Far From Over

by RosePond

Hermione Granger and her friends are returning for their seventh year (properly) at school, but not all old prejudices have been put to ground with the death of Voldemort. A certain Slytherin fights his changing feelings for a girl who would surely never look at him the same way. It's a battle on all sides, and Draco Malfoy is determined to come out victorious.

42. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two

The night of the Masque started early. Though exams were over and supper was served as usual in the Great Hall at five o'clock, most of the senior class did not attend. There would be food at the party of course, but the main reason for their absence was the time it would take to do their hair, put on costumed headpieces, apply makeup, and of course attire themselves in exquisite clothes. Or perhaps that was just Lavender.

"I'm starving!" Ginny complained as Lavender dragged her past the entrance to the great hall and up the grand staircase. "Just let us nip in for a bite, Lav; we won't take long…"

"Not on your life, Ginny Weasley," Lavender huffed, one hand around Ginny's wrist and the other around the strap of Hermione's book bag. "You two said I could do your makeup for tonight and three hours is pushing things as it is. I can't believe McGonagall kept us all right until the very last minute; doesn't she now what's happening tonight?"

Ginny exchanged a rueful look over her shoulder with Hermione as the pair of them did their best to keep pace with Lavender's insistent gait. "I'm sure all Professor McGonagall is concerned with tonight is the fact that she was able to turn Seamus back into a Real Boy and won't be subjected to a howler from his mother on Christmas Day."

Hermione suppressed a laugh. "She did warn us that human transfiguration was one of the most difficult branches of magic we'd be studying this year. Seamus ought to have known better than to have attempted to turn himself into a reindeer."

"Yes, well, at least then he wouldn't have had to worry about a date for the ball tonight," Lavender retorted without remorse.

Hermione and Ginny were saved responding to this by the sudden crush of students who appeared as they reached the landing, the majority of which seemed not to be heading down to dinner. Parvati was waving to her sister across the way, who, a moment later, was swept up with a group of girls from her own dorm, apparently all also intent on getting a head start on preparation for the party at the Malfoy's, and called out to Lavender that she and her date would meet Lavender and Carter by the front doors at six forty-five so they could all apparate to the Malfoy's front gate together. In no time at all the girls were through the common room and back in their dorm, gowns laid out across their beds, with masks and jewelry next to them, and Lavender was in her element, fluttering about the pair of them, welding an eyeshadow brush as expertly as she did a wand.

#

Lavender was first out the door and down the spiralling stone staircase to the common room at six thirty, her promised swan mask made of white silk, the outer edge trimmed all around in seed pearls, and its peak sporting enough snow-coloured plumage that it seemed nearly impossible the girl would be able to hold her head straight as she walked. Her white gown was strapless and pristine, accented by equally crisp elbow-length gloves. She smiled at those already gathered in the main room, proffering a regal wave with one hand, and obviously relishing the attention of all the eyes on her. Ginny followed, and Hermione hovered a moment on the last step, looking out over the rest of the room, taking in the bright gowns and formal wear, and the range of decorative masks the older students had donned for the night.

Harry stood next to Ginny, tugging a little uncomfortably at the edge of the white owl mask he wore. Ginny had been the one to see it in Madam Malkin's and immediately insisted on Harry getting it to honour Hedwig. The eyeholes, on either end of a small gold beak that just barely covered Harry's nose, were round, and with a small flick of Ginny's wand, modified just big enough to allow for Harry's glasses. All around the upper portion of his face white metal feathers edged in gold spread out, giving the impression of a wings readying for flight on either side of his head. The mask stood out against Harry's black hair and equally black vest and trousers, the plainness of which was made up for in the quality of the fabric and tailoring. Ginny had convinced him to buy a new outfit, despite his grumbling that he didn't need one, by pulling out his clothes from the Yule Ball and showing Harry just how much he'd grown out of them. In the end Harry had consented, and Hermione had to admit that the new clothes suited him well.

Ginny herself wore a cat-shaped cream and gold half-mask that covered the upper portion of her face. Her small nose and mischievous smile stood out below the delicately painted on whiskers, and her bright brown eyes glinted sharply like the feline she now embodied. She'd curled her long copper hair at the ends, and woven a latticework of thin braids over top that glinted in the light from the candelabras. Her dress was gold with thin straps, leaving her creamy skin bare from her arms down to the low scoop at the gown's back. Harry could barely keep his eyes off her, and frowned slightly as Ginny swooped a cloak around her shoulders for the trip to the Malfoy's manor.

