"Well, well, well," Hermoine stiffened at the familiar voice behind her, but reminded herself that she could not, under any circumstances, do anything to embarrass Draco. She turned slowly, and smiled a smile she was certain conveyed that she was taking great pains to be polite to someone who was by no means worthy of the courtesy.
"Minister, what a pleasure. I should have realized you would be attending such a worthy function. A pleasure, as always." Kingsley heard the sweet sarcasm in her voice, and realized belatedly, that he had put himself in a position to make a very bad impression on his constituency. And it was the damned womans fault. How dared she stand there as if she deserved to be walking free, flaunting that revolting tattoo across her back? He noted that she had at least covered the Dark Mark with a pair of gloves, then noted the wand pocket along her forearm, and was infuriated further. She simply stood there, waiting for him to speak, doubtless waiting for him to make a fool of himself.
"How did you get in here, Granger?" but he suspected he knew. He scanned the ballroom for the telltale head of platinum hair, but saw nothing.
"I believe Draco is paying his respects to some acquaintances," she said, reading him easily. She wondered, now, why she had been so frightened of him when they were in the Order together. He was a bully, no better than Crabbe and Goyle had been.
"I'm surprised he would be seen with you on his arm at any wizarding function, he must be more of a fool than I thought," he said coldly. She merely raised an eyebrow as if in inquiry.
"You thought he was a fool to start with?" she made a quiet tsking sound, shaking her head. "Dear Kingsley, wasn't it you who used to tell us that you should never underestimate your opponent because of personal bias? Don't you recall all those brilliant strategy lessons you gave all of us in the Order at those meetings at Grimmauld Place?" He didn't miss how she stressed her and Malfoys membership in the Order, and he fairly saw several pairs of ears perk in her direction as she spoke. "I still recall that Christmas when Arthur was able to come home from St. Mungos and you came to visit with all of us. We were like a family." He seethed, and she showed her teeth, just a bit, but her tone had been nothing but sweetly reminiscent.
"Have you spoken to any of the old Order members lately?" he asked, trying to rattle her. He knew damned well that she hadn't talked to anyone in years, and he wanted her to admit to her eviction from the old Golden Trio. Let everyone remember that!
"I'm afraid I have been monopolizing her time rather selfishly lately, Kingsley." She didn't jump as Draco's hand pressed into the small of her back, but she leaned in to him barely enough to let him know she appreciated his arrival. "But if you would like to come to the Manor for dinner I would be happy to see how many of the old guard we can coordinate with. Just let me know your schedule and I'm sure we can work something out." The look of disgust on Shackelbolts face would have been comical if it wasn't accompanied by such fury. Realizing that he needed to cut his losses however, he began to look for a polite out.
"I'm afraid my schedule is extremely hectic," he ground. "In fact, I must be going." Draco nodded, and extended a hand.
"I completely understand, I'm sure you must be overburdened now, what with all the new decrees passed lately. Enforcement must be a nightmare. Do let me know if I can lend any assistance, my private security can be remarkably effective." He could see that Kingsley was trying to find a way to avoid shaking his hand, but not finding one. He extended his own hand reluctantly, and just as Malfoy's hand closed over his he saw the pop of a flash bulb, then the crack of apparation as the reported who snapped the picture fled before his camera could be confiscated. He swore under his breath, turning as a figure in black dress robes strode up quickly.
"Kingsley, did you see who the reporter…" the words trailed off as Hermoine and Draco came face to face with Harry Potter.
"Potter." Draco's tone was neutral, and he nodded in polite greeting, but Hermoine noted that he never took his attention off Harry's wand hand. She looked as well, and saw that it was hovering over the holster at his side. She felt the old headache start behind her eyes. Great, a Malfoy Potter pissing contest. Then she took in the look in Harry's eyes and felt real alarm.
"Malfoy. I was afraid you wouldn't have sense enough to stay out of the wizarding world. Why don't you crawl back into whatever hole you dug yourself out of and bugger off?" To her surprise Draco didn't rise to the insult, only chuckled.
"I see you haven't lost any of that Griffyndor bluntness Potter, how refreshing. But how could I refuse to attend such an important event for a cause that has become so important to me over the years?" Harry scoffed.
"The only cause you support is the cause of buying your way back into polite society, you bastard."
"Harry," Hermoine started to admonish, but he cut her a look that was so filled with venom and revulsion that she choked on the words.
