The house elf at the entrance to the ballroom bowed low, favoring her with an inordinately fancy flourish. He then faced the dancers again and raised his voice to call, "Miss Hermione Granger, ward of the Malfoys."
Throughout the milling crowd individuals stopped and looked at her. She was flushed under the paint and the faint glow of her golden ornamentation, frozen at the top of the stairs until Draco appeared at the bottom and proffered a hand.
"You look incredible, Hermione," he murmured to her as he laid her hand on his forearm. Eyes darted toward her, whispers following in her wake. "Potter and Weasley actually came this year."
She brightened; the boys had been invited since joining their friend group, but never partook. Harry thought it was too stuffy and Ron complained he didn't want to deal with posh arseholes. Really, she knew he didn't want to embarrass himself with his horrifying dress robes, which had thankfully been replaced after the Yule Ball. "Is anyone else here I might find diverting?"
Draco peered askance at her, a sly smirk unfurling. "You'll see soon enough."
Narcissa appeared at her elbow soon after, positively radiant among the partygoers and carrying an extra glass of champagne for the girl. "Hermione, darling, you are even lovelier than I'd imagined, and my imagination had set a rather high bar." She kissed the air beside the girl's cheek, beaming down at her. "Come, let's show you off."
The glamorous woman escorted her to a group of young men, some of whom Hermione knew on sight, such as Theodore Nott and Regulus Black.
"Narcissa!" The latter greeted her warmly; he'd been about the manor enough times as both the Black family heir and her cousin. "And Miss Granger, hello. You both look like stars fallen straight from the Heavens."
"Aren't you going to introduce the rest of us?" This was from a young man of an age with Regulus and looked like he could be a Weasley cousin (though nearly all Purebloods seemed to be cousins of some degree) with his straw blonde hair and the freckles dusting his cheeks.
Narcissa's melodious laugh rang out like the bubbles in her champagne. "You've met me before, Mr. Crouch. Don't play coy."
"Forgive me, my lady, if I am too blinded by your splendor to recognize you." He smirked and added, "And Barty, please. I can't stand being called 'Mr. Crouch.' I hear quite enough of that at the ministry."
"If you insist." Narcissa's eyes sparkled and then her perfectly manicured hand slipped between Hermione's shoulder blades. "However, I suppose some introductions are due. Gentlemen, this is Miss Hermione Granger, my ward. She is currently attending Hogwarts and is both a prefect of her house and the brightest student in her year, if not the entire school."
Hermione smiled shyly, pushing down the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her.
"Hermione, dearest, these are Messieurs Bartemius Crouch, Junior, and Alexander Selwyn. Barty is the lead Obliviator for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and Selwyn is the financial manager for Selwyn and Smith Industries. And of course you know my cousin, Regulus Black, and young Theodore Nott is in your year, I believe."
"Indeed." Regulus took one of her hands in both of his. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Granger."
Barty Crouch took her hand next, eyes gleaming. "Miss Granger, I am beyond charmed. You are a vision." His lips skimmed the back of her knuckles. "Are you, by chance, a Hufflepuff?"
A laugh far less melodious than Narcissa's punctuated the conversation. "A Hufflepuff would not survive among the Malfoys, Barty!" Bellatrix, a vision in tight black that held her body like an offering, appeared between her sister and the group of men. Her mouth dramatically turned down in a sudden pout. "Oh, dear me, other than Draco, that is." She smiled at her sister in an empty apology. "Little Hermione here is a Gryffindor. That's right, gentlemen; a mudblood Gryffindor. And she cleans up so well."
The iciness of her coloring seeped into Narcissa's next words. "Bellatrix, you will kindly refrain from such language while in my home?"
"I'm sorry, Cissy, I didn't mean to offend your delicate ears."
"Perhaps you could apologize to Hermione as well?" The girl nearly started at that, but Bellatrix just laughed.
"And Regulus! Look how you've grown." The shameless witch petted a hand down his lapel. "You ought to be careful; many young women will be on the hunt for a husband as eligible as the most handsome and noble heir of the House of Black."
Hermione did not miss the way her dark eyes skittered in her direction; nor, it seemed, did anyone else. It came as a shock when Theodore Nott broke the tension.
