Christmas was always a festive occasion in the Malfoy household. The elves swapped their drab pillowcases for brightly-colored tree skirts, and whistled carols as they whisked from room to room, decorating and getting ready. Narcissa whisked in and out of the home at all hours of the day, bringing back oddly shaped parcels and grinning secretively whenever anyone asked her about it. Lucius would begin carrying sweets in his pockets, and would pull each member of the family aside to ask what the others might like as presents. Malfoy Manor was just about the happiest place on earth during the winter holidays.
Which was why Hermione could not wait to finish this Yule Ball nonsense and go home.
She sat in her favorite chair in the the common room, dressed in her plain school robes. The room was empty, as everyone else was busy getting ready for the ball. Turnip, his fur a lonely dark blue, lay sleepily at her feet.
Her mother's letter sat in her lap, and Hermione lifted it up to read the last paragraph again.
...I know you'd rather be at home, darling. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Make sure to wear your new dress robes, and the pearls I sent- they were your Grandmother Black's. I'm sure you'll have more fun than you realize, even if your dance partner is not as appropriate as one might hope.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and kept reading.
And besides, your father has arranged to collect you and Draco from Hogwarts tomorrow morning, so we'll still get to celebrate together. I'll see you in the morning, please make sure your brother socializes tonight. Don't let him stand in a corner by himself.
Love,
Mother
"If she thinks your dance partner is inappropriate now, she should know who you wanted to ask out-"
I didn't want to ask her out, Bellatrix! I merely thought that anyone besides that Weasley boy would be a better choice.
"You know what they say about she who doth protest too much…"
Cheeks burning, Hermione glared into the empty fireplace. "It was one dream," she grumbled darkly. Turnip, who was now a light pink, looked up at her. Her hands dug into the arms of the chair as Bellatrix laughed mockingly in her head.
"More like four, dove. But it's nothing to be ashamed of. It runs in the family."
Hermione's eyes widened at that, and she wanted to ask more, but she was interrupted as Neville climbed through the portrait hole.
Recognizing a friend, Turnip leapt to his feet and trotted over to say hello.
"Hullo, Hermione. Is that what you're wearing to the Yule ball?" he asked, kneeling down to pat Turnip. The wubble's rump wiggled in excitement.
She laughed at the expression on her mother's face if she found out Hermione had attended a social event in school robes.
"No, I was just about to change."
He grinned, "Cutting it rather close, aren't you?"
Hermione's eyebrows raised slightly. She had never known Neville to joke before. "I could say the same about you."
He nodded sheepishly, and held up a parcel that had been tucked under his arm. "Gran had to send me new dress robes, I er-" he gave a cough, "accidentally burned a hole through the last ones."
"Oh Neville," she could not help the smile that spread across her face, "I hope these ones stay intact."
"Oh Neville," mimicked Bellatrix, "That's going to be written on his tombstone." But she said no more. For some reason, Bellatrix was never quite as cruel to Neville as she was to the rest of Hermione's friends. When the girl asked why a couple of years earlier Bellatrix had snapped that it was none of her business- and Hermione had left it at that.
When Neville finally left to get changed, Hermione realized that it was time for her to get ready too.
As soon as she started up the spiral staircase that led to her dormitory her ears were assaulted by giggling. The sound got louder as she headed to her room.
The door was open, and clothes lay everywhere. Hermione had never seen so many ghastly dresses at once. Cheap jewelry studded the floor, and she picked her way over to her (thankfully) untouched bed.
Turnip slid into the cozy basket at the foot of her bed, curled up, and went to sleep. Later, Winky would feed him dinner and take him for a walk, but for now he was content to nap.
"Oh, Hermione. We were beginning to think that you had forgotten!" Lavender laughed obnoxiously, and fastened an awful orange bow to her hair, and smoothed down her matching robes. The multi-colored bracelets on her wrists clinked together as she moved her hands.
Parvati, looking much nicer in robes of crimson, adjusted her golden earrings and smiled warmly at Hermione.
Clearly, their parents are nothing like Mother, snorted Hermione. She was so used to "dressing up" for unexpected events, that she could make herself look flawlessly put together in minutes. She had already prepared her outfit the night before, so it was ready the moment she opened her wardrobe.
The robes were light and breezy, and as soon as she uttered the spell to button it up she examined herself in the mirror next to her wardrobe.
Powder blue was not her favorite color, but she had to admit that she looked good in it. The top was fitted, and embroidered with tiny flowers. The skirt swished alluringly as she spun to make sure the back looked ok. A swish of her wand twisted her hair into a becoming updo, and then she dug through the box of makeup her mother sent. She swept a shimmering silver eyeshadow over her lids, and followed that with black eyeliner and mascara. She followed up with lipstick a shade pinker than her natural lip color. Her reflection smiled gracefully back at her, and the mirror (a gift from her mother) called out "No outfit is complete without the proper accessories!"
