Potter

Epilogue : Part 4/7

May 2004

"Another glass of champagne, Healer Malfoy?"

"Ah– yes, thank you," I said, smiling at the server as I exchanged my empty glass for one of the sparkling ones on the floating tray behind her. The Ministry's event was spectacular this year, a gala room decked out in gold and silver for the six-year celebration of the war's end. Music played from from the corner, a jazz singer's low voice crooning over the air of a late spring evening. 

At some point, I'd lost my husband to a crowd of business wizards wanting to sneak in on the Malfoy fortune, ignoring Draco's dead-bored stare in favor of announcing promising deals on the market. I'd snuck away with a smile and wink, managing to linger nearby Harry at the sides of the room before a very pregnant Ginny had claimed her husband for another dance.

"There you are!" A voice chimed, and I turned to see Neville approaching, a beaming Hannah nearby. I grinned, approaching my friends warmly and tugging Neville in for a hug before I grabbed onto Hannah too.

"I've been looking for you all night. Your speech was brilliant, Nev," I said as I leaned away from them but left my hands on their shoulders. "I would've cried if it wouldn't ruin my makeup."

"Merlin forbid," Neville chuckled. "But thank you. I'll admit I was a little surprised when Kingsley asked me– I would've thought he'd go for Ron, or Harry–"

"Ron and Harry weren't the ones to publicly tell Lord Voldemort to shove it," Hannah told her fiancee firmly, only to tilt her head in consideration a moment later. "Well, vocally anyway."

I nodded in agreement. "You're more likable, anyway. Harry only talks at press releases and Ron is better on the field."

"I heard that," Ron Weasley chimed from behind me, Hermione's hand looped in his and her wedding band sparkling on her finger as they approached our small group. He grinned at me. "You really think I'm better on the field?"

"You're the Auror I see the least in the hospital, so yes," I told him with a smile. He considered it with a nod, eyebrows raised. 

"I can live with that."

"Please do," Hermione said, her warm eyes amused as she looked at me, a small crease furrowing her brows as she noticed the wizard missing from my side. "Lily, where's Draco?"

"Right here," my missing husband supplied, looking sufficiently annoyed and carrying a fresh glass of champagne as he joined our circle. "If anyone's looking for a Wilburt Crockford, he's been hexed into a corner of the room for not understanding the concept of 'not interested'."

Hannah's mouth popped open in surprise. Neville, to his credit, just rolled his eyes.

"You did not."

Draco frowned, lifting his glass to his lips. "I most certainly did."

Ron snorted, shaking his head but refraining from saying anything– the share of us had more than enough experience in dealing with press and unwanted wizards who wanted money or some semblance of second-hand fame; we'd also had plenty of experience in learning to dissuade such situations. 

While Hermione commended Neville on his speech Draco stepped closer to me, standing behind my shoulder as he leaned down, his lips touching by my ear.

"We can leave soon, yes?" he murmured. I frowned, turning to look at him. 

"What is with you tonight?" I whispered, careful to keep my voice low as not to interrupt the other's conversation. "You've been wanting to leave since we got here."