Drawn ( A Dramione Story)

Tastes of Italy

Theo Nott was at the end of Pansy Parkinson's wand. Red sparks sparked their way toward his chest in a broad target but was aptly diverted with a flick of Theo's wand. They splattered throughout the air as fireworks. Their clicks a little applause.

The fight of Pansy and Theo continued.

"Theo kept stealing Longbottom's toad," Pansy gushed with a finger extended in accusation. "It was a game to see how much detention Longbottom would get with Snape when he sniveled about the creature."

"At least I don't think of dumping my boyfriend because he's bad in bed."

A horrifying awful shrieked left her parted lips. She clutched her chest as if the dagger he'd stabbed her with was of muggle blade. Her lips sloped to an awful frown. It brought out the bulldog-like quality that used to earn her remarks.

Ernest's face was worse. His eyes were twice their regular size.

"That's why you avoided me that week? I thought it was all about getting into a relationship with a Hufflepuff, not shagging!"

She reached out for him with helpless arms. "Please, Ernie. Please. Listen to me."

"I can't believe you'd be that shallow!" Ernie looked distraught. He unraveled. He dug his finger through his hair, allowing their messy strands fall wherever.

A few tears dribbled from Pansy's kohl lined eyes. "That was only at first. You showed me how to love in spite of it."

"In spite of?" He echoed in distress.

The expression brought Draco from his silent reverie. He was roused alive, absorbing the scene before him. Hermione felt his magic come alive throughout the room.

"What's this now?" Draco asked cautiously.

His eyes took stock of Susan's position around Theo's waist, Pansy's ready-to-cast dueling stance, slouched with despair, with Ernest between them in total disbelief. Not a single face was unaffected by the situation in front of them. The tension was so thick, it was smoke. They all choked on its intoxicating hold of their throats.

They fought in Paris, sure. But it was nothing like this.

They argued with who was right and who was a horrible friend, to which one replied they were no longer friends, then another argument. School yard hexes came next. They went their separate ways in anger and sheer exhaustion of an all-night scandal.

But the betrayal of all their secrets was another thing. It was as if the end of their friendship was near.

And that only led to sides having to be chosen.

Hermione's knees buckled and sent her back into her chair. The stress of one thing after another was enough to having her begging for death.

It was supposed to be a fun holiday!

One where she could be engaged and in love and lay on the beach near the ocean with a drink in one hand and Draco in another. It was a holiday that made the war seem unreal. The chance she had to experience a happy, unprejudiced friendship with witches and wizards her own age abroad, absorbing new emotions and memories other than with Ron and Harry, who were frankly sick of her always mothering them like the two toddlers they behaved like.

Harry and Ron were on their own adventure, one that didn't need her.

She didn't resent them for joining the Ministry. Neither enjoyed schoolwork or learning or essays or reading. Of that, she understood well.