So I hope that you all can forgive me, considering as I've completely botched my promises for when I would update the story. I've just started college, and so things are a little hectic, as you can imagine. To be honest, I also had absolutely no idea what I wanted to have happen during the ball, so that held me up for a week or two, so... but anyway, you're not here to listen to/read cruddy old explanations from me. Just as a reminder for the legal disclaimer, the concept of Harry Potter and all the characters do not belong to me, as we all know who they belong to. I really do hope you enjoy this chapter, so read on! As usual, please forgive any grammatical or spelling errors.
Chapter Four: Looking Under Rocks
"So you really hang around with slaves?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione found their conversation interrupted as they all turned to see a snobbish boy with slicked back blond hair and peevish gray eyes sneering at them. The primary colors of his cloak and garments were green and silver, not at all like the primary red and gold of Harry's riding clothes. Immediately he got the sense that this wasn't someone from around the palace.
As though he weren't waiting for a response other than their attention, the boy continued. "When Sir Marcus Flint came back telling us that the Potter prince did nothing but laze about with a knight and a servant girl, I thought he was joking. But now I can clearly see that he was right about you, and the company you keep."
Harry frowned. He remembered Sir Marcus Flint, a nasty nobleman from Slytherin who'd come to negotiate a territory treaty with Remus just months before.
"You're from Slytherin. Arrive with the royal family this morning, did you, sir?" Hermione questioned from Harry's side. The blond boy's eyes immediately zeroed in on her, and his sneer became a malevolent smirk.
"Caught on, did you?" he snickered. "I am the royal family, you stupid girl. You'd better address me as Your Highness, before I have you sent to prison for insubordination."
"Leave her alone," Ron snarled, and the young boy's eyes came to rest on the Gryffindor squire.
"And you, a Weasley? My father says your house breeds like disgusting little rabbits. When's the next one of your sorry hides is going to come along?"
There would have been blood spilled on the floor of the Gryffindor palace that day if Hermione and Harry hadn't managed to hold their friend back from what would have surely been a rather nasty fight.
H&Hr&R&H&Hr&R
The arrival of the Malfoys did absolutely nothing to add to the festive feel of the air. In fact, with Prince Draco constantly sneering at Harry and his friends, it most certainly took away from their enjoyment of all the new and interesting people in the castle.
And there certainly wasn't a lack of them as the Hallow's Eve Ball drew nearer and nearer.
Famous knights and their kin, as well as nobles and royals from all kingdoms came to attend the ball. And many of the knights that had come to Gryffindor would be joining Kingsley in his search for the Death Eaters.
This group included men like the knight commonly known as Mad-Eye Moody (a "batty old codger", according to Ron), who was renowned as one of the most famous trackers in all of Gryffindor. It also included two of Ron's older brothers, as well as one of the very few female knights in the realm - a surprisingly clumsy young woman from the kingdom of Hufflepuff named Nymphadora Tonks, and the trio was surprised to learn that the rather cheerful woman actually had her family roots in the kingdom of Slytherin, and was related to the Malfoys.
As the ball drew closer and closer, Harry found that Hermione was becoming harder to find. She seemingly always had work to do, which was understandable, of course, but even after work ceased for the day, he could hardly ever find her. Not even in her homestead, where her worried parents confessed that their daughter wasn't coming home until exceedingly early in the morning.
Ron was unbothered by the lack of their friend's presence.
"All because official work for the day ends doesn't mean there isn't still stuff to be done," he reminded the prince when Harry had asked about it one morning. "They probably have Hermione working double. Plenty of the servants around here are."
Jeers from the Malfoy prince hardly made anything better.
But when the ball finally came, the palace of the Potter family became a beacon of colorful lights and grand music. While the guests in the palace gathered in their finest garments to attend the great ball, thousands of villagers throughout Gryffindor gathered in their town squares to dance and make merry in honor of the defeat of the Dark Lord.
Harry was standing in his quarters, waiting to go down to the ball, dateless for the evening. Although he was going "stag", as Sirius so fondly put it, it wasn't for a lack of offers.
Cho Chang, a rather pretty young noble maiden from Ravenclaw, had offered her hand to the young prince, as had a few young ladies from around Gryffindor, but Harry had uncomfortably denied every single one of them. Every time he even thought about accepting their invitations, he couldn't help but think of a certain frizzy-haired brunette servant girl… and lost the spirit.
