A/N: Yay, the world didn't end! And I managed to get another, extremely long chapter up before I depart Melb. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, I'm really glad you're sticking with me on this, I realise the pace is going a little slow, but it is going to pick up quickly, with regards to the Dramione moments, I can promise.

Thank you for my reviews, you guys are great, and so supportive. Hope you all enjoy.

xBx

~ Chapter 15: Hallowe'en ~

When Hermione returned to her tower, later that evening, she wasn't in the best of moods: her walk back hadn't been particularly calming. She should have known that returning home wasn't going to go well: she hadn't thought of Richard properly since returning to school, except when his name had appeared in the article. And now she had witnessed him kissing another woman – her friend, moreover - who he had slept with, apparently on numerous occasions, even when she had been around and their engagement was apparently a settled thing! Furious didn't even begin to describe her mood at the moment.

Hermione placed her bags, bar one, on the study table and went to the kitchen. In her rush to get back to Hogsmeade she hadn't thought of stopping off in her cellar. But when she appeared on the high street she realised regretfully that a glass of wine would probably ease the shock and anger, and whatever the hell else she was feeling. Instead she had called into The Hog's Head – after June, Aberforth had been much more welcoming, and she was sure he would happily supply her with a bottle of wine, or two, to sneak into the castle.

Draco was nowhere around on the lower floor of their tower which didn't bother her in the slightest, she was actually glad of a little peace and quiet. But as Hermione was taking a goblet from one of the cupboards, to pour herself a glass of wine, she heard him moving around in his room.

Hermione let out a sigh as she poured herself a glass, thinking she should probably be polite and offer him a share of her spoils. Just before the goblet reached her lips she stopped and frowned: Was that a piano she could hear?

Silently, she made her way up Draco's staircase and the sound became louder. Sure enough, when she got to his open doorway she saw Draco Malfoy, back towards her, sat at a magnificent grand piano. Hermione just stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised: she knew her rooms were a little ostentatious what with the large closet and a private sitting room, but a Grand Piano? in a bedroom?

The melody he was playing wasn't one Hermione was familiar with, but it was beautiful; he was a very talented player, and Hermione was impressed – not that she would ever admit that to him, of course. As she listened she leaned against his door-frame and some of her anger evaporated, but was replaced by a slight sadness – while the music was beautiful, Hermione could hear pain and turmoil in the notes, and possibly a hint of bitterness? she thought as she began to listen more closely.

Hermione had always felt that those people who said that the eyes were the windows to the soul were wrong. For her, music was the window: people can mask their emotions in their eyes, but when you played, the music flows from within you and each note told your emotion perfectly. Or so Hermione felt.

After a few moments Draco's hands came to rest, but he didn't move from his seat.

"You have a Grand Piano in you room?" Hermione asked dryly, causing Draco to visibly jump, making Hermione smirk.

"Jesus, Granger! What the hell are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?" He scolded, spinning round, while Hermione covered her laugh behind her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was coming up to offer you a drink, but I got distracted listening." She told him, "It's a beautiful instrument, and you play very well. Was that your own composition? I don't remember hearing anything like it in the past."

"I was just, playing." He mumbled, suddenly going uncomfortable. "Do you play?" He asked suddenly.

Hermione smiled, "I do actually. Even a mudblood can have classical talents." She joked.

Draco scowled, "Don't call yourself that." He told her, surprisingly harsh.

Hermione raised her eyebrow, shocked at his response to the word he had used so freely to her in the past. Not wanting to argue, she ignored the outburst and answered his question again, this time more thoroughly.

"My mother started to teach me when I was five. When I turned seven they engaged a professional tutor for me." Hermione smiled fondly, "My father was a little jealous, I think, of how much mother and I were bonding over our mutual talent, so he tried to teach me guitar. Unfortunately I didn't quite have the penchant for the guitar that my father hoped I would, but we play together a lot. He's always coming home with new sheet music – old and current – for us to play. We've spent many hours in the music room, especially if either one of us ever had a bad day. We always felt better after singing and playing." Hermione admitted.

"You couldn't pick up the guitar?" Draco asked, sounding slightly too smug. Hermione frowned.

"I could pick it up, I just didn't advance as quick as I did in the piano. And I didn't like how hard it made the skin on my fingers." Hermione countered.

"Hmmm" Draco said interestingly, "Personally I found the guitar even easier, and just as much fun to play."

Hermione glared, "Congratulations, you have found something which you can do better than me. Enjoy this moment, it is the first and the last time you will ever experience such a one." She told him.

Draco snorted at her defensiveness: Granger really didn't like being beaten in anything. "Is there any particular reason you're here in my doorway?" He asked.

"I was going to offer you a glass of wine. But after your smug gloating, I don't think I will." She said turning back down the stairs, head in the air.

Draco followed, "You snuck wine back into the castle?" He asked, mildly impressed at her audacity in flouting a very strict rule.

"Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be drinking it would I?" She huffed; stupid questions really irritated her, especially when she was in a foul mood.

Draco frowned as he took a seat on one of the bar stools, while Hermione walked around the other side and grabbed another goblet for Draco, despite what she had just told him.

"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked, "Only you look like you're about to snap and either cry-"

"I am not going to cry." She snapped at him.

