Chapter One
Hermione finishes preparing dinner and sets two plates on the table, One for her father and one for herself. She sets the bread, cheese, and sausage on them and waits for him to get back to their small yet nice apartment. It has two bedrooms, a room for entertaining, a very small library, and a kitchen big enough for two people to cook in. The apartment is furnished nicely with furniture that had belonged to the Longbottom family before they lost a lot of money and they had to size down to a smaller house. The family rented them the space.
Her father, valuing punctuality, is always in the door by eight o'clock. Dinner is on the table by seven fifty-five as he always instilled the value of time in her as well. He's a Clerk for the law office just a few streets over. The low salary of a clerk is supplemented by Hermione's work downstairs in the bakery. It pays half the rent and supplies the daily bread, giving a bit more room for nicer clothes and the illusion of higher class to the general public.
As her father walks through the door, she greets him with a smile and small talk about his day at work. They sit down at the table at five past eight and have a quiet meal until they reach the last few bites. Her father, sitting back in his chair, begins to speak.
"Hermione, your eighteenth birthday passed a month ago," her father begins, causing anxiety to rise in her chest, she knows where this is going.
"You know, I could have married you off at twelve, but I chose to wait. Very clever of me, you've been invited to a ball at the Weasley Manor. I do believe the youngest Weasley boy has taken a liking to seeing you in the bakery. He is handsome and wealthy. Now, before you object, I want you to realize that eventually, you will marry. An offer like this will not come again, my dear. I've given you time and let you read your books, but you must think about the future," He says all of this with a soft, loving smile on his face as Hermione sits, looking quite offended, as if she had just been backhanded across the face.
"But Father, I don't know the boy. Marriage to someone I don't know could be horrendous. What if he's a drunkard or abusive,"
"Now Hermione, the Weasleys have never shown anything but kindness in the public eye, your fears have no basis. I'll buy you a dress, at least go to the ball and get to know him, give him a chance,"
This is the end of the conversation, the next day, Saturday, is spent at the seamstress's shop, getting fitted for a dress that would be a simple pattern but with small embellishments that would distract from the cheaper pattern and fabric. After Hermione is measured in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar room by the seamstress, she gets dressed again.
Walking back into the waiting room while her father talks pattern and price with the seamstress, she sees a woman who hadn't been there before, this, in itself, is not all that strange. It's her appearance that makes her presence quite odd. A mess of curls is piled on top of her head, secured into a bun. The book lowers slightly, and eye contact is made. While it is lowered, Hermione sees a silver brooch on the black dress of the woman. On it is a raven, the crest of some noble house. A strange sight to see in public. The more noble families are notorious for staying in, not venturing out for the general public to see. Just as Hermione got a good look at the black-clad woman, her father comes out of the room with a smile on his face and a jolly gait. He had obviously haggled successfully with the seamstress and gotten a bargain.
After the minimal jewelry and white satin shoes are bought for the ball, they also buy a new corset as all of hers had belonged to her mother before her. They get back to the bakery and Hermione quickly sets to work in the kitchen, doing as much to help Nan as possible.
The bakery is on a street near the higher-class neighborhoods, its safe and relatively clean. The inside of the bakery always smells like warm, sweet bread. The shop specializes in pastries for parties or a snack for a richer patron passing through. It's decorated in warm colors and the main room was never empty of a customer. The smells are always so enticing to the people doing their daily errands. A few complain happily that the scent isn't fair but always leave with their stomachs full and their purses considerably emptier. This is Hermione's favorite place. In truth, it has become more of a home than the apartment upstairs.
Nan is a woman in her late fifties to early sixties. No one calls her by her real name, everyone refers to the sweet, matronly woman as Nan. A name affectionately given to her by her grandson, Neville, whose parents died when he was small. Ever since he turned nine, he ran deliveries for the bakery. When he began this job, Hermione and her father had just moved into the apartment above. They spent all of their time together and grew very close. There isn't much that can describe Neville, he's just sweet and wonderful, and he doesn't have a mean bone in his body.
The reason they moved was because her father, a newly made widower, couldn't stand to stay in their old dwelling, filled with the sweet scent of vanilla that was her mother's favorite. Hermione had a little sister for less than a day, they had been trying so hard and her father had been overjoyed to have another daughter, another child at all. But, her mother had died in childbirth and the baby was weak. She didn't make it through the night and it tore her father apart. So, here they were, just the two of them, living in a rather nice apartment in the nicer parts of the city. It hasn't always been this easy, before, they had less food and her father worked more. But, she was quickly given a job by Nan when their situation was revealed to her.
Nan greets Hermione as she begins helping with the baking and cleaning after Nan, a notoriously messy woman. The quiet monotony of the cooking and cleaning calms Hermione, leaving no room for anxiety as she contently hums while cleaning out an oven. The bell on the door rings and Hermione wipes her hands on her apron as she steps out into the main room filled with pastries on display. Neville grins and walks further into the room. Hermione's frown stops him.
