A/N - Did I do it? Did I fulfil my promise?
The answer is: yes. Yes I did.
Not a lot of Draco in this chapter (not really sorry about that - he wasn't necessary), but it's looking at Hermione and Narcissa preparing for the ball that is set to happen the next night! Unfortunately, the Christmas Ball chapter won't be posted tomorrow, as would be in time with the ball (if it really were Christmas), and you may have to wait a little longer for it - I'm sorry.
It's coming though! It's coming. I have plans for it. Lots of plans.
In the mean time, if any of you have any questions, drop them in your review or PM me and I'll try answer them as best as I can!
"No, no, no. Out. Go on, away!" Narcissa said as she pushed him out of the doorway and back into the hall.
Narcissa had barged into their room soon after her and Draco's brunch, when he had left the room to visit his father for a few minutes after feeling "more disorientated than usual". She had startled Hermione, who had still been curled up on their bed when she had arrived; and ever since, she had been gushing about their Ball to her.
Draco had only just returned to see her there; he had laughed loudly, bending over to grasp at his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His mother was quickly onto her feet and brushing him out of his room.
Hermione smiled as he was ushered away by his mother, and giggled as she watched him try to catch a glimpse of her over Narcissa's shoulder. He was taller than her by a couple of inches, but she knew his every move before he had even made it; she placed a hand over his eyes and steered him away as he continued to laugh. She then looked over her shoulder and addressed both of them as she said, "Neither of you are seeing each other until tomorrow night. Do I make myself clear?"
"But what about-" She cut herself off as she watched Draco shake his head sombrely.
"No," his mother confirmed. "Not even in the dreamscape. Do not worry, we have it all planned."
Draco muttered something too low for Hermione to hear, but his mother obviously did as she pulled on his ear and he grinned. "Do you understand me, Draco?"
"Yes, Mother," he said tiredly. Hermione imagined that underneath her hand he rolled his eyes. "But you wouldn't stop me from saying good-bye to her, would you? You should know that two days is a long time not to-"
"It is hardly two days," she objected, but agreed quickly after Draco's whingeing response. She used a Charm to temporarily blind him, and removed her hand from his eyes. "Be quick about it, Draconis; Miss Granger and I have a lot of work to do before Friday."
With his still keen sense of smell and the relatively fresh memory of what his room looked like, he had no problem with finding where she was standing. His steps towards her weren't as smooth and graceful as he usually was, but he didn't stumble often; and, he did take a while to reach her, moving slowly with his hands swiping the air around him for unknown obstacles. When he reached her, he gently placed both hands on her cheek, and ran his thumbs across her cheekbones. "Now let's keep this a one-sided conversation, Hermione, or I'll be dragged away before I even finish." He winked, and then turned reasonably solemn again. "I didn't realise that they were serious when they said that it's tradition not to see you at least a day before the Ball," he said, turning his head slightly towards where he sensed his mother was standing and frowned. "Which is why I didn't tell you about it. I suppose some time away might be a good thing, considering..." He twisted his lips.
Though it had only been a little longer than a day since Draco had unknowingly been taken over by his Veela and "allegedly" hurt her, he had been fairly controlled. He had migraines rather frequently, which caused him to feel dizzy and disorientated, but he didn't harm her; instead, he excused himself to go seek his father, who apparently had a concoction to combat whatever it was he was feeling.
He always came back, seemingly more dizzy than when he had left, with all his senses significantly dulled – but he protested that he felt better. It made him feel better that the fear of potentially hurting her was gone.
Hermione supposed that he was more controlled because he was happy; since her declaration that evening, he had barely stopped touching her in any way that he could - as long as he had a form of contact with her, he was happy. She could often feel his eyes on her when he thought she didn't know.
"You will place a little trust in them, won't you? Take the potions and food they give you, and please don't hassle the House Elves." He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on her lips before pulling away to whisper in her ear. "If it makes you feel any better, know that there's no way anyone in this household will allow you to die, because that means I will too."
Of course. That made her feel so much better. If it wasn't for the existence of him - if it wasn't for him being a Veela - then she probably would have been poisoned by now. Great. Though, she found some sort of pleasure in the thought that the Malfoys would have to do their very best to save her life, if anything did seem to happen to her, despite the hate that they may harbour.
