fervere

Chapter Thirty Four

Draco had been pummeled by a few jinxes throughout the following week from the end of Millie’s wand. His legs had been jellied racing after her, his tongue was forced to stick to the top of his mouth the moment he uttered the first syllable of her name, but much worse was when a gush of icy cold water shot from her wand if she caught him approaching her.  

And they usually happened within seconds of each other.  

Public humiliation was something Draco did not enjoy but it certainly looked like he did based on the number of attempts he tried to apologize to Millie. Even Madam Pomfrey, who had tended to some of his minor injuries from toppling over from a leg locking jinx, urged him to give Millie some space (Or else she feared that he'd have a permanent residence at the Hospital Wing).

Draco knew he should allow a bit of time to soothe out some fiery tempers but he hated that he couldn’t fix things as quickly as he would have liked. The tension that hung painfully in the air during their shared lessons was weighing heavy and awkward on everyone present. Even professors tiptoed around them while the rest of the class feigned to be immersed in their studies. 

Millie refused to speak to him even after a full week of earnest attempts. Draco gave up eventually.  

Sort of. 

The news of their spat had gone around school thanks to the detailed recounting of witnesses and the confirmation of Millie who was now agreeing to all wild accusations out of spite, implicating Hermione into a rather curious love triangle that no one had seen coming (Well, not surprising to those who had been paying attention). 

Precisely when Draco was certain that Hermione and him were on somewhat better terms, Millie’s mouth entangled her in wild speculations. It was only natural that Hermione avoided him like the plague to avoid any more attention on her.

Hermione publicly stated she had never gone romping around the school grounds late at night with Draco (although, she kind of had). 

And she was never caught by a total of ten professors shacked up in the broom closets with Draco (although, he kind of wished they had).

Despite Hermione's adamant defense, Draco didn’t pick up immediately that Hermione was actively ignoring him too. He still greeted Hermione as openly as before, big wave and a wide smile, only for her to give him a swift painful smile and rush off to her next class if they crossed paths during breaks. 

During class she would hide behind a stupid book.  

During patrols, she’d used that map to avoid him. Not that Draco had any physical proof, he just knew. 

It began to dawn on Draco that Millie wasn’t the only one who needed an apology but it proved to be difficult to do the correct thing. Draco also learned that any attempt to speak to Hermione was relayed back to Millie and that was another error all on its own. The mention of Draco approaching Hermione freshly showered from a quidditch practice or in a dim corner of a library only made Millie double down on her stubbornness to speak to him. It didn’t help when those associated with the DA spoke openly about how Draco and Hermione had been chummy since the beginning of the school year and it was not at all strange. 

The word of his friends' irritated Draco because instead of helping his cause, they made matters significantly worse.  

Their friendship hadn’t really been a well-kept secret but if it wasn’t apparent to the whole school before, it was painfully obvious to Millie now who felt foolish not knowing at all that Draco and Hermione were not just strangers that knew each other very well, they were actually friends.

It was frustrating to advance one step forward and the two steps back now that two girls were actively avoiding him. 

It was the kind of awkward reality that Draco had to live out for the rest of March. He had no other choice but to throw his head into his studies and take it day by day in hopes that with time, like Madam Pomfrey said, would heal.  

So while he pondered over divinations, debated the validity of some recorded Witch Hunts in muggle documents, and lose himself in texts of June B Jones to fill in his time, slowly but surely, March rolled on in a slow and steady pace.  

One day, Draco had realized that he was a few days into April with the days warmer and brighter than before; a stark difference to how he felt when OWLs were looming over them like a bad omen. 

Most of the fifth years lost their spark, dawning a rather telling shade of purple under their tired eyes. It all came fast at them; the number of assignments and presentations increasing exponentially. Draco truly had no idea how he was managing when the stack of work kept increasing at his desk and no matter how much he dedicated his time sitting himself at his desk until past two or three in the morning, it didn’t get any smaller.  

Despite this, Draco had one hope he was hanging on to. There were only three months left of the school year. Two months of solid work.  

June would have their OWLs speckled around their schedules on different days over the course of two weeks. The last two weeks of June he’d be able to relax and look forward to summer- 

Draco sighed, rubbing an ink blot off his book he had been reading and taking notes in the common room. The room had been taken over by the entirety of stressed Slytherin fifth years, pushing the rest of the Slytherins to tip toe around them, scared of being jinxed by any one of them. 

Draco could see the light at the end of the tunnel if he didn’t think about summer. 

He knew he wouldn’t have the luxury go back to Snape this coming summer which meant that he couldn’t hope of spending a second of his holidays with Hermione. His mother had requested this incoming summer to be spent together and Draco already felt the trouble he’d go through pretending that summers at the Malfoy Manor was normal for him.  

It hadn’t.  

It’s never been a summer he’d experience since he started Hogwarts and now being forced to spend it entirely with his parents felt awkward.  

He was really looking forward to that golden two week intermission after OWLs and before summer where he could fully relax and not think about any kind of expectations. 

Yes, the free golden two weeks of nothing but freedom... 

Draco rubbed his eyes, unfocused at the text in front of him, his quill still dripping small drops of ink on the page that he didn’t care to smudge off now. He was trying not to think too much about his life beyond summer, so he could direct his attention to his expectations of high marks. 

Studying had become a sort of refuge from Draco’s social issues. He ignored most of the chatter surrounding him by diving himself into work. In fact, it was his solid reason to excuse himself from attending any DA meetings. Draco was stunned (and yet, not really) that they were still running their club after being caught.  

Draco wished them luck most days when Daphne or Ron attempted to invite him. He’d always said no, but his rejection wasn’t exclusive to the DA. Draco had also been skipping out on the Inquisitorial Squad meetings because he couldn’t waste a single precious second listening to that insane woman go on and on about Harry this or Harry that.  

Draco had better ways to waste his time and besides, he figured that Crabbe and Goyle were still slipping information to the DA. 

It was a rather quiet, peaceful life as a book hermit, wasting away at the seat of a desk, which is why Draco took it upon himself to push himself out of the common room one night and head straight for a much-deserved bath. He nearly soaked himself wrinkled, his feet and hands painfully shriveled up but the rest of his body in pure bliss from the heat and scents floating around his scrambled brain.  

It took a lot of effort from Draco to pull himself out of the baths but recalling he still needed to practice a few transfiguration spells, he grumbled at the fact that he forgot to bring his book with him. He could have enjoyed a few more moments in the bath reading. 

