Chapter Sixteen: Gala
"Perfect (duet)" -Ed Sheeran, Beyonce
"Certain Things" -Jaymes Arthur
Hermione groaned as Ginny passed the brush over her face again. This was beyond ridiculous.
"Oh, hush. It's not as horrible as you make it out to be," Ginny snapped, a teasing smile softening the harsh tone of her words.
"Why do I need makeup? I'm attending alone and there won't be any one there that I wish to impress." That was a lie. Ginny called her on it.
"I'm under the firm impression that Draco Malfoy will be in attendance, and deny it all you want, you like him. So, shush and let me work my magic."
Hermione harumphed, annoyed that her friend wouldn't let the matter drop. She'd given in and told Ginny all of the details of their kiss, and now her friend was determined to play matchmaker. She had dragged her along dress shopping and forced her into what felt like hundreds before she had proclaimed one 'the one'.
Ron hadn't spoken to her since the night of the trainwreck Never Have I Ever game. It hurt Hermione more than she would ever admit. She had hurt him, yes, but unintentionally. He was inflicting intentional pain.
Harry had been sympathetic, but he didn't like being caught in the middle of his two best friends. Hermione didn't blame him. Ginny had told her he had let Ron have it for the way he talked to her that night. She felt extremely guilty over it. Causing a rift between her two best friends was not something that she had intended and she really couldn't stand it.
"Stop fidgeting!" Ginny snapped and Hermione smacked the brush away in exasperation.
"You've been pawing at me for hours, Ginny, if I don't look presentable now, then
I never will! I'm going downstairs for a cuppa before we head out. Excuse me," she said, standing up and easing passed her friend.
"I was done anyway!" Ginny called after her triumphantly.
Hermione shook her head and stepped down into the kitchen. Molly was bustling about as dishes washed and dried themselves in the sink, a pot flew passed Hermione's head and she ducked. Mrs. Weasley turned and her face lit up. "Hermione, dear, you look just lovely."
Hermione could feel her cheeks heat as she murmured her thanks. A cup of tea whizzed over to her as she sat down at the kitchen table. She blew gently on the surface of the liquid before taking a tongue scalding sip.
"Mum, can you help me with this bloody tie-" Ron appeared in the doorway, struggling with the thin strip of black material that hung loosely around his neck. He stopped short when he noticed Hermione, shot her a scathing look and then proceeded to pretend that she wasn't there at all.
He moved around the table, crossing over to where Mrs. Weasley stood beside the sink and held his chin up. She flicked her wand at the tie and it immediately knotted itself into a perfect windsor knot. She reached out and straightened it.
If Molly had noticed anything off between Hermione and Ron the past few days, she hadn't mentioned it. Though Hermione was pretty sure that the way he had been switching from blatantly ignoring her existence and making snide comments trying to get a rise out of her had been noticed by the entire household. Ron was making no effort whatsoever to conceal the level of comtempt he held for her.
She felt her cheeks blushing even as she thought of some of the things he had said about her over the past few days. But she was beyond caring. Or, at least, that's what she told herself. Truthfully, though she knew she didn't deserve it, she wanted him to let his frustrations out, to clear the air between them once and for all.
"Where's Harry, dear? You all really had better get a move on. I'm just waiting on your father and then we'll be right behind you."
"He's trying to do something with his hair. I told him it's a lost cause. George?"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "He refused to go. Says he's working on something new at the shop," her voice shook a bit, and she sucked in a deep breath before turning and busying herself at the sink again, wiping the already spotless counter tops down again.
Hermione heard Harry and Ginny descending the stairs, tossed back the remaining dregs of her tea and placed the empty cup in the sink.
"Well, let's go before my boyfriend decides to try another clever spell on his hair." Ginny sniggered as she looped her arm through Hermione's. She leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Let's just say pink is really not his color..."
"Ginerva Weasley, you just swore to me that you weren't going to tell anyone," Harry groaned, exasperatedly.
Ginny looked at him as if he were entirely daft as she said, "Hermione doesn't count, Harry."
