Disclaimer: Once again, not my toys.

Wrings hands what to do… What to do? It's really nice of you those who reviewed ) I appreciate it. More reviewers please? I'd do the bambi eyes, but that's not really my thing.

Chapter 2

"It's so beautiful!" Hermione breathed, looking around at the landscaping. She took in the thick, lush grass that covered the grounds. Flowers of every color lined the walks, and topiaries dotted the grass. Huge weeping willows were planted all over; their graceful dipping branches brushing the ground.

"Isn't it?" Hannah visibly preened herself. "My parents spend a fortune trying to keep the lawn tidy. We have an herb garden out in the back, if you're interested."

Hermione smiled; here was another perfect opportunity to expand her knowledge. Suddenly, she started to feel better about this whole trip. "Well," she said briskly, "Let's get going. I wanted to meet your brother; you've told me so much about him."

"Oh yes! He's really something I tell you. I think he's away now though; I heard him mumble something about Diagon Alley this morning." She opened the gates.

"Well, there's always plenty of time to meet him; I'll just have to simply wait. i locomotor trunk /i ." obediently, the trunk lifted from the ground and followed them through the gates.

Without a word, the two women walked along the path to the main doors. When they reached the entrance, Hannah lifted the brass knocker and dropped it, creating a booming sound that echoed around the grounds.

"Elva!" Hannah raised her voice. "It's Hannah! Open up, please!" after a few moments, the door slowly swung open with a small sound revealing a small house elf dressed in a tea rag.

"Welcome home, miss." As Hannah stepped into the house, a middle-aged woman dressed in blue silk robes came hurrying towards them. She frowned at the door.

"Elva, have those hinges oiled. They should not squeak like that."

"Yes, miss." Then, the lady noticed Hannah and Hermione.

"Hannah! I see that you have brought your friend to stay with us!" she turned to Hermione. "I've heard so much about you, dear. Hannah told us about how well you did in Hogwarts; it's extraordinary how highly our daughter thinks of you." she enfolded her into a hug. "Welcome to our house, dear. I hope that you will find it suitable for your stay… But come in girls, come in! I have Hermione's room prepared across the hall from yours, Hannah. Is that suitable?" she ushered the two girls into the foyer, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, Ms. Abbot that's fine. Thank you for your trouble; it was so nice of you to allow me to stay here." Hermione inclined her head to express her gratitude.

"Oh, Hermione, it's no trouble at all; don't worry about it." Hannah smiled and then pulled Hermione towards an elaborately carved staircase on the left. "Come on, I'll show you your rooms." Together, they climbed the short flight of steps. Hermione found herself standing in a beautiful hallway with doors opening off on both sides. A painted fresco of flowers ran down the length of the hall, and floating candles illuminated the portraits hanging on the walls.
"These are our ancestors. Don't mind great great grandfather Joey; he was some kind of a.." here she paused, looking for the right word. "..A pimp." Hermione snorted. "He died right when he was debauching his daughter's governess. They found him bare-arse naked on her bed with her screaming her head off." Hannah dropped her voice. "Really, I don't get why his portrait is up here. It's so sick."

"Will you quit talking about me so disrespectfully?!" a young man on their left stirred irritably in his frame. "I do have feelings, you know." Hannah snorted and walked past the painting.

"Men," she muttered. Hermione stifled a giggle as she heard great great grandfather Joey shouting at their retreating backs.

"You silly little bint! Don't you have respect for your elders?" Hannah spun around on her heel.

"Elder?!" she shouted. "You were only ten years older then me when you died! What are you going on about?!"

"Technically I've been around before you were born, u silly bint!"

"Oh, that's it." Hannah rolled up her sleeves and frog marched back to the painting. Great great grandfather Joey glared down at her. She pulled her wand out and leveled it at the painting. "Call me a silly bint again and I'll hex your pretty boy nose off. I'd like to see how successful you are with the ladies without it." He shut up and glared at her.

"I know for a fact that your mother likes me the best out of all the paintings. You try it and she'll murder you."

"Will you two shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know." An old man in the next painting blearily opened one eye and glanced at them.

"Goodness, will you two take it somewhere else?" snapped the portrait of a very irked young lady across the hall. "You're always having a go at one another." Both pimp painting and a pissed off Hannah turned to glare at her. Finally, Hannah put her wand away.