Hermione took a deep breath and finally entered the common room herself, her fingertips gently tracing the delicate rose gold metal filigree of her butterfly mask. It glimmered softly in the candlelight, making her deep brown eyes stand out against lightly rosy cheeks, and Hermione anxiously lifted her fingers to the pink satin ribbon tied over her curls, testing the bow and the knot beneath it to make sure her mask wouldn't slip. Lavender had spent what felt like hours lining Hermione's eyes with kohl and doing her eyeshadow in shades of pink and silver, on completion her eyes felt more luminous and glittering than Hermione had ever seen them. Her dress was a shimmering silver and rose ombre colour, like someone had thrown stardust over a sunset. She anxiously smoothed a hand across the cinched, corset-style top, then held up her full skirts so she could move across the common room on the strappy silver sandals Ginny had lent her for the night. It wasn't that she was averse to dressing up, it was just that such frivolous clothing wasn't a common part of Hermione's life, and as such she felt slightly awkward as she crossed the room. Both Harry and Ron stared at her, and someone behind her let out a wolf whistle, causing several people to laugh and Hermione to blush, reaching for her cloak.

"No one will forget you're a girl in that get up," Ron murmured with a grin, nudging Hermione's side with his elbow.

Hermione returned his look with a smile of her own, feeling warm and happy. "I'm pleased to see that your emotional range has grown to that of a tablespoon," she teased back, and Ron's grin widened, a faint reddening of his ears following her comment, both of them recalling the last time there had been a school dance with more fondness in the memory now that time had passed.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Ron returned, a sheepish look on his face, and she leaned in to his side impulsively, smiling up at him.

"Happy Christmas, Ron."

Violet arrived then, dressed in a gown to match her name and a silver filigree mask that evoked the image of a mouse with circular ears on either end and short metal whiskers poking out over the tip of her nose. She nodded coolly to Hermione, then brushed past her to adjust the brown silk ribbon at the back of Ron's fox mask. He'd chosen well enough, as the mask blended into his hair, the fine orange-red of the short fur hardly distinguishable from his own locks. Twin ears stood sharp on either end of his head, perked up as if listening to everything around him. Ron's blue eyes peered out from the eye-holes just above the white patches on the fox's face, and he smiled indulgently below the muzzle that now covered his long nose, allowing Violet to fuss over him until she was satisfied.

"Everyone ready?" Lavender called, taking charge of the room. "If we miss our apparition time McGonagall said we'd have to walk, and Merlin knows how long that would take!" She hustled the group out the door and they mixed with students from other houses as they made their way down to the entrance hall where several professors were manning apparition points that would remain active for only the next half hour under their supervision.

Hermione and Ginny held up their skirts as they came down the grand staircase, making their way toward where Professor Flitwick was gesturing a line a students to an X on the stone entryway floor. There were three other Xs in other corners of the space, each supervised by a professor. Harry and Ron beelined to Flitwick along with them, doing their best to avoid catching McGonagall's stern eye from her station. Though the Headmistress had a sprig of holly on her hat, that was about as far as her holiday jolliness went.

"I do hope no one will take advantage of being off of Hogwarts grounds to cause any sort of holiday ruckus," her marked Scottish brogue cut across the crowd as Harry and Ron attempted to sneak past her. Hermione watched as both boy's backs straightened before they turned in unison to look over their shoulders at the Headmistress.

Harry attempted a cheerful grin. "Wouldn't dream of it, professor," he called out. "And might I add what lovely hat you're wearing tonight? Really adds to the holiday vibe."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. "Be advised that points can still be deducted if misbehaviour is discovered after the break."

Harry and Ron seemed to shrink slightly at this dire warning, but Hermione saw the twinkle in the Headmistress' eyes. "I'll do my best to keep them in line, professor," she promised with a smile, and McGonagall's thin lips turned up a fraction.

"Do try and spare a little time for fun, Miss Granger," she replied dryly, "if corralling Potter and Weasley allows for it."

