A/N: I'm finally back! After an extremely long and unexpected hiatus, where real life got slightly crazy and I just couldn't find the inspiration to write anything good, I finally managed to get pen to paper again. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I hope to have more updates for you soon (at least once a month)
xBx
Chapter IV
The following morning, when Hermione awoke, Draco was already awake and seemingly struggling with the finer points of the time-appropriate attire he was destined to wear that day. It wasn't until she emerged from the adjoining dressing room, ready to descend to breakfast, that he finally spoke to her.
"How did you sleep?" He asked.
Hermione gave a non-committal shrug. "It wasn't the worst night's sleep of my life, I'll admit. But it was rather restless – I just don't like feeling as though we're not doing anything to get back home," she explained quietly.
Draco nodded understandingly, "Today we can make a start, at least."
The breakfast routine echoed that of last night's dinner: the men and women ate at their separate tables; Alara was seated at the King's table and so it wasn't until the meal was over that Hermione and Draco could speak with her.
Alara sought them out, and took them into the family library – not as grand or as large as the main library, but crammed full of spell books and instruments that perhaps weren't too suitable for Muggle eyes.
"Do you have the substance which brought you here?" Alara asked.
Hermione nodded and removed the pouch from around her neck, emptying the contents onto the mahogany table in the centre of the room, taking a seat as she did so.
"Well, what's left of them at any rate," Hermione said, as Alara took a seat next to her.
"Last night you mentioned someone named Harry Peverell?" Draco queried, moving away from the window where he had been stood, and approaching the table. "Who is he - ?"
"She," Alara corrected. "Harrie: as in Harriett. We were good friends at Hogwarts, but she was rather a loose cannon," she explained fondly. "She had many mad and wild ideas, and was always in search of the next adventure. She has travelled a lot since leaving school, though recently I believe she has remained within the Caribbean – she very rarely mentions in a letter where she is. But the last time she wrote she said something of time travel."
Here, Alara produced the letter in question and handed it to Hermione to read. Draco stepped up behind her to read over her shoulder; he placed one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the table beside her.
Hermione focused on the letter and read through it quickly, "she talks of theory only – it doesn't sound like she has any idea how to do it."
"No," Alara agreed. "But at least she has a theory. And she only ever puts half her story in a letter; no doubt she knows more than is said."
"The Sands of Time?" Draco asked, who had continued to read.
Alara shrugged, "I've never heard of that before, but I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that this-" she picked up the vile of sand from the time-turner "-is a sample."
"So we need to find Harriett," Hermione stated. "But, how?"
"I can help you there," Alara smiled.
"But you said you didn't know where she was?" Draco frowned, straightening up from the table.
"I don't know her exact coordinates, no," Alara agreed. "But a friend of mine – a Captain Morgan - should be making port soon. He intends to be in London for Christmas. I will introduce you, and you can sail with him when he returns to the Spanish Main, I'm sure I can persuade him to take you."
"Henry Morgan?" Hermione asked with a grin.
"You've heard of him?" Alara asked in pleasant surprise.
"She'll have read about him in some book, I don't doubt," Draco rolled his eyes.
Hermione smiled and quelled a giggled, "not quite."
Draco gave her a questioning look, but she only shook her head and gave him a look that told him she would explain later.
"Well, regardless," Alara continued, "dear Henry will assist you as far as he can. And the King wishes to leave for London at the end of the week, so we can all travel down together – he intends to be established back in Whitehall by early December."
"It's not even November yet! It does not take that long to get from here to London!" Draco exclaimed.
"There are a few houses along the way in which he tends to spend a week or so – believe me, this is a rushed journey. I will write to Henry: the letter will be waiting for him when he docks. And now it's time for you to be taught a few things, to make sure you fit in with us. Alaric, if you go to the ballroom you'll find the fencing master - you ought to master the use of a blade while you are here, especially where you're going."
Draco grinned, "now that sounds like fun."
Alara smiled and turned to Hermione, "Anamaria, we will return to the large drawing room with the other ladies-"
"I don't get to go fencing?" Hermione asked, sounding crestfallen.
Alara laughed, "of course not! Swords are for the men! You know how to stitch of course?"
