She completed her work with surprising efficiency. Surprising for her superior, not to her. It wasn't difficult for her to create potions, even the most inexperienced witch or wizard would have been able to replenish most of the storage supplies. It was the potions that needed more controlled substances that were considered difficult, and even then Hermione found them easy to brew, just time consuming. Most of her time, and thus most of her lag when it came to completing her daily lists, was used exploring tattered parchment and less than legible script from books her superior and his council had found worthless. A preposterous idea, there was no book that was completely worthless-unless that book delved in divination. Those older texts and stained papers often contained a great deal of magical theory that was worth exploration and explore she often did when she thought she could get away with it.
Today though, today she had no time to comb the dusty section of St. Mungo's library in search of creative inspiration. Her idle experimentation would need to wait since Luna was waiting to meet with her at Madam Malkin's. They had a very important affair to attend, after all, and Luna had expressed the need to purchase robes for the occasion.
Granted, if not for Luna, Hermione would have shown up in her St. Mungo's attire for all she cared.
"Excuse me, sir! Goodbye, sir!" Hermione yelled as she hastily walked past the superior's desk and toward the threshold of the labs.
"Ms. Granger!" He exclaimed, a bit baffled by her quick moving shuffle and rushed attitude, "Don't you have-"
Yet, he paused in his speech when his gaze settled on the nearby clock plastered on the wall.
"Oh."
"Sir?" Hermione questioned sure that her impatience was easily noted in the tension that thrummed through her limbs and the way she ground her teeth. For once in her career she was leaving on time, no mess, no issues for the next shift and he wanted to hold her up.
"You finished the list?"
"Yes."
"All of it?"
"That would be the definition of finishing something, yes."
He grew flustered, his normally pale face suddenly awfully red. "Ms. Granger, I am merely asking because normally…"
She gave an impatient huff, "I'm sorry, sir, but did you not tell me to be more punctual with my leaving?"
"Yes but-"
"It was my understanding that dallying was frowned upon. I am trying to do better sir, to provide my value to you, St. Mungo, and The Dark Lord."
That made him clamp his mouth shut and with a shaky hand, he reached for the wrinkled handkerchief situated in the pocket of his robes.
"Yes well, of course. We must all do better to provide our Lord with the best service we can." He mumbled, automatically and hushed as if he were afraid he'd summon Him with just the utterance of His title.
"Indeed," Hermione replied dryly. "Yet, I must be on my way, sir. I am to attend the Malfoy Autumn Revel-"
"The Autumn Revel?" He yelled, flabbergasted or perhaps unbelieving. His voice echoed loudly in the empty labs, enough to rattle the cleaned and properly placed vials that lined the space. He coughed as if embarrassed of his outburst but his eyes remained wide and bulged, giving him the resemblance of a choked up fish.
"You were invited to the Autumn Revel? To hear our Lord speak to His closest followers?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at his conspiratory whisper, "Yes, sir. You know of it?"
"Do I know of it?" He huffed right before he puffed out his chest and splayed a hand across it. "Of course, I know of it. Everyone knows of it! He graces the Malfoy Manor every Autumn! His appearance is a great honor and to be in His presence even more so. He reveals His upcoming political ideals and often asks those present about the impact. Think of it, our Lord asking for our opinion! Only the greatest and most esteemed wizarding families are invited to that event and even then there's a waiting list!"
Was he outraged at her lack of knowledge or at the fact that she got to go?
"I'm sorry, sir. This is my first time being invited. I was not aware that this event was so… special to the wizarding community."
"You should take care while you are there, girl. " Hermione barely repressed her sneer but covered her agitation well, "His Inner Circle and the Malfoy's themselves will be there! How you managed to procure an invitation I cannot fathom."
"Me neither, sir." She sighed.