Hermione grinned, swallowing back a laugh at the faintly offended looks on Harry and Ron's faces. Just then, Ginny tugged her arm.

"Pay attention, Hermione!" she admonished. "You don't want to start the holidays splinched!"

Hermione turned to face her and realized that while she'd been talking to McGonagall the line to the apparition point had moved. Ginny was at the front of line now, waving frantically to Harry to get a move on. Hermione watched as her friends both pulled out their wands, clasped hands, and then twisted on the spot, disappearing into thin air with a loud crack. Ron and Violet went next, then Lavender and Carter. When it was her turn, Professor Flitwick reminded her that the return apparition points would be active from midnight to 12:45am, and after that they would have to find their own way back to school if they were returning for the holidays.

"Thank you, professor," she said quickly, "but I'm off to the Burrow for the break this year."

"Ah, yes, give my best to Molly and Arthur then," the diminutive professor squeaked cheerily, waving her toward the X. "Have a good time, Miss Granger."

Hermione lifted her wand. "Merry Christmas, professor!" she called out, her words flashing into and out of existence along with the the fading twirl of her gown as she twisted on the spot, disappearing from the school grounds with a loud crack, one more among the dozens echoing throughout the entrance hall.

xXx

"Bugger this infernal—" came a growl from across the room, and Draco turned to see Phil wrestling with the ties to his mask, twisting in a circle like a dog chasing its tail as he tried to see the back of his head while he fought to extricate his finger from the mess of ribbons he'd trapped it in. "Confound this bloody—" he continued, turning again—this time almost falling over. "Who's idea was this ridiculous costume fiasco anyway?"

Draco stood from his desk, grinning at Philip as he lifted his wand and flicked it in the other boy's direction, smirking as the purple ribbons of Phil's wolf mask floated into the air, releasing his tangled fingers and retying themselves into a neat and secure bow at the back of his head. The light, beaten-brass half-mask was a bit more fierce than Phil's normal persona invoked, but Draco hadn't been able to talk him out of it when they'd joined the masses of Hogwarts's students in Hogsmeade the previous weekend. Phil had taken to it instantly, and, despite his curses at the moment, was much calmed once the mask was properly secured to his face.

"Er, thanks mate," he muttered sheepishly, turning to face Draco, and Draco shook his head with a laugh.

"Merlin, Philip," Draco smirked, picking up his own mask from his desk. "If you get in a tizzy over just getting ready, how are you going to handle seeing Melville all dressed up?"

The lower half of Phil's face turned a bright pink below the shaggy metal fur of his mask. "I'll be just fine, Malfoy," he retorted, quickly turning away from Draco's amused expression and patting down his clothes with nervous fingers.

"I'm still impressed you managed to get up the nerve," came Miguel's teasing voice from his bunk. He was sporting a jester mask with a diamond harlequin pattern and three curling hat fronds with bells attached sprouting from the top. His wide grin was visible, very white teeth standing out against his tan skin.

Phil whirled to face Miguel, frowning. "You don't think she was teasing, do you?" he asked anxiously. "She said she'd meet me in the common room at six-fifteen."

Draco clapped a hand on Phil's shoulder. "Munoz is only yanking your chain," he assured him, sending a moderate glare Miguel's way. "He knows that any girl he asked to go would know he was a joke, that's why he decked himself out that way."

Phil's anxiety seemed to ease slightly at Draco's teasing, and he ignored Miguel's offended scoff from his bed as he straightened his clothes once more. "Right, yes, of course." He pulled a gold pocket watch on a chain from his pocket and glanced at it, then turned toward the door. "It's almost time."

Draco glanced at himself in the mirror once more and then nodded approvingly at what he saw there. "Let's go, boys," he called, striding toward the door with his cloak slung over one shoulder like a runway model. "The party can't start til we get there!"

The trio entered the wide, open common room in the Slytherin dungeon a few minutes before six-fifteen, and it was already buzzing with students. Draco saw several members of the Quidditch team in matching green and silver masks with embellishments like snitches and broomsticks engraved on them, and lifted a hand in greeting as he crossed the room. He saw Sylvia standing with her friend Ebony and his easy grin slipped a little. Ebony was still a little frosty toward him, but Draco had still made sure she had an invite to the party, knowing he couldn't exclude anyone from his house if he wanted to keep his mother happy. Philip slowed a little as they neared the girls, and Draco and Miguel each subtly took an elbow and helped steer him forward.

