Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14476 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: Late, late, late. I know, and I'm sorry. Work has been asking a lot of me lately. Plus this turned out to be a whopper of a chapter and took a lot of time. I'm going to try and crank out the next chapter much faster!
You know what helps keep me motivated? Reviews! So please let me know what you think.
Warnings: M/F lemons
Chapter 11: Death By Chocolate
(Hermione)

The thumb stroked lightly across Hermione’s hand in an absent way, a way that reminded her that the owner of said thumb might not realize exactly what they were doing. Still, she found it soothing, and she let herself drift into a sort of meditative state while she watched her father on the other side of the room fidget with a set of magnets she had brought him from home. He’d always liked to fidget, and though he still had not spoken in over three weeks, he was at least no longer catatonic, and was actually demonstrating some old habits. Hermione decided to take it as a promising beginning.
The hand on hers suddenly tightened, pulling her attention away from her father. She met her mother’s eyes with a question.
“Soup,” her mother said.
Hermione turned to glance at the little table next to her mother’s wheelchair, where a half-eaten bowl of vegetable soup was still steaming away. The Mediwitch who brought it had placed a charm on it that would keep it just the right temperature, which was good, because it had gone ignored by Jean Granger for the past half hour. Now, though, she seemed to remember it was there.
“Would you like more, Mum?” she asked. She wanted to be sure she understood. Her mother was no longer babbling incoherently, but rather only speaking when she wanted something. She was capable of conveying her desires, thankfully, but still could not speak in full sentences, so it sometimes took a while for Hermione to figure out what she meant.
Her mother nodded, and Hermione picked up the bowl. She lifted the spoon and brought it to her mother’s lips. The mouth opened and took the spoon happily.
“Mmm, yummy, right?” Hermione encouraged.
“Yummy,” her mother echoed, after she had swallowed.
Hermione smiled. She had never thought such a simple exchange would please her, but this was progress. Her mother still did not seem to know who she was or where she was, and she did not recognize Hermione as her daughter. But her language processing had increased considerably, and that was something.
She fed her mother a few more bites, then set the bowl down once it was clear she was no longer interested in eating. Jean took Hermione’s hand again, and Hermione squeezed it in reassurance. No, Jean might not have known who Hermione was, exactly, but she knew she was a friend.
There was a knock on the door, and Hermione turned to see Joseph Goddard, her parents’ Therapeutic Legilimens, enter, greeting her with a smile.
“Healer Goddard,” she said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Ms. Granger,” he said. “Is this a good time to talk?”
“Sure.” Hermione had been hoping to sit down with the Mind Healer during her visit, wanting a progress report on her parents. She could see visibly that there was improvement, but the Healer’s take on it, the analysis of the progress, was even more valuable.
Healer Goddard grabbed another chair from near her father’s bed and set it down next to Hermione. He sat in it, meeting her eyes with his warm brown ones.
“You can see the change?”
“Very much so,” she said. “Mum especially. Her words mean something now.”
“Yes,” Goddard agreed. “That was the important first step we were hoping for.”
“How did you achieve it?” She’d followed Goddard’s explanation of the treatment the first time they had met, how the Healer would use Legilimency to slowly piece together the fragments of her mother and father’s psyches that were currently in disarray inside their minds. The first thing to focus on, he had said then, was their ability to communicate, to accurate process the world around them and be able to express their experience through language. The rest: their memories, their sense of self, that would come later.
“Your mother’s psyche is less fractured than your father’s,” Goddard replied. Hermione nodded. She was aware of this already. “I’ve begun reconstructing her language center, giving her back the ability to represent objects, people, feelings, and ideas through sound. But this is a process. You’ll notice she is most likely to acknowledge the physical things that are right in front of her, things she can touch, see, hear. Things that are abstract, things that she feels or thinks, they will come next. We’re not quite there yet, as you might have noticed already. For example, when she’s tired, she doesn’t say that she is tired. She simply says, ‘bed.’ She knows the thing, the physical thing, she wants, but she cannot yet articulate why.”
Hermione nodded along, understanding. She had seen the same thing firsthand, when her mother had asked for the soup. She didn’t say what she was feeling: “hungry,” just what she knew would help alleviate it: “soup.”
“And when do you think that ability to express more abstract things… when do you think that will resurface?”
“Soon, we hope,” Goddard said. “As I told you two weeks ago, the process is a delicate one. It requires time and patience. However, the truly extraordinary thing about the mind, about a healthy mind, anyway, is that it wants to heal. I’ve begun the process of reconstruction, but now that it’s going that process can continue even when I am not actively helping. I’ve already seen that with your mother, and that is a very good sign. Her mind wants to be reconstructed, and will therefore do much of the work on its own.”
Hermione absorbed that. “She’ll be able to speak in complete sentences again, eventually?”
“Eventually, yes. Grammar is more complicated than vocabulary, as I’m sure you know if you’ve ever tried to learn a foreign language. It requires more… cognitive capacity, I suppose you could say, than your mother has at the moment. But I believe it’s only a matter of time until the language center is fully reconstructed.”
“And then we’ll focus on getting her memory back.”
“Yes, that would be the next logical step.”
“And my father?”
Goddard sighed. “His psyche is… in more pieces, as I mentioned the other week. But it’s more than that. The first step with him was simply… it’s hard to put it into words exactly… I more felt it, in his mind. But he was not aware of the world. He wasn’t… taking in stimuli like you would expect. That was the cause of his catatonia, I believe. So the first order of business was… unlocking his perception, as it were. It’s ongoing, to be honest. He sees what’s right in front of him. He’ll accept food when it’s presented. But…” He glanced towards Greg Granger and Hermione did the same. “As you can see, he gives no acknowledgement that he can see or hear us now. I don’t think he would unless we got closer, put ourselves within his current radius of perception. Everything outside of that radius doesn’t exist for him, at this point.”
“Sort of like an infant without object permanence,” Hermione speculated.
“Exactly. But I’m working on expanding that radius, until he can take in all the stimuli around him. Then we’ll focus on getting him talking.”
Hermione suppressed a sigh. There was no question that her parents were making progress and that Healer Goddard was obviously competent, but there was still so far to go. “I know it might be hard to gauge, at this point, but do you have any sense of how long it will take for them to fully recover?”
“To fully recover?” Goddard said. “That is impossible to say. There will come a time when I have done about all that I can do, and the rest of the healing is up to them. But I can tell you I’m going to need a few more months with your mother, and possibly up to six months with your father, to get them on the way to recovering their memories fully. After that, it all might resolve itself quite quickly. Or it could take many more months. I have no way of knowing.”
Many months. “I understand,” she said. “It’s just that… I only ask because I’m getting married in May. I was hoping that they would be well by then… because, my father was supposed to walk me down the aisle, and my mother…”
Goddard nodded his head sympathetically. “I understand. But that gives us eight months. Your mother could very well be completely recovered by then, and your father may be recovered enough, at least, to be there for you at your wedding. I can’t give you guarantees, of course, but there is hope. Not just unrealistic hope, either. It really could happen that they are perfectly well come May.”
