Hermione meant everything she'd said. Every syllable. How could she resist words of such mysterious temptation and emotional depth? No one had ever said those kind of things to her before. She wanted to experience it- to know exactly what love like that felt like. But she needed things to go slowly. She wasn't quite ready to jump into another relationship, not just yet anyways. The wounds from her breakup with Ron would need some time to heal.
As it ended up, the two of them would have had little to no time to meet up outside of school-related activities even if she had been immediately interested. The weeks before the first two parents' nights flew by and Hermione was glad when the Thursday night before the first dinner party rolled around.
The work they'd put in during the two weeks prior hadn't been particularly difficult, since most of what was left to organize they finished with the help of the prefects team. Nevertheless, she was ready to be done with the whole thing. The sooner she could dedicate her time to purely focusing on her academics the better and McGonagall had already confirmed with both her and Draco that there were no other projects in the making for the year. When they were done with this one, they were done for good and Hermione could say definitively that she was ready to downgrade from two types of stress to one. School work would provide her with more than enough trouble to get her to the end of the school year.
On the Friday of the first banquet, the prefects team spent the majority of their morning and afternoon between classes in the great hall, preparing it for the festivities it would soon play host to. The tall windows were draped with long glittering golden ribbons, the tables laden with silky off-white cloths and glittering centerpieces, and the sky enchanted to look like a meteor shower. The floating candles were transfigured into glowing orbs of warm white light and each of the house tables accented with long ornate table runners of the houses representative colors.
Hermione stepped back when they finished early Friday afternoon to admire their work. The room had an ethereal sort of feel as bright sunlight poured in from the tall windows. She imagined it would look even more dazzling that evening as the sun set and the enchanted meteor shower became more visible.
She and Draco called the prefects together for a brief meeting following the room's completion, reminding them to look sharp and arrive in dress robes or evening wear before sending them off to get ready for the evening.
At a meeting the weekend before, all of the prefects had drawn straws, after being given an opportunity to volunteer outright, to see who would get stuck on patrol duty while the rest dined in the great hall. Nearly everyone was required to take at least two of the six evenings off, except the lucky few that would have the opportunity to attend all six evenings if they drew well.
From there, they'd assigned duties to each of those prefects who were attending each evening, specifically for the first evening, arranging for a total of twelve prefects to head down to Hogsmeade around five o'clock, eight of which would guide any parents that decided to arrive via a magical means of transport to meet with the four prefects accompanying Hagrid to see to the parents arriving via the Hogwarts Express. All would then sail across the lake, as was the custom for new students on their first evening at Hogwarts.
Hermione knew why McGonagall had chosen it. Anyone who had experienced it would swear by it as the most breathtaking view of the castle.
The prefects that would be in attendance for each night were then divided up again into sets that would accompany several Hogwarts teachers in leading small groups of parents through a tour of the school after the banquet was through. At the end of the night, everyone would meet back in the great hall for drinks and dessert and to receive their favors, before the parents were escorted back out, this time, by carriage.
Everything seemed to be in order. The only thing left for her to do was head back to her dormitory and get herself ready for the evening.
She adjusted her dress in front of the floor length mirror in her bedroom that evening in the minutes she had spare before she was due downstairs. She'd gotten it in London during a visit to Grimmauld place that summer. It was a tea-length dress of a pale icy blue shade. The neckline cut evenly across her chest and rested just above her shoulders so that it was only just not an off-shoulder gown. With it she had donned a simple pair of white heels.
Ginny had helped wrangle her disobedient hair into a high bun where it, mercifully, was still holding. She prayed it would continue to do so for the rest of the evening. If it didn't though, there was really nothing she could do about it. Her hair had always behaved like it had a mind of its own.
She smoothed her hands down the front of her gown and pivoted slightly to the left and right once more to check that everything was still as it should be. At the very last moment and as she was turning to leave, she felt a stray curl dance over her left cheek. Once it had been tucked safely behind her ear, she made her way downstairs.
