"I'm telling you they did—"

"Impossible—"

"How's so? It's a marriage law, innit? I know what I heard—"

"Rumours aren't facts—"

"My brother saw it! She has a wedding ring! She married—"

"They're so young though—"

Usually greeted with distrustful eyes, sneers, or indifference, Draco and Blaise arrived at the Gryffindor table to find the younger lions huddling together, sharing conspiracy theories in what they thought were whispers. Draco leered at a few that blinked up when they registered them; none of them would have lasted in Slytherin, let alone the war. Especially if they thought discussing what they considered vital, important information at these volumes.

"Besides, a ring doesn't mean anything—"

"It means everything—"

"Pathetic! Rings don't always constitute as—"

"My brother said she checked out a book with a different surname—"

Draco snapped his fingers at one of the younger Gryffindors, gesturing for him to slide as far away as possible. Once the latter did as he was told, Draco took a seat at the open space right next to Hermione. She looked up from the book she was reading, brown eyes big and bright as she leaned in, pressing a kiss on the side of his jaw. Across from them, Pansy smirked while tucked underneath Ron's arm.

"Your brother's an idiot and we all know it—"

"Oi! Don't insult my—"

"I heard she's always had that ring. Neville Longbottom gave it to her after he took her to the Yule—"

"Longbottom? You're joking—"

"It's plausible—"

Next to Ron and Pansy, Harry and Ginny Potter were pretending to be enjoying their meal despite the very loud theories echoing across the Gryffindor table. Both had grins on their faces as Draco looked up to roll his eyes at them.

Leave it to a (two) Potter(s) to enjoy the spotlight.

"You honestly expect us to believe she kept a ring from another bloke when—"

"I'm not saying she kept it because she fancies Longbottom—"

"Then what's the point of—"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP?" roared Blaise, slamming his goblet of Pumpkin Juice down on the tabletop. The scattered conversations ceased immediately. All attention was on him now. "Yes, they did get married! Yes, a Weasley became a Potter! Yes, they're too bloody young! Yes, that is a wedding ring—get over it!"

The huddle of young, obnoxiously loud Gryffindors watched horrified as the Slytherin was now pointing his fork at them like he knew ten different ways to maim them with each pick from the silverware. Red like the ties around their necks, they turned away from Harry, Ginny, Ron, and other older Gryffindors laughing at them (worse when Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy sneered at them, too).

Having been sat the Gryffindor table herself, Luna put a hand on Blaise's shoulder.

"Fucking Gryffindors," muttered Blaise, turning from the young students and lowering his fork back down on his plate, stabbing it into a thick chunk of steak. "No bloody finesse—mind as well be broadcasting it—can't see they're right there—can't fucking ask—courageous my arse!"

Still grinning, Ginny blinked away from Blaise to cast her eyes at Draco. "What's wrong with your best mate now, Malfoy?"

"What isn't wrong with him?" Pansy responded before Draco could decide whether or not he wanted to speak to Weaslette Potter. On cue, Blaise dismissed his fork to tear at the steak with his hands; each piece he pulled off he shoved in his mouth angrily, chunks of meat and bone flying in different directions.

When some of it landed all the way to Hermione's book, she flicked it with her finger before closing it, protecting the valuable, old pages inside from Slytherin tantrums. With a sigh, she turned in the direction of her friends, Draco's hand slowly coming to her waist behind her.

"Zabini thought it'd make for a nice Christmas present to mail Cho an engagement ring," Hermione informed, somewhat less aggravated now as Draco's fingers skimmed the waistband of her skirt. She felt her cheeks already burning, but managed to add, "Obviously Cho didn't take it too well."

"We could hear her yelling at him from our chamber," said Pansy, smirking as Ron at least attempted to look sympathetic at the memory. Blaise mumbled a curse as he chewed, his fingers reaching for a potato. "Next time," she added, "listen to me when I tell you you're being an idiot, Blaise."

"A Zabini will never take advice from a Parkinson," spat Blaise, sending out more than his frustration as a piece of his food now flew to Ginny's plate. She glared at him, but he ignored her when he failed to keep the outrage out of his face. "How the hell was I supposed to know she'd take it like this? It's not like we're—" he pointed an accusing finger at the Potters, "I mean, we're friends—sometimes, that is. When she's not upset about my occasional suggestion that we have sex on—she should've been honored, that Ravenclaw bint—didn't she see the ring—fuck, she's definitely going to kill me—why do you lot have to be sexist?"