"- Or throw something at someone before shouting and storming." Draco finished. "Which I would really appreciate that you didn't do, as you are holding a goblet of wine and I am the only other person here. What did Potty and the Weasel do?" he asked, automatically assuming it was their fault.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she handed Draco a goblet.

"Quit with the eye-rolls, Granger." Draco told her, taking the goblet, "You do it way to much."

Hermione ignored the last statement, and responded instead to the first:

"Harry and Ron didn't do anything." She told him, emphasising their correct names.

Hermione sighed, and decided it was probably better to at least get some of what was bothering her off her chest. And since he was the only person who really knew about her and Richard, it looked like she was going to have to offload on Draco.

"I called home for ten minutes," she started to explain.

"My, my. We are breaking all the rules today, aren't we?" Draco said with a shake of his head. Hermione frowned.

"What did you go there for?" He asked.

"Stupid costume for stupid Hallowe'en. I swear, this ball is turning into more trouble than it's worth." Hermione ranted, before taking a breath and continuing. "I was almost caught, by Richard."

"Right," Draco said slowly, not sure why this had put her in such a mood – almost she had said, so he obviously hadn't seen her.

"And Melissa." She said darkly.

Draco quirked an eyebrow, "Melissa?" he questioned, though feeling he was about to regret this.

"Melissa is one of my oldest friends. She's also the person whom Richard chose to seek comfort with while I was absent for a year, saving the god-damn world one Horcrux at a time." She ranted, and instantly regretted it, realising her mistake.

"One what at a time?" Draco asked, struggling to keep pace with Hermione's ranting, especially when she started throwing around words he'd never heard of before.

Hermione swallowed, "Nothing, you didn't hear that. I never said it." She pleaded.

"Alright." Draco agreed, taking in the sudden panic, though he silently placed this piece of information to the back of his mind for future questioning, as Hermione continued to rant about everything she had overheard and openly debating at whom she was more angry at: Richard for cheating on her with her oldest friend, or said friend for trying to steal her fiancé.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Granger, but I thought you wanted out of the engagement? So in the end, does this really matter?" Draco pointed out, when she had ranted herself into silence. "Also, isn't this an excellent reason to end said engagement? I mean when this comes out, Richard isn't going to be very popular now, is he?" He continued, but regretted it instantly, as the glare Hermione sent him even made him shiver with a tiny prickle of fear – only tiny, mind you, Draco Malfoy wasn't a coward, no woman could truly scare him, but the wrath of Hermione Granger was infamous: no one was safe from her.

"Do you know how embarrassing this could be if itever got out? Not just for me, but for my parents as well? How would you feel if your fiancé was gallivanting around with other men, making a fool out of you and bringing shame and embarrassment to the Malfoy family name?" she snapped.

"Well that would never happen. One: because I don't have a fiancé, and two: because when I do, I will be choosing whom she will be, not putting up with whomever my parents decide are the best option." Draco said simply. "I am not having any of this old school, pureblood society expectation bullshit shoved down my throat ever again." He mumbled. "And quite frankly, I'm surprised you're putting up with these kind of old-fashioned, upper-class muggle ideals." He added, his voice a normal level again.

Before Hermione could answer, the portrait opened and Ginny and Parvati wondered in.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Ginny and Parvati will be spending the evening here." Hermione told him with a sigh, before forcing a smile at the girls, "Take a seat, I'll bring some drinks over."

The girls turned wordlessly to the sofas, as Hermione gathered two more goblets and the bottle in her spare hand, her own drink in the other, and headed over to the girls.

"Mention any of my rant to anyone and I will hurt you." She muttered, as she passed Draco.

"Fine. Mention the piano and I hurt you." Draco responded, just as quiet.

Hermione nodded and went to take her seat, as she sat down Ginny called over the back of the sofa:

"Joining us, ferret?" Hermione frowned at the term, She had hoped they were above the name-calling now, but apparently not, though it didn't seem to bother Draco in the least.

"Don't mind if I do, Weaselette." He said, standing from his stool and moving to one of the chairs – what had once been intended hurtful terms of mockery had seemingly become odd terms of a strange kind of endearment between the two. He took in Hermione's raised eyebrow as he sat, "What? I'm waiting down here for Blaise anyway, and I rather sit here where it's comfy."

Hermione didn't say anything but turned to pour drinks for her friends.

"Erm, is that wine?" Parvati asked. When Hermione nodded, Parvati laughed, "You smuggled it in?"

Hermione shrugged a shoulder, "Of course. It was easy."

"If it's so easy, we should have a Christmas party, here." Ginny said.

"Oh joy." Drawled Hermione, "Organising this damn ball is about to kill me, so of course I want to organise a bloody Christmas Party after."

"Fine I'll organise it." Ginny said, "But first, Hallowe'en. You guys got your costume sorted?" She asked.

Draco picked up his book, really not interested in this type of girly conversation, and praying Blaise would turn up soon and relieve him from the overflow of oestrogen.

Ginny was almost finished with her costume – she had decided to attend as Cleopatra, she had a fascination with Ancient Egypt, which had been fuelled by Bill and his stories from working as a curse-breaker.

Parvati was still a little undecided, "I originally thought of Jane Austen, I love her work. But then Dean had a… well a rather bizarre suggestion, to be honest. It sounded a good idea, for Neville, Dean, Padma and I. But then I saw pictures of the costumes and now I'm seriously questioning his judgement." She admitted.

