Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You what?” Hermione spat, she could hear own voice climbing higher, it was almost shrill level, she spun around to stare at her best friend. She almost pitied him, almost. She could tell he felt bad but it wasn’t her fault. He did this to himself.

Harry looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, ‘Good, feel ashamed.’ she seethed.

“I know, I’m sorry Mione. But can you help me break the news to Ron? He–”

“Oh no, you did this,” She jabbed her finger at him to punctuate the feeling behind her words, her voice climbing higher, “You can break the news to Ron. I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

‘Nope, absolutely not.’

Harry dug his own grave with this one, and he was going to have to figure it out on his own. She had half the mind to pack up her stuff and leave. She had her own feelings about it and Harry was being completely insensitive. He had to know she would too. But because she was the only girl in their little band, she was expected to be the one to constantly keep them from fighting. Hell, she was the one that planned the snacks for the first year until she realized their blatant sexism, put her foot down and refused to lift a finger until they saw the light.

“But Mione,” Harry started to plead, his jet black hair sticking straight up even more from him running his hands through it.

“No.” She crossed her arms defiantly, she would not let herself cave. “Don’t give me that kicked-puppy-dog face,” She warned. She started to collect a few of her belongings, half to keep herself busy and half–well, she wasn’t planning on storming out of practice. She made a promise to herself a while ago that she wouldn’t. But if tidying up her things helped with making her exit swiftly, should the moment arised that was just a bonus.

The sound of old wood grating against rotted old wood, the tell-tale sign of Ron opening the old window all the way to crawl through the opening, cutting off Harry and whatever bullshit he was about to say. Ron threw his duffle bag first through the window, landing with a muffled thud, then swung one gangly leg through the window one leg at a time ducking low to avoid hitting his head again on the window pane from the fire escape bringing in the cold, damp, rain with him. “Who’s kicking puppies?”

Harry was back to staring at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. “Nobody, mate. How was the weather out there?” Hermione rolled her eyes, Ron was going to catch on fast that something was up.

Hermione scoffed, Harry was deflecting, it was obvious that it was dreary, wet, and raining out. Harry always kept his window open to his flat, even if it was just jarred, they were just listening to the silent pitter-patters of the rain drops, before Ron, looking like a wet dog came climbing through. It was London after all. Harry needed to just get the inevitable over with. He was the one that started this after all.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ron moaned, then proceeded to shake the rain out of his shaggy red hair, and ripping off his wet t-shirt to use as a towel, revealing his rippled stomach. Furthering Hermione’s initial assessment of the wet dog look, purposefully ignoring the washboard abs.

“Ron!” Hermione screeched, throwing her hands up in vain to protect herself against the droplets.

“What?” He shot her his grin, the one that said he knew exactly what he was doing, getting under her skin. If he flexed his muscles, she wouldn’t know. She was not looking at his bulging biceps, and rippled back muscles. Nope. She was not going there.

Hermione shot Harry a look, “Harry has some news,” she announced, her grin widening. This was going to be good. Harry glowered at her, he knew what she was doing.

Ron perked up at that, his mind surely going straight to great news for their band. Oh he was going to be so disappointed. Hermione plopped herself on the oversized bean bag chair to hide how giddy she was. And if it was the perfect place to watch the tragedy unfold, that wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t like she loved when Ron was upset, but she couldn’t help but feel delighted that finally, finally, those feelings weren’t going to be directed at her. And the fact that she was pretty pissed about the current development in their band herself, did put a major damper on her enjoyment.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry shot her a look, “want something to drink? I’m gonna grab a beer from the fridge.” Hermione rolled her eyes. This prat was acting like the fridge was in a whole other room.

Harry’s flat barely construed the social norm of living quarters. It was old, the whole building was. Something was always falling apart.The bathroom was the only space that had a door to it, and even then she was being generous calling the faux-wood accordion sheet a door. To say it was open-concept, was a little too much on the nose for Hermione’s taste. Although Harry hadn’t changed much, the whole place was very him. When Harry had first inherited the flat from his godfather, Hermione had helped him come to terms with losing the only trusted adult in his life in a very cathartic way.

She personally had wanted to paint it, but Harry was more fussed about living on his own for the first time. She had to concede that the exposed brick was the only charm the shabby edifice had to offer. Hermione helped hang curtains around his bed for added privacy and Ron hung up Harry’s favorite band posters. The only thing Harry had to worry about was bringing in musical instruments (even then there was already a significant collection stashed away) and when the weather was really bad, Sirius’ motorbike. Harry’s godfather would have approved, which made it that much sweeter for Harry. The neighbors were chill about him hosting band practice and that was the icing on the cake.

“Yeah grab me one while you are at it,” Ron smiled to Harry’s retreating back. This blow was going to knock him down. “Mione, you having one?”

“Oh no thank you, I can’t stay long tonight,” She still hadn't decided if she was going to bounce on practice tonight, guess it really all depended on how Ronald took the news.

The front door to Harry’s flat opened revealing another familiar redhead, this one was surprisingly dry and wearing the biggest grin on her face, “Hey fuckers! Who’s ready to rock!” Ginny said, setting the dripping umbrella outside the door, and dragging a large duffle with her, Hermione assumed it was her keyboard, concealed from the bad weather.

“Gin, what the fuck are you doing here?” Ron rounded on his sister, holding his shirt up to cover his chest up. Hermione rolled her eyes — again.

‘Well this is off to a great start already.’

Ginny’s eyes immediately flickered to Harry’s, Hermione was sure Gin noticed the guilty look on Harry’s face. It was hard to miss Harry’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. She was just suspicious on what he felt guilty about.

“Shit, am I early?” Ginny’s shoulders tensed.

“Hey babe,” Harry half jogged to greet Ginny in the doorway, taking her bag off her shoulder and kissing her cheek.

Oh, Hermione was seething now. But on the inside. She was keeping it calm and collective on the outside. ‘Babe?’ Since when is it ‘Babe’ again? So we’re back on that, this is making even more sense now.

“Sorry just a tad too early. I haven’t—” Harry flickered his gaze over to Ron and then briefly to Hermione but wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, “not yet,”

“Harry, what’s going on?” Surprisingly Ron didn’t sound mad, just confused. Thank god he finally put his shirt back on.

Ginny spoke up before Harry could, presumably so Harry didn’t have to fight with her brother, “Ronald, Harry and I are back together. And–”

“I may be slow on the uptake Gin, but I definitely caught on to that.” Hermione could hear Ron gearing up to start yelling. She made herself cozier on the beanbag.

“Ron, I–I should have told you sooner. But you told me to fix things and–” Harry tried to smooth things over, but fumbling over his words instead.

“Bloody hell,” Ron threw his hands in the air, “I didn’t mean get back together with my sister! And that still doesn’t explain what she’s doing here; right now. We made a pact, no girlfriends at practice.”

The room got quiet, nobody wanting to break the silence. Hermione refused to be the first one to do so. She was standing by what she told Harry minutes ago, she was not going to be the one to break the news to Ron.

“I’m going to go run and get some coffee for everyone. Hermione, are you coming?” Ginny gave her a friendly smile, Hermione refused to give her one back.

Sure Ginny was one of her closest friends, probably her best female friend. But this wasn’t personal, this was business. And if Ginny thought Hermione wasn’t going to have words about this, she was sorely mistaken. This was her band. And she did not appreciate how this came about.

“No,” Hermione kept her voice calm and neutral, she was waiting for her moment. The right moment.

Ginny left in a hurry, Harry on her heels to see her out, Hermione assumed to whisper quick apologizes. She was seething, he was apologizing to the wrong person, well persons.

Ron rounded on her the second the door closed, “What’s going on, Hermione? Why in the bloody hell is–”

Hermione hopped off the bean bag, crossing her arms in a huff as she scrambled to her feet, “I’m going to stop you right there, Ronald. I told Harry, I was not going to be the person to tell you. I’m just as P.O.’d as you, probably more, so don’t even start with me.”

“Oh no, Mom and Dad are fighting again,” Harry whined, Hermione hadn’t even noticed the front door opening again. Ron and Hermione glowered at him.

She quickly untangled her arms, realizing she had been mirroring Ron’s image, “Shut up Harry and get to talking,” she demanded, Harry winced at her tone.

Harry started pacing the floor and running his hands through his jet black hair, “You both read the same articles and comments as I did, you can’t deny it. Everyone said we were missing a sound. And Ron, you said to fix things with Gin. Don’t deny it. And I saw my opportunity and I took it. I know–I know–I should have discussed it with you guys first. But you weren’t there. Ugh you guys should hate me. I would hate me. Hell, I do hate me.” Green eyes bore into her soul, pleading for forgiveness.

Fuck.

He was so pitiful when he was being self deprecating.

“You complete nob-wanker! When did I ever say to get back together with Gin? And why won’t anyone tell me why she is here right now and what the bloody hell does it have to do with our band?” Ron really was slow on the up-take.

“Come on mate, don’t be like that. Last tuesday when we had the guys poker night and you said–”

“It doesn’t matter that you and Gin are back together Harry,” Hermione cut him off, she wanted to speed this process along, and Harry was just going to keep beating around the bush. “Quite frankly, I’m very happy for you, the both of you. Now why don't you get on to telling Ron about how this affects our band? Because that’s something I would really like to hear more about.” She shot daggers his way, wishing she had laser vision or conjure birds out of thin air to attack him. Nothing to permanently to cause harm, just even to scare him.

“Right,” Harry mumbled bashfully, “so we both read the same articles and our fans have been commenting on our socials for awhile now about how we were missing a sound–”

“So you’ve said,” Ron looked crossed, Hermione hoped he was finally catching on.

“And we talked about adding another member before–”

“Which we vetoed.” Hermione cut in, this is what she was mad about.

“You vetoed,” Ron corrected, Hermione shot him a dark look. Was this bastard on her side or not?

“We have no leader, all votes are equal,” Hermione refused to look at Ron.

“You only say that when it fits your agenda,” Ron shouted back, giving her an equally dark look.

“Excuse me? What do you mean ‘my’ agenda?” Hermione whirled to face Ron fully. This was so like him, she should have seen it coming. Finally when they would be, should be, in agreement with each other, after months of fighting, and walking on eggshells around each other, he would find a way to make her the bad guy again.

“I’m just saying, that when it was–”

“DON’T you even dare, bring that up again, Ronald!” She poked him in the chest, to prove her point further, jabbing it into his hard unforgiving pectoral muscles. “That was mutual and you know–”

“GUYS!” Harry screamed to be heard over their shouting. He cleared his throat,“Thank you. Sorry I had to yell, but I was afraid if I let you guys keep going, another war would break out. The divorce was hard enough on me, as your only child, I can’t go through that again.”

Ron chuckled at Harry’s joke, that weak bastard couldn’t stay mad at Harry to save his life. It had been their running joke since they were young kids, that had really solidified when Ron and Hermione started dating two years ago. As an orphan and a child being raised by his abusive aunt and uncle, Ron and Hermione had sort of adopted Harry as their child. Now it was a running joke that Ron and her’s breakup was a divorce. It bloody felt like one too.

She, however, refused to find it amusing.

“We want our band to succeed and to take it as far as our fans are willing to carry us. And this is how we do it. I am really sorry, truly. And I promise I will never do something like this again.” Harry pleaded some more.

Hermione glanced over to Ron to see what she could read on his face. But he was being either rather stoic at the moment or still hadn’t fully processed things. Her take was on the latter. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, and then his eyes narrowed in on the bag that Ginny had brought in with her. Ron stormed over to it and yanked the zipper down revealing what Hermione had suspected was inside; Ginny’s keyboard.

“My sister?” Ron rounded on Harry.

Throwing his hands in the air in surrender position, “She’s the best, we all know it.”

“But – my sister?” Ron repeated, his face was almost as red as his hair.

Harry glanced at Hermione, surely to silently ask to step in. Jokes on him, Ron was not her responsibility anymore.

“We talked about adding a hot girl to the band.” Harry tried to joke.

“Ew, that's my sister!” Ron pulled a face and covered his ears like a child.

“Hey!” Hermione stomped her foot, “What the fuck am I? Chopped liver?” She swept a hand down her figure. Why did they always forget she was a girl? It took Ron three years to even notice she was in fact of the female species. Sure her hair was a little wild and tended to have a mind of its own, but she knew she wasn’t ugly by any long shot. Sure she could stand to lose a stone or two, but not everyone could get fit while dealing with the emotional toll of a breakup. Ron.

“You’re my ex, you don’t count.” Ron waved her off.

“Ew, you’re like my sister.” Harry made a face.

“See you now you know I feel you asshole!” Ron playfully shoved Harry.

Boys, she scoffed, “Alright, I think we got way off track here. Harry we don’t care that you added a fourth member–”

Ron cut her off, mumbling under his breath, “Speak for yourself,” she shot him a look, “sorry.”

“Like I was saying, we don’t care, you added a fourth member. It’s the fact you did it behind our backs.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I would have hated it if either of you did it to me. But you don’t understand, she was about to be approached by other bands. She had her pick.”

“Harry, we are an anarchy collective. We decided a long time ago that no member of this band holds a dominant authority over the others. You completely demolished that. You broke the sacred rules of our band.” Hermione whined.

“What can I say or do to fix this?” Harry pleaded, his green eyes boring into her soul.

Hermione looked to Ron and then back at Harry, “I think we need time. Right Ronald?”

“Erm—” Ron squirmed, “did it have to be my sister?”

“Honestly Ronald, that is what you are hung up on?” Hermione shoved his arm, ignoring the taut muscles,“I’m honestly glad it’s Ginny. At least we know her and we know she is going to fit in well with us. Harry, I really am glad you two are back together.” Despite still being mad at the wanker, she pulled Harry into a tight hug. She had always thought Harry and Ginny made a really cute couple.

“Wait,” Ron said with such urgency in his voice, both Harry and Hermione pulled out of their hug so fast, “are you back together with my sister again, just so she would pick our band?”

The front door slammed shut with sudden force making the three of them flinch, revealing a very irate Ginny.

Ginny slammed the four coffees on the kitchen counter, liquid splashing out of the lids and rounded on her boyfriend,“Well Harry, is it?”

“Ginny, no! Absolutely not.” Harry took three giant steps to gather Ginny in his arms, fast, she only fought him a little and begrudgingly let him pull her in closer when he wouldn’t let up his grip on her,“We broke up because you didn’t want to do long distance while you went back to school and I was out in the real world. I had been working up the courage all summer to ask you out again. I didn’t want to bugger it all up, like I am right now.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Harry, “So me having my pick of bands,” she pressed, scowling at Harry “has nothing to do with us?”

Harry shook his head, “No, absolutely not.” Ginny crossed her arms while Harry still held her tight but she kept silent, “Okay maybe a little. But it was the push I needed to get my head out of my ass.” Harry rested his hands on each side of Ginny’s face and pulled her in for a sweet kiss.

“Ew! Let’s get one thing straight, no PDA during band practice.” Ron scrunched up his face in distaste, holding his hand out to cover up from seeing his best mate and little sister snog.

“Now you know how I felt for two years,” Harry groaned, causing Ginny to giggle and kiss Harry some more.

Hermione announced, partially to keep Ron from blowing a fuse, and mainly to get to the point nobody was seeing,“Now this brings me to air my grievances,” Harry flinched, and Ron had a confused look. Hermione scoffs, “It means, I would like to express what I am upset about.”

“Oh why didn’t you just say that?” Ron looked like someone had finally turned the light on upstairs.

“Hermione, what’s wrong? I thought it was because I went behind your back.” Harry at least had the common courtesy to look ashamed of himself.

“Don’t get me wrong Harry, I am still very cross with you about that. But are we changing our band name?” She looks around at both boys, who looked just as equally confused. Ginny just stood there, unsure of whether she had a say or not. Her first band practice was probably not going the way she had expected. But she could blame her boyfriend for that.

“Why would we change our name?” Harry asked, confused.

“The Golden Trio,” Hermione, waved her arms, how had no one caught on yet? Ron sure as shit still hadn’t, “With a fourth member we can’t be a trio anymore. Are we now The Golden Quartet?” she wrinkled her nose, “No that sounds too much like a string quartet. Do we completely deviate from numbers so we could add more members later on down the road if we ever need to again?” She was spiraling now and couldn’t stop. This was the exact reason why she doesn’t hold things back. Holding her emotions, or thoughts was not her forte, she was bound to spiral out of control.

“But we’re The Golden Trio, our fans know us as ‘The Golden Trio’,” Ron whined. It was always about the fans for Ron.

“‘Mione, might have a point,” Ginny sheepishly spoke up, timid that she was overstepping a boundary. Looking up at Harry to make sure it was okay that she voiced her opinion, “It doesn’t sound right to call the band a trio, if there are four of us.”

Harry, putting on his ‘let’s get to business’ expression, said “We can think about this over the next couple of days, and make a decision as a band. Our next show is coming up quickly, and we need to get Ginny up to speed on our setlist.” He clapped his hands together, his usual mannerism to declare that band practice had started. Turning to Ginny and planting a brief kiss to her temple,“I’ll set up your keyboard babe, while you get settled.”

Hermione walked over to her favorite spot to warm up her voice before practice officially began. There was something about watching the hustle of the passersby that helped her get into the right rhythm of her warm up techniques, and release tension. Mrs. Figg, the crazy cat lady who lived two floors below, had stopped Hermione a few times to tell her that she loved listening to her sing. On the rare occasions that her hip was up to it, Mrs. Figg would sit on the fire escape and listen to them practice. On her bad days, she would open her window and let their music travel through her flat. Hermione almost died of embarrassment, when one day Mrs. Figg confessed that ‘Forbidden Forest’ was her favorite song. Hermione had written that after her and Ron’s first time together, back when they were still hiding their relationship from Harry. Sure the lyrics didn’t outright say sex, but the sentiment was there. The way her face had flamed, Mrs. Figg took no mercy on her and giggled, she had definitely understood exactly what the song was about. How could she not with lyrics like,

‘Every step is a dance with fate,
On a path that we didn’t choose, but can’t escape.
Your eyes, like the moonlight, guide me through,
The tangled vines of what we’re not supposed to do.

She hadn’t understood how Harry didn’t catch them sooner. No it took him barging into the empty classroom and literally catching them in the act. That had been mortifying for everyone. Although she still firmly believes that Ron was at fault. Who leaves a note someone writes for them on someone else's bed? Especially one as vague as – ‘Meet me classroom 3c’.

In the middle of her lip trill warm-ups Ginny’s voice pulled Hermione out of her thoughts, “Are you sure you don’t mind that I joined the band?” her tone so unusually timid, surprising Hermione.

Taking pity on the redhead, Hermione gave her a friendly smile, “Of course not Gin. I’m not going to lie, I hate the way it happened and how Ron and I were excluded from the decision making process. But had I been given the chance to vote, I would have probably voted yes.”

“Probably?” Hermione laughed at how scandalized Ginny looked.

“Trio, Ginny! Trio! What are we going to do about the stupid band name?”

Ginny’s brown eyes twinkled with laughter, “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah well, I know I would have voted no, if I were given the choice.” Ron said coming up behind them using his drumsticks to beat on the window sill and the glass pane. “I wanted a hot girl.” Ron mumbled, walking away.

Hermione and Ginny shared a look before quickly grabbing the closest thing to them to throw at the prat. Ginny had swiftly ripped a drumstick out of Ron’s hand and Hermione found clean (hopefully) rolled up socks Harry left on the window ledge.

