Ronald Weasley was an arse, Hermione had concluded. For the last week, he'd pestered her non-stop about who her date to the ball was. He'd even insinuated that she was lying to save face, and that she would probably not appear rather than have them know the shameful truth.

"I'll take you, Mione," he'd graciously offered. "It's no bother, really."

Her jaw had stiffened, hand tightening on her quill dangerously. "It's not my fault you've waited till the last minute to ask, Ronald. I told you, I'm already going with someone. And, no. I will not tell you who."

"Give it up, Weasel," said Draco. "She won't tell me, so she sure as shit won't tell you."

At that, her narrowed gaze had flicked to her best friend. "Language, Draco. What would your mother say?" Since becoming friends with Harry and Ron (though Draco's relationship, especially the latter, could only loosely be called that at times), his vocabulary had expanded in the worst of ways. Ron was the more foul-mouthed of the two, but Harry had apparently learned some choice verbiage from his father's group of friends, the Marauders.

Draco colored slightly, but favored her with a smile. He'd badgered Hermione long before Ronald had made his half-arsed offer to escort her the first time, having made an off hand comment about the two of them needing to coordinate a time to meet before the ball. He'd taken it for granted that Hermione would be his date, as she was his best friend and constant companion. While he'd been happy to hear someone had asked her and had immediately sought out Susan Bones for her company that evening, he'd burned to know who would have Hermione on his arm. He did not let the curiosity show in front of Ron and Harry, though.

"Honestly, Ronald, go ask someone else. I heard Padma hasn't a date yet," she drawled.

Harry tipped his head and blinked at her, a slow grin spreading across her mouth. "And she has a twin in Ravenclaw. Hold up, mate," he said to Ron. The twins were studying at a nearby table, and the scrawny boy crawled out of his seat and over to them. Hermione watched as he first spoke to Padma, then Parvati. The Ravenclaw peered around him at Ron, then nodded with a casual shrug. That settled, Harry returned. "You're going with Parv and I'm with Padma."

A smug smile graced Hermione's face. She'd overheard Padma and Lavender discussing the ball this morning, and a lucky thing. The Patl twins were beautiful and, while Padma was a bit vain, not at all horrible or annoying. Her boys should have a good enough time if they behaved themselves.

When she adjourned for the evening, Hermione mentally went over everything she would have to do the next day to prepare. She was nervous, knowing everyone would be staring at her as she was the little bookworm who was somehow being escorted by Quidditch star and Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum.

There was one person in whom Hermione had confided. The same day she'd sent the owl, Narcissa had responded. The lovely pink, fluttery gown they'd bought Hermione at the start of the year would not do, she insisted. That was a dress for a girl who was attending a ball as an ordinary guest. Now, she would need something more, something worthy of a lady on the arm of an important man. And if there was one thing Narcissa knew, it was how to command with her appearance.

Thus, Hermione had received a gown that would hug the newly-developed curves that had appeared in recent months (a close fitting in Hogsmeade during a weekend had been necessitated to ensure the clothing would fit perfectly), hair products and instructions on charms to use dictated in a long letter, new shoes, everything a fifteen-year-old girl could desire and more.

She should have felt ready; instead, she could hardly sleep with the thundering, nervous tattoo of her heart in her throat.

Lucius Malfoy detested attending events at the school (excepting the occasional Quidditch game he'd watched in Draco's second and third years; he saw his son so rarely that seeing the boy play had been a rare delight). He had told Narcissa not to bother tonight, as he would make an appearance and then be on his way. The woman had insisted he at least check in on Draco and- much to his chagrin- their ward.

It was easy to forget the girl during the school year. As he sat with the faculty during games, he did not see her in the sea of student faces. Only during the holiday breaks and summer holidays did she stay in his home. He'd come to breakfast the morning after Draco had returned from his first year at Hogwarts and nearly started when he saw the little Mudblood. The previous years all fell neatly back into his mind.

Lucius didn't spend much time at home, however. He had a business to run, as well as his duties as seat on the Wizengamot, and as a board member at Hogwarts. He'd made it a point to set aside a little time for his son and heir, but distanced himself otherwise. The girl was Narcissa's responsibility, except when discipline was necessary. His wife was the one who ensured the girl was fed and clothed and taught her manners. While Lucius knew she attended events with his son, he rarely saw her himself as the pair got older and spent more time doing whatever adolescents these days did.

He confessed (if only to himself) that he did not recognize her when the doors of the Great Hall swept open and the Champions led their dates inside. He stood beside Horace, dressed in grey dress robes that suited his coloring, touched with silver and green brocade. The pompous Headmaster wore some garish black and purple thing that was as outdated as the man himself. No matter.

