End of the Tunnel

VI

His suit was too itchy and the restaurant was too stuff. He had been dreading this day since Hannah had invited him, and like a bloody idiot, he had agreed. He had begged and pleaded, but no excuse, no feigned illness could convince her not to go.

"You've already agreed," she argued as she had dragged him out the door. He would have stayed behind had she not looked so lovely, after Umbridge he was sure he would never like pink again, but here he was staring at her like the most glorious sunset. And he just couldn't stand the thought of Malfoy getting to look at her while he was at home pouting.

So, he was sitting in the aforementioned stuffy restaurant, waiting for one of his least favorite people in the world to arrive. His only consolation were her fingers, laced between his, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand while the moments ticked by.

"He's late," he grumbled, and she rolled her eyes, pulling him a little closer.

"Behave," she muttered. Her breath was warm, and the softness of her tone relaxed him more than anything else could. He was almost convinced that this wouldn't be as bad as he had once imagined, until the slimy little weasel stepped inside. He had a warm looking woman by his side, dressed in a soft bleu but he was just as vile looking as ever. To make matters worse, Hannah jumped at the sight of him. His hand was left cold and empty and he was forced to watch as she wrapped him in a tight hug George had been sure she saved only for him.

She quickly led the couple to their table and returned to her seat beside George, returning her hand to his. Malfoy was staring at him with expired disgust and a surprising amount of sadness. The woman at his side held him close, offering George a warm smile, as if she was aware of the amount of hatred coursing through his veins as he was forced to remain at the table.

"Sloane, this is George," Hannah said, quickly trying to cut through the attention.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you," she gushed reaching across the table to shake his hand, "Hannah has told us so much about you."

"She has?" he managed through the anger.

"Of course, I've practically fallen for you myself," she laughed, rolling her eyes when she caught the look Draco sent her, "No need to get jealous, you know I'm kidding. But you already know each other from school, don't you?"

"Tragically," George muttered, and Draco flinched away. Outwardly, he was glaring, but beneath the table his nerves were showcased through fidgeting fingers and a shaking leg. Hannah elbowed him as subtly as she dared before sending a smile to the man who he despised. The tension thickened, choking out any possibility for relaxed small talk.

"How goes work?" Sloane asked, directing her question at Hannah, both doing their best to salvage the atmosphere of their lunch.

"Good, good, although I miss the two of you coming in after work."

"I miss it too, but everything has gotten crazy down at the Daily Prophet. You would think all the gossip would have disappeared by now but weeding out the lies has gotten worse than the time Rita Skeeter was in business."

"You're a witch?" George interrupted. Both girls seemed surprised he was attempting to make conversation, but they quickly replaced their shock with smiles.

"I am."

"I don't remember you from school."

"Oh, I hail from Ilvermorny." The certainly explained the lack of accent.

"What brought you to London?"

"All the scandal," she laughed, and George offered a hesitant chuckle. "Everything mainstream is over here, everything we write about back in America happened at least two days prior here. Plus, I'm writing a book."