Disclaimer: you know the drill…. i don't own.
I'd update more if it wasn't for all this stupid homework… bah…Thank you for the reviews anyway.
Chapter 3
Sneaking behind a large potted fern, Hermione observed the guests as they poured in through the door. She was determined to avoid butting heads with Malfoy and his extremely unpleasant family tonight. Adam had gone to fetch her a drink from the refreshment table, and she was using the time she had to make herself scarce.
"Here's your drink, Hermione." Adam returned holding two glasses of champagne, handing one to Hermione.
"Thanks." She took it and sipped it, her hand shaking.
"Is something the matter?" Hermione looked up into Adam's eyes and shook her head.
"It's all this excitement, I guess." She looked back down, fingering the delicate stem of her champagne glass.
"Ah, don't worry about a thing. It'll be over in a blink of an eye," he said. Somehow, Hermione got a feeling that it wouldn't be the same for her. Suddenly, they heard Mr. Abbot calling.
"Adam! Come here, I need you to meet my friend." Adam sighed.
"Duty calls." He smiled. "I'm sure you can manage by yourself for a minute; I'll be back in a jiffy." Hermione bit her lip.
"Okay."
As he walked away, Hermione took a seat in one of the many chairs lining the wall, carefully choosing the one near the potted fern. She didn't feel like going to greet her old schoolmates.
Her eyes swept the room anyway, searching for familiar faces. She spotted Terry Boot standing in the opposite corner, talking to Hannah. She turned her face to the refreshment table where she spotted Ernie Macmillan downing glass after glass of champagne. That's strange; didn't Adam mention more people that she knew? Half closing her eyes, she turned her gaze to the fireplace. For a minute, she didn't think that anyone was there. until she turned her eyes to the shadows. And saw HIM. She felt a wave of disgust hit her.
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, Draco Malfoy was the very picture of the dark, brooding male. Clad in emerald green robes, he slowly turned his head to what looked like his mother, the firelight glinting on his pale, silver-blonde hair and finely chiseled face. She was saying something to him, and as he listened his infamous smirk slid into place.
That smarmy bastard, thought Hermione condescendingly. Someone had to teach him a lesson and wipe that nasty smirk off his face. She turned away from him.
"Hermione, my dear! Are you feeling unwell?" she looked up and saw Hannah's mother hurrying towards her with a look of concern. "Would you like to go outside in the gardens to get some fresh air?" Hermione forced a smile on her face.
"No, no. I was just taking a rest from all the dancing." As if she actually did any dancing yet.
"Well I must say this party is turning out to be a wonderful success. There are over fifty people here tonight! Can you imagine?" Hermione nodded dully, not really listening as Mrs. Abbot continued to prattle on.
"Have you tried our snacks yet? The tea sandwiches are divine!"
"I haven't tried them yet." Hermione stood up, shaking her head to clear it. Sometimes she wondered if she was actually allergic to parties.
"Come, I'll show you." Mrs. Abbot began to lead her across the ballroom. They had barely taking two steps when someone called Mrs. Abbot.
"Miranda." The two women turned around and found themselves facing Lucius Malfoy. "I must compliment you on your efforts towards this ball. Its definitely going to be talked about for weeks to come." Hannah's mother blushed.
"Well, Lucius my planner contributed to a large part of this, you know."
"Mm." Slowly, deliberately, Lucius' eyes turned to Hermione. "Ah…" he said softly. "And who do we have here?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Oh! Well, this is my daughter's friend, Hermione Granger. She's staying over for a couple of weeks."
"Ah, yes. We've met before, have we not? It's been so long. From Gryffindor house, as I seem to recall. I must say, no one can wear your house colors as well as you do." Draco's father let out a little chuckle. "I'm sure you've met my son Draco." He indicated to the young man standing behind him- the Slytherin prince himself.
"I have," said Hermione icily. "Though we have not seen each other since our last day at Hogwarts."
"Well, perhaps you two should get reacquainted." Lucius turned to Malfoy, staring at him. His son understood the silent command and stepped forward, offering his hand.
"May I have this dance?" Hermione looked into his face, and saw the sinister, mocking look in his eye that she remembered so well. However, she couldn't decline with Hannah's mother watching, so stiffly she accepted his request. He took her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor, his grip like iron. The next song that the orchestra was starting up was a waltz, so there was plenty of time to talk as they drifted away from the two adults watching them. Silently, they took their place on the floor and as the violins struck up the first few notes, whirled into motion. For a minute or two, they didn't talk as Draco led a straight-backed Hermione into the dance. Then, he spoke.
"So." For a moment, Hermione was sorely tempted to snap back "so what?" Instead, she didn't reply. "Wonderful party, is it not?" Then, he leaned in a bit closer. "The decorations are truly wonderful." She was silent.
"It's a wonder that a mudblood like you was invited. The Abbots surely have lowered their standards," he said with in a conversational tone. Through the red silk, he felt her back stiffen as they spun around, dancing past Terry Boot and Hannah. "They're exactly like Dumbledore; muddling around with filth."
"You filthy little ferret," she snarled, her rage stung out of hiding. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing at, but you better watch your mouth."