Draco let out a snort of laughter at Hermione's obvious disgust.
"Stich?! I have to sit and embroider, while he gets all the fun? How is that fair?"
"A hunt is organised for tomorrow – not many ladies join, but I never miss it. Perhaps that will be more to your liking. I'll find you a riding habit, we can go to the stables this afternoon if you like, and get in a ride after luncheon?" Alara tried to placate her while Draco continued to snigger.
"I'll just pen this letter, and then we'll go down," Alara said to Hermione, moving from the table in the direction of the writing desk at the other end of the room. "Alaric, you can go when you like – you know where the ballroom is?"
"I do." Draco looked to Hermione before he left, "where did you read about Henry Morgan if not in a book?" he asked her quietly, so that Alara wouldn't hear.
Hermione chuckled. "A rum bottle," she admitted. "Captain Morgan is a Muggle brand of spiced rum, named after the gentleman we were just discussing. Very popular and rather nice actually."
Draco gave a chuckle, and an appreciative look, before departing to his fencing lesson.
The rest of Hermione's morning was tediously dull, not even the singer and his lute could dull the monotony of stitching the ludicrously large alter cloth. Some of the men found them before lunch, but Draco wasn't among them. They read poetry, and they sang, and while Hermione would have liked to join in just to do something different, she had no knowledge of any of the lyrics.
Finally, lunch arrived and afterwards Alara remained true to her promise. It took little under an hour to dress appropriately, but eventually Hermione was outdoors doing something somewhat active – though riding side-saddle proved to be somewhat tricky. She got the hang of it quick enough, however, and eventually she and Alara struck out into the grounds at full gallop, leaving the Stable Master (who would usually accompany the ladies on a ride) far behind. They eventually came to a lake, and there they dismounted, hobbled their horses close to the bank, allowing them to drink if they wished, and sat for a brief respite.
"I'm curious," Alara started hesitatingly. "I most likely shouldn't enquire, but, what is it like for women in the time where you are from? Forgive me, but it seems that you expected to be treated as an equal with Alaric – to be involved in all his activities. It seems odd to me, that you would expect to learn how to fight."
"Are you telling me you don't know how to fight, with a sword?" Hermione queried. "Forgive me, but, as a Malfoy, I would expect you to know how to defend yourself in any way possible. And I wouldn't expect anyone in your family to keep to social conventions if it countered your desires."
Alara grinned, "It would appear that the Malfoys haven't changed much over the years, you are well acquainted with them, I take it? As a matter of fact, my father taught me to fence when I was a girl. But no respected fencing master would teach me: swords were not meant for ladies."
"It's very different in my time," Hermione finally answered the initial question. "Women are treated just the same as men, on the most part. We are allowed to learn everything they learn, do the jobs they do. There are still some who think us the weaker the sex – but they are soon proven wrong," Hermione smirked.
Alara chuckled. "I think you will do well with Henry: He is different to most men – instead of trying to shut you away in a cabin, he will expect you to earn your place among the crew. Should you decide to sail with him of course?"
"That decision was made this morning," Hermione assured her.
"Then he will treat you like any other person on board – he is a unique soul, I think. And if you don't learn any sword work before you sail, you certainly won't be leaving his ship without learning something, I am sure."
"He sounds refreshing – I can't wait to meet him," Hermione admitted.
That evening passed much the same as before, though Hermione retired slightly earlier. When Draco finally made his way to their room, she was waiting for him crossed legged on the bed with a pair of swords in front of her and a determined and expectant look on her face.
"What's about to happen?" Draco asked warily. He had seen this look many a time since they had started working together – he knew she had some scheme she would not be talked out of and he was about to be unceremoniously dragged along for the ride.
"Teach me," she said simply.
Draco's eyes darted to the swords and he knew exactly what she meant.
"I've only had one lesson -" he began, but Hermione interrupted.
"That's one more than me."
She rose from the bed, swords in hand, and offered one to Draco, hilt first: "Teach me."
"There's not enough room in here," he said, taking the offered sword. Hermione didn't cut him off this time – this wasn't a rejection of her proposal, he was simply pointing out an inconvenience. She waited, and let him provide the solution.
