Unspoken

“Chug, chug, chug, chug!”

 A resounding roar of elation filled the corners of the cheerful, wooden room where Harry, Ginny, and their closest friends had gathered. Ron gave out a triumphant belch and held his pint high in one hand as he wiped the butterbeer froth from his chin with the other.

“Hannah, another!” he crowed, slamming the mug down onto the table.

Harry laughed, clapping his best friend on the back and reminding him that he wasn’t allowed to sleepover at Grimmauld Place that night. Two other wizards, that Hermione now recognized as one Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, finagled to slip Ron yet another drink by distracting Harry with another question about the wedding.

It was merry, and quite unlike anything Hermione could have anticipated.

She kept her gaze moving around the room, taking in the faces that she was working to familiarize herself with. Another Weasley was here with his wife in addition to Neville, Hannah, and a handful of laughing, drinking witches and wizards. It seemed like almost half of the congregation had been part of the Gryffindor quidditch team once upon a time if the nostalgic stories were anything to go by.

The bench Hermione was sitting on shifted a little as Ginny settled herself down with a tumbler in hand, the dark amber liquid a few fingers deep. She stared at it pointedly, lifting her dark eyes up from the drink to her pregnant friend's face, but Ginny waved her off.

“Gin…” she whispered, still concerned.

“Hannah’s mixed up something for me. No one will ever know the difference, unless you keep up with that none-too-subtle stare.” whispered the redhead with a roll of her eyes.

“Really?” Hermione was intrigued. In addition to the color being spot on, the aroma was similar, the spicy sweetness of cinnamon lingering on Ginny’s breath.

Ginny grinned, sliding her glass over. “Why not try it?”

Gingerly taking the drink in hand, Hermione sipped at it delicately. A dark, rich cherry flavor filled her mouth, dancing alongside the taste of cinnamon, cardamom, and a number of other spices. It was warming without the medicinal burn of liquor. 

“This is excellent.” she admitted, relinquishing the drink back to its rightful owner.

“Shall I mix one up for you as well, then?”

Hannah leaned over the edge of their table, her bright round facing beaming with pleasure at Hermione’s compliment.

Smiling at Hannah, Hermione said, “I would love one, but you keep coming and going. Just sit for a moment.”

“That’s right - this is my party and while you may own the Leaky Cauldron, surely you have enough staff to watch the front without constantly having to check on them?” admonished Ginny, tilting in her chair to dodge a miniature quaffle that soared past their heads.

“She does.” interjected Neville, sidling alongside his wife.

The wizard smiled gently at the women as he grabbed Hannah’s hand to gently kiss the back of it. Something in their gaze as they looked at each other for a moment made her blush. She was getting used to the displays of affection from Harry and Ginny, and even the showy, overdone moves between Ron and Lavender were no longer phasing her. But the steady, unstated love she felt from this couple in front of her had Hermione’s heart aching in loneliness. 

She brushed the back of the hand that Draco had kissed, remembering the soft caress of his lips on her knuckles and the kind look in his eyes. As they had discussed, Hermione and Draco had greatly limited their interactions in an attempt to mislay anyone in DOM who may be watching them closely. Though - an apple had shown up again on her desk Wednesday at lunch. Hermione had hidden its arrival from her assistant.

Oddly, she felt a little forlorn because the gesture gave her the impression they had had an argument again. As though the apple was some kind of apology from Draco.

She wondered what Draco was doing at this moment. He had invited her out, but perhaps he had made other plans.

“It’s nice to see you out again, Hermione.” said Neville.

The adorable couple had settled themselves across from her and Ginny. Hermione grinned at Neville, giving a glance over his shoulder to see that Harry was now being forced to chug his own pint of butterbeer. 

“It’s honestly nice to be out.”

“We were worried about you.” Hannah said in her cheery voice, concern in her eyes. 

The sentiment was bittersweet, but Hermione only spared a few moments to let herself linger on Granger. With time, the resentment was fading and the pain passed more quickly.

“Ginny told us you’ve been making more efforts to get yourself out of the office, but to be honest, I was surprised to see you with Malfoy and Nott.” mentioned Neville.

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows knowingly, and Hermione coughed slightly.

“We had some personal research that crossed over.” 

A table over from them, mid-chat with a witch named Angelina, Lavender let her eyes slide over to watch the conversation taking place. The intensity of her blue stare was unnerving.

Hermione licked her lips nervously and continued, “As I told Harry, Draco and I are friends brought together by some similar interests, nothing more.”

