Later that day, Hermione went to the kitchen to make tea and it occurred to her that Narcissa might appreciate some, having been making preparations for the ball all day. A pot of earl grey with two china cups was brewed with a few silent spells. Adding biscuits, a little cup of milk and two cubes of sugar, Hermione took the tray up to Narcissa's room, and knocked on her bedroom door.
"Come in."
Narcissa's wallpaper was a light delicate teal and covered with old oil paintings, a floor length mirror, and a massive wardrobe that took up an entire wall. The furniture was grand, separated by a vast, luxuriously soft carpet. Light from the far window caught the translucent canopy atop her bed and dispersed it around the room. Several young Dracos smiled from photos with his parents or Quidditch team, next to some unfamiliar faces and a black and white portrait of the Blacks. Druella and Cygnus stood proudly behind the three seated Black sisters, and Toujours Pur was written in cursive below them. Some objects were draped in black cloth in the corner. It became evident that Lucius never slept here. The witch wore a taffeta dressing gown, and was busy writing on the desk next to her bed.
"I made you tea, um, because you've been so busy."
"Hermione, how sweet of you." Narcissa looked up and smiled warmer than she ever had before. "Let me take that." She put the tray down, and poured them both a cup. "Mmm. Earl grey, my favourite. Thank you for the biscuits- I haven't eaten today. Here, sit down, sit." She patted her mattress since there were no other chairs in her room.
Hermione sat down on the bed, putting all of her mental energy into being as graceful and poised as possible. She drank tentatively as Narcissa ate. It was a more comfortable silence than when she had just arrived. The portraits were preoccupied with their painted items, or sleeping. She wondered how many dresses were in the wardrobe.
"Why is your cheek so red, darling?" Narcissa suddenly touched her face with the back of a cool hand. "Has somebody hit you?" There was no use in lying so she nodded, briefly remembering the incident.
"Bellatrix-" before she could elaborate, the woman had pulled her into her arms. One of Narcissa's hands clutched the fabric around her ribs, and the other cradled her head. Their breasts were pressed together and the Malfoy could definitely feel how fast her heart was beating.
"I'm sorry." Narcissa whispered against her neck. "If she tries to hurt you again- if anyone does- will you call for me?"
"Ok, yes."
The woman drew back and cupped Hermione's face gently. "Promise me."
"I promise."
Satisfied, Narcissa joined her on the side of the bed.
"I apologise for getting you so flustered the other day. I had no idea you were so… -anyway, I hope you're not still uncomfortable around me."
"Absolutely not! I never was, it's just that you're- you're captivating- I mean, you must have that effect on lots of people." Thankfully, Narcissa sensed her awkwardness, and deflected from her poor attempt at speech.
"What have you been doing?"
"I don't know, reading… thinking about reapplying to the ministry, maybe."
"You were turned down?"
Hermione nodded. "The department of mysteries aren't interested in graduates with no experience."
"I see. If your heart is set on that, I can tug a few strings for you… write a couple of letters to the right people. I do have connections, you know." She flashed a wry smile.
"Really? That would be great, if you could. Only if you have time though. How is planning for the ball going?"
"Fine, all on track. I've booked some musicians. Would you like to hear one of the songs they'll play?"
"Yes!" Hermione beamed.
Narcissa got a vinyl disk out and dropped the needle of the gramophone in the corner. A dreamy waltz started playing. Narcissa held out her hand.
"You know how to dance, yes?"
"A little, but I'm not good." Hermione took her hand and stood.
"I'll teach you." Their fingers intertwined. Narcissa gently held Hermione's waist, and she placed her hand on Narcissa's shoulder. They began to dance, swaying and stepping in time with the music, giggling when Hermione missed the odd step. It was easy enough, with such a talented teacher. Some of what she had been taught as a child came back to her as Narcissa tapped the underside of her chin to keep her head up, and pulled her waist taught against her to fix her posture. Narcissa made Hermione pirouette and she tripped over her feet with a yelp, before the older witch caught her in her arms. There was a shocked silence as they came close enough to breathe each other's air, before they burst out laughing.
