Two weeks later, he was nervous for a different reason. He was not entering a cave of enemies, instead he was joining friends, but that seemed far worse. They would all stare at him when Fred's name was announced as one those tragically lost to the war. People would pat him on the shoulder and offer the same shallow condolences they had offered at the funeral almost a year ago. All the sympathy he needed had been offered through tender touches and thoughtful gazes across a makeshift breakfast table of milkcrates. Leading up to the day she had asked him if he was okay to go. Three months ago, he never would have imagined himself going to something like this, but three months ago he didn't have Hannah. He could handle every moment as long as she was by his side. He was even grateful he had been struck with the need to make Hannah happy and invited Malfoy. At least the weasel wouldn't send him stares of pity across the great marble floor or whisper about him behind thick velvet curtains.

Hannah was still getting ready in their tiny bathroom, cursing every time she bumped against the lopsided shelf, he had installed to hold her absurd number of products. The time was ticking down, and Malfoy had rented a car for the two couples, and it was going to be here any minute.

"Hannah," he called, flopping back onto the bed, wrinkles be damned.

"Coming," she hollered back with that infinite amount of optimism one would have to possess on a night like this. The door flew open and she grinned. "Zip me?"

He would have, it would have been the polite thing to do, and it was an excellent excuse to try and seduce her into staying home, but his motor skills seemed to fail him.

She was beautiful. He had known this before, of course, but now dressed long red crushed velvet she was... breathtaking. Most of her hair was pinned to the back of her head, but a few soft, golden curls framed her face, brushing her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a grin, dark red lipstick contrasting the whiteness of her teeth. She knew exactly what she was doing as she stepped closer, looking as innocent as ever. "You going to zip me?"

"I might unzip you," he muttered, pulling her closer as she laughed. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away before he could.

"You'll smudge my lipstick," she muttered before planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before turning around, exposing the soft skin of her back to greedy fingers. He placed a kiss to her spine before pulling up the zipper with slow deliberation. She shivered as he allowed his finger to drag along her skin, back arching ever so slightly until he reached the end. It didn't cover much, reaching only the small of her back, a temptation he was going to have to deal with for the rest of the night.

"I like the red," he whispered.

"I thought a little statement about Gryffindor would be appropriate," she replied.

"Oh yes, very. One day when I can bare it, I'll have to dig out the old quidditch jersey, you'll look remarkable in it." His heart panged at the mention of the garment, knowing that an almost identical one sat in the chest beneath the bed, a garment he couldn't care to look at quite yet. Quickly, she spun around and kissed him again, soft and meaningful, full of the unspoken message that if it was better to stay home, she would do just that.

A cordial knock snapped against the door; Malfoy had arrived.

"Last chance to cancel," she whispered against his neck, but he shook his head.

"No, it'll be good for me, I have to get out there anyways."

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered against his lips. The chocolatey taste of her lipstick filled his senses, and he pulled her tight against him, forgetting all about the boy at the door until another harsh knock sounded at the door.

"Get out here, you lovebirds," he called, and Hannah giggled before pulling away.

"I think he's getting impatient."

"I think you're right," he said offering her his arm, "M'lady."

"What a gentleman." George opened the door, and they were met with the sight of smartly dressed Draco. His suit was all black with a small green gem pinned to his lapel. It was small and almost unnoticeable but a statement, nonetheless. He may have been ashamed about his actions, but he certainly wasn't ashamed about his house.

Hannah pulled Draco into a hug, kissing his cheek, as her thumb brushed the gem. She wasn't even a wizard and she knew the message that followed such a piece.

"You clean up nice," Draco choked out to George and he nodded sharply in return. He was glad Malfoy would be joining them, but he still wasn't quite sure how to behave around the Slytherin prince. "We're going to be late," he continued.

"Oh, of course," Hannah gasped, sparing George the awkwardness of responding. They made their way to the street and slid inside. Hannah and Sloane awkwardly hugged despite the cramped nature of the car and quickly began gossiping with Hannah.

Hannah listened intently, but her hand never left him as she rested in the crook of his arm.

"Reporters aren't allowed, but I'm a small exception," Sloane bragged tapping a pen that was hidden in the curls of her hair. George could only assume a notebook was hidden somewhere else among the folds of silver gown. To anyone else it might have seemed like a neutral color, one full of royalty and elegance, but George could tell by the way Draco was passing the fabric through his fingers it was a show of support far more obvious than his small gem.

The atmosphere was friendly as they made their way to the celebration, Hannah and Sloane carrying a majority of the conversation as Sloane explained what sorts of magic they would come across. Hannah was certainly going to be one of the only muggles attending, if not the only one, but he couldn't imagine they would have much to say about it, not in light of a celebration that was about the defeat of the very man who had wanted them destroyed.

