Chapter 10: On the Outside Looking In

Draco Malfoy's lips puckered slightly as he saw the long line of witches dressed to the nines in hopes of impressing the goblin king, hoping beyond all hope that his gaze would linger upon them and that he would choose them to become his bride and queen.

He was there in an official capacity as a representative of the Ministry entourage along with a token handful of Aurors, Minister Shacklebolt. Unfortunately, the entourage also included Potty and the ginger idiot himself, the Weasel. Well, multiple weasels at that.

Weasel's big brother Percy had been trying to shove himself so far up the Ministry's various orifices for so long now that it was frankly amazing that his hair was still red— especially after his dishonourable support of previous Ministers Fudge and Scrimgeour, as well as the infamous toad-woman herself, Dolores Umbit … er, Umbridge.

Draco knew firsthand that great wealth was hardly without its own complications and his own family's rise, fall, and scraping to finally get back on its feet had been a testament to a great deal of very hard work, making new connections, and even a number of new Muggle investments— something his father would never have considered prior to Riddle's demise.

It was a masquerade ball, all and all, and everyone was wearing an elaborate mask of some sort to cover their face— everything from birds, demons, animals, to something in between.

However, everyone still had to walk through the archway and be misted on the way into the ballroom— nothing quite as grand as the gigantic waterfall known as Thief's Downfall— but it seemed to serve much the same purpose.

Much to the mortification of all of those people who had paid extensively for dramatic glamours and shaping enchantments for the body or else had opted for Transfigured clothing rather than paying for expert tailoring and traditional powders—

Draco found it utterly amusing— in a very sadistic sort of way. Watching witches do what they thought would attract the attention of a king and yet fail at the basics almost every pureblood should have known: tailoring made an illusion without magic— magical tailoring was built on nothing. The magic was only as good as the resilience of the enchantment, and no enchantment withstood the goblin's thief's downfall.

Well, it was a good thing everyone was wearing masks to hide the now-revealed streaks of poorly applied makeup , spots, pockmarks, warts, and so much more, but masks couldn't do anything to disguise the unfortunate results of some who had opted to use drastic body-altering spells to fit into the slinkiest of body-skimming dress robes, and the women in question were now either bursting out of or nearly swimming in clothing that had been designed for someone much slimmer and/or more voluptuous than themselves.

Not to mention the dreadful mess being sported by those who had gone in for elaborate charmed hairstyles, only to face the horror of seeing them replaced by epic bedhead, impressive cowlicks and limp, lifeless, stringy locks.

To the outside observer who had no interest in interest in trying to bed a king, the masquerade seemed like a truly horrifying costume party.

There was a certain ginger-headed female decked out in a tight, low-cut, golden gem-encrusted gown whose dress alone spoke of untold fortunes just in its creation— the kind of gaudiness his mother would have called "nuevo rich flamboyance."

But what really caught Draco's eye was Granger.

How could he not notice that familiar nest of bushy curls—

Yet—

She was dressed comparatively plainly in a modest but pretty dress gown and a white barn owl mask that enhanced her graceful heart-shaped face.

No glamours.

No dressing to impress.

If anything she would have been absolutely ignored in a place like this if every other woman's dress and makeup hadn't been utterly destroyed.

The king had danced with every single prospect on the Ministry's horrid prospects list, and Draco had to admit he cut quite an impressive figure with his long, spiky black hair, bone-carved mask, and gem-studded royal blue vest with an impressively high collar. He wore a pristine white poet shirt that might have seemed over the top had it not been tailored so perfectly to suit his figure.

When he had finally danced with every female that had thrown herself at him (and a few men, Draco noted with some amusement) the king sat down on his throne and waved off any supplicants, observing the room over his long steepled fingers.

Draco had to admit that the goblin king was surprisingly tall. Taller than any goblin he had ever known—

Yet he recalled that the old storybooks had once illustrated goblins as being as tall as men— or rather that they could be. This king, however, was the first he'd ever seen who actually was.

There were some females who were trying to push and shove their way towards the king again, perhaps vying for a second go, but the Aurors were doing their job well enough and kept them from annoying the king at his own ball. Treaty-induced the ball might be, but rudeness in the king's court could and would be dealt with swiftly.

"Having a good time observing the rabble, Draco?"

Draco's eyes widened as he turned to see Snape's familiar black eyes staring at him impassively.

"Merlin, Severus, I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I didn't expect to see you here either, Draco. Putting in your petition to marry the king, perhaps?"

