Chapter Eight:
Now, Run by Hania Rani
December 31st, 1999
The manor looms at the end of the long gravel driveway when they touch down from the port key. They're arriving fashionably late due to poor Harry falling asleep on the couch.
The driveway, a straight shot to the entrance, sits behind a set of foreboding wrought iron gates illuminated with enormous enchanted flames on either side. Like two sentries standing watch the flames flicker.
Swinging open as they approach courtesy of an attendant standing close by, Hermione sets foot on Malfoy land and feels like she may vomit any second. The hedges that tower over her make her feel claustrophobic.
A gust of wind picks up and Ginny shivers next to her. They decided to forgo coats, which in hindsight seems like a stupid idea. Ginny, in her silver dress with thin straps clings to Harry for an ounce of warmth. Their heels crunch in the gravel and for once Hermione isn't wearing sensible shoes.
When she and Ginny were getting ready at Grimmauld Place, Luna and Melody were sprawled out on Ginny's bed, whispering to one another.
"You can't wear those shoes with that dress, Hermione," Luna piped in suddenly. Hermione froze holding up her tried and true Mary Janes.
She responded with, "But they're comfortable." Luna shook her head as she disappeared out of the room.
"They may be comfortable, but they're very ugly." Melody deadpanned, causing Hermione to blush. The animagus sat in her human form, back against the headboard, ankles crossed daintily. Her green eyes locked on Hermione.
"Here." Luna tossed a pair of gold strappy heels with little flowers around the ankles into Hermione's outstretched hands. "I have a matching evening bag if you'd like. I promise it's not enchanted with anything."
Hermione was in shock, not expecting something so, mundane, from Luna.
"These are splendid!" Ginny chimed in, struggling to zip her dress.
"A gift from my dad, you'll be the first to wear them so that's good luck."
Hermione is now second guessing her good luck shoes and bag while standing in the driveway of the manor.
There's a brutal squawk from above them and her hand immediately shoots to her wand. Ron has his head on a swivel looking for the offending noise.
"It's a peacock?" he says in confusion, pointing to a fully white peacock prancing along the top of the hedge against the night sky. "Of course Malfoy has a fucking peacock…" he mutters angrily under his breath.
With its upright and perfectly symmetrical architecture, the manor at the end of the drive looks just as prim and proper as all of its owners. The front door swings open the second they get to the top of the steps. Hermione's hands start shaking as she reaches to grab hold of Ron's to ground her.
She pulls her shawl tighter around her body, peering into the entryway she can feel her stomach drop into her knees. It's dimly lit, the black carpet covering a pale stone floor. As she gets closer she can make out portraits lining either side of the long hall. She feels like she may vomit, bile rising as Ron squeezes her hand gently.
Things are different…I am safe…nothing can hurt me…
A house elf in a rather nice looking pink dress pops into the doorway.
"Invitations, please," she squeaks out, waiting for them to drop their invites into her outstretched hand.
Ginny pulls the invites from her evening bag, placing them in the house elf's little hands. She turns on her tiny heel, motioning for them to follow.
Ginny catches Hermione's hand, "We can leave. We can leave right now if you want."
"No, it's just a house," she whispers, shaking her head.
"Just say the word and we're gone. Ok?"
Harry catches her eye, ever quiet tonight. As always, he looks tired, but he's cleaned up well. His dress robes sport hints of silver to match Ginny's dress and in the entryway light she can see the silver trim on his lapels. He holds his arm out and Ginny takes it lovingly, a bright smile on her face.
Hermione looks to Ron, needing his reassurance just this once. He bought new dress robes the second he could, one of the first items of clothing that wasn't a hand me down.
Unlike Harry who enchanted his to match Ginny's, Ron refused even a hint of green to match her ensemble.
Ron places a protective hand on her lower back, falling behind her as they file in.
The pale faces of the portraits that line the hall make her want to run, their grey eyes following them, their mouths sneering. What a welcome place to hold a ball.
She can hear music, a piano accompanied by strings, muffled behind a door. The sound of laughter and raucous conversation overpowering the music.
"This way please." The house elf scurries up ahead of them, her little pink dress swishing as she walks.
A house elf, in clothing, in the Malfoy residence is something she never thought she would see.
With a snap, a set of French doors decorated ornately with carved wood fly open revealing a wide room with an enormous marble fireplace opposite them. Two extravagant chandeliers hang on either side of the mantle, their warm light giving the whole ballroom a homey feel.
