Salt and Pepper Fest: Young Again
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hp_goldenageTitle: Young Again
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
torino10154
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Hermione, with mention of past canon relationships
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1240
Content/Warning(s): Reference to past character death, fluff
Summary/Prompt: P35 from 2020: "She's divorced now," Pansy whispered.
His head whipped around, catching the eyes of Hermione Granger.
"She's free, you're free. Why are you still standing here with me?" Pansy asked.
A/N: I claimed this prompt and wrote most of the fic for the 2020 fest but didn't get it finished. I blame COVID. Thanks, S, for beta reading. ♥
Read on AO3 or below:
It had been three years since Draco last attended the anniversary ball. He'd missed two because of Astoria's illness and the last he spent in mourning.
Astoria had loved the ball, though. She always looked stunning in a new elegant set of robes, her hair perfectly styled and wearing jewellery from either the Malfoy or Greengrass vault. She drank champagne until her cheeks were pink, her smile brightening the entire room.
He could hardly imagine going without her but Pansy had reminded him that this was a significant one. Thirty-five years since the Final Battle. Scorpius was older now than Draco had been at the end of the war—and was about to become a father himself.
To be that young again was impossible to imagine.
Draco chose a sombre set of dress robes; only thin silver detail livened up the black fabric.
His plan was to arrive late, socialise briefly, and return home to a nice brandy before bed.
But sometimes, plans change....
*^^^*
Draco took a glass of champagne from a floating tray and downed it in one go. He had rather hoped that in the year and a half since Astoria's passing, people would be kind enough to not bring it up.
"My condolences."
"Sorry to hear about your wife."
"Terrible what she went through."
Draco was saved from his desire to throttle McMillan, now an undersecretary to the Minister if rumour served, by Pansy, who grasped his elbow and said, "Draco, darling, I must speak with you."
Jaw clenched, he turned toward her and sagged as the tension drained out of him. "What was I thinking coming here?"
"You needed to get out of that stuffy old manor of yours." Pansy smiled and cupped his face in her cool, soft hands. "Meet people."
"I already know these people." Draco rolled his eyes as he caught sight of Potter talking with Weasley.
Things never changed in the Wizarding World. Never. "Have since I was eleven, unfortunately."
"Potter has aged well," Pansy murmured.
"Christ," Draco said, groaning. "Must you torment me at every turn?"
Pansy giggled. "Sorry, darling."
Looking away from his old nemesis, Draco's breath caught in his throat at the appearance of Mrs Granger-Weasley.
Maybe things had changed after all.
She looked radiant in a rose-coloured set of robes, her hair piled on top of her head with curls hanging down around her face.
"Looks like I'm not the only one re-living a fourth-year crush," Pansy said, squeezing his hand.
"Don't be ridiculous." Draco felt his cheeks heat. How many glasses of champagne had he had?
There had been a time fourth year when all his thoughts had been occupied by Hermione Granger. She'd looked so beautiful at the Yule Ball, Draco couldn't get her out of his head. And at the cusp of fifteen, with his hormones running rampant, she'd featured in more than a few of his dreams. Until his dreams became nightmares.
"That was a lifetime ago," he said more to himself than Pansy.
"She's divorced now," Pansy whispered.
His head whipped around, catching the eyes of Hermione Granger-Weasley. He glanced toward Potter and Weasley, and sure enough, Weasley was looking in his ex-wife's direction but it wasn't with love in his eyes. Potter clapped him on the shoulder and turned him away from her, leading his friend toward the bar.
When Draco looked toward her again, she was half as far away, mingling with those around her but glancing in his direction.
"She's free, you're free. Why are you still standing here with me?" Pansy asked.
"What do you suppose will possibly come of this?" he asked, almost fearing the answer. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. Whatever it might be.
"Surely you remember how to charm a woman," Pansy said suggestively. "Go."
Catching her eye again—and seeing her blush—told him that maybe Pansy was onto something.
Draco took a deep breath and made his way through the room, picking up two glasses of champagne along the way.
As if by magic, the crowd parted just as he approached.
"You looked as if you could use a drink, Mrs—," he said, offering her a glass.
"Hermione, please, and how did you know?" she said, taking the offered glass, the tips of her fingers brushing his.
"I recognised the signs," he said drily, lifting his glass in her direction.
"I'm glad you decided to attend this evening. I know how much you used to enjoy the ball."
Draco was thankful that she'd only skirted the issue. "It's not quite the same as it used to be."