Harry, seemingly not in agreement with her logic, rolled his eyes and followed Ron into the living room. The floo network was always open to the Ministry here, thanks to Mr. Weasley and now Ron and Harry. Hermione was thankful that they wouldn't have to apparate and then flush themselves in, instead, they could walk straight into the fireplace and out into the Atrium.
Ron went first, followed by Harry and Ginny. Hermione was last, and deny it all she might, she was extremely nervous about seeing Draco. Would he be there? Would he speak to her? Probably not after the way she'd acted the last time he'd spoked to her. She frowned.
"Staring into the flames for twenty minutes isn't going to change the events of the night, you know."
Hermione jumped, scattering floo powder across the floor. Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and it returned to the small pot beside the fireplace.
She winked at Hermione and gave her a small push. "Whatever will be, will be. Might as well go find out." And with that cryptic message she turned and walked away. Hermione could hear her feet on the stairs as she ascended, presumably to get ready to join them all.
She took a deep breath, murmured, "Don't be a coward," under her breath, and stepped into the hearth.
The Ministry had been transformed into something magical, as cliche as that sounds. The floors, normally a smooth marble had been bewitched to resemble a spring meadow, complete with flowers and toadstools. There were trees surrounding the main party area, throwing shade over tables draped in gossamer clothes. Fairies flitted about, their multicolored bodies giving the air a shimmering appearance.
It was breath taking. Hermione compared it in her head to Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, but she didn't share that fact with any of her cohorts. None of them would have a clue as to what she was talking about, except for Harry, but Hermione had been trying to make as little conversation with him as possible. After her first few attempts had earned her heated glares from Ron.
Ginny smacked her arm and she flinched. "Ow," she hissed.
Ginny ignored her protest, "Look, there's Luna."
Hermione turned and sure enough, there was her friend, walking in on Theo's arm. She looked absolutely radiant in a yellow dress and Theo was grinning from ear to ear. He caught Hermione's eye and winked, mouthing, "You look hot, Granger!"
She blushed and shook her head. He pointed them out to Luna and she smiled and waved. They waved back and they began making their way over to the table that they had claimed a few short minutes after arriving.
"Bloody hell, here we go," Ron growled.
"What is your problem?" Ginny snapped, whipping around to look at him, slapping Hermione across the face with her sleek ginger locks in the process. Hermione spluttered, trying to rid her tongue of stray hairs.
"My problem is that I don't want to have to share a table with those fucking Slytherin's. They think that just because they're pretending to be all goody goody now that we should all kiss their arses, well NO! I won't do it!"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're just bitter. Go sit somewhere else if you're going to have that attitude."
He mumbled something under his breath, but by that time, Theo and Luna were standing in front of their table. "Wow, you look amazing!" Hermione, exclaimed, standing to hug Luna.
"Thank you, thank you. I did put a lot of effort into my appearance tonight. I'm so touched that you noticed," Theo grinned and clapped his hands like a school girl. Hermione laughed, releasing Luna. "Yes, you look nice, too, Theo."
He winked at her and gestured to the table. "These seats taken?"
"Actually-"
"No, no they're not. Go ahead," Ginny said, shooting Ron a look that clearly said, 'shut your trap.'
"Where're the other snakes?" Ron asked bitterly, stirring around his fire whiskey he'd ordered a few minutes after walking through the doors.
Theo arched an eyebrow, but remained impassive. "They should be here soon. I left ahead of time to meet Luna at her house so that we could floo in together."
"So, they're all coming then?" Ron asked, feigning as if he weren't interested, though it was blatantly obvious that he was.
"Yep."
Hermione was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with each minute that passed. She brought her hand to her mouth, intending to knaw on her fingernails, a nervous habit, but Ginny swatted her hand away and glared, making it clear that the coat of polish she had applied a few hours prior was to stay put. Hermione sighed and drummed her fingers on the table, each little tap punctuating the uncomfortable silence.
Ron was glowering at her from across the table and she had the most ridiculous urge to stick her tongue out at him like a five year old who didn't get their way. He was taking this to extremes, in Hermione's opinion, and it was taking its toll on her. She had never felt so downright out of place with her friends before, and now here she was, feeling like the outsider she had been that first year at Hogwarts before Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll. She smiled slightly at the memory, though it didn't linger for long on her lips once she caught Ron's glare again.
