See chapter one for disclaimers etc.
"Where are they?" Draco hissed, looking towards the door and back to Alec. He was livid, eyes flashing blue and silver with rage. If she didn't show up right now, everything would be lost. If she was discovered… his parents would disown him, she'd be killed or worse and his family's honor would never be the same. Alec put a hand on his shoulder, noting his tension.
"Calm down, Draco. They're girls. They're probably off giggling over a flower or somesuch. Or staring at themselves in the mirror. I do rather fancy Pansy, but I understand women- there's far more important things to them than politics."
"You don't understand, Alec." Draco scowled, taking a sip of champagne. The woman sitting next to him gave him a disapproving glare, and he snorted. "This is Hermia's chance to make a good impression on my parents. Pansy will be forgiven of course, but unless she acts perfect tonight, we'll be watched the entire time she's here. My parents don't forget shortcomings easily, as I'm sure you remember."
Alec smiled wryly, recalling the many times he'd heard Draco's father berating his son while he was distracted by Narcissa in another room. His own parents were much too busy to bother themselves with him, but he understood Draco's lifestyle far better than any of the other boys he'd met
"Well we can't go looking for them, Draco. If we leave so soon before-" he stopped short as the volume of whispers in the grand dining room changed again, and their eyes both flew to the door. Hermione was walking towards them, and while she looked slightly disturbed, nothing much seemed to be out of the ordinary. Thankfully, the dinner guests turned back towards their conversations, and Alec stood so Hermione could sit next to Draco.
"Where's Pansy?" the older boy asked. She opened her mouth to try and explain, but was cut off by a piercing ringing noise echoing from the head of the table. The three watched as Narcissa set her champagne glass back down on the table, and stepped deferentially behind her husband as he began to speak. And, after a few moments, all three sank into separate, but equally worried thoughts, ignoring the drone of pleasantries and thinly veiled threats coming from one of their number's father. Draco and Alec were used to it. And Hermione was growing more and more by the day.
All throughout dinner, Hermione, Alex, and Draco could barely say a word to each other. Hermione was far too afraid that she'd let something slip if she opened her mouth before she decided what to do, and the boys on either side of her were being constantly pestered by the adults sitting next to them. Hermione thought it quite odd- and amusing, really- how the adults treated the children. It seemed that the Death Eaters had a keener grasp of the balance of power than any adults she'd ever met. They knew who would be in control in five years, or ten. Not them. Their children, and the children of their friends. And power here was everything.
Perhaps it wasn't too terrible a way to live. You could be secure. Everyone seemed to know their place, and hold to it, really. It wasn't as if there wasn't any room for eccentricities and abnormalities- everyone had their strange habits. They seemed to be largely accepting of any vices, in particular. But people knew their limits. And their strengths. And used them accordingly. There was… a system. She liked a system she could study. Regardless of what Ron and Harry thought, she didn't simply follow rules because she was a prude of some sort. She followed them because she liked them. Well, not liked them, exactly, but understood them. Without rules, there wouldn't be society. Without order, every bit of culture and knowledge would be lost. And without the balance of power, order, and rules, advancement would be impossible.
She shook herself out of her revire as people began to stand, dinner obviously finished. With a winning smile, Draco pulled out her chair for her and held out his hand. She smiled back at him, taking it. Some rules were quite pleasant to abide by.
"Now we dance." he said, as she followed him and the throng of guests down the hallway. They emerged into a cavernous room, dimly lit by the row of crystal chandeliers on the ceiling. The paneled cherry wood floor reflected the light, casting a flattering golden glow upon everything and everyone in the room. There were small, green-cushioned alcoves cut into one wall, but the hall was otherwise unfurnished, barring the cherrier painting that dotted the walls. The wall directly opposite that held only windows. Floor to ceiling windows, reflecting etheral images of the dancers as they passed.
Hermione found herself somewhat short of breath.
"Dance?" she asked, as they waited for the couple in front of them to pair off. Most of the others were far older than they were.
"Yes, dance. I know you can. I've seen you do it." he said petulantly. "With Neville Longbottom, but that's beside the point."
"But I can't dance like that." she said, gesturing to a waltzing couple nearby. They seemed perfectly in step with one another. How did they do it?
"It's simple." he said, clearly trying to be patient and failing miserably. It just wasn't one of his strong suits. "Just take my hand-" she did, "and let me lead."
Twirling her out onto the dance floor, Draco settled an arm comfortably around Hermione's waist, pressing her body a bit closer to his than she thought was proper. Not that she was complaining, really. She didn't dare pull away- when Draco lead, he lead, and she could barely keep up with the intricate steps of the dance as it was. But soon enough, all worries of a misstep melted away. He was, of course, a fabulous dancer, and he actually seemed to be enjoying himself for once.
Hermione did not notice that the other dancers slowed, and eventually stopped, leaving the young couple a fairly wide berth. Soon the waltz was as natural as walking, even breathing. She felt as if she were flying- her skirts swirled around Draco's legs as they danced, making them seem as one. She felt like a ghost in his arms, ephemeral in their bliss.