He felt Hermione reluctantly nod her head and he smiled. He moved away from her then, loudly saying, "I'll be restless these next few hours, wondering just how ravishing you'll be looking" as he was dragged away – this time stumbling over his own two feet – by Mrs Malfoy.
She was left in the room by herself as Narcissa led Draco down to the end of the corridor to remove the Charm. When she came back, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress from holding a struggling Draco, she ushered Hermione back over to where the desk was placed and gestured for her to take a seat.
"So, Miss Granger," she said politely, shuffling the pieces of parchment that she had placed on the desk into neat piles. She delicately dipped her quill into the inkpot, and then returned her gaze back to the young witch before her. "As you very well know, tomorrow evening is our annual Winter Solstice, and I only just recalled that I forgot to ask you if you had any last minute guests that you wished to invite. Unfortunately this event has only ever had the main guests be pure-blood, and - well, tradition is very hard to break." For a moment, Hermione swore that she saw the ever-calm woman look unsure and nervous. "With the exception of you, of course" - she smiled -"we could hardly forbid the next Lady of the Manor from attending the parties. I expect you will break it. The tradition. Once you and Draco take over the Manor, well, I have no doubt that most things – if not everything – will be changed."
You'll break the tradition once you inherit the Manor, but until then, you must play by our rules, Hermione thought as Mrs Malfoy paused to await her answer.
"Only pure-blood guests?" Hermione questioned, trying her best not to be rude to Draco's parents. She'd be done with everything inside this Manor in a few days, and after that, she might never even have to return to this house with all their stupid rules, again. Might never even have to see them, though she knew that while the hopes were forming in her head, some of them were obviously too much to ask for. Refusing to meet with Draco's parents, who he loved as any child did, another time after this; refusing to attend one of his family's many traditions - it was too much to ask for anyone. Her hands curled into fists in her lap.
She nodded. "They can bring one guest themselves," she said, smirking. Her smirk was familiar, although Hermione had never been in the presence of the woman long enough before to see it. She tilted her head slightly. Maybe she'd seen a similar expression on Draco before..."A boyfriend, perhaps." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Whoever they want."
A thought struck Hermione and she looked at Narcissa sceptically out of the corner or her eye. Her lips were slightly turned down, almost turning into a frown. Hermione quickly decided that it would probably be best for her if she didn't try outsmart them. "No. No one," she said solemnly.
Narcissa smiled widely, as if she knew something that Hermione didn't. "Oh well, I suppose it does not matter." She waved her hand, easily brushing the subject away. "I am sure you know everyone Draco's invited anyway."
Hermione's curiosity peaked. Draco had a say in the invitations? She had assumed that he had tried to have as little to do with it as possible. Besides, all of his friends were pure-blood – surely they were going to be invited with their parents anyway. Hesitantly, she asked, "Who was it that Draco invited?"
Narcissa's prominent grin turned smug. She rifled through the pieces of parchment until she found a rather thin piece of paper with a list of names written on it. She carefully handed it to Hermione, whose eyebrows furrowed when she saw what names had been written in a cursive script. It wasn't Draco's handwriting as far as she knew; Hermione looked at Narcissa suspiciously.
"The Weasley's?" She asked slowly.
Narcissa's eyebrows raised. "The Weasley's – they're pure-bloods, are they not? Draco and I were so sure that they were."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and said, "Yes."
"Then they count, darling. I only said that they had to be pure-blood." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm or malice in her voice, and Hermione's eyes widened, as if it would help her to see if the Malfoy's had changed in any other ways. "I had given you hints too, I was just waiting for you to catch on."
Hermione looked down, a dark blush rising to her cheeks. Now she knew where she had seen the grin before; it was the Conspirator's Grin.
Narcissa leaned forward and covered one of Hermione's hands with hers. "I know I have changed, Hermione, but by you answering the question yourself you get to discover it on your own." She smiled. She was all politeness and smiles, this woman, Hermione thought. How could she have been stuck with someone so unlike her as Lucius; how could she have a son that had always seemed to be in a constant state of melancholy and was rude to almost everyone?
Hermione nodded.
"Now," she said, turning back to the other pieces of parchment scattering his desk. "I need you to check that we have gotten everyone's names right on that list. Draco and I do not know many of them, as you probably know."
