Previously: "Oh you dolt," she laughed slightly. "I love you like a brother. Like a best friend."
"Then I suppose I love you too, Hermione." He said, slightly stilted. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, not that she was particularly amazing at it either. "But it's time to go, alright? I shudder to think what the Hogwarts rumor mill would think of us hugging at two in the morning."
That got a genuine laugh out of her, and she unwound herself from his arms reluctantly. "Maybe after all this is over, we can mess with the rest of the school."
"It's a date," Draco said, and laughed with her. "Goodnight, Hermione."
Hermione slept far later on December 25th than she had in many years. Her Christmas mornings in this time were nearly always cheerful affairs, with her small family spending time together in Rouen or in Britain. After the Ministry fell, Hermione barely noticed Christmas pass. There was always too much to do, and too little to share with one another. But this year was a different beast entirely.
A feeling of nervousness had overcome her last time, and she distinctly remembered being wrapped up in the ifs, ands, and buts of going to the ball with Victor. This time, she knew it would go splendidly – that is, if she could keep Ron from blowing up. Time had flown, something that didn't seem possible with a time turner in hand, and she had neglected to help Ron and Harry with their dates, leaving them with the Patil twins. It was a shame, really. Pavarti had gushed to Lavender about getting to dance with Harry Potter in front of the whole hall. She knew Padma wasn't quite so pleased, but the girl was bookish and somewhat shy, and would've gone alone if Pavarti hadn't sorted out a date for her.
Hermione determined the best course of action today was to help Harry and Ron from making giant fools of themselves. She didn't much feel like playing lecturer, though. The events of the previous night lay heavy on her mind, and she was certain she would end up moping around in bed until the ball.
She pulled open the curtains, finally, at around noon. "Happy Christmas, Hermione!" said Lavender cheerily.
"Happy Christmas, Lav," Hermione mumbled back. She hadn't told them anything about the ball, this time around. Last timeline, Christmas eve was as close to a giant slumber party that the girls of Gryffindor had ever seen. They ate candy, gossiped, and chattered with one another. Hermione had even told a few of them she had an exciting date, although Ginny had been the only one who knew his identity.
"Oh good, you're awake!" Pavarti said, smiling widely at Hermione. "We were so worried you wouldn't wake in time to get ready with us!"
Privately, Hermione wanted to mention that it was noon, and the ball didn't start until six o'clock. But even she had taken about three hours to prepare last time, and looking good never hurt. She sighed inwardly. She hadn't yet looked at her torso to see the damage, which she knew would be an ever-present reminder of her pending infertility.
"I've got some things to do, first, but I'll be back in an hour to get ready with you," Hermione assured.
They giggled excitedly. "Oh, I can't wait to show you my dress, Hermione!"
"And to see yours," Pavarti continued. "We've no idea what it looks like, go on, show us!"
Hermione smiled obligingly. "In an hour, when I'm back. And I know you'll both look marvelous."
They said cheery goodbyes to her, and she was only too happy to escape. Being around so much excitement did nothing to cheer her up, even on Christmas. She reminded herself to open her presents later, for her parents gave her a sapphire necklace to match her dress robes.
She walked down to the common room, looking out for the boys. She hoped they would take her mind off her thoughts.
The boys were all trooping in after what looked like rolling around in the snow – Hermione thought it was more likely that they had a snowball fight, but they looked equally ragged and snow-soaked. "Happy Christmas, Hermione!" Harry said cheerfully.
"Happy Christmas, Harry," she gave him a very tentative hug, trying to avoid becoming soaked, herself. "And you too, Ron," she said, repeating the gesture. "Hey, I have something to show you guys."
Ron groaned. "Hermione, please tell me you're not asking us to look at homework, are you? It's Christmas!"
She pursed her lips. "Just because we're on holiday, doesn't mean we can't think about our academic careers, Ron. But no, it's not related to school. I actually think it will help both of you this evening."
They shared a look that implied they highly doubted Hermione's ability to help them but didn't seem ready to outright rebel. "Alright, I'm going to teach you two how to make the Patil twins very happy," she said cheerfully.
"Wha?" Ron asked dumbly. "Why do we need to make them happy?"
Hermione sighed. This was going to take a long time.
"And that's what a girl expects from her date at a ball," she finished. Both Harry and Ron were looking at her, dumbfounded.
"No one can do all that at once!" Ron exclaimed. "What the bloody hell are we supposed to do, grow four more arms?"
Hermione shook her head sadly. "That is what a gentleman does at the ball. Honestly, boys, half of what I told you is just general advice – being considerate to the people around you! And Ron, it's doubly important for you to pay attention to Padma, since you didn't even ask her on your own." Ron looked outraged at this, for some reason.
"Listen, Ron, and you too Harry. You're going to attend this school with both of these girls for three more years. That's a long time to have someone be angry with you for treating them badly at a ball. Plus, you might even find it fun if you do go for a dance. It's not all waltzing and counting your steps – they'll have the Weird Sisters there!"
"Dances weren't made for having fun, Mione." Harry said, on the edge of joking and seriousness. "They were made to torture poor blokes like me."
