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Hermione tossed the invitation onto the coffee table and turned toward the fireplace in her modest apartment. The blazing, fiery face of one of her closest friends was frowning at her. She readied herself for the bad news.

“I’m taking Ginny to the gala,” he answered. Of course, Ginny was his fiancée after all.

Harry would have been the perfect date, having recently been promoted to Head Auror. Hermione would have been able to use his influence to network with the wealthy and influential.

“Ron should be free. They can manage the Paris shop without him for one night.”

“We’re not speaking,” she sighed.

“Still?” Harry asked as the fire around him popped and crackled.

The idea of having to talk about her crumbling relationship with Ron after their bad break up was even less enticing than the idea of needing to find a date for the gala.

She nodded. “Besides, he’s hardly the type who can help me meet people.”

“And here I thought you had wanted me for the pleasure of my company,” he said with a shake of his head. The ember burning around his cheeks sent off a hiss, falling gently onto the surrounding marble.

She watched it burn quickly, blazing orange, before it charred into a lifeless gray.

“I should have known they’d invite you.” Hermione muttered.

Taking a seat on her couch, she grabbed her mug of tea off her coffee table. Holding it with both hands, she sipped at it slowly—having charmed the mug to keep its contents to stay hot.

She wished she had thought to ask him earlier and not waited until the last minute. Harry’s new position at the Ministry had been attracting all sorts of important Witches and Wizards. And it wasn’t a secret that Hermione’s department was having trouble with funding. With all the budget cuts and downsizing, she had been forced to reach out for private sponsors. Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity.

“I recently worked with Thurstan Greengrass. He hired us for extra security at Daphne’s wedding,” Harry replied, shrugging and looking off somewhere behind him.

Thurstan was Astoria’s father, if she remembered correctly. Her head twisted back to the fireplace so quickly, she felt a crick in her neck. “What does this have to do with the Greengrasses?”

“It’s their gala.” Harry answered her as if she should have known. “Daphne’s great-grandmother, I forget her name, started hosting it decades ago.”

Hermione chewed on the bottom of her lip, her anxiety tripling. She really shouldn’t have ignored this gala, leave it to her to have not done the research. It was too late to back out of the function now. She had promised her department head she would go.

To be honest, Augurey mistreatment was not even close to that of the House Elves. Wizards used to use the birds, who were cousins to the phoenix, to predict the weather. But the cries of the Augureys were so horrendous—the domesticated birds would either be released into the wild or killed by a disgruntled owner. It was a fad that had been popular a century ago, hardly a monumental issue today. But the wealthy Wizarding elite loved to hold on to traditions, so why not irrelevant causes as well?

“Hermione?” A significantly more feminine voiced called out to her.

She turned back to the fireplace, unaware that Ginny had joined in the conversation.

“Hi Ginny, I’m sorry what were you saying?”

“I was wondering if you had asked Viktor Krum,” Ginny said, watching her carefully. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Hermione answered with a wave. “And Viktor can’t. Back injury; it happened at some Quidditch game last week.”

Hermione could hear Harry excitingly ramble on about the game, apparently having seen the game in person. Ginny shushed him with a smile, shoving him away from the fireplace.

“How about Neville?”

Hermione shook her head. “He turned me down at the mention of being in a room full of dignitaries and wealthy purebloods.”

“Do you have anybody in mind?” Ginny frowned.

Yes. “No.”

Harry’s head reappeared in the fireplace. “Say, didn’t Cormac ask you? He mentioned it to me earlier this morning. He has got the money and connections.”

There was a slight hint of glee in Harry’s voice at the mention of Cormac. It had been a long time, but Hermione knew Harry still remembered her disastrous date with Cormac to the Slug Club in sixth year. A repeat of that was not something she was looking forward to.

Hermione moaned and covered her face with her hands. “I really was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.”

The Malfoy’s House Elf appeared at the doorway with a pop, her head and ears casted down as she bowed. The clinking of utensils, the only sound occurring as they took their breakfast together, continued without disruption. When neither Narcissa nor Lucius appeared to notice the creature, Draco sighed and placed his fork down.

“What is it, Pippy?” he asked.

“A letter arrived for Master Draco,” she answered quietly.

“Give it here then.”

Draco held out his hand impatiently and accepted the letter. He eyed the creature and hesitated before muttering, “Thank you.”

