Forever Knight [Harmione]

Chapter 19: Journey

The Grimmauld Place residents were having dinner in the large dining room at the time, all of them situated in what Hermione recalled to be their usual seats, at least as far as Harry, Ron and Remus went.  There were two new additions to the household. 

Remus sat at the head, purely out of respect for his age.  To his left was Harry, and beside Harry, Ron. Tonks sat to Remus’s right, and Draco, one chair apart from his second-cousin, once-removed, sat with them on the communal supper table.   Tonks, Remus and Draco looked like they had just come from work.  Tonks with her corporate-auror clothes, Remus with his old-fashioned suit and Draco with his poet’s shirt, the office vest accompanying it draped over the back of his chair.  Ron and Harry looked to be in casual clothing.  It looked so domestic that when Hermione walked into the dining hall with Lucien and Solomon, she didn’t know who was more shocked, her—who had never in her wildest dreams conceived of having Draco on the same table as Ron and Harry—or the household, who was seeing Solomon and Lucien for the first time. 

As usual, Draco had something to say.  “Oh, look.  She brought her groupies.”

Either Draco had grown braver over the last five years or he had developed a bad case of Stupid. 

Hermione always thought there was a fine line dividing the two, especially having been best friends with the likes of Harry and Ron. 

Needless to say, it didn’t sit well with either Lucien or Solomon, so Lucien—as per usual—did the mature thing and stooped to Malfoy’s level.

“Oh, look,” Lucien countered right back.  “A Jean Paul Laroche throwback.”

Draco had looked furious at that and he actually stood from his seat. 

“Draco?” Tonks squeaked.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

At that point, everyone else was too mesmerized by the phenomenon that was Draco having the balls to stand up to a strange vampire.  He usually ran and hid from danger.  There were—apparently—darker forces at work here. 

Even Hermione couldn’t believe it. 

“This,” Draco began snootily as he clutched at the collar of his blouse.  “Is Jean Paul Laroche vintage, you ignorant, Ozz Mercury wannabe.”

In retrospect, if there was anything that would get Draco to fight back, it had to be because someone had criticized his sense of style.  And if he wanted to piss off Lucien, he couldn’t have chosen better words to provoke it. 

Lucien, who had, in his one hundred and fifty plus-plus years, probably invented the concept of androgynous rock stars, wasn’t going to let anybody call him an Ozz Mercury Wannabe. Ozz Mercury was a Lucien D’Godenot Wannabe. 

Lucien advanced a few steps, murder in his eyes.  “I was fucking Ozz Mercury’s mum while he was still teething and while his hippie father was high on heroin in their basement, boy, so I’m not the wannabe standing in this room.  Incidentally, you’ve gotten some gravy on your throwback.”

Draco’s eyes flashed just before he checked for stains. 

The stains weren’t there and Lucien laughed.  Someone else laughed with him, a muffled, almost untraceable sound.  It might have been Ron.   

Draco glared at him.  “Why, you—“

“Draco, shut-up and sit down!” Tonks ordered him as she forced him back to his seat.

“Erm—“ Harry began, rising frantically to his feet to introduce them to Tonks, Remus and Ron.

Ron stared up at them a few seconds and fidgeted a bit before transferring his gaze to Hermione.  “Are they—um… er…”