Her superior narrowed his eyes and his mouth parted as if he had more to say but another glance at the clock was enough to halt his speech. With a shake of his head, he gave a wave of his hand-
"Alright Ms. Granger, run along with you. I do hope you represent us well, perhaps you could mention our department to our Lord? We could do great things with a bit more funding. Maybe clean up a bit, I don't want Him to think the bulk of us are…"
He sniffed a bit indignantly.
"Scruffy."
Hermione held in her retort and instead replied in a tight voice- "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."
Then he was done with her, perhaps fully expecting her to run off and attend to her appearance so that the precious Dark Lord didn't think St. Mungo's potions department was occupied by… the scruffy. She had half a mind to remain standing there, to waste time, anything to irritate the man who sat at his desk and pointedly ignored her as he scribbled on his parchment and mumbled under his breath about impossibilities. She might have if the thought of Luna waiting didn't get her hustling again.
There was no time for the Floo, and if there was she was simply too impatient to consider the possibility. One moment she was jogging down the halls and the next she was before Madam Malkin's, gagging as she shook off the abrupt sensation of apparition. She didn't do this often enough, perhaps she should have practiced more after the war.
"Aaah." Luna's humming voice came to her from beside the building and Hermione couldn't repress her smile even as her heart thundered with dread. "Shall we?"
"Let's get this over with."
Hermione would not have considered herself a very wealthy witch. She made a living and functioned well enough with what she earned by living in the flat she'd chosen and forgoing lavish things. Her account was sizable, humbly sizable, due to a combination of savings and her deposited salary. To spend exuberant amounts of currency on the unnecessary had always been painful to her. The fact that she was now, currently, spending an exuberant amount of money on a dress-robe she'd probably only wear to this one major occasion was especially painful.
"If you are attending the Malfoy revel, my dear, you must dress the part." Malkin fussed, and for a split moment, Hermione wanted to do something untoward toward the woman, especially when she yanked on her hips in an especially uncomfortable way. "Don't slouch, dear."
Luna's cheerful chattering didn't help, nor did the giggles that spilled from her lips at Hermione's expense.
"When is it your turn, exactly?" She asked Luna during a very small and desperately needed break from fitting.
"I already had something picked out. It saves time. I knew you'd take a while."
Hermione was not particularly fond of the sly grin that graced Luna's face at that admission but there was very little she could do about it, especially when Malkin returned with floating pins and needles.
"Oh… oh, Merlin save me."
Despite her fussing, Malkin was a professional and she finished sizing her rather quickly, despite how long Hermione convinced herself it took. She then offered an assortment of choices at a time that was not only efficient but needed if they were to make the revel on time.
"It's fine, Hermione." Luna said wistfully, "It's only four. Barely, four really."
"How is it barely four? It's either four or it isn't." Hermione growled, turning this way and that in the floating mirrors, oddly alright with being exposed before Luna in just a bra and her knickers.
"It's a little bit of four."
"A little bit of wha-"
"Ms. Granger, I have a few more choices for you."
Malkin's voice was a welcome relief compared to Luna's very good attempt at confusing her and she gladly stepped off the raised platform where she'd stood to approach the rack of well-crafted robes of various expensive fabrics.
"The red robe, I think. With the gold trim. You'll wear a nice dress under it." Luna offered helpfully, to which Malkin gave a slow nod of agreement.
Exhausted from the overall ordeal of dressing nice for a Malfoy occasion Hermione didn't hesitate to gently feel along the seams of the offered robe. Its long sleeves would do well enough against the crisp chill that would rapidly become more prominent as dusk bled to evening and the center could easily be opened and closed. It was fancy, a perfect representation of Gryffindor prestige and despite Hermione's overall dislike of spending money, she couldn't deny that the purchase might just be… worth it.
"Alright. Let's do it." She submitted to their choice and with a wide grin Luna soon dragged her away from the mirrors toward the next assortment of things she'd have to squeeze in and out of.
