"His wife has just died! I thought you were helping him through his grief for his son's sake. What will Scorpius think about his dad replacing his mum so quickly?! It hasn't even been six months!"
Ron's face was furious as he slammed his limp looking sandwich down onto his plate, egg and cress slopping everywhere.
"You know the situation is more complicated than that." I glared at him as anger boiled inside of me. "It wasn't as though I was scouring the graveyards for fresh widowers!"
"Guys, please!" Hermione implored, close to tears. "Everyone is staring!"
I glanced around at the cafe we were sat in, and, sure enough, everyone was looking warily up at us as they shifted their chairs as far away from us as was subtly possible.
"You'll be accused of taking advantage of a grief stricken man!" Ron sniped, his face growing redder and redder by the second. "And have you thought about how this is going to make Hermione look? Her head Auror dating a Death Eater!"
"EX Death Eater!" I roared, banging my fist down loudly on the table. "And he didn't have a choice, remember?! They were threatening to kill him and his parents!"
"No big loss there," Ron shrugged huffily, slurping his tea in a way that made me want to smack him hard across the top of his thinning head.
"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "This is not helping anyone. And you know he was acquitted of any Death Eater activity due to him being underage at the time of Marking. As far as the Ministry is concerned, Draco Malfoy holds no more of a threat to society than you or I."
"Thank you, Hermione," I said pointedly, grateful that at least one of my friends were on my side.
"And to show our support of your relationship," Hermione continued, beaming brightly, "Ron and I would love you both to come over for your dinner tomorrow night, wouldn't we, Ronald?"
Ron spluttered silently, his face apoplectic.
I got to my feet, sighing heavily. "Look," I said, grabbing my bag. "It's a kind gesture, Hermione, but maybe it's not such a good idea."
"I'll work on him," Hermione whispered in my ear as she stood up to give me a hug. "Just say you'll both be there."
"Fine," I grumbled, glaring towards Ron, "but any snide remarks from him, then we will be leaving."
*****
I was still shaking with anger when I arrived home that evening.
So, it was to my very pleasant surprise to discover that Draco had let himself in and prepared a candlelit dinner for two.
"Before you say anything," he said at once as my eyes fell upon the carefully laid table in my kitchen, "I wanted to do this. This is not me trying too hard, it's me wanting to do a nice thing for you. Besides, I would have preferred to have taken you out, but seeing as we are supposed to keep us hidden, employing my staff to cook for us here was the next best thing."
"You had your staff in my kitchen?" I said, raising my eyebrows. Although to be honest, I wasn't in the least bit surprised that Draco hadn't cooked it himself.
"Yes, well," he mumbled, his face going slightly pink as he avoided meeting my eye. "I thought you'd prefer it here than at mine, it uh- gets a little draughty at this time of-"
"Draco, it's fine," I interrupted his painfully bullshit explanation. "I get that it's awkward for me to be at the Manor. It's not a problem. Besides, the last time I was there wasn't exactly a happy memory for me."
His face visibly relaxed. Circling his arms around me, he kissed the top of my head, releasing a soft sigh. "I've missed you, Potter."
"It's been like six hours." I smirked, lifting my face to brush my lips against his.
"Mmmm, too long," he murmured, his lips moving against mine. "Especially when you taste this good."
"Speaking of," I said, beckoning down to the table, "I'm starving."
As I took my seat, Draco dramatically lifted the silver domed shaped lid off my plate. I blinked down at it, my heart skipping a beat.
"Lasagne?" I breathed. It was a dish I had not eaten in twenty-five years.
"Is that alright?" Draco asked, concern etched across his face. "I recalled it was what you ordered at the Yule Ball."
I nodded just as I was hit by an overwhelming dizzying sensation of emotions. I wondered how a simple dish could have so much effect on me. Just the smell of it took me back to that night. I could hear the laughter over such hauntingly beautiful music. Dresses and robes of many colours floated before my eyes as people danced gracefully round and round the festively decorated Great Hall. An enchanting smile, sparkling eyes, and a soft, silky voice.
Cedric.
"Fuck, Etta, are you okay?" Draco asked, crouching down beside me as he pulled me into his arms.
It was only then I realised I was crying. I was crying over fucking pasta.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed, burying my face in his neck as I shook against him.
He coaxed me off the chair and pulled me down onto his lap as he held me tight, gently rocking me as though I was a child needing to be soothed.
Perhaps I was, perhaps we were all still traumatised kids simply trapped inside adult bodies. I know I didn't feel any different to my fourteen-year-old self. Not wiser, nor braver. If anything, I felt more alone and frightened than ever, constantly making bad decision after bad decision and managing to destroy my son in the process.
"I should have thought." Draco murmured above my ear as he clasped the back of my head, stroking my hair. "It was insensitive of me."
"No, no it wasn't at all," I assured him. "How were you supposed to know. It's just a silly dish! I'm being silly. I need to grow up and get over it."
"Don't say that," he frowned as his grey eyes pierced into mine. "Don't shrug off a past trauma as though it were nothing. Fuck, you've been through so much... you've lost so much. We all have. But we have each other now. And I know the way we've gone about it hasn't been... conventional. But I'm here, Etta, I'm here for you."
Our arms clung tighter around the other as we sat on the kitchen floor, I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest, and it calmed me.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled against his neck. "And after your staff went to so much effort."
His body shook as he let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Not to worry, Potter, I'll wrap it up and give it to them as a new year's bonus."
"You tight wad, Malfoy."
"How do you think the Malfoy's got rich in the first place?" He snorted loudly. "You don't make gold by giving it away."
"You know, you're lucky that you're cute," I said, lifting my face to scrunch my nose up at him.
His eyes seemed to soften as they stared into mine. He lifted an arm and wiped my damp cheeks on his shirt sleeve.
"I love you so much, Etta," he whispered, causing my heart to flutter and a warm glow to spread throughout me. "I'd do anything you asked of me."
"Really?" I enquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Really." A smile twitched at his lips as he fidgeted beneath me to pull his phone from his pocket. "What'll it be? Pizza?"
"Actually," I said coyly, ceasing my chance. "How about dinner at Ron and Hermione's tomorrow night?"
The phone slid out of his hand, clattering noisily to the floor.
And that right there, ladies and gentlemen, is why I was always the best bitch at Quidditch.
*****