CARPE NOCTEM / SAYING GOODBYE / CH. 15
Hermione was holding her breath, watching the triumph written all over Bellatrix's smug face. She could almost swear the witch was taking some sort of a sadistic pleasure in keeping her on pins and needles, judging by her delighted smile and the prolonged silence. So intentional, so ruthless.
"Please," Hermione whispered so quietly she wasn't even sure whether the faint sound made it past her lips.
She remembered she was thirteen when a strange sequence of dreams had started haunting almost each and every night of her sleep. She'd often wake up covered in sweat aching all over her body, completely absorbed in unfamiliar relations which made no sense whatsoever.
At first, she didn't think much of it. It was just a couple of odd, rather disturbing images, she'd say, nothing to worry about. But then the continuance, the connections, the clues the dreams would come with made it impossible to ignore anymore.
She'd ordered numerous books regarding anything from psychoanalysis to fortune-telling, but none of it dropped any hints about what could be actually happening to her. She would search the Hogwarts library up and down, even asked Professor McGonagall for a permission to borrow some literature from the restricted area, but unfortunately, never found anything relevant.
Merlin, and here she stood, after two torturous years of countless speculations, a little bundle of nerves, waiting for the moment Bellatrix would finally stop playing around and answer her question. The unbearable silence was slowly taking its toll and if she was to wait any longer—
"I could, actually," the dark witch opened her mouth at last, dumbstriking the girl. "Yes," She nodded, smirking even wider upon noticing Hermione's breath hitch. "But you see, the information I've got is very expensive," she went on, almost whispering, "and I am not entirely sure whether you've got anything as equally valuable to offer in exchange." Her face saddened under false pity, making the girl gasp from determination.
"Oh, I'm positive I can think of something," Hermione objected quickly, eyeing the mischievous grin. She would not let go of this golden opportunity for the world. "Whatever it is, I'll do anything I can!"
"Anything?" Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, her gaze intensifying. There was something very disturbing about the way she demanded affirmation and Hermione could feel it in her bones that she was dicing with death making deals with this witch. She knew it was dangerous, she knew she should back off while she still could, but despite all the warnings ringing inside her brain, her head moved, as if on its own accord, nodding.
The timid gesture made the dark witch smirk. "Very well." She bit her lip, pretending to be thinking really hard. "Hmm, let's see, what is it that I could actually ask you for— Oh!" She gasped dramatically. "What about Draco?" She raised her eyebrows, knocking the breath out of the girl.
"Excuse me?"
"If you want to know everything about your itty-bitty nightmares," Bellatrix framed, her voice low and imperative, "you have to promise me to break up this whole relationship you two have," she paused, letting her words sink in. "You're never to speak to him or even look at him. That's what I want from you, everything else is out of the question."
The colour left Hermione's cheeks, making them look ghostly white, without any traces of youth. She was gazing at the witch with pleading eyes, faintly shaking her head. How could she possibly stab Draco in the back like that?
"Think about it very carefully," Bellatrix tempted. "It's just a simple transaction."
Hermione shook her head more vigorously. "I'm afraid I can't do that. He's not a— he is— he's my only—" she didn't finish, looking aside, silently cursing herself for letting her tongue slip.
"He is what?" Bellatrix asked, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Your only friend? Oh, my poor baby!" She mocked, speaking the same way a parent did to his child.
The young witch tensed her jaw, feeling humiliated. She had had enough of the taunting, enough of the way this woman was treating her. Not because she was incapable of handling a bully, but because she— she freaking—
Hermione's eyes almost bloomed with tears. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump growing inside her throat.
"Oh, don't start crying, it doesn't suit that face you're presenting right now, it gets all red and... rather unattractive," Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, observing the features created by the violet potion Hermione had taken earlier that day.
Ashamed, the girl glanced down, her hands immediately shooting towards her cheeks and trying to brush away the redness, but it only managed to make it shine brighter. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve this. It had been barely a week since the witch told her she wished to erase everything about how they had started and how she treated her, and there she was, back to her old ways, confusing the girl with her constant changes of persona. It was either the despisal or sheer camaraderie coming out of her. Nothing in between.