Ultimately, the dress search was a great deal quicker. Luna had an idea of what she'd wear beneath her dress-robes and bore no room for argument when she picked out a chiffon colored dress, where the front crossed over to accentuate her neck and shoulders. It was backless and sleeveless-the latter of the combination causing her a slight moment of distress-but Luna assured her she'd look lovely in her own dreamy way so Hermione had no choice but to purchase it.
Afterward, she looked for a matching scarf of some sort, made from the same thin breezy magical material of the dress that she could maybe wrap around her arm to hide the scarred over flesh that screamed 'Mudblood'. Perhaps Malkin had read her mind, or had seen her affliction, but she'd been able to leave with all her packages and a decorative cloth to wrap around her arm.
So far so good.
Luna, on the other hand, was buzzing with an indescribable energy. Hermione could practically see it oozing from her in every little action. In her dreamy smile, in her distracted words... she could barely believe that she was so excited to return to a place where she'd once been held captive. To see a collective that had tried to slaughter them. Or, perhaps Luna firmly believed that things had changed. She wouldn't have been the first to claim the world was better despite their failure.
He was good at that, at charming pure-bloods, wasn't He? Charismatic, intelligent, and powerful. What other traits did you need to create the perfect dictator?
Only an army of obsessively obedient wand swinging soldiers, she supposed.
"Shall we prepare?" Luna asked, though the comment facetious in nature as if their entire situation should be attended to with a semblance of joviality instead of dread.
"I suppose."
Yet, when Luna said prepare what she'd really meant was apparate back to Hermione's flat and twirl about until she grew frustrated from her antics. Luna's definition of readiness seemed the exact opposite and more than once she'd had to delay her hair-straightening charm perfection to shove Luna out of her space. Where she'd once craved the touch of a companion now she heavily considered banishing Luna from her home. Surely, there was a spell for that.
"Are you done yet?" Hermione hissed, if only because Luna had once again wandered over to her vanity space to tug absentmindedly upon her somewhat straightened locks.
"Hm?" She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, some meaningless noise to cover the sound of Hermione's low growl, "There were some pixies-"
"No." Hermione interrupted as she waved a hand flippantly in her direction. " I don't want to hear it."
With a soft hum, Luna twisted on her heels and wandered away leaving Hermione blessedly alone to finish enchanting an auburn colored clutch to safely carry multiple items, including her wand. One could never be too careful and certainly, it wouldn't hurt to sneak in a potion or two, but it was all busy work. She'd finished dressing a half an hour ago and while Luna had taken to toying about there was no denying that her companion had been finished for some time. Maybe they were both waiting on the other to admit they were ready, maybe Luna was as nervous as she was.
Not that she had a reason to be, she looked rather magnificent in her purple toned dress-robes which had been expertly parted to reveal a tight-fitting lighter violet colored shift. Hermione might have thought it tunic looking if not for how well it clung to her person and the pretty different colored flowers that lined the bottom. With bound up hair and her small glasses balanced on the top of her head-did she not need those to see?-she looked appropriate enough to attend the revel, even with the added unusual touches and flower-crafted collar that accentuated her throat.
She, on the other hand, had done the absolute bare minimum. She didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, that she was attempting to show off to the purity brigade that roamed the manor. She'd left her hair down-at least it was straight-and semi-slung over shoulder while her only accessory, not including the clutch, was the carefully and inconspicuously wrapped scarf around her carved into flesh. She didn't want to appear 'scruffy' and dazzling wasn't even a word she'd of used to describe herself either. She was just normal , perhaps. Or, maybe adequately dressed to attend. At least, that was the idea. She was hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible so that she could go unnoticed and unbothered.
Of course, that would be an impossible task to accomplish if Luna clung to her all night.
"Are… you ready?" Hermione asked, somewhat exasperated by the sudden grip Luna held upon her arm. She held her firmly but not uncomfortably, as if she meant to escort her to a ball and not a night of possible emotional slaughter.