"What game? I'm merely doing you a favor. This will probably be the only dance you'll be having tonight." His soft voice was filled with malice. She tightened her lips. "Who else would dance with you?" her feet stopped moving.
"Let me go, Malfoy."
"Don't make a scene, Granger. People are watching us." He pulled her closer and forced her into the waltz, almost dragging her along. They didn't speak again until the song ended. When the last notes quavered and died away, she tried to shove herself from him.
"Trying to get away so soon?" he held on to her arm. "We haven't gotten 'reacquainted' yet."
"And if I have anything to say about it, we never will." She tried to pull her arm free. "Let me go." To her surprise, he released her. Slightly unsettled, Hermione studied his face for a trace of emotion. Though the room was very warm, Hermione felt a chill as she looked into his eyes. She stared for a few moments longer before she heard her name being called yet again. Almost thankfully, she turned her head away.
"There you are, Hermione!" to her relief, Adam appeared at her left. "I was hoping to claim you for one last dance before supper." He looked at Malfoy. "Ah! Good evening, Draco."
"Adam." Malfoy inclined his head.
"Well, it seems like I've interrupted something. If you'll excuse me-" Adam began to walk away. Hermione grabbed his sleeve.
"No, no- you haven't interrupted anything at all. I was just thanking Mr. Malfoy for the last dance."
"Oh. Well in that case-" He held out his hand. "Shall we?"
"Thank you. Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione added in a distinctly frigid tone. She placed her hand in Adam's. As he led her away, she looked over her shoulder one last time. Malfoy was staring after them contemptuously. Then, he abruptly turned and walked away, his broad shoulders rudely brushing past nearby people.
"Who put a Filibuster firework in his knickers today?" said Adam quietly. "Unpleasant little bugger isn't he?" Hermione couldn't agree more.
o0o0o0o0o
As soon as Adam and Hermione finished dancing, a gong resonated across the high-ceiling. People began leaving the dance floor as the gong sounded two more times.
"Supper time," said Adam. "I'll bet you anything that its French cuisine again; you just wait and see." he shook his head.
"What do we do after dinner?"
"Well…" Adam paused to think. "Mum'll probably open up the doors to the gardens so people can stroll through them for a bit. Most people prefer to stay inside and dance, though." He tucked her left arm into his right and began to walk them to the dining hall.
As they drew close to the open doors, Hermione saw many large, round tables grouped close together. Name cards were carefully arranged around them, indicating as to who should sit where.
They moved to a table on the right, where Hannah and about three other people were seated. A place card next to Hannah's read Adam Abbot and on the other side of Adam's card, another, in flowing script, read Hermione Granger. Ever the gentleman, Adam pulled Hermione's chair out for her and waited for her to be seated before he sat down himself.
Nervously, Hermione tried to recall proper etiquette. She picked up her napkin, opened it, and laid it down on her lap, smoothing the wrinkles out with her hand. Thankfully, she remembered her forks. A servant came around with a wine bottle. Mimicking the other people seated round the table, Hermione held up her wine glass for the alcohol to be poured in. when her glass was full, she brought it to her lips. Hermione didn't like to drink alcohol, but as the semi-sweet taste reached her tastebuds, she forgot instantly that she disliked it.
"Do you like it?" asked Adam. "It's claret."
"It's quite good," said Hermione, surprised. "I don't usually hold with alcoholic drinks, but this is very pleasant." She took another sip. As food began appearing on the table, people started conversing in low voices. Hermione finished her wine and refilled her glass. Dimly, she was aware of foods like lobster patties and seasoned chicken being magically whisked on and off the table, but she didn't eat much of it. She nibbled a bit of the richly marbled filet mignon and ate a portion of salad, but other then that her concentration was completely fixed on her claret.
"Hermione, are you ok? You've barely touched the food on your plate," said Adam, his dark green eyes filled with concern.
"Oh, yes. I'm perfectly fine," she said, her voice higher than usual. "I'm just not very hungry, that's all." She finished her fifth glass of wine and was going for another refill when Adam stayed her hand.
"That's quite enough claret for you. You'll be on the floor stone pissed in no time at the rate you're going." He signaled at a house elf, who took away the wine bottle. Hermione yelped.
"Put that back." She glared at the elf, who blushed and went down a servant's staircase. "Where's she going?"
"Camilla is going to get you a nice glass of lemonade. That's bound to be much better then all that wine." The empty dishes vanished from the table and in their place, and deserts started popping up. Adam cut her a wide slice of cake and put it on her plate. "Here: eat more, drink less. It'll soak up the alcohol." The house elf named Camilla returned with her lemonade and put it on the table. Hermione ate a bite of cake, and then put her fork down.
"I can't eat anymore. Really."
"It's because of all that wine sloshing around in your stomach," muttered Adam.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." He coughed.
"I'm feeling a little light-headed, Adam."
"You're foxed. It was the fifth glass that did you in."
"Do you really think so? Because it's not an unpleasant feeling at all. Is this why men drink so much?"
