It was the day of the ball and Hermione was dressed in the imperial purple robes Narcissa had finally decided on, that plunged so deep as to leave nothing to the imagination. She wore a gold necklace and gold earrings as she reclined on a sofa. Narcissa had treated her hair with a lotion that made it silken and wavy, and brushed it for her ("If I had hair like yours, I would do so much more with it. You don't accentuate your natural beauty enough"). She pulled her hair back into a ponytail of loose ringlets, and Hermione had to admit that her reflection was actually pretty. Draco was dressed up in a tuxedo and cravat, as was his father, with an emerald cape and his usual serpent walking stick. The guests would start arriving in less than an hour.
"You look a right whore."
Hermione sighed inwardly, recognising the crude voice. "Thank you, Bellatrix."
The sound of stilettos marching round her head prompted the debutant to sit up wearily.
"You better hope this doesn't catch fire." The witch roughly took hold of the hem of her dress. "Then your little troupe of boys would be in for a treat," she cackled. "I dare say one of them will ravage you tonight- or all of them- but not in any of the nice bedrooms please-"
"Oh would you stop!" Hermione bristled, glaring. The deranged woman just looked at her cleavage before winking and leaving the room.
The first carriage arrived. It was followed with distant sounds of apparating guests. There were old ministry friends with their wives, all dressed opulently. The Zabinis came next and chatted by the door, followed by the Notts. Draco's friends arrived, and he abandoned her in the front hall. She bowed as professor Snape walked in and he congratulated her on her outstandings. Lucian Bole offered a bouquet and his hand for a dance, but Hermione declined as courteously as she could. She looked away as he slouched into the ballroom, and became enraptured by the sight of Narcissa sauntering down the stairs. The woman was breathtaking, utterly resplendent; her hair cascaded down her shoulder, glistening with small diamonds. Her light green ball gown seemed to glow. It was cinched tightly around her waist and the neckline was just high enough to be appropriate. She smiled appreciatively as she reached the bottom stair.
Hermione blushed, compliments whirring in her head but dying on her lips. She didn't want to sound as infatuated as she was, but the witch read her face well enough to know how she felt, and complacently received her wordless flattery. Narcissa fixed a few stray hairs on Hermione's shoulder, and held out her arm.
"Shall we?"
Hermione linked their arms and allowed herself to be led into the ballroom.
Narcissa had transfigured the floor to look like a starry night's sky. The musicians were at the back on a platform, playing a waltz, and there were tables at the side with canapes and alcohol, including the gifted bottle of elderflower and gold leaf liqueur. A grand chandelier above lit up the room.
Narcissa became engaged in conversation with Rookwood as Hermione focused on keeping balance in her uncomfortable heels. Pettigrew was scuttling around like a large irritating house elf, serving glasses of wine, one of which Hermione took. She restrained herself from drinking it quickly when Narcissa punctuated her conversation with a pointed, warning look. Instead, she used the glass as something to do with her hands, instead of leaving them hanging limply or fidgeting with her necklace. They were interrupted by Yaxley, who clapped an impassive Rookwood on his back, and shook Hermione's free hand heartily.
"I've heard about your NEWTs, Flint." His deep northern Irish accent cut through the chatter around them, and Hermione was surprised the man even knew her name. "One of the best set of results these last few decades- you ought to be snapped right up by the ministry."
"Thank you. My duelling could use some work, though."
Yaxley laughed. "You're in exactly the right place for that! I gather Lestrange has already had a go at you; a few spars with her and you'll be whipped into shape. As long as you don't lose an arm, that is."
Hermione managed a laugh. "Are you a spy? You seem to know quite a lot."
"That I am. Top marks for noticing. I've a mind to see you replace Dawlish in the auror office, but that would be part of the long game. Come, let us speak to Amycus."
Hermione drank her wine and bowed her head to the Carrows, who immediately started talking about duelling at Yaxley's prompt; "That school's fucked you over teaching defence. Only decent teacher's been Severus, and he couldn't teach you real magic or he'd get fired. Anyway, what you need to do is get just five different spells into your repertoire. Your favourite curse, a jinx or two, and a spell that interacts with your environment. Have a strong silent shield spell under your belt, too. Can't go wrong with that. I'll have your brother teach you fiendfyre. He's not the brightest, but cursed fires are your family's specialty."
