Happiness Takes Courage

THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN ALTERED DRASTICALLY!

'Humans are cowards in the face of happiness. It takes courage to hold on to happiness.'

“Miss Granger, how wonderful it is that you could make it to the gala this evening.”

Hermione turned her head to smile at the gentleman who had taken her invitation and checked her name off the guest list, shrugging off her wrap and handing it and her purse to the doorman. “Thank you but my Authoress name is Miss Granger, my name is in fact Mrs. Weasley.”

She gave him a radiant smile, one that she had become aware of to cause some men a bit of a heart flutter. Hermione had grown into her looks over the past few years though her hair was as untamable as ever, curly and bushy. Now she had figured a way to tame it, which the stylist at her favorite salon had done before she came to this wonderful party.

“Forgive me and please send Mr. Weasley my regards.”

She looked over her bare shoulder as she walked away, nodding her head of her agreement to him before turning forward and walking into the vast room. It was beautifully decorated; crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. All lights were illuminated and sparkling brightly, almost winking at her as she entered. The floor was made of expensive marble, polished and smooth to be walked across, danced upon, to stand, and to scrape chairs across the floor as they were pulled out or scooted in. She stood there for a moment just watching the beauty of the room, admiring the beauty of the gowns and clothes that the rest of the guests were wearing as well.

She walked slowly into the room, her long, flowing dress flirting with the floor as she moved gracefully into the party goers. She wore a dress of deep violet, sprinkled with sparkles and rhinestones all across the bodice and skirt. Her dress was fitted perfectly to her upper body; the straps of her dress were hanging delicately off her shoulders, classy and showing that she still had taste. Her jewelry was simple, a diamond and white gold bracelet along with matching diamond stud earrings. Her makeup was mainly different purple eye shadows that brought out the darker colors in her eyes, defining them beautifully. She had a touch of eyeliner, a little lip gloss, and that was all it took to make a masterpiece.

“Hermione Granger, author of Defense Against The Dark Arts & How To Use It?”

Hermione slowly turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice, gasping when she saw who had been standing behind her. Before her was Margaret Williams, one of the top reviewer’s in England, also the woman that ran The Daily Review. The Daily Review was a paper filled with book and movie reviews that referred the public to the good and warned them of the bad. She was rumored to be a tough critic, and Hermione had heard on the gossip side that most people actually called her the world’s biggest bitch. If Hermione wanted her book to be good, or to at least sell well, this was one of the people she must win over.

“Oh Merlin, yes, I’m flattered that you would even know my name,” Hermione said with a breathy little laugh, her hand coming to her throat. “Of course, I know who you are, everyone who is in the writing business does, Mrs. Williams.”

Margaret offered her hand to her, smiling with a bit of warmth in her eyes; Hermione supposed that she wasn’t that bad. She had kind blue eyes and her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled, she seemed like a motherly figure of sorts. “It is quite a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger, I’ve read your work and your educational writing is quite good. I hope to someday see you write in a different genre, perhaps something a little more exciting? And please, call me Margaret.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hermione said, feeling a bit shocked that she would allow Hermione to have a first name relationship already. “My name is actually Hermione Weasley, but please just call me Hermione. Also, I have just finished my first romance novel; I am still a bit nervous about the whole idea.”

“Ah, so you were on of what history likes to call “The Golden Trio,” is that correct?” she asked a bit curiously, cocking her head to the side. Hermione finally took a detailed observation of the woman, black hair pulled into a neat bun, piercing blue eyes, bright eyes, and pale skin. She was pretty, but in a very professional way. She wore a deep green dress that was suitable for a woman of her age, which Hermione assumed was around her early fifties. She was on the shorter side, but her weight suited her as well, she seemed quite well rounded.

“Yes, Harry Potter is one of my dearest friends and my brother in law actually,” Hermione said blushing slightly, forever modest about her famous best friend. After all this time, used to being interviewed, photographed, and constantly asked about him, she was still the same Hermione. Harry would always and forever be just Harry, though with the ending of the war Ron and Hermione’s help to Harry had made them famous and go down in history as well.

“Ah yes. You married Weasley after the war, as if everyone hadn’t seen that coming, Granger. You’d think that with all the fame you received after your little heroic adventures you would have had better taste.”

