Charlie let out a low whistle, causing the blush to rise in Hermione's cheeks.
"You've certainly outdone yourself this time, Hermione," he said, not taking his eyes off her form. She had spent the afternoon preparing herself for the Ministry's ball, and was incredibly proud of her hard work. She had fixed her hair so it sat atop her head with some of her curls cascading down, and had opted for contact lenses instead of glasses. Her dress was the real standout of the affair, however. It had cost her an arm and a leg, but the floor length white gown was perfect. With a slit that reached her upper thigh and a triangular cut out on the side, it was a little bit risqué, yet still very elegant. When she moved she allowed the world a view of bare leg and glittering silver heels.
When she reached Charlie she took his arm and his eyes flashed to the ring she wore on her index finger. The goblin made piece of jewellery would have cost a fortune, but it had been given to Hermione as a gift, following the war. In the shape of a lion's head, the stunning ring was encrusted with diamonds and two emeralds for eyes. She had never really had a chance to wear it, but it went wonderfully with her dress.
"You are looking quite dashing yourself," Hermione complimented her date for the evening, and this was very true. He had cut his shaggy red hair a bit, so it hung attractively around his face, and he was dressed in an impressive pair of very dark red dress robes. "Very Gryffindor," she added as an afterthought and he chuckled.
"Shall we?" he suggested, and she nodded. The air constricted around her and she was pulled through the tube of apparition. She clutched onto Charlie to regain her footing in her impossibly high heels, grateful that he was there to catch her.
The Ministry of Magic's Charity Ball was being held this year in an abandoned Muggle warehouse. The building had been charmed to repel Muggles, much like Hogwarts, and to any outside who was unaware of the event being held inside, it looked like a dingy, despairing building. Charlie and Hermione had apparated just outside the building, not bothering to be cautious as they knew of the charms placed.
Upon entering, they were attacked by flashes of cameras. Hermione suppressed a groan as Lavender Brown came bouncing over in a hideously pink dress, holding out a magical microphone.
"Hermione! How lovely to see you again! Would you mind giving me an interview? The entire world wants to know where you've been!" the irritating blonde witch gave a high pitched giggle, and Hermione arched her brow.
"After that ridiculous article you wrote about me in the paper, Lavender, I don't think I'll be giving you a single word, other than these: butt out. My private life is private, and none of your concern," Hermione snapped. She felt Charlie's grip around her shoulders tighten slightly as he guided her through the rest of the flashing cameras until they reached two golden doors.
"Are you ready?" he asked and she nodded, keeping her eyes forward. She smoothed out her dress quickly, took Charlie's arm, and stepped forward. The doors swung open magically and the couple glided in. The designers of the interior had certainly outdone themselves.
The elegant room was high ceilinged, colonial style columns holding up the balcony above. The floors were a dark wood and the walls white. An enormous glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, the twinkling lights no doubt fairies. There were white lilies on every table, and their delicious scent clung to the air. Various round tables were scattered around the room, each adorned with a light blue table cloth and sparkling crystal plates, silver cutlery gleaming. At the front of the room was a long table, where she would be seated along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Mariette (much to her distaste) and other important members of British wizarding society.
Soft music played, though there was no visible band, and Hermione recognized the piece to be Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, a particular favourite of hers. The room was otherwise filled with a low hum of conversation, though much of it ceased when her and Charlie entered. Many of the room's occupants turned to face the golden doors, and a collective gasp had risen from the people who recognized her. Of course, she normally would not create such a stir, but as she had been missing for months and was now resurfacing with a different Weasley brother, tongues were bound to wag.
The first person to save the couple from the awkward confrontation was, quite surprisingly, Narcissa Malfoy. The ever elegant witch appeared beside Hermione, smiling warmly.
Prior to the demise of Hermione's charities, Narcissa had been one of the major donators. She was rich and powerful as she was beautiful, and she wished to restore the Malfoy name's glory. The two had not become friends, merely acquaintances, and Hermione was more than willing to accept her donations. Narcissa had greatly warmed to Hermione after the younger witch testified at her husband's trial, helping him avoid Azkaban at the end of the war.
"Good evening, Lady Malfoy," Hermione said smoothly, holding her hand out politely. Narcissa took it without hesitation.
"Good evening, Miss Granger. I must say you are looking absolutely radiant tonight," the older witch said.