"Look, I'm sure it wouldn't even matter to him after a few days," Bellatrix went on without a bit of tact. "It would be like friends growing apart over the years," she shrugged one shoulder, laughing subsequently. "But much swifter. I think we can both agree it's just a temporary flare. He'll get bored of you eventually."
A wave of anger washed over Hermione. "I'm afraid we have very different perspectives of friendship." She lifted her chin, gazing straight into Bellatrix's surprised eyes. "For me, it is not a thing of convenience. It won't end just because one gets bored of it." She took a deep breath, trying to get some composure. "Draco is a human being, my best friend, not a toy I could trade for something better."
"Are you sure about that?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, completely ignoring the brunette's lecture. "Because this is your only chance to know what it is happening inside that little brain of yours. You may read all the books in the entire universe but you won't even come close to knowing what really is wrong with you, girl." She inched forward, raising her eyebrow, whispering. "This is an equally beneficial deal."
"No, it's not," Hermione murmured.
"What did you say?"
"I said it is not," she repeated, but this time a little louder, "that friendship—that is, between Draco and me—is far more expensive than any piece of information, so forgive me for not taking you up on your offer." Hermione swallowed painfully, incredibly torn she had answers on the tips of her fingers and yet she was the one to cut her hand off.
"Oh my, what a romantic confession," Bellatrix pressed her hands to her heart, making her breasts look even plumper under the sheer fabric, and Hermione hated herself immensely for noticing. "Well, don't go crying after me later when you realise what a terrible, terrible mistake you've made," she nodded, her eyes never leaving Hermione's. "Because I can guarantee this was your last chance."
The girl looked away, unable to hold the gaze any longer. She wanted to cry out of sheer frustration for not being able to get the answers she needed despite being so close to them.
"I'll keep that in mind," she proclaimed against her own will, despondent yet surprised by her temerity. She was expecting another spirit of anger to possess the dark witch but her sole response was an arrogant smirk.
There was a clicking sound behind Hermione's back, announcing the unlocking of the door. Her feet, however, stayed rooted to the ground, afraid of making the wrong move.
"What are you waiting for then?" Bellatrix folded her arms as if it was the brunette keeping her locked up against her own will, wasting her precious time. "Run after your little friend." She nodded towards the door behind Hermione's back.
"I can't," the young witch said slowly.
"You what?" Bellatrix tilted her head as if she didn't understand.
"I can't," the girl repeated, loathing her current position. "I— the dress and-and my hair."
"Oh, you poor thing, the dress is all ruined, isn't it?" Bellatrix looked seriously so concerned and sorry for her misfortune that the brunette had almost eaten up the whole act. "What are you going to do about it?"
Of course...
Taking a deep breath, the girl gritted her teeth. She could practically see Bellatrix's false pity changing into pure smugness. It was clear the witch knew Hermione needed her help but wouldn't spare her from further humiliation. She was just watching her struggle, enjoying every second of it.
"I cannot fix it myself," Hermione admitted, swallowing her pride, "could-could you help me, with a— if, uhm.."
"Aww, you want a little favour from dear old me?" Bellatrix flashed a fake, flattered smile. "But I have already helped you. Look!" She gestured at Hermione's dirty skirt. "Suits you better now. It matches your... well," she finished like that, grinning.
That was a punch to the stomach. Hermione's eyes flooded with tears, betraying her, streaming down her cheeks, giving her no chance to stop them.
"Deary, why the tears? You know me, I was just joking," Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively, doing a very bad job at hiding her amusement.
"Why," Hermione choked out, her voice breaking, "why do you have to be so mean to me? Ever since we met you've been acting like I'm nothing but some dirty item, not worth the—" She inhaled, trying to ignore the pain rising inside her chest. "I've never done anything to you and yet you're doing everything you can to make my life a living hell! I am a human being, I've got feelings! And it hurts to be treated like that, especially since you've asked me to trust you and then you failed me! I thought that—"
"You thought what?" Bellatrix asked, her voice taunting and cruel. "You thought that we could be friends? That you would be calling me antie Bella by the end of the summer, that I'd be—"
"Stop!" Hermione cried, not wanting to hear anything else anymore.
"No, you will listen, stupid girl! Get this through your head! I am no friend of yours and I'll never be!"