Hermione frowned as his finger now pointed between her, Pansy, Ginny, and Luna. They all started to copy her expression (except for Luna, who was busy trying to wipe steak sauce off his chin with her thumb, brows pulled in concentration).

"Excuse you?" demanded Ginny. "What do you mean by 'you lot'?"

"I didn't stutter did I, Potter?" returned Blaise just as sharply, but at the use of her new surname, Ginny smirked, losing her previous ire. "Why can't you lot propose to us? You can get on one knee and ask a bloke to marry you, too! But no! Instead, all you do is put all this pressure on us, telling us how it has to be perfect, and, yeah, it does, your boyfriend fucking died, the least you deserve is a nice wedding, the one you dreamt up when you were little, and you know how it'll all play out, how many guests will come, and no, no Slytherin green, and no, definitely no sex until the wedding—well, screw you! Ask me to marry you!"

No one was laughing or frowning at Blaise when the color drained from his face. His hands came up to the Slytherin tie around his neck, pulling desperately at it.

"Why can't I breathe?" he asked the peering faces. His chest started heaving, hands shaking now.

Before Hermione could slide closer to him, Luna already had wrapped her arms around Blaise. "It's okay," they heard her say. "You're okay, Blaise. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it. A few more times."

Blaise continued pulling in air through his nostrils as he turned and hugged Luna tightly.

"Salazar, she's good," said Pansy, nodding approvingly at the Ravenclaw. "Tell me you're going into a career as a Healer or something after Hogwarts?"

Luna had looked up from the cage Blaise's arms were to tell Pansy she was going to be a Naturalist after her schooling was done, but she sensed Dean before he was halfway to the Gryffindor table.

He wasn't alone.

"Oi!" exclaimed Seamus as he arrived with Dean on his left and Lavender Brown on his right. His arm was around her shoulders, both looking far happier in the other's proximity than anyone had seen them since the sorting put them together. "I've got exciting news!"

Pansy had opened her mouth, red lips ready to let out venom at the three Gryffindors, but Draco caught her eye, shaking his head as Blaise's arms fell from Luna. She narrowed her eyes, challenging him to give her a reason why she should not verbally kill the lions, but Draco's mask was firmly in place the next second.

"We're getting married!" said Seamus with a booming laugh, his arm around Lavender pulling her in closer to his side. She turned bright pink before lifting her hand up, letting her friends see the gold band on her finger.

Hell had frozen over during the Christmas holidays—everyone looked at Seamus and Lavender like it had and they were now just being informed. Then, all at once, it had dawned on the Gryffindors that the newly engaged couple was waiting for congratulations.

"That's amazing, mate," said Ron, grinning.

"Surprise, you were getting married regardless, but willingly is a lot better than bitterly," said Ginny with a smirk. "I'm so happy for you two!"

"You didn't put the Imperius Curse on him, did you?" asked Hermione with a laugh that infected the other Gryffindors.

Lavender looked up at Seamus, eyes bright and glittering with adoration, but the smile on her face was not all that genuine. Hermione wondered if anyone else saw it; she had never been particularly close to Lavender Brown, but she did know how Lavender looked when she was happy. After all, Hermione had spent months seeing the emotion stretched out across Lavender's face when she was dating Ron their Sixth Year.

"We finally did that thing McGonagall suggested," said Lavender, trying to widen her smile when Seamus grinned at her. Hermione felt a memory of Fourth Year slide out of the back of her head; she was swaying with a certain Bulgarian under dim lights and not that far from her, Lavender was doing the same with Seamus, both an embarrassed, lovely shade of pink as they danced. "We did a lot of talking throughout the holidays and practiced some of the communication techniques from the textbook."

"She also gave me a list of reasons why I should fancy her," Seamus input, blushing. "When I was reading them, I realized those were all the reasons why I liked her already. I guess I just needed me heart to catch up with me brain."

When Seamus moved to place a kiss on Lavender's cheek, the (blind) Gryffindors smiling happily at them, Pansy cleared her throat in a way that rivaled Umbridge. It made them turn to her, brows furrowed.