She gave him a fondly exasperated look, trying to keep from rolling her eyes for the fortieth time that day. "Oh Harry, even you could have fun at a dance."
Ron and Harry shared another look that told her they doubted it. "Hermione," said Ron tentatively. "Who-"
"I'm not telling you who I'm going with." She snapped. "You'll learn tonight, like everyone else." This was something she was unwilling to bend on, mostly because she didn't know the ramifications it would have if everyone knew she and Victor were going to the ball. And something told her that Ron wouldn't be able to keep it quiet if he did know who she was going with. "I'm going to get ready. I'll see you both later tonight."
They mumbled goodbyes, looking very nervous, and Hermione took her chance to escape. How did she become responsible for teaching fourteen-year-old boys to be good dates?
Ah yes, it was probably when she decided to meddle with time and change the course of the entire world. For the first time, she realized the gravity of her position. Sure, Draco and Severus were helping her, but she held the most keys to the future. And that meant she held the most responsibility. If something were to go wrong – even something outside of her power – well she would be responsible for that, wouldn't she?
She had decided to become the puppeteer, the manipulator of fate, and the keeper of the keys to the future. It wasn't all balls and teaching fourteen-year-olds how to act at a dance, either. It was, well, everything. Everything that happened was at the result of her action or inaction. And if she failed, well that was her own fault too. She and Draco would never be able to replicate the time distortion they did at the veil, almost two years ago now. It was now or never.
But at the same time, she would have to act normally too. If the wrong person realized that Hermione Granger wasn't what she seemed, like Severus had, she was well and truly screwed. So she had no options besides doing everything to the best of her ability. No more rashness, no more jumping into things.
Her ability to have children was a small price to pay, after all. If they could destroy Voldemort, an entire generation of children would be born, and they would live in peace.
It was with this mindset that Hermione prepared for the ball, smiling and laughing with her dorm mates and playing the part perfectly. She elegantly stepped into the bathroom to put her dress on, telling Lavender and Pavarti that she wanted it to be a surprise.
They didn't even recognize the girl who came out, just as they had been wowed by her the last time. But maybe it was her mastery of beauty spells at their behest, or maybe it was the look in her eyes. She was stunning. She tried not to take pride in the fact that she was prettier than Lavender, more put-together than Pavarti. She did have the benefit of age on them. The fourteen-year-old girls were very pretty, but Hermione was an adult. She had all the right curves in all the right places, and a dress that showed them off far more than the bulky Hogwarts robes.
She really doubted that even Harry would recognize her, honestly. The thought made her smirk, and she stalked down to the entrance hall (to meet Victor) with a predatory sort of grace. She was a warrior; she was going to save the future, or die trying. A ball wasn't worth a second thought.
Or so she told herself, as she waited impatiently for Victor in the entrance hall. He wouldn't stand her up this time, would he?
A few Durmstrang boys passed, wearing very traditional German dress robes, and she smiled at them. To her surprise, one of them wolf-whistled at her. Another winked.
She put her arms around herself, self-conscious. Damn it, Hermione, she thought to herself. What happened to 'I'm a warrior?' Get yourself together.
"Hermy-ony," she heard behind her, and whipped around. "You are beautivul."
She grinned, recognizing Victor as he approached. "Victor," she gave a little curtsy. "And you are quite handsome."
He bowed back to her, and held out a hand for her to take. "You vill steal the ball, Hermy-own. I am a lucky man." She blushed despite herself.
"Oh Victor, you flatter me." She said lightheartedly. "I'm the lucky one, you know."
They struck up a conversation, talking about the castle, their previous Christmas holidays, and their classes. Victor seemed to stay away from anything too serious, which she was grateful for. She wasn't sure she would have an answer if he asked what she wanted to do after graduation.
They were still the only couple in this corner of the entrance hall, and Hermione cast a subtle privacy ward to keep the rest of the hall from paying attention to them.
Victor raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You are very advanced, Hermy-one," he commented. "At Durmstrang, ve are not taught silent casting until ve are sixteen. And vandless, some students never achieve dat."
Hermione blushed for real this time. She felt so comfortable around Victor that she hadn't even realized she cast wandlessly (although, considering that her wand was in a thigh holster, it wasn't really a surprise. She didn't fancy hiking up her dress to reach her wand, but habit kept her from leaving it behind.)
"Again, you flatter me, Victor. I'm old for my year, you know. And I spend all my time studying." She deflected.
To her displeasure, he continued earnestly. "Vut that is more dan studying, Hermy-one. Dat is genuine skill. Your parents must have taught you vell."
She shifted uncomfortably. She supposed her parents hadn't really come up in their discussions during the last time, not even in their letters to one another. She had learned a long time ago to not talk about them in general, because it brought more questions than she liked.
At the same time, she got why Victor would think her parents were involved. It was common knowledge outside of Britain that training your kids at a young age would allow them to have a much more natural grasp over their magic. It was still illegal in most places, however. A dependency on wand magic made for a much less dangerous population, after all. But most purebloods still taught their kids under the radar.
