Sour Grapes

Chapter 19 - Snake and Minx

Draco stormed out of the ministry lift as it reached the atrium, intent on flooing back to his newly acquired London flat and skipping the evening event. He could not understand how Hermione could go from exchanging letters with him all day and night to being back with that tosser the very next day. Sure, he had no claims over her, and was indefinitely tied to another witch by magical bond, but still... how could she do it?

Certain that he had read everything wrong the day previous, he cursed himself for sending his last letter. Clearly he'd alarmed her and pushed her right back into the Weasel's arms. He couldn't discern whether he was more angry with her or himself.

Sneer permanently affixed to his porcelain face, he stalked toward the row of hearths when something solid stepped right into his path. He collided with another wizard and spun around, shoulder aching.

"Hey watch where you're going you-"

He stopped speaking when he saw it was Blaise smiling down at him.

"You're so pretty when you're angry, Draco."

A few steps behind Blaise, but now catching up was Harry.

"Everything alright, Malfoy? Or is that sneering stride always the way you travel?"

Draco looked around the atrium, checking who might be watching them. Being in areas populated by wizards still made him uneasy after so many years of seclusion.

"What are you two doing together?" he asked, but then shook himself and said, "No you know what, I don't have time to talk, I need to get the fuck out of here. If you'll excuse me."

He made to walk around Blaise, but was stopped by a firm hand grasping the arm with his aching shoulder. Wincing in pain, he slowed his stride as Blaise pulled him to a resigned halt.

"Oh no you don't, how do you expect us to enjoy our evening if you're sat there all surly?"

"Well I'll save you the displeasure, I won't be there tonight."

Harry and Blaise both pulled the same perplexed face.

"Like hell you won't," said Blaise, "we planned the whole thing for you! So you could woo Granger!"

Draco leaned in severely, "Keep your fucking voice down you twat, think of where you're standing."

"Certainly. Once you tell us what the hell happened!"

"Fine! Alright! Let's just floo to my place, I need to get out of this building before-"

"Ron," Harry said stoically, looking over Draco's shoulder. Draco spun around.

Ron Weasley approached the trio, looking as though he'd recently vomited.

Draco's brow furrowed at the sight of the sickened wizard, and the anger (as well as the punch he'd immediately prepared in his balled-up fist) loosened slightly.

"Hey Harry," he said, turning then to Blaise and Draco, "Zabini... Malfoy..." he said, with a nod to each.

"Weasley, you look like utter shit," Blaise drawled, "though I have to admit, you look a right sight better than the morning after the party."

Ron scratched his head and looked away.

"Yea... well, just finalized the bloody divorce with Hermione. How would you look after that?"

Ron had a distinct and unsettling sense of melancholy and regret shrouded over him. This was surely not the look of a man who had just gotten back together with his lifelong love. Draco sensed that truth before he'd even taken in Ron's words, and the pre-prepared punch left his fist entirely as the knot in his stomach released.