"Parvati !" yelled Hermione as she knocked on the girl's door.

She heard fumbling on the other side before the door opened, revealing a dishevelled Parvati apparently just out of bed. She quickly pushed the bushy-haired girl in the corridor and closed the door behind her.

"What ?" she hissed glaring at her.

"You're with someone ?"

The girl blushed and looked at the ground. "What if I am ?"

"Nothing, good to know you're getting some action," giggled Hermione wiggling her eyebrows.

Parvati chuckled.

"More seriously, I was wondering if you had some formal wear to lend me ? I have a big private concert tonight..."

"Of course," she sighed, "just wait here while I'm getting it."

Hermione nodded excitedly. Parvati moved to open the door but she turned at the last moment. "You like red don't you ?"

"Oh don't you have black ? It's kind of a convention..."

"Only red, you lost my only black dress."

She blushed. "Red's fine."

Parvati shook her head laughing under her breath and went into her room leaving Hermione alone in the corridor. She wrung her hands. What would Riddle say about her coming dressed in red ? He would probably fire her... But then she had no formal wear and he might not have the time to find another replacement. She would fight teeth and nail for this job. Red was actually quite fitting.

Her colleague, and friend she guessed, slipped out of her room holding something red, deep red, rather scarlet.

"Before you ask, this is a red wine red dress. It's a bit out-dated but not so much someone'll actually notice. And I'd like for you to actually return it."

Her smile was warm. Hermione carefully took the soft material and hugged her friend.

"Thanks Parv."

She released her and gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder. "Go back to your girl."

Parvati smirked and waved before slipping back into her room. Hermione chuckled. Her roommate had always be the one popular with the gentlemen and the ladies while Hermione was often disregarded because she looked too fiery. Little did they know Parvati had a character just as bad, if not worst, than Hermione did.

She went back to her own room and held out the dress in front of her. She gulped. It was a bit out of character for her, but it would have to do. She glanced at her reflection in her mirror. First, the hair, or rather the mane currently rebelling against the constraint of a bun. She tightened her lips and nodded to herself. She could do this. For her career. For music.

Tom paced the room brows furrowed. Nott, Mulciber and Zabini were already wearing their dinner jacket and were setting their instruments for the rehearsal in his personal living room. He passed his hand through his silky hair before glancing at his watch. Twenty seconds had passed since he had last done that. It was 4:45 pm. She was late. He glared at the door to his apartments, as if it would make her appear out of nowhere. He was not nervous. He just wanted her to get there right then so they could rehearse.

"Sir ?"

He turned to Zabini who seemed to look at him expectantly. "Yes ?" he answered words clipped.

"How are we getting to Malfoy Manor ? The usual ?"

If he knew it was the usual, why was he asking ? "Yes Zabini, that's why it's the usual."

The man rolled his eyes at his obvious sarcasm. "Alright sir just wanted to make sure."

Tom nodded with the fakest smile he could conjure. He was about to reply to his musician when he froze as someone had knocked on his door. He immediately went to open it. There stood the Opera's manager, Dolores Umbridge. He almost moved backwards when he smelled the strong, flowery, scent of her perfume. Disgusting.

"There's a miss Granger in the waiting room insisting she's to meet with you, do you want me to dispose of her sir ?"

Her sickly sweet voice did little to attenuate her perfume's corrosive quality. Tom shook his head.

"Send her in."

The woman pinched her lips seemingly disagreeing with his decision to have the Granger girl in his apartments. Meddling fool. He closed the door as she went to leave. So she may have not been late, it might have only been the result of the toad-like woman managing the place. The woman was quite fond of him, she was one of the few she remembered the name of.

A new knocking sound interrupted his thoughts. He opened the door, once again.

The Granger woman, girl, was standing in the hallway, spine straight. She met his eyes with confidence. He was reminded of her audition. He let his eyes sweep over her. Her light coat hid her golden skin, not pearly white like the aristocrats, but he could tell he would see more of it once she shed out of it. He focused on her face. Her cheeks were pinker than usual.