“Shut up weasel face, nobody asked you.” Ginny playfully kicked at Ron.

“See this is exactly why I would have voted no.” Ron scowled, rubbing his calf.

“Alright, alright, break it up you two,” Harry said, laughing. “No fighting during band practice.”

“I thought that rule only applied to Ron and Mione,” Ginny joked, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

“Nice try, but that rule applies to everyone,” Harry warned, standing up from behind Ginny’s keyboard. Hermione had to admit that it did look good there amongst the rest of their instruments. “Alright babe, it’s all set up. Are we ready to start practice?”

“I think now is as great a time as any to go over our band rules,” Hermione said, straightening her back and rubbing her hands together.

Ron groaned, rolling his eyes, “No, it’s getting late, we should really start practice. You know how Mr. Filch gets when we go over our time.”

Hermione glanced at her watch and swore, “I hate to say it, but unfortunately Ron is right. Plus I have a shift at the bar tonight, so I’ll need to leave ten minutes early to get to work on time.”

“Don’t worry, Mione, one day you’ll never have to work again.” Ron said wistfully, learning on arm on her shoulder, “Well besides the band stuff. But this is nothing compared to a real job.”

“As long as it keeps the lights on,” Hermione sighed, “Oh Gin, do you mind if I record this? It helps me look back on it. Hear where we can improve and what not.”

“Don’t mind at all,” Ginny with a big toothy grin. “Let’s rock!”

“Alright Ron, count us in, starting with ‘Trolls’,” Harry said, strapping on his guitar.

Ron sat down at his drum set, smacking his drumsticks in the air above his head as he counted the start of their first song as a band of four, “A one, two, one, two, three, four…”

Chapter Text

“Where the hell are you dragging us to now, Nott?” Draco drawled, using his long legs to keep up with Theo’s even longer strides. The cobblestones underfoot were uneven, slick with a thin layer of grime and a few scattered puddles from the last rain, reflecting the dim light that struggled to filter down from the overcast sky.

“Just some quality band bonding time,” Theo called over his shoulder, his voice echoing into the dark alley. The grin he shot at Draco, sent cold shivers down his spine.

“Look mate, I’m wearing my good Italian loafers, you did not properly prepare us for this excursion.” Blaise Zabini whinged from somewhere behind, he couldn’t be bothered to even try to keep up.

“That’s your own damn fault, Zabini!” Theo called back, he sounded too giddy for Draco’s liking. “You should know me better by now.”

“Theodore Nott, if we get murdered down this alleyway, I will come back just to re-alive you again, and then transform myself back into a ghost just to haunt you!” Pansy threatened. Draco could hear her struggling to keep up, the poor dear had much smaller legs than the rest of them.

“Hmm, that seems like a lot of trouble,” Blaise said with great rumination in his voice.

“Not if Nott gets us all killed.” Draco could practically hear the scowl in her voice.

“Why not just bring us all back and leave, Nott dead?” Draco turned to walk backwards, a little bit to show off, and a little bit to talk to Pansy face-to-face.

“No. That’s too much necromancy, I shan’t be bothered. I will just bring the both of us back, so I can haunt Nott for the rest of his life.”

‘Well at least she has her plan.’

“Aww Pansy, you really do love me. You want to spend the rest of your afterlife with me.” Theo chuckled before taking a quick turn down an even more narrow alley. “Tell you what Pansy, just to save you all that trouble. If we get murdered tonight, I’ll stay alive just for you.”

“Just tonight?”

“Fine, beautiful, you drive a hard bargain. Anytime there is a mass murdering attack on our band, I will stay alive just for you.”

“Thank you.” Pansy said smugly. “Now will someone just carry me already? I can’t take another minute of all this walking.”

“According to Crabbe and Goyle’s directions, we are almost there.” Theo said, pulling out his phone, the screen illuminating his face. The smirk on his face gave him an overall creepy vibe, whatever the fuck Nott was planning, it was not going to be good.

“Crabbe and Goyle?” Draco questioned, what he didn’t say was heavily implied. Nobody listened to what Crabbe and Goyle had to say for a reason. This was much worse than what Draco had originally thought.

Theo ignored Draco, which annoyed him. He should just refuse to follow Theo. As the leader of their band, he should probably be the one setting an example, making sure his fellow bandmates were safe. Though he was curious now. He only followed Theo, he reasoned with himself out of pure curiosity. He could leave any time he wanted. And for the rest of his friends they were their own people after all. They could make their own decisions.

Blaise, taking sympathy on Pansy, snaked his arm around her shoulder, “Here babe, I got you.” And helped guide her over the uneven grimy cobblestones.

“Ah, here we are!” Theo exclaimed happily, a proud look stretched across his face. Draco looked around at the rest of his company, they were all wearing matching scowls.

“What the fuck, Theo!” Pansy spat. She looked like she was ready to lunge at him.

Theo’s face did not falter, “We discussed getting matching tattoos. I paid in advance– quite heavily, I might add–so get whatever you want,” he beamed, “It’s on me courtesy of the Nott trust fund.”

Four years ago, when Theo’s father was sent to prison and the HMRC froze all of the Nott family accounts, Theo had to start earning his own money—a concept that was entirely new to him at the time. Navigating it all as practically an orphan and on his own. But now, since Nott Sr.’s passing seven months ago, Theo was flush with cash once again. All the accounts unfrozen and Theo as the only beneficiary, left Theo having more money than he knew what to do with. Ever since he had been treating his friends and spending his money wildly to spoil the people he loved the most. And let's face it, their friend group felt more like family than their real families.

Draco looked around the back alley, Theo had dragged them to, it was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The walls had closed in the further they had dared to venture. The air was thick with the smell of dampness and decay, a blend of rotting garbage and something acrid, like burnt rubber. The walls of the surrounding buildings were stained with years of soot and neglect, covered in patches of peeling paint and graffiti that had long since faded. Rusted fire escapes clung to the sides of the buildings, their metal creaking ominously in the wind.

Old, cracked windows with iron bars line the alley, some boarded up with rotting wood, others broken and left gaping. The only light came from a flickering street lamp at the far end, casting long, distorted shadows that danced eerily along the walls and the neon shop sign they were standing in front of.

Pansy, scandalized, looked up at the sign above the establishment they were expected to enter. “Nott, you did not bring us to some sketchy tattoo shop called ‘Someone’s Bathroom.’ I’m not stepping foot in there. We’ll catch a venereal disease just by walking in, not to mention whatever type of hepatitis is lurking on their needles.”

Theo laughed, “Don’t worry, they charge extra for the diseases.” And walked in like he owned the damn tattoo parlor.

For what it was worth, Draco was pleasantly surprised how clean ‘Someone’s Bathroom’ actually was. According to the placards that hung on the walls, they had won a plethora of awards for it, among other things. They were apparently the best in a lot of different categories, like best studio, artist, realism tattoo, innovative art, cover-up, People’s choice, but not limited to. There were others but Draco ran out of time to peruse all of them. They were either legit or a really good replica. Either way, Draco was impressed.

“Malfoy,” Theo called from across the studio, “come meet Caspian. Cas, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Draco walked over to Theo and the very large, extremely muscular man covered in tattoos, Draco presumed to be Caspian. He stuck his hand out for a handshake, “Don’t believe a word this fucker has said,”

The mammoth of a man glared at Draco’s outstretched hand as if it personally offended him. Draco straightened his posture, refusing to cower under the man’s intense gaze, even if the man was utterly terrifying. But Draco wasn’t going to let this man know how terrified he was. Caspian towered over him, and Draco was not a short by any means. This man had to be close to 6’7”, Draco noticed as Caspian moved from behind the desk to stand right in front of him.

Draco had barely any time to react before Caspian lunged at him, surprisingly for a man of his size, Caspian moved like the wind. To Draco’s complete horror, Caspian pulled him into a bone-crushing hug that felt more like being caught in a vice. Draco’s feet left the ground, dangling helplessly as Caspian’s arms locked around him in a bone-crushing embrace. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t been picked up like this since he was a small child.

“Any friend of Theo is a friend of ours,” Caspian’s deep American accent rumbled, vibrating against Draco’s chest like rolling thunder. Draco could only gasp in response, his breath squeezed from him by the giant man’s crushing strength. He glanced around desperately, hoping for a lifeline, but Blaise and Pansy had seemed to disappear. Of course, Theo, the smug bastard, just stood there smirking.

“Thank you mate,” Draco finally rasped out, struggling to catch air when Caspian’s death-gripe finally set him back to the ground, “you have no idea how relieved I am to be welcomed.”

“Cas, mate, you have to show Draco the sketches!” Theo said, smacking his hand light-heartedly on the counter. “Blaise! Pansy! Get your arses over here.” Theo called into the otherwise quiet parlor.

“You know Theo, you could try having some decorum,” Pansy drawled coming out from behind a curtain, Blaise following right behind.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I will take that into consideration,” Theo bowed exaggeratedly.

Draco’s eyes bugged out of his head, the preliminary sketches were exactly what they had been discussing since they first started the band. Back then they were just children, little spoiled brats really, who threw tantrums because their childhood nemesis started a band and couldn’t stand to be outdone by them. How all that turned into something he was truly proud of, Draco didn’t know. But he was surely grateful for it, all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

“Theo, when did you do all this?” Draco couldn’t believe his eyes. Nobody had ever sketched out their ideas, they had only ever talked about it in passing. Okay more than in passing, they had talked about it in such great detail that everyone knew exactly where everyone wanted their tattoo. The first time the idea was presented out loud they had been high off their asses after band practice, nobody caring they had class first thing in the morning, nor that no one was even old enough for a tattoo, unanimously they decided the most punk rock thing to do was get matching tattoos.

Unsurprisingly no one could settle on a final design, so the concept of matching band tattoos turned more into an abstract notion. Venom & Velvet could only agree on one thing: the main symbol had to be a snake. This was very fitting for them as a band, each member sporting a different random tattoo as a symbol of their chaotic unity. Over the years, their individual visions evolved—developing, blossoming, shifting; until they hadn’t. For a while now everyone had known exactly what they wanted. They had literally manifested them into existence. Proof of it all was right here in this tattoo artist’s sketchpad in a place that had quickly grown on Draco named: ‘Someone’s Bathroom.’

Leave it to Theo.

Theo shrugged, “We’ve been discussing this for so long now. I figured if I didn’t get the ball rolling, we’d still be talking about it when we finally retire in our sixties.”

Caspian handed each individual sketch to the rightful person, like he had been a part of this process this whole time. “Look them over, if there’s anything you want changed Lenny will be here soon, you can take up any complaints with him. Warning he is a crier. Nott, since you already approved your design, Dex is all ready for you.”

“Thanks, mate,” Theo said as he walked towards the arched doorway behind the curtains, the space Draco assumed was where the actual tattooing happened. He paused briefly to share a knowing look with Draco before disappearing.

Draco couldn’t take his eyes off the sketch in his hands, it had been exactly how he pictured it in his head. How Theo was able to turn mostly drunken ramblings and transform them into real sketches, he wouldn’t know. It was like he brought Caspian into his head and they had pulled it out and set it to paper. Although the outline was pretty basic, it was spooky that the shading was so precise. Draco tried to recall ever telling Theo or anyone for that matter what type of snake he wanted, but couldn’t. But there it was the Gaboon Viper, fangs and all coiling on the paper.

“I can see the gears turning bud,” Caspian’s voice snapped Draco out of his thoughts, “Theo worked the hardest on yours. The damn bastard made me sketch it at least ten different times. I wouldn’t worry about hurting Lenny’s feelings, you’ll probably kill Theo if you hate it.”

Draco cleared his throat, “No it’s not that,” he ran a hand through the stubble on his jaw, letting the hair prickle his skin. “I just can’t believe the bastard did all this.”

“It’s been months,” Caspian’s words hung in the air. Draco shook his head in disbelief. How was Theo able to do all this in secret for so long? After everything that man had been through, all he ever thought about was the people he loved and how to make them happy.

“BIG CHEESE!” was screamed over the bell ringing as the door to ‘Someone’s Bathroom’ burst open, revealing Crabbe and Goyle, the goon duo. Tripping over each other as they tried to enter at the same time.

“Didn’t I tell you both to stop calling me that?” Draco scowled. Friends since childhood, he couldn’t ever shake them. Not that he ever tried not being friends with them. Their friendship had flourished as infants, constantly being thrown together being convenient playmates for their parents. Crabbe and Goyle had stuck to Draco like glue ever since. They were idiots but they meant well.

“But you're our band leader. What else are we to call you?” Goyle hiccuped, they had definitely gone to the bar before this.

“Malfoy, Draco, or my personal favorite, shithead,” Pansy suggested, clearly annoyed. She personally found their bumbling presence offensive more than anyone else.

“You two must be Vincent and Gregory,” Caspian’s stony face matching his tone. “Where’s Lenny?”

“Erm,” Goyle stumbled, gaping up at Caspian.

“He–he is on his way.” Crabbe, looking like he could use someone’s bathroom, stuttered.

“Theo is in the back, I know he’ll want to talk with you both.” Caspian pointed in the general direction of where Nott had disappeared just moments ago.

Blaise, knowing Crabbe and Goyle all too well, hooked an arm around each of their shoulders, “come on gentlemen,” and led them to where Theo was.

“So beautiful, what do you think of yours?” Caspian had turned his full attention to Pansy. Draco thought he noticed he lost most of his scary looming presences.

Pansy grinned so wide her white teeth glistened, “Will there be color?”

“Theo wasn’t sure if you wanted color or not. Becca took my original design and expanded on it,” Caspian reached behind the counter to grab a red notebook. He flipped the pages until he found exactly what he was looking for and handed it to Pansy.

Draco watched her mouth fall open and immediately exclaimed, “Yes. This one.”

“This,” Capsian warned, pointing at the snakes on the paper, “will take longer than the boys with all the shading, adding colors, and the smaller details. Which translates to more pain, are you okay with that?”

“Naturally,” Pansy nodded curtly.

Before Caspian could finish saying, “Great, Becca is in the back and she will be more than happy to work with you.” Pansy already dipped behind the curtains.

“She’s feisty,” Caspian chuckled, “alright, Big Cheese, tell me what’s wrong with yours.” Caspian stretched himself back to full height, bringing back his scary, looming-ness.

Draco frowned down at his sketch, “Nothing.” He truly meant it too. The skull resembled just like the one his father and grandfather had tattooed on their inner arms. That wasn’t hard to emulate, Draco supposed. It was the insignia of the family business, afterall, the one he was supposed to be learning to take over. If it hadn’t been for the band, he would have been trapped in that bloodsucking nightmare, people called the corporate world. He had quickly learned to loathe all of it, despite his parents’ aspirations, Draco never wanted to take over for the family business.

It had become a family tradition of sort in the Malfoy household, when Death Eater Enterprise was ready to be passed down from father to son, son would be permanently branded by ink on his inner left forearm with the corporate’s trademark. Just like the father before him. Lucius still gave Draco the cold shoulder when he bothered to come around the manor, he only ever visited to see his mother, so it truly didn’t bother him–that much. When words were exchanged between them, it was always Lucius telling Draco how much he was going to regret not learning the family business sooner or how he was letting down the Malfoy name. Getting this tattoo was going to be the biggest ‘fuck you’ to his father. It was going to be the final nail to his corporate-life-coffin. He really did love symbolism. There was something so beautiful and freeing about it.

“Actually,” Draco said looking up from the paper, “can we make it bigger?”

Caspian raised an eyebrow, “Bigger?”

“Colossal.” Draco realized belatedly he was grinning.

Caspian was more than happy to entertain Draco’s request, especially once Draco explained the sentiment behind it all. Leave it to a tattoo artist built like a viking to understand the utmost importance of sticking it to one's family. Lenny, who had arrived during Draco’s short-winded explanation, had high-fived him on principle. Draco vaguely recognized Lenny, as Goyle’s cousin. As it turned out, he too escaped working for Death Eater Enterprise. Their family had their own tradition–his father, and the fathers before him had worked in the Malfoy’s high-stakes security firm for generations. It was the gift that kept on giving.

With the final design approved, Caspian led Draco behind the plush velvet curtains to apply the stencil to his left forearm. Ignoring the heartbeat in his ears, he looked around the room at his friends all gathered around the tattoo parlor. Theo had his right arm resting on the table as Dex hunched over with the needle in hand, meticulously working down his entire arm. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found. Across the room, Pansy looked surprisingly relaxed, lying on her stomach with her shirt off as Becca, her tattoo artist, carefully removed the stencil paper and used a pen to touch up the design. Blaise sat next to her, taking pictures of her back to show Pansy what the stencil looked like.

A wide grin stretched across her face before squealing, “I love it!”

“You are going to look so wicked,” Becca’s gravely deep voice, chuckled.

“That’s the whole idea of this,” Theo called from across the room, he sounded like he was struggling to speak.

“How are you holding up?” Blaise raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“It will be all worth it in the end.” Draco watched him wince and the buzz from the needle quickened. Dex scratching back and forth on Theo’s elbow.

“Alright Pansy, I’m ready whenever you are.” Becca said, snapping on her jet black gloves. “We will start with the outline and then the shading.”

Pansy wiggled on top of the table to make herself more comfortable before turning to her tattoo artist, “Becca, I was born ready.”

Draco couldn’t help but be proud of one of his oldest friends. Pansy grew up in a very strict religious home. Her parents were traditionalists and had raised Pansy and her older sister to follow them blindly. They believed wholeheartedly that because their daughters were—well daughters—they didn’t have their own opinions, weren’t worthy of hopes and dreams, their bodies belonged to them. Her oldest sister Primrose had fallen in their trap, shoved into a loveless marriage right after school to a horrible man that Pansy absolutely despised.

Growing up there were so many times that Pansy had cried to Draco, afraid for her future. Worried that she would be stuck just like her sister and forced to have kids. Draco lost count of the amount of men the Parkinsons’ had thrown at their daughter before he finally couldn’t take it anymore. They planned the whole ruse to fake-date, it was a major bonus that it got his parents off his back as well. But when Pansy’s parents found out about their band, she was disowned on the spot when she refused to comply and quit. So this was also a cathartic moment for Pansy. She was claiming her body as her own, once and for all.

After a while, Draco’s arm began to burn from the constant pricking of the needle. He watched as Caspian meticulously worked on the skull, focusing intently on every detail. Draco only allowed himself to wince when Caspian wasn’t looking, determined to maintain his composure, and general air of punk rock. He told himself it was okay, he was handling it better than Theo and Blaise afterall. And that was all that truly mattered. Theo had long given up trying to hide his grimaces, and Blaise, despite his best efforts, let out little curses every now and then. Lenny, Blaise’s tattoo artist, didn’t miss a beat and teased Blaise each time, much to Draco’s amusement. He had to admit to himself, he fully approved of Lenny.

Pansy, however, sat there with an air of complete nonchalance. She was so relaxed, Draco could have been fooled into believing that she was getting a massage, not being repeatedly stabbed by four needles. She hadn’t even flinched; not even once.

“She makes you all look like a bunch of pansies,” Caspian chuckled, not even looking up from Draco’s arm.

“What do you mean?” Draco tried to keep his voice level and calm, but faltered halfway as Caspian dug a little deeper in an extremely sore area.