Hermione’s smile slid right off of her face and fell to the floor, as did her stomach at the sound of that cold drawl. She turned around for the second time that night to see who was addressing her, coming face to face with the last person she could want to see. “I see that you have not changed since the last time I saw you, Malfoy.”

That was actually a lie; a lot seemed changed about him, like there was a different kind of aura around him. He seemed like he had grown an inch or so, his hair was thicker, no longer stupidly slicked back. He let his hair hang around his face, framing his pale skin and iced over eyes. That forever present smirk that had once been from school was no longer so boldly placed, it had dimmed, almost to a polite stand point. He seemed a little more world wise, like maybe after all the bad things he had done in school had caught up to him and taught him a lesson.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure it is to see you again,” Margaret said, smiling like what seemed to Hermione to be warm. How could any decent person on this earth give Draco Malfoy of all people a friendly smile? ”Might I say that your choice of books to publish has always been fantastic, especially the newest one, by that Sherborough girl, she is sure to have a number one seller. Since you came to the business everyone is jealous since you always seem to snatch up the best.”

Hermione felt her stomach clench into a knot over and over and over as she listened to Margaret’s words. Apparently Malfoy had become a book publisher, and always published the best, so if she wanted to be the best, she had to go through Malfoy? Bloody hell.

“Thank you, I am very pleased to receive such a compliment for a woman so publicly recognized as you,” he said smoothly, surprising Hermione with the fact that he could be charming. Hermione silently wondered if Margaret was a friend of the family, or a pureblood, or even both.

Hermione watched Margaret blush in appreciation for Malfoy’s attentions and Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. “If you are looking for someone else to take on, perhaps you should try Mrs. Weasley,” Margaret said, waving a hand at Hermione, obviously she did not notice that they were past formalities, or rather, did not respect each other enough to use them. “She has just told me of a work she has just completed. I have read her educational work and find it exquisite; perhaps this new book she has written will be great as well.”

Hermione beamed slightly at Margaret, already pushing the rumors she had heard far away from her. Margaret seemed like a wonderful person to her; she should remind herself that gossip is pointless and unhelpful. “Thank you, Margaret, but you do me too much honor.”

“Tell me, what is your book about, Granger?” Malfoy drawled in a bored voice, the smirk she remembered so well from school was plastered across his face. “Something about all your little escapades with Potter and what not?”

Her face flushed slightly and shook her head defiantly as she said, “No, actually. It is a romantic novel, if you please.”

She felt her face begin to heat up as he gazed at her for a long, silent moment, as if studying her carefully. “A romantic novel? I can honestly say I could not expect that genre to come from you,” he said as if it was a tad outrageous for Hermione to write about matters of the heart.

“And why is that?” Hermione asked as anger slowly began to seep through her pores, Malfoy was already sliding his way under her skin. “Do you not think I am qualified enough for such a story?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he said with a hint of suggestiveness in his voice which made Hermione’s skin burn hotter, embarrassed at how he had taken her meaning.

Margaret’s eyes flashed back and forth between them, a small frown beginning to crease her lips as they began to argue. It was obvious in the couple’s eyes that they were far past niceties for one another. She decided it would be best to duck out now. “If you two would excuse me…. I think I see Marie Swanson over by the stage….”

“I’m married, I should know enough about romance and what a true woman in love feels,” she said as she tossed her head, not noticing that Margaret had slowly backed away from them and disappeared into the crowds. Of course, Margaret was gone so it would have done no good for them to even attempt farewells.

“Really? You think that Ronald Weasley, a silly sidekick to Potter could actually show you what a real love is? Let me ask you something, do you really feel passion with him, I must say he seems nothing but utterly dull to me, and everyone else for that matter.” The snide look that graced his face made Hermione want nothing more than to strike him.

“That is absolutely none of your business! What goes on between my husband and I is no one’s business but our own,” she said venomously, her eyes glaring into his with a fiery intensity.

“Must have been right. Ronald Weasley, a good lover? Bullocks.”

“You are the most outrageous, rude, little-”

“Dance with me.”

Hermione blinked at his words, completely cutting off what she had been ready to say before he spoke. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, the drawl back into his voice but something sparkled dangerously in his eyes, something that Hermione was not sure whether to be wary of or be slightly enthralled. “Come and dance with me.”