"Do tell," Ginny said with a grin.

"Have you heard of a group called ABBA?" She asked.

Ginny looked confused and shook her head, but Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. Parvati sighed at Hermione's reaction.

"Clearly, you have." She said, as Hermione was overcome, and let the laugh out, throwing her head back with unrestrained amusement at the mental image she had conjured.

"Oh, you have to do it. Please," Hermione said with glee.

"What about you Hermione?" Parvati asked, deciding not to respond, and move the conversation on. "Whom are you going as?"

"I'm going as Anne Boleyn, I snuck back to my parents this afternoon to grab the costume." She told them.

Parvati's eyes lit up, "Can we see it?" she asked excitedly.

"You snuck back home?" Ginny asked, and then shook her head, "You know, for Head Girl, you're flouting an awful lot of rules today."

Hermione ignored the comment and the subsequent snort from Draco, as she summoned over her sequin bag, landing it on the coffee table. Despite his intention not to be drawn into the conversation, Draco was interested in the costume – or rather the quality of the costume. Recently, as he had become to know Hermione more, he had formed a few vague ideas of her background that had never occurred to him before, and he was eager for a few hints of confirmation.

Hermione opened her bag and proceeded to pull out the boxes.

"Here," She handed a box to Parvati, "Is the French Hood. And this," she placed a small box on the table, "is the jewellery. This," she tossed the box containing the under-garments on the floor, "We don't need to bother with."

Finally she pulled out the box the others had been waiting to see, "This, is the dress." She said, removing the lid and carefully taking out a golden silk gown. The skirt was full – or would be once the underskirts were attached – and the sleeves funnelled dramatically at their bottom, as was the style at the time, with wide cuffs of green silk. The low-cut square neckline was also trimmed with the same green silk, and decorated with beading and pearls that matched those on the hood, which Parvati had recently removed gently from it's box.

"Wow," the girls breathed, taking in the gowns beauty. Draco couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight in front of him. The gown was obviously well made and of heavy and expensive material: the reproduction was entirely authentic and when Hermione held it to her body he could instantly tell it had been custom made to fit her exact measurements – clearly, a fair amount of money had gone into this piece, for the purpose of one party.

"There are also some shoes in the bag, designed to match the gown." She rolled her eyes, "My mother organised all this for me while I was at Hogwarts in sixth year, and she is nothing if not thorough."

Draco was starting to be confident in his theory that the 'affluent muggle heiress' that the Witch Weekly article had tagged Hermione's muggle to, was in fact Hermione – the reporter just hadn't put two and two together, nor been able to come up with a name. The more he had thought about it, the more it started to make sense: Hermione's natural poise, and constant correct speech that never slipped, was indicative of a slightly higher level of upbringing – he couldn't even really place where abouts in England she was from based on her accent, though he now supposed the North, after the article. Then there was the expensive engagement ring he had seen – yes, her fiancé financed that, but Hermione hadn't been uncomfortable with the obvious expense of it, only it's connotation, suggesting expensive jewellery wasn't foreign to her. Add onto this his recent discovery that she seemed to be intimately acquainted with the Piano, referred to having a 'music room', and now this incredibly expensive and incredibly accurate replica of Tudor dress. Draco believed Hermione was higher in muggle society than she was letting on.

Hermione folded the dress neatly back into it's box and took the hood from Parvati, after Ginny had asked how exactly it was supposed to be worn. Hermione held it in place briefly with her hands, and Draco was momentarily stuck by the likeness she resembled to an original portrait of Anne that was in the Manor. It was something in her eyes, and the turn of her head, and it was only there for a moment, but it sent a shiver along his spine non-the less.

Parvati then moved onto the small box on the table, unveiling a few strings of pearls, some ear-rings, a couple of rings, and the famous Boleyn 'B' necklace. As Parvati held it up, Draco couldn't help his little exclamation.

"Wow," he said leaning forward, "That is the most impressive replica I've seen, by far."

The girls turned, and raised their eyebrows in unison, surprised at Draco's knowledge and input into the conversation.

"So I'm cultured in the lavish history of the Muggle Royal family, sue me." He drawled, before turning to Hermione and asking: "I'm assuming a replica as authentic as this wasn't a run-of-mill one? You had it custom-made I presume?"

"Why do I feel like this is a loaded question?" Hermione asked, immediately on her guard in response to his overly-casual tone.

Draco smirked, "Just a question, Granger."

"Yes, it was as a matter of fact. We had a made a few years ago." She said slowly, noticing that he didn't seem surprised, but rather that her admission had confirmed something he was thinking.

Hermione decided to ignore it, and turn back to the girls to explain why it had been made.

"My mother and I have always been fascinated with the juxtaposition of the Tudor Court: the lavish lifestyle, full of smiles to the outside world, but Henry was such a tyrant at times that his court was such a dangerous place to be. Behind all the smiles of his favourites was a genuine fear for their lives. It was the best place to be, but at the same time it was the worst. And as I got older, I became obsessed with the story of Anne Boleyn, and this necklace is so iconic, very much a part of her persona, that I wanted to try and find it."