Draco couldn’t complain, though, he had a very relaxing time and was ready to head right back up to his room when he ran straight into Daphne, only two steps out of the entrance of the Prefect’s Bathroom.  

Daphne seemed to take pity on how rough Draco was looking even when he felt refreshed, like a new born baby. He was fully aware of the fact that he was not physically doing the best at the moment but he saw his slight weight loss and sallow skin a mere exchange for the amount of knowledge he had been gaining over the month.  

It didn’t matter really nor did Draco care about his looks at the moment. He was also not stupid or blind at the long looks he received recently. He was being productive and he simply didn’t care when he had a million other things on his mind. 

“Draco,” Daphne smiled wearily at him, wrapping the curled end of a blonde strand around her finger, “How’s it been?” 

“Hell,” Draco bluntly said, rolling his left shoulder back that he just gotten to loosen up. 

“I can see,” Daphne gave him a careful look, “Ginny said she saw you fall during practice yesterday. I assume you have a rather ghastly bruise on your arm.” 

Draco forced a smile out, pushing up the sleeve of his loose fitting jumper to show Daphne that Ginny was, indeed, correct on yesterday’s reports. He had slightly dozed off on his broom and tilted off the handle, free falling a few feet before he landed on his side. A fat deep bruise stained Draco’s pale skin. He would have shown her the one on his hip but she was looking rather worried for the smaller one on his arm. 

Daphne winced, looking away, “You ought to go to the Hospital Wing. You know Madam Pomfrey can fix bruises up in no time.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Draco muttered.  

“Have you thought of attending any DA meetings in April?” Daphne quickly cut in, “You were noticeably absent last month.” 

“As if anyone wanted me there,” Draco bitterly added. When he said anyone, he truly meant Hermione but considering their current situation, Draco didn’t want to bring that awkwardness into the DA as well. He was certain that he'd be closely watched by his friends, anticipating any interaction between them. Daphne responded accordingly, by rolling her eyes as if she was dealing with a stubborn child. 

“Of course we want you there!” Daphne softly whined, as if she was annoyed that it had been the fifth time she had to repeat herself... in one day.  

Which she had . She had mentioned it twice at breakfast, asked him directly during Divinations, and loudly had a conversation with Ron about how lovely it would be if everyone could participate once again. 

“ I want you around,” Daphne insisted, glaring at him that it simply wasn’t clicking for Draco who was now, for all intents and purposes, looking over her shoulder to find an easy escape. 

“I’ll head back. It's close to curfew, isn’t it?” Draco muttered under his breath, changing the subject, “I lost track of time back there.”  

“I didn’t know you’d be such a baby about the DA. Everyone is itching to learn more occlumency from you, you know. Harry knows in theory, but you...” Daphne shook her head, “Are you still coming around for Easter?” 

Draco’s focus was pulled back by the seemingly random question, “Easter? What about it?” 

Daphne, although thoroughly annoyed, frowned as if she was hurt, “You forgot.” 

He had opened his mouth about to defend himself as Draco hardly forgot anything but as he shifted and sorted through his memory, he couldn’t exactly recall anything about Easter. 

Daphne frowned, “My Sixteenth Reception!” 

Right. Fuck. Daphne was planning on having her big party during the school year. Draco had no idea how she managed it and he would have sure loved to know how she did it, if his head wasn’t filled with transfiguration spells. 

“You’re on the list for the Floo Network.” Daphne explained, “Mum and dad threw a lot of money at the Ministry’s Department of Magical Transportation to let us use a specially assigned fireplace in Hogsmeade. You did submit your request for holiday leave that weekend with Umbridge, haven’t you?” 

Draco paused, waiting for Daphne to fill him more in.  

“Floo?” Draco stupidly said. 

Daphne rolled her eyes up, “Draco, I gave you an invitation with details. Summer Home? France? Does any of that ring a bell?” 

Draco sighed.  

“I really need to study Daph...” 

Daphne rolled her eyes, “Take your stupid books then! We all leave Friday night and come back Sunday evening! I promise a few days off won’t hurt, and even if you think it will, we have plenty of rooms where you can lock yourself up to study, if you're that hell bent.” 

Draco inhaled. Easter holiday was only a few days away. Three to be exact. But it wasn’t the time away from his studies that worried him.  

It was the fact that for a nearly a month his social relationships with two girls have been in shambles. He had caused a great deal of pain for Millie and humiliation for Hermione. He hated that his heart ached in a confusing blend of remorse and yearning.  

He wasn’t sure if he should use the holiday to isolate himself further or he could pretend everything was fine and rejoin his friends as he had in the past. He knew that they wouldn’t make fun of him for having a rather dramatic fight with his estranged girlfriend (Maybe Ginny would), but the shame of it was hard to forget. 

It was written all over his face. 

“You know she misses you.” Daphne quietly added, causing Draco’s brows to twitch up in interest, “She won’t say it out loud, of course, but the past meetings the DA has had, she lingers at the door hoping to see someone walk through.” 

“It wouldn’t be me,” Draco shook his head, “I’ve done enough to her reputation. I wouldn’t find it the least surprising that she would want nothing to do with me.” 

Daphne inwardly groaned to herself, “The both of you are increasingly getting very annoying.” 

Draco had no real intention to attend but Daphne was, after all, his very good friend. She had always been supportive of Draco and it was such a small favor of her to ask.  

Draco sighed, “I'm guessing you invited my parents.” 

Daphne rolled her eyes, “Of course.” 

He nodded. His attendance was expected.  

“I’ll send a note to the tailor in Hogsmeade,” Draco confirmed grimly, “I’ll see if he has a new dress robe I could buy off him.” 

Daphne gleefully threw her arms around Draco, her annoyance with him immediately disappeared as she pecked his cheek in thanks. 

“I’ll reserve a separate private suite for you,” She scrunched her nose, “I promise.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Add a No-Bothering clause to your promise and I’ll even smile at your party.” 

Daphne swatted his arm but gratefully accepted his conditions, “Okay! Go! Curfew's in five and I’m just about to start patrolling. Don’t forget we’ll be meeting at six to leave for Hogsmeade!” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

The south of France was uncharacteristically warm for an early April.  

A group of about twenty, including the core of the DA, had hiked up to Hogsmeade to floo over to the Greengrasses summer home settled in a cozy cliffside that had a steep climb down to a private beach.  

While the entire group was immediately hushed into silence, simply astonished once they were transported, there was one other person who remained uninterested in the change of scene. Draco was used to the kind of wealth the Greengrasses had but curiously, Harry was also seemingly unimpressed with his new surroundings. 

