"This is an evening of wonders, indeed!"
Hermione walked up to Nott House with Ginny and Harry, chattering brightly. The evening settled around them in a warm haze, highlighted by the flaming torches that led up the lane. She felt a frisson of excitement race through her veins as they approached the doors, which were flung open to the sweet summer air and framed by two gigantic tapestries depicting the sun and moon. The old magic was high tonight. She could sense it crackling in the atmosphere. The longest day and shortest night of the year; a simultaneous celebration of light's triumph, even as it started to give way to the seductive dark. Wizards and Muggles alike had been celebrating this day since the beginning of time. She actually felt good to be here, a part of something exciting and a little bit wild.
She looked at Ginny with a nervous smile and Ginny patted her on the arm, then handed her a flask. "A little liquid courage to kick this off?"
Hermione accepted gratefully and drank deeply, a sweet burn running down her throat and into her belly. Molly's famously strong bramble brandy. No doubt distilled last from last summer's crop of rich blue-black fruit that grew riotously behind the Burrow.
She passed the flask to Harry who thanked her and took a big swig. The trio walked past a huge pile of branches and sticks set up for the later bonfire and approached the house. Ginny saluted the stacked wood with the flask and tipped it down her throat, her barely covered bosom bobbing in her tightly corseted peasant costume as she swallowed. She wiped her mouth and passed the half empty flask back to Hermione, who usually would have refused, but instead took a second deep drink, already feeling good from the first one. She linked arms with Harry on one side and Ginny on the other.
"Ok, peasants! What are our marching orders for tonight?"
"Don't get too pissed!" yelled Ginny.
"Yeah right," whispered Harry in an obvious aside to Hermione. Both girls hit him.
"OW! Ok, ok try to find people in this crowd with serious money and be charming to them!"
"Polite yet distant!" Hermione was definitely feeling the brandy now.
Harry looked at her as if she were mad. "Never you mind," said Ginny, giggling with her as Harry shook his head.
"Oh and secondary goal!" yelled Ginny. "Don't let MUM get too pissed!" Harry and Hermione dissolved into laughter and Ginny shook a full bottle of sober-up potion under their noses. "If either of you gits sees her accepting a drink, tell me so I can run over and tip this in!"
Harry placed his hand over his bloused chest and bowed low, "you have my word, fair maiden." Hermione snickered at the word maiden and Ginny gave her a two fingered salute, which made her laugh harder.
"But seriously." Hermione stopped her friends before they walked up the steps to the house. "No one leaves without telling the other two. And we don't let each other get too pissed or do strange drugs." Harry and Ginny agreed before they walked through the door.
Stepping into the foyer was like crossing a gateway into another world. The dark, cool interior Hermione remembered had been totally transformed into a golden grotto. There must have been thousands of lit candles sitting on every surface and floating in the air. Vines appeared to twine up the walls, reaching delicate tendrils to criss-cross the ceiling. Tree stumps interspersed with decadent floral arrangements lined the room. The effect was of nature in full blown, fertile riot, taking over anything man-made. A beautiful chaos of greenery and light.
Ginny clapped with delight as they looked around. "Marvelous!"
Just then a slender figure in a molded gold mask approached them. "Theo!" Hermione exclaimed holding out her arms. "This is completely amazing!"
"I'm so glad to see you," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and holding out his hand to Harry, then Ginny.
"Thank you so much for inviting us," said Harry. "What are you supposed to be? Golden Phantom of the Opera?" Theo raised his mask and looked at him blankly. "Sorry, muggle reference," said Harry, shooting a rueful look at Hermione.
"Well I'm actually just supposed to be the sun," Theo spun around to show off his costume. Hermione noticed that his mask was intricately worked and appeared to be actual gold leaf. His robes were long and flowing and the fabric was woven of a fine golden thread. A clever charm made the tips of his hems glow. She fingered the fine cloth and murmured in admiration.