There was the Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory. He was a handsome lad, athletically lean, a shining example of what a Hufflepuff should be, apparently. If they were all like him, the House wouldn't be such an embarrassment. Seeker and Captain of his Quidditch team (which was not quite a joke under his management, as Lucius had to admit), Prefect, and now Champion. According to Draco, Diggory was grooming him to be replacement as Captain and Prefect once the seventh-year graduated. If his son had to be a Hufflepuff (and how positively irritating was that to Lucius; the first summer his son was home, he'd found every excuse to punish the boy and the damnable reason why he could), at least he could be the best among the Badgers.

Diggory's date was the Chang girl; Lucius knew her mother from the Ministry, a dainty little Halfblood, as the girl's father. They made a pretty pair.

And next came the Beauxbaton's Champion. She was a lovely thing, partly thanks to her unfortunate heritage, though at least she had no juggles in her ancestry. Her date was another Quidditch player, to his amusement. A Pureblood peacock he was sure was as useless as his father.

Lucius smiled to himself as he spotted, easy to see even the crowd, the Durmstrang Champion. There was a strong young man. Viktor Krum looked commanding in his militaristic uniform and closely cropped hair. The man wished his son had gone to Durmstrang and been under the young Champion's tutelage. He had heard nothing but good about Krum, talented, intelligent, Pureblood, world-class Seeker. And on his arm…

At first, he did not recognize her, and only appreciated her for her appearance. She was a small young woman, especially beside the massive figure that was her date, icy blue gown hugging her curves without being immodest. It was the sort of gown Narcissa would wear, the sharp vee of the neckline displaying delicate collarbones and the daring hint of décolletage. Had there not been the sheer flare of over skirts over the hip-hugging skirt, the gown would have flirted with impropriety (for a student during a school ball).

Having trailed his gaze over the beautiful, expensive, frost-embroidered gown and the figure it hinted at, Lucius returned to the face he had not immediately known. The girl's thick brunette curls were tamed and falling down her back elegantly, her brown eyes bright and framed with thick, darkened lashes. He frowned as she laughed, nose wrinkling. He knew that laugh. It was his ward, the mudblood, Hermione Granger.

Lucius thought back to the last time he'd seen her, rather uncomfortable with his previous praise of her figure. She had not looked like this, he was sure. Granted, he'd spent less time home this summer than before, as he'd had meetings at the little organization Bella was creating (though Rodolphous was the supposed head of it; his brother-in-law did little without his wife's consent, contrary to the way Lucius lived his life), but he was sure the girl had been as mousy and inconsequential as ever. What, then, merited her looking like this and on the arm of a noble scion to Pureblood family?

Suddenly infuriated, and sure his wife had known and not told him of this little dalliance, Lucius slid closer to the headmaster of Durmstrang. He'd met Igor Karkarov in the past and knew the man shared certain beliefs.

"Igor," he intoned as evenly as he could manage, "I was under the impression that your school did not take kindly to those of… Muddied birth."

The dark man frowned. "I do not take your meaning," he said, words gruff with his thick accent. "You know we do not."

Lucius gestured with one pale hand toward the young couple now swirling across the dance floor. Miss Granger's over skirt flared out behind her and around her as Krum led her over the shining surface. He watched as understanding dawned on the headmaster's face.

"How can you be sure?"

"The girl is my- ward, companion to my Draco for matters of discipline. Did we not discuss the matter when I inquired about sending him to your institution?" Lucius' words were as cold as his manner. At least his son had had the forethought to stay within his own class for this event. Whilst Amelia Bones was a thorn in his heel at times, she was a formidable and well-bred woman.

Igor's face reddened. "He must not know. I- I will inform him once he fetches them drinks." Igor began sidling toward the refreshments at that.

Lucius kept watch even as he subtly followed to stay within earshot. His ward excused herself as Krum headed toward the table and his headmaster, throwing her arms around Draco, a redhead who painfully reminded him of Arthur Weasley (complete with the utterly ridiculous dress robes the boy wore), and the unfortunately well-liked Potter boy. Whilst Draco and Potter beamed at the lovely girl, the Weasley boy was grim faced.

He turned back to Igor just as the man tugged his student a little away from the line of those waiting for drinks.

"What do you think you are doing, bringing that girl as your date?"

Krum frowned, puzzled. "Herm-me-own-ee? Vy do you ask?"

"She is a mudblood, Viktor!" Igor ground out after surreptitiously checking the area around him. "You are embarrassing Durmstrang with her."

"I did not know." The young man squared himself, running a hand through his short hair. "Vat does it matter? Hogvarts has all kinds, and she is a clever student, and beautiful and kind and-"

"Viktor!" The older man hissed. "She is the mudblood ward of the Malfoy family, little more than a house elf or a slave. Would you bring a house elf to a ball?"

Krum's jaw tightened. "I do not care. I- I like her." Before his headmaster could complain, the young man tugged his arm away and stalked back toward his date.

Igor called once again at Krum's back, then collapsed into himself against the wall furiously. Lucius, having expected the boy to cast Miss Granger aside, humiliating her and putting her back in her place, shook his head.