"Malfoy." Hermione said stiffly. He inclined his head.
"Why don't you two dance?" Molly suggested and she somehow managed to inch Hermione closer to Draco. Hermione had to look up quite a bit to see his face, otherwise she was staring at a throbbing vein in his neck and the snug fit of his tie against his throat.
"Malfoy doesn't dance." Hermione laughed. It was dry and humourless and Malfoy's face remained cold and screamed every bit of wanting to be anywhere but here.
"Indeed, I don't." Malfoy said. "Not if I can help it."
"Good." Hermione said.
"Granger, don't tell me you've gotten so poor, you've had to pull out the old Yule Ball dress?" Malfoy said. Hermione saw the shadow of his usual sneer ghost across his face. She paled. He remembers my dress from 6 years ago?
"I made this myself, so yes, Malfoy, I am that poor. No thanks to you lot." Hermione said, echoing his acid, diluted as it was, she didn't want him to mistake it for her being nice.
"My lot?" Malfoy said. "You mean, I left to enjoy what time I could with my mother, and we're to blame for- what, exactly?"
Hermione glared up at him and she realised that Molly had long disappeared in the sea of heads.
"Purebloods or the 'Sacred Twenty Eight', whatever you all go by these days, have enough money to pump back into the economy, enough overseas ties to fix relationships, and instead, you all are playing house." Hermione said.
"I'm not playing house , Granger." Malfoy said. "Last I remember, we were the hated ones."
Hermione glared at him, his icy eyes had given way to a fiery defiance that reminded her of Ginny's fury and blazing passion.
"Have a good night, Malfoy." Hermione said. She looked around for Molly and spotted the woman.
She flashed Molly an apologetic smile that felt more like a grimace, turned on her heel and strode to the open Great Hall double doors before anyone could wrench her to a halt again.
The sounds of the Great Hall immediately died away when she stepped into the cool corridor.
She could leave now, if she wasn't worried about leaving her parents now with a drunk Molly Weasley. She decided to take a walk around the corridors to her favourite places. Maybe she would find Harry. Mostly she needed to feel like Hermione again, in a normal Hogwarts without marriage infecting everyone's mind like some virus.
Hermione's mind drifted as the sound of her heels tapping on the stone gave her a calming rhythm. She found herself trailing her fingertips along the walls, occasionally meeting a picture frame or draped tapestry. She was lucky she didn't come across Peeves.
Without trying, her feet had guided her to the library. It was dark and moonlight seeped in through the tall windows. Madam Pince wasn't here; she wouldn't be, so Hermione strolled in and let her fingertips trail across the spines of the old books, inhaling deeply the scent of ink, parchment, and leather.
With the scent came clarity and Hermione realised she knew exactly where Harry would be.
She inhaled deeply one more time so that the smell of her comfort would linger with her longer and then walked toward the Astronomy Tower.
She didn't reach it however, because Harry was already returning.
"Harry." Hermione said. "Everyone's been looking for you."
"Everyone except Ginny." Harry said. Hermione took his hand and walked with him along the corridor.
"Ginny is being a little wild right now. You know, she saw you with Cho." Hermione said in a matter of fact voice.
"I was with Cho for one dance, Hermione. She's been stuck to Blaise Zabini all night." Harry said. They came up to the Great Hall's corridor, the sounds wafting out to them, the sound of merriment and happiness, like a mixture of Christmas and New Years.
"I'll wait here, go get Ginny." Hermione said with a soft push. She smiled wisely at Harry and hoped it was encouragement enough. Harry gave a half hearted grin and walked through the threshold of the doors. Hermione sat at the feet of one of the Guard statues. She rotated her ankles to get circulation into them. Heels, even comfortable ones, were so impractical.
A familiar voice, one filled with smugness and superiority floated through the open doors and to her.
"You really want the Weasley girl, Zabini?" Malfoy said. Zabini's laughter was hearty and warm.