"Oh, look, there's Blaise and Pansy now," Theo said, probably more loudly than was strictly necessary. He frantically waved them over, a desperate look on his face and Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"Hello Hermione," Pansy said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving a small squeeze before settling herself into one of the empty chairs. Blaise sat beside her, nodding politely by way of greeting to everyone.
"Hello," Hermione smiled. She, guiltily, had wondered whether or not the Slytherin's actually liked her and wanted to be her friend or if it had all been an act. She felt confident now, that the comraderie that had developed between them was genuine. She was suprised by how much she actually enjoyed their company. "You look lovely, Pansy."
It was the truth. Pansy's sleek black hair was pulled back into a tight chiffon and she donned a skin tight blood red dress that accentuated her curves in all the right places. Blaise wore a matching tie along with his simple black dress robes.
"I'll say!" Ginny grinned, and winked, and Hermione was sure she saw Pansy blush as she waved away their compliments.
Ginny nudged Harry in the ribs and pointed to the band that had been playing since they'd arrived. "Let's dance. They've been playing for so long and nobody is giving them the time of day."
"I dunno, Gin, I'm not really-"
She grabbed his hand and began to drag him out toward the middle of the room. Hermione heard him mumble that no one else was dancing. To which Ginny replied, "Well, even more reason. The Chosen One needs to set an example to all of these fun sponges!"
Hermione watched, amused, as Ginny twiched her way into the center of the room, her lilac dress shifting beautifully with each step. Harry bowed to her like a perfect gentleman and took her hand, placing his other hand low on her waist. They began twirling around, and a wistful feeling took root in Hermione's stomach, but she pushed it away.
She wondered where Draco was for a moment, before reminding herself that she wasn't supposed to care. However, even Ron's dirty looks couldn't stop her mouth from forming the words and spitting them out.
"Isn't Draco coming?"
She chewed her lip as the words slipped past, then remembering the lipstick that Ginny had carefully applied, she released it. Hopefully it wasn't smudged, or she would hear about it later.
Theo was watching her, his trademark grin and mischevious sparkle in his eye seemed to mock her, but he remained quiet, waiting for one of his friends to answer. They both seemed hesitant.
Finally, after an awkward pause, Blaise said, "The last I heard from him, he had decided against it."
The wave of disappointment Hermione felt was crushing, and suddenly, she didn't feel up for any more conversation. She watched in silence as Ginny and Harry twirled around the dance floor, where more couples had joined them. Ginny had been right. Apparently, Harry's decision to dance had led others to follow in his wake.
Ron stood from the table and crossed the room purposefully. Hermione watched him go, curious. He stopped in front of a table on the opposite side of the room. Lavender Brown sat before him and Hermione was sure that he was asking her to dance, her suspicions confirmed as she took his hand and he led her out onto the dance floor.
If it had been a year ago, Hermione would have probably spent the remainder of the evening hiding out in the loo, jealous of the girl stealing away her best friend's attention. But as it were, she felt nothing. Except for maybe a little happiness at the way his mouth had turned up at the corner, something she hadn't seen in several days now.
Pansy and Blaise, and Theo and Luna joined the other couples a few minutes later, and Hermione studied all of the happy faces as they spun in time to the music. She watched in happy suprise as she saw Seamus lead Dean out into the middle of the dance floor, though she couldn't really claim that she was that shocked. She had known it would happen eventually, even if she had never spoken it aloud. They were truthfully perfect for one another.
Another pang hit her in the gut, this time: loneliness.
A tap on her shoulder startled her and she spun around in her seat. Neville stood behind her chair, looking handsome and sophisticated in well taylored navy robes that made his eyes stand out. "Hi, 'Mione. Wanna dance?"
Hermione took his outstretched hand without hesitation. "Thank you, Neville."
"You looked as bored as I was. Gran's been going on and on with her friends about the battle, having me recount details that I know I've told her about 100 times. She could tell them everything I can in her sleep, but no. It's better straight from the source, she says. I've only just escaped or I would have joined you all earlier."