He adjusted his sleeve as he looked himself in the mirror, not for the first time thinking of how absolutely ridiculous he looked. His robes were a deep crimson red, honorary of his house and kingdom, and a small golden crown was sitting uncomfortable atop his raven black hair. His dark shining boots (which had been polished earlier by the palace cobblers and their apprentices) clicked annoyingly against the stone of his floor, and a decorative sword and scabbard hung at his hip. In summary, he felt like a doll that had been dressed by an overactive designer.
The sound of his door opening caused the prince to turn around, and Harry found himself looking at an extremely flustered, and worn out Hermione.
"Harry!" she exclaimed with a squeak, and Harry was confused to note that she actually looked panicked to be in his presence. "They told me you'd already gone down to the ball."
"Well, I haven't," he replied, frowning. "Did you not want to see me?"
"Oh, it's never that, Harry, you know it's not," Hermione said in a rush. She was carrying blankets - probably his fresh linens - and she set them down on his bed and started to fuss with them, avoiding looking at him. When silence stretched for a moment more, Harry looking at her expectantly, she let out a sigh. "It's never been that I haven't wanted to see you, it's just… well, you see, there's just been a lot of pressure."
"On you?"
"Er, in a way," Hermione replied. She looked so uncomfortable that it was beginning to make even Harry feel a bit awkward. "Oh, Harry, you'd think it was so ridiculous."
"Why?"
Hermione looked at him desperately. "It's just that- now, don't laugh, but a lot of the elder servants don't want me around you anymore. They think we fancy each other!"
"Why would they think that?"
"Oh, I don't know, it's so silly, the whole thing," Hermione replied. She looked relieved that he'd taken it the way he had, and suddenly she was much more relaxed than she had been just a moment ago. "I think it's just because there are all these women from the other kingdoms and that you being around me looks bad."
"'Mione, you know I've never cared about any of that. You're one of my best friends."
"I know, Harry, but me just saying that to my superiors doesn't do anything for anyone."
Harry frowned. He hated to think that the entire reason he hadn't seen much of her in the past few days was simply because someone thought it would look bad that his best friend happened to be a female serving girl. Let alone that he had offered to make her a free woman hundreds of times over in the past few years. "Who do I need to talk to about this?" he demanded.
"That won't do anything, Harry, it'll just make them angrier. Honestly, it's alright."
"I've hardly spoken to you these past few days," Harry told her. "I don't want it to be like this all the time."
She gave him a somewhat pleading look. "Harry, I'm sure it's just until the ball is over with and all of the noble women have gone. There's no need to make something out of this that it isn't."
Another thought occurred to the young prince. "You're not going to be at the ball?"
The question seemed to catch Hermione rather off guard. "I, er, of course not." She looked confused. "Why would I be? I'm a servant girl, Harry, and the only people who would be keeping an eye on things tonight are guards."
"I was just wondering."
There was another moment of silence, and Hermione's eyes roved over him as if inspecting his outfit. For the first time this evening, Harry actually felt a spark of nervousness as if he genuinely cared what Hermione thought he looked like. Her eyes went to rest at the crown atop his head, and she frowned contemplatively.
"It's a little crooked," she told him. When Harry reached up to fix it, she shook her head. "No, you're making it worse. Here."
Without warning, Hermione was suddenly very close to him, and Harry resisted the urge to gulp as she stretched up. Wondering why he was so genuinely affected by her closeness, he took the moment to observe what it was about her that had him unreasonably anxious.
Her face was pretty and heart-shaped, he noted, albeit a little smudged with dirt, her nose slightly wrinkled in concentration. Harry found himself staring at her warm chocolate brown eyes, softened as she appeared focused on reaching up herself to fix the golden crown on top of his head. His eyes were also drawn to her lips, and for the very first time in his life, Harry wondered what it would be like to just move in a little closer and cover those full pink lips with his own. Her fingers threaded gently through his hair as she attempted to move the crown around on his head, and after almost ten seconds, she seemed to have gotten it right before stepping away.
Blinking, Harry snapped out of his reverie and wondered that on earth had just been going through his mind. Startled by what had just transpired, he almost didn't hear Hermione murmur,
"Now you really do look like a king."
He opened his mouth to correct her that he wouldn't be king for another two years when the door unceremoniously opened and suddenly Ron was standing there, and he stopped when he saw Hermione before flashing her a grin and looking at Harry rather seriously.
"They're starting to get antsy, Harry," he said. "King Remus has been asking around to see if you've come down yet, and some of the guards are considering storming up here to make sure you haven't been kidnapped. We'd better get you out there. Alright there, Hermione?"