"You're looking ravishing tonight, Feildright," Miguel said charmingly, flashing a grin at Sylvia's friend who returned his greeting coolly. She wore a crimson gown that matched her scarlet lips, both standing out against her light brown skin, her dark hair twisted up in a bun on her head and a red silk half mask with an explosion of red feathers in its centre over her face.

"Firebirds can burn those that offend them," she returned icily, and Miguel's confident grin slipped a little.

"You're not still mad that I asked you second to the ball, are you?" he asked, then quickly backtracked when Ebony's eyes narrowed.

"If a woman isn't your first choice then why bother?" Ebony hissed, and Draco swore he saw flames flash in her eyes. How very apt. Again he privately congratulated himself on avoiding a relationship with Sylvia's friend—girls, they could be downright scary at times.

"Er, I see my date," Miguel said hastily, and took a step out of Ebony's range, managing to nudge Phil toward Sylvia as he went. "See you at the house, boys!" And then he vanished into the crowd.

Draco rolled his eyes. Miguel was a decent fellow, but he was a bit of a womanizer. Nodding a silent greeting to Ebony, Draco turned his attention to Sylvia. "Evening, Melville," he said calmly. "Glad you saw fit to give my mate here a chance." Philip gulped audibly in Draco's ear, and Draco elbowed him in the side. "Doesn't Melville look nice?" he prodded, and Phil swallowed hard before managing to choke out an agreement.

"V-very nice, quite pretty," he said, gaping quite obviously at the girl across from them. Sylvia was clad in a form-fitting silver gown, her shiny blonde hair piled on her head in golden curls, and a silver filigree mask around her eyes studded with tiny emeralds. She blushed at Phil's words.

"Thank you, Philip," she said quietly, far more subdued than Draco had ever seen her. He suspected that her more commonly-brazen personality had more to do with her not knowing quite how to act around boys that she was interested in, then it had to do with her being wanton, and now that a decent bloke like Phil had asked her out she had toned herself down some.

"Right, let's get on to the apparition points," Draco said, gesturing the couple—who were now busy staring into each other's eyes—toward the door to the hallway. "If people start arriving before I do my mother will have my head." He gave Phil's arm a tug and watched as the portly boy ignored him completely, lifting an elbow toward Sylvia and offering her his arm.

"Shall we?" Phil asked, slowly sounding more sure of himself, and then grinned hugely when Sylvia took his arm. Draco shook his head, grinning to himself. He was happy his friends were happy, but seeing the senior class pairing up all around him only made him that much more conscious of the fact that the girl he wanted on his own arm was in another part of the castle right then. He hoped she would remember that she'd promised him a dance. He certainly didn't intend to let her forget it.

xXx

A blast of cold air rushed over Hermione as she landed lightly on the cobblestones of the Malfoy's long front walk. She looked around as she stowed her wand, hugging her cloak about herself to ward off the December chill, and spotted Ginny and Harry waving her over among the milling students making their way toward the massive front doors.

"Well," Harry said, glancing between Hermione and the house. "Are you ready to do this?"

Hermione could see ghosts of the past in Harry's eyes as she looked from him to the manor, and felt them echo in her own heart. "It's just a house, Harry," she reminded him. "And it's Christmas. Let's go have a good time."

Harry's expression relaxed a little at her words, and he nodded. "Right," he agreed, nodding again. "Just a house."

"Let's get inside," Ginny said, nestling closer to Harry as they all started forward. "It's freezing out here!"

"For all their money," Hermione muttered, walking close to Harry's other side, "you'd think the Malfoy's would have central heating." Harry glanced her way and laughed, and she felt the tension of their return to the house that was the subject of so many of their nightmares fade a bit more.

"Wizards," Harry murmured back to her, "for all their magic, they're stuck in the dark ages."

Several house elves met the students at the door, taking their cloaks and then pointing them in the direction of a long, candlelit hallway that ended in a set of open doors. Hermione could see light beyond them, and hear strains of some orchestral music over the chattering of wide-eyed students all around them. They hadn't seen much of the huge manor the last time they'd been here, but she wasn't surprised to learn the Malfoy's had a traditional ballroom like the aristocracy of old, and found herself hurrying toward the brightly lit space at end of the hall, eager to see what it looked like inside.