It was like learning a language, really. After the age of twelve, kids lost that innate ability to just pick up languages, and instead had to do it the slow way: years and years of study, careful practice, and still never really getting it. Magic was amazingly similar. Starting at eleven was probably the latest they could start without starting to stunt children's magical growth. It was still possible to cast wandlessly, but it took the same effort as an adult learning a new language: hours and hours of work.
"Erm, yes, my parents always motivated me to be dedicated to my schooling," she said, dodging the question.
He nodded, seeming to find this an acceptable answer. "Mine vere, too." He confided. "Alveys telling me to do more, vork harder. I do not think they wanted me to be a Qviddich player, although. They vere hoping for a Staatsovenar – Auror, I sink you call them."
"Fascinating," Hermione said honestly. "They aren't proud of you for becoming a seeker so young?"
He shook his head. "No they thought it vas a bad idea, but dat does not keep them from bragging about me, yes?" He grinned at her, and she grinned back happily. That sounded familiar, alright. Her own parents were very upset to see her go to Hogwarts every year, but that didn't keep them from bragging to their friends that she got top marks at her private school in the north.
"Ah, ve are going in." Victor said suddenly, and Hermione noticed a stream of people had flooded the entrance hall.
"We go up with the other champions, right?" Hermione said happily. "I'm very good friends with Harry and his date, Pavarti. I'll have to introduce you two."
Victor smiled again, but it was a little colder this time. Ah, she had forgotten of his jealousy over Harry. It was as completely unfounded as it was the last time, but Hermione wasn't blind to it this time either. She simply cared more about her friend than her fling.
Harry arrived soon enough, and Minerva was ushering them over to the side of the hall, where they would walk up to the head table. He was right behind her, but didn't seem to recognize her at all. "Hello, Harry!" She said cheerily.
He jumped, recognizing her voice. "Hermione?" Harry asked. "Blimey, I barely- I mean, you look amazing!"
Pavarti, who held onto Harry's arm, looked just as awed as he was. "Ooh, Hermione, you look even more beautiful in this lighting!"
"As do you, Pavarti. Oh, can I introduce you to Victor? Harry, you've met him briefly, right?" She gestured to Victor redundantly, and he gave a tiny smile. "Victor, this is Harry and his date, Pavarti. They're both in the same year as me."
"It is a pleasure to make your aqvuaintance," Victor said politely. "I saw you fly, Harry, at the first task. You fly very vell."
Harry looked stunned that he was getting a compliment from a professional Quiddich player. "I- wow, thank you." He said excitedly. "I saw you too, at the Quiddich World Cup. That Wronski feint was, just, wow."
Hermione giggled at his ineloquence, and he shot her a glare. "Pavarti, were you at the World Cup?" She asked, trying to include her.
"Oh no," she said, and seemed to enjoy the attention she was getting. She flipped her hair back, which was pulled up in an elegant ponytail. "Mum and dad root for India, and they didn't want to go see Bulgaria after that clobbering." Victor shrugged, now looking a bit uncomfortable himself. "No offence, Victor." She added. India must have lost to Bulgaria by a wide margin, Hermione mused.
"None taken, Pav-ardey." Despite the fact that he mispronounced her name, Pavarti looked thrilled.
The crowd was finally starting to thin, and soon enough Minerva was back, asking them to walk up to the head table together. Cho and Cedric went first, followed by Fleur and Roger Davies, and then it was Hermione's turn to walk up with Victor. She got a satisfied smirk from Draco, an outright hostile glare from Ron, and about a thousand students whispering to one another about the champions, and, most likely, her.
Severus's jaw almost dropped as she passed him, at least as much as Severus's jaw ever dropped – so, about a single centimeter. She did warn him that she could clean up, after all. He glanced down to her stomach, where he knew she was now scarred, and her good mood vanished. For a few scant minutes, she had been able to pretend she was a Cinderella at the ball, but that brought back her demons. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her own skin. Sure she looked beautiful with this dress on, but they couldn't see the ugly mottled skin underneath.
"Vere vould you like to sit?" Victor asked, pulling her out of her morose musings. There were two spots open, one between Karkaroff and Dumbledore, and the other between Dumbledore and Percy, who was standing in for Barty Crouch.
Hermione desperately wanted to stay away from Dumbledore, afraid that he would notice something wasn't right about her, but knew there was no chance of sitting next to Percy. Even now, Karkaroff was waving Victor over excitedly. "Oh, wherever you like," she said with a false sense of cheer.
Maybe Harry had a point. Dances really weren't made for having fun.
AN: Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! Please let me know what you like, or want to see happen. There's still a good amount of fic left, and I'd be happy to write more of whatever you guys enjoy reading about.
I have two more references to other fanfiction in this chapter. The first is "Again and Again" by Athey, which is a very bizzare fanfic where Harry has lived his life twelve times over. It's Athey's theory of wandless magic and training your kids at a young age that comes up when Hermione and Victor talk before the ball. Second is the name "Statsovenaar," Dutch for "state wizard." This also comes from "Make a Wish," which I credited in a previous chapter as well. Both are well worth the read, but I would say that "Again and Again" is a bit more out there.