"She's rebounding, I think. But damn me to hell if I don't try. She's beautiful, and if there's anyone who could convince me to spend my money in Britain, it's her." Zabini said.
Hermione took a note of that. That's one way to secure some money at least, if Ginny was actually willing.
Malfoy scoffed, but Zabini laughed. Hermione had missed something.
"You've got the best looking girl tonight, go enjoy it." Malfoy said.
"What about Granger?" Zabini said. Hermione thought her heart had stopped in the attempt to stay completely still.
"What about her?" Malfoy said, his voice arrogant.
"She's gorgeous. Are you blind?" Zabini said. Hermione could hear his laughter and amusement, the teasing in his voice.
"Barely tolerable." Malfoy said shortly.
"If you say so, mate." Zabini said. And then their voices stopped. Hermione felt herself breathe, the tightness that caused pain in her chest now alleviated. She got to her feet and peered around the door and didn't see them. Hermione really wanted to leave.
Quickly sidestepping bodies and people that were drunkenly stumbling, she looked for her parents. Finally she found them sitting and laughing with Molly and Arthur. The scene reminded Hermione strangely of a holiday office party.
"Mom!" Hermione said. "Are you guys ready to go home?"
"In a moment honey!" Hermione's mother said, and she threw her head back in a girlish giggle, slapping her hand on her husband's lap. "We want to see Ginny dance with Mr Zabini, they're a vision together!"
Hermione paled and spun around. And sure enough, Zabini and Ginny were waiting on the edge of the dance floor for the next song to begin. Hermione's mother stood up beside her and leaned onto her husband's shoulder as she tiptoed as though trying to see a stage at a theatre.
When the song started, Ginny and Zabini glided to the center of the floor effortlessly and spiralled dramatically, Ginny's green trailing dress forming glistening emerald swirls and looked like liquid flowing through the air.
"Shit, shit." Hermione swore. She looked around to find Harry again and she met his green eyes from across the room. He gave Hermione a sad shrug and disappeared behind the line of spectators.
"Weasley broke precious Potter's heart?" Malfoy said from beside her. Hermione didn't hear him come up to her, he was so silent. She glanced sideways at him, not sparing him longer than a second and twisted her mouth in disapproval.
"Come on, Granger." Malfoy said. "If our best friends get married, we'll be seeing each other more often."
Hermione knew he had to be joking. He didn't think Zabini would actually marry Ginny, right? She made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat.
"What can I do?" Malfoy said, teasing and still arrogant. Like he was a cat playing with a mouse, enjoying the game of getting ready to pounce on prey. Hermione turned and looked him in the eyes. Her chin had tilted up even though he stood two feet away, and she could smell the 'old money' smell that seemed to be his choice of fragrance, even sandwiched between so many bodies. She knew it was him because he smelled like a library. Old magic, leather bound parchment and ink. And something more earthy.
Hermione was glaring at him and he wore his smirk as he looked down his pointed chin. His eyes were a cold grey but shone, twinkled almost with his mischief. He was goading her. Fucking superior piece of-.
"Well Granger? How do I make you like me?" Malfoy said. Hermione smiled a wicked smile, feeling her venom for the entire night pooling on her tongue. She delivered the line sweetly as she could.
"Dancing, even if one's partner is barely tolerable." Hermione said. She turned and walked away from him, hoping her parents had noticed her exit. And if they hadn't, she wasn't about to go back into the Great Hall and risk ruining the satisfaction she got from having the last word.
Hermione's parents wouldn't shut up about last night and she listened to them with a shadow of a smile on her face. Despite her annoyance with the night, she enjoyed seeing them happy. She was grateful that now she could look at them, her actual parents, and they weren't Wendell and Monica Wilkins.
Sometimes, Hermione thought it was exaggerated far too often how smart she was. But for the case of finding her parents and reversing the memory alterations she had done so that she was completely nonexistent, she had to give herself credit. She had told herself she had no choice but to succeed, if she hadn't, she didn't know how she could live with herself.
