CARPE NOCTEM / ART OF THE MIND / CH. 10

"Granger!"

"Uhm?" Hermione's head moved towards the voice but her eyes stayed motionless, lost in the land of ifs and whys. A gentle nudge to her arm made her snap out of the trance and meet the puzzled expression illustrating Draco's whole face.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, her voice unusually raspy. She'd been quiet since she came down for breakfast, too preoccupied with her own inner monologue to be able to initiate any sort of conversation. The plain good morning was her only compromise as she settled on a chair, which hardly provided any comfort she so desperately needed.

"Are you serious?" Draco raised his eyebrows, completely stunned.

"Why?"

"Why...well, let's see..." He curled his mouth downwards, nodding somewhere towards Hermione's empty plate.

Following his gaze, the young witch's heart skipped a beat.

"MERLIN!" she squeaked as her eyes landed on a brown barred owl impatiently fluttering its feathers, clearly frustrated from the lack of Hermione's interest.

"Miss Granger, could you be so kind and restrain yourself from—" Lucius Malfoy gritted his teeth but let the rest of his sentence die upon feeling his wife's palm over his.

"Of course, I'm sorry!" The young witch dismissed rather than apologised, having her eyes only for the yellow envelope trapped inside the owl's beak.

The bird, sensing her full attention, released the letter onto the white shining plate right in front of her. She was about to grasp it when the ball of irritation suddenly snapped its beak, making her withdraw her palm.

"Oh, come on!" The young witch pressed her lips together and carefully tautened her hand once more. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting!" she pled, making the bird hoot, but this time it allowed her to snatch the letter.

Having been offered a piece of toast, the owl moved its head aside, preparing to leave with her companion, which Hermione noticed only when it hit her forehead with its wing.

"I don't understand why bother having an owlery when the birds do whatever they want." Lucius grunted with distaste, brushing a single feather off of the table with a spare knife.

"What are you waiting for?" Draco asked as he caught his friend staring at the envelope in her shaking hands. Hermione searched for his, noticing it was already opened, passing in between his parents.

"Come on, you of all people really don't need to worry!"

"Right." She bit her lip, putting a finger under the crease, carefully breaking the seal. Pulling out a long letter, her eyes blurred for a moment.

Dark green ink imprinted into the high-quality parchment read:

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

PASS GRADES

Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E))
Acceptable (A)

FAIL GRADES

Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)

HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER ACHIEVED:

ANCIENT RUNES: O
ARITHMANCY : O
ASTRONOMY: O
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: O
CHARMS: O
DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: O
HERBOLOGY: O
HISTORY OF MAGIC: O
POTIONS: O
TRANSFIGURATION: O

PROFESSOR GRISELDA MARCHBANKS
Governor, Wizarding Examination Authority

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore, D. Wiz., X.J.(sorc), Mag. Q.

Hermione held her breath while swallowing every single world. She skimmed the letter again and again—and would do for the third time, hadn't it been for Draco snatching the parchment out of her hands.

She turned to him with the widest smile, taking in his stunned expression.

"Nerd! I knew it!" He returned the parchment to her with a matching grin.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to keep her excitement at the minimum.

Draco shrugged. "Seven E's, one A, and one O."

"That is brilliant!" Hermione lit up sincerely. "What did you get the 'outstanding' for?"

"My good looks." He winked, making her chuckle.

"We are so proud of you, Draco!" Narcissa glared at her son with pure motherly love, melting everything around her.

"That's nothing." The boy took a bite of his marmalade toast. "You should see Granger's, she's got Outstanding for every single subject."

Hermione quickly looked down, her cheeks flaming red. There really was no need for attention.

"Oh," surprised gasps came out of both adults at the table. "That is quite... interesting," Lucius commented in a cold voice.

"Well done, Ms Granger." Narcissa addressed the girl, making her meet her eyes, which hardened as soon as they left Draco's face.

"Thank you." She smiled politely. "Ehm... Could I ask for a small favour?"

Narcissa let go of her cup of coffee. "Sure."

"May I borrow one of your owls to send a letter to my parents? They asked me to let them know as soon as I can..."

"Of course. I suppose you know where the owlery is."

A small wrinkle formed on Hermione's forehead as she remembered what had happened there just a few hours ago. "Yes, I do. Thank you, ma'am." She stood up, trying her best not to show her abashment.

"A moment, please." Narcissa shifted on her chair, folding her napkin.

"Yes?"

