"Malfoy, I would be remiss to my duties as a host if I didn't cordially welcome you to Lavington Hall. England had been pleasantly peaceful without you. Are you already acquainted with Miss Hermione McGonagall?"
Neville addressed Draco stiffly, the fact that he specifically did not extend the customary greetings of welcome wasn't lost on Hermione, who was having a hard time controlling her emotions, caused by both Malfoy's unexpected rude intrusion and the preceding conversation she had been having with Neville.
Draco bowed respectfully, if only too deeply. "Miss McGonagall, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Draco Malfoy." His eyes pierced hers as he stood back up, his face smooth, betraying no surprise to be seeing her again in the most unexpected setting, nor to having met before.
"How do you do?" Hermione was pleased she managed her curtsy flawlessly, a feat considering she was still holding the book Neville had just handed to her before their interruption, she hoped her inner turmoil was only contained to the blush on her cheeks.
While Hermione quietly bemoaned at the choice of the interrupter by the fates, she couldn't deny that the disruption itself was most welcome. She had been invited by Neville to peruse some of his new Botanical books he had brought back from London, as he knew her to be well versed in the applications of plants to healing. Always the gentleman, Neville had left the door open so as not to compromise her, but she knew he had been on the cusp of a declaration that she was loath to have to refuse.
Her heart leapt in her chest, a wild staccato she was unable to control. Draco Malfoy. She could no longer ignore the name to the dreams. He looked even more handsome than she could recall, her memory long overused and dissected, her clinical mind having been so focused tending to his injury, it had selectively retained only the most striking parts of the man. She had remembered him in vignettes: his hair, his eyes, the skin of his wrist as she grasped it, the heat of his palm on her thigh. He had become a patchwork of sensations and recollections that no longer formed a whole.
But standing in front of them was the man in the flesh, elegantly dressed for the evening, his black coat tailored to suit his frame impeccably, his blond hair coiffed in the slightly dishevelled way of fashionable young men, his cravat expertly tied, his starched collar highlighting the sharpness of his jaw and his eyes, ever fixed on Hermione, dark snow clouds interspersed with flashes of lightning in the low light of the Library.
"Longbottom, I was sent as Lady Augusta's emissary: you're being summoned to dinner." Draco drawled all the while looking straight at Hermione.
"Yes, thank you Malfoy. One moment, if you may." Neville answered with humour, turning back to face Hermione with a tight smile on his face.
"Hermione please, do accept it as a gift." He extended his hand to cover Hermione's as she was holding the book, his brazen gesture darkening Hermione's blush even further. "I bought it with you in mind so it has always been yours anyway."
"I … I thank you, Neville." Hermione could no longer refuse him, knowing she had narrowly escaped refusing a more meaningful declaration of his admiration. "I look forward to reading it, it is true that there are very few treatises written on fungi and their medicinal use. I will make good use of it, I'm sure."
The gentlemen were sharing a glass, or two in the case of Lord Malfoy, of Port in the dining room after the Ladies had retired. As always in the company of enlightened men of high standing, the conversation had quickly turned to politics, overheated as it was with the opening of Parliament in a week and Lord Neville finally taking his seat at the House of Lords.
Draco didn't care much for politics, although he had been passingly grateful for it as it would have forced his father to stay in town for most of the winter, which the young Master had initially intended to capitalise in freely pursuing the pleasures of horse riding. That plan however was no longer in place, since his return to England, Draco had made worrisome observations of Mr Riddle, ever present in his father's topics of conversation, which gave him great cause for concern. He now intended to accompany his father to London after the annual Twelfth Night Masquerade held at Malfoy Manor in the new year.
"Neville my boy, I despair to hear you will be joining the Whigs when you take your seat next week! They are a bunch of dissolute rakes, the lot of them!" Draco's father was just shy of slurring his words, yet remained the instigator of their group's conversation.
"I believe that since Charles Fox passed away, the label of dissolution you are applying to their leadership has been vastly unwarranted, Lord Malfoy." Neville replied evenly.