Hermione gave a little indulged laugh at the memory, "Mother and I spent months and months researching it. As a birthday present, a few years ago, we got this replica made. A friend of the family is a rather avid historian, and he specialises in the Tudor period, he knows a few people, and we got together to create an authentic as possible replica, based on paintings, original sketches and written descriptions of the original piece."

"Do you know what happened to the real one?" Ginny asked.

Hermione's shoulder's slumped, "No." she sighed sadly. "It just seems to have disappeared – there are a few theories, each as unlikely as the next, of course. But all we managed to know for sure is that the necklace, along with a few other personal effects, were handed down to Elizabeth. But after Elizabeth, there's no trace of the damn thing."

"And you have no theories, Granger? That surprises me." Draco said with a smirk, as if he knew something she didn't.

Hermione frowned at him, "Why the smirk? Do you have a theory?" She asked, folding her arms defensively.

Draco gave a knowing shrug, but didn't say anything. Instead, he asked: "What would you do if you found it?"

Hermione thought, "I don't know. I would want to buy it, but it's priceless, no one in their right mind would sell it. My mum once suggested stealing it – she figured it would be easy for me with my magic." She laughed, "I don't think she was serious, but I put a stop to that train of thought immediately. I'd love to wear it though, just once." She said with a smile of longing, gazing into the fireplace.

Draco continued to watch Hermione, thoughtfully, as she was drawn back into the conversation with the other two Gryffindors. He was mulling over an idea that had formed in his mind; the instant it had occurred he had been unable to shift it. He had no idea why he suddenly seemed to want to do what he was going to try and do, all he knew was that she would appreciate it. He would go so far as to say that she would love it, and for some reason the idea of making her that happy made him feel pretty good. He was not going to start trying to figure out the reasons being this strange turn of character for him, and decided that he – along with everyone else Hermione knew – felt she deserved some happiness after what the past year had put her through. He felt partly to blame for the worst of what had happened to her, after last night he had a renewed sense of guilt over what had happened in his home, what he had failed to put a stop to, and it was eating him alive. This would be his way of trying to start to make up for that – his way of saying sorry. Yes, that was it Draco reasoned, ignoring the tiny voice, questioning him in the back of his mind, that's the sole reason I'm going to try and do this.

His musings were interrupted when the portrait slammed open and a disgruntled Blaise stormed in, muttering obscenities under his breath. All four occupants of the room looked up mildly surprised: Blaise was dripping wet, covered in mud and still in his Quidditch training robes. Clearly his practice hadn't gone as well as Ginny's had.

"You." Blaise said to Draco, "This is your fault. You decided you didn't want to be in the team, and now I'm stuck with bunch of incompetent retards!" He ranted.

Ginny snickered, up to this point she had been favourably taking in Blaise's attire; heavy and wet, the fabric was clinging deliciously to his muscles. And there was something about the way the rain clung to his hair, and the stormy look in his eyes that made Ginny realise just how attractive Blaise really was. Despite this newly realised desire that had risen inside her, Ginny wouldn't miss an opportunity to rile the opposition.

"Not feeling confident about our first match, in November?" She asked, "My team are more than prepared to pummel you to the ground." She assured him.

Blaise glared at her, but his menace did nothing to recoil Ginny, instead she gave him a wink, and continued to talk to the girls. Draco drew Blaise's attention back to himself,

"Just because I chose not to play, doesn't mean that the intellectual shortcomings of the rest of the squad you chose is my fault." He said calmly. "Go shower, and change. You'll feel better." He told him, turning back to his book.

"I'm not going back to the tower yet. If I do, you will have to play in the first game, because I will murder at least one member of the team." Blaise growled.

Draco chuckled, "Fine, use our shower. And be quick, I want to send an owl before it's too late." He said, shutting his book and moving to the study table to write the letter to his mother that he had been forming in his mind for the past ten minutes.

The next couple of weeks leading up to Hallowe'en were extremely busy for Hermione, her fellow Heads, and the prefects. On the Wednesday evening, the four heads and their prefects remained in the Great Hall after dinner had ended, to help with the decorations ready for the standard Hallowe'en festivities on the morrow. By 10pm the hall was looking perfectly spooky, and Draco and Hermione left the hall after all the prefects had gone. As they were coming through the doors, Hermione dawdled back a moment to sneak a couple of sugar-spun spiders, walking into the entrance hall just in time to hear her name being spoken in the annoying whiny tone of Pansy Parkinson.

"Granger?" She said, in disbelief.

"Yes?" Hermione said, coming up to the pair – from the look on both their faces as they turned to her, they were in the middle of yet another argument.

Pansy turned to glare at Hermione, "You're going to the ball with Draco?" she questioned in accusation.

"I am?" Hermione said, with raised eyebrows looking at Draco, the sugar-spider still resting at her lips.

"I am." She repeated, slowly, looking back at Pansy after receiving Draco's glare, which clearly told her she would not survive the fallout if she contradicted him. "And now I'm going to bed."

She walked toward the marble staircase without at backwards glance, not wanting to get in the middle of one of Pansy and Draco's little spats.

"Scram Parkinson." Draco said roughly, before following Hermione and taking the stairs two at time to catch her at the top.

"I'm going with you to the ball?" Hermione asked him, dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Parkinson cornered me, Blaise tipped me off that she was intending to ask me, and the only 'no' she would accept would be if I was already going with someone" Draco admitted.