“Look at Pretty Boy over there,” Caspian gently jerked his head in the direction of Blaise, “they are both getting tattoos down their spines. He has been cursing like a sailor, meanwhile Feisty, I’m pretty sure, is sound asleep.”

Draco looked over at Pansy and sure enough she had drool coming out of the corner of her mouth that he hadn’t noticed before. She really did make them all look like a bunch of babies.

“Easy enough for you to say,” Theo said through gritted teeth, “I’ve been at this longer than you all and I didn’t complain until needle hit elbow.”

“I don’t want to hear any of you complain—hmmm,” Blaise stopped mid-sentence to hum through a sore spot, “Think about your elbow times twenty-six.”

“Well I’m not sure what you all are complaining about,” Draco drawled, taking advantage of Caspian setting the tattoo gun down to wipe away excess ink and Draco’s blood, “this doesn’t hurt, not one bit.”

“Fuck off,” Blaise and Theo said in unison.

“We’ve all been watching you flinch this entire time,” Pansy said sleepily, her eyes still closed. “I can practically feel how tense you are from all the way over here.”

Caspian chuckled knowingly.

They were all bastards.

How was Pansy just sitting there unaffected? She was going to never let them live this down. He was never getting a tattoo with his friends again. Fuck band solidarity.

Theo was done first and went around showing off his tattoo before Lenny wrapped his arm up, Draco had to admit that his tattoo looked sick, it was very Theo. Long ago Theo picked a viper for his snake, he had read some boring looking book all about snakes. Once he finished reading the section all about the viper family, he slammed the book shut and proclaimed that it was going to be his snake. When asked for clarification (Draco had been slightly worried, Theo was looking for a pet snake) Theo scoffed, informing him it was for his tattoo then proceeded to read a blurb from a passage, “Draco! For my tattoo! Listen to this: ‘A family of venomous snakes known for their potent venom, the Pit Viper can strike with precision thanks to its heat-sensing capabilities.’ See just like my family! Now I know how they spread their venom with great precision”, he tapped the book with such force, Draco thought he was going to poke a hole through it. It had taken Theo three years after this to fully envision the final design, but here it was coiling down his arm.

“Oi, Nott,” Draco called across the room. An idea struck him suddenly, Theo turned while Blaise checked out Theo’s new ink. “Do you have your sticks with you?”

Theo raised his brow questioningly, “You know I never go anywhere without them, why?”

“Your ink is gonna look sweet biting the sticks,” Draco watched the realization strike him.

Theo quickly pulled a drumstick out of his pocket with his non-tattooed hand, while his other hand proudly displayed the viper tattoo. The snake's head rested menacingly on the back of Theo’s hand, its mouth wide open in a fierce, predatory snarl. As he clasped the drumstick, he held it up for everyone to see. The upper jaw, with its sharp fangs bared, was inked onto his pointer finger, while the lower jaw gripped his thumb, creating the illusion that the snake was ready to strike at any moment. The fangs, dripping with venom, perfectly captured the raw power and deadly grace of the creature.

Blaise hooted, “Fucking sick man!”

Pansy just scoffed and rolled her eyes—aw, she really loved Theo’s tattoo.

Goyle took up Theo’s old chair and his cousin Lenny got straight to work. Draco wondered absentmindedly what he and Crabbe were getting. As non-official band members they hadn’t really been a part of their previous discussions. But Draco wasn’t that curious to ask, he would find out later he supposed.

His forearm burned as the needle dug into his skin relentlessly, he didn’t care how un-punk rock it made him look, he stopped caring that Caspian chuckled every time he flinched. His nerves were shot, and he was man enough to admit it, he was flinching; a lot now. At least someone was entertained, he was a performer after all. Always aiming to please the crowd, even if this audience was less than his usual standards and it was at his expense.

“Don’t worry, Big Cheese,” Caspian chuckled to himself like that was the funniest thing he ever heard, “we are almost done. You can cuss like Pretty Boy over there if it helps.”

“No I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

Draco heard Pansy sigh, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about boys, this is nothing.” She was still laying on her stomach with her shirt off, looking relaxed and completely at peace.

He scrunched his face in her direction, even if she wasn’t paying attention to him. It wasn’t because he was in pain or anything, he was handling it just fine.

The speakers overhead started with a familiar drum snare, and he perked up, “Hey, can we turn the music up?” He asked no one in particular, he didn’t care who did it, as long as it happened.

Becca got up stretching her back up since she was closer to the stereo system, “Have you heard this song? We’ve been obsessed since it first came out. Apparently they’re a new up and coming band.” She got back to working on Pansy’s lower back.

Pansy shrugged lightly, “They’re okay,” then started to hum along to the melody.

The boys shared a look, she was being pretty vague, usually Pansy would be the first to brag that she was on the radio. But they followed her lead anyway. Theo was kicked back in a chair with his feet resting up on an unused tattoo bed, his feet and hands silently drumming, Draco presumed to the motions of what he would do behind the drums.

“Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, ‘Blood is thicker than water,’ Gosh that’s my mom’s favorite saying and I fucking hate it.” Becca said, shaking her vibrant purple hair.

Pansy hummed, “Boomers love that saying, my parents have tried that on me too many times to count.”

That had been true, that was where the inspiration for the song came from. Pansy practically co-wrote the song, hell this song had only been born because Mrs. Parkinson had sent Pansy a ten page letter rambling on and on about how blood was thicker than water. It sent Pansy on such a spiral it led her to finding the original quote, ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’

When the song hit the chorus Pansy belted out like she always did, she sang with heart,
‘The blood of the covenant, thicker than the womb,
We chose this family, and we’ll light up every room.
Through the nights and through the fights, we made this fire burn,
The water may run deep, but the blood is what we earned.’

“Oh, fuck,” Becca swore, she had stopped working to listen to Pansy sing, “You are them! You are Venom & Velvet!” She looked around the room staring at Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Pansy then to her fellow tattoo artists.

Blaise gave her his stage smile, the one that the ladies swooned over, “We might be,” and then winked.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dex shook his head, looking over at Lenny, “You weren’t lying.”

“I told you that I was related to someone who knew them,” Lenny called back, looking up from working on his cousin Goyle’s tattoo.

“Hey we’re in the band too, right Malfoy?” Goyle scowled.

Draco rolled his eyes, he could feel Crabbe and Goyle’s piercing stares, “Mates, we’ve been over this,” they knew their places, Draco had to admit that. Never fought to be part of the publicity or even ask for credit. They were lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle were happy just to be involved. “Of course you are a part of the band, your roles are almost just as essential as the rest of us.”

Blaise hopped off the tattoo bed stretching out his muscles, wincing when the sensitive skin stung. The snake took up the entire length of his spine. Near the base of his neck poised the two headed serpent with their mouths slightly revealing sharp fangs. The snake’s body wrapped down Blaise’s spine, coiling and intertwining in a fluid, serpentine motion, following the natural curve of his back.

“Alright mates, since we are all done, let’s go celebrate while we wait for Princess over here,” Theo hopped up from where he had been lounging, pointing a lazy thumb in the direction of Pansy.

“You wouldn’t dare leave me here, Nott,” Pansy growled.

“Just for a few drinks, we’ll be back.”

“Besides,” Blaise jumped in, “Crabbe and Goyle are here. You aren’t completely alone.”

Draco could see the fire in her eyes, she didn’t hate Crabbe and Goyle per say but she would definitely murder them if left alone in their presences.

“Nobody is drinking for the next 24 hours,” Caspian’s crisp American accent cut through loud and clear.

“What?” It was almost comical how wide Blaise’s eyes grew. “You can’t be serious!”

“Afraid so,” Caspian challenged, “alcohol thins your blood and it will increase bleeding and risk of infections or complications.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Draco knew Theo’s mind was going straight to the fact they had a show tomorrow night, and they had a band ritual before every show to partake in pre-show shots. Not enough to get them drunk or anything, just enough to take the edge off.

“Waiting 48-72 hours is really best though,” Caspian shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Shit,” Theo cursed, pulling out his drum sticks again and started nervously tapping them against various surfaces. “Do we cancel?”

Blaise, who had taken to pacing in a small circle, stopped abruptly to stare at Theo, “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“Are you out of your minds?” Pansy scoffed, “This is your reaction to being told you can’t drink for minimum a whole day?”

“Pansy,” Theo pleaded, “that means wine also.”

“No shit, Sherlock. We will be fine. Draco, tell them.”

Draco’s mind had already gone where Theo and Blaise’s had, he didn’t really like the idea of skipping out on tradition. They rocked every show for a reason. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t the alcohol that fortified them, it was their pure talent and hard work. He wasn’t superstitious, not by a longshot, but he still didn’t want to test the fates.

“We will be fine for one night,” he heard himself say out loud, he couldn’t let Pansy know that he was seconds away from agreeing with Blaise and Theo. Maybe they could sneak some shots without Pansy finding out. It would be close enough to 24 hours by then anyways.

“Alright boys, what do you think?” Pansy beamed, sitting up still shirtless holding her breasts in her hands.

“Oi Parkinson!” Blaise screeched, covering his eyes with his hands.

“Pansy! Put on a shirt! Draco, tell her to put on a shirt!” Theo chastised, holding his hands in front of him to cover his vision of Pansy.

Pansy shot Draco a daring look, warning him to even think about it before he told her what to do. He just shrugged in response, he wasn’t fussed either way. He knew better than to tell Pansy what to do. And it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, strictly platonically of course.

“Get over yourselves,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “I’m covering up the good bits.”

Pansy turned around to show off her tattoo, a striking contrast against her ivory skin. Just like Blaise her tattoo took up the entire length of her spine. But where his was masculine, and dark and mysterious, hers was feminine, delicate, and light. Two snakes entwined in a mesmerizing dance, their bodies coiled together in perfect harmony. One snake’s scales shimmering in the deep colors of the galaxy–midnight blues, purples, and blacks, dotted with tiny stars and intricate constellations giving off a twinkling effect. The other snake adorned with delicate flowers in soft pastel hues—pinks, whites, and greens. The floral patterns blooming along the snake’s body, Draco could have sworn there was a couple of pansies inked in there.

“Well what do you think?” She pressed.

“It’s stunning Parkinson,” Blaise said in awe, “now please put on a shirt for the love of–.” ruining an almost perfect moment.

“Pansy, it suits you perfectly,” Theo said, cutting off Blaise.

Draco resisted the urge to touch her tattoo knowing how raw it felt, “It’s exactly how I pictured this for you,” Pansy spun around at his words and they shared a deep knowing smile.

Blaise held up a black fabric and huffed, “Now will you please put this on?”

Pansy scowled at Blaise and the aforementioned piece of fabric as if it personally offended her, “I will when you do.” She stared down Blaise and his exposed chest.

Draco waited for Blaise to start complaining that his back was still sore or something stupid like that, but he just stood there contemplating it for a moment and then huffed over to where his own shirt was left in a pile forgotten. “Fine, are you happy now?” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Peachy.” Pansy made no move to put on her shirt or remove her hands from her breasts.

Draco turned away and made it his mission to check in on Crabbe and Goyle. They were his oldest and dearest friends after all. And he wanted nothing to do with whatever the hell was about to go down between the two of them.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been chuckling over something amongst themselves during the beginning process of their tattoo experience, and had now moved onto the wincing and quick cursing phase of it. Draco chuckled to himself, there was no way he was that big of a baby.

“Hey mates,” he called, getting closer to them. “How goes the tat—” he froze in place looking down at their left forearms in shock. Looking at both their arms he couldn’t process what he was seeing. There was no way. His eyes had to be playing a trick on him. But no matter how much he blinked to clear his vision, what he saw never changed.

“Malfoy, check it out,” Vincent Crabbe said between gritted teeth.

Gregory Goyle cursed, “Fuck, Lenny!”

“Greg, chill out, such a wussy little bitch, we are almost done.” Lenny shook his head at his cousin.

“Shut up, Lenny.”

“Is that—” Draco blinked some more.

Crabbe looked up, smiling at him, “Sure is mate!”

“We’re matching!” Goyle beamed.

Draco shrugged, oh well there was worse things to happen.

Chapter Text

Lungs burning, muscles tingling, she pushed herself to keep going, throwing her shoulders back.Two minutes left on her timer she could do this, running for five minutes straight should be nothing. One foot after the other, pounded on the pavement, trying to keep her momentum. She cranked the music in her ears louder to drown out the need to stop, motivating herself to propel herself forward. At least the soundtrack was fire.

‘Come on,’ she urged herself to keep going, ‘Take this in thirty second increments. You can do anything for half a minute.’

The sun was beating down extra hard this summer morning, she told herself that’s why she was sweating more than usual as she took the bottom of her shirt to wipe her brow, ignoring the sweat dripping down her low back. Not the months she accidentally took a break. She refused to believe she had become this out of shape, which unfortunately it was quite evident she had.

22, 21, 20….

Despite the struggle to breathe, Hermione was happy that she was getting back to her old habits. Four Founders park was her favorite to go jogging in. It was lesser known than the other ones in London and subsequently less busier. The green canopy of trees offered beautiful shade down most of the running path. The grounds were always well kept, it was like Hermione’s personal sanctuary full of happy memories.

10, 9, 8, 7…

Inhaling deeply, Hermione pushed herself to keep going, the final stretch almost in sight. The smell of fresh cut grass tickled her nostrils.

..3, 2, 1….

Hermione inhaled deeply and restarted her internal timer, she refused to give up before time was up. Yes, she knew that she had to build herself back up to before, but she could run for five minutes. That should have been nothing. Just five minutes and then she would allow herself a break for two to walk and catch her breath.

56, 55, 54, 53…

A pair of manly muscular legs caught her eye in the near distance, Hermione smirked, she found herself a new muse to keep going. Turning down the other pathway to follow, staying just far enough back to make it not look obvious that she was following him like a creepy stalker. She wasn’t a pervert, she just knew how to appreciate a nice pair of chiseled calves.

And if the legs were accompanied by a wonderful backside, she wasn’t going to not notice that as well. She was a lot of things, and blind was not one of them. Hermione pushed herself even further, going faster than before as she watched the defined muscles contract and release the long sculpted legs carrying him through the park.

42, 41, 40, 39…

A new song changed over in her earbuds, she recognized it immediately from their previous session just a few days ago. Hermione had to admit adding Ginny had been a really good idea. Her skill had taken their music to a new level of completeness. Even if they now had the dilemma of their band name. She sighed heavily out loud, not because she was struggling to breath or anything. But what were they going to do? She knew Ron didn’t want to change their name, but they were no longer a trio. It felt wrong to change their name after five years but it felt equally just as wrong keeping the trio in their name. She had never been particularly fond of the band name to begin with. The name was bestowed to them by the rich popular kids.

They had been bullied relentlessly. At the prestigious private school Hogwarts, only three scholarships were given out per year. The rich kids sniffed out the scholarship kids with their heir-refined noses, like it was their job. Then they spent the next seven years letting those kids know exactly why they didn’t belong, why they didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione bonded quickly over being the scholarship kids. No matter how hard they tried to fit in, they were always ridiculed. Too smart, too broke, too brave, ect. Nothing they did was the right thing. Teachers would try to stop the bullies' behavior but that only made it worse; suddenly they were deemed teachers' pets. It had been Harry’s idea to take the mocking nickname and turn it into something positive. The Golden Trio.

17, 16, 15…

Hermione honed in on a park bench sitting under a shady tree, it would be the perfect spot to rest. She pushed her already tired body to move faster, saying a silent goodbye to the powerful, agile pair of legs as she ran past the mysterious stranger.

7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2….

…1—

She huffed bent over resting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Grateful that she had successfully made it to her goal. It wasn’t the best goal but it was a starting point. Hermione felt the mystery man’s eyes on her as he jogged past, making it all look so effortless. She quickly straightened up kicking a trainer on to the park bench and stretched out her quadriceps as if this had been the only reason she stopped jogging.

The playlist switched songs, and even though Hermione knew no one could hear what she was listening to she still looked around guiltily. Ron would be pissed if he knew she had been keeping tabs on them. Harry would be disappointed in her for contributing to their added download count. But how else was she going to assess the competition? Their rivals were already miles ahead of them. What with their manager and having one recorded song on the radio already. But it wasn’t their fault they didn’t have famous record producers for godfathers, nor deep pockets to just throw money at everything. Not that that was what she was assessing. Despite how much she loathed Venom and Velvet, and all the band members, Hermione had to concede that they were talented. Their song ‘Blood of the Covenant' was a masterpiece. She almost could relate to them. That was a weird sick feeling. Ignoring the way that thought made her skin crawl, Hermione shifted her feet and worked to stretch the other leg. For balance.

She hadn’t written any songs in months, not since before the breakup. She wasn’t in a slump, or anything. Hermione had everything perfectly under control; mostly. She could balance work, the band stuff, the breakup, the friend drama, the family drama, and whatever else life deemed necessary to throw her way. She just needed to catch her breath.

Where their band lacked in money and connections, they made up tenfold in exposure and talent. Just comparing their social media following to Venom & Velvet’s, they had the numbers. So when they finally made it, the reward would be that much sweeter. Instead of throwing money at it, they would earn it all through hard work. Because they were going to make it one day, she could feel it.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath checking the time, she was going to be late for work if she didn’t get a move on it. She still needed to take the tube back to her house, shower and get ready. That two minute break seemed to have gone by too fast, and it might have extended into the rest of her allotted workout time.

Clicking the lock button on her cellphone, she conceded she also made some good notes to bring up at band practice tonight for everyone to work on. The time hadn’t been completely wasted. Hermione stood up, her legs feeling like tingly jello, trying to remember when she even sat down. She really had cocked up her workout, oh well. At least she had already finished most of her workout, she felt like she was making good progress getting back to her old routine.

“Fancy seeing you here,” drawled a posh voice. Hermione squinted against the sun, her heart pounding as she recognized the tall figure before her. The lean, muscular mystery man from earlier smirked down at her, casually removing the soft-looking beanie from his head, revealing his shaggy, curly honey-brown hair. Hermione felt a wave of heat hit her, how had she not recognized him before?

“Hello,” she said lamely, she couldn’t even keep the question out of her tone.

“Nott, Theo Nott,” he pointed to himself, if Hermione wasn’t mistaken, he looked a little embarrassed.

‘Oh,’ she realized with a start, “I know who you are, Theodore.” If she hadn’t been so stunned she probably would have scoffed, they had gone to school together for seven years after all.

“Please call me Theo, or Nott. But not Theodore.” his broad chest glistened in the sunlight. “I’m sorry Granger, to have bothered you.”

Another heat wave hit her as she realized she had been staring, “No Nott–I mean Theo. Nott sounded weird and well–no..” Fuck, she was rambling now. “No, you aren’t bothering me.”

“Right,” Theo tilted his head ever so slightly, “Come here often? I haven’t seen you at Four Founders park before.”

“I used to live around the corner. Practically grew up in this park. I haven’t come here for a run in a bit but I wanted to get back into my old routine. What about you?”

“Me?” Theo cocked a brow up.

“Come here often?” Shit, why did that come out so breathily?

“Yes. It’s my favorite.” His deep blue eyes contrast against the canopy of green above them.

“Right. I can see why. Well I should be going, I have–” She stopped herself abruptly, Theodore Nott did not care about her plans. Even if he hadn’t directly bullied her for seven years straight in school, his friends sure did. And even out of school it seemed she couldn’t get a break, while their bands competed against each other, which was mostly media driven, there was still that air of animosity between them. She knew none of their fellow band members would like it if they found out they were having a civil conversation in a very public setting.