She tells him all about how she's going to be married off to a Weasley if her father follows through with the plan. He tries to reason with her that it can't be that horrible, but she can tell by the sad look on his face that he doesn't believe that either. He knows that means they won't be able to spend time together without talk of a scandal anymore. He knows this is an end to their childhood, but he so desperately doesn't want it to be.
Though only a week has passed, Hermione feels like it has been an eternity. Going about everyday life was nearly impossible with the nervousness of the impending courtship. She stands in her chemise and stockings, having Nan help her lace her new corset. After the corset comes the crinoline that would support the bell shape of her pink and white dress, then there's the camisole to protect the dress from her skin and a petticoat over the crinoline to help the skirts of her dress lay smoothly. Then comes the new gown, a lovely dress that was nicer than any Hermione has ever had.
For the walk to the ball, Hermione is accompanied by a few girls she'd grown up with. Though, her only real friend here is Luna. Luna is a strange girl with a good heart. She's slightly older than Hermione and her family is somewhat well-to-do. She has good sense and a good heart. She'd be the ideal wife for any man but for some reason, she's yet to marry.
Polite conversation is held the entire walk, it's a pleasant night, clear skies and uncharacteristically warm for an October evening. Luna and the other girls chat about the men they'll meet and the old friends they'll see. There's a lot less giddiness in Hermione, anxiety rises in her chest as she mulls over the idea of being betrothed to a man she's meeting for the first time tonight.
"You're quiet tonight," Luna mutters, careful not to let the others hear and ruin their excitement with worry.
"I'm just thinking. Last week I was sure I had plenty of time to marry, thought maybe I'd marry a friend or someone I love. Then we'd raise a few kids and I'd have grandchildren. And I know most of that will happen, but not on my own terms. It's selfish but you understand, right?"
"Sometimes we have to give things up. I'm sure no one in this arrangement is incredibly happy with the way it will turn out. We must make do with what we have and you, Hermione, are much luckier than you realize. Do you know how many girls in our class are dying to marry a higher born man? It doesn't happen often, and he has basically handed himself to you. At least try to have fun and give the boy a chance," Luna then turns back to the group of girls and continues their conversations about expensive clothes and the men who will be there.
Maybe the ball won't be so bad. Hermione thinks to herself. Luna, though quite odd, always has a way of making things feel better. And, though it isn't the beginning of the courtship season, this is her first ball and she wants to savor every last minute of it. She appreciates the presence of her friend who is and is not sensible at the same time.
The ball is being held in the hall of the Weasley manor, everything decorated splendidly with burgundy and gold, the colors of the Weasley family. A large banner with the family crest, a weasel, adorns the archway into the hall.
Trying not to look too amazed at the gorgeous décor, Hermione takes a dance card, a small book with every dance, the composer, and a line for the name of whomever she intended to dance with. Even this has been decorated with the Weasley crest and colors. A small pencil is attached with a decorative cord and another cord is attached to allow Hermione to fasten it to her wrist or gown.
Luna introduces Ginny and Hermione. They exchange a few words and Ginny introduced Ron, a somewhat attractive, clumsy man with horribly garish red hair. Ron bows slightly, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles.
"It's lovely to finally be introduced to you, miss Granger. I've seen you in the bakery and have found myself quite taken with your beauty. I will say, I did not expect I would consider marrying a woman who works. But, of course, you'll quit once we've married. You'll have no need to work," he says all of this in an annoying, self-righteous tone that makes Hermione want nothing more than to slap him upside the head.
"Actually, mister Weasley, I'm quite proud of my work at the bakery," she says, keeping her tone as civil as possible, "I don't do it out of necessity," she can feel her nails digging into her palms through her gloves, trying to resist the urge to turn sharply and walk across the room, giving him no more of her time. Ginny casts her a sympathetic look as he fills in dances on her card before leaving to socialize with the other women.
After he leaves, Ginny assures her he's not as bad once you get to know him and tells her about her marriage to Harry Potter. It had been arranged but they grew to love each other. Hermione doesn't believe this will ever happen with her, but she convinces herself she's just being dramatic.
Socializing with the other guests was a lot easier than Hermione expected. Her dance card filled up quickly and only two of the spaces were filled by Ronald Weasley. She left the dances she didn't know blank, which is just a few of them, as her father had paid for brief dancing lessons. She had also left a few dances free for a break to have refreshments.
Her third dance, a waltz of course, was one her and Ron decided upon. As they take their place on the dance floor, Hermione tries not to be nauseated by the too-strong scent of rose oil. It doesn't help that she's already had a glass champagne after her first dance with a rather handsome, tall man with dark hair. Most of the men here are attractive but Hermione can't seem to find any of them more than handsome. There is no man here that makes Hermione's heart flutter. Come to think of it, there has never been a man to make her have that feeling.