She pulled out the velvet bag that held Grandmother Black's pearls. Gently, she slid the contents into her hand. Fastening the drop earrings into her ears, she felt a calm spread over her. A moment later the necklace settled comfortingly across her throat, and she didn't have to force her smile this time as she glanced in the mirror.
"It's an old family secret that the heirlooms are charmed," Bellatrix's voice floated gently through her mind, "Great, Great Grandmother Rosier had a horrible temper, and her husband had to charm her to keep her from losing her cool. No one took the charms off because they found that it helped them keep the edge in conversation."
Hermione could see why. She was naturally a confident person, but with the pearls on she felt as if she could not go wrong.
"Lovely," commented the mirror, "mind you don't smudge your makeup, dear."
"I won't," grinned Hermione.
She floated out of the room as Parvati and Lavender squealed that they weren't nearly ready. A few fifth-years scurried down the stairs in front of her, their whispers excited. The smell of cheap perfume floated towards her, and she wrinkled her nose.
"Sorry Princess. Not everyone can afford to have Daddy bring them back custom scents from Italy and France."
At the very least they could pick something that doesn't smell like fake sweets, shot Hermione. The back of her throat was on fire, she was certain.
"Snob."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
If she thought the girl's perfume was bad, it was nothing compared to the boys'. An empty bottle sat on a nearby table, it's label reading: Witch's Woe: Fragrance that will make her swoon.
Hermione's eyebrow arched, Interesting word choice.
"I think the warning is in the name. Stupid boys."
The smell was worse than the name. It was so thick that Hermione had to hold her hand over her nose as she climbed through the portrait hole.
Waiting for her in bottle green robes was Harry.
"Thanks again, Mione." he said, smiling awkwardly as the hole closed behind her.
"Of course. We couldn't let Hogwarts' real champion embarrass himself, now could we?"
"Yes." came the petulant voice inside of her head.
They walked down to the Entrance Hall together, and as they entered the crowded area in front of the Great Hall, Hermione was intensely aware of all the eyes that were upon her. She smiled, lifting her chin as a group of sixth-year Gryffindor girls glared at her. This must be what fame felt like. She felt a smug satisfaction as Harry steered her towards where the Champions were lining up, and reflected that she was made for the spotlight-
And then she caught sight of Fleur.
The half-veela (helpfully confirmed by Harry after the Weighing of the Wands) was dressed in flowing grey dress robes. Her hair shone in the candlelight, and she smirked as she caught Hermione's eye. A dark flush spread across the brunette's face.
"Should have asked her," taunted Bellatrix.
Hermione snapped back, You know I can't do that! The Prophet would be alerted within the hour. What would Mother think?
"She'd be horrified!" there was an unpleasant laugh in her ear.
Harry's hand rested on her shoulder. "Nerves?"
If it weren't for her current predicament, Hermione would have been offended. Instead, she offered him a small smile. "Guess so."
She caught something sparkly in the corner of her eye, and turned to examine the person coming up to them.
The first thing she noticed was the fabric. At first glance it was silver, but it shone with so many different colors that Hermione felt a little dazed. Her eyes trailed up the slim figure, and her mouth opened in shock.
"Draco?!"
Her brother grinned sheepishly at her. His hair was gelled up into something resembling a pompadour. A gold bauble hung from one ear, and he wore a yellow and black striped bowtie. The ensemble was horribly clashing, but she could not help but feel that it suited him.
"That's not the black velvet that mother picked out." she commented mildly.
Bellatrix roared with laughter in her head.
"Oh, it's the black velvet," Draco smoothed his hand down the front of his robes, "I improved it, that's all."
"I like it," said Harry. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.
She scowled at the pair of them, "What are you going to do if someone from the Ministry reports back to Father?"
"Oh, Mione," she felt her insides boil as he fixed her with a pitying look, "you need to learn not to care so much."
"I tell her that all the time," Harry said, and the two boys gave each other knowing looks.
Another couple stepped up behind them, and Draco pinked slightly. "Hello Cedric," he said.
The Hufflepuff champion gave Draco a kind smile, "Hello Draco. Who're you here with?"
"Just myself tonight," laughed Draco, and Hermione noted that his laugh was oddly shrill.
"Definitely runs in the family." remarked Bellatrix.
Thankfully, McGonagall chose that moment to herd the students into the Great Hall. Most who passed gave her an admiring look, and she felt her complexion return to its normal shade. The one exception was Ron Weasley, who predictably scowled at her as he stomped past. Hermione felt a strange thrill as she realized there was no one with him.
Once the other students had entered, the Champions followed, and took their seats at the Head Table. Dumbledore winked at her as she took her seat next to Harry, and she grinned back.