"Most likely. You're going to feel wretched in the morning," he predicted. "I suggest that you take a walk in the gardens to get some fresh air after dinner."
"I think I'll go now," She said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "There's too much atmosphere in here." Hermione stood up. As soon as she was on her feet, the room tilted alarmingly. She wobbled a bit, but righted herself before she could disgrace herself. The soft murmurings of conversation swirled around her, making her head throb.
"Are you sure that you're ok, Hermione? Do you want me to escort you?"
"I'm fine." In a valiant attempt to appear sober, she straightened her back. "I'm not slurring my speech yet, anyway." Adam shook his head.
"The main entrance to the gardens won't be open just yet; if you want to go outside you can use the side door." He pointed to an archway on the right. "If you're really sure about going off by yourself, then I won't protest." Hermione nodded and then slowly walked out through the door.
As she stepped outside, the scent of various flowers both magical and plain filled her senses. The mixture of smells overwhelmed Hermione and swirled around her as she walked down the narrow path, her mind swirling in a dreamy, alcohol-induced haze. Adam was wrong, she thought. The "fresh air" was muddling her thoughts even more with its heady, intoxicating effect.
After taking a few more steps down the path, she noticed an elegantly carved wooden sign by the side, which read The Rose Garden. "Sounds pretty," she mumbled to herself. Without another thought, she stumbled slowly down the path lined with roses. For a minute, the thought that someone might see her out here drunk flitted through her mind but she quickly brushed it away. There wouldn't be anyone here; they're all bound to still be in the dining hall. Overhead, the moon floated lazily above her head, not yet a complete circle. All was quiet save for the chirping of the crickets and the soft tap… tap… tap… of Hermione's feet as she made her way deeper and deeper into the wall-high garden of roses. The five glasses of claret she had drunk had not worn off yet. Instead, with each step, she became more and more unsettled.
As Hermione walked on, she came to a fork in the path. Both paths were obscured from view by the wall of roses. After a moment's of hesitation, she tottered down the left path. Wraithlike, she mindlessly wandered around the rose garden unaware that she was totally lost.
Eventually, her feet brought her to a clearing with a fountain. Four benches encircled it, and just beyond there was the most beautiful and lifelike statue she had ever seen. It reminded her of the Greek Kuros statues she had seen in the museums- perfectly sculpted with every fold in the clothing, every curve of the face done with care and consideration. Entranced, she drew towards the statue. It seemed to glow with an Otherworldly aurora as her fogged mind struggled to comprehend what was going on. But why would someone place a statue facing the rose wall? As she slowly advanced into the clearing, her foot came down on a twig, snapping it. The statue whipped around at the sound. Hermione froze. For a moment, her mind was crystal clear and completely sober. Bloody hell, that wasn't a statue! It was-
"Malfoy?!"
0o0o0o0o0o0
He stared at her. For a fraction of a millisecond, he truly believed that she was a ghost, with her long, wispy hair floating around her pale face. Then as he regained his senses, he realized that it was just the moonlight playing tricks on his eyes. He slid his sneer back into place.
"Sod off, Granger," he said coldly. "You're not supposed to be out here." She blinked.
"You're not supposed to be either," she said.
"I'm not in the mood to deal with mudbloods." She scowled. Was she going to try and hex him? God, Draco hoped so. She seemed like the perfect outlet for his annoyance. A stupid little mudblood. His fingers twitched, undecided as to if he should reach for his wand.
"You think that you're so speshial-special, Malfoy." For the first time, he noticed the slight slur in her voice and her wobbly stance. Bringing his eyes to her face, he saw the dark blush that stained her cheeks. Merlin, she was roaring drunk! Granger, the oh-so-proper school valadictorian? Now this was something new. He raised one delicate, blonde eyebrow.
"Now, now... what's this? The ex-head girl of Hogwarts drunk? And I thought that you were a stuck-up goody-two-shoes." His sneer became even more pronounced. "You know, a young lady like you shouldn't be wandering around in this place alone. Especially when you're drunk. You never know... some crazy wizard just might finish you off." He felt a prickle of annoyance. When the hell was she going to leave? "No one'll even hear u scream."
"Don't you dare threaten me," she said quietly.
"You're a disgrace," he spat. "What would Potter say if he saw you now?" Granger was silent.
Suddenly, Draco cocked his head. He thought he heard something. Were there voices in the garden? Perhaps dinner was over and people had started to pour into the garden area for a walk. He made ready to walk out before he was seen with this drunken madwoman. All of the sudden, Granger stepped towards him, her whole form wobbling. What the hell did she think she was doing? She took another step. Now she was about three feet away from him. She closed her eyes.
"What're you-" He stepped backwards warily. As he did, Granger uttered a little moan and toppled over, unconscious. Instinctively, his arms went around her to keep her from knocking him into the thorn-ridden rose wall. As he steadied himself, two female revelers rounded the corner on the path just in time to see what probably appeared to be a passionate embrace. Hellfire, blood and bones! Those stupid giggling chits! How dare they come along and catch him in such a compromising position?! They goggled. His face hardened into a mask of fury.
"What the fuck are you two looking at?" he snarled.