"We'll apparate into the ballroom – it's not being used at all."
The rest of the week followed much the same pattern as their first day: Draco would spend every morning with the fencing master, and would then give Hermione the instruction he had received, on a night.
Hermione spent her mornings with the other ladies, reading, stitching or walking out in the grounds, and indulging in idle gossip.
In the afternoons, the gentlemen would never fail to join them and Hermione soon noticed the group divisions that naturally and immediately occurred. Certain of the gentlemen would gravitate toward certain little clusters of the ladies, to flirt with their favourites. Hermione always found herself invited to sit with Alara and entertain King Charles, who didn't bother to hide his clear admiration for Alara's alluring acquaintance.
While Hermione was too modest to fully register the King's admiration, the attention was not lost on Draco, who made a point of being always by Hermione's side whenever the King was near. Not that he was really jealous of course, It was only that they were supposed to be posing as a betrothed couple – he was just playing the part convincingly.
By the end of the week, both Hermione and Draco were beginning to feel acclimated to the customs and etiquette of their new surroundings, and were even starting to enjoy themselves. Though always at the back of their mind was the anxiety of wanting to return home. It came as a slight relief, then, when the end of the week finally arrived and they were getting ready to depart from Malfoy Manor, on the road to London.
The morning of their departure was a flurry of activity in the grounds; carts were being loaded with luggage and food, carriages were being prepared for those ladies who did not wish to ride, and stableboys were running to and fro preparing the horses for either hitching or riding. Hermione had chosen to brave the long ride in the saddle, relishing the idea of the freedom it would undoubtedly bring, and not wanting to sit in a cramped carriage, twiddling her thumbs for hours on end.
After an early lunch, the entire party were loaded and mounted, and the procession departed the grounds not long after midday. Hermione and Draco found themselves placed towards the head of ride with Alara, in those places of honour reserved for the King's favourites. They kept to a steady pace and did not stop until dusk, when they reached the nearby estate of a Nobleman. They stayed two nights in the stately home, surrounded by comforts, before continuing their way. It was now that Hermione and Draco realised that they had been acclimating in a rather protected bubble, since their arrival into 1663. For the first time Hermione would be completely separated from Draco – having now to conform to the traditions of the time, Hermione and Draco were no longer exempt from sleeping in their gender-based designated sleeping quarters. Since their arrival into 1663 they had at least had the night to come together, alone, and talk freely about their own time and how to get back there: this was a luxury they were no longer allowed.
However, despite the segregation of their sleeping quarters, they were still able to sneak their way to a secluded spot in the middle of the night to continue their fencing lessons. Perhaps it was now a little bit of a stretch to call them 'lessons' as Draco was no longer being taught himself, and therefore had nothing new to pass on to her; they simply practised and honed the limited skills they currently possessed.
The King never lacked for an estate to bend his daily course to, and Hermione and Draco soon understood why the King's progress from Wiltshire to London could easily take months. They stayed in various houses for two or even three nights sometimes - if the entertainment afforded was to His Highness' liking, he was happy to stay a week. This was case at the second estate they stopped at, towards the end of October. King Charles intended to remain six nights at Hodcott House, the home to the 7th Earl of Huntingdon. Six nights seemed an extravagant length of time to take out from the journey, but Alara explained it was because Charles wanted to celebrate the Halloween festival in his typical style – a style that could not be accomplished in less than four days at the very least.
The daily routine at Hodcott House was much the same as that at Malfoy Manor, though things became much more exciting when it came to Halloween. The King was anxious to be extravagantly entertained, with a magnificent feast, fantastical decorations and lots of music. Everyone was expected to dress extravagantly and brightly, and more importantly would only be admitted into the feast if their faces were masked.
Alara was tasked with devising a masque for certain of the ladies and the gentlemen to perform to amuse the king and court: Her scheme was a physical representation of the destruction of man when tempted by the seven deadly sins. The seven ladies selected were each to embody a sin; Hermione was a little reluctant to join when the idea was first brought to her, but Alara soon twisted her arm.
"Anamaria, please," Alara coaxed sweetly. "No one wears ruby so well as you, and you have such a natural allure to you, the perfect embodiment – in short, it would be only too natural for you to portray Lust."