Lord Malfoy scoffed. "What about Lord Byron? I heard the most shocking rumours concerning him and his sister…"
"My Lord, I beg of you, let's keep this conversation above the gossip of the Ton." The Venerable Mr Abbott entreated, his face reflecting mild shock.
"You are most correct Mr Abbott, the opinions of the Whigs suffice to themselves without adding the taint of their depravity." Was as much of a concession to restraint as Lord Malfoy would agree to. "Tell me Lord Neville, surely you do not agree with their views on that Corsican troll, Napoleon?"
But Longbottom was prevented from replying by Captain Potter, jumping in the debate with passion, disregarding the conventions of gentility that should have held him back from sharing his opinion mid-discourse.
"Napoleon has proven to be an outstanding leader of men." Potter said with fervour. "His reforms of the French army, and their subsequent successes, have left many in the Regulars eager to apply some of his strategies to the King's army."
Draco's father had turned to the young Captain to observe him as he spoke. Any hint of his prior inebriation dissipating as he fixed his eyes on the young man, assessing him, weighing his reply. Draco knew that in the few seconds it took him to respond, Lord Malfoy was sizing up the Officer, evaluating whether to consider him an ally, an asset or a threat. Each outcome would in turn call for a different reply from the long time politician.
"Captain, I would be wary of voicing such words in company, they could appear treasonous if repeated out of context." So his father had decided that Captain Potter could be an asset, interesting. He had obviously chosen to school the young man in the ways of their world.
"I beg to differ, treason is not when one thrives to understand one's enemy, nor to learn from him when applicable." Draco couldn't hold back his eye roll, of course the hot head would not recognise his father's words of caution for what they were, he would mount an offended retaliation instead, misplaced as it was.
Not helping the situation was the Weasley boy, thankfully aware enough of his lack of education to not be an active participant in the conversation, yet propping up Potter by cheering his Captain with muffled hear-hears all the same.
"What my father meant, Captain Potter, is that it shows a lot of courage, or folly, to be voicing such an opinion in the company of those one isn't well acquainted with. I would apply more nuance to my beliefs if I were you."
Captain Potter's growing ire was redirected to the son as he replied, staring directly at Draco. "Nuancing one's beliefs sounds more treasonous to me than acknowledging a formidable opponent when I see one."
"Gentlemen, it is time for us to rejoin our companions for this evening." Lord Neville tactfully intervened. "I believe my Grandmother asked Miss McGonagall to sing for us. Follow me, if you please."
Lady Augusta had kindly sent new music sheets, along with a special request for Hermione to perform her own favourite aria that evening. Hermione knew the piece well, having sung it at every one of their social gatherings. Her voice perfectly suited for the rich and high pitched melody of Cherubino's young love, she was also able to accompany her singing simply at the piano, echoing an absent orchestra.
They had both agreed that Joseph Haydn's Hallow Ev'n was perfectly matched to the Samhain celebrations, Hermione having to learn and practice the new song several hours every day to be ready to perform it tonight.
Finally she had begged Lady Augusta to find her the music sheet to Robert Burns' Ae Fond Kiss as a surprise for her guardian, whose quiet romantic heart always appreciated the poems of the bard, in homage to her native Scotland.
She was eager to immerse herself in music for a while, to forget about the company, wash away the tension leftover from dinner, having had grey eyes permanently fixed on her. Sitting as she did next to Neville, who presided over one end of the table, she had faced Miss Hannah Abbott directly, a shy young woman just out in society, and right next to her childhood friend Ronald Weasley. It still left Draco Malfoy almost in front of her, seated as he was next to Miss Hannah. Defying social convention in uttering the least amount of words possible to the young woman, he frightened her so much it made her seek their host's conversation exclusively instead.