"You don't need to even speak to me, you traitorous bitch," he spat. Kingsley began to look uncomfortable. Baiting Granger and Malfoy tactfully was one thing, hurling insults in the middle of a crowded ballroom was simply bad press. He placed a hand on Harry's arm, gauging the amount of red flecks showing in Potters eyes. He wasn't over the edge yet, he thought, but it wasn't far, and he really did not want to have to attempt to deal with an incident.
"Harry, looks like you might have had a few too many toasts tonight, hmmm? Old rivalries get a bit hotter when there is whiskey involved. Let's say our goodnights, hmmm?" Harry twitched and Kingsley's hand was thrown off him without even a glance.
"You're out of line, Potter. Apologize to Hermoine, she doesn't deserve your contempt." Draco's voice was icy. Harry laughed aloud, and heads turned to watch, a buzz slowly going through the room as the people realized who the two men were.
"I have no reason to apologize to anyone," Harry hissed. "Don't think I haven't seen the two of you cavorting around the world, trying to buy your way back to popularity, like anyone is going to forget what you are. And she," he jerked his head to Hermoine. "should know that when you like down with dogs you get up with fleas. You'd know that well, wouldn't you, Hermoine? First Snape, now Malfoy? Are you sure Voldemort wasn't in there somewhere, you do certainly seem to have a thing for Dark Wizards." Hermoine paled, her composure faltering, and she felt bile rise in her throat. This was not the Harry she knew. This vicious man was a stranger, a cruel, hateful man with a twist in his eyes that was not normal. She edged closer to Draco, and he squeezed her hip reassuringly.
"Potter, I will give you one warning, and one only," he spat coldly. "Do not speak to Hermoine in such a way ever again, or I swear to you I will call you out formally, and that you do not want." Harry laughed, but it was a high, strange sound.
"Call me out? You? What could I possibly ever have to fear from you?"
"Keep going and find out," Draco offered, and Hermoine caught a breath as she saw an odd silver glow begin to tint his eyes. She'd never seen anything like it, and found it deeply unnerving.
"That will be quite enough of that, I think. Mr Potter, I will not tolerate discourtesy in my home, and I especially will not tolerate violence in any form. You will both apologize this instant!" Evmira's tiny five foot frame barely came to either man's shoulder, but Draco stepped back immediately, nodding politely to her.
"Of course, Lady Pettiwig, my deepest apologies for casting a pall over this evening," he said smoothly. Her eyes twinkled briefly at him before turning to Harry. She looked at the young Auror with the same stare she had been using on young upstarts for the past eighty years, and was confronted with, nothing. His eyes were empty, as though he was made of nothing but rage and power. She nearly flinched, watching the red flecks in his irises start to pulse in time with his heartbeat. It was, well, it was terrifying. Kingsley swore under his breath and caught Harrys arm. It was about to turn and he couldn't allow that, not now.
"I'm afraid that Potter has been under a great deal of stress lately," he cut in, thrusting Harry almost bodily back. When the younger man made as if to protest Kingsley shot him a look that promised retribution in spades if he opened his mouth. Slowly the red began to subside and Harry seemed to come back to himself. "I should not have insisted he attend. He's long overdue for a break, the load we place on him I know is quite unfair. I will see he gets home safely and takes a few days off." Evmira nodded slowly, allowing Kingsley to fairly drag Potter out of the room, and then there was a faint crack of apparation as Harry apparated away. Draco only relaxed when he was sure he was gone, then shot a speaking glance at Hermoine.
"We need to talk later," he said quietly. "Are you all right?" she nodded.
"He didn't touch me, just insulted me." He sighed.
"Good. We need to shake it off now, and make the rounds. With that display the room has turned to us, we can't waste the opportunity." She blinked a few times, and when he looked at her again her perfect mask was back in place. He wanted to snog her senseless right there for her strength; instead he simply tucked her hand back into his elbow and smiled at a wizard he recognized as a popular rock star, allowing the man to draw them into conversation.
They stayed for another few hours, making gracious conversation and excusing Harrys behavior with almost royal noblesse oblige, but Hermoine couldn't get the memory of his eyes out of her mind, the flecks of red. She'd only seen that once before, and hoped she would never see it again. Those eyes had been pervasive, glowing red, but she imagined this was how it started, just flecks at first, progressing until there was nothing of the original color left. She shivered, and he felt it, pulling her just a little closer.