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."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and there was absolutely nothing worth writing about Massachusetts, you've got to come to the action, to the drama, to the tragedy." Slowly, George glanced between the rest of the table's occupants. Hannah was watching him closely, as if prepared to hold him to his seat should he freak. Sloane was asking him a question he felt unable to answer, and strangest of all, Draco was staring at her like she was the most wonderful person in the entire world. George had never seen him so soft and loving. He could see him holding her hand, pulling it into his lap.

"George," Hannah whispered, and he snapped his gaze back to her blue eyes, "Are you okay?"

"Of course," he stammered. They were all staring at him now. "I'm sorry what did you ask?"

"He owns a joke shop," Hannah answered for him. He shifted uncomfortably and the waiter saved him from falling further into the abyss of awkwardness. They ordered quickly, and it took George a lot of effort not to order the strongest bottle of whatever they had, just to ease away the tension.

They conversed softly, everyone but George, he simply couldn't seem to open his mouth again, Malfoy seemed to be suffering from something similar, except Sloane kept dragging him into the conversation every time he sank too far into discomfort.

Hannah was doing the same for him, not through conversation, but through the way she dragged her thumb across the back of his hand, glancing at him with warm eyes every time he was sure he was going to collapse.

The food came and went. It was just as wonderful as she had promised. They began to leave, and Sloane dragged Hannah to the loo (most likely to gossip about something or another), leaving Draco and George alone.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, voice rough against his throat, "I'm sorry about it all." Two months ago, George would have killed him right there, smearing his blood across this fine establishment. Instead he took a deep breath and held out a shaking hand.

"It's not your fault, you were just another product of war," he whispered, voice just as rough. Draco's eyes were wide with surprise as he stepped closer, hand outstretch. As their hands met in a firm handshake, George noticed the dark circles beneath his icy eyes and the way his shoulders seemed to droop in relief.

"Hannah used to say that to me," he whispered, and George smiled, he had gotten it from her. It's what she whispered to him when tears slipped out of his eyes and the fear got to great, he wasn't naïve enough to imagine that she didn't whisper it into the ears of others who she came across. "She's amazing, you know that, right?"

"More than anything." Their hands separated and the thought of wiping his hand across the fabric of his pants never crossed his mind. "How did you meet her?"

"About a month after the war ended, I was hiding out in London and I wandered into her bar. I demanded some whiskey and she outright refused, I thought I was going to kill her, right there but she just ordered me to stand up and gave me the couch in the back to crash on and some water. I didn't leave for five days, just laid there wallowing in self-pity while she brought me a glass of water every once and awhile. And then, on the sixth day she brought me some clothes and sent me to wash dishes." George laughed at the idea of Draco Malfoy cleaning dishes in a muggle bar, but quickly motioned for him to go on. "I lived there for a few months, and met Sloane, who got me a real job and eventually I moved out, but it's hard not to be friends with the girl who gave you a place to stay when the whole world wants you dead."

"Do you know about her attack?"

"Yes, she told me about it after she recognized the mark on my arm."

"Do you know who it was?"

"I do, but they're no longer a problem."

"And why do you say that?"

"I killed them." George swallowed as a mixture of fear and gratitude filled his chest, watching as Sloane and Hannah rejoined them.

"George!" Hannah gasped grabbing his hand and pulling him close. "Sloane was just telling me about the gala celebrating the end of the war, you're going right?" George shrugged, he had heard about it, but the mere thought of it had sent him running for the bathroom to throw up his lunch. "George?"

"Of course," he responded against his better judgement, smiling at her hopeful eyes. She grinned and Sloane squealed.

"We're going to have to go shopping," Sloane gasped, dragging Hannah towards the exit, leaving the boys behind.

"You're going?" George asked and Draco shrugged.

"She wants me to, but I'm not sure I'm welcome."

"Hannah might kill me if you don't come, you should join us," he managed to choke out, against his better judgement, his mind only thinking of Hannah and the way she would look at him when he informed her that Malfoy and Sloane would be joining them. The two men followed their dates out into the London street and shook once more before departing in opposite directions.

"We don't have to go," Hannah whispered, taking her hand in his.

"I'll have to Draco we've cancelled then," he replied, and she squealed with delight jumping into his arms. He spun her around laughing, inviting the weasel had been worth it after all.