"I'm not entirely sure that's a compliment," Hermione frowned. "I almost feel like you're trying to call me a whore, but in the sweetest way possible."
Alara smiled mischievously, "would it help persuade you if I were?"
"No! It most certainly would not!" Hermione exclaimed, attempting to feign offence but laughing good heartedly along.
"Then I most certainly am not saying such a thing!" Alara laughed, before imploring seriously once more. "Oh please, Ana? You will have fun, I swear it."
Hermione supposed she was right – it was not something she would usually be persuaded into. But living in the 17th century was also not the usual, and so she may as well throw herself as much into the experience as possible, she supposed.
"Fine," Hermione agreed with a sigh. "I'll do it."
Alara and the other five ladies gathered about, clapped and giggled with triumphant glee.
In being so caught up with preparations for the Halloween masque, Hermione had little time to give much thought to the quandary of her and Draco's return to their own time. And while this might have reasonably been a source of contention to her, Hermione found herself none too concerned with the fact, and for these few days at least was quite happily employed. Draco, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough to steal away for the odd hour at a time to pour over books and the remnants of the Time Turner.
"How goes preparations for tomorrow?" Draco asked Hermione with a smirk, the evening before Halloween, as they sat down to dinner. During their short acquaintance, Draco and Hermione had somehow endeared themselves to King Charles. Consequently, they were now issued with a coveted invitation to dine with the King and his Lady at the hosts' table, alongside the Earl and his wife.
"I believe so," she said as she reached for her goblet. "It's been rather exhausting, and the disagreements about costumes have been ridiculous," she divulged. "But it has been rather entertaining. Though I would much rather be spending my days trying to figure out the Time Turner."
"Relax," Draco said quietly, a slight bite of defence to his tone. "I am capable of investigating the damn thing myself, you know. I don't need a babysitter."
"I know that," Hermione placated quietly. They kept their voices low, so that their conversation would not be heard by others over the general hub of chatter from the rest of the table. "I am well aware of your capabilities; if anyone has as much chance of figuring this thing out as I do, it's you."
Draco smirked, "is that a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it," Hermione smirked back as the first course was served.
The ceased conversation for a moment to follow custom; Charles tasted a bite, declared the dish delightful, and scolded the rest for standing on ceremony.
"Eat! Eat my friends! And drink! "Tis a night to be merry amongst such fine friends!" Charles lifted his goblet in an impromptu salute, and the rest of table followed suit. "To fine friends" and "to the King's health" echoed around the table as everyone partook in the toast.
As the goblets were set down, Hermione turned back to Draco.
"Have you had any luck, with the sand?" she pressed.
"Some," Draco said thoughtfully, taking small bites of his food. "The sand is definitely magical; there are clear signs of enchantment. But no indication that a spell has been performed over it."
"So you're saying the sand itself is magical?" Hermione clarified quietly. "That it's an organically magical compound, as opposed to sand that-"
"That has had an enchantment placed upon it," Draco finished her sentence for her. "Yes."
"So, the 'sands of time' that Alara mentioned?" Hermione queried. She only needed to say half the question, and knew that Draco would know the rest: after 3 years of partnership they had become accustomed to reading each other.
"It's the only lead we have, and it's not farfetched. But I haven't found anything in the library here that could help."
"Really?" Hermione asked, the disappointment clear in her voice.
"Of course not, the place has been handed down through a long line of Muggles – not one drop of magical influence. Any books I've managed to find pertaining to magical myths and legend are so far off the mark – on the rare occasion they write about something that's actually true, their understanding of it is so much mistaken that even if I had come across anything about the sands of time, I wouldn't have faith in even half a sentence about them."
"Well that's frustrating," Hermione grumbled.
"Tell me about it," Draco scoffed, reaching for his goblet.
"What about the books we brought with us from Malfoy Manor?" Hermione pestered. "Is there anything in there?"
"You tell me, they're locked in your room," he pointed out. "And as a gentleman, I can not be seen sneaking into a lady's chamber."
"I haven't had time to read them," Hermione admitted. Draco stared at her incredulously.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"I'm sorry," Draco smirked. "But I thought I hear notorious bookworm, Hermione Granger - who struggles to find the time to stop reading – that she didn't have time to read."