"As do you, Lady Malfoy," Hermione returned the compliment, truly meaning it. Narcissa's black dress was as elegant as she, contrasting beautifully against her milky white skin. She wore a beautifully glittering ring, shaped like a snake with purple diamonds for eyes, and matching earrings and her long blonde hair was twisted into a knot at the top of her head.
"You're far too kind. And who is your handsome date?" Narcissa held her hand out to Charlie, who shook it warmly.
"Lady Malfoy, this is a friend of mine, Charlie Weasley," Hermione introduced the two.
"Charmed," Narcissa smiled lightly. "Now, if you will excuse me, my husband wanted to speak with Kingsley, and I believed he wished me to be present. Perhaps we will catch up later, Miss Granger."
Without another word the older witch departed into the crowds, leaving Hermione and Charlie hovering beside an empty table.
"Care to dance?" Charlie offered, holding out his hand to Hermione who nodded and let him lead her to the dance floor.
Draco grimaced as the firewhiskey burnt a trail down his throat, but at least the alcohol was making everything a little bit more bearable.
He had ditched his date within five minutes of the ball's beginning, letting the idiotic brunette trail after an Irish Quidditch player, and was now hiding out at the bar. He repelled most people who approached him with a scowl in their direction, but his darling ex-wife, Astoria Greengrass, seemed to be unaffected by this facial feature, and was making a beeline towards him.
"Drakie, you're looking wonderful," she purred, placing a hand on his forearm.
"Ah, my walking cliché of an ex-wife," he said coldly, jerking his arm from her grasp. "You're looking as outlandishly horrendous as ever."
She frowned at his words and looked down at her metallic pink dress, but then a bright smile graced her face. "Oh, Drakie, you're so funny!" she giggled and he glared back, but the idiotic woman ignored it. "So, do you miss me?"
"Oh, of course I miss you, dearest. How could I not miss your delightful ways of faking pregnancies, or your laugh like a derange hyena? I'm not sure how I've lived without your false nails digging into my arm, nor your beautiful tantrums when I didn't buy you whatever goblin made tiara you wanted," his voice dripped with sarcasm, but the bimbo merely laughed once more.
"I knew you'd miss me, Drakie!" she trilled. Draco ordered another drink. Quickly.
"Salazar's snake, are you really that dense, you imbecilic, pathetic excuse of a witch? I'm not interested. Obviously you cannot distinguish sarcasm, but I'm sure even you can understand this next phrase: fuck off," he growled out the last words, and Astoria's beautiful face crumpled. Immediately her eyes filled with tears and she shuffled away, unable to run in her hideous heels.
Draco, feeling no guilt, turned to face the dance floor, where a beautiful witch was dancing with a redheaded partner. The witch glided along the floor, her white dress making her the picture of innocence, but the high slit giving her a sultry look at the same time. Her graceful movements were intoxicating, and he found himself unable to look away from the dancers. He watched with jealousy as the wizard she danced with pulled her close to his chest. He wished he could be dancing with such a gorgeous woman, but he was standing by himself at the bar, downing his seventh firewhiskey.
Damn it all! He was Draco sodding Malfoy! He was smart, famous, good looking, well groomed, and heir to the vast Malfoy fortune, so why in Salazar's name was he of all people sulking whilst everyone else enjoyed himself? On surprisingly steady feet he pushed away from the bar, determined to intercept the dancers and take the witch for himself.
As the song ended he pushed through the crowd and smoothly took the pretty witch from her partner, who backed away in confusion. It wasn't until he had started to dance did he actually look down at her face, at which point he nearly recoiled in shock.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Granger hissed, trying to pull away.
"Stop fighting. You're making a scene," he recomposed himself quickly, continuing to glide along with the witch who glared up at him.
"I don't care. I was having a perfectly good time with my date until you arrived, so let me go!" she raised her voice ever so slightly, but no one noticed.
"No," he said coolly, instead pulling her flush against him, despite her struggles.
"I'll scream," she threatened.
"No you won't," he rolled his eyes, spinning her but keeping a tight grip on her hand so she could not escape. "So who's your date?"
"None of your business," she retorted childishly, pouting.
"Honestly Granger, and I thought you were mature," he muttered. "Judging by the hair, I'm going to say it's another Weasley. What are you doing, trying to shag your way through the family?"
"You're disgusting," she spat, scowling and turning her head away from Draco. He followed her eyes to her former dance partner who was now doing an awkward shuffle with Luna Scamander, nee Lovegood.
"You look very pretty tonight, by the way," he said in a low voice, but she just ignored him and remained silent for the rest of the dance.
