Gossip swirled in the corners of the big ballroom; Hermione Granger had just entered on the arm of a handsome young Ministry employee, and they were dancing now, in the same room, sharing the same dance floor with Draco Malfoy and his rumored fiancee.
A bright whirlpool of dress robes in every color imaginable surged on the dance floor, the music and laughter and shrieks of merriment almost a complete sensory overload, spinning out of control and beginning to sound distorted and even demonic, assaulting the girl's ears as she tried to keep her head. She had begun to feel as she had once when she had taken an overly large sip of Firewhiskey at Harry's last birthday party; she hadn't liked it then, and she certainly didn't like feeling it now.
She could hear the gossip; the offenders weren't bothering to avert their stares or even to keep their voices down as she and Ernie glided past them in the steps of the waltz that was playing.
Worse, she knew all eyes were on her for a completely different reason as well, one that she was never going to get used to, it seemed. Ginny had been a bit over-zealous with the picking of her dress robes – the garment fit like a second skin and was cut too low for Hermione's taste, although (and this she didn't realize because of her own distaste for it) it wasn't nearly as bad as she imagined it to be.
In fact, it was quite beautiful, the fabric resembled liquid silver and while it did cling to her as if it were a cascade of water down her body, it was done in a tasteful way that she might have liked under different circumstances. The neckline, which was nowhere near as low as Hermione fancied it to be, was a halter-style that fastened behind her neck and under the thick mass of her hair, which Ginny had styled into smooth, loose curls.
Her makeup was simple: dark, smoky eyes (she'd never worn her eye makeup like that before) and barely any other cosmetics at all. Here Ginny had agreed with her, finally. Less, she had said, was sometimes more. Hermione had heaved a sigh of relief at that.
But now, in the middle of a crowded ballroom and surrounded by prying eyes and gossiping tongues, she thought maybe she would have liked to have some of her mother's vanishing cream, had it only worked the way she imagined it did when she was a little girl. She giggled before she could stop herself.
"What is it?" Ernie asked with a surprised smile. He twirled her out and then back into his arms again, and it was Hermione's turn to be surprised.
"I never knew you were such a lovely dancer," she remarked almost breathlessly as he steadied her with strong, capable hands when she nearly lost her balance.
"You never asked," Ernie chuckled. "Now why were you laughing if it wasn't at my dancing proficiency?"
Hermione smiled, letting her mind drift back to a brightly-lit room, a counter that was eye-level, the row of different-shaped bottles and tubes and containers that were lined carefully, and the pair of brown eyes under a shock of frizzy hair that stared back at her from the mirror set behind it all.
"I was remembering being four years old, standing at my mother's vanity," she said in a slightly dreamy voice. "I saw a tub of something labeled 'vanishing cream,' and it frightened me a bit." She paused to laugh and shake her head. "My mother laughed so hard when I asked her if it really made things disappear…she tried to explain to me, and I understood, but I still liked to imagine that it was –" here she collapsed into almost hysterical laughter and Ernie finished her sentence for her:
"Magic?" He was laughing now, too. Hermione, helpless with mirth, could only nod. Their laughter subsided after a few minutes, and Ernie stared at her in slight awe for a moment.
"What?" she asked, a bit impatiently now. She never would get used to being stared at like that, and it seemed as though Ernie would never be able to stop looking at her that way.
"You're telling me you could read when you were four years old?"
This question surprised her and she laughed again, nodding. Whatever she had been expecting, she certainly hadn't exactly been expecting that.
Ernie let out a low whistle. "You just get more interesting all the time, don't you?"
Hermione's laughter stopped a bit abruptly. She forced another chuckle and was thankfully saved by the end of the waltz as everyone stopped dancing and began to applaud.
She had been afraid this was going to happen. She had first suspected it when he had invited her to this blasted dance, and he had confirmed it several times already this evening; her fears were coming true and she felt helpless to stop it from happening. He was getting serious, and as much as she liked Ernie, she just couldn't do serious right now. If ever. And certainly not with him.
That realization almost knocked the breath out of her and she could feel the panic attack returning. When had she decided that she couldn't see a serious future with Ernie? Apparently, she just had.
Ernie looked at her with a bit of alarm. "Are you all right?" he asked, hand on her arm as if to steady her. Maybe she looked like she needed steadying. She probably did. All she knew was she needed to get away from this spot, she needed to be alone, she needed to think. God, she couldn't think in here. She couldn't breathe.
