Call Me Psyche - Dramione

13

Champion older brother, Bill Weasley, knew that the best way to disrupt the tension in the garret of Shell Cottage on the day Ron found out for certain Hermione Granger would never have him back was to fix everyone something to eat.

Fleur stayed upstairs with Hermione to check the progress of her healing before finding her something besides the white bridal nightdress to wear to dinner.

"But you may keep this," Fleur said, using her wand to fold the nightdress into a neat square. "Your lover liked you in it."

Hermione blushed. "That's very kind of you. But it's not like that between us – not exactly."

Fleur gave a knowing huff as she levitated the nightdress and slid it into a dresser drawer. "Then I will leave it here for when it is exactly like that between you." The drawer closed, the nightdress disappearing from view.

Hermione watched Fleur's deft but graceful wand work. Fleur was phenomenal. After seeing her through the eyes of Molly and Ginny for so long, Hermione had come to regard her as vain and vapid. But she was much more than that. The Weasley women were quite fearsome when it came to showing their disfavour. The thought of it now made Hermione uneasy. But, she supposed, fingering the new scar on her neck, the Weasley women weren't nearly as bad as the women in Draco's family.

What would Fleur have made of them?

When it came to Fleur and the Malfoys, one thing was clear. She definitely needed to stop calling Draco Hermione's "lover." That was not helping anything. But in every other way, Fleur had helped Hermione immensely since she was brought to Shell Cottage, dying. She was even now standing beside her in the mirror, restoring some order to Hermione's hair.

Hermione trusted her, and turned her empty hands palm-up in the mirror. "They took my wand," she said, watching Fleur's reflection wince. "At the beach, I saw that Harry had got another one somehow. I didn't get a good look at it. Ron had one too, a twisted thing though it seemed to be obeying him well enough. But what am I to do? I need to think of a way..."

"You need to eat," Fleur said, gently twisting Hermione's hair into a low pouf of a bun, easing out a few tendrils and rolling them into ringlets to lay along her neck. "And I know your lover will be unhappy downstairs alone with Ron and Harry. Let's go to them."

She couldn't have been more right. Bill had led Harry and Ron into the kitchen where Dean was sitting over a cold cup of tea, still reeling from the day's events. Draco hadn't been able to bring himself to follow them. Cottage kitchens were close, chummy spaces, and he was neither close nor chummy with this lot. Instead, he lingered at the foot of the staircase, one hand on the banister.

"You should come through," a voice said at his elbow. It was Luna Lovegood, blinking up at him with her huge pale eyes. "You'll only worry her if she finds you waiting here like a lost, water-logged kneazle kitten."

Draco frowned. "What're you on about?"

"Come into the kitchen," Luna said. "I'll make everyone tea while the Weasleys fix something to eat. It will put Hermione more at ease if you're sitting at the table like a guest when she comes down. And since she was almost cursed to death today – "

"Fine, fine," Draco said, fighting for patience. Beyond getting the wolfsbane balm to Hermione in time to save her life, and fantasizing about kissing it better afterward, he hadn't actually thought any of this through. And now here he was about to have tea with Potter and Weasley before they all did stars knew what. A shudder ran through him, but there was nothing to do but steel himself and follow Luna Lovegood into the kitchen.

Draco was still in the lounge with Luna when Bill pushed Ron up to the stove to tend a pan of more vegetables and less gravy than Ron had ever seen in any Weasley family recipe.