The lighting is playing tricks on her, it's making her feel calm, the soft glow of the candles against the dark furnishings.
As they enter, she notices the wall to her right is made of floor to ceiling leaded glass, the swirls in the old panes distorting the reflections of the guests.
She's trying not to think about where they are. Trying not to think about how this may not be the same room, it has the same dark black wood floor. The same coloured stone and gaudy chandelier. But this room is different.
"Drink?" A server offers from a silver tray. Hermione takes a glass of sparkling wine, sipping it before she can even think.
"Malfoy's attempting to buy himself back into favour that's for sure," Ron mutters disapprovingly before taking a long swig from his glass.
Ginny touches Hermione's arm lightly, pulling her attention away.
"We can leave at any time. We don't have to stay." Her tone is stern, wanting to ensure Hermione knows she has an out.
"How about a smile for the papers!" Before any of them can react there's a camera pointing towards them.
"The golden trio back in Malfoy Manor." Despite Hermione's efforts to refocus her eyes from the harsh flash, Rita Skeeter's voice is unmistakable.
"We are, and it's lovely to be here." Harry deadpans, the first thing he's said this evening.
"Not everyone thinks it's lovely to be here." Skeeter's eyes lock onto Hermione's and she can feel her face flush in embarrassment. She takes a deep breath, not wanting a repeat outburst like Boxing Day.
"I think it's fine, Malfoy graciously donated his home to the ministry and he's done a great job." She can hear the uncertainty in her voice, she definitely does not know if it's fine.
"How does it feel being the only Auror here tonight?" Rita says, her quick-quotes quill twitching in anticipation.
"I'm not on duty tonight, Skeeter. Just here to enjoy an evening with my friends and I know we're going to have a lovely time." Harry steps in closer to Ginny and Hermione, staring at Rita and her photographer.
"Ah, my favourite students!" Slughorn emerges from the crowd, cheeks and nose pink from drinking. With the new addition, Rita is gone.
All the guests were supposed to arrive at seven o'clock sharp to be received by their gracious hosts before partaking in hors d'oeuvres and cocktails.
"Professor Slughorn!" Ginny greets with a wide grin on her face, clearly glad to be rid of the Prophet's number one correspondent.
"Oh please, please call me Horace." He clutches his glass a little protectively. "Now tell me, how's the ministry?" His eyes land on Hermione and she's mid-sip from her glass, to quell her nerves from the encounter with the paper.
"Oh! It's lovely…I'm in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, cataloguing and testing evidence." Hermione understands that not everyone loves the minute details of cataloguing. Horace's eyes clearly glaze over with boredom at the mundaneness of her job.
"Ah! That's an excellent stepping stone for a job within the ministry…" There's a beat of silence as she smiles awkwardly. "...How are your muggle parents? They care for teeth if I remember correctly?"
There's a sharp intake of breath amongst them as Horace tilts his head. She can see a flash of anger cross Ron's face so she answers quickly.
"You're right, they're dentists. They're doing fine actually." She keeps her tone even, taking a deep breath and pulling her shawl tighter on her body.
"Ron's just made the Cannons! He got to play in the Boxing Day match against Yorkshire!" Ginny draws his attention away and Hermione can see Ron puff out his chest, clearly excited that he gets to chat about Quidditch.
"Oh the Cannons! They lost that match, didn't they?" Ron's chest deflates, "But you've been playing well lately for the Harpies! So you must know Gweong?" Ginny's smile falters at the mention of Gweong.
Horace continues on, chatting with Ginny about old stories from when Gweong was at Hogwarts, Hermione can almost see Ginny retaining as much of the information as possible to get on Gweong's good side.
Hermione lets the conversation wash over her as she looks around the room. There are so many people, all dressed so decadently. Quite a few of the couples are on the dance floor, waltzing around the room and laughing.
Near the fireplace, Rita Skeeter and her photographer have set up to get more photos of guests. Another reason she should have kept her in that jar.
She can just see Kingsley out of the corner of her eye chatting with another guest. He looks relaxed, smiling and laughing with the witch. His eyes still hold a few crows feet denoting his age but he looks younger now that the war is over.
She feels a little more calm, seeing Kingsley here, it solidifies to her that this is nothing but a house, nothing but a venue for the event.
Ron touches her elbow gently and her head snaps up.
