The last few weeks of November were nothing spectacular. Draco spent his free time trying to eat a whole apple having only six bites.

Three times he almost died from choking.

Due to the colder and windier weather, Hermione tried lighting the fireplace only to have it fill the whole apartment up with smoke, effectively setting off the fire alarms and evacuating the whole building. When they were all outside, a Ministry worker questioned Hermione, asking what had caused the disturbance. Embarrassedly, she told them. She asked Draco to help her out, only to have him smirk and say he didn’t know who she was, just that she was the crazy cat lady of the building. This made the rest of her conversation with the Ministry worker thoroughly awkward, especially when he began asking her if she had taken her daily medication that morning.

Whenever Draco was bored, he would set off to bother Derek, Hermione hurrying after in the hopes of stopping him. This resulted in all three getting into trouble by Mr. Jennings and doing extra work.

Hermione met up with Harry on weekends, telling him to pass on the news of Neville and Luna’s wedding to Ron.

Draco hung around both Blaise and Pansy whenever he could, and often Hermione would come home to see the three Slytherins lounging on her couch and playing poker. Thankfully, it was never strip poker, as Blaise so frequently suggested.

And, of course, Hermione and Draco fought and taunted the other whenever the chance was available. More than once the arguing would result in both adults throwing food at the other and using tables and chairs as armour. When Hermione got the courage to throw one of Draco’s prized apples at him was when things got serious.

Finally, November came to its final end. The first of December was a Sunday; the day of The Sixth Month Ball.

“It’s not a very interesting name for a ball, is it?” Hermione noted, oblivious to Draco’s pacing. “’The Sixth Month Ball’. You’d think there would be a better name for it.” 

“It was called that, oddly enough, because the ball takes place every sixth month,” he told her tensely.

“Hmm… I still think there should have been a better title for it.”

“Of course you would,” he muttered, more to himself.

“Why are you pacing?” she asked, finally noticing. “It’s not as though –” Hermione stopped short and gasped. “Are you nervous?”

“No!” The word came out too quickly and panicky for his ‘no’ to have been believable. “I’m just a little…” He paused to find the fitting word. “Strained, is all.”

“We should probably start getting ready now,” she said, glancing at the clock. “Or we’ll be late.”

He quickened his pacing and did not answer.

Hermione reluctantly went closer to him. She bit her lip, watching the way his hands were clenching and unclenching by his sides, and bravely placed her hand on his back. He was becoming wary of her touch again, much like those first months. Only, this time it was different (she didn’t think he was avoiding her because of Muggle-born germs anymore).

She expected him to flinch or shove her away now. Draco didn’t do either, but he did come to an immediate halt. With her hand still on his back, she walked around his form so that she was facing him properly.

“I don’t know why you need to impress Natalie Hopkins,” she started slowly, her eyes not leaving his for a second, “and maybe when this is all over you’ll tell me. But whatever reason it is, don’t worry. Tonight’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

She saw with satisfaction that her words soothed him: the muscle in his jaw relaxed, his hands stopped clenching, and some of the tension in his back also eased. He swallowed loudly and nodded.

“Of course I’ll be fine,” said Draco. “I’m the hottest thing to grace this earth since, what was his name? Johnny –?”

“Depp,” she grinned.  

“Yeah, I’m the hottest thing since Johnny Depp.”

Hermione patted his back approvingly. “That’s the spirit. Now go up and have your shower, quickly.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Well, yes. But we’ve sort of gotten into the habit of allowing you to go first.”

He shook his head. “You take it.”

“What?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Play stupid with me Granger, and I will get in there first. I’m offering, so hurry up. Take it or leave it.”

Hermione, turning and feeling a little more than bewildered, could only remember one time she’d had the bathroom first, and that had only happened because he’d nearly tripped over Crookshanks in the race to get there. 

She smiled to herself.

***

He was worried. Anxious. Afraid. Panicking. Granger’s words had calmed him for the first hour getting ready. But now that he was back to waiting around, the nerves had set in again.