And if they did, he would send anyone away who tried to give her a hard time. If Draco could befriend a muggle, certainly all those who had fought against Voldemort could as well.

Everything was going well until they pulled up to the steps of the venue. That was when the weight settled onto the two men. They climbed out of the car, invitations clutched tightly in their hands as they took the arms of their dates and began their trek towards individual nightmares.

George handed his invitation to the doorman first and instantly was allowed to pass. He began to make his way towards the banquet hall, but Hannah held him back. He turned to find the source of her hesitation and found Malfoy arguing with the doorman, who must have recognized his face.

"You're not on the list," the doorman responded coldly and Draco shifted angrily. He remained silent, as if admitting defeat, but Sloane was not having anything of the sort.

"We have an invitation," she snapped, shoving the parchment into his face, but he cringed away, not even daring to touch the paper.

"It may have been forged."

"How dare you, you-," Sloane began, hand reaching for a wand he was sure she had tucked away beside the notebook, but George cut her off.

"Draco," he called and all three looked at him, surprise written across each face, "Is this man giving you trouble?" He had never referred to the weasel by his first name, and he had certainly never stood up for him, but tonight was a night of firsts.

"Mr. Weasley, you surely can't-,"

"I can't what?" The doorman was dumbfounded, shocked his bullying had been put on hold by someone he considered to be on the same side. "Draco, we best make our way to the hall before our table gets snagged." Draco nodded curtly and joined the couple, eyes offering thanks.

"I can't believe the audacity..." Soane was ranting as they made their way closer to the party. She was proclaiming all sorts of threats, most of which involved spilling his dirty laundry across the front page of the Daily Prophet, but George wasn't paying attention. If the doorman was that biased, how was the rest of the party going to be. He couldn't defend the man against everyone and everything that considered him the scum of the earth. He wasn't strong enough to fight them all off, not when he had to get them off his own back.

Their table was in the back corner, per request, and no one of consequence had noticed the pair of couples yet.

"I need the powder room," Sloane announced, dragging Hannah along with her.

"Don't let Hannah learn any habits from that girl of mine," Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair in exhaustion. George remained in silent confusion, asking for an explanation. "She's got some anger issues that one. Mark my words when she comes back her knuckles will be a war wound. Her one flaw really."

"You'd never be able to tell."

"She keeps it well hidden. First time I saw her knuckles she tried to completely deny it, like I don't know what busted up knuckles look like. She's so loyal though, so goddamn loyal. She sees my name in the paper once and she disappears for a few hours and then comes back with bloody knuckles, and the next day the poor bastard is strong up for some dirty little secret. It almost feels wrong telling her not to get angry when it's on my behalf."

"But you're worried she'll make enemies she can't defeat," George interrupted, and Draco smirked.

"Exactly. I mean, I begged her not to wear that dress, but she insisted. She kept telling me, 'Someone needs to make a statement. It's not fair that Slytherin is the enemy, not after the was has ended'. I wanted to strangle her, shake some sense into that ridiculously brash brain of hers. She would have been a Gryffindor if she had come to Hogwarts I'm sure of it, we would never have let anyone that stupid in Slytherin," he said fondly, the tone not matching the frustration of his words. "I hated her at first, did you know?" George shook his head. "I did. She was so nosy, and I just wanted to disappear, but she wouldn't let me. And now I love her, never thought I'd say that to anyone before her, y'know."

"I know exactly what you mean," George whispered with wide eyes as the girls returned from the bathroom. They took their seats, and sure enough Sloane's knuckles were swollen and bruised, cuts along each of the knuckles. It was a mixture of old wounds and new, making him wonder why she didn't heal the wounds.

All around their table was gayety. Old friends reuniting both in person and through paintings. Fred had a painting somewhere, but George wasn't quite sure if he would ever be able to make it over to that corner, if he would be able to look into the eyes of his brother when he couldn't hug him until his bones stopped aching and his heart stopped yearning.

The conversation was slow and easy, Draco and George falling into softer moments of their school experience, avoiding moments when they interacted. Through conversation they talked about quidditch and McGonagall and how even the five-star dinner thy were being served now couldn't compare to feasts at the Great Hall. Sloane was enjoying whatever French concoction they had provided because she had suffered through American school lunches since her first year of school.

