AN: Thank you all so very much for being so patient through this hiatus! There are even some of you who favourited or followed during the break, and I cannot express how much it means to me that you're all here! Every notification I get from this site makes my heart skip a beat.
If you would like to follow me on Tumblr to see my writing struggles and a fair amount of Dramione: ShadowToHerLight .Tumblr .Com
I can't guarantee that I'll know how to respond to messages on there, because somehow after five years the website is still a conundrum to me, but I will try!

As always, if you enjoy this chapter, please let me know in a review! Ok, you've all suffered enough, ONWARD!

XVII
—

Hermione surveyed the ballroom with a critical eye. She'd counted the tables twice, looked over every centerpiece, spoken with the caterer and orchestra to ensure everything was running smoothly, and just generally nitpicked until she'd driven herself half-mad. Delilah came up beside her as she watched the decorators begin adding the finishing details to the room.

"You ought to get some sleep," she began, "these things generally run well past the middle of the night."

"I know that. But I really can't-"

"Miss Granger. If anything were to go even slightly askance tonight, whoever was at fault would never recover. I'm fairly certain everyone involved is going to do their best to make sure that doesn't happen. It'll be a flawless evening, if you can stay awake. Go get some rest."

Gnawing her lip, Hermione conceded and allowed Delilah to escort her back to her quarters. It was only one in the afternoon; if she could manage to fall asleep, she could doze for several hours before her beauticians arrived to help her get ready.

Twisting the key in the enchanted music box on her bedside table, she quadruple-checked that she would wake up at least a half-hour ahead of when her assistants were due to appear, then laid down and let the music lull her to sleep.

—

She awakened, of course, exactly when she'd expected to. Flicking her wand, she drew back the curtains covering the windows, letting in the ever-grey light and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes moved to stare at the emerald gown that had been created for her, glimmering even as it was stationary on it's form. It was truly a work of art. Trying not to let herself start overthinking, she made her way to her shower.

She focused on breathing deeply as she scrubbed her skin. Hermione allowed herself a few moments to let the warm, soothing water run down her shoulders, her mind wandering. Then she felt the wards around her room quiver. Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and pulled a dressing gown over her shoulders, opening her bedroom door with her wand.

The two witches outside didn't look like they were long out of Hogwarts, yet were apparently the same team that had seen Narcissa through her engagement. They each gave a formal curtsy, reminding Hermione of her new station as a future Lady of House Malfoy, and she nodded to them as she let them in.

"May I ask your names?" She posed, watching as they enlarged the little trunk one of them had been carrying. They paused in the midst of returning a miniaturized salon chair to its normal proportions, exchanging a look and giving the girl a tender smile.

They introduced themselves as Marion and Beulah, but offered nothing further, and the girl knew that they wouldn't be as distracting as she'd hoped. Giving no outward sign of disappointment, she sat in the chair as they directed and watched as they began toying with her appearance. She felt rather like a dress-up doll, which only served to reiterate the fact that the next several months would be nothing more than a show. The Dark Lord himself had said it; she was merely an actress in an elaborate play.

Hermione set her jaw. She would take her Absinthian. She'd remember every Pureblood custom and formality. And she, Hermione Jean Granger, the Muggle-Born fiancée to the heir of House Malfoy, would give them such a show that they would be foolish to look upon her with anything but their utmost respect.

—

Draco cautiously knocked on Hermione's door. She'd sent Migo to tell him she was prepared for him to retrieve her, and for some reason, he was now feeling… he couldn't tell if it was anticipation or apprehension.

When the entryway swung open, he nearly dropped to his knees.

If he normally thought she was beautiful, there wasn't a word to describe her current appearance. His mother's glamourers had accentuated her features in the most stunning way; her eyes glistened like gemstones, her hair had been twisted and tucked into an elaborate style that was speckled with diamonds, and her entire aura simply radiated elegance.

He didn't know how long he'd been staring, but after a time Hermione cleared her throat, bringing him back to reality. Draco closed his mouth, feeling the hint of a blush colour his cheeks as he bowed and kissed her hand properly.

"Yixey," he called when he straightened, "bring me the parcel on my nightstand."

The elf disappeared and returned quickly with a dark velvet case. Hermione gave her intended a skeptical look, while he just smirked and flipped open the box.