Dinner went smoothly, though she spent most of it casting covert looks at the Beauxbatons champion. Harry would nudge her from time to time whenever anyone said something funny, and Krum's date (a mousy-haired Hufflepuff girl who called her "Drake's Sister") shared several amusing anecdotes about her housemates.
Throughout the meal she felt the Durmstrang Headmaster watching her.
"Don't trust him," advised Bellatrix, her voice scathing. "He's like an ill-bred dog. You can never tell if he's going to bite or not."
"You look very pretty this evening, Miss Malfoy," said Karkaroff, his eyes cold.
She thanked him, and felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck as he fixed her with a long, considering look.
Dumbledore stepped into the conversation, delicately re-routing the attention back to Hogwarts. He shared a story about finding a room of chamber pots in the middle of the night, but Hermione barely heard him speak. Karkaroff's eyes trailed back to her, and she felt as if he were a jeweler, trying to determine her worth.
She breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was over and it was time to dance. There were pictures galore as she spun around the room with Harry on her arm. She plastered her best smile onto her face, and tried not to grimace when Harry stepped down hard on her little toe.
"Sorry! Sorry!" He whispered, and she laughed it off.
When the first dance was over, Harry went to sit with Ron- the latter looking extremely put out as he scowled at the dancers, and Hermione joined Draco.
Her brother was dancing with a blond Beauxbatons boy who shook her hand, and introduced himself as Felix. He looked like a cherub, with plump cheeks, curling hair, and brown laughing eyes. She liked him at once, and apparently so did Draco. After two or three songs, her brother and his new friend decided to go examine the rose garden.
She watched him go with a strange feeling of relief and envy.
"Don't start feeling sorry for yourself," chided Bellatrix, "you had plenty of chances to ask that girl to the Ball."
Annoyance swept through Hermione, You don't understand anything. It's alright for Draco- she smiled as someone offered her a Butterbeer, and accepted it. He's never been invested in the family name-
"You're right, you could never have actually taken a witch to the Ball. But that doesn't mean you can't have any little flings on the side. Once Cissy marries you off you'll be free to do whatever you like, with whomever you like, so long as…"
A feeling of absolute loneliness settled over Hermione as she listened to Bellatrix talk about the wonders of Pureblood marriage. She knew her friend was trying to be helpful, but it seemed to be making things so much worse.
I just want to have that feeling of freedom, she said suddenly, looking at a couple who wore identical looks of rapture on their faces.
There was a silence, and then- "Tell you what, when I get out I'll take you back to my place and we'll have our own Yule Ball. You can pick the music, and I'll provide the Firewhiskey, and you can be free to your heart's content."
She smiled softly at the earnestness in Bellatrix's voice, Ok.
"Awful lonely over here, Miss Malfoy."
She had not even realized that she had left the dance floor until Moody's voice rushed over her.
"I guess I'm just a little tired," she said, unable to help from glancing at his magical eye. It was pointed directly at her.
"Busy night?"
She nodded, noting that he was examining her in the same way Karkaroff had earlier. Only while Karkaroff's eyes made her feel as if she should take a bath in scalding water, Moody's made her feel as if she should order some Dragonskin armor immediately.
"I've noticed that you spend quite a bit of time with Harry Potter. A bit odd for a Malfoy."
Alarm bells were going off in her head, and Bellatrix seemed to be going through a range of negative emotions that left her unable to speak.
"Harry's triumph is Gryffindor's triumph," she said carefully. "I'm doing what any good friend would."
"Hmph." He licked his lips, "and what do your parents think of your good friendship with Harry Potter."
She drew herself up to her full height, and fixed him with a level stare. "I am fully capable of choosing my own friends."
"Oh, you are, are you?" He took a step closer, and she cast her eyes around in hopes that someone would see them. No one did. "And what if your parents asked you to kill your "good friend", hm? What would you say to them. What would you say if the one who had your best interests at heart commanded you?"
Bellatrix's emotions drained away at once, and Hermione felt something she had never felt from the witch before. Something warm and bright.
"Tell him it's not your place to kill the boy."
Bella, that's crazy! I'd sound like a sociopath.
"Do it! Do it Hermione. NOW!"
Hermione drew her eyes to his magical one, and swallowed. "I'd say… it's not my place to kill the boy."
A grin split his face, making him look more terrifying than usual. "I'd say your memory is a lot keener than I expected, Miss Malfoy. You keep helping Mr. Potter. I think between the two of us we may be able to get him through the final task in one piece."
Hermione gulped, and nodded as he walked away. She could feel Bellatrix's giddiness in her stomach, and it made her feel sick.
Quietly, she slipped out of the Great Hall and padded up the stairs to Gryffindor House. A scalding bath and two cups of tea later, she lay on her bed with Turnip pulled close. The wubble's white fur glowed in the moonlight.
Something bad just happened, didn't it?
Bellatrix's answer came at once, "No, Mione. That was something great!"