Hermione smiled, as they began to twirl. Neville really wasn't that bad of a dancer. She had never been perfect, but she was decent. "I'm glad you got away. A few more moments and I would have probably fallen asleep."
Even as the words left her mouth, she felt the yawn building and she could do nothing to stop it. Her jaw cracked and a small squeak escaped her with the force of it.
Neville grinned at her. "Late night reading?"
Hermione forced a smile. "Something like that," she said, unwilling to admit to her friend that she had really been plagued by nightmares. She wasn't getting much sleep at all lately, and she wasn't sure how long it could go on before she had some sort of break down. It was becoming increasingly harder to seperate her waking moments from the vivid dreams she was plunged into as soon as unconsciousness took hold of her.
"-this new book on Magical Plants of Montreal. It's really fascinating. You can borrow it when I'm finished, if you like."
Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Neville. It sounds wonderful."
The song ended and the band didn't start up another. Instead, they left the stage, presumably to take a well deserved break, and Kingsley took the stage. Hermione watched at he muttered a Sonorus charm and cleared his throat.
"Welcome. I'd like to thank you all so much for coming. The cause of this gathering is bittersweet. Tom Riddle has been vanquished, once and for all. But in the process, we lost a great number of wonderful witches and wizards. We'd like to celebrate their lives tonight. They did not die in vain, and their memory will live on. A memorial plaque has been erected in the Atrium, for you to all view as you make your exit later tonight. It gives the names of all those who gave their lives so that we can live in peace once more.
"Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, could you join me on the stage please?" Hermione hesitated, glancing nervously at Neville before starting to make her way across the room. "In addition to the plaque here at the Ministry, we also have one for each of the fallen's family. We will pass them out now, along with our sympathy and gratitude for your suffering and sacrifice."
Hermione reached the stage at the same time as her friends and they exchanged looks. Ron didn't even look angry, all thoughts of other things forgotten, Hermione knew that all three of their minds were in the same place: the battle of Hogwarts, watching again as the events played through their minds. Seeing again the bodies littering the floor. Their friends laying lifeless before them.
They ascended the steps and stood diligently as Kingsley began to call names and they handed plaque after plaque to tear streaked faces. Hermione was the one to hand over the plaque to a trembling Andromeda, and her eyes filled with the emotion that she was desperately trying to get a hold on as it was just as visciously trying to claw its way out of her chest.
Harry handed over the Creevey brother's plaque to a frail woman who looked as though she was half mad. Perhaps she was, Hermione thought. Perhaps we all are now. Maybe you can't go through a war and stay whole. Maybe you lose part of yourself, if not all of yourself. Maybe who you once were, is no longer who you are.
She could feel herself losing the fragile hold she had on her sanity. It was slipping away with each name that was called.
Ron handing the plaque with Fred's name on it to a sobbing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as his own shoulders shook from his despair was the breaking of the rest of her defences.
She felt the first sob rip from her chest and then a second. Her head spun, and the grief that was enveloping her combined with the extreme lack of sleep she had been getting proved to be a terrible combination.
She could her a shrill cry coming from somewhere and she wished it would stop. It was only adding to her deteriorating state. She couldn't breathe. She needed air.
She was vaguely aware of hands tugging at her own hands which were clamped firmly over her ears as she rocked.
"Move! Move you idiots!" The muffled voice broke through the static that had taken over her brain.
"Weasley, I'll hex your bollocks off in front of the entire room if you don't get your fucking hand off of me."
Cool hands brushed against her face, though Hermione kept her eyes pressed tightly shut. "Granger- Hermione. Look at me. Can you look at me?"
Hermione shook her head, not wanting to open her eyes and see the images in her mind were real, that she was reliving one of her many nightmares, staring into her friends cold, unseeing faces.
"You're fine, Hermione. You're safe. Open your eyes and look at me.."
Hermione reluctantly complied, opening first one eye and then the other.
Cool grey eyes stared intently into hers and she felt her breathing begin to regulate as the tension began to ease from her body. The tears began to flow in earnest however, and she felt embarrassed at the spectacle she had made of herself.
