"Pansy. You look lovely tonight, as always. And- my, do you have another sister I didn't know about, or is that you, Mrs. Parkinson?" Draco bowed, flashing his most charming smile, and Mrs. Parkinson, a plump, flighty-looking blonde woman with piercing hazel eyes, shrieked in delight.
"Oh, Draco! You've grown so much! I remember when you were just a boy-" she wiped an obviously forced tear from her left eye, careful not to smear her makeup. "Now I hear from Pansy you've gotten a girlfriend?"
"Yes, she ought to be down in a moment- a little tired from her trip. You understand, of course- she doesn't mean to be rude."
"Don't be silly, dear, of course not!" Mrs. Parkinson assured him, turning to her daughter. "Why don't you go upstairs and see if she needs any help, Pansy?"
The striking and, up until now, silent teenager gritted her teeth, but smiled brightly at her mother.
"Of course, mother! What a wonderful idea. We'll be down in a moment, Draco."
She walked gracefully over to the stairs, though Draco could see and feel the tension in her shoulders. He had known- and been nearly betrothed- to Pansy far too long. He suspected if Mrs. Parkinson had anything to say about it, 'Hermia' would have been taken care of. But his father was, if one thing, stubborn, and wouldn't be bossed around by any woman, even such a powerful widow as Petra Parkinson.
Thank God.
"Now Draco, my dear," Petra began, moving closer to him as soon as Pansy was out of sight. He wrinkled his nose, overcome by the acrid scent of her perfume… it seemed like she was wearing gallons of it. "This Hermia girl… can she be trusted?"
"Completely, Mrs. Parkinson." He replied, unable to keep the ice out of his tone. She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"Wonderful. And what, if you don't mind me asking, does she have that Pansy doesn't? You know your father would be most pleased if you two were to- come to some sort of agreement." Some woman's voices would have been angry, or disappointed- but Petra Parkinson's was not. She didn't care about Pansy- only about what a marriage of hers could bring the Parkinson family name. She was merely curious about this, it seemed. He breathed.
"I love her." he said, the affirmation sliding easily off his tongue. "This is not some- agreement- we've made. I love her with all of my soul."
He wasn't sure if he was lying.
Hermione yawned, sitting up in the strange bed and blinking rapidly, her eyes quickly adjusting to the rays of pink sunset streaming through her window. Sighing, she rolled out of bed, pulling the silver curtains shut over the window.
She sat down on the windowsill, allowing the afternoon's strange realization to flood back into her head. But what did it mean? She was not a prisoner- the door was open, after all. But why put her in this room? Was it possible that Narcissa didn't know? Even Lucius, or Draco? But this was their house- wouldn't they know everything about it?
Her heart sank, as she remembered that Draco had voiced his concerns about the mysteries of Malfoy Manor many times to her over the course of the past month. Now, she felt like she'd known him forever- like she knew him better than he knew himself. Which wasn't difficult. Draco hadn't a clue about his family history, beyond the famous bloody war generals his father had lectured him about. He hadn't even known how long the manor had been in the family- she'd always just assumed that the Malfoys had always lived in this house. But what if they hadn't built it? What if the house held secrets that no Malfoy had ever understood?
She couldn't trust Narcissa with her concerns… and what good would it do? Narcissa's head, if well meaning, was far away and gone in the clouds, probably a reason that Lucius had seen fit to marry her. She wouldn't meddle in the affairs of her husband- she had plenty of airs of her own to put on, outfits to choose and makeup to charm, after all. She needed to speak with Draco- or someone, anyone she could come to trust, that wasn't a Malfoy. Someone that could speak to her… objectively.
Her musings were interrupted by a loud, quick rapping at the door. She sprung to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. It must be Draco- or Narcissa. Shouldn't the party be starting sometime soon? She turned the silver lock and opened the door, almost instinctively setting her face in a scowl, but managing to maintain her usual pleasantly intelligent smirk.
"Hello." The familiar blonde girl at the door said, sounding quite bored. "I'm Pansy Parkinson. You must be Hermia LeFay."
"So there aren't any suitable boys at Durmstrang, then? What about that Quidditch player, Viktor Krum? Granted, he's rather scruffy, but I'm sure a girl with proper breeding like you could fix him up soon enough-" Pansy chattered on affably, as she'd been doing for the past ten minutes. She'd seemed so relieved for someone to talk to that Hermione couldn't stand to interrupt her.