At those words, Ginny frowned and began to open her mouth, but whatever she began to say was drowned out by a loud appeal to the room at large.

“FRIENDS, among us are a witch and wizard that are getting married next week!” cried George Weasley.

“About time!” declared Angelina with a snicker.

Harry had the good shame to blush a little as he ambled to his fiance’s side, hearty pats and congratulations following in his wake.

George grinned at his friends and raised his glass. “I propose a toast, so everyone raise your drink!”

Chairs shifted and glass clinked as everyone came together. 

- - - - - - -

VIAL 4

“And, may I please remind you all, that these wonderful renovations to the Janus Thickey Ward here at the St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries would not have happened without the support and contributions from the prestigious Malfoy family!”

The lavish arrangement of the rooms glimmers despite the inky portrayal of the memory. Figures in black and white, their gowns and tailcoats fading in and out like shadows, gather around a small podium where a wizened witch gesturing to a pair of individuals standing at her side. An older woman, her beauty ageless and her celebratory robes clearly couture, nods graciously to the round of applause that echoes all around. The wizard next to her stands at ease, a tight smile on Draco Malfoy’s face that does not match his languid pose.

“Several of the improvements to the facilities were suggestions contributed by the Malfoy family as part of their donation to the ward. We are pleased that our long-term patients will now be able to spend their years…”

Hermione sips the glass of champagne in her hand. Her face is turned to the speaker but the corner of her eye follows Draco’s movements off the platform and into the crowd as the speaker and family descend to shake hands and greet the attendees.

“Are you alright, ‘Mione?”

Resplendent in rich, velvet robes, Harry stands at her side with his own glass in hand. His attention had already turned from the front of the room. 

“Hmm? Yes, of course.” she responds, dragging her vision back to that of her friend.

He peers down at her face but makes no further comments. “Thank you again for agreeing to come with me. Not that Ginny would have come if she hadn’t had a game. She hates these events.”

Hermione shrugs, her sparkling dress robes keeping her arms tight to her sides. Her mouth twitches in discomfort and she shuffles a little, trying to get the short train out from under her heels.

“Oh, Merlin, is he dating her again?” mutters Harry sullenly.

Hermione raises her head up from untangling her dress just as Ron and Lavender sweep into their personal space.

“Hermiiiiione. I had no idea you’d be coming with Harry.” coos Lavender.

Both Hermione and Harry tighten their grips on their glasses as their faces strain to smile at the pair. Ron is similarly dressed to the other wizards in attendance, but the ornamental robes hanging off Lavender’s shoulders expose more skin - and cleavage - than necessary for a winter charity gala.

“Lovely to see you, Lavender…” Hermione responds coolly.

Harry and Ron talk to one another about a product for the joke shop. Hermione shifts uncomfortably under the unblinking gaze of Ron’s new girlfriend. Lavender shows her teeth in a wide smile, as though sensing weakness in her prey.

“Hermione, surely those aren’t the same robes you wore to the Yule Ball? Is the Ministry not paying you enough?” asks Lavender, her voice carrying over to the groups of attendees nearby.

A tick in Hermione’s cheek flutters briefly, but the smile remains locked on her face.  “I felt this dress was too lovely to let it linger in the closet after only one event. And where did you get your robes, Lavender? Surely Parvati could have helped you find something a little more… flattering?”

Huffing with fury, Lavender loops her arm through Ronald’s and storms off towards the opposite end of the room. Harry blinks briefly at this sudden interruption to his conversation and turns to look at Hermione.

“You’re not typically this rude in public. Or in general, really. Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks awkwardly.

Hermione grinds her teeth before she takes another sip of her glass. “I don’t have time for petty rivalries.”

“Time…?” repeats Harry, confused.

“Harry…” demures Hermione, looking back at the crowd. If one was to follow her gaze, it would land once again on a certain blonde someone.

“Hmm?”

Hermione chews on her bottom lip. “What do you know about mind magic?”

“Is this about the new ward?”

“Oh, er, yes, a bit. It’s very generous of the Malfoys to update the hospital’s facilities for long-term patients. I just… was wondering if you had any thoughts.”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “The only thing I know is not to leave it to self-centered, idiotic blondes.”

At his grumpy announcement, Hermione quickly turns her gaze back to her friend. She searches his face in alarm. “W-who do you mean?”

“Lockhart, Hermione?” Harry looks at the witch, a crook in his brow. 

“Of course, how could I forget…” she murmurs to herself, letting her gaze fall to the floor in embarrassment.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Is this about your pare-”

“MISTER POTTER.”