Luna didn't answer, she only smiled and tugged her away from the charmed mirror she'd been idling in front of. That was her only warning before she felt the familiar and entirely unwanted sensation of twisting guts, pressure, and tearing skin. Instinctively she kept her grip upon Luna and focused only on her presence-or what she thought was her presence-but when they left the instant and sudden apparition Hermione couldn't prevent her stumble as her body rearranged itself and demanded less balance and more… well, just more everything. More stability, more warning , more whatever it was that made a body naturally reform after using such an atrocious method of travel without prior notification.
She might have yelled at her company had she not been busy holding in the contents of the rushed dinner they'd shoved into their bodies before purchasing their attire.
That and she refused to show any sort of weakness before the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor.
"Could you, maybe, give some warning next time? I appreciate the side-along but really, Luna, you just about made me toss out here." Hermione sneered, unwilling to hide her expression of irritation, an expression that Luna either ignored or didn't process.
"We're not late," Was her response, that and her casual smile. Hermione swore she saw a glimmer of amusement there but that seemed unlikely, Luna wasn't the sort of find humor in another person's discomfort, surely. "Come come, let's move to the gate. It's a bit chilly here and I don't want the pixies to follow us."
"What pixies?" She hissed.
"The dark ones, pale like the moon and all. They seemed hungry and they're waiting for you to feed them. It's odd, though. You don't have anything to give yet." The words were tossed over Luna's shoulder as the woman stepped forward, all grace and ease, across the beautifully set cobblestone path that led toward the iron wrought gates.
Refusing to hold a discussion about 'pixies', 'feeding', and what not with Luna's back Hermione decided to cut her losses and save herself a headache by shuffling quietly behind her. The path seemed unnecessarily long and heavily decorated with towering statues of mythical creatures set to line their journey. Had this been any other place she would have thought the overall gothic-touched constructs something to marvel at. Instead, she found them imposing, creepy, and uncomfortable… Surely the eyes hadn't just moved on that griffin and those posing cupids didn't have their arrows aimed at her chest.
Though if there was one thing the winding pathway afforded her it was time, time to think, time to swallow her anxious energy, and time to admit she was envious of Luna's careless stride. It was difficult to emulate, impossible even. While Luna seemed the definition of relaxation and poise Hermione felt stiff and overly aware. She knew the loud clip-clop of her heels broke the otherwise odd serenity that prevailed in the space but she felt somewhat glad for the normalcy generated by the noise. Had she been less mature she might have stomped down the path like a petulant child in hopes that her loud unneeded sounds drove other patrons away or at least ruined the atmosphere this place was so desperately trying to create.
She didn't, of course, because she would have looked silly, but she certainly thought about it.
"Hermione," Luna spoke, her tone a peculiar emulation of fervor. That softly hissed whisper of her name was more than enough to pull her attention from a sensually posed mermaid fountain. "Come, quickly."
With a slight shake of head, Hermione quickened her pace. It didn't take much effort to pull up to Luna's side, despite her effective yet still graceful stride, but that didn't mean she was trying to approach the imposing iron-wrought gate before the manor any faster than she had to. "What is it?"
With a slow lick of her lips Luna lifted a delicate hand, the pale fingertips barely visible beyond the exaggerated length of her dress-robe's sleeve as she pointed toward a nearby shape. "Company."
In robes of black and lapel lined green stood a tall figure. As they drew closer that figure morphed into something more recognizable, something masculine and incredibly confident. In a manner that seemed both lazy and natural, he leaned against the open gates, one ankle crossed over the other and lips pulled into a smile so strained and tired that the expression gave the entirety of his face a mask-like appearance. It was a familiar look, the air of a person who didn't wish to perform some asinine duty and as they drew closer it only became more apparent in the idle impatient tap of his heel against the cobblestone and the crinkled corners of hard gray eyes.
Yet, it wasn't his body language that made Hermione slow her walk, though that was a portion of the reason. It was the gate-keeper overall, with his slicked back hair of white blond and ring sporting fingertips that pulled idly at the finery that was his black tux worn so proudly beneath his robes. He held a face that wasn't easy to forget and a demeanor to match it, but if she hadn't been able to recall her memories so fiercely she certainly would have known him simply from the green initialed tie worn around his neck.
