Authors Note: Once again, sorry for the late update but hopefully, the long chapter will make up for it. As ever thanks to my beta for making this readable, and those of you who have left such encouraging reviews. Let me know what you all think of this chapter and please enjoy!
Chapter 8
Hermione stared down at the book in her lap, trying in vain to decipher the words, to no avail. No matter how hard she concentrated, they blurred in front of her eyes. She had been sitting trying to read for the better part of two hours as she found sleep to be impossible. The day she had dreaded was finally here; the day she would be forced to visit the home of people she hated.
She yawned; stretching her cramped limbs she glanced at the clock sitting on the mantelpiece. It was time for breakfast. She got up and made her reluctant way downstairs into the large breakfast room, where no doubt the Brocklehursts would be sitting round the table chatting animatedly. For them, this was a special day, in which one of their dearest ambitions would be realised – dinner with one of the most prestigious wizarding families in the wizarding community.
Pushing open the door to the breakfast room, Hermione saw that the family were indeed all present – all wearing cheery expressions and tucking into toast and scrambled eggs. At her appearance, Adrian leapt to his feet and pulled out her chair with a flourish.
"Hermione, there you are! I was beginning to think you had overslept. Look, here's a letter for you – looks like it's from Hogwarts."
He handed Hermione a letter, which she saw bore the unmistakeable Hogwarts crest, and she felt her heart leap. Maybe this letter would be her salvation – the thing that Ginny had promise a few days ago. Trying not to look too hopeful, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of parchment within. She immediately recognised the writing as belonging to Professor McGonagall.
Adrian, looking over her shoulder, frowned before exclaiming, "Blimey, isn't that McGonagall's handwriting? What does she want with you in the holidays?" At these words, everyone else looked up also.
"Well dear," Mrs Brocklehurst said, "best to get it over with, read it out loud – it will be better that way."
Smoothing out the letter Hermione read,
"Dear Miss Granger,
I am sorry to have to interrupt your holiday but an urgent matter has come up which requires your immediate attention as head girl. I would be grateful if you could get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible as this matter cannot wait and needs to be dealt with without delay.
Once again I apologise for the inconvenience – please convey my sincere apologies to the Brocklehurst family.
Prof M. McGonagall."
There was a silence as Hermione finished reading and folded up the letter, only to be broken by Adrian, who asked, "What's so urgent that you have to run back to Hogwarts now?"
"Well," Hermione hedged, trying hard to conceal the relief she was feeling, "it's probably a Head Boy and Girl issue – Anthony's also away, so they're probably trying to recall us both."
"Well, whatever the matter, I'm sure they won't begrudge you another day – after all, it's the Malfoy's dinner party this evening and you can't miss that!" Mandy grinned as she finished speaking.
"I am sure you are right, Mandy dear," her mother said, "Hermione simply must attend the dinner party tonight – after all, she was specifically invited. I will floo Minerva McGonagall to let her know."
"Mrs Brocklehurst," Hermione began, her heart sinking, "it could be something urgent, and I—"
"Nonsense, my dear. They can't expect you to drop everything and go back to school; no one would expect that of you. No, you enjoy yourself, and maybe tomorrow we can see about getting you back to school, if you so wish."
"But I'm sure the Malfoys' won't mind! That is, I mean, this school matter must be really serious for Professor McGonagall to owl me, and as Head Girl, it's my duty to, well, to put Hogwarts first," Hermione said earnestly.
Everyone looked speculatively at her and Mrs Brocklehurst frowned slightly, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Hermione's anxious face.
"As I said before," she said, "you have been invited to attend the dinner party, and it is only right you should go. If the matter was very serious, one of the Hogwarts staff would have come here in person to escort you back, but as they have simply sent an owl, I think we are safe in assuming the matter can wait until tomorrow!"
There was no arguing with this logic, Hermione knew. She stared down at her untouched breakfast, her heart leaden. It seemed that the Brocklehursts were determined to drag her to the Malfoys', no matter what. She wished she could defy them and not go, but that would be tantamount to throwing their courtesy back in their faces – something she could not do. She pushed her food around her plate, while around her the family discussed the evening's visit with enthusiasm. Only Madelyn was quiet. Like Hermione, she was pushing her food round her plate abstractedly, a faraway look on her face. Glancing at her, Hermione wondered what was occupying her mind. of all this family, Madelyn was the one Hermione knew least well. As though she could sense Hermione's gaze on her, Madelyn looked up, catching Hermione's eye. With a slight nod of the head, she sent the merest of glances towards the rose garden just visible outside the breakfast room window. Returning her nod, Hermione forced down a piece of toast and a cup of coffee, before excusing herself to the rest of the family and making her way outdoors to the rose garden.
The day was quite warm, a breeze ruffled the branches of the trees and blossom cascaded down onto Hermione as she paced the parameter of the garden. The sky was a clear blue and fluffy white clouds could be seen floating lazily along in the wake of the breeze. Hermione looked around the garden, roses of every colour and variety imaginable grew here, although most as yet were not out, the buds clinging firmly to their stems. A slight sound made Hermione turn and she saw Madelyn coming towards her down the path. Hermione thought she looked tired; there were shadows beneath her eyes, and her cheeks were pale.
Reaching Hermione, Madelyn smiled before indicating a bench in the sun. Both sat down, then Madelyn turned to Hermione with a wan smile.
"I don't think we'll be overheard here, so we can talk freely," she said. "The family are all busy with other things."
"Madelyn, is everything ok?" Hermione's question was asked in a quiet voice and she glanced swiftly round the garden to check for eavesdroppers.
"Hermione, there are a few things I feel I need to tell you. You are muggleborn, and so are unaware of certain—" Madelyn hesitated, "—shall we say, traditions or etiquettes by which families such as ours abide."
Hermione frowned recalling the book on etiquette she had read before visiting the Brocklehursts' manor.
"Well, I did some reading before I came here—"
"Books, Hermione," smiled Madelyn wryly, "can only take you so far. No, there are some things which books cannot teach you, and it is these which I want to warn you about."
Hermione frowned again before smiling at Madelyn.
