down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hall. As he neared the dining room, laughter floated toward him. Draco hastened his pace until he reached the open doors.

"Wow, that's a hilarious story, Mr. Nott!" Willy's voice rang out, full of admiration.

"Oh, Willy, please call me Theo."

Draco stepped into the dining room and was met with an unexpected sight. Willy was seated at the long dining table, his face lit up with amusement, while Theo lounged across from him, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. Muffy flitted around the table, placing an assortment of food—no doubt at Theo's request—in front of the pair.

Theo looked up as Draco entered, his grin widening. "Ah, Draco, there you are. I was beginning to think you would leave me alone with young Willy here. Quite the conversationalist, isn't he?"

"Mr. Malfoy!" Willy jumped up from his seat, looking excited. "Mr. Nott was telling me about when you accidentally set a broomstick on fire during a Quidditch practice. You two have been through some wild things!"

Draco shot Theo a look, but Theo just raised an eyebrow, his grin still firmly in place. "Yes, well, Theo does have a knack for making things sound more dramatic than they were," Draco said dryly. "Willy, I was looking for you."

Willy nodded quickly. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I was just—well, Mr. Nott was kind enough to offer some advice, and then Muffy brought out all this food, and—"

"Did she now?" Draco's gaze shifted to Muffy, who looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Today, she wore a matching pink gingham shorts set with a white floral headband.

"Muffy only wanted to make Master Draco's friend and young apprentice comfortable, sir," the house elf said defiantly. "Muffy thought it would be nice."

"And quite right she is," Theo chimed in smoothly before Draco could respond. "I have not been this content in many ages, I'd dare say," Theo announced before popping a honey-drizzled cheese pie into his mouth and speaking through the flaky pastry. "Your apprentice—whose existence was completely unknown to me until this very afternoon—is one of my most cherished new acquaintances."

Willy's face lit up to a comical degree, and Draco glowered.

Theo went on, "You can't be so hard on the boy, Draco. He's been working tirelessly, hasn't he? A little break is well-deserved."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Theo. "That's generous of you to say, Theodore, but it's Willy's third day, and he's here to work, not to be entertained."

Willy looked between the two men, sensing the tension but unsure what to say. "I love this job, Mr. Malfoy! I'm happy to do whatever you need."

"See?" Theo said, feigning innocence. "Such a keen young lad. You're lucky to have him, Draco."

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yes, well, we'll see how long that enthusiasm lasts. Now, Willy—"

"—Hold on a moment. I was not finished," Theo interrupted, sitting up straighter, his grin returning. "I must say, Willy's actually quite tolerable for a Hufflepuff. Least annoying one I've met, in fact."

Willy's eyes widened, a mix of pride and confusion. "Uh, thank you, Mr. Nott?"

Theo chuckled. "Don't mention it, Willy. It's high praise coming from me."

Draco shot Theo a warning glance. "What I was going to say—"

"—is that you've decided to join us for lunch," Theo finished smoothly. "Isn't that right, Draco? After all, leaving Muffy's hard work unappreciated would be rude."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Theo's expression was all too familiar—a look that said he wouldn't take no for an answer. Willy, looking hopeful, glanced at Draco, clearly eager for him to stay.

Draco exhaled slowly. "Fine."

Willy beamed, and Muffy, sensing victory, immediately began to serve the food with even more enthusiasm. Flitting about the room and then popping off to, presumably, bring even more.

Theo leaned back with a satisfied smirk as Draco sat at the table. "You know, Draco, we should do this more often. We can even invite your close personal friend Neville Longbottom—isn't that right?"

"Don't push it, Theo," Draco grumbled, realizing that this entire situation—Longbottom, Willy, this lunch—was entirely Theo's fault.

"Professor Longbottom is the best teacher I ever had," Willy remarked. "Even though a Venomous Tentacula attacked me during my final exam first year."

"Those things build character, William," Theo replied. "Draco, tell him about getting mauled by a Hippogriff."

"No."