Hermione released a heavy breath. That was nice to hear. No guarantees, of course, but it was something.
She took her leave not long after, thanking Healer Goddard and kissing each of her parents goodbye. She had a big day ahead of her, seeing as it was her birthday party that evening, and just about everyone she knew was going to be there.
She suppressed a sigh. Truth be told, she really wasn’t in a party mood. Everything that was happening with her parents was zapping her energy, and what she really wanted was to curl up with Ron on the sofa and watch some telly.
There was nothing she could do about it now though, and she really had no one to blame but herself. When Ron asked her what she wanted to do for her birthday over a month ago, she had surprised him by saying that she wanted a big party. Usually she did something small, dinner and drinks with some close friends, but they’d just moved into their new house only a few months before and she’d thought a housewarming sort of thing would be nice.
She hadn’t known then what would transpire only a couple of weeks later, and of course by then Ron had already set the party preparations in motion, recruiting Molly and Fleur to do the food and sending out all the invitations. It was all already underway, and Hermione knew it wouldn’t do to cancel.
When she arrived at home she stepped out of the floo and took a few seconds to gather herself. Now, away from the hospital, from her parents, from the Healers, she could start to forget, if she let herself. She could set it aside and be her normally good-natured self. And that was important today.
She walked into the kitchen to find Ron fixing himself a sandwich.
“There you are,” he said. “I was starting to get worried.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “Just took a bit longer than I thought.”
“That’s all right.” He leaned over to give her a kiss, and she obliged. “So, how are they? Any better?”
“Only a little,” Hermione replied. Ron was under the impression that her parents had the Muggle flu, and that she had just popped over to their house to check on them. He was under that impression because that was what Hermione had told him, in order to account for why they wouldn’t be able to attend her party. Her insides churned with guilt at the lie. She didn’t know how all of this had spiraled so out of control. But she wasn’t about to tell him the truth now and put a damper on the festivities.
Soon, she told herself, as she had done a thousand times already. I’ll tell him soon.
“You hungry?” he asked. “Can I make you a sandwich?”
“Sure, I’ll have what you’re having.”
He nodded and set to work. “Well, I’m sorry they won’t be here. I know they were looking forward to it.”
“Yeah…”
“I thought maybe they’d kick it by this morning, be able to make it over for a bit.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s best if they just rest, I think.”
Ron looked at her, his face sympathetic, and somehow it made her feel worse. “If it was a small thing I would say we should just reschedule, but-“
“No,” Hermione said quickly. “We can’t possibly reschedule now. Not with everyone who’s already RSVPed.”
Ron nodded his agreement. “We’ll just do something with them a little later on, yeah, once they’re better?”
“Sure,” Hermione said. “That sounds nice.” It wouldn’t be happening of course, but Ron was not always good at keeping track of such things, so it was likely he would forget about the idea unless she specifically scheduled it, and she would be able to get away with it never happening at all.
That acidic churning was back, and she gratefully accepted the sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice from Ron, if only to have something else to think about.
“Mum and Fleur are coming around three,” Ron informed her between bites of his lunch. “The place is clean and we should have plenty of time to set everything up once they arrive, so we’ve got some time.”
“That’s good.”
“I thought you might fancy a nap or something. Or a little rest, at least, to be ready for the party. You didn’t sleep that well last night.”
“You’re right, I didn’t,” she said, licking a bit mayonnaise off her thumb. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“Good then.” He gave her a small but very warm smile.
“Are you going to join me?”
“For your nap?”
She nodded. “Would you like to?”
He chuckled. “Do you want me to?”
“Would I have asked if I didn’t want you to?”
“Are we going to keep talking in questions?”
She giggled. “Would you like to keep talking in questions?”
“I would like to take a nap with you, I think.”
“Good.” She smiled at him over her pumpkin juice.
She was quite looking forward to the prospect of a rest, actually. It might be just what she needed to get into the mindset to socialize with dozens of people for a few hours.
When they went upstairs to bed Hermione found herself stripping down to nothing. It was a warm day, and she quite liked the idea of the cool, soft sheets on her bare skin.
“Is this a naked nap we’re having then?” Ron asked her as he removed his shirt.
“It is for me, anyway,” she replied. “You’re free to do as you wish.” She slid into bed and sighed softly. Yes, it was perfect.
“I just have to wonder if a naked nap isn’t really a nap at all.” Even so, Ron removed his jeans and his pants, and then slid in next to her.
“Would it be a problem if it wasn’t?” she asked him.
“Mm, not at all.”
She inched closer to him, seeking his embrace, and he wrapped his arms around her. She hummed in contentment, enjoying feeling so much of her bare skin against his. She nuzzled her nose into his chest and settled in.
They lay there for a while, just breathing and sighing, and Hermione found herself already starting to feel better. She was a bit tired after all, but it was mostly mental fatigue, and she found she didn’t really want to sleep. She just wanted to be close to Ron.
She pulled away a little so she could meet Ron’s eyes and smiled lazily at him.
“What did you get up to this morning?” she asked.
“Worked out for a couple of hours, had a shower, finished cleaning,” he said. “Nothing exciting.”
“I don’t understand how you can work out for a couple of hours and not be totally exhausted.” Hermione did occasionally exercise, when she felt like it, but she’d never had a regular routine. Not like Ron, whose Auror training kept him on a strict fitness regimen.
“It’s just habit, now,” he said. “If I don’t do it every day I feel a bit off.”
“I suppose I should be thankful,” she said, running her hands over his chiseled abdomen.
He grinned. “Not like the flabby bloke I was back at Hogwarts, eh? How you ever went for me, I’ll never know.” He reached out, lightly stroking her stomach as she was stroking his.
Hermione scoffed. “You were hardly ever flabby,” she said. “You were lanky. But you had hardly any fat on you at all.”
“I had a bit. I would say I was flabby. No muscle, at any rate.”
“Well, I still thought you were fit.”
“Miracle of miracles.”
“I did.”
“Yeah sure. I was a real Adonis. The object of all your adolescent fantasies, no doubt.”
“The object of some of my fantasies, at any rate.”
“Oh yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Did you touch yourself, thinking about me?”
Hermione bit her lip to fight a mischievous smile. “I might have, at some point.”
Ron’s hands continued to dance across her stomach. “Oh, now, don’t play coy with me, little girl,” he said.
“You know I did.” She could feel her cheeks getting hot.
“No, I really don’t.” He said reasonably. “People like to think about different things when they wank. I wouldn’t assume you were the same as me, always thinking about the object of your affection. You could have thought about other people, people you don’t even know. You could have just been thinking about how good it felt to be touched like that.”
She glanced sideways at him. He had a point. “That’s true. Sometimes I just imagined two people doing it together, you know. Like a porno in my head.”