Hermione felt somewhat proud that Draco and Narcissa had managed to get most of the names on the paper. Granted, they only had Molly, Arthur, Ron, Charlie, Bill and Percy, it was still more than she had anticipated; and even though they had forgotten Ginny and George's names, they had made a notes on the paper about who they were – they had known that George once had a twin, who was now dead, and that Ginny was the only daughter. "Ron told me that Charles is staying in Romania this year, so it's unlikely that he will coming," she said, placing the list of names onto the desk. She felt slightly uncomfortable calling them by their given names, but Hermione assumed that it'd be the only way Narcissa would know who she was speaking about; that was, after all, how their names had been written down. "William is in France, staying with Fleur Delacour's family over Christmas – they won't be able to come either. The only names you missed are George and Ginevra's."
Hermione wasn't sure whether George would even want to come, but she knew that it would be good for him if he did. In retrospect, Hermione didn't even know whether any of the Weasley's would want to come to a party that was organised by the Malfoy's, who they'd had a long history with, and attended by pure-blood elitists, one of whom may be responsible for the death of Fred. The corner of her mouth turned down into a frown. She didn't even know whether it was too late notice to invite them to this and potentially ruin whatever plans they may have previously had for this holiday. She pondered the thought that they didn't even have to accept if they were busy or didn't want to, but still, she felt as if it would be competing with her.
Narcissa took the list and neatly crossed off Charlie and Bill's names, writing George and Ginny's next to theirs in replacement. She then rifled back through the papers on the desk, and procured four envelopes; she picked up two and walked over to Draco's fireplace, lit the hearth, and threw them into it to burn. "I do not suppose there's anyone else you would like to invite?" Mrs Malfoy asked on her return to the desk. Hermione shook her head. Narcissa nodded and took out the paper inside of the two envelopes that she had left on the desk, writing what Hermione presumed to be George and Ginny's invitations. Once that was done, she snapped her fingers, and handed the two she had just written, plus three others, to a House Elf that had appeared with instructions to use Titus for delivery. She paused suddenly. "Am I to assume that they all still live the same house?" She asked.
"Ginevra's at The Burrow with Molly and Arthur, but Percy and George have their own apartments, Mrs Malfoy," she said. The 'Mrs Malfoy' had just slipped out.
Narcissa frowned, tapping her neatly manicured nails on the desk. She sighed. "Send Titus with the invitations addressed to Ginevra and Molly and Arthur; Mercury with Percy's and Laetitia with George's." She waved the House Elf away and he left without question. She then stood from her chair with a secretive smile, and held out her hand to Hermione; Narcissa led them out of the room. "Now, my darling. We are going to find an absolutely stunning dress for Friday," she enthused, guiding Hermione upstairs and down a few corridors, stopping outside a closed door.
Dropping Hermione's arm, she unlocked the door with a key that was hidden in a pocket of her dress and stepped into the room. Narcissa flicked a light switch, and Hermione found herself in a large room with rows and rows of dresses of various styles and colours, and a table and chairs sat in front of a carefully placed screen. Mesmerised, Hermione ran her hand across the fabric of some of the dresses on the rails closest to her and followed Narcissa as she began picking out several red dresses. In the back of her mind, she knew that Narcissa was still speaking but Hermione was too deep in her thoughts about who owned these dresses and how very expensive they all looked. She wondered whether Narcissa knew how much like a posh, Muggle department store this room looked like. The only thing that seemed to be missing were mirrors on almost every wall.
"-dress code this year is red, lucky for you, because now you get to wear that gorgeous necklace he gave you. It was blue last year – can you imagine how horribly your dress and jewellery would have clashed?" She prattled on.
She looked up. "Dress code?" Hermione asked. No one had told her that there was going to be a dress code for this Ball. Moreover, looking at the dresses draped over Narcissa's arm, this was going to be a typical very, very fancy ball-gown-wearing Ball. A small shred of guilt was beginning to make itself known in the pit of her stomach for inviting the whole Weasley clan, who she now realised didn't have nearly enough money to purchase clothing that would hold a candle to everyone else's – including hers.
Narcissa paused and looked at her slightly confused. "Of course." She looked back to the rails and picked out another dress. "Did my son tell you anything about this Ball?"
"Some things," Hermione recalled. "Nothing about a dress code. You said yesterday at breakfast that he needed to get a new mask, so I know it's a masquerade. I know every pure-blood in Europe is invited. I know tomorrow night isn't just about the solstice – it's about Draco's premature introduction into society."