A burst of sound hit her as she, Harry, and Ginny passed through the tall arched entrance, and for a moment they all stopped walking and stared. The ballroom was huge, like twice the size of the great hall at Hogwarts huge, and the whole west wall was lined with two-story, floor-to-ceiling windows that let in frosty streams of winter sunset. The gleaming marble floor reflected dozens of flickering candles set into gold candelabras all around the perimeter of the room, and beneath the oculus in the centre of the domed ceiling stood a massive Christmas tree that reached nearly to the roof, glittering with lights and ornaments that were probably several generations old.

"I'll say one thing for the Malfoy's," Ginny murmured, eyes wide as she took everything in. "They don't skimp on a party."

The ballroom was already full of students, many of them with glasses of punch from the long tables of drinks, delicate desserts, and hors d'oeuvres, manned by house elves in white toga-style tunics sporting intricate M's in their centres. On the far side of the room a small orchestra was assembled, and several couples had already paired up to dance. Hermione scanned the room, wondering where Draco was.

"Looking for someone in particular?" a sly voice asked in her ear, as if reading her mind, and Hermione flinched, blushing, then glared at Ginny who was grinning in a very apt 'cat who got the cream' manner, living up to her mask.

"I was only wondering were Malfoy was," Hermione admitted, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's his party after all."

"Uh huh," Ginny murmured teasingly, and joined her in taking in the crowd. "I see Philip and that blonde girl—"

"Sylvia," Hermione said quickly, and Ginny glanced at her.

"Right, Melville," Ginny restated, eyes on Sylvia's dress. "Are you sure Malfoy's not into her? That dress looks like it's painted on."

Hermione frowned slightly. "I think she came with Phil," she mused, the tension in her chest easing slightly as she watched the boy in question hand Sylvia a glass of punch with a bashful grin. "They look cute together, don't you think?"

"Adorable," Ginny agreed. "I never would have thought it, but I guess opposites attract or whatever."

Hermione lifted a hand to give the couple a small wave when they looked in her direction, and they started toward her.

"Good evening, Granger," Philip said a tad more robustly than was strictly necessary, and Hermione grinned at his pleased posture, having the gorgeous Sylvia on his arm. Perhaps his wolf mask ought to have been a peacock. "You look very nice." Sylvia's eyes narrowed slightly at this, as if jealous that Phil would dare to give a compliment to anyone but her.

Hermione ducked her head a little at his words and smiled shyly. "It's kind of you to say so, though who among us has a chance with your date in a dress like that?"

Sylvia preened, her expression relaxing at Hermione's response. "Thank you, Granger," she replied, turning slightly from side to side so that the silver threads in her dress gleamed in the candlelight. "It was handmade by Twilfitt & Tattings. My mother ordered it as soon as I received Draco's invitation. They wove in unicorn tail hair, that's what gives it the extra glitter."

Hermione tried not to stare. Sylvia's dress for this one night cost more than Hermione's entire wardrobe. "You look stunning," she managed.

"So do you," Sylvia returned, seeming to have warmed to Hermione now that her attention was off of Phil. "Draco won't know what hit him."

Hermione felt her face heat to the point that she was sure she must match her dress. "I—"

Sylvia's smile widened at Hermione's reaction, and she and Phil exchanged knowing looks. The orchestra started playing a new song and Sylvia glanced their way, then back to Phil. He quickly took the hint.

"Er, would you like to dance?" he asked Sylvia, and she nodded.

"Have a good time, Granger, Weasley." She nodded to them both, then took Phil's arm and sashayed toward the gathering dancers.

Hermione stood still for a moment watching them go, still feeling hot from Sylvia's comment about Draco, which reminded her that she still hadn't seen him. He must be busy though, it was his party after all. He was probably greeting guests or yelling at a house elf to bring more butterbeer.

"Uh, do you mind if we go dance, too, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked out of her thoughts and looked over to Ginny. Harry had returned—she hadn't even noticed him leave—with two glasses of punch, one which Ginny was drinking and one which he was holding out to her. She took it gratefully, hoping the cold drink would help her cool down.

