The Ball (part 1 of 2)

Night of the Ball

He would be an idiot to expect anything different from the Riddles. Earlier, a Patronus was sent to his flat, revealing the coordinates to Riddle Manor. And now it's been some good ten minutes since he apparated at the front gate. But as he watches people arriving and heading inside, he can't quite find his will to move.

Harry once thought his grandfather's Villa was the biggest house/place someone could own. But he was wrong. Terribly wrong. This Manor is not like anything he's seen so far in his life. The mansion itself is so far away from the entrance is ridiculous. Harry pockets his hands, still standing behind the huge open gates that lead inside the very well illuminated property. There are many Aurors scattered around. In a quick glance Harry saw at least ten. He wonders if Riddle's being cautious after what happened at the Fair or if he's afraid of something else.

It's hard to be sure why he resists on moving inside. He was eager for an opportunity like this, for a moment where he would be able to see his enemies, study them and maybe make connections. But his stomach churns at the thought of having to put up with them all night. He sighs, lowering his head. He takes a deep breath, filling himself with courage and determination. This revenge won't get done by itself.

Raising his head he squints at a figure leaning on the visible third floor front porch. It's a woman. Her long dress makes it pretty easy to discern. Immediately his mind goes back to his dream. Hermione on the opposite far from him… is it her? Is she looking at me? He can't possibly know, but his eyes stay on the figure. From this distance he can't tell much about her choice of dress, but he can see her long hair down in wavy curls. The woman only moves when a man comes from behind her and she turns.

Harry blinks. He can't stall forever. It's time to enter and use this night to his advantage. He'd already seen enough people going in to understand that he needs to walk all the way to the Mansion. And so he does. The front lawn is majestic with two fountains flowing water and well trimmed bushes. Some are animal shaped and they magically move as Harry understands it's an analogy to the traditional dance and the Patronus.

It's clear that everything on the place screams of a wealthiness that maybe only the Minister is able to display. It's another way of retaining power. Who would go against Tom Riddle? He's ruthless and he has all the money he might need to shut people up or ruin their lives. Harry glances down at his own clothes - picked by Hermione while obeying Riddle's orders. Another way of showing power, of making it clear who's in charge. Whose Ball he's attending.

But he won't complain. He looks good on the black suit Hermione chose. Only the shirt is white. It fitted perfectly and he wondered when Hermione payed him this much attention to know exactly the size of his clothes. He can't help a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. He's been denying it to himself, but he knows exactly who he's most eager to see tonight… and it's not Sally.

As he finally reaches the front door, a big hand stops him, resting on his shoulder. Harry looks sideways to a huge man standing all in black by his side.

"Name." The man utters.

"Harry D'Angelo." He narrows his eyes, he hadn't noticed people were being stopped at the entrance.

The man waves his wand and a huge scroll unfolds in front of him, revealing what Harry is sure are the guest names. When he locates Harry's name, fire burns it, branding his entering. Arching an eyebrow, Harry moves to cross the door, but the man stops him again.

"Just need to be sure it's really you."

And before he can even ask what the man means, with a wave of his wand he checks Harry's identity with some spell. Harry feels a pull at his insides, something tugging at his body, but it's soon gone. Then the man nods curtly.

"Welcome, Mr D'Angelo." And he waves his hand to the door, allowing Harry inside.

Still not fully comprehending what just happened, Harry pockets his hands and prepares himself to enter his parents' murderer's house. For a brief moment he stops and lets himself be awed by what he's seeing. It's pure luxury in a very traditional way. The open entrance has a huge crystal chandelier hanging from an insanely high ceiling. Double huge stairs lead to the second floor and as Harry moves further inside, he can see people talking and drinking at all three floors. The way the stairs continue up is surely product of strong magical architecture.

It doesn't take much for a glass of champagne to appear out of thin air, soaring beside him. Harry takes it and keeps moving, searching for familiar faces. The ballroom is at the ground floor, and he wasn't prepared for the immensity of it. He tries not biting hard on his lower lip when he realizes the place looks extremely similar to the one he envisioned in his dream. The only thing different are the huge french windows that lead to another huge lawn. Harry can see many more people outside, and he wonders exactly how many were invited to this Ball.

"Hey! Harry!"

He turns on his heels at the familiar voice. It's Ginny. He can't deny she looks beautiful in her long cherry dress that perfectly matches her styled up hair. Her makeup also stands out and Harry smiles at her while she approaches him with her husband by her side. Malfoy is wearing all white…

"Do you intent on blending in with the walls, Malfoy?" Harry can't help teasing him while complimenting Ginny.