Lucius Malfoy looked up from his Daily Prophet and casted a wary glance at his son, dismayed by the exchange. Draco ignored his father, ripping the scripted ‘G’ wax seal stamped on his letter, unfolding the parchment, and looked it over.

“What is it, dear?” Narcissa asked him over the rim of her glass goblet.

“The invitation to the blasted Augurey Gala,” Draco scowled at the piece of parchment. “Does anyone even breed those anymore?”

“In the northern countryside, I’m sure.” Lucius replied, not looking up from his paper.

“It’s a worthy cause,” Narcissa answered. “Astrid has always felt very strongly about the Augureys.”

“Perhaps it’s because she sounds like one after one too many firewhiskeys,” Draco muttered to himself.

Narcissa pretended not to have heard him. “I hear she’s handed the hosting duties on to her granddaughters this year. They’ll be equally as exceptional, if not more.”

“I assume you’ll be taking Astoria?” Lucius asked, finally finishing his paper and setting it down.

“You assume correctly,” Draco bit out.

“Well, I’m sure we have something for the auction,” Narcissa said as she buttered a piece of toast. “Draco dear, do find something we can donate.”

“Yes, mother.” Draco was quite sure there was something of value littered around the manor they could bear to part with. He sighed again, jerking his head slightly to the left to check the time. He only managed to sit with his parents until he finished his coffee, giving them some excuse about being needed back at the office.

Hermione accepted the cloak check ticket with a forced smile and tucked it away in her clutch, her hands shaking slightly with unease. She prayed Harry and Ginny had arrived already, figuring she had a solid hour’s worth of patience for Cormac before she would need to escape.

“Well, look at you Granger,” Cormac said behind her. “I love what you did with your… hair.”

She glanced back at him, aware that his gaze was nowhere in the vicinity of her head. Feeling the urge to throw her cloak back on, or over Cormac’s head to smother him with it, she marched past him and reigned in her temper.

“You sure you don’t want to go out for drinks after? I know a great pub by my place.” He followed her down the front hall of Greengrass Manor, ornately decorated with flickering lights charmed to stick to the high ceilings for the occasion.

“I am not going anywhere with you after this.” Hermione reiterated herself, before turning around to face him. It seemed Cormac didn’t quite understand they weren’t really on a date, not in the romantic sense. “Let’s set some ground rules for tonight.”

“What?” His perplexed expression was irritatingly settled on her chest.

“First off, you will keep all and any forms of sexual harassment to yourself,” Hermione ordered and he licked his lips in response, making her skin crawl. “Or I’ll have Harry sack you.”

That got his attention, the amusement disappearing from his face.

“You wouldn’t.”

Raising a brow, she gave him a deadly smile.

“Push me too far and you’ll find out.”

Cormac looked bewildered. He had clearly underestimated her and the situation he thought he was getting into. After scrutinizing her from head to toe, he finally gave her a nod.

“Good, now focus,” she spoke firmly to him. If she had to endure another moment of his lascivious gazes, she would have to resort to physically harming his person. “You know the Greengrasses?”

He gave the front hall a once over. “Our fathers have done business together. I’ve never been here before though, this place is enormous.”

“Not as big as Malfoy Manor,” Hermione murmured, smiling at a couple passing by them.

“I guess.” Cormac shrugged before he raised his arm. “Shall we?”

Accepting his arm, they walked in the direction of the music. The ballroom entrance appeared around the corner, a set of tall double doors held wide open. She was engrossed for a moment in the beauty of the wide-opened, ornate wooden doors, thick and solid, looming in front of her. Beyond them she could see the glow of the party moving through the growing swell of the orchestra. Her stomach twisted into knots as she eyed the crowd in the ballroom.

“My grandmother is driving me insane!” The petite blonde witch paced the enclosed balcony overlooking the ballroom. She shook her hands around violently trying to expel some of her frustration.

“A few more champagne flutes and I think she’ll start her Augurey impression,” Draco drawled, walking over to the viewing window, nursing his own glass of firewhiskey.

“Draco,” Astoria Greengrass bit out. “If you’re not going to be helpful, please leave.”

“Not bloody likely,” he murmured. “Our mothers probably have that door charmed shut.”

She made a rather unladylike groan and covered her head with her hands.

“I cannot deal with this right now. Daphne is late. And with our parents’ matchmaking scheme, there is no one down there overseeing the auction.”