A sharp knocking on the glass window beside her head where she sat lounging in a squishy armchair, pulled her from her thoughts. It was the Weasleys' owl, not Errol but a frazzled looking young owl with the feathers on his head sticking up. Hermione opened the window and offered him a bit of toast which he pecked at as she took the letter from his leg.
Ginny's elegant writing addressed it to her.
' You're not going to believe this. Zabini asked me to lunch at the Vie on Saturday. Do you want to come? - Gin'
Hermione read and reread it. Of course Ginny was going to go. It was free lunch at the highest rated wizarding hotel in London. The meals there were said to be astounding and worth every penny if you had it to spend. And Zabini did. Anybody would be a fool to pass that up. But Hermione would call herself a fool because there was no way she was about to spend time willingly to do anything remotely social, resembling courting no less.
She wrote a quick response to say that she should enjoy herself, and to write to her about it when she could. Hermione wasn't the kind of person to deprive her friends of their joys.
Hermione wrote to Harry later that day to ask how he was faring after the whole mess of a night that was the Prevalence Ball. She didn't expect a response.
The Prevalence Ball was on a Thursday night, so Hermione spent the next couple days browsing the local newspapers for random job postings, what little there was, in the hopes she could occupy her mind. She had sent an application to work at the Diagon Alley Library, but she left her real name off of it because she didn't want favouritism. She wanted a position off her own merit and didn't want to take a job away from someone else more qualified.
By Saturday night, the young, frazzled owl was knocking on her bedroom window. Hermione got out of bed and opened it, the owl hopped in and hooted woefully. Hermione patted his head gently and looked to her writing desk for owl treats to give him one. While he pushed it around at his feet, Hermione unrolled the note.
Ginny.
'Hey, so I got some kind of flu, and because it's obviously a magical fucking ailment, I'm being told to quarantine. Blaise has an extra room in his penthouse. I'll be getting a potion to prevent it from spreading soon, so come visit me tomorrow. Please. Being here alone is weird. Exciting, cuz holy shit Hermione, this place is amazing, but it's still weird. - Gin'
Hermione scanned it once more and looked at her clock that was mounted on the wall above her desk. It was 11 pm. She scrawled a message, ' I'll see you at 12', and attached it to the bird's leg. She really needed to ask his name.
Ginny had called Zabini 'Blaise' and Hermione was very interested about when that started happening.
"I hope you're okay for one more trip, little guy." Hermione said. She scratched his chin, he nipped at her fingers playfully, and then turned and spread his wings. The cool air pushed Hermione's hair from her shoulders and she sighed at the moonlight.
When the morning came, Hermione found it hard to motivate herself to move. Sometimes, rarely, when there were actual plans to look forward to, she would be eager to get along with the day in anticipation of the difference in her days. Lately, all the days had melded together and it was becoming harder and harder to tell the days apart. She didn't even know how long it had been since she went out just for fun. Nobody had the money for fun, nor the motivation.
Hermione dressed in her comfortable wide legged cotton pants and a cotton shirt. It wasn't dressy and for a second, the words ' The Vie' and she felt severely underdressed. She found a blazer and threw it on. That was the most amount of effort she was willing to exert.
When it was five minutes to the hour, she waved goodbye to her excited parents, both of whom were always eager when Hermione left the house as rare as it was. She strode to an alleyway and apparated to the apparition point near the Vie.
Exactly what she expected, a Sunday outside the Vie was filled with regular London goers who did not notice the towering building on the corner. It had golden accents at every possible space along the windows and trimmings, and long vines with magical blossoms draping dramatically over the sides, littering bright pinks, reds, and oranges across the walls.
Hermione strode to where broad double doors stood, they opened automatically to her and she entered. It was a cavernous Lobby, and it was littered with well dressed wizards and witches in tailcoats of red and black. She stalled and looked around for a reception desk, but everyone was occupied.
"Granger."
Hermione felt a cold trickle down her spine.
