Authors Note: I am really sorry for the late update – pressures of life took over for a while. You may be please to know, I have started writing the next chapter so as to ensure I update more frequently. As ever, thanks to my beta, and please keep your comments and suggestions coming in – they are invaluable in their help.
Chapter seven
"I think that's about everything," Ginny said, glancing to where Hermione stood going through a pile of books. "There's no need for books. The Brocklehursts have a massive library – they're well-known for it and not even you could get through all the books they have there."
"I know," Hermione responded absently, "I just want to take one or two. After all, I can't raid the library on my first day there, now can I? I mean that would be pretty bad, even for my standards."
"Well, I suppose not. Anyway, if you find you don't have something you need, just transfigure it. Your transfiguration is more than good enough."
"Hmm… Yeah, I suppose so," Hermione muttered, and then abruptly putting her book down, turned to face Ginny in the shadowy evening light. "What the hell do I think I'm doing, agreeing to stay with someone who I don't know all that well? I mean, what if I muck something up or do something which they would consider as offensive?"
"Look, we've been through the etiquette thing lots of time now, so stop worrying! Just use your common sense and you'll be fine. Oh come on, if your friend had offered me the chance to stay in her manor for the holidays, I wouldn't be standing here worrying about trifles. Relax and enjoy it, you'll get to see how the upper echelon of Wizarding society live," she broke off as a loud knock sounded on the door and Ron's voice could be heard demanding entry. Going over to the door, she unlocked it to admit Harry and Ron into the unusually messy room.
"Blimey Hermione," Ron began, "this place looks as though Peeves has been having a field time in here!" He indicated the disordered jumble of items strewn haphazardly round the normally immaculate room. "You're only going for a few weeks, so what's with all this stuff?"
"Oh I was deciding what to take with me… you know, clothes and stuff."
"Hmm," Harry said, eyeing Hermione's trunk, which was bulging at the seams, "Well, by the looks of it, you've enough there to last you ten weeks, not two. Look, actually we dropped in for a reason." He and Ron exchanged a look and Harry went on, "See, the thing is, you say these people are pretty high class, you know, so we figured they'd most likely have house elves there, and well…" he trailed off at the expression darkening Hermione's eyes.
"And you're afraid I'll kick up a fuss about that?" she ground out, "Well, for your information, I'll be a guest at the Brocklehurst house and as such, have no right whatsoever to interfere in their domestic problems including house elves, anyway. Why are you two so worried? A few days ago, you were whingeing that I should have stayed here with you, so why the sudden change of attitude?"
"Oh, for god's sake," Ron snapped, "we're telling you this for your own good, not because we like the sound of our own voices. We just want you to have a good time there, that's all. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it…"
"Will you two just give it a rest?" Harry said irritably. "And that's the other thing we wanted to say before you left. We're sorry about giving you such a hard time about this – I guess it was the idea of you going away with a stranger that was worrying us a bit, right Ron?"
"Yeah of course, I mean we don't well want you to fall into…well, you know what I mean," Ron shrugged, fixing his eyes on his shoes.
"It's a shame you didn't apologise before," Ginny snapped glaring at the two boys, "now be off!" Turning to Hermione, she said, "I don't want to worry you or anything Hermione, but you have to be in the entrance hall in five minutes to board the horseless carriages, so I suggest you get a move on, or you really will be staying here with us, and all that research about etiquette and stuff will all go to waste!"
With a cry of horror, Hermione slammed shut the lid of her trunk, grabbed up her cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Pocketing her wand, she turned and began dragging the heavy trunk towards the door. With a deep sigh, Ron pulled out his own wand, directing it at the trunk, and a second later, had cast a charm on it making it feather light. Then he, Ginny and Harry followed the distracted Hermione down the spiral staircase and out of Gryffindor Tower.
"Well, make sure you Owl regularly," Ginny said, over the noise of students making their boisterous way towards the entrance hall. "We want to know exactly what you're up to, who you're meeting and everything."
Hermione simply nodded in response; her throat felt constricted and she could feel a stinging behind her lids. If it weren't for Ginny's help, her packing would never have been completed on time. As ever, Ginny, being her closest female friend, had helped her in any way she could, even though she was not thrilled at the idea of not seeing Hermione for the holidays. Hermione pushed her way through the crowds of students, her trunk floating behind her. Reaching the marble staircase, she hurried down it, closely followed by Ron, Harry and Ginny. At the bottom, she turned to them, and without a word, flung her arms around Ginny, whose eyes she noticed were unusually bright.
"Well, have a good time," Harry said, hugging her too, and lowering his voice to a whisper, muttered, "and for god's sake, keep your wand on you at all times. I know you think they are nice people and all that, but you can't be too careful."
Hermione nodded and was just about to open her mouth in reply, when a voice hailed her from behind.
"Hermione! There you are! I was getting worried, I mean I couldn't see you anywhere!"
Turning, Hermione saw the small figure of Mandy Brocklehurst waving at her. Giving Ron a quick hug, she turned and made her way over to where Mandy stood talking to a boy Hermione didn't recognise.
"OK, got everything?" Mandy asked, and at Hermione's nod, lead the way out the castle towards the horseless carriages standing in a line a few yards from the front steps. As Hermione went to climb into one, Mandy grabbed her arm, pulled her back, saying, "No, not that way, we aren't travelling on the train. Follow me, and walk in the shadow of the castle."
Bewildered, Hermione followed as Mandy made her way past the carriages, towards the greenhouses, and out of sight of the occupants of the castle. Going round to the back of the greenhouses, she stopped, turning to face Hermione. "If we travelled on the train, it would literally take hours to reach home. The train journey itself is at least six hours and then we have to travel by carriage another few hours to get home. So mum suggested that I use a portkey. You do know how they work?" At Hermione's slight nod, she went on, "I have to activate it by tapping it with my wand when we're ready to leave. I don't think Professor Dumbledore would mind, but as you know, the ministry frowns on portkeys ever since the Triwizard tournament, mum thought it best I didn't tell anyone about this. She even made me promise to do this out of sight," Mandy rolled her eyes. "Right, erm… let's see, tie your trunk securely to yourself and I will do the same." Producing two lengths of chord from her pocket, she handed one to Hermione and with the other, proceeded to fasten her own trunk securely to herself. Bemused, Hermione did the same – looping the chord twice round the trunk and then around her own waist, where she tied it in a sailor's knot.