“Why?” she spat, as if the very idea made her fill with disdain, which she did, but only a little bit. After all, Hermione was human and had never really brought herself to fully hate anyone, not even someone like Draco Malfoy, who deserved it.

“Because it will infuriate you and I refuse to discuss this preposterous book unless I can at least anger you in one way. I can’t be nice to you unless I am being annoying to you in another,” he said with an eye roll, setting his flute of champagne on a tray as a server walked past them. “If you dance with me, we will talk about your new book. I am sure that the only reason you came here tonight was to find a publisher, like myself, otherwise you would not have attempted made yourself look so stunning.”

She felt her face flush at not only the truth in his words, but the almost compliment that he had given her. His words not only infuriated her, but the idea of dancing with him as well, but she really did want her book published… But this was Draco Malfoy, anyone with a sane mind would refuse him, but obviously authors are anything but sane since she placed her hand in his. “Fine, but only for the sake of my career.”

The moment their hands touched Hermione had expected to feel her skin crawl, her stomach clench, but it was actually nothing of the sort. His hand was firm, large, and warm to the touch. Ron’s hands were long, but not strong like Malfoy’s, nor were they warm. Ron’s hands always seemed to be cold or clammy, as if after twelve years of marriage he was still nervous around her. She looked up, expecting to see his gaze towards the dance floor, where he was taking her; instead his eyes gazed into hers, cold ice meeting warm chocolate.

As their feet touched the dance floor his arm was around her waist and pulling her closer, beginning to gently lead her in a slow waltz, the perfect kind of song for talking. As Hermione looked up at him, she didn’t want to talk, she was afraid her voice would sound weak and breathless, which was how she suddenly felt. “So, Granger, tell me how you got into the writing business? Of course, you were such a bookworm I am not surprised that you decided to write them.”

With the moment duly shattered she cleared her throat, rolling her eyes as she decided to inform him politely, “It’s Weasley now, if you have already forgotten.”

She saw him grin at her, which agitated her more than anything he had done to her in the past, to mock her marriage. “Right, right. Go on.”

She paused for a moment, lettering her irritation subside before she would answer him. “Well, at first I decided to write my first book, Defense Against The Dark Arts & How To Use It because I already had a vast knowledge of defensive spells and their workings by the time the war ended. I liked to write in school so I thought it would be my contribution to society.”

She was surprised to hear him snort at her reasoning as he twirled her around quickly, following in a classic waltz, his grace surprised her. “Your contribution to society? Don’t you think you already achieved that by helping Potter defeating The Dark Lord?”

She shuddered involuntarily when he spoke of Voldemort in that way, remembering when he had been just a child, like herself, yet was forced to follow down such a dark and uncertain path. “I did what was right, nothing that anyone else that cared for their friends and family’s safety would do. Tell me,” she said, her voice challenging as were her eyes, “Why do you still call Voldemort the Dark Lord?”

“Old habits die hard.”

She stared into his eyes for a moment, taking him in, his expression, his tone of voice, trying to figure out what exactly by he meant by such a statement. She figured at this point he must have finally converted, for she didn’t feel as if she was in danger, only irritated to be dancing with an enemy. “Let’s cut all the chit-chat about the past, shall we? We have other things to discuss, which are the only reasons I agreed to dance with you.”

She saw his eyes dance for a moment, something she had never seen him do before he said, “Fine, let’s start with the age old question then. Why do you think I should publish your book?”

She blinked once, totally having been earlier prepared for this question but all answers leaving her mind as she attempted to answer him. “Because, my book is realistic, it will sell, it is also everything a good romance novel should be.”

“Granger, I honestly doubt you have it in you to write something that would capture the hearts of the masses. Weasley is far too boring, besides, your educational writing is good, but I doubt you have enough imagination to write something breathtaking.” Her face heated quickly, the blush creeping into her face as he spoke in such a, lewd tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, turning her head away from him, looking at all the other beautiful couples swirl about as the old song’s ending was weaved into a new songs beginning and the music continued.

“What could ever have inspired you to write something about passion, lust, devotion, or love of all things?” His breath was like fire as he leaned in and said all these things softly to her, almost huskily even, causing her to close her eyes for a moment before outrage snapped into place.