He snorted. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
“But I’ve seen real porn, and the stuff in my mind was much hotter,” she said, and she sounded almost proud of herself.
Ron was grinning down at her. “I bet. I bet that quick little mind of yours was always thinking of kinky things, wasn’t it? Creative things?”
“Maybe.” She licked her lips. “But I did think about you sometimes, you know. And I… I dreamed about you.”
“Yeah?” His eyes brightened. “What sort of dreams?”
“You know what sort of dreams.”
“Yes, but I want to know the details. What happened in them? What was I doing? What were you doing?”
“It varied from dream to dream.”
“All right, well tell me about the first time, then? You do remember the first time, don’t you?” His voice had gone soft, but unbelievably deep, soaked in sensuality.
Yes, she remembered the first time. She remembered it vividly. “It was fifth year,” she said, her voice as soft as his. “I dreamed you were… going down on me.”
He hummed appreciatively at that. “One of my very favorite things. Did it feel good?”
“Yes, of course it felt good.”
“Me kissing you. Licking you. Did I like doing it?”
Her internal muscles clenched in pleasure. “Yes. You were moaning… saying my name.”
“Mmm, I bet I was. Did you come?”
“Not in my sleep. I couldn’t. I kept getting closer and closer but I couldn’t get there. It woke me up, and I was so…”
“Yes…”
“I was so… turned on that I had to finish myself off. I couldn’t help it.”
“Did you use your hands, or something else?”
It took her a moment to realize what he was asking. She knew some witches at Hogwarts had had toys to play with, or used a vibrating charm on their wand. Hermione had never used any of that, mostly because she was embarrassed at the prospect of getting caught. She always just used her hands and tried to keep quiet.
“Just my hands.”
“Show me.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“You heard me. Show me how you touched yourself.” She kept blinking at him. “I want to be able to picture it, you rubbing yourself off thinking about me.”
“You want to watch me touch myself?” The thought made her blush, but also made her stomach flutter in excitement.
“Yes. I’ve never seen you do it before.”
That was true. They’d never done this sort of thing, mostly because they were too busy focusing on each other’s pleasure. But this was different, somehow even more intimate than sex. This was something she would only ever show to someone she trusted implicitly, which perhaps was the point of Ron wanting it.
“Go on,” he coaxed, his voice dark and hypnotic. “Show me how you pleasure yourself.” She felt his erection digging into her hip, and her insides clenched again. He wanted this, badly. There was a faintest edge of need to his words that made her dizzy, and one of her hands reached up of its own accord, brushing against the pebbled nipple of her left breast. She let out a soft sigh.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Keep going.”
Her left hand continued to play with her nipple, stroking it lightly, sending little jolts of electric pleasure through her. She bit her lip, deciding it was better not to think and to just feel. This was what Ron wanted, and she wanted to give it to him. She let her right hand slide down her stomach to her sex, and stroked across it lightly with the backs of her fingers. She felt Ron twitch next to her, as if itching to touch her, but he didn’t make a move. His large presence was there, his hard cock still lingering against her thigh, but he kept his hands to himself as she started to rub herself in slow circles, her clit already throbbing, her hips already bucking with need.
“Oh, Gods,” Ron said in a tone so aroused that it made Hermione rub herself with more pressure and cry out. Her eyes were shut, reveling in the pleasure that was building inside her, but she felt movement next to her, and knew that Ron was reaching a hand down to his cock.
He was stroking himself, watching her. She could feel it, hear it, and it made her clit sing with need. She pinched her nipple and whimpered, rubbing herself faster. But she wanted more; she wanted to see his arousal, his desperate need for her. So she opened her eyes and met his, taking in his dilated pupils, his glistening, parted lips, his desperate panting.
“I thought about this too, you know,” she said, her voice barely a hoarse whisper. “When I was touching myself. I imagined that you made me come with your mouth, and then I got to watch while you got yourself off. Licking me turned you on so much that you had to come too.”
He groaned. “Like this?” he asked. “Was it like this?” His hand was starting to work more furiously along his large, lubed-up cock, like her words had some kind of hold on him, spurring him on.
She shook her head. “You were kneeling,” she said. “You were above me kneeling so that I could watch you.”
He immediately followed her implied instructions, getting up on his knees so that he was looming above her, his hand never stopping. She looked at him through hooded eyes: the long, lean lines of his body, his taut stomach, the perfect V of his pelvis that drew the eyes right to where he was pleasuring himself, the muscles of his bicep rippling as he worked. It was even better than she had fantasized, those years ago. He really was even more fit now, more confident, a man rather than a boy.
A man, bringing himself off, just for her.
She rubbed herself faster as she watched him get lost in it, as he tweaked his nipples and played with his bollocks with his other hand, all the while watching her as she rubbed herself fast, then slow as her fingers dipped inside the soft wetness, then fast again. She mewled with the increasing need to come. She was so close. She needed just a little more.
“Do you know what happened next?” she gasped out, her eyes never leaving his.
“What? What happened next?” he croaked.
“You came,” she said. “You came so much, just for me. You came all over me.”
He groaned. “Where? Where all over you?”
“All over my stomach, and my neck, and my tits. You covered me with your cum. You made me yours.”
“Fuck.”
He was close now too, she could tell, and that was exactly what she was hoping for.
“Come on me, Ron. Come all over me. Please.”
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck…”
“That’s it,” she kept on, her own climax starting to peak. “I need your cum. I need it all over me. I want you to paint me with it. I want you to claim me.”
“Hermione…” He ground out, and then he stilled, all except for his hand, which was still working along his cock as jet after jet of cum splattered onto Hermione’s body, dashing across her stomach and breasts. One stream went straight along her nipple and she moaned as her orgasm reached its crescendo, her insides pulsing, her whole body trembling with the force of it.
She was still enjoying the aftershocks when Ron flopped down next to her with a groan.
“That was quite a show, Ms. Granger,” he said, grinning.
“Mmm, I could say the same to you, Mr. Weasley,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“Shall I clean you up?”
“Mmm?” She blinked at him.
“Not that I don’t love the image of you covered in my cum, but I thought you might not want to let it cool and end up all sticky for your party.”
She snickered a little at the thought. “I suppose that would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it? Especially with children present.”
“You would leave it on otherwise?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“I told you, I like having your cum on me. It makes me feel… “ She didn’t know how to describe it. Perhaps, to someone else, it would feel degrading. But it didn’t, not to her. It was just the opposite. It made her feel powerful. “It just turns me on, that’s all.”
Ron groaned again and gave her a sensual kiss. “You are one sexy witch, you know that?”