Their fans would go crazy and speculate like crazy. Two weeks after her break up with Ron, she happened to be at the same coffee shop as Draco Malfoy and the rumors went wild from there. She didn’t even see Malfoy there, and if he had recognized her, he never said.

“It was nice running into you Granger,” He winked at her, and she ignored the way it made her flush. She didn’t move until he turned away and picked up the pace again. She might have admired his legs one last time before they disappeared around another path before she headed home.

“Hermione, is that you?” She heard her father call over the loud daytime TV as she opened the front door.

“Hi, Dad, I’m just running through real quick before work. I also have—“

”That’s great,” Hubbard Granger cut off his daughter, “be a dear and grab me another one.”

Hermione didn’t even need to look at her father to know that he was holding up a beer can. Her heart broke going to the old fridge that was barely holding on to its life, to get her father another beer. Call her an enabler but it was easier to just comply most days. She didn’t have it in her to fight him today.

“Here dad,” she shoved the can in his hand, “like I was saying. I will be gone late tonight. I have band practice. Will you be able to fend for yourself?”

Hubbard cracked the cold beer open, throwing the old one in the corner with a dozen others, grumbling, “Mione, I’m a grown man, I can feed myself.” His eyes never leaving the TV.

“Alright.” What she didn’t say was all the reminders of when she had come home to a house almost caught on fire, her father so drunk that he forgot he left food in the oven just for it to sit there and burn. Or the mornings he was still so drunk from drinking too much the night before, throwing up nothing but alcohol and stomach acid because he forgot to eat.

She didn’t bother telling her father goodbye, he most likely wouldn’t have remembered anyways. Instead she slipped out the door hoping that her father would pass out in front of the TV and not drink anymore. Maybe if she made extra tips tonight she would call in a pizza to be delivered. He did need to eat or she would be scraping his dried vomit out of the carpet again.

“You’re late,” Lavender scowled, as Hermione hastily threw on her work apron.

“I know,” she huffed, her voice barely traveling in the loud dark bar, “My tube was late and—”

“I don’t care,” Lavender cut her off, “Tom wants to see you.” She scurried off with a tray full of beers.

‘Shit,’ Hermione tensed, ‘the boss wants to see me, that can’t be good.’

“Hey Mione,” Neville’s friendly face popped out from the kitchens, “don’t worry about Tom, I covered for you. If anyone asks, you got here five minutes early and you took the garbage out for me.”

“Thank you Nev,” a weight lifted off her shoulders, “I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it, we all know how Tom can get.” He winked and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Hermione set to work getting a few orders, cleaning up something sticky no one else bothered to clear before heading to Tom’s office. The owner never left his office, he preferred to rule from the depths of his dark dreary nook pretending to attend to other important matters. But Hermione was the only one responsible enough to do inventory and well, she knew how much Tom stole from himself. The stairs that led to his office were narrow and creaked under foot, coughing when she accidentally kicked up an old dust pile.

“Come in,” Tom’s voice called from behind the old wooden door.

“Hi Tom, Lavender said you wanted to see me,” she kept her voice sweet and innocent, as she slipped into his office. She needed to keep this job in more ways than one.

“You were late, again.” He peered over his glasses, challenging her.

“Wha–what makes you think I was late?” She twiddled her thumbs and gave him her doe-eyes, she worked for Tom long enough, unfortunately, to know how to deal with him.

“Lavender said, and you can’t fool me girl.” His scowl deepened, pointing a thumb to the singular window in his office that overlooked most of the bar.

“I got here early, you can ask Neville. I took the garbage out.”

Tom squinted his eyes waiting for Hermione to crack under pressure, but she wasn’t going to, too much rode on her keeping this job. “I don’t pay you to work in the kitchen and take the garbage out. You are a barmaid and you will be here at your designated time. Or your little band won’t play here ever again. Do you understand Missy?”

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes and tell him off. They had played bigger venues and hadn’t played at the Leaky Caldron in almost four months. But she knew it was too risky to get cocky now. Yeah things with the band were looking up, but they hadn't passed the small pond phase just yet. Besides she did owe Tom something, the majority of their fan base come from being discovered in this very bar. So instead she nodded sweetly, “Yes, sir.”

“Good now, get back to work.” Tom didn’t even wait for Hermione to leave before kicking his feet up on his desk and pulling the glass full of gold liquid from whatever hiding spot he ditched it moments before she had knocked on his office door.

Work dragged on, each minute feeling like an hour as the relentless tide of customers surged in. The lunch crowd, usually manageable, had turned unusually unruly today, and it was all she could do to keep up. Within the few hours she was on shift, two bar fights broke out. One of which she had narrowly avoided getting caught in the crossfire, ducking just in time as a flying elbow kicked back sailing past her head.

It seemed like every other minute, someone was shouting for a refill, slamming their glass down on the bar with about as much patience as a damn monkey. The stench of alcohol hung thick in the air, mixing with the sour order of sweat and the greasy scent of the kitchen’s frying oil. She had been used as a human mop more times than she cared to remember, and her patience was wearing thin. Drunk people annoyed the shit out of her, their slurred words and clumsy movements grating on her nerves. It all hit too close to home for her.

Hermione couldn’t wait for her shift to end. At least she was in the homestretch now, just fifteen minutes left and then she had band practice to look forward to. Even if tension between everyone was still thick. Things between her and Ron were starting to cool down, but now with the drama of Ginny joining the band it all got mixed up again. Her mind kept buzzing with things she wanted to bring up at tonight’s meeting. Every free second she got, she quickly jotted them down on her phone so she wouldn’t forget.

“Table nine has been hollering for you,” Lavender said, coming up behind Hermione, making her jump, she quickly hid her phone. Lavender would jump at any chance to rat her out. Lavender was gone just as quickly as she had appeared, but not without forgetting to give Hermione a disdainful glare.

“Table nine? That’s not even in my section.” Hermione whined, to no one in particular. Tucking her phone in her apron as she wound through the crowd to the table to figure out who had come in and would ask for her by name. She supposed that Harry could have come in to surprise her but he would’ve just asked to be seated in her section. She really hoped it wasn’t her father, he had done this twice before and each time didn’t end well. It was just better if he stayed home and drank himself to death in solitude.

Thoroughly annoyed, Hermione approached the table; she had her own tables to deal with, her breath caught when she very belatedly recognized the two males sitting at the high-top table. Even in the low dingy lights of the bar they were devastatingly handsome. Life was just simply cruel like that. She quickly brushed the wild hairs that had untangled from her braid in a vain attempt to make herself look a smidge more presentable. Not that she cared what they thought of her.

“Malfoy. Nott.” She inclined her head to each as she said their name. “What can I do for you?” She hated the way her heart sped up. They had never come to see her at work, they had never tried to make friendly conversation with her in the eight years she had known them. Outside their childhood bully antics, they probably would have never said a single word to her.

‘Well, except for Nott in the park today.’ Her brain unhelpfully supplied.

“Granger, I hope this is alright.” Theo shot her a beautiful smile, one that showcased his unfairly perfect white teeth. “You mentioned being busy earlier, and well I just assumed this is where you’d be.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, ‘How the hell did they know where I work?’

“I told you this was a waste of your time, Nott.” Malfoy scowled and made a move to stand up, she took a few steps back but Theo gently grabbed his hand to keep Draco from standing fully.

“Draco, you said—” Theo’s voice was stern and commanding before he stopped himself, “Granger is probably very confused.” he pretended to whisper as he playfully jerked his head in her direction.

“Right, as fun as all this is–I have a lot to do. So if you don’t mind I’m going back to work now.” Granger felt a warm, gentle hand on her shoulder as she turned her back on them; a habit that she had broken very early in her childhood. One could only take so much before she learned a bully had no boundaries. Her body involuntarily tensed, she hated giving them that satisfaction.

To Theo’s credit he did look ashamed of himself and immediately removed his hand from her body, “My apologies, we are very sorry to bother you while you are working. We really did only want a quick friendly chat.”

She quickly reshuffled her position, she must have looked like a pouty child with her arms crossed, although she did keep the scowl on her face though. That seemed very fitting. “Well—” she prompted, they had her attention now.

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “We were hoping to ask a small favor of you.” Hermione definitely did not admire the long slope of his nose, nor his thick lips as his teeth snuck into the plump flesh.

Hermione’s jaw must have been on the floor. Them asking her for a favor.

“Draco,” Theo chided, “My apologies Granger, it might be a smidge more than a small favor.” If Hermione hadn’t been so distracted, the smile he gave her might have made her knickers damp.

Malfoy took a deep sigh, “It is to our understanding that your band has played here at this establishment—” he spat out "band” like an adult placating a small child, “We—Venom & Velvet have been trying to find an in, so we could perform here.”

“An in?” Her eyebrows had to be in her hairline.

Theo nodded, “Yes, we were hoping that you could ask your manager if they had any availability—“

Draco cut him off, “Any day. Any time. We will make the time slot work.”

“Why do you want to perform here so badly?”

Malfoy’s face grew dark and cold as he leaned in ever so slightly towards her, “Do you have any idea how many great musicians have performed at ‘The Leaky Caldron’?”

She scoffed, her eyes bounced between the two.

Did she have any idea who had performed here?

Fucking of course she did! Who the fuck did he take her as? She could write extensive novels on every band who had ever walked across that stage. ‘The Weird Sisters’, had been the very first to pave the way in the early 70’s for hundreds of other musicians to be discovered in this very bar.

“Draco,” Theo chastised again, “this is Hermione Granger you are talking to, of course she understands.”

“My apologies,” Draco spat, but his eyes never left Theo. “Would this be something you are amenable to?” stern gray eyes bore into her soul, as he finally looked her way.

“Amenable?”

“Obviously we know that you don’t have a say over who plays here. But if you—”

Theo cut off Malfoy, “All we are asking is if you would be alright with asking your boss if they had a small opening and if they would be willing to fill that spot with our band.”

“Alright,” she heard herself say, before she had even fully processed what the heck was going on. It wouldn’t hurt to have such a powerful band be in their debt and the chance of Tom actually listening to her at the moment were very slim. Though they didn’t need to know that.

“Really?” Malfoy cocked a blond brow at her, he didn’t even try to hide the disbelief. She could practically hear the ‘it was that easy.’

Hermione shrugged, “All I’ve agreed to is asking Tom if he has an opening. I can’t guarantee anything after that.”

“Thank you Hermione, that is all we are asking of you. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to return the favor.” Hermione wanted to chuckle at the smug look Theo gave Malfoy.

“I really do need to get back to work,” Hermione said, glancing around noticing Neville had come out of the kitchen and was talking to Lavender. Hermione could see the irate look on her face from here.

“Of course, we’re sorry for having monopolized so much of your time already.” Theo said gently, clasping Hermione’s hand between his own. His hands were warm and soft at first, but the calluses sent tingles up her skin as he slid a piece of paper in her palm. She walked away in a daze, tucking the piece of paper in her apron wondering what the hell had just happened.

A strong hand wrapped around Hermione’s arm, yanking her through the door that led to the kitchens with a firm grip. She let out a startled yelp as she stumbled into the bustling kitchen, nearly losing her balance. The sudden movement left her heart racing, before she could catch her breath, she was met with Neville’s wide-eyed gaze. His face was etched with concern, brows furrowed. “Was that Draco Malfoy?” he asked, his voice low and urgent, as if the name itself could summon trouble.

“Erm–yeah. And Theo Nott.” She had a hard time meeting his gaze.

Neville quickly whisked her in a quiet corner, “Are you alright?” he asked, his brows knitting together as he scanned her for any signs of distress.

“Nev, I’m fine. Really.” She wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her apron. “Is your shift over?”

Neville looked over his shoulder quickly, to make sure no one had noticed them, “Not yet, but I needed to make sure you are okay.”

“You’re sweet. But you’ve covered enough for me with Tom lately. We should get back to work.”

“You're right.” He looked like he really didn’t want to leave her. “Erm, also before I forget,” Neville rubbed the back of his neck, and spoke to the ground, “the cook messed up an order–”

“Ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me! This is going to really set back—” Neville’s deep chuckle made her stop abruptly.

“It is quite the conundrum, a whole order of ‘Dragon’s Breath Wings’ going to waste,” Neville shook his head mockingly. It was her father’s favorite order. “And unfortunately Gran is sending me on an errand on the west side of town right after work, so I might have to–ooof.”

Hermione pulled Neville into a full body hug, knocking the wind out of him, but she didn’t care. He deserved every ounce and more of that hug. How she had gotten so lucky with such sweet, caring friends she didn’t know but she was so grateful for them. Neville, always bending the rules just for her. He had done this more times than he should have, “accidentally” messing up an order right before the end of his shift and then going an extra fifteen minutes out of his way to drop it off at her doorstep for Hubbard. Taking away the little bit of precious time he gets from visiting hours to see his own parents, to drop off food for her inhibited father.

“Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut trying to block the tears that threatened to escape.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Neville feigned ignorance, but he returned her hug with just as much gusto.

“How are your parents?” She asked, feeling a pang of guilt. She usually made an effort to check in with Nev, but lately, her own life had consumed all her attention. Hermione knew that the “errand” Neville was being sent on was code for visiting his parents, who were in a coma, at the long-term facility.

“Frank and Alice are the same,” he shrugged, as if it cut the bitter tone out of his voice, “Gran is still holding on to hope but nothing has changed in years.”

“Next time we both have off, I’ll come with you to visit. I’d like to meet them someday.”

“You have enough going on Hermione, please don’t waste your time on Frank and Alice. They did this to themselves and now Gran and I are having—” Neville shook his head to clear his thoughts, “-I’d rather use our time off to do something productive. You guys haven’t let me jam with the band in a while.” They both shared a laugh, reminiscing the old days in school when Neville would come to band practice and they would just play around.

“You're coming to Harry’s birthday bash right?”

Neville nodded, “Bringing Hannah with me.”

“Good. Bring your bass or you can just use mine; it's always at Harry’s anyways. Oh!” Hermione gasped, “Gin and Harry are back together.”

“That’s great news! I always liked those two together.”

“Me too. I should really get back to work though. Before either of us gets into trouble. Tom is looking for any reason to fire me lately.” Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, and tried to muster a real smile to show him she was truly alright.

“Hermione,” Neville called after her before she slipped back into the bustling bar, “you’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

She chuckled to herself, “Of course. But you worry too much.”

As Hermione walked back out of the kitchen and through the bar, she nearly collided with Lavender. Standing there with her arms crossed and a scowl, which Hermione was starting to figure had to be permanently etched on her face by now, Lavender blocked her path. Fuck.

Lavender wasted no time in chastising Hermione, her voice sharp with irritation, “You know you’re not supposed to be chatting with friends while you’re on the job. Tom won’t like this,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

“What are you talking about Lavender?” Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to squeeze past Lavender, but she wouldn’t budge. “Neville had a problem he needed help with.”

“Please nobody is fooled by the two of you gossiping while on the clock. But I wasn’t talking about that. You are just truly unbelievable. I had to cover for you because a table in my zone was asking for you. I can’t believe you have the audacity to hang out with them instead of working!”

“Friends?” she echoed, shaking her head. Did Lavender even recognize who was at that table or was she this delusional?

“At least have the common courtesy and have your friends sit in your zone, that way you only mess up your tables and not mine.”

Hermione blinked in surprise before scoffing, “Trust me, Lavender, they’re not my friends.” She crossed her arms, her tone laced with annoyance.

“Please,” she scoffed, and rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Everyone knows you left Ron for Draco.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. This was it, Lavender was clearly losing it. For one, obsessing over online rumors about her band. And especially following the story so closely about the coffee shop Hermione had happened to visit at the same time as Draco. And for another, she was so delusional that she actually believed there was any possibility of this whole situation. Lavender being her former roommate of seven years, she knew just as much as anyone how much Hermione had been bullied by Malfoy and his vices.

“What?” She spat, her voice climbing higher, “How—”

“My goodness your auras are both out of balance,” Luna’s ethereal voice cut Hermione off, instantly calming her and stopping whatever nonsense she was about to spew. She should know better than to argue with a crazy person.

“Luna! I’m so glad to see you right now.” Hermione developed her friend into a tight hug, relaxing as she watched Lavender storm off. Nothing like a loony person to scare off an even crazier person.

Luna returned her hug, “This is good to realign your energy,” Luna rubbed her back soothingly before she pulled back and did the creepy thing Hermione hated, stared straight into her soul, “I can sense you are about to embark on a new journey.”

Leave it to Luna to already know. Hermione shook her head, “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about actually, the band has a project we wanted to collaborate with you.”

“Oh I already blocked my calendar for that, the details are in your email, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Your aura is sparkling with excitement, there’s this wild, passionate energy around you.”

“Wait, did Ginny already tell you she joined the band?”

“She didn’t, but good for Ginny that’s going to be great for the band. Text me once you're ready to go over the smaller details.”

Chapter Text

“Can I get you guys anything else?” The waitress’s over the top sweet voice tore Draco’s eyes away from watching her only catching the smallest glimpse of frizzy hair at the last second before she was gone. Draco realized belatedly that he recognized the waitress, her pinched face was vaguely familiar.

Thoroughly annoyed Draco gave Theo a look, they didn’t need words to communicate. Growing up practically attached at the hip tends to have that effect; they perfected the art of communicating through sneers, eyebrow flicks, and smug looks a long time ago.

Theo grabbed his half empty pint and downed it like it was water and he was a parched man caught in the desert. “No. Thank you.”

“Well if you change your mind, just let me know. I’m happy to get you anything you want,” Their waitress fluttered her eyelashes at them and twirled a piece of her strawberry blonde hair between her fingers.

Lily, no that wasn’t her name. Daisy—no definitely not it. Hazel? Wasn’t it some stupid color name? Violet?

“Just the check, please, Lavender,” Theo winked at her and then reached a languid arm across the table and stole Draco’s practically full lager and downed it in three big gulps.

”Oh y-you remember my name,” Their waitress, Lavender giggled as the finger twirling resumed.

“Of course we do, we all went to school together after all. Right Draco?” Theo amused. That bastard knew full well that he had no idea what her name was prior to him saying it outloud.

“Mhm,” he hummed, but shot Theo his best ‘fuck you bastard,’ look. He kept his gaze on Theo until their waitress walked away dejectedly, mumbling, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Theo smirked, Draco wanted to smack that look off his face, “Oh I’m sure we will,” he purred.

Lavender scurried back quickly with their checks. Theo grabbed both, before Draco could protest the brunet handed over his platinum credit card.

Thoroughly annoyed now Draco crossed his arms, he didn’t care that he was sulking in public. To the outsiders he would look bored. With the risk of being recognized and photographed higher than ever, he had a media image to protect. Branded the devil-may-care rebel with ridiculously good hair; alright, he might have added the hair part himself, but it was true, and Draco felt it deserved more attention; he was free to brood. Being labeled the “bad boy” that every girl wanted to tame wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

It was a delicate balancing act, an intense game Draco had to play to protect his public image any time he went out these days. If he came across too flirty or overly sociable, people would accuse him of trying to imitate Blaise, the branded flirt. But if he brooded or stayed a bit too quiet, he’d be labeled as cagey and unpredictable like Theo, the temperamental one. It was exhausting playing a part every time he was out in public. Draco had to make sure he was being elusive enough to give off the ‘bad-boy’ vibes, but just flirty enough to pull them in, and make the ladies bat their lashes at him. If he didn’t inexplicitly trust his godfather, Draco would have said fuck it all to the record label and just be himself. But what Snape wants, Snape gets.

