December 31, 2008
Only Draco Malfoy could carry off all this frippery with a distinct air of grace. Any other man would have been uncomfortable, would have looked odd and unnatural buried under layers of silk, black velvet, gold brocade, and numerous brass buttons, but not Draco.
No, this man wore an honest-to-gods cape around his shoulders and somehow managed to appear in his natural element, as if he were born to be clothed in multiple layers of extraneous formality.
Born with a goblin-made spoon in his mouth.
Hermione thought she looked ridiculous, but Draco told her she looked beautiful in her formal robes. Draco also told her she looked beautiful that morning in her fleece pajamas with holes in the elbows, so perhaps he held a slightly skewed perspective.
Draco's confidence in her helped steel her for the night ahead to be sure, but Hermione took no chances and, determined to not make a fool of herself at Narcissa's New Year's Eve Ball, enlisted the assistance of Padma.
As studious in nature as Hermione at times, Padma schooled her in all the intricacies of the unspoken rules and regulations of comporting oneself at a society event hosted by pureblood royalty.
They arrived exactly on time, much to Draco's annoyance as he would have preferred to be fashionably late, but Hermione wanted the meet and greet portion with Narcissa over with as quickly as possible. A short receiving line had already formed at the door to the ballroom, but she and Draco moved right to the front of the queue.
Hermione swallowed nervously and allowed Padma's calm voice to echo in her mind, acting as her guide into this world of unmatched wealth and prestige.
You always greet the host family first, but since you're arriving with Draco, you two will obviously skip to the front of the receiving line to Narcissa. She will offer both sides of her face for you to kiss.
Narcissa looked regal as ever in robes of a similar design to Hermione's, though the color was a sparkling icy blue. Ice like her heart, Hermione thought bitterly, and quickly chastised herself. Pettiness would get her nowhere. Narcissa greeted her son warmly and offered her face to Hermione, who performed the polite social ritual per Padma's instruction.
She eyed Hermione up and down appraisingly before her cool stare stopped dead on Hermione's neck.
"Did Draco give you that necklace?"
"Oh ah, no." Hermione didn't want to elaborate and make this moment any more awkward than it already was, but Narcissa glared at her throat like a woman possessed.
"Andromeda lent it to me for the evening."
Narcissa's eyes flashed up to hers at the mention of the disowned Black sister, startling Hermione with the depth of emotion displayed there.
"It belonged to my mother," she divulged evenly, and Hermione couldn't decipher whether the woman was furious, shocked, sad, or perhaps a confusing mix of all three.
Draco, probably sensing the dangerous turn in the atmosphere swiftly moved Hermione along into the ballroom while she stewed in a combination of both exasperation at Andromeda's power play and amusement at the audacity of it. That woman would be getting quite the curious owl from Hermione in the next week.
When they were a safe distance away, Draco chuckled under his breath. "I see Aunt Andromeda never lost her family's propensity for causing drama."
Hermione huffed, but couldn't deny her respect for the older witch. "Yes, I can certainly see how she may have influenced Sirius at any rate. I do wish she would have informed me of her true intentions with this necklace."
"It certainly becomes you," Draco intoned, catching her in a heated stare. He plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed one to her. She accepted the beverage with a demure smile, Padma's instruction in her mind once more.
Ladies are expected to stick to champagne and white wine only. Red wine has too high a risk for spills and stains to the teeth, obviously. Hard liquor is considered too masculine and butterbeer too common.
While Hermione enjoyed champagne just fine, especially on the occasion of New Year's Eve, she certainly didn't plan to imbibe much tonight. She'd need her wits about her with this crowd. She sipped her drink and cast her gaze around the grand room, successful in repressing her snort lest Draco think she meant to mock him or his family.
Grandiose did not even begin to describe the ballroom of the Lestrange Estate. The floors beneath her feet gleamed so brightly, she could almost see her own reflection in them. Light sparkled all around and above them, bouncing and refracting throughout the space in the hundreds of crystal pieces that made up the countless chandeliers floating above, not to mention all the cumbersome jewelry glittering around the necks of every woman here.
