Chapter 21 The Polyjuice Ballroom Dance
Hermione arrived to the newly constructed ballroom and was pleasantly surprised while observing the thoughtful execution of service, food, and overall ambiance. (She had purposefully removed herself from this aspect of planning.) "Professional" counterspell casters were designated by their uniformed violet robes, wands ready to reveal true identities. Navy robed tailors were waiting in the Polyjuice Potion booths to magically fit garments to witches' and wizards' Muggle forms. Aurors were not dressed in their severe commanding robes, but were still recognizable to the Undersecretary of MLE. Trays of edible delicacies floated along the skirts of the walls, easy to summon. Soft orchestral music played at a volume complementary to conversations. The lighting was not too bright nor too dark, provided by the thousands of candles floating above, the image reminiscent of her innocent times at Hogwarts. She wondered if that was the purpose. Malfoy had ways of astounding her.
Draco chose not to appear in Muggle form. In a moment of brilliant epiphytic irony, he realized that the best way to Granger's heart was to manipulate her by not being manipulative. Any other house would call this being truthful, not manipulative at all. However, manipulation ran through a Slytherin's blood. The fact that he recognized the need to be himself-expose his true self-to Granger, was confirmation enough to the outside observer that Love, not Obsession was the catalyst for such an extreme change. He dressed in his most elegant robes, and bravely walked onto the ballroom floor.
Hermione entered the ballroom disguised in the form of a beautiful dark skinned Muggle with curly hair the color of an ebony tree, eyes to match, and a figure much like her own. Her dress had only tiny modifications. The emerald shade complimented her temporary dark complexion, and her hair was left down and bouncing, more because Hermione did not feel competent enough to cast a hair spell than for appearance. She pondered over Malfoy's deduction skills in finding her so well disguised, and hoped he proved worthy of the challenge. The hope she held did not escape her, and she knew that a witch willing to hold on to Hope might not have a heart completely her own.
Within the first fifteen minutes, the Great Ballroom was crowded with excitable youth chattering away and enjoying the prospect of Love and Friendship. Hermione had already dismissed two wizards, immediately recognizing they were not Malfoy. Each minute brought on more nervous energy as she began to despair over whether he would pursue her, or the witch he thought he admired but did not know. Her hand began to shake and she nervously fisted when a voice behind her spoke.
"I like your style, Witch," the feminine voice began. "You turn down pathetic wizards with such ease." The pug faced witch was smiling at her when Hermione turned to meet the familiar voice.
"Why are you not in disguise?" Hermione asked upon seeing a perfectly dressed Pansy Parkinson.
"Hmmm. You get straight to the point, too. So you aren't a fellow Slytherin like I had assumed. I hope that makes you a Ravenclaw." Pansy was now slightly frowning.
"House is irrelevant, assuming I came from Hogwarts," she responded with politeness undeserved before quoting Shakespeare. "We know what we are, but not what we may be."
"Oh Merlin," Pansy replied with an eye roll. "So you are Ravenclaw. That is what got me in this mess to begin with." At that she motioned to her face and body before explaining, "I met a wizard through the Owline Dating who spit out pretty words just the same as you. He convinced me that 'we would not be free to love if we were not free in form'. So we just had a counterspell cast by that knarl-faced old wizard over there." She pointed without shame at the eldest of all the counterspell casters. Hermione chose not to follow the path of her point. "As soon as our true forms were revealed, I saw a Ravenclaw who was, I don't know, three times my age?" Hermione's incredulous grimace led Pansy to correct her hyperbole. "Well, not that old, of course, but you know what I mean. Actually, he's cute, in his own too-smart-for-regular-conversation way. I have to admit he charmed me. I don't even mind that he is a second generation Half-Blood. But he isn't rich! Since you are a Ravenclaw, maybe you know him and can tell me if he is to inherit-Lawrence Hodgepodge?"
Hermione shook her head and responded, "No, sorry." But she wasn't sorry. She wanted to evacuate the conversation and was struggling on an exit strategy that would not reveal her identity to the well-known verbal bully.
From across the hall, Draco observed witch after witch, looking for tells of Granger. His eyes wondered over a beauty dressed in emerald, but quickly dismissed her due to the fact that she was speaking to Pansy Parkinson. He quickly entertained the thought that Pansy would not have revealed herself so soon had she not found her match. He laughed at the notion and returned to his search knowing that the witch in emerald was not his witch; Hermione Granger would never converse willingly with Pansy Parkinson.
