4. The Ball
Pansy proudly surveyed the ballroom. Parkinson House was - once again - restored to its former splendour and filled with laughter, light and music. She could almost imagine herself at her mother's side, at that last ball they'd organised before the Dark Lord had risen from the dead and lured her family into ruin.
But this wasn't her triumphant return to society. Her eyes sought and found Hermione, a glass of champagne in one hand and the other safely tucked under Draco's arm. Her laugh was just a little too loud, too exuberant, too unpolished, and she could see the flash of disdain in Amelia Greengrass' eyes before the woman smiled politely and guided her husband away from the betrothed pair. Pansy was just in time to hear Hermione mutter, "Someone should tell her that no matter how many beautification charms, a frog is still a frog," and she couldn't help giggling. She'd always thought her friends' mother resembled something of a toad herself. Hermione turned to her with a brilliant smile.
"Oh Pansy, thank goodness, someone normal to talk to. Honestly, these people… Snobs if ever I met any. They barely deign to take my hand as if I have some sort of infectious disease, and…" Draco nudged her and she stopped, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Tallulah Macmillan, the mother of that tiresome Hufflepuff who had tried to pursue Pansy for a few months some years ago, turned away with an unpleasant smile, and Pansy knew those words would be spread around the room like a case of the Dragonpox. She didn't even have to do anything, Hermione was showing how unsuitable she was for the Malfoys with every breath and gesture.
"Dinner will start soon," Pansy said. "You'll be surrounded by friends then." Pansy's eyes flicked at Potter and the girl-Weasley on his arm, who were surrounded by a gaggle of redheads. She could barely suppress a shudder. Her grandmother would turn in her grave if she'd known Pansy had invited that family into her home, but she couldn't very well forget to invite the guest of honour's only friends.
Hermione tensed as yet another society matron made her way towards the couple, and even Draco's hand, possessively on the small of her back, couldn't make her relax.
"Draco, darling, what a pleasure to see you again."
"Madam Flint, what a surprise. I hope you are having a good time?" Draco pointedly didn't offer his hand and Pansy, amused, decided to stay and sipped her champagne.
"I must say I was surprised to receive the invitation. You certainly made a most… unexpected choice." Her eyes raked over Hermione with barely concealed aversion. "I'm sure I never would have allowed my son…"
Pansy hid her smile behind a cough.
"And how is poor Marcus doing," Hermione interrupted. "I hope his stay in Azkaban is not too distressing. I hear it's much more agreeable now the Dementors have gone."
Mrs. Flint blanched and stalked off without responding. Draco laughed and kissed Hermione on the temple.
"You're a delight," he murmured, just loud enough for Pansy to hear. And despite the stab of jealousy Pansy couldn't help admiring Hermione for the effective way she had put the Flint woman in her place.
Dinner was a special kind of hell. Pansy was trapped between the youngest boy-Weasel and Theodore Nott, Draco's best man, and as if that wasn't bad enough, she'd sat herself across from the happy couple. She hardly tasted the scallop carpaccio or the soup or the stuffed quail, distracted as she was by the loving touches and glances from the couple in front of her and the boisterous laughs of the gaggle of redheads to her right. But the cold acidity of the tomato sorbet shocked her into paying more attention to the conversations going on around her.
"Don't play the innocent," Weasley was saying, "you're the one who put Snape's robes on fire in first year."
Hermione tried to shush her friend but he just carried on. "And didn't you keep that reporter in a jar for a while? Honestly, Hermione, I'm not surprised at all you ended up with a Slytherin. You fit right in."
Pansy was now staring at Hermione with new eyes. Again she found herself admiring the woman and she hated herself for it. Clearly there was more to the bookish know-it-all than she had thought. She was staring so intently she hardly noticed that the next course appeared on the table, but when Hermione's laugh froze on her face, she blinked and tried to find out what was wrong. Oh. Of course. She smiled.
"Lobster?" came Hermione's slightly panicked voice.
Pansy's smile became even brighter. "It's one of Draco's favourites. I promise you, the elves know just how to prepare this."
"Pansy, that was so thoughtful! You know how I missed that," Draco said, smiling at her and tucking in with the confidence of years of experience. A simple tap on the shell and a silent spell later, Pansy had nothing but delicious lobster meat on her plate. The others at the table had followed suit. Only Boy Wonder and Hermione seemed clueless how to approach the thing. Theo had engaged Draco in conversation about Quidditch, which distracted him from his fiancée, who was poking listlessly at the animal on her plate.
"I thought I told you not to serve lobster?" she muttered at Pansy as she tentatively grabbed one of the claws and wrenched it away, spraying the table in juices and cutting her hand in the process.
"I must have misunderstood," Pansy said with an unapologetic shrug, between two bites of the delicious tail.
Hermione continued to tear and crack and fiddle with the lobster, making a grand mess, and everyone began to notice. She could feel all the stares but refused to look up, even when Draco turned to her and said, with a laugh, "What in Merlin's name are you doing, love? Why don't you use a spell?"
