Cruel and Beautiful World

Chapter 12: When I Get Home

"Two months!" shouted Bronson as he popped open a bottle of champagne, ignoring Draco's scowl as he let it rain over his white carpet. There was a reason they loved magic so much, and easy cleanup was part of it.

"Thanks, Bronson, but there is really no need for this," said Hermione, leaning very stiffly against the kitchen counter while he poured the champagne into three crystal glasses. "It just doesn't seem right to celebrate my freedom when so many others are suffering through the slave trade as we speak."

"Come on, Hermione. Can't you just be selfish for once?" he asked while handing her a glass. "You're a free witch, more or less. You're shagging regularly," he motioned towards Draco, handing him a glass as he nodded in agreement. "For the first time in years, you have clothes and a wand—"

"And a chocolate bar," added Draco, flashing her a quick wink.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but she could not hide her faint smile.

"Uh, right," said Bronson, clearly not getting the joke. "So shall we toast?"

"Fine," said Hermione, holding up her glass. "But if I'm still here in two months, we won't be doing this again."

Draco stiffened at the realization that she probably would not still be here when that time came. Instead, she would be with Potter and Weasel. With Weasel. Maybe physically? He cringed at the thought. Never. He would never, ever let that—

"Uh, Malfoy, we doing this?"

Draco looked up to see Bronson and Hermione staring at him, both of their glasses slightly raised.

"Right," said Draco, lifting his own. "So are we supposed to say something?"

"Oh, good idea!" exclaimed Bronson. "Go on, then."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

Bronson smiled. "Uhuh. Tell us how you feel, mate."

"How I feel?" repeated Draco, creasing his forehead as he glanced at Hermione, who was looking at him expectantly. "Well, I'm bloody glad you're not a slave anymore. But I'm not glad that I haven't had a chance to kill anyone but fucking Flint for owning you yet. I do plan to."

Hermione smiled.

"Is this how Death Eaters woo women?" asked Bronson, darting his curious eyes between them.

"Pretty sure it's just me," said Draco.

"Well, I'm wooed." Hermione said proudly. "Shall we drink then?"

"Clearly, I'm going to have to make the toast," said Bronson, lifting his glass a little higher. He cleared his throat. "Hermione Granger, I am so grateful to have the honor, no, the privilege of knowing you in this bleak and desolate world. You have overcome obstacles and conquered fears, always coming out on top and—"

"Cheers!" interrupted Draco, clanking his glass against both of theirs before chugging his champagne down.

Hermione clanked Bronson's before doing the same, making a face as the bubbles tickled her nose.

Bronson huffed. "Are you two not even going to let me finish my speech?"

"Nope," said Draco, taking the bottle off of the counter and pouring him and Hermione some more champagne. Bronson pouted before drinking his down, then held his glass out for a refill.

Just as Hermione was taking another sip, the alarm went off, signaling that someone was about to Floo into the flat. Her eyes went wide and she swallowed her mouthful down quickly before dashing into her bedroom, glass in hand. She shut the door just as a 'swooshing' sound entered the living room. Draco and Bronson both looked over to see Theo step out of the fireplace, dusting the soot off of his nice cloak. He glanced up, his eyes darting between them before finally settling on the bottle of champagne still in Draco's hand.