"Granger here really is an exceptionally bright witch." He nodded at her grateful expression. "To hear Professor Riddle tell it, she may be the brightest student since he attended himself."
That earned a round of stares, as all of the men were Hogwarts Alumni ( Slytherin alumni). But the name itself was what caught Bellatrix. "Oh, is Tommy here?" She finally released her cousin, rising to her full height to peer through the crowd. Her dark eyes sharpened. "I haven't seen him in a dog's age. If you'll excuse me…"
Regulus brushed his lapels. "Insufferable- pardon, Narcissa, I mean nothing by it."
She waved it off. "Think nothing of it. I know exactly how insufferable my sister is at times. Especially where Hermione is concerned." Narcissa smiled at the young woman. "After all, Hermione is always top of her class in every way, and that means she surpasses Draco as well. And I don't think she's quite forgiven our lovely Gryffindor's influence over him."
"You're that brilliant, are you?" Alexander Selwyn's eyes were a color nearly as green as Harry's, Hermione realized as he turned to her.
She shrugged, feeling the exquisite gown swish with the movement. "I wouldn't say that. What I am is highly logical which allows me to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others overlook." Hermione struggled not to allow her words to trail into oblivion as the men watched her. It wasn't bragging, she told herself. It was an intellectual habit more than anything.
The green eyes were bright with amusement as Selwyn said, "Brilliant, got it." He turned those glinting eyes to Narcissa. "I take it she has been a positive addition to your household, then?"
"Beyond measure. Hermione is like a daughter to me. I daresay she has driven Draco to be more gracious and studious than he otherwise would have been."
He hummed. "And you haven't noticed any drawbacks from her unfortunate parentage?"
It shouldn't have hit so hard; Hermione had grown up hearing slurs about her lineage, her people, her magic. But here she was, having finally let down her guard enough to feel like she was worthy of being among them, and this man acted as though she was a horse he needed to inspect rather than a person.
"Hermione is nothing but an absolute treasure." The chill breezed once more through her voice.
"I don't think I've ever seen Granger get in trouble," Theodore added. "We aren't exactly friends, but she's a stickler for the rules at school."
"I like order," she countered, glad to have the academically-minded Slytherin there.
"Have you finished your Arithmancy work for the break?"
"Oh, I finished it Thursday before we left; but I do think I am going to double-check the sources in the library here and revise before we return. And I think I saw an article concerning vectors in Ethereal Equations. "
The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Would you mind if I owled you about that after Christmas? I'd love to borrow the article when you're finished."
Narcissa watched the back and forth keenly. "Didn't you take Arithmancy, Regulus?"
"I did. It's a good subject for business, you. Unfortunately, I'm rather mediocre at it." He shrugged and slipped a hand into his pocket, falling into the softness that was behind his perfect heir mask.
"Well," Narcissa said with one brow arching, "you could borrow Hermione's clever mind. I am sure someone as gifted as she is would be quite the asset to the business-inclined. Or those who have any academic interest."
"My dear, I'm certain the gentlemen don't wish to spend all evening standing in a circle." Lucius Malfoy slipped to his wife's side, shoulder brushing his ward as he took Narcissa's hand in his. "This is a party. They should mingle with the other guests as well, perhaps even take a turn around the dance floor. I know I," he murmured, Hermione hardly able to hear his low, intimate voice, "want to dance with my stunning wife."
"Very well, Lucius." Narcissa peered around him to her ward. "Hermione, love, please enjoy yourself tonight. Gentlemen, it was a pleasure."
She gave her best to Narcissa and took a sip of her champagne as the two otherworldly Purebloods spun away.
"On that note, perhaps you would join me for a dance, Miss Granger?" Barty Crouch, Jr's eyes were sharp as icepicks and she did not want to say yes, but there was no polite way to beg off.
"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Crouch." She swallowed down the remaining champagne with all the grace she could manage and took the proffered hand.
"Barty, pet. I'm hardly old enough for all those formalities." He drew her to him, their bodies far closer than Hermione would like, but not altogether obscene enough to protest. "I'd feel like an absolute lech flirting with a pretty young thing like yourself if you call me ' Mister. '"
"How old are you, Barty? I'm sure you're not surprised to hear I, myself, am sixteen."