But it could not last forever, and as the music died, she suddenly became aware of the staring spectators that they had gathered. She couldn't help a furious blush, hiding herself as much behind Draco as humanly possible. He (as usual) did not miss a beat, presenting a flourishing bow with a wry smile, to the approval of his elders. The band struck up again and the other dancers began again. As Hermione was clearly somewhat flustered, he lead her out of the dance hall, stopping just inside the now-empty foyer.
"Well, that wasn't terrible." he laughed, sitting at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led up to the second floor. Hermione blinked.
"Terrible? Oh! You're- you're insufferable, Draco Malfoy." she blustered, her blush returning. He had to know how she'd felt just then- she was quite sure she'd been glowing.
"I get that often." he said dryly, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.
"Well, you are." she replied quietly, flushing even darker at his touch. He looked at her, curious.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." she said quickly, willing the blush to disappear. However haughty she could act in front of his parents, or Pansy, it was very difficult for her to lie to Draco.
"You're not enjoying yourself, are you?" he teased, a very superior smile joining his smirk. She glared darkly.
"I don't know how I could be in this sort of company."
"Come now." he said, tipping her chin up gently with a finger. For a mere moment she lost herself in his eyes- and pulled away just as quickly, standing up before another word could be spoken.
"Well, Draco, if you've regained your breath-" he spluttered, but she went on blithely, "I'd like another dance. Would you be so kind?"
A small smile playing at his lips, he stood as well, taking her hand and leading her back into the ballroom. Hermione had never ceased to amaze him. He was beginning to doubt that she ever would.
Draco pushed the door to Hermione's room open quietly, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly in his arms. He'd made the necessary introductions, but the day's travel and events had taken their toll on her, and as soon as they'd been out of sight he'd simply picked her up and carried her back, despite her unintelligable protests.
He set her down on the bed gently, propping her neck up with a pillow. The body she inhabited was beautiful, true, but he missed seeing the familiar face of Hermione Granger. Even when he'd had to sneak looks disguised as glares during their classes together. She muttered in her sleep, grasping at his arm and pulling him closer to her. Hermione seemed disturbed, and he began to stroke her hair gently, somehow feeling it was the proper thing to do. She calmed down slightly, and he placed her head in his lap, running his fingers through her thick hair. At that, her eyes fluttered open, blinking at the harsh light of the room.
"Bright…" she mumbled, closing them again. He drew his wand, and pointed it at the light fixture above her door, dimming it significantly. She sighed, and pushed herself upright, much to his disappointment.
"Think you can make it?" he asked dryly, pushing her hair out of her face. She glared up at him, though he could tell there was no true anger in her eyes. Not directed at him, anyway. But he wouldn't switch places with the wine cellar for all the world.
"I didn't eat much of anything, thank God."
"Why not?" he demanded, slightly annoyed, but more worried. "That's why you've such a low tolerance for it. Never drink on an empty stomach."
"Or maybe it's because I've never had alcohol before." she half-sneered. He couldn't help but laugh, and she glared even harder.
"Never? Not even with your parents?"
"They're doctors!" she said hotly, setting her hair back into place. "Well, dentists, but it's the same idea. They don't even drink."
"No wonder you're so-"
"So what, Draco?" she asked, her tone clipped. He hesitated to finish his sentence. One of the most powerful young witches in England, with what looked to be the beginnings of a serious hangover was not a person whose buttons he wished to push. She rose up on her knees, trying and failing to reach his height.
"So high and mighty, Draco? Such a know-it-all? So- bookish? Goody-"
He cut her off with a kiss, slowly pushing her back onto the bed under him. For the first time that he could remember, she yielded to his lips, welcoming his warm mouth with hers. Their tongues touched lightly as he tangled a hand up into her hair, and he could feel her smile underneath him. After almost a full minute, they stopped for a breath, Draco rolling off of her and laying on his side.
"I was thinking more along the lines of 'pure and virginal', but any of those would do quite nicely." he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. She raised an eyebrow.
"Virginal? I don't think so, young-" she yawned, "Master Malfoy-" and just as she leaned forward to kiss him again, she slumped against his chest, fast asleep. Sighing, he lifted her up off the bed, turning down the sheets with a muttered spell and slipping her under them. With another incantation, the lights turned off and the fire went out, leaving her face illuminated only by moonlight.
"Ah, but I know so." he whispered, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Love.
Finally, huh? There are reasons for this being so late… writer's block, broken laptop, long vacations… but there's really no excuse for putting this off as long as I have. To be honest, I was considering getting out of fanfiction completely- maybe, after this, I still will- but your constant reviews made me realize it was kind of awful to leave this fic unfinished when so many people like it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and continued to review when it looked like there was going to be no more- you guys are the reason that I kept writing this story, and I think you for it. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Now be my best friend and visit www.intellectual-evil.org , okay? ^_^
And review!