"Then why did you pretend you wanted us to get along?!" Hermione yelled, an embarrassing sob drawing out of her throat.
"I don't need to explain myself to you!" Bellatrix barked, her eyes flaring. "What I do and why is none of your concern!"
"It is when I am involved!"
"You shut your face," Bellatrix fumed, making the girl flinch, "how dare you talk to me like that!"
"I just wanted..."
"I don't care what you wanted! This was the last time you spoke to me in such a manner! Am I making myself clear?"
Hermione was shaking all over her body. She was frustrated for having no say in this when she wanted nothing else but to yell back at the witch that it wasn't clear, that the conversation was everything but fair.
She wanted to be entitled to as many things as Bellatrix; be able to express her opinion and not choke on it just because the woman couldn't stand being talked back to. Surely, Hermione was much younger and it was expected from her to be reverent, but Bellatrix was the first to act without any traces of humanity, provoking the girl to stand up for herself and subsequently scolding her for the lack of respect. It was like a cat playing with a silly little mouse: Bellatrix too comforted her and then struck even stronger than before.
However much Hermione wanted to shout that into her face, the terror she felt inside her body just wouldn't let her speak.
"I asked you something! Was I clear enough for you to comprehend it?"
She felt like a coward, nodding faintly, looking away, swiftly wiping her tears.
"You are so so pathetic!" Bellatrix burst out laughing, finishing with a dramatic draw. "I'll fix that stupid dress, but only because we can't allow attracting any more attention," she confessed, taking out her wand. At this point, Hermione didn't even flinch. As unpredictable as the woman was, it wouldn't be surprising if instead of mending the fabric, she'd just curse her.
A mild breeze brushed against the skin on her legs. She glanced down, seeing a silver light pulling the torn skirt together, sucking the dust into its depth, making it look pristine again.
"Turn around," the dark witch ordered but Hermione didn't move. She knew better than showing her back to Edward Hyde. One could never know when he'd feel like taking over the witch's body.
"How am I supposed to fix your hair?" Bellatrix asked, irritated, making her, though reluctantly, do as she was told. Her hair was tight again.
"Thank you," the girl murmured, turning back, looking at the floor.
"Obviously," Bellatrix smirked, "oh, and one more thing." She took a few steps forward, her aura of dread forcing the girl to scooch further into the unlocked door, the pressure flying them open."Give me your hand," she demanded.
"Excuse me?"
"'Excuse me?'" the witch imitated. "Just do as I say."
Hermione slowly reached out her right hand, her jaw tensing. She had no idea what this was about. Was she about to turn her fingers into wooden sticks or...?
"The other one."
Hermione let her arm fall back to her side, extending the left one with her palm open. She thought of Astoria laughing and saying if something was to happen to her right hand, it was all right, for she could still use the left one. Being in such a situation as she was, Hermione couldn't help but felt the same way.
Her eyes slid across her forearm to her palm, spotting the wound she'd received upon slipping in the corridor behind the mirror. Bellatrix must have noticed when she'd had her pinned down on the floor. The memory painted her cheeks red, planting a sudden feeling of self-hatred into her stomach.
The older witch, ignorant to any emotions the girl was showing, pointed her wand at the faint injury but hesitated when putting the wooden stick back into her sleeve. She inched closer and bent her knees, slowly blowing on the wound, smirking upon making Hermione shudder.
"Make sure to dry those tears before anyone sees you," she advised, pushing past Hermione without sparing her a single look. "I don't suppose you need my help with that," she called over her shoulder before disappearing, leaving only the clicking of her heels behind.
Hermione needed a moment to pull out of her trance. Slowly, she stepped back into the room, hobbling towards the mirror, her eyes focused on the glassy surface. She hopped through, plopping onto the ground and letting the tears flow naturally, without any effort at stopping them.
The incredible relief she felt once left alone fell down on her with a striking force, making her drop all the barriers. She didn't even remember when was the last time she cried like this, sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe properly.
It all suddenly became too much on her. Once the brick was loose, the entire wall came crashing down, bringing in all the iniquities she had to endure during her stay at Malfoy Manor.