Both Hermione and Harry reel at the booming voice that breaks through the din of the party. An older wizard with a top hat grabs Harry by both shoulders, laughing uproariously at nothing in particular.

“So good to see, my boy! Always wonderful to have you showing your famous face at these events. Have you seen the new ward? Amazing what some goldcan do for wizarding society, eh? Why… it could be considered the duty of those with the means to provide for-”

Harry’s eyes beg Hermione not to leave him, but she steps back inch by inch, completely ignored by the gold-digging administrator that has her friend firmly in his grips.

Shuffling quickly away lest she also be roped into donation conversations, she drops her empty glass with a waiter and works her way to the corner of the room.

Several displays hang elegantly in the area for the socialites to observe the new updates. Hermione hides behind these, reading over the specifications of the space increase, the studies that were referenced for new therapy treatments. Her eyes catch on a line of print near the bottom.

Hermione almost puts her nose up against the floating posters as she stares at the little line with a reference to a muggle study. She blinks and stands up, moving swiftly to the next display and reading over content, taking in the writing so quickly that the memory cannot keep up with its subject and letters and numbers blur together on the display. 

After racing her way through the rest of the exhibit, Hermione finally pauses in place, her eyes blinking rapidly and her breathing slightly uneven. Her hands are trembling and she crosses her arms to hide them.

Across the room, Draco has been staring at Hermione from his place at his mother’s elbow. It is only now, as Hermione presumably looks around for Harry, that their eyes meet. She pauses, drawing into herself as neither breaks their gaze. Only a question from a guest, specifically directed at Draco, pulls his attention away from her and Hermione hurries from the banquet room into the hallways of the hospital.

She walks quickly, looking briefly over her shoulder, before seeing a bench and settling herself heavily upon it. Hermione takes a deep breathe, rubbing her arms.

“This party is for me, you know.”

A disembodied voice scares Hermione out of her seat, her wand sliding into her hand from out of her dress sleeve. She looks around for the source, and quickly finds an older wizard crouching behind one of the large, ornamental peace lillies that fill the hospital corridors. Dull, blonde tresses hang down around his shoulders and the bright pink robes show significant wear and tear. Big, blue eyes stare up at Hermione from his hiding place, then dart around frantically.

“I am very popular, you see.” he continues, rocking back and forth a little with a brilliant smile. “So popular, I couldn’t attend. The whole place would be in a tizzy.”

“I’m sure it would.” says Hermione, glancing up and down the hallway. “Where is your nurse, Professor Lockhart? Why are you wandering again?”

The wizard giggles and puts a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

She sighs hopelessly, stretches her neck one more time to look for a caretaker, before trying to bend over next to him. The large peace lily looms overhead. One of her hands gently covers his. 

“Come on, professor. I’ll help you back to your room.”

Lockhart grabs Hermione, catching her between both of his hands. His grip is firm as she fruitlessly tries to pull away. 

“The secret is buried, Ms. Granger.”

His voice is suddenly much lower, quieter, much more serious. Those blue eyes that danced merrily are firmly fixed on Hermione’s face. She refrains from her attempt to reclaim her hand and stares back at him, mouth agape, all breathing ceased.

“Buried in the dark. Buried truths and buried lies. She is the secret and you are the key. She cannot be released until you open the door. The door in the darkness…”

The blue eyes blink rapidly. The hallway is silent for several seconds other than the distant sound of the charity party. Suddenly, Lockhart shakes Hermione’s entrapped hand enthusiastically.

“Found me, did you? Can’t hide from a fan. Do you need an autograph?”

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Hermione flinches at the sound of a voice, a potential third party to the prophetic rambling of a madman. A few meters away, Draco Malfoy is mid-stride toward Hermione and her companion. Unbalanced due to the dresses and the heels, the witch falls on her rump as she tries to scurry backwards from the imposing figure that looms over both of them.

“Lockhart, you know you aren’t to leave your room without a nurse. I will escort you back now.” Draco spares only a single nod for Hermione, who is still splayed on the tiled floor. He then supports Lockhart to his feet.

“Oh yes, let’s. I can show you my book collection. I’m working on several more…”

Hermione belatedly returns the nod to Draco before stepping out of their way. She watches as they disappear down the hall. 

“Hermione?”

Harry comes panting up to her side. “Dear Merlin, ‘Mione, why did you leave me… I- You’re pale, are you sick?”

Hermione waves Harry away from peering too closely at her face, and turns her head in the direction of Draco and Lockhart’s fading footsteps. The peace lilies waver and fade into white smoke along with everything else.