Draco pulled her into his arms, and though it suprised her, her body immediately relaxed against him and she snaked her arms around his neck.
"I hate it when you cry," he murmured in her ear.
"I'm s-sorry." She choked out as he stroked her hair.
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, but the words were paired with another stroke of her hair as his arms tightened around her, and therefore their sharpness was dulled.
As Hermione began to gain a better handle on her emotions, she realised that not only had she had a complete mental breakdown in front of a room full of hundreds of witches and wizards, she was now wrapped precariously around Draco Malfoy as everyone watched on awkwardly.
Her face heated and she sat up straight, swiping at her face. She knew there would be no salvaging her makeup and she wondered if her fragile mental state would stop Ginny from hitting her with a bat bogey hex for destroying her hard work.
She cleared her throat and Draco stood and helped her to her feet. She straightened her dress, and stood embarrassed as her friends gave her sympathetic looks. Ron wasn't angry, though that's what she had been expecting. Instead, she saw her own pain mirrored on his face and perhaps a twinge of wistfulness. Harry put a hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe you should go ahead and sit down, 'Mione. There aren't many more to do, anyway."
Hermione nodded numbly and shot Kingsley and apologetic look, before she hastened from the stage. The pity in his eyes made her feel terrible. He shouldn't pity her. She shouldn't have made such a scene when there were people accepting plaques that had it far worse than she did. She told herself that the ridiculously low amount of sleep she had been getting was to blame for the severity of the anxiety attack, but she couldn't be sure.
Hermione avoided the many, many eyes that were watching her. She could almost feel their looks on her skin. She shivered.
Draco's hand rested on the small of her back as he led her across the crowded room to the table where their friends sat waiting, wearing looks of concern that only added to her guilt.
She sat down shakily, wanting nothing more at that moment than to crawl into bed and drift into a deep, dreamless sleep, but she knew that the moment her eyes closed, she would be plagued with the nightmares. She couldn't keep going like this. She was going to crack. Hell, she had cracked, she realised suddenly. Her meltdown onstage had been the first splinter in her 'Everything's fine' facade.
"Hermione..." Ginny's voice reached her, and when Hermione looked up, she had the sense that Ginny and perhaps her other friends had said her name more than once.
"I- I don't know what to say. I don't know what that was."
"Me grampa served in the war," Seamus spoke, his arm resting casually across Dean's shoulders. Hermione hadn't even noticed they'd been sitting there, "He had moment's like tha'. Believe 'e called it PTSD."
Hermione frowned. She hadn't considered that she might have a deeper rooted issue, but she could see how spending most of her childhood fearing Voldemort's return, brushing shoulders with death countless times throughout the years, going through a war, and then being kidnapped and escaping might have had a negative effect on her mental health. She chewed her lip.
Dean was explaining to the rest of their friends what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was, and Draco was listening intently, stealing quick glances at Hermione every few seconds. Having him seated in the chair beside her eased her mind slightly, but she still felt worn from whatever the episode had been. She felt extremely hot suddenly, and her eyelids felt like the weighed 10 pounds each. Her gaze drifted back out across the room and she found that no one was watching her anymore. Except for one set of eyes, standing slightly to the left of the stage.
Barrett was watching her intently, a giant grin spreading across his face as he noticed her notice him. He winked at her and mouthed, 'What a show.'
Disgusted, and feeling even worse, Hermione shoved her chair back and stood with the intention of retrieving a glass of water from one of the waiters. Her head spun suddenly, and her vision swam. She had the vague sensation of falling before everything went black.
Hermione awoke with a headache, in an unfamiliar bed and it took her several moments to get her bearings straight. She tried to sit up, but realised there were arms wrapped around her like a vice. She started to panic before his scent registered and she stilled. How had she gotten here, in Draco's bed? She had been at the gala. She had made a fool of herself in front of a roomful of people and... then what? Everything was a blur from there, followed by a stretch of unconsciousness.
Draco stirred, loosening his grip on her and she took that opportunity to sit up a bit. He stilled, and then Hermione felt the bed shift and the tip of his wand ignited.