"May I enter sir ?"

She had not managed to wrangle all her curls into her hairdo. They would not be cowed into submission. They were dangling on her pretty neck, like a precious jewel. He suspected the woman herself would not be one easy to cow into submission.

"You may."

He moved aside from the doorway, letting the woman, girl, entering his apartments. His musicians greeted her and she laughed with them about something. He closed the door, not looking away from her. As she moved with a light chuckle, another wooden curl fell on the amber-coloured expanse of her neck.

As she talked, she began to take off her light coat. He leaned on the door, ignored by the chatting quartet. It fell down her upper arms, revealing her tanned shoulders, naked. He could see the beginning of her spine. She bent lightly to remove her coat completely. His jaw tensed at the sight of her long neck bent, almost as if it revealed even more tempting skin.

She took the coat and put it on her chair. She then turned to him and gave him an expectant look. His musicians imitated her. Her lips were barely parted. He glanced to his music sheets, waiting for him too.

He moved towards the quartet, deciding not to give another look to the Granger woman, no she was only a bloody girl, during the whole night. His musicians sat back down, readying their instrument. He pretended to be engrossed in the music sheets as they tuned. Once again, they all chuckled. As though they were friends. They did not know each other. Why was she friendly with them ?

His head snapped up as she cleared her throat.

"Yes miss Granger ?" he drawled icily.

"I hope I dressed okay..."

His eyes took in her clothes he had not noticed before. She was wearing red. Scarlet. Satin and organza. Showing her small waist before blooming, a bloody tide. He felt his jaw twitch. It was a maddening colour.

"You did miss Granger." His voice was still hard and unwavering. He went back to looking at his music sheets.

"Oh thanks, I was afraid red was not gonna cut it..."

"We won't complain, we needed a musician," he cut harshly, "not a fashion expert."

She inhaled sharply. He gritted his teeth.

"We'll start rehearsing now if you don't have any more superficial questions miss Granger."

There was beat of silence. It was almost compelling enough for him to look up. Thankfully, she spoke before he had to do so.

"No sir, that was all."

He nodded. "Good, so Mozart's Dissonance Quartet, you know it ?"

"I do."

"So let's start."

He raised his arms, eyes fixed on the finely crafted ceiling. The golden arabesques reminded him of her curls. He shook his head. No distraction. He focused on his three usual musicians, deciding to ignore the addition, the fiery addition, and did what he did best, conduct.

Tom bowed to the audience, a small smirk stretching his lips. The applause was almost worth the long evening of meaningless chitchat that inevitably followed. He flashed a charming grin to some of the ladies. It was never a bad thing to have them on his side. Though, he pointedly ignored the Greengrass girl attempts to catch his attention.

The man of the evening, Lucius Malfoy stepped on the stage next to him. As though they were equals.

"Thank you Lord Voldemort for this once again, wonderful performance !" he drawled with a lazy smile. "Now, we can get to dinner."

The audience chuckled but they immediately started to move towards the dining room. His jaw clenched. Insufferable. Incapable of enjoying good music. They should beg him for more.

The Malfoy patriarch clasped his hand on his shoulder. "Nice concert Tom, hope you'll have fun at dinner, they are a few other music personalities that I've invited, as I know them personally..."

And so he was dragged towards the dining room, already drowned in the superficial stupidity of British aristocracy.

"Good job Granger."

Hermione blushed and nodded her thanks to her three companions for the night. She was already exhausted. The rehearsal had been alright but the concert itself had put her under a lot of pressure as, well, she had had one rehearsal.

She carefully put her violin back in its holster.

"So are we suppose to mingle or get out as quickly as possible ?"

Zabini chuckled. "Mingle. They are often music celebrities and therefore opportunities."

"Great," she grunted with a smile, "so now we have to look forward to hours of drinking free champagne and eating free food ? While talking to celebrities and we get paid ?"

"That's pretty much it," grinned Nott.

She let out a small laugh. She did not think they were nice at first as they seemed pretty closed-off at the Opera, but they were actually kind of pleasant to hang out with. They showed her the cloakroom where she left her violin in the care of a valet.