Narcissa sniffed. "Yes, well. We cannot be sure of your intentions as of yet, despite how taken you both are with each other. He has not told us anything that might change the circumstances. This is precautionary."
"I told him yesterday that I loved him," Hermione stated. "I promised my commitment."
Narcissa turned to face her, her face lighting up in relief and joy. Her hand was pressed against her mouth, hiding her smile. "You did?" She pressed, excited beyond belief.
Hermione nodded, a smile forcing its way onto her lips.
"Do you mean what you said? You will upkeep that promise, will you not, Miss Granger?"
She didn't particularly understand why they thought she didn't know what she was promising, or why they disbelieved that she had every intention of keeping it. "Yes. Of course I do."
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Thank Merlin," she whispered. "Thank you. Oh, thank you. Lucius will be pleased to hear it." She brought her hand away from her face, quivering.
Hermione wanted to go touch her, comfort her, but she wasn't sure whether she was supposed to that - was there a pure-blood rule on contact with someone you've only recently met? She didn't know if there was, but she did feel that they weren't close enough for that.
She composed herself quickly. "Well, we shall have to make a few changes to the plan, then. There is nothing that is impossible to amend. It is now both of your introductions into society. Oh yes," she said to herself, mentally planning the changes as she picked out more dresses. With a snap of her fingers, a different House Elf appeared, and Narcissa instructed it to find Draco and tell him to alter his speech so that he is introducing Hermione into society too. "Now. Yes. I know just the style of dress you want for this. You have to look dynamic." Narcissa was now at the last rail and was taking in Hermione's body quickly with her eyes multiple times before looking back at the dresses to see which ones would look best. She placed a few of the dresses back onto the rails, and took one or two more to replace them.
Hermione wasn't sure what she meant by looking "dynamic", but she had to put a shred of trust in Narcissa. She was sure that she knew what she was doing. Hermione smiled at her, and noticed that the Conspirator's Grin was back. It was on her face more than it was on her son's.
Now seemingly happy with her choices, Narcissa gestured for Hermione to go behind the screen. She handed Hermione the first dress, which was surprisingly heavy, and instructed her to come out and show her once she was done putting it on. She continued to talk as she walked over to the chairs. "Though this is a formal Ball - and there will be no appearances of inappropriate attire - it might interest you to know that Draco would much rather go for women dressed in decent – even overly decent – clothing than someone who – well, is not."
Hermione did find the comment interesting, but she also felt that it was pointless. No matter what she wore, he wouldn't find her any less attractive, would he? Of that, she was quite sure. Frowning slightly, she tugged the dress over her body and used her wand to lace up the corset at the back. Maybe she felt like she just needed to speak about something
She stepped out from behind the screen and stood awkwardly, waiting for Narcissa's inspection and comments. Hermione didn't like this particular dress very much; it flared out far too much at the hips - having a wider breadth than her shoulders - and there were far too many sequins and jewels sewn into the bodice and skirt for her tastes. She didn't know whether she looked nice in it or not since she couldn't see any mirrors in the vicinity, but she felt as if all its ruffles made her look a lot shorter than she was.
Narcissa smiled brightly and twirled her finger, indicating her to turn around. Hermione did so. By the time she had circled completely and was facing Narcissa once again, she was frowning, dissatisfied with the appearance of the dress.
"Try one without the ruffles, darling," she suggested.
As before, Hermione complied with her instruction. She rifled through the dresses she had been handed behind the screen, choosing to try a strapless gown with a low cut back that only flared out at the hips a little bit, the only ruffles evident being the one that seemed to tier the skirt. Again, she used her want to tie the bow that secured the back, and walked out from behind the screen.
Hermione liked this one better than the last; it was one of the more simply designed gowns that had been chosen for her. She didn't feel as though she had been swamped in its size, and it was far easier to shuffle around in. It was a lighter, softer fabric (she suspected silk), and to her delight, it seemed to simmer with movement.
This time, Narcissa spent longer looking at her. She tapped her manicured nail against her chin in deep thought. "Do you like this one, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded confidently, running the silky fabric through her fingers. It was rather spectacular.
"It shows; your approval of it actually makes the dress nicer." Her nose scrunched up delicately. "No, this one is too simple, too plain. This is not what we're looking for."
She wasn't sure what they were looking for. Every dress she had been given was different.
