Hermione and her parents stood before a pair of spiraled gates. They appeared to recognise the Flint bloodline, as they dissipated at her Father's touch, and allowed them through. Down the gravel path flanked with ornate bushes and exquisite albino peacocks (Anna looked sternly at her daughter when she stepped towards the nearest to pet it), was the manor. Hermione hadn't visited since before she went to Hogwarts, but from her memory the place hadn't changed a bit. Stately, turreted and dark, it was considerably bigger than their house. Was the inside different? Hermione had a fleeting memory of running up a set of highly polished stairs, collapsing onto inches of a velvety carpet, and causing a young Draco's trousers to send him tumbling across the landing with her crude underage magic.
Dark wooden doors stood proud before the family. Callidus had just raised his hand to knock, when they swung open to reveal Draco in a black suit.
"Glad to see you," he said as they bowed in greeting. "Do come in." Draco sent their bags to their rooms with his wand, and beckoned them towards the study to talk business with Lucius.
Hermione didn't know if it would be rude not to follow them. She was overcome with the grand and imposing ebony floorboards and furnishings, and all the gold adornments on the mantelpiece, and the staircase and paintings. The ceiling was so high that someone could easily fly a broom in here- not that anyone would dare to do such a thing.
"I thought I heard the door."
Hermione jumped and spun round. At the foot of the staircase stood Narcissa Malfoy, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly at the girl's shock. "No need to be startled. I trust I missed your parents?"
"Sorry, Madame," Hermione hastened to bow deeply. "I was.. Er, admiring the decor."
The matriarch stepped towards her gracefully in her long, elegant robes, heels clicking on the polished floor.
"Call me Narcissa. Shall we?"
Narcissa led the way into a parlour off the side of the corridor, gesturing for Hermione to follow, and summoning two cups of tea.
"Thank you." Hermione took her beverage and sat opposite the reclining witch on a soft leather armchair. If she spilt tea on this, she would apparate straight to Russia and never come back. And with such a startlingly beautiful witch overcoming her senses, that was a distinctly likely possibility; Narcissa's hair was perfectly wound up at the back, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and jaw. Her nose was proud and pointed, her lips a glistening pale pink, and her eyes sparkled with mirth under the scrutiny. They were such a delicate, exquisite shade of blue, a colour she had only ever seen in the sky above the clouds. Narcissa's eyes bore into hers in the silence and Hermione dropped her gaze to the tea on her lap.
"I bought you liqueur as a thank you present," she said, taking the bottle from her robes and handing it over.
"Thank you. Hmm, much flashier than what Lucius has, but you needn't have gone to the trouble- we have several other guests at the moment and all they've given me is a headache... You remember coming here before, yes? I don't believe you were older than nine."
"Yes. Thank you for having us. It's very dull at home."
"I'm sure Draco would say the same about here." The woman released Hermione from her gaze for a moment, looking into the fire, taking a delicate sip of her tea.
"You look stunning," blurted Hermione, before she could stop herself. "I mean... it's a lovely dress you're wearing."
"Do you follow fashion?"
"From a distance." Hermione drank more tea to shut herself up.
"I'll take you shopping for the ball, if you like. That is- if you don't already have dress robes for the evening?"
The dress she'd worn for the last ball mother had forced her to lay at the bottom of her bag, crumpled in a heap of uncomfortable memories.
"Yes!- yes please. I would love to, that's very kind of you."
The lady finished her tea and banished the cup and saucer with a click of her fingers.
"Not at all. I was going anyway; it will be pleasant to have company. Now-" she stood up and smoothed her skirts. "If you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Your room is on the third floor, with Draco and I. Second door on the right." Narcissa left with a soft smile.
Fuck. Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts and downed the rest of her tea. Narcissa was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person she had ever seen. How had she never noticed before? Her looks always captured the attention of any room, but her enticement, and Hermione's own attraction in response- that was something new. It must have been too chaotic to realise, at the station. Narcissa had developed the faintest of lines at the corners of her mouth, and around her eyes, which was… oddly… nice? Her eyes had such any icy intensity, like frozen waterfalls that pulled her deeper with inexorable force. It was almost uncomfortable how they pierced hers.
How cruel and unfair of fate, to have put her in close proximity with such an unattainable, high-calibre, married woman. She would never grace Hermione with a second glance.
The teenager rushed up two flights of stairs and flung herself through a partly open door. Her guest bedroom was bigger than her bedroom at home; it had its own little fireplace enshrouded by bookshelves and a chest of drawers, and the silk bed, filled with downy feathers, sank under her weight. She lay on her back and revelled in its softness. A window on the far wall presented a view of the front gate and roaming white peacocks.