"I told you." Ginny says to her husband and he turns to her with his mouth open.

"I like this suit!"

"Love, you're already as white as a sheet and with the blond hair, honestly." She sighs and Harry chuckles. Ginny steers the conversation. "So, enjoying the Ball?" She asks Harry.

"I literally just got here."

"Oh well, let me introduce you to my family, then." She smiles and deep down Harry wonders why she's so nice to him. Sure, this could be her natural self, but in his situation it doesn't hurt to be more careful. He's still a foreigner and in a way they all accepted him easily… probably because I saved Hermione. If he thinks about their first meeting, he remembers pretty well the cold stares he received from all… which changed after the Fair.

"Sure." He says to Ginny and she leads him to a side of the room he hadn't looked yet.

But the Weasleys are impossible to miss. Their red heads all turn when Ginny calls to them and Harry spots Ron there. Strangely he feels a bit of the tension leaving his body while he politely smiles to all of them. Ginny keeps making introductions and he wonders how many Weasleys are out there. Inevitably his attention zooms in on Molly and Arthur. Harry is sure they knew his parents, - or at least his father - sure they used to be friends, used to frequent each other's houses. And his suspicions are confirmed when…

"Don't I know you, Mr D'Angelo?" Molly Weasley narrows her eyes.

"I don't think we ever met, Mrs Weasley." He says calmly.

"Doesn't he look familiar, Arthur?" She turns to her husband who presses his lips together, his eyes on Harry.

"Maybe." The man says and they share a strange look.

"What is this about? Have you met Harry?" Ron chimes in. Ginny is distracted with something Malfoy is saying on her ear and the rest of the Weasleys are lost in conversations with other people.

Molly chuckles dismissively. "I must be thinking of someone else." She moves a hand in front of her to change the subject. "But tell me, Mr D'Angelo, how is London treating you so far? We all heard about the brave way you saved Hermione that night." She remarks and he briefly looks down.

"I think London is… growing on me. I mean, of course it takes some time to adapt, especially to the laws around here." He says as casually as he can while he sips on his champagne.

Arthur wets his lips in what Harry can only assume is a nervous mania. "I can imagine." The man says. "Life in Italy is extremely different…" He trails and Harry tilts his head, "Tell me, Mr D'Angelo, does the Ministry there have a branch which" He lowers his voice and Harry even moves forward to listen, "studies Muggles?" The last word comes out so low Harry assumes 'Muggles' is what the man said.

Molly inhales sharply at his side and Ron calls out to his father in a low warning. Harry almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. Like saying the word 'Muggle' would turn them into one.

"I apologize for my husband-"

"Why?" Harry cuts in, "There's no problem in making a question, and the answer is yes, Mr Weasley, we do have a whole Department for it." Harry sees a glint in the man's eyes while he nods approvingly.

Molly is making a face and Ron looks extremely concerned, his eyes meeting Harry's. Then Molly grunts lowly and Harry turns to look at the direction she's observing.

Walking together with Draco Malfoy are his parents, Lucius and Narcissa, and they're heading straight to where they stand. Harry gulps. He never suspected Molly and Arthur had any real involvement in his parents' death, but the Malfoys are another thing entirely. Harry read countless interviews they gave after the end of the Potters' Persecution. Lucius always made it clear how he loathed James Potter and how he felt dirty knowing he'd shared the same rooms with a man that tarnished his bloodline marrying a 'Mudblood'. Narcissa also made similar statements, her words less aggressive but hurtful nonetheless. And now as he faces them, Harry feels cold inside the same way he felt when he met Sirius.

It's hard to explain what goes through his mind, but if he could, he would burn this whole Manor down with all these Supremacists inside. Because even if many of them had nothing to do with what happened to his parents, they never tried stopping it either.

Lucius comes to a halt in front of them, his eyes cold and his posture one of superiority. "Good evening." He says slowly as he addresses the Weasleys and they all politely return the greeting. While Narcissa repeats her husband's words, it becomes clear that the two families only stand each other. Probably for the sake of Ginny and Draco's union. Harry can't help being surprised by it. From what Hermione told him, the father makes the ultimate choice when it comes to arranged marriages… and Arthur Weasley strikes him as someone who wouldn't choose a Malfoy for his only daughter. So probably the decision was Ginny's. Harry clears his throat at the thought, they're not that traditional. Maybe the Weasleys can give him answers regarding the Potters' Persecution, maybe-

"And you are?" Lucius' voice is almost a snarl by his side and Harry lifts his head to gaze into the man's eyes. Fear goes through Lucius' eyes while he gazes at Harry, his mouth opening slightly. He also saw the resemblance.

