Two

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Spectacle of the Year

Chapter 2

Draco observed the surroundings of his Apparation point. His lips curled into a smirk at the chaotic mix of rooms and windows that made up the… Dirt Hole? Rat Nest? No… that couldn’t be right.

He walked up the path to the hodgepodge house, avoiding the garden gnomes that tried to obstruct his path. Draco couldn’t believe his father would volunteer to live for half of a year in such a wretched place. Because both Lucius and Molly did not want to abandon their homes or start anew in an unfamiliar place, both agreed to stay with their spouse in one of the homes for six months and then switch.

Draco didn’t know how he could possibly spend an hour in the house every week. Molly, pining for the hustle of cooking for an entire troop of Weasleys, had begun a new tradition of inviting the Malfoy and Weasley families for dinner every Friday evening. Draco, being the only Malfoy besides his father at the dinners, felt awkward amongst the hoard of Weasleys sitting at the huge kitchen table. And of course, Potter and Granger would show as well, the adopted additions to the troupe of redheads.

This was to be his second dinner since the inception of this new tradition, and Draco was not looking forward to it. He had enough trouble getting through the meal last week, what with Potter and the Weasley girl waiting to pounce on each other, and Granger sitting directly across from him at the table…

He didn’t know what to do about her. That scene at the hospital… it was only a physical reaction to a girl. A soft, pretty girl in green silk robes…

But apparently, she was taken by one of the Weasley twins, the one called Fred. That prat slobbered all over her last Friday, and Granger loved it. Draco had to hold back the urge to sneer at the sight.

It wasn’t important that Draco’s pulse quickened every time she smiled or that a tic at the corner of his mouth would twitch whenever she placed a hand into Fred’s ugly freckled one.

Merlin, he was going to have a hard time this evening.

As Draco raised a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Fred and Granger in a tight embrace. Granger pulled out of Fred’s arms to get some air and smiled at Draco’s snarl in the doorway.

“Welcome to the Burrow,” a dejected Fred said.

“Ah, the Burrow… that’s what this shack is called.” Draco stepped into the house and went to the kitchen. He would not be affected by the sight of Granger’s flushed face and tousled hair. He would not grow annoyed with that pathetic public display of affection. He would not –

“Draco, it’s about time you came. Dinner’s almost ready,” Molly said as she gave Draco a warm hug and brought him further into the kitchen.

“Where’s Dad?” Draco asked, pulling off his cloak.

“Out getting some potatoes in the back garden. Bill, Fleur, and the kids are coming tonight and just Floo’d to let me know. Sit down with the others, dear; I’ll get you something to drink.”

Draco took the seat closest to the doorway. He supposed Molly had to be some woman to get his father to harvest vegetables in the backyard. He surveyed the table and saw Potter and his girl happily “talking” at the other end of the table, while the other Weasley twin held his newborn as his wife, Katie Bell, rested in the chair next to him. Draco’s eyes flickered over to Weasley and Pansy, who had become an item during the wedding. Draco’s former girlfriend turned in her chair to flash a grin at him before turning back to her current lover.

Draco nodded back and took the glass of cider Molly offered him. These events were madness. What were these Gryffindors doing to turn their Slytherin counterparts mad?

Draco’s musings were interrupted by the sight of his father, covered in mud and holding a basket of potatoes in his hand. Draco had never seen Lucius look happier.

“Here you go, Molly. I had to fight the gnomes for potatoes, and the pesky blighters have good aim with mud balls,” he said, kissing his wife and leaning against the counter.

Molly’s cheeks turned red as she took the basket and magically began to peel the potatoes. “Get out of here and clean up. You’re tracking mud all over the house,” she admonished.

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy.” Lucius spotted his son and smiled. “How are you, son?”

“Fine.”

“Heeded my advice?” he asked in a lower voice.

“Haven’t found the opportunity to do so.” Granger and Fred entered the kitchen then, arms linked.

Lucius noticed the direction of Draco’s glare and smirked to himself. “Sometimes you have to fight for what you want,” he said, leaving the kitchen before Draco could respond.

He studied the way the couple whispered together; once again across from him, even though Draco made sure he sat in a different chair from the one he sat in the previous week.

If he were to pursue her, he’d make sure not to end up like the love-sick Slytherins grinning in this odd house.

~*~

Draco made his way through the stew, occasionally pausing to observe the couple in front of him. They were oblivious to his cold stares, feeding each other spoonfuls of stew and giggling when some of it spilled onto each other’s faces. It was a disgusting display, and Draco would have ended all plans if it weren’t for the way Granger’s brown eyes danced whenever Fred cracked a corny joke for her amusement.

When dinner was over and dessert was about to begin, Draco extended his right foot and gently rubbed it along Granger’s calf.

“A word?” he asked as her shocked gaze met his.

“Sure.” She kissed Fred’s check and told him she’d return, following Draco into the hallway. “What is it, Malfoy? If we take too long, Ron will eat all the pudding.”

“Then I’ll skip the talking entirely.” Draco tilted Granger’s chin up and pulled her in for a kiss.

Her lips were warm, and when she parted them for a sigh, Draco tasted her. It was just as warm there, tasting of stew and Granger and of a cozy crazy home he wished he could have had as a child.

His hands wandered from her face to her back, soft and covered by the cotton of her shirt. If he only had the bloody courage to do something in the hospital room that night, he could have had cool silk underneath his fingers instead.

As he moved his hands up to tangle themselves in her hair, Draco remembered how unruly it had been when he’d first walked into the Burrow.

Damn that Weasley.

“Why did you stop?” Granger gasped.

“Because I–” He suddenly developed a conscience?

“Fireworks.” Draco heard the booming noises sounding from outside.

They ran to the backyard, where Fred and George had set off some fireworks of their own creation. Green and pink sparkles spiraled through sky, and purple and blue explosions showered over everyone in a bright light.

Draco pulled Granger close to him, amazed by the splashes of color in the night sky, though he kept his face set into a look of boredom.

Fred didn’t seem fazed by Draco’s handling of Granger and let a red and gold banner rocket into the sky. It exploded to show the words “Fred and Hermione” dazzling amongst the stars.

Draco loosened his hold on Granger and watched her run to Fred and jump into his arms for a hug.

Draco made an addendum to the resolution concerning his plans with Granger: If he were going to pursue her, he would do much better than setting up light shows.