"A hippogriff mauled you?" Willy asked, eyes wide. "I've only ever met one hippogriff—Hagrid's hippogriff Witherwings. He's very nice and lets me pet his feathers. But I'm sure your hippogriff was vicious, Mr. Malfoy."

"He nearly died," Theo declared, tossing his head in despair. "The agony."

"Don't push it, Theo," Draco said, taking an entire cheese puff in his mouth.

Muffy popped beside Draco a moment later, announcing, "Draco has a letter!"

"Thank you, Muffy," he said, taking the parchment from her hands and unfurling it.

Dear Draco,

Teddy is so excited about this weekend. Thank you, again, for getting those tickets—I hear they're hard to come by, even for Muggles. Unfortunately, something has come up that I cannot get out of. Would you be all right to attend alone? If you'd like company, I'm sure Teddy's godfather Harry would accompany you. Just say the word.

With Love,
Andromeda

"Absolutely not," Draco muttered. As if he would willingly participate in something recreational with Harry Potter.

"What is it?" Theo inquired.

Draco looked up at him across the table, mulling over his options. Eventually, he sighed, resigned.

"What do you know about tennis?"

Two days later—
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Tonks House

Draco was sure he had paid five times the appropriate amount for tickets to the final at Wimbledon, but it was worth it. When he mentioned his idea to Teddy and saw how excited he was, Draco was determined to follow through; honestly, he was grateful that one of his father's old Magical-Muggle finance consultants was still in operation to help. Draco had received an owl a few days ago to let him know that Teddy's favorite, Federer, had made it to the championship match.

"I wonder if the Muggles will be selling biscuits," Theo said from beside him as they approached Tonks House from the apparition point down the road.

"They had many kinds of concessions," Draco replied. He had not planned on inviting Theo, but anyone would have been better than bringing Potter along.

Anyway, Theo was ecstatic.

"Is this enough?" Theo reached into the breast pocket of his lilac linen Muggle suit—Draco was in all black today—and pulled out a thick wad of Muggle money. There must have been a few dozen bills with 100s on them.

Draco looked skeptical. "Not sure. I have more if we need."

They arrived at the walkway to Andromeda and Teddy's house, and Draco led the way to the door, firmly tapping on the brass knocker. Some shouts sounded from inside, including a distinctly masculine voice, which caused a furrow of confusion to bloom on Draco's face. Who was here?

The door swung open.

"Malfoy?"

Of course. Of course, it was Harry Potter.

"Potter?"

"And me!" Theo proclaimed from beside him. "Theo. Present."

Draco scowled. "What are you doing here? Where's Andromeda?"

Potter, who looked like he had recently rolled out of bed, ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. Draco's lip curled in disgust.

"Andromeda had to run out early and asked if I could come to watch—"

"Is Draco here!?" came a voice from inside the house.

"—Teddy," Potter finished with a sigh.

"I see that she forgot to mention that I was coming," Draco replied deadpan. His aunt seemed to love putting him into uncomfortable situations.

"Seems so," Harry mumbled as little footsteps sounded behind him.

"And me." Theo offered, waving a hand. "I'm here, too."

Potter frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can see that."

"You're looking splendidly unkempt, Potter," Theo chirped.

Teddy came running down the stairs, dressed similarly to the previous week.

"Hi, Tedd—oof." Draco was engulfed in a hug once again. He patted Teddy delicately on the back.

"Hi! Are you ready? I'm so excited. Federer is going to win!"

Draco allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "Of course he will—he's the best."

"He's the best!" Teddy turned to Theo and frowned. "Who are you?"

"Theodore Nott, pleased to make your acquaintance," he held a pale hand to the boy, who shook it. "I've heard about this Tennis, and I am intrigued."

"Cool! Nice to meet you."

"You two are taking Teddy to Wimbledon?" Potter asked incredulously from where he still stood in the open doorway.

"Yeah! Draco came with us to a match last week, and now we get to go to the final!" Teddy grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him inside, ushering everyone through the doorway. Potter closed the door behind them.

"I have to get my shoes!" the boy exclaimed, running back up the stairs.

The three wizards stood awkwardly in the foyer.