Severus Snape, Draco’s godfather, just so happened to be President of a well-known Record label, Coil Records. And he just so happened to benefit from it greatly. Not that Venom & Velvet hadn’t earned it or didn’t work hard. Because they did. Draco wasn’t naive enough to lack comprehension that most people who didn’t have famous Record label Godfathers, had to work much harder than he.

However, he was dense enough to counter that having that close family-friend connection was almost harder to convince not only Severus but his parents as well that Venom & Velvet deserved a chance to to make a go of it. His godfather didn’t want to exploit his godson and his parents for many different reasons didn’t love the idea of their only son living the life of a rockstar. Draco thought his parents were being a bit hypocritical, especially his mother who had a very lucrative career as a supermodel before settling down and becoming Mrs. Malfoy, wife of the business mogul.

Lucius’ only gripe was if their only child was off living the life of a rockstar, who would take over Death Eater Enterprise. Narcissa, knowing all too well how hard living a life in the limelight could be, was absolutely distraught at the idea of her baby being exposed to such harshness. Severus was the one who even Draco had to agree made the best arguments on why he should not pursue a career in the music industry. ‘Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll,’ his godfather had sneered, looking down his nose at his godson, disapproval etched clearly across his face. Since Draco didn’t see a problem with the first and last thing, he was more than happy to live his life as a famous rockstar. Disappointingly it was not that easy. There were many long awkward conversations about expectations and conditions that had to be met before any contracts were written and signed.

Theo cleared his throat, the sound pulling Draco out of his thoughts,

“Ready?” Draco was surprised to find Theo already on his feet.

“Erm, yeah.” And he followed the other man out the dark pub out into the streets of London. The sun began its gradual descent, casting a golden glow across the sky. The air settled into a perfect balance, no longer sweltering from the afternoon heat, yet not quite cool enough to signal the coming night.

“How the fuck did you know she was going to be working?” Draco rounded on Theo.

“Lavender? That was absolutely a coinc–”

“Fuck off Theo,” Draco spat cutting him off, “Granger. How did you know Granger was going to be there?”

“Like I told Hermione, she mentioned earlier that she was busy, and I assumed this is where she would be.” Theo said casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to just say her name like he had any right to.

“Wait, you talked to her?”

“Mhhm,” Theo hummed.

“When did you talk to her earlier?” Draco didn’t bother keeping the bite out of his voice, Theo was being infuriated on purpose.

“At the park.”

“What park?”

“The one I like to have a nice jog in,” Theo smirked, clearly enjoying being vague as fuck.

Draco’s scowl deepened, “You saw Granger in the park you go jogging in?” Why wouldn’t Theo just come out and answer his questions directly?

“That’s what I said.”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to ambush her at her place of employment? All that crap about ‘the next time we see Granger, let’s just ask her for an in,’ you fucking planned all of this!” Draco was steaming now.

Theo just shrugged and kept on walking down the concrete path. This was just like the bastard to quite literally stalk a girl, plan an ambush while she is working just to help exploit their band’s agenda further. Earlier Theo casually mentioned that if Venom & Velvet wanted to play a gig at The Leaky Cauldron, they should just ask Granger for an in. Should he have been suspicious that Theo just so happened to want to grab a beer there, ‘just to see if she is working’? In hindsight, yes, yes he should have absolutely been extremely skeptical of Theo. Now they looked like bloody stalkers.

“Do you think she will actually do it?” Draco found himself saying.

Theo, surprised just as much as Draco, cocked a brow upward, “hmm?’ he hummed questioningly.

“Granger.” He had already said it outloud, might as well commit now.

They walked a few steps in silence before Theo spoke again, “Ask for a time slot for the band?” Draco nodded. “I think she is a woman of her word. So yes, I think she will at least ask on our behalf. Why?”

Draco kept his eye on a pigeon pecking at the ground, he couldn’t let himself make eye contact with Theo, “I’ve done some awful things,” he paused to taking a deep breath, ”to her,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “why would she even consider helping us?”

“Maybe because we are adults now and we can–should leave all the childish behavior in the past. Also a formal apology on your part would probably do a lot in your favor.”

“I never considered that she would even allow herself to be in the same air as me long enough for me to make amends.” rubbing the heat off the back of his neck, his focus still on the ground. “And chill out we’ve barely been out of school for eighteen months, I would cool off calling ourselves adults.” Ocean blue eyes met his gray and they shared a light chuckle.

The two men walked in comfortable silence save for the normal hustle and bustle chatter down the street, and the cars whizzing by, and the occasional bird whistle. Theo’s words really weighed on him. Draco knew that he owed a lot of apologies to people and Hermione Granger was the most deserving. He had been a right prat growing up.

Being raised in a privileged, old-money environment as a silver spoon baby, Draco’s worldview had been shaped by wealth and entitlement. It wasn’t until he and Theo went away for school, the shy, quiet kid he grew up knowing, had finally opened up. It had been a shock to learn how much of Theo’s life was shaped by hardship at such a young age. Theo’s mother, the only family member who truly cared and loved him, passed away when they were just small boys. Draco didn’t remember her much, but it was something that had left a huge impact on Theo’s life. Left with an abusive father, Theo faced further turmoil when his father was imprisoned right before his fifteen birthday. Forcing him to fend for himself, when the government froze all of the Nott’s accounts. Fortunately, Draco’s parents stepped in, offering Theo the care and support he’d long been missing. Despite all this Theo was one of the best people Draco knew.

“Are you bringing Astoria tonight?” Theo asked casually, nudging a loose stone across the pavers with his foot.

Draco fought to not pull a face at the girl’s mentioned name, Astoria Greengrass, she was nothing more than a family obligation. The last of what his life could have been if he had followed ‘The Death Eaters Enterprise’ life; aka the Malfoy way. Arranged marriages, family business, and financial considerations. Draco had agreed, begrudgingly of course, to court the youngest Greengrass girl as a favor to his mother. She seemed like a nice enough girl, and at the time of this arrangement she was in her last year at Hogwarts so Draco figured he wouldn’t see her all that much. But now she had graduated, Draco was expected by both families to see her more. Fortunately she seemed to have approved of his involvement in the band, she had been to a few shows dragging her friends with her.

So far he had gotten away with a handful of coffee dates, quick strolls through Malfoy estate in the smaller gardens, and his most favorite backstage passes to his own shows. It pleased his parents enough to get them off his back. Draco figured the Greengrasses wouldn’t necessarily love the idea of their youngest daughter going to rock shows. But when he had asked her once, she gave him a cheeky smile and said something to the effect that what they didn’t know wouldn't hurt them. She was alright, Draco supposed but he didn’t want to be tied down to just one person at the moment.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, leaving it at that.

Not after too long they made it to the fork in the road where Theo would go left and Draco would continue to go back to the flat. “Why do you still work at the pizza shop?” For the entire time Theo worked at the pizza place, he would complain and groan about his boss, so Draco fully expected him to quit the second he got his money. But Theo still continued to work even though the man didn’t need the money.

Shrugging, Theo shot Draco a devilish grin, “And leave Old Man hanging? Nah.”

“You hated Abe the entire time you had to work, and now you are best friends and won’t quit?”

“What can I say? He gives out great life advice.” Theo winked and started walking backwards keeping eye contact with Draco, “See you tonight.”

“Don’t be late!” Draco called after.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Draco shook his head, his blond hair falling into his eyes, Theo was notorious for being late. The brunet always found an excuse to why he was late. The stupid prat always putting someone else before himself. Once the man brought a box full of kittens to a show after showing up twenty minutes late. When they pressed him about how he acquired a box full of kittens. Theo claimed he found them in an alley somewhere on his way to the gig, so he had to stop and buy the kittens food. Then Draco was left responsible for said small orphans, for a fortnight until they found homes for all the kittens. For once it would be nice if Theo would set up his own drum set.

Draco made it to the front door of the flat before he could unlock it, his phone pinged with a text. Eyebrows knitted together when he saw who texted him. Maybe she was becoming too clingy after all.

Astoria: Hey Drakey! Any plans tonight? Mum is throwing another gala tonight and it was to my understanding that your parents are making an appearance. Any chance of you joining them?

Family obligations weren't for the faint of heart. Draco really thought he had put expectations and boundaries up. Or maybe he was reading too much into Astoria’s texts. It did seem friendly enough.

He left out a deep sigh, rubbing his face as if that would bring enough clarity to Astoria’s intentions with her text. He quickly typed a message and sent it before he could overthink it, struggling with the manners his mother raised him to have and the expectations of how to treat a lady.

Draco: V&V has a gig tonight.

There it was quick, direct, and straight to the point. If Astoria had expectations she could write back to him and it wasn’t like he could change his plans to fit her agenda. This was his job. Before he could set his phone down, it pinged with another text coming through.

Astoria: Great! Please tell me that the band needs help setting up. I’ll take any excuse to get out of this function. You can pay me after the gig ;)

The v between his brows deepened. It wasn’t that he minded her coming to his shows, it was sweet on a certain level that she wanted to support him and the band. But he didn’t want to be tied down, not like this. He made a mental note to talk to his mother about expectations, the sooner the better. This needed to be cleared up, before their mothers were arguing over eggshell and pearl or some bullshit of the sort.

Draco: I appreciate the offer Astoria, are you sure you wouldn’t rather be at the gala tonight? I wouldn’t be able to see you much tonight, we are opening for a pretty big band.

Just as quickly, Astoria texted back.

Astoria: Stuffy boring gala vs. super sexy rock show? I definitely think there isn’t a competition. Daph also said that she will help set up and that Theo can pay her back after the show.

Draco wrinkled his nose, he hated being the middleman in Theo’s business. Daphne, Astoria’s older sister was an off and on again fling with Theo over the years. She had opted to be permanently off during Theo’s poor years, finding a low collar working man beneath her. Now that Theo was solvent again, it appeared that Daphne was trying to slither her way back in.

Buzzed with anger now, Draco typed his reply with a little more punch than needed.

Draco: Have Daphne text Theo for the details, I have errands to run before the show.

He opted to turn his phone off, if someone truly needed to reach him, they knew where to find him. He found his way upstairs finding solace in the music room, the way it instantly calmed his nerves, it was like taking a shot of whisky.

The flat was yet another perk of being a pedigree spawn. It had been a graduation present for finishing Academy. Had it been under the pretense that he was expected to go to University? Yes. Had his parents asked for him to move out because he decided that his band was more important? No. So he wasn’t going to push the issue.

Draco made his way to the corner where Blaise stored his bass and started to tune it, needing to keep his hands busy after checking all things off his to-do list that needed to be done for tonight’s show. He knew Blaise would do it himself, eventually. But Draco was here now and a little bit of a perfectionist. Alright it he was down right a full on control freak.

“Blaise is going to kill you when he finds out,” Pansy’s voice pulled Draco out of his concentration. She was standing in the doorway, a hip casually resting on the frame. He barely made eye contact only half-heartedly flicking a slick blond brow her way. “You know Blaise doesn’t like when other people touch his things,” she crowed, before fully entering their practice space.

He shrugged, he knew Blaise was going to whine but if Draco wanted things done right, he had to do it himself. Blaise couldn’t tune to save his life.

“Theo sent me,” his fingers stilled, Pansy’s voice was barely above a whisper, a secret coasting on the wind. Draco didn’t dare look at her face, he didn’t want to read what she clearly wanted to say out loud. He had wondered who had sent her. Not that he was surprised that someone had sent her. He supposed things could be a lot worse if her roommates had asked her to come here on their behalf. He knew how awkward this whole situation was for her, he tried to warn Pansy before she started living with Daphne right after school finished. He had plenty of empty rooms and told her she had her pick, no rent necessary. But she declined, opting to lease a room from Daphne, knowing that Astoria would move in a year later in the third empty bedroom. Apparently rooming together at Hogwarts wasn’t enough for them.

“That was fast,” he scoffed, his fingers continuing their administrations on the strings.

Her small hand rested on top of his, “Draco it’s tuned.” he still didn’t dare look at her.

He plucked again ignoring her, furthering to prove his point. If he wanted something done right, he needed to do it himself. “Obviously not or I would move on to my guitar.”

“I was also in the neighborhood, and wanted to grab my in-ears before the gig.”

When he continued to ignore her, Pansy huffed, “Look Draco, I’m not going to pretend to understand what is going on. But you have a choice to make, and no matter what choice you make, Theo deserves to be a part of that conversation.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Draco kept his tone neutral and used all his will power to look Pansy straight in her eyes. Her green eyes pierced his soul, daring him to slip.

“Please,” she scoffed, rising from where she perched herself right in front of him, “if the Greengrass sisters bother you this much, talk to your parents about getting out of your negotiated prenuptials. Because from where I’m standing, you will be stuck in this loop if you don’t do something about it.”

“Astoria isn’t the problem,” despite himself, Draco found himself saying, “you don’t find Daphne a bit of a fortune seeker?”

“Is that for you to decide?” Pansy now stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, “I’ll see you tonight Draco, and when you do see the Greengrass sisters please do try and be cordial. Theo has extended an invitation to both sisters.”

He let out a deep sigh as she walked away, rubbing his face until stars dotted his vision. Letting the calluses on his fingertips massage the tension out of his muscles.

“I heard that,” Pansy called, her voice traveling back up the stairs, “Oh and Draco,” she paused, the front door to his flat creaking open, “turn your phone back on, you make us all worry when you get like this.”

He waited until he heard the door close and he knew Pansy was gone, before going back down the stairs to collect his phone that he half-hazardly tossed on the sofa. He knew there would be an onslaught of messages awaiting him, he wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to deal with it. But the longer he waited, the worse it would be later.

With reluctance, he powered his phone back on, setting it atop of the grand piano waiting for it to boot up again. He reached for his favorite music sheet, though he no longer needed it, every note was etched into his memory by now. Still, he positioned it in place at the music rest, more out of habit than anything else. As his fingers tapped the first few keys, the phone began buzzing incessantly with the flood of incoming texts he already knew awaited him. Draco paused, mid-play, deciding to deal with it and just get it over with.

Three texts from Astoria, which Draco deemed unimportant and a bit overzealous in his humble opinion.

Astoria: Okay, I’ll tell Daph to text Theo. Good luck on your Errands.
Astoria: Theo gave us the details and said he’d put our names backstage. See you tonight! :)
Astoria: I know it’s probably none of my business….but is everything alright?

Draco knew Theo would forget to put their names on the backstage pass list, so he added another thing on his never ending to-do list. He’d text Arnie, the club manager, to add the sisters’ as their VIP guests. Not as a favor to them, he would only do it for Theo. If this is what Theo wanted, he wouldn’t stand in the man’s way. He moved on to the other texts.

Pansy: Draco!
Pansy: You
Pansy: Little
Pansy: Bitch!
Pansy: Your ass better be home. I’m five minutes away.

Draco quickly sent a thumbs up, just so she knew that he had listened. As if she had expected it, waiting for his message to roll in, she sent another text before he could swipe out of their text thread.

Pansy: Get in the right headspace for tonight. Don’t fuck things up for me.

He went down the list of people to respond back to, Blaise, he noted, was not on the list of people. The man either opted to stay out of the drama or had not been informed of it. Either way Draco was grateful. Saving Theo for last, he glanced in the group chat he was in with Crabbe and Goyle. Nothing of extreme importance, they were just informing Draco that they would be at his place within the hour with the van to help load up the equipment. At least he could always count on them.

Severus Snape, either having no trust in his godson or just offering a reminder about the gig, had sent an overly long text. Draco was betting on the former. His godfather’s constant micromanagement made it clear he didn’t trust Draco to manage his own affairs. The situation had only worsened since Velvet and Venom’s first song hit the radio. Draco rolled his eyes, skimming the message quickly.

Snape: Draco–just a non-friendly reminder: V&V’s gig tonight you are scheduled to start promptly at 8. Be at the venue at least two hours early for soundcheck. Make sure you’ve coordinated with the sound tech, Seth about the levels, and don’t forget to go over the setlist with the rest of your hooligans beforehand. We do not need a repeat of that disaster. Double-check your equipment: guitar strings, amp, pedals, and make sure your backup is ready. Also, be mindful of your energy on stage, keep the performance tight. It’s important, especially with the buzz after your single on the radio. Don’t blow this opportunity. Remember, a lot of people are counting on you. Call me if you need anything–which you better not. Seriously, don’t mess this up.

Draco typed: No pressure at all. Appreciate the overwhelming confidence. Couldn’t have made it this far without you, my ever-supportive godfather.

Draco knew he was the only one who could speak to his godfather this way. Severus’ typical no-nonsense attitude didn’t leave room for just anyone to make light jokes in his presence. Draco was the only one who could get away with such sarcasm. His godfather’s strict demeanor rarely left room for others to joke like this. Not that Severus actually approved of Draco’s sarcasm, but he put up with it. Barely.

Snape’s reply came shortly after, Draco could practically hear his godfather’s sneer through his phone.

Snape: Watch the cheek, boy. Save it for your performance tonight.

Finally getting to the one he was putting off the most, Theo. Draco checked the timestamps and noted that Theo had text almost immediately after Draco turned his phone off. Guilt slithered down in his stomach, taking root where it belonged as he read Theo’s words.

Theo: Oi, mate, talk me out of buying a pizza place
Theo: Actually, don’t. Think of all the free pizza.
Theo: Can you grab my backup sticks? Should be on my nightstand. Thanks!
Theo: Draco, did you tell Daphne to text me? You know I’m at work.
Theo: Yes, I know I’m texting while I’m at work. But you know my weakness
Theo: Daph mentioned you invited Astoria…
Theo: If you don’t write back I will assume the Greengrasses are invited.
Theo: Well at least the sisters, can’t imagine Mr. & Mrs. G being big fans of loud music.
Theo: Are you mad at me?
Theo: I’ll leave right now
Theo: Please just talk to me.
Theo: If you don’t text back in five minutes–you leave me no choice–I’ll leave
Theo: Alright I lied, it’s been thirty seconds and Old Man won’t let me leave, he is surprisingly good at guilt tripping.
Theo: Reinforcements it is…Pansy is on her way
Theo: I’m sorry
Theo: Listen Draco, I’d rather be having this conversation face-to-face but you are forcing my hand. I heard what you said about Daphne. I promise I took it seriously. She has just been a friend for so long. You know this.
Theo: Look, we will talk about it tonight–after.
Theo: Please talk to me.

He was a despicable friend. He should have known better than to turn off his phone leaving Theo to deal with the Greengrass mess. Of course Theo would work himself up into a tizzy and try to leave work early just so he could talk with Draco. Disgusted with himself, he wrote back to Theo, wishing he had done it first. The other man was probably fretting over it still.

Draco: Theo, do not buy the pizza place, you would eat your way to bankruptcy. I got your backup sticks; it was already on my list of things to grab. Greengrasses are fine–with or without Mr & Mrs. G. Although I think the sisters would appreciate a night away from the rents. There is nothing to talk about, you are free to invite whomever you would like to our shows. Crabbe & Goyle will be here in a few to help load everything up, I should finish getting everything ready. And stop pissing off Old Man—he is scary enough on a good day.