The witch glanced at the parcel, barely containing a scoff when she saw the array of emeralds and diamonds glittering against the black fabric.

"Are you really going to present me with a new sparkly bit every time we make a public appearance?" She said, gesturing to the extravagant necklace he was gifting her.

"Of course. You wouldn't be engaged to a Malfoy if you didn't have at least a drawer full of diamonds before your wedding day." He lifted the jewellery from its bed. "May I?"

She was silent for a moment, then nodded, turning so he could fasten the clasp more easily. His fingertips lightly brushed against her skin, and she couldn't quite repress the shiver that ran through her at the contact.

Turning back to him, Hermione looked down at the collar of gemstones glinting over her clavicle, once again feeling like a prized horse being paraded about. She took a steadying breath, then accepted the hand he was offering her.

While the gala didn't technically start until nine, some of the foreign guests would be arriving early instead of the "ten minutes past" that was fashionable in Britain, and it was already nearing half-past eight. The pair made their way to the ballroom, the girl exhaling a sigh of relief when everything seemed in order.

Draco pulled Hermione into the middle of the floor, noticing her scrutinizing stare and wanting to distract her before she started seeing things that weren't there. The orchestra was already playing a soft melody, so he positioned his hands informally at her waist, beginning a very casual dance and chuckling a bit at her dubious expression.

"There isn't even anyone here yet, Hermione. Just relax for a little bit. Besides, once everyone has said hello, you and I will be pretty much ignored for the rest of the night. It'll be easier than what you're undoubtedly imagining."

"According to everything I've read-"

"Forget what you've bloody read, Granger," the boy growled. "I've been to several of these. Trust me when I say that, come eleven o'clock, no one will be paying the two of us any mind."

She said nothing for several seconds, then spoke in the somewhat distracted tone that meant she was contemplating something.

"You call me by my surname when you want my attention. Why is that?"

Draco was surprised enough that he ceased dancing as he searched for a response. After a few seconds, he shrugged, resuming the simple steps they'd been taking.

"Old habit, I guess."

She smirked to herself but didn't speak, as they continued to sway aimlessly about the room.

Several minutes later, Draco pulled her into a more proper waltz position and spoke quietly.

"Remember, you're the lady of the evening. What you say or do goes unquestioned." His voice dropped to a whisper, and he lowered his lips to her ear. "I'll be here for you the entire time."

Just as he finished speaking, the ballroom's formal entryway slowly opened, the massive doors coming to rest against the walls. The pair stopped dancing and made their way to assume their formal welcoming position, and Hermione heard him mutter "everything will be fine," though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself rather than her. She took a second to actually look at him for the first time that night.

He looked at ease, really. Like he'd been born in the White-Tie dress robes he wore, and this evening was just the same as any other. And yet there was a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, and his grip on her was tighter than necessary.

She pulled him to a halt, taking his hands and threading her fingers through his.

"Everything will be fine," the girl repeated, much clearer than his murmured statement. Draco breathed deeply, his gaze holding hers as he brought her hands to his lips. Hermione nodded once, then they took their place at the front of the ballroom, their posture regal as they waited for their guests to appear.

—

Draco stared around the ballroom, trying to keep the agitation from his face as he sipped a glass of champagne.

After all the guests had been accounted for, the Dark Lord had made his arrival, which had, of course, set the room on edge. He'd been seated at the Family's Table for dinner, beside Lucius and Narcissa. It was meant to send the message that, not only was Draco his heir, but Hermione was under his protection as well. Not that he wouldn't kill them both if it took his fancy one day.

The duo of the evening had commenced the dancing about an hour in, which signaled to the guests that it was time to start talking business. Several couples twirled about the dance floor, but most of the ballroom's occupants had huddled into groups to discuss profitable ventures and future dealings. As Draco had told Hermione earlier, no one of importance was paying them any attention.

The young wizard located his intended, who was gossiping with a few of her guests from around the world, her posture tall and fingers held at her waist. If going off of the way she carried herself, no one would've been able to guess she was Muggle-Born.

A hand smacked him on the arm, and Draco glared at his assailant, only to remember he'd been trying to have a conversation with them before becoming distracted. Theo rolled his eyes.

"You're hopeless, mate. It hasn't even been two months, and she's already got you worshipping the ground she walks on. How in Merlin's name did that happen?"