"Harry D'Angelo." He says firmly, extending his hand, but Lucius doesn't move.

"Italian?" He says with his lips pressed together, clear distaste in his posture as he takes a step back.

Harry recoils his hand and opens a tight smile. "Yes. Got transfered a few weeks ago."

Lucius opens his mouth but Draco is faster. "Harry is a fellow Auror, father. He's the one who saved Hermione at the Fair."

"Ah, yes." Lucius narrows his eyes. "Now I can see why Tom would allow someone like you inside."

"Someone like me, sir?" Harry's grip on the glass of champagne tightens while he opens an ironic smile to Lucius. "Devilish handsome, you mean?" He takes a risk at the joke, and gladly it works while Molly, Arthur, Ron, Ginny and even Draco crack a chuckle. Lucius on the other hand barely flinches and Harry can feel he wants to say something, but Narcissa takes hold of his arm and, at the same moment, a voice Harry recognizes bellows:

"Cousin! Don't you love these family meetings?" Sirius Black comes to them, Eleonora holding his arm, Sally behind.

Harry moves, a sincere smile on his face while he watches his dance partner approaching. She looks extremely beautiful in her navy dress. Her black hair is up, revealing her long neck and a beautiful necklace with the Blacks' emblem carved in gold. The dress is long and simple in a way, strapless with a velvet bust, not exactly clinging to her figure, but not swaying loosely either. Her makeup is not heavy, only enough to accentuate her natural beauty. She looks indeed beautiful.

And he realizes his mouth is hanging slightly open at the sight of her, which makes her smile widen, a glint of mischief in her eyes when she stops in front of him.

"You look gorgeous." He says when he leans to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Bella."

She lets out a sigh, one of her hands resting on his chest. "You look very, very good yourself. I'm looking forward to our dance." She winks and he winks back.

Then Sirius is already all over them. "D'Angelo!" Sirius smacks his shoulder in greeting, his eyes going from him to Sally. "Good seeing you here! I hope my cousin wasn't being too bitchy!"

Harry tries holding back his smile while Narcissa grunts at Sirius and Eleonora comes to greet him. Sally walks away to talk to Ginny and Ron. Draco is having a word with his father and they both look incredibly angry. He wants to keep observing them, but the Blacks want his attention and he resigns himself in giving it.

But it doesn't take long for Lucius to walk away and Harry follows with his eyes. In a beat he feels cold again, Eleonora's words about how handsome he looks getting lost in the air. His eyes are set on a family walking to Lucius. One of them he recognizes pretty well, Asmodeus Pettigrew. And by his side, the man who's probably his father, the man Harry is sure betrayed his parents. Peter Pettigrew. There's a woman with them - probably Asmodeus' mother - but Harry doesn't care.

Belatedly Harry notices Sirius is watching him with small eyes. Harry clears his throat. He wants to pretend he wasn't looking at the Pettigrews but the man is faster:

"What's wrong, D'Angelo? You look pale all of the sudden."

He grits his teeth. He knows he's not pale, he knows Sirius is trying to provoke a reaction from him, but Harry can't possibly fall in this trap. And to his relief, a booming voice around the mansion saves him from answering:

"The Minister of Magic, Tom Riddle, his wife, Bellatrix Riddle and their daughter, Hermione Riddle."

Instinctively, Harry looks up at the huge set of stairs, and indeed, the three are coming down together. But he barely notices the man who's his enemy, or the wife he was eager to set eyes on and have a conversation with. He only has eyes, ears and every sense of his body for Hermione. Her long black velvet dress shines in a way as if it's full of tiny diamonds. Without a cleavage and with long sleeves all of her chest is covered up, but as she takes step by step, Harry can see a slit on the right leg that makes his heart stop for a beat. It goes from very high up her leg - almost indecently up - all the way down to her feet. Her stilettos are high and silver. With her long hair down, Harry is more than sure that the woman he saw at the balcony earlier was her. And as the dress hugs her body it leaves little to his imagination and he gulps. He can feel himself hardening at the sight of her.