"Whatever," she said. "Come on Hermione." She turned and walked back to her friend, leading her to a room down the hall. "Thank Merlin my room is the farthest away from that asshole," she mumbled. "Mother should just take him down and burn him on a rubbish heap. This room's yours." Biting back a laugh, Hermione opened the door that Hannah was pointing to. A crème and blue colored room greeted her eyes. Royal blue curtains were draped across the windows. A canopied bed with scalloped valences and tie-back curtains was against one wall, and a dresser and vanity was against the other. Opposite the windows, a fireplace made of white stone was already lit and crackling away.

"Wow! Hannah, this room is beautiful!" Hannah beamed.

"I figured that you would like the Blue Room." Hermione's trunk floated in and deposited itself in front of the dresser. "If you like, I'll send Elva up here to help you unpack."

"No thanks; I can manage."

"I'll leave you to your things then; I need to go ask mother something. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. You go right ahead." Hermione smiled and walked over to her trunk. She knelt and unlatched the lock, throwing back the lid. Carefully, she removed her clothing and put it on the carpeted floor, making sure that she did nothing to disturb the stack. Getting up to investigate the wardrobe, she tripped over her stack of clothes and knocked it over.

"Oh god." Cursing her clumsiness, she picked them up again. Looking up, she noticed the clothes hangers in the wardrobe. She stood up and started hanging up her robes. As she slipped the last garment on the hanger, Hannah came in through the door again.

"Hermione do you have a minute?" she looked up.

"What, Hannah?"

"I forgot to mention earlier that we're having a dinner party tonight. We invited well over fifty people, and my mom wants you to have your makeup done with me in half an hour."

"What?!" Hermione dropped the robe on the floor where it lay, forgotten. "But… I don't have anything to wear!"

"Ah, Hermione… calm down; you did pack those dress robes I asked you to pack right?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure that they're really appropriate."

"Well, I'm telling you they are. Wear the red one; it'll work very nicely. I'll be back to get you for the makeup." She gave her a thumbs up and then walked out. The silence following Hannah's retreat was deafening.

i This is exactly what I wanted to avoid /i , thought Hermione grimly. Social occasions… ugh. Her skin broke out into gooseflesh just thinking about it. Curse this stygian, saturnine function called society. What need did she have of it anyway? Hermione kicked her trunk.

"Argh!" she fell down, clutching her toe. Now she was going to have to hobble around as well. "I might as well get started trying to find that stupid red robe," she muttered, tottering to the trunk. She started scouring her baggage, trying to find the blasted thing. Which, coincidently, took her exactly half an hour to dig up.

o0o0o0o0o

"Found it!" triumphantly, Hermione held up the red silk. "I finally found the little bugger- God that took up quite a chunk of time," she said, rubbing her sore toe.

"Hermione, are you done?" Hannah poked her head in again. "Elva and mother's maid are here to paint us up. Come, they're waiting in my bathroom." Stiffly, Hermione stood up clutching the robes.

"Coming," she said. Sweet, baby Merlin her toenail was killing her.

She followed Hannah to her private bathroom, which included two stools in front of a counter and a mirror. Hannah indicated that she should sit down in one, and she did. A woman with the sharpest nose Hermione had ever seen came in, wheeling a cart piled high with eyeliner, lipsticks, and other various makeup that was bound to cause an allergic reaction for Hermione.

Fascinated, she stared at the woman's nose. She watched as her lips began moving. It took her a while to figure out that the woman was talking to her. She blinked. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" the maid looked at her like she was daft.

"I said would you kindly turn around and face me so I can get this done quicker?"

"Oh. Sorry." Hermione reluctantly swiveled around on her stool to subject herself to the horror of makeup. As the maid began brushing her face with a light powder, Hermione had to restrain from sneezing snot into her face. Did people like Hannah honestly put themselves through this sort of toilette every day? It was almost unthinkable. For what seemed like hours but actually could have only been twenty minutes, Hermione tried not to twitch as various substances was smeared onto her face.

"This feels like pig fat," she mumbled, referring to the rich, glossy lipstick that was being generously slicked onto her lips. The maid gave her a severe look, and continued with her job. After tracing her eyes with a bit of kohl, the woman with the sharp nose stepped back and pronounced her handiwork as perfect. Hannah gave her a slightly incredulous look.