Draco shot his companion a glower. "I don't worship-

"What's it called, then? You've been staring at her all night, like a Niffler stares at a Galleon. It's a bit embarrassing, really."

Blaise snickered behind his glass, ignoring the quelling look his blond colleague threw at him and shaking his head.

"It's true, Malfoy. Though I do seem to remember you stopped insulting her so much sometime around fifth year. Would I be wrong in assuming this little infatuation of yours began then?"

"Sod off, Zabini. I'm not infatuated with her."

There was silence for a moment, Blaise's keen observation noting the way Draco's eyes yet again shot over to his intended, his gaze softening. Theo noticed it as well and swore.

"Mate… You've got actual feelings for her?" The boy said in a low voice, his tone disbelieving. Draco took another sip of his drink, then shifted his glare back to his friends.

"It doesn't affect you, Nott. Worry more about your own impending betrothal, and pray you're paired with someone at least halfway-intelligent."

Theo grumbled something before stalking away, leaving Blaise to deal with a now-irritated Malfoy. The two held each other's stare for a moment before Draco growled "Spit it out, Zabini."

Blaise looked over at Hermione. She wasn't the same girl she'd been at Hogwarts, anyone who'd known her could see it; but that wasn't a surprise. War tended to change people, especially if you were on the losing side of it. He shook his head for the second time that evening.

"She's beautiful, mate, she really is. Congratulations." Blaise clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, then said he was going to find his mother before she ended up with another husband. Draco chuckled at that, then went back to studying his betrothed, anxiety settling in his gut once more. She was a lone lioness, and while she was incredibly powerful in her own right, she was swimming in a sea of vipers. He couldn't help but be nervous.

—

"Of course, Mahoutokoro accepts only the most gifted students. The magical community is predominantly taught at home, through tradition and old rites," explained Aki Mariko, eldest daughter to one of the most prestigious magical families in Japan. Hermione sipped from her flute as the girl across from Aki spoke and didn't even attempt to sound fascinated.

"And yet you've kept your population steady. How is that?" The young lady drawled, her bored countenance unwavering.

"We enforce a strict three-child policy. Magical couples are to bear no less than three children, who are strategically paired to ensure the greatest distance between family members, and every third generation is required to marry the Giftless. It is to keep the blood from becoming too thick, so to speak."

"So every three generations, you willingly sully your bloodline? I've never heard of something so preposterous."

Hermione watched as Aki stiffened at the brazen insult to her culture.

"It is done so that we do not suffer inbred maladies. This way we continue our gift and become stronger."

There was a pause, and Magnolia Avery's expression finally budged, morphing from the disinterested stare she'd worn all night, to an affronted glower.

Hermione was about to say something to salvage the conversation, if possible, when she heard footsteps approaching.

"Good evening, Miss Avery, Mariko-san," Draco greeted formally, taking his place behind Hermione's left shoulder. Aki dipped her head respectfully, but Magnolia rolled her eyes.

" 'Miss Avery?' Have you forgotten that we grew up together, Draco? I even seem to remember your parents approaching mine about a betrothal contract."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, that was almost eight years ago, and given that you did not attend Hogwarts, I haven't seen you since. I believe my formality is appropriate."

"It's a pity you didn't attend Durmstrang," the witch said with a dramatic sigh, raising her chin a bit before her gaze once again landed on Hermione. "It has much higher enrollment standards."

With that, the young woman turned to go gossip elsewhere, tossing her fiercely auburn hair as she did so. Hermione's attention returned to Aki, and they held a brief but not unpleasant conversation before Draco begged Mariko-san's forgiveness to steal his intended for a dance. The engaged couple bowed slightly to their guest, then made their way to the dance floor, assuming the more casual pose that was used when less people were watching.

"Snape has been staring at you all evening," Draco whispered after a few moments. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"He isn't the only one."

The young wizard only smirked.

"I'm only looking out for you; you do realize that most of the people in this room would cheer if you dropped dead?"

She was quiet, catching a glimpse of Snape as they turned and noting that he was indeed glaring daggers at her. She resumed her focus on her intended.

"The man is vindictive, he'll be angry with me until the day he dies, and not just for my most recent offense. He's loathed me since I first stepped into his potions lab," she stated, her tone unbothered. "He knows he can't touch me now, though, so it's grating on him."