She nodded. "I imagine not."
The band picked up their instruments and began playing a song Draco swore he hadn't heard since the Yule Ball back at Hogwarts.
"Wow," Hermione said, laughing. "I feel old."
"You don't look it."
She blushed slightly. "Thank you."
Noticing people pairing up and moving to the dance floor, Draco asked, "Are you not here with anyone?"
"Ah, no." She shook her head. "It's a bit odd for me this year as well."
"Perhaps we should tackle the dance floor together then," Draco said, holding out his hand.
"I'd like that," she said, slipping her warm hand into his.
He guided her to the middle of the floor, his hand settling at her waist as she placed hers at his shoulder.
"My daughter, Rose, is getting married this summer," she said out of the blue. "Her fiancé, Philippe, went to Beauxbatons but works at the Ministry now, in the Department of Mysteries."
"She'll be staying close then," he said as he pulled her a little closer. "I'm sure that pleases you."
"It does, very much." She rested her head against his chest as they swayed along with the music.
"I'll be a grandfather soon."
She looked up at him. "You must be proud. Your son is a fine young man from what I've heard. Outstanding in his field."
"He loves his work. St Mungo's is fortunate to have him as he undoubtedly would be far wealthier if he ventured off on his own."
"Some things are more important than money." She tightened her hold, wrapping both arms around him.
Draco bent his head, inhaling the light floral scent of her shampoo, the feel of a woman in his arms comforting rather than painful.
He could get used to it again... if he allowed himself to.
Draco tipped her chin up and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
"Why do I feel like a schoolgirl again?" Hermione said softly.
Draco looked around and quickly noticed all eyes were on them.
"Perhaps because we're making a scene," Draco said, chuckling.
Hermione buried her face in his chest, laughing.
"Do you want to..." Draco started to ask but stopped himself. He was mad, already thinking so far ahead. But Hermione picked up where he left off without missing a beat.
"Go home with you?" she finished. "I'll get my cloak."
He followed in her wake as she headed for the cloakroom.
Pansy caught his eye and gave him a wink before turning back to her companion.
Draco couldn't help but laugh as he climbed the stairs. Potter had no idea what he was getting himself into.
That would be something Potter could find out for himself, Draco thought as he took Hermione by the arm and received a peck on the cheek for his trouble. He had more important things to think about.
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Hermione, with mention of past canon relationships
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1240
Content/Warning(s): Reference to past character death, fluff
Summary/Prompt: P35 from 2020: "She's divorced now," Pansy whispered.
His head whipped around, catching the eyes of Hermione Granger.
"She's free, you're free. Why are you still standing here with me?" Pansy asked.
A/N: I claimed this prompt and wrote most of the fic for the 2020 fest but didn't get it finished. I blame COVID. Thanks, S, for beta reading. ♥
Read on AO3 or below:
It had been three years since Draco last attended the anniversary ball. He'd missed two because of Astoria's illness and the last he spent in mourning.
Astoria had loved the ball, though. She always looked stunning in a new elegant set of robes, her hair perfectly styled and wearing jewellery from either the Malfoy or Greengrass vault. She drank champagne until her cheeks were pink, her smile brightening the entire room.
He could hardly imagine going without her but Pansy had reminded him that this was a significant one. Thirty-five years since the Final Battle. Scorpius was older now than Draco had been at the end of the war—and was about to become a father himself.
To be that young again was impossible to imagine.
Draco chose a sombre set of dress robes; only thin silver detail livened up the black fabric.
His plan was to arrive late, socialise briefly, and return home to a nice brandy before bed.
But sometimes, plans change....
Draco took a glass of champagne from a floating tray and downed it in one go. He had rather hoped that in the year and a half since Astoria's passing, people would be kind enough to not bring it up.
"My condolences."
"Sorry to hear about your wife."
"Terrible what she went through."
Draco was saved from his desire to throttle McMillan, now an undersecretary to the Minister if rumour served, by Pansy, who grasped his elbow and said, "Draco, darling, I must speak with you."
Jaw clenched, he turned toward her and sagged as the tension drained out of him. "What was I thinking coming here?"
"You needed to get out of that stuffy old manor of yours." Pansy smiled and cupped his face in her cool, soft hands. "Meet people."
"I already know these people." Draco rolled his eyes as he caught sight of Potter talking with Weasley.
Things never changed in the Wizarding World. Never. "Have since I was eleven, unfortunately."
"Potter has aged well," Pansy murmured.