"We want one that will command attention from every pure-blood there. As a male peacock displays their plume to attract mates, Miss Granger, you must display yourself and attract the favour of all the families there," she enthused. "You and Draconis must have respect, power and authority for the future, which heirs begin to collect that at their debuts." She sniffed. "And no offense to you, but…presentation in your case is especially key; many will only consider you with disdain – but with presentation, you can intimidate and impress them."
And with a wave, she sent Hermione back to try one something with a bit more…'pizzazz'.
She had been made to try on the rest of the chosen gowns (another seven), before Narcissa decided that the fifth one she had tried suited her the best.
Hermione quite liked this one too; she hadn't seen herself, but she imagined that it gave her the look that Narcissa desperately wanted her to have. She looked powerful. And she felt it too.
The dress, a darker red than the previous dresses had been, was made of a coarser fabric than silk – although that didn't really matter. It was floor-length ball gown with off-shoulder straps; luckily, for Hermione, it lacked more than a single tier and was free of any ruffles. Still, as boring and plain as it sounded, it served well; it didn't distract from her with many jewels and ruffles, and it didn't make her seem any shorter than she was.
Besides, as Narcissa had told her, she would be equipped with elbow length gloves, the necklace Draco had given her, earrings and a small tiara to wear. She could easily be given trinkets to give her more of a sparkle, she said.
After her main dress had been sorted, Narcissa swiftly moved on to finding her something to wear for when she and Draco had their first dance. The dress that had been chosen for her to wear during the foxtrot with Draco was extremely different from the one that she was going to be wearing for the rest of the night. This one was apparently an example of a bridesmaid dress that Astoria was going to have her bridesmaids wear at her and Draco's wedding almost an entire year ago, when their arranged marriage seemed to be perfect.
Apparently, there were several styles of her example bridesmaid dresses around this room.
Hermione would rather not wear any of her bridesmaid dresses, but it had seemed the most perfect one to Narcissa. It was made of red silk, held up by bedazzled straps, the embellished jewels continuing down the bodice; it was shorter than her ball-gown, falling just below her knees and had a low cut back. Similarly to her main dress, it too was a single tier and the only ruffles that were present, were layered on the hem of the dress. It wasn't overtly fancy or 'dynamic', but she supposed it wasn't necessary.
She was happy.
Well, she was, until Narcissa had called her to follow as they exited the room and entered a drawing room, where tea was set out on a small table. She had been talking to her about seemingly pointless things, and about her life at school – and, now, they had somehow moved onto her son.
"You know, Hermione, I am somewhat glad it is you, as a matter of fact."
Somewhat, Hermione mentally scoffed. She liked Narcissa – she really did – but at times such as this, she wasn't entirely sure what his mother truly thought of her.
"Ms Parkinson was nice, of course. A bit of a gossip, which is quite a bad habit, do not you think? However, I suppose it did come in handy when talking with the guests that she knew what was going on in their lives. It made her quite the conversationalist." She paused as she delicately bit into a lemon slice. She dabbed around her lips with her napkin. Hermione tried to mimic her as to not make a fool of herself. "And then there was lovely, lovely Astoria. A real, natural beauty, that one. Oh, the babies would've been gorgeous! A brilliant match that would have been, if I might say so myself since I was the one to strike the deal with the Greengrass's. Lucius wanted Draco to marry someone else – a Miss Parker, I think. They met once or twice, if my memory serves correct, but they did not have the same sort of chemistry that Draco and Astoria had."
She finished her cake in another two bites, and then moved onto sipping her tea from a rose china teacup. "But you, Hermione - you are very pretty, and sensible, and I hear that you are also very intelligent. As lovely as they were, I do not think that either Astoria or Miss Parkinson – or even Miss Parker – could have ever hoped to earn the title of The Brightest Witch of Her Age." She folded her hands in front of her on the table and smiled sweetly. "Your children will be too intelligent for your own good – for everyone's own good."
Hermione's stomach was lurching uncomfortably. One minute they were discussing the qualities of Draco's previous dates and girlfriends and possible fiancées, which was sickening enough – it was as if she'd always be compared to what they were like; what lovely, lovely Astoria and Draco could've been like – and the next it was about her and Draco's possible children. However, it wasn't that she never wanted children – if they were to move into this dark Manor, then Hermione would've wanted as many as it needed to brighten up the whole building – but her and Draco weren't even Bonded, or married, and (thankfully) hadn't had sex yet – this was their first Christmas together for Merlin's sake!