While it was still fresh on his mind, Draco made his way down the hallway to the back bedroom;Theo’s room; to grab the other man’s backup drumsticks. Not even needing to flick on
the light Draco made his way through the dark space. The moment he stepped inside, a familiar scent greeted him. That crisp, citrusy aroma with a hint of spice always brought Theo to mind; bergamot.

Knowing Theo hadn’t actually left his backup sticks on the nightstand like he’d said, Draco didn’t bother checking it. Instead, he went straight to the window, hidden behind its heavy velvet curtains, knowing Theo had left them there resting on the ledge. As Draco reached behind the dark emerald curtains to grab Theo’s sticks, something unexpected tumbled to the floor.

Bending down to examine, in the sliver of light filtering in from the small opening in the curtains, Draco’s brows scrunched together to find a small, folded piece of paper. It looked old and worn with overuse, like someone had been unfolding and refolding it repeatedly. Confused as to why Theo would have kept something so trivial tucked into the window ledge, Draco picked it up to put it back where Theo had left it. His curiosity sparked further when he noticed his own handwriting and it pulled him back into a memory.

It was during fourth year and Nott Senior had just been arrested, Theo had been withdrawn for days. Draco and the rest of their friends struggled with giving Theo his space and forcing him to just talk to someone. He could tell that Theo hadn’t been sleeping at night, the purple that would show up under his eyes always gave away how little sleep he got. Draco had watched helplessly as the days passed and Theo continued to just push the food around on his plate at meal times. He couldn’t take watching one of his oldest friends struggling anymore, it broke him just watching Theo uselessly be the shell of a man he once was. Not really knowing what to do, he had written a short note to Theo, four quick words. Passed the note to him during their last class, walked away not saying a word. He hadn’t known how Theo would take it. But to his surprise it worked. That was it–four words and he got his Theo back. Well, that and at least seven screaming matches between them and too many identical notes to count. It was a slow process but Draco would have done anything to get his friend back.

Shaking off the memory, Draco’s focus returned to the note in his hand, those four words he had written all those years ago. Not knowing how long he stood there, frozen in place, muffled voices filtered through the wall. Instantly recognizing the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle’s voices, their deep baritones carrying all the way from the foyer. Draco hastily put the note back on its ledge and quickly met Crabbe and Goyle in the kitchen.

The two goons were exactly where Draco suspected they would be, Crabbe almost full-bodied inside the crisper digging through its remnants, while Goyle hunted Draco’s larder. He must have chuckled or made some sort of noise because Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle froze in mid-action. Vincent hitting his head on the inside of the fridge.

“Malfoy,” hissed Crabbe, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the pain.

“What?” He raised a lazy brow their way, “I’m not the one tomb raiding and stealing all your food.”

“Touché,” Goyle said, the words muffled from the food he had shoved in his mouth, bits of crumpet flying to the floor.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, the lingering thrill from the show finally drained from his body. He found himself restless as the late night turned to early morning. Draco found it harder than usual to calm himself down, he was still riding the high of their performance. The show had been nothing short of legendary.

Blaise and Pansy arrived punctually, for once, to help load the van up, well Pansy supervised. Theo, through some miraculous stroke of luck, was on time for once and even brought enough pizza to feed an army. Thankfully, no box full of abandoned kittens this time, Draco was still haunted by the last round of tiny mews.

The crowd had been wild and uninhibited, screaming for encores, women flashing their perky tits and sending drinks to fuel the band further. Draco could definitely get used to this rockstar lifestyle. Venom & Velvet opened for the popular band Pirate Radio. While Draco didn’t fully understand the hype, he was grateful for the extra exposure. And it felt like it was another divine intervention that the red headed twins from Pirate Radio didn’t have their equally notorious red-headed little brother and his gang of miscreants hanging around backstage. Draco wasn’t about to question his luck. He had enough of them from school, and well he was still too embarrassed to see Granger anytime soon.

Backstage, the Greengrass sisters arrived fully dressed in skimpy skirts, their faces painted in smoky eyeshadow, and deep red lips. They looked divine. Daphne clung to Theo after their last set, batting her long eyelashes, and giggling as she toyed with his sweat-soaked, curly hair. He was drenched, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Astoria, on the other hand, stood off to the side, almost shy, unsure how to approach Draco. He wasn’t about to make it easier on her. He was grateful for the space.

Draco didn’t like being fussed with after a show, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins, making his senses sharper, his temper shorter. It was the only time he truly felt alive, like the rush of performing was the fuel he needed to keep going. He wanted to hold onto that intensity for as long as possible, let it fuel him, feeling invincible. The blinding stage lights, the roar of the crowd, the pounding of the drums, all of it coursed through him like electricity. His skin still tingled from the heat of it all, and the last thing he wanted was someone hovering around him, he could feel the weight of Astoria’s gaze. Draco wondered if she understood how he felt after a show; the rawness, the vulnerability of coming off that high. Or if she preferred to keep her distance because she found him disgusting dripping in sweat, but her ever quiet presence felt intrusive all the same to him in these moments.

While Theo thrived under Daphne’s care, soaking up her attention as she dabbed the sweat off Theo with his towel. Draco watched as Astoria watched them, her features fixed in a perplexed stare. Feeling a small twinge of sympathy, he closed the distance between them under the pretense of grabbing his own towel–after all, he was sweaty too.

“How did you like the show?” His voice came out low and gravely. Tired from overuse, but it worked in his favor coming out sultry and sexy.

Astoria looked up at him with her sapphire blue eyes sparkling, “You were brilliant!” she beamed. “I can’t believe you opened for Pirate Radio!”

Draco hid an eye roll behind the towel wiping more sweat off his forehead, “I’m sorry you weren’t able to help us set up.” He shot his signature wink and devilish smile her way.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Astoria stammered, a lovely shade of pink blotting her neck, “I don’t mind helping unload at your flat, and I could stay late for,” she cleared her throat, “you know, payment.” Her blush deepened at her implied innuendo.

“It will be a late night and very intense, some might say–rigorous.” He warned, watching her eyes widen.

Astoria’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip before nodding her assent and adding shily, “Oh I don’t mind at all.”

The Greengrass sisters followed Draco and Theo back to their flat for a post-show celebration, just a few drinks curtsy of Theo’s heavy handed pouring, the ladies fawning over them, the soft hum of music in the background. It was almost the perfect way to end the evening after the chaos of the concert, a peaceful aftermath that helped ease the energy still buzzing through his veins.

But even after two intense rounds of rough shagging, Draco lay wide awake. His body resisting sleep, hyper-aware Astoria’s quiet presence beside him. Her shy, almost timid nature had always perplexed him, especially when Daphne and Theo were so openly wrapped up in each other’s orbit. Though she remained curled up on the far side of Draco’s massive bed, he couldn’t help but be so aware of her; every breath, every subtle movement heighted his awareness of her nearness.

Draco let out a long breath, his body finally surrendering to the pull of sleep. Astoria’s quiet breathing was the last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his usually oversized bed didn’t feel too empty. As his mind began to drift, he found that the usual cold emptiness that came with his bed wasn’t there. Instead, there was a quiet warmth, a softness that settled into the space around him. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that feeling, the subtle comfort of not being entirely alone in the dark.

The next time he woke, it was to the soft shifting of the bed, followed by the warmth of a body curling up against him and an arm gently wrapping around him. It wasn’t the kind of intense closeness that came with passion or lust. It was simpler, quieter, and strangely grounding. He blinked his eyes open to the faint light of dawn creeping through the curtains. The scent of clove and bergamot wafted in the air, bringing with it an unexpected sense of comfort.

“Theo?” He questioned sleepily, finding it very hard to keep his eyes open.

“Shhh,” a soft hushing soothed, “go back to sleep, handsome. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Theo shifted closer, getting cozier, “They left just moments ago, it’s just us.”

He slept without the weight of his own thoughts keeping him awake.

Chapter Text

“Alright, I think that concludes our first band meeting as an official band with four members,” Harry said standing up, rubbing his palms together and smiling brightly at his girlfriend.

Hermione sighed and got to her feet, “Not quite Harry, sit back down.” Thankfully the frizzy haired tosser listened and took his spot back on the sofa throwing an arm lazily around Ginny.

Hermione wasn’t sure what construed a “band meeting” but saying, ‘Ginny mastered the first two songs, and I think if we learn three today, she’ll be caught up in no time.’ was definitely not her idea of a band meeting.

Nobody else had the balls to object so she continued taking her phone out to read over her notes, “Despite what Harry has claimed, there are a few things we can all tweak. And yes, Ronald,” She paused, giving him a pointed look,”I have notes for myself.” Hermione already knew something clever and unhelpful was about to come out of his mouth. “We really need to tighten up the bridge in Trolls, it's a little off. And—”

Ron grunted, cutting Hermione’s concentration.

“Have something to add, Ronald?” Hermione leveled him with a look.

“Nope,” he grumbled, shrinking lower into his seat, when Hermione didn’t continue on her own, he rolled his hand through the air lazily, “So we need to tighten up the bridge–”

“Ron, take this seriously,” Ginny snapped.

“Hey! I’ve been taking this seriously since I was fifteen, you just joined the band, so if I were you I’d—”

“That’s enough!” Harry raised his voice, he didn’t yell much, he hated it actually but when he did boy could he silence a room. “Thank you,” he said in a quieter tone, “Hermione, as you were saying.”

“Thank you Harry,” she cleared her throat, “I’m just going to cut to the biggest chase, we can work on the music stuff later. I’ve hired us a videographer–”

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes, for someone who hung onto every word that was said on social media about the band, he hated the actual branding and marketing stuff of it. “Is that necessary? The band can’t afford that right now.”

“Mione, Ron is right, our funds are really low at the moment. I thought we were saving up to do a professional recording next.”

“Don’t worry about the cost, the videographer was the right price,” Hermione smirked at her bandmates.

Ginny looked around the room clearly lost. Hermione assumed that Harry hadn’t explained anything on how their band worked. Hermione continued on, Ginny would catch up soon enough, “To answer your question Ronald, yes it is very necessary. We need a name change and we could really benefit from doing a cool video to announce Ginny’s joining. We can use this as a rebranding of some sorts.”

“But I like our band name,” Ron whined like a petulant child. “Harry, tell Mione that we should keep our band name.”

Harry looked from his girlfriend to Ron to Hermione and then back at Ron, guilt written clearly across his features, “Actually Ron, I have to agree with Hermione. It makes a lot of sense to use this as a chance to rebrand us.”

“But Harry! The Golden Trio was your idea!”

“I know mate but–”

“Stop being a whiny prat, and just get on board already.” Ginny glared at her brother.

“Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, you’re not–” Harry stopped himself abruptly, like he had a quick second to think better of what was about to come out of his mouth next. She guessed old habits died hard, assuming ‘you’re not the captain,’ was about to come out of Harry’s mouth.

“Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should.” She glared at her boyfriend like she knew why he stopped himself too.

Ron mumbled to himself, “Not like I had a choice whether we got a new member or not anyways.”

Everyone chose to ignore Ron’s petulance, Ginny rolled her eyes, "Trio doesn’t work if a band is no longer three members.” She flashed Hermione a smile. “What name do you have in mind, Mione?”

This gave her pause, she had a few ideas but none felt right, “Actually I thought we could all come up with a few names each and then we could vote on what we like best.”

“Great idea Mione,” Harry beamed. “Did you have something in mind on how we do this?”

“Glad you asked Harry,” Hermione walked over to her bag and got out her travel size notebooks and pens and passed them around, “let’s take a few moments and write some down.” She wrote the ones she had been brainstorming over the past couple of days, even the alternatives she really didn’t think fit their style.

“Of course she’s done already,” scoffed Ron.

“Ron,” Harry warned, “Hermione has been thinking about this since our last band practice.”

“Yeah not her fault you completely dismissed the idea of a name change,” Ginny scribbled on her notepad like inspiration struck and she didn’t want to lose the idea. “Come on Ron, take this a little more seriously,” Ginny said, stretching her neck to glance at Ron’s paper.

“I am!” Ron quickly covered his paper with his hands, his face turning slightly pink.

“All you wrote was, ‘The Golden Trio,’ and ‘The Golden Four,’ that’s hardly taking it seriously.” Ginny scribbled some more.

Harry sat quietly tapping his pen against his notepad, he had his serious thinking face on. At least Harry and Ginny were taking this seriously. Ron would just have to deal with whatever name they came up with.

Hermione went to the kitchen and took a plastic cup out of the cupboard and set it on the coffee table, “No rush but I thought we could draw the names out a cup, so the suggestions are a bit more anonymous.”

“Not like we know whose handwriting is who’s.” Ron grumbled under his breath, everyone continued to just ignore him.

While the ones who were taking this seriously worked, Hermione pulled out the piece of paper Theo had slipped while she was at work earlier. She had forgotten about it until it fell out of her apron when she threw it off in a haste to take a quick shower at Harry’s before band practice started. She hated smelling like fried food, stale cigarette smoke, and alcohol, so Harry graciously let her keep some things at his for her. It came in handy on days like today, so she didn’t have to go all the way home to shower just to go back out again. And for the nights she really didn’t feel like going home to her father, she would crash at his flat.

Like she had promised Malfoy and Theo, she talked to Tom. She wasn’t sure why she had done it, Venom & Velvet were doing just fine without her interference so far. She would have thought their name alone could guarantee them a spot anywhere. And not like they did anything close to nice while they were in school. Malfoy never even gave her the common courtesy to just ignore her, always opting to tease or bully her when the moment arised. Theo had always been quiet, he never stuck up for the poor kids, but at least there wasn’t a time Hermione could remember that Theo had ever actively bullied them.

Hermione pulled out her phone and sent a text to Theo before she forgot again. She chose to keep it quick and to the point, she didn’t want to give the brunet any room to interpret her words other than relaying a simple message.

Hermione: I spoke with Tom, the only opening he had is Tuesday at noon. If that time slot doesn’t work for you, the next availability is in seven months. Just write back if that time doesn’t work and we will cover it.
-Granger

Surprisingly Theo wrote back quickly.

Unsaved Number: Why wouldn’t it work?

Hermione: I don’t know your schedule.

Unsaved Number: I did say we would make any time slot work, didn’t I?

Hermione: Just think it over and get back to me. Preferably soon so I can accommodate this time slot.

Unsaved Number: You just want this spot for your band.

Hermione rolled her eyes, setting her phone down. She wasn’t going to dignify his text with a response. She had better things to do. Theo had some real cheek. They were just a bunch of spoiled brats, the whole lot of them. They were all used to having everything handed to them on silver platers. This just proved it further. They wouldn’t know what hard work was if it hit them upside the head and shoved a broom in their hand.

“Alright, who’s ready?” Hermione jumped to her feet quickly, making her friends jump. Shaking the cup to mix the little pieces of papers, waiting for no one Hermione pulled the first one out, “Ashes to Embers,” she let the words sit in the air. Nobody reacted to it, which was fine, it had been one of her throw away ones anyways.

“I’ll keep a record of the names,” Ginny said, writing down the name. Hermione could get used to having another girl in the band.

“Thanks Gin,” she pulled another name out of the cup, “Phoenix Flame,” there were a couple of ‘Oh’s,’ and ‘Ah’s.’, okay it was just Ron and Ginny, but Hermione called that a step in the right direction considering Ron was their biggest nut to crack. “I like the Phoenix part, but I’m not sure if I’m sold on the flame part.”

Harry shrugged, “It’s a work in progress.” Hermione had already assumed Harry suggested this one, it was so him.

“They can’t all be complete winners,” Ginny gave Harry a kiss on the cheek after she wrote that name down.

Hermione pulled another out, immediately rolling her eyes, “Golden trio? Really Ron?”

“Hey, it's a good name!”

“Moving on,” Ginny rolled her wrist in the air to encourage Hermione to keep reading.

“Ginny you didn’t write it down,” Ron whined.

“You bet I didn’t. And I’m not going too.”

“Rebellion Wings,” Hermione read outloud, “that kinda goes with the Phoenix one.”

“Aw babe,” Ginny cooed, leaning over to kiss her boyfriend.

Harry’s face turned red, but happily returned the kiss, “Was that one of yours?” Ginny nodded.

“Well aren’t you two an adorable couple,” Ron pulled a face like he was about to throw up.

“Oh, you hush, they are adorable.” Hermione scoffed at him as she pulled another paper out of the cup, “Ember’s Edge.” Nobody reacted, but it was to be expected, it was another one of her throw away ones. Ginny did write it down though.

Pulling two out this time, reading one right after the other, “Crimson Dawn and Incinerate,” other than Ginny putting pen to paper, nobody reacted. Although she could have sworn Ron straightened up to look around when she read the second one. She was surprised that he had put in anything other than ‘The Golden Trio’.

“Oh we are down to the last three,” Hermione said, peering down into the cup.

“Pull two again,” Ginny encouraged, her brown eyes getting wider.

She giggled and pulled two leaving the last one behind, “Early dismissal and Arcane Fire,” nervously she glanced up, but Harry was just nodding his head, Ginny wrinkled her nose, and Ron sat there stoned faced.

“Can we get rid of ‘Early Dismissal’?” Ginny asked sheepishly, her face still scrunched.

Harry patted her knee, but surprisingly it was Ron that spoke, “It’s not that bad Gin, better than Arcade fire.”

“Arcane,” Hermione corrected, “but it doesn’t matter.”

Harry peaked over into the cup, “So that’s the last one?” Hermione nodded. Why did this feel like such a big deal?

Hermione cleared her throat, “I feel like there needs to be a drumroll or something,” Ron happily obliged, taking his drumsticks and drumming on the coffee table in front of him. Hermione felt her heartbeat pick up as she reached for the last piece of paper, she took a deep breath before opening the folded piece of paper.

Ron’s drumroll came to a close.

“Phoenix Firestorm.”

It was quiet while they let the words wash over them.

Ginny was the first to break the silence, “Well that was anticlimactic,”

“Hey!” Harry protested.

“It’s okay dear, not all of them can be winners.”

Twenty minutes into renaming the band and her head was starting to ache. They had completely forgone the cup now. Harry had pulled out a chalkboard from the depths of a random corner, Hermione had no idea it existed. The four of them had been arguing back and forth nonstop.

Written on the blackboard in no particular order were currently seven of her current migraines:
New Band Names:
Phoenix Firestorm/Flame
Rebellion Wings
Ashes to Embers
Incinerate/Ignite
Crimson Dawn
Arcane Fire
Ember’s Edge

 

“What about Phoenix Rising?” Harry suggested, they had kept circling back to that one. They all had admitted they liked Phoenix and what it stood for. But hadn’t been able to narrow down a combination that they all agreed on.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “Mione get rid of ‘flame’ and add ‘rising’.” Ginny nodded in agreement so she did.

“Can we vote out ‘Crimson Dawn’ and ‘Ember’s Edge’?” Harry suggested. Hermione waited for the hands to raise in the air, and then smudged them out when everyone’s hands went up.

“I would also like to veto ‘Ashes to Embers’ and ‘Incinerate’,” Ginny announced, hands flew in the air again, and Hermione crossed those out.

“Wait, keep ‘Ignite’,” Ron said in horror as Hermione removed it.

She gave him a questioning look, “Ignite? That’s it? Where’s the rest of it?”

Ron thought for half a second, snapping his fingers, “Magic! Ignite Magic!”