"Wow, that's tight. How do you tie knots like that?" Mandy asked, staring curiously at the knot Hermione had just finished tying.
"Practice," Hermione replied with a cheeky grin.
"Well, if you're ready?" Fishing in her pocket, Mandy bought out a long stick offering one end to Hermione. "Hold tight!" she advised, and tapped the stick with her wand three times. For a moment, nothing happened, and then Hermione felt that all too familiar jerk behind her naval and her feet off the ground. Through a swirl of wind, drizzle and colour, Hermione could feel Mandy's shoulder banging into hers and closing her eyes, braced herself for the landing. With a thud, they slammed into the ground and promptly fell over. As Hermione landed awkwardly, she heard a loud hearty laugh and then strong hands were pulling her to her feet.
Opening her eyes, Hermione looked up in to the face of a tall, well-build man, with eyes as blue as Mandy's, and a smile which was as warm as it was charming. "You ok?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks," Hermione said, "sorry for stepping on your foot, I lost my balance."
"I'd say, you did a bit more than loose your balance, but never mind, you're here now. As my little sister seems otherwise occupied, I'll just introduced myself; David Brocklehurst at your service, and you must be Hermione."
"Yes, nice to meet you," Hermione said, trying not to smile at the incongruity of the situation.
"Right then. Let's untie you and then maybe we can shake hands." Grinning broadly, David started to unwind the rope securing Hermione to her trunk. "Blimey, you've done this well," he grunted, tugging on the rope, which seemed to have got stuck around the handle of the trunk. "Mandy, what are you doing?" he asked over his shoulder, between tugs of the rope knotted around Hermione.
"What does it look like?" Mandy snapped back.
Finally, after a lot of tugging, Hermione's rope came loose and David straightened up, massaging his knuckles.
Free from the ropes, Hermione turned to see Mandy sitting on the ground trying to untie herself from her trunk.
"Why don't you make yourself useful and come and help me?" she scowled at her brother. After a moment of mock deep contemplation, he sauntered over to Mandy and began unwinding the rope from around her.
Meanwhile, Hermione glanced around at her surroundings; they were on a smooth green lawn, which fronted a large, imposing house. This, Hermione guessed had to be Mandy's home. The house was built of grey solid stone, which looked centuries old. An ivy creeper could be seen clinging precariously to the house lending the grey stone a splash of vivid colour. To either side, the house stretched for what seemed like miles, although Hermione could detect what looked like an archway over to the right.
"Girls, you've made it. Oh, that's good!"
Hermione turned to see a woman hurrying towards them, her fair hair hanging in golden cascades around her shoulders. She was tall and willowy; her smile, broad and open. Dressed in close fitting robes that shoed off every curve of her slender figure, she reminded Hermione of one of the models regularly featured on the front cover of 'Witch Weekly'.
"Mum," Mandy cried, and in the next second, she was in her mother's arms.
Disentangling herself, Mrs Brocklehurst smiled at Hermione before bending down to kiss her on the cheek. "It is absolutely wonderful to have you here, my dear. Now come along inside out of the cold, there really is a nip in the air."
She led the way in to the house, through stained glass front doors. "I think it best if you two go to your rooms and get out of those robes, and then you can meet the rest of the family, before we have dinner," she said.
"Min?" At her call, a house elf appeared with a loud crack and stood surveying the two girls. Like the Hogwarts' house elves, Min was small and draped in what looked like a silk banner, one corner of which was emblazoned with the Brocklehurst family crest. Her ears were pointed, setting off a round good-natured face. "Min, take Hermione here up to her suite, will you? And make sure she has all she needs before leaving her. Min, my dear," she addressed Hermione, "is our resident house-elf. She is very efficient and if there is anything you need, just tell her."
Nodding, Hermione followed the smiling Min up a polished oak staircase, her trunk floating behind her. Reaching the landing, Min turned right down a long corridor, another right and then stopped in front of a set of double doors. Pushing them open, she ushered Hermione into a spacious sitting room covered with pale blue carpet. The walls were also blue, with large paintings of landscapes on them. A large fire burned in the grate and two large armchairs were pulled up to the fire facing each other.
"This is your suite, miss," Min said, bowing slightly, "Min is hoping it is to your liking. The bedroom is through there and the bathroom is on the other side of the bedroom. If you is needing anything, you is to pull that bell by the fireplace," she indicated a rope hanging beside the fire place, "and Min will come to you."
"Yes, thank you. It's all lovely," Hermione said, smiling at the elf that beamed in return. "Min, is that your real name?" she asked unable to suppress her curiosity any longer.
"Oh no miss, I is really Minty, but the family, they is shortening it to Min, see?"
"Yes, it's very nice."
"Miss Mandy, she is coming to take you downstairs when you is ready," Min went on, "is there anything else you is needing?"
"No, thanks. I have everything I'll need."
Smiling, Min bowed before exiting the room, leaving Hermione alone.
Glancing round the elegant, yet comfortable room, she went over to the door leading to the bedroom and peered in. This room too, was large with a four-poster bed placed in the centre. The carpet was a pale cream with blue patterns worked in to it. The walls and bedspread were blue and the whole room gave an impression of light and airiness. The floor length curtains at the window were made of cream velvet with blue tassels. Going over to the bed, she threw herself down onto it, stretching out. She had expected her own room, but never had she expected her own suite! No wonder Mandy was eager to return home during the holidays.
Getting up, she made her way to the bathroom and smiled. There was a huge full-length mirror on one side and the whole room was decked out in the same cream and blue shades which were present in the rest of the suite. Stripping off, she showered and then dressed hurriedly in a black top and trousers. She didn't want to be late on her first evening in the house and so in ten minutes, she was ready and waiting for Mandy to collect her.
Going over the large windows in her sitting room, she looked down at the grounds of the house, just visible in the pale evening light. Below her, lay a lawn as smooth as velvet. It was dotted here and there with large oak and birch trees, which judging from their age, looked to be as old as the house in front of which they stood. Green buds could be seen covering the branches of the trees. To her right, Hermione could make out what looked like a walled flower garden. Straining her eyes, she could just make out a climbing rose sprawled along the garden wall, when a knock sounded on the door. Turning, Hermione went over and opened it to see Mandy standing in the doorway, clad in jeans and a top.