"Well, thanks for your concern, but honestly I am fine—"
"Oh no you're not!" Madelyn shook her head. "Listen to me and then you can decide if you're fine or not. Before I met David, I knew nothing of wizards or anything like that, so I was completely unprepared for his revelation that he was a wizard. God, I remember exactly when he told me," she said, leaning her head back and looking up into the bright blue sky. "I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me some spells he did with his wand, and I was forced to believe him," she smiled while reminiscing. "Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked," Madelyn turned back to Hermione, continuing, "when I first met the family, they were all really nice, they'd made me feel welcome and everything. I knew nothing of prejudicial attitudes towards people like me – but you could say that I learned it the hard way."
Hermione leaned forward, her interest captured and Madelyn carried on speaking in a low voice. "I often wondered why certain people gave me funny looks at parties, or in the cases of others, avoided me altogether. David told me I was imagining things when I questioned him about it. A few months ago, I found out exactly why certain people gave me weird looks at a party given by the Latameirs'. I'd gone into the hall for a breath of fresh air and saw a child sitting on the stairs watching me through the banisters. She was about eight or nine, and she had no inhibitions. She stared at me as though she had never seen another human being before, and when I asked her what she was looking at, she said, 'oh, you're that muggle woman that David Brocklehurst married aren't you?' I said I was, and then she told me – you know what children are like – talk first and think later. Well, she said… she said," Madelyn grimaced and lowered her voice in unhappiness, "she said it had come as a surprise to everyone that David had married me, but that she supposed that as there were another two children in the Brocklehurst family, it didn't really matter. I was confused by what she said, so I started questioning her further. You can imagine my shock and outrage when I found out through her why so many of our so-called friends avoided me."
Hermione bit her lip, sympathy rising in her. She had not failed to notice the bitter tinge that had crept into Madelyn's voice as she talked.
"So what happened then?" Hermione asked equally softly.
"Well," Madelyn slanted a glance across to Hermione, "I carried on questioning the child who was only too happy to talk, as it meant she could stay downstairs for a bit longer. She told me, that in order to retain the "purity" of the Brocklehurst bloodline, at least one of them had to marry a pureblood. Needless to say, I was a little hurt by what that implied, and when I questioned David about it later, he reluctantly confirmed her story."
Hermione sat on the bench silently, allowing Madelyn's story to sink in.
Madelyn gave Hermione a wan smile, continuing, "I've gott used to the snubs, but that isn't the point of what I want to tell you. Hermione, Emily Brocklehurst's a determined woman. She didn't object to David and I marrying because as that child so glibly pointed out, there are Mandy and Adrian left, and Emily is determined that both will marry purebloods. Which brings me to the subject of this evening."
Hermione scowled having temporarily forgotten the evening ahead and her despondency.
"What about it?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Hermione listen to me. I sympathise with you – heaven only knows I too have had my fair share of prejudice, but you are in a difficult situation. Emily, like every mother, wants only the best for her children. Therefore, it's her dearest wish to see Mandy married to the Malfoy boy. After all, he's heir to a huge fortune, as well as being the only son of one of the most prestigious families in Britain."
"But Malfoy's father is a Voldemort supporter – everyone knows that!" Hermione cried, "Why does she want to associate with a family who use money and threats to buy favours and loyalty? Everyone knows Lucius Malfoy bribed his way out of Azkaban last year."
Madelyn sighed. "Hermione, I was a psychologist before I got married and have learned a lot since. The world's not black and white. Good and evil aren't simple opposites. You see, I've learned the hard way that most of the old pureblood families don't really care about the Voldemort issue. This family," she took another furtive look round the deserted garden, "is no different. Sure, they're more open-minded than some, but if David had been the only child, marrying me would not have been an option for him; preserving the purity of the bloodline would have come first."
"But," Hermione gasped, "that's so wrong, I mean—"
"I couldn't agree more, but that's life and I hate to say it, it's something you have to accept if you want to remain in the wizarding world. Hermione, you must know that upper class pureblood society is a closed sphere; they rarely let anyone else into their ranks, and its members are fiercely loyal to ensure the continuation of their own bloodlines. It pays for their society to work like that, as each bloodline is intent on preserving its own purity, and if that means overlooking the errant activities of those with whom they wish to forge links, they will do so. Although… I've wondered how they dealt with the Kurbs-blood problem."
"Kurbs-Blood?" Hermione prompted.
"Yeah, you know – that genetic disease which is killing pureblood infants. All the families I know of including our own, have had it at some point in time, and apparently it's on the increase. Thus pureblood families cannot ignore it for long! But there I go, digressing again," Madelyn shook her head. "Getting back to the subject at hand, Emily was delighted to receive that invite from the Malfoys' as it'll give her a chance to parade Mandy before them. Mandy's a sweet girl – I couldn't have asked for a nicer sister-in-law, but she's easily manipulated; she'll go through with her mother's wishes because it simply hasn't occurred to her to do otherwise. I know Emily's been wondering how to cross the line from acquaintanceship to friendship with the Malfoys for some time, so she's determined that nothing go wrong tonight." Madelyn paused, and looked intently at the brunette sharing her bench. "And this is where you come in. Now, if the rumour is true, you've had dealings with the Malfoy boy at school, so Emily feels that you'll provide some common ground on which Mandy and the boy can meet."
"Well, thanks then," Hermione snorted derisively, "no wonder she's so determined I go, not that I know that slimy ferret that well!"
"Be that as it may, but from Emily's point of view, you danced together at the Ashworths' ball, and he took you over to introduce you to his parents. That speaks of familiarity, and Emily wants to use that to her advantage. Also, the Malfoys specifically invited you to the dinner, and it'll be very rude of my in-laws if they turn up without you. Remember, they want to create a good impression. The Brocklehursts are decent people, but they're determined to make a good match for Mandy." Madelyn looked seriously into Hermione's eyes. "Hermione, the thing is, you're in a pretty precarious position; I can understand that all you want to do is fling the invitation back into the Malfoys' faces, but if you do, Emily'll never forgive you – I've yet to see her bad side, but David has, and let's just say, she can be quite vindictive if you annoy her, and frankly, you've no means of protection here. Take my advice – attend the dinner without any more resistance. What happened at breakfast was obvious to all that you don't want to go, and Emily was definitely not pleased."