"Christ," Draco said, groaning. "Must you torment me at every turn?"
Pansy giggled. "Sorry, darling."
Looking away from his old nemesis, Draco's breath caught in his throat at the appearance of Mrs Granger-Weasley.
Maybe things had changed after all.
She looked radiant in a rose-coloured set of robes, her hair piled on top of her head with curls hanging down around her face.
"Looks like I'm not the only one re-living a fourth-year crush," Pansy said, squeezing his hand.
"Don't be ridiculous." Draco felt his cheeks heat. How many glasses of champagne had he had?
There had been a time fourth year when all his thoughts had been occupied by Hermione Granger. She'd looked so beautiful at the Yule Ball, Draco couldn't get her out of his head. And at the cusp of fifteen, with his hormones running rampant, she'd featured in more than a few of his dreams. Until his dreams became nightmares.
"That was a lifetime ago," he said more to himself than Pansy.
"She's divorced now," Pansy whispered.
His head whipped around, catching the eyes of Hermione Granger-Weasley. He glanced toward Potter and Weasley, and sure enough, Weasley was looking in his ex-wife's direction but it wasn't with love in his eyes. Potter clapped him on the shoulder and turned him away from her, leading his friend toward the bar.
When Draco looked toward her again, she was half as far away, mingling with those around her but glancing in his direction.
"She's free, you're free. Why are you still standing here with me?" Pansy asked.
"What do you suppose will possibly come of this?" he asked, almost fearing the answer. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. Whatever it might be.
"Surely you remember how to charm a woman," Pansy said suggestively. "Go."
Catching her eye again—and seeing her blush—told him that maybe Pansy was onto something.
Draco took a deep breath and made his way through the room, picking up two glasses of champagne along the way.
As if by magic, the crowd parted just as he approached.
"You looked as if you could use a drink, Mrs—," he said, offering her a glass.
"Hermione, please, and how did you know?" she said, taking the offered glass, the tips of her fingers brushing his.
"I recognised the signs," he said drily, lifting his glass in her direction.
"I'm glad you decided to attend this evening. I know how much you used to enjoy the ball."
Draco was thankful that she'd only skirted the issue. "It's not quite the same as it used to be."
She nodded. "I imagine not."
The band picked up their instruments and began playing a song Draco swore he hadn't heard since the Yule Ball back at Hogwarts.
"Wow," Hermione said, laughing. "I feel old."
"You don't look it."
She blushed slightly. "Thank you."
Noticing people pairing up and moving to the dance floor, Draco asked, "Are you not here with anyone?"
"Ah, no." She shook her head. "It's a bit odd for me this year as well."
"Perhaps we should tackle the dance floor together then," Draco said, holding out his hand.
"I'd like that," she said, slipping her warm hand into his.
He guided her to the middle of the floor, his hand settling at her waist as she placed hers at his shoulder.
"My daughter, Rose, is getting married this summer," she said out of the blue. "Her fiancé, Philippe, went to Beauxbatons but works at the Ministry now, in the Department of Mysteries."
"She'll be staying close then," he said as he pulled her a little closer. "I'm sure that pleases you."
"It does, very much." She rested her head against his chest as they swayed along with the music.
"I'll be a grandfather soon."
She looked up at him. "You must be proud. Your son is a fine young man from what I've heard. Outstanding in his field."
"He loves his work. St Mungo's is fortunate to have him as he undoubtedly would be far wealthier if he ventured off on his own."
"Some things are more important than money." She tightened her hold, wrapping both arms around him.
Draco bent his head, inhaling the light floral scent of her shampoo, the feel of a woman in his arms comforting rather than painful.
He could get used to it again... if he allowed himself to.
Draco tipped her chin up and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
"Why do I feel like a schoolgirl again?" Hermione said softly.
Draco looked around and quickly noticed all eyes were on them.
"Perhaps because we're making a scene," Draco said, chuckling.
Hermione buried her face in his chest, laughing.
"Do you want to..." Draco started to ask but stopped himself. He was mad, already thinking so far ahead. But Hermione picked up where he left off without missing a beat.
"Go home with you?" she finished. "I'll get my cloak."
He followed in her wake as she headed for the cloakroom.
Pansy caught his eye and gave him a wink before turning back to her companion.
Draco couldn't help but laugh as he climbed the stairs. Potter had no idea what he was getting himself into.
That would be something Potter could find out for himself, Draco thought as he took Hermione by the arm and received a peck on the cheek for his trouble. He had more important things to think about.