Draco glared in a way that said don't get involved.

"You should've given Finnegan a list of reasons why he should ask the Ministry for a new partner, Brown," said Pansy, ignoring her fellow Slytherin. She raised her left hand up, pretending to be studying her new manicure (although she was really looking at the ring Ron had gifted her) when she added, "Aside from all the reasons as to why you're a ditzy bint, the top one should let Finnegan know you hooked up with his best mate."

Draco shook his head, you fucking meddling idiot.

Pansy raised a brow, they deserve it.

Blaise cleared his throat, calling for both their attention, Lovegood doesn't.

Pansy raised her chin, I know.

Luna held her breath, growing rigid in her seat. Ginny and Harry clocked in on it immediately, at the storm brewing in her blue eyes as the others turned to Dean.

He looked the same as Luna: ready to shatter.

"What are you on about, Parkinson?" demanded Seamus, a frown settling between his brows.

"Seamus—"

"Is that why she's here, Weasley?" Seamus ignored Lavender's shaky breath, his glare turning to Ron. "To let out poison? Take her back to the Slytherins. Bloody mad to bring the likes of her—"

"Watch it," growled Ron, his hand pushing against Pansy's back, but everyone could see the confusion in his gaze. "She's my fiancee. She gets to bloody sit here if she wants to."

A fire burned in Pansy's chest at his immediate response. She had never been defended blindly, all trust put into her without asking questions, without wanting to know what it would be like to not believe in her because that was not an option.

Draco and Blaise scoffed, Pansy Weasley is our Queen.

"I know you're slow, Finnegan, but for fuck sakes, don't be a naive twat," Pansy said with a dry laugh. "Are you really missing how Thomas can't even look at you? He's your best mate, but he doesn't seem all that thrilled about you being happy to marry Brown. But sure, let us infer it's because his own relationship with Luna is shit right now. Curious, though. Why is Luna sleeping in Ravenclaw Tower? Why's Thomas a walking spot of rain? No matter. Relationship troubles. We all got those. How about Brown sitting as far away from Thomas as possible? Or how Longbottom—our favorite Gryffinpuff, Huffledor—throws daggers at both? And how he almost killed Thomas with his bare hands?"

Ginny gripped Harry's wrist as all the pieces fit together the more Pansy spoke. She had been respecting Luna's privacy, yes, but she did not contemplate that Dean would have been stupid enough to actually betray Luna this way.

That's why Ginny never considered it—why none of them did.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy sneered, fucking Gryffindors. They never see the whole picture.

"Sex, was it?" asked Pansy with an overly dramatic thoughtful look on her face, her eyes dancing back and forth between Dean and Lavender. "Maybe when Finnegan was in the Gryffindor Tower to avoid Brown? Maybe when Luna was out in the grounds painting pretty pictures?"

"Shut up—"

"Don't," Luna hissed as Dean and Lavender spoke in unison, trying to silence Pansy. Instead, at the sound of her voice, the whimsical cut out from her tone, leaving only ragged echoes that sounded like someone else, she rendered everyone else silent.

Luna looked how she felt: like someone who knew loss and aching.

"I saw you," she breathed. "You were coming out of my room in a towel, Lavender. Dean was—I saw you."

"Luna, please—"

"Luna, I promise nothing—"

"I saw you," Luna repeated, tears falling down her pale cheeks. Then, with a foreign anger that belonged to someone else, to someone who was capable of it, she hissed again, "I saw you!"

Dean gasped at her fury, but Lavender turned to Seamus, his arm slipping from around her shoulders. "Seamus," she murmured, "It was a mistake—"

"You slept with my best mate?"

"No! I wouldn't—"

Hermione sent out a Protego Charm when Seamus moved to lunged himself at Dean. The clear, protective bubble forced distance between both.

"It was just a kiss," Lavender heaved. "I promise! It's my fault—"

"It meant nothing, mate. I promise," Dean said, each word dripping with a plead to be believed. He turned to Luna, eyes gleaming with tears. "It meant nothing, Lu. I swear it didn't—"

A collective gasp echoed throughout the Great Hall when Luna Lovegood—sweet, kind, weird, intelligent Loony Lovegood—gripped Blaise Zabini by the robes, pulled him down to her height, and captured his mouth in a searing, wet, desperate kiss.