When she arrived, she found that the great hall had not yet had an opportunity to welcome its guests for the evening. First year students were filing in through the doors and most of the teachers had already arrived, but there was no sign of any parents. Hermione made her way past the tables towards the front of the room. McGonagall had informed her that the head boy and girl would be sitting at the teacher's table for the evening.
McGonagall gave a curt smile in response to Hermione's greeting as she approached the front. Unaware of where she was supposed to go, Hermione politely asked if the older woman could direct her to where she would be sitting for the night. The headmistress gestured towards the center of the table and informed her that she and Draco would be sitting directly to her left for the evening. Hermione thanked her and made her way over to sit at the seat directly adjacent to the golden throne-like headmasters' chair.
Moments before the parents came through the door, Draco arrived to claim the seat next to her as the students and professors of Hogwarts, at McGonagall's behest, moved to sit at the tables. Hagrid marched proudly through the great oak doors with a line of finely-dressed parents trailing in behind him. All looked about the great hall with awe as they entered, though Hermione suspected that muggles were probably more dazzled than their wizard counterparts. Most wizarding parents were likely to have attended Hogwarts in their school days.
When the last of the couples had spotted their children and were readying themselves to sit down and the prefects that had acted as escorts had found their way to the prefects' dining table, McGonagall stood and motioned for silence. Hermione looked up and saw her wand press firmly against the exposed skin of her neck. Her voice sounded around the room, slightly amplified by what Hermione knew to be the sonorous charm.
"It is with great pleasure that I wish to welcome you to our school. First and foremost, I would like to take the time to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to join us this evening. Secondly, I would, in turn, like to thank you for each of the lovely students sitting in this room. I have said it before, and I will continue to say it: Hogwarts is wonderful school because of the many tremendous students that we are blessed to have attending here. Without your love and support, they would not be the remarkable young witches and wizards they are. We wish to use this night as an opportunity to honor your efforts as parents and introduce you to the wonderful school you so graciously allow your children to attend."
Hermione looked over at Draco as the headmistress launched into the next part of her speech. He was looking worriedly down at the table, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. His eyes darted upwards every now and then to gaze around the room. Hermione wondered for a moment why he was looking so nervous when a thought occurred to her. Though Draco himself was not a famous death eater or convicted criminal, his father was. Draco's pointed features, striking grey eyes and platinum hair betrayed a close resemblance to that of his father's. It wouldn't be hard for people to make the connection. She realized at once that he probably had good reason to be cautious and immediately felt sorry for him.
She reached over, interrupting his busy fingers to grab hold of his right hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked up at her and gave a faint smile. Her attention turned back to the woman beside her, still holding the hand of the boy next to her.
"This night would not have been possible without the work of a number of marvelous people. I would like to take a moment to appreciate them." She gestured to the prefects table. "Our prefects have lent us their time this evening to help us keep things running smoothly. Under the instruction of our head boy and girl, they also help put together the beautiful decorations you see around you." Applause sounded about the room with the occasional whoop and whistle.
McGonagall nodded and spoke again. "To my left here are our head boy and girl. Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are both seventh years from our Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, without whom our school could not function as smoothly as it does and whose tireless efforts have made everything about this evening possible. "
McGonagall discretely motioned for them to stand and Hermione felt Draco tense up beside her as she gave his arm a firm pull before dropping his hand. She felt her face color as they stood and were met with equally energetic warm applause. When they had both returned to their seats, McGonagall continued.
"I have held your attention long enough. So, without further ado, let us begin our evening!" With a slightly over-exaggerated sweep of her wand, platters of food materialized down each of the tables. Quite a few excited gasps sounded throughout the room as the food magically appeared out of thin air. Hermione stopped mid chuckle when a twinge of sadness overcame her. Her parents would have quite enjoyed attending one of these parties if they were of any state of mind to do so. But they wouldn't remember anything about Hogwarts- not when they couldn't even remember anything about their own daughter.
