Chapter Seven
The Ball
Like Mr. Shacklebolt told her, Hermione took two days off. If any good came out of it she would look amazing for the ball, and it would get her boss to quit nagging about a vacation.
Ginny convinced her to pamper herself, and together with Luna they signed into a spa. Hermione felt that it was a waste, but all of her misgivings vanished when she received her first massage. She hadn't realized how tense she was until it was soothed away.
They had the works done, the massages, mud baths, milk baths, facials, manicures, pedicures, and so on. Luna talked of similar rituals involving creatures Hermione was certain didn't exist, but she listened anyhow. When they first met Hermione thought she was an annoying freak, but soon turned into a wonderful friend she would never trade. It's been years since she had tried to debate with her. It was oddly refreshing how little Luna cared about what people thought. Most of their friends didn't.
When it was time to go home she felt nostalgic. It didn't last long, however, because she was greeted by Lunus' upbeat hooting when she dropped her luggage at her bedroom door. Another letter...
Hermione,
I can't say whether, or not there should be "something more." I have yet to kiss a girl, and feel something other than hormones, and flesh on flesh. Sometimes I think there are things that are meant to only be found in fairytales. I would like to ask what that question was about... I don't know if that's appropriate, so I'll leave the final decision to you.
I confess there's one thing I'd like to change above all (there's a lot), because the image of it is burned so forcefully into my memory it's torture to this day. It happened years ago, during the war. I wish to forget, or have someone obliviate me. It sounds rash, but I know you understand.
The dark lord is gone, the remaining deatheaters are being caught. I feel stuck in the middle. I don't belong to either side, and while I'm not being charged I continue to suffer my punishment by memories I have no right to grieve over.
We knew each other, but not well. I want you to tell me something pleasant, and random about yourself. I'll go first. The first time I rode a broom I crashed, and broke my arm. I know that isn't pleasant, but if you knew my name you'd be laughing. I wish I could hear you laugh with the knowledge that I caused it, because it would be sweeter than anything I've done. Maybe it could make up for past indiscretions. No, it wouldn't, but it would be sweet. Like chocolate.
Mended
Hermione smiled at the shining emerald words. Something in her stirred, and she didn't know what it was. Pity, sympathy, or empathy. Maybe flattery. None of those felt right, but she didn't want to explore to find out what it really was.
Mended,
I won't ask you to explain why you can't sleep, or what you've done to cause yourself this pain, but I hope that one day you'll tell me. I forgave you without pause, and I won't take it back, but I believe I have the right to know. One day, when you're ready, please tell me, but remember this, if something hurts you, you hold the right to grieve. It helps you move on. I want that for you.
Pleasant, and random... I love the night sky. I love sitting out in my backyard simply watching the stars. There's something so beautiful, and tranquil about it.
Your friend, Hermione
She checked her watch as Lunus left out the window. It was time to get ready. She showered, pulled on a long dark blue dress that flowed around her so fluidly it was like water itself, the sleeves long, and the back non-existent. She slipped into matching heels. They weren't too high, just enough to give her a bit of a boost. She was only 5'3.
She gathered her hair into an antique butterfly clip, a few curls framing her face where she added a dab of make-up, and right when she laid down the tube of lipstick the doorbell sounded. Hermione doubled back to the mirror to make sure everything was in place before going downstairs.
Outside Seamus stood in a crisp white dress robe, a small white carnation in his hand. He sucked in a breath when he saw her. "Beautiful," he said in a low voice.
She bent to the door locking it while trying to hide her very red face. She turned around, knowing she was still blushing, and he held up the flower. It was cut short at the stem, and he asked, "may I?"
She wasn't sure what he was going to do, but nodded. Gently he placed the stem behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her lobe. She gazed at him curiously.
"I wanted us to match somehow," he explained.
Hermione thanked him, noticing how the flower stayed securely with a spell. Creative, she thought, and took his outstretched arm. He apparated outside the iron gates of Hogwarts. People loomed about, chatting excitedly, but she didn't look to see if she recognized any of them she was staring at the looming castle. It looked no different than it had before the reconstruction. That had been the point. Hogwarts was very old, that was part of its charm, and everyone wanted to preserve that.