She smiled, enjoying the praise. This was one of the wonderful things about being with Ron. He had no judgments about what she should like or what should get her going. It hadn’t bothered him that she had watched porn before and liked it, even the fact that some of that porn had been only of men, fucking each other. It hadn’t bothered him that she liked to play around with his arse a little when she was going down on him, though she knew he had been cautious at first. But he had been open to exploring, and had even learned to enjoy it. No, they weren’t the most sexually adventurous couple on the planet, but they weren’t stuck in missionary position either. They were open, embracing the diverse world of sexual gratification without feeling the need to constantly try something new. It was the perfect middle ground for her, exactly where she wanted to live. With him.
Ron grabbed his wand and held it up, asking a silent question with his eyes. She nodded, and he waved it over her, muttering the cleansing charm that made the cum vanish from her skin.
“I bet I still smell like sex anyway,” she said, as though this would at least make up for it a little.
Ron embraced her, burying his face in her neck and taking a big sniff, which made her giggle.
“You smell perfect,” he said.
They remained that way for a while, their naked bodies intertwined. Hermione let herself drift, not into sleep, really, but into a place of calm and contentment, a place where everything was all right, even the things that weren’t really all right at all.
That was another wonderful thing about being with Ron. Even when things were hard, whether at work, or with her parents, or just inside her, that self-doubt that niggled and creeped, she had this to come home to. She had this big, warm, human cocoon to wrap herself up in.
Eventually, though she had no idea how much time had really passed, she opened her eyes again and stared at the clock. It was nearly two.
“I suppose I should have a shower after all,” she said softly. While the idea of continuing to smell like cum all day had a certain secret kinkiness to it, she knew it would be bad form to be any less than fresh and clean when she greeted her party guests.
“Mm, all right,” Ron said, sounding a bit drowsy.
“Care to join me?” she asked him with a sweet smile, which he readily returned. “We can get dirty again, and then get clean afterward.”
He chuckled. “Round two?”
“Only if you’re up for it,” she said, running a teasing hand over his limp cock, which twitched with interest under her fingers.
“Oh, love,” he said with a wicked grin. “I’m always up for you.” His cock was already starting to stiffen, as if to prove his point. It made Hermione’s insides start to throb again.
Sod the shower, she thought. At least for now. She knew how she wanted it, and turned over onto her stomach to demonstrate, arching so her arse stuck up a little in the air.
“Come over here and show me,” she said.
Still grinning, and with a carnal glint in his eye, Ron did as he was told, moving across the bed and covering her body with his own.
She sighed with delight as his lips worked on her neck and down her spine and his erection played along her arse, teasing her entrance, which was still wet from her first orgasm. She loved it from behind. There was nothing that made her feel more wanton than this.
She ground against him, impatient, but he only chuckled some more and continued to tease her. She moaned as one of his thumbs pressed into her and his fingers played lightly with her clit.
“Mm, you really are ready, aren’t you, love?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a dark look that hopefully conveyed her deep need for him.
“Yes. Fuck me. Now.”
Make me forget. Make me forget everything except you.
Ron seemed all too happy to oblige.
***
Hermione was quite thankful for her afternoon romp with Ron. She felt much more relaxed and ready to face her party after the thorough shagging Ron gave her and the hot shower with him afterwards.
Thank Merlin for sex, she thought with a secret smile as she looked about her bustling kitchen.
The party wasn’t even starting for another hour, but the place already felt full. Of course, this came with the territory if you spent a lot of time with the Weasleys. Though it was only Molly and Fleur who had been due to arrive at three, they had brought others in tow. Fleur had brought Bill, Victoire, and Dominique, and Molly had brought Arthur as well as Charlie, who was staying at the Burrow while he was visiting from Romania and thought he’d go ahead and come along.
Victoire was running around the sitting room, squealing with delight while her uncle Ron chased her, arms outstretched, growling, “I’m gonna getcha!” All the while little Dominique screeched and tried to catch up, though crawling was currently her only mode of self-transport and she wasn’t making much headway.
While Ron kept his nieces occupied the other men had been tasked with setting up the tables and chairs around the main floor of the house, so guests would have places to sit. That left the women, Hermione included, to manage setting up the food.
Although she loved Molly and got along fine with Fleur, she was still not particularly in the mood to chat them up. She remained generally quiet as she helped them, listening to their usual bickering, which was no longer so derisive as it had been in the early days, but rather, at this point, just begrudgingly loving. The two women had come a long way, and Hermione thought it was probably the birth of Victoire that had finally bonded them.
However busy they all were setting up the vast array of finger food and the overwhelming selection of drinks, Hermione still wasn’t able to entirely avoid the topic of her parents.
“So sorry to hear that they’re ill, dear,” Molly said gently. “What a shame. It’s not every day our girl turns twenty-four, now is it?”
“It’s all right, really. There will be lots of people here anyway. I imagine it would be a bit overwhelming for them.” This had been true in the past. Though her parents had come to terms with Hermione living primarily in the magical world, they weren’t always keen on venturing out into it. She understood that. She imagined it would be very alienating.
“Well, I do hope they get better soon.”
“Me too.” More than you know.
“I’ve missed the meetings with your mother to plan the wedding. We should start that back up again when she’s well.”
“Right,” said Hermione, feeling a stab of panic. Avoiding a single birthday celebration with her parents and Ron was one thing, but to cover for why her mum wasn’t around for the planning meetings anymore… that was going to be a challenge. Especially since Molly was notoriously persistent.
She was distracted, thankfully, by the sight of a massive, tiered chocolate cake decorated with pink piping and sugared roses, which Fleur had just carefully removed from a box and set to perch like a behemoth on a glass platter.
“Sweet Merlin, look at that thing,” Hermione said. She turned to Molly. “Did you bake that?”
“It was a joint effort,” Molly said. “Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Hermione replied.
“Bit small though,” said Ron, coming up behind Hermione to drape his arms around her shoulders. “What’s everyone else having?”
Hermione turned her head and gave him an amused look. “Sorry, love, but not even you could eat that whole thing yourself.”
“I bet I could, if I really put my mind to it.”
“I bet you couldn’t. You’d get halfway through and burst like a balloon. That cake would literally kill you.”
“What a way to go, though,” Ron said with a grin, giving the back of her head a kiss. “You about done in here? Victoire wants to play.”
Hermione glanced at Molly.
“You go on, dear. We’ve got it handled.”
Hermione was glad to go off with Ron and find her soon-to-be-niece, who wanted to play one of the hand-clapping games that Hermione had taught her. Before she knew it, it a quarter past five and the first of the guests had started arriving.
She kissed a pouty Victoire on her white blonde head and promised her they’d play more later, then went to greet Harry, Draco, and Teddy, who were all smiling warmly at her and carrying various packages.
“I told you all no gifts,” she said by way of greeting as Harry bent to give her a kiss.
“Don’t be ridiculous, ‘Mione. This is me you’re talking to,” Harry argued good-naturedly, handing her a whole stack of packages wrapped in silver paper. “That lot’s from me, Draco, Teddy, and Andromeda, so don’t go feeling all guilty about it.”