They became engaged in conversation about the department heads in the ministry, and her glass became empty. Hermione extracted herself from the circle and weaved through the crowd to find her friends, picking up a champagne flute as she went. She saw the backs of what looked like Miles's parents, but before she could head towards them Callidus stopped her in her tracks.
"Allow me to introduce you to some wizards who sympathise with our cause."
Hermione looked over her shoulder for an excuse, but Narcissa was deeply engaged in conversation with her sister, her husband Rodolphus, and Euphemia Rowle. Hopelessly, she summoned a tall, neat glass of dragon barrel brandy from the nearest table, and faked a smile.
"This is Sanguini, I believe you have been introduced at Slughorn's Christmas party last year."
"Yes, how do you do?" The vampire had been the most interesting person there, and Hermione had gleefully spent the evening introducing him to her least favourite female peers until he had to be reeled back from their necks.
"Well, thank you. I am missing Romania, but Britain is exciting in this time." He smiled, partially revealing his fangs before drinking from a chalice that definitely didn't contain red wine. Sanguini had ink black smudges beneath his eyes, and strong brows that cast a shadow over them. He had an aquiline roman nose and sharp, hollowing cheekbones accentuated by his dark slicked back hair.
Hermione recognised the young man beside him and held out her hand. "Vincent Poliakoff! Hello again. I'm sorry to hear about your headmaster." The boy she had met at the Yule ball shook her hand.
"Privet, 'ermione. It is no vorry, he vas never kind to me. And only loyal to himself. These Malfoys have amazing vine, you know." Hermione laughed as he toasted the Malfoy family and clinked their glasses.
"And this is Luc Millefeuille and Gabriel Duc De Trefle-Picques," her father gestured to two primly dressed wizards. Gabriel was wearing a ruff and cravat, and she gathered that his ancestors were noblemen who went into hiding following the french muggle revolution. He was outspoken about wizards and the wealthy being forced into hiding, and retold how pleased he was at Callidus reaching out to him to gather support from france. Millefeuille was less loquacious but inspected Pius Thicknesse over his half moon spectacles and said that they would never vote someone like that into power in france. Callidus laughed for a bit too long but added nothing.
Hermione invited Poliakoff to try the nettle wine with her and noticed a flash of silver on his hand. It was a ring in the shape of a triangle, with a circle and line within it. Poliakoff noticed her looking at it.
"It is Grindelwald's symbol, he vas the best student ever at Durmstrang. Just like how the Dark Lord was the best student at your school. It is funny 'ow the most clever become the most powerful, and are considered evil for it."
Hermione knew all about Grindelwald, how he had taken a powerful wand from Gregorvitch and was imprisoned in Nurmengard.
"What does the symbol mean?"
"The deathly hallows. It is an old legend said to make a vizard the master of death itself. The triangle is the cloak of invisibility, the circle the resurrection stone, and this," He pointed to the silver line running down the ring, "is the elder vand."
"Hold on- that's the tale of the three brothers! By Beedle the bard!"
Poliakoff was not familiar with the Yorkshire writer but Hermione's tipsy mind was reeling with her realisation. What if the objects were not a legend, but real? And could actually grant immortality. Hermione knew that at least the elder wand was real. She was perhaps the only student in history of magic classes to listen to lectures about how the wand had been mastered by Emeric the evil to Loxias, leaving a trail of murder and greed in its wake. She was interrupted from her musings by Terrence.
"Comparing rings, are we? Look, father bought me this one for graduating."
Hermione squealed and hugged him tight before noticing his proudly displayed emerald signet ring with the Slytherin crest. Miles was behind him, smiling shyly before he too was assaulted with a hug that knocked his glasses askew.
"I missed you!" She beamed.
"It's barely been a month," laughed Terrence. Hermione introduced them to Poliakoff and they started to talk about Krum and quidditch. Before she had a chance to properly catch up with her friends, she spotted Marcus near the couples forming on the dance floor, and rushed to embrace him.
"I'm so sorry I didn't greet you at the entrance! I got caught up."
Her brother turned from his conversation with Peregrine Derrick (who's house he had been staying at) to greet her. Marcus had also been missed even though the only thing they had in common was an interest in the dark arts- but at least he was coming home with them after the ball. It was a lot nicer at holidays when their parents focused on his poor academic achievement and lack of an heir.