Harry took a quick sweep of the front of the lobby they all had stepped out into from the fireplace and closed his eyes taking even, controlled breaths, seemingly shifting through his memories.  

Draco could spot it by the way his eyes were moving about under his lids. 

It took Draco one second to synchronize his breathing with Harry’s and he was pulled into his mind for a second. He hadn’t meant to but it was interesting that Harry’s mind was on the very shy Marietta Edgecombe who was hunched over herself, trying to avoid attention. 

Harry casted a glare towards Draco who raised his hands apologetically, he hadn’t meant to prod into his mind.  

“Sorry mate,” Draco whispered, “Didn’t mean too. You look like you have a lot on your mind.” 

Harry nodded but didn’t indulge Draco into why he had been focused on Marietta Edgecombe. Draco could only assume that he was feeling very strongly about her invitation to Daphne’s party. 

Cho Chang, being the lovely girl she was, stuck by Marietta’s side, arms linked so that she didn’t feel like such an outcast from the group she had betrayed. It felt very much how Daphne and Ron had been treating Draco, with so much attention in hopes that Draco didn’t feel like the odd one out. But, without meaning to, Ron and Daphne actually made Draco feel even worse (although he would never tell them that and ruin their well meaning attempts).  

Within their group, Hermione had clung on to Ginny, Pansy, and Neville, a shocking mix of students who huddled closed together looking over what looked like folded piece of parchment. It's lines and figures was something that Draco was now very familiar with.

Ron and his brothers had come that very day of the fight to make copies of the map of the Department of Mysteries. It was a rather short exchange because Draco simply wanted to lay down in his bed, in the pitch dark and wallow in misery but at least he was able to get the information out.

It was his biggest contribution to date but looking back at his actions, although fruitful, didn’t make him feel proud.  

Draco actually felt pretty shitty when he reduced everything down to facts.  

He had been interested in Millie first to distract himself from the misery of Hermione dating Krum, then for her parents' connections to the Archives. He had weaseled himself into the Archives and managed to hold on to the pin to give Sephina access to it... and ultimately, through it all, had barely been a true boyfriend to Millie during their course of their relationship.  

Draco didn’t know if what he did even made him a good person and it pained him knowing that’s all he really wanted to be.  

Good.  

If Millie knew half of his truth, he wouldn’t be shocked if she was angry enough to cast a proper Cruciatus curse on him. 

The karma, however, was just as painful, Draco thought. He had been successfully ignored by Millie and Hermione seemingly was taking the same route since she didn’t want to appear that she was interested in Draco in that way.  

It was what he deserved, he supposed.  

Ron was chatting with Astoria, Daphne’s sister, who was eyeing him hopefully. Legilimens was not necessary to know that Draco was on the forefront of Astoria’s mind. Draco could nearly see the heart in her eyes that stretched back from the year prior.  

He turned his attention to Daphne’s who was explaining a bit of the fun and flow of the evening. 

Everyone would be pairing off to share a room, except for a select few. After they settled in, Daphne suggested a stroll on their private beach. Draco simply listened, knowing he would soon be on his own, using the advantage of a private suite to study for the rest of the night. 

As he stood there, half listening to Daphne, his eyes flickered to the side to where Hermione was standing, her arms crossed and brows furrowed. Draco hoped she would also call it an early night so he’d have the time to speak to her away from their friends. There was always a chance that Hermione would be more amenable if their friends were nowhere around. 

Daphne grinned broadly, “Sounds good?” 

There was a loud cheer and then they were immediately swarmed by staff, welcoming them and taking their belongings to be taken to their respective assigned rooms. Draco passed along his name to rather sweet looking older woman. 

“Ah, Monsieur Malfoy. Your room will be the furthest,” She smiled giving his things an appreciative look, “At the end of the wing, left to the reading room.” 

“Perfect,” Draco thanked.  

The rest of the guest were having a similar exchange around them, while Daphne chimed here and there extra details on how to find their proper rooms if they were confused at all.  

The one with a bird wallpaper was for Harry and Neville. 

There was a room with blue satin covers that was for Pansy, Cho, and Marietta.  

Astoria of course took her own room on the opposite wing, taking her own friends with her.  

Fred and George were close to Draco, next door, in fact.  

Montague, Crabbe and Goyle were in a study, which was of no problem considering that Montague (being of age) was particularly great at transfiguration and could turn any item into a soft squishy mattress. Crabbe and Goyle liked this because it mimicked camping out like they did at the Quidditch World Cup last year.  

Hermione, who looked worried sick, excused herself to her own room, another private suite on the other side of the reading room, close to Draco’s. 

She nodded to the description of her suite and quickly scurried away, looking as pale and sickly as ever.  

Servants shuffled around as the guests began to thin out, all awe-stricken, taking in the details of the house. One by one and two by twos, left for their rooms to settle in for a bit until only a handful remained. 

“Mademoiselle Greengrass,” A rather grim looking butler drawled, head of his staff. Daphne, who was speaking to the twins, stopped mid-sentence to redirect her attention to the butler. He spoke again, in a rather refined sounding accent, not quite French and not quite English either, “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow morning .” 

Daphne grinned, “Oh, Thomas! I regret to barge in on you with not much notice.” 

“Or no notice at all,” He offered, blinking at her with a knowing look.

“I wanted to have a little more unattended fun with my friends.” Daphne batted her lashes innocently, “Please don’t inform my mother. She still believes we will be arriving tomorrow at noon.” 

The butler, with neatly combed back hair, glanced around at each guest, “It is of no problem to me but I will admit that our staff is simply surprised to see you here.” 

“Please don’t trouble yourself Thomas,” Daphne graciously said, “The staff was more than welcoming considering the circumstances... on my behalf.” 

Daphne cleared her throat and then forced out a pleading pout, hoping that her own staff wasn’t super inconvenienced by their unannounced appearance. Thomas the Butler was stone cold but caved. 

"Would you like me to ask the staff to cook you and your friends something to eat?” He asked. 

Daphne looked carefully at the few friends around her, trying to gauge their needs, “We had dinner at Hogwarts but perhaps snacks? Nothing fussy. A few biscuits and tea.” 

The butler nodded, “Shall I send trays up to their rooms?” 

Daphne smiled in response, reaching for Ron’s arm to link up. 

The butler nodded once in confirmation. 

“Very well then,” Butler Thomas closed his eyes, “I will make sure snacks are delivered and perhaps a calming tea in an hours time? Should be around the time you’re expecting to sleep, is that right Miss. Greengrass?” 

Daphne opened her mouth and paused; the hijinks well formed in her mind.  