"Madelyn, you don't know the Malfoys – they're pure evil!"
"Yes, so rumour has it, but surely one evening with them won't kill you?"
Hermione looked incredulously at Madelyn, trying to make the older woman understand her viewpoint
"Look," Madelyn rolled her eyes with a sigh, "the alternative - getting on to Emily's bad side is far worse than attending a dinner at the Malfoys' – for one thing, you're under the protection of the Brocklehursts. Believe me, Emily's temper is not something you want to see, especially since you're here as the guest of her daughter. Listen, just eat what everyone else eats, so that will rule out poisoning. And always stay close to Mandy – the Malfoys won't do anything to her."
Hermione gave a defeated shrug; it would take too long to explain her misgivings to Madelyn and she was not sure that she would even be believed. True, Madelyn had proved to be more open-minded, but as she herself had hinted, it would be too offensive for Hermione not to attend.
ZoZoZoZo
Hermione lay in the scented water, her eyes half closed. Clouds of steam billowed around her and the air was full of the scent of Lavender, but she could not relax. She shivered as she tried to imagine the evening ahead. She knew she was nervous and could not help but remember all the insults she had hurled at both Malfoy senior and junior. No doubt they were intending to pay her back this evening. As she thought of this, a hot spurt of anger broke through her anxiety and she pulled herself into a standing position in the huge bath. She would show the Malfoys a thing or two if they tried to harm her – she wasn't the cleverest witch Hogwarts had seen for the past twenty years for nothing.
With newfound determination, Hermione stepped out of the bath and began drying herself off. Standing in front of her vast wardrobe, she considered her wardrobe, and then a slow smile slid over her face. Reaching forward, she pulled out a set of dress robes she had not yet worn, and began to dress. She would show the Malfoys exactly what she was capable of!
An hour later, she gazed critically at herself in the long mirror. Her robes, made of red satin interwoven with faint traces of gold, clung seductively to her figure. A gold pendant rested on the deep red of the satin while matching earrings hung from her ear lobes. She had pulled her hair back in a red and gold clip. She gave her reflection a wry smile; her appearance would do. Hermione made sure her wand was handy and a few chocolates containing the invisibility potion she had brewed almost two months earlier were in her pocket. Picking up her evening bag, she swept from the room and down the stairs.
"Wow, Hermione, you look amazing!" Adrian whistled, as Hermione came down the stairs. "Not everyone can wear their House colours like you do – that's a bold statement if ever I saw one." He indicated Hermione's outfit just as his mother and Mandy came down the stairs.
"Hermione dear, you look nice," Mrs Brocklehurst said, her eyes sweeping over Hermione. A slight tightening of her mouth told Hermione she was not too pleased at the colours Hermione had chosen to wear, but as Hermione had complied with wizarding dress code, there was nothing she could complain about. Emily was decked out in dress robes of midnight blue, which contrasted beautifully with her hair and eyes. Beside her, Mandy sported robes of pale pink silk, which were demurely cut, accentuating the fragility of her petite figure. Mr Brocklehurst arrived and they made their way to the front doors.
"Right, time for another good evening!" Adrian said, catching Mandy's eye with a wicked leer. Mandy looked away, but not before Hermione noticed the blush creeping over her cheeks.
"Come on now, we don't want to be late," Mrs Brocklehurst admonished, ushering them down the steps out into the April evening. "Now we will all be travelling by Portkey and should arrive outside the gates of Malfoy Manner. Here take hold of this." Emily produced the now familiar coin from her bag and held it out. Hermione, the still grinning Adrian, Mandy and Mr Brocklehurst each put a finger on to it, and a moment later, they were whisked away to Malfoy Manor.
With a thud, they landed, and Hermione just managed to keep herself from falling ungracefully. Around her, the others also staggered upright and Mrs Brocklehurst, after brushing herself down, swept critical glances over the two girls to ensure their clothes and hair had not been ruffled by their journey. Once she had straightened and adjusted their robes to her satisfaction, they all turned to face the imposing Manor gates.
The Manor gates were cast iron and intricately wrought. Even as Hermione watched, they creaked open of their own accord to admit the party. All of them stepped through and as soon as they had done so, the gates clanged shut ominously behind them. Hermione stared ahead. It was difficult to make out anything clearly in the dark. The drive was curved with tall trees bordering it on either side. She could not yet see the house, but through the trees, she glimpsed lawns as smooth as velvet. Beside her, Mandy shivered with apprehension and Hermione shot her a reassuring smile. It was very quiet, the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustlings of leaves were the only sounds to be heard.
"Blimey, it's like a graveyard in here!" Mr Brocklehurst muttered, suppressing a shudder.
"Yeah, it's a bit eerie, Dad!" Adrian concurred.
"Of course it isn't," Mrs Brocklehurst snapped back.
Hermione could hear the note of tension that had crept into Emily's voice, "the grounds are simply extensive, and it's evening and well…" she trailed off and they walked on in silence. Rounding the next curve, the house itself came into view and Mandy gasped aloud.
Malfoy Manor was enormous and imposing. Two turrets could be seen sitting atop the main building. The front doors were almost as wide as those of Hogwarts', and Hermione recognised the steps leading up to them as being made of marble.
As they started to mount the highly polished steps, the Mahogany front doors were thrown open and Lucius Malfoy stood there to welcome his guests. Hermione felt some of her earlier confidence leave her at the sight of him, and dropped back so she was standing in Mr Brocklehurst's shadow. A tall imposing figure, Lucius stood smiling as the Brocklehurst party climbed the steps. They all entered the hall, and Hermione glance around her with curiosity. The floor was made of the purest white marble, and the walls were lined with gilded gold frames of Malfoy ancestors. All had the same pointed faces and cold grey eyes, inherited by both Lucius and his son. A vast crystal chandelier twinkled down on them, and if Hermione had not known better, she would have thought it was powered by electricity; the light it gave off was so bright.
As the doors closed behind Hermione by a House Elf whom she had not noticed standing in the shadows, Narcissa Malfoy glided into the hall, a smile adorning her face, and the skirts of her clinging organza and silk robes flowing out behind her.