"Oh, yes, of course," she said quickly, and smiled at her friends.

"I'll save you the next dance," Harry promised, as he and Ginny started toward the middle of the room.

"If you're still alone when we're done!" Ginny called over her shoulder, a mischievous look on her face as Harry slipped an arm around her waist and twirled her into the crowd.

Hermione lifted the crystal flute to her lips and sipped it. The punch was sweet but had a definite undertone of something else—possibly firewhiskey—and shivered slightly despite the heat of crowded ballroom. She had determined to watch her intake religiously tonight, but one glass would should be ok.

xXx

Draco grabbed a goblet off a passing tray carried by a house elf and swallowed the contents almost without tasting them. The liquid burned pleasantly down his throat and he gave his head a quick shake to clear it. He'd been promptly abandoned by Phil and Sylvia upon arrival, and hadn't yet seen Miguel again after he'd fled from Ebony's look of scorn in the common room, and soon after that he'd been pulled aside by a house elf to speak with his mother. He'd only gotten away a few moments ago, having had to endure fifteen agonizing minutes of interrogation over the guest list, and especially over his date—or apparently lack there of. His mother wanted to know where that "lovely Parkinson girl" was, and Draco had to remind her that he and Pansy were no longer together, and no, he was not now dating that "rather attractive Melville heiress" either. He hadn't yet told his mother of his full feelings toward Hermione, and wasn't yet sure how to go about it. Perhaps she'd see them dancing together and make her own assumptions. At least then Draco wouldn't have to be the one to bring it up.

Speaking of Hermione, he'd just seen her across the ballroom, standing alone now as Weasley and Potter went off to dance. She'd waved them away with a smile, now sipping from a crystal flute, and he smirked a little at the stifled grimace she made upon tasting the punch. She didn't relinquish her glass, however, seeming to feel more comfortable having something to do with her hands as she stood at the edge of the crowd and watched the dancers. He wasn't particularly concerned with her beverage choice though, at present Draco found himself struggling to maintain an unruffled expression over the way she looked. She wore a pink and silver gown that accentuated her lightly tanned skin and slim waist, and her thick, shiny hair had been tamed into gleaming curls atop her head. Her small, heart-shaped face peeked out from behind a delicate rose gold butterfly mask that looked as if at any moment it might take flight, and below the mask she nibbled on her lower lip—an anxious habit of hers that made Draco's heart skip. There was something about only having Hermione's mouth visible that sent thoughts zinging though Draco's head, and he had to fight them back in order for them not to burst out into inappropriate actions. Finishing his goblet he dropped it onto another passing tray and started toward her.

xXx

"Evening, Granger," came a smooth, deep voice behind her, and Hermione twisted around, the skirts of her dress belling out around her legs before settling back into place. Draco Malfoy stood behind her, dressed exquisitely and sporting a silver mask in a very similar shape to his patronous. The delicate make of Draco's mask offset the fierceness of the Ryu—or "Japanese Dragon". Curling golden horns topped the silver mask and blended into his fine blond hair, and spiky scales protruded around all the edges. Draco's silver-grey eyes shone through the slanted eye holes, and his tantalizing lips tilted up in his signature teasing smirk below the snout of beast he now embodied. "I hope you haven't forgotten you promised me a dance tonight?"

Hermione blinked and swallowed hard. Draco somehow seemed even more enticing than usual with his face half covered. Seeing only his teasing, yet confident, smile as he greeted her made her want step back from his presence. She had been thinking a lot about that particular part of him the past few weeks, and tonight it was if the Universe was tormenting her by making it the focus of his entire face.

"I haven't," she managed to say, her hands fiddling with her punch flute for an excuse to look away from Draco's bewitching eyes. They seemed to glitter with an extra sort of magic as he stared at her through his dragon mask.

"If you're amiable, may I escort you to the floor?" he asked, with all the formal civility of a Jane Austen novel. She felt herself relax when she saw the amused grin on his face.

"I would be honoured to oblige you, good sir," she returned in kind, dropping a slight curtsy, and was pleased at the low chuckle that slipped past Draco lips at her words. She liked to make him laugh. He ought to do it more often. He plucked her glass easily from nervous fingers and dropped it off on a passing tray as he tucked her hand into his elbow to walk her onto the dance floor.