"Ready?" Mandy asked. "Right, let's go and meet the clan!" she grinned excitedly.
Mandy lead the way down the stairs and into a large room decked out in pale yellow. "This is the informal drawing room where we all gather just before dinner and generally laze about."
The room was dominated by a fireplace, which took up almost the whole of one wall. Comfortable looking sofas were dotted around the room but Hermione's gaze was drawn to the grand piano standing to one side of the room. The polished rosewood of the case gleamed in the candlelight, making Hermione long to go over and run her fingers over the ivory keys. Her attention was diverted by a sound from behind her, and turning, she saw David entering the room with a pretty and very pregnant woman on his arm.
"Ah, girls," he said grinning, "so you're down then. Hermione, this is Madelyn, my wife." The woman standing beside him gave Hermione a guarded smile before extending her hand, which Hermione took, smiling in return. The arrival of Mandy's younger brother, Adrian, forestalled any conversation.
"Ah, so this is the famous Hermione, is it?" Adrian said, striding into the room and seizing Hermione's hand. "My god, you are even prettier than Mandy described! Well, welcome to Brocklehurst Manor, may your stay here be most enjoyable!" he said with a flourish, lifting Hermione's hand to his lips and placing a kiss on the back.
"Really Adrian, leave the poor girl be. I am sure she doesn't want you making a spectacle of her," admonished Mrs Brocklehurst, as she swept into the room, followed closely by a man who could only be Mandy's father. "I believe dinner is ready," she went on, and led the gathered family and guest out of the room into another, which was roughly the same size as the drawing room. This room had wood panelled walls and a large dining table in the centre.
"Hermione dear, make yourself comfortable – we don't stand on ceremony here."
"Hermione will sit beside me," Adrian said, pulling out her chair and pushing her down into it.
"Rather her than me!" David said, with a grin to his brother.
"Now, that isn't nice!" Exclaimed Adrian, adopting a hurt look, which fooled no one. "One would think, I had a contagious disease, the way you treat me dear brother!" Everyone apart from Mrs Brocklehurst laughed.
"Yeah you have," said David sniggering, "You're a Looney! The rest of us don't particularly want to catch it!" His wife glared at him and he dropped his eyes.
"Both of you grow up!" Snapped an exasperated Mrs Brocklehurst, "What will Hermione think of you, acting like a pair of two year-olds!"
Over dinner, the family caught up on all the girl's news, asking about Hogwarts and all the teachers. "I can still remember when I was a girl, Dumbledore was the transfiguration teacher at the time. Even then he was formidable if crossed." Mrs Brocklehurst said smiling reminiscently.
"Formidable only when you got on the wrong side of him—" her husband corrected her, "the man is a genius, the best wizard alive!"
"Yeah but he is a bit eccentric, with that long beard and hair. It's a wonder that he can keep the beard clean!"
"Adrian!" gasped his mother, while the rest of the table stifled their chuckles and grinned into their plates.
"Well, I'm only saying what I'm sure generations of students must have thought at some time or another!" Adrian retorted, his grin becoming if possible, even broader.
"Well, just don't let some of our friends hear you say that," said David stifling his own grin. "Most people think very highly of Dumbledore and with good reason. I can't see them being too pleased if they heard you calling him an eccentric."
The conversation flowed easily and everyone had plenty to talk about. Hermione found herself starting to relax and before she knew it, the meal was over and they were going back to the drawing room. She could feel tiredness creeping over her, like a warm enveloping blanket. All she wanted to do was curl up in her four-poster and sleep.
As though reading her thoughts, Mrs Brocklehurst said, "Girls, you both look dead on your feet, why don't you both turn in early?" Hermione didn't need telling twice; bidding everyone a polite goodnight, she made her way to her suite and sank thankfully into her comfortable bed.
ZoZoZoZo
"So you see, my dears, you both are going to have a very busy two weeks. I advise you to get all your schoolwork out of the way as soon as possible. That way, you will be free to enjoy the holidays and make the most of your free time."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Mandy said, distractedly. "How many balls have we been invited to again?"
"Mandy, I wish you'd listen. Really!" Mrs Brocklehurst shook her head, her lips pursed. "There will be the dinner party at the Nanton Mansion, one at Finchly Manor, the Ashworths' Ball, and of course the dinner at the Malfoys'. I would have held a ball here, but there just isn't time to fit it in with everything else that is going on!"
"Oh, not that damned castle," pouted Mandy, "Honestly Hermione, the castle's a gothic monstrosity and should be pulled down! God, it's been in the Ashworth family for about twenty thousand years – it's positively ancient!"
"Be that as it may," Mrs Brocklehurst began, "we are nevertheless going there. And you, my girl, will be coming too!" Mandy scowled in response to this, but Hermione's attention was not on her.
"The Malfoys?" Hermione asked, tilting her head, "They've invited you for dinner?"
"Oh, not just us – they want you to come too, my dear. The Malfoys are a very closed family, you know. They don't just let anyone in unless they have a good reason to do so. Of course, the balls they give are superb and are rightly the highlight of the Wizarding society calendar, for the Malfoys never spare any expense. But an invitation to dinner!" Mrs Brocklehurst sighed and shook her head in wonder. "To be invited to a dinner with the Malfoys… Let's just say that a dinner invitation by the Malfoys, is as rare as finding a phoenix feather outside Hogwarts." Mrs Brocklehurst frowned slightly before continuing, "Honestly, I must say I was rather surprised when the invitation arrived, but it would never do to reject an invitation to dinner by the Malfoys." She paused; "All our other invitations are from friends of the family, but the Malfoys…" she trailed off.
"Have they invited all of us?" Mandy asked.
Mrs Brocklehurst shook off her reverie and turned to her daughter, saying, "Well now, my dear. You know how it is with them; there are some things which can not be changed over night and well…."
"So Madelyn isn't coming, is she?" Mandy's voice had taken on a surly note as she spoke. "Mum, she's one of the family for god's sake! She's carrying your grandchild! How can they not invite her? I suppose that since Madelyn isn't going, neither is David?"
"Well, the truth is, the invitation is only for your father, Adrian, you two girls and myself. As I've said, the Malfoys are a closed family and inviting us for dinner in the first place, is already highly unusual for them. You can't expect them to invite the whole family now, can you? Well, regardless of what you may think, I have accepted the invitation, and we will be going. Perhaps they'll invite the others next time," Mrs Brocklehurst patted her daughter's knee, hoping to pacify her.