"Oh it is so nice to see you all!" she gushed, like the perfect hostess, as the House Elf took their cloaks and bore them away.
Mrs Brocklehurst made the introductions – her earlier nervousness seemed to have dissipated.
As she was introduced once again to the Malfoy family, Hermione thought she saw a slight smirk playing about Lucius' mouth, but did not dare look too closely. At this point, Draco Malfoy appeared; like his parents he was dressed in formal dress robes and his eyes were fastened on Hermione.
As Hermione watched, Draco approached Mandy and herself. "Miss Brocklehurst," he murmured, before taking Mandy's hand and placing a kiss on the back, "you look lovely this evening." Mandy blushed prettily at his compliments.
'The ever gallant gentlemen,' Hermione thought sourly, pasting a polite smile on her face, as Draco turned his attention to her.
"Miss Granger," he greeted, as he took her hand and placed a chaste kiss upon it. "Your House colours are most becoming on you," he commented with his patented smirk.
It took all of Hermione's will power not to pull her hand away and smack him across his sneering face. Fortunately, she was saved by Lucius, who ushered them into the drawing room.
As Lucius led the party into a room off the main hall, he explained, "We thought we would use the less formal drawing room, since there are so few of us."
Hermione and Mandy exchange nervous glances before being approached by Adrian and Draco. Draco, as the heir of Malfoy, escorted Mandy, followed behind by Hermione, who was escorted by Adrian.
Lucius lead them into a large and cosy looking room with thick Persian carpet covering the floor. French windows dominated one side of the well-proportioned room, while tapestries hung on the walls. A large fire was ablaze in the hearth and Hermione was grateful for its warmth. a grand piano stood to one side of the windows and Hermione could see at a glance it was a Pramberger – the dark wood glinted in the light given off by another impressive chandelier – this one made of sparkling glass.
'I wonder who plays the piano. It's probably charmed to play by itself,' thought Hermione.
Lucius directed them to seats near the fire and Hermione and Mandy sat down together, each grateful for the other's presence.
Lucius went over to a drinks cabinet, and like the perfect host, began asking everyone what they wanted. Hermione could not help watching carefully as he poured out the drinks – both she and Mandy opted for pumpkin juice. Draco, smirking, sat down opposite the two girls, and Hermione felt her heart sink. He fixed both girls with an intense stare which made Mandy fidget nervously. Hermione, on the other hand, being well used to his mannerisms, simply glared back, determined not to let him see past her confident exterior.
The conversation was general, and Hermione recognised it for what it was – small talk; the kind made between people who barely know each other. She was pleased to see that the Brocklehursts were as nervous as herself; they twirled their glasses between nervous fingers, their postures radiating tension. Only the Malfoys were at ease; Lucius leaned languidly against the highly polished mantelpiece, his eyes taking in every nuance of the Brocklehursts' appearance and manner, while Narcissa reclined elegantly on one of the sofas, smiling contentedly while engaging her guests in idle chitchat.
The appearance of a House Elf announcing dinner brought the company to its feet. Lucius gestured expansively as he led them out of the room, escorting Narcissa. They were followed behind by Mr and Mrs Brocklehurst. Again, Draco escorted Mandy, with Adrian and Hermione bringing up the rear.
Lucius lead the party through the hall and down another corridor and into a dining room. Like the room they had just left, the dining room was light and opulently furnished. Light wood panelling covered the walls, and the floor was made of the same polished maple wood. An oval dining table was laid for eight; the white linen and silver tableware glittered brightly in the light given off by the many candles floating above the table. The entire dinner setting exuded a sense of formality and yet had an intimate quality.
Hermione was hoping that Adrian would lead her to a seat as far as possible from the Malfoys, when to her dismay, she noticed the placement cards set out in front of each place. 'Honestly, just my luck,' she thought sourly, as Adrian escorted her to her seat which was on his right. He pulled out Hermione's chair with a cheeky wink and she groaned inwardly when she realised that Draco's seat was on her right.
Sitting down reluctantly, Hermione looked with interest at the seating arrangements of the other dinner guests. On Adrian's left was Narcissa, with Mr Brocklehurst on her other side. On Mr Brocklehurst's left, sat his wife with Lucius Malfoy on her other side. Beside Lucius, and looking terrified, was Mandy, who was sitting by Draco's right. Hermione had to admit that the place settings could have been a lot worse, and her heart went out to Mandy who looked as though she would rather be anywhere than here. Hermione turned to Adrian who was looking round the room with interest.
"Nice decor!" he commented opening his napkin. A line of serving House Elves trooped into the room in perfect synchrony, and placed what appeared to be bowls of the finest Kakavia soup in front of the diners.
"I do hope the soup is to your taste," Lucius said to his guests, and Hermione got the feeling that even if it wasn't, no one would dare say so, "Bon appetite!"
Lucius picked up his soupspoon, and everyone else did likewise. Soon, animated conversation was flowing easily between the diners. This was very different to the stilted conversation of the drawling room – everyone seemed to be more at ease and things were certainly less formal. Hermione suspected the free flowing wine might be responsible for the congenial atmosphere.
"I must say, Catherine Boot is certainly looking better these days!" commented Lucius with a smirk.
"Yes, some new treatment St Mungo's devised – seems to be working a treat!" Mr Brocklehurst's replied affably taking a sip of wine
Hermione let the conversation of the grown ups wash over her, and concentrated on her immediate neighbours. Sneaking a glance at Mandy, Hermione saw she was pushing her food around her plate and not eating much.
Draco noted the direction of her glance, and addressed Mandy. "Is the food not to your liking Mandy?"
"Oh no! It… it's wonderful," Mandy spluttered back, "I'm just not that hungry, that's all."
Adrian sent a quizzical look at his sister and then mercifully steered the conversation to safer grounds.
"So Draco, I hear you're Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. How's that going?"
Glad to be distracted by Adrian's topic, Draco launched into describing tactics, Quidditch practices, players and so on, helped along by Adrian's obvious love for the game.