“And,” said Draco with a flourish, pulling a couple of bottles out of his jacket pocket. “Of course, libations. This one’s for you.” He held up the bottle of Burgundy for Hermione’s perusal. “It’s really lovely. One of my favorites. And for you.” He handed Ron a bottle of Ogden’s.
“Cheers, mate,” Ron said happily. “That’s quite decent of you. You all come on in, get comfortable. Teddy.” He looked down at the five-year-old warmly. “Victoire’s just in the sitting room if you want to say hello. I bet you anything she wants to play with you.”
Teddy didn’t need telling twice, it seemed. He quickly removed his little jacket and handed it off to Harry unceremoniously before following Ron further into the house. Harry chuckled.
“Can I get you two a drink?” Hermione offered.
They agreed cheerfully and came with her to the kitchen.
“Andromeda sends her love, by the way,” Draco told her as she poured him a glass of red wine. “She really wanted to be here but she’s just not up for it.”
“I totally understand,” Hermione said. “I know these first few months are rough. When does she go in for the next round of treatment?”
“First week in October,” said Harry, taking a sip of his beer. “She’s really not looking forward to it. Apparently the charms make you want to sleep for about a week, and then the potions make you so sick that you hardly get much sleep at all.”
Hermione shook her head. “That’s just awful.”
“It will get better,” Draco said in a reassuring tone. “In a couple of months she’ll feel like it’s worth it. Just right now she’s not in particularly high spirits.”
“Poor thing,” Molly said, overhearing their conversation and joining in. “I bet she misses Teddy as well.”
“And Teddy’s missing her,” Harry added. “We might try to schedule a visit next month, once the effects of the treatment have died down a little. But we just sort of have to see how it goes.”
“Not to bring down the mood,” Draco said, giving Hermione a smile and a wink. “It’s your birthday, after all. Let’s hear about how things have been going for you.”
Hermione enjoyed a pleasant chat with her two friends for a few minutes, but had to soon leave them to the food so she could greet the other guests that were arriving. This included George and Angelina, who were newly engaged and looking quite happy about it, Penelope Clearwater, who gave her a warm birthday hug, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking kind and ministerial as usual.
“When are you going to finally come work for us at the Ministry?” Kingsley said after she asked after his work and the upcoming election. “I could really use you on my team.”
Hermione smiled demurely. “I’m not sure it’s really my calling. I quite like the DTF. There’s a lot of freedom to do the kind of work I want.”
“You’d get freedom in my office, too, you know. Get the issues you care about front and center.”
“Oh, please, don’t tempt me. I haven’t even been at my new job a year. I’m still working on getting settled in.” In truth, she actually found Kingsley’s persistence quite pleasing, though she would never admit it aloud.
Kingsley shrugged elegantly. “I just always thought you’d do quite well as Minister yourself one day is all,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I can’t do this job forever. I need to know that the people next in line will do the job properly.”
“You are a shameless flatterer,” she said, giving him a light smack on the arm.
“And yet I mean every word,” he replied with a smile.
More guests started pouring in, and Hermione had a hard time keeping track of them all. She did at least have a chance to say hello to Percy and a very pregnant Audrey when they came through the door, as well as to Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, who all arrived together. They’d even brought Esmerelda with them, who was pretty as a picture in her blue dress, with dark hair and a solemn little expression, much like her mother, though she had her father’s bronze-hazel eyes.
“We’ve got the children set up in the sitting room,” she told Pansy. “There’s lots of games and toys for her to play with, and Fleur Weasley’s there to watch them.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Esme?” said Theo, taking the girl from his wife’s arms. “I’ll take her over, then I’ll track down your man, eh?”
“Good luck with that,” said Hermione, realizing she hadn’t seen Ron in a while. She was too busy talking to everyone else. “There’s a good chance he’s snuck off with Harry, Dean, and a bottle of firewhiskey.”
“Excellent,” Theo grinned. “I think I might join them.”
“Do remember we have to Apparate home, would you?” Pansy called after him, then seemed to give it up as a bad job.
Hermione laughed. “Losing battle?”
Pansy sighed. “Yes, it really is.”
The two women chatted for a bit, Blaise occasionally chiming in, until Hermione spotted Hannah coming through the door, followed not far behind by Vesper and a Gryffindor that Hermione knew by sight but not by name.
She gave Hannah a hug and accepted a bottle of wine from her, as well as apologies from Neville for not being able to make it.
“His classes are keeping him really busy. I think he’s a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” Hannah told her conspiratorially. “I don’t think he quite knows what he’s gotten himself into.”
Hermione nodded, almost saying that she was sure Neville would figure it out. He was bright, after all, not to mention determined. But there was an edge to the way Hannah talked that she found odd, and it stopped her. She almost wanted to ask about it, but Vesper was getting her attention and she turned away from Hannah with a smile to greet her.
“So glad you could make it,” she said.
“Me too. Happy birthday!” Vesper was looking stylish and striking as usual, thought her ensemble was a simple one.
“Thanks!”
“And I think you probably know Declan,” Vesper said, pointing to the man standing next to her. “At least in passing. He was in your house at Hogwarts. He’s training with me at the Academy now.”
“Nice to see you again,” said Declan, shaking her hand. “I’m guessing you don’t remember me. I was class of 1995.”
“I recognized you as soon as I saw you,” she assured him. “I just couldn’t quite place the name.”
“Well, anyway, happy birthday.” Hermione saw that he was also holding a bottle of wine. “I would give you this, but it seems you’ve already got one,” he said, chuckling as he looked down at the bottle that Hannah had handed her only minutes ago.
“Yeah, people keep handing them to me. I guess everyone’s trying to get me drunk,” said Hermione.
“As far as I’m concerned, a party can never have too much wine,” Vesper said.
“Here, here,” replied Declan, smiling down at Vesper in a way that was hard to mistake.
This is interesting, she thought, but knew better than to say anything to Vesper with Declan standing right there.
“Speaking of wine, how about some drinks?” she offered.
“Great.”
They wound their way to the kitchen, where there were already many congregating around the food and the booze. Luckily Hermione was able to find a spot and two clean glasses for her guests.
Declan immediately spotted George and excused himself to say hello, telling Vesper to just get him a beer. Vesper watched him go, looking thoughtful more than anything.
“So, is this a new thing, you and him?” she asked Vesper as she poured two glasses of beer.
Vesper gave her a look, though it was obvious she was fighting a smile. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘thing,’ yet. It’s… a friendship.”
“Hmmm,” Hermione said skeptically, reaching for a bottle of white wine to refill her own glass.
“What?”
“It just seems like a thing.”
“Hmph.”
“I saw the way he was looking at you,” Hermione said, grinning.
Vesper eyed her. “Yeah. I’ve seen it too.”
Yes, she likely would have. Vesper was quite observant, particularly of people and their behavior.
“So you have to know that by inviting him here, you’re sending a certain message.”
The American sighed. “I know. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing. I just… I’m taking it slow. I’m being cautious, on Harry’s suggestion.”
