A Second Look - A Dramione Story

Chapter 7

Warning: This is not my story. It is from RiverWriter on ao3.

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Hermione awoke the next morning with an actual smile on her face. The previous day had been so unexpectedly pleasant it had kept the nightmares that she still suffered from all too frequently at bay. But she was still nervous about the birthday party; Ron and Lavender would be there and that rarely led to a pleasant experience for her.

Also, things were a bit frosty between Harry and most of the Weasleys at the moment, which meant that things were also frosty between herself and most of the Weasleys, because she hadn't been shy about throwing her support firmly behind her best friend when he and Ginny had announced their intention to divorce; her relationship with the other woman had deteriorated so much over the years that it was pointless to try and remain neutral.

Nevertheless, she was looking forward to a girls' night with Hannah and Susan Bones that night, and then to seeing Draco and Scorpius the next day. And that made it easier to be cheerful and optimistic. She especially hoped Draco could find a house he liked quickly. Once she'd begun thinking about it, the idea of an innocent baby living in Malfoy Manor just gave her the creeps.

Almost as soon as she entered her kitchen to make tea there was a tapping at the window. Thinking it was a bit early for the Daily Prophet, she was surprised but pleased when she saw it was a delivery owl carrying yet another stunning bouquet of flowers. She took them and removed the note. Of course, the flowers were from Draco. The note was just a simple thing saying how much he had enjoyed her company the previous evening and was looking forward to seeing her the next day. But it was in his handwriting, making it just that much more thoughtful. Because even if he'd simply sent an elf to the florist, he had taken the time to write the note himself. She smiled to herself and carried the flowers back to her bedroom. The arrangement from earlier in the week was already decorating her living room. This unexpected gesture had put her in a good enough mood that she could manage to wait to have tea until she arrived at Harry's.

She dressed in jeans and a casual but- she hoped- flattering jumper. She knew that Molly wouldn't approve; she found all muggle clothing to be overly revealing, but she especially disapproved of the figure hugging denims that Hermione favored when she wasn't at work. Well, she was finished catering to another person's preconceptions, her lunch with Draco had been a powerful lesson in reminding her how good it felt to stand up for herself. There were some ways in which that woman was as old fashioned as even the staunchest of old-school purebloods. But the fact was that every child who would be in attendance- and most of the adults- had regular interaction with the muggle world, her attire would be nothing but normal to them, certainly not risqué. And she was done quibbling with Molly Weasley over things which were none of her concern.

Hermione pulled her hair back into a loose chignon in preparation for a day full of children with sticky hands that could easily get caught in her curls if she didn't take precautions. After that she put on the watch that she almost always wore. And, after a bit of thought, she added the diamond stud earrings that had been a gift from her parents when she'd gotten her- record breaking- N.E.W.T. scores. And then, on a whim, she took one of the roses from the arrangement Draco had sent and stuck it into her hair so that it adorned the side of the chignon.

She arrived at Grimmauld Place a little earlier than she'd planned, but she knew Harry and the boys would be awake. Again, she marched straight to the library and found the same book she'd come looking for on Tuesday. She was more than a little surprised that Harry had returned it to its rightful place. After retrieving it she made her way to the kitchen.

"Good morning boys!" She positively beamed as the door swung open to reveal Harry still in his pajamas with comically mussed hair, standing at the stove; James was at the table and Albus was in his highchair, their hair as messy as their father's.