Narcissa's head was tilted to the side slightly as she continued to speak, not noticing Hermione's inner panic. "Is curly, brown hair prominent in your family? Blond hair is very distinct within the Malfoy family, particularly Draco's colour. It might be wrong to say it now, but with his genes, it will probably make most of your children blond. Which is a shame, really, your colour is very nice; but maybe they will have curls. Other than that, I do not know what else they could look like. Your eyes, I suppose; there are only a few people within this family that have grey eyes. They will all be beautiful and handsome though, there is no doubting that – especially with the Veela genes. It is certain that your children will be part Veela – the genes have been in the family for generations, from the very beginning, perhaps."
Was curly, brown hair a dominant gene in her family? She didn't know. Oh, Merlin, she didn't know! Would they all be blond, grey-eyed and with high-set cheekbones? All of her hypothetical - her imaginative children - replicas of their father. Would any look like her? How many would they have? She remembered when Draco told her the meaning of the white orchid, but how many children was 'many children'? She imagined Draco to be the sort of boy – because that's all they really were, children themselves – to want his own Quidditch team. Yet, seven children was a tad extreme.
Oh, but what if one never found their Mate and died? What if one was born a squib? She wouldn't mind – of course, she wouldn't mind – but what about Draco and his family? She hadn't ever heard of a squib being born into the Malfoy family. Would he be embarrassed?
This was such a silly thing to be troubled over.
A hand enveloped her own. "Hermione, my dear. Are you perfectly well? You are looking a little pale." Narcissa pressed the back of her hand against Hermione's forehead and frowned. "You are not ill, are you? Oh that would be such a shame."
Hermione blinked herself back into reality. She couldn't let Narcissa know what she was thinking about. "I'm just a little tired, Mrs Malfoy. That's all."
Her frown didn't lighten up. "Josef wants to practice with you for a few more hours this afternoon – this time in your dress. Will you be alright to do it?" She looked around the drawing room slightly concerned. "We could take a few hours off, if you would like. I understand it is…difficult to be separated from him for so long, but eventually it will get easier."
"You mean when we're Bonded, don't you?" Hermione said tiredly. If Bonding seemed to be such a relief, then why didn't Draco try to push it earlier, Hermione thought – but she knew why. It was because she hadn't been ready. She was prolonging suffering.
Perhaps even his illness could've been cured or prevented by them Bonding.
Narcissa nodded. She pushed up from the table slowly and said, "You will have to have Dreamless Sleep tonight, but I will go and see if I am able to give you the same potion that is given to Draconis." She was halfway out the door. "Stay here; I will be back soon."
"So, you will be waiting here – yes – and at the end of Draconis' speech, he will introduce you and you will move down these stairs and stop at his side," Narcissa said, as she moved around the ballroom with a clipboard charmed to float behind her, and three House-Elves that endeavoured to carry out any corrections she had for how she wanted the room set up.
Hermione had yet to take a good, long look at how the ballroom was set up - but from what she had seen - it was breath-taking. There were three large chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, each equally distanced from one another, and made entirely of glass and crystals, with the middle tier holding lit candles. The white walls and ceiling were decorated with golden filigree, which created a heavenly glow in the room from the candlelight – and just really, in Hermione's own opinion, added to the exquisiteness of the room. All twenty-five tables were scattered around the edges of the hall, clothed with white and red, set with cutlery and wine glasses, and decorated with flowers arranged around a small ice sculpture; each table seating around ten people. There was a little door at the back of the room that led into their garden; she couldn't see far into the garden to see what it was like or how it was decorated, but she could see a faint glow of light from the outside. The orchestra – which Hermione hadn't yet quite realised were really going to be there, performing live – were positioned underneath the staircase and in front of the large Christmas tree, in the centre of the two flights of stairs that led down from her balcony.
They weren't currently in the ballroom as of yet, but their instruments had been placed where they were to be situated.
Hermione herself was at the top of a grand, marble staircase at the opposite end of the room – which, she had been told, was connected to other levels of the house – clothed in her dress, and poised behind in the entrance of a hallway. Narcissa had come back quickly, as she had promised Hermione, but without the potion she had thought that she might have been able to give her; apparently, Lucius had advised her that there would most likely be bad side-effects if she had been administered it, as it was used to dull the effects of Draco's Veela – not to reduce whatever it was she was feeling from being separated from him, especially since she wasn't a Veela. Hermione had reassured her that she was fine, and that she could go on for a few more hours until they were finished sometime in the early night. And so, here they were; after she had returned and they were both ready to move on to the next thing to do, she had ushered Hermione down to this ballroom for her dancing lesson with Josef, which they had done in the centre of the hall.
