Chapter Text
The gala the three of us were to attend was thrown once every four years in the city of Lagos. All Unspeakables, or those in similar fields that went by different names depending on region, gathered for the Quadrennial Mysteries and Peculiarities Assembly, or Q.M.P.A, which was three days of conferences and key speakers. All attended with our actual titles and jobs hidden from most everyone else. This was all tied up with the infamous ball on the third and final night. It was known throughout our profession as the biggest party to host so many of us in one place.
Over the years, the Q.M.P.A. had grown to see more than five hundred in attendance, and because of this all manner of security and safety protocols were put in place. Bottles from the bars were unsummonable, glasses never hit the ground, instead being Banished before sending shrapnel flying everywhere. There were anti-Apparition and Disapparition wards in place. Security was ridiculously tight, with upwards of fifty Lagosian Aurors standing along the walls and exits. No one was able to walk out the doors dragging along someone who was unconscious without security first rousing the person and asking if they knew the individual they were leaving with.
Even still, there was usually a brawl, one or two arrests, dramatic domestic disputes, and plenty of other shoddy affairs for the less socially inclined to entertain themselves with by watching. It was a spectacle of the acutest kind, and I had to admit that I was excited to cut loose with my best mate and our platonic coworker/friend, even though I'd never admit it. We- Theo, Hermione and I- had made it through all of the required events our boss had assigned us, and we were now free to enjoy a night with our colleagues from around the world before taking our portkey home in the morning.
I now stood outside of Hermione's room, which sat between mine and Theo's. My fellow Slytherin was still in his room, and I'd decided to stop off at the witch's before heading to check on his progress. I was already dressed and ready to go in a pair of my favorite robes: dark gray with black stitching and silver inlay. My shoes were dark green dragonhide, and the pure silver cufflinks paired nicely with my white tie. On my shoulders was a cloak of Severus’s that I'd kept after going through his belongings after the funeral.
That entire chapter of my life seemed like a blur, what with all of the funerals and the court date that spun my head so fast I still hadn't processed it. A month after the Battle, I appeared before the Wizengamot, my solicitor telling me that I'd get a year's house arrest at most, only to be escorted from the room in handcuffs after being sentenced to two years in Azkaban. I had been unable to talk to my mother while there, despite us walking the same halls every day, and had spent even more unwanted time with Lucius. I still visited my mother every other weekend, obviously, but the two years being block-mates with my father, and more than half of the other Death Eaters, had been enough for me to quit the old cunt for good. Almost ten years had passed since I'd been released and I still hadn't visited him, and l had no plans to change that, either.
I knocked on Hermione's door a second time, after giving her what I thought was ample time to answer. As I waited, Theo walked out of his room and looked at me with a dashing smile. He definitely looked ready to mingle. I’d be surprised if it took him an hour to be back in his room with at least one witch under his arm. Especially since the man had been going back to his room alone every night of the conference. Which was extremely odd behavior for him. I hadn’t asked him what was wrong with him, for he didn’t seem ill. I just assumed my mate had finally grown up a little, and had decided to leave all debauchery for the gala. Like the rest of us.
Not that I had any plans. And especially not ones that included multiple witches. If hell froze over, though, there was one witch I wouldn’t mind finding in my bed later.
If she’d ever come out of her room…
“That's a smart suit, mate,” the raven-haired man said as he stood at my side before the witch's door. “I always forget you clean up so nicely.”
I scoffed because the way I was dressed now wasn't too far off from the way I dressed on a regular basis. Theo himself was the same, wearing his black robes with royal blue accents that didn't look much richer than his work attire.
“You still look like shite,” I lied. He knew I was lying, which was why he smiled at me.
“I am always pleasantly reminded how charming you can get before being forced to mingle with the plebes.”
“I'd rather be at home, this is true,” I lied some more. Of course, I didn't have to. Theo knew me well enough to know I was putting on a facade.
Because this year was going to be different from the last gala. Though, at the time, I wasn't aware how different.
“Oh, and what?” Theo taunted. “Miss another opportunity to bitch out on asking Granger to dance?”
“Wanker,” I muttered darkly. He loved to tease me about the Yule Ball whenever we were in a similar situation. Whether it be this function, or one held by the British Ministry, he loved to mention how I lacked the sack to step up and ask for something as simple as dance. But, for me, it wouldn't be simple, and the astute witch was bound to pick up on a few things. We'd all gotten rather close over the years. She often knew my tells as well as Theo.