“What the fuck,” Ginny scoffed. Harry was hiding behind his hands, Hermione could see his shoulders shaking.

“What are we pornstar magicians?” Hermione put a hand on her hip, raising a brow at Ron. Harry couldn’t hide his laughter anymore.

Ron pouted like a small child, “You are only saying that because it was one of my suggestions.”

“I didn’t know it was you until you mentioned it,” Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling.

Because Ron couldn’t leave well enough alone, he said, “Let’s vote on it. Go on.”

“All in favor of changing professions and becoming magical pornstars, raise your hand,” Harry announced. Hermione was impressed that Harry was able to keep a straight face.

Surprisingly, nobody raised their hand, unsurprisingly Ron turned bright red. So Hermione smudged it out.

Taking pity on Ronald, Hermione suggested, “What if we combined Ginny’s suggestion and yours?” They all gave her a look as she mumbled under her breath and wrote out in chalk, “Ignite Rebellion.”

“Oh! I like it! Go ahead Mione, change it.” Ginny bounced in excitement.

Hermione gave the boys a questioning look, and they both nodded in agreement.

Now the board looked something like this:
New Band Names:
Phoenix Firestorm/Rising
-
-
-Ignite Rebellion
-
Arcane Fire

 

Hermione sighed, she knew this was going to be hard, but it seemed impossible to narrow it down from here. “I think we should leave this here for a bit and come back to it. We don’t need to make a decision right now.”

“I agree,” Ginny said, getting up, stretching. That was the longest Hermione had ever seen Ginny stay still. “Ron, can I borrow your drums for a bit? I have excess energy I need to spend.” She held out her hands waiting for Ron to hand over his drumsticks.

“No way! You’re going to break my drums!” He held his drumsticks to his chest, cradling them as if they were precious porcelain and they could break just being held wrong.

Ginny shrugged but left her hand out waiting, “It’s this or I use your best friend to spend my energy on. It’s your choice.” She gave her brother a wicked smile. Harry’s face turned bright red. Hermione could really get used to having another female in the band.

“Ew! That’s disgusting Ginny!” Ron sputtered, but shoved his sticks at Ginny. “If you break Pigwidgeon, I’m telling Mom and Dad.”

Pigwidgeon was the name of Ron’s drum set, though technically, he hadn’t come up with the name himself. It was one of those unexpected gifts from Sirius, Harry’s godfather. While cleaning out Sirius’s flat in preparation for Harry to move in, they stumbled upon the drum kit buried under a mountain of clothes, with a note attached in Sirius’ familiar handwriting. Harry read the note, then passed it to Ron with a wide grin.

They assumed Sirius had bought the drums for Ron as a leaving present for when they finished school, but he had never gotten the chance to give it before his untimely passing. The note itself had been addressed to Harry, but it was the short message at the end that brought tears to Ron’s eyes:

P.S. I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this drum set, take good care of Pigwidgeon.

Ron’s first drum set was battered, old, and barely holding it together. It was from his dad’s used music shop, ‘Weasley’s Music Exchange Shop,’ a one-stop destination for musicians on a budget. The store sold new instruments of all kinds, but Arthur took great pride in being practically the only place in town specializing in used gear. Ron’s first set, in particular, had once been part of the rental collection before Arthur retired it after years of wear and tear. Sirius had known all this.

Ginny snatched the sticks and strode over to Pigwidgeon, “Thank you,” she sang, happily to herself.

“I mean it Gin! Any scratch on Pig and—”

Ginny cut off Ron’s warning, “Don’t worry, I promise your precious Piggie is in good hands.” taking the seat behind the drums confidently, Ginny began casually tapping out a few light beats, it vaguely sounded familiar to Hermione.

Hermione caught herself bopping along to the effortless rhythm Ginny had started. Ginny shot her a playful grin and picked up the tempo. Suddenly, a warm arm slipped around Hermione’s waist spinning her in place. She laughed as Harry’s friendly face greeted her, and they danced together to Ginny’s beat. He twirled her around his flat, while Ginny started singing the lyrics. Her voice was beautiful with raw talent. All the Weasley kids were musically inclined, and most worked within the music industry in some way just like their parents. Molly had wanted Ginny to take her vocals more seriously than Ginny had ever cared to.

Ron had grabbed Harry’s guitar and started plucking chords, he was terribly off key but it was passable for just the random jamming session that they just started on the fly. It was fun to just putt around and not stress for once to be perfect.

Music had begun as her escape from the traumas in her life, but over time, it blossomed into something more. It gave her the opportunity of a lifetime; acceptance into Hogwarts School of Performing Arts and Prestige. There, she met her best friends, who are now her bandmates, all working together toward a singular goal: to create music. The power behind music always amazed her; it felt like magic. The right song could shift her mood in an instant, soothing her soul or sparking joy, like casting a spell on her emotions.

 

“Wow Gin,” Ron said, resting Harry’s guitar back on its stand, “where did you learn to play the drums?”

Ginny just shrugged, handing the sticks back, throwing her long copper hair behind her shoulder, “Did you think I was going to let you boys be the only ones to have fun?”

Hermione knew better; the two girls had grown particularly close during their school years. Over the years, Ginny had confided in Hermione about how she had been teaching herself to play various instruments. Though she hadn’t truly mastered any of them except the keyboard, she did teach herself to play a few songs on different instruments.

“Isn’t she brilliant?” Harry beamed, catching Ginny’s lips with his.

“What have I said about snogging during band practice?” Groaned Ron.

Ginny pulled Harry in deepening their kiss just to gross her brother out more.

“Gin, you were great though.” Hermione said, mostly to break up their snogging session, “What song was that? It’s from that American band you like, right?” It was driving Hermione crazy that she hadn’t fully placed it.

“That’s the one, the song is ‘Heaven Knows,’” Ginny nodded, “Their lead singer played Cindy-Lou in the Grinch.”

“We should add it to our cover songs,” Hermione suggested. “It would be so cool if we could trade instruments for it. I think I could learn it on the keys.” Her mind was already kicking in high gear, planning out how they would work that out during a show.

”Woah, hang on Mione. I’m not making this a thing that Ginny can play on my drums. This was a one time thing,” he warned, shooting his sister a look, daring her to even think about touching his possession again.

“Suit yourself,” Ginny shrugged, giving her brother a look. “Harry, be ready to help me with my energy levels.”

“Ewwww,” Ron plugged his ears. Harry hid behind his hands.

Band practice went fairly well, once they actually started practicing, with all things considered. The only real issue was having to stop every couple of minutes because Ron kept giving Ginny pointers, most of which were wrong. Hermione, growing increasingly frustrated, couldn’t help but get annoyed at the interruptions.

They had barely made it through a full verse when Ron, yet again, halted the song mid-beat. “No, Ginny, I swear that’s supposed to be a C major.”

Ginny’s hands hovered over the keys as she shot her brother a withering look. “Ron, for the last time, I know what I’m doing.”

From across the room, Hermione plucked a few annoyed notes on her bass. “Ron, can we just keep going? You’ve made us stop five times now!”

Ron tapped his sticks together, oblivious to the rising frustration. “I’m just saying, I think it sounds off. Right, Harry?”

Harry, strumming his guitar absently, gave a noncommittal shrug. “Er, I’m not really sure...I wasn’t paying attention,” Clearly uncomfortable being caught between Ginny’s frustration, Hermione’s irritation, and Ron’s ineptitude, “Maybe we should just—”

Hermione rolled her eyes, she was out of patience. “Ron, stop correcting her. Just focus on the drums!”

Ginny shot a grateful glance her way, setting her fingers back on the keys. “Yeah, let me handle this, okay?”

Ron muttered under his breath but picked his drumsticks back up, ready to start again. They played through a few more bars before Ron interrupted once more. “Wait—"

Hermione slammed her hand down on the neck of her bass, cutting off the sound. “Ron, for heaven’s sake, stop! Ginny knows what she’s doing!”

Ron blinked, taken aback, then sheepishly grinned. “Okay, okay. No more interruptions.”
They all exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or scream, or to finally start playing again.
Harry strummed a soft chord on his guitar, Ron, oblivious, held up a drumstick. “I’m just saying it sounds off. But let’s try it again, yeah?”

Hermione’s patience snapped as she slammed her hand down on her bass. “Ron, stop, leave her alone! Ginny helped me write this very song three years ago. Trust me when I say, she knows what she is doing.”

Ginny exhaled sharply, sending Hermione a thankful glance. “Finally, someone gets it.”

Ron glanced between the two girls, finally realizing he was outnumbered. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”

They resumed playing, making it a little further this time, but the energy in the room was heavy, everyone on edge. By the time they made it through the second chorus, Harry lowered his guitar and sighed.

“Okay, this has been... something,” Harry said, glancing at everyone. “Why don’t we take a break? It’s been a long day. We could grab some takeout and relax for a bit.”

Ginny grinned. “Now that’s the best suggestion you’ve had all day, babe.”

Ron perked up. “Only if we’re getting chinese.”

Hermione, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself, nodded. “Food sounds lovely, Harry.”

“I’m coming with you!” Ginny called as she practically dragged Harry out of the flat.

Hermione sighed and gently set down her bass. Today had definitely been one for the books when it came to chaotic band practices. She had just started getting used to the awkwardness of being in a band with her ex-boyfriend but once she thought it couldn’t get any weirder; it did. Leave it to Harry to unintentionally mess things up. Hermione genuinely loved having Ginny in the band, but Ron’s constant overreactions were starting to wear her down. It was one of the many reasons for their breakup.

Ron cleared his throat, the sound made her shoulders tense; she had completely failed to realize she was alone with him. It was the first time since their breakup, “Did Ginny really help you write that song?” Ron’s voice came out quiet and unsure.

Turning back to face him, his sweet blue eyes greeted her, he looked just as nervous as she felt. “Yes, Ginny really did. You should really cut her break, Ron. I know she had less lessons with your parents than you and your brothers, but she is truly gifted.”

“I’m starting to see that.” He mumbled to the floor.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for the remainder of the time Harry and Ginny were gone. Ron tried to look busy by playing on his phone, it would buzz ever so often with a text coming through. Hermione assumed he was texting one of his brothers–she hoped it was Fred or George. They could hopefully get their band a little more coverage. He would smile at the screen whenever he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

She actually kept herself busy and helped Harry tidy up a bit. He wasn’t messy, just unorganized. Clearing off stacks of paper off the coffee table so they had a place to eat, handwashing a couple forks for the people who didn’t want to use a chopstick. Hermione felt guilty that it was mostly her fault to begin with. Harry let her leave a lot of her things there, and stay over when she wanted, so she didn’t have to constantly deal with her father.

Just when Hermione couldn’t take the silence anymore, Ginny came barging through the door, her phone lit in her hand, Harry straggling behind her, struggling to carry all the bags with their takeout orders. “Oh my god! You guys have to see what’s being blown all over social media! You are never going to see this coming!”

Chapter Text

In hindsight Draco would have dragged himself out of bed earlier, just to be able to consume more caffeine if he knew his morning was going to turn into such a shit show so early. Yet again, if he had any preliminary thought that his day would be a shitshow, he would have made himself unavailable. But yet here he was, barely three sips into his first cup of coffee and already regretting the trajectory it was headed. Of course Theo was nowhere to be seen. He probably had the forethought to make himself scarce.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy! Are you even listening to me?” Pansy stood over him, her hands on her hips. She had this uncanny ability to loom over him at five feet even.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally into his cup of coffee, hoping that the steamy contents would fortify him to give a shit.

Spoiler Alert: It didn’t.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this!” She squealed, and to Draco’s delight spun out of his sight. He watched her as she yanked open cupboards, hastily snatching items from his fridge, and slamming down things on the counter with unnecessary force, clearly just to make a point. She worked expertly around his kitchen, knowing exactly where to find everything she was looking for.

Only after she finished her task of making the world’s angriest, loudest cup of coffee did she finally settle back down in front of Draco, leveling him with a sneer. “Explain,” she said, flicking a manicured brow his way as she sipped her cup of coffee, the rich aroma of cinnamon wafting from her freshly made cup.

Draco rolled his neck from side to side, partially to drag the time out longer and piss off an already irate Pansy; not quite a smart move on his part. But mostly to stretch the kinks out of his stiff muscles, it cracking satisfyingly under pressure. “It was Theo’s idea. Why don’t you ask him?” He finally answered, keeping his voice level. Which was sure to also further piss off Pansy. He really was toying with fire this morning.

“Theo isn’t here. You are. So explain,” again she shoved her phone into his line of vision. The photo wasn’t that great, clearly taken by someone trying their hardest to be discreet. A fan, most likely, or at least someone who recognized them and knew about the drama between their bands. Hidden behind the crowds in the dimly lit bar, you could hardly make out anything in the picture. Only if you truly knew them would you understand how incriminating the photo appeared to be. Even he, who had been there, could barely decipher the grainy details.

But not to fret, of course there was a video that Pansy swiped to with a vicious flick of her finger. She wouldn’t dare leave any detail out for Draco. It was some social media influencer spelling it all out, accompanying the photo. She continued to spread even more salacious rumors while her head bobbled around the screen. Theo was going to love this.

“Tea alert, everyone!” The social media influencers' shrill voice screeched from the screen. “This video is for those who aren’t familiar with this viral photo making the rounds. If you don’t already know the messy history, don’t fret. I am here to spill it all out for you.”

Draco shot Pansy a glare, silently begging her to turn it off. He could already guess where this was headed, perhaps a secret love child was on its way. But Pansy met his glare with a threatening stare, daring him to even think about touching the phone. So the piercing voice continued.

“Here we have,” the influencer’s pinched face dodged to the side to reveal the side of the photo with him and Theo, “Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott from Venom & Velvet sharing a drink at a pub. Seemingly harmless, right? Wrong!” She ducked dramatically to show the background, gasping for effect.“They were at The Leaky Cauldron! Now, you might think, ‘But Rita, that’s just a popular spot for bands! And you’d be wrong!”

The influencer leaned closer to the camera, her nose practically smooshed against the glass, “Everyone knows that’s The Golden Trio’s turf, more specifically Hermione Granger’s place of employment when she’s not rocking the stage with her band. And here’s where it gets juicier: look who else is in the picture!”

She moved aside, revealing a grainy, but unmistakable, image of Granger. That frizzy hair was undeniably her. “The scandal! Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, and Hermione Granger, chatting like old friends. Could the old rumors actually be true? Did Hermione dump her longtime boyfriend, fellow band member Ronald Weasley, for Draco Malfoy? Although everyone who is close to them has inexplicably denied this rumor. Including Draco and Hermione themselves. But folks, you tell me: Doesn’t this photo scream paramores?”

Rita’s voice pitched higher with excitement, “For those who don’t know the history, this is huge! Venom & Velvet have been at odds with The Golden Trio for years! So why are they suddenly hanging out at her bar, if they aren’t together? Coincidence? I don’t think so. Could this be the real reason for the heartbreaking breakup? Is there more to this feud than we’ve been told? Stay tuned, because something is definitely going on between these bands. I’m Rita Skeeter, and I’m going to uncover the truth once and for all.”

Pansy snatched her phone away once the video was finally over, “Well—” she drawled.

“What do you want me to say, Pansy? We all know everything that comes out of Rita’s mouth is utter rubbish. And like I said this was Theo’s idea. Go find him.” He really couldn’t get himself to care about any of this. He was almost disappointed that there was no rumor of a love child afoot. Maybe he could talk to his cousin about borrowing her baby for a bit, wait, no that was going too far. What the hell was he thinking? And Nyphmadora would never go for that.

“Draco!” Pansy snapped, both literally and figuratively at him. “Has Snape called yet? Your mother? Oh god, Astoria is going to be furious. And I will be the one that has to deal with all this.”

Draco winced, sometimes he forgot how enmeshed Pansy was in all this. This couldn’t be healthy. But it was what it was. “I’m sorry Pansy,” he sighed, letting a deep breath escape. He truly was sorry. “Your room is still waiting for you,” he waved a lazy hand in the direction of the empty spare room. He had left it a blank slate for her. “Whenever you want to move in.”

“You think I’m some damsel that can’t take care of herself?”

“Don’t twist my words. You know I have never thought of you that way. I’ve always said I never thought it was a good idea for you to move in with them. If you lived here, you would be away from their drama, closer to band practice, and—”

His phone rang, cutting him off. His godfather’s name flashed across the screen. “You should get that.” Pansy’s voice was cold and sharp.

“Good Mo—”

His Godfather wasn’t in any mood to make pleasantries, apparently, Severus cut Draco off, his voice low and laced with unpromised threats,“Get your wild pack of mutts and meet me at my office. You have Forty-five minutes. Do not waste my time Draco.” And with a swift click, Severus was gone just as quickly as he had appeared.

“I’ll grab Blaise,” Pansy sighed, quickly downing the rest of her coffee, not saying with words but her eyes said it all, ‘you get Theo.’

Fuck, he swore to himself. He should’ve had the forethought to call dibs on Blaise first. Not even to mention that he was thoroughly annoyed with Theo at the moment, and was enjoying his quiet morning—Theo-free. The cheeky bastard had slipped Granger his number. Draco thought Theo had given his contact information for business purposes, but no, the conniving prick had to pull this stunt too. As it was though, there was nothing Draco could do to change Pansy’s mind.

So he set forth to start the journey to look for Theo. Because it wasn’t just as easy as ringing the man on the phone and he would answer. Nope the idiot not only didn’t pick up his phone, he didn’t even have it with him. Draco scowled when he heard Theo’s ringtone coming from his room.

He checked there anyway, but as he suspected Theo was not there. Just the same old impeccably tidy room staring back at him. He checked the music room, the library room, the balcony, and random places Theo might be hiding. He didn’t have time to look in at Theo’s favorite park, so against his better judgment he texted Daphne to see if he was with her. Again no such luck.

Draco let out a deep sigh and brought his hands to his face, scrubbing, taking great care to rub his eyes, trying to remove the tension that kept building. Time was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t decide which was the lesser evil: showing up without Theo or arriving late.

Either way, Snape would be furious.

He let his hands fall, staring blankly into Theo’s dark abandoned room. How he ended back here he wasn’t sure. The gravitational pull seemed to have carried him, quite possibly in wishful thinking that the other man would just appear. But of course it was just that–wishful thinking. Theo was probably off indulging in some half-baked scheme that would occupy him for hours. Draco supposed he could come up with an excuse as to why Theo wasn’t there. But Snape wouldn’t care about any excuse he cocked up. He never did. And the last thing Draco wanted was another lecture on responsibility and professionalism from his godfather.

He should have had more caffeine.

A bitter laugh escaped him. What was worse? Turning up late or the empty chair beside him? When it came to the wrath of Snape neither were a good option. His mind raced, weighing the consequences, but they all blurred into the same outcome: Snape’s cold unforgiving stare, and the endless pressure to keep it all together.

Draco’s fingers curled into fists. He needed to make a decision, and quickly. But he was out of ideas. The lack of caffeine made it hard to think.

His gaze landed on a bag of bird feed in the corner of Theo's room, and his brow furrowed. He had never noticed that before. A crazy thought sparked in his mind, wild, ridiculous even, but it wasn’t a lead he hadn’t had until now. Without hesitating, he bolted out the door, grabbing Theo’s phone on his way out. He was running out of time.