"So you thought of me? I am the last person in the world anyone one expects to see you with." She said incredulously.

"I said we were going to be on duty more of the night, so dates weren't really an option for us. I said we would be sticking around each other to front the whole 'inter-house unity' crap. I may also have said it was suggested by McGonagall, so I couldn't get out of it." He told her, finally looking at her and noticing what she was sucking on.

"You're not supposed to take those. They are for tomorrow." He frowned, realising instantly that this was something she was supposed to say – he was supposed to be the one sneaking and breaking the rules, while she told him off. Since when had this role reversal come about?

Hermione pulled the second out of her pocket and tossed it to him. "Oh relax, no one's going to miss them, they are there to be eaten after all."

###

When Saturday rolled around, Hermione spent the afternoon in the Great Hall making sure the final preparations were all going according to plan – while she had the help of Draco, Luna and Zacharias, she couldn't help but double check everything they did thanks to obsessive organisation and need for control.

The hall looked spectacular: intricate cobwebs hung in almost garland like fashion across the enchanted ceiling, along which crawled the sugar-spun spiders Hermione had cleverly enchanted. Throughout the night, they would unexpectedly descend into the crowd below, at certain intervals until all had disappeared – if only Ron was going to be there, Hermione would have loved to have seen his face if one had dropped on his head. The usual floating candles were still present, but were now black instead of white. A few colonies of live bats were flying intermittently about the room, and a few skeletons were currently standing around the edges, but would begin to move around the room later on in the evening.

The four house tables, and the long teachers tables had disappeared and were replaced with an hundred smaller round tables in the main floor space, and two larger round tables on the raised dais at the front (one for teachers and one for the Heads and Prefects).

The ball was going to follow a similar line to that as the Yule ball: there would be a sit down dinner (though with a set and timed menu – less work for the House elves was always a good thing in Hermione's eyes) commencing at 7pm, which would run for an hour and a half, at which point the tables would be cleared and vanished, the dais would then become the stage and the band would begin their set.

"Wow, Hermione, this place looks great." A voice said behind her, and Hermione turned to see George Weasley standing and appraising the room.

Hermione smiled and went to hug him, "George, you're here. And I love the costume." She said, taking in his appearance. He was dressed in a pair of black, tailored suit pants, a crisp white shirt with a black bow tie, and a red waistcoat. The ensemble was finished with a black tailcoat, matching the pants, and a black top hat. In short, he was the perfect stereotype of an old-fashioned, muggle magician.

"Well, if I'm indulging in the art of a muggle magician this evening, I thought I ought to look the part." He said.

George had agreed to attend the event and showcase a range of 'magic' tricks that were popular with muggles. He and Hermione had discussed using everything from the standard card tricks all the way to slicing the glamorous assistant in half, and George had outdone himself in the previous weeks getting to grips with the muggle art of illusionism. Tonight he was going to perform a variety of muggle tricks, and explain the logistics behind how the illusion was created – in essence, he was going to teach them how muggles did 'magic'.

"It's perfect," she commended him, "Follow me, I'll show you where to set up." She said, leading him toward the left hand wall of the hall. A good sized area had been set up near the pair of doors leading out into a large shrubbery, these doors were usually covered by curtains, but tonight they were thrown wide.

"I know it looks a little cramped at the minute, but once dinner is finished and the tables are vanished, you'll have plenty of room to spread out more if you need." She told him. "The dinner starts at seven, I've put you on the teachers table, between Hagrid and a Ministry representative – we have three members of the Ministry dining with us tonight, though whom, I'm not entirely sure I'm afraid. Potentially Kingsley, if not someone from his office, a representative form Magical co-op and one from muggle liaisons." She told him.

George chuckled at her tone, "You're sounding very formal, 'Mione. Are you alright?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione laughed, "Sorry, it's the stress of organising. I honestly don't know how my mother does it so often." She said with a sigh. "I'm exhausted already, and still have to change – it's going to take me hours to get ready, I'll end up being late to my own event at this rate."

"Hermione, you're head girl, delegate." He told her, glancing at his watch. "It's five-thirty. I can set up here in no time, so I can help out with anything else of they need an extra set of hands. Claire, my 'glamorous assistant' will be here at seven-thirty on the dot ready to get to work, don't worry about that. Everything else looks near enough sorted. Go get ready." He told her.

Just then, Draco was moving around in her vicinity. "Malfoy!" She called, and he turned to face her.

"Do you mind if I go, get a head start on getting ready? You got this right?" She called.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Are you actually delegating responsibility to me, Granger? Trusting me to see that things are finished correctly?" He asked, mocking her slightly.

Hermione frowned, "Am I going to regret this?" she said harshly.

"Just go, Granger, I got this. But I will be up in thirty minutes; you better make sure you're out of the bathroom by then. I want to shower and you're not the only with an elaborate costume." He told her, turning his back to continue his duties.

Hermione turned and smiled to George, "Thanks again, for doing this. It's going to be great." She told him, before rushing out of the hall to begin turning herself into her idol.

An hour later Hermione was in her room, magically lacing-up the back of her gown. She slipped her feet into her custom made Tudor style boots, again lacing them with magic – no way could she bend in this corset.