"Jeanette, that didn't even take half an hour. Are you sure you did it right?"

"Positive," said the lady called Jeanette. Lord, she could really cut cheese with that nose of hers. "Thank god she doesn't have acne."

"I guess I'll go change now," said Hermione with some relief, getting up to go back to her own room.

"When your done I expect you back here; I need to fix that disgusting hair of yours," snapped Jeanette.

i What's wrong with my hair? It's still a bit long and I forgot to brush it today, but it's not DISGUSTING… /i Hermione tried to keep her face blank and devoid of emotions. She was too worried about this evening to manage a tranquil look, and serenity was totally out of her grasp at the moment.

"Alright." She walked across the hall, ignoring the whistles and catcalls of great great grandfather Joey.

Standing in front of her wardrobe, she stripped off her black robes and slipped the red one over her head. The delicious feel of silk shocked her, and the delightful, almost sensuous sliding sensation she felt as it slid into place was positively wonderful. Maybe she should start wearing silk more…

But this robe! It was a bit tight around the chest area, Hermione had to admit. She wondered what had possessed Ginny when she bought it at Gladrags. Still, she had to say that it was gorgeous. Tiny lines of gold embroidery crisscrossed the body of the robes, forming a loose hatch pattern across the torso area. A strip of gold lined the end of her sleeves and the hem of the robes. It was a bit simple, but Hermione guessed that she would have to make do. With a sigh, she made her way back to Hannah's room.

o0o0o0o0o

"Owch!" Hermione bellowed as Jeanette attacked her wavy hair with a brush.

"Keep still!" ordered Jeanette With the Sharp Nose.

"Hair Nazi," muttered Hermione. Hannah laughed.

"Now you see what I have to go through every day?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Jeanette sighed. "There's nothing else to be done with this hair. No amount of pins will keep it in a bun." Hannah glanced at Hermione.

"Just leave it down, then. I think it looks better that way anyhow." Jeanette viciously drew the brush a few more times through Hermione's hair and then put it down.

"Look in the mirror," she ordered. Glumly, Hermione complied. And then, she froze.

In that one look at the stranger staring back at her, she knew that she had treaded a path that she would never again walk. Who was this delicate, painted figurine? She barely looked like herself. Her pale face was glowing in sharp contrast with her lips and eyes. The eye shadow allowed a lustrous light into her eye; her lips were a perfect cupid's bow. With a hand, she lightly traced her cheek in wonder. Suddenly, she felt something large hit her head, ruining the moment. It appeared to be a shoe.

"MA FOI! Look at what you have done!" shrieked Jeanette the Frenchwoman. Hermione looked at her fingers and the face powder that came off on it. Then, she looked up in the mirror, and saw the streaks that she made by brushing her hand against her face. Oops...

Jeanette picked up the powder brush, holding it like a dagger. "We're doing this all over again." Hermione cringed.

o0o0o0o0o

After another hour of primping and severe torture, Hermione was back to the pristine state she was in before. Satisfied, Hannah looked Hermione over once again and nodded.

"Hermione, do you want to meet my brother now? He's just downstairs in the foyer."

"It would be nice after nearly three hours of this madness to meet someone new, yes." Hermione shut her eyes.

"Oh, come on. You look gorgeous, and I must say that your robes are a beautiful color." She smiled good-naturedly, brushing off her own jade dress robes. "Ok, let's go. They're waiting for us so we can all go to the ball room." She grabbed Hermione's arm and all but dragged her down the stairs.

In the foyer, a brown-haired young man was leaning against the wall. He tapped his foot on the floor a few times before he noticed his sister coming down the stairs. "Hannah!" he pushed himself off the wall and went to embrace her. "I'm sorry that I'm a little late today; the line at Flourish and Blotts was ridiculously long. Some author was there for a book signing or something or the other." He turned his head to Hermione. "And who's this?" he asked

"Adam, meet Hermione. She's a good friend of mine, and mother has invited her to stay for a few weeks." She pulled Hermione closer. "Hermione, meet Adam, my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Adam swept her a deep bow.

"Oh Adam, I forgot- you'll be escorting Hermione tonight. She doesn't have an escort, and there aren't any available men to do it."