"As you probably know, the ball is approaching," the woman began as she let her hand rest next to her plate, "surely, you realise it is quite an important event, requiring a proper attire."

"Of course," Hermione nodded. "I was planning on visiting Madame Malkin's today! I can actually go right after..."

Narcissa's lips formed an arrogant smirk. "No, I don't suppose any of Madam Malkin's robes would suffice."

Hermione opened her mouth but subsequently closed it again. She kept looking at the smiling woman, who watched her struggle with pure satisfaction. "Ehm... all right, well, then I can visit Twilfitt and T..."

"No, I'm afraid not even Twilfitt and Tattings would do us any favour."

'Then what should I do?' Hermione thought to herself.

Standing up from her chair, the older woman smoothed her silver robe and folded her arms. "Are you familiar with the name Vittorio D'Avalos?"

Hermione recalled the picture of a skinny man with sharp cheekbones she'd seen in one of the books in the Hogwarts library. She nodded her head eagerly. "He's an Italian fashion designer, the only one to improvise on the spot and get dresses done in less than fifteen minutes. He won the most outstanding outfit award twelve times in a row, the international artist of the year, the best..." She paused to take a breath.

"Impressive." Narcissa took the chance of the silence. "Yes, that is all accurate, not to mention he is a family friend as well." She smirked upon noticing Hermione's chin bob.

"He is coming over this afternoon. I've already informed him there is one more woman in need of a dress so you don't have to worry about anything else than being on the third floor at four p.m."

Hermione's head spun. "No... I mean, I would be perfectly fine with Diagon Alley's shops. I'm sure I'll find a proper..."

"It is not an option. The robe needs to be perfect and that can't offer anyone but D'Avalos."

"But..." Hermione tried desperately. There was no way she'd be able to afford a tailored dress from the wizarding equivalent of Zuhair Murad. No wonder he was beyond expensive.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You don't have to worry about the money. It's all taken care of."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "No! I'll pay for my dress!"

"Look, Granger," Draco suddenly decided to join in. "You don't even wanna be there. You are doing me a favour, so... let's just take the dress as some form of a thank you."

"No, it doesn't work like that!" She shook her head stubbornly. "I couldn't possibly accept anything so expensive! Ma'am," Hermione turned to the woman, "what if I just went to Diagon Alley and if I don't find a suitable..."

"I've already said it is not negotiable. Draco, if you really want your friend to be there, make sure she's in the guest room at the given time," she ordered, already turning on her heel, not giving the girl another chance to object.

"One advice, Ms Granger—" A cold but somehow tired voice of Lucius Malfoy made both Draco and Hermione turn around. "Don't try to argue with my wife... you stand no chance." Rising from the chair, he gave her a half-smile, half scowl, ambling his way out of the dining room.

"How am I ever going to pay you back?!" Hermione grunted as she marched along with Draco, heading nowhere else but towards the third floor. "I'm serious, so stop laughing at me!" she snapped, seeing the boy grinning with corner of her eye.

Amused, Draco only shrugged. "I've already asked you. Why can't you just accept it as a simple thank you?"

"And I've already told you," Hermione emphasised the last word angrily, "if you want to thank me, a plain verbal statement would do just fine! Your parents don't have to go and buy me a dress worth more than my whole wardrobe combined," she objected, folding her arms, "this is insane!"

"Please, it's nothing." Draco waved his hand dismissively.

The young witch let out a short, forced laugh. "No, it's not! Draco, there are actually people who have to work their fingers to the bone to be able to buy a bloody toast for breakfast, people who know the true value of money. For them, things just don't fall from heaven like that." Snapping her fingers, she stopped and turned to face her friend. "So don't tell me it's nothing!"

Draco paused as well, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Okay. That's really... unfortunate, I guess, but what does it have to do with you and that dress?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath. "Forget about it. I just don't want to be contributing to this nightmare of materialism. If you do, it's your choice, but I think it's a waste of money. Money that could be invested in a much better cause."

"Right." Draco took the chance. "What would you do with so much money then, how'd you use it?"

Shrugging, Hermione began, "Thousands and thousands of organisations are in need of financial support. Have you ever heard of the Equity Fund?" She watched him shake his head. "Well, there is a small group of people here in London, trying to enforce equal pay for all the working house elves. I think it would..."

"Are you serious right now?!" Draco couldn't help but laughed. "You're here telling me about wasting money and you'd invest them in such a nonsense?"