She cried and cried, remembering the betrayal of her own body. How ridiculously good it had felt under the touch of Bellatrix's hands. She felt so sick, so dirty, exactly the way the witch was treating her.
Maybe she deserved it after all. The feeling she was experiencing wasn't normal in the slightest—it was perverse and she'd give up anything in the world not to feel like that ever again. She was sure this was exactly what she was supposed to feel the day Victor had leant in, trying to kiss her under the mistletoe in her fourth year at Hogwarts. But she hadn't—she had pulled away just in time, only to murmur some pathetic apology. Back then she didn't understand why she rejected him. Why it was so hard to let him press his lips against hers.
She understood now.
Did it mean that she was...? No! She was just confused. Her body was confused, nothing else. Nothing else!
Hermione sat down, hugging her knees, realising she had stained the dress all over again. But at this point, it didn't even matter anymore. She wasn't going back.
"Uhm, uhm," somebody cleared his throat, startling the girl and making her leap to her feet.
"Who is it?" she called, wiping her cheeks clean.
"Right here, my lady," a fruity, adenoidal voice called from the corner by the mirror. Hermione looked in the direction, spotting a small frame resting in the shadows. Slowly, she stood up and walked forward, her hands reaching down to pick it up. It was a painting of a jovially looking man with small, mischievous eyes, and thin lips.
"Well hello," he greeted, grotesquely bowing his head, "it is not wise to talk to strangers but a simple pair of words might fix the issue. My name is Godwin Gideon, how do you do?"
Perplexed, Hermione even forgot to cry. She was staring at the painted man with her cheeks all wet and her mouth agape.
"You ought to tell me your name, pretty one," he winked.
"Uh, it's Hermione, Hermione Granger," she choked out in a raspy voice, too stunned to even think about Delphini.
"Well Hermione, now that we're no strangers anymore, tell me why you were crying your pretty eyes out. It's not been that long since you were smiling with those two friends of yours," he asked, scratching his painted head.
"I... were you spying on us?"
"If I could choose not to, I would, alas, I'm imprisoned in this hell for the eternity," he gestured vehemently, pointing at the dark green wallpaper behind him. "I cannot run when the situation requires it."
Hermione sat back down, wiping her cheeks again. She put the portrait on the ground, letting it rest against the cold wall. She felt sorry for the little guy: most certainly, his portrait didn't make the cut for the gallery down there.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" she asked, sincerely curious.
"I wanted to when you stayed alone, but you got distracted."
"Oh," Hermione's face reddened upon remembering the circumstances.
"Tell me, what happened?"
"Oh, it was nothing," she tried to smile, feeling a little bit ridiculous talking to the portrait as some sort of a therapist.
"You're lying."
"I am," she snorted, making him laugh heartily.
"Listen, whatever happened, it was most certainly not worth those tears!"
"What if it was?"
"Oh please, you are alive, you can walk, you are pretty and kind. Kind enough to talk to an old portrait and the little mousy-mouse earlier if I remember correctly. What's there to cry about?" He smiled, making her sob as she reciprocated the gesture. "You have it all."
"I'm telling you," Godwin went on, "don't waste those precious tears for anybody. Wipe them away and run after your friends!"
"I cannot do that!"
"Sure you can! You shall stand up," he went on, moving the chair Hermione hadn't even noticed before farther from the frame and stepping on it, putting his arm up into the air like a soldier, "hold your head up like the warrior that you are, a lovely Joan of Arc, if you will and show those maggots you are strong enough to face them no matter how hard they try to put you down!"
Hermione couldn't help but laughed. He jumped down from the chair, grinning. "Tell me you'll do that! It would be delightful to know I influenced a revolution, even if it clearly wasn't meant for me to be a true leader," he said sadly, looking at her with expectation.
"Talking about putting oneself down," Hermione started, a small smile still playing on her lips, "no colours, no frames would make you more of a leader than your recent actions have, chivalrous sir," she finished, seeing his face beam with joy and gratitude.
"Do you really mean that?"
"I do! Actually," Hermione stood up, dusting off the dress. She took the portrait into her hands, climbing through the mirror.
"What is happening?" Godwin called out, stumbling.
"A revolution." Hermione smiled, walking with her head held high.