"Warning, the rest of my family should be here shortly," Ginny said with a grimace.
Theo laughed, "They are very welcome. Please join the absolute insanity already underway. Drinks are scattered around the house. Food is being passed by servers. Don't drink any of Blaise's 'special punch', smoke or snort anything anyone gives you and you should be fine."
"Thanks," laughed Hermione, squeezing Theo's hand and leaving him to the next arrivals. She, Harry and Ginny proceeded further into the house, joining an absolute crush of partygoers. The scene was incredible. Music played and candles flickered, even as the mellow evening sun filtered through the windows.
Costumes and glamours of every sort met her eyes - all in Summer shades of gold and white and even some green. There was everything from muggle formalwear to ornate wizarding robes to fantastical get-ups. One wizard was dressed like an exact replica of Louis XIV, complete with his own cadre of elaborately costumed and bewigged courtiers. The sun king, of course, Hermione thought, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server.
An absolutely stunning witch walked by in what looked to be a golden snitch costume, her dress a sheer veil of gold barely concealing her naughty bits and tiny fluttering wings sprouting from her shoulders. Ginny had to forcibly turn Harry's head from watching her walk away. She wagged a finger in his face and he grinned and held up his palms, then snatched her in for a deep kiss as she laughed.
Hermione smiled at them then looked down at her own costume, smoothing the short skirt and touching her hair. She'd created her Freyja look with a dark green leather dress that had a sort of warrior look to it. It was sleeveless with a high neck, braided shoulder detail, girdled waist and gored, slitted skirt. And it was very short thanks to Ginny's intervention at the last minute—no Goddess wears knee-length, Hermione. As a result, she wouldn't be leaning over even slightly at the waist tonight.
None of Hermione's shoes had seemed right, so Ginny had dug out a pair of knee-high gladiator sandals from another costume a few years back, and a gold metal belt encircled her waist while a similar circlet rested in her hair.
Her hair. It could probably be assigned its own postcode tonight. She usually took pains to tame it, but the truth was it could still be rather bushy despite a regiment of talented hairdressers, products and spellwork. And if left to its own devices, let alone encouraged, it easily formed a gigantic halo around her head. Ginny had woven some gold wire and ribbon into the mass, giving it some structure and a golden gleam. It was epic, but now seeing the crowd, Hermione didn't feel at all overdone.
To complete her costume, Nordic runes snaked down both of her shoulders to her upper arms. Ginny had drawn them and, being preoccupied with her hair, Hermione hadn't looked closely while she was doing it, although she had soon realised she was covered in rather risque references. "Fertility! Love! Abundance!" Ginny sang when Hermione protested.
She shrugged inwardly. When in Rome… and this certainly wasn't a time or place for restraint. Scanning the crowd again, she noticed Harry and Ginny had already been pulled into a conversation with a group nearby. Harry's entrance had caused an audible stir, even after all these years. She doubted it would ever not be that way, despite his wishes. Well at least in this case, notoriety would work to his advantage.
She gulped her champagne and scanned the room, wishing she would see a familiar face, say, maybe Jack Wickham, when all of a sudden Blaise Zabini was there giving her a bear hug.
"Blaise!" she exclaimed as soon as she could breathe again. "You look amazing!" He preened and spun in a slow circle, inviting her to admire him. And she did. He was dressed like an Egyptian god - Ra? Aten? One of the sun gods... His beautifully muscled chest was bare except for a jeweled gold collar and he wore a fine linen kilt and no shoes. Bracelets circled his wrists and ankles and an elaborate falcon headdress adorned his head and shoulders. He looked like a Pharaoh come to life. Hermione sucked in her breath at such a display of male beauty.
"You like, Granger?" he said with a mischievous grin as he completed his circle.
"Please, you know you look like a romance novel fantasy." She reached out to skim her fingers over the rigid muscles and smooth skin of his upper arm.