“Harry was giving you relationship advice?”
Vesper laughed at Hermione’s incredulous tone. “Yeah, last night. I had dinner at Grimmauld and we talked about it a little. And it was very good advice, actually. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
Hermione considered that.
“Harry is in one of the healthiest and most enviable relationships I have ever seen,” Vesper went on. “He’d obviously doing something right.”
Hermione had to admit that she had a point. It was just hard to completely get past her conception of the adolescent Harry: troubled, impatient, and fairly emotionally clueless. Not that he hadn’t been wonderful as well, in so many different ways. But he’d had a lot of growing to do.
But he’d done it. He was even raising a child now, and doing quite a good job of it. She had to remind herself of that every now and then.
“Fair point,” she conceded to Vesper, and the brunette laughed again.
“You and Ron are a close second, of course,” she said with a smile. “I think what you two have is really amazing.”
Hermione blushed. “Me too.”
“He totally adores you. He talks about you constantly. I’d smack him to shut him up, but he’s my boss now, you know. So I have to listen to him go on and on about how wonderful you are and how he can’t wait to be married to you.”
“I think you’re exaggerating,” Hermione accused.
“Maybe, but only a little.”
Something struck her suddenly. “Do you think I… do I do a good job, of showing that I care about him too?”
Vesper’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes I think there’s so much going on for me on the inside that I forget to show it on the outside.”
Vesper thought about that. “Well put,” she said. “Though I don’t think you’re… you know, closed off or anything. Not at all. And of course I can tell you care about Ron. You don’t… you’re not as gregarious as he is, so it comes out a little differently. But it’s there.”
“Hm.”
“I think it can be a good thing, though. It’s nice to have… it’s kind of nice when there’s a barrier, when there are things between just the two of you that other people don’t get to see, you know?” She took a sip of her beer. “It was like that with Blaise. He’s not the most demonstrative person, as you well know. He’s honest, yeah, and he’ll tell you what he’s thinking but he… doesn’t show his emotions, most of the time. But in private, behind closed doors…” She trailed off.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” She and Blaise had always been similar, and this was just one of the many ways, it seemed. Maybe she wasn’t very demonstrative with Ron in front of other people. She had a tendency to nag at him a little, or simply let him go off and enjoy himself with others, as she was doing now. It wasn’t until they were alone that she really reached out to him, made him the center of her world. He was much better at that with other people around. Should she be better at it, more like him, or was it good that they were different?
“I really wouldn’t worry about it,” Vesper told her, accurately reading her expression. “You guys have a good thing, and why mess with a good thing?”
“True enough.” She leaned in closer. “Speaking of Blaise, I should warn you that he’s here already.”
“I know,” she replied softly. “I saw him. It’s fine. We’re on good terms.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“Yeah.” Something flashed across Vesper’s face for a moment, but was gone almost instantly. She grinned suddenly. “So, no major emotional scenes at your party, I promise. No fist-fights or dramatic declarations.”
“I wasn’t worried. I just didn’t want it to be… you know… weird. For you.”
“I appreciate that, but, like I said, it’s all good. We’re good. No bad blood or anything.”
“Good, I’m glad.”
Conversation moved onto other things as Hermione asked Vesper about Auror training and how Ron was doing as a teacher. She was quite happy to hear that Vesper thought Ron an excellent instructor, and Declan was able to second that when he returned to Vesper’s side to join in the conversation. Eventually the two of them went off to get some food together, and Hermione couldn’t help noticing the way Declan put a hand on the small of Vesper’s back to guide her.
He definitely had more than friendship on his mind, if she was reading the signs correctly. She couldn’t help but wonder what Blaise would think about that.
But that was a question for another time. Wine glass in hand, she decided to make the rounds of her guests, making sure everyone was enjoying themselves. She chatted with Angelina and Hannah for a bit, then went to check on how Fleur was faring with the children. Audrey was there as well, the two women discussing the pregnancy and the way that Audrey and Percy had decided to set up the nursery.
It was fun to hear about, but it made her realize how completely not ready she was for children. There was way too much else to do first.
She ran into Harry on her way out of the sitting room.
“Hey,” she greeted him. “All alone? I figured you’d be with Ron.”
He shook his head. “Kingsley.”
“Ah, talking your ear off about you leaving the DTF to work at the Ministry?”
“How’d you know?” he said with a wry smile. They were both quite used to Kingsley’s recruitment tactics. “I’ve just got away, and I thought I’d come by and check on Teddy, see how he’s getting on.”
“He’s great, I think.” She looked over her shoulder to see Teddy and Victoire sitting on the floor together, drawing in crayon on the same large piece of paper. “He’s with Victoire, so he’s happy.”
Harry grinned, warmth entering his eyes. “Yeah, it’s quite sweet, isn’t it? He’s very protective of her.”
Hermione wanted to say that what was really sweet was how much Harry obviously liked being a dad, but she didn’t. She knew it would just embarrass him.
“And your other half?” she asked instead. “Where’s he got to?”
“No idea. Where’s yours?”
“No idea.”
Harry laughed. “Perhaps we should find them. Maybe they’ve run away together. Maybe they’re having a frantic shag in the bathroom.”
She smacked him on the arm. “Very funny, Harry.”
“Honestly, though, can you imagine? I think I’d be so shocked and amazed that I might not even be upset.”
She gave him a knowing look. “You wouldn’t be upset if your best friend was shagging the love of your life behind your back?”
He considered it. “I supposed I’d be a little peeved, you know, once I’d stopped laughing hysterically.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re full of it. You absolutely are.”
“Yes, I know,” he said, grinning. “So, shall we track them down and see if I’m right?”
She rolled her eyes but agreed, following Harry back into the dining room towards the kitchen.
Strangely enough, Harry and Hermione did find their respective lovers together. Not shagging, of course, but talking on the back patio with Pansy, Hannah, Theo, and Blaise. They appeared to be discussing, of all things, primary education.
“I don’t think I know a single pureblood of our generation who wasn’t tutored at home,” Draco was saying as Hermione and Harry entered the patio. “My parents never considered for a moment sending me to primary school.” Draco spotted them and paused as Harry leant down to give him a kiss. Hermione went and found a seat next to Ron, and he put a hand on her knee and squeezed.
“You think more are going now?” Blaise asked. “Is that why wizarding primary schools are popping up everywhere?”
“Someone’s attending them,” said Draco. “There must be at least a few purebloods in the mix.”
“I don’t know, there are a lot of half-bloods nowadays,” said Hannah. “They may be the ones filling the schools. And in the next few years it’s only going to get more common. Everybody’s having children now the war’s well over.”
“How did we get on this topic, exactly?” Harry asked.
“I was just telling them about Teddy’s nursery school,” Draco explained to him. “I just find it so surprising that there was enough of a demand for an all-magic one, and all-magic primary schools, too. It just wasn’t really done when we were children.”