Draco's abhorrent attitude towards Miss Hannah had the combined effect of monopolising Neville's attention and giving Hermione no option but to speak with him most of dinner. To make matters worse, he was relentless in his enquiries, to the point that it left Hermione with no doubt that the onslaught of his questions were born out of censure, his past dismissal of her virtue still informing his pointed behaviour to this day.
"Do you enjoy reading, Miss Hermione?"
"Are you familiar with Scott's work?"
"What is your opinion on novels?"
"Do you speak the languages?"
"What is your favourite work of poetry?"
"Have you ever been to London?"
Hermione had dedicated much good humour to her answers, her manners impeccable yet distant, for her lingering mortification had left an edge of unease in her mind, which made her feel tense under his scrutiny.
Meanwhile his character appeared as the exemplary privileged aristocratic young Master, arrogant enough to dismiss a gentle young woman such as Miss Hannah, for whom these new social engagements would still be daunting, in order to satisfy his self interest in conversation.
Her temper finally flared when he had asked, his eyes flashing in what looked like mischief. "Tell me Miss Hermione, do you enjoy taking walks in the local woods?" She thankfully managed to keep her reaction subdued, but she suspected her eyes had given her exasperation away, the way they always did.
Try as he did, Draco couldn't find a single fault in Hermione. She bore his inquisition with grace, volleying her answers to sustain the most stimulating conversation he'd had in months, never once losing her poise at his repeated verbal assaults, of which there were many.
He would only concede it to himself, but she had even bested him, his restraint eroded by her enduring composure, the game was hers the moment he forwent propriety to ask about her walks in the woods. He had been craving an impassioned response, had so wanted to witness her wrath once again, that he had wagered everything, and lost, for only her eyes had sparked ever so briefly over his comment, the rest of her betraying nothing untoward.
No wonder Longbottom was absolutely besotted with her. It was sickening to witness actually, seeing the witless Baron's soft eyes looking pleadingly at Hermione, as Draco thwarted his design by forcing bland Miss Hannah upon him. Draco felt a feeling akin to fury rising in his chest as he recalled happening upon them in the Library, Longbottom clearly aggrieved, Hermione blushing so prettily. Was his interruption welcome? His natural arrogance wanted to assume so, for such a woman should not be for a dull man like Longbottom, yet a growing disquiet gnawed at him, as the couple had seemed very intimate, their hands touching over that book.
But for now they were in the Music room, the two Malfoy men standing behind the rows of chairs set up around the piano, Hermione in full display for all to admire in the soft light of the room, its shadows amplified by the burning pyre outside.
She was organising her sheets on the music desk, while arranging her dress to cover her ankles as she reached for the pedals. Her skin glowed in the candlelight, the rosy tint to her cheeks now back with the anticipation of her recital. Her curls aglow, soft locks having escaped her chignon, framing her face in delicate tendrils, Draco was drinking her in, finally able to indulge in her without any moderation, sheltered from view as he was at the back of the room.
He forgot to breathe in the first measures of 'Voi Che Sapete' from The Marriage of Figaro, the choice of such a libertine song taking him by surprise almost as much as the clarity of her voice. He came undone during her heartfelt performance of one of Haydn's Scottish songs, and succumbed completely as she finished her set with Draco's favourite Robert Burns poem, the words echoing in his mind.
"For to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever."
He was sharply brought back to his senses as the crystal glass in his father's hand shattered suddenly, to the stupefaction of all present, lifting the imperious spell he had fallen victim to.
Author's Note: Who would have thought a Regency story would have a playlist? In all fairness, I chose a song by Haydn simply because he was one of Jane Austen's often played composers. But the other two pieces have been favourites of mine for a long time, seek them out and enjoy! Hermione sings one of Mozart's best aria (a feat in and of itself) and finishes with 'Ae Fond Kiss' by Robert Burns - Eddi Reader's being the ultimate version in my humble opinion.
As for Lord Byron and his (half) sister … look it up… even I was mildly shocked, yet after years in the fandom, I wouldn't call my sensibilities 'delicate' LOL