"You don't look so bad yourself." He motionioned for her to pivot as well. "Love the hair. And your legs look amazing. You should wear leather micro-minis more often." She snorted. He lifted his chin at her, "what do the runes say?"
"If you don't know, I'm not telling," she shook her finger at him. "Ginny drew them, and they're rude."
"Let's hope so." His white teeth flashed in his bronzed face.
"So did you manage to get Jack Wickham an invite?" she asked, looking around nonchalantly. Blaise's grin got bigger.
"Naww, Theo shut it down. His highness doesn't like Jack, you know."
"His highness?" Hermione had a sneaking suspicion who he was referring to and her brows were already drawing together.
"Draco. He and Jack have some bad blood between them, but I don't know the details. I happen to like the guy."
"Well so do I," said Hermione, feeling unreasonably put out. "It seems too bad that Malfoy's prejudice against him for being the son of the help would influence the situation."
Blaise raised his eyebrows and his palms. "Preaching to the choir, darling. I'd love to see the damage Jack could do in this crowd. Some right fit birds here."
She laughed. "Yeah he'd be like a kid in a sweet shop. He might even find his sugar mama!"
"Oh you know about that?" laughed Blaise, eyeing her.
"Yes, I don't hold it against him. We're just friends, but I do enjoy his company. I was just hoping to know at least one more person here."
"Look, you'll be fine," said Blaise, taking her by the arm. "I know absolutely everyone and I'm going to introduce you. You're the golden girl and you look smoking hot tonight." She smacked his arm playfully. "They'll love you. And you should try some of this special cocktail I mixed." He held out a flask, but remembering Theo's earlier warning she declined and instead grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing house elf, promising herself she'd switch to something less hangover-inducing for the next round.
"Ok, I challenge you to introduce me to the hottest wizard here," she said with a smirk.
"But we're already acquainted, darling," he drawled.
She sighed and grinned. "That I don't already know, of course."
He tipped his head in acknowledgment and looked into the middle distance. "I accept your challenge, Granger. And I will not let you down. Let's go." She laughed and clinked his flask with her glass as they moved off through the crowd.
~oOo~
Draco sat in a lounge chair in the library and tipped his head back, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, gathering himself to leave the quiet sanctuary for the chaos of the party.
He sat up with a sigh. It wasn't that he didn't like the annual Nott midsummer celebration, he'd just been to a lot of them. Starting when he and Theo were 15, they'd been allowed to join the festivities. Of course those first few years, when Theo's father had run the show, the celebrations had been very different. Less like a social event and more focused on the rituals. There were a couple of really memorable years before the war really kicked off… But now it was just another party at which to see and be seen.
He wondered who he'd see tonight. If she had actually come. But he banished the thought as he walked down the dim corridor to the reception rooms. He wasn't going to focus on her. If she was here and he saw her, he'd be polite, but disengage as quickly as possible. No focusing, no lingering and no getting caught up. There'd be plenty to distract him anyway. Some things about this party hadn't changed that much after all.
He emerged into the blaze of candlelight in one of the drawing rooms and immediately ran into a gorgeous witch who he'd slept with a few years ago. She was poured into a gold gown that left little to the imagination. He let his eyes linger obviously on her curves as they chatted and she responded enthusiastically. Well there's someone for the end of the night, he thought. He found that he wasn't really interested, though.
He extricated himself and went in search of a drink, finding a bar tucked in a corner. He lounged there for a moment, sipping a very dry martini and surveying the scene. Theo had outdone himself with the decor this year. It really felt like the forest floor in some enchanted fairy world. Draco wondered if Pansy had had a hand in it. She was rather talented and something in the overblown, yet whimsical nature of the scene reminded him of her.
Speaking of Pansy, he spotted her across the room, dressed in deep green and hanging on the arm of an absurdly tall wizard. Draco moved into a shadow, hoping she wouldn't notice him. He needed at least one more drink in him before he could deal with her in full social mode.