Their redheaded friend looked over towards the bushy-haired young woman, who just smiled at him. "I'm fine, Ron. I hope the pair of you have a fun time."
And that was the last time that Harry saw her that night.
H&Hr&R&H&Hr&R
But, unfortunately, it was most definitely not the last time he thought about her that night.
After (and in a few cases, during) every dance, Harry found himself going back to that moment in his chambers, how it felt to have Hermione, a girl he knew so unbelievably well and had been around for eight years, to be that close. More often than not he chalked it up to the fact that they simply had never been that close before, and it was only because of that reason alone that he was thinking about it so often.
And yet, on occasion, a brief thought would flash through his mind that maybe it was something more than that. Something more that was making him wish tonight, more than ever before, that it was Hermione that he could be dancing with.
"Alright, there, Harry?" It was about halfway through the ball itself, and suddenly Sirius had appeared at Harry's side as if he'd just Apparated. Or perhaps it simply seemed that way because Harry hadn't been paying attention. It was probably the latter. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, a drink of what looked like firewhiskey in his other hand.
"Shouldn't you be going a bit easy on the drinks tonight?" Harry asked skeptically, unable to keep a grin off his face as he looked at his godfather. "You're heading out with Kingsley tomorrow morning, aren't you?"
"Ah, a little bit of firewhiskey never killed anyone," Sirius replied flippantly, taking a drink from his glass. "Besides, this isn't nearly enough to make me regret it in the morning."
"And thank goodness for that." With that, King Remus was now on Harry's other side, looking reasonably amused and in high spirits. "Or else we all would have regretted it tonight."
"Like I'm sure you're regretting those four dances you've had with the lady knight Tonks from Hufflepuff," Sirius snickered, and Harry grinned to see Remus beginning to get flustered.
"That's hardly a matter I think is appropriate for discussion," Remus answered stiffly.
"Either way, Harry still hasn't answered my question. You alright, pup?" Sirius questioned, taking another swig of his firewhiskey.
Harry looked out at all the dancing couples, adjusting the collar of his dress robes. "I don't know," he answered honestly. This certainly wasn't the best he'd ever felt at a Hallow's Eve Ball, and all of these contemplations about Hermione and the developing situation with the Death Eaters were really beginning to throw his mind for a spin. "I just… I'm not sure how I should feel right now. And I've got a lot on my mind."
Remus and Sirius gave each other somewhat knowing looks behind Harry's back.
Sirius clapped his godson on the shoulder again. "Well, whoever the lady is, she sure as hell is one lucky wench," he said cheerfully, as if this was an every-day conversation.
Harry gave him a startled look.
"It's remarkable, really, that your father said about the same thing about twenty or so years ago about a remarkably stunning red-haired peasant girl. Bright green eyes, real fiery personality," Sirius told him reminiscently. "Was that before or after she slapped him and got arrested, eh, Moony?"
"My Mum got arrested?"
"For attempting to harm the prince," Remus supplied. "Your father, of course, got her out of that spot of trouble. It was definitely after, Sirius, you know that's how they met."
"Why'd she slap him?" Harry questioned.
Sirius smirked. "Right fierce little trollop she was," he said with a certain level of fondness in his voice. "We were walking through the village, actually, just exploring a bit. We had some guards undercover following us - things were a tad tense in the kingdom at the time... well, sure enough, your mother was working at a flower stall near a tavern we were particularly fond of, and as you can imagine, your father thought it would be a right time to try an flirt her up a bit. Ended up saying something that wasn't too innocent and she slapped him right across the face. It was only after she was arrested that she realized she'd just slapped the prince of Gryffindor."
Harry was grinning by the end of the story.
"They became the fairy tale couple. Gave girls all around Hogwarts confidence, thinking that even peasant girls could marry a prince," Sirius continued. "They got married about a year after they met, and well, then they had you."
"James' parents weren't too happy with him, though," Remus added. "Remember how they wanted him to marry that maiden from Hufflepuff?"
"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about Amelia Bones," Sirius remarked, scratching his chin. "Wonder what happened to her."
Harry, not entirely sure of how much more he wanted to hear about all this, quietly excused himself and went to escape from what was quickly becoming a reminiscing session between his two godfathers.
Not less than ten minutes later, the night only took a turn for the worse.
Harry was drinking a glass of wine, having just had a rather odd conversation with Princess Luna Lovegood, and the princess was walking away from him when he heard a rather sneering voice in his ear.