"Mother told me about your bachelors. Tried to turn them off by telling them how you used cat hair in polyjuice potion and threw up fur balls for weeks- but they don't listen to me now there's no Quidditch cup to win. I'm still in charge of them though- Dark Lord commissioned a youth death eater division that I'm the head of," he stated with pride. "Draco should be in it but he already has the dark mark. He's become a smarmy git if you ask me."
"Don't call him that," Hermione remonstrated. After a few days of cohabiting with Draco it had become obvious that his ego was a facade.
"Why," Marcus teased, "is he your boyfriend or something." Derrick hooted and Hermione glared at him.
"No, of course not... but I think I should probably get one."
"Funny you should mention that. I'm dating Gemma now. Went to her house for a few days when I wasn't at Derrick's."
"Really?! She didn't tell me that."
"Hey, what's with the tone of surprise?"
More Couples were forming on the dance floor, including Lucius and Narcissa. The Malfoy matriarch was poised, radiant, and appeared to be genuinely happy, but Lucius's hands on her made Hermione feel sick. Draco was also content dancing with Astoria Greengrass. Naively, Hermione thought that she wouldn't have to dance with anyone since her brother finally had a girlfriend. But her mother came over to say that she should choose a suitor for the next dance, or she'd be cut off from the Flint fortune.
The present dance ended and Draco and Astoria bowed to each other before he kissed her hand, with Pansy scowling in the distance and slinking towards Terrence. Hermione spotted Bole and Urquhart staring at her suggestively, and her mother gestured towards the middle of the room in frustration. Hermione downed her drink and, ignoring her brother's goading whistles, made a bee line to Draco.
"Will you dance with me?" She held out her hand.
"Don't tell me you fancy me, Flint."
"Of course not," she snapped, as the musicians began the next song. "Take my hand."
Draco spotted Anna watching intently over her shoulder and smirked in realisation. They kissed on both cheeks and began to waltz. He was a much better dancer, but the lesson with Narcissa allowed her to avoid missing a single step, even slightly drunk. Draco was such a flamboyant lead that he swept Hermione around the floor, weaving through the other couples, and quickly made them the pair at the centre of attention.
"Thank you," Hermione breathed. She could see her mother actually smiling at her for once as she spun, and Narcissa giving them a slightly puzzled but amused look. Hermione sensed the music climaxing before it came to an end, and realised they would be expected to kiss afterwards to appear convincing.
"You have to kiss me," she hissed, leaning slightly towards the pallid cheek parallel to her own.
"I'm not doing that." Draco's show smile wrinkled in disgust and he twitched his head almost imperceptibly to shoot her a scowl.
"You think I want to? I hate to bring it up but you still owe me for helping you last year."
At length, the song ended, and he reluctantly dipped her and brushed their lips together. Everyone applauded and they bowed, Hermione mouthing 'thank you' again in relief before he went off to find his friends.
Narcissa had a strangely enigmatic expression as she strutted over.
"I hope you're not using my son, dear," she muttered. "I've grown fond of you but I really don't intend to be your mother-in-law, at all."
Hermione laughed and summoned a knotgrass mead. "He'd have to be under the imperius curse to propose to me, thankfully- which I would obviously never use on him," she added at Narcissa's startled countenance. The witch looked down to the mead and lowered her voice.
"How many glasses have you had?"
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."
The real answer was seven, which had given her a brash, foolish courage she wouldn't usually display. She locked eyes with Narcissa challengingly and threw back her drink before summoning another mead. Partly out of spite, partly to test the woman's limits and patience, Hermione downed the other glass with a shudder. Narcissa was visibly twitching as she restrained herself from smacking the drink out of the younger woman's hand and causing a scene. She took a deep breath to banish her anger.
"The cellar is not an enjoyable place to sleep, Hermione."
The debutant only took a glass of dragon barrel brandy, still meeting the admonishing gaze, and raised it to her lips. That was clearly the last straw as Narcissa snapped, faking a friendly laugh and snatching the glass out of her hand to drink it herself. Before Hermione could react, Narcissa closed the space between them and leant down to whisper in her ear.
"I care about you, darling. More than you appear to care about yourself."
A/N- the french wizards are OC side characters but descended from canon characters. It always confused me how wizards don't have treaties and alliances with foreign ministries so I added them.