Draco watched her as she paced, feeling only mildly concerned for her. He didn’t see what the major issue was. Best-case scenario, the gala fails and Astrid pulls the hosting duties from Astoria and her sister. He gave the ballroom a quick survey, before walking over to the bureau, finding the bottle of aged firewhiskey, pouring himself another glass.

“Should you really be drinking right now?” Astoria asked.

Draco waved his glass in the direction of the viewing window; the situation clearly called for alcohol.

Astoria shook her head at him and silence filled the room. It usually did; their conversation never lasted longer than required. They were both quite aware of their situation and didn’t like to dwell on their future, if they could help it. Maybe it was naïve to think they could wait it out, that perhaps their predicament would clear itself out on its own.

She pulled her wand out and closed her eyes, concentrating on casting a quick Patronus. The silvery wisp floated in front her, not taking any specific shape or form.

As she whispered instructions for it, Draco made his way back to the window, his shoes lightly treading on the hardwood floors. When he glanced back, the Patronus was making its way down and through the floor, disappearing in misty whispers.

“We’ll give our mothers another five minutes,” Astoria murmured.

“Hm,” Draco hummed, not really caring either way. He surveyed the activity below once again, spotting Potter arriving with the Weasley girl.

Astoria walked over to him, taking a spot at the other side of the window. She glanced over the ballroom and then eyed him curiously. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one,” he answered her in a bored drawl. But it was the stiffening of his back that gave him away. She wanted to tease him and pry the answer from his tight lips, but she knew it would be a fruitless attempt.

She turned back to the view of the ballroom, her heart found the moment to start aching. They were both stuck in this situation set forth by their parents. She liked Draco well enough. And perhaps they’d grow to appreciate each other in time. But it wasn’t love now and they both knew it.

The gala was well underway. Various guests migrated from table to table at the silent auction. Some of the more affluent made their bids, signing their names with a flourish on the scrolls placed before each auction item.

Hermione and Cormac followed Harry and Ginny as they perused the auction items. To her relief, her best friends had arrived only a few minutes earlier. She walked with Cormac, still holding on to his arm, while Harry and Ginny intimately held each other’s hands.

She couldn’t help but feel the pang of jealously as she watched the two of them, clearly in love.

It was when they passed an odd-looking chest, lid carved out of dark mahogany, when she felt a prickle at her nerves. Fighting the instinct to look around, she kept her gaze on the auction items.

“What is that?” Hermione heard Ginny ask ahead of them.

As Hermione and Cormac reached them, Harry was narrowing his eyes on the auction item’s placard.

“It’s a sacrificial dagger and girdle of goatskin used in the Roman festival of Lupercalia. The animal sacrifices paid tribute to the God Lupercus and Lupa, both thought to be the ancestors of the—“

“Werewolves,” Hermione finished for him. “It dates back to Roman origins, but I’m certain the actual rites have changed. The dagger and girdle must be more a symbolic tool…” She trailed off, seeing as no one was listening to her.

Having been accustomed to Hermione’s lectures in their school days, the others carried on without interruption. She should have been a professor, George and Ron had told her once after one particularly long rant on the Spotted-Irish Pixies.

“Who would want to buy that?” Ginny leaned forward to inspect the two items.

“I don’t see any werewolves around,” Harry quipped.

“I wonder if they’d actually fit the girdle. It looks awfully small,” Cormac added, his voice carrying easily around them. “And here I assumed all werewolves were well-endowed.”

Hermione grimaced, looked around to see if anyone had heard him. She slapped the arm she was holding, “Honestly!”

Cormac shrugged, giving her an odd look. Did he really not know how immature he sounded? She let it go, grinning at him with a shake of her head. It had been the friendliest exchange they had had. The gesture was lost to him though, as an exotic looking witch glided past them and he was practically drooling as he watched her walk away.

There was a lull in the live music before it started up again. Hermione swiveled her head around to look at the crowd gathering on the dance floor. She spotted Draco across the room, her breath stuttered and her chest panged with disappointment.

He looked good, dressed in his fine robes. He had been in the process of shrugging it off, revealing a more modern ensemble underneath.

When he grabbed Astoria by the hands and moved toward the dance floor, Hermione forced herself to look away. But in the next moment, she felt compelled to sneak another glance, inviting more misery.