Despite his best intentions, he felt his eyes searching and cataloging the room. He was looking for her, damn it. He swore to himself, swiftly finished his drink and ordered another, thinking it might be best to go find the witch in gold after all. But at that moment Blaise appeared, looking like a bloody bas-relief from a tomb wall.
"Drake!" he said with a broad grin. "Glad to see you at least made a nod to the theme this year, mate." He gestured to Draco's dark gold dinner jacket.
"You know I hate it when you call me that," Draco said thinly. "What are you supposed to be? Other than whatever costume allows you to be half naked?"
"Amen-Ra. Egyptian sun god. Duh," said Blaise. "When did you arrive and where have you been?"
"I stayed over last night. Just been gathering my strength before facing all of this."
"Yeah it's fucking mental! There are so many fit women here. Speaking of, I just finished introducing Granger to all the blokes," Blaise was all nonchalance, but his eyes were bright.
"Oh did she actually show?" said Draco, turning to signal the bartender for another round.
"Oh yes, and she looks fucking incredible," said Blaise with a grin. "She took rather well with the lads. Although she seemed to be looking for someone else."
"Oh?" said Draco, a model of supreme indifference.
"Yeah. Jack Wickham," said Blaise as he scanned the room. "Seemed really disappointed when I said he wasn't here." He also ordered a drink and took it off the bar, thanking the bartender. "Well I'm off. There's a delectable little piece dressed as a wood nymph that I intend to get to know better. Cheers, mate!" He saluted Draco and swaggered off through the crowd, a huge smile on his face.
Draco maintained his outward look of boredom but stood still, staring out at the room for several beats as he finished his drink. Then he pushed away from the bar and headed out into the party with purpose.
~oOo~
Hermione laughed up into the face of the charming wizard who was leaning over her. René? Ricard? She couldn't remember, and who really cared. He had a French accent, he was beautiful and, bonus, he was funny. She was about to ask him if he knew anything about French centaur herds since she was researching one for a project, when she felt a claw-like hand grasp her arm.
"There you are!" It was Ginny. "I was getting worried! This house is too fucking big."
"Oh yeah, Blaise took me around," said Hermione waving a little goodbye to René/Ricard ...Rémy! as he wound off through the crowd, mouthing that he would find her later. "I have no idea where I actually am. I must have only seen half of the house during the house party. Are you ok?" she asked, peering at Ginny. "You look tense."
Ginny sighed. "My family are just being fucking embarrassing is all. And Harry got sucked into a conversation in some random room, so I can't find him to help me."
Hermione exhaled, "what's going on?"
"Oh I let my mum out of my sight for 20 minutes and she managed to get wasted. And I heard someone say Fred and George were doing double keg stands. Need I remind you they're nearly 30? Ron is holding court in a corner and bellowing war stories to some barely legal witches. And my dad is nowhere to be seen. Probably in the library or smoking on a patio somewhere." Ginny paused for breath.
"I'm sorry." Hermione squeezed Ginny's shoulder. "But you know it's so busy that nobody is noticing. And it doesn't reflect on you. You are your own separate person and people realise that."
Ginny just looked at her and shook her head.
Hermione realised action was needed to save her friend's night. Ginny didn't often let being a Weasley get to her, so Hermione felt honor-bound to intervene when she did. "Right, so you still have the sober up potion?" Ginny nodded. Hermione took her friend's elbow and started walking. "We'll dump some of that in your mum's drink. We can tell a house elf that Theo asked to have the keg put away. I don't think anyone can get Ron to stop talking about his glory days, though."
Ginny laughed. "You're right and I'm sorry to whinge. They just rattle me sometimes."