Draco noticed the barely-there smugness in her voice as she said the last bit, and couldn't help but chuckle out "You'll be the death of him."

He flinched as something dark glinted in her eyes, his heart pounding faster when her tongue flicked out to dampen her lips.

"One can only hope," she murmured to herself, though it was just loud enough for him to hear. The boy swallowed thickly but said nothing more, the pair of them continuing the rest of dance in silence.

—

The night was a whirlwind. Hermione sipped her champagne, clasped her hands, and canted her head in the aristocratic manner of Pureblood society, all the while wishing she could manage one of Seamus's signature explosive accidents that would bring the roof down on top of them. Though she supposed the defense wards around the ballroom would prevent that from happening.

The only guests remaining now were the few that surrounded the Dark Lord, discussing stars-knew-what behind a silencing shield. Hermione glanced at her intended, who was among them, then made her way out onto the small terrace overlooking the rear lawn.

She looked up to see the moon on its setting arc. If she had to warrant a guess, the girl would say it was sometime past three in the morning. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the crisp May air, the scent of dew and spring bringing back fond memories of time spent on the Hogwarts grounds, laughing with Harry and Ron. Her chest squeezed, and she grit her teeth against the tears welling in her eyes. She was getting better at not letting them fall.

After several minutes alone in her musings, Hermione heard a familiar gait slowly come up beside her.

"You did very well tonight," Draco muttered, his eyes on the marble beneath his feet. The witch crossed her arms over her chest and let her posture slip, finally relinquishing the facade she'd held up the past several hours. She didn't respond for a time, but then she shook her head.

"This was your life, growing up?" She questioned in a cynical tone. "Dress robes, expensive champagne, enough formalities to give you a headache?"

Draco moved his gaze from the floor to her eyes and nodded, something like regret lodging in his throat when he realized the expression she wore was laced with pity. The girl sighed, returning her stare to the hedgerows.

"I suppose now I understand why you were so horrid as a child. Not that it excuses your behaviour, but I suppose if this sort of thing made up even a small part of your social life, you wouldn't know how to be your own person in public. You wouldn't know how to make friends, only alliances, and betrayal would be almost second nature," she said, thinking of the several back-stabbing remarks that she'd been privy to that evening, often made just after the person being referred to was out of earshot. "It's all so disingenuine and heartless. It's a wonder you have any feelings at all, Draco Malfoy."

He blinked several times, unsure of how to respond, and then she was suddenly very close to him.

Hermione rested one of her hands on his shoulder, the other reaching up to cradle his cheek. She wondered for a moment what he might have been like if he'd been allowed a regular childhood, not one plagued by prejudice and unrealistic expectations of propriety. Swallowing, she lowered her gaze and stepped away from him.

She mumbled a goodnight and hastily returned to the ballroom, Delilah falling into step almost as soon as she passed through the doors. Draco growled as he turned to stare out at the lawn.

It's a wonder you have any feelings at all…

He considered her statement. It was true, in a roundabout way. His mother and father had tried to curb his… enthusiasm, as a child, and it had mostly worked. On the surface, at least.

Breathing deeply, he thought of his intended. He thought of her at school, when he'd first begun to notice her as a gifted witch, not the disgrace to magic he'd been taught that she was. The way she focused so intently it made her eyes glow, her warm laugh, her compassion. He recalled in sixth year, when Snape had cornered him and demanded he at least try not to look so guilty, claiming that Hermione had noticed and voiced her concerns to McGonagall.

Then he thought of her in his more recent memory. When she'd opened the door of the glorified shed she had been hiding out in, looking worn and with a few more scars than he remembered, but still just as beautiful. Her strength as she'd faced the very wizard she'd been trying so hard to exterminate, knowing full-well that there was a strong likelihood he would kill her as soon as she stepped into view. He thought of the cunning in her eyes as she'd moved about the ballroom that very evening, charming the people who despised her very existence and making them forget her blood status.

His heart beat erratically, and he set his jaw, taking slow, measured breaths to try and lower its frantic pace.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had feelings. He cared for the few people he called genuine friends, even if he didn't express it in the obvious ways she was used to. But if she ever wanted him to… he would absolutely show her just how strong his feelings were.

—