“Politics have changed,” said Hermione. “And I definitely think the population boom has had something to do with it.” She nodded at Hannah.
“Do you think you’ll send Esme to nursery?” Blaise asked Pansy and Theo.
“I don’t see why we would, when I don’t work,” Pansy said. “I quite like having her at home. Primary school’s a different question. I don’t really fancy the idea of teaching her Maths and reading and all that. I’d rather leave it up to a professional.”
“You could hire a governess,” Draco said.
Pansy wrinkled her nose. “That’s a bit excessive isn’t it, not to mention a little gauche in this day and age.”
“Is that how it used to be?” asked Hermione, finding it hard to imagine. “Pureblood children would have a governess?”
“We all had one,” said Draco, pointing to himself and the rest of the Slytherins around the circle.
“The same one,” added Blaise. “Madame DuBois, do you remember?”
“Frightening woman,” Pansy chimed in. “Had Draco stay behind at lunch to do lines at least once a week, isn’t that right?”
“I think that’s your beloved husband you’re thinking of actually,” Draco said haughtily.
“It was both of you,” said Blaise. “Always causing trouble.”
“The difference is, Draco got smart and learned how to get away with it by the time he reached Hogwarts,” said Theo with a grin. “Whereas I never did.”
“He didn’t always get away with it,” Harry added. “I saw him land detention more than once.”
“It was usually your doing, in fact,” Draco said, giving his boyfriend a mock glare.
“Nonsense. I didn’t make you break the rules, I just made sure you got caught.” Harry tossed Draco a wink.
“Yes, since you caused absolutely no trouble at all. A perfect wee angel, you were.”
“To be fair, I got caught plenty of times as well.”
“All too right, mate,” said Ron. "I bet if we added up the number of detentions we’ve all served, Harry would have more than the rest of us combined.”
“Probably true. There were all the ones with Umbridge,” said Hermione.
“And with Snape my sixth year.” Harry suddenly cast a sidelong glance at Draco, and Hermione remembered which detentions he was referring to. They had served as punishment for using that awful sectumsempra spell. She wondered, for a moment, how Harry and Draco had resolved that little piece of their shared history. She’d never thought to ask before. In truth, she had forgotten about it.
“Let’s not forget all that stuff you did get away with, though,” said Hannah. “I honestly don’t know when you had time for your schoolwork with all that sneaking around.”
That led, inevitably, to some recounting of adventures, which Harry and Ron always liked to do and which their audience usually found entertaining. Hermione occasionally added details but otherwise let them regale Hannah and the Slytherins with tales of their daring rescue of Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets, the night of revelations in the Shrieking Shack third year, and all those times in the Forbidden Forest with centaurs, acromantula, a baby giant, and many others.
“That all sounds exhausting,” said Pansy. “Thank Merlin I was never a Gryffindor. You all are complete nutters.”
“I think it sounds quite fun,” said Theo. “Except for the nearly dying bit. I would have done without that, in each case.”
“Oh, but the nearly dying bit’s half the fun,” said Harry with a grin. “It’s what gets the adrenaline going, you know.” He looked at Draco, who was pursing his lips in what seemed to be distaste, although Hermione suspected it was more than that. Harry gave Draco’s knee a rub. “Don’t worry, I got it all out of my system early. I like a nice, quiet life now, unlike Ron.”
“I don’t mind the quiet life,” said Ron. “I just don’t want it all the time. Besides, things are a bit quiet nowadays, since I’m not allowed into the field for another three months.”
That led Hannah to ask after Ron’s trainees, and he talked about his classes for a bit, as well as how Vesper was doing.
“She’s about top of the class,” he said. “Or at least a close second. Good on classroom, killer on dueling, of course. And Ross… Declan Ross, the bloke she came with today, he’s quite decent as well. I have no doubt they’ll both be making Senior Auror if they stick with it.”
Hermione glanced at Blaise to see him taking it all in stoically. He caught her eye for a moment and raised his eyebrows, and she gave him a small smile. Blaise, as usual, was impossible to read on the subject of his ex-girlfriend, but it had been worth a try.
Eventually the group dispersed, Pansy and Theo to go check on Esmerelda, Harry and Draco to get some more food and drink, and Blaise and Hannah to go mingle with some other guests. Hermione stood, too, thinking she’d get another glass of wine, but Ron took her hand.
“Having fun, love?”
“Yeah, I am,” she said, and was glad she could be honest. “This was really wonderful. Thank you.”
“It’s not over yet, you know. We still have that whole chocolate cake to demolish.”
“Oh, goodness. I forgot about that. I’d better get some real food in my system so I don’t go into sugar shock.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
Hermione squirmed. “Erm, no, not much.”
“’Mione…”
“I’ve been distracted. There are so many people to talk to!”
“Still…”
“Are you really going to nag me about eating on my birthday?” she asked with a little pout.
He sighed. “No, of course not. If you want to gorge yourself on wine and cake and nothing else, have at it. It’s your day.”
She smiled and kissed him. “I’ll eat a little supper, I promise.”
“Good,” he kissed her back. “And don’t pout like that again, at least not while there are other people around. It’s far too sexy. It makes me what to take you right here on the patio furniture.”
Hermione felt desire flare up in her again, even though she knew Ron was mostly joking. Her libido really seemed to be in overdrive lately. “We’ll save that for later, shall we?” she said coyly, then gave him another kiss before heading back inside.
She did exactly as she promised, grabbing some food from the kitchen and sitting down with some friends from work who had so far been neglected. Ginny and her boyfriend, who played Keeper for the Harpies, joined her as well. The evening passed enjoyably, and it seemed most people were quite happy and having a good time. Vesper’s distinctive belly laugh could be heard quite often at the far end of the dining room, where she was now partaking in some of the whiskey that Draco had brought and chatting animatedly with Ron and Declan.
She couldn’t help but notice, though, that in the sea of happy faces there was one rather unhappy one, or as unhappy as he was willing to look in public, at least. Blaise. He was watching Vesper with an expression that might have passed for stoic if Hermione didn’t know him so well. But his mouth was turned down a little at the corners, and his eyes were tighter than usual. She excused herself from her table and made her way over to him.
“Are you all right?” she asked him.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes, it was delicious.”
“Do you need more to drink?”
“I have plenty of wine here.” He held up his glass. “So you can stop hovering.” He said it somewhat good-naturedly, although Hermione could also tell that he meant it.
“You just seem to not be having a very good time.”
“I’m having a lovely time. I’m just taking a break from the crowds, that’s all.”
Hermione sighed and watched him closely. He stared back at her pointedly, even when he brought his wine glass to his lips again.
“Vesper said the two of you were on good terms,” she said finally, deciding to take a chance.
“She did, did she?”
Hermione tilted her head, trying to read him. “I just wondered if you thought the same.”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You seem upset.”
Blaise huffed. “Hermione…”
“I don’t want to pry, Blaise. Or I should say… well you know part of me can’t help it.” She gave him a knowing smile, which he returned. “But it’s not that I want gossip or anything. But you’re my friend. If you’re upset, I want to help you.”