Then, she entered the snake's den. There was no other way to describe it in her mind. All she could hear was fake laughs and sweet voices dripping with an obscene amount hypocrisy.

For a moment, she admired the room. She had never been in a manor, let alone one that luxurious. As she had been playing, she had not taken the time to properly take in the ostentatious luxury the manor was bathing in. The dining room was large. Much too large. The long table seemed to be stretching to infinity. The walls were lined up with mirrors, not helping to minimize the size of the room. A lot of deep green curtains were hanging between the windows overlooking the gardens. The colour matched Riddle's cufflinks.

She blinked. There he was. By the middle of the table, apparently engrossed in a conversation with a very disturbing looking woman. She frowned. The woman's hair seemed even more riotous than her own, the black curls spilling over her creamy-white shoulders and oh, her bosom was very much on display. Her black dress was not vulgar yet it was more revealing than Hermione felt comfortable with. She shook her head and turned at the call of her name to spot Nott and Zabini waving discreetly at her from the end of the table.

She smiled and moved towards them, the sound of her satin's dress on the polished floor joining the symphony of luxurious fabrics swishing around.

"So we're to sit there ?"

Nott shrugged. "Yeah, normally we're sent to eat with the servants when they finally begin to eat but I guess Malfoy was feeling generous."

The cellist pulled her chair for her, eliciting a giggle. She sat down, unable to take the grin of her face. She felt like an aristocrat for the first time in her life ! Well, even if she was at the end of the table. Her two fellow musicians sat down in front of her and began chatting about the Deatheaters upcoming concert. Well, she would probably not be there anymore.

"Pardon me miss ... ?"

Hermione turned to see a tall, elegant, woman, standing behind her. She scrambled to stand up.

"Oh it's miss Granger, honoured to meet you !" she beamed.

The woman, whom Hermione knew to be Madame Maxime, conductor at the Opéra de Paris since 1887, was very tall, probably even taller than Riddle. She leaned to barely graze her cheeks with her lips. Hermione almost jumped from the excitation. Madame Maxime was doing la bise to her !

"Enchantée miss Granger."

She pronounced her name with a heavy French accent, but Hermione could not find it in herself to care. Furthermore, who was she to correct this legendary conductor ?

"You played exquisitely well tonight très chère."

By then, Hermione was pretty sure the colour of her cheeks matched the colour of her dress.

"Well thank you, it means a lot coming from you Madame Maxime."

"I wanted to offer you a position at l'Opéra de Paris," she drawled, her eyes locked on Hermione as a tight-lip smile formed on her face, " as a soliste. I recognize talent when I see it."

She inhaled sharply, eyes widening.

"That is... a lot to think about...", her eyes darted to her fellow musicians. "Do I have to answer now ?"

"Et bien, it is a bit difficult... We've already started to rehearse. We would need you right now. We start the season with a solo de violon."

Her nose scrunched up. "I'm sorry I don't think I can answer right now, it's a big decision, I would like to think about if before accepting."

Madame Maxime seemed to weigh her up. Hermione tensed under the scrutiny. She was sure she was doing the right thing. Of course she would love nothing more than to be a soloist, but still, it was not a decision to be taken lightly. Moving to Paris was life changing and Hermione did not speak French. She could learn, she was a great learner, but it would be easier to become a soloist in London. Especially under Riddle's conduct. He was, after all, a prodigy.

"Je vois... I suppose I could let you a week to think about my offer. I'll come to see you at the Opéra. À bientôt."

Hermione nodded, beaming smile back in place. "Thank you so much, I'll have an answer by then. Have a good evening."

The woman tipped her head before slowly walking towards the other end of the table. Well, to be truthful, even if her speed was slow, her steps were so big she made it fast.

Hands lightly shaking, cheeks hurting, Hermione sat back down, eyes locked on the glass of champagne in front of her. She rarely indulged in drinking and even if she did, it was with Ron and Harry. But this night was special : she had played in the Deatheaters, she had been complimented by a famous conductor and, last but not least, she had been offered a soloist position in Paris.