“Yes,” Her voice indicating that she was telling the smallest of white lies, “That would be wonderful, Thomas.” 

“I’ll see to it,” Butler Thomas bowed and marched off, ready to execute orders to the staff. It had been a rather tense exchanged but Daphne smiled brightly that her plan seemed to be working, whatever that plan may be.  

Draco had his suspicions, although, he had no clue what she had up her sleeve. Draco, after all, had also been rather distant from his own friends in his social isolation last month. 

Daphne cleared her throat with a tight smile, turning to her friends. 

“Um,” She began nervously, glancing around to see if it was safe to speak, “It would be appreciated if you kept the magic to a minimum.” 

Ginny twisted her face in thought, “Isn’t that a given?” 

Draco knew what Daphne was getting at, visiting France a few times in his youth himself.  

“There is no such law restricting underaged magic in France.” Draco drawled. 

Daphne nodded, “It also just so happens that most of the staff is composed of non magical-.” 

Nott, another of the DA, raised his brows in astonishment, “As in Muggles? At a Sixteenth? Quite a choice to have them around when our parents are attending.”  

Montague and Nott let out a snort. The kind of snort that weight heavy on the fact that their parents were Deatheaters. 

Daphne made another face, “Actually, those at the party would be th- the squibs who will be serving.” 

Nott’s face fell, “Squibs?” 

Ron blinked, “No house elves?” 

“It’s seen as a rather barbaric kind of servitude here.” Daphne informed directly, her nose in the air, “That said, I strongly encourage you to use your magic to clean up after yourselves. I made a fuss getting here early and I don’t want to pressure the staff too much.” 

The left over group promised and they slowly began to spread out to explore. Ron and Ginny headed straight out to the back, where they found themselves in awe at the small manor surrounded by a clear body of water, the light of the moon was shattered into a million broken pieces on the face of the ocean while they slowly stepped close to the edge to the large balcony that was held up by the short cliff. 

Daphne led the rest of the odd bunch over a beautiful large patio that over looked the private beach below them. They all leaned against the white marble parapet columns and marveled on such a view. The sun had just set and the sky was still clinging on to its favorite color royal purple before it plunged itself into darkness. 

“Wow,” Ginny breathed out quietly, while the entire mob looked on in silence. Draco inhaled the warm salty air, the breeze ruffling his hair around. It was definitely much more welcoming than his own manor, that’s for sure.  

Daphne’s summer home was dressed in lots of soft blues hues and creams with white. The furnishings were beautifully carved and the walls shimmered with the most intricate detailed wall paper.  

The grand lobby, where they had flooed into had a massive staircase that widened at the base to the floors, checkered in black and white. It was a stunning room, crowned by a stained-glass dome.  

There was much to explore, yes, but Draco was glad they had all stepped outside to see the dying sunset over the horizon. It was the beautiful simplicity that all grounded them from the massive amount of wealth they were currently staying at. It was a sight like the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky that made the view priceless. 

It was by all accounts enviable. He wished his own manor had the sort of welcoming aura that Daphne’s home had. 

Daphne smiled, “Well shall we?” 

“Shall we what dear sis?” Fred asked, leaning casually against the parapet,  

“Go down of course to the beach!” Daphne rolled her eyes, “We only have a limited time to enjoy the nights of unchecked youth before my parents come tomorrow!” 

George grinned, “I like her spirit Ron.” 

Ron gushed. As Daphne rallied up her troops to go down to their private beach Draco held back, ruining the mood when he asked if he could just go to his room.  

“Wait, now?” Nott asked, motioning to the sea, “But not everyone's here? Nev's went off to the conservatory-” 

Pansy popped out from behind Nott, “Sounds like they’re going to have to figure out their own fun.” 

“They should have stuck with us,” Fred snorted, already a few steps away from them, looking for the beginnings of the winding path down to the shore, “Let’s go!” 

Most of them lightly jogged to catch up with Fred, laughing in utter enjoyment. Draco was firmly standing in place. Ron happened to look over his shoulders while pull Daphne along. His steps slowed and he called out to Draco.  

“Aren’t you coming?” Ron asked. The rest of the group slowed down, casting their sights on who was being reluctant, although they couldn’t imagine how when there was an entire private beach just for them. 

Draco shrugged, “I promised myself I’d study.” 

There was a collective groan.  

Pansy sighed, calling out from behind George, “It’s one weekend, Malfoy!” 

“And I need to catch up on reading for Divination.” He countered.  

“You won’t die from a few hours of fun,” George groaned.  

“Right,” Draco agreed, “I won’t. But I might fail the very exams that I need for my sixth year.” 

There was now a collective groan. Draco was ruining their mood but at least Daphne was understanding. She had a promise to keep to Draco.  

Daphne nodded, ignoring the light taunts from the twins, “Your room is-” 

“Next to the reading room.” Draco assured, “I know.”  

Daphne nodded, “To the left. The sage color room. Your things should be there already. Call for Thomas if there is anything you need.” 

Draco smiled, bowing his head gently to the side to dismiss himself. Not a second was wasted. The moment he stepped away from his friends, his pace quickened and he hastened to get into a room where he could finally rest and have that tea the Butler promised.  

Footsteps echoed throughout the spacious hall on Draco’s short trek down the guest wing, walking by door after door of guest rooms that Daphne had meticulously assigned.  

Once he approached the end of the hall, he eyed the door on his left, just as he was instructed. He took pause to appreciate the wide reading room, his hurry to get into his room momentarily abandoned. 

The reading room housed a couple of dusty pink seats and large windows for plenty of light. That is exactly where Draco planned to be early next morning to keep his mind at ease that his weekend would still be relatively productive.  

Draco’s attention naturally shifted further, eyeing the walnut wooden door, further to the right. He wondered, envisioning Hermione taking a rest after taking her leave more prematurely than his, and whether if it would be too much to barge into her room.  

Draco hesitated but inevitably, caved under his insecurities, holding on to the brass doorknob of his own suite and twisting it.  

He took a rather lazy step in, his heart still being pulled towards Hermione’s room while his sights scanned over the handsome decor in his own room.  

The one thing that Draco loved of Daphne was that she was not the kind of person to understate. If anything, Daphne was very precise in her description of things.  

The room was indeed themed in the color sage.  

The rug that covered the light wooden floors was green.  

The curtains were a deep green color that stood out from the cream walls that had lots of green patterned foliage. 

Draco had the suspicions that if he pulled the covers off the bed, it would reveal that his sheets were also sage in color. 