She didn’t know what she had expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t him smiling down at Astoria, nor how easily the two moved across the dance floor. They were the perfect pair. They’ll lead a perfectly amazing life together and have perfect little pureblood heirs.

Hermione exhaled a heavy breath, surprised by an intense wave of jealously hitting her.

Draco had arrived at Astoria and her sister’s side with two flutes of champagne in hand. Handing one off to his date, he motioned the other towards Daphne.

Daphne shook her head and frowned disapprovingly. “Draco, I’m pregnant.”

Right, he had forgotten. Mentally shrugging it off, he kept the glass flute for himself. He hadn’t cared much for Daphne when they had been housemates back at Hogwarts—it wasn’t likely he’d start bothering now. Though, his lack of interest in his future in-laws probably didn’t speak very well of him.

Astoria sighed next him before sipping on from her own flute of champagne.

“Where is our music?” Daphne fumbled for her wand. “I specifically instructed the orchestra to start playing the waltz at half past eight.”

Fearing her sister would do something irreparable, like casting an Imperio on the conductor, Astoria gently grabbed Daphne by the elbow. “They’ll be playing shortly. Breathe, sister.”

Mollified, Daphne sent Astoria a withering glare before surveying the grand ballroom filled with well-dressed witches and wizards. A line had formed at the auction tables on the other side of the room. Their guests were strolling past each display, some stopping to make bids on the various items.

Daphne’s eyes widened at something and Astoria followed her gaze to the other side of the ballroom. She spotted Harry Potter and his fiancé amongst the people at the silent auction. Trailing behind the couple was Hermione Granger and Cormac McLaggen.

“How did we manage to get Harry Potter to come tonight?” Daphne laughed, eyeing the orchestra with satisfaction as they stopped the current song they had been playing to switch over to the waltz.

Astoria met her sister’s gaze and they answered themselves at the same time, “Father.”

Sharing a smile with Daphne, Astoria shook her head and turned back to Draco. His back was rigid, his expression dark and stony.

“Draco?”

Abruptly, he grabbed her hands, his expression determined and focused.

“I believe the first dance is mine.”

Draco ushered her onto the dance floor and they fell into position, her hand on his shoulder, his on her waist. Following the motion of the other couples, they glided across the dance floor, looking everywhere but at each other. Draco remained stoic, his frosty gaze landing on the various couples around them.

Feeling the awkwardness settle heavier in the air, she tightened her hold on his hand, looking up anxiously up at him. Sensing her discomfort, Draco feigned a smile. Grateful that he was trying to maintain their image, she returned the smile, but the motion felt wrong on her lips.

Hermione smiled at Ginny and Harry as they attempted to dance amongst the other couples. Harry kept fumbling over his feet, nearly tripping Ginny at one point.

Cormac had just introduced her to a family friend, a finance mogul who had been reluctant to talk about research funding.

Harry and Ginny waltzed their way across the dance floor, passing Draco and Astoria. Hermione flinched, but couldn’t look away. They looked quite the Nordic pair, pale skin and hair, dancing amongst their peers.

Claiming she needed some air, Hermione darted for the doors. In her haste, she didn’t notice the elderly wizard standing behind her, crashing into him. Cormac helped the man up, sharing the look of apprehension the crowd around them was giving her. Muttering an apology, she made her way to the nearest set of doors, finding her way out onto a terrace.

The night air soothed her, chilling the exposed parts of her skin. The music and voices continued on without her, making her wish she could just go home and not return. While contemplating how she could make her escape, she looked out into the grounds. There was a patio directly beneath the terrace.

A short graveled path connected the patio to a beautiful flower garden, which led directly into an elaborate hedge garden.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Hermione closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

“I needed some air.”

Draco walked up and leaned on the stone terrace railing beside her. She rubbed her arms against the chill. Their breaths dissipating into the air with each exhale. The sound of chatter and music dulled as she was solely focused on his nearness.

“How have you been?” Hermione asked out of curiosity.

“Fine,” he bit out rather frostily.

“That’s good.”

“You brought McLaggen,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Very astute,” she murmured.

“Why the hell would you--?”

She scowled at him. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. He lost the right to care when he tried cutting her out of his life.

“Do I really have to tell you that it isn’t any of your business?”

“Don’t give me that shit. You could have--”

“I needed a date. He seemed to be good as any.”