'It's amazing how men can talk endlessly about Quidditch,' Hermione rolled her eyes, 'but ask them to talk about something more intellectual and they're stumped.'
"…So, it's just a simple case of beating Gryffindor and then the House Cup this year will be ours!" Draco concluded.
Anger piquing at the careless tone in which the Slytherin assessed her House team, Hermione raised an eyebrow at Draco and said saccharine sweetly, "Draco, Slytherin's never beaten Gryffindor at Quidditch, and I doubt that that will happen this year. Although, perhaps only in your dreams, that is."
Draco's eyes flashed, and Adrian tried to diffuse the situation with a chuckle, "Now come on Hermione, that's a bit unfair. I'm sure Gryffindor has a good team, but that does not mean that the House Cup this year is sure to be theirs."
"But Adrian, it's true," Hermione turned to him earnestly, "I'm not being biased! As it is, I don't even particularly like Quidditch. Nonetheless, but Gryffindor have the best team – you just need look at the last few years and you'll see what I mean!"
Adrian shook his head with a smile, and turned his attention to Narcissa who wanted his opinion on something about which she seemed to be amicably arguing with Adrian's father.
"My, my, aren't we confident," Draco said slyly, lowering his voice so only Hermione could hear, "Tell me, Hermione, can you be so certain that Gryffindor will win the Cup this year?" He leaned closer to the red robed witch, eyes gleaming, "Actually, if you're so confident, I'm sure you won't mind if we place a little bet, would you?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed at her dinner partner's suggestion, and she looked away from him.
"If Slytherin wins," continued Draco quietly, "I get to ask any favour I want of you. And if Gryffindor wins, well…" he paused, pretending to consider, "you can borrow any book from our vast library," he scoffed, "now, that would be fair and square , would it not?"
Hermione's face flushed and she could feel her temper rising – 'What a condescending git!' she fumed. She was gripping her knife and fork so hard, her knuckles gleamed white, and blood was pounded in her head.
She erupted in an angry whisper, "Go to hell, ferret! I wouldn't place a bet with you for anything!"
"Feisty, aren't we?" he goaded the girl. "Dear me, is "Miss Perfect" afraid of what I'll ask of you? Come now, where is that famed Gryffindor bravery? Losing the bet would not be that bad, I promise!" he leered.
Hermione's angry retort was cut off abruptly, as the House Elves cleared the dishes before them. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she ignored the young man on her right and allowed her eyes to roam around the room; it was indeed well decorated, and spoke of good taste and old money.
She decided not to respond to Draco's blatant neadling. She was here with the Brocklehursts and would do both her hosts and her House proud. Her equanimity return and as she looked around at the other dinner guest, pointedly ignoring Draco, whose attention was currently on Mandy. Unfortunately for her, Hermione caught Lucius' eyes. She tried not to shudder as she looked into his cold grey orbs, which vividly reminded her of an artic sea.
Too late – Lucius was addressing her; "Miss Granger, Hermione, tell me; it must be difficult for your parents not seeing much of you."
Slightly taken aback at his comment, she countered simply, "Well, I see them as much as possible, and we keep in touch by owl."
Narcissa had also turned her head and was listening to the conversation with interest. "But it must be difficult, nonetheless. After all, there is a big difference between our world and theirs, is there not? Also, as you grow older, your increased workload at school means that you spend more time at Hogwarts. I know that it is rare that Draco manages to come home for the holidays."
"Well, to be honest," Hermione considered, "I was all set to attend a boarding school in London, since Mum and Dad felt that a private school would be best for my education. So the little time I'm able to spend at home is no different if I were to attend boarding school in the muggle world."
Suddenly, the whole table was listening avidly to Hermione.
"So muggles have boarding schools too?" Mr Brocklehurst asked interestedly.
"Oh yes," Hermione smiled turning to him. "For families who can afford it, they generally send their children to boarding schools, as they feel that the education these schools provide is superior to that of state run schools." Hermione frowned, "I'm not sure if that's true, but it's the popular Muggle opinion," she shrugged.
Lucius, who had not taken his eyes off Hermione, asked in a seemingly casual voice, "So Hermione, are you close to your parents?"
Hermione, who was just about to answer, suddenly paused. To give her time to word her reply, she picked up her glass and took a long sip of water. She could not say why, but this question unnerved her and a feeling of unease crept into her stomach.
"Oh, you know," she hedged with a smile and swept her gaze over the others at the table, "I suppose it is like any other teenager's relationship with their parents."
Emily smiled. "Ah yes, teenagers," she shook her head, "I don't know about you Narcissa, but with teenagers, you never know whether you are coming or going!"
"Very true!" Narcissa smiled back.
"Hey!" Adrian exclaimed good-naturedly, "I may be barely out of my teens, but I'm a perfectly rational person!"
The other diners chuckled in response, easing the tension Hermione felt.
Lucius smiled in a perfunctory way, and leaning towards Hermione, he resumed; "An ambiguous answer if ever I heard one." Hermione noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes, as he went on, "so do you get on well with your parents?"
Hermione looked down at her plate, her nerves jangling and then to her relief, Mr Brocklehurst came to her rescue.
"No doubt," Henry interrupted amiably, looking at the brunette with a fatherly smile, "her relationship with her parents is somewhat similar to Mandy's with us – tempestuous!"
To the amused laughter at the table, Hermione muttered, "Something like that," shooting a grateful smile at Mr Brocklehurst, who smiled back.
Mr Brocklehurst then turned the conversation to other topics and Hermione was left to ponder on Lucius' questions. Was it her imagination, or was he showing a tad too much interest in her relationship with her parents?
A gentle tap on her arm made her turn to Draco who sat staring at her.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she blinked, trying not to blush for she hadn't heard a word of what he had said, being too engrossed in her own thoughts.
"I was wondering how you're enjoying your stay with them," Draco nodded towards Mandy, whom Hermione saw to her surprise was talking animatedly to Lucius. Seeing her surprise, he carried on, "they're discussing Pegasuses. It looks as though both of them have an affinity for them," he smiled. "Father really enjoys riding them – they're really magnificent creatures; powerful and beautiful. We have a few in our stable, and they certainly beat riding brooms or horses," he winked.
