The lead up to the Longest Night was busier than any Hermioe could remember, including the chaos of the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. Narcissa dragged Hermione to every magical seamstress in England before she decided just days before the event that only Paris would have something worthy. That meant they had to spend at least a night in the Malfoy family loft, an oddly modern flat that encompassed the entire top floor of a high rise.
Hermione had attended a number of shopping trips to the city alongside Narcissa, but it was usually for the woman herself. Lady Narcissa, generous as she was, often bought items for Hermione regardless. She had scarves of finest silk, designer shoes, couture jewelry… Money was not an object to the Malfoys and thus she lived in fashion.
However, this was the first time she had been the focus of all the designers herself. Lady Cissa was a woman on a mission, and she would suffer nothing short of perfection for her charge.
"No, no, no," the woman decried, rubbing at her temples as she gestured for the gowns presented to disperse. "She needs something unique, something other women could not wear. We are highlighting her exceptionality and nothing but the exceptional will suit. Hermione is a lovely girl, yes, but she is fiery. Passionate. She is a lioness in a house of serpents. She is not some spring flower ripe for picking." It was a testament to her irritation that Narcissa had slipped back into English rather than the native tongue.
Like all good wizarding designers, Monsieur LaFavre did not comment upon the faux pas and instead allowed his wealthiest patron's words to rush over him contemplatively. " Lionne parmi les serpents ." His sharp eyes danced over the teenager, thick brows pulling together until they snapped up in inspiration. He Summoned a length of cloth of gold which wrapped itself around Hermione's knees to trumpet to the floor. The girl frowned at the distinct lack of cloth otherwise, but mischief glinted in his eye and she kept silent.
The set of downy white wings easily spanning longer than she was tall affixed at the back of her hips to fold over her according to the whims of its director. The dip of the secondary feathers fanned out over her thighs and lower stomach then the wings bent impossibly up her chest with a modest space between them where a sliver of her undergarments showed. As they feathers contoured better to her form a flick of a wand bled golden veins up from the silk around her legs until all the white was glimmering like the finest sculpture.
It was a mermaid gown, she believed the shape was called, and quite daring in how it formed to her. Golden feathers tickled where they grazed the hollow of her throat, coming together to leave a keyhole that started as a whisper just there and scooped wider at her natural waist. The back was low, revealing an expanse of her warm skin which was set off beautifully by the rich color.
" C'est magnifique! " Narcissa rose to inspect the details of the gown, the richness of the fabric and feathers. "Goose?"
"Swan, madam."
She circled the girl, eyeing the train. "A little longer in the back, like a calla lily. And of course you will need to neaten and individually place the feathers on the final gown, as well as layer in the usual spells for it to remain in place lest her modesty be slighted. Anti-tripping charm for the length, impervious to repel dirt from the no-doubt clumsy men who will be falling all over her. You'll have it to us by Thursday evening?"
A mix of relief, pride, and eagerness fluttered through the man's expression before he settled on professionalism. " Oui, madam. "
While he and Lady Malfoy discussed pricing and other details, LaFavre's apprentice assisted Hermione back into her day wear. The young woman was perhaps five years older than she was and she stroked reverent fingers over the materials that would become a gown. She placed the garment-in-the-making behind a curtain and appeared a moment later with a curious look in her eyes.
"You are Hermione Granger, yes? The Gryffindor who attended the Yule Ball with the Durmstrang Champion?" Cobalt eyes flicked over Hermione, both astute and friendly.
"Ah, yes," she replied after a hesitant silence to ensure she'd heard correctly. "That's me."
"It was such a sweet story! Muggleborn witch with a Pureblood celebrity, one from the school which sired Grindewald, no less." The apprentice was bright with excitement, clasping the younger girl's hands in her own. "Will he be at your Lady's gala?Is he your paramour?"
Hermione's cheeks flooded with heat. "I am not sure if Lady Narcissa invited him. But not, Viktor and I are only pen pals. We are far apart and I'm still in school while he is touring with his team."
" Mais non! But you are such a lovely couple. Perhaps when you have graduated he will invite you to visit."
That was the fortunate moment Narcissa called for Hermione to join her, and she made her goodbyes to the excited French woman (who winked slyly as though they shared a secret).
"Now," the older woman told her in a tone that matched the authoritative click of her heels, "We will find you accessories, undergarments, and shoes."
This would be a long hunt.
Hermione managed to fall into bed early Thursday evening, spent after a week of preparation for the day to come. Her guardian had the entire day scheduled for the family so they would be in place at their appropriate times.
"While Draco, Lucius, and I will be ready to welcome guests at the door, I wish for you to arrive only when most have arrived." She combed elegant hands through Hermione's bronze curls. "I want everyone to see your entrance. A glowing, golden lioness."
The Malfoys were all her silver foils. Narcissa wore a gown that draped over body like a second skin, tiny silver beaded designs in a geometric pattern that emphasized her graceful form, hair falling down her back in long coils. Draco wore charcoal dress robes with silver lining the cuffs and collar, while his father bore a paler grey that made him exude icy regality. It was also the first time Hermione had seen the patriarch in days.
She bade the family well as she cloistered herself in her room for the house elf to finish preparing. Her hair was already in a deceptively loose looking bun, coiled curls tumbling artfully out and around and through it all. Every inch of her felt scrubbed, preened, and polished, and soon she would be painted.
How a woman could endure such an endeavor willingly was beyond her. Hermione herself preferred subtle beauty charms when she took the time at all, and this was not subtle. Her lips were charmed a deep, velvety scarlet, and her eyes were lined with golden paint that stretched beyond her lashes in sharp parallels. Black edged at her lashes themselves, thickening and lengthening until they fluttered like butterfly wings, and honey hues toward the inner lids deepened to burgundy in her crease.
And those were only the most obvious changes. The elf had also sculpted and rosed her cheeks, highlighted her features and set powder so she nearly glowed. And then the gown went on, all hugging metallic feathers and liquid golden silk that reminded her of Felix Felicis, a potion she had only seen in Professor Snape's personal stores.
Tippy placed a crown of golden laurels- no, those were feathers, she realized- atop her head and a braided gold bracelet with dangling diamonds on her left wrist. Now all that remained was the shoes.
They were utterly ridiculous, horribly expensive, and so impractical Hermione had both practiced walking in them and placed a charm on them for her comfort. Four inches tall, golden straps running from the outside of the foot to the inside along the curve, and bearing that tell-tale red sole to match both her Gryffindor spirit and Narcissa's insistence on the best. That they were a muggle brand didn't matter in luxury and fashion.
"I feel like the Golden goose," she murmured, tottering as she adjusted to her tilted height.
"Miss Hermione looks like a golden goddess," countered Tippy, and conjured a mirror for Hermione to view herself.
She certainly didn't appear the bookish, frazzled girl she'd seen lately. There were no circles under her eyes from studying into the night after a day of shopping with Narcissa, and the fire of the metallic gown resonated over her so light reflected on her skin from seemingly impossible angles.
"Oh."
Perhaps the evening would prove magical after all. Hermione thanked the elf, her mind dizzied by the lovely stranger in her reflection, and stepped out into the hall. It was time.