She had her hair braided back: the braid started at the back of her head, allowing her to keep a parting in the middle, the front of which would be displayed once her hood was positioned in the pushed-back way it was believed that Anne favoured. Her make up was extremely simple, just a light powder to even her skin tone, and some concealer to minimise the dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She had used a thin line of dark brown eyeliner along her lashes, which deepened the hue of her eyes, turning her caramel orbs into alluring pools of chocolate. And finished the look off with a dusting of natural toned eye-shadow with black mascara, and a light pink blush to bring some colour to her cheeks.

She pinned the braid up at the nape of her neck and threw a string of pearls around her neck before reaching for her earrings. Just as she was fastening the first earring, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"You can come in." she called to Draco, who immediately entered. Hermione didn't look up from where she was putting in the second earring and adjusting the set of long pearls in the mirror, giving Draco a moment to fully take in the view he was facing.

"Wow," He murmured, "You look incredible." He said automatically. In truth, she looked better than incredible, the gown looked simply divine on her, fitting her perfectly, the corset emphasising her tiny waist and ample bosom.

Hermione straitened and turned, "Thank you," she smiled, and then suddenly bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh as she took in Draco's costume wide eyed.

"You're wearing tights." She said, a small laugh escaping.

Draco was less than amused, "They are not tights. They are a close-fitting trouser, I believe they were traditionally called hose, and they are an authentic Tudor replica."

"Mmmhmmm." Hermione said, her smile widening, "You are a brave man to wear tights in public at Hogwarts. Why Henry VIII?" she asked – the costume couldn't be anyone else, and he had even glamoured his hair to turn it that famous Tudor red.

Draco shrugged, "It seemed like an ideal costume seeing as we're supposed to be going to this thing together. Plus, the guy created a church just so he could divorce his wife and marry his mistress. I'd say that's pretty inspirational."

Hermione laughed, "Well your costume is fantastic. That must have cost a fortune, the attention to detail is incredible." She said, looking him up and down.

Draco smirked, "I'm going to wager it cost about the same as your extravagant ensemble." He said knowingly.

Hermione bit her lip, and couldn't help but think that he was somehow managing to suss out her parents' rather affluent lifestyle. Determining to change the subject she turned back to her dressing table to reach for the 'B' pendant, her last jewellery piece to put on before tackling the hood.

"Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go." She told him.

"Before you do that," Draco said, stopping Hermione in her tracks, "I have something for you. I though you might like to wear it tonight, it will go with your costume perfectly." He said with his signature smirk.

Hermione dropped the pendant and turned back to him with a wary smile, "Okay," she said slowly.

"Now this is only a loan, so don't get excited. And don't think of trying to steal it, otherwise you will have my mother to answer to. But I thought you would appreciate it for the night." He told her holding out a worn looking, black leather box.

Hermione took it hesitantly, and lifted the lid, almost dropping the entire thing when she revealed its contents. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, she looked up at Malfoy.

"This can't be…? Surely, it's not…? Is it…?" She breathed, not even able to form a complete sentence.

Draco grinned; "Real?" he finished for her, "Oh it is." He assured her smugly.

"How?" She asked incredulously, looking back down at the famous Boleyn 'B' set on a string of pearls.

"The speculations are correct with regards to the necklace being given to Elizabeth. My father's namesake, the first Lucius Malfoy, was a respected member at her court. Of course the Malfoys denied this in later generations, but before the Statute of Secrecy our family would socialise with the Royal circles and the most influential of Muggles. Lucius apparently fell in love with Queen Elizabeth I and even asked for her hand in marriage."

Hermione grimaced, "That obviously didn't end well, as she famously never married."

"Quite. Actually it's thought that Lucius is responsible for that: he didn't take rejection well." Draco admitted.

Hermione laughed, "Are you saying your ancestor jinxed Queen Elizabeth I into spinsterhood to get revenge for rejection?" She asked incredulously.

Draco nodded, "Yes. And apparently he took a little token to add to the Malfoy's collection." He added, indicating to the case in Hermione's hand.

Hermione looked back at the necklace, disbelief and fascination etched across her features. Draco smiled as Hermione shifted the box so that it rested in her left hand, raising her right hand to hover over it to touch it, but not making contact, clearly still in disbelief at what she was looking at.

"You can touch it you know," he told her quietly, unable to keep the humour out of his voice. Hermione glanced at him, glaring with her eyes, but still smiling. She looked back at the necklace and as her fingers delicately touched the pearls, she let out an emotional laugh.

"I can't believe I am actually holding this in my hand." She said, and out of nowhere there were tears in her eyes. She was holding an incredible peace of history, and she had dreamt of this moment many times over the years, though believing it to be entirely impossible.

She laughed again in disbelief, still delicately running her fingers over the pearls. Draco rolled his eyes at the reaction, but still smiled, apparently she hadn't been exaggerating when she said she was a little obsessed with anything Tudor, especially Ann Boleyn, related. He took the box from her and removed the necklace.

"I didn't get my mother to floo it here so you could just stare at it in its box." He said, walking behind her.

Hermione followed his movements with her head, "Are you seriously going to let me wear it?" She asked, still incredulous, and feeling she was dreaming this moment.

"Yes, now stand still." Draco told her.