Trying to suppress her astonishment, Hermione replied cordially, "Oh, my holiday has been wonderful, thanks. It isn't often that Mandy and I are able to spend much time together at school, and this has been an excellent opportunity to get to know her better."
"Well, you certainly seem to get on well with her brother," he flicked a veiled glance at Adrian, who was chatting with Narcissa, "Is this the first time you've met?"
"Oh yes," she smiled, "Adrian's been very nice during my stay with the Brocklehursts. He's very amiable." 'Certainly more than I can say about you,' she thought privately.
"Well, he seems very attentive to you," Draco speculated. "Are you sure there is only friendship between you?"
"What's it to you?" she rolled her eyes. "Of course he's just a friend – just because your mind resides in the gutter doesn't mean that everyone else thinks in the same twisted way."
She narrowed her eyes at him, earning a grin in return. Her fingers itched to pull out her wand and hex that irritating grin off him, but squashing the impulse, she decided to try to be gracious, and searched for a less volatile topic.
"So erm, looking forward to going back to school?"
"My dear Hermione," he drawled in a low, condescending voice, which irked her no end, "no one in their right mind would be looking forward to this term, now would they? What's there to look forward to? The NEWTs? It would only be revision after revision in terms of schoolwork, and I for one, would rather stay at home if revision is all there is to school."
Hermione could not help but agree to these sentiments, but she would never let the Slytherin know that. Besides, she enjoyed attending Hogwarts for the social aspects as well.
"But tell me, Hermione, what have you planned for after NEWTs? What do you intend to do after Hogwarts?" It was a perfectly innocuous question, but why did the question cause her to feel unsettled?
"Oh, I'm not sure yet," she shrugged, turning away and applying herself to her now cold Mousaka. Naturally, she knew that Draco would not be satisfied with such an answer.
Draco turned to his own plate, and continued, "Oh? I find that hard to believe; you don't strike me as the type of person who hasn't mapped out what you want to do." So, what have you applied to do after Hogwarts? I've heard that Potter and Weasley," here he allowed himself a small smirk, "are planning to go into Auror training – are you planning to join them?"
"Erm… I'm not sure," she repeated, shaking her head. "I can't make my mind up – you know how it is. There are so many paths to choose from that it is very hard to decide."
At the conclusion of her statement, Adrian turned to her with a frown. "But Hermione, I thought you'd applied to train as a Healer? Didn't you apply to Stanwick College for Healing and Medi-Wizary not too long ago?"
"Oh?" Hermione said, trying not to show her annoyance, "and how can you be so certain?"
"Well, I'm on the College's Board of Governors, and your application was one of those accepted for next years' intake. Normally, we prefer applicants to have some life experience behind them, but your references and marks were so good, we made an exception."
Hermione felt upset. She did of course know that Stanwick College – the most prestigious institution of its kind, had offered her a place, but for Adrian to blurt it out like this in front of Draco Malfoy when she wanted it to remain ambiguous! She felt like hexing Adrian.
Schooling her features instead into a smile, she remarked, "Well, in that case, I'm sure you're also aware that I've not yet accepted the offer – which brings us back to Draco's original question and my answer."
Looking nonplussed, Adrian insisted, "But you'll accept the offer, Hermione. Stanwick only ever takes the best – they're known for it. No one in their right mind has ever turned down an offer to Stanwick!"
Hermione could feel her already tense nerves becoming, if possible, even tenser. Her temper, which throughout the dinner had been brought near to boiling point, was threatening to explode. Taking a deep drink from her glass, she countered with gritted teeth and a forced smile, "That, Adrian, is something I have to discuss with both my teachers and parents. My decision will be made once I have consulted them and not before."
"Of course you would need to discuss this with your teachers and parents," Adrian dismissed, "but you'll accept the offer, nonetheless!"
"Is that so, Adrian? There are other fields of study open to me as well. I applied to Stanwick in September, and since then, have made a few other applications for different fields of studies."
"My dear Hermione, I would have been very surprised had you not done so, but you've been accepted at Stanwick College, and surely that's all that matters."
Hermione closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing. Until now, Adrian had not shown this stubborn side of him, which made him as pompous as the Malfoys themselves.
Draco, who was enjoying the obviously heated exchange between Adrian and Hermione, suddenly leaned forward, laying a consoling hand on Hermione's arm. His face was expressionless when he addressed Adrian. "Now now, Adrian, leave Hermione alone. I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for her to make up her mind about Stanwick. It won't be the end of the world if she decides not to go into the field of Healing, either. I'm sure," he turned his gaze back onto Hermione "that whatever our Miss Granger decides, it's far more important that she enjoys what she would be doing."
For a moment, Hermione felt gratitude towards her nemesis, and before she realised it, she gave Draco a genuine grateful smile, which he returned. Then, as her brain caught up with her emotions, she felt the smile freeze on her face, and suspicion taking the place of the gratitude. Turning to her left, she saw that Adrian was wearing an odd look on his face; his eyes were narrowed, and a pulse was throbbing at his temple. His usually smiling mouth was turned down. Even as she watched, he turned away from her, starting a conversation with Narcissa so as to avoid speaking to her. She realised too late that she had offended him, and tried to put her hand on his arm to get his attention. However, Draco had other ideas, and sliding his arm around the back of her chair, took hold of her wrist pulling her hand from Adrian's arm.
"How dare you!" she hissed, hoping not to attract the attention of the other diners, "let me go this instant!"
"Certainly," he drawled, and dropped her wrist, leaning back into his seat.
"You…you git, how could you? You…you deliberately provoked him!"
Draco feigned a frown. "Hermione, I'm mortally wounded! How can you say such a thing? I did not provoke him, you did it all yourself. I was simply defending you as any good friend would!" There was a smirk playing about his mouth and his eyes gleamed, "Oh, and I'd keep my voice down if I were you; the grown-ups are beginning to stare!"
Just as Hermione feared, Mrs Brocklehurst was frowning at them from across the table. Emily's eyes were fixed on Hermione's flushed face. Arranging her facial muscles into a semblance of a smile, Hermione looked back at her, trying hard not to let her feelings show.
