18. After Eight

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Event 1 – Battered Witches Benefit – Dinner and Banquet, Black Tie Optional

Though Draco came alone, he isn't surprised to see her place setting next to his—she's the keynote speaker, and he's the benefactor who funded the new shelter in Liverpool.

She arrives almost late, sitting down after the first wine is poured, while the guests at the table are nibbling on hummus and toasted crackers from little ceramic dishes on a Lazy Susan in the centre of the table. They've politely shaken Draco's hand, thanked him for his generosity, and went on to have their own conversations.

"Oh, Draco," she says with an air of surprise. "I hardly recognized you."

He lifts a brow, not believing her for a moment. Draco, on the other hand, recognized her the instant she entered the hall. Her hair is draped down her shoulders in tame curls, she wears a chic pantsuit with a silk camisole beneath the sharp-lapelled blazer. Granger's incorporating sexy into her rigid business style—it seems wrong. Like a mermaid with feathers. Eye-catching, but just wrong.

"Didn't you?" he says, sipping his wine—he opted for red, but has been waiting for a server to come by so he can ask for a stiff drink instead. Someone, likely the witch occupying the seat to his left, vetoed unpaid house-elves tonight.

She's too busy shaking hands with everyone at the table to answer him. Telling them she's fine, so sorry she's late, there was Floo traffic, ha-ha. People laugh politely. Draco doesn't.

She doesn't reach for any apps, but slips something from her clutch and slides it on her lap, glancing down discreetly to read.

"Haven't memorised your speech?"

"Just reviewing."

"Unprepared, Granger? Not very you."

"As I said, I'm reviewing." The index cards curve in her white-knuckled grip. "Would you mind your own business?"

He does mind his own business after that because a server comes by to fill Granger's wine—she chooses white—and he asks for a new drink, a stronger one, and spends the rest of the evening getting buzzed.

Event 2 – Save Our Seas, Sirens, and Selkies – Sunday Brunch, Smart Casual

From afar, Draco watches Granger tip her deep green smoothie into the crooked palm plant, take a subtle look around, and, appeased she wasn't caught, continue leisurely down the event hall.

He slides up next to her, grinning. "You mean to say you're not a fan of seaweed smoothie?"

She jumps, her hand shooting over her heart. "Oh, it's you."

"Pleasure as always."

"Hm." She deposits her empty glass on a tray—an enormous clam shell, enchanted to float in the air. Around them, glass walls reveal deep blue water like the Slytherin common room, filled with colourful jellyfish, pink and white and pale blue, treading dreamily across the surface, lit up like Muggle electricity.

Hermione watches a jellyfish the size of her head with long curly stingers bob by.

"It's the Granger of jellyfish." He laughs.

At first she seems exasperated by the comment, but then her eyes take on a challenging glint. She walks a few steps down, searching the glass for something. Draco follows diligently. "Aha! Spotted the Draco of the group."

He snorts. "Why is that me, exactly?"

"It's knocking all the other ones out of the way. He's a bully."

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