Hermione swatted his arm playfully. "I don't have time to read those particular books," she clarified. "I read before I sleep, but as I share a room with a muggle who has a lack of regard for personal space, I can't go about reading ancient books on magical artefacts. And it's Anamaria, remember!" She scolded quietly.
"My apologies, Anamaria," Draco grinned. "Why can't you enchant Alara's books to look like some boring Muggle fiction to anyone else who tries to read it?"
Hermione gave him a withering look. "I can't get one minute to myself to pull those books out of the packing trunk, how am I supposed to whip my wand out start enchanting them?"
Draco acknowledged the sense of this statement with a twitch of his head, but was prevented from responding by the King, who required Hermione's input in his conversation.
The next day was a bustle of activity, from morning until night: The day's revels were to begin early in the afternoon. Little was known about the anticipated theatrical display about to be presented – in keeping with the King's wishes, only those who were part of the performance knew exactly what it was about. King Charles liked to be surprised, and his excitement was palpable when he entered the feasting hall that afternoon to see the rear taken over by a large set piece. The high table was still in its place, but all other tables had been pushed to the sides of the room. The King went to take his seat, inviting a few of his favourite men who were not involved in the masque – Draco prominent among them – to join him. The rest of his courtiers, and those belonging to the house, were left to stand about below the table, leaving some room in front of what was now the stage. The estate's carpenters, and anyone else handy with a hammer or a paintbrush, had been working tirelessly with the actors to create the masterpiece at the other end of the hall. The façade of a castle was painted on a set of large screens along the back; the backdrop was painted as a twilight scene, the castle more eerie than welcoming. In front, wooden blocks that had been painted grey were assembled and stacked in a rambling way to give the appearance of boulders and rocks. These blended into the painted background, making the ascent to the castle look treacherous. Erected throughout the 'boulders' were a few timber frames, draped with thin curtains of fabrics in an assortment of colours. In front of the constructed boulders, at opposite sides of the tableau, were two wooden tables the contents of which were hidden under more fine scarves. The contents to the left were shrouded in various hues of yellow, those on the right were covered with purples and golds.
The ladies were nowhere to be seen as yet, but as the crowd gathered closer and the expectant chatter began to fade, their voices echoed out across the room from behind the veiled frames.
"No man can resist Temptation," the first lady called.
"Temptation takes many forms,"
"What one man resists, another will succumb to."
"Where one Temptation fails to entice, another will undoubtedly succeed," Each line was uttered by a different voice; Hermione's was the first Draco recognised, though it wasn't her usual tone. It was a little deeper, huskier – a little more enticing. He smiled unconsciously, thinking she must be enjoying herself, and looking forward to seeing her play a part.
"Man will always fall at the feet of Temptation," Alara's voice followed on from Hermione.
"Some Temptations are impossible to resist, and they take seven different forms,"
"Man will always succumb to the Seven Deadly Sins." The final lady spoke, and the resident musicians began to play a soft, haunting melody, to accompany the dozen men who had now started moving forward, out from the crowd. They were dressed simply in their shirts and breeches, all in whites and beiges. Each wore a plain white mask to cover their eyes, making it hard for Draco to figure who was who. The lightness of their attire and the white of the masks, told that these were the innocents of the piece, who were no doubt soon to be lured and corrupted by the Temptresses now emerging through the drapes.
The ladies were dressed just as sparingly as the men; as this was essentially a piece of theatre, the strict rules of dress had been discarded. Each wore a plain, though richly coloured, corset with skirts made from fine lengths of almost sheer fabric. The fabric was light and soft, and swayed easily with their movements in an alluring way, often exposing the leg right up to the thigh as they moved across the floor. Some had sheer sleeves to their corsets, that clung delicately to their arms. Others had a simple band of beads or crystals that looped around the arms, below the shoulder, attaching to the corset at the front and back just below the armpit. Some were bedecked with jewels from head to toe, while others had limited jewellery, and each lady wore a different colour. Like they men, they too wore masks to conceal their identity. Each look befitted the sin they were supposed to embody, and everything that was added or omitted only increased each lady's allure.