It read, rather plainly, D. M.
"Good evening," Draco purred, his honey-coated voice meant to cover up the automaticity of his rehearsed phrase. Other circles might have found the cantor of his tone rather charming and certainly befitting of a young man of his caliber and prestige. Hermione only found the falseness of it painfully dreadful. "Welcome to the Malfoy Autumn Revel."
Perhaps he wasn't paying her to much attention, perhaps he found her beneath his immediate notice and memory. After all, his gaze was mostly focused on Luna, who bobbed her head to some beat nobody else could hear. Yet, despite his lack of immediate recognition of her, it was difficult to forget him. The last time she'd seen him his eyes had been filled with terror laced passion, his alabaster skin so pale the blue of various veins had been visible. Now he seemed brighter, alive with rejuvenated confidence or perhaps a sense of superiority from the victory He had ripped from The Boy. He wasn't dampened at all by baffling displacement and that shined clearly through the boredom created haze coating his stare.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I see your recent infestation has passed. It must have been difficult to get rid of them, they cause so much noise when they're plucked." Luna replied.
"Yes, of course. Wait my… what now?" As if waking from a dream the glaze that made his eyes seem shiny and distant began to twist into a sharp edge. Suddenly he was standing straighter with chest puffed out and his hands upon his hips, "What nonsense are you spouting?"
"You know, the infestation-"
"-We had an infestation?"
"A nasty one."
Hermione parted her lips in slight exasperation. The entire conversation was becoming ridiculous as Luna tried to casually explain about some sort of something that had been going on in a place she didn't wish to actually be aware of. It was the perfect time to step from around Luna and perhaps sneak pass them both, though doing so would make herself more visible to the man who seemed entirely too focused on arguing mythical semantics with her companion.
"Look, I'm sure Mother would just love to hear all about this invisible infestation-"
"Oh, Mandrakes are very visible, Draco. It was your gardening elf that alerted me to them."
"And you came out here and-"
"Well, I didn't come out here, not the first time."
"You've been here other times?"
Had Luna been to the manor after the war? Willingly? She'd stepped foot onto this space as some sort of pest control for the benefit of these people?
"Of course, you've seen me."
"I thought you only came when Mother called-"
"I have a job, Draco."
"You aren't a herbologist!"
Enough.
"Excuse me? It's a bit drafty out here." Hermione spoke, interrupting what was sure to be a full-length conversation she didn't want to hear based on facts that were virtually useless for her. The only thing she really wanted to do was get away from the gate, away from the Malfoy attending it, and viciously drill Luna about whatever it was she was doing out here so casually. Granted, that was just her sense of curiosity, not any particularly driven loyalty to old notions of thought and kept enemies. There was no time to hold grudges or improper thoughts about the great families and their wartime actions. These heroes had far too much backing for their own proper good and the last thing Hermione needed to do was drive herself crazy with idle wonderings of 'why'.
It was much easier to remain invisible, after all.
"Is that you, Granger?" Draco exclaimed, nearly so loud she thought the entire estate could hear it.
"Yes," Hermione hissed, " Ms. Granger would have been a more polite form of greeting."
Here Draco laughed, some soft unusual sound that Hermione wouldn't have thought possible from a man that had been so vicious in his youth. He seemed somewhat amused at her as his face became more animated and his eyes glistened with mirth. It was unsettling, his… happiness. Was it at seeing her or knowing what she'd become? That she'd found it so easy to conform to the current reign and its leadership? He couldn't possibly know much, her strives for 'greatness' were softly whispered at best and kept to St. Mungo's at the most.
"I apologize, Ms. Granger . I just didn't expect you to come here. " Now his face twisted into something more familiar, that arrogant sneer belonging to youthful inexperienced kings.