Potter broke the silence. Of course, he did—the bespectacled git couldn't help himself.

"I didn't realize you were close with Teddy and Andromeda," Potter grumbled, obviously unhappy.

Draco scowled. "Jealous, Potter? I didn't realize you had a bitter bone in your seemingly immortal body."

Potter sighed wearily. "You'll take care of him, won't you?"

"I am not going to dignify that by answering," Draco replied, jutting up his chin.

"The boy shall be returned in the same state in which we receive him, Potter," Theo answered for them. "Well, I suppose that's not entirely accurate. He will be significantly happier, smarter, better—a few hours older, if we're being empirical."

Teddy bounded down the stairs wearing Muggle trainers with the laces trailing undone. "Ready!" he cried. When he reached them, he pulled out his sunglasses from his pocket and perched them on his nose. "Wait!" he exclaimed, then his face scrunched up. Turquoise hair transformed again to platinum blonde. "Okay, ready!"

"Right you are, Teddy," Draco said imperiously, giving Potter a disdainful glance out the corner of his eye. Potter looked vaguely disgusted, which pleased Draco indeed.

Draco pulled out his own conjured glasses and put them on.

"Hey!" Theo cried, eyes darting between them. "Why don't I get some Muggle glasses?"

Draco rolled his eyes, pulled out his wand, removed his glasses, and cast a duplication charm on them. Theo happily donned his new pair and smiled.

At that moment, Draco heard a rush of flame from inside the house. "Harry? Teddy? Kreacher sent me with breakfast."

It happened all at once: Potter's mouth opened and closed like a vacant fish; Draco, to his horror, also fell agape; Theo's face lit up in delight; and lastly—the reaction that confirmed Draco's worst nightmare—Teddy broke out into a smile and called, "Aunt Hermione?" Draco froze, still holding his wand and two pairs of duplicated sunglasses.

And that is how Granger found them.

She walked in, levitating a silver tray topped with steaming food and a tea kettle beside her. The aroma of bacon and fried eggs wafted into Draco's nostrils. Draco's mouth started to water, but it was for an entirely different and inappropriate reason.

She was—what was she wearing? Her hair was utterly undone, flowing over her shoulders and down to her waist in impossibly unruly waves and ringlets. She wore a silken shirt with the thinnest straps imaginable, shorts that barely covered an inch of her thighs, and an undone flannel robe, allowing Draco to admire said silken underthings.

"Oh," Granger said, coming to a complete stop. She looked at Draco, Theo, and Teddy in succession, and her mouth dropped open. The five of them stood there in an uneven circle, absurdly silent.

Theo, of course, broke the silence. "Hello, Hermione, dear. What an unexpected pleasure to see you this morning. Love the robe. Is that a fry-up? Smells delicious."

"Hi, Aunt Mione!" Teddy added, smiling. "We're going to Wimbledon!"

"You—" Granger began. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and started again, "You three are going to Wimbledon?"

"I am a new initiate into 'Tennis,' but I expect to be an expert by day's end," Theo declared.

Granger looked directly at Draco, who felt rather stupefied by her walking in with only her nightclothes. He looked back at her, and she closed and tied her robe, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced over at Potter. "Did you know about this?"

"No," Potter replied wearily.

And then Draco got a sinking feeling in his stomach because here was Potter, disheveled and bleary-eyed as if he just rolled out of bed. And an indeterminate short while later, Granger followed him to the exact location. How did Granger know where Potter was?

Granger and Potter.

Granger and Potter and nightclothes.

Granger and Potter and nightclothes and a breakfast tray and the distinct tang of intimacy.

Draco blinked. Draco sneered.

"We're late," he said sharply. "Are you ready to go, Teddy?"

The boy nodded, and then Granger cut in. "Wait—" she fumbled for her wand and, with a graceful wave, wordlessly tied Teddy's shoelaces. Granger seemed slightly off-kilter when she asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"

Theo began, "It does smell—"

"We're late. We'll eat when we get there," Draco interjected calmly. Using all of his self-control, he gently placed a hand on Teddy's shoulder, turned him around, and opened the door. "Goodbye," he added over his shoulder.

