Happenstance

Hermione had smiled genuinely when Arthur and Molly arrived. She recognised Arthur’s dress robes from her wedding to Ron. And from every other Weasley wedding she had attended. Mr Weasley had come up in the Ministry in recent years but he was still careful with money. Molly too. She was wearing her favourite dress; ginger and flowing loose like her hair. All three of them were wearing the same outfit they had at the last Weasley party Hermione had attended.

Ron’s robes made their frugal wardrobe choices look shabby. The rich blue contrasted vibrantly with his hair, heightening his tan. He looked very good and Hermione would have bet a vital organ he had not picked his clothes out himself. The witch draped on his arm wore an azure gown a few shades lighter than Ron’s, which set off her ash blonde hair and sky blue eyes. There could be no doubt as to who she was. And she was gorgeous.

“Glad you could make it.” Hermione said conventionally, smiling and shaking hands. She had drifted away from the hugs she had once merited except from George who was happy to hug any woman willing. His wife did not mind. Rumour had it she had witch-marked her husband somewhere very personal with ‘property of Angelina Johnson-Weasley’.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Arthur lied. Molly had made such a production of being invited to the party and Ginny had made their attendance so big an issue that he would have quite happily stayed home. He liked Hermione but he did not like Malfoy. Any Malfoy. At least the little rat-faced bully’s parents were still skulking overseas.

“Where are the babies?” Molly asked with enthusiasm. She did not know quite what to say with Malfoy smirking over Hermione’s shoulder. It seemed so strange to her to be here but she did not want to be disloyal to Ron by thanking Hermione. Nor did she want to seem rude by not thanking her. George bounded into the house as though he owned the place.

“Merlin’s pants, you’ve got some grumpy looking ancestors, Malfoy.” George was aware of the awkwardness in the air and had decided to be helpful. He’d find something to do that would take everyone’s mind off wondering how to pretend it was all happy families. “And they’re quiet too. Can’t they talk?”

“George!” Molly protested, abashed. She had asked everyone, twice, to be on their best behaviour. Not because it was Malfoy but because they were better than he was.

“Father charmed them silent.” Draco replied coolly. He had meant to be the Perfect Host but sight of Weasley, any Weasley, prodding his family portraits put a dent in his bonhomie. Hermione met the steady, good-humoured gaze of Angelina; a rock in the storm of Weasleys.

“I’ll take him into the ballroom. Come on, husband.” She took hold of George like a lioness catching prey and escorted him away from the supercilious Malfoy paintings. Arthur tried to cover the silence with a laugh. Hermione smiled. She was very fond of Mr and Mrs Weasley. She did not want them to feel uncomfortable.

“Ginny and Harry are here already.” She made a gesture to the ballroom. It seemed quite natural and it worked to get the elder Weasleys moving in that direction in their son’s wake. Charlie went with them, guessing the conversation between his brother and former sister-in-law would be easier without an audience. He would have offered to take Kasimira along with him but she had attached herself to Ron with a Sticking Charm.

“You are looking well, Ron.” Hermione elected to start honestly. Good old moral high ground. Ron straightened up so he could look down his nose; a habit he had picked up from Percy that suited neither of them.

“We’ve had a great season.” He said as though expecting insult. “Kasimira, I would like you to meet my ex-wife Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Countess Kasimira Zakharinya, my fiancée. And Malfoy, of course.” Kasimira for her part extended a petal soft hand to Draco and gave Hermione a condescending nod.

Draco took her hand, folding it smoothly under his arm and escorted her away from Weasley in one easy movement. He knew the courtesies warranted by rank. Hermione let them go. They made a very attractive couple being both tall and blonde. Very Aryan, she though with a smirk. Voldemort would have crowed.

“She is very pretty. You met at a Quidditch party, of course.” Hermione did not manage to keep all the sharpness out of her voice. She was thinking of orange knickers.

“Just because you never liked them doesn’t mean other people don’t.” Ron snapped back. He raked the greeting hall with scornful gaze. “So, how long until you’re Madam Malfoy? I bet you’re pleased with yourself.”

“Draco and I have no plans to get married.” She had answered that question so many times Hermione had it down pat with pleasant smile included. “I didn’t invite you to fight, Ron. I meant this party to be a truce.”

“Then why did you have it here? You know Malfoy is going to be sneering all evening. Didn’t you see his face when George asked about the portraits? He looked like he was wiping shit off his shoe.”

“He wasn’t sneering.” Hermione defended automatically. “Draco is very touchy about his family. So are you.” She added and regretted it because Ron immediately took offense. She added, trying to defuse the escalating quarrel. “He doesn’t know George.”

“He’s got you well trained.” Ron spat then stalked off towards the ballroom. His mother had made him promise not to argue with Hermione or Malfoy. He was not going to be the one who started it. But he would damn well finish it if the Ferret so much as raised an eyebrow at him. Hermione took a step after him to finish the conversation and defend herself. But she stopped, letting him go.

So he got the last word in, fine. She was an adult. She could ignore it. The witch took a deep breath. Truce, she reminded herself. A peace offering. Hermione told herself to mind her tongue around Ron. She did not have to talk to him or say anything about him. Or ask the house elves to put chilli peppers in his soup.

She noticed Suki on the stairs and hurried up to meet her. The triplets were fussing about getting dressed. They were noticeably more fractious closer to the full moon. Normally the house elves would have managed to get them dressed without her assistance but the babies were wearing heirloom christening gowns. Muggle clothing didn’t always respond well to charms and Hermione wanted to keep the handmade garments as pristine as possible. She would never hear the end of it if they were damaged.