She did her best to stow away the unpleasant thought and turned her attention to the glorious feast in front of her. Hogwarts food was always sublime, thanks to the tireless effort made by the elves in the kitchen, but the food made on holidays and special occasions was particularly heavenly. Hermione heaped her plate full of roast beef, mashed potatoes, cucumber salad, roast carrots and parsnips, and gravy before it became too full for anything else.
As they ate, Hermione surveyed the selection of people dining with them for the evening. It was fairly easy to pick out the muggles- dressed in typical muggle evening wear- from the wizards clothed in fancy dress robes. She scanned the crowd, taking stock of the ratio, surprised to find quite a few more than she'd estimated seemed to be muggles. At least, she was judging by the clothes they wore. It was certainly possibly that an odd wizard here or there had come dressed in muggle attire, but that still left a good amount of non-magical parents in attendance for the evening.
By chance she noticed the Hufflepuff triplets sitting with their parents as she scanned the crowd again. She did a double take, checking to make sure her eyes had not deceived her. The pair were unmistakably dressed in muggle clothing. Hermione was flummoxed. Surely they were merely dressing as muggles. They couldn't possibly have had three magical triplets…
Hermione made move to gain McGonagall's attention and asked her curiously, "Mr. and Mrs. McMillan… they aren't muggles are they?"
"Why yes dear," the headmistress said plainly. Shock spread across Hermione's face and she shuddered to think of what home life at the McMillan household was like.
Draco, who had apparently been listening in, muttered beside her, "Merlin, now that explains some things."
Hermione kicked at him from under the table in indignant disproval of his insinuation, looking over to see him smirking deviously at her in return. She gave him a threating scowl before rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to her food.
Dinner passed without incident and no sooner had the prefects begun leading parents off to tour about the castle than they were bidding their guests goodbye after a lovely dessert filled with joyous merriment. It seemed that everyone had been thoroughly enchanted by the evening. Hermione swelled with pride to know that she'd helped coordinate such a successful and enjoyable event.
After the excitement of the evening had died down, she and Draco found themselves looking out over the school's shadowed surroundings from the Astronomy tower after having wandered about the school aimlessly for a while, immersed in conversation. The moon was bright and full and the stars twinkled brilliantly above them. Hermione took a satisfying deep breath of the cool evening air and shivered. Draco seemed to take notice for he removed his jacket and offered it to her. She accepted it with a gracious smile and donned it over her bare shoulders. The warmth of Draco's body heat radiated inwards off the expensive silken interior and she felt as though she was being given a gentle hug.
She watched as he solemnly turned his attention outwards.
"Is everything okay, Draco?" He seemed startled by her question and looked at her with discomfort.
"Yeah… yeah I'm fine. It's just…" he paused as if debating whether or not to share whatever thought was pressing in his mind. "Bad memories… you know." His eyes darted to the side. Immediately she understood.
"Oh my gosh, of course. I'm so sorry. We could leave-"
"No. I'll be fine," he cut her off suddenly. She gave him a look of concerned skepticism. "No, really, I'm okay. It's just another ghost I have to face."
She regarded him with a worried expression but relaxed some when he remarked casually, "It's quite a beautiful night."
"Yes it is," she breathed, staring out over the darkened landscape sprawling far beneath them.
"But not quite as beautiful as you, I think," he said confidently.
Hermione felt her face flush and she shifted her feet nervously beneath her. Her eyes wandered over his shadowed features. If possible, they looked even sharper in the moonlight. As she stole a glance downwards, she couldn't help but notice that both his shirt and trousers were well-tailored in an extremely flattering, form-fitting way.
"You clean up pretty well yourself, Malfoy."
She could almost feel the devilish smirk that broke across his face.