Champagne towers glistened in every corner of the ballroom, the bubbly liquid cascading down in an endless stream of luxury. Her ears picked up a light tune, and Hermione saw a raised platform at one end that supported a full orchestra, complete with conductor. Airborne silver platters passed by and through the guests, weighed down with all manner of decadent hors d'oeuvres, and though Hermione made sure to eat prior to the gala, (Avoid all finger food. You'll have to save your public eating for the seated, plated meal, I'm afraid, advised Padma) her mouth watered at the tray of smoked salmon crudités.
"Shall we go find Theo?" Draco's question broke into her inner musings about the unfair expectations placed upon women at all levels of society and she nodded, eager for some friendly company.
Theo nursed a glass of amber liquid with a pained smile on his face and Astoria Greengrass on his arm, sporting an equally tight smile. Both seemed to brighten when they spotted Draco and Hermione approaching.
"Oh thank Merlin," breathed Theo and shook Draco's hand and kissed Hermione's cheek. Astoria looked as perfect as ever in her sage dress robes, the physical embodiment of everything a pureblood lady of standing should be. Hermione tamped down her jealousy to the best of her ability at the other witch's effortless grace, and reminded herself that Astoria, like Draco, had been bred for this life.
Besides, the young woman was nothing but kind to Hermione and immediately engaged her in effusive talk about the Hogwarts fund for students of non-magical parents. Indeed, she was so enthusiastic about the topic that Hermione considered inviting her to serve on the board by the end of their conversation.
Draco reluctantly had to pull them away from their genuine friends in order to make the rounds with other guests. He led her over to Daphne Greengrass and Adrian Pucey next, Astoria's older sister decidedly frosty in her reception of Draco but much warmer to Hermione, and Adrian stiffly polite. Hermione congratulated the pair on their recent engagement and then Draco swept her along to the next group.
On and on it went, as she made her way around the edge of the massive ballroom on the arm of the Malfoy heir. Draco, adept at navigating all the political and conversational nuances of these brief meetings, would quickly pull himself and Hermione away at even a whiff of offense lobbed at Hermione and rewarded friendlier groups with longer visits. Blaise Zabini and his haughty mother were granted all of 30 seconds of their company.
It dismayed Hermione a bit to recognize a good portion of Ministry department heads and Wizengamot members in the crowd tonight. Nice to know the government leadership positions still belonged with many of the old families or their sympathizers, she thought bitterly. Still, many of those wizards and witches were more familiar with Hermione's career which allowed her to take the conversational reins for a bit.
Hermione's favorite reception came as a surprise. She immediately recognized the Bulgarian Ministry official, Vronski, and his wife Irina, as they had been a frequent presence in Viktor Krum's guest box at his quidditch matches. They were charmingly fascinated by all things English, and while they had respected Hermione's privacy when she attended Viktor's games, they occasionally drew her into lively conversation about her work for creature rights. They greeted her like an old friend, with tight hugs and wide smiles, which most likely broke several etiquette rules, and then bestowed this greeting upon a bemused Draco.
This most pleasant interaction was unfortunately followed by a much more unsavory one.
"Hermione, may I present Baron Boris Pliska and his wife Pansy, whom I believe you already know," drawled Draco and she felt him tense at her side. The baron gamely kissed her hand, and Hermione repressed a shudder at the way his eyes raked up and down her form hungrily. The man had perhaps a few years on her own father.
"That's Lady Pliska to you," sneered Pansy and narrowed her eyes at Draco before turning her furious glare to Hermione.
"Granger," she trilled. "Fancy seeing you at such a prestigious event. I'm surprised Narcissa let you through the front door."
She heard Draco's sharp inhale at her side but before he could burst into a furious public tirade, Hermione let out a tinkling laugh.
"Oh how silly Lady Pliska, but of course we didn't come through the front door!" She leaned forward conspiratorially, "We arrived via the Floo connection to the private quarters Draco keeps here. We'll be retiring there together after the fireworks later. I'm so looking forward to the spectacle!"