"Of course. I assume that mum knows about it?"

"She does. Speaking of mother, where in the world are our parents?" as if on cue, Ms. Abbot's shrill voice rang from the top of the stairs.

"Hannah, dear," she trilled. "Are these shoes a bit too much?" instinctively, the three people standing in the foyer turned up to look at the shining figure standing on the second floor. It was like looking at the sun. The iridescent shine of the slippers nearly blinded them. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Yea mum, I'd say that it's too much," said Adam, wincing.

"Sweetheart, you know that I love you but men have about as much fashion sense as a Bowtruckle." She turned to Hermione and Hannah. "So, girls? It's genuine stardust, you know. These shoes were on sale- 50 galleons for a pair. I bought them at the Josule retailer yesterday."

"Too much." Hannah turned her head away, afraid her retinas were going to be burnt out. "Mum I think that those people ripped you off."

"Oh. Well…" a bit disappointed, Ms. Abbot went back into her room. As soon as she did, a roar blasted through the second story.

"Miranda, I insist that you keep those shoes in the box! What were you thinking when you bought them?!"

"That's dad," whispered Hannah. "I'll introduce you as soon as they come down." Adam rolled his eyes.

"Hopefully they will before they start another bloody row," he said, raising his voice deliberately so that his parents would hear.

"Adam Abbot, you are lucky that we have a guest in our house now; I have a right mind to march down there and blister your ears," called Ms. Abbot. "And Hannah, how many times must I tell you to stop threatening the portraits? Great grandfather Joey is in a right state, you know!"

"Sorry mum," chorused the two Abbot children.

"Thank you, you two- i yes /i dear, I'm changing my shoes." Following a rustle of silk, Hannah's mother came out of the bedroom. Following her was a very disgruntled man which Hermione assumed to be their father. Ms. Abbot smoothly glided down the staircase, ignoring Mr. Abbot's grumbling.

"I can't find my wand," he groused.

"Dear, I keep telling you that you left it in those robes you took to the tailor. And anyway, it's not like you're going to need it this evening, so stop grumbling and come here. I want to meet Hannah's friend from Hogwarts. Richard, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my husband Richard Abbot." Mr. Abbot bowed stiffly, clearly still ruffled about his wand. Hermione dropped a little curtsy.

"How do you do, Mr. Abbot?"

"Very well thank you." as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the knocker on the door sounded. He turned around. "I believe that the guests are here. Hannah, wait here for your escort."

"But who IS my escort?" confused, Hannah shook her head.

"He's the son of one of your mother's bosom friends. Don't you worry. Miranda, kindly go to the ballroom and receive them as they come in. You too, Adam."

"Yes, dad," said Adam dully. He offered his arm to Hermione. "shall we?"

"Thank you." she took the proffered arm. He guided her to a closed door across the room. "Out of pure curiosity, do you know who's going to be at this dinner tonight?" asked Hermione.

"Over ten different families, I'm told." Adam held up a hand and began ticking them off on his fingers. "There's the Brocklehursts, the Knights, the Macmillians, and the Zabinis, just to name a few. I'm not entirely sure of who else is coming. I've heard that one of the Weasleys is coming as well."

"Ah. Well, it seems that some of my friends will be here tonight, then." Adam opened the door, revealing a brightly lit corridor. With a lighter heart, Hermione allowed him to steer her in through the door.

"Oh, yes- I think there's another… the Malfoys, I believe." Hermione froze.

"The Malfoys?"

"Yes. They aren't that well acquainted with our family, but almost everyone in the Wizarding community who are Pu-" He checked himself with a blush, remembering that Hermione was a muggleborn. "Who are of high status are invited," he finished. He shifted uncomfortably. "And besides," he added, looking furtively behind his shoulder, "Mother was hoping that Hannah might get married to their son." Hermione snorted derisively.

"That is a disgusting notion. He is the most snobbish and insulting little prick I have ever met. Thank Merlin I haven't seen him since graduation day." They reached the grand double doors at the end of the short corridor. Adam grasped the crystal handle.

"This is the door to the ballroom. Are you ready?"

Swallowing the sick feeling that had started rising up in her stomach, she nodded.

-end of chapter 2-

Next up… Hermione gets dunk? O.o