"Gods, no. I'm very happily married to Astoria as well you know. Not that this collection of galleon-grubbing bints haven't filed for separations and annulments on all kinds of flimsy pretexts just to have the chance at marrying a king. What are you doing here anyway, Severus?"

"Obligation, I'm afraid," Snape said with a heavy sigh. "I was told that if I did not fulfil the contract, I would be doused in truly obnoxious amounts of glitter for every single day of my remaining life."

Draco looked suitably horrified. "That's some pretty serious debt you must have then," he said, assuming like anyone stuck at a goblin function would have to be chained by some sort of debtor's obligation. "I did pay my respects to the king, but he seemed rather disinterested in engaging in small talk. A lot like you, actually. You never were much for indulging in the usual tedious social niceties."

Severus snorted at that. "No, I suppose I was not."

"Granger is over there," Draco said, nodding in her general direction. "You really should go over there, sweep her off her feet and have some disgustingly brilliant babies together. You both detest these social functions, have far too many brains between you, and no one can keep up with either of you in a debate."

Severus stared at Draco with wide eyes.

"What? You're perfectly suited. Not like those silly bints over there fawning all over each other. Neither of you care enough to bother being anything but yourselves. I hear she tried to give the Goblin Nation all the monies that came along with her Order of Merlin to help rebuild but they chose to put her to work instead. Still at work, from what I hear."

Severus shrugged. "Goblins value work over money, Draco. That and loyalty. It is their motto after all. Fortius Quo Fidelius . Strength through loyalty. Money comes naturally when the other two conditions are met."

"How long are you going to be bound to whatever contract you're stuck in?" Draco asked. "If I can help—"

Snape curled his lip. "You needn't entangle yourself with goblin contracts, Draco. My obligations will be resolved soon enough."

"I'd think you'd jump at the chance to get away from contractual obligations," Draco said.

Snape snorted. "There are some contracts even money cannot save you from, Draco. Surely you know this by now. And Lucius? How is he treating his self-exile?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "He actually likes France. Mother always loved the lavender fields there, so I think they are coping well without being in the centre stage all the time."

"Yet, here you are— schmoozing with the Ministry at such a grandstanding function."

"Not for me," Draco scoffed. "I'm watching those idiots swan around as if dead certain they will be the next royalty. I bet they didn't even read the contract in full— I did. They've all failed anyway. Wearing glamours to the ball— using any kind of altering magic and undoubtedly dousing their dresses in Amortentia. All of it takes them off the list— and though they don't know it yet, a brand-new job description after it is all said and done."

Severus tilted his head. "You did read it."

"I'm a Malfoy. Of course I read it," Draco said with a disdainful sniff. "Think of all these 'poor' witches and wizards who will be condemned to years of digging vaults without the benefit of their magic until their contracted time is up because they were far too money-hungry and bloody impatient to read a goblin contract before signing their lives away. They could pay that rather hefty fine, I suppose. Really depends on how much money they have left after all those ridiculously expensive glamours and magical body modifications,

"I wouldn't know about such things," Severus scoffed. "I do not spend money on— glamours."

"It's a ridiculous market," Draco said, shaking his head. "The Malfoy family has quite a few registered glamours, but they are the kind that preserve powders and such that are applied normally rather than doing all the work for you. My mother really knows how to use them properly. So did father— if you can believe that."

"The peacock? However, would I miss such a thing?" Severus snorted.

Draco laughed. "So, you going to hit up Granger for a dance?"

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Severus," Draco teased. "She is the only available witch here who hasn't been publicly outed as an idiot."

"You assume that someone hasn't already snapped her up, Draco. Why sell her short?"

"Well, she's living with the goblins for one," Draco said. "Why stay here if you have other options?"

"Maybe she likes goblins," Severus suggested.

Draco seemed somewhat dubious. "I have nothing against goblins, Severus, and—" he sighed. "They do seem to treat her far better than the Ministry ever did. The stuffed shirts there were perfectly willing to bargain with them over Potter's and Weasley's penance for what happened during the war, but as for Granger— they didn't lift a sodding finger."

Draco closed his eyes. "I even offered to help her, but she said it was something she had to do on her own. And then just when she was almost out from under her debt, it was like she was suddenly swallowed up by the Goblin Nation. I haven't even seen her out anywhere until now."

"We all have our places that feel like home."

"Well, I suppose if you wanted to avoid attracting Skeeter's attention, this would be the ideal place to do it— well, maybe not today."

Snape's lip curled.

"She's here as the Prophet's official press representative."