“If you don't ask her, I will,” my “friend” said, a lift to a dark brow.
“You wouldn't,” I said with a glare.
“Oh, I would. You know I would,” Theo threatened. “She's a catch, and you're a simpleton. At this point I'm willing to put us all out of our misery by sneaking in there right now and shagging her, because you're never going to do it.”
All I could do was stare at him. Theo and I have had conversations similar to this before, as well. I knew he found Hermione shagabble, but, to be fair, there was many a bloke who felt the same. And, to be even more fair, Theo found almost every woman he deemed above a ‘5’ worthy of a good dicking. Whenever asked by anyone else, he would always say he'd never go for Hermione because of work, but he and I knew it was because he was painfully aware of just how long I'd fancied the woman who had yet to answer her door.
I turned from him to rap at the door with my fist yet again, saying loudly, “We’re ready to head down, Granger. Are you asleep in there? Do you want us to wait or should we go ahead without you?”
Normally, I'd never rush a lady. But Hermione and I had a report that saw to it that decorum was thrown out the window on most days. I could tell I infuriated her, but I couldn't help it. She angered me, yes, but angering her in return made her face squish into a glaring expression that wasn't in any way unpleasant. It was featured in many of my fantasies of her, right before fantasy-me sank into her balls deep, wherein the witch's face would melt to one of pure bliss.
“I'm almost done! Here. I'll let you in,” she called before beginning to fiddle with the locks. “I have a question for you lot anyways “ She pulled the door open, and my heart stopped. “Is this too much, or am I overthinking it?”
She did a spin, and I cursed the courage of Gryffindors as my heart fucking exploded.
The dress the woman had decided to wear was not a fuckin’ dress. The “gown” part of her attire was black and completely sheer with no shoulders, but it had long sleeves that ended beyond her wrists. It reached down to where it ended and hugged at her ankles, and it bunched in all the right places despite it being otherwise skin tight. Underneath it she wore a black, sleeveless body-contouring suit that pressed her breasts together and up in a distracting way. The worst part was that the suit had no bum. It was a thong-bikini style, and both Theo and I finally got to see the benefits of the witch using the Ministry gym multiple times a week. Her arse was pert as fuck, and her muscled legs ended with dainty feet in tall, strappy heels. Her hair was wild and free of its usual plait, the length reaching down to the tops of the arse I had a hard time avoiding on a fully-clothed day.
“Wicked,” Theo gasped, and I agreed with him silently, for my tongue seemed to have swollen so large I couldn't speak if I tried.
But I didn't try because my mind was blank of everything except what I considered a deliberate attempt on my life. There was no way she was wearing something so revealing. We were lucky to see her in anything but trousers. She must have noticed the wolfish leers she received from all of the wizards in our office whenever she wore a pencil skirt. It made me think that she must not have considered Theo or I men, or else she wouldn't have worn this particular garment if it risked the same looks from us as it did our other colleagues.
And she did get the same looks, because God damn! My knees were growing weak from the urge to fall to the floor and beg at her feet for just one night.
Instead of glaring or frowning at our expressions, she grinned, saying, “It looks good, yeah?”
Neither me nor Theo said anything. We just stared.
Now she frowned, saying, “Ok. I need an answer, or I'm changing. I brought a suit, too, if-”
“Hell no, Granger!” Theo cut her off. “No boring suit! You better not change, because I want to see the French Ministry bird go batty.”
“Why would she do that?” She asked.
“Because it's obvious she fancies herself the shite, but that,” Theo elevated Hermione from her black-varnished toenails to her lightly make-upped face, “will have her rethinking that horrid expression she's always wearing.”
Hermione gave him an unamused look and asked, “She snubbed you, didn’t she?”
Theo frowned, then said, “Maybe.”
“Well that reasoning isn't sound at all,” Hermione said, then turned to me to ask, “What about you? Too much, you think?”
I still couldn't answer.
Theo noticed my incompetence, and answered for me, “He thinks you look lovely. Let's head down.”
With Theo’s help, I turned around and headed for the lift. It was then that my mask slipped and allowed me a moment to express myself. My eyes went wide, my jaw went slack, and I took a deep breath that I'd been denying myself due to my heart actually stopping for a full minute.