"So where's your grimy sidekick Weasley and your little Mudblood tart?"
Gritting his teeth, Harry turned to find himself face to face with Prince Draco, who was observing him with a smirk. The Slytherin prince's hair was slicked back, as it normally was, and his gray eyes held hints of rather vicious malice.
Ron was out on the dance floor, dancing with some noblewoman from Ravenclaw, it looked like, and of course Harry knew Hermione was nowhere near the ball tonight. Not finding it worth the anger to answer the prince of Slytherin, Harry turned away in the hopes that Malfoy would just give up and leave. But, naturally, it didn't exactly go his way.
"She's a pretty little thing, your slave. The years since I've seen her last have treated her well, it looks like," Draco continued to drawl, stepping up to be right next to Harry, who was now gripping his wine glass with a vice-like grip. "Though I'm sure you've been experiencing that firsthand."
"Malfoy, I really don't think you should be sticking that nose where it doesn't belong," Harry growled. "You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, and quite frankly, neither do I." He took an angry drink from his wineglass.
"Oh, no matter, no matter. My next question was only going to be if she really was the minx under the sheets that she looks like she could be."
Harry almost choked on his wine. To hear Hermione being spoken of so crudely was almost enough to make Harry simply turn and punch the other prince, but for the fact he was in a ballroom surrounded by hundreds of nobles that would most certainly not be impressed with such behavior. Draco seemed to know this, and obviously reveled in that fact as he continued to taunt Harry in his ear.
"You know, I was extremely tempted to try her out the evening we arrived, but I was cut short by the fact that your so-called king invited us to a feast. A Memory Charm of course, afterwards, considering as it's bad image for a prince such as myself to be seducing servant girls from other kingdoms, attractive as though they may be…"
"Shut your mouth about Hermione if you know what's good for you," Harry snarled.
"Oh, hitting a nerve, am I, Potter?"
"Don't talk about her like that."
"What, the little Mudblood servant? She's far beneath our stature, Potter, I'd think you at least thought somewhat highly of yourself."
"I said to shut your mouth," Harry growled.
Draco was clearly enjoying this. "Or what will happen, Potter?"
"Or I'll throw your arse out for talking about a servant girl with language that is expressly frowned upon at Gryffindor Palace." The previous song had ended, and Ron was suddenly in their midst, apparently having seen the two conversing from his spot on the dance floor. The young knight's arms were crossed tightly across his chest, and his sword gleamed dangerously from the scabbard at his side. His hand rested on the hilt, as if he had no qualms with pulling out the weapon itself in a hall crowded with people.
The prince of Slytherin also seemed to recognize this, and he sneered. "We were just talking about you, Weasley. Tell me, is your younger sister here tonight? I haven't had my fill of lowly whores this evening."
Ron let out a noise that was close to that of a feral growl, and Harry could easily see that his best friend was quivering with the effort to not completely obliterate Malfoy. His hand instead moved from his sword to his wand, and he slowly slid it hallway out of its sheath. "Did you want to repeat that, Malfoy? I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you. And if you say it a little louder, I'm sure that King Remus would gladly have you and your family banished from this hall."
Malfoy gave the pair one last glowering glare before stalking off, probably to go find mischief elsewhere. Harry shot Ron both a grateful and a knowing look.
"Thanks for that, mate," Harry said.
Ron shrugged, sliding his wand back into its sheath. It was clear that he was still shaking with anger, and it took a moment for him to calm down enough to actually answer his friend somewhat sanely. "I heard him badmouthing 'Mione. You looked about ready to murder him. You know," he said, now looking thoughtful, "when you become king, I honestly don't think I'd mind if you waged war against Slytherin just so one of us would get the chance to hack his head off in battle."
The pair of them grinned wistfully at the idea, and after that, the ball wasn't all that abysmal for Harry and his young knight friend. He just couldn't help but shake the feeling that night would have felt much more complete if a certain servant girl had been here, having fun right alongside them.
Aw, so I hoped you all enjoyed the next installment. Sorry if the ball wasn't all that you hoped it would be - none of the major plot drama will start for at least a chapter or two, though as you can see the romantic side has started a bit. Let me know how you liked it. Reviews are always appreciated! Again, I hope I did Draco alright, but I'm sorry if I made him a little too nasty. And I also hope that the Harry/Hermione moment earlier didn't seem rushed or badly written. But I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can! Thank you all so much for sticking with me so far.
- Harp