"Do you need another drink?" He's motioning with his head, clearly looking to get away from Horace. She nods, letting him guide her to the edge of the room where tables are filled with drinks and food. She can see outside the windows into a perfectly manicured garden, the gravel path lined with enchanted lights.
Ron helps himself to canapes and assorted desserts while Hermione gets another glass of champagne. She's hoping the alcohol will numb her further. Or calm her, at the very least.
They stand near the end of the table and Ron tells her about his latest practice. He's talking with his hands animatedly, beguiling her with a save he managed to get while the seekers were battling it out.
All she can think about is the tall witch standing behind him. She tries to focus on his face, his hands, his eyes. But she's drawn to her in her black dress, her dark hair falling in waves. She's talking to someone but Hermione can't see who.
Suddenly it feels like her blood is cold, she can feel herself sweating, her breath coming out in quick puffs as her hands start to shake.
There's a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she tries to focus on Ron again, tries to not look behind him, tries to stop her shaking. She clutches her glass so it won't fall from her fingers.
"Did you see where the bathroom is?" She cuts him off mid-sentence, not truly listening to what he was saying in the first place.
"Uh no, here let me go with you." He tries to touch her elbow, to hold her steady but she shakes him off, already making her way through the crowd.
She needs a minute, needs to get away. It's too loud in here, the conversations and laughter are too much for her to handle. It feels like her skin is too tight, her bones vibrating against it like they want out.
Passing a group she catches snippets of their conversations.
"He'll never make it back into society…"
"His reputation is too damaged…"
"That poor Greengrass girl…"
Pushing through the French doors she arrives in the hallway, the air feels cool against her exposed skin. She's intimidated by all the grey eyes staring at her, the portraits look at her with disgust.
Turning, she goes deeper into the manor, maintaining a straight face as she walks down the hall.
They're whispering to one another, she can't make out what they're saying but they sound appalled.
"...a mudblood." One of them spits and she takes off running, taking the first available right. Down another corridor she can see an exit, a set of light drapes blowing in a gentle breeze.
She emerges on a stone balcony that overlooks the garden she saw earlier. Her breath saws in and out of her body in gasps. Backing into the wall of the manor she sinks to the ground hidden behind a planter, her back cool against the marble of the manor.
Her eyes close, not wanting to look at the stars, not wanting to see the moon. The cold of winter prickles her skin, her feet sore from the heels she borrowed from Luna.
All she can think about is how uncomfortable she is.
How her skin itches and all she wants to do is rip it off. She's sat between two granite planters, the white flowers charmed so they won't die in the cold and she finds herself looking at them.
White peonies.
Hermione wonders if Malfoy likes peonies or if it's his mother. She had assumed they were for a girl he was seeing when she saw him buying them in Diagon Alley, but seeing them at the manor seems to make more sense. Narcissa would be the kind of woman who keeps fresh flowers in her home.
She draws her knees up to her chest, catching her breath and enjoying the chill she feels against her skin. It calms her, the cold, makes her feel grounded.
There's the sound of footsteps coming from the door she just ran out of. Hermione scooches closer to the planter, peering out from behind it and seeing Malfoy, leaning against the railing with his back to her.
He looks tense, his shoulders slumped as he surveys the grounds. His blonde hair is slicked back loosely and when he runs his hand through it she can see the silver signet ring he always wears.
Turning, he scrubs his face with his hand and she can see him roll his eyes. He's clearly having a great night as well. Eyes falling, he finally notices her. His posture stiffens for a moment, then he visibly relaxes in recognition.
They stare at each other for a long time. Hermione can see it on his face, see it in his eyes that he's angry too. She wonders if he feels left behind. Like everyone's moved on but him.
Then she remembers the papers. How could he move on with his life when they're constantly hounding him.
She looks at him in his dress robes, high cheekbones and grey eyes. He's different. He seems softer, sadder. His eyes swim with something she can just barely see before he looks away.
Turning his back to her she is reminded of the cold again, and feels him shutting her out after being the tiniest bit vulnerable.
"There you are!" A voice clear as glass breaks the silence in the night. Something in Hermione clicks. Astoria Greengrass.
Her dark hair falls in waves to her mid back and her black dress hugs her petite frame. She was the girl from earlier, the girl that sent her running. The girl she thought was Bellatrix.
"I just needed a minute…" Malfoy's tone seems bored, his eyes flicking to Hermione in her hiding spot before falling onto Astoria.