Hermione faced forward again, and stood still as instructed, while Draco placed the pearls delicately around her neck, fastening them carefully. Hermione ignored the tingling down her spine that she felt when Draco's fingers brushed along the back of her neck, telling herself it was the feel of actually wearing Anne's necklace that had caused the sensation, and not Draco's delicate touch.

Hermione tentatively reached up to feel the pearls on her, "Thank you, so much." She said, with feeling.

Draco shrugged, "Your costume is now complete, you can really get into character. Now, let's go get this teenage nightmare over with." He said.

"One second, my hood. Do you know how inappropriate it would be for Ann Boleyn to appear in front of her court with her head uncovered?" Hermione asked, in mock severity.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Drama queen," He muttered and headed towards the door, "Just hurry." He said over his shoulder.

Hermione turned back to her mirror and proceeded to don the French hood, stepping back she admired the full effect of the ensemble, turning each side, making sure the costume fell about her perfectly. Gently, she pushed the hood back from her face a tiny bit.

"Perfect." She murmured. Her eyes shone briefly as they rested upon the pendant in the mirror, she fingered it lightly once more and gave a small giggle, still in slight disbelief at what she was actually wearing.

"For Merlin's sake, Granger! Get a bloody move on!" She was pulled out of her reverie by Draco's irritated shout up her staircase. Hermione arranged her features into a perfectly serene mask, straightened herself up, and headed down, with a sly smile creeping into her lips – the kind of smile perfectly fitting for the character.

"You know, if ever Henry spoke to Anne in such a way, all hell broke loose." Hermione said conversationally as she descended.

Draco didn't respond instantly, he was momentarily in awe as he watched her walk into the room where he was waiting for her: now that her costume was complete she looked beyond amazing. There was a sly look in her eyes, and a playful smile just tugging at her lips, and Draco felt she couldn't be any more alluring if she tried. Draco felt something stir in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it and pushed it away – the last thing he needed was to be allured by Hermione Granger.

"I see you're getting into character: I'm going to regret giving you that bloody necklace by the end of the night, you'll be more insufferable than you usually are." He said, "Now can we get a move on, it's nearly ten-to."

"If only you could get into character, I'm sure a young Henry was much less of an ass than you're being at the moment." Hermione retorted, heading for the doorway.

As she passed out of the tower she silently thanked the gods the painting concealing the doorway was rather wide – there was no way she could have manoeuvred the Gryffindor's portrait hole in this dress.

"Be careful what you wish for Granger, I might end up taking your head by the end of the night, if I get too into my character." Draco joked as he followed her through the corridors down to the hall, and Hermione laughed.

"Who's guarding the drinks table this evening?" Draco asked after a few moments of silence, with a studied nonchalance, that Hermione immediately distrusted.

She looked at him carefully, "You want to spike th drink don't you? You have Firewhiskey in your pocket, haven't you?" She accused.

"I am a king, I don't have to answer to you." He smirked as they came to the Marble staircase.

"Don't waste it all those younger students. Save it for later, invite Ginny and Blaise to the tower after, maybe a couple of others." Hermione suggested.

Draco actually stopped halfway down the stairs; Hermione didn't notice right away, and had to turn a few steps down, to look back up at him, "What?" She asked impatiently.

"Are you actually suggesting we try and get away with having an after-party?" He asked, slightly shocked.

"No." Hermione said, and then gave a playful smirk, "I'm telling you that we are having an after-party."

By the time they made it into the Great Hall, everyone had already began seating themselves at the tables, and they were the last to take their seats at their table up on the dais. Hermione took her seat next to Luna just as the first course appeared in front of them. During the first course Hermione and Luna chatted happily about their costumes while Draco remained silent, casually taking in the rest of the room.

"What the hell is Longbottom wearing?" He said, suddenly.

Hermione looked up at Draco, and then followed his gaze to where Neville was just retaking his seat between the Patil Twins. Hermione's face cracked into a wide smile.

"They would by classic 70's flares, I'm assuming Dean is wearing something similar. And from what I can see of Padma and Parvati, they have gone with the well known cat mini-dress ensemble." Hermione said with a laugh. She turned to look at Draco to explain, "The four of them have come together as ABBA, a very successful Swedish pop group from the 70's."

When the four-course dinner was over, McGonagall silenced the hall, and introduced Hermione and Draco to speak to the Hall on behalf of the Prefects. Hermione spoke the most, but kept it short and simple, thanking the prefects for their relentless efforts in making the night come together, "And it's great to see how enthusiastically you have all entered into the spirit of this evening, I have to say, looking around their room the costumes are incredible. In a moment, the tables will be removed and for the rest of the evening as we have been fortunate enough to engage The Flaming Hippogriffs, who will provide us with ample entertainment. Drinks and refreshments are set up along the back wall, and over by the doors leading outside we have an excellent exhibition of tradition muggle 'magic tricks', that George Weasley – who a lot of you will know and recognise – has kindly agreed to showcase for us, and I think you're going to be pretty impressed with them." She said with a smile.

"And now," Draco said, finally speaking up, "If you'll stand, we'll vanish the tables, and start the real fun." He said with roguish grin.

Ass everyone in the hall stood and the teachers vanished the tables, Hermione looked at Draco with a frown, "Did you have to make that sound quite so dirty and inappropriate?" She said.