The four poster bed was the largest he’d seen, with a decorative green quilt folded neatly at the foot of the bed where his some of belongings were neatly placed on the red velvet upholstered bed bench (the only thing besides the furniture that wasn’t green).  

Draco stepped over to the claw footed wooden wardrobe at the corner and pulled it open, to find the rest of his things hung neatly. Draco was pleased and smiled. All he needed now was a rest and Thomas in hopes that he could have some tea.  

As Draco turned, his mind on two sugars and a dash of milk, another body rounded around the folding partition in the corner, fitted in the most elegant green and gold fabric. They pulled their night shirt over the gentle curve of their hips and a bustle of large coils of brown hair popped out of the neck opening.  

Draco, mesmerized by the full glimpse of the silk like texture of soft thighs, felt his mouth part appreciating the sight before he realized who he had been staring at. 

Hermione yelped at the sight of him, his eyes slowly dragging up. Then, it hit him like a dragon’s tail knocking him back to his senses. 

“GRANGER?” He shouted ripping his eyes away, “What on earth do you-” 

“Why are you in my room?!” Hermione cried out, covering herself as if it was needed despite Draco being polite enough to turn his back to her. She jumped back behind the partition and stuck her head out to glare at Draco.  

“What on Merlin’s good name are you even saying? This is my room!” Draco insisted, “Daphne specifically told me the one on the left, sage... for fuck’s sake, my things are here!” 

There was a bit of silence before Hermione spoke up.  

Her voice wavered “You could have knocked!” 

“How would I bloody know you’d be in here changing?!” Draco questioned; his eyes squeezed shut trying not to enjoy the fresh sight of her legs from his vivid memory. It was a lot more than he’d ever seen, but he didn’t want to be particularly be obsessing over them right at this moment.  

He’d seen plenty of bare legs.  

But none like Hermione’s.  

There was a fat tense silence that fell over the room. It made Draco fidgety to hear nothing from Hermione.  

“I’ll go then-”  

“No,” Hermione blurted, “You’re right... I hadn’t noticed your things. I just wanted to wash up as quickly and get to sleep.” 

“Eager to get this weekend over with?” Draco asked suddenly.  

Hermione let out a small dry laugh, “Oh if you only knew...” 

It might be due to the fact that Hermione was going to be thrown into a party full of purebloods like his own parents. Quite honestly, pureblood or not, his parents weren’t exactly known for their welcoming charm. It was well within reasonable understanding that this party was something she wasn’t looking forward to.  

It posed a rather intriguing plot that caught Draco’s interest. He had wanted to continue asking her more about that very subtle response of hers but as soon as the curiosity full took hold of him, Hermione fully jumped back into the bathroom. She was rummaging around, muttering that she was just going to slip on her school skirt and run over to her rightful room.  

The padding of her soft footsteps crossing behind him signaled Draco to brace himself and not tempt himself to not turn around. He silently promised to keep her need for privacy intact. However, he couldn’t quite help but to look over his shoulder when she reached the door.  

Her hair was damp and had soaked some of her shirt that he assumed she had blasted it dry with magic. He was sure that Hermione was regretting not drying her shirt more since some of it stuck to her body like a second skin, particularly weighing it down around her shoulders.  

“’Mione?” Draco called out.  

She froze in place, whipping around in shock. It was Draco who was stunned into a hormonal hell.  

He trained his eyes on her face, not daring to trail down because he was almost certain she hadn’t been wearing anything under her sh- 

“Good night,” Draco gulped a hard painful knot. Hermione nodded, wide eyed and wordlessly rushed out of his room. Once his door was clicked shut, Draco inwardly groan. A second later, another door was slammed Hermione now safe behind her proper room. Draco crossed over to the foot of his bed to yank out a book, Arithmancy, and began to recite the magical properties of numbers one to seventy-seven. 

Anything to not think about her body. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

The rest of the night was uneventful for Draco and so was his early morning. He had been tormented with such glorious dreams that it was near torture to wake up in full need and then have the crashing disappointment that he was alone in bed with an ache that bordered near pain. He forced himself to wake up early and camp out in the reading room that morning with a warm cup of tea, his divination book in hand, and a careful eye on Hermione’s door.  

Despite his urgency to wish Hermione a good morning, and toy with the idea of dragging her back to his room like he did in his dreams, Draco did allow his mind to be guided by the text in his reading, molding his imagination and giving him clarity on concepts he thought rather silly in Divination.  

Well, if he was being honest, he still found it all quite silly.  

He neared the floor to ceiling windows for better light to examine his hand, glaring at what was supposed to be his life line. There was a pause of glaring before Draco referenced his book again before he scrutinized his hand once more. He wasn't sure if it was at all a good sign that his life line was a faint one, which made the rest of his markings even harder to read.  

He moved on to attempt the memorization of the distinct shapes and pictures of tarot cards. He had moved over to a cushiony armchair that swallowed him whole in comfort. He stayed put, making notes on the Wheel of Fortune card.  

No sooner than ten in the morning was when Draco was discovered by a rather groggy Neville. He rubbed his eyes, still in his violent orange pajamas. 

“Did you sleep in?” Neville yawned.  

“No,” Draco inhaled. 

“Woke up early?” Neville sighed, “Must have been some rotten sleep.” 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Draco bitterly said. His dreams had been so vivid that he’d often stir in his sleep, fully expecting a rather bare Hermione to be lying next to him. Determining what was real or not was not something that he wanted to decipher any longer, especially when it came with the crashing realization that Hermione was in her own room, still impartial to him.  

Harry wordlessly appeared at Neville’s side, barefoot and wrapped around in stolen blankets. 

“When's breakfast?” Neville asked just as another, Theodore Nott, joined them. It seemed like the sleepy trio had woken up as a collective and went about to find anyone familiar. 

“Breakfast was served two hours ago.” Draco scoffed, turning a page in his book. 

“What?” Nott groaned, “Was it served at the crack of dawn?” 

 “No,” Draco chewed on his muffin thoughtfully, “Actually it was served at eight thirty, sharp.” 

“It’s ten thirty?” Harry asked in a whiney tone.  

“Closer to a quarter till,” Draco checked his watch. “I assume you all settled in pretty late?” 

As if on cue, Daphne walked in looking rather annoyed. She, unlike the boys, looked refreshed. Even Ron who trailed behind her, looked as wide awake as she was.  

“Did you wake them, Draco?” She huffed, glaring at each boy. 

Daphne was already in her bathing suit ready to enjoy a day in the sun before her party that night.  

