"I see you've taken Miss Granger as a violinist."

Tom nodded, trying his best not to openly glare at the Opera's director Albus Dumbledore.

"Yes sir, I have," he answered with his sweetest voice.

Dumbledore glanced at him, his damn eyes twinkling. How was the man so constantly happy ?

"Did she audition ?"

"Yes sir she did."

"And so ?" he smiled, clearly fucking amused.

God if he had known that this Granger girl would end up lengthening this excruciating meeting with the director, he would not have made the mistake of taking her in his orchestra. But fuck he knew a good musician when he heard one and she was good. Plus it was sure to piss off McGonagall.

"She's rather good sir."

Short answers were the best solution. He could not insult his director. He would not. Except if this meeting continued any longer.

"Is the list alright sir ? I have a concert this evening..."

Dumbledore gave him a smile.

"Yes so I heard, Lord Voldemort and his Deatheaters at the Lestrange Manor."

Tom's jaw ticked. Not trusting himself to speak he nodded. Dumbledore's sweet, not fake, voice, was sure to give him a stroke one day.

"Coming back to Miss Granger..."

Tom almost openly scowled but he had control over his face. He forced himself to breath.

"Minerva told me she was quite talented, how come she's not at least first violin?"

"Well sir, she came in late and all the positions were taken, that was all I could offer her."

Dumbledore gave him a pointed glance with a sweet smile.

"I'm sure you could have found better for a young lady who's so talented Tom."

Of course the old coot thought he could have done better than him. But the girl was pretentious, yes talented, but not yet worthy of being his first violin.

"It's the first time I'll conduct her sir, I did not want to take any risks for the opening."

The old man nodded and went back to looking at his list, humming quietly while doing so. Tom recognized a piece he hated, of course, Offenbach's Infernal Gallop, infernal indeed. He clasped his long hands together, imagining he was crushing Dumbledore's skull. He internally smirked. God what a wonderful feeling it would be.

"Well I'll let you to it Tom, you have a rehearsal tomorrow ?"

He nodded curtly.

"Great," beamed the old man, "I'll be sure to attend it."

Tom's eyes narrowed. Dumbledore was never there for his rehearsals. Was it about the Granger girl ? If she was going to be trouble, he would have no qualms firing her.

"Good evening sir."

He turned to leave; he would finally be rid of Dumbledore's presence for the day.

"Good concert Tom."

Tom barely acknowledged the encouragement, choosing to breathe again, outside the director's office.

Hermione sighed deeply and with a grunt let her head fall on the table. She felt a warm arm slipping around her shoulders and bringing her closer to her friend's chest. She leaned into the touch.

"You know 'Mione he might not be as bad a fellow as you make him out to be," he said softly, burying his mouth into her thick hair to find her ear.

She leaned back against the bench and looked in her best friend's eyes.

"Harry, he's that bad."

"You say that because he did not say you were the best," laughed the red-head seated in front of them.

She scowled whereas Harry chuckled.

"You're damn right Ron, she's outraged at the lack of acknowledgment," he stated looking at her with fondness.

She pouted sensing they were just teasing her. She took Ron's beer and drunk a bit from it.

"Shouldn't you get to bed early to night for the rehearsal tomorrow ?"

She glanced at her friend with a tight smile.

"I have work tonight, I'll sleep at the end of my shift."

Harry frowned making her sigh.

"You shouldn't take up so much work."

"I agree 'Mione," nodded Ron taking his beer back, "this ain't a joke, especially if your new conductor is as much of an arse as you make him to be."

She rubbed her face with her hands. It was an old argument, was never settled and would probably never be.

"As I've said, countless times, I need this job to pay for rent, for food and well, other things for my violin," she grumbled without looking at them.

Although she had her eyes closed, she knew their reaction. Harry was probably making big, indignant eyes at Ron who just shrugged, knowing they could not do much to deter her.

"Why won't you accept a bit of money from us Hermione ?" asked for what the hundredth time Harry.

She glared at him. She would rather work more than to accept money from her friends. They were generous but still, it did not sit right with her.

"She's too damn proud."

"Can we please stop talking about that !" she exclaimed loudly throwing her hands in the air causing a few heads to turn in the pub.

Harry grumbled but eventually they both nodded their approval.

"Thank you."

Ron looked at her intensely. His gaze unsettled her, she could almost see him think. His brown eyes reminded her of Dumbledore's, they were so alive.

"You know 'Mione, if you know your concerto by heart, as a soloist I mean, you'll probably end up getting the job if the current soloist is that bad."

She smiled fondly.

"You're right Ron. I'll learn it by heart, and he won't be able to ignore my talent anymore !"

They chuckled and all three shared a meaningful look, full of affection for each other. Then Ron sighed and put mug back on the table before slowly standing.

"I'd better go Fred and Georges want to the bread earlier for tomorrow since they have to cater during the afternoon."

Hermione stood up in turn putting her hand on his arm.

"I'll go with you I have to get to work anyway."

"Way to leave me alone," laughed Harry.