"Why the bloody hell did I not outright say yes ?" she muttered before grabbing the flute and sending the sparkling liquid down her throat.

"Wow calm down there Granger !"

She looked at the two men chuckling in front of her and gave them an uneasy smile. She could not tell them about Madame Maxime's offer. She had the feeling that Riddle would not like it one bit. Although he had seemed to find her so insufferable that night he actually might. She did not know which one would be the worst.

"So," grinned Nott, "Madame Maxime complimented your playing ?"

She gave a little laugh and looked at her hands, getting slightly sweaty.

"Come on Theo, she's blushing of course she was complimented."

"I'm not blushing !" weakly protested Hermione.

She was. She could tell because her cheeks were burning, she had smiled too much and, she was blushing. Zabini shook his head.

"Right. More champagne ?"

"Yes please," she sighed reaching over the table for the flute he had been holding.

"Avery's not so far after all."

She almost spit out the luxurious tasting alcohol. "What ?"

"Don't listen to him, it's just that Avery drinks a lot."

She frowned. She did not know that. And she certainly did not want to be compared to him, even if she had done everything in her power to act nicer to him. She carefully set the half-empty flute back on the table, no more champagne for her that night.

She leaned back on her chair. She could already feel the nice effect of the alcohol on her system, namely the warmth spreading in her lower abdomen. She sighed. At least her judgement was not impaired, she had barely drunk anything.

She glanced at her two companions who were engrossed in a discussion with a young blond woman, exquisitely well-dressed, hair carefully pinned in place with a pearl and diamond incrusted jewel. Hermione internally scowled. She could feel several of her own curls brushing the nape of her neck.

She jumped as a hand brushed her shoulder. As the hand settled on the skin, she became increasingly aware of how naked it was. She turned to tell the rude person to piss off but was rendered speechless. First, the man was quite handsome, and he had the exact same hair colour as their employer. She gulped. She could not really tell someone from the family of their employer to piss off.

So she smiled. It probably looked fake, but as he had invaded her personal space, he did not deserve anything more.

"Good evening," he said lightly bowing. "I'm Abraxas Malfoy, the son of Lucius Malfoy."

She rose in order to shake his hand, not letting him kiss her knuckles. She was not a damsel in distress and well, she was not an aristocrat.

"Please to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger."

"I know," he smirked, "Tom has mentioned you."

Her eyes looked in the large dining room behind his shoulder, he was much shorter than Riddle, and found the man in question. She blinked. He was looking at her. His eyes seemed black from this distance. He was seemingly conversing with the same woman as before, the one with the displayed wild hair.

She looked back at Abraxas giving him a small smile. "That's nice..."

"Well, miss Granger, can I call you Hermione ? I have a certain flair for talent. And you, dear Hermione, certainly are talented."

She frowned. "You can keep calling me miss Granger, and thank you."

He laughed good-naturedly. "I knew you'd have some punch ! Tom said you had a strong personality !"

She took a step back. "He said that ?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Why wouldn't he ?"

He took a step forward.

"Because he does not know me personally and therefore cannot have strong knowledge of my personality ?"

He shook his head, smile still locked in place. "Dear Hermione, I think everyone knows you have a strong personality. After all, you are a musician, dressed in red, at a concert."

She blushed. This had not been her choice. She almost openly scowled, not liking his kind of condescending tone, before remembering who he was. She had to get out of this discussion, as subtly as possible. Unfortunately, Hermione knew herself to lack subtlety, at least, when she needed it the most.

"I've forgotten something in my violin holster, will you excuse me for a second ?"

She began to drown herself in the anonymity a crow offered when she felt a hand gently grabbing her upper-arm. Still, she did not like it. It was against her naked skin.

"I'll take you, after all I have to be a good host, it's the first time you see the Manor."

Abraxas threw a charming grin at her but the hand on her upper-arm made her impervious to his boyish charm. She made a gesture of taking it off before turning to split the crowd, tempted to ignore the presence at her side.