Draco took his cup of morning tea and sipped it, grinning broadly at his friends.  

He had already had a rather lovely breakfast brought up to him just so he wouldn't miss Hermione sneaking out of her room.  

And he did catch her. 

About twenty minutes later after the Harry, Neville, and Theo were dragged away by Daphne urging them to eat quickly so they could all have a day by the pool. 

It was well worth the wait to see Hermione stick her head out of her own proper room, scan up and down the hall until she peeked into the reading room. She jumped back at the sight of Draco, lounging about with his feet propped up, a muffin in hand, chewing happily as he read his book. 

“Morning,” Draco called out smuggly. Hermione grimaced at being noticed. It was very obvious she didn’t plan on being sighted, at least not by Draco Malfoy. She gave the boy a tight smile as her only form of a morning greeting and scurried out, dressed in a rather skimpy mesh wrap skirt and a one piece bathing suit, presumably to join the pool gathering.  

Draco craned his neck to make sure he got an eye full of Hermione’s back which was on full display from the deep cut of her bathing suit.  

Draco collapsed on himself, throwing the book on his face at the kinds of temptation he was having to deal with.  

It was torture.  

Absolute torture seeing her prance around and being unable to comfortably talk to her at all. He was glad that he had studying as an excuse to not make a fool in front of his friends. Surely, they wouldn’t pass up the opportunity at teasing Hermione’s beat red face and Draco’s inability to even hold a simple conversation with her.  

Ginny wouldn’t be able to hold back that’s for sure. 

“Will you be joining us for a bit of sun?” Ron asked, his face smeared with white paste. Ron’s form appeared a few steps away as he approached Draco, a towel in his arm and a bottle in the other. He had returned back to the guest wing to grab things he had forgotten.  

Draco sighed, “I’ve got to do some catch up reading for Divination and then revise a few essays. I know I got a couple of spells for Transfig to practice, too.” 

Ron made a face.  

“You’ve got to be jokin- studying ?” Ron exclaimed, “On a day like this? Have you looked outside?” 

Ron wasn’t wrong nor was Draco blind. They did wake up to a wonderfully bright day, blue skies and not a cloud in sight on a warm French spring day. It was quite a sight to see from the windows of the reading room. 

It was enticing, of course. He had been shamefully day dreaming of Hermione lounging out by the pool, her legs out in their full glory. Draco’s mind took him down a rather innocent but curious route on what Hermione would be doing at the moment? Swimming? Or biting the end of her sunglasses as she looked coyly at him- 

He cleared his throat. 

“If I could put in the work for the next couple of hours, maybe I can join for a bit before the party,” Draco promised but ultimately ended up failing. 

He certainly tried.  

While Draco immersed himself in work, a few of his friends would walk by to check up on him or try to coax him out. He did notice once it was midafternoon a lot of them began to head inside. As they poked their head in, rosy cheeked and positively worn out from swimming all day, it was announced that a nap was well deserved before having to get ready for the night. 

Draco caught glimpse of Hermione heading to her room with a towel wrapped tightly around her. He imagined she had magicked herself drying seeing how her hair was not wet at all. She jumped a little when she caught Draco staring as she walked by.  

“Had fun, Granger?” Draco asked loudly so she could hear him. She simply scowled, putting little effort into her menacing face before she marched into her room. Draco had to smile to himself snapping his book shut and waltzing over to his room.  

A nice nap did sound just what he needed at the moment. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

“Energy tonic,” He announced, “To help get through tonight. I can see that you’ve had a rather busy day.” 

Neville rubbed his eyes, “Thank you Thomas, I need the pick me up.” 

Thomas the Butler had set down a tray full of tonics on Draco’s night stand and with a wave of his wrist, offered the boys to have their pick.  

“Anything else, please let me know.” Thomas stuck his nose up elegantly, “I shall go down to over see the final preparations.” 

There was a low murmur of gratitude as Thomas turned on his heel and marched away.  

Harry yawned, “I feel like I would need another three hours of sleep to feel restored.” 

Draco knocked back his energy tonic, letting out a rather lengthy yawn. The nap he took was certainly needed but it only allowed his body to beg for more sleep and protested when Draco refused to not give into the comfort of his bed.  

Just moments ago, Draco had been showering, scrubbing every inch and crevice of his skin until it turned a violent red. He went on to brush his teeth, going the extra step to chew on a few leaves of cinnamint before spitting them out. He messed around with his hair, tousling it around to get that perfect wave to set into place.  

When he finally opened his garment bag tucked away in his wardrobe, Draco took great appreciation of the fine cashmere suit and its sturdy buttons of its double breasted jacket. The lining of the robe was also exquisitely stitched, and then there was the cravat that was tied expertly at the collar of the pressed starchy shirt. 

Immediately, Draco groaned. He was going to look like a bloody prat with something even his grandparents didn’t wear.  

It was just his luck that Draco trusted his dressmaker and begrudgingly took the suit off its hanger, passively storming into his private bathroom to change.  

He must have been rather disgruntled during his change, muttering on and on about his dressrobe and how much he was going to look like a bloody idiot wearing a cravat, that he hadn't heard his room being invaded.  

Draco paused at the door of his bathroom, staring at the group of boys all lounging out in their own dress robes, astounded. 

Harry and Ron were taking jabs at each other, Ron in rather sharp dress robe, and Harry in one that swallowed him whole. Neville fidgeting with the cufflinks on his wrist. Crabbe and Goyle, looking surprisingly dashing, barged in announcing the arrival of new guests as well as holding up a bits of hair. 

“Just got it from Hermione!” Goyle grinned and then froze at the sight of Draco, “Whachu doing here?” 

Draco sneered, “It’s my room!” 

Neville, who had been checking himself once more in the vanity mirror, jumped on his feet, completely ignoring Draco and approached Goyle who handed the hair like a precious stone.  

Draco felt out of the loop as the scene progressed without any further acknowledgement of his presence. He held out his hands for a moment as if asking for an explanation, very confused as he shifted his eyes around.  

Neville reached Crabbe and gently took the strands of hair and examined them closely before he grinned at Harry, “Looks like we secured it.”  

“Um,” Draco hummed out, feeling rather invisible and stupid. He cleared his throat, “Does anyone care to explain?” 

Theodore kicked the door in seemingly already knowing what the conversation was about, “It's only a few strands of hair, make sure you split them evenly into four flasks. That should be enough.” 

“Hair?” Draco blinked rapidly, “Why would Neville need hair...” 