Hermione slept peacefully in her silken sheets, protected from the sun by lace bed curtains. That is, until Narcissa woke her by sitting on the far side of her bed and saying good morning. Hermione's eyes cracked open blearily- then widened when she saw the witch. She was only in her nightgown!
"Come on, get up- it's past ten o'clock." There was laughter in her words as she reached over to move some of Hermionie's unruly curls from her face, and stayed hovering over her. Hermione made a pathetic sound in protest and pulled the duvet over her head. "I thought you wanted to come shopping." Narcissa peeled back the covers, trying to look stern but allowing a smirk to play on her lips.
"Now? It's a bit early for the holidays." Hermione was overly aware of a stray lock of the woman's hair trailing over her naked shoulder.
"Be good and get up. You have no idea how much I have to do today." With that, her patience expired and she swept the whole duvet off with a flick of her wand. The eighteen year old scrambled up and crossed her arms protectively across her chest. She felt exposed and vulnerable opposite the fully dressed woman in high heels.
"That's it," cooed Narcissa, her eyes scanning down the younger woman's body, and lingering at her chest.
"Hey!" cried Hermione. "I shouldn't be seen yet!"
"Why not?" Narcissa stepped towards her slowly. "You're a pretty thing. Any young man would be lucky to see you."
"Don't be revolting," Hermione frowned.
"Oh? Isn't that why you're here, darling."
Ice braced her spine and she turned away to open her wardrobe. But Narcissa carefully selected robes for her. "Here, these will be easier to take off. I'm giving you ten minutes."
They met in the front hall, and Narcissa held out her forearm so they could apparate together. An unfamiliar side street lined with brick buildings appeared around them.
"Where are we?"
Narcissa's face lit up. "Kensington. The arcade is wonderful, very exclusive- nowhere your mother will have taken you."
Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion and she hurried to keep up with the taller woman's long strides. They turned left twice, then right, and left again- into the biggest muggle street she had ever seen. It was awful; strange vehicles drove past loudly in plumes of smoke, and far, far too many muggles littered both sides of the street with their strange attire and gadgets, and their funny way of speaking. Noticing she had strayed behind, Narcissa took hold of her the crook of her elbow and walked her straight across the road. She was practically dragging Hermione, who finally managed to free herself when they got to the other side.
"What is this place?" she hissed. "I want to go to diagon alley."
"Nonsense. This is better, you'll see. Now walk in front of me into that arcade."
Hermione acquiesced, relieved at least that this area was less busy. The older woman placed her hand on the small of her back and steered her into the nearest shop. Apprehensive, she looked round at all the hats in the cramped space. This couldn't be it. Narcissa exchanged a few words to the man at the till, who nodded. She beckoned Hermione forward and the shopkeeper opened a door behind him, waving them through. Hermione gasped, eliciting a haughty smirk from her guide. Resembling the arcade before it, this magically elongated street presented no less than fourteen gorgeous, elegant, fascinating, and no doubt highly expensive shops. She was led into the one selling dress robes, stunned into silence at the sheer opulence of the clothes on display. This must be the most cutting edge clothes shop in all of Britain! It was decorated like a photography set for the highest class fashion magazines, and filled with what looked like front cover piece to front cover piece.
"... Presented to suitors in a few nights. Yes, I thought something mauve. Gold might be a bit much…"
A flamboyant italian wizard in a three piece suit glided over from Narcissa to scrutinise the debutant.
"Good morning, my dear. You are looking for something striking, yes?"
His tape measure began taking Hermione's measurements of its own accord, as he sized her up, and selected a pile of dresses, which Narcissa carried to a spacious dressing room. She drew the curtains shut as Hermione admired the robes.
"Can I have more than one?"
Narcissa took a seat. "And where else would you wear them?"
"For dinner, out getting drinks, to Gemma's house…"
"Well, try them on then. I don't have all day."
Hermione froze. She wasn't going to leave?
"Quickly now. We're both women, dear."
Hesitantly, Hermione turned away and slipped into the first dress with minimal exposure. When she turned back, Narcissa's eyes were strangely unfocused.
"Is this..? What do you think?"
The Malfoy took in cream frills and lace. Silently, she walked around to the corded back, and tightened the knots until Hermione felt dizzy.
"Can you breathe?"
"Not particularly."
"You ought to have padded hips then." She stepped back, still holding the cords, and the corset tightened more than should be possible.
"I don't think I like this one anymore," Hermione managed to gasp out. The ties were released.