Around them, everyone was talking in loud hearty voices – the good food and wine had clearly loosened tongues and the atmosphere was relaxed and convivial. Hermione sat back, fixing her eyes on the next course of food. If she didn't say anything else, and kept her conversation to a minimum, she may manage to get through the meal without killing Draco Malfoy. Time passed slowly, in which Hermione pushed food around her plate, and went through the motions of eating and drinking, while inside she seethed with anger. Every time a remark was addressed to her, she answered as briefly as she could, forcing a smile on her face. Adrian was not speaking to her, and Draco had also clearly decided that he would let her simmer down. This suited Hermione fine, and finally after what felt like hours, the dessert was served and then the dinner was over. Everyone pushed back their chairs, and heaved themselves to their feet.
"We'll have coffee in the family drawing room," announced Narcissa, as Lucius escorted her, the pair leading the way out of the dining room and back into the room they had occupied earlier. Draco had approached Mandy to escort her, but Adrian was still obviously miffed at Hermione.
"Mandy, would you like to go with me to the powder room?" Hermione asked the pink clad witch, in order to escape her glowering escort.
Mandy looked relieved at Hermione's request. She turned to Draco, who directed the girls down a corridor.
In the opulent powder room with gild mirrors – 'Thankfully, silent mirrors,' Hermione thought gratefully to herself – and Queen Anne chairs, Mandy gushed, "Oh Hermione, I'd never imagined that the Malfoys would be so nice to me! I didn't know what to expect at dinner, but they are so… so… well, friendly, I guess. Both Draco and Mr Malfoy were so chatty and easy-going!" Hermione forced a smile to her face while inside the knot of apprehension tightened. "I mean, I thought I'd be terrified, but they were so anxious to put me at my ease. Mum's practically ecstatic! Did you see her face?"
"Erm… yeah," Hermione said untruthfully, "Mrs Brocklehurst does look happy. Mandy, I'm pleased you got on so well with them."
After a few minutes of respite from the hostilities at dinner, Hermione's equanimity returned and she felt she was ready to go back into the snake pit.
On their return to the drawing room, Hermione noticed that the velvet curtains in front of the French windows had been drawn shut, throwing the room into a cosy atmosphere, with the fire light flickering over the sofas and armchairs.
Hermione and Mandy sat down on a sofa a little apart from the others, both feeling full, and a little tired.
"Oh dear, we really are defying etiquette tonight," Mandy grinned, "first we run off to the powder room, then we're not sitting with our escorts. Well, it won't matter since the Malfoys seem so friendly to us. They're really taking care of our comfort."
Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy staring intensely at them. As she watched, he made his way over to the chair nearest them, and sat down his long legs stretched out towards the heat of the fire.
"How long do you suppose it will be before we can leave?" Hermione whispered to Mandy, hoping that the boy could not eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Oh, another two hours or so, I should think. It's usual at dinner parties for there to be some kind of after dinner entertainment; and it's either cards or music. Can you play?" she indicated the Pramberger with a jerk of her head.
"Yeah, I had lessons for about seven years."
"Me too – you may think it weird, but socially, it's an asset for a girl to be able to play and sing. Not many can do the latter; every girl from the old wizarding family's takes lessons, and the better they are at the Art," Mandy gave a wry smile, "the easier it is for them to nab a husband!"
Hermione could not help repressing a smile. She likened the entire dinner to 18th Century England, where any decently brought up young lady was put on display by her talents, so as to attract the opposite sex.
"I'll bet you anything that Draco can play the piano very well," Mandy sighed, "It's more than likely that he would have had lessons from the best piano masters."
Lucius' voice broke into their conversation and Hermione started, looking up.
"Does either one of you girls sing and play?" When both nodded in acquiescence, he smiled broadly. "Excellent, excellent! We'll be assured of excellent entertainment this evening then."
With a flick of his wand, Lucius readied the Pramberger for play. He then accioed a binder of music sheets from a shelf and handed it over to the two girls. Curious, Hermione glanced at the sheet music, and had to bite back an exclamation of surprise – they were all muggle music!
Seeing Hermione's shocked expression, Narcissa smiled, "You are surprised, Hermione." She continued with a languid mock shrug, which only the very elegant could carry off with panache, "There is no point in denying it; there is nothing in the wizarding world which can come close to those muggle composers."
"Indeed," agreed Emily eagerly. Turning her head towards Hermione, she addressed the bewildered girl, "Hermione dear, I'm sure you have seen the music in our drawing room? It is all muggle. There aren't any decent wizarding composers, and only muggle ones are worth listening to."
"I couldn't agree more, dear – the rubbish our lot write! Really, one would think their minds were on their dinners, the stuff they come up with!" Mr Brocklehurst said grinning.
"I'm sure you are right," Lucius agreed, making his way to the fireplace, "But then music – and singing, in particular, does not come naturally to wizards. Most good wizarding singers attain their mark only after many years of training. Even then, how could the Weird Sisters ever compare to an Aria by a muggle soprano?"
Mandy hissed into Hermione's ear, "You know, he's right; not many of us can sing that well. Mum and dad are so pleased that I can."
"But… but muggle music," Hermione shook her head and in an answering whisper carried on, "I mean, who would have thought that people like them," Hermione indicated with a quick glance over at Draco, who was talking to Adrian, "would enjoy it."
"Ah, Hermione, don't be so prejudiced!" Mandy grinned wickedly; looking through the folder of music for something she could either sing or play. "If you must know, it's fashionable to only have muggle music in one's drawing room. Lesser families wouldn't be able to afford that, you know! Hmmm, I had better sing – mum would prefer it!"
"Found something?" Lucius interrupted the whispering girls.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, although, I think I shall sing, if someone else plays this piece," Mandy smiled nervously up at him.
"Not a problem. Draco will accompany you on the piano."
At the mention of his name, Draco got up, and bowed over Mandy. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you. Mandy?" he prompted.
Mandy got up and was escorted to the piano by Draco. She looked at the people gathered in the drawing room looking a bit pale.
"I… I'm going to…" she took a cleansing breath, and tried again. "I'm going to sing The Aria: Venite, Inginocchiatevi, from the Marriage of Figaro."