"Viktor's sweet, but he seemed quite taken with some Muggle girl from Hogwarts. Helen, or something…?" Hermione replied cautiously, careful to keep her expression casual. It was so strange to talk about herself in the third person- and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what Pansy was going to say about her.
"Oh, Hermione Granger." Pansy affirmed, heaving a sigh and pulling the corset she'd forced upon Hermione tighter. The younger girl gasped, but tried very hard to keep a straight face. Hermia LeFay would be quite used to wearing corsets- Snape had even made her pack a few. "She's got potential, I suppose, if it weren't for those buck teeth and freckles- and she is smart, or book smart at least… but all those bloody Gryffindors are the same. Too high and mighty with their morals and their bravery to walk down in the muck among us normal people. Dolts haven't the slightest ideas the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs hate them as much as we do- and who wouldn't? Carrying themselves around like kings- and oh, of course, precious little Harry Potter. Granger follows him around, you know- figures. And that- that- Ron Weasley. Only logical the special ones would stick together."
"What's so special about this Weasley?" Hermione asked, feeling a rush of protectiveness for her friend. Pansy shook her head, a small flush coming to her cheeks that quickly disappeared.
"You're lucky you've never met a Weasley, Hermia- they're just awful! A pureblood wizarding family- one of the most pure- consorting with mudbloods, and studying them, no less! The father, Arthur, is a Muggle maniac. They're dirt poor, too, most likely because of his little obsession."
"That's unfair!" spluttered Hermione, her eyes widening once she'd realized what she'd said. So far, only to blow her chance now-
"I know!" Pansy said, nodding her head furiously. "Poor little Ginny, the only daughter, couldn't even afford dress robes for the Yule Ball. A pureblood family! It's disgusting, really. You're lucky you live among proper people."
Giving one last strong tug on the corset (perhaps a little too strong), Pansy fell back onto the bed, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Much to her dismay, Pansy laughed too, a high, sweet giggle.
"Oh, dear- I got a little carried away, I suppose. It's not like you need a corset Hermia, like I do- my mum's always telling me to lose weight."
"You're not fat, Pansy." Hermione assured her, pulling a wine-colored halter dress on over her head. She'd planned to wear the most conservative dress in Narcissa's closet- a silvery gray high-necked one, in the back- but all thoughts of looking 'nice' had gone out the window once she'd seen what Pansy was wearing.
Outfits spoke of power, Pansy had told her, and she needed to look secure enough to stand next to Draco, which took a bit of doing. Surprisingly enough, Pansy didn't seem bitter at all about 'Hermia' dating the Malfoy heir- quite the contrary, in fact. She seemed almost relieved, assuring her 'I'm not sure what you see in him, Hermia, but I suppose it's much the same thing I did. And if you see what I see, dear, then you two should work out. I've always had a bit of a crush on Alec Zabini, anyhow.'
Pansy stood, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in her royal blue gown, and running a hand through her hair. She sighed, stepping in front of the jewel-encrusted mirror.
"I've never been good at volumizing charms- bane of my mother's existence. She refuses to do them for me… says I should suffer through being ugly if I'm too stupid to work out a simple cosmetic charm." she sighed, frowning at herself in the mirror. Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the girl- imagining what it must feel like to be told you were ugly all your life, even looking like her.
She stepped behind Pansy in the mirror, drawing her wand and whispering a few words under her breath. The older girl's blonde hair glowed for a moment, and then faded, not stringy and stiff for the first time Hermione could remember. Pansy grinned.
"Oh, you're a love, aren't you? It'll be wonderful having you around." Shocking Hermione nearly out of her skin, Pansy turned around and hugged her, laughing. She couldn't help but smile too.
"Now let's get out of here, shall we? We've got an entrance to make."
"Draco, old chap!" came a cheerful voice from behind the sixth year, the murmur of the crowd rising slightly in volume as a new family arrived at the party. Draco turned around, to be clapped into an affectionate hug by Alec Zabini, a tall, good-looking, light brown haired Quidditch player, who'd been captain of the Slytherin team before Marcus Flint. Alec had always been a good friend of his- rather like a slightly older brother, as Fred and George Weasley were to Ron. Thankfully, he didn't have their foolish and completely inappropriate sense of humor… but he was good-natured, or at least most of the time. And around girls, who he'd always been especially fond of.