"It's going to be midnight soon! How would it look if you weren't there." she says sternly, although Hermione can't see her face she knows that frustration.
"Well, I'll be there now so there's nothing to worry about." His lips are in a tight line.
Astoria turns on her heel, clearly angry at their exchange and storms back into the house. Draco follows behind her slowly, but not before looking at Hermione so intensely she feels her cheeks flush.
What a terrible place to run into him.
She waits behind her planter for a few minutes, before getting up and trying to return to the ball.
Turning a corner she runs right into Ginny.
"Merlin! I was worried we'd lost you. Is everything ok?" Ginny says, discreetly looking her over.
"I just needed some air, there's a beautiful balcony at the end of that hall." She points down the hall and Ginny gives her a nod.
"I have to find the toilets or my bladder might explode," she whispers and Hermione can't help but smile.
After wandering the halls and finally finding someone to help them, Hermione and Ginny take their time freshening up in the luxurious full bathroom suite.
Hermione checks her makeup in the mirror, giving herself a once over while Ginny lounges on a black velvet chaise. She bites her lip, pushing hair off of her face and frowning. Staring back at her is someone she just doesn't recognize.
Her skin is pale, eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. Although Ginny took a painstaking effort to get her ready, there was no saving her hair. Hermione's curls fall wherever they want, the whisper of grey in the front not as noticeable in the dim light from the chandelier.
"I don't think I ever want to leave this chair," Ginny says. Hermione laughs, watching as she sprawls out further.
"Gin…how do you feel about this?" Suddenly Hermione's mouth is running away from her. The sound of her own voice foreign to her own ears and Ginny levels her with a confused look.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, being in Draco Malfoy's home. I was talking to Harry and he thinks there's something going on in the ministry. He thinks-" She's cut off by a frantic knock on the door.
"Misses! The countdown will be starting soon!" The hurried voice of a house elf comes from behind the door. Ginny looks like she's about to speak again but there's another knock before the door swings open. "Please! Please come with me, it is almost the New Year!" They share a look before following the little house elf back to the ballroom.
Ron looks relieved upon seeing Ginny and Hermione enter. The band has stopped playing and Kingsley stands on a small stage in front of the grand fireplace.
"I thought you left," Ron says sternly and Ginny shoots him a disapproving look.
"I just needed some air…" Ron looks like he's about to say something but is interrupted by Kingsley's amplified voice.
"Good evening my esteemed guests, I would like to say thank you to the Malfoy family for donating their ballroom to us tonight." There's some grumbling and whispers amongst the crowd, people are clearly displeased that the ministry has accepted this gift, but they applaud anyway.
"People have been saying the Malfoy family are trying to buy their way back into the ministry's favour now that you know who is gone," someone whispers angrily behind them.
Hermione looks around, trying to find where Malfoy and Astoria went. The room is crowded, she's shoulder to shoulder with Ron and Ginny as everyone watches Kingsley who casts a quick spell to enlarge his watch, showing that there's only thirty seconds until midnight.
"Tonight I would like us to celebrate the beginning of real change. The ministry is re-evaluating what we stand for, and how far we can go. Tonight we gather to work towards a new tomorrow and I am so honoured that you chose to spend the night with us." There's a round of applause and hushed comments before everyone counts down.
"Ten!" Her palms are sweating, someone jostles her from behind, clearly had one too many to drink.
"Seven!" She feels like she's going to throw up, the sound of everyone's voices shouting in unison making her feel uncomfortable.
"Five!" Looking around frantically she feels Ron's hand on her cheek, gently pulling it up so she's forced to look at him.
"Three!" He smells of Irish spring and his eyes tell her everything is going to be ok.
Then why is her heart pounding so hard? Why is it attempting to leave her chest?
"One!" Ron's hand against her cheek feels sweaty, she can feel Ginny's hand try to find hers but she pulls it away, the amount of people touching her is making her panic.
"Happy New Year!" There's absolute silence in her mind as Ron kisses her hard on the lips. Gold and silver tinsel rains down around her as there's a loud crack of magic. Above them sparklers spell out happy new year and she can't shake the fear the sound brings.
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the thought of everyone looking at her, seeing her kiss Ron. It feels like such an intimate moment to have in front of all of these people.
Shit, shit. Is anyone staring?
A ringing falls around her and when she pulls away she can see over Ron's shoulder, a pair of grey eyes watching her as Draco Malfoy takes a sip from his champagne glass.