"There!" snarled Luna with that same foreign rage, pulling away from Blaise. As he swayed where he stood, blinking wildly, she said, "It was just a kiss! It meant nothing!"

Ginny sprung up from the bench when Luna rushed out of the Great Hall. Instantly, Hermione and Pansy did the same, both intent to follow the trail the Ravenclaw had left behind.

Draco laughed, startling the Gryffindors around him. He picked up the goblet of pumpkin juice Hermione had left behind, raising it up to all the lions that had blinked in his direction.

Behind him, Seamus turned to exit, too, leaving behind a stunned Dean and Lavender.

"Dinner and a show," said Draco with a grin. "Excellent entertainment. All the right twists. Five stars."

"I'll say," Blaise laughed, sliding back into his seat. "Lovegood even took my gum."

Hermione couldn't breathe.

Hermione couldn't breathe and it was all Draco Malfoy's fault.

Hermione couldn't breathe and it was all Draco Malfoy's fault because he failed to adhere to their nightly routine.

She would usually come back to their chamber an hour after he did; she would regularly spend time in the Gryffindor common room after dinner, chatting with her friends, all of them trying to find a resemblance of normalcy after a brutal war and an unexpected marriage law. When she would kick off her shoes by the door of their chamber, leaving her schoolbag and robes on the couch as she headed for their bedroom, Draco would already be on his side of the bed. His white-blonde hair would be damp from a shower and his silver eyes would be focused on revising his homework. Hermione would distract him for a minute or two, sharing with him anecdotes from her time with the Gryffindors, and then she would grab clothes and head for a shower, too. When she would come out, wet hair in a bun he'd have to remind her to use a drying charm on, she would slip in beside him and both would read their own respective books (Hermione would read two chapters of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre and Draco would annoy her by starting different books every night). After their reading, they would discuss homework, classes, and the dumb things their friends got up to before letting sleep wash over them.

Sometimes (almost always, really) they would wake up tangled around each other before pulling away (her face usually bright pink).

After coming back from Gryffindor Tower, mind swirling with the drama involving Dean, Seamus, Luna, and Lavender, Hermione did not find Draco on his side of their bed. He was not in their chamber at all. Confusion licked up her spine: Where was he? Had something happened to him?

That was the first dent he caused to their nightly routine, but Hermione ignored it. She gathered a fresh set of pajamas and went for a bath. When she came out, smelling of her favorite jasmine soap, he was still not back. Still, she slid into her side of their bed, pulled out Bronte, and read her chapters.

She was on her fifth—three additional chapters that will now throw off her entire reading schedule—when he finally entered their bedroom. He was laughing about something Theodore Nott had done, something involving Hufflepuffs, but Hermione was glaring at him. He was almost two hours late—past curfew, no less! Draco did not notice; instead, he grabbed clean clothes and made way for the bathroom.

Hermione was starting her seventh Jane Eyre chapter when Draco stole all the air inside of her lungs. He came back into their bedroom with plaid, green pajama bottoms hanging a little too low on his hips and his scarred, toned chest gleaming under the yellow light of the room.

"How's Lovegood?" he asked, running a towel through his wet, white-blonde hair. "I can't imagine she's okay if she thought snogging Zabini out of all people was worth the revenge against Thomas. Actually, it's rather odd, isn't it? Revenge is not something one connects to Lovegood. She's not good at it, of course. If she wanted retribution, she should've snog Finnegan."

What was he doing? Did he even realize he had forgotten his shirt?

God.

The air was not coming back to Hermione. Not if Draco was just going to stand there with his skin begging her to—

She knew Draco was attractive. He always had been. Just because she found him to be an intolerable, bullying arse growing up that didn't mean she couldn't see what had Pansy Parkinson so devoted. After all, Hermione could appreciate the beauty of a snake, but also be quite aware of its venom.

She was also aware of what people thought of her—Hermione Granger: The Prudest Witch of her Age. Just because she valued brains and heart above appearances, that did not mean that Hermione was incapable of physical desire. In fact, she had been feeling it more and more, weighing down on her chest after the first time she kissed Draco.