Fourteen Thousand Galleons

I'm In So Much Trouble

Oh, God, she has a headache. A blinding headache just behind her eyes that radiates to the back of her head and down across her shoulders. It's been ages since she's had a drink and to rekindle her relationship to booze in such spectacular fashion was an eighteen year old's mistake. She wants to vomit. And find her old hangover potion kit. It's around her flat somewhere and she stumbles to the junk drawer in her bathroom.

There it is, sludgy green in color and putrid smelling. She plugs her nose and tosses it back and tries to think of happier things. Like Harry. The way he brought her magic out the night before. The way he smiled at her and held her close and stayed to have a cuddle before he left her. Merlin, she'd slept with Harry. And it wasn't a sweet, loving time. It was hot, like scorching fire replaced the tension and blazed between them until they both came apart. It'd never been like that with Ron. Not even close.

The heat pools in her belly again and she flushes as the potion rushes through her body. The headache disappears first and then the roil of acid in her stomach is gone. Good as new and it's wonderful to be a witch.

It's far into the afternoon before she's primed and ready to spend Christmas evening with Harry and Draco. She's dreading it after everything that happened the night before. But, Draco did say he's fine with the relationship and they've been fairly adamant about it. If they tried to renege on their feelings about it, she'd leave and lock herself in the house forever and become a crazy kneazle lady. Life plans unfold before her as she slips a dress over her hips.

The dress is a deep maroon color and the sleeves dip off her shoulders. It's a dress she's had for years but never wore because Ron said it was too short for family gatherings. "Who are you trying to impress?" he'd ask her. So she'd change and wear jeans and a jumper; frumpy Hermione over and over again. Now, though, she watches herself in the mirror, the way it clings to her hips and flows out to drape just above her knee. She's happy with the shapely legs that peek through the bottom of the skirt.

For the first time in years, she uses her wand to apply rolling, full bodied curls through her hair. She wears makeup. It's all very new to her, but she wants to feel beautiful after the night she had with Harry and so she does her best to feel it. She's satisfied when even her reflection stares at her in shock. The reflection calls out to her as she makes her way to the floo, "I finally feel useful!"

Hermione is laughing still when she steps through the floo to Draco's home. Tink appears immediately as if she's been waiting for Hermione to show up. Hermione smiles down at the little elf, donned in green and red checkered sheets and a poinsettia bow on her head.

"Master Draco is expecting you." Tink informs her as she leads her through the house. "He's saying you are wanted in the kitchens."

Hermione gulps. "Is Harry –"

"Master Draco is wanting alone time with Miss Hermione. Mister Harry is with boys in the playroom."

She's sure her face pales and there's a wobble in her step as she finally gets to the doorframe of the kitchen. He's standing there in black slacks, something she's noticed he has a predisposition to wear. An emerald green shirt clings to his body. Kitchen towel over his shoulder. But Harry specifically said Draco isn't cooking today and yet –

"Granger."

He turns on his heel, barefoot, and offers her a tiny quirk of his lips. Hair falls across his forehead. She swallows as her mouth goes dry. Draco's watching her intently, eyes dipping along the length of her dress and then some, and she can't stop the blush on her face. The night before, straddling Harry on her sofa, comes rushing to the front of her thoughts and she wants the floor to swallow her whole now.