When the music ceased, Shacklebolt was standing at his seat at the front of the room. He tapped twice on his crystal goblet and the room fell silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I thank you greatly for your attendance tonight, and I ask if you could now please take your seats. Dinner will be served momentarily," he said in a deep voice, and the crowds dispersed. Granger ran back to her date, clutching his hand like it was a lifeline, and Draco shook his head and turned away.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Charlie asked her when they took their seats. The ballroom was filled with chatter as people began to eat the first course which had appeared before them.
"Peachy," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Malfoy gives me a headache."
She felt Charlie place a large, callused hand on her back, rubbing it in soothing circles. As the realization that someone was seating themselves beside her, Hermione sat up straight and threw a grateful smile Charlie's way. He simply took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze in return.
"Charlie? Mione?"
Hermione couldn't stop the groan that escaped.
"Good evening, Ronald," she managed to say through gritted teeth.
"Hermione, what are you doing here with my brother?" Ron asked, confused at the turn of events. Marietta was on his other side speaking with Ginny who was eyeing for an escape.
"I'm his date for this evening," she explained, and Ron's face scrunched up.
"Wait, his date? As in, date-date?"
"N-," Charlie began, but Hermione interrupted him.
"Yes, Ronald, his date-date. I figure that seeing as you've already gotten someone pregnant and are engaged once again, I'm allowed to start dating," she commented dryly, ignoring Charlie's shocked face.
"But he's my brother," Ron whined. Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Kingsley stood up to give his speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for attending tonight. We are now seven years on from the war that nearly destroyed everything we had worked so hard to build, and yet here we stand. In the seven years which have passed, our kind have lived in peace, but there are still people, wizards and witches like ourselves, who are not as fortunate. And so tonight I ask you to open your hearts. Open your hearts to the orphans of the war, open your hearts so we can rebuild our prestigious Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry back to perfection. Open your hearts, so our world can restore its former glory."
The room burst into applause at the end of Kingsley's short speech. Then the first course appeared on everyone's plates and the finest elf-made wine appeared in their crystal goblets, and pleasant conversation broke out throughout the whole room. Almost the whole room.
"He's too old for you," Ron said immediately and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Honestly, Ronald, if you're going to oppose every person I date then at least come up with a new argument," Hermione snapped, looking over the dish that had appeared on the plate before her. The first course was a tuna tartare, and at her first bite Hermione decided the food was sublime.
"I don't need a new argument when the same one is true!" Ron argued, for once ignoring the food in front of him.
"It shouldn't matter to you who I date. I don't care that you're dating Marietta, nor that you fucked her whilst we were still married. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening with my date, some delicious food and fine wine, so leave me alone, Ronald," Hermione hissed, and angled her body so she was facing Charlie who watched her with a bemused expression.
"That felt good," she admitted, sipping from her goblet. Charlie just laughed.
"Publicly humiliating my brother felt good? Understandable, seeing as he's been a right git since..." he trailed off awkwardly.
"Since my miscarriage, yes," she finished stiffly. "Can we not talk about our past and just act as though we're on a date?"
"Of course," he smiled, relieved. "So, Hermione, what do you do for a living?"
"I work at a wizarding library. What happens to be your occupation?"
"I happen to work with dragons in Romania."
The conversation between the two flowed as easily as the wine until the meal concluded.
Draco was grateful that there seemed to be an endless supply of wine as the meal went on. After the second course (a small salad with shaved fennel, roasted beets, pinoli, gorgonzola and balsamic dressing) he was tired of the company. For some reason his father had forced the torture of sitting at the high table upon him, and now he was in between his mother and his horrible date, who seemed to have absolutely no manners whatsoever.
"Enjoying yourself, Draco?" Narcissa asked when the third course, duck breast with green peppercorn and orange glaze, appeared on their plates.
"Absolutely, mother," he drawled. "I'm here with a date who doesn't understand that you are meant to enjoy food rather than inhale it, and I've already been accosted by my dear ex-wife."
"Yes, well, I offered to find you a nice date, but you insisted that you were capable of finding your own," Narcissa sniffed and Draco rolled his eyes. "Miss Granger is looking lovely, dear. Why don't you try and woo her."
"Granger?" Draco asked, his voice tinted with disbelief. "Granger? Mother, are you feeling alright? You can't possibly mean Hermione Granger." He shook his head, deciding he must have misunderstood.
"I'm feeling fine, Draco, and yes, I do mean Hermione Granger," she said shortly and Draco's mouth fell open. "Do close your mouth, dear. Disbelief is not an attractive face on a Malfoy."