"Yes," she choked, then steadied her voice and smiled at Ernie in a way she hoped looked genuine. "Just a little out of breath. I think I need to step out for a moment, that's all."
"All right, then, let's go find a nice, quiet room," Ernie said, taking her elbow in that way she hated and he began to lead her from the dance floor. She snatched her arm away before she thought better of it, and Ernie's face dropped slightly. Enough to shame her.
"Sorry, sorry, you startled me," she said in a rush, feeling terrible. She didn't want to upset him, after all, he was a good friend. A good friend. She smiled a horribly false (to her, it felt that way) smile and took his hand. "I think I need to visit the ladies' room and perhaps splash a bit of water on my face," she said as kindly as she could. Ernie nodded, looking a bit better.
On impulse, Hermione pulled him into a tight hug. Surprised, he wrapped his arms around her and returned it immediately. She raised her face to rest against his cheek and her mouth against his ear. His breath hitched, she noticed, and felt a spasm of guilt in her stomach. I'm really sorry, Ernie, she thought, but I can't give you my heart. It died…and I'm afraid no one will ever be able to bring it back.
"Thank you," she murmured into his ear. His arms tightened around her, and she hated herself for her next words, because she knew they would hurt him, "– for being such a good friend," she finished, and she felt those same arms stiffen around her and that same spasm of guilt, only this time, a feeling of relief washed over her at the same time and she knew she didn't regret her words. She hugged him tighter for a moment, then dropped a chaste kiss on his cheek, and fled.
She couldn't bring herself to look at his face; she blindly fought through the crowd and slipped through the nearest door she could find. She found herself in a small room off the big ballroom, and she sank into the nearest chair. She had intended to get somewhere she could be alone and then allow the panic attack to take over, but now that she was alone, she felt…strangely calm.
"I suppose they're beginning to let just anyone attend these little parties now," a cold voice drawled suddenly from the shadows, and Hermione started violently. She had been quite sure she was alone.
The voice was so familiar to her she would have recognized it anywhere, and the last thing she wanted to be was alone with the owner of it.
"Good evening to you, too," she managed to respond instead of spilling the string of insults that had immediately jumped into her head. She would not stoop to his level. She wouldn't.
"You and…Master Macmillan looked lovely together on the dance floor tonight…jumping from one pureblood line to another, Miss Granger? While I understand your desire to pass on even the slightest drop of pure blood to your…descendants…it's hardly becoming of a girl your age to be skittering around from beau to beau as if they matter little more than the robes you choose to wear from day to day."
"I hardly think it's any of your concern," Hermione bit out. As little regard as she held for Lucius Malfoy, his comments had stung, nonetheless. She was not jumping around, especially not in the way he insinuated…like some…trollop!
She rose to her feet, determined to salvage some of her dignity. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't broken down and had her attack of nerves, or worse, cried in front of this man! She couldn't bear the thought. She straightened her dress and looked him square in the eye, for he had now emerged from the shadows, much like the creeping snake that he was.
"How dare you sit in judgment over me when your own son is rumored to be engaged again so soon! When only a few months ago I found him in bed with…" she couldn't finish. The tears were already beginning to sting the backs of her eyes. Much longer and she would disgrace herself by letting them fall. "And now he's out there on the dance floor with the pureblood hussy I'm sure you hand-picked for him. Speaking of blood, you seem to have quite a slippery memory of exactly how dirty my blood is. Although I would much rather be a Muggle-born, or even a Muggle than have to deal with the likes of you and your family ever again. Don't you sit upon your high horse and pretend that I'm at fault for this. You and your damned mother know where the blame lies. And if you don't, you should take a long hard look in that looking-glass behind you, and she in hers. Good evening, Mr. Malfoy, and if I never see your face again, it will be all too soon."
Chin raised, defiance and righteous fury blazing from every pore of her skin, she swept from the room, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. She cut across the dance floor to the nearest exit, neither noticing nor caring when more than a few heads turned her way as she crossed the room.
When she had gained the perimeter of the Non-Apparition charm that had been placed upon the Enchanted, she turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack that was significantly muffled by the noise of the party in the other room.
A/N : Sorry about the wait, everyone! I've been HORRENDOUSLY sick this past week and today I'm actually feeling halfway-human. Hope you enjoyed Hermione's little rant at Lucius as much as I did! It was fun, and Lucius hadn't seen any "camera-time" yet in this story, so I was delighted when he showed up at the Valentine's Ball. See you next time!