“You can’t help me, ‘Mione,” he said, not unkindly. “This is well beyond anything you can do something about.”
“Maybe that’s true. But you know that if there’s anything you wanted to talk about, I’ll always listen.”
His expression softened. “Yes, I know that.”
“Good.” She waited, wondering if he would give in and confide or simply put the wall back up again.
He sighed, finally, seeming to accept the inevitable. “It’s just that… I thought things were one way, but it’s starting to seem that they are, in fact, another.”
“In what sense?”
“Vesper and I… it’s not as simple as that we’ve split. It’s not… I can’t… look, a lot of it is private, all right?”
“I get that.”
“But I did end things. I mean… I did. But it wasn’t… it was supposed to be a wake up call, or maybe a way to get space from each other. I never stopped loving her. I’ll always love her. It was just… somehow it had all gone to shit and I couldn’t figure out why. But she took it like… she heard me suggest that we should take a break and she just ran with it, like she couldn’t wait to get away from me. But then… then we started reconnecting, and I thought… maybe we were getting somewhere. And now apparently she’s seeing this bloody Ross… person, who’s essentially the opposite of me, and I don’t know what to think.”
“She’s not seeing him, you know, not really.” Hermione said. “She told me they were just friends, and that she didn’t want to rush into anything. She wants to take it really slow.”
He sighed again. “That’s worse, somehow. It means she cares about him. He’s not just a fling.”
“I don’t know what to tell you then, except to ask if you’ve really been honest with her about how you feel. Does she know that you still love her?”
“She must. There’s no way… she has to.”
“Have you told her?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s complicated.”
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “In my experience, that’s just something people say when they don’t feel like doing something they know they have to do.”
Blaise actually laughed at that, though it was very quiet. “Normally I would agree with you, but in this case…” He swirled the wine around in his glass, staring down into it. “There’s a wall up. There’s a barrier I can’t cross with her. I’ve tried, but… she lets me get close, but if I get too close she pushes me away again. Like there’s something inside her she doesn’t want me to see, as odd as that sounds. Or like she’s afraid of truly being close to me again.”
“Maybe because she thinks you’ll leave her again,” Hermione suggested. “If she knew how you felt… if she knew you wouldn’t leave her again-“
“How can I make that promise, though, when she won’t even give me an inch? I can’t say I’ll never leave her again, because if she doesn’t also do the work that needs to be done on our relationship, then I can’t stay with her. I won’t. I would be miserable.”
And yet you seem pretty miserable now, Hermione thought but knew better than to say aloud.
“Well…” she began.
“It’s all right, Hermione,” he said softly. “It’s like I said, you can’t help me. Not with this.”
She bowed her head, seeing that he was right. “For what it’s worth, though, I think you should tell her the truth anyway. She might not react well, and it may not turn out how you’d like, but at least you will have been honest. At least you will have tried.”
He smirked. “That’s the Gryffindor method, isn’t it? Dive right in, consequences be damned?” He shook his head. “I tried that once. Didn’t work out so well for me.”
Yes, and Merlin forbid you risk it again.
She was distracted, though, by a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see that Ron had come up beside her.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But I’m getting the sense that guests are ready for cake. What do you think?”
“Is it the guests who are ready for cake, or just you?” she teased with a grin.
“Just me of course,” Ron said without missing a beat. “But I thought if I projected my own desires onto our guests, you’d be more likely to go for it.”
She laughed. “All right, let’s have cake, then, if it will make you happy.”
“It will. I’ll go let Mum and Fleur know.” He gave her a peck on the lips and went back to the kitchen.
Hermone turned back to Blaise, to find he was giving her a small smile.
“So, you’re really going to marry him, then?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m really going to marry him.”
“Then he’s a lucky bastard. I hope he knows that.”
Hermione felt her cheeks pink. “He does. And, believe it or not, I consider myself quite lucky as well,” she added pointedly.
Blaise stared at her a few moments before nodding his head once. “Yes, I do believe it actually. He’s a good man, loathe as I am to admit it.”
Hermione chuckled, knowing that was about as nice as Blaise would probably ever be about Ron. But it was better than what he used to think, anyway.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s have some cake.”
Word seemed to have spread, because most of the crowd had begun to gather in the dining room, waiting with glasses in hand. When Ron spotted Hermione coming he waved her over, then took her hand to pull her up to the front of the room.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” he called, and the room fell silent, turning to look at him. “First off, I want to thank all of you for coming today. It really means a lot to me and Hermione both to have you all here, in our new house, and it especially means a lot to me that you’ve come here to celebrate this amazing woman next to me.” Hermione blushed as a few people cheered and wolf-whistled. “Now, you know I could go on and on about her, but I won’t because there’s about to be cake and I recognize that cake is a lot more interesting and tasty than I am.”
“Not true!” shouted George from the crowd. “You’re as tasty as they come Ronnikins!”
Ron raised his glass to that as people chuckled, but went on, his expression sobering. “But in all seriousness, since we’re all gathered together I would be remiss if I didn’t at least say a few words about my beloved fiancée. Because there is not another witch in the world who is as brilliant, brave, or beautiful as she is. She’s saved my sorry neck more times than I can possibly count, as Harry will readily tell you as well.”
“All too right, mate!” Harry called.
“In fact, there is likely not a person in this room who would be standing here today if it weren’t for her. Because she laughs in the face of opposition, stands up for those who cannot stand up for themselves, and never backs down from any challenge. She saved us all.” Ron turned to look at her, beaming, and she stared into those blue eyes, feeling tears start to well up in her own. “To know her is to love her, and I am very, very lucky to know her, as are we all. So,” he turned back to the crowd, lifting up his glass of whiskey, “let’s raise a glass to Hermione and wish her a very happy birthday.”
“To Hermione!” everyone said, and dozens of glasses lifted into the air. Hermione felt a tear spill down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.
Ron leaned down and gave her a kiss.
“I love you,” she whispered to him.
“Happy Birthday, my love,” he replied softly.
She would have said something else, something to express some sliver of the gratitude she felt, but guests were coming up to her to give her hugs, kisses, and birthday wishes, and Ron stepped aside to give them room. She accepted it all with smiles and a few more tears, focusing on the people who were there and all the love she felt for them, rather than on the two faces that were distinctly missing, and all that their missing portended.
Up Next: Harry continues to adjust to life as a working father.
LadyShire: Wow, that was a torrent of predictions! I love it. I can’t say much about most of it, obviously, but I feel comfortable telling you that Andromeda will most definitely not be moving in with Draco and Harry. Part of the point of them taking Teddy was for her to have time away from living with a child so she can rest and let the treatment work. It was also to protect Teddy from having to watch her inevitable decline on a daily basis. So, that one’s not happening. As for the others… well, you’ll just have to see, won’t you :)
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Unstoppable