"Bye, Hermione! By Harry!" Teddy said, his cheerfulness dissonant with the psychological turmoil in Draco's mind.

Of course, Potter and Granger were domestic. How could he not notice the signs? Back in March, Potter had caressed her shoulder in his office. It was a fucking joke. It probably had been going on for years—perhaps in all the time he had known them.

Well, this was a new sensation. Was Draco jealous? No. What would he be jealous of? He was angry. It was just too typical, too perfect: the Savior and the Other Savior, the Chosen One and his constant companion, the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Saved His Life.

Their wedding would be a fucking zoo.

Draco and Teddy stepped out together, and he heard Theo's deep voice behind him—but he and Teddy were already halfway down the drive.

When Theo caught up to them, they were on the sidewalk.

"Bit rude," Theo commented, though his voice was muffled. Draco looked at him and saw that Theo had a rasher of bacon hanging out of his mouth and two more in his hand. "Here you are, Teddy, growing boy."

Teddy took a bacon strip from Theo's hand and started munching as they meandered down the drive to the apparition point. Draco pressed forward, ignoring Theo, who proffered a bacon toward him.

"It's delicious," Theo teased, waving the meat in the air.

Unfortunately, it looked very crisp.

Draco snatched the bacon and took a violent bite. Merlin, but it was tasty.

One hour later—
Wimbledon

"A bit close to the ground," Theo commented as they sat in the stadium. "But considering the lack of flying, I suppose that makes sense."

Draco smirked as he saw Teddy gape at their front-row view. They were a bit early for the match, and most of the stands were still empty, though the atmosphere was abuzz.

"We're sitting here?" Teddy asked, incredulous. "But the court is right there! Federer is going to be right there!"

"So this Federer chap, he's good?" Theo inquired as he settled into his seat and fumbled with his extensive collection of concessions. It turned out that he did have enough Muggle money to buy all the things on the menu—which he proceeded to do. Teddy settled beside him with a lemonade and ham and cheese toastie.

Following behind them, Draco settled next to Teddy, holding two glasses of a Muggle drink called a Pimms cup. He took a sip and found it surprisingly delightful.

"Federer is the best," Teddy told Theo fervently. "He's won Wimbledon for the last four years."

"Ah, a champion," Theo nodded, examining one of his sandwiches and stuffing half of it into his mouth. He reached across Teddy, snapping his fingers at Draco for his cup. Draco obliged, and Theo took a long drink, nodding happily. "Delicious."

"But he's playing Rafael Nadal," Teddy continued, frowning. "And Nadal is also a champion. He just won the French Open last month."

"Oh, tosh. The French don't know anything about sport—no offense, Draco," Theo remarked.

"I'm English," Draco muttered, reaching across to snatch a sandwich from Theo's absurdly large pile.

"Bien sur, Seigneur Malfoy," Theo chucked, elbowing Teddy playfully.

"Federer and Nadal were in the final last year, and Federer won," Teddy announced, unfazed by the bickering around him. "He will win again."

"Right you are," Theo agreed, lifting his drink in cheers against Teddy's lemonade.

Set 1: 7-6, Federer

"They were tied for a very long time," Theo muttered as the applause died.

"Yes," Draco agreed. "But Federer pulled it out."

Teddy, mesmerized by the proximity of Federer and Nadal resting on the sidelines, did not notice their exchange. Draco was quite pleased by their seats this go-round. He could see a bead of sweat run down Federer's temple.

Theo followed Draco's gaze and nodded. "This sport is quite something. What it lacks in levitation, it makes up for with intensity."

Set 2: 4-6, Nadal

"No!" Teddy cried as Nadal eked out the set point.

"Not to worry, Teddy. There's still plenty of game left," Theo assured him once the crowd died down with a pat on the back. "I think. How much game is there, exactly?"

"He only won because Federer made some stupid errors," complained Draco. "Very unlike him."

"It's ok," Teddy nodded. "He'll come back in the next one."

Set 3: 7-6, Federer

"See!" Teddy cried, jumping up out of his seat. "I told you!"