"Hello, Alec." he said, trying not to let the obvious relief at the boy's appearance in his voice shine through. Mrs. Parkinson had just gone off to get another drink, muttering about the lack of available servants, and with Alec here, she wouldn't have the courage to bother him again. The Zabinis were a very powerful family of dark wizards, more powerful than the Parkinsons, and they did not have the favorable ties that the Parkinsons and Malfoys did. Moreover, Alec was the oldest and most favored child in the Zabini family, closely followed by his younger sister, Blaise. Petra wouldn't dare patronize him the way she did Draco.
"How's old Hogwarts?" Alec asked, an amused smile crossing his handsome features. "I hear you've found a way to get around the disappointing lack of pureblood girls over there. To be honest, I thought you'd snap Pansy up, but I'm rather glad you didn't, if you get my meaning." he said, winking at the younger boy and grabbing a martini from a passing tray of drinks. Draco grinned.
"School's fine- as well as can be expected, anyway- and Pansy's not really my type. I figure we've got enough blondes in the family, eh?" he lied, watching as Alec downed his drink in one gulp, grimacing. Pansy had been his type- or what he thought was his type, at least, before meeting Hermione. They'd got along quite famously, actually, until she'd gotten a stupid little crush on him.
"True enough, I suppose. Father's approved of Pansy- and me if there is a Pansy and me… how's old Lucius taking this girl? Heidi? Helena?"
"Hermia." Draco corrected. "And my father seems to be fine with it. I think he's just glad I've finally got a steady girlfriend- seems dragging Pansy and Blaise along to family functions wasn't enough for him."
Alec laughed at the mention of his sister's name, and Draco couldn't help but chuckle a little, too. Blaise Zabini was probably the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen- heard of, even. She'd only consented to go places with him occasionally to be seen on his arm, when none of her other paramours were available as escorts. She'd gotten none of her brother's kindness, unfortunately- she did have, though, a surprisingly quick wit, and added a healthy dose of sarcasm to nearly everything she said. She changed dramatically around men she was trying to impress, but Draco was only a little boy to her- albeit a very rich one.
"When am I going to meet this Hermia, then? And where's Pansy?" Alec asked, his eyes scanning the room. Draco shrugged.
"Pansy went up to Hermia's room to introduce herself about twenty minutes ago, and neither have been down since. You know girls, though. They've probably gone through a thousand cosmetic charms already, and changed outfits a few hundred times. I'll be surprised if they get down here before midnight." Draco sincerely hoped they were getting along as well as that- Hermione and Pansy usually hated each other quite passionately, their enmity culminating in an incident in fifth year, where Pansy had been caught snogging in the Astronomy Tower with Weasley by his sister and Potter. Hermione had never forgiven her after that, though she'd patched things up with Weasley easily enough. He trusted Hermione, though, to be civil- Pansy could be very important to her, in the scheme of things.
"Should we go up there? I know your parents wouldn't-" Alec stopped mid-sentence, as a hush came over the crowd. Draco turned to face the staircase, knowing the girls were there- young, single, beautiful women were by far the most important figures in the society of dark wizards, commanding a sort of respect that not even the oldest and most powerful patriarchs could. With the daughters of the Death Eater families alliances were made, and cemented with children. Without them, politics could simply not exist. For without them, passion, and betrayal would lose their fire. Without them, pain would mean nothing... lust and bloodlust would have never existed, and lust and bloodlust were the foundations of the world of a true dark wizard.
The were a perfect contrast, and a perfect match. Pansy's dress was simple- a clean cut, royal blue taffeta halter gown, shimmering in the dim light of the chandelier. A row of small, perfectly cut diamonds shimmered along the neckline of the dress, sewn into the fabric. Each one cost a small fortune in galleons (five times the price of the dress otherwise). Her platinum blonde hair fell in now-perfect waves on her shoulders, giving her face an almost ethereal glow, and complimenting the expensive diamond necklace lying just above her breasts.
Hermione's dress was of similar cut, but in far different fabric- clinging, stretchy velvet, in a deep burgundy wine that perfectly offset her eyes and hair. Each girl's appearance was flawless, and awe-inspiring… in short, only what was expected of them. Pansy knew this. Hermione didn't, and she was quite taken aback at the approving stares they received, especially from much older women.
"So that's Hermia, huh?" Alec leaned over and whispered to Draco. He nodded, feeling his throat go dry. "You've got good taste, Draco, I'll say that."
He couldn't agree more.