Draco's eyes were instantly drawn to Hermione; he couldn't fail to recognise here, even though he had never seen her quite like this. Dressed head to toe in ruby red, he was sure she had been given the role of Lust. Her corset had no sleeves, just a delicate band of red crystals caressing each arm. What little jewellery she wore was delicate: a golden anklet with ruby teardrops, small filigree rings on a couple of toes that sparkled with red gemstones, and a golden band, inlaid with fiery crystals snaked up one arm. Her hair, loosely pinned away from her face with curls cascading down her back, was dotted with blood red roses.
She moved with a seductive grace that Draco had never seen in her before; her eyes sparkled from behind the mask she wore, and her red painted lips was curved into a continuous small smile. Clearly, she was enjoying herself, and the sight made Draco smile.
The men and women came together in the beginnings of a dance. It looked an intricate piece of choreography, with seven ladies having to share themselves amongst twelve men, but it was executed with hypnotic charm. As they all twirled around each other, the ladies continued their narrative. The music was soft enough, and their voices strong and clear enough, that every word travelled across the room to where Draco was sat by the King.
Charles was already enchanted, and voiced his approbation to Draco as a server kept their goblets full with wine.
"Temptation can make a man forget himself," one Sin began.
"Forget his duty," another continued.
"Forget his honour."
Draco was unsure who was speaking and when: The constant movement and short lines made it difficult to pinpoint the source, especially when he was somewhat captivated by Hermione. He was watching her every move, almost hypnotised. And he wasn't the only one.
"Everyone falls to Temptation; no one can resist a Sin." Alara continued the narrative. The ladies were all fully in character, every word was spoken seductively, every moment designed to beguile. It appeared to be working – Draco had a feeling that the hypnotic daze the gentleman into which the gentlemen seemed to be slipping was quite possibly real. A similar effect could be seen among the audience, who were becoming more captured and enchanted by the minute.
"But even those who fall can sometimes learn to resist."
"Yet those who resist one Sin, will undoubtedly fall to another," Hermione's voice carried across the room, her tone bewitching yet dark.
"Temptation always wins in the end."
The first Sin now broke away from the group, trailing four men with her. She had plucked a scarf from her skirt and was using it as part of her dance of seduction. She was dressed in yellow, and lead the men towards the table adorned in the scarves that matched her costume, twirling around and through the four men as she went.
"Gluttony is the easiest sin to resist, and yet the easiest to succumb to," She whipped the yellow coverings from the table to reveal an elaborate banquet – so elaborate and delicious looking that Draco had a suspicion that Alara and Hermione had perhaps assisted with the table decorations in their own magical way.
"We indulge in the temptation every day," Gluttony continued, as her seduced men began to eat – or at least acted to. "and yet only a few fail to desist."
"Greed is just as capable of seduction, though a little harder to resist," Another of the ladies separated from the dance, trailing two men this time. She was swathed in rich purples and gold, and had the finest jewellery of the ladies – including a magnificent tiara that glittered strikingly from her raven hair. As she swept past Gluttony's table, two of the men left the food to join Greed, and they danced toward the opposite table.
"Once man gets a taste of what he likes, what he enjoys," she declared, as she pulled off the violet and golden covers to reveal mountains of jewels and golds spread across the second table. "He longs for more of it, but it still is not enough."
"Both will consume," Gluttony chimed back in, as the others continued to dance in the centre of them. "and soon the weakest begin to fall." The two men left at Gluttony's table began to slow, and then slumped forward. The first victims of the Seven Deadly Sins, Gluttony covered them with her yellow shawls, as if to claim them in victory, before returning to the central dance.
A third moved out toward the painted castle, she was garbed in a calming blue. Like the two sins before her, she trailed two of the men with her and as she passed the table of Greed, she coveted two more. Those who once belonged to Greed had dropped their share of treasure and followed this new Sin towards the rocks. The closer the got, the slower they seemed to move.
"Sloth is slow to take her hold, but when she strikes her hold is hard to break." She ripped away a blue scarf from her skirt, and when she passed it seductively over a man's skin he drooped, resting across the rocks.