Hermione was taking back to her years there when the "horseless" carriages came up. They were in fact drawn by threastles, dark, but beautiful creatures that could only be seen if someone's seen death. At first only Harry, Nevielle, and Luna were able to see them. After the war, most of them were able to, including Hermione. Most of their year watched Voldemort die, but there was no telling if that was the cause, because there were a lot of deaths that day.
Harry, and Ginny walked up to them. They were matching in deep purple attire that almost looked black. The couples greeted each other, and climbed into one of the carriages shortly joined by Nevielle, and Luna. Happily Seamus reconnected with them swapping short stories until they came to a sharp halt. Seamus went out before her, and helped her down the steps.
It was like entering Hogwarts for the first time. Except she was much older than eleven. If she were to be honest with herself she would have admitted that she felt older than twenty-one. In the entrance hall Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, and the Head of Gryffindor house stood high on the stone steps. Everyone went silent. She still had gray streaked hair in a bun, and a very stern look, but she smiled when she looked over at them.
"Welcome," she said. "We are very grateful by the large amounts of donations that were given to this school. Thanks to you I no longer have a leaky roof in my classroom."
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Some were uncertain if they should laugh. McGonagall rarely made jokes.
She continued, "we are here to have a glorious evening, so if you will step into the Great Hall, and enjoy." She waved her wand at the large arched doors, and they opened.
Hermione gasped when she saw inside. The ceiling remained enchanted to mirror the sky, and she could see the stars speckled the inky blackness, but that wasn't why she was amazed. Four orange, and yellow trees stood in each corner of the room, each flecked with one of the houses colors. Candles floated above them, the four long tables that usually occupied the room were gone, and replaced by more than fifty round ones draped in silver cloth with golden goblets, and plates. They encircled a spot on the floor that was meant for dancing. Cheerful music was being played where the professors normally sat by a professional looking band, all wearing dress robes. She never saw it look so lovely.
Harry, Ginny, Luna, Nevielle, Dean, Katie, George, Angelina, Seamus, and Hermione shared a very large table to the side. Like in the carriage, only nosier they talked, and told stories, reminiscing. She was starting to feel like a school girl again with all of her friends, but things were wonderfully different. Dean, and Katie were married, so was George, and Angelina. Nevielle, and Luna were dating exclusively, and Hermione knew that Nevielle was waiting for the right time to pop the question. She knew that he didn't need to worry about it, because Luna would be the one to mention it, probably casually over a shared meal.
Their dinner was nearly over, and couples were slowly straying out to the dance floor. Seamus took her hand limply in his, and nodded towards the center of the room. He enfolded her in his arms, and they moved together slowly around the floor.
It was sudden, the sensation in her gut telling her that someone was watching her closely, and though Seamus' eyes were locked in on hers, she knew it wasn't him. She broke the contact, and searched around for the source.
She wasn't ready for what she saw. It hit her like a fist to her past, something unexpected that shook her. It wasn't because he was there, his presence was to be expected, but the way he was staring at her... That was a different thing entirely. Draco Malfoy's eyes didn't waver from hers, it was steady, and his face emotionless, his frigid body draped in all black clothing, slacks, button shirt, and robe. There had always been at least the look of disdain, or hatred. It was as though he put up walls to hid what he was feeling, but why? Was she right, and he really was her mystery writer?
"Malfoy," Seamus spat seeing where her attention had gone. "Wonder what the bloody hell he's staring at?"
"I don't know," she said in undertone.
"Maybe he's staring at Hermione," Ginny said next to them, her arms around Harry. "You look gorgeous tonight."
"I'm not saying you're not beautiful, because you are," Seamus warned, "but a pureblood won't think that way. They don't see appearances, they see lineage, and nothing but."
"Especially a Malfoy," Harry settled.
It was thirty minutes later, and Hermione remained uneasy. Malfoy wasn't letting her out of his sight, and she had half the mind to go up to him, and tell him off. Instead, she stood from the table where her, and her friends rested at.
"I'm going to get some fresh air."
Seamus stood immediately, "I'll go with you."
She eyed him warily. "I can take care of myself."