"Umm," Hermione hesitated, afraid of causing offence, "Mrs Brocklehurst, you mentioned that the other invitations are from friends of the family… are the Malfoys not family friends?" Hermione asked, a sense of foreboding taking hold of her. She was well aware of the reason for Madelyn not getting an invitation. Madelyn was a muggle, and would be about as welcome in the Malfoy's house as dry rot.
"Well, the truth is," Mrs Brocklehurst floundered, "how would you put it, we 'move in the same circles', if you know what I mean. I don't know the family well, but that is no reason to decline a dinner invitation from them. Besides, I believe the Malfoy heir will also be at the dinner. He is, after all, in your year at Hogwarts, and would be company for you two."
"I suppose so," Hermione replied, her heart sinking some more, "But I for one hardly know him – by sight yes, but no more."
"Ah well, in that case, it will be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know him away from Hogwarts and all the restrictions the different houses place upon you all. Personally, I think it will do you the world of good to spend time with him," she said looking at Mandy, who went red. "It is never too early to think about your future, to cement ties which later will come in handy."
It looked as though the invitation Malfoy had talked of had been sent after all, and unless Hermione wanted to offend her hosts, she would be obliged to go. 'Well,' she comforted herself, 'at least I won't be alone to deal with their snide remarks.'
They were in Mrs Brocklehurst's sitting room; a small very feminine room decorated in soft pastel colours. From her vantage point facing the window, Hermione could make out a figure strolling leisurely along the lawn below the window. The sky was a deep blue scattered with fluffy white clouds and the treetops could be seen swaying gently in the light breeze.
"Well, we best get studying if we want to be free by the time Madam Tooley is going to arrive," Mandy said, standing up and stretching. Wordlessly, Hermione followed her out of the room, and down the stairs in to the library. They settled themselves at either end of the large oak table that dominated the centre of the large room, and Hermione lost herself in the books lying open before her, temporarily forgetting her worries about the dinner with the Malfoys' and all that it would entail.
It was about half an hour later when Mandy broke the peaceful silence. "You know, it'll be interesting going to the Malfoys' place, don't you think? Is it just me, or are you reluctant to go? I mean everyone knows how Draco Malfoy and your friend Harry Potter hate each other, but surely that has nothing to do with you?" At the concerned look on Mandy's face, Hermione conjured up a bright smile. She didn't have the heart to tell Mandy her real feelings towards the Malfoys'.
"Umm… well, perhaps it's just reluctance on my part. I mean, a ball may be formal and even if you don't know your hosts, it's still ok because there are so many other people there. But a dinner party… A dinner party's different. I mean, the number of people at a formal dinner party's small, and if you don't really know your hosts, things can get a bit awkward, wouldn't you say?"
"Hmm… I suppose so," Mandy chewed her lip in thought. "Put like that, I can see where you're coming from – but mum is thrilled they have asked us. This is the first time we'll be going there for dinner anyway, and maybe they won't turn out to be all that bad after all!"
"Maybe not," Hermione half shrugged, but even to her own ears, she didn't sound very convincing. "But people who look down on others just because they're muggle – well that is wrong and prejudiced."
"You think that's the reason they didn't invite Madelyn and David? Oh no, I mean they are proud of their bloodline – who isn't? But to deliberately not invite someone to their home because she's a muggle, well that just doesn't make sense. After all – and no offence meant – but they've invited you. I mean, you are a muggleborn, your parents are muggles, if the Malfoys had a problem with muggles, surely they wouldn't have invite you either?"
"No, I suppose not, but still…" Hermione trailed off. Mandy did indeed have a point; to all intent and purpose, the Malfoys' could not be accused of not inviting Madelyn due to her heritage, but Hermione knew better. Almost seven years of veiled insults from Draco Malfoy had taught her if nothing else, that the Malfoys' prided their bloodline above all things and their opinion of muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards, was scathing to say the least.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she affected a nonchalant shrug saying, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it is still odd. Oh well, no doubt they have their reasons for inviting just us."
ZoZoZoZo
"Oh god, what am I going to wear?" Mandy wailed, coming into Hermione's suite. "Everyone, and I mean, everyone, will be at this ball and I just can't decide…" Mrs Brocklehurst's voice floated into the room, calling out for Mandy. "Damn, mum wants me. I'd better go, see you in a bit." With that, Mandy left the room, leaving Hermione to stare without enthusiasm at the dress robes, which had been laid out on her four-poster for the ball that evening.
Hermione had now been at Brocklehurst Manor for a week, and would have preferred to spend the evening curled up in front of the fire reading a good book. Instead, she had to attend this ball, which judging by the excited chatter of Mrs Brocklehurst, Madelyn and Mandy, was one of the highlights of the social calendar and therefore had to be attended.
Picking up the turquoise silk robes, she began to dress, fervently hoping that she would not be asked to dance. She didn't feel in the mood to listen to the inane chatter of people who had nothing better to do with their time than dress up for balls and dinner parties. She had now attended two dinner parties; one at the Finchly Manor and one at the home of the Nantons. Both families had taken pains to make her feel welcome, although she had been aware of their close scrutiny all evening. She had been bombarded with questions about her family, likes and dislikes, and aspirations for the future. She had found these inspections to be very draining, and although she was sure she had made a favourable impression with both families, she still felt like an outsider and had therefore been on her guard at all times. As a consequence, she had been drained after both parties and the last thing she wanted to do now was to mix with even more curious strangers. Furthermore, tonight she would be expected to dance as well as play the part of the cheerful and affable guest.
Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit that the robes showed off her clear skin and chestnut hair, to their best, as Madam Tooley had promised they would. The turquoise pendant nestling at her throat, added the finishing touch to an elegant outfit. Picking up her wand, she put it carefully into the concealed inner pocket of the robes and tying her hair back, glared at her reflection. Turning away, she picked up her evening cloak, and made her way down the oak stairs in to the drawing room.
"Wow, Hermione, you look good enough to eat!" Adrian said, coming over to her and taking her arm. "Remember, the first dance is mine tonight. If anyone else asked for it, tell them to go to hell, as you have already given it to me."