The next dress was wine red with a slit down the side that went right up to her hip. Hermione had attempted to keep her bra on, even though it was a strapless dress, but Narcissa only had to give her a slightly exasperated look with one eyebrow raised for Hermione to shrug out of it. She prayed that her hardened nipples wouldn't show through the fabric.
Narcissa swept round her with an experienced eye, trailing her fingers lightly on her shoulder, encircling her waist, and, rounding to face her again, staring pointedly at the young woman's cleavage. Hermione squirmed.
"Stop that," snapped Narcissa, tugging the material down slightly, and ignoring Hermione's remonstrations. "I'll see if Danti can't stitch that lower."
A slender, well manicured finger tracing the edge of the material between shoulder and bust was just too much- and Hermione backed into the wall.
"Narcissa, please!" Her voice was unusually high pitched.
The witch's eyes widened, as if she had forgotten there was anyone underneath the dress at all. "Oh." They widened even more in understanding, and the girl blushed.
"Did I- I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I? I apologise… I must have been carried away."
"It's fine." Hermione turned away quickly in embarrassment. "I'll try the next one."
They both faced the floor length mirror, Narcissa fastening the back. Her hands snaked round her waist and rested where lace met the flowing skirt. A thumb stroked over her hip gently.
"Remember to breathe."
Her words played with the hairs at the back of Hermione's neck, and the younger witch let out a shuddering breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. There were still six more dresses to try...
Rowle, Rookwood, and the Lestrange brothers were already sleeping at the manor, but thankfully there was enough space to avoid them almost entirely. Hermione spent her time in the Malfoy's library. She flicked through several leather bound volumes on magical genealogy, but quickly moved on to a biography of Grindelwald, which was much more effective in distracting her from Narcissa's faint but persistent presence in her mind. In the attic, Hermione tried to master wandless magic. It was dusty, unlike the other floors, but there were some fascinating old books to get lost in. Hermione hadn't seen Bellatrix once since she'd arrived, as the dark witch was never present at suppertime. So it was startling, to say the least, when Bellatrix flung open the door and pointed her wand at the young witch. Hermione screamed and dodged a curse by a millimeter.
"What the fuck are you doing up here, child."
"Hiding- from... my mother- I didn't know this was your room, sorry, I'll leave-"
But the dark witch blocked the door and thrust her bodily back onto the chaise longue.
"Not with my book in your hand, you won't," she sneered, plucking it back, and trapping Hermione's wrists harshly. "What's the rush? You've nowhere better to be. Why don't we have a little chat? Girl to girl."
"Please let me go." Pity was the wrong tactic, it only made the death eater cackle and bring her face far too close for comfort. She inhaled deeply, like a feral animal tracking its prey.
"Hmm, what's that? You smell like my sister." Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.
"Well... I am living in her house."
Thankfully, Bellatrix diverted her attention to the book she had been reading. She saw the title and was taken aback suddenly.
"... You were reading this?... I heard you were a know-it-all but… this is 'Meditations on the development of dark magic from ancient times to the present day', and you've already read half of it! Did you even understand it?"
"I… yes?"
"And you're how old? Sixteen?"
"Eighteen-"
"Great Salazar… curse me."
"Pardon?!"
Wrong response. Bellatrix lifted her up and pushed her against the wall.
"Curse me. Do it." The deranged witch unhanded her, and Hermione seized her chance. She sprung out of the door, feeling the witch's talons scrabble at her back, raced downstairs, and made it into the first room she got to. But Bellatrix was faster. She got there before the girl could close the door, and grabbed the defiant witch by the scruff of her neck, throwing her against the wall, eyes alight with madness.
"Prove that you're intelligent. Curse me, or I'll start to think the ickle baby prefect isn't worth the space she takes up."
Hermione hesitated and received a sharp slap that nearly knocked her off her feet. She held back tears, and took her wand out, channeling aggression out from her chest, the word crucio forming somewhere in her mind. Bellatrix grunted and doubled over, but did not fall.
"You were holding back." She said ruthlessly, grabbing her hand and forcing the tip of her wand into her corseted chest. "Try again. You need to want to cause pain, to enjoy it." Hermione acquiesced but her feeble spell had less effect than before. "You stupid little whelp." Bellatrix raised her hand to slap her again.
"What's all this noise?" Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway, and Hermione had never been more delighted to see the gaunt man.
"Nothing Lucy, I'm teaching this hopeless child."
"Not in this room. I shan't have any more of my furniture broken."
Bellatrix leered at the girl before sticking her tongue out, storming from the room. Lucius drifted away before Hermione could thank him, and she was left to contemplate whatever had just happened.