The Polyjuice Ballroom Dance was already a huge success an hour in. About half the couples had been revealed. Draco applauded himself for the foresight of hiring so many counterspell casters. As it turned out, aurors were not needed. Very few matches were not satisfied or happily surprised.
Although he found the numerous witches approaching him in Muggle form soliciting their love an annoyance, it also aided in eliminating options. An hour in, he found himself desperate to find Granger. He needed her, and was aching from that need. He began his search anew, looking again at witches he initially disregarded.
Over the first hour, Hermione had the fortune of entertaining conversation after conversation to distract her from her anxiety over Malfoy. She had spoken pleasantly with Neville who was not on auror duty. He was planning on proposing to Hannah Abbott that night, and his nerves were beginning to get the best of him. She reminded him that no witch could turn down the love of the brave Gryffindor who destroyed a Horcrux, especially one that was equally in love. She saw Harry and Ginny, but only winked from afar, not wishing to give away any hints of her identity to onlookers. The couple immediately recognized her underneath the Muggle exterior with differing reactions. Harry winked back before turning his attention elsewhere, taking a sip from his beverage. Ginny nodded and lingered with a perplexing brow. Hermione had no idea of what she was thinking, but smiled and moved on. She spoke with Ron, who was only slightly pouting from duty, but was so pleased (he and his match had revealed themselves the day before apparently) that he made for an easy, but short conversation. However, with every pause in conversing, Malfoy became the forefront of her thoughts. One such moment happened when she finished talking with Luna and her match, Rolf Scamander. She had watched them reveal themselves and was overjoyed and jealous of the joy on both their faces as they embraced with affection upon their exposure. Luna, in her uncanny manner that was inexplicable to the mind of Hermione, had noticed her embrace with Rolf was being observed and led him by the hand to talk to her old classmate.
Hermione watched them approach her but before she could congratulate the happy new couple, Luna hugged her and whispered in her ear, "There is no need for jealousy. I can tell you have been touched by Love yourself." Thus began a conversation between the three in which Hermione held no control because both Luna and Rolf would make such insightful comments, revealing parts of her that she had either not realized or was not yet willing to confront. When they departed, hand in hand, she was not regretful of losing their company.
Looking around, she finally saw Malfoy. A two day deficit was enough to make her heart jump at the sight of him. Her brilliance worked against her as she immediately realized that a true form Malfoy meant he must have revealed himself, evidenced by the many witches around him. She remembered Ginny's comment that he might have owled the same message to every witch he met at the Polyjuice Speed Dating night. Her heart sank as she fought back tears. She looked down and unconsciously massaged her scar.
Draco knew time was against him as they were now in their second hour of the event. The Weird Sisters were scheduled to perform in less than ten minutes, and if he could not find Granger before then, he would have very little chance against loud music and dancing bodies. He scanned the room frantically when he saw her tell-the beauty in emerald massaging her left forearm. He walked at a pace so swift it was the speed of a jog to her side. He gently grabbed her face.
"Granger, I have looked for you all night. Please let me cast the counterspell so I can hold my true witch." His eyes were pleading.
Hermione looked up and cast Legilimency while searching his eyes. He could feel her in his mind and chose not to cast Occlumency. For the first time in his short, but tormented life, he let someone else see all of him. The vulnerability did not leave him feeling naked and exposed. Instead he felt the opposite; he felt engulfed by her and safe.
Tears fell down Hermione's face as she felt and saw Malfoy's true sentiments. It confused her as she searched further for why he would say the contrary of what he felt to his mother. She could feel his confliction and… protection in the lie. Everything was becoming too much, especially when she discovered he was an Occlumens when delving deeper. After understanding this, she comprehended the magnitude of his willingness to vulnerability. She began to feel his broken spirit mending through the exposure of his mind. She felt his addiction to how she could make him feel. She tried to compartmentalize herself the way she saw in his mind, but it didn't matter. Her tears now fell uncontrollably.
"Granger, please," he was begging her. "I need to hold the real you. Please." He was still holding her Muggle face, searching for her features but only finding her actions recognizable. Her voice failed her so she nodded her consent. He grabbed her hand and led her to an apparition point. "Will you take me to your place?" She nodded again through quieted sobs.
He grabbed her flush against him and gently pushed her head against his shoulder, waiting for her to apparate them. Hermione tried her hardest to contain the best of the emotions flowing through her. She needed to concentrate to get them to her place whole. But her mind kept straying to what she experienced inside his consciousness. No matter which open memory she had experienced, the same emotion underlined it. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.