"Adrian, your language is despicable!" gasped Madelyn, gliding into the room. She was dressed in robes of blue velvet, which concealed her pregnancy, giving her figure slimness and poise, which Hermione had to admire.
"Well, are we all ready?" Mr Brocklehurst in robes of black velvet strode into the room. A man of few words, he surveyed the occupants with approval. "I must say Hermione, that Tooley woman knows her stuff, you don't look half bad this evening."
"Thank you, Mr Brocklehurst," Hermione said, smiling, "you look very smart yourself."
"If we are all ready, let's be off!" Mrs Brocklehurst announced, entering the room. Her tall figure was clad in robes of pale blue silk, giving her skin a translucent quality. "Now, the girls, Madelyn and I, will travel by portkey, and we'll see the rest of you on the far side of the castle moat. Don't cross the bridge without us – we shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
Mrs Brocklehurst then proceeded to usher everyone out of the room, and turning around, Hermione saw Mandy running down the stairs, trying not to trip over her green silk robes in her haste. Following Mrs Brocklehurst outside, Hermione waited for Mandy to catch up. Around them, the family were all Disapparating with small pops. Fishing in the pocket of her silk evening cloak, Mrs Brocklehurst held out a small round coin to the assembled group around her. Leaning forward, Hermione placed a finger on it, as did Mandy and Madelyn. In the next instant, there was a familiar tug behind Hermione's naval, and they were flying inexorably towards the castle. Hermione could feel Mandy and Mrs Brocklehurst's shoulders banging into her own and closing her eyes she tried not to peer at the kaleidoscope of colours that was pressing against her lids. 'No matter how many times I use a portkey,' she thought, 'I will always hate the experience!' Then with a thud that made her bones jerk painfully, she was slammed back onto her feet. Staggering slightly, she regained her balance and opened her eyes.
They had landed in what looked like a small clearing; a mountain stood behind them blocking out the rays of the gibbous moon, while in front of them, the water of the deep moat glinted in the light of thousands of stars, making it appear like liquid silver. To her left, Hermione could see a wooden drawbridge spanning the water, leading away from them. On either side of Hermione, huge trees stood sentinel in front of the castle, which looked like a solid dark edifice, brooding and slightly sinister, in the dim evening light.
"Finally," said Mr Brocklehurst's voice from behind them, "honestly you women, you fuss and bumble worse than a couple of kids. At this rate, there won't be any decent nosh left!"
"Food, Henry not 'nosh'. I do wish you would use proper English," Mrs Brocklehurst sighed distractedly. "But you are right, we should be getting a move on." So saying, she lead the others down to where the rest of the family stood huddled in the shelter of a large oak by the bridge. They all made their way over the bridge, and a cold breeze ruffled the skirt of Hermione's robes. Glancing down, she shivered; the water looked inky black and swirled in menacing waves, encouraged by the wind. Averting her eyes from this unpleasant view, Hermione followed the others along a wide gravel drive bordering the moat and up to the castle entrance.
"Dear me," murmured Mrs Brocklehurst, "we're late again! Oh well, we may as well put a brave face to it!" She marched up the steps leading to the entrance hall.
"I don't believe it! If it isn't Emily Brocklehurst and her gang!" A large florid man stood in the doorway beaming at them. "Well come in, come in, there is a definite nip out there!" Ushering the party into the spacious hall, he closed the elaborately carved front doors, just as a woman came hurrying out of one of the rooms.
"Emily, Henry, how nice to see you both!" She leaned forward and planted a smacking kiss on Mrs Brocklehurst's cheek before turning to smile at the rest of them. "Ah, and the rest of your family. Yes, I remember you all from David's wedding – my, haven't you grown Mandy! But who is this?" Her eyes fell upon Hermione standing nervously beside Mandy.
"This is Hermione Granger, a school friend of Mandy's," Mrs Brocklehurst said, smiling.
"Pleased to meet you, Hermione, and welcome to Ashworth Castle – it is a bit of a monstrosity, but it shelters us from the elements well enough." As she spoke, Mrs Ashworth moved towards the room out of which she had hurried a few minutes earlier to greet the Brocklehursts. "Everyone is here tonight," she carried on; "so you young girls should have a good time of it!" she winked meaningfully at Hermione and Mandy, causing both to go a bright shade of red. Like her husband, Mrs Ashworth had a florid weather-beaten complexion. Hermione guessed her to be in her late fifty's; her hair tied up in a shiny bun on the back of her head, a bright smile on her good-natured face.
The room in to which the Ashworths led them was large and had a high ceiling. The large windows were topped with gothic archways, while a chandelier containing thousands of candles blazed overhead, lighting up the large room. Hermione could see a dance floor in the middle and a few couples were already dancing to a slow melody she didn't recognise. People stood around the room with drinks in hand, laughing and chatting; the atmosphere was convivial and she felt herself relaxing. A band consisting of drums, a cello, a violin, two guitars and a saxophone, was positioned on a raised dais at one end of the room, while a long table had been erected at the other, on which stood drinks of every kind. Small gilt chairs were placed at strategic points round the room, for those guests who did not want to dance.
"Now you two," Mrs Brocklehurst said to Mandy and Hermione, "I don't want you touching any alcohol – you are far too young and there are plenty of non-alcoholic beverages to choose from." Both girls nodded in assent, although Mandy scowled darkly behind her mother's back.
"Come on," said Mandy, turning towards Hermione, "Let's stand over here. With any luck, we may see someone we recognise. That's the problem with these things – for the oldies, all their friends are always at functions like these, but we probably won't know anyone else."
"Oh, I wouldn't speak so soon," Hermione countered, "look behind you."
Mandy whipped around and sure enough, struggling towards them through the throng of people were Terry Boot and Ernie McMillan, both grinning broadly and clutching drinks.
"Hey," Ernie called, "What a surprise to see you two here."
"Not that we're complaining or anything," Terry grinned, "but there's a distinct lack of decent birds here, so it's nice to see you!"
"Birds?" Mandy spluttered, while Hermione bit her lip in order to stifle her laughter. "Birds? You call us birds? Well, if you don't have the manners to at least talk in a civilised tone, you can just turn round and go back to where you came from!"
At Mandy's outcry and the boys' crest-fallen expressions, Hermione could not stop her laughter from erupting, causing a few people to look at her curiously. The boys' countenances had turned brick red and both were now staring at the floor.