But nothing really comes close to the heavy makeup she's wearing. The blackness around her eyes are like a beacon to the true beauty of their color. And when Harry finally looks at them, he realizes she's staring right back at him. They hold their gazes as she comes down the stairs and he faintly notices her lipstick is blood red.

It's hard to breathe, his heart trashing inside his chest.

And at the back of his mind he hears claps. People are welcoming them into the Ball, but Harry is unable to move. His body only relaxes the moment they break eye contact when she reaches the bottom of the stairs and stronzo Pettigrew goes to her. Hermione blinks, her eyes moving away from Harry and focusing on her boyfriend.

Sally clears her throat by his side and he lowers his head. He thinks everyone around him noticed what just happened. But he himself is not even sure what it was. It's hard to understand what he feels for Hermione or what they share. Because one thing he can tell… there is definitely something between them. He's just still trying to figure out what it is exactly.

Setting his jaw he lifts his eyes to Sally and smiles, ignoring the obvious question written all over her face. "So," He begins, "wanna explore this place?"

He needs a distraction. He needs to be far away from the Riddles that are now walking slowly into the room, greeting everyone. Harry averts his eyes. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, he doesn't want to face Tom or Bellatrix. He needs a moment to put himself back together…

"Ah, dear cousin." Sirius says to Bellatrix who's approaching them and Harry sets his jaw. Fuck, so much for my escape. It's a bucket of cold water.

"Sirius." It's Bellatrix's answer. "At least you're dressed properly." She says bluntly but with a smile and they seem to share an inside joke. Immediately, Bellatrix turns to Sally, "Dear, you look beautiful." And to Harry's immense surprise, Bellatrix shares a hug with the woman.

And finally her eyes set on Harry. "Bellatrix, this is Harry D'Angelo-"

"The one who saved Hermione." She says in a breath. And she comes to him, opening her arms and closing them around him. Harry has no reaction, his eyes wide, his whole body tense, almost rejecting the gesture. But Bellatrix doesn't seem to mind while she hugs him even tighter. "Thank you. Thank you, Mr D'Angelo."

She finally loosens her hold and Harry looks at the woman in front of him. "Mrs Riddle. I- of course, I mean-" He stutters and he hates himself for it, but Bellatrix smiles at him. She's nothing like he expected. And to his relief he realizes Tom and Hermione are heading the other direction, talking to other people.

"I heard you're from Italy, is that right?"

"Yes." He nods, still not sure what to think. The same way it was hard finding any information on Hermione, it was on Bellatrix. "When I was offered the position here, I seized the opportunity."

"Really?" She cocks her head to the side. "I don't know of many Italians who would be willing to move to England, Mr D'Angelo." She arches her eyebrows. "But I'm glad you did, I've heard wonderful things about you."

"Is that so?"

"Hermione has been talking about you incessantly." There's a hint of mischief in her voice and Harry feels a blush coming to his cheeks. "She values your work ethics."

"Well, Head Riddle is indeed…" For a moment he's not sure of what to say, but it comes to him in the most sincere way, "a force of nature." Bellatrix smiles, satisfied. And there's nothing more he wants to say as she gives him a knowing look that is confusing as hell.

"Hope you enjoy the evening, Mr D'Angelo. It was a pleasure." She squeezes his arm. "Excuse me." And just like that, she's gone, gliding away to talk to Narcissa.

Sally tugs at his hand and he turns his head sharply to her, words of apology already on his tongue - in case she found his exchange with Bellatrix strange - but the weird look on her face is not directed at him. Her eyes are staring fixedly to a point at the entrance where Harry can see Remus Lupin and his family. But before he can dwell on what's happening, a voice calls to Sally and she turns to Harry.

"Do you mind if I… I need to talk with some people." She says mysteriously, but he nods, not minding at all.

"Sure, I'll roam around a bit."

"Okay," She leans gently to press a kiss to his lips. "Veer away from my father or he'll give you hell for this." Her words are followed by a laugh while she walks to a group of three - two men and another woman - probably her age.

Shrugging, he decides to explore a bit, and as he steps forward to do it, another glass of champagne appears out of thin air in front of him. Seizing the glass, his eyes scan the room fast enough to notice that Hermione is not there anymore, nor her, nor Pettigrew. Nor Ginny or Ron. He frowns.

Only Malfoy is there talking with his father and Peter Pettigrew.