"Enjoy your evening Lady Pliska, Baron," said Draco, and though it's a perfectly polite dismissal, to the practiced ear his tone was the aural equivalent of the two-finger salute.
Obligatory socializing complete for the time being, Hermione was all too glad for the dancing to begin, even if it required her to be the center of attention again.
Since Narcissa is widowed and not remarried, Draco and you will be expected to open the dancing for the evening. Don't be surprised if immediately following, you are approached by other wizards to ask for a turn. You two aren't betrothed or married, so he has no official claim over you for the dancing.
When Draco placed a hand on her waist, she felt that familiar thrill at his touch, even if far too much fabric separated her skin and his fingertips. He gave her hand one reassuring squeeze before waltzing them deftly about the room, his silver eyes on her the entire time.
As they turned and glided across the floor, Hermione's eye drifted to two enormous silk banners hung along one wall. They depicted the two families Narcissa represented and the two bloodlines that ran through Draco. The Black family crest bore the same motto Hermione remembered from the tapestry hung in Grimmauld Place: Toujours Pur. Hung by its side, the Malfoy family's boldly stated Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.
Purity Always Conquers.
It does not, Hermione thought fiercely. It most certainly does not.
Draco had a running list in his head of every guest who, come the New Year, would suddenly find themselves without the usual financial support of House Malfoy.
Every open sneer, every furious glare, every heated whisper, every wipe of a hand against fabric after shaking Hermione's hand, none of it went unnoticed by Draco. No one had yet to be as openly hateful as Pansy, but the slights existed nonetheless, and Draco would make his displeasure known to the offenders via the severing of a few longstanding monetary ties.
The thought of this future vengeance allowed him to move about the party with a pleased air. Well, that and the fact that he had the loveliest witch in the room on his arm. Hermione looked resplendent in her robes and she carried herself as if she'd prepared for this her whole life. But he knew his love well, and he knew the poise and cool elegance likely exhausted her nerves by this point in the evening.
A man of his word, he hadn't left her side all night, with the exception of when a few of her dances were claimed by other gentleman. He breathed easy when she waltzed in the arms of the friendly Vronski, a few of her Ministry colleagues, and even Adrian Pucey. But when he noticed Boris Pliska making movements towards the end of her current dance, he was never more grateful in his life for the friendship of Theodore Nott. His friend interceded quickly, swooping in to take a turn about the dance floor with Hermione.
Theo, ever the astute friend, guided Hermione over to Draco at the end of their waltz. "I should probably find Astoria again, have either of you seen her?"
"I haven't, but perhaps she's in the ladies'? I know I need to find one, I'll let you know if she's in there," suggested Hermione and they escorted her from the hall to the washroom.
Waiting for Hermione to return, hopefully with Astoria in tow, the silence of the empty corridor was shattered by what sounded like yelling and the slamming of a nearby door. Theo and Draco exchanged a panicked look, then drew their wands and followed the source of the commotion around a corner.
Muffled shouting came from behind the oak doors to one of the traveling parlours. When Theo and Draco burst into the room, they were greeted with quite the startling sight.
"—should be MINE! This—this—whole—bloody—life! It was always meant to be m-me!"
Draco had never seen Pansy drunk before. Currently, she was so plastered that she was being physically held upright by both Adrian and Daphne while Astoria tried to reason with her.
"Pansy, please, let Daphne take you to our home, we can send your husband through later if you—"
"My husband," Pansy spat. "Is a… is a pig!" She dissolved into hysterical laughter then burst into tears again and slumped against Adrian.
"Come on darling, let's get you to a bed," coaxed Daphne and they attempted to move her to the fireplace.
Pansy suddenly noticed Draco and Theo hovering inside the doorway. "Oooh there he is, the traitor… the filthy blood traitor… making your father proud are you? Sullying your line!"
Draco narrowed his eyes maliciously. "Jealousy does not become you, Lady Pliska. Are you through embarrassing yourself this evening?"
"Draco, don't, she's not in her right mind," pleaded Astoria.
