Chapter Seven:
Tennen by Hania Rani
December 28th, 1999
Ginny and Hermione book an appointment at an upscale boutique in Diagon Alley called Twilfitt and Tattings. Neither have set foot in a place so expensive but if they're going to be photographed on New Years, Ginny has decided they both need to look extravagant.
"How did you manage to get a private appointment so close to the event?" Hermione asks as they stride down the street arm in arm.
"I'm not proud of it, but I did name drop you and Harry," she responds and Hermione's stomach hits the floor. "I know, I know how much you hate it, but I really wanted us both to look beautiful for the ball. I know we're going to be getting our photo taken." She isn't wrong and Hermione thinks that's the worst part.
She's been avoiding the wizarding world since her outburst on Boxing Day. The Prophet had a great photo of her angrily glaring at the reporters followed by a smaller one of her shattering some poor bystander's camera. She even made the front page above the fold.
"I think…I think I just have to get used to it—the photos, the paparazzi—I will never live a quiet life…" She looks at Ginny, who's brown eyes hold a little piece of sorrow for her.
"It's going to be ok 'Mione, I promise you. We're going to have a blast." Ginny cracks a grin, squeezing Hermione's hand before pulling her into the shop.
The attendants are all waiting for them and Hermione shoves that uncomfortable feeling into the tips of her toes, hoping it won't rise again anytime soon.
"Good afternoon." Two witches in smart looking robes step forward to greet them.
"We're here for our shopping appointment, we're a little early. I hope that's alright." Ginny glances at her watch and one of the witches looks to Hermione.
"For you, it's fine." She feels repulsed, adding that icky feeling to the others in her toes.
Ginny and Hermione are split and guided around the store so they can pick out a few different dresses to try on. She's never received service like this before and it makes her squirm.
Even when shopping for the Yule ball, her mother had taken her to a high street shop in the centre of London. It was her and thirty other girls trying things frantically under harsh dressing room lights.
Fourteen-year-old Hermione would never be able to imagine having a private shopping appointment.
Her hand skims the different fabrics as she walks the racks slowly, part of her wants to just go with black, something simple and understated. Perhaps periwinkle, a call back to her youthful fashion sense.
"What about this one?" Rachel, the attendant, is calling her name and holds out a shimmering, gold gown. Hermione finds herself shaking her head.
"You need to at least try it on!" Ginny shouts from the other side of the store and Hermione lets out a frustrated noise.
"Fine. I'll try it on," she grumbles.
Ginny's in the changing room first and Hermione sits perched on a chair right outside. She has a glass of sparkling wine on the table next to her, which she takes a generous sip of.
She's half way done her first glass when Ginny finally emerges in a black strapless gown. It accentuates her slender waist before falling into endless layers of tulle.
"I don't think I like this one." Ginny grimaces while turning to face Hermione, the petticoats beneath make a distinct swishing noise.
"You know Harry will never be able to dance with you in that." Before Hermione can even finish her sentence Ginny makes a beeline back to the changing room.
She emerges again, this time in a red satin dress with a cowl neck and bedazzled thin straps.
"This one's much better." She turns and reveals how low the back is, struggling to move in it freely. "I don't think I like how tight it is on my thighs." Ginny looks to Hermione for validation.
"I don't think the tightness is a bad thing, but I know the lack of mobility is. How are you ever going to chase me down to drag me back to the dance floor?" Ginny snorts, slithering back into the dressing room.
When she comes out a third time, Hermione gasps.
"This is the one," she declares before Ginny's even made it to the platform. The silver metallic material glistens in the shop's dim lights. With a daringly high slit she has enough mobility to twirl and move. The fabric gathers and hugs her like this dress was made for her and her alone.
"You don't think I kind of look like a Trout?" she asks, looking at Hermione who bursts into laughter. Ginny touches the fabric, turning in the mirror, taking it in from every possible angle.
"Why on earth do you think you look like a trout?"
"I don't know! The fabric is so shiny! It just feels like fish scales."
"I promise you. You look absolutely beautiful."
"It's your turn now! I've added a few to your pile and you're not allowed to say anything until you try them on." Ginny disappears once more and Hermione musters all her strength as she stands.
She feels light headed from the wine, her fingertips tingling when she stands. Ginny has added quite a few dresses to her pile. She grabs the one on top and Rachel helps her slip into it.
Leaving the dressing room scares her, the second she steps foot out into the overhead lights and onto the little platform in front of the mirror her heart is hammering in her chest.
"Oh, I love that one." Ginny's voice sounds reassuring as she turns to the mirror. Her collar bones are protruding and it's the first thing she notices, The strapless a-line black dress doing nothing on her thin frame. She grazes her hands over the raw silk, noting the white flowers embroidered over the bodice.
"I don't think I love the flowers…" she remarks, avoiding her own gaze. She hates the flowers, hates the way it sits on top of her skin, hates that when she goes to touch the top of her dress she can see her scar.
Mudblood.