Hermione gave her a half hug as they entered the main reception rooms. If anything the party had gotten bigger and louder and more wild since they'd arrived. She scanned the crowd, not admitting to herself that she was looking for anyone until she spotted a tall, fair figure dressed beautifully gold and black. Her heart did a little bump when she realised it was him. But then it did a dip when she also realised he was standing very close to a stunning dark-haired witch dressed in a diaphanous ball gown, his hand protectively spread across her lower back. His head was bent over hers and they were only inches apart. She couldn't see either of their faces, but it was clear that they were close.
"So Malfoy came with a date, so what," she told herself, taking a deep breath. What did she expect? She hadn't seen or talked to him in two weeks and their last interaction had ended badly. She was angry at him about Wickham! So why should it matter if he was here with someone. She tossed her head and averted her eyes, almost dragging Ginny into the next room.
Her temper frayed further as she observed the Weasleys at work, seemingly intent on winning awards for being embarrassing and uncouth. Molly was clearly drunk and Hermione could hear her even over the buzz of the party, bragging to another older witch about her 'son-in-law Harry Potter,' and how he was about to be very rich due to starting a Quidditch team in London.
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and then went into action, Hermione distracting Molly while Ginny dumped practically the whole vial of sober up potion into her glass of wine. Unfortunately it wouldn't take full effect for at least twenty minutes, but they could at least babysit her until then.
~oOo~
Draco finally managed to extricate himself from Jonquil, a childhood friend with a penchant for crap men. As usual, she was a wreck over Alastair, an absolute cunt whom Draco had also known for many years and was not worth Jonnie's time. They'd recently broken up (again) and she hadn't known he was going to be here and of course he'd come with some tart who was draped all over him...
He twitched his head. A girl as intelligent and beautiful as Jonnie—it was too bad she would never learn. He was deep in these thoughts as he entered the main drawing room and simultaneously realised that one; he'd stepped into some sort of Weasley convention and two; he'd finally found Granger.
His first coherent thought upon seeing her was that she'd literally stopped him in his tracks. But he wasn't coherent for several moments. He white knuckled the doorknob, taking in endless legs under an extremely short skirt, an impossibly slim waist, and perfect tits encased in supple green leather. Her makeup was heavier than he'd ever seen—with dark, seductive eyes and full, deep red lips. The wild hair and golden runes twining seductively down her arms nearly undid him. He could read some old Norse—he knew what those runes said, and it made his groin tighten. He swallowed, still paralysed.
It took one of the Weasley twins yelling something inane to jar him out of his trance. Granger hadn't even noticed him. But all the Weasleys seemed to simultaneously erupt, with Fred and George attempting some sort of dual musical performance by banging on Theo's priceless 17th century harpsichord, while the oaf Ron knocked over a Sevres vase acting out what one could only presume was one of his exploits at Hogwarts over a decade ago. Draco recoiled in distaste, and then he heard the mother, nattering on about Potter and his investment scheme to an old biddy in the corner.
"Theo Nott will be investing and of course it has the support of Draco Malfoy." At the sound of his name, Draco's eyebrows snapped together and he glared at Mrs. Weasley, who continued, heedless of his presence. "In fact, you know my adopted daughter, Hermione Granger? Best friends with Harry Potter? And of course she's a war heroine in her own right. We thought at one point she'd marry into the family, but it didn't work out—well now she's involved with Draco Malfoy. There were pictures of them in the Prophet a few weeks ago. Did you see? What a match that would be. Her brains and his money! Of course that's unless she chooses Jack Wickham. He's new in town. Devastatingly handsome and a huge success in real estate. She's also seeing him! Make them work, I told her. Play them off each other and see who comes up to scratch!"
Mrs. Weasley only stopped because she ran out of breath, but Granger had clearly heard the last bit because she hustled over to the older witch and practically shoved a canapé in her mouth.
Draco felt his face drain of color at the news that Granger really was seeing that fucking animal, Wickham. He made a convulsive movement and it must have caught her attention because she slowly turned her head in his direction as though expecting the inevitable, flushing to the roots of her hair when they made eye contact. Draco was so furious at the Weasley mother and the idea of Granger with Wickham that he turned abruptly and exited the room.