"Well, look we didn't mean anything by it, I mean …" Ernie trailed off.
"We're sorry," Terry chipped in, "now will you danced with us? Granger, I mean, Hermione, can I have this dance please?"
He was looking at her with such a pleading look in his eyes, Hermione didn't have the heart to refuse him. Excusing herself to Mandy, she followed Terry onto the dance floor. A few seconds later, Mandy and Ernie caught up with them, a resigned expression on Mandy's face. Turning to face Terry, Hermione put her hand in his, placing her other hand on his shoulder. Putting his arm around her, Terry led Hermione in the dance. The music was soft, and not being familiar with wizarding bands, Hermione had no idea what it was she was listening to. As they circled the floor, she allowed her gaze to wander idly around the crowded room and as a consequence, didn't see Draco Malfoy heading straight for them.
"Boot, your mummy's wondering where you are," he sneered, making both Hermione and Terry jump.
Wheeling round to face him, Hermione saw him smirking unpleasantly at Terry, his eyes narrowed slits. "Well, what are you waiting for Boot? Mummy's asking for you so you'd better not keep her waiting! Run along now, there's a good boy!"
"Malfoy!" Terry spluttered, "My mother's fine, I left her talking to her friends over there." He gestured to a point over Hermione's shoulder. "She was enjoying herself; told me to do the same. So, if you'd kindly leave us be?" Terry raised his brows.
"No," countered Malfoy, with a slow drawl. "I think you'll find she wants another drink," he said pointedly, "You'd better scurry over there to get it, just as you've been trained. Now come on, chop chop!"
Scowling, Terry glanced over to where a woman, presumably his mother, was standing quite alone, and looking disconsolate. Hermione's heart went out to the frail-looking woman. By the look of her, Hermione guessed she had recently been ill; her skin had a waxy papery look to it, and there were fine lines around her eyes. She was also too thin, her cheekbones clearly visible through the skin of her pale face.
"Come on, Terry, she looks as though she could do with company," Hermione said, making her way towards the woman. However, she had only taken a few steps towards the woman, when a hand closed around her elbow, bringing her to a halt. Turning around, she saw Draco Malfoy smiling down at her, although the smile did not reach his cold grey eyes.
"Now where do you think you're going?" he smirked, "Mrs Boot didn't ask for you – just her boy." Glancing at her empty hands, he looked up at her and continued, "I see you don't have a drink; Boot's manners leave a lot to be desired. Come, let me get you one."
"Damn you Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "Let me go this instant! In case you hadn't notice, Terry and I were dancing. Why would I need a drink? Anyway, I was just about to go over there to see if there was anything I could do for his mother, which is mere common courtesy – something you seem to know nothing about." she flashed back angrily. She could make out the figure of Terry wending his lonely way between the couples on the dance floor towards his mother.
"Oh, I don't know," Malfoy replied mildly, his gaze following that of Hermione. "Unlike your… friend, I have been taught how to treat a lady with civility. Unlike your erstwhile partner, I don't guzzle my own drink, leaving my lady unprovided for; nor would I just leave her to trail after me on the dance floor," he smirked. "I am simply stepping into the breach here, rescuing you from an awkward situation. For indeed, what would people think if they saw Boot leave you in the middle of a dance? At least my presence here would quell gossip about him leaving you high and dry half way through the dance," he said, tilting his head towards a group of older witches who were gazing at them with undisguised curiosity. "How do you think they would construe Boots' rudeness? The fact of the matter is that you should be grateful to me for stepping in."
Hermione, flushed with anger, retorted venomously. "Well I don't care what they think. If you don't mind, Malfoy, leave me be and go pester someone else!"
"My, we are prickly this evening, aren't we?" Malfoy resumed with mock delight. "That's a shame, for I have such plans for you." Ignoring Hermione's incredulous glare, he went on, "After we complete this dance, I would like to introduce you to my parents." With a more serious mien, he added, "I don't believe you've been formally introduced to my family, and they expressly asked to be introduced to you."
'Yeah, I bet they did,' Hermione thought savagely. Aloud she said, "But Malfoy, I don't wish to be introduced to them – call it intuition if you like, but something tells me that we won't get on!" Before Hermione could protest further, she found herself being forcefully led back to the crowded dance floor, with Malfoy's firm hand on the small of her back.
Once in place, Malfoy held her in the traditional dance posture, and began to lead her through the unfamiliar dance moves. There could be no doubt at all that Draco Malfoy was an excellent dancer. Unlike Terry's unsure steps, Malfoy moved with a confident grace and an impeccable sense of rhythm, making it easier for her to follow the unfamiliar dance steps. Against her will, Hermione found herself starting to enjoy the dance, her movements matching his.
"You're a good dancer," he complimented her after a while. Hermione ignored him, fixing her eyes instead on the wall opposite them, which was hung with various portraits. 'The Ashworths' ancestors,' Hermione thought.
The music finally came to an end, but before Hermione had a chance to move away, Malfoy was steering her off the dance floor towards a group of people standing to one side of the polished floor, conversing enthusiastically together. Hermione scowled and tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he tightened his grip, causing her to wince.
"Careful," he muttered, "I wouldn't struggle too much, they are all watching us, look!" The group was indeed watching their progress across the crowded dance floor, and seeing Hermione's dismayed expression, Malfoy gave her a triumphant smirk.
Reaching the laughing knot of people and thrusting Hermione forward, Malfoy said, "Mother, Father, I want you to meet a school friend of mine." At his words, two people detached themselves from the group, making their way to where Hermione and Malfoy stood a little way apart.
Hermione felt her heart sink; Lucius Malfoy was smiling down at her, his cold grey eyes taking in every nuance of her appearance. He reminded her of a cat, about to squash a particularly tiresome mouse. Beside him walked a tall slender woman, whom Hermione recognised as Narcissa Malfoy. Her smile, although slightly warmer than that of her husband, was nevertheless assessing, her eyes sweeping Hermione from head to toe. Like her husband, she was impeccably dressed. Narcissa's eyes soon returned to Hermione's face, boring into her as though trying to look in to her very soul.
"Well, well, this is a pleasure," Lucius drawled taking Hermione's hand in his own. "Hermione, isn't it? I hope you don't mind us using your first name, but as Draco has told us so much about you, we feel as though we already know you. And since that is the case, we needn't stand on ceremony," he added with a smile.