“—knows he has been trying to sleep with you since 6th year. And--”

“So what!” She exclaimed, taking a step away from him. He gripped her elbow, tugging her back, pulling her in between himself and the railing, blocking her view of the manor.

“So what?” he growled.

“Why else would I agree to go on a date with him?” She answered him, raising a brow, and tried to pull her arm back with no success.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep with coworkers?” he repeated her words, words she had told him on every occasion their stolen kisses had gotten out of hand. It seemed like ages ago now.

She gave her arm another jerk. “I guess I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

His gripped tightened on her elbow, her heart pounded. She hadn’t meant to say that, but some small part of her wished to hurt him like he had her. She thought she might have at first, but something curious flickered in his expression.

Draco let her go, but closed the distance between them, arms reaching out to either side of her, trapping her against the terrace railing. His jaw clenched, the skin pulling taut as he stared her down. She refused to back down, glaring right back at him.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” The moonlight reflected in his silvery eyes.

“No. I… like Cormac.” It came out as a whisper.

Tilting his head slightly, he gave her a look that said he clearly knew she was lying. But instead of voicing it, he decided to show it. His lips touched hers and all thoughts of escape were gone. God. How could she have forgotten how intoxicating his touch was?

Her hands grasped the nape of his neck as his gripped her arms and held her to him. She sighed as his tongue teased the corner of her lips, seeking entry.

A distant laughter stopped them in their embrace, turning their attention back at the manor. Someone was about to venture onto the terrace. Hermione panicked, shoving against him to move. He was like wall, fixed to his spot in front of her. And when he turned back around there was a wild look about him.

Draco moved so quickly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. A familiar tugging at her bellybutton let her know he had Apparated somewhere. Landed softly in the hedge gardens below, she lost her footing, falling back against a tall hedge.

He stepped forward and deftly pulled her from the hedge. She gripped his shoulders, her balance still off from the unexpected Side-along Apparition. The heated look he gave her sent shivers down her spine. Not wasting any time, his hands made their way to her backside, squeezing and pulling her against him. A moan escaped her lips, spurring him on, thrusting his hips against hers. She gasped at the motion, her hands clenching into his shirt.

One of his hands slid back to her front, cupping her breast. She couldn’t think, feeling like she was about to explode if she didn’t touch him. Her hands traveled up his neck, needing to feel skin, her fingers moved north and threaded into his hair.

But a nagging thought, her conscience she assumed, pushed her through the hormone-driven haze. He had chosen to follow the wishes of his parents. That was the reason he had given her for why they couldn’t see each other anymore. He had said it wasn’t fair to her.

They only had their kisses stolen in her office, or at the Ministry labs. She broke the kiss and pushed him back far enough for her to slide out of his grasp.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she murmured as she put distance between them.

He looked away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hands.

“I know.”

“You can’t have it both ways.” She felt the need to remind him.

“I know.”

“Then why did you kiss me?” She bit out angrily.

He sighed and gave her a dejected look.

“I still—“

“No.” Hermione pointed a finger at him, taking a few steps away. “You don’t get to say things like that. Not when you’re the one who walked away.”

“Hermione—“

“No!” She shouted. “Stay away from me, Draco. Please, for everyone’s sake.”

Marching around the hedge, she had to calm herself before attempting to Apparate back to the terrace.

Draco sat at one of the many round tables littered around the ballroom with Astoria, clutching his firewhiskey between his hands. Astoria was shifting nervously beside him and kept peeking over to where her parents and his were talking animatedly to each other. He was quite certain their fathers were intoxicated and nothing good could come from that.

Draco looked over his shoulder and searched the room until he found Hermione’s brown mess of curls which were breaking through whatever spell had managed to subdue them all evening. She was talking to friends and McLaggen was milling behind her trying to look important. He turned his lips down in disgust and turned away before she noticed him.

He watched Astoria’s green eyes squeeze close as her mother, Katarina, squealed across the room.

“Damn,” she whispered to herself.

Eyeing her wearily, Draco fought the sinking feeling in his gut. The defeated look on Astoria’s face sealed his fate.

“Draco, I’m sorry I should have warned you,” Astoria rushed out, her eyes downcast. “I heard them talking in my father’s study yesterday afternoon and at first I thought they were discussing Daphne, but now I’ve realized—“

She was cut off by the distinct clinging of a knife hitting a champagne flute. Astoria groaned and Draco turned to front of the room where the glass was floating in midair. Standing below it were the pairs of their parents, grinning maddeningly at the crowd forming around them.