"I didn't expect to be here either." She answered casually, voice carefully devoid of the emotions that tumbled through her belly and made her palms itch, "Though there wasn't much choice. The delivery of the invitation and the wording left a lot to be desired. Unusually inadequate and disappointingly inexplicable really, for someone like a Malfoy."
Draco flared his nostrils as if insulted by the dig. Hermione took great pleasure in that.
"Ms. Granger you did have a choice," He said, albeit slowly, as if she were just some child who couldn't yet comprehend the subject she was discussing.
"Oh did I?" Hermione tossed Luna a look, one she no doubt laced with a budding venom and one Luna casually ignored as she smiled dreamily and looked toward the surrounding gardens. "Elaborate, Draco."
"You had two choices, I guess." His eyes narrowed in a mimic of delight but something flickered there, some quickly smothered thought, perhaps. Something frightened and weary. No, it couldn't be.
"Well?"
Draco stretched out his arms and spread his hands, palms exposed to the half-moon above them. "Two choices, Granger. Come or don't. It didn't really say mandatory on the invitation. I know, I wrote them. It didn't say 'come if you want' either. I was careful, clever even-"
Draco paused then to give Hermione another display of perfect white teeth. "And you? You were afraid."
She said nothing to that.
"Or, maybe cautious." Draco backtracked with a frown. Maybe he'd seen something in her she hadn't meant to let slip. Maybe he'd seen the bitter boiling leashed fury that rolled through her chest that she'd meant to keep from reflecting in the cold calculated stare she tossed him. The idea that Draco had purposely worded the invitation in a way too vague to clearly interpret was infuriating. She was not a toy for the pure-blood elite nor an experiment under glass to be poked and prodded for a guessed reaction.
It didn't matter, he continued his elaboration either way.
"What I mean to say is you could have stayed away and threatened your survival if this was, in fact, a mandatory gathering of the elite. Or you could come, as you were told to."
He placed both palms before himself though mostly in her direction, his smile back in place, his amusement rather clear. "Tell me, Granger. Which is a heavier weight to bear? The thick collar of obedience when you came to terms with your place and answered our summons or that small sense of pride you managed to keep after your precious friends disappeared?"
Her nostrils flared and her vision narrowed as a sudden onslaught of indescribable sensation swept through her veins. The nervous but steady thrum of her heart became a wild beat, one that inspired her blood to howl wildly through her limbs as the compulsion to grip her clutch-hidden wand raged within her. With pressed thin lips she took a step forward and blessedly self-preservation, or perhaps polite conditioning, kept her from aggressive action. No matter how much her fingers twitched or how she burned to feel the familiar flow of magic answer her call she would remain the perfect example of absolute control. Or rather, she hoped.
"Mr. Malfoy," Luna whispered, but her gaze was not upon the boyishly grinning Draco, whose own stare remained leveled on Hermione's twitching face. "The revel? I don't wish to be late."
Yet, Draco didn't appear to be listening, and Hermione cared little about upholding Luna's sense of punctuality. Instead, she gave a slow lick of her lower lip, an action that made Draco's expression falter ever so slightly. Disappointment flickered behind the shining gray of his eyes and she latched onto it with flared nostrils and lips that twitched into a half-formed smile. She wasn't sure what he saw in the look she held and wasn't sure she cared. She let the wickedness of her sudden thought bleed through her gaze with enough intensity that even Luna stopped admiring the landscape to pay her mind.
"Draco," Hermione started and without warning, she reached out to grasp his hands with her own. His resulting jerk at the suddenness of her motion was satisfying but not enough . Something in her was hungry, something that wanted more beyond feeling the cold chill of his grip and seeing the bob of his throat as he swallowed, unnerved by the softened quality of her tone and the fire that swam to the surface of her gaze.