And just as Draco had voiced his query, the realization came tumbling in like an avalanche of bolders. It was confirmed when Neville pulled out flask after flask after flask from his dressrobe, handing each to Harry. There was about six of them, all containing a rather gloppy kind of potion the second they added hairs in. 

“Is that?” Draco stopped himself in awe, wheeling around towards Harry who sat on his own bed wincing at the hair being added to the potion.  

“Polyjuice, slipped an entire cauldron from Snape’s lesson.” Goyle confirmed finally answering Draco who was now gawking at all of them as if he was the only one who found this insane. Goyle regarded Draco as if he had lost a few screws, tilting his head to the side. 

“You know,” Goyle added, “To change?” 

“I know what Polyjuice does! I’m not a bloody idiot! For what reason?” Draco narrowed his eyes.  

“Come on, Mate. You can’t expect Harry to be socializing and waltzing around deatheaters, can ya? Imagine him socializing around our parents.” Crabbe sensibly pointed out, snorting, “How long do ya think it’ll take to have the word spread to the right people. I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise anyone if  Dark Lord just dropped by mere coincidence.” 

Draco felt stupid for not connecting it together faster.  

“A-and what of Ron?” Draco asked, “And his family?” 

Ron gave a halfhearted shrug, “We’re actually expected. Plenty of Ministry Officials will be present. Even Marietta’s parents are expected to join... which is why Daphne invited her.” 

“But your family Ron,” Draco meekly choked out. 

“Not to worry,” Goyle puffed his chest out, “That is why Daphne invited all she could in the DA, we’re here to keep an eye for them if any one tries anything funny with them.” 

“Some of the Order is also invited,” Harry piped up, “Mr. Weasley won’t say who but Ron’s parents aren’t worried, it seems.” 

“And what of Hermione?” Draco gulped; his throat course and dry. 

“She...” Harry began, looking doubtfully at the flask Neville handed him, “She will be chaperoned.” 

“But won’t she need-” 

“Krum will be accompanying her,” Ron gave a quick glance at Harry, “He'll be keeping a close eye on her, I imagined.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. 

Crabbe patted Draco’s shoulder, “Our parents wouldn’t dare to make an open comment towards Hermione if Krum is escorting her. Plus, Krum will be swarmed with all Astoria’s Beauxbaton friends. They won’t have a second to even breathe.” 

Draco wheeled around back to Harry almost needing him to knock some sense into this plan. Why was there a plan to begin with? Surely there was something else they could have done. Like, perhaps, not attend? 

There was a flash of a wickedly earnest girl who was begging Draco to come back to the DA meetings.  

Daphne.  

Surely, she knew what was going on and possibly had a hand in the fruition of whatever this was. 

It angered Draco, having to know that their friends are well within shark infested waters and... and Daphne deserved to have her friends around.  

Draco couldn’t explain why his rage was now dissolving into a tinge of guilt. Daphne had been quite the surprise, blossoming socially and refusing to be afraid. That said, the fact that Daphne had also begged him to return to the DA meetings... this would have all made sense to him if he would have just attended. They must have all hatched some elaborate plan to come out to France but there was something off, like a few details were deliberately being left out, keeping Draco in the dark. 

Harry lifted up a flask to Draco as if to toast him and sheepishly smiled, “I promise to keep an eye on Hermione.” 

Harry gagged as he threw his head back to knock back the flask in one huge gulp. 

“That had a kick,” He choked out, tears forming in his eyes. 

Draco frowned in disapproval, “I rather not know...” 

Draco could have said more. He could have lectured all of his friends on why they should scrape the plan and think of something else but ultimately, Draco sincerely wished he hadn't known about this plan at all because, now, he had the feeling he was going to spend his time worrying about all the things that could go wrong.  

That said, when Harry’s face began to bubble and his build began fill out Draco walked out. If he there was anything he could do, he would find his way to have his own hand in the plan.  

If Krum was expected to come then Draco needed to speak to him privately. Hermione was possibly all in on this plan, whatever it was, she wouldn’t listen to Draco. He’d have to beg Krum himself to protect her. To keep the closest eye on her. It killed Draco to have to figuratively get on his knees to beg Krum for this simple favor.  

There was a lot Draco wish he could have thought of sooner. The fact that his parents were invited. The fact that Hermione was attending. It didn’t ring any alarm bells because he was too busy trying to keep himself busy.  

Fuck. 

Draco paced around furiously out into the handsome hall of the guest wing. Draco was craning his neck here and there to loosing up the collar. There was a tenseness in his neck that made the cravat suffocating. He tugged at the fabric gently, until he pulled it off, stuffing it into his pocket. 

Just at that moment, Hermione spilled out into the hall as well, in a long sleeved black formal dress with a wide shoulder bearing neckline. Draco’s breath caught right in his chest upon seeing her. It was just enough skin to send Draco’s heart into a mild panic. With the amount of hormones coursing through Draco’s veins he was sure he would react the same if she was only showing her ankles. 

She was painfully beautiful, despite how unenthused she seemed and had been since she got here.  

Draco gulped, “’Mione?” 

She whirled around, her eyes widening at the sight of him.  

Draco took a step towards her and paused. He was certain they were still on shaky terms but he yearned for any kind of interaction with Hermione, especially on that wasn’t strained or awkward, or intruding.  

“You seem rather excited for tonight,” He blurted and he immediately wanted to kick himself in the face. Her shoulders collapsed, her head rolling back in defeat. 

“I honestly rather drown,” Her faced twisted around, “Daphne’s got us all...” 

She tapered off her eyes darting up at his and she let out a dry laugh. Draco waited patiently for her to finished but she went off in a different direction.  

“I’m dreading to see Viktor,” She admitted. Draco appreciated how clear she was with him. 

“I wasn’t aware he was attending,” Draco pressed his lips together, “I thought you and him were... unless I was mistaken. I didn’t hear it straight from you-” 

Hermione opened her mouth in slow shocking realization.  

“OH! Oh!” She breathed out, “W-we are !” 

Draco felt clueless and it was visibly frustrating. 

“Um,” She gulped, her eyes rolling to the side in thought, “I... well, I couldn’t say no to Daphne’s invitation and, if I’m completely honest, I thought it would be intriguing to see the kind of traditions witches and wizards had.” 

“The ever curious Hermione,” Draco sighed out. She shot him a rather tired glare but ultimately she knew he was right.  

“So, um, Krum,” Hermione reeled the conversation back, “He... uh, heard of the party from Fleur who’s attending.” 

“Fleur?” Draco made a face, recalling one of the Triwizard Champions.  

“Yes, and she heard from Bill Weasley,” Hermione sighed. 

