Chapter 11
“And so maybe, if there’s some way to modify mandrake leaves to be more potent, or maybe extract the magical property that allows wizards to restore themselves to their human form, we could remove the step of keeping one in your mouth for a whole month,” Draco finished.
Neville hummed contemplative. “I definitely think that would be possible. The thing is, if we make the process easier to become an Animagus, we’re going to have to expect the number of illegal Animagi to soar.”
Draco stole a strawberry off the other wizard’s plate. “I suppose you’re right,” he sighed, nibbling on the fruit.
“Can you see Hermione?” Neville asked, nodding to the dance floor.
Draco glanced over and saw the witch dancing with George. She was smiling, her expression warm and open, just like she had been when she had danced with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball in their fourth year. “Can’t believe she went for Weasley over Viktor fucking Krum. I mean, who turns down a celebrity?”
Neville snorted. “Worst decision she ever made.”
Something about Neville’s tone and the derisive expression on his face made Draco pause. “Why do you say that? I know Weasley’s always been a bit of a knob, but she sort of liked that, didn’t she?”
“Her and Weasley are no longer dating,” Neville said, his voice lined with a hard edge. Weasley? Weren’t they friends?
“I thought as much,” Draco responded, eyeing the other wizard to gauge his response. “He came here today with a new witch, some girl in a red dress.”
“Red seems a fitting colour for a woman like her,” Neville hissed scathingly. “She’s a homewrecker. She went after Weasley while knowing that he was dating Hermione. And he dropped his pants immediately like the stupid cunt he is.”
Draco felt his stomach flip. “He what? I mean – Hermione didn’t seem too happy when she saw the two of them at the ball together, but I just thought she was annoyed because they had broken up and he had moved on too quickly.”
“If only that was the case,” Neville seethed. “They’re unofficially broken up. Ron and the bitch showed up at their flat while Hermione was still there. They were about to fuck.” Neville downed a chalice of water, his expression furious.
Draco felt his own heart stutter in anger. “What a dick. Poor Hermione.”
Neville nodded in agreement. Then he caught sight of something, and he stood up, his chair screeching loudly. “The bastard.”
Draco followed his gaze and saw George with his wand out, pointing it threateningly at none other than Ron Weasley. Hermione stood a few inches behind him, her face shiny with tears.
“Come on,” Neville hissed, brusquely pulling Draco up by the arm and striding over to where the three were stood in the middle of the dance floor.
As they neared the scene, Draco heard George’s infuriated whispering: “… you have the audacity to come here and call Hermione your girlfriend? Where’s your little toy now?”
“Don’t call Helena a toy, you bastard,” Ron growled, surging forward. Draco caught him by the arm and elbowed him hard in the stomach. Ron doubled over, wheezing.
“George asked a question,” Neville glared down at Ron. “Where’s your slut?”
“How dare you!” A voice screeched. Helena Dunn hurried over, kneeling down and smothering Ron in a sickening display of concern. Hermione looked green.
Helena whipped around to fix Draco with a glare. “Don’t touch him, Death Eater scum!”
“Yeah,” Ron rose up from the floor, his face the same shade as his hair. “You have no right to get involved, you killer.”
Draco drew his own wand. “You and I both know I’ve never killed anyone, Weasel,” he said calmly. “That being said, I don’t mind starting now.”
“You’re threatening him!” Helena wailed. “You attacked my boyfriend and and now you’re threatening him! Someone detain him!”
“You’ve got a lot of balls calling him your boyfriend,” George snapped, his wand still levelled with Ron’s chest. “Seeing as he was Hermione’s boyfriend until you decided to hop on his cock.”
“Don’t talk to her like that!” Ron shouted.
“Why not, Ron?” Hermione stepped forward, her voice trembling in rage. “I’m pretty sure he’s got all the details down right.”
“Babe, come on,” the redhead reasoned. “Why are you getting so mad at me over this? You were always too busy working to spend time with me, and I got lonely. How is any of this my fault?”
A sizeable crowd had begun to gather around them, tutting and murmuring. Draco felt his neck prickle under the displeased gaze of the crowd.
Hermione looked incendiary. “You cheated on me! There’s no excuse for that, Ron, what is wrong with you?!”
“You’re lucky there’s a crowd, Weasel,” Draco snarled. “It’s the only thing stopping me from beating the ever-loving shit out of you.”
“So that’s what you’ve been doing, huh?” Ron sneered, leering at Hermione, his eyes darting between Draco and Hermione. “Have you been sucking Death Eater cock? Of course you are, look at you, with your matching outfits and everything.” He looked triumphant. “You’re one to talk when you’ve been fucking off with God knows who,” he spat.
Hermione gasped, new tears welling up in her eyes. “I would never do that to you,” she whispered. “Never.”
“That’s it,” George snapped, stabbing his wand in his brother's face. “Get the fuck out of here before I hang you by your own guts from the chandelier.”
“George,” Angelina warned, her hands bunching up the black lace dress she had on. “Don’t make a scene.”
Ron’s chest rose and fell as he glared at George. He scoffed, turning to Hermione. “You’ll be back. When you’ve had enough of Death Eater cock you’ll realise that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”
Hermione looked crushed, silent tears streaming down down her face. Neville pulled her backwards, his arm around her protectively. “Shut the fuck up, Ron,” he spat. “You’re a fucking joke.”
“For your information,” Draco slowly reached for his wand, smirking when Ron and Helena drew back in terror. Being a former Death Eater had its perks. “Hermione and I are business partners. I’m going to be helping her with her Lycanthropy project. We’ll be doing more good than you’ve ever done preening for the cameras.” As if on cue, a bright flash blinded them temporarily, and Draco knew that Rita Skeeter would be writing a sensational, dramatised recount of tonight’s events for the Prophet. “I’d suggest you leave, before something truly terrible happens to you.”
Ron opened his mouth to spit out another retort. Draco aimed his wand at the other man’s face. “I dare you,” he snarled. “Say another word.”
Helena jerked Ron back, fuming. “Let’s go, Ron-bear. The stupid bitch isn’t worth it,” she hissed into his ear.
Ron’s ears were still red as he turned away, muttering cursed under his breath. Draco caught him by the arm.
“By the way,” he whispered. “If Hermione and I were fucking, I promise she’d be having more fun that with your microscopic dick.” He smirked as Ron’s face contorted with rage.
With a huff, the redhead and his girlfriend walked away from the scene, the crowd parting to give way, then slowly dispersing as the scene ended.
“What a dick,” Neville muttered.