"But Granger?" he asked again, earning an impatient sigh from his mother.
"Yes, Hermione Granger. Face it, Draco. She's a beautiful and incredibly talented witch. Marrying her would also restore the Malfoy's name somewhat. I'm going to invite her over for tea on the weekend," Narcissa informed her son, who just sat there in silence.
When the evening's dessert, lavender panna cotta with forest berries, was cleared from everyone's plates, the tables disappeared, and once everyone stood the chairs disappeared, reappearing at the sides of the room. Music began to play and people began to mingle. Draco groaned as his date (was it Sally? Sarah? Susie?) clutched onto his forearm and steered him to the crowds.
Hermione giggled loudly as Charlie spun her exuberantly around the dance floor. She'd had an awful lot of wine during dinner, and her cheeks were flushed. Most of her curls had fallen from their design, spilling around her face. She had enjoyed the conversations she had been having with the other wizards and witches, but dancing with Charlie was definitely the thing she was enjoying most.
The dragon loving Weasley was quite an able dancer, and no matter how serious the song, he made it fun. The music had now slowed down quite a bit, and the muscled man pulled her flush against his chest. They moved slowly, their movements sensual. She tilted her head up and found Charlie's eyes boring into her own. They were a warm brown, exactly like Ginny's, and there was unmistakable affection in them as he looked at Hermione.
Without thinking she tilted her head even higher up, moving their faces closer. Charlie understood and lowered his face until their lips met softly. Hermione moved her hands until they were clasped behind his neck, effectively deepening the kiss until they were interrupted by a very bright camera flash.
"Hermione Granger has her claws in yet another Weasley. This should be front page news," Lavender Brown said smugly. Hermione reached out to grab the camera from the woman's hands but the nosy reporter had already turned and disapparated.
"Oh, shit," was all Hermione said as she broke apart from Charlie, who still maintained a grip on her hand. The music ended with one final note, and the crowds applauded before dispersing. The evening was over and witches and wizards were milling about, some disapparating straight from the ballroom and others choosing to floo home. "Charlie, I'll owl you. I promise. I just need to go home now," she said hurriedly and her date frowned.
"Are you sure?" he asked and she nodded.
"I'm sorry. Expect my owl though," she smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before apparating home.
Hermione woke the next morning cursing elf-made wine and vowing never to drink again. She hardly ever drank more than two butterbeers, so the amount of alcohol she had consumed the night before was enormous in comparison. Her head was pounding, but thankfully nausea had evaded her.
With a disgruntled groan she rolled from her warm, comfortable bed and padded to her kitchen, clutching her head. She didn't want to look in the mirror and see the state she was in, clad only in an oversized grey nightshirt with smudged makeup and untameable hair. She could only imagine that she looked like something the cat dragged in. Speaking of cats, Altheda was sitting on the kitchen table, looking delightfully smug.
"Oh, go away," Hermione groaned at the animal who simply purred in response. There was a loud tapping coming from somewhere, and to Hermione it felt like somebody was hitting her over the head with a hammer. "What the hell is that noise?"
Looking around to discover the source of the insistent tapping, she saw a beautiful black owl outside her window, tapping on the pane of glass to be let in. She flicked her wand and the creature soared into the room, dropping a dark blue envelope on the table before flying out immediately. Hermione frowned and put her wand down, choosing to instead pick up the envelope.
Miss Granger,
I do believe that we were not granted the chance to properly reacquaint ourselves yesterday evening, something which I do regret greatly. If it is not too much trouble, I would like you to join me at Malfoy Manor this Saturday for tea. Please arrive promptly at eleven o'clock.
Sincerely,
Narcissa Malfoy
The script was long and elegant, and was grateful she wasn't required to write a reply as her attendance appeared to be mandatory. Instead, seeing that Lucinda had given her the day off from work, she decided to go back to bed and sleep off her terrible headache.
A/N: Hello again. I've managed to lock myself away from people for a couple of days and write, and so the result is this chapter. It's a long weekend where I am and I have no intentions of leaving my domain, so fingers crossed I'll get another chapter out before Tuesday. Then again, if I don't reach 50 reviews, then there might not ever be a new chapter, hint-hint!
Also, if you would like to see pictures of the characters and their clothing in any of the chapters so far, then just check out this link:
s770 . photobucket . com / home / Dustmites / allalbums
Review and you'll get a cookie, some yummy time with Draco, and a new chapter!