"How are you enjoying yourself, dear?"
Hermione's head whipped up at that; she had begged off dancing again in favor of resting near the balcony for fresh air. She had expected someone would happen upon her soon, but had not thought Lucius Malfoy would himself be the one.
"It is a lovely ball," she demurred, her heart rate picking up in the presence of the intimidating man.
His lips quirked momentarily. "It is. Cissy outdid herself, though the results will not be as she wished."
"What do you mean, my lord?"
I mean that you will not be leaving the service of the Malfoy family any time soon, Hermione." Lucius loomed over her, considering her in all her frippery. "I will not sell you off to Selwyn for his business, nor to Crouch the lesser as his mistress. Are you not grateful?"
"Grateful?" Her eyes widened so that white shown completely around the amber of her irises. "Should I be grateful that you would rather me stay here as an old maid with which to control your son, than to leverage me for power or wealth to your friends?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I am grateful for Draco's friendship and Lady Narcissa's care. But I am not grateful to be treated as a means, a tool. To be treated like less than a human being and witch."
He rolled his silver eyes toward the heavens. "Oh, so melodramatic. You are lesser, Miss Granger. You are a mudblood, and thus you are a tarnished thing. It would take generations to breed out the flaws from your blood."
"I am not a dog either," she spat.
"What? You dislike the idea of your descendants possibly being worthy of magic? And I thought you were a practical creature."
"That is not practical; it is demeaning," she objected.
The blaze of his fury should have been a warning. "Know your place."
"It is not your right to decide what my place is." With that Hermione turned from him, trembling with rage and terror.
She had fought with Lucius Malfoy, her guardian, the arbiter of her fate. How foolish could she be, antagonizing him that way. It was beyond error.
Hermione heaved as she leaned against the doorway to the library, where she had retreated for a moment of respite. Lucius would not leave the party to find her, not when he was the host.
"You will cease this nonsense." The voice was sharp, familiar, layered with anger.
"It is disgusting. You have enough difficulty maintaining position as a halfblood, and you dare draw a mudblood to your side? Can you not see how this will ruin you?" And that voice was one Hermione hated.
She laid her back flat to the wall to listen to a conversation she most certainly was not meant to hear.
Professor Riddle hissed. "Do not touch me right now, Bella. I am in no mood to play."
"Tooooooom. Do you care so much for the girl that you would risk decades of work for her? That you would replace me with her?"
On the contrary, she is very much integral to my plans. I know you do not understand that yet, but you will."
"You think Lucius will just let you take her?" Bellatrix pouted.
Tom scoffed. "You think I will give him a choice? No, he will fall in line or he will fall. Draco may have a weak constitution compared to his father, but I have no issue with replacing the head of the Malfoy family."
You wouldn't dare." Bellatrix's voice dropped to a low lover's growl. "The support you would use would be too great."
Tom chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. It was nothing like she'd heard from him before. "You would be surprised what I dare, darling."
"I've missed you."
"Oh?" Hermione's heart was tight, though she couldn't reason why. The pair of them sounded so close and she could just imagine the luscious woman staring up at the gorgeous man, adoration on a doll-like face. "Weary of seducing your brother in law?"
A "hmph" from the woman. "I have to influence him somehow, don't I?" Clothing rustled, and Hermione strained her ears.
"So eager for me. What would your sister's husband think of you, falling to your knees like a ready whore for a halfblood ."
"You are my lord," came Bellatrix's muffled groan. "And I will serve whenever, wherever, in front of whomever you wish."
A slow, soft sigh was the only response.
Hermione's eyes trembled with tears and she scurried away as fast as her heels could take her.
"Hermione?"
Harry was standing near the entrance to the ballroom and concern swept his features as she came into sight.
"What happened?" He drew her hands from her face and tipped her chin up. "Why are you crying?"
"I—" Her panic froze her, no words coming to mind to describe the situation she had just eavesdropped upon. She couldn't tell Harry about that. It was absolutely appalling. So she cast her net and dragged in, "I had a disagreement with Lord Malfoy. It overwhelmed me is all."
Harry unfurled his handkerchief and began to dab gently at her cheeks. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Concern furrowed his brows.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. The thought seemed ludicrous in face of her situation and she laughed abruptly. "It will be fine. Lady Narcissa won't allow me to be hurt, not really."
He nodded, but did not seem convinced. "You look beautiful tonight," he hesitated after a brief moment. "I meant to tell you earlier, but it seemed you were always occupied."