His thumb stroked along the line of one feather. "I was in the same year as Reg at school, though his birthday is earlier than mine. I was an April child."
"So you'd be, what, thirty-four?"
"Why, Hermione." Barty Crouch leaned into her. "Are you teasing me?"
Her cheeks flooded hot enough she thought it might radiate to his own over her and Hermione was lost for a reply. A hand to the man's shoulder tugged her mind from her mortification.
"Ah, Mr. Crouch, could I possibly cut in?" The smooth voice soothed over her like the scent of home. "I haven't seen my favorite student yet and I was promised a dance."
It was the same excuse he'd made last year, but now it saved her instead of merely adding to her evening.
"Professor Riddle." Barty Crouch's eyes flared with something, but he acquiesced. "Hermione, I'll be seeing you again."
Tom took up the man's spot, his lithe body falling into the lines of the leading dance with ease. He held her nearly as close as Barty had, but it was far more comfortable and less unsettling the way he did it.
"Thank you so much for that."
He chuckled warmly and she could feel it vibrate through the hand on his shoulder. "My pleasure. Barty has always been a bit too eager in his attentions. Intense and perhaps predatory."
She snorted. "Predatory indeed."
Tom's lips quirked and his gaze roamed appreciatively over her figure. "I can hardly blame him. You are a vision. Narcissa Malfoy certainly knows what she is doing. For the most part."
"She wanted me to feel beautiful, special."
"Perhaps." He led her more closely against him, voice tickling against her ear. "She mostly wants everyone here to see you special. You are, sweetheart. Do not mistake me; you're an exceptional young woman in every way. But that will be wasted on the blood-blinded aristocracy here. Theodore Nott's family would never allow him to be involved with a muggleborn; he is a descendant of the Cantankerus Nott, the consummate Pureblood supremacist. Regulus's mother not-too-quietly thought Gindewald had the right of it, and Regulus is too much of a coward to go against her. There is hope for him once the dreadful woman has passed, but that's yet to happen, more's the pity. Selwyn might hire you- or fuck you-" Hermione's mouth hung agape. "But both would be done discretely. And Barty… well, he'd take you as a mistress, certainly. Perhaps he could manipulate his mother into allowing him to wed you, but either way you would be a whore to him and nothing else. No, love, it will be difficult for Narcissa to find a suitable match for you. She prizes you too much to sell you off like livestock, but most Purebloods will see you as such to a degree. Half-bloods, perhaps, like your friend Mr. Potter…"
"Narcissa isn't trying to sell me." The horrified words slipped out before she could censor herself.
"Hermione, sweetheart." Tom stared down with those solemn midnight blue eyes. "Unless they decide you will remain an old maid of a servant, the Malfoys will inevitably give you away. You are far too valuable to tiptoe around this manor like a house elf."
"You think Mr. Selwyn might hire me if I prove good enough at Arithmancy?" That hadn't sounded quite so horrifying; Hermione wanted to work, after all.
His expression flattened. "You are capable of so much more, Hermione." She bit the inside of her bottom lip and his eyes darted to observe her worrying at it. "I will help you achieve that. I promised you that, remember?"
"How?"
"Not everything is as it seems, sweetheart. The Pureblood faction is a vile weed that would have us hiding away like shadows. But there are some of their status who think, perhaps, the status quo could be better." The song came to a soft end and Tom escorted her aside and plucked a champagne flute from a floating tray. "I will ensure your future if you stay with me, Hermione."
She read the unspoken command, her warm eyes wide as she stared at the man. "Of course."
The professor lifted her chin with his forefinger, his own eyes heavy lidded. "Say it."
"I will stay with you…" He nodded, raising one expectant brow. "Tom."
The smile across his face was painfully beautiful. "That's my girl."
A/N:
I just finished the Antmione fic Azael's Chains and am taking time to update and work on other things before I start its sequel.
AAAAANyway Barty Crouch is a creepy creeper.
I mean, Tom kinda is too. Especially on the age thing.
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