She scurries back into the dressing room, holding the skirts up a little too high,worried she will trip on it.
Hermione tries on a few more dresses. A red one that has a plunging neckline, a blue one that swallows her in tulle and a purple velvet dress that Ginny aptly calls a glorified couch cushion.
"Hold on! Hold on! I saw one you may actually like!" Ginny is leaping from her spot on the couch. With two glasses of wine down, Hermione is struggling to get out of a beaded black dress.
She struggles in the dressing room a little more before admitting defeat and calling Rachel in to help her.
The bells signalling the front door being opened goes off and Rachel's face drops, she must have forgotten to lock the door.
"One moment." Hermione suctions herself against the wall as the door swings open and she can hear Rachel talking to the person who entered. "I'm sorry sir, we're closed for a private shopping appointment."
"I'm just here to pick up a dress." The stern but bored tone of Draco Malfoy cuts the air and Hermione can't breathe.
"Ah, the Greengrass dress?"
"Astoria's, not Daphne's." His words are quick, Hermione peers out through the crack between the door and the wall. Rachel has disappeared into the racks behind the counter and he stands on the other side of the register.
He's wearing a nicely tailored suit today with a white shirt unbuttoned just enough that she can see the prison tattoo peeking out from behind the collar. Malfoy leans one elbow against the counter, rolling his neck and letting out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing gently.
"Here you are, my manager has also just informed me tha-"
"That you expect full payment and won't allow me to put it on the account? I know." He's no longer leaning on the counter, his posture stiff and unrelenting as he drops a little velvet pouch with a clatter of coins.
Before Rachel can say anything else he's gone.
When Ron gets home on the thirtieth, Hermione shows him her dress. He stares at her for a long moment, like he's struggling to decide what he could possibly tell her.
"It's green," he says, sitting on her bed and drawing his brows together. She turns away from him, the beading on the dress swishing behind her.
He's right it is green, a deep emerald almost black with a beaded mesh slip over top. The plunging neckline terrified her at first, having that much of her skin exposed makes her nervous, but the dress came with a matching shawl so she can cover the thin straps and wrap herself in it.
"It is green. I like the flowers and the beading." She smooths the fabric over her hips carefully. Her collar bones still protrude horrendously but the detail draws your eye away from it. The embroidery and beading along her hips distract from how the bones stick out.
"I thought you would have gone for…oh I dunno, not green."
"What's wrong with green? The Harpies are green."
"They're not Slytherin green." He turns his nose up in disgust.
"And neither is this. I think I look rather nice in this colour, it brings out my eyes." She isn't lying, the dark green makes her mousey brown hair and brown eyes look a lot less plain.
He's staring at her as she looks in the mirror, she catches his eyes for a moment before he looks away and flushes. Standing, he looms behind her for a moment, looking at her through the mirror.
"I think you look fine," is all he says before disappearing again.
Hermione wakes early the next morning after catching a few hours of sleep. Last night she dreamt of Hogwarts and the carriages drawn by Thestrals. She can see them now, with their paper thin skin and bony bodies. Their haunting looks and sounds echoing in her dreams.
At least she didn't wake up hoarse from screaming.
She finds the kitchen empty and is happy about it. Eating her cereal in peace, she decides to put a record on quietly and wait for the morning mail.
Washing her dish in the sink, she can hear a tiny tapping on the window and a perturbed looking Pigwidgeon sitting on the sill. His yellow eyes stare at her, his feathers forming a furious looking brow.
"Thanks Pigwidgeon," she whispers, giving him a little tap and closing the window. Poor Pigwidgeon, the newspaper is almost three times the size of his upper body.
She unrolls the paper, flipping through a few envelopes and settling on one addressed to Ginny with no return address. She leaves the pile on the island and settles back into a chair, cracking the paper open.
No news of Y2K amongst the wizarding world, Hermione isn't surprised considering how it won't affect them in the slightest. She is surprised that there aren't any updates on the trials. Looks like even Death Eaters can enjoy the holidays.
"Good morning!" Ginny singsongs, sliding into the chair next to Hermione and pulling over the pile of envelopes. She fingers the one addressed to her cautiously before ripping it open.
Her eyes widen and it sends a sick feeling coursing through Hermione. Hands cold, the sting of fear settles into her stomach.
"What is it?"
"The ball tonight…is being held at Malfoy Manor."
She can feel the blood drain from her face, pooling into her stomach completely.
"It's…"
"We're not going." Ginny grabs hold of Hermione's hand, forcing her to look in her eyes.
"N-no…Gin…It's just a house…" Her voice cracks but she holds strong. It's just a house, there will be other people there. There will be hundreds of people there.
She can't be afraid forever.
"'Mione…"
"It's just a house… There will be other people there. Kingsley and everyone in the ministry…It can't be dangerous if they're all going," she says it with what she thinks is enthusiasm. Ginny looks at her doubtfully.
"I'm not making you do this."
"I will be ok. It's just a house…"