Draco smiled, “You invite one, you have to invite them all.” 

Draco knew the order of connections that ran through the families of magic folk. Hermione rubbed her neck nervously. It caused Draco to focus on that area of exposed skin. He nearly wanted to throttle his own pillows from the newly discovered areas of skin he hadn’t been privy to before.  

If there was precisely a wrong time to have a hormonal rush, it was now. Draco clenched his jaw. 

Hermione nodded slowly, biting her lip tenderly (Draco closed his eyes), “So because Viktor was already coming and the nature of all the guest attending...” 

Draco didn’t need her to finish.  

“Daphne asked him to keep an eye on you,” Draco finished, feeling the air in his lung turn into acid. He truly wished he could have been the one volunteering to protect her, however, with his parents around, it was a near impossibilities and it only depressed him more that he couldn’t public stand at her side.  

Because he was at his best working in the shadows.  

Hermione gave him a weary smile, “Daphne insisted if anyone were to recognize me, they wouldn’t confront me in front of a world famous quidditch player. It’s far too rude even in the circles that you run around in.” 

Draco understood now why Hermione might have been rather on edge since the weekend started. It was like an extraneous chore where she had to mingle with someone she wasn’t with anymore. Seeing Hermione look visibly uncomfortable only gave him a bit of hope that Krum wouldn’t sweep in and entice Hermione into a relationship again.  

“Are you not afraid of being seen by people?” Draco asked carefully.  

Hermione let out a light giggle, “Oh you mean people like your parents?”  

Draco must admit, her words stung just a bit.  

“No, I’m not.” She sighed and he gave Draco a shrug, “At least I can enjoy the party as myself... that is if I can. For a bit.” 

Hermione pinched her lips to stop herself from saying more. 

“Like forcing yourself to stick by Krum’s side?” Draco asked. Hermione slowly nodded.  

“Um, yes,” She shook her head, unable to look Draco in the eye now, “At least if I can somehow convince myself that I'm talking to a friend instead of Krum, it’ll make the whole interaction a lot more austere.” 

Just then Ginny came out of the same room Hermione just stepped out of.  

Ginny paused, giving Draco a playful glare, in her very own customary black gown, her rich red hair up in a twisted updo.  

“Oh look who it isn’t,” Ginny teased, sticking her tongue out at Draco, linking arms with Hermione, “Are you not meant to be looking for your date for the night, Hermione?” 

Hermione glared at Ginny who gave the cheekiest of grins. 

Hermione inhaled sharply, about to unleash a few unkind things toward Ginny before she stopped herself.  

“I suppose,” Hermione forced her mouth into a straight line, hoping it would come off as a smile, “I’ll see you around then, Draco.” 

“Likewise.” 

Both girls began to walk off, towards the stairs that lead them to that wonderful crowned lobby where all the decorations and guest were arriving, soon they would be ushered into a rather lavish conservatory where Neville had spent the better part of their afternoon gushing on all the plants they had growing there.  

Draco joined the waiting guests, politely greeting the parents of his friends, mingling with a few familiar faces from Beauxbaton, tasting the citrus fizzy drinks that were being passed around by the staff.  

The Squibs, Draco recalled. 

It seemed like they were very aware of the kind of people they were being surrounded by and how not to bring any attention towards themselves.  

Laughs and cheerful greetings punched the air adding to the joyous affair. It almost tricked Draco into relaxing, that is, until he spotted his parents and he begrudgingly excused himself from a gaggle of French girls who were rather familiar with him than he was with them.  

“Mother, Father,” Draco bowed his head, just as his mother handed off her traveling robe to reveal her very own black dress. A lot more matronly than the younger girls but still, Draco must admit, his mother was rather striking for her age.  

Something that his father was rather proud of, puffing his chest out as to present the absolute best of them to a social gathering like this. 

“Wonderful to see you.” Draco closed his eyes and ducked his chin. 

His mother’s face brightened at the sight of her son, dashing in all the ways a well brought up pureblood son should be. Pleased with him, Narcissa began waving an ornate fan under her face in approval before her attention moved elsewhere (thankfully). She craned her neck to survey the guests in attendance.  

“Draco, I’m so glad to see you, love,” She smiled, kissing his cheek.  

“Son,” His father acknowledged.  

The kind of pureblood familiar love Draco was accustomed to.  

“Rather mixed crowd isn’t it?” Narcissa narrowed her eyes, “I see that that Cattermole is here. His name is Reginald isn’t it, dear?” 

Lucious sneered, “Of course. The Greengrasses have always been so generous within their connections. Rather hard to pinpoint where they stand.” 

Draco stood by silently listening to his parents comments when he spotted Mr and Mrs Weasley by the door looking very sleek and out of place but still, wearing thetraditional black very well. They held their head up high as they were quickly joined by their children. Ginny giving her mother a boost of confidence by the looks of it with two other Weasleys Draco had never seen at Hogwarts.  

Mrs. Weasley looked a tad nervous but overjoyed to see her family together. It was such a warm kind of smile she had on her face, Draco was tempted to walk over and greet the woman who kindly fed him and accepted him during his summer. In fact, it was hard not to. 

It was something to behold the warmth of their family, the eight Weasleys all happily greeting each other, compared to his. 

“Is that...” Draco’s mother began.  

“Dare I say,” His father grumbled softly, “The Weasleys?” 

Lucius’ face had drained and his mother worried as Daphne’s parents approached the family and warmly greeted them. It was the kind of reaction Draco couldn’t have dream in a million years to have bear witness to. He silently celebrated how gob smacked his parents were. 

Draco cleared his throat to announce, “Ron Weasley is dating Daphne, their daughter.” 

“Y-yes well,” His mother began but was unable to finish her thought, if she had one at all.  

“Consorting with them is one thing, but inviting the entire litter of them?” His father finally said, trying his best to have nothing but spite in his voice. 

“I believe one is missing dear,” Narcissa whispered, her careful eye counting over and over again the number of Weasleys in attendance. 

“All the heads of the Ministry’s departments are here,” Draco shrugged, “And, well, since their children are dating. Seems like the most logical idea to invite them all, don’t you think mother?” 

“You must make time to speak to the Greengrasses, dear,” His mother mused out ignoring her son, “Oh, There’s Shacklebolt from the Investigation Department, I must see if he can attend Draco’s own Sixteenth. The Edgecombs from Magical Transportation got an invitation, right dear?. Oh, look it’s Cooper Clearwater and his wife.” 

His father grumbled. 

Draco froze.  

The Clearwaters.