The orchestra had been instructed to play a variety of music that night, from traditional waltzes to more modern numbers, but Draco seemed to prefer the older music. Perhaps it was his upbringing, Hermione mused, having grown up in this secluded manor full of Old World values and ways of life, but she found she didn't mind waltzing around the ballroom with him. Draco was an excellent dancer. He'd clearly had a lot more lessons than Hogwarts had offered the year of the Yule Ball, and it showed. He held her firmly, seeming to guide her effortlessly around the room, skillfully avoiding both incompetent dancers and also those who were flailing around the floor purposely trying to cause a scene.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said as they twirled in a corner near the giant Christmas tree. His words were so sincere, so without even a flicker of teasing, that Hermione felt her face flush beneath her mask. It felt like they were on a date without either of them having said the words. They'd found themselves in several similar situations over the past few months and the tension between them was nearing a pitch she wasn't certain would last much longer without exploding. She wanted—needed—to talk to Draco about everything, but for now she wanted to hold on to this moment where she was in his arms and the music and the lights and the laughter and chatter of their classmates surrounded them on all sides.

"Thank you," she whispered, trying to find some place to look other than into Draco's suddenly serious expression. However there wasn't really anywhere for her to go, with Draco's hand resting firmly against her back and his other hand clasping hers up near his shoulder. His build was so much taller than hers that she couldn't justify turning her face away without it seeming obvious that she was trying to avoid his eyes.

Draco smiled at her, but didn't say anything more for the moment, a mysterious look on his face as he turned the pair of them in a circle to avoid a pair of dancers who had moved too close without paying attention to their surroundings, and were on course to crash into them. She leaned into him and offered up a shy smile in return as he turned them into a free space among the dancers.

xXx

Draco tightened his grip on the slight frame of the girl in his arms, using the momentum of his turn away from the other couple as an excuse to pull Hermione closer against his chest. He could hardly believe that he was dancing with Hermione Granger in the Grand Ballroom his great-grandfather had commissioned 200 years prior. If two people were ever as unlikely to form an attachment as the pair of them then they were probably contained within the works of the Bard. He'd been delighted that Hermione had so easily yielded to his request to dance, and happier still that she hadn't begged off after a single turn around the room. They were on their third dance now and still she had shown no signs of wanting to return to her friends. He had done his best to keep up a steady stream of small talk, keeping his words neutral and away from any sort of intense conversation that might scare her off, but when the lights of the Christmas tree had sparkled off her dress and mask like stardust just then… well, he'd been unable to hold back the words. Hermione had blushed in that becoming way of hers, and he'd felt the back of his own neck heat a little. Usually when Draco complimented a girl it was only on the surface, words meant to gain an advantage over her, to maybe sneak in a quick snog or something more without expecting anything further in the dawn light, but not now. Not tonight, with this girl, in this house that had been the site of so many terrible things. Tonight Draco wanted create new memories.

"Awfully brazen of you two to be canoodling out in the open like this, Draco," came a low, suggestive voice from behind him, and Draco's head jerked up with a frown as he glared about to see who had disrupted his private moment with Hermione. Something about the voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck and he tensed his arms around Hermione as if prepared to pull her behind his body and out of the way.

A tall boy in dark dress robes stood a few feet away, his dark skin and darker hair blending into the creepy, hooked, plague doctor mask he sported. If the boy hadn't spoken Draco might not have recognized him right away, but Blaise Zabini's snide mixture of posh condescension gave him away and Draco had to suppress a growl of rage, let alone his intense urge to reach for his wand.

"What are you doing here, Zabini?" he demanded, pushing Hermione to the side and moving to step in front of her.

Blaise grinned, his teeth very white against his otherwise dark ensemble. "Time off for good behaviour?" he offered. Draco felt a growl rumble deep in this throat at this. Blaise chuckled in amusement, apparently pleased at getting a rise out of his former best mate. "My mother had a gift to drop by for Narcissa and suggested I tag along to say hello to my friends," he continued. "Hello, Granger. You look ravishing tonight."

Draco felt his heart rate jump into a dangerous zone. "Don't you dare speak to Granger," he bit out, words hard to force past the rage in his throat. Blaise grinned again, eyes back on Draco.