Hermione opened her mouth, super indignant. "It's not nonsense! It's something that needs to be brought to attention! Oh, I cannot believe I..." She turned on her heel, ready to march right back to her room.

"Okay, wait, wait, wait!" The young wizard ran after her.

"Not interested in anything you have to say!" She held her head high as she approached the staircase.

"Just a second!" Draco jumped in front of her, preventing her from going any further. Hermione folded her arms, looking anywhere but at him.

"Okay, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! Look, here's an idea. How about you sell the dress after the ball and use the money for that Equity fund? How does that sound?"

"What? It's not even my money, Draco, I couldn't possibly..."

"Then I'll do it! I'll invest the money."

"Don't be ridiculous! You don't have to do things just because of me!" Hermione shook her head but deep down melted a little from this kind gesture.

"I don't want to do it because of you, gnashgab!" He grinned as his friend's eyes narrowed. "I've just had a laugh on the account of someone who works 24 hours a day and still doesn't get paid. I don't want karma getting me for that later in life."

However much she didn't want to, Hermione couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Now, that's a good sign." Draco's grin widened. "Come on, you've got a dress to try on—and remember to take the priciest! We want as much money as we can get!"

Satisfied with a slight punch to the boy's shoulder, Hermione didn't say another complaint as she followed him to the end of the corridor.

"Time to say goodbye," he informed her nonchalantly, "if you excuse me, I'm going to leave you to a dragon—I've already had a pleasure and don't intend to get any more of it," giving her a quick grimace, he turned around and started walking away.

"It's not that hard, all you need to do is knock," he called over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs, leaving just the sound of his footsteps behind.

"Okay, Hermione... deep breath," she whispered, finding herself stepping from one foot to the other in front of the dark ebony door. Inhaling sharply, she reached out and knocked three times. The door opened almost immediately, making her take a few steps back.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you came to your senses," Narcissa Malfoy whispered as she came into the view, giving her a barely visible smile, "come in."

Hermione entered hesitantly, taking in the whole room. Like the rest of the house, it was designed with a great taste. Dark pieces of furniture contrasted deeply with unusual light coming from the stationary windows, making space look much wider than it actually was.

"Vittorio, may I introduce Miss Granger?" Narcissa spoke and Hermione's eyes were forced towards a tall man dressed in a mauve coloured suit. She recognised him immediately by his sharp features and a blithe expression.

Coming close enough to shake hands, the girl gulped as his dark eyes narrowed upon looking at her striped t-shirt and denim pants.

"Ms Granger, this is Vittorio D'Avalos."

Offering her hand, the girl smiled softly. "Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he replied in a strong Italian accent, squeezing her palm, "let's have a look at you," the designer murmured as he started circling the girl without further ado.

Hermione, feeling like a piece of meat, tried to turn around and face him, but the man wouldn't let her. "Just a second, amore!" he added, sensing her impatience.

"A great shape, good posture, skin slightly tanned, chocolate eyes and..." Vittorio reached out to her jaw but barely touched it when he quickly pulled his fingers away with a dramatic gasp. "Dio mio! Jaw so sharp it cut me to the bone!" He smiled widely, making the girl giggle. "That's all in our favour! But, my... those hideous clothes!" His smile immediately changed into a mask of horror. "Why hide your beauty under such garbage!" he went on without any remorse.

A small wrinkle formed on Hermione's forehead. "It's quite comfortable, thank you."

"So, I would suggest," he voiced as he tilted his head, not really paying attention to her hurt feelings or anything she had to say in particular, "pink—or better white with a soft cerulean mist transition. What do you think, Narcissa?"

Hermione gave the woman a quick look, realising the whole focus was on her. "I would agree on the white and blue combination," she drawled indifferently.

"Yes. Loose from the waist, tight all the way up," Vittorio sang, looking like Mad Hatter, "okay, amore, here!" He took out his wand and with quite a complicated flick of it, a black patterned folding screen appeared in front of them. "Hop in, undress, and we can start working!"

"But..."

"Don't be shy. We're professionals here!" He rolled his eyes, turning to Narcissa.

Hermione didn't have any other choice but do as she was told. With a soft sigh, she crawled behind the folder and began reluctantly removing her clothes.

"I think I'm done," she squeaked shyly after a while, praying for this nightmarish summer holiday to be finally over.

"Splendido!" Vittorio nodded approvingly as he approached her.

Feeling heat rising up to her ears, Hermione put her arms over her chest, trying to cover everything her simple beige underwear wouldn't.