"Hey," he said.
Hermione smiled slightly. "Hey."
They studied each other for a few moments before he broke the silence.
"You have a nasty habit of scaring the fuck out of me, you know."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position.
"Um... what happened? I mean aside from the breakdown I had. That part is crystal clear."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You fainted. When is the last time you slept, Granger? I mean, really slept? You have circles under your eyes that would make a vampire do a double take, you've lost weight, and you're crashing."
"I..." she hesitated, debating whether or not the truth was the best answer. In the end, she decided she might as well be honest. "I've been averaging about 2 hours a night, not consecutively I might add." He started to speak and she could tell his temper was flaring, so she continued, "It's the dreams. The nightmares. They wake me up constantly, and then I'm scared to sleep because I know they're going to come when I close my eyes. I've tried potions, they don't work."
Draco closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. "You have to sleep. You're running yourself into the ground."
"Thanks for the tip, if you could pass it on to my subconscience that would be great," Hermione snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She noticed for the first time that she was clad in a tshirt and shorts. Her cheeks flushed red as she wondered who had changed her clothes.
"Does nothing help? Surely there has to be something! You should go see a healer at St. Mungo's. Maybe they could prescribe you a potion you haven't tried. Or maybe Seamus is right. Maybe you have PHED and you should see one of those muggle head doctors Dean was on about."
Hermione bit back a smile, and corrected quietly, "PTSD."
He glared at her, "Whatever."
She pressed her fingers to her throbbing forehead, feeling a large knot under the skin there.
"Is your head hurting? 'Dromeda made you a potion for it, it's on the nightstand."
Hermione fumbled around until she found it, unstoppered it and tossed it back. "How did I get here? Why am I not at the Burrow?"
She swore Draco blushed, but in the dim lighting it was hard to tell.
"I needed to know that you were okay. Weasley hates me now more than ever before, but the She Weasel didn't seem to mind."
Now it was Hermione's turn to be embarrassed. She flushed profusely, knowing that Ginny had probably been entirely too forthcoming with whatever she had said to him.
"What did she tell you?"
Draco feigned innocent and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "Was there something to tell? I don't remember her saying much..."
"Oh, come off it. I know Ginny. Tell me what she said."
He arched an eyebrow. "Only that you're mad for me, but I'd already figured that much out for myself after that kiss." He smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, that was then. I'm completely over you."
Draco raised his eyebrows, suprised and Hermione thought maybe she saw a glint of something else there. Determination, perhaps? Like someone who had just been issued a challenge.
"Completely over me, then? You're not affected by me at all?" Draco asked, unauthentic disappointment colored his tone.
"None whatsoever..." Hermione said quietly.
Draco reached out and trailed his fingers over the bare skin of her arm, goosebumps rising even as her skin burned from his touch. "Not even a little bit?" he murmured.
"No," she breathed.
He smirked and his hand slipped underneath the hem of her tshirt, tracing the soft skin of her stomach. She gave an involuntary shiver. "I don't believe you."
She reached out a hand to stroke his face, and his fingers stilled where they were.
"That's because I'm lying," she said, her breathing hitching as his grey eyes smoldered at her.
And then his mouth was on hers, their bodies flush as his weight pressed her harder into the pillows. Godric, he was sensational. Her fingers twined themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots and illiciting a small moan from him, making her body react in ways she had never felt, aside from the last kiss they had shared. She wanted to prolong this moment, to preserve it and live in it forever, but her head began to throb even harder and she inhaled sharply, her hand automatically pressing against the lump.
Despite her hopes that Draco wouldn't notice, he had. He kissed her once more, chastely, and then lay back against the pillows. "You should sleep," he said.
Hermione frowned. "I don't want to sleep. I have better things to do."
He chuckled. "Tomorrow. Behave."
She sighed, wistfully before scooted closer to him and burrowing herself into his side, her head resting on his chest. He only hesitated for a moment before folding his arm around her and pulling her tighter to him. She felt his lips on her hair, and despite her claims that she didn't want to sleep, she found her eyelids drooping and was pulled swiftly into unconsciousness.