Narcissa wanted to check the ballroom's arrangements one final time before the ball began tomorrow night, but she also needed to talk Hermione through the night's itinerary so that it ran smoothly from beginning to end – which meant that she had to be shown where she was going to be hidden until she was introduced by Draco, as well as having to practice her walk down the stairs to make sure that she could walk elegantly in its skirts; she would be told who was sitting at what table and in what chair; when her and Draco's first dance was and where and when she needed to leave to change into her dance outfit; when the food would be served and when she and Lucius would make their own Christmas speech, as well as other things of importance.
There was so much Hermione wasn't sure the night was ever going to end. She wasn't entirely surprised that Draco hated the whole night every year, but as it was her first, she was excited and it seemed to be so important to Draco and his family that she wanted to do it correctly. This wasn't how she would expect to spend her Christmas Eve or Christmas night, but this is what they did every year and it was something new. She would just give him his present the day after – or tomorrow night, if she had the chance.
"Now, let us pretend Draco has done his speech," she said airily, waving her hand to dismiss the House-Elves. She turned to give Hermione her full attention. "Let us see how you walk."
Hermione stepped out from behind the wall, and suddenly became nervous as she saw the large expanse of the room that she was walking out to, despite it being empty. Shakily, her hand took the railings, and she stepped down onto the first step, and then the next, and the next.
"Head up, Miss Granger!" Narcissa called from the floor. "Yes, yes. That is it. Smile. Smile, Miss Granger, are you not happy to be here? Well done, you are keeping eye contact with the audience. The most important thing is that your eyes do not follow your steps."
Hermione plastered a fake smile for the purposes of this walk-through. She hoped that when she saw Draco tomorrow night that she'd be able to smile much easier.
When Hermione reached the end of the staircase, and finished walking to where Draco would be waiting for her, Narcissa handed her a pair of small red high heels – these, she told her, were what she would be wearing tomorrow with the dress. "You might find learning to walk like a lady easier wearing these – and it will be good practice anyhow."
Hermione put them on without complaint, and followed Narcissa's instructions of how to achieve elegance when walking down the staircase – or in general, everyday walking. She didn't think that the way she currently walked was particularly inelegant, but as she had decided earlier – she would learn to do it as Narcissa wanted, if it meant that this night went perfectly for Draco, as they wanted.
"Now, your overall posture is good, but it needs some improving; your body weight is balanced correctly and you stand straight – unlike many girls I have met in my time. What you need to do is to keep your shoulders relaxed – yes, there you go – have your lower abdomen flat, chest up and your chin level with the floor." She looked over to Hermione who was trying to pose herself according to what Narcissa was saying; Narcissa tapped her and indicated herself. "Like this, Miss Granger. Can you see how I am holding myself?" She positioned what she could on Hermione to help her along, and continued to patiently walk Hermione through how to move elegantly down the stairs in her shoes until she grasped it perfectly.
When Hermione was finished, Narcissa sent her back with a House-Elf back to Draco's room, who, she had been informed, had graciously given up his room for her use and insisted that she take it while he moved down wing, closer to where his father's office was.
His room had been tidied by the House-Elves, but, by the crumpled state of the sheets on his bed, it seemed that he had ordered for it to be untouched. Hermione smiled. She moved to his desk, where she had been sitting only several hours earlier with Narcissa, where a note was sitting underneath a flower and the promised bottle of Dreamless Sleep.
She knew they were all from him.
The flower that he had left was blue; it wasn't particularly pretty and exciting – not like a carnation or forget-me-nots – but it was familiar. Hermione opened the note.
Have I given this one to you before? I think I have. Do you remember? It's fresh from the grounds, as before, when I went home for a few days a few weeks ago.
Drink the potion and sleep well, love. I think of you. I'll see you tomorrow evening.
Smiling, Hermione put the note down with the salvia and picked up the Dreamless Sleep potion to read the intake suggestions. On the bottle, Draco had stuck another note over its information, she read this too:
"I took it upon myself to save the Elves time and brought the bottle to your room. Father said that you're supposed to have tablespoons of it for it to really work. Sleep well."
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