What if Ophelia didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like her? Draco couldn’t even remember when they had been children. Did he like her then? Had they been good friends? They wouldn’t have been that close, otherwise he’d remember it. Right?

Did he even want to do this anymore? Sure, Draco had never really wanted to do this in the first place, but that was just because he didn’t like Granger. Now, the bigger picture was coming into focus. Granger had only been a bump in the road – Ophelia was like a pit of death with man-eating Manticores waiting at the bottom. He was finally seeing the whole situation for what it was. If he really won the Hopkins’ over, he would be married.

His stomach rolled, and hastily Draco went to the sink for some water. Lord, how he hoped there was going to be alcohol there. That would no doubt calm him down.

Feeling the cold sweat that was prickling on his forehead, Draco collected a puddle of water from the running tape and splashed his face with it, then got a glass and drowned it down in one. 

He reached for the flowery tea towel hanging on the oven and used it to dry himself as he left the kitchen; dragging the cloth down his face and tossing it back over to the counter. But when he glanced back, something was in front of him.

He first saw a glimpse of silver strapped heels. Obscuring his view of the shoes was long blue material. Silk. It fanned out all around her, just barely missing the floor. His eyes travelled up the rest of the dazzling blue, resting for a moment on the way it crimpled differently around her waist, and then to the straps of the dress, which were sparkling brilliantly with every breath she took. The top part rounded where her breasts were, and then gave a small dip in the centre. The gown was nowhere near as revealing as something Pansy would no doubt be wearing, and usually a dress like this wouldn’t hold his attention because everything was in place – no cleavage hanging out for him to admire. And yet… Draco swallowed. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

Slowly, he brought his eyes up to meet a pair of brown ones that were surrounded by thick, long lashes. She looked like she was resisting biting her lip – lips that were coated in light pink gloss and simmering. He looked at her hair, suddenly wishing he had more eyes to take in the sight before him. Soft, brown curls adorned her hair. It looked silkier than usual. Glittering clips were nestled here and there to hold it up into a messy bun with pieces hanging out to frame her face.

His stomach had stopped rolling and was replaced with a bizarre fluttering sensation. And even stranger, he didn’t feel quite as nervous anymore, with Granger there.  

But what was far more ridiculous than any of that was… he looked back to her hair. Draco missed the usual frizziness. How ironic. Ironic that it was her hair he missed, the very thing he’d loved teasing her about in Hogwarts.

“Hey,” she said softly, snapping him out of his trace. He met her eyes again and thought she looked a little stupefied too, and uncertain. “We should go.”  

“Yeah,” he nodded vigorously, as if to clear his head. Draco reached for her outstretched hand, but before he could take it she pulled back. “What?”

“Should we Apparate?” she asked.

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“We’ll get all messed up and rumbled.”

“Brooms, then?”

“NO!” she said so quickly and so terrified that it was hard not to smirk.

“Floo power?”

She looked to the fireplace. “I don’t know if it works.”

“Lets find out, then,” he said merrily, but Hermione grabbed his left wrist, her hand curling right around his Dark Mark. Draco flinched, both from the tenderness of it and the sudden contact, and Granger let go again quickly. He thought his saw hurt flash through her eyes when she looked to him again, but maybe that was just his imagination. He didn’t even think she even remembered that he had the Dark Mark. This was both good and bad.

He pulled his sleeve further down.

“We’ll just Apparate,” she said after a slight pause.

Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

He grabbed her hand when she hesitated touching him again, and with a crack they began the evening that was sure to change everything.  

***

“Draco! Hermione!” Narcissa called. She waved happily at them, looking glamorous as always in a long green gown that reached the floor. She tapped Natalie on the shoulder, who had been speaking with the group of women around them. She looked at Narcissa, who pointed to where Draco and Granger were, standing awkwardly in the entrance of the ballroom.

When Natalie spotted them, she smiled and excused herself from the group. She walked over to them, lilac robes trailing on the marble floor behind her.