“Excuse me? You act as if I have never experienced any of these things after being married for over twelve years and two children later!” she said, feeling affronted by him, as if she hadn’t had a hand in saving his life from that ridiculous fire that had been started in the room of requirement.

“Marriage is not very romantic, at least not yours. You’ve probably never even kissed another man in your entire life,” he said with a cold laugh, watching with smugness as he proceeded to increase her anger.

“I certainly have,” Hermione declared, though it had only twice with-

“That oaf Viktor Krum? I can’t imagine him having any good kissing potential, how unfortunate for you,” he said with a sarcastic sigh. “You have no idea what it is like to actually be loved by a real man, only a wimpy sidekick and a celebrity who is only graceful on a broom.”

“And what would you call a real man!?” she demanded, irritated beyond on recognition, this conversation was not touching on anything she wished to discuss with Draco Malfoy. She was supposed to be proceeding to get her book looked over so it would be published, not her love life, or what went on in her bed.

“Someone intelligent, good looking, passionate, witty, strong, self assured, has a place in society, and of course, well endowed,” he said as a smirk kissed his lips, causing Hermione’s blush to turn a deep shade of scarlet that went down to her neck. “In other words, a real man is perfect and everything that I am.”

Hermione pulled away, attempting to jerk her hand away from him but his grip held her, pulling her straight back to him. She was pressed against his body, feel the rough, manly edges fit to her feminine and petite form. She tried to take a deep breath to veer her mind away from thinking about how fire coursed through her veins but inhaled his heady, manly scent. He smelt like sandalwood, fresh laundry, and something that could only be described as dark. “Let me go, Malfoy,” she said, her voice sounded as firm and strong as it should have been, yet she felt panicked.

“Why?” he asked, triumph dancing in his eyes. “If you really are a good romance novelist this shouldn’t bother you at all. It seems since I am acting, well, suggestively, you cower away. All good romance novels need a little lust, a little lewdness, don’t you think?” he asked as a slow tango began, still holding her close and beginning to move to a quicker pace around the dance floor. Unfortunately for her, her dress allowed her to keep up with him, damn it all. She could see in his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of her annoyance, she wondered if she could get her arm away to strike him.

Hermione closed her eyes, not sure if it was to quell her racing mind, or to try and not hit him with the amount of force that was building inside of her. The way he touched her was so… different from how Ron tended to treat her. When they were… together, he was always sweet and passionate with her, but Draco was acting… rough, sensual. He was making her mind work overtime, and causing her a lot of pause, at the same time driving her crazy with impatience. She wanted her book published, not to be toyed with and nearly molested by Draco eefing Malfoy. “What bothers me about this is that you are not my husband and I highly dislike you!” she exclaimed, being spun around so her back pressed the full length of her body against him. This was how the dance went, but she sure as hell did not want to dance it with him.

“That’s what makes this so much more, fun, wouldn’t you say?” he asked huskily, looking into her eyes as they continued to dance, Hermione’s mind beginning to wonder if this was all a sick joke to him. To consider publishing her book and then shattering her hopes like the complete arse he had always been and seemed to still be.

“No, I love my husband and my children.”

It was like a spell had been broken with those words; suddenly she stepped away from him, backing out of the dance floor since they had been at the edge. She stared at him for a moment longer, watching as his eyes danced in the candlelight, feeling utterly stupid and disgraceful as she scowled at him. Draco Malfoy was her sworn enemy, he was the root of all evil to her, and here she was, dancing with him when all he really wanted was to antagonize her, not talk about her book.

She turned away from him and began to walk, moving quickly towards the door. She almost expected him to come after her, but when she turned he stood motionless. He was staring directly at her, with an oddly smug expression on his face. She froze for a moment, not sure what exactly he really wanted from her.

She watched him turn away from her direction and walk back into the crowds, not even looking back to see her trembling slightly, or the paleness of body or the flush in her cheeks. She was terrified and cross all at once, her body hummed with nerves, she knew she was in for something different that could change everything. She had not seen him in years but she suddenly had a feeling she would see him again, and soon. Of course, how many times had Hermione ever been wrong?

Unfortunately… Very few.

It’s me again, trying to hold things out though I am so excited to get to the good stuff! I hope you are enjoying this story!

-Alexandra