“Well… Uh! Wait for me by the lifts, alright? Let me grab my effects right quick,” Hermione said to my back, and I didn’t turn or respond. I just kept walking because I was positive that turning to look at her again would be detrimental to my health, and, very possibly, my sanity.
When Theo and I turned the corner that led to the lift den, he grabbed me suddenly by the arm to stop me from walking, a grave look on his face. He ranted to me in a quick whisper, “That dress is gonna make every granddad in attendance drop from cardiac arrest. It looks like it almost did so to you! I don't blame you. I can't believe I was able to say anything at all! Did you see her arse?! Oh, Dray. There is no way she's going back to her room alone tonight. We share walls with her! What the hell are we going to do if we have to listen to some bloke shag her all night?”
“Ok. Stop.” I finally found my voice.
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting to see when Hermione opened her door, but that hadn’t been it. Now my mind was alight with the potential issues that could arise from her decision. Along with having new wank material, I also had an urge to move my wand from my pocket to my wrist holster, because I knew there could be moments where I may have to curse someone if they lacked the self-control I exhibited and resorted to giving her mouth-watering arse a smack.
I turned to look around the corner, watching as Hermione stepped out of her room and closed the door to head our way. I turned back to Theo, rather unwillingly, to say, very unwillingly, “It doesn't matter what she decides to do, alright? I'll just… silence her room or something.”
Theo blinked at me in bewilderment, and a moment of silence passed before he asked, “And if the bloke she takes to her room is me?”
I glared, scrutinizing him. I didn’t hear the comical tone I’d come to expect from him whenever he mentioned her in a sexual way, which wasn’t often. Because I was confused, and knew now wasn’t the time to ask, I said to him with a gruff voice, “You don’t ask with respect. You don’t offer friendship… You don’t even think to call me Godfather.”
Theo chortled behind his hand, the stern draw of his brows gone, and we dropped the conversation as Hermione turned the corner. I was happy for it too, because I'm not sure what I would have said if I’d tried to answer his question seriously, to be honest. The last two minutes had been a great shock to me. It was probably a shock for Theo, too. He was a manwhore, so I wasn't surprised at his reaction to the witch. But the edge of seriousness in his tone when he’d posed his prospective scenario was disconcerting, and I had to face the fact that if I didn't act soon, tonight, then I may miss my chance with her. She’d been single a while now, at least that I knew of, and I would probably never recover if that ended tonight because of Theo.
And he wouldn’t either. I’d put him in St. Mungos, and he’d stay there until one day they pulled the plug.
“Come on, you dolts,” she said as she passed us. “I’m sure we're going to be fashionably late, at best. I'll admit that's my fault, but I’m going to make it to the gala this time if it’s the last thing I do!”
Theo and I both stared after her, watching her magnificent backside sway as she cat-walked down the hallway in her sexy shoes. I chanced a look away from the best view I've ever seen to gander at my best mate, whose face was one of reverence. It wasn't his usual overt ogling and nonchalant depravity. He looked stunned, stupefied. He looked as if he had feelings for the witch that were a little more than just cock deep.
Theo moved to follow her, leaving me to think about this revelation for a moment. Since the time we were in swaddling clothes, Theo, Blaise and I had been best mates. I’d known them longer than I could remember, and ever since I could, Theo never looked at a witch as if he liked her for more than what he could get from her in one night. And just then, as Hermione had walked by us, he looked like he saw a future. It made me wonder if this was something new, or if I’d been so preoccupied with looking at Hermione myself that I missed the clues of my best mate’s fancy.
I blinked at him, because how had I never noticed? Was I really that self-absorbed?
Probably.
The three of us rode the lift down to the ground floor that held two massive dance halls, one of which hosted the Q.M.P.A. gala. Hermione had been correct about us being fashionably late. After passing through security, we made it to an entryway that was packed with witches and wizards, already with drinks in hand and talking theory loudly or swaying with a partner to the music that flowed from the large, open double doors. I looked at my watch. The ball began at seven, and it was a quarter to eight.