"Spell? What spell?"
Draco leaned over and quickly tapped all the parts of the lobster she had already half disassembled, removing the shells and leaving only the meat. "It's just an Extractio."
"Oh. I didn't know that. Thank you." Hermione didn't seem to hear the sniggering in the dining room as she gratefully turned to Draco, but Pansy knew Hermione had, yet again, made a complete fool of herself, and smiled behind a napkin.
Then Draco and Hermione leaned into one another and started kissing. Pansy's smile froze on her face and she could barely stop herself from clearing her throat while they continued to kiss and kiss and kiss as if there was no-one else in the room. Well, that backfired.
When they finally - finally - stopped, Draco lifted the bruised palm of Hermione's hand to his mouth and kissed it gently before returning to his meal and the conversation with Theodore.
"He's such a gentleman, isn't he," Hermione said with a happy sigh.
Pansy couldn't even pretend to smile any more, and she finished the meal in lonely silence.
When the guests made their way back to the ballroom, Hermione dragged Pansy into one of the empty corridors.
"I don't really have to dance, do I?" she hissed. Pansy looked amused. "Of course you do, Hermione. You have to open your own ball!"
"But I haven't danced since fourth year!" She glanced around and lowered her voice again, her grip on Pansy's arm tightening. "Please tell me it's not going to be that bloody Wizarding Waltz again?"
Pansy shrugged and disentangled herself from the almost painful grip. She deftly tucked Hermione's arm into the crook of her elbow and lead her back to the other guests.
"Oh, don't worry about it. It will be over before you know it even started," she said airily. She nodded at the conductor of the Cerridwen Philharmonic Orchestra, and a moment later the first dance was announced. Pansy looked on as Draco came to ask for Hermione's hand and led her onto the dancefloor. The first bars of the music floated into the suddenly quiet room and Hermione almost tripped over her own feet trying to remember the steps. Draco was too good a dancer to completely let her fail, of course, but every pureblood in the room could see the woman in his arms was struggling, and Draco couldn't quite keep the expression of pain off his face when she stepped onto his toes for the fifth time. Pansy couldn't wait to dance with him herself, but for the moment she was happy to just relish in Hermione's discomfort.
Hermione almost ran from the dancefloor when the music finally stopped and a tentative polite applause sounded around the room, but was stopped dead in her tracks when the conductor announced, "And now it is time for the traditional parent-child dance. Would the father of the bride-to-be and the mother of the future groom come up to the dancefloor please?"
There were hushed whispers while Narcissa Malfoy glided towards her son, but Hermione just remained standing there, shoulders tense, back ramrod straight and lips quivering as she fought her tears. The whispers fell away into a painful silence.
"Whose idea was this," Potter hissed at nobody in particular.
"It's just tradition," Pansy responded, remembering only now that Hermione's parents had, as a matter of fact, not been included on the lists of invitees.
"Her parents are gone," Potter said through clenched teeth. "She charmed their memories and sent them off to Australia before the War and she hasn't been able to find them." He made to move forward - either to Disapparate Hermione from the dance floor of humiliation or to dance with her himself - but he was preempted by the Weasley patriarch, who smiled at her and offered his hand. She stared at him for too long, and the man was almost stepping away again by the time she could make herself move into his embrace.
They danced awkwardly and off beat, and even Draco missed his steps because he was constantly sending concerned glances towards Hermione, who had buried her head into the elder Weasley's shoulder to hide her tears.
"It eats her up inside," Potter said as he watched his friend and glared at anyone who dared to make a disparaging remark within earshot. "That was a really cruel thing to do, Parkinson."
Pansy didn't even have to look at him to feel his anger radiating off his body.
"It was an honest mistake, Potter. These Betrothal Balls have set rules and traditions, and this is one of them." She felt wretched.
The dance ended soon and other guests made their way onto the dancefloor. Hermione was guided out of the ballroom surrounded by a cloud of redheads.
Draco walked up to Pansy, his face a mask of indifference, but she could see the anger behind it.
"I didn't know," she said before he could rant at her, too.
His shoulders sagged a little. "I should have told you."
"Nice of Weasley to step in." She couldn't quite keep the scorn out of her voice as she said the name.
"Not much love lost between Malfoys and Weasleys, but they do love her," he agreed. "I should go and see how she's doing. I think we're probably leaving after this. She doesn't like to be reminded of her parents. The wedding is difficult enough as it is, but at least she is prepared for that to have brought up… But when they are mentioned out of the blue, like this…" Draco shook his head and enveloped Pansy in a quick hug.
"Thank you for tonight, Pans. It was a wonderful evening, well, mostly. I'm so glad you and Hermione get along and that you did this for her. I really appreciate it," he murmured, before letting her go and going after his fiancee.
It was only then that she realised she never had the chance to dance with him herself.
AN: Special thanks to Chiseplushie for betaing! Hope you all enjoy reading.