She used to think she might marry Neville, he'd make an agreeable husband and he was a Longbottom. And, though the family lost a lot of its money when his parents died, it still had a title. She would technically be moving up in society and her children would have a good life, they could have private tutors and socialize at more than one ball a year. This could happen with Ron too, she supposes, but he seems a lot less agreeable. This thought is cemented as they begin to dance.
His hands wander as he leads, he fumbles slightly, and she has to pay too much attention to keeping his hand on her waist and nowhere else to actually focus on dancing and getting the simple moves right. A desperate glance to her left, against the wall where Luna was standing a few moments before, proves fruitless. Luna has moved, and her spot has been taken by a woman with familiar, curly black hair, aristocratic features, and an all-black gown, as if she's in mourning.
This was the woman who had been reading in the dress shop. The curly black hair trying to escape its place on her head and silver brooch with a raven on it, a testament to that statement. As Hermione dances, she finds herself glancing in the direction of the same wall, searching for the woman. The fourth or fifth time she's looks in that direction, the woman stares back, nearly black eyes meet light brown ones. Hermione quickly looks away as her heart seems to stop for a second, the terrifying, cold gaze somehow seems to burn a hole right into her soul.
As the dance ends, Hermione and Ron head over to the refreshment room where she has another glass of champagne and dreads the rest of the dances coming later in the night, another dance with Ron will be at the end of the night and she's already trying to figure out a way out of it. She can possibly play ill, maybe faint, but that would be dishonest. So, she will dance with Ron and go home and try to read or sleep away the memories.
She and Ron walk around the room, having both left the fourth dance open so they could socialize. Its only for a few minutes, she tells herself, but she knows that's not true, this is the easy part of it, the courtship. This is when they can't improperly touch or converse without a chaperone. Later, they can be alone. Ron introduces her to his older brother, Charlie. He helps to break some of the awkwardness with friendly conversation. They talk about the possible engagement which is spoken about as if it may or may not happen. They are going to marry, that's just the way this will go.
She needs to try and make the most of the situation she finds herself in, because there isn't much she can do to change it. So, she smiles and flirts, she needs to come off as agreeable, so they can marry. She tries to imagine being married and having children with this man, but she can't. All she imagines for her future is books, maybe a lavish lifestyle, maybe not. She'd love to travel but that was unlikely. Not unless she married someone higher than Ron, and, at this point, he was who she was stuck with. The idea of ugly little redheaded children running around everywhere was not something she would like to come true.
The two men leave, Ron off to dance and Charlie to visit with an old friend. This leaves Hermione alone but she's not uncomfortable. She left this dance specifically, so she could have some time to recuperate. But Ginny finds her quickly and so does the black-haired woman. Polite conversation between Hermione and Ginny is struck up but Hermione can't seem to be distracted from the woman against the wall. Hermione decides to brave another glance in her direction and is met with a smug look.
"Who's that?" Hermione asks, "she's wearing a crest,"
"That's Bellatrix Lestrange. She's the eldest Black sister. She married Rodolphus Lestrange but refused to give up her family crest, so she wears the Black Crest rather than that of the Lestrange family," Ginny says in a nonchalant tone, toying with her own family crest, this one on a simple necklace.
"What's she doing with her fan?" asks Hermione, taking a sip of champagne. She's completely untrained in fan etiquette after all.
Ginny looks at the eldest Black sister.
"She's asking you to kiss her?"
Hermione chokes on the champagne and Bellatrix laughs before walking out of the refreshment room with a glass of champagne.
"That's impossible, she's married and I'm a woman,"
"I'm just saying, that's what it looked like," Ginny says, stifling laughter herself, "it was probably just the way she was holding her fan. I've never seen a Black laugh like that before though,"
Hermione and Ginny wait by the table for the next dance. A man who Hermione has never spoken to before now comes to escort her to the dance floor. After that dance comes another and another until one of the dances she had reserved for a break. She makes her way over to the wall where a couch has been placed. She desperately needs to rest her aching feet, before she can make it, however, a man with white-blonde hair approaches with a bow.
"Would you honor me with this dance?" the man asks, "unless you're otherwise engaged, that is."
Before Hermione can open her mouth to answer, the man's eyes widen, and Hermione turns to look behind her. There was the eldest Black sister, staring the man right in the eyes and making some strange motion.
"Actually, I believe I did in fact have a dance lined up. You must accept my apology," he says, his voice wavering slightly as his eyes dart around. He doesn't make eye contact with Hermione the entire time. He instead watches Madam Lestrange and seems to be searching for an escape.
"It's quite alright," says Hermione in a confused tone, not quite sure what to think of the silent interaction.