Wandering in the ostentatious living area, Harry ponders if he should face those two men, provoke them or tell them something which might ruin their night. But he knows that in any circumstance he won't be treated properly. Lucius already made it pretty clear what he thinks of his presence and he's fairly sure Papa Pettigrew shares the same opinion as his son.

But before he can decide, on their own accord, his eyes travel the room to a french window and he sees Hermione coming back from outside with Pettigrew, their faces a mask of anger and disappointment. Harry watches her face as she starts talking to other people, Pettigrew distancing himself. For the first time in the night he notices she's wearing a diamond necklace in the shape of a serpent, its head falling exactly between her breasts. He wets his lips. His mind again betraying him, all his senses screaming how stunning she looks, how utterly ridiculous is that a woman like her is… a Riddle - off limits.

He moves his glass to take another sip, but stops mid motion. All his blood surely goes south at once, his heart beating faster and his stomach tugging… Hermione's dress has an open back. But not just any open back. One that goes dangerously close to her butt, stopping right at the edge of revealing something, exposing her lean muscles and back dimples.

Harry downs his champagne in one go and briefly closes his eyes after.

Maybe talking with those vile man can take his mind off of her. And so be it.

But someone comes into his way, stopping him with a hand. It's an old man. Old and imposing.

"I don't think we've met." The old man says, watching Harry closely from behind his half moon shaped glasses. His long white hair and beard catch Harry's eyes, but not just that, the purple cloak he's wearing truly brings together the image Harry used to have of old wizards. He almost chuckles. "I'm Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's mouth hangs open a bit. This is Hogwarts' Headmaster. Having no idea why this man is talking to him, Harry tilts his head and extends his hand. "Harry D'Angelo." A glint goes over the man's eyes.

Dumbledore takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "D'Angelo? Really? You don't strike me as one."

Pulling his hand back, Harry pockets both, the glass of champagne instantly gone when he finished it. "I think I don't understand what you mean, Mr Dumbledore."

"Oh, please, Harry, call me Albus." Harry smiles tightly. "Did you know I can remember every student that ever went to my school?"

This is so out of the blue that Harry has no other reaction than frowning. "Yeah?"

"Surely. I'm proud of this little achievement. I remember your father very well. He was a great wizard."

The words hang in the air.

Harry grits his teeth. If this old man is talking about Marcello Donatto, then he's completely crazy, because Marcello never even stepped foot in England… but James Potter did. James Potter was a Gryffindor.

"I'm sorry, sir, I think your memory failed you there, my father never went to Hogwarts." And he shuts his mouth.

Dumbledore looks at him in a way that pierces his soul and Harry can feel a chilly shiver running down his spine. This old man knows things. And he's letting Harry know that he knows.

"Oh, really? My mistake then, Harry." He winks conspiratorially, "But if you need me for anything, you know where to find me."

Dumbledore acts like an old friend and not someone Harry just met, and he finds it extremely difficult to deal with these turns of events after being mistreated by almost everyone the first time he met them.

"Okay…" It's his only answer. Dumbledore smiles.

Someone calls to Harry and he turns his head to look at Sirius Black. When he looks back to Dumbledore, the old man is gone. Harry scrunches his nose. Sirius reaches him.

"Harry," He says easily, "Can I call you Harry?" He nods, "Good. So, Minister Riddle wants to talk to you at his study, apparently something came up." Harry tries not reacting. Could it be that they found out the truth about him?

He nods to Sirius and follows him through the enormous place, the mansion is indeed packed with guests, all of them seeming extremely comfortable in this kind of gathering. It doesn't go unnoticed to him how many have the same posture and attitude he saw in Lucius Malfoy. Entitled jerks.

Sirius comes to a halt in front of a huge wooden double door. And for the first time Harry asks himself why Sirius went to fetch him. Regardless, the doors open and they move inside. It's a study and a huge library at the same time, filled with comfortable chairs, desks and a fancy fireplace. But the room itself doesn't matter, what stops Harry on his tracks are the people inside.

Tom Riddle, Bellatrix, Asmodeus Pettigrew, Sirius, Sally and-

Hermione.

Their eyes meet.

She looks… nervous.

Pocketing his hands in an attempt to stop them from running through his hair, Harry opens a tight smile.

"Minister." He greets firmly.

"D'Angelo." It's Tom's answer. "I'll be direct." Harry holds his breath. "We have a problem."

Riddle says nothing further and Harry cocks his head, "Sir?"