"Malfoy." Hermione said. She turned to look at him. "I didn't know you were staying with Zabini."
"Otherwise you wouldn't be here?" Malfoy smirked.
"You know me better than I thought." Hermione said. She rocked on her feet, feeling awkwardness build because she didn't know how to proceed. She glanced again at the reception desk. Malfoy sighed.
"Come on, Granger." he said. Hermione watched as he walked away toward a lift. Her feet were frozen in place. Malfoy had gone ten steps before he stopped, realising she had not followed him. He looked over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. "I'm taking you to see your friend, didn't you come to see her?"
Hermione's feet lurched forward but she kept three paces behind him; she wanted to keep him in view at all times.
"Did she tell anyone I was coming?" Hermione asked. They got to a golden lift and Malfoy stood aside to let her in first before he walked in behind her. The lifts reminded Hermione of the Ministry lifts and hoped these only went up and down, not sideways and in violence. Malfoy stared forward after touching something and Hermione waited patiently for a response. She didn't truly want a conversation with him, but the awkwardness was forcing her tongue into words against her will.
"I was there to get you because Weasley informed Blaise that you were coming." Malfoy said.
"And you stuck around to do your mate's bidding?" Hermione asked. She was curious but she disguised it behind teasing.
"Blaise had been...exposed...to Weasley and is also in quarantine. But I have the potions for them to prevent the contagion, so you can see her safely." Malfoy said. Hermione was taken aback. A thought occurred to her.
"Did you make it yourself?" Hermione asked. She hadn't been able to make potions since they had run out of money for any kind of hobbies that cost that kind of gold. And potions ingredients were expensive, the ones you couldn't forage yourself anyway.
Malfoy grunted and the lift rattled to a stop. He slid the gate open, stood aside for her to disembark and then followed her into the corridor. Hermione gave him a wide berth and allowed him to lead her, still afraid to be too near.
The carpet was sprinkled with stars in a pattern that reminded Hermione of old cinema's carpets. But the patterns moved beneath their feet, like it was mimicking the night sky. The corridors were lined with unwavering candles that didn't flicker with Malfoy's quick pace. The ceiling looked golden and reflected light back down at them from the candles. Doors that lined the corridors were huge and ornate, looking as though they belonged more on the front of a mansion than in a corridor.
After a minute, he stopped at a door and turned to look at her. Hermione paused, at least five feet away.
"What?" she asked. He slid his hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a tiny vial.
"Take that, I already took mine. We won't get what they have." Malfoy said. He was holding it out to her and she noticed how slender his fingers were, how big his hands were. When she lifted her hand to meet his, her own palm dwarfed in comparison. When did he grow up?
She snatched her hand away and looked at the vial. It was purple and clear, like a lavender infused tea. She uncorked it, sniffed it, and it smelled like a cough syrup she knew her parents would take whenever they got sick.
"This smells like muggle medicine." Hermione said. Malfoy simply looked at her. "If you're drugging me, I swear I'll kill you."
She shut her eyes and tilted the contents into her throat. A light warmth spread to her fingertips, the way alcohol did on a cold night. Then nothing.
Malfoy lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. With a click, it opened. Hermione followed him in and promptly lost sight of him as he disappeared around a corner. This was absolutely ridiculous.
It felt like every window was glass, floor to window. It felt like no barrier existed and you could get sucked into the sky. The room was draped in an off white coloured fabric; curtains, seat coverings, napkins, the couches. The wallpaper was velvety smooth, maybe even velvet, because when Hermione touched it, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a bar, a lounge, a fireplace, and a single shelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling.
It felt like someone had catalogued what Hermione thought any pureblood Slytherin's house looked like and vomited it into existence. This is probably what Sirius's house looked like before it fell into disrepair.
Subtle green stripes had lined everything, where the stitches would was like the way white stitching looked on a grey suit. It was there, you knew something was popping a different colour, but it took some looking to realise it was simply the colour of the thread. Hermione tore her eyes from her surroundings and tried to find Malfoy. There were three double doors, and she hadn't paid attention to which he had disappeared though.