"I'm going to perform a basic spell, just to get exact measurements, okay?"

Nodding, the young witch slowly let her arms fall to her sides. It was a mere second before she felt her breath hitch. There was a tightness all around her torso, hitting her lungs, making her feel like a piece of lemon being squeezed out of its juice.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared, letting her cough with much-needed oxygen.

"Quite the numbers!" he whistled, impressed. "Okay, bella, I need you to close your eyes, and no peeking—I want a full reaction after I'm done!"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but his demanding look made her change her mind. Snorting, she closed her eyes, preparing for the magic.

"Promise you won't look?"

"I promise," she assured him, stressing every syllable.

"Okay, let's get started then!"

Hermione had no idea what was going to happen. She stood there embarrassed and clueless, trying to detect any sound that would suggest what the man was up to.

She flinched as a wave of warmth washed over her. Feeling a sensational softness, almost like a spring breeze flowing all around her legs, hitting her open palms, she felt like being in the middle of a golden field, just enjoying the last sunset.

"Careful, now!" She heard Vittorio murmur somewhere below her waistline. She was tempted to open at least one of her eyes, to see where was this whirlpool of wind coming from, but kept her promise.

"You may feel slightly uncomfortable, but don't worry, nothing bad is happening." With those words the feeling of freedom changed, advancing up towards her waist. It felt like something liquid had spilt and decided to travel the other way around, up to her chest. Upon reaching her armpits, it stopped and slowly started to dry out, making it quite difficult to move.

"Don't stir, bella, you'll ruin everything I've done so far," he cried out, irritated.

"Sorry!" Hermione apologised quickly and decided to even breathe much more shallowly to prevent anything bad from happening.

"Okay, just a little bit of fluff here and here," he kept on murmuring to himself, "the blue... the blue now...! and more white... no, blue, it needs more blue... oh Dio!"

"What is it?" Narcissa's voice called from behind them. The girl had almost forgotten she was still there.

"All is fine, my muse! I'm almost finished!" he called back a little too loudly for Hermione's liking.

It took the designer ten more minutes before he clasped his hands together, calling for Narcissa to come and look at his masterpiece.

"May I look?" the young witch asked, trying to sound casual. She wanted to see herself before anyone else would.

"Not yet!" he snapped a little too hysterically.

Hearing a sound of footsteps approaching, Hermione frowned because she knew she was on display. "What do you say?"

Silence.

"It is magnificent!" the voice whispered after a while, quite taken aback, making the young witch's breath catch in her throat.

"Now, my bella, you may look," Vittorio allowed sweetly.

Hermione couldn't wait for this moment. Opening her eyes, she wanted to glance down, but the young woman standing in front of her caught her attention first.

Her lips parted, unable to get a word out because what her eyes saw swept her whole being off the feet like a hurricane.

A soft fabric, softer than the most expensive vucana silk, was covering half of her body, flowing around her legs like a morning mist, complimented by almost invisible apple blossoms dancing elegantly over the dreamlike material, disappearing in the midair anytime the dress moved. The snow white substance went up, meeting a few neat cerulean blurs here and there, stopping right at Hermione's waistline, where it hugged her curves tightly like an Oxyuranus. It advanced toward her breasts, stopping at her armpits, circling its way around her upper arms, changing into flowing translucent sleeves ending at her elbows.

"Wow..." It was all the girl got out of herself.

"Look at you! I knew there was a princess under all those trashy clothes!"

Hermione sobered up immediately, frowning at his note.

"I think you've done a spectacular job, Vittorio," Narcissa pointed as her eyes travelled over the dress.

"My pleasure." Vittorio bowed his head, turning to Hermione. "Don't fail to mention who's the mastermind behind this art... it's me—not your parents, even though they've helped."

The day Hermione dreaded the most was there and she could swear she'd rather spend it in the company of professor Snape trying out expired potions than actually attend this ball.

It was almost time to get ready. She had the dress prepared and hanging outside her wardrobe, sending tiny blossoms all around it evaporating in a stealthy dust of silver before it completely vanished.

Vittorio had told her he had used a real mist of the Tasmanian Styx Valley but refused to give out any more secrets. However, as he was leaving, he had leaned in to give her a fake kiss on her cheek, secretly pushing a tiny something into her hand, whispering: "It's all art of the mind, to deceive their senses."