Eventually, the band stepped onto the stage and magically a ballroom was summoned, complete with glitter drifting around in reds, blues, and yellows like confetti. Neither boy was interested in dancing, not the girls minded. Hannah cared more about George's comfort than dancing, and Sloane had disappeared half an hour ago to interview people as subtly as she could bare. It was nice, he had never thought he would find joy in speaking to Draco, but it seemed that when they weren't forced to choose sides, or being persuaded to be a bigot, they had a lot in common. Nothing had happened, it seemed nothing would until George heard his name called over the sound of soft strings.

"George, I heard a rumor you're friends with a Death Eater now, but I told them that can't be true," Ron called, pushing through the crowd. He seemed so sure of himself until he finally stumbled upon their table, eyes flitting between George and Draco. "I see I was wrong."

"He's not a Death Eater," George replied, taking another sip of his drink, ignoring the look of contempt on Ron's face.

"I bet his arm says otherwise," Ron spat and Draco stood, eyes narrowing while his hand subconsciously rested against the arm in question. "Trying to get your girlfriend murdered?"

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"Oh, come on, he hasn't changed at all, I'd bet he's going to off her the moment you turn your back." Draco drew his wand but uttered nothing fast enough to stop the impact of knuckles against flesh. Draco stumbled back holding his nose as blood poured down his face. George was on his feet now; grateful Sloane was not around to the end the life of his closeminded brother.

"Get out of here," he growled while Hannah attempted to stop the bleeding.

"So, you're a sympathizer now too? Did Fred die for nothing?"

Nothing could have stopped George from lunging forward, not Hannah's scream and certainly not the flailing of fists that came from his angry brother. They were on the floor, rolling against the harsh marble while a crowd gathered around them. No one attempted to separate them as he relished in feeling of anger, not that anyone could have succeeded.

A crunch of bone against cartilage and then a knee into a rib. Nice suits be damned, propriety be damned, reputation be damned, no one got to talk about Fred that way, especially not his own brother.

George wasn't sure he would ever stop. He could hear Hannah, but she seemed so far away, on the other side of his rage. Another pair of hands entered the throng and pushed him away. Harry was pulling Ron away, a bloody nose of his own.

"Don't you dare talk about him. You don't deserve to have his name in your mouth, you fucking bigot," George yelled, storming forward but soft hands caught his arm. He whipped around, prepared to fight off whoever had dared to stop him, but instantly softened at the sight of Hannah staring up at him.

"Let's dance," she whispered, dragging him through the crowd and to the dance floor.

"Malfoy-."

"Sloane is taking care of him, let's just dance," she whispered, reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He rested clenched fists against her waist and as they swayed, he slowly relaxed, falling into her.

"I could kill him."

"I know, but that won't solve anything."

"Always so reasonable."

"I do my best." He lifted his head and she brushed a soft finger over the black eye blooming across the left side of his face. "I like this, very rugged."

"Are you saying you want me to get punching in face more often?"

"No, I'm just saying I won't dump you because of it." He chuckled softly, doing his best to hide the tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. "It's okay to cry."

Damn her and her ability to know exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm going to avoid it if that's alright."

"Whatever works for you." He kissed her, his busted lip stinging as he touched her, but he only pulled her closer. They swayed a little while longer in silence, ignoring the people staring at him as best they could. "Thank you for standing up for him. I know it was hard for you."

"It wasn't." She quirked an eyebrow and he continued. "That's why Fred died isn't it, for freedom from status or something like that. It would be a dishonor to let anyone suffer the consequences of who they used to be. We accepted Percy when he returned, why not Draco, why not any of them?" She hugged him tight, kissing him as roughly as she dared. He spun her around, covering the pair in glitter.

"Shall we go, my love?" He nodded silently and they rejoined Draco and Sloane who both looked as prepared to leave as he felt. Hannah took Draco's hand and softly kissed it, a silent apology she shouldn't have to offer.

"I'm sorry for my brother," George offered and Draco shrugged. He believed he had deserved it, and maybe once upon a time so did George, but not anymore, at least not consciously. "Dinner's on me next Friday." Looking up over the bloody rag he raised his eyebrows.

"I'll be there." And then they left, not quite friends, but certainly well on their way to becoming so. Hannah smiled at the pair walking ahead of her and watched as Sloane kicked off her heels before flipping off the doorman who had hazed them prior.

"That doesn't mean the same thing here," Hannah whispered and Sloane shrugged before he puked over the edge.

"That means the same thing, I think," she whispered through laughter before dragging her past the boys and into the car, already gushing about all the news she had picked up through the night. George laughed and slapped Draco on the back as friendly as he could manage. The man grinned back at him sheepishly before climbing in. George glanced back at the venue and laughed at the audacity of thinking a night out would be without flaw, and then he remembered the bed that was waiting for him at home and the beautiful girl who be joining him and then he climbed in.

It would be worth it, everything would be worth it.