"What on Earth are you doing, girl?!" a portrait of an elderly wizard barked upon seeing Hermione use a sealing spell on the painting of Godwin. She glued him to the corridor wall, leading back to the main salon, luckily enough emptied from all the guests.
"I'm excited beyond measures," Godwin's eyes were flooded with tears of happiness. Hermione only chuckled, flicking her wand once more. A little note saying 'Godwin Gideon, the great leader of the mirror hall' appeared under the portrait.
"I'll be forever grateful, lovely Joan," the guy pressed his palms together, bowing his head. "But run along now, there's one more revolution you need to spice up!"
Smiling, Hermione blew him a kiss, waving her hand as she moved, leaving him to meet his new and rather unnerved neighbours.
She was on her way back to the dancing hall when she remembered there was something else she needed to do. She made a detour to the bathroom to fix her makeup, long since worn off. She was clearing the last traces of mascara when she got interrupted by a pair of Slytherin girls, whispering to each other with great excitement.
Trying to ignore them as much as she could, she observed the unfamiliar face, looking for any flaws. She looked all right.
It was about the time to go. However, the closer she got the hall, the more unsure her steps became. She tried to think of Godwin's speech, that she really should be walking with her head held up high, but his words suddenly seemed too ridiculous and meaningless.
At least I revolutionised his little world, she thought, smiling to herself.
"There you are! I was worried sick, you nutter!" Draco's voice came from behind her. She turned to him, a slight sting of sorrow pinching her stomach. How could she ever trade this precious boy for some silly dream interpretation? For all she knew, Bellatrix might have been lying. Even though...
"Where have you been? Mother almost bit my head off! You say we cannot stay for too long and then you don't bother showing up at all. Don't tell me you went back in there! And without me!"
"I love you, Draco!" She laughed, startling him.
"What?"
"I—you know." She immediately tried to clear things up. "You're the best friend I could ever ask for."
"Oh... good." He ran his hand through his hair. "I was afraid you were proposing."
They both burst out laughing.
"Come on, need to show my mother you are safe and sound," he said eventually, pulling her by the wrist. She remembered Bellatrix's grasp and was oddly glad to have the ghost of the memory replaced by Draco's warm palm.
He was pulling her through the mass of people, turning once left, then right, then again left, and finally stopped in front of both of his parents.
Narcissa formed a stiff, rather unconvincing smile. "There you are, Delphini, dear!" She tugged her close, an intoxicating smell of geranium clouding Hermione's brain.
"I thought you got lost." She laughed, looking all around her.
Oh oh.
'What happened to the inconspicuousness?'
Hermione found herself standing in the circle of people, trapped by Narcissa's arm hooked into hers. The heart beating inside her chest jumped as she realised Bellatrix was standing straight across from her, with slight surprise lingering on her face. Right next to her was her husband, Rodolphus, and—her heart jumped again—Bartemius Crouch Junior. It was Lucius Malfoy, then Narcissa herself, some old, quite a pudgy-looking lady sitting on an armchair and gazing at her with great interest, and finally Draco, standing by Bellatrix's right arm.
"So this is that precious niece of yours," the elder woman issued, her voice guttural but still overly joyous.
"In a way," Rodolphus clarified, earning a pinch to his forearm—a very faint gesture, which, however, didn't escape Hermione's eyes.
"Well, niece or not, it's still family, right?"
"This is Madame Selwyn," Narcissa introduced her, seeing no one else was feeling kind enough to do so.
"How do you do?" Hermione bowed her head, putting her palm into the wrinkled one.
"Oh, what a charming, little lady," the elder witch praised, clutching the small palm in both of her hands now. "How do you like Britain? I must say I'd have never guessed your origins had it been not for dear Narcissa telling me. Your accent is just impeccable!"
"Thank you, madame! I found it incredibly charming," Hermione tried to imagine being Astoria, praising everything and everyone within a mile. "I like it even better than Norway. It's just always snowing there—no time for strolling whatsoever, and I do enjoy a good..."
"Ehm..." Narcissa cleared her throat, looking quite taken aback by Hermione's sudden ability to talk like that. "Delphini, why don't you..."