As we moved to the doorway that led to the rest of the gathering, the buzz of chatter and yelling died some as the others in attendance turned to watch us. And by us, I mean Hermione. Theo and I walked beside her at each of her shoulders, and I’m sure we looked like her bodyguards. Which, if the expressions of the wizards in the hall were anything to go by by the time we reached the ballroom, it was likely that we would very well become just that.
Theo looking at me over the top of Hermione’s head caught my attention, and I glanced at him, reading his concern plainly. He was thinking the same thing I was. That this was going to be a shit show, and we may need to interfere at some point.
This wasn’t something Theo and I were unaccustomed to, per say. When one works with the infamous, magnificent, infallible Hermione Granger, you get used to having to engage with the occasional madman or fanboy. She handled them on her own well enough, so she never asked for help, but it hadn’t kept Theo and I from standing close by in case she ever needed assistance.
And, for the first hour of the evening, that is what we did. There was a puddle of drool on the floor by the time the witch made it to one of the bars for a drink. Almost every man, and at least half of the women, watched Hermione walk by them appreciatively. Those who didn’t glared and judged openly, but the witch didn’t seem to notice. She kept walking until she reached the bar, where she ordered us three Old Fashions.
From there, we made rounds about the hall, saying hello to the speakers Hermione wanted to pick the brains of, and Theo and I glared off all those who advanced upon her with anything less than a look of respect.
At some point, we made it back to the bar we started at, which was when Hermione stated she needed to use the loo, and left us standing torn. Obviously, one does not follow a lady to the lavatory. That was undignified. But I had the urge to say hell with dignity as we watched many a man turn to watch her as she left.
“Alright. Maybe we could have considered suggesting an outfit change? Alter her dress or suit or something?” Theo said as he leaned on the bar, motioning for another drink to the bartender.
“No. We played this right, mate,” I said sagely. “She would have killed us and walked down here alone if we'd said anything of the sort. Honestly? I'm surprised she's letting us be her entourage. There's no way she hasn't noticed what we're doing by now.”
“Yeah. You're right…” He admitted. Then asked, “Why is she always so violent?”
I shrugged at his question, as well as the ghostly feeling of the slap I'd received from her in third year.
“Not sure. You should ask her when she gets back.”
“If she gets back.”
“Fuck off. Don't say shite like that.”
“What? I can't help it. This place is like a breeding pit. It's madness.”
“This is not the same vibe as last time,” I agreed.
“Sure isn't…” Theo said with a disappointed shake of his head. “Granted, Granger didn't make it last time, so you had no reason to be on guard.”
“Yeah. I mean, I have my reasons for being so," I said, leaning “innocently” on the bar. “I'm curious as to what yours are. Why aren't you out there?” I motioned generally to the masses. “Already knee-deep in some bird's quim?”
I asked this question, and watched his reactions closely, gauging them.
“I wouldn't leave you to fight off this crowd all by yourself. What kind of friend would that make me?”
His answer wasn't a lie, I knew that much. But I knew it wasn't the entire truth. He'd been as attentive as I in fending off the throng, not missing a beat, or a look, and seeming more of an overprotective lover than a friend looking out for another.
Theo got his second OF, and began to drink from it rather fast, but I didn't say anything. Just marked it down in the swiftly growing list of suspicious activities that I'd never seen Theo participate in with this level of intensity. Even now, his eyes scanned the crowd in the direction she had disappeared.
After another five minutes went by, I'd grown far too impatient for someone who called themselves a grown man. But I couldn't help it. Something about her made me lose all sense.
I said, “Alright. Fuck it. Let's go find her.”
“There's a good lad. It's been far too long,” Theo agreed eagerly.
I nodded, and he and I set off, taking the same path she had taken toward the east side of the hall where the bathrooms lay. We only had to go halfway, however, as we found Hermione engaged in a conversation with a wizard in his early forties, with handsome, chiseled features, and wearing the ugliest fucking robes I'd ever seen. They were orange. Just orange. He looked like a posh inmate in one of those Muggle prison films.
Theo and I had stopped walking when we set eyes on her, forced to watch as the wizard currently charming our coworker leaned down to say something that made her smile up at him.
“Wanna play “Hey, buddy?”, or should we just end him right here and now?” Theo asked, glaring over the edge of his glass at the scene before us.
Yeah. Something was definitely up with him.
““Hey, buddy” first, and then we’ll see where it goes from there,” I said, downing my drink and Banishing the glass.