“Draco! Hermione!” she said as she extended both hands to them. “Welcome. Ah, you both look gorgeous.”

Draco took her hand uncomfortably and, knowing he was supposed to kiss it, mimicked what Granger was doing and clasped it between both of his instead.

“Everybody looks amazing,” said Granger, observing the ballroom. Large windows reaching from floor to ceiling were on the furtherest two walls from the entrance. An orchestra was playing softly in one of the corners, just auditable over the chatter and high-pitched laughter. The guests who weren’t dancing stood with fancy glasses in their hands, a few wondering over to the refreshment table to tide them over.

“Is a meal being served later?” Draco asked.

Natalie pointed to two large golden doors to their right. “Just through there is tables and food. Help yourselves at any point you begin to feel hungry.” She smiled again, flashing them perfectly white teeth. “I’m glad you both came. I believe I saw Mr. Zabini with Miss. Parkinson earlier, so I imagine they’ll be along shortly –”

Granger suddenly let out a faint squeal. Quickly, she covered her mouth to suppress the sound, but her attention was no longer on Draco or Natalie, but rather the massive staircase in another corner, just across from the golden doors Natalie pointed out.

“The bookshelves –!” she began, barely unable to hide her glee. “They’re huge! May I?”

“Oh,” Natalie laughed, the same tingling laugh that everybody else seemed to be doing. Draco kind of wished Granger would laugh just so he could hear someone’s amusement that wasn’t superficial. “Of course. Just go up the stairs and on your left is the library. Just follow the row of bookcases to the wooden doors.” 

Hermione’s face split into a grin, and, seeming to forget she was in heels, ran as well as she could to the stairs. A few witches nearby stopped to watch her with frowns and disapproving shakes of the head. Draco couldn’t help but feel bemused.

“Miss. Granger’s a live spirit, isn’t she?” Natalie observed. “She’s well-mannered enough, but I just can’t imagine anyone settling down with her. Running in a dress like that, really.”

“You’d never be bored,” Draco said fondly. “And at least it’s books she’s running towards and not a group of men.” 

“It wouldn’t hurt to pace herself a bit more,” she disagreed.

Before he could reply, however, his mother strolled over again. Narcissa was all smiles, and it was hard to believe her husband was missing.

He knew better, though. Knew his mother. And without an explanation, Draco went and hugged her tightly. While she might be confused at this sudden display of affection, he thought later she would think back and understand.   

“Is everything all right?” she said, startled.

“Fine. You look amazing,” he told her, taking a step back. Green was always his mother’s colour.

“Thank you,” she smiled. He knew this one was real. “You look spiffy yourself.” 

“How have you been?” he asked. “The manor’s got to be awfully –”

“You don’t know? Pansy was visiting for a while, and then after so many visits she offered for me to live with her parents. Her mother and I used to stay over each others houses all the time when we were young.”

“How long has that been going on for?”

She shrugged a little. “Not too long.”

“Why didn’t you – I could have done something –” But words failed him. Pansy was looking after his mother? That wasn’t right. He should be looking after her. Why hadn’t anyone told him? But then, Draco should have known. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Nonsense.” She waved her hand to dismiss his words. “You’re a busy man, darling. I can take care of myself. Natalie also made sure I was all right. She visited me a lot so I was rarely ever on my own.”

Draco looked at the other woman, suddenly remembering her presence.  

“I offered to get you invite you over, but your mother wouldn’t hear of it. Said you were too busy.”

Draco wanted to groan and demand to know how anything could be more important than seeing his mother while she was grieving. They were both missing the same person; it should make sense to be with her. He didn’t think his mother would agree, somehow.

“Oh, Ophelia’s coming!” Natalie suddenly said, yanking Draco back to the present. His heart sped up anxiously, quickly followed by dread. And this time, he did groan.

________________________________________

Next chapter; we're introduced to Ophelia and both Draco and Hermione get a friendly dose of jealously.