- - - - - - - -

“AND - well, I dunno Harry, are you willing to consider taking Weasley as your surname? Guess not given my sister’s expression - TO THE POTTERS!”

“To the Potters!”

Everyone drank and laughed and the mood was perfect. 

Too perfect.

Whispering a quick excuse to go to the loo and clear her head, Hermione slipped out of the noisy room and sighed contently in the much quieter corridor ahead of her. She had no idea what the hour was and wondered why Granger had never gotten a wristwatch. Was it too impolite to bow out after she returned to the room? Ginny was still hanging in there, and she was only in her first trimester. Weighing the future grief she’d get for slipping out against the present desire for sleep and silence, Hermione absentmindedly wandered about looking for the restroom.

She almost ran face-first into a door that swung open just ahead of her, a magical portrait of a squire urinating into a bush mere inches from her face. Averting her eyes, Hermione noted that someone was walking out of the men’s room.

“Excuse me - can you tell me what time it is- oh.” she stammered, then stopped, riveted by the bright red lipstick mark that was gracing Draco Malfoy’s left cheek.

Draco froze, eyes wide.

Hermione’s tongue felt oddly fuzzy, as did her brain. Funny that, she hadn’t really imbibed tonight. But her unrelenting, curious mind blurted out, “So you found a date for your Friday? That’s lovely.”

It wasn’t lovely. It was awful. The crimson patch made it impossible not to stare at that handsome face. He was dressed for a night out - slim muggle jeans, button up shirt that had been rolled up to his elbows, and a loosened silver tie hanging around his neck. She felt herself flushing with embarrassment, knowing she had one again come out straight from work. 

“It’s Pansy,” he explained quickly, bringing his hand up to wipe at it with a handkerchief she hadn’t noticed. The lipstick didn’t even smear - rather, the makeup seemed more shimmery, glossy than before. 

“Pansy?” repeated Hermione in a daze, her brain moving too sluggishly for her liking. Who was Pansy again?

The wizard wiped at his face more vigorously, his whole face slowly pinking up as though his skin was attempting to match the same hue as the kiss mark. 

“She’s in town for the wedding. Trying to find a last minute plus-one.” he sighed.

“Ah.”

Why did her chest hurt so much? Like something inside her had broken and was affecting her brain as well. What was she supposed to say next? What type of expression was she even making for Draco to panic as he was doing? 

“I need to go to the loo.” she reminded herself aloud. 

Yes, she could hide there and figure out what was going on with her body. Had her drink been secretly poisoned? Emotion after emotion was shutting down as Hermione failed to cope with overwhelming thoughts inside her brain. 

“I’m not going with her, Hermione,” insisted Draco, giving up on the lipstick for a bad job, “I’m not up for all the drama of being her partner.”

“Right. Drama.” She really couldn’t peel her eyes away from his cheek.

“This is - she’s a marketer for Everwear Cosmetics. It’s just one of her pranks.” he said sullenly. 

“A prank, I get it.” said Hermione, not completely sure she did, “Um, well, Gin and Harry are waiting for me, so I just need to-”

She took a few steps back, giving up on the loo.

Draco took a step toward her and stopped. He squeezed the useless kerchief in his hand and groaned. “Really, I’m not dating Pansy.”

“I never asked if you were, Draco. Now, can I just-”

Another step back, another step forward.

“Hermione, please, please trust me.” Almighty Hera, he sounded like a wounded puppy.

“You aren’t dating Pansy,” she confirmed hastily. “I understand, Draco.”

“I’m not dating anyone. Not when-”

He cut off his words, jaw tight. Unable to meet her eyes, Draco dropped his face to the floor and then to the wall. He accidentally rubbed the handkerchief through his hair, the static making a few strands stick out, a disparity against his image of put-togetherness. 

The sight of the literally-frazzled Draco healed something in her. It made Hermione chuckle, and the sound of her laughter had the wizard snap his face back to hers immediately. 

“Hermione…?”

“I trust you, Draco. So owl me later this weekend, okay?’

“Of course,” he promised. 

A door down the hallway banged open and Ginny marched out with a hand in her handbag, rummaging around for something. She stopped and stared at the two of them, her eyes roving from Hermione to the lipstick. The corner of her mouth lifted.

“It’s not-”

“Mmm hmm.” 

Hermione bit her lip, Draco shuffled his feet, and Ginny sauntered smugly the rest of the way down the pub corridor to the ladies’ room.