“I would like to thank you all for coming out this evening to help raise money for the Augureys of Britain,” Thurstan began. “My mother started this foundation when I was just a boy and it gave me great pleasure that this year it was run by my lovely daughter’s Daphne and Astoria.”

A round of polite applause rose around them, but Draco kept his hands firmly wrapped around his glass. Astoria, being the good socialite that she was, smiled ever so slightly and clapped softly along with the rest of the group.

“They’ve done a marvelous job. We’re very proud.” His eyes were lit up and his smile was radiating. Next to him, Katarina clutched his arm, sharing the same happy expression.

“As many of you know, our daughter Daphne was recently wed. We couldn’t be happier about the arrangement and welcome Adrian Pucey as our son-in-law.” He raised his glass and tilted it to where Daphne and Adrian were seated across the room. “To Daphne and Adrian, and to their future together, may it be long and successful.”

A chorus of clinking glasses and congratulations sounded around the room. Draco turned to Astoria, her expression blanched as she fidgeted in her seat.

“You okay there?” Draco whispered to her.

“I’m not quite sure what to do,” she whispered back. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Astoria didn’t seem to have heard him, completely lost to her own stress. Draco was about to respond, but before he was able to speak, Astoria’s father cleared his throat and continued speaking.

“It is my great pleasure to stand here tonight and announce another marriage.”

Thurstan looked excited and quickly glanced back at Lucius who looked just as pleased.

“My greatest congratulations to Astoria and her fiancée, Draco Malfoy.” Thurstan raised his glass again and the room erupted in applause.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. It was like the air had been forcibly ripped from his lungs. Astoria’s hand still clutched his and it was all he could feel. This was his future and it was being decided for him. He knew this happening, understood the necessity and duty to his family. But it still didn’t lessen the shock of hearing it announced to a ballroom full of people.

His mother waved at them to come forward and he wanted to scream. Prying Astoria’s grip off of his hand, he seethed, “I can’t believe them.”

That’s when he it hit him to look around the room for Hermione. He felt the need to seek her out, to apologize to her, to be anywhere near her, instead of his place next to Astoria.

“I can’t do this,” Astoria’s whispered words were strained, her breaths coming in quicker, her eyes locked on the floor. “I can’t.”

She stood abruptly and the people around them looked expectedly. She walked briskly toward the front of the room, ignoring the array of congratulations following her. He watched as she tugged on her father’s sleeve and he leaned into her ear. Draco couldn’t hear what she was saying, but if she was protesting this arrangement she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Following Astoria, he quickened his pace and the congratulations in the room strangely died down, turning into curious gossip.

Hermione bitterly watched at the scene around her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling heat creep up on her cheeks, her eyes stinging from the impending tears. She didn’t want any of them to know how much of a fool she’d been.

“Well, I guess it’s about time they announced it,” Harry said beside her. Next to him, Ginny nodded in agreement.

She bit back her pride and asked, “What do you mean?”

“They come to all these events together; everyone knows they were going to get married eventually.” Ginny rambled on like her words weren’t crushing Hermione.

“They weren’t really dating,” Hermione mumbled weakly.

“The society pages seemed to think so.” Ginny was giving Hermione a curious look.

“Gin, why do you even bother reading that rubbish?” Harry said smiling at his fiancée.

“I like to know what our classmates are getting up to!” she defended herself. “And then promptly have a laugh at them.”

Hermione smiled meekly, avoiding Ginny’s gaze.

“Mum, we talked about this!” Astoria whispered harshly to Katarina as she neared their table. “You said we could wait, especially since Daphne had her wedding!”

“Oh darling, we just got so excited.” She smiled fondly at her daughter, her hand resting on her husband’s, oblivious to Astoria’s distress. “Narcissa and I cannot wait to begin planning the wedding! We were thinking in the spring at the manor.”

Draco saw his mother smile tightly at him as he stopped behind Astoria, sensing her son’s fury. He knew she wanted him to be pleased and he wished that for her he could be.

“It’s too soon,” Astoria shook her head.

“Nonsense!” Thurston said with a nervous laugh, aware of the scene they were causing.

“It might be better to hold off for a bit,” Draco spoke evenly, even though he was raging inside at their parent’s high-handedness.

“Draco, this isn’t up for discussion,” Lucius spoke sternly.