"Touchy, touchy, Draco," Blaise replied, still sounding amused. "I'm sure Granger can speak for herself."

"What the hell are you doing in my house, Zabini?" Draco demanded, ignoring Blaise's words in favour of answers. "The house elves have direct orders not to let any trash inside the manor." Blaise opened his mouth, eyes flickering over Draco's shoulder in the direction of the very person Draco was trying to distract him from, but Draco cut him off before he could speak. "Choose your next words very carefully, Zabini," he bit out, a threat clear in his tone.

Blaise closed his mouth, but only for a moment, before speaking again. It sounded as though he'd decided to change tack. "When your family has the appropriate amount of galleons and the appropriate generous heart, well, certain factors can be, shall we say, relaxed?"

Draco blinked at Zabini. His parents had bought off the Aurors? Had Blaise escaped jail time over Granger's assault and now his only punishment was to be kicked out of Hogwarts? Where was the justice? His stomach turned over as Draco thought back to his own upbringing. It wasn't really so long ago that his own parents might have done the same thing if he'd been in trouble. Well, not any more. His mother would be too concerned with the public's opinion of her now that they were trying to live above board, and his father, well, he thought Draco had gone soft. He'd probably think anything bad that happened to Draco was well deserved.

"That's disgusting," Draco growled.

Blaise grinned mockingly. "That's the golden rule, my friend. He that has the galleons, makes the rules."

"I'm not your friend," Draco spat back. "Not since—" He choked off the words, unable to voice the travesty that had involved Hermione when she stood right behind him. Plus, he didn't want to cause a scene. At Blaise's knowing smirk Draco's hand twitched toward his wand pocket. Maybe a small scene then….

xXx

Hermione had nearly tripped when Blaise's unexpected voice had cut into the moment she and Draco were sharing. She had thought perhaps she'd heard wrong, and maybe it was Anderson or Cartwright or one of the other Slytherins who were vying for Draco's semi-vacated place of Chief Trouble-Causer at Hogwarts. But she'd been wrong. Before she'd barely glimpsed the tall figure in dark dress robes and the creepy, curved beak, bird mask popular with medieval physicians, Draco had clasped her wrist and pulled her behind him.

Now Blaise was strutting about apparently free as the proverbial bird he wore on his face, bragging about having wriggled out of severe punishment! How was the world unfair like this? Surely the Aurors weren't so cheaply bought off? As she struggled for breath around her residual fear and anger for the boy only feet from her, Hermione thought she glimpsed a flash of electric blue around his left wrist, flashing in and out of view as Blaise moved his wrist and the long sleeve of his black robe covered the light once more.

"Temper, temper, Draco," she heard Blaise say in a chiding voice, and Hermione reached out a hand to touch Draco's tensed arm. He looked a hair's breadth away from pulling out his wand and duelling Blaise in the middle of the ballroom.

"Malfoy, please," she said quietly, "he's not worth it." Draco glanced down at her, though his body remained rigid with tension. As she moved to stand next to Draco's side, using his body as a source of strength from which to help her confront Blaise, Hermione found herself the sudden centre of attention.

"I'm not here to cause trouble, Draco," Blaise was saying, as if Draco were a small child who was overreacting to nothing. "I simply wanted to wish you both a Happy Christmas." He paused, his gaze moving over their heads to something Hermione couldn't see. She resisted turning to look, not wanted to give Blaise the satisfaction of having piqued her curiosity. "Though I see you already have a strategy in place." His lips parted in a wicked grin. "Same old Draco."

Draco's eyes were no longer on her, instead they'd risen to look at something over her head. Confused at the sudden break in conversation, Hermione glanced up as well—and stumbled backwards, away from the place she saw Draco's gaze had landed.

"Uh uh, no backing out, Granger," came Blaise's mocking voice from just over her shoulder as she backed into him, his hands snaking out and catching her hips to stop her from moving away—from Draco or himself she wasn't sure. "If Draco's not your taste, I'd be happy to step up," he murmured in her ear, and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, the memory of the last kiss Blaise had forced on her still haunting her even as she wrenched away from him, back toward the alcove and the clump of white berries hanging from a red velvet ribbon.

xXx

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