Hermione bit her lip; his fingers were gripping hers so tightly, she felt as though the circulation was being cut off in her hand. There was also a dangerous glint in his eye, which held an unspoken threat.
Swallowing nervously, Hermione said, "Yes, I mean to say, that is…"
Lucius smiled in triumph and dropped her hand.
"That's excellent," said Narcissa, bending forward and kissing Hermione's cheek. "We have heard so much from Draco about you, we just had to meet you. Now my dear, it seems Draco has been remiss – you don't have a drink. Draco darling, go fetch Hermione one," she ordered her son. Turning back to Hermione, she added, "You must be thirsty after all that dancing. I wonder if we could go somewhere more quiet to talk – one can't hear oneself think in this place, let alone have a civil conversation."
"Well, considering that since your son and I hardly know each other, I'd say that we would have very little to chat about," Hermione countered.
Behaving as though Hermione hadn't spoken, Lucius said in a loud voice, "There's a nice little sitting room I am sure the Ashworths won't mind us using. It's just across the hall, come."
Cupping Hermione's elbow, he attempted to lead her towards the double doors, which opened into the hall, with Narcissa walking on Hermione's other side. Hermione felt trapped; she could see no way out of her dilemma and to make things worse, Draco appeared from nowhere holding a glass of orange juice. He fell in step behind Hermione, effectively blocking her only way of escape.
'Damn,' she thought, trying hard to quell the panic rising inside her, 'think! There has to be a way out of this. There must be a way!'
"And where are you lot off to?" boomed a voice, cutting into Hermione's panicked thoughts. Mr Brocklehurst was lounging by the doors, a half empty glass held in one hand, with a half smile on his face. "If I didn't no better, I'd say you were kidnapping our Hermione."
"Oh don't be absurd, Henry," Lucius drawled smoothly, "the girl needs some air, there is such a crush, after all. The ball can be dreadfully overwhelming, and this being her first wizarding ball outside of Hogwarts. We were merely escorting her out of the room before the entire event got too much for the poor child and cause her to faint - you know how young girls are prone to this."
"Indeed," Mr Brocklehurst raised his brows at Lucius' explanation. Turning to Hermione, he inquired with a note of real concern, "Hermione, are you not feeling well?" He peered more closely at Hermione, frowning. Hermione could feel tears threatening, and rapidly blinked them away. "Well, Lucius, if that's the case, I'll come along with your little party. I wouldn't mind a breath of clean air myself."
The tightening of Lucius' fingers on Hermione's arm was the only indication of his growing annoyance. His smile did not waver as he answered, "Of course, Henry, do feel free to join us!"
"Come on, Hermione," Mr Brocklehurst said taking her arm, thus effectively removing Lucius' hand, "Lucius is right, these damned ballrooms can get a tad stuffy." Turning to Lucius and Narcissa, he smiled brightly and said, "Well, thank you both for your help, it was much appreciated. I think I'll take over from here, and let you both get back to the ball. Hermione is my guest, after all."
Hermione saw Narcissa's mouth tighten; the warm smile had disappeared to be replaced with a steely look of determination. Her eyes which were a clear blue, bored into Mr Brocklehurst's, but he did not flinch.
"It is of no consequence, Henry. I will accompany you," Narcissa said, "After all, the child looks peaky and it might be inconvenient for a man such as yourself to deal with her. Since Emily is not around, I am able to be of assistance. I do hate to leave the poor child alone." So saying, Narcissa placed her arm around Hermione's shoulders, propelling her towards the hall.
Struggling against the pressure Narcissa was exerting, Hermione said pointedly, "No thank you, Mrs Malfoy. I'm fine, honestly. I am not about to faint and I assure you that I am very well. I'm sure you would rather return to the ball."
Hermione pushed Narcissa's arm away, and hurried out the room, Mr Brocklehurst on her heels. They didn't speak as they made their way across the cold hall into another room, which was small and looked as though it was rarely used.
"What was that all about?" Mr Brocklehurst asked, throwing himself down into an armchair. "That lot looked pretty determined to get you out of there. Any idea why?"
"Well, honestly, I don't know. I mean – there's nothing wrong with me as you can see. And well…" Hermione trailed off, looking at the floor, perplexed.
There was a pause and then Mr Brocklehurst said thoughtfully, "I don't often get involved in all this social politics stuff – don't hold with it, but those two wanted you alone, and what I want to know is why." Changing his tone, he added, "If the rumours are true, you are a pretty magical person right?"
"Rumours? What rumours?" Hermione shook her head in bewilderment.
"Well, tell me – is it true, then? Are you one of the most powerful witches Hogwarts has seen in an age?"
Hermione shrugged before nodding. It seemed silly to deny something he already seemed to know all about.
"Well, in that case, those two are after something and I think I know what. It's a shame we have to dine with them next week. All the same, I am not happy about all this, no."
"Well, neither am I," Hermione said, "Is there really no way we can get out of the dinner invitation? And what do you think it is they are after?"
"Well, not quite sure to be honest – I'm just making an assumption," Mr Brocklehurst hedged. His eyes had fixed themselves on a point above Hermione's left shoulder as he continued, "they could be after anything. It may be nothing sinister, but all the same…" he trailed off. "And as for the invitation, it will look like an deliberate insult if we back out now. And in these trying times, we can't be too careful; more enemies means more worries, see? I can't afford to take that risk – I have a family to think about, as have you, so we must just grit our teeth and attend." Seeing Hermione's crestfallen face, Mr Brocklehurst comforted her with; "Don't worry, though. One of us will be with you all the time while we're there."
Hermione, rather than feeling assured by this, felt the now familiar feeling of worry grip her insides. If she were any judge of character, she would bet her friendship with Harry and Ron that Lucius and Narcissa would do everything in their power to get her alone – this evening had proved that, and she had a nasty feeling that in their own house, they would succeed without any difficulty.
"Well, thanks Mr Brocklehurst," she replied with a bright false smile, to lighten the suddenly grim situation. "I suppose we had better return to the ball now."
They got up and left the room and entered the ballroom just as another dance started up. As soon as they entered, Hermione saw Narcissa detach herself from a group of people and start to wend her way over to them.
"Speak of the devil!" Mr Brocklehurst said, as Narcissa reached them.