"I know, Hermione, we all know that, but -"
"I'll be back. If I'm gone more than ten minutes than you're more than welcome to check on me." She was a bit peeved that he felt the need to protect her, as sweet as it was, she was just going outside, it wasn't as if they were in a war. That was over.
Hermione strolled out of the castle, and onto the grounds. It was nice, and warm, a perfect summers night. She spotted the tree near the lake that she used to sit under with Harry, and Ron. She remembered nagging them about their homework, how they would prefer to relax than get some work done. They had grown up to be fine men, but she didn't regret all of her pushing. They would probably be stuck in their third year without her help. She laughed at this. She didn't give them enough credit, but she was certain they wouldn't have had the marks they did.
She stood by the tree, and tilted her head to look at the stars scattered over the sky. It put humility into her to know how small she was, and how soon she would be gone. She would long leave the earth before those stars died out. They would be the same stars her great great grandchildren would stare at. It was amazing.
"Granger."
Hermione jumped, and twirled around facing a man that was as pale, and blonde as he had been when he was a boy. He had grown taller, she only reached the middle of his chest. He didn't look at her, but at the stars that had put her in a daze.
"Personally, my favorite constellation is Draconis."
"What a surprise," she muttered. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Who said I wanted anything, Granger? I simply came out here for the stars."
She snorted. "You've been staring at me all night."
"Have an ego now do we?"
Her face burned, but it did answer one question. He wasn't her mystery writer. He was Malfoy, and he would never change. "The only one with an ego is you."
"You've never been good with witty comebacks."
"Speak for yourself, ferret."
He raised a brow, and glanced down at her. "I haven't been called that in three years."
"Doubt it."
"Okay, so I have, but every one who does gets hexed, so I'd watch that pretty mouth of yours."
Pretty? Even in a sarcastic sense Malfoy would never call her that. He wouldn't put her name into a compliment. Then again, he would have called her mudblood by now. She shook her head. It didn't mean anything, maybe he grew up a little, but it didn't mean that he was her writer. She felt a sort of sadness about that. She made herself sick.
"Goodbye, Malfoy," she turned to leave, but his hand lashed out grasping her arm roughly.
"Not so fast, Granger." He pulled her closer.
She could smell his peppermint breath, the dark scent of his cologne. She had never been this close to him before. She saw the fringe of his hair into his tempest eyes. She held her breath for a second, closing her eyes. She released a shaky breath. "Let me go," she hissed angrily. His fingers dug into her, liable to create bruises.
"Tell me, how have you been since Malfoy Manor?"
Horror struck her. "You're foul!"
"And you're a snotty bookworm. Now that we got our characteristics in order answer my question."
She wrenched away from his hold stepping back. "Don't touch me again. Don't you ever touch me! You don't want my muggle germs on you! It might just rub off!"
He reached for her, quick like the Seeker he was in school. His face came down to hers, their noses barely touching. "If I was so worried about your germs I wouldn't be this close would I?"
"What the hell do you want?"
"Oh, Granger language, when did you start cursing like that?" He seemed amused.
"I don't answer to you."
"Who do you answer to?"
"Nobody. I'm not a pet, Malfoy. I can't be kept."
He laughed at this. "You will one day."
"LET HER GO, MALFOY!"
Hermione jerked her head over her shoulder to see Seamus running down the hill, his wand out. Malfoy didn't let her go, his grip tightened.
"Go ahead, Finnigan. Lets see how good your aim is! Don't want to be hitting your girlfriend now, do you?"
"I was trained by the best Auror there is, don't bet that I wouldn't hit you."
"Don't bet that I wouldn't use her as a shield."
Seamus had reached them, his wand steady. "In minutes eight people will be here looking for her. You're not that good."
Malfoy glared at her. "This isn't over," he said pushing her towards Seamus who wrapped an arm around her. "Such a lovely couple." The disdain was back on his sneering face.
"Seamus! Did you find Hermione?" Harry was yelling from the castle steps.
"Yeah, she's here," he called. "She's fine." He looked down at her uncertainly, and she nodded.
Hermione refused to look at Malfoy. If she had, she might have seen something that would have made her question everything about him.