After that dance was over, the card had been filled out by a Sirius Black. He quickly makes his way over to her and escorts her to the dance floor. They make polite conversation until the topic of Bellatrix Lestrange comes up.
"Is there any relation between you and Bellatrix Lestrange?" Hermione asks, wanting to know more about the black-clad woman.
"Yes, we're cousins, why do you ask?" there's a hint of warning in his voice, like this is a topic that he doesn't like to touch on, she decides to proceed with caution.
"I'm not sure, she seemed rather flirtatious with her fan, but I don't understand fan etiquette. Do you know why that is?"
"She's probably messing with you like most Black's do. You should stay away from the Black family, they're all monsters,"
"You're a Black,"
"I'm a monster,"
With that, the conversation is over. It's back to pleasantries and nothing of real importance. He seems rather distant and glares at Bellatrix every now and then. Hermione, wanting to take one more stab at the topic, decides she'll be impolite and ask once more.
"It seems the two of you are not on good terms," she says, hoping to get more information out of him.
"Let's just say, we share different values,"
"Like what?"
"Dietary preferences," He stops talking, seeming to be done with the conversation, but, as a last comment, he says, "you do need to learn fan etiquette if you're coming to the balls, it will keep you safer,"
Hermione, confused, decides not to ask any further, his short answers an obvious sign that he no longer wants to speak on the subject.
This dance didn't feel like an eternity as it had with Ron, but it did feel longer than it should. She turns to glance at the wall and there was a scowling Bellatrix, eyes now devoid of the humor they were filled with in the refreshment room. This gaze was now cold.
It's nearing the end of the night and Luna and Ginny were talking by the seating area. She joins them in polite conversation, its quiet and nice. They drink more champagne, probably more than they should, but, she has no more dances left since there are only two left, one of which she doesn't know the steps to, and the last one she saw no point in dancing to if she was going to be sitting right before it and end right after.
"Have you met anyone?" Luna asks, the question is obviously aimed at her considering Ginny is married.
"I beg your pardon, but what do you mean by that?" Is Hermione's reply, she can feel dark eyes on her neck and it makes the hairs raise. But she refuses to turn around. That would be admitting defeat.
"Have you met anyone you fancy, anyone dark and mysterious?" Luna teases, Hermione feels as if Luna can read her thoughts.
"No, you know I've only come to meet Ron. And, not even he struck my fancy. I just don't think there is a gentleman out there that could make me fall in love," Hermione responds, stuttering over the beginning of her statement before it became more comfortable in her mouth.
"She was only here to meet Ron, Luna, it wouldn't be fair to expect her to find someone she fancies if she's just going to marry my brother," Ginny tells Luna with a smile on her face. She turns to Hermione.
"You'll make a wonderful sister-in-law. And, if for some reason you don't marry my brother, we'll be wonderful friends. I know this seems fast, but I do think we will get along famously. I'll write you to join us for dinner one night,"
Deciding to leave the ball slightly early to get home by three, she gathers her belongings from the coat room, bids Ginny and Luna a good-night, and heads out. No one is with her and that's a bad idea, but she should be able to get a carriage and pay him to take her to the bakery.
The roads seemed to be empty and abandoned, not a soul to be seen. This wasn't uncommon for this time of night. She decided to walk closer to the carriage station to see if there were any out nearer to it. Sadly, there were not, and no respectable person would go back to a ball after leaving. So, her only option was to walk home, alone, at half past two.
The night had become cool during the time they were at the ball and her thin cloak did little to fight off the chill of October air. It was a bad idea to come so ill prepared for the possible cold, but it was warm earlier in the evening, so Hermione saw no particular harm in the cloak that she now wraps impossibly tighter around herself as she walks toward her street.
She's intercepted at a street corner by three men, none looking like polite company. They all seem drunk though the shortest, a towheaded man, seemed the drunkest. There was another, slightly taller than the first but a lot wider, and the last, a tall, thin man whose legs looked more like stilts than any normal legs. Both of these men have brown hair, though the shorter one's was considerably darker than the other's.
"What do we have here?" says the tall one in a nasally voice.
"Looks like a girl, all alone, coming home from the ball," responds the towheaded one, obviously not bright enough to understand the question was rhetorical.
"look," the tallest one, clearly the leader, says, "give us your money and you might not get hurt,"
"c'mon boss, we want some fun," the second tallest says in an annoying, whiney voice.
"Just get her money and jewelry and make sure she doesn't run," says the boss, obviously not amused with the other men.
"Go on, take your pretty necklace off," says the towheaded one, walking closer to Hermione, she backs away, trying to avoid contact. She reaches for her necklace and really hopes that someone is nearby. Her breathing is fast and yet she can't seem to get any air into her lungs to scream.
She goes to obey his command but a voice behind her stops all movement on the street corner.
"I didn't know there was a second party going on, why wasn't I invited?" Hermione turns to see Bellatrix Lestrange, smirking.