"Are you going to move, or are you planning on being the band's front man for the evening." He responded, turning away and descending down onto the main floor. Hermione gathered her skirts and followed him down, where Blaise and Ginny soon accosted them – or as they were for the evening, Anthony and Cleopatra.

The four chatted comfortably, and were soon joined by Dean, Neville and the Patil twins who greeted them in a similar way that Ginny had; complimenting her on her costume, and congratulating her and her team on their preparations, and falling effortlessly into the conversation.

The conversation soon turned to costumes, and Draco couldn't help but mock the outrages flares of Neville and Dean.

"I'm actually getting grief about my costume from a man wearing tights?" Neville asked dryly.

"Come on Granger," Draco said suddenly, taking her hand, ignoring Neville's jibe and the subsequent laughs, "I feel like I'm drowning in Gryffindor righteousness, and I'm not dancing on my own." He told her, leading her to the dance floor with a sudden determination that didn't leave time to even think of refusing.

Hermione gave a quick look of alarm over her shoulder at Ginny, who merely smirked, and within seconds she was in the middle of the dance floor, being spun to face Draco who moved one hand to her waist.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at how easy and familiarly he held her, "I don't-" She began.

"Don't tell me you can't dance: I saw you at the Yule ball, plus I'm sure you've been made to dance a few waltzes at your parents' parties." He accused, not letting her finish.

Hermione frowned, "This music isn't exactly conducive to a waltz." She told him, just as the music changed.

Hermione closed her eyes, shook her head and laughed, as Draco smirked.

"I had to speak out." Hermione mumbled as the lead singer said: "We're going to take it down for a couple of songs."

As the band went into one of their power ballads, Draco took a step closer and began to move with the music.

"Don't look down at your feet. I'll lead, you shouldn't try and follow, it never works." Draco told her.

Hermione glared, "I do know how to dance, I'm aware of the technicalities of the leading and following." She snapped.

Draco smirked, "I thought as much. No doubt you were given a thorough teaching in preparation for your debut into muggle society at seventeen." He mocked.

"Eighteen." She corrected him, automatically, "Muggles come of age at eighteen. But that's not the point. I never had a debut. What is with all these random assumptions you're making about my life, all of a sudden?" She asked him warily.

"Just curious." He said evasively, "Tell me Granger, where's your family home?"

"I grew up just outside of York." She told him, keeping her eyes on his face, watching his reactions closely. But he was wearing a serene mask of nonchalance; only his eyes hinted that there were more to his questions. As she looked, his eyes creased into a smile, and his lips curled up into his familiar smirk.

"You're trying to figure out why I'm so interested?" He accused her.

Hermione smiled warily, "I'm wondering what you're trying to figure out with these questions." She countered. "Tell me, what does my recent admission tell you?" She asked.

Draco chuckled, "That you are incredibly well spoken for a Yorkshire woman: It's a hard accent to cover, yet you do it flawlessly. Only a handful of people can accomplish that." He answered slyly.

"Oh really?" Hermione said, in mock ignorance, "And, pray tell, who are these lucky individuals?"

Draco smirked again, "Oh, you know, those muggle heiress types, the kind whom that Richard guy is supposedly going to marry, according to Witch Weekly."

Hermione frowned at the mention of Richard – he was the last person she wanted to think about when she was having a surprisingly good time.

"Well, that certainly isn't me now, is it?" She said, "Everyone is well aware that I am not a muggle." She told him, not confirming the other charge.

But Hermione's lack of denial to the heiress charge was all he needed to know, he didn't say a word however, simply continued to dance as the band slipped seamlessly into their next song. The song was along the same tempo, and while the beat changed imperceptibly, Draco and Hermione didn't falter in their steps, as Draco continued to lead her around the floor. They were pretty much silent throughout the second song, both focused completely on the other person and oblivious to the curious looks they were getting from their fellow students. Hermione was soon lost in the music, and slowly becoming lost in Draco's eyes. His hands were warm against her; his right resting comfortably on the small of her back had slowly been drawing her closer to him. His left hand grasped hers, and while they had started in a fairly formal position, their clasped hands were now in between them, gently resting against Draco's chest. Hermione felt completely comfortably, despite her earlier reservations, and the lack of Draco's usual defensive mask had tuned his eyes into hypnotic swirls of silver, as opposed to the hard steel they used to be, causing Hermione to lose herself in their depths rather quickly.

When the song finished, and the band introduced their next song, Hermione and Draco's little bubble burst abruptly, and they realised in how intimate a position they had become. Both immediately felt a little awkward, and took a hesitant step back. Draco let his arm fall from around her waist, and Hermione let go of his hand she was holding.

"I'm going to go get a drink." Draco said quickly, and slightly awkwardly.

"Yeah," Hermione said, echoing Draco's tone, "I'm going to go outside." She told him quickly, "I haven't seen the decorations out there, I should really check them out." She said.

The two looked at each other a moment longer, then at the same time took a deep breath, said "okay," briskly, and turned to leave the dance floor separate ways.

A/N: So we got a tiny bit of Dramione at the end.

The next chapter will be up in the New Year - I know it's a while away, but I'm going to be pretty busy over the Christmas time.

Thanks again for reading, Hope you guys have a wonderful Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

See you in 2013!

xBx