The corridors blurred around him as he sprinted toward the roof access, time slipping away. If this didn’t pan out, he wasn’t sure what he was going to tell Snape. And he wouldn’t have enough time to put Theo’s phone back in his room, so then he really would have no way of contacting him later. He shoved open the heavy door with a loud clang and stumbled out onto the roof.

There, against the backdrop of the morning light, Draco spotted the familiar lanky figure. Chestnut brown curls whipped wild by the wind, giving Theo an effortlessly rogue, handsome look. He stood calmly, his back turned, the wind toying with his curls, he didn’t give any signal if he had heard the heavy door open or not.

Taking in the scene before him, Draco could have kicked himself for not thinking of this before. Theo loved the roof access. Were they supposed to go up there? No. Did that stop Theo from picking the lock and letting himself out here from time to time? Also no. But it had been so long since Theo had snuck up here, Draco had completely forgotten. The bird seed was new though.

“Theo!” Draco’s voice rang out, sharp against the wind, cutting through the birds chirping. “What the hell are you doing up here?”

Theo didn’t turn immediately. So that bastard totally knew Draco had come out here. Draco watched as Theo lazily tossed a bit of feed from his hand, watching the pigeons peck at the ground. Then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, that easy, infuriating grin crept across his face.

“Feeding the pigeons, mate,” Theo said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Draco was the slow one.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Draco snapped, marching toward Theo, his frustration boiling over. “Snape called. The band has been summoned, we need to be at his office now!” His voice carried an urgency that he hoped would spark some sense of fear in Theo.

Clearly didn’t, because Theo simply shrugged, completely unbothered, “I’m bonding with Doris,” he said casually, tossing another handful of bird feed at the pigeons.

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” Theo scoffed, throwing more feed at his feet, “Doris is docile, but she is a fair bit skittish. So if you don’t mind, please don’t step any closer.”

Draco stared at him, torn between wanting to throttle him and desperately needing Theo to get moving. The pigeons cooed softly around them, eyeing Draco warrily. “Someone saw us at The Leaky Cauldron, talking with Granger. It’s all over social media and Snape is not happy.”

“When isn’t Snape not happy?”

Ignoring Theo’s warning, the birds be damned, Draco took two swift strides to get to Theo, if he had to drag the git all the way down to Coil Records, he would. The pigeons hooted and scattered, flagging their wings as they flew off in different directions, cooing in protest.

“Draco! You just ruined all the progress I made. That was weeks worth of work down the drain!” Theo admonished, as Draco dragged him back towards the stairs. They were going to have to hail a taxi so they weren’t late.

“And you refusing to move your ass, is going to cost the band years down the shitter if we get fired.” Draco fought the urge to throw Theo down the stairs. He supposed they would be extremely late if he had to take the man to the hospital with serious injuries.

In the end, Draco managed, by the skin of his teeth, to get them both to Coil Records on time. Pansy and Blaise were already waiting for them in the lobby of Magical Music studio, arms crossed and clearly by the expressions on their faces, they were unimpressed.

“Finally,” Pansy drawled, kicking off the large marble pillar she was resting against, marching up to them with her fists clenched tight. She flicked her eyes between Draco and Theo, “Where the hell have you two been?”

Theo smirked but said nothing, the bastard.

Blaise, removing himself from the pillar with his hands in his pockets, simply drawled raising a dark brow, “Snape’s been in a mood, mate. I wouldn’t push it any further.” And casually made his way to the elevators.

“Shit, he’s been down here?” Draco asked, shooting Theo a pointed look, Snape didn’t tolerate carelessness.

“Just his assistant,” Blaise shrugged. The elevator dinged before the doors opened.

They all shuffled in, before hitting the button that would take them to the seventh floor where Coil Records resided.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Draco muttered under his breath, as the doors slid shut with a quiet but ominous finality, sealing them inside. They remained silent, only the quiet elevator music, and the soft ding of each passing floor to serve as the soundtrack to what felt like their impending doom.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and for a brief moment, no one moved, as if they had all silently agreed to take a pause before stepping out. The familiar glass doors etched with ‘Record Label: Coil Records, CEO: Severus Snape,’ loomed before them. Usually the familiar scent of polished wood would bring comfort to Draco as it did when he was a small boy, and his mother would bring him here to see his godfather.

Draco rolled his shoulders back and with a deep breath, forced himself to take the lead. Pushing the thick doors aside, he stepped forward with a determination to project professionalism. His eyes darted around the empty reception area, the absence of Snape’s assistant was—troubling to say the least. This didn’t bode well, Draco thought.

Taking it as a sign and, without word to the others, strode towards Snape’s office. It was something he had seen his mother do countless times tagging along to visit his godfather.

With a resigned sigh, Draco pushed the door open and stepped into the office. “You’re late,” Snape’s voice was low and icy.

It was not lost on Draco that the clock hung on Snape’s wall, clearly indicating that they were on time. He had opened his mouth to say just this, when he noticed two familiar figures already seated in the office, “Mother? Father? What are you doing here?”

Narcissa Malfoy, at least, had the common courtesy to look ashamed. Not that anyone else noticed, but Draco knew his mother well enough to catch the slight bristle in her posture and the way she avoided his eyes, her biggest tell. But Lucius Malfoy, however, was a completely different story.

His father looked poised and ready to take control of the entire meeting, as if it were one of his business deals. Draco wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He was well aware that the only reason his band had a manager was largely thanks to his parents, but there was no way he’d let his parents, especially his father, strong-arm this situation. This was his band, and Draco was determined to take charge like the adult he was, well trying to be anyways.

“Draco, darling,” his mother admonished, clutching the small purse in her lap, straightening her posture. “Severus is, as you know, is one of our oldest friends. We–”

Lucius cut his wife off with a single elegant touch to her hand, “We have every right to be here. A Malfoy is on time, and it was a good thing your mother and I showed up so we could establish the benchmark. Now get in here already and sit down,” Lucius snapped, “all of you,” his eyes flickering to the others hovering behind Draco’s shoulder.

They all shuffled in like naughty children, crowding around the office unsure of themselves.

“Elara is bringing extra chairs,” Snape drawled, his hands propped on top of his desk. Elara Thorne was Snape’s assistant. Draco had thought she was older than dirt when he was a small boy. To this day he still only referred to her as Ms.Thorne, too afraid of her to offend her. When he was smaller, he vaguely remembered one day cowering behind his mother, whispering his fear that she was an evil witch. Mother had hushed him and told him not to be a silly boy. Snape however, chuckled darkly and told Draco that his assistant was a witch who loved to snack on disobedient children.

“I’m going to assume that everyone here has seen the newest scandal,” Snape spoke in a slow, slithery manner, once everyone was finally situated in their own chairs. There were a few head nods, and murmurs. “Good, this will save us some time. There is a lot of damage control to be done.”

“Before we begin Severus,” Draco cleared his throat, turning to face his parents, “Mother, Father, what are you doing here?” His parents had no business being here and he was not going to let them be a part of his business.

“Honestly, Draco.” Lucius shook his head, “you act like your mother and I have no business in this. We have our own damage control to deal with. Now sit there quietly until you are spoken to. Excuse my son Severus, we raised him with better manners than this. Please continue.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, his parents clearly were delusional if they thought they had any right to the inner workings of his band. But Severus leveled him with a sharp gaze, his perpetual scowl left no room for arguments. So he promptly shut his mouth.

“We have a reputation to protect!” Snape’s voice echoed off the walls, he fought the urge to shift in his seat. “What the hell were two imbeciles thinking?” Snape’s eyes flickered between Draco and Theo.

Draco and Theo exchanged glances, ‘Were they supposed to speak now?’

Apparently not because Snape kept on, his voice low and venomous, “I’ve worked too damn hard to build your image–years of blood, sweat, and drama—and all for what? For you two just to throw it all away? And give them free publicity?” His voice rising with every word.

Theo leaned back in his chair, unbothered, arms draped lazily behind his head. “Relax. It’s not that serious.”

“Not that serious?” Snape’s voice cracked with incredulity, “You truly have no idea what you have done. The other record label in Magic Music Studio, has caught wind of this and now they are asking about your rivals. You just hand delivered them a record deal if my damage control doesn’t suffice. They will be benefiting from your fame once again.”

“The other record label?” Pansy straightened in her seat, her eyes widening.

“Not Golden Roar,” Narcissa gasped, Draco was surprised his mother finally spoke. She had been silent up until this point. She looked spooked and strangely worried.

“Yes, Golden Roar Studio, was just up here inquiring about The Golden Trio. And no Mr. Nott, the irony is not lost on me.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I seemed to have curved McGonagall’s curiosity in the other direction.”

“Very good,” Narcissa nodded.

“But if McGonagall chooses to sign them, there isn’t much I can do. Venom & Velvet will lose the upper hand in this feud. Not only did you give them free publicity, but now you’re pushing them into bigger deals. If they get under her wing, they’ll have the same backing and resources we do.”

“What do we do?” Blaise asked, his voice low. The room was tense, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. Nobody wanted to give them the upper hand. They didn’t deserve to keep riding on everyone else’s hard work for free.

“You four will remain to lay low until all this blows over. I will continue to remind McGonagall that she would be clinically insane to take on another Weasley under her management. That seemed to do the trick the first time. You two,” Snape stopped for a moment to make eye contact with Draco and then Theo, “stay out of that damn bar and away from your competition.”

“They shouldn’t even be considered our competition,” Pansy sneered.

“And you figure that because?” Snape clenched his jaw. Draco could practically hear the: ‘Why won’t these imbeciles take this seriously?’ in his voice.

“Their band is barely being held together by shoe strings. The breakup between the Weasel and Granger nearly broke their band apart.”

Severus paused briefly before picking up his pen jotting a quick note, “Insightful observation Ms. Parkinson.” Pansy preened at the compliment. “You’re all dismissed from my office. Yaxley down the hall is expecting you, he has information on a radio station that wants to do a live interview with the band and needs to go over the contracts before we start briefing you soon.”

Despite how casually Snape dropped that bombshell of good news, Draco could feel the excitement radiating off his friends. The energy was almost tangible, buzzing in the air. They all rose out of their seats, eager to get the hell out of Snape's office. Their first interview, this was huge.

“Not you, Draco,” Snape sneered, his voice dripping with disdain “sit back down.”

Blaise, Pansy, and Theo paused, turning back to make eye contact with him. He nodded to his friends, silently communicating to them to go ahead and reassuring them that he would be fine. As he watched them leave, he wished he could join them, but he knew better than to defy his godfather.

With his friends gone, he was left alone with Snape and his parents. Draco couldn’t help but feel like a small child again. A small naughty child about to get reprimanded for eating the sand out of the sandbox. Not that he would have known from experience, he was very obedient as a young boy.

“As this is mostly a family matter, I will say my last piece before leaving and getting back to work. I do have a band that needs preparing for their first interview after all,” Snape leveled his gaze at Draco. “As the ‘charming rogue’ and leader of the group, you have a delicate balance to maintain. Your other affairs are in agreement with this. Do not go ruining this for friends and most of all yourself. I warned you countless times, but you are a stubborn mule, and this is the life you choose. On that note, stay away from the Golden Girl.”

Before Draco could say anything else, Snape strode out of his office, leaving him alone with his parents. His mother and father sat there with twin postures, rigid with the weight of formality.

Lucius spoke with an undercurrent of insistence, “Draco, you have an obligation to this family. The Greengrasses have been more than patient, waiting for you to properly court Astoria.”

“Father,” he tried to defend himself.

But Lucius continued as if Draco never interrupted him, “Why they still agree to the arrangement, beats the hell out of me. But I will not complain that the Greengrasses find it in their hearts to let their daughter be associated with you. If you ask me, Astoria deserves someone better.”

“Lucius,” Narcissa tutted, admonishing her husband. Turning to fully face Draco, his mother clasped her tiny hands so they encased his one, “Draco, darling, what your father means to say is, when we set up this arrangement, Mr. Greengrass was under the impression he was agreeing to let his youngest daughter be courted by a wealthy business tycoon. And now that you have chosen other avenues—”

“For now.” Lucius muttered.

“We find it in our hearts to really make sure our only son holds up the Malfoy name to the best of his ability while still following his own heart's desires. Astoria understands that public displays are to be frequent and that the media will spin your story into something well, how do say this, unsavory.”

Draco wanted to yank his hand away but couldn’t find it in his heart to hurt his mother like that. He leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening, “I never agreed to court Astoria,” his voice firm but kept it controlled, “I’ve only been friendly with her as a favor to our family. And I left the family business for a reason. I don’t want any part of this anymore.”

Lucius frowned, his eyes sharp and face full of disappointment, “This isn’t about what you want, Draco. It’s about duty, about preserving our legacy.”

He refused to back down, he met his father’s glare head-on, “Do you hear yourself father? Duty, arrangement! Those words should never be associated with marriage. Courting and arranged marriages are archaic. I’ve made my choice, father. I’m not going to be pushed back into a life I don’t want.”

“I have been very understanding and lenient but my patience will only go so far boy. My father would have never let me get away with half of what your mother has let you get away with. For now enjoy your little music and pretend rockstar life in the penthouse your mother set you up in. Because one day you will take your rightful place as head of Death Eaters Enterprise, and all of this,” he waved a hand to gesture to his life as a whole, “will have just been a memory of the past.”

Draco shot to his feet, fury burning in his chest. How dare his father speak to him like that. He glanced at his mother, silently pleading for support, but she refused to meet his eyes. A flood of words rushed to the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, refusing to unleash his anger in front of a lady—mother or not.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment, Father,” he spat, voice laced with bitterness. “But this is my life. I didn’t ask for any of this, and I’ll live it the way I want.”

Without another glance, he stormed out of Snape’s office, consequences be damned.

As he walked down the halls of Coil Records, in search of Yaxley’s office, Draco found himself regretting how he handled his father. He couldn’t deny it, he knew what a privileged life he led. And he also knew how easily it could all be ripped away. One vengeful decision on his father’s part, and the cushy life he was so accustomed to could be snatched away in an instant. He had no money in his name, only a plastic card he swiped without a second thought. Nothing of value in his name, not even a bank account he had full access to. Just a trust fund that his parents still controlled, a flat that his mother had purchased for him, and zero real-life skills to fall back on.

Expect music.

Yeah, he was utterly fucked if Lucius was pushed past his breaking point. Sure, his mother would have a hard time letting his father cut him off, but even Narcissa’s influence had its limits.

By the time Draco found Yaxley’s office, the meeting was already wrapping up. When he walked in everyone was rising from their chairs, handshakes being exchanged. Draco pouted to himself, he hated being left out.

Snape caught his eye, smirking in that all-knowing way that made Draco feel as if he was a small naughty boy being punished for not listening to mommy and daddy. “Nice of you to finally join us,” Snape rasped passing Draco on his way out.

Blaise gave him a steady look, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. Draco nodded, answering the silent question Blaise didn’t need to voice. There was no point in worrying him, especially since Lucius hadn’t actually cut him off, yet. Besides, Draco doubted his father would actually go that far, it would be humiliating to have a Malfoy running around without a penny to his name.

“Well things have turned for the worst,” Pansy put so delicately. Leave it to her to cut straight to the chase.

“What! How?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Theo said, calmly, “The Golden Trio is really benefiting at this moment. Ready Blaise?”

“Let’s go, mate.”

He didn’t have time to question what Blaise and Theo were getting up to.

“I’ll explain it over coffee,” Pansy said, snaking her arm through his, guiding him out of Magical Music Studio building, “but you are paying.”

The coffee shop was bustling, apparently they weren’t the only ones that needed the caffeine pick-me-up this afternoon. There was barely any room to stand, let alone sit. All the tables were currently full and the line to order was almost out the door. Pansy scoffed next to him, her disapproval needing to be acknowledged out loud.

“So they are no longer The Golden Trio?” Draco asked, as they took half a step forward in line. Pansy had clued him in on their walk there, but he still didn’t have the whole story.

“Nope. They added the female weasel, changed their name. Completely rebranding themselves. Just posted twenty minutes ago and it’s already starting to become a big thing.” Pansy pulled her phone out to show him what he missed. He did have to admit to himself that the new name was a huge improvement, not that he would ever admit it outloud.

“Interesting,” he hummed, noncommittally passing Pansy her phone back. “Oh hey, they are about to leave, should I go ahead and snag that table?” He gestured to a couple by the window, gathering their things and cleaning up after themselves.

“Good thinking, leave me your card.” She held out her hand waiting.

Sighing, he got out his wallet and placed the plastic rectangle in her open palm, “Get my usual?”

“No. You get what I order you.”

Draco didn’t have time to argue with her, others were starting to catch on that the table would be vacant soon. It was either argue with Pansy and risk losing the table or just suck it up and claim his territory. Pansy wasn’t that cruel, she wouldn’t order him something completely inedible. He hoped.

As Pansy slowly moved up in line, he slipped towards the table, claiming it with a casual slouch into the chair facing the line. He stretched out, leaning back slightly, keeping his eyes on Pansy. They hadn’t encountered too many crazed fans, and the chances of it happening now in the middle of the day surrounded by mostly boring corporate zombies were low. But he knew that their days were numbered before they couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized.

Pansy, the pure definition of confident, stood with her back to him, rifling through her designer handbag. Draco knew what came next, it was a routine he’d seen a thousand times. Sure enough, she pulled out her compact mirror and lipstick, superciliously reapplying her makeup without a second thought. As she touched up her red lips, she was perfectly composed, minding her own business, just trying to fill her time as she waited for her turn.

That’s when Draco noticed the guy behind her, dressed in a simple business suit, to the untrained eye it would have given the effect of GQ, no doubt the look he was going for, also watch Pansy as she methodically touched up her makeup. He stiffened in his seat, getting ready to give up the one free table. But Pansy wasn’t an untrained eye.

“You know,” the guy started, leaning in closer to Pansy as she shut her mirror, “nice guys don’t like when girls wear so much makeup.” He had that look about him, the kind of guy who felt like his opinions were pearls of wisdom everyone was dying to hear.

Pansy didn’t even bother looking up. She flicked open her compact again and calmly checked her reflection. “Nice guys, you say. Nice guys like you?” her tone was flat, uninterested.

The guy blinked, clearly not expecting that response, “Well, yeah,” he said, a weak attempt at confidence in his voice.

Pansy closed the compact with a quick snap and finally turned her head slightly toward him, just enough to let him know she was giving him her attention, but only briefly. “Have you ever considered,” her voice sickeningly sweet, before turning cold as ice, “that’s why we wear it?”

Draco snickered to himself watching the guy fumble, clearly thrown off his own game, “Uh…” he stammered, clearly trying to come up with something but failing miserably.

Draco didn’t need to get involved; he just sat back, watching with mild amusement as Pansy tore him to shreds.

Without waiting for his comeback, Pansy deadpanned, “Nice girls like me don’t give a fuck what you like.”

The guy stood there, mouth open, unsure of himself, like he couldn’t process what just happened. Pansy, unfazed, turned back to the counter, ready for the barista to take her order. Draco couldn’t help but let a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

As she collected their order and strutted over to Draco, her heels clicking against the floor, she shot him a look feigning naïveté, “What?” she asked, taking the seat across for him, looking as composed as ever.

Draco raised an eyebrow, still smirking, “Just enjoying the show.”

Pansy sipped her coffee with a satisfied smirk.

God help the soul of the man brave enough to marry that woman.