Her cheeks heated at his genuine compliment. "Thank you, Harry. Narcissa went through a lot of trouble to ensure I would stand out."
"You're always pretty though," Harry corrected. "It's just that you usually hide behind a book." He allowed her a moment to collect herself, then said almost offhandedly, "You know why she's doing all this, don't you?"
Hermione sighed. "She is trying to do what is best for me in the only way she knows how."
"Yes, well. I suppose marrying you to someone who is high in society would be her method, but what do you want for your future, Hermione?" He leaned against the wall beside her, staring into her with too green eyes.
"I…" This was a question she was rarely asked. And while Hermione had begun to dream of what lie outside the present, insidious words whispered my a deep, rich, sibilant voice, that prospect had been dashed against the marble floors of Malfoy Manor and shattered like so much spun sugar already collecting ants. "I don't know, Harry." Tears warmed her eyes again and she pressed her hands against her chest in panic. "I don't know. But I'm tired of it."
He drew her hands into his own, grounding her with palms that were warm, and calloused from Quidditch and wands. "What are you tired of, love?"
"Of— of— of this," she wailed. "I am grateful to Draco and Narcissa, truly. They have done nothing but treat me with love, but that does not negate why I am here. I am lesser. I am a tool. I am something to be bought and sold."
Her friend tugged her closer, his grip fierce. "You are not."
"That's how they see me, and I don't have the power to change it."
"They're wrong." His jaw firmed. "You are worth so much more. This world isn't worthy of you . You deserve… you deserve better. I'll help you any way I can, Hermione. You're brilliant, and my friend, and I love you."
The tears shimmered in amber bright eyes. "I love you, too, Harry. But what could we possibly do?"
"I'll." He blushed, but continued, determined. "I'll marry you and we'll use everything the Potter family has to work toward change."
She choked, her eyes widening and the tears draining. "Harry! Don't even say such things."
"Why not? It would appease Mrs. Malfoy, give you a 'place' in society, and we get along well enough, make it a political marriage to change thing," he argued.
"Don't you like Ginny?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's not important, not like this."
"I don't want you to think you have to take care of me, Harry," Hermione urged. "I'd be perfectly fine as an old maid as long as I'm allowed to do something. "
He was pensive for a moment. "What about Professor Riddle? He would take you in as an apprentice or something, surely?"
Bile choked her again and she turned solemn. "No." It was almost silent.
"Let me help you," Harry pleaded. "It's my choice to make this offer. I am not sacrificing anything, because helping my friend right injustice is so much more important than anything else I could do in this world."
"This isn't your fight."
"Like Hell it isn't!" She knew that Harry had a temper, but rarely had she seen him express it, and never at her. "My mother is muggleborn, Hermione. I'm a bloody halfblood. More than that, I am a part of this world, and I see what you go through. I see what others go through. I see how it impacts Ron and my father and Draco bloody Malfoy. I'll make the offer to Mrs. Malfoy. Let me at least do that. Let me try."
Hermione sighed and leaned her head back, trying to think through the cloying events of the evening. All of the people looking at her, all of the men who had flirted or insinuated something, Lord Malfoy's cruel words, and the cutting liaison she had overheard. And now Harry was offering to join their futures.
"Can— Can I think about it a bit before you do anything? We can talk about it at school."
He nodded. "If that's what you need. It's not like I'm chomping at the bit to get hitched or anything."
She laughed.
"Are you alright?"
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" Oddly insightful at the worst moments, that was Harry.
"Not right now."
They shared a short silence.
"You know, it wouldn't be so bad being married to me, except I think you'd be a widow rather soon," he said.
"What?"
He grinned, turning to face her again. "If Ron didn't kill me, then one of the twins definitely would."
Her face turned scarlet. "Why would any of them do that?"
"They've all three had a crush on you for ages," he informed her.
"There's no way." Hermione was baffled and brilliantly red.
He grinned toothily. "You are kidding, right? Fred and George either would take you out on a date, maybe even both, both Ron would drop to his knees and swear himself to you if he weren't such a self-conscious idiot."
Hermione scoffed. "You're having a laugh."
"Just at them, love." He took one of her hands in his again. "Ready to give me a dance or two?"
She nodded. "Alright."
They danced three times, and Harry escorted her to Narcissa Malfoy after to heap praises on how lovely she was, how brilliant, and how she was so dear to him. Hermione allowed it, and Narcissa basked.
"I think tonight may have planted a few seeds," the woman murmured as the event began to die down.
In her heart, Hermione felt a chilly wind foretelling frost.