"Stay out of this Astoria," warned Draco.
"Yes, Greengrass, stay—stay out… couldn't hold onto him either could you, you stupid bint… but per—perhaps wasn't your fault… Draco has unsavory tastes these—these—days," said Pansy, then glared at a point behind him and Theo.
"Ah look—look who's graced us with her disgusting presence. Dirty little mudblood!"
Draco whirled around to see Hermione frozen at the threshold. She seemed shocked rather than offended, but all Draco wanted to do in that moment was gather her up in his arms and protect her from ever hearing that slur ever again. But he had to deal with his odious ex-girlfriend and he'd rather Granger not be here to witness.
"Theo get Granger out of here."
"Draco but—!"
"Now, Theo!" Draco growled over Hermione's protest.
He heard Theo's soothing murmur as he swept Hermione away. Pansy continued her unhinged rant. "My—my children—should be yours!" she regarded Draco with bulging, mad eyes. "It was always supposed—supposed to be me! Me on your arm! Your heirs in my womb! Not that beastly little—"
"Insult Granger again in front of me and I'll hex you through that fireplace," he interrupted coldly.
"Draco, leave it, she's not well right now," said Astoria firmly. "Adrian, please, take her to our home, our elves can take care of her."
Adrian and Daphne finally succeeded in dragging Pansy through the Floo, leaving an ominous silence in her shrieking wake.
"You shouldn't have needled her, she's suffered enough," said Astoria.
Draco fixed her with an angry stare. "Suffered? She's the one who chose to drink tonight! She's the one who leapt into a marriage for status and wealth! Pansy made her bed," he retorted.
"Oh? And what were her other options? What options exist for a sole pureblood heiress under the thumb of her overbearing parents?" she argued back.
"Bit rich coming from you, a Greengrass. Your family is hardly the rebellious type. Your own sister is engaged to Pucey, for Merlin's sake," sneered Draco.
Astoria surprised him by smiling wistfully. "Daphne is lucky. Adrian is a good man and they were friendly before. She may not have chosen him on her own, but he'll treat her well and perhaps one day, they will be so fortunate as to love one another."
Draco's lip curled. "How lovely for Daphne. And I'm meant to feel sorry for poor, spoiled Pansy? She's reaping what she's sown."
Astoria quickly replaced her smile with a cold, incredulous glare. "You think she deserves to be treated in such a way by her own husband? The man is a well-known philanderer and on top of that… well you heard Pansy didn't you? The poor woman has multiple children with a man she does not love. Do you think her husband allowed her a say in that decision? You think any witch deserves such a life? That could just as easily have been me."
Draco frowned and looked away, chastened. As much as he cringed thinking back upon his time with Pansy, Astoria had a point.
"I know you have a difficult history with Pansy," continued Astoria gently. "But you'll never be in that position. Your freedom to choose Hermione is enviable to many, and I certainly don't begrudge you your happiness, but try, if you can, to remember that most in our circle are not so fortunate. My sister included." She paused here and took a deep breath.
"Daphne is the good daughter, the dutiful daughter. 'Dutiful Daphne and Willful Astoria' is what my parents always said. I'm not slighting my sister, she means well and obedience to our parents' expectations is simply in her nature."
"Not yours?"
"No," she spat harshly. "My parents grow impatient with this game with Theo. They expected a marriage contract months ago, but with none in sight…" she trailed off and hugged her arms around herself. "Do you know who my parents want to pursue instead? Marcus Flint."
Draco blanched. At Hogwarts, Draco needed to seek the approval of the older Slytherin, given his position as captain of the quidditch team, but found the boy rather distasteful. Rumors had always flown around the common room about his unsavory behavior towards witches, as in, he didn't care if they were willing in their affections.
"I see Marcus's reputation precedes him," she said hollowly, noticing Draco's look of fear.
She tilted her head curiously at him. "You've no idea do you? Why the women in my circle pursue you? Why they hope their parents approach Narcissa or you for a contract? Why I agreed to courting you even though you'd previously courted my sister?"