"I understand what you're trying to convey. Completely. Utterly. Oh, yes I certainly do." Her smile widened, revealing perfect teeth of pearly white but he didn't return it. If anything, the harsh downturn of his frown seemed all he was capable of. "Yet, I'm not the only one with choices. "
She inhaled deeply but it did nothing to cool the heat that prickled across her skin, fanned by Draco's absolute arrogance and her sudden all-consuming desire to devour him. Such an odd need this was, so abrupt and unrecognizable that she could barely comprehend the raw excitement of it. It rode her with a strength she hadn't anticipated, released from the cage of detached existence she'd been forced to dwell in for the last six years. It wasn't enough but it was something.
"I'll wear this collar, proudly if I must. That's what it means to survive, isn't it? To thrive in this sort of place? But I must admit, I think yours is a bit tighter."
Without warning she released one of his hands to reclaim her own, only to smack it harshly upon the arm of the one that remained in her possession. He winced but his gaze didn't leave her own. Unfortunately for him his glare, only able to reflect a shadow of his earlier bravado, now filled with a budding discomfort. Good. Very good.
"Is it still there? His mark? Oh, it must be. Don't think that just because it's not around your neck, our necks, that nobody can see it. If He wants to He'll call you, won't He? If He asked, you'd bark."
His sneer was vicious but not nearly enough to frighten her. She answered it with soft laughter instead and found his irritation only fuel for the fire that swept through her. She was alive out there in that breezy autumn evening, even if the circumstances were undesirable.
"And then," She leaned closer, tugging him toward her when he tried to prevent an invasion of his personal space, "You'll have a choice, but we all know what you'll choose, don't we? You aren't any different, when it comes to Him, none of you are. At least my leash is loose."
With a warning squeeze to the arm she'd captured she let him go entirely. "Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to be reacquainted with you after the unfortunate happenings that took place during the war. However, I must once again remind you that it's a bit chilly out this evening and my companion and I cannot afford to dally."
With a gentle titter, Luna gave a nod of her head, surprised but seemingly pleased by Hermione's actions. "Ah, she's right. I don't want the pixies to find us out here."
Hermione gave a soft snort, "Not this again."
"Hm, you should take this a bit seriously. They really are drawn to you for some reason-"
"Ladies," Draco growled, with a strained smile and distant gaze. He was staring at something beyond their shoulders, perhaps another recently arrived gaggle of wizards. "I'll escort you to the revel, I must insist, especially after my earlier rudeness… Ms. Granger."
Hermione quirked a brow as Draco extended an arm for her first before doing the same toward Luna.
"Oh?" She sighed.
"Please." He ground out, his face scrunched up like spitting out the word had caused him undue pain.
"What a gentleman," Luna said with wistful air and little hesitation. It wasn't long before Hermione was the only figure not ready to cross past the gate, as Luna took Draco's arm and then leaned against him with a disturbing amount of familiarity.
With a sound of displeasure she did nothing to hide she took the offered arm and grasped it lightly with the very edge of her fingertips. "Go ahead then, Mr. Malfoy."
With a stiff posture, he moved them away from the gates and toward the massive mansion in the distance. "Mother will want to see you tonight."
She didn't remove her gaze from the looming structure, "Why is that?"
"You'll see, I suppose. I'm sure it can't be anything but good news." He hummed being rather cordial despite their earlier altercation and the tension that just about shook his offered arm. It was an act that was probably about as unnerving as her brief uncanny behavior, now that the high of her anger was fading, leaving but a dull pulse of sensation to tingle through her limbs.
At the looming entrance, he let them go.
"Inside you'll find an attendant to take your robes." He bowed briefly, but it was stiff and practiced, "Ladies…"
Then he turned to leave and no doubt reassume his lowly greeting duties as heir to the house.
"Well then," Luna said, breaking the heavy silence that overcame the space now that they stood before the slightly opened doorway. Hermione could hear the distant sounds of laughter and clinking glass. It did little to settle her nerves but one thing was certain…
Draco was right, she'd had a choice and she'd picked to obey. The only thing she could do was adjust and decorate her metaphorical collar.
"Let's go."