The others were continuing to dance; Greed consumed the two men that had remained at the table and they were now covered in scarves of the own, the Sin herself had returned to the central group. And now it was Hermione who stepped away from the group.
She had been dancing closer to two of the gentlemen, her fingertips delicately brushed against them tracing their shoulders before moving off and beckoning them to follow. It was only a dance, an act, and there was barely any contact, but the action stirred something in Draco.
"Only lust can save you from sloth," Hermione declared, moving toward the leaning men, her voice even more husky and seductive than before. She ripped two scarves from her own skirt, and trailed them over three of Sloth's victims as she moved among them, causing them to stir and move on to join her. "Lust can ignite a fire from the tiniest of sparks."
She was surrounded by five men now, all completely captivated by her movements and her voice as she continued to dance with them. The movements brought them all closer together, Hermione's body often brushing against the gentlemen surrounding her, as she led them towards one of the archways through which some of the ladies had first appeared.
It took a moment for Draco to realise the unpleasant frustration he was currently experiencing was in fact jealousy. He pushed the feeling away and took a deep drink from his goblet – he had no reasons to be jealous, on second thought, it probably wasn't even really jealousy he was feeling.
"Lust can easily consume you," Hermione was saying. "She turns a modest affection into a burning passion." She had reached the archway, and now pulled down the sheet that had been covering it. From the beams hung strips of red and orange and yellow, giving the impression of fire.
"Those too weak to resist, give themselves willingly to her flames." Two of her men danced her way through the arch and were seen no more. The others were distracted then, by Alara. Dressed in emerald green, it was now her turn to seduce.
"When envy sweeps amongst you, men forget the value of what they already have, and instead turn amongst themselves, coveting what his neighbour has."
She drew Lust's men back towards the others – only five remained now, surrounded by the seven Sins, but it was Alara's Envy that moved among them.
"Envy draws on the other Sins: she makes you covet what belongs to another - what Gluttony makes others consume and Greed makes others hoard, Envy makes you covet for yourself. When Envy consumes you," she declared, removing a green scarf and wrapping it around one of the men. "you do anything to take what others have." She drew her victim away from the others, into a seductive dance of their own, until he fell at her feet. Envy returned to the dance, her scarf left trailing over her victim.
Only two Sins were yet to take their victim. The one adorned in dark crimson, so dark it was close to black, now wound her way through the remaining four men, as the other Sins continued their seductions around them.
"Anger is the most intense of the Sins," she said in a voice brimming with hatred. "Once she takes root, you cannot shake her. Anger bubbles inside you, until you no longer have control. Anger claims more victims than just those she seduces, she claims the victims of her victims too." As Anger moved through the men, their dance changed. The tension that Envy had sowed now boiled over, until on only one man remained standing.
Anger draped her three victims with crimson shawls from her skirt, and then moved away. The six Sins who had so far been victorious now surrounded the last man standing, who was now to face the final Sin. She was clad head to toe in Black, no jewellery adorned her, there were no embellishments, yet she was still hauntingly irresistible.
"Pride. Pride is the ultimate, insurmountable Sin," She declared, sending a chill down Draco's spine. "She affects but few, yet destroys acutely. For Pride makes you believe you are invincible," The last gentleman standing now stood taller, defiant against his Sin, ready to fight, believing he can win. "But alas, no one is invincible, and you will fall at Pride's feet in the end."
Pride stepped forward to meet the defying gentleman. She reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. The last man standing stood no more, he fell at her feet, and Pride draped him with black.
The Sins work complete, they retreated to where they came from, stepping over their victims, and climbing back amongst the rocks and through the curtains, voicing their warnings as they went.
"No man can resist Temptation."
"Temptation takes many forms,"
"What one man resists, another will succumb to."
"Where one Temptation fails to entice, another will succeed."
"Man will always fall at the feet of Temptation."
"Some Temptations are impossible to resist, and they appear in seven separate forms."
"Man will always fall at the feet of the Seven Deadly Sins"
A/N: I may have got a little carried away with the masque there, but I hope you enjoyed it. It did make the chapter at bit longer than I expected. Sorry for making you guys wait so long for the update - it hopefully won't happen again
xBx