A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

43. Final Decision

"I realise there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go."

- Jeffrey McDaniel

________________________________________

Hermione spent what was left of the wedding doing what she should have when she arrived. She went around and spoke to people, congratulating a teary Mr. Lovegood and talking about Luna’s dress with Neville’s grandmother, who had taken a bizarre and disturbing liking to Draco; she would sit beside him whenever she could find him and strike up conversation, always looking for excuses to touch his arm and even going so far as to compliment how strong it was (it had been all Hermione could do not to spit out her Butterbeer, having accidentally overheard them). She supposed Natalie had introduced them. 

Then it was time for dancing. She danced with so many people it was hard to keep up, the longest dances being with Harry, Ron and Neville. Draco, meanwhile, had had to dance with Ophelia, Natalie and lastly and to Hermione’s great amusement, Neville’s grandmother. If Neville noticed his grandmother was smitten with his former childhood bully, he did not comment and Hermione felt no real desire to mention it, feeling that it could embarrass him.

The tears of happiness finally came by the end of the day as she hugged the new bride and groom goodbye and wished them luck on their honeymoon. She must have said goodbye to them a thousand times, and before she could leave Harry pulled her back into the crowd and she was thrown into a group hug consisting of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna. It felt really… nice was the easiest way to put it. It was nice because she could almost fool herself into thinking that they were back in school, and that they would see each other again at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning.

Finally, once Hermione had pulled herself free of their death grips, it was time to leave. As she weaved her way through the remaining guests, she found Draco waiting for her near the tent. After the longer than necessary hug Neville’s grandmother had inflicted upon him, she’d expected Draco to dash out of there as soon as possible, or, at the very least, go into hiding. But he was still there, holding out his hand and doing his best to look impatient.

Together, they arrived back home, and, after showering and putting on her pyjamas, it did not take long for Hermione to collapse on the sofa out of pure exhaustion. Too tired to make any dinner and too full from wedding cake anyway, Draco tossed her one of his apples to tide her over before bed. She shot him a thankful smile that he pretended not to see, and tested her luck by asking him to retrieve her book from her room.

He glared, and she was reminded of how he’d looked when she’d smeared cake over his mouth. “Go get your bloody book yourself.”

Hermione had not really thought he would get it for her but, nevertheless, she liked to see how far she could push him.

She read for the rest of the night with Draco on his favourite armchair, also flicking through some book, and did not stop reading until she’d fallen asleep.

The next morning when she woke, her book was not half over her face like it usually was; she was not even sitting on it. It was placed on the coffee table, closed, and the page she was up to still book marked. A blanket had also been nonchalantly thrown over her, not at all like how her mother would have done (most of it was on the floor), but it was an unexpected improvement anyway, because Hermione had fallen asleep with her book on the lounge many times before and Draco had not bothered to move it off her face out of drools way or to cover her up. She suspected it was his way of thanking her for saving his skin earlier, and when he came down for breakfast and insulted her hair, she did not call him an obnoxious ferret as she normally would have done.