Then, Theo and I headed across the dancefloor to participate in something we hadn’t done since we were boorish, idiotic teenagers attending a Greengrass or Parkinson gala. We used to love vetting all of our friends’ potential suitors with vigilance. Though not at all for the same reason as we were doing it now. We’d done it then out of brotherly love for the witches of our house. The word “brotherly” didn’t apply in this situation.
Theo, always so charismatic, leaned an elbow on the offending orange wizard’s right shoulder as we closed in on him, and I stood uncomfortably close to the man’s left as Theo said with a huge grin, “Hey, buddy!”
The wizard looked startled, and Hermione was stiff-backed, eyes wide with surprise and concern. She must have noticed something was up immediately. Nothing slipped by her.
“Need a drink, friend?” I asked the man who, in fact, did not hold a glass. I wandlessly Acciod a flute of champagne into my open palm, and then drank it in its entirety while maintaining deadly eye contact with the man.
“Uh…” the wizard articulated, his green eyes darting between me, Theo, and a now angry looking Hermione.
“Here, pal. I’ll get you one,” Theo said, Accioing another glass of champagne from a passing floating tray and shoved it into the other man’s hand, the contents splashing onto his hideous suit. “Alright. Good talk, mate.”
“We’ll see you later, yeah?” I asked as I pushed him none-too-kindly away from us. He looked absolutely flabbergasted, and gave Hermione one more look before turning and getting lost in the crowd, some of whom had turned to watch the display with interest.
I hid my smile at Theo, who hid one of his own, and we turned back to our co-worker. She glared up at us with an anger that became her, and she growled, “What the fuck was that?”
“We were simply saving you from what looked to be an uncomfortable situation,” I gas-lit her.
“You can thank us later,” Theo added, grinning his signature smile.
“I-” she began, rage shaking her form, but then she caught herself. She momentarily closed her eyes to breathe in deeply, which was unfair due to the amount of cleavage she sported, and her eyes burned in that terrifying way as she opened them to say calmly, “I don’t know what you two are up to tonight, but I don't like it. You've scared off anyone who's gotten close to me, and now you physically assault someone? What is wrong with you two?”
We were silent, ashamed. Hermione’s scolding tone could turn even the most stern of men into a simpering fool.
“I don't want to see either of you doing something like that again,” she said. “This is a party. I'm here to enjoy myself, and you're both ruining it.”
She turned on her heel, throwing her hands up in finality, and disappeared into the frey in the opposite direction that orange-robes had gone, which settled well-enough with me. But, it didn’t keep me from wondering if Theo’s earlier prediction would be true now that neither of us were permitted to interfere with her evening.
Theo grimaced, then said, “She’s livid, man.”
“Let her be,” I said casually, despite now being worried that I might have to silence her room.
“And if some other tosser approaches her?”
I frowned and deflated some. This was ludicrous. Neither of us had any reason to be acting this way. Even if she had been, well, either of ours, it still wouldn’t excuse our behavior. She hadn’t asked us to save her from the slags, so it was best if we kindly pissed off before we were the ones getting man-handled in the middle of the dance floor.
“We’ll have to look the other way, or suffer the consequences,” I said.
Theo now deflated, because he knew it was true. “So… Do we find other avenues of entertainment, or..?”
I rolled my eyes, because Theo was always so reliably a slut. I said, “Sure, mate. You do that.”
My friend was quiet for a few beats before he said, “You should just tell her, man.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and even from this minimal vantage point I could see the unease in him as he said this. He wanted me to admit my feelings to the woman, yes, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be disappointing for him. And not just because he obviously fancied Hermione, too, which I had grown surprisingly accepting of over the course of the past hour as we worked together to keep her from the hands of, well, anyone else, really. But work was also bound to be interesting, no matter which way you cut it, if I ever decided to cross that boundary. He'd be forced to watch us either avoid each other because she rejected me, or watch us, more than likely, snog and shag on every surface of our joint office.
“No.” I answered simply.
“Why not?” he asked me, annoyance etching its way into his aristocratic features.
“There are a lot of reasons why I’m not going to tell her, Theo,” I said before thinking, ‘And you just became one of them.’
“Then you’re going to lose her,” he replied flatly, frowning and then turning to leave me alone and drinkless on the dancefloor.