They silently made their way through the guests until they were in the cloakroom. Hermione took her holster and opened it feeling more stupid than she had ever felt. What could there be to forget in a holster ? Her violin ? She made sure he could only see her back and pretended to fumble with her instrument. Stupid Hermione.

"You found what you were looking for ?"

She held back a sigh before closing her holster and turning back to the grinning platinum-blonde.

"Yes thank you."

She went for the exit when Abraxas closed the distance between them.

"Good," he breathed out before taking her face between his hands and kissing her.

Hermione gasped in outrage, having him believe that she liked his actions. Encouraged, he let his tongue wander in her mouth. Immediately, she brought her hands to his chest and pushed him back, panting.

"What the fuck ?"

He frowned, his lips were red and his cheeks pink.

"I'm answering to your signs ! You practically begged me to kiss you !" he scowled.

"What ? What fucking signs ?! No," she bitterly laughed throwing her hands in the air, "I don't even want to know."

He got closer to her, grin firmly back in place. "So, now that the surprise of finding out someone like me wants you, should we get back to work ?"

Hermione made a show of wiping her mouth with her hand, glaring at the platinum-blond man. Was he serious ? Surprised that someone like him, evil cockroach, wanted her ?

"No," she coldly answered, " get the fuck out before I scream."

He actually looked perplexed by her answer. Had he never been turned down before ? Did he do this to every woman which did not outright reject him ?

His face slowly morphed into one of cold contempt. His grey eyes hardened.

"You know I could ruin your career..."

By that point, Hermione was quite sure her cheeks were scarlet, burning fuelled by her anger. She knew this happened to other women. Still, she could not believe it was happening to her. Her lips began to tremble and her hands to shake.

"I'd rather have you ruin my career than feel your hand on my skin or your lips on my lips ever again," she whispered, not trusting herself not to yell.

She was heaving, and tears formed in her eyes threatening to spill on her scorching cheeks.

He solemnly nodded before leaving her alone in the cloakroom. As soon as the curtain hiding the room from the corridor fell down on him, she let out a sigh of relief. He had not forced himself on her. Of course, he was probably currently ruining her career, but she was physically okay.

At the thought of the bastard telling Riddle, Madame Maxime, that she was done for, she whimpered. She immediately brought her hands to her shaking lips, muffling the sobs that threatened to spill. Her career was over before truly starting. She would never get to be a soloist.

Just as she was going to let her tears fall, the curtain moved. She quickly straightened her spine and turned to pretend she was doing something with her holster, as ridiculous as this strategy was. She heard the stranger's steps on the plush carpet stop not far from her.

"Miss Granger ?"

Of course it had to be him. She took a deep breath, trying to keep the sobbing and panting under control. Then, she turned to face him.

He was closer than she had expected. She could almost not see his face because of the few lights of the room. But she was certain she could see his blazing eyes in the dark. And they were locked on her.

Hermione knew her eyes were probably red from unshed tears, and her cheeks red from shame and anger, but she straightened and stared back.

"Yes ?"

Fuck her voice was quavering more than she would have liked. Still, she held on.

"Thank you for replacing Avery tonight."

She nodded, adverting her eyes to the room. She knew it meant she was not taken definitely in the Deatheaters. With what had just happened with Abraxas, she could not really blame him. She was surprised when he slipped his arm in the crook of hers and got them out of the cloakroom, the heavy curtain settling on her naked shoulders before once again falling.

"I'd like to present you someone who admired your playing tonight."

She hoped it was not Madame Maxime, she did not need the drama. They entered the ballroom. Hermione tensed, feeling if not seeing Abraxas' presence. If Riddle noticed it, he did not say anything, she was grateful for that. They went around the room and got closer to the woman she had seen him talk too. She was cackling with a pale-haired woman, probably from the Malfoy's clan.

They stopped right before them, interrupting the cackle, was it a laugh ?, of the woman.

"Miss Granger, I present you Madame Lestrange."