This time she didn't call after him.
He strode to the nearest balcony and immediately lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag and trying to calm down. About halfway through he felt more himself, although the anger was simmering just below the surface. Was it the gossip about him and his money that bothered him? The idea of Hermione with Wickham? Or just the idea of Hermione with anyone...
It also occurred to Draco just then how close Granger was with the Weasleys since her own parents had disappeared after the war. She'd essentially been adopted by them. While Ginny and the older brothers were tolerable, Draco legitimately couldn't stand any of the others. An association with her would mean—he shuddered—family dinners and the like with them.
He exhaled sharply. This whole situation wasn't going the way it was supposed to. He wicked another cigarette to life and heard the curtain to the balcony swish open and closed. He tensed, wondering if she'd come looking for him after all.
"There you are, darling," slurred a familiar voice.
Gods, just who he didn't want to see right now.
"Good evening, Pansy. Having a nice time?" Maybe if he was extremely bland, she'd go away.
"Better now," she said, stepping closer to him. He caught a whiff of hard alcohol and strong perfume. "Can I beg a fag?"
He offered his cigarette case and she selected one, leaning into his lighter and inhaling with relish. "Ahh now this is more like it. It's entirely too loud and full of Weasleys in there," she sniffed, inclining her shoulder toward the rest of the house. "Whatever possessed Theo to invite all of them?"
He tensed at her mention of the family, but shrugged disdainfully in response. "Momentary dementia, I suppose."
She laughed too enthusiastically at his weak joke and he cringed, wishing she'd leave. He wanted to be alone with his brooding thoughts or at least with someone who could make a passing go at taking his mind off of them.
"Well they're really bringing the tone of the party down," she said. "And of course Granger and Potter are with them. It's like the Gryffindor common room in there. Emphasis on 'common'." She shuddered, "And I wonder who told Granger this was a fancy dress party."
"There are a lot of people in costume," Draco said mildly, in a bid to shut her up.
"But her hair. What a disaster."
"Actually, I thought her hair was incredibly sexy and I had an overwhelming compulsion to bury my hands and, even better, my face in it," he said as he flipped his cigarette butt into an ashtray. She stood speechless for several beats, but recovered.
"Well if you harbor those kinds of thoughts about her it's too bad. I hear she's hot and heavy with your father's steward's son." Her voice dripped venom. "Jack Wickham? He's supposed to be deliciously handsome… for the help. Blaise told me she was vocally put out that he wasn't invited tonight—especially when she learned that you were the one who prevented it."
Pansy's dark eyes sparked maliciously, and Draco's anger flared hot again, but he was too practised at this game to show it. He just lifted one shoulder and looked slightly to the side of her left ear, murmuring, "pardon me," as he slipped past her and back through the curtain. He heard her shrill voice demanding that he come back, but ignored it and proceeded through the entry hall and up the stairs to his room, done for the evening.
~oOo~
Hermione and Ginny found Harry and left the party soon after what Hermione was already dubbing, 'the most excruciatingly embarrassing 60 seconds of my life'. She was mortified that Malfoy had heard Mrs. Weasley and that he might possibly think the addled woman was repeating something she had expressed. His face when he had turned on his heel to leave the room! She'd never seen a more eloquent mixture of distaste and contempt. She'd thought about going after him, but what would she have said?
Ginny gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and rubbed her arm as they stepped through the fireplace into their own living room, but Hermione didn't feel like talking. She just grimaced and said goodnight, before heading down the hall to her bedroom. Once she was in bed, her head started pounding and she could tell sleep was a long way off.
She wasn't supposed to care what he thought, so why couldn't she stop the scene running over and over in her mind? Finally, she flicked on her light, picked a well-worn novel from her bookshelf and started to read. She read late into the night, shutting her eyes only when exhaustion completely overcame her.