That earned her a wry and dismissive, "I'm sure the size of my Gringotts vault is attractive to many."
Astoria shook her head, her gaze pitying. "You've no idea… before I… well, before all of… this, I'd honestly given up hope, and was willing to bend to my parents' wishes. I resigned myself to the life of pureblood wife. When my parents presented you as an option I jumped at the opportunity."
"Why?"
"It's well known among witches that Malfoy men worship their wives. Perhaps we never would have been a love match, but you would have treated me kindly. You did treat me kindly, even if you weren't exactly attentive. Or sober."
Draco winced, and Astoria laid an apologetic hand on his arm.
"You can forgive yourself, Draco, I told you before I bear you no ill will. But between you and the Marcus Flints and Boris Pliskas of the world, I'd take you every time."
She dropped her hand, and Draco felt unease bubbling in his gut. "Astoria, are you in some kind of trouble?"
She shook her head and moved back from him. "No, I've a found way to rescue myself, as it were. My point is, if you can feel anything at all for Pansy… it should be pity."
Astoria checked the time on the clock on the mantel. "I've got to go, I'm running late already, I've not much time."
She made to sweep past him, but Draco grabbed her wrist. "Late for what? Where are you off to?"
Astoria didn't answer and instead pried her wrist from his grip and gave him a small smile. She approached Draco and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Tell Theo I'm sorry, would you? He's been nothing but lovely."
She stepped back and Draco noticed a determined glint in her eye, the look of a woman who had something both exciting and terrifying on the horizon, and she would press on no matter which obstacles stood in her path.
Astoria walked swiftly to the doorway, then turned to face him one last time. "I may find myself in need of some friends rather soon. May I count on you and Hermione?"
Draco nodded his assent and Astoria beamed, turned, and left.
Hermione felt sick to her stomach despite the fact that she'd drank maybe a glass of champagne and only taken dainty bites at dinner. Theo made to steer her back to the ballroom, but she shook her head and wrenched herself away from him.
"I need some air. Please."
He nodded and redirected their course to a grand sitting room with glass doors leading out to an impressive balcony. It was magically warmed, of course, but Hermione felt numb and cold despite the cozy atmosphere and picturesque snow-covered grounds laid out before her.
There was certainly no love lost between Hermione and Pansy. Indeed, Hermione only had unkind thoughts for the simpering twit of a woman before tonight. But to hear the desperation, the absolute misery in her voice when she spoke of her husband… Hermione could only feel unbearably sad for the life of her former childhood tormentor. She would not wish that type of existence on anyone.
Underneath all that pity, she noted a twinge of heartache at the callous way Pansy had tossed the insults about her blood in her face. She could only imagine how many of the assembled guests in the ballroom longed to throw that awful slur at her over the course of the party and but for Draco, would have no qualms about treating her like dirt.
"Chin up, Hermione," said Theo softly.
She slumped against the balustrade. Until this moment, she hadn't given herself even a second to relax her posture or expression all evening, the strain of standing rigidly and smiling tightly finally overcoming her.
"How can I ever belong here Theo?"
She wrung her hands in front of her and glared down at the rich fabric that draped her body.
"I feel so far out of my depth in this world, Draco's world," she tipped her head towards him, "your world. I'm so… exhausted at having to prove myself, prove my worth. The list of my accomplishments on my CV is most likely double that of any wizard in that ballroom. And it will never matter, not to them. I'll always be the lowly Mudblood."
Theo raised his eyebrows. "Giving up, are we?"
Hermione tutted. "On Draco? Of course not! But sometimes, I must admit, I do fantasize about how much easier our lives would be if our backgrounds weren't in such opposition."
Theo approached her and stood at her side. "If I may, I have a rather selfish investment in your societal success." Hermione's brow furrowed.
"When I finally introduce Sasha to this world, she's going to need your support. Hell, I'm going to need your support. If two people as brave and in love as the two of you can't soldier through some misguided insults from bitter gossips, then what chance have I got?" Theo stated quietly. Indeed, he looked so forlorn that Hermione looped an arm through his and leant her head against his shoulder.
