A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

24. Nerves

The last few weeks of November were nothing spectacular. Draco spent his free time trying to eat a whole apple having only six bites.

Three times he almost died from choking.

Due to the colder and windier weather, Hermione tried lighting the fireplace only to have it fill the whole apartment up with smoke, effectively setting off the fire alarms and evacuating the whole building. When they were all outside, a Ministry worker questioned Hermione, asking what had caused the disturbance. Embarrassedly, she told them. She asked Draco to help her out, only to have him smirk and say he didn’t know who she was, just that she was the crazy cat lady of the building. This made the rest of her conversation with the Ministry worker thoroughly awkward, especially when he began asking her if she had taken her daily medication that morning.

Whenever Draco was bored, he would set off to bother Derek, Hermione hurrying after in the hopes of stopping him. This resulted in all three getting into trouble by Mr. Jennings and doing extra work.

Hermione met up with Harry on weekends, telling him to pass on the news of Neville and Luna’s wedding to Ron.

Draco hung around both Blaise and Pansy whenever he could, and often Hermione would come home to see the three Slytherins lounging on her couch and playing poker. Thankfully, it was never strip poker, as Blaise so frequently suggested.

And, of course, Hermione and Draco fought and taunted the other whenever the chance was available. More than once the arguing would result in both adults throwing food at the other and using tables and chairs as armour. When Hermione got the courage to throw one of Draco’s prized apples at him was when things got serious.

Finally, November came to its final end. The first of December was a Sunday; the day of The Sixth Month Ball.

“It’s not a very interesting name for a ball, is it?” Hermione noted, oblivious to Draco’s pacing. “’The Sixth Month Ball’. You’d think there would be a better name for it.” 

“It was called that, oddly enough, because the ball takes place every sixth month,” he told her tensely.

“Hmm… I still think there should have been a better title for it.”

“Of course you would,” he muttered, more to himself.

“Why are you pacing?” she asked, finally noticing. “It’s not as though –” Hermione stopped short and gasped. “Are you nervous?”

“No!” The word came out too quickly and panicky for his ‘no’ to have been believable. “I’m just a little…” He paused to find the fitting word. “Strained, is all.”

“We should probably start getting ready now,” she said, glancing at the clock. “Or we’ll be late.”

He quickened his pacing and did not answer.

Hermione reluctantly went closer to him. She bit her lip, watching the way his hands were clenching and unclenching by his sides, and bravely placed her hand on his back. He was becoming wary of her touch again, much like those first months. Only, this time it was different (she didn’t think he was avoiding her because of Muggle-born germs anymore).

She expected him to flinch or shove her away now. Draco didn’t do either, but he did come to an immediate halt. With her hand still on his back, she walked around his form so that she was facing him properly.

“I don’t know why you need to impress Natalie Hopkins,” she started slowly, her eyes not leaving his for a second, “and maybe when this is all over you’ll tell me. But whatever reason it is, don’t worry. Tonight’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”