Squeezing the stopper glass bottle in her hand, Hermione didn't have to think twice to realise what was that cinnabar coloured liquid trapped inside the sample. Interestingly enough, evening gowns weren't the only field Vittorio specialised in. It wasn't a well-known fact to the public but the designer was also a passionate alchemist, drilling into a rather shady kind of magic. However, because of his fame and money, the man could practically get away with anything.

Putting the potion inside the tiny pocket of her travelling bag, Hermione knew there was no point in postponing the preparations any longer. With a heavy sigh, she walked over to her vanity and sat down, ready to make a noble young lady out of herself.

She reached out for the palette Draco's mother had sent her and went for the white shadow, applying it to the corners of her eyes. She couldn't help but smirked when she remembered Narcissa stressing the importance of the hair and make-up, how it all had to harmonise. The girl had had to explain every single step she was planning to do to assure her she was capable of styling herself on her own.

It took her two hours to complete everything from her hair to the dressing part and with a bag of moths loosely flying through her ribs, she finally stood in front of the looking glass, taking in the sight in front of her.

She looked nothing like the bookworm Hermione Granger people knew her as. Instead, there stood a young woman in a dress stolen out of a fairytale of princesses and golden apples. Her long hair was braided into an elegant updo, graced by a thin silver chain glistening in the dim light. And her face, although still young with immature traits, was without a doubt showing a promising bone structure, enhanced by the soft make-up.

Knock. Knock.

'Madam Malfoy... of course.' Hermione thought to herself. The woman had informed her she'd come to make sure everything was perfect. That she looked perfect.

Touching the silky fabric, which felt like a pure mist under her fingertips, she floated to the door, opening it.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Was the first thing that fell from Narcissa's lips upon seeing Hermione. "We're running late!"

Hermione parted her lips, slightly taken aback by her appearance. Even with that anxious expression, she looked like a Greek goddess that appeared with the first sunrise among the mortals.

Her face was flawless, almost like porcelain, without any disturbance caused by the make-up. The sharp cheekbones stood out even more thanks to her blonde locks being tied into a twisted updo, decorated with an ornamented clip on each side.

But what contributed most to her ethereal look was the dress of a nude colour, studded by hundreds of golden crystals, creating an illusion of flowers.

"Take your stuff, we better get going. Draco's already in the hallway." She turned on her heel, hurrying away, giving Hermione a perfect view on her bare back, occasionally getting covered by loose transparent sleeves coming all the way down to her waist.

Hermione's head spun when she imagined how much money that robe must have cost.

Partly relieved she did just fine, she returned to her room, grabbed the white purse Vittorio had conjured up for her and hurried into the hallway to meet Draco and wait for the others.

She wasn't prepared, though, for the shocked expression his face created upon seeing her walking down the stairs.

"Close your mouth." She smiled as she stopped right in front of him.

Draco pressed his lips together but didn't reply. He seemed to be too stunned to get even the simplest word out of him.

"You look nice." Hermione tried to initiate a dialogue, admiring his black robe with complicated golden lining. "Like gentlemen from the old movies!"

"Ha-ha!" His tongue finally decided to cooperate, but those blue eyes stayed still as wide as plates.

The young witch smiled. "I meant it as a compliment! Where's everyone else?"

"My parents are already on their way, but I'm not sure about aunt Bella."

"I see." Hermione was glad to be covered with makeup so Draco wouldn't see her pink cheeks. She hadn't spoken with the witch since that little fiasco in the owlery.

"So," keen on changing the subject, she clasped her hands together. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

"Don't worry! I've got your back!"

"Draco!" An unfamiliar voice called from behind their backs. Turning around, they spotted a man approaching in a swift walk, wearing quite an expensive-looking robe.

"Rodolphus..." The boy acknowledged him with badly hidden distaste, making Hermione's stomach tighten uncomfortably.

The wizard paused in front of Draco, looking at him from above.

Taking the chance to examine his features, Hermione pointed her curious look at him. His eyes were green with a supercilious emphasis to them, not that different from his wife. Skin, quite dark, was glowing with health, but his lips were chapped as if weathered by wind, which was almost impossible during this time of year.

"Rodolphus!" Narcissa's voice interrupted Hermione's observation as she walked down the stairs, supported by her husband.

"Narcissa, Lucius." He bowed his head. "Where is my wife?"

"Right here, my dearest." They heard forced, sugary sweet enthusiasm as Bellatrix appeared out of nowhere, right next to him.

Hermione automatically turned her head towards the woman and, to her embarrassment, gasped audibly.

My beautiful people, it's been a while, but I'm back! Hope you enjoyed!