Maybe the right. He disappeared through the right, right? Hermione hesitated, her hand hovering at the handle. The door burst open.
"Granger?" And she was face to face with Malfoy. His throat pulsed at her eye level and she looked up and took a quick step back.
"You just left me here." she said. Her hands made a flourish she immediately wished it hadn't.
"You didn't follow." Malfoy said. He tilted his head very slightly to the side.
"Oh whatever, where is Ginny?" Hermione said impatiently and pushed past him. Narcissa was smoothening her hair with her hands and wand and Hermione froze.
"Granger, you remember my mother, Narcissa." Malfoy strode into the room that was equally absurd. If that was a lounge, this was a full blown drawing room, the walls lined with even more books and various desks in the corners for drawing or writing or reading.
"Hi Mrs-Ms Mal-Black." Hermione bit her tongue, she was doing a fantastic job. Narcissa gave her a small smile.
"Yes, I know. It's confusing at first. Call me Narcissa, if you can manage." She responded cooly. Hermione thought there was humour sparkling in her eyes but Narcissa turned away far too quickly.
"Goose!" Malfoy said sharply. A small pop and a house elf appeared. He was potbellied, wore a waistcoat that looked like a dress and long grey hair was sticking out in tufts. "Take Granger to see Ginny."
Hermione's eyes flew up to Malfoy's mouth at the mention of Ginny's name. He had said Ginny, right? Not Weasley?
Just what had Ginny done to be so friendly with everyone in the span of two nights. Friendly with Malfoy? Hermione thought as the elf led her through a series of doors and into a tall, very pale blue room. It was like cotton candy, but frosted. A massive canopied bed was in the center and the room was fully furnished, with two squishy armchairs, a writing table, a cupboard, a fireplace and a chest.
Ginny was buried under mounds of covers, her hands thrown above her head and her skin dewy.
"Hey Gin, how are you feeling?" Hermione asked. She approached her without hesitation and sank a few inches into the soft bed as she sat near her friend's head. Hermione placed the back of her hand on Ginny's forehead like her mother would do whenever she'd ask Hermione if she was feeling okay. Hermione used to have to constantly remind her that muggle illnesses couldn't affect her, and Hermione was lucky enough that she was never sick with magical maladies either.
Ginny looked tired, her eyes puffy, but her smile and the blaze in her eye were without restraint.
"Blaise is a good time. Too good it seems." she said with a toothy grin.
"Blaise in the span of two days?" Hermione said. She had been surprised to hear it said out loud. It wasn't just in writing anymore.
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked. She snuggled into the bed and sighed at the ceiling, fatigue more than annoyance.
"You're already calling him by his first name, Gin." Hermione said patiently.
"Oh that. Yea, it's just Blaise, I s'pose." Ginny said. She shut her eyes. "We were in Slug Club together, remember? He's not so bad."
"What about Malfoy? You got him calling you Ginny like you're pals." Hermione teased.
"I think that's his mother's doing." Ginny said. "She seems to be prodding him to make friends."
"Ha!" Hermione laughed. "That's pretty funny."
"I haven't actually heard her say the words though, but every time she's in the room, he calls everyone by their first names." Ginny said.
"Not me. He called me Granger." Hermione said.
"You must be special then." Ginny teased. She was sounding more like herself the longer she talked.
"Hey, did he give you something to take from a vial? Purple and clear?" Hermione asked.
"Hmm. Goose did." Ginny said.
"It seems like you're already feeling better." Hermione said. She pressed the back of her hand to Ginny's forehead again and it wasn't dewy anymore.
"That's my natural charm, thank you." Ginny said with one eye open and peering at Hermione.
"I don't mean your stupid quips. I mean your physical state." Hermione said.
"Oh yea, I do feel better." Ginny said. She flapped her arms and sat up. "Woah, what was in that vial?"