"What a coincidence! I hate to disrupt a good conversation, but I would never forgive myself if I just passed by without greeting my precious nieces!" A bone-chilling voice interrupted Hermione as much as Narcissa had. They all glanced towards Lucius because by his side suddenly stood a tall wizard of sharp features and cold, cruel eyes. He smiled, but the orbs stayed ruthless, without any trace of kindness in them.
"Narcissa." He stepped towards her and for a tiny bit of a moment, Hermione had a feeling the woman's fingers tightened around her upper arm as if looking for support.
"Uncle Perseus," she acknowledged him, her voice clear and neutral, assuring the young witch that she was most certainly just imagining things. She let go of Hermione to touch his shoulder and kiss his cheeks.
He took a moment to glare into her pretty face, stroking it with his fingers, making the girl's stomach twist uneasily. But then he turned around, his gaze landing on Bellatrix, and Hermione couldn't believe her own eyes.
The witch was frightened.
She could clearly see the dread and the slight movement of her neck bobbing as she swallowed.
"And my dearest Bellatrix." His voice suddenly became sleazy and fond. The witch composed herself, hiding the emotions behind an unreadable expression. He came rather close to her and touched her arms, slowly leaning in to kiss her cheeks.
Not a sound came out of her and despite being mad, Hermione couldn't help feeling concerned. The man stepped away from her, giving the girl a clear view of Rodolphus reaching out for his wife's hand, but she tugged it away. He quickly put his into the pocket of the long robe, masking the sudden movement.
There was an odd atmosphere surrounding the whole group. No one uttered a single word and the man, sensing it himself, wouldn't even try for a further conversation. His fingers brushed a loose curl of Bellatrix's hair out of her face. The woman's eyes were wide, her teeth gritted, but she wouldn't even flinch.
"Well, the business won't wait, it was good to see you." He bowed his head, sparing both witches another searing look before leaving as suddenly as he had come.
An uncomfortable silence fell onto the group, for no one really knew what to say. It was rather surprising then when Rodolphus, who barely spoke, interrupted the eerie muteness.
"Talking about business," he started casually, "I'm afraid you have to excuse us. My wife and I shall leave earlier too; I'd completely forget about it, hadn't it been for the gentleman reminding me." He turned to Bellatrix, speaking directly to her now. "Bella, the Albanian business had to be taken care of much sooner than expected. We have to leave tomorrow morning at the latest."
"Madam Selwyn." He bowed, smiling faintly at the woman.
"What a shame!" The old lady lamented, holding a hand for him to kiss. He gently touched her fingers, almost pressing his lips to the wrinkled skin. "Bellatrix, my lovely, it was very good to see you," she went on, prompting Bellatrix to come closer. Hermione shuddered as the witch stopped by her, leaning in to give a fake kiss to the elder lady.
"It was my pleasure, as always." Bellatrix gifted her with a charming smile, all the signs of her fear long gone. She was back to her usual self.
"Narcissa," the two witches came face to face, both battling their stubborn pride, the unspoken hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles. It was Bellatrix who eventually pressed a hand to her sister's cheek, kissing it gently. She was about to pull away when the blonde wrapped her arm around her, tugging her close. The dark witch relaxed, letting out a faint breath, stroking the slender back of her younger sister.
"Take care, promise me that," Narcissa whispered only for Bellatrix to hear, but the words caught Hermione's ears as well. She turned around, thinking it wasn't appropriate for her to witness such an intimate moment.
"Lucius." Bellatrix's voice cracked, suggesting a smile.
"Just as I was starting to get used to you, dear sister-in-law."
"Oh, stop being so sentimental," Hermione heard, but this time the words coming out of the witch's mouth were kind, not at all harsh as she had experienced them first-handed. She heard footsteps and spotted the witch brushing past her as if she was just a ghost. Bellatrix paused in front of her nephew, who was just glancing over his shoulder, clearly observing some girl dancing.
"Draco." She touched his shoulder, already leaning in, aiming for his left cheek. The boy, realising it was his turn to say goodbye, moved his head back, a little too forward, accidentally kissing her fully on the lips.
He pulled away with a soft smacking sound painting his face unbelievably crimson, his eyes growing twice their size. He opened his mouth, probably trying to say something, but his tongue didn't seem to collaborate.