“Shall we take this conversation in the parlour?” Katarina smiled as she looked around anxiously.

“Sod it! I don’t care who is listening, I’m not marrying him!” Astoria exclaimed, causing a few harsh whispers and gasps. “I refuse. And if you make me, I will fight it the entire way to the altar, I promise you this.”

Draco stared back at her, brow raised. His father was beginning to protest, no doubt feeling publicly embarrassed. But Draco wasn’t feeling slighted in the least.

“This had been planned for years!” Katarina took anxious sip from her wine glass, turning to her husband for help.

Astoria’s father’s impenetrable gaze locked with hers, “Enough Astoria, you’re causing scene. We will speak of this when you’ve calmed down.”

“No.” Astoria held her ground. “I don’t want this and neither does Draco.”

Draco remained passive as he gave her an assuring nod. Astoria was finding a way out for them; he wasn’t going to screw it up.

Astoria continued speaking, “I know you’re only pressing for this to save face. But that isn’t our fault. You shouldn’t have jumped to announce this in front of everybody. Maybe you should have spoken with us about it.”

“But Daphne—” Katarina began, but Astoria knew what her mother was trying to say.

“Daphne,” Astoria cut in. “actually loves Adrian.”

Narcissa placed a steady hand at her Lucius’ back. “Perhaps, it would probably be better for everyone involved if we just let the matter of the nuptials rest. We can discuss the arrangement outside of the gala.”

“Grand idea,” Thurstan spoke rather sarcastically, still angry over his daughter’s antics.

“I’m sure there’s just been a misunderstanding,” Katarina added sheepishly.

Astoria groaned at her parent’s millionth attempt to keep this arrangement going. Having had enough, she raised her voice, yelling over everyone, “Draco has been seeing someone else!”

The entire ballroom stilled at the exclamation and some women in the back tittered at the latest bit of gossip.

“Bloody hell,” Draco groaned, surprised by how Astoria had even noticed.

“The parlour, now,” Katarina ordered, getting visibly angry for the first time of the night. She motioned to the doors, grabbing Thurstan by the hand.

“It’s perfectly normal to experiment with other witches before the wedding, but now that you are engaged, the flings must end.” Lucius drawled as he began to head for the doors.

That had Draco reeling back and he snapped, “It wasn’t just a fling.” He hadn’t meant to let his emotions get out of control, but belittling these feelings he held felt incredibly wrong.

“It certainly wasn’t anything to be proud of, or you wouldn’t have tried to keep the girl hidden,” Thurstan Greengrass added.

“You shouldn’t speak of things you know nothing about,” Draco spoke lowly. His shoulders trembled as he fought to keep his anger in check.

“Draco, love, just calm down,” Narcissa said, soothing her son.

Thurstan ignored Narcissa and sneered, “Who was it? Which witch has ensnared your attention so?”

Draco knew Thurstan felt snubbed for his daughter. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He looked around him, finding the expected gazes of a few dozen people. He felt like he was being smothered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco heard himself say. “I ended it already.”

Narcissa nodded and turned to the Greengrasses, “That’s settled then, it won’t be an issue.”

“I don’t believe that.” It was Astoria this time. She smiled weakly at him, looking defeated. He had seen that expression before, she was about to do something rash.

“We’re not marrying, because we’re in love with two different people,” Astoria began, sighing as she finally uncovered her own secret. “Draco wasn’t the only one who had been seeing someone else.”

A gasp sounded from somewhere nearby and even Draco’s jaw dropped. How had he not noticed? They really were poorly matched.

“Who have you two been seeing?” Narcissa asked, flabbergasted. Draco couldn’t help but notice the hint of amusement in her tone.

Astoria shared a look with Draco before smiling, “Blaise Zabini.”

Draco laughed, shaking his head slightly. The bastard could have at least said something when Draco had one night drunkenly spilled the story of his troubles about Hermione.

Searching the room, he found Hermione staring back. A blush had risen in her cheeks, her shoulders hunched in an attempt to stay hidden. She shook her head ever so slightly and a small smirk formed on his lips. He wondered how much hell she’d give him for this.

“Hermione Granger,” he announced, his gaze locked with hers, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders.

A glass crashed onto the floor in the back of the room as Lucius looked like he was about to pass out.

“I am so glad I had decided to come tonight,” someone whispered from nearby.

~fin