Mandy passed the sheets of music to Draco, who propped them up against the piano's music stand. Placing his hand on the ivory keys, he looked up waiting for Mandy's signal.
Curiosity getting the better of Hermione, she got up and moved to a chair where she had a better view of both the pianist and Mandy, who was looking terrified. The Aria Mandy was to sing was one Hermione was well acquainted with. Even now she could not get over her surprise that the Malfoys enjoyed music by Mozart.
Turning her attention to Mandy once more, she watched as Mandy nodded her head at Draco. Draco began to play the introduction, and Hermione's eyes almost popped out of her head. Draco played with an assurance that was the result of many years of training. Coupled with his excellent posture, he was indeed a sight to behold. An excellent pianist, Draco's long slender fingers glided effortlessly over the keys, and there was depth to his playing. As the resonant tones of the piano enveloped the room, Hermione did not know what to make of this new aspect of her school adversary.
At the appropriate point, Mandy lend her voice to the accompaniment of the piano. Enthralled and speechless, Hermione leaned back to listen, as Mandy sang her way through the complex Aria. Apart from a slight nervousness betrayed by the tremor in Mandy's voice, she was a good singer, possessing a bright soprano with excellent intonation. Not as powerful as Hermione had expected, she nevertheless captured her audience who were all watching her with interest; pride was evident on the faces of the Brocklehursts, while the Malfoys sat watching impassively.
Too quickly, the performance was over, and a relieved Mandy bowed to the polite applause. In her nervousness, she scurried back to their sofa even before Draco had time to get to his feet to escort her. Hermione gulped. It was now her turn to perform. She wondered if she dared say she had been lying and that she could not sing, but even as the thought entered her head, Draco was bowing before her, with an enquiring look, one finely arched eyebrow lifted in question. Resigned, she got up and he took her arm leading her to the piano.
Hermione passed the music she had picked out from "The Marriage of Figaro" to Draco who seating himself once more at the Pramberger, waiting for her to indicate she was ready. She had decided to sing the aria "Deh Vieni, Non Tardar", more due to the fact that it was slow than anything else. It would force her to take deep breaths, and hence bring under control her panic which was bubbling not far from the surface.
Everyone around the room was now watching Hermione in anticipation. Hermione turned to Draco, who gave her an encouraging smile and nod. Perplexed at the situation she was in, Hermione could only answer his encouragement with a solemn nod, which Draco took as a signal to begin playing. For a second, Hermione thought her voice had failed her, but then all her training of years came flooding back, and as she uttered the first notes of the Aria, she felt herself relax; the breathing techniques instilled into her from childhood were taking over, and she let herself flow with the music. Soon, Hermione even forgot the people watching her, as her pleasure in a hobby for which she now had very little time, came rushing back to her. She closed her eyes and sang, her clear powerful soprano filling the entire room.
The occupants of the room were all leaning forward. The Brocklehursts were wearing varying looks of curiosity and admiration, but the Malfoys were both leaning forward staring intently at her. As she neared the end of the Aria, Hermione opened her eyes and caught the odd glint in Lucius' eyes, which she could have sworn was triumph. She turned her gaze on Narcissa, and saw that she was smiling in a very satisfied way.
"That was exceptional singing, Hermione," Draco murmured as he escorted the blushing witch to the sofa after she received the enthusiastic applause from her audience, "I think more than one of us have been surprised this evening."
Once seated on her sofa, Emily addressed Hermione in a biting undertone. "You didn't mention that you had been professionally trained," she noted, clearly not liking Draco's open admiration of the muggleborn, or the fact that the muggleborn upstart had shown up her daughter's singing talents.
"I started lessons when I was four," Hermione replied, noticing Emily's simmering unhappiness and shrugging. So this was what Madelyn had meant when she had talked of Emily's vindictive side.
"Coffee?" Narcissa's modulated tones broke into Emily's conversation with Hermione. A House Elf was summoned and a trolley was wheeled in. Narcissa poured and handed round the cups of steaming fragrant coffee.
"I thought I could sing well," Mandy whispered to her friend, "but you have a lovely voice. It's so… so, I guess the word would be pure, even if it does sound clichéd."
Hermione gave her a grimace. "Thanks, I guess. But in all fairness, it's the hard work of my ogre of a singing teacher, she was a real battle axe and made me do some horrendous exercises to 'strengthen those diaphragm muscles'," Hermione mimicked the tone of her teacher and rolled her eyes derisively, "I haven't sung for a while, but it's a good stress reliever."
"You're too modest, Hermione," her friend shook her head, "Regardless of how much an ogre your singing teacher might be, you need to have some talent in order to be able to sing. No teacher can direct a voice unless it is directable! The thing with most of our kind," she lowered her voice as she went on, "not many can sing well. Playing an instrument is not a problem with training, but to sing! It's all too rare to hear someone like me who can sing well by wizarding standards, but to hear someone with a quality like yours! I mean, I have never heard a witch sing so well… but then you are a muggleborn," she faltered, not sure if she'd offended her friend.
Hermione smiled to show that she wasn't offended in the least. "You know, I'm learning so much about the wizarding world that I never knew before. I mean – singing is something I have always… well, I've always taken singing for granted."
Both girls leaned back in their seats, thoughtfully sipping their coffee and relaxing in the aftermath of their ordeal. The talk once again became more general, and Hermione with relief coursing through her, let the chatter drift over her. It was therefore a while before she noticed that the sound of voices was slowly dying away, and as she straightened in her seat, pushing the tiredness away, she watched with horror, as of one accord, Mr and Mrs Brocklehurst and Adrian, slumped back in their chairs, their coffee cups falling to the floor. Turning to face Mandy, Hermione saw that she too, was slumped in her seat; one arm hanging limply over the armrest of the sofa, while her head rested against the back.
Glancing at the three conscious Malfoys, Hermione froze at the satisfied smirks on their faces, as they watched the unconscious Brocklehursts. With sudden clarity, Hermione realised that she was now trapped; the fear and unease she had been experiencing all evening, had bee perfectly justified and that the Malfoys had finally got what they had been angling for: to get her alone on their own terms!