"Yeah, I do look rather good, don't I?" he offered smugly. A sound somewhere between a snort and a choking animal escaped her.
"I'll take that as a definite yes."
At a loss for words, she heaved a dramatic sigh and shook her head. The pale light around them just barely exposed his smile and, as usual, she couldn't help but grin in spite of herself. She turned away, hoping that he hadn't noticed.
As they stood in silence, a question that had been lingering in the back of her mind suddenly pressed forwards. Everything seemed to be moving so fast, much faster than she would have ever thought it would, and she wanted to avoid making the same mistakes of the past. She liked him. Godric, she liked him so much. Everything was going so well, so she hated to bring reality back into it all, but if she were to be with him, she needed to know.
"Draco?"
He looked over at her inquisitively. "Yes?"
"I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure how to ask you this, but when I was going over our conversation from the other day, something rather odd occurred to me," she paused to gather her thoughts and noticed a shadow of what looked like worry cross his features. "You said that you realized you liked me in third year. But then, if I understand correctly, you didn't start embracing your feelings until sometime this year?"
His face fell. "You don't believe me."
"No. No, that's not the case at all," she rushed to correct him. "I guess I was just wondering how we would deal with… all…" she struggled, searching for a decent word, "this going forward. This being us- you, me. You're a pureblood and I'm a muggle born. I'm not under the delusion that prejudice has been eradicated. Mercifully, its decreased since the war ended, but I know it's not gone. It probably never will be. So even though things are different now than when you first took a liking to me, I'm worried that it still won't be any easier. You say you want to be with me, but do you know what that entails? I mean, certainly your parents won't-"
"I don't care what they think," he snapped forcefully, stunning her into silence. "I've spent my entire life worrying about what they think, what everybody else thinks, and I'm done. Because I've tried too hard to gratify too many and all its done is tear me apart. I only care about what you think of me and what I think of myself. That's all I need to worry about. Can I live with what I've done and am I doing everything possible to be a man worthy of your affections? Those are the only two frame of references I need." He turned his serious expression up to the starry sky above.
"I can say fairly confidently now that, yes, I can live with my past. I've been trying hard to come to terms with it. It's not something I can change, so I've done the only thing I can: learn to accept it." He paused and furrowed his brow before beginning again. "As for the second question, all I can do is try. One day at a time, at every opportunity I'm given."
His eyes turned to search hers and neither of them spoke for several moments as a look of determination settled over his features. "I'm not scared of being with you, Hermione. I'm scared of being without you."
Tense silence followed as his declaration hung between them in the cold night air. It was broken when Draco sighed. "Honestly, I hate to give you more reasons to reject me, but you should probably be more worried about what being with me entails." Her eyes flickered down to a slight motion beside him. He had pressed his left forearm in against his side.
"Not everyone is so willing to forgive as you are."
Sadness weighed upon her heart as he turned a bitterness worn face away from her. His shoulders hunched as his arms spread out along the tower's balustrade and he hung his head. Without even a moment's thought she was beside him, wrapping comforting arms around him and laying her head just below his shoulder.
"I'm not scared," she whispered. "I'm not scared of being with you."
He straightened in her embrace and turned to face her directly.
The flash of moonlight in delicate silver eyes was the last thing she saw before her own eyes closed and she inclined her head towards his, capturing his lips with hers. A sense of urgency pulled in her gut as the warm hunger quickly returned when lips with the same urgency moved against hers. It felt like firecrackers had been set off in her blood stream. She pulled him desperately nearer, pressing their bodies together when the feeling of a dire need to be close to him consumed her. A completeness filled her, as they fit together perfectly, that banished all worry and doubt from her mind and her body seemed to lighten as a tingling sensation rushed down through her.
She kissed him with her entire being, tossing all inhibition into the cool breeze that wove its way through the narrowing gaps between them, the faint thumping of their hearts beating in time together sounding in the background of her mind as a single coherent thought formed.
He feels like home.