"Hermione, are you feeling better?" she asked, pushing herself in between Hermione and Mr Brocklehurst.
"Yes Mrs Malfoy. I'm fine, thanks," Hermione replied, surreptitiously trying to edge away.
"Henry!" came a voice from behind the trio.
Turning, they saw Mr Ashworth beaming at Mr Brocklehurst, "Been looking for you everywhere, old chap! There's someone I want you to meet. Excuse us, ladies." So saying, he grabbed Mr Brocklehurst's arm and began dragging him away, leaving Hermione alone with Narcissa.
"Men, really!" Narcissa sighed shrugging, "Anyway, how are you really? Did that breath of fresh air do any good?"
"Erm, yeah," Hermione said distractedly. Around them, the dance was in full flow, with couples circling the floor. No one was looking in their direction – all were busy either dancing or chatting. The drinks were flowing freely, and many of the guests, having consumed more than one glass of the potent punch, were now talking in very loud voices, all inhibitions washed away by the alcohol.
"It is so nice to finally meet you in the flesh – Draco has told me so much about you."
At the sound of Narcissa's voice, Hermione abandoned the search for a familiar face, and turned back to Narcissa, who stood by the wall, cool and elegant watching her closely.
"I feel as though I already know you. I do hope we can get to know each other better during your stay with the Brocklehursts – if there were more time, I would have invited you to come and stay with us."
At the incredulous look on Hermione's face, she went on smoothly, "Well, I for one would like to get to know you better, and so would Draco, I believe. To be perfectly frank, I feel that the house rivalry at Hogwarts is too intense, and that is such a shame as it hinders possible friendships between people, who in other circumstances would have been natural friends."
Hermione had to suppress a snort at this – she and Draco Malfoy bosom pals? The idea was enough to make her want to laugh! She imagined the expressions on Ron and Harry's faces if they could hear Narcissa now.
Making a conscious effort to keep a straight face she said, "Yeah true, there are aren't many interhouse friendships such as mine with Mandy, but honestly, I really can't see me being friends with your son. I mean… I mean, we are too different and stuff."
"He doesn't seem to think so," Narcissa said quietly, "you think people like us are prejudiced in our attitudes towards you… but can you truthfully say that you are not prejudiced against us? It's a real shame," she looked Hermione in the eyes and shook her head. "Never mind, hopefully you will understand what I mean, when you come to dinner at the Manor and see for yourself what sort of people we really are."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked not understanding Narcissa's sudden change of tack.
"Well," the other woman regarded her thoughtfully, "It is perfectly obvious that you don't particularly care for either me or any of my family. Now considering you don't know either my husband or myself, and barely know Draco personally, your attitude is a little… well, shall we say a little strange, is it not? Past experience is usually the thing that colours ones attitude towards another, but in this case, we don't even know each other at all, Hermione. Therefore, it is not past experience that colours your attitude towards me, which leaves me to think that you have developed presumptions and opinions based on things you might have heard."
Hermione could feel the colour rising in her cheeks and was just about to open her mouth to apologise for her incivility, when Mrs Brocklehurst swept over and nodding at Narcissa said, "Come along Hermione, we have stayed long enough I think, you look dead on your feet and so does Mandy. Time to call it an evening!"
ZoZoZoZo
'How is it,' Hermione thought sleepily, 'that you can be made to feel guilty for something you haven't even done?' Ginny's voice broke into her thoughts and she started guiltily.
"So what happened? I mean, it's obvious they wanted to talk to you about something, but what?" Ginny's head which sat in the flames, turned so as to get a better look at Hermione's shadowy profile.
"Don't know," Hermione answered staring absently into the flames of the fire. "It was Mandy's dad who rescued me from them. The Malfoys were all set to have a cosy chat, practically dragging me from the room but fortunately, Mr Brocklehurst intercepted them – god, am I grateful to him for that."
Ginny frowned; her face in the flickering fire light looked worried, her forehead was creased and her eyes downcast. "But Hermione, they're a very powerful family, and they don't usually… well they won't talk to people of muggle origin if they can help it. I mean, Narcissa Malfoy's a class A bitch! And that's a well known fact!" Ignoring Hermione's wince, she went on, "She isn't the type to get to know someone just because. There has to be something in it for her, there must be. I mean, that's who she is. What I want to know is, why did she go out of her way to be nice to you – it isn't like her at all."
Hermione shrugged, "I don't know, I think Mr Brocklehurst has an idea, but when I asked him about it, he wouldn't say. I just wish I didn't have to go with them to the Malfoys' dinner. Not only would that be very rude to both families, but the Brocklehursts have done so much to make me feel welcome that to avoid the dinner would be most ungrateful of me."
"Well, whatever happens, keep your wand on you at all times. And Hermione, make sure one of the Brocklehurst's is with you all the time you are there. That way, Lucius and co won't be able to get you alone."
"I highly doubt that they'll allow me to stick with the Brocklehurst, not when the dinner's in their own house. They'll get me alone if it means poisoning the Brocklehursts to do it – you didn't see the look of determination on their faces earlier," Hermione sagged against the armchair she was sitting on. "Look, you'd better go, it's late, and I have a full day tomorrow. Thanks for talking to me tonight, I daren't say anything to Mandy – both she and her mother think the Malfoys are nice people."
"Well, goodnight then, I can't see the Brocklehursts being too pleased at you hogging their flu this late. Hermione, take care and watch yourself – I have a really bad feeling about this, but as none of them have done anything obviously wrong, we can't get anyone like Dumbledore involved. If only we could come up with a plan to stop you going – when is the dinner again?"
"In five days time – jus before the holidays end. Ginny, I don't like that expression," Ginny was looking thoughtful her forehead creased in concentration, "leave it, I am sure I can survive one dinner with the gits."
"Yeah maybe – look I'll speak to you in a bit but in the mean time take care and don't take any chances!" Ginny's head disappeared from the fire with a small pop, leaving Hermione alone.
Hermione sighed before wearily getting to her feet, and making her ponderous way to bed. What was Ginny up to? The expression on her face had reminded Hermione vividly of Fred and George's expressions while designing their next piece of merchandise for their joke shop. Shrugging, she sighed; she would worry about Ginny and the Malfoys and what they were up to, in the morning. Right now, she could feel tiredness threatening to overwhelm her, so she pushed the happenings of the evening from her exhausted mind and staggered into bed.