"I hate this," he continued, his voice as soft and measured as always in that particular "Theo" way of speaking.
Often Hermione had wondered what drew Draco and Theo together as friends besides their shared heritage. But more exposure to the wizard showed her a steadfast friend, one who'd known pain and could dole out silent support devoid of judgment during Draco's darker period of addiction.
It struck her then, the magnitude for kindness in this solemn, careful foil to Draco's more commanding presence. Draco, out of an enduring loyalty to his friend, had only given Hermione a scant picture of Theo's terrifying childhood. One of a withdrawn child, precise in his movements, keeping himself constantly to the edges of every conversation and every room he entered. A learned behavior, Draco once confided, necessary for surviving in the Nott household.
"This charade with Astoria… lying to almost everyone in my life except you and Draco. The things I have to keep from Sasha… Merlin, Hermione it's draining."
Hermione squeezed his arm. "Of course we'll support you and Sasha, anything you need. I'll help her any way I can, she's truly wonderful Theo."
He grinned down at her. Just one positive comment about his girlfriend swung his mood right back around. "She is. She really is. Are you ready to return to battle?"
Hermione sighed and slid away from him. "As ready as I'll ever be I suppose."
She straightened up and worried her lower lip between her teeth. "Thank you for listening. I don't mean to whinge on about the unfairness of it all it's only—" she took a deep breath and voiced the fear that had plagued her all night. "I don't want to let Draco down."
"You could never." They both started at the sound of Draco's voice from the balcony doorway. He approached Hermione with a heated gaze that had Theo chuckling and taking his leave.
"Astoria left, she sends her apologies," Draco tossed over his shoulder to his departing friend.
"Everything all right?" asked Hermione, sliding her arms around his shoulders as he closed the distance between them.
"It is now," he breathed and kissed her soundly. A kiss that imparted such a thorough and earnest communication of his love that Hermione's inferiority complex and doubts crumbled away into nothing. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead against hers.
"Where you belong is at my side. I don't care if we're in the Muggle café or a grand ballroom, you belong with me," he intoned.
"I love you," she replied, the only words available to her in the moment. He kissed her again and stroked a long finger down her cheek to the top of her collarbone where his grandmother's necklace rested.
"Though you may be but a humble peasant," Hermione snorted at the playful insult, "this necklace looks quite at home around your throat. I'd lavish you with thousands of jewels if you let me, love."
Hermione rolled her eyes, not doubting for a second that Draco would absolutely follow through on that threat if she would only relent. "Well I certainly don't need all that. But if you like this Black family heirloom so much, what would you say to me keeping it on later? Just the necklace, you understand, nothing else."
His fingers strengthened their grip around her upper arms and his eyes darkened with a heady lust as he let out a long exhale. "I'd say you are in very grave danger of being apparated straight to bed, Miss Granger."
She tamped down the thrill of anticipation that coursed through her whole being and resisted the temptation to immediately give in to his unspoken promise of carnal pleasure.
"Later, darling, I fear your mother may actually murder us if we're not present for the countdown to midnight."
Draco let out a low growl and cursed under his breath the whole way back to the ballroom. Midnight edged closer and Draco and Hermione rode out the rest of the evening in each other's arms on the dance floor. When the orchestra conductor announced that the New Year was but 10 seconds away, Draco gathered her close, his intent to snog her thoroughly spelled out in the gleam of his eyes.
As the countdown hit "one!" the entire ballroom erupted in cheers and Draco leaned down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. He pulled back with a grin, but Hermione's eye caught once again on the banner behind his head.
Purity Always Conquers.
She redirected her gaze to Draco, and with a sudden surge of what felt like triumph in the face of centuries of meaningless bigotry and hatred, captured his willing lips in a second kiss.
Bollocks to your purity. Love conquers all.
A/N: Thank you for reading! And thank you for all the wonderful messages and comments, it's helping me cope as we count down to the end of this story.
The next update will be on October 23.
Come visit me on tumblr: heyjude19-writing.