"Of course she is. She and that horrible Quick Quotes quill of hers— which she may find is not nearly as effective as she would like after having gone through the doors."

Draco frowned. "I really need to haggle with the goblins to get my hands on some Thief's Downfall for myself."

"I doubt it will work well, if at all, outside of goblin hands," Severus pointed out. "They do like to keep their secrets, after all."

Draco sighed in disappointment. "So not fair."

A sudden ruckus on the far side of the room drew their attention, and they looked over to see Auror Potter having a bit of a row with his ex-wife.

"Is this where all of my money went? To buy scads of jewels, a fancy dress robe, and the Amortentia you obviously soaked it in? Into all of that bloody charmed makeup running down your lying face?"

"Harry, I swear it's not like that—"

"What is it like then, Ginny? You begged me to pay off Ronald's debt and then you go and spend everything I had left on a chance to become a queen? We took marriage vows, Ginny!"

"That doesn't look very good for Potter or Weaselette," Draco said, turning to Severus.

Severus, however, was gone.

"How does he always do that," Draco muttered as he saw Ronald Weasley slap one of the attendees across the face.

"You annulled our marriage? Without even telling me! How does that even work, you lying cow?!"

Skeeter's damnable quill was surely smoking up a storm, wherever she was, even if she had to scribble all of the lurid details down by hand.

Draco tsked, biting his lip while contemplating Potter's unfortunate predicament. "Ouch."

He had to admit, it was nice not being seen as the pariah scion of that "bigoted pureblood family" and finding some other unlucky bastard stuck being the centre of attention for once. The goblins, he noted, seemed quite amused by the ensuing human drama.

The music was starting up again, and Draco saw all the dressed up witches moving forward in hopes of catching the king's eye.

But the Goblin King seemed to ignore them all, brushing right by the fawning masses and their elaborate jewel-encrusted dress robes made with the most expensive of gold-woven fabrics.

Instead, he went straight to—

No.

Way.

The king extended his hand to Hermione Granger, and suddenly the goblins performed a deep bow all together.

Every single one.

The music was now entrancingly ethereal, and a soft glowing light shone from crystals all around the ballroom. The lighting slowly dimmed almost to total darkness, and Draco's eyes struggled to adjust.

A soft phosphorescent glow gently lit the walls and the shimmering crystals twinkled softly.

The king drew Hermione close, guiding the witch across the floor as the other witches gaped and stared in shock, causing jealous whispers to quickly spread through the gathered throng. Wisps of magic swirled around them as clouds composed entirely of tiny glowing particles wove and danced about the ballroom. They didn't even speak— their movements flowed together in perfect unison.

Lizards crawled out of hidden places, their glowing hides and eyes glinting as they hummed together.

Witches and wizards alike stumbled backwards from the reptiles, frightened by the gaping mouths and wild eyes.

The lizards gathered together and landed on the delicate crown that had been placed on a velvet pillow, and they carried it together towards the dancing pair.

As the music stopped, the lizards placed the crown in his hands, and he smiled wickedly, his fangs glinting with a show of inhuman goblin teeth.

"I, Jareth, would choose you , Hermione Granger, to be my queen," he said amidst the stunned silence. "You, alone, in this sea of human females and males, wear no glamour, no gems that take away from your natural beauty. You do not attempt to sway me with perfume or potions, spells, or enchantments. Will you accept my hand and join me as my love, my bride, and the mother of my goblets? May they be just as many as they are magical."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes smiling and full of stars. "I accept your offer, Jareth."

The goblin king smiled, placing the crown of crystal and metal upon her head where it sank into her flesh and joined the diadem that had been hidden by her hair. It sent out a pulse of magic and the thump of a great heart.

Jareth's head dipped, and their mouths met in a searing magical kiss that sent a wave of heat and magic out in a nova.

Hermione's plain dress was suddenly transformed into a most exquisite gossamer wedding gown that shimmered as though crafted of stars, and the lizards pulled several strands of ethereal silk through her hair and pulled it back into a tame cascade of lush curls.

They danced again, and this time the goblin court joined in, twisting and swirling around in enjoyment of the ball.

"Announcing, His Majesty, the King Jareth and Her Majesty, Queen Hermione," a smug-looking goblin proclaimed from the throne dais.

The dull sounds of falling bodies rang out all around as shocked witches and wizards passed out around the ballroom floor as the king and his beloved queen danced on.

"Is the ball to your liking, my queen?" Jareth purred.

Hermione smiled. "Most perfect, your Majesty."