"Malfoy being a prick as usual?" Ron asked upon Hermione's return. "Typical, can't expect everything to change just because the war is over I suppose."
She shrugged and continued walking. Being around Ron without Harry was strained and she honestly tried to avoid it most of the time. Hermione hated that they had let a temporary romantic feeling disrupt their steady friendship, but it couldn't be undone now. They remained friends without spending ample time alone together. Ron didn't seem to mind her quick departure, he was already telling an animated story to some fifth years. The attention was still rather new to Ron, but he adapted quickly and would cheerfully oblige when people asked him to recount events from the war.
Hermione spotted Ginny and Harry partially concealed in a corner, attempting to have some privacy from the people that were beginning to recognize Harry through his costume. Unlike Ron, Harry had already had more than his fair share of attention over the years, granted it was more positive attention these days. However, Hermione knew he craved some peace and time away from the public eye, especially when he was seeing Ginny for the first time since term began. It was not as though he was ignoring everyone, it was just understandable that he had missed Ginny. Harry would undoubtably share his attention once they caught up a bit. Hermione happily left them to their rare moment of privacy.
Hermione roamed, admiring people's costumes and pausing to chat with her classmates. It was quite amusing to see what they had put together for a costume. Many of them had just assembled a muggle attire that clashed terribly, mismatched pieces from an array styles. Seamus Finnegan had simply worn a t-shirt that was advertising a muggle band called "Flogging Molly" and considering he was a half-blood, he probably actually knew of and fancied them. Dean Thomas, who was deep in conversation with Seamus, wore a button up shirt and denim pants. His hair was longer and rounded more than usual, and he held a painting easel.
Once Hermione greeted most of her classmates and chatted briefly with some younger students who just seemed thrilled to be in the presence of a "war hero" as they often called her, she found herself parched once more. Funny thing about alcohol, you keep using it to try and quench the thirst it created.
The spiked cider cauldron was occupied by a couple fourth years and Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn't have just walked away, there were children at this party, how could she have been so careless?
"Don't fret, Granger. It's charmed to dilute to it's normal state for anyone under 17," Malfoy's voice sounded as though he'd read her mind. She spun around to find he was only a few feet behind her.
"How responsibly irresponsible," she quipped, raising her eyebrows in sarcasm.
"Back for more, I see."
"As are you," Hermione pointed out.
"Never left, really. Staying occupied. Honestly Granger, who do you expect me to mingle with? You're the only person who's spoke to me since I've arrived, unless you count the terrified squeak a third year let out when he accidentally tread on my shoe earlier."
Malfoy's demeanor didn't match his nonchalant tone. The effect made Hermione feel rather sad. She wondered if he meant since arriving to the party, or back to school.
"Oh honestly, Malfoy. If you'd stop being so sour and participated in the festivities, perhaps people would respond better to you," she scolded.
Malfoy gave a hallow laugh. "Right, I'll just swagger onto the dance floor and see how many girls are eager to tango with an ex death eater." His grey eyes sharpened at the truth laced in his sarcasm but he averted his gaze abruptly before she could study it.
Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to that, as he was probably right in the fact none of the others would give him the time of day, but saying so just seemed cruel. After the war Hermione had no tolerance for turmoil or desire for conflict. It wasn't that she was unwilling to continue standing for what she believed in, but she wanted no more enemies. The world was a safer place without Voldemort and it had almost placed the wizarding community as a whole on the same side, by default of course. There would still be bad eggs, but she needed to recuperate before facing any.
Returning her attention to Draco, she realized how uncomfortable he looked. Hermione decided to put her faith in humor. What did she have to lose? "Was that your feeble attempt at asking me to dance, Malfoy?" She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to look skeptical.
In contrast, Malfoy's eyes widened in shock for a millisecond before composing himself. "You wish, Granger," he replied, lifting the steaming goblet to his lips.
"Come on, a mudblood dance partner is better than none," she teased.
Malfoy however sputtered on his throat full of cider. His face seemed to become a shade paler, if possible. Hermione's face fell at his reaction.
"I was only joking Malfoy, forget I said anything-"
"Don't," He hissed. "Don't refer to yourself as that."
Hermione was baffled. Malfoy had never batted an eye when calling her mudblood, all through their school years she was certain he didn't even know her name. She was simply "mudblood" to him. He hadn't called her that since the end of the war, longer actually, but still.