"Very good!" Theo said, clapping along. He reached over to Draco from behind Teddy. "Come on, let me just duplicate it quickly."

"No," hissed Draco, pulling his second Pimms cup out of reach. "You said you didn't want one."

"You should know me better than that," Theo hissed back. "It's fine, Teddy's covering me."

"We have never been around more Muggles in our lives—put that away!"

Theo pushed his wand gently back into his arm holster, looking thoughtful. "You know … I think you're right about that. Huh." He glanced around at the packed stadium. "I hadn't noticed."

"If Federer gets the next set, he wins!" Teddy turned to Draco, who almost laughed at the boy's askew sunglasses. He reached out to fix them.

"He'll do it."

Set 4: 2-6, Nadal

Draco, Teddy, and Theo groaned in unison with the rest of their row.

Set 5: 6-2, Federer (Championship Secured)

The entire stadium erupted into applause and cheers. Draco, Teddy, and Theo shot to their feet. The last of Theo's concessions fell to the floor. Draco spilled the remnants of his drink all over his shirtsleeves. Teddy was crushed between Draco and Theo as they all reached out and jumped.

"What a game!" Theo exclaimed.

"Federer is the best in the world! He has to be—five times in a row!" Teddy pumped his fist in the air and then looked up at Draco. "This was amazing! Thank you for taking me."

"Thank you, Teddy," said Draco, who couldn't remember smiling like this for a long while.

"Indeed! To Teddy," Theo cheered, raising his glass. "We must come back next year. Maybe Federer will return to win again."

"Can we?" Teddy looked at Theo and Draco with eager hope.

"Of course."

"By the way," Theo remarked a short while later as they milled out of the stadium with the other attendees. Teddy was skipping a few steps ahead, delighted at the loud and busy atmosphere. "Why were you so upset when Hermione showed up this morning?"

Draco's eyes whipped over to his friend, who glanced at him curiously.

"Instinctual reaction," Draco monotoned as he kept an eye on Teddy. The last thing he needed was to lose the boy in the crowd after Potter insinuated that he couldn't care for him. "House rivalry, ancestral feud, general dislike, etcetera." Draco worked hard not to choke on the words.

"I like her," Theo declared, causing Draco's stride to stutter. He recovered quickly, though it was evident that Theo noticed because the dark-haired wizard raised a brow. "I had a lovely conversation with her a few weeks ago at the Leaky."

"What were you doing at the Leaky with Granger?" Draco demanded, his curiosity impossible to suppress.

"Chatting," Theo replied, and Draco did not like Theo's knowing smirk. "I was at the joke shop, and it turned into a parade to the pub to celebrate the Weaslette's Quidditch appointment. I ran into Hermione there, and we had a lovely conversation."

"Congratulations." Draco did not want to know about Granger's blissful friendships. It irked him enough that she and Theo seemed to be on a first-name basis.

"For instance, I found out that she and Potter are … much closer than I realized."

Draco's neck tensed. Why was his body reacting like this? He did not care.

Theo did not wait for a reply before going on. "Yes, they live together, if it wasn't obvious enough this morning. Hermione confided in me that Harry is her most beloved brother. And,"— Draco could hardly process the word brother before Theo added—"I learned from Lee Jordan, who works with the Weasleys, that Hermione and one Terry Boot had a rather tumultuous break up last year. Hermione moved in with Potter after that."

Draco's heart was beating very uncomfortably in his chest. "I don't care about Granger and Potter."

"Of course," Theo agreed, nodding as they approached the final exit doors of the stadium. "You'll indulge my interest, though, I hope. Two gorgeous, single, famous adopted siblings cohabitating. I think that's beautiful."

Draco glanced at Theo from the corner of his eye, noting unhappily that Theo looked positively smug. It was good that Theo seemed to believe that Potter and Granger were just much-too-close friends, but Draco's skepticism did not abate. The idea of Potter and Granger together was just too bloody perfect not to be true.

True or not, he didn't know why the thought pissed him off.

Up Next: Hermione gets things done at the DMLE and makes some summer plans.