They waved him goodbye and left the pub. London was not cold that night, although it was rather cool. There was still a bit of light, the days were getting longer, they were already in June. Soon, the new Opera season would begin.

They began to walk in the same direction as the Weasley's bakery was in the same neighbourhood as Hermione's job as a seamstress at Ollivander's shop.

"Harry worries about you," said Ron softly.

She blinked. She did not expect him to be so blunt about it.

"I know he does..."

"And I do too 'Mione." He glanced at her. "You're looking more tired than ever, I understand your dilemma but sometimes, you've got to put your pride on the side and be a bit more... Pragmatist."

She shook her head, frowning. She knew she was bloody-minded. In a way, she even felt she was wrong.

"I can't Ron," she said, hardening her voice.

She abruptly stopped and avoided his eyes that were seeking hers.

"It's my turn, see you."

"Wait Hermione," he exclaimed wrapping his warm hand around her sleeved arm.

His eyes were worried. She was about to pull out from his embrace when he suddenly enveloped her in his arms, pressing her against his comfortably warm and hard chest. She relaxed in his hold and circled him with her arms in return.

"You know we support you no matter what right ?"

She smiled against his shoulder. Of course she knew that. They had each other's back.

"Of course I know that."

He released her grinning.

"Ok, now you can go."

She laughed at his antics. Even if she was sometimes angry at her friends for trying to tell her what to do, she loved them deeply.

"Have a good night and day at work oh my shining knight in armour !" she beamed.

"You too m'lady," he said mimicking a curtsey.

They went their separate ways laughing.

Tom took a glass of champagne from one of the running-around servants. This evening was proving to be as boring as he thought it would be. After their concert, the Lestrange couple had congratulated them but in the end, no one in the assistance understood music, their terribly lethal interpretation of it.

He sipped from the glass. It was good champagne. He hummed in appreciation, gazing at the crowd.

It was an epiphany of decadence. Women adorned with pearls, jewels and feathers, colourful birds they were, matched by men in black, pumas waiting to bite into the bird's flesh. Of course the laughs and colours of said birds were deceptive. Only fools were, well, fooled by them. Everyone was engrossed in political debates, or artistic considerations. To summarize, they were all blabbering about matters that they, in Tom's opinion, understood little about.

One of the birds slowly made its way towards him. He could see her looking at him from across the room, very slowly, almost sensually, splitting the crowd.

She was rather pretty he supposed. She had blond hair, although it was so pale it might as well be white, tied in a Gibson Girl hairdo. It was donned with pearls. They became pink in the light. The same pink as her dress that loosely hugged her rather admirable figure. Her shoulders were elegantly covered in chiffon.

She gave him a smile when she noticed his gaze. He nodded in acknowledgement. Maybe he should take up on the opportunity to distract himself.

Suddenly, someone called her name, rather dull, disappointing, and she turned. He could see her long white neck. He was stricken by the absence of loose curls. The Granger girl's hair had been a mess this afternoon. She had almost as much hair down on her neck as up in her bun. He was almost disappointed not to see loose curls such as Granger's on the blonde girl's neck.

Finally she turned back to him with the same smile in place. She managed to come near him.

"Good evening, Lord Voldemort," she said with a soft voice. "It an honour to finally meet you."

As any proper girl she held her hand out to him. Granger had barely greeted him. Why was he thinking about that stupid girl again ?

"Good evening, Lady... ?" he answered courteously taking the offered hand and barely touching the glove with his lips.

"Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass."

Right, dull. He released her hand and gave her the charming smile he gave most people of the Court.

"Enchanté Lady Greengrass."

She giggled. Duller than expected. He glanced about to see if there was someone actually interesting to talk to. Of course, no one. He sighed internally. It was going to be a long evening.

"So you are a conductor at the Opera ?"

"Yes, I am."

She blushed under his gaze.

"I will be at the opening, I dare say I am quite the connoisseur of Tchaikovsky."

He raised one of his eyebrows. Was she about to give him a lesson on a composer ?

"Then I hope you'll like my rendition of one of his masterpieces."

"I am sure I will. Although I am more looking forward to the Opera's rendition of the Nutcracker. Will you conduct that one too ?"

His jaw ticked. He was a serious conductor. He did not conduct ballets or operas. What was the point if your orchestra was not what the public focused on ?

"No I will not. It will probably be one of my colleagues."

She frowned.

"Oh, well, that is too bad..."

Tom noticed one of his Deatheaters, Mulciber, waving at him in the back of the ballroom. He almost growled. If it meant Avery was drunk again, he was going to kill him.

"Excuse me Lady Greengrass but there is a matter which urgently requires my attention," he smiled giving her a small bow. "I look forward to seeing you at the Opera's opening."

She beamed at him and returned the curtsey. Did she think she had charmed him ? Sometimes, well, most times, women puzzled Tom. He strode across the ballroom not stopping for more idle chatter. When he was next to Mulciber, he turned to see the Greengrass girl. She was talking with a handsome young man. Once again, the sight of her neck bare from loose curls sparked disappointment in him, as though something was missing.

He did not dwell on the feeling as he had important business to take care of.