Perplexed, she attempted an exit. "Whatever Malfoy, I'll leave you to your drink, I best be getting back to my friends," Hermione muttered, instantly regretting her chosen words as if she threw her friends and his lack there of in his face. Why did she care anyway? Malfoy had never exactly apologized for the misery he caused her.
"Did it heal?" He asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?" Hermione said, turning to face him once more. Malfoy hesitated, looking around as though unsure it was he who had spoken.
"Your.. Where she.. Bellatrix.." He searched for the words, attempting to string enough together for a coherent sentence, but he needn't. She understood.
Hermione remembered the look on Malfoy's face as she lay upon the cold, ceramic floor of his manor, while his deranged aunt carved the slur into her arm with a dagger. Her head had fallen sideways with exhaustion once she could no longer scream, she nearly blacked out from the agony. But through her foggy vision she saw Malfoy, ghostly white and unblinking, staring with an unreadable expression on his face, unable to look away. It was clear now that she thought about it, because his must have mirrored her own; anguish.
"Yes, it.. It's healed. There is a scar, but it's not extremely noticeable," Hermione answered.
Malfoy took a moment to respond. "I wasn't sure if it would, Bellatrix had a trademark, unhealable wounds, it was some kind of toxin embedded in her blade, maybe. Perhaps a curse she cast herself."
"The latter, if I were to guess. At first I feared it wouldn't, but when she died it instantly smoothed over as if it had been in the process of healing since the occurrence," Hermione explained.
If she thought Malfoy looked uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to now. He was positively squirming like one of Hagrid's flobberworms from third year. He shifted his weight and adjusted his tye absently. Hermione was feeling brave, having gave him an honest answer to a sensitive subject, she thought perhaps he would give her one in return. "Did your, er, I mean.. Did yours fade?" She could not make her mouth form the words "dark mark" but Malfoy understood as well.
"Yes. Like you said actually," he stated plainly.
The conversation had taken an awkward turn, as if any conversation with Malfoy was normal. Hermione suddenly felt very vulnerable, exposed. People must have noticed by now how long they'd been talking, or maybe it only felt like a long time. What did it matter what people thought anyway? Regardless, the urgency she felt walk away from him engulfed her.
"I really need to find Harry," Hermione muttered. "and Ron.".
"Potter. Weasel. Of course," Malfoy said, no longer looking at her, instead examining his left cuff link.
Hermione did not say bye. She attempted to slide away quietly as possible. Her exit might have been graceful, had she not caught a heel on the hem of her dress. She stumbled, but before her knees collided with the floor and she was lost in the lavender fog, hands had grasped her by the waist just long enough to steady her. Malfoy had put his seeker reflexes to use for her benefit. Before she could react, he retracted his hands and retreated to a darkened sitting area in the corner of the room without another word.
"Where have you been?" Ginny inquired, playfully fanning Harry's cape.
"She has been drinking cider with Draco Malfoy". Luna answered before Hermione could improvise. Had she not said it so innocently, Hermione might have scolded Luna a for being a tattle tale.
"What the bloody hell for?" Ron demanded, closing the gap in the group.
Harry merely raised an eyebrow. He had softened to Malfoy, only slightly, ever since his mother, Narcissa, had lied to Voldemort's face. Regardless of her reasons, the action inevitably set into motion the final demise of the Dark Lord. He no longer believed Narcissa or her son to be completely evil, however he never forgave Lucius for slipping Ginny the diary of Tom Riddle, which had nearly caused her death. Hermione was spared from Ron's firther inquiry, because at that moment the Headmistress's voiced echoed throughout the room.
"Welcome guests, to our first annual Halloween Costume Ball and the happiest of Halloweens to you all! We are pleased you have shown such enthusiasm and embraced the new regime thus far. I would like to explain further as to why we are adopting new traditions. This day is marked in History, 17 years ago, as the day the darkest wizard of our time first met his match in infant form. The sacrifices made that night, as well as all those before and those in the 17 years since have brought us to where we are now. Let us remember what we fought for and embrace not only our fellow witches and wizards, but also muggles, creatures and everything in between. Allow Halloween to symbolize unity for life of all kind. When we are stripped of our masks, we can be seen for what we are; flesh and bone and equal. In honor of our late Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who dreamed of blending the traditions of all students who come to Hogwarts and in honor of all those we lost in the fight for a world in which we can peacefully coexist, celebrate this day. Celebrate the youth, celebrate the dead, but most importantly, celebrate together. Here's to the next 17 years being exceptionally bright".