Narcissa had to dismiss her to attend to managing the household, and Hermione couldn't help but grin stupidly to herself when she closed the door.
The night before the ball, Hermione found herself in the kitchen, pouring a glass of firewhiskey she had found in the top cupboard. She would have to dance with at least one of the suitors at the ball. There was no escape, her mother had made that very clear. With each mouthful of the burning amber liquid, a problem released its pressure from her shoulders. Narcissa's unattainability, Bellatrix's instability, the prospect of meeting (perhaps even serving) the Dark Lord, how she looked in comparison to all the other girls her age. On her seventh glass in, it occurred to her that she was drunk. It was late, her candle burnt low. But the death eaters would probably be awake. They sometimes roamed the halls at night making sport of house elves. She had to make it upstairs without anyone noticing, lest her mother scold her for staining their family's reputation. What a stupid situation. She giggled at her own thought, and made her way through the hall with a great deal of stealth- if you ignored the stifled hiss of pain at candle wax spilling onto her leg.
Climbing the first staircase was no easy feat, but she triumphed nonetheless, and rewarded herself with another mouthful of firewhisky. The second staircase, however, was a more substantial opponent, and the third step tripped her over, nearly making her drop the last of the liquor.
"Who's there?"
She dropped her glass and it smashed on the stone stairs. The sound of footsteps hurrying down preceded the sight of Narcissa in a sheer night robe.
"Hermione? What are you doing down here?"
"Oh, shit. Uh… repairo." The glass shards assembled themselves into a messy ball and she broke out laughing again.
"You're drunk, give me that."
Narcissa banished the glass mess and took the candle before it caused any more accidents. "That was almost finished. What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry- hic- Cissa, I-" Hermione collapsed into giggles but stopped as soon as she saw the steely expression on Narcissa's face.
"Come here, I'll put you to bed before anyone sees you like this." Narcissa half carried Hermione up the stairs, and into her room. "I'll just put the candle down, then take you to your room, ok?"
The woman had only let her out of sight for a few seconds, but when she turned back, Hermione was fast asleep, on the covers of her bed. Narcissa sighed in exasperation, pinching her furrowed brow. She was utterly exhausted. Hermione obviously was as well. It wouldn't do to wake her and risk her drinking herself to an injury, with no one nearby to help her. She blew out the candle before gently lifting Hermione's head onto the pillow, and extricating the covers from beneath her. She slid into the other side of the bed and put the sheets over both of them. Hermione stirred, half asleep, nearly falling out of the bed, so Narcissa caught her around the waist and brought her close enough to keep her from falling. "Sleep, now." She whispered.
Hermione was disorientated when she woke with the sour taste of whisky on her tongue. This wasn't her room. Whose arm was that- oh Merlin. She sat bolt upright.
"Narcissa!?"
The witch's expectant but tired eyes met hers.
"What happened?"
"You got yourself drunk, I brought you here. I didn't know you'd fall asleep but I didn't want to wake you."
"So nothing- we didn't- you didn't-"
"Merlin! No, Hermione." Narcissa sat up and faced her, frowning. "Of course not! I would never take advantage of someone in that state. Do you truly think so little of me?"
"No! I just, it's just that I can't-" Hermione took a deep breath, realising she had been blackout drunk. "I can't remember. Sorry for pestering you." She made to leave but Narcissa placed a soft yet commanding hand on her arm.
It was startling how dishevelled the older woman was by sleep. She was always perfectly done-up, designed almost. Seeing her like this, with no makeup, her white-blonde hair in disarray, and her gown exposing too much of her chest- it was uncomfortably intimate.
"Don't be silly, calm down." Narcissa gently squeezed her arm. "Just, tell me why."
Hermione faltered. "I don't know."
"Is everything ok? No- sorry. Of course it isn't. Not in these times."
She let her go, but before Hermione reached to the door, she spoke once more.
"If you do that again, I won't be so kind, do you understand? If I find you in that state... I'll put you in the cellar instead. That ought to teach you a lesson."
Hermione gulped and fled.