"I think it was the cure." Hermione said. She wondered for a second if Malfoy had bought it or made it. She knew he said he made it but did not trust him anyway. Was this a new flu? Brought over by the war? Did he invent the recipe? Did he make an already existing recipe and then claim it as his own? That certainly suited his arrogance.
She pushed the thought from her mind and returned her attention to Ginny.
"So, can we go home now?" Hermione asked sheepishly. "I don't want to be here longer than I have to."
"Can't you entertain your almost-sister-in-law's whims? Being here with Malfoy as a third wheel is so weird sometimes." Ginny said.
"He's stays with you guys?" Hermione asked.
"No, no, not the whole night or anything. Just for dinner with his mother." Ginny said. She rolled her eyes as though Hermione had made the worst joke.
"Listen, you're okay, I know you're okay, I can see that you're okay. So I'm going to leave." Hermione said. She slid off the bed and landed on the carpet with a thud. The door opened.
Narcissa stood elegantly with her hand delicately on the door handle. She smiled at Ginny warmly and then her eyes met Hermione's.
"You'll stay with us for lunch, won't you dear?" she asked. A word tried and failed to escape her throat and it sounded like a squeak. She tried again.
"If you want me to, Mrs-Ms-Ma-Black." Hermione said. Hermione heard stifled laughter behind her and Hermione shot a glare over her shoulder. She felt warmth rising in her cheeks and she was sure she had turned pink as though sun burnt.
"Narcissa, please." Narcissa insisted. She smiled at Hermione. "I'll see you both in twenty minutes?"
"Yes! I finally have an appetite, I can't wait to eat." Ginny said happily. Narcissa closed the door behind her and Ginny was already in the ensuite bathroom getting cleaned up.
"Do you even have clothes to change into?" Hermione called toward the bathroom. There was a pause in movement from in the bathroom and Ginny stuck her head out.
"I don't know." she said after a moment. "Goose!"
A small pop and the old house elf with his waistcoat, waiting expectantly for orders.
"Hey, um-" Ginny said nervously, "Did Blai-Mr Zabini have any clothes for me?"
"Yes, Ms Weasley. Shall I get it for you?" Goose said.
"Yes-please!" Ginny said brightly. And with another pop, he was gone.
"You're not used to a house elf, are you?" Hermione asked. She remembered Kreacher fondly, she was so proud of Harry when he had been kind to Kreacher. And Kreacher turned into a different elf altogether. That seemed like ten years ago now. Hermione wondered where Kreacher was, if Harry even cared. She scolded herself, because she didn't care until two seconds ago when Goose was in the room with them. She had filed the last of the paperwork maybe two years ago, and house elves were all freed with the option to stay and serve the houses and families they had served for generations. But by being free, they were afforded rights and mistreatment was punishable by law.
That was Hermione's last big contribution to Wizarding Britain after the war.
"The house elves at Hogwarts were always out of sight. And Dobby wasn't like the others, was he." Ginny said. "And the kitchen elves aren't like a regular house elf either, they're just, I can't have them serving me like that." Ginny said.
"Not after the war and everything we watched everyone go through, I know." Hermione finished for her.
Another pop and Goose was back. With him, hovering beside him neatly, was a champagne coloured dress.
"Oh!" Ginny said in surprise. "Isn't there anything less- just less?"
"This is what Master Zabini wants you to wear." Goose said unhelpfully.
"Oh, alright then." Goose disappeared with a pop.
"If you wear that, then I'd look like a right fool." Hermione said. She groaned and sank into the bed.
"Why don't we ask Malfoy what he'd like to see you in? Then you won't be underdressed at all." Ginny teased. She closed the door before the pillow Hermione had aimed at her could make contact.
"When did they start using muggle clothing?" Hermione said to the door. A muffled voice sounded like Ginny yelling she didn't know. Hermione listened to the sound of the shower and her eyes closed sleepily, the bed sucking her in. She fell back with a poof.