"Sorry, love." Bellatrix patted his arm, not giving it a second thought. She glanced over at Barty and gave him a slight smile, ruining his hope for a goodbye kiss.
Hermione felt an incredible amount of pain hitting the walls of her abdomen, but this time she knew exactly the whole reason behind it. She pressed her palms over her face, trying to mask the monstrous shame.
"But dear, aren't you forgetting about someone?" Madame Selwyn announced suddenly. "What about Delphini? I do hope you arranged an alternative programme for the girl." Hermione glanced up, figuring Bellatrix and Rodolphus were just about to leave.
It took the dark witch only a second to recover. "Oh, of course, we did! She'll be staying with Narcissa at Malfoy Manor. Poor thing, she was getting bored with us anyway, weren't you, darling." She smiled fondly at Hermione, making her stomach flip.
"All right, then. I apologise for being so inquisitive, but—" the lady paused, frowning at Hermione. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your uncle and aunt?"
"Well," Hermione hesitated, not really knowing what to say. "I'll be seeing them soon, it's not really..."
"Nonsense! Go ahead and give them a kiss, you never know when shall be the last time to see them. Merlin knows what I'm talking about. My son, may he rest in peace, promised me to come home, but he never did, poor thing," she stopped, her lips wobbling.
Appalled, Hermione was looking for a helping hand, looking over at Narcissa, but the witch only nodded towards the Lestrange couple, giving her no other option. She took a few unsure steps toward the tall man of a very hostile expression, pausing right in front of him. She stood on tips of her toes, planting a quick kiss on his warm, dark skin, smelling of aftershave balm.
But then, oh Merlin, it was her turn to move ahead. She almost stumbled, feeling her lips getting numb with each passing second. She didn't even know how she stepped to the side, moved to the dark witch, who was waiting for her with a stiff expression, quickly melting into a mask of tenderness, as if Hermione really was someone she loved, a little niece visiting from Norway.
Not a bad feeling for a change. Not bad at all.
She gulped, trying not to look into her eyes. Leaning in, her lips sloppily brushed against the cheek she didn't even feel under the numbness travelling all over her body.
She leaned back, realising her hand was placed on the soft fabric covering the woman's shoulder, touching a few silky curls. She quickly retrieved it, stepping aside.
"Enjoy the rest of your night," Rodolphus flashed a faint smile, reaching out for Bellatrix arm, who this time allowed him to touch her. Hermione was looking after them, getting swallowed by the crowd of people, not understanding how all of a sudden everything felt so very shallow.
"Malfoy, you lucky bastard!" She heard an amused whisper from behind her back. Both she and Draco turned around, only to find themselves circled by a group of four or five boys from Hogwarts. "I'd give anything to be in your place." It was Avery, chuckling, nodding towards the place where the Lestranges had disappeared. "Well," he paused, glancing at Hermione, "me ... or her!" He grinned even wider, making the group of his friends laugh as well. "Wouldn't mind some girl on girl action."
"Shut up, you idiot! That's my aunt... and my cousin you're talking about," Draco hissed, absolutely furious, giving Hermione a fleeting look, catching her all red and flustered. She tried her very best to erase the words she'd just heard. It never even occurred to her to...
"I was just joking!" Avery laughed, trying to pat Draco's shoulder, but the boy shrugged his hand off.
"Hate to break it to you, but you're not at all funny. Just stupid."
"What's gotten into you?" The boy scowled.
"What's gotten into me? You're talking rubbish about my family," Draco hissed as quietly as he could not to attract any attention.
"All right, all right," Avery put his hands up, his suite getting quiet as well.
Draco only shook his head. He turned on his heel to walk away, tugging Hermione along with him and stopping at the first table and a pair of empty chairs. They sat down, avoiding each other's eyes. They were both crimson in the face, both for different reasons. Or maybe not so much.
"Don't mind the idiot with his perverted ideas," the boy let out, thinking Hermione was embarrassed because of them, while the truth lay somewhere else. "Where have you been this whole time?" he asked all of a sudden. "We had—"
"Draco, I'd like to go home," Hermione stated, interrupting his investigation.
"Right, we can go, it was boring anyway, Astoria was just—"
"No," she cut him off again, "I mean home. My home."