"You see," The man exhales in a way that shows clear annoyance, as if whatever is going on bores him. "Asmodeus here," He waves a hand at Pettigrew, "Is an incompetent Auror and had his wand broken in two by a criminal." Harry narrows his eyes slightly, "So, without a wand, no spells, right?" Riddle is actually asking, maybe to humiliate Pettigrew even further.

"Right." Harry says slowly. Daring to move his eyes to Hermione who's leaning on a shelf now, watching with interest.

"And, unfortunately, my daughter, who I'm almost certain has a terrible taste in choosing a partner, is left with no one to dance with tonight."

Harry takes a moment to understand. But he says nothing. His eyes go to Sally and Riddle notices.

"Now, D'Angelo, I know you were going to dance with Miss Black tonight, but if you agree with my simple request, I'm sure Miss Black will understand."

"Request, sir?" He voices the obvious question.

"You'll dance with Hermione, D'Angelo." The tone is final and there's a hint of harshness in his voice.

Various questions go through his mind: Why him? Can't Pettigrew borrow a wand? Why doesn't he try doing it wandless? Is it imperious that Hermione actually dance with someone? What about Sally?

He opens and closes his mouth and before he can say anything, Bellatrix intervenes. "Great. So it's settled."

That sets Harry into motion. He won't bow down to Tom Riddle's wishes so fast.

"Only if it's okay with Sally." He says in a deep voice, his eyes on her. She smiles fondly at him. Tom Riddle on the other hand is narrowing his eyes, his lips raising almost into a snarl. With his chin high up, Harry walks to Sally, holding her hand. Sirius, who's by her side, gives him an amused glance. "I don't want you to be alone." He says sincerely and she cocks her head, turning to look at him.

"It's okay, Harry." She says in a low voice to him and then louder, "The Minister's daughter has to dance, after all. It's not our fault Pettigrew can't keep track of his wand." Harry wants to laugh at that, the memory of the rain pouring down on them while Pettigrew screamed in pain when he broke his wand comes to his mind. Incredibly satisfying.

"Father," Hermione finally says, moving away from the shelf, closer to Pettigrew. "Maybe Asmo can do it wandlessly. Can't you?" She turns to him and the man sets his jaw.

"You know I can't." He murmurs.

"Try." Tom Riddle says.

Harry watches while Pettigrew suffers internally, incapable of denying a request from the Minister. He only nods and raises his hands. Riddle lets him try for three times before ending his torture. Harry purses his lips, wanting to laugh at his failure and wondering why Hermione suggested such a thing if she knew the outcome-

"D'Angelo." Harry moves his eyes to Tom. "You try it."

Both his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He's been trying it for the past days, the last time he almost succeeded, but… with all eyes on him he's not sure he's capable. However, since he already defied Riddle in a way, he decides he won't fight on this one. Leaving Sally's side, he moves to the middle of the room and takes a deep breath. His eyes inadvertently focus on Hermione. She discreetly nods at him, letting him know she believes he can do it. And as he thinks about his happiest memory, he moves his hands in the air and voices the Expecto Patronum inside his head.

And he does it.

The lion materializes in front of everyone. Hermione opens a wide smile. Pettigrew looks down, fuming. Bellatrix seems impressed, but Tom Riddle is frozen on the spot.

"Very well." He says and Harry extinguishes his Patronus. "See. You're far better suited to dance with my daughter tonight, D'Angelo." Then he waves his hand. "You can all leave now."

Sally and Sirius are the first ones out, followed by Pettigrew. Harry lingers a bit, but without another word he moves out. When he crosses the door, though, Pettigrew comes to him.

"If you think you can come here and be the grand savior, you have a surprise coming your fucking way, D'Angelo. You're not welcome here and you should have never left your filthy country of Muggleborns worshipers!" He's practically spitting at his face in a low voice, but Harry doesn't budge. "And you should stay the fuck away from Hermione! She's way out of your league!" He hisses.

"I want nothing with her." Harry answers flatly.

"What's going on here? Asmo? What the hell?" Hermione moves to them, putting herself in front of Harry and torturing him with the sight of her exposed back. He could touch her if he simply raised his hand. "D'Angelo has nothing to do with this. You have no wand and it was my father who chose him to take up your place!" Her voice is low but furious. "And I've had enough of this crap!" She says through gritted teeth.

For a moment Harry sees a streak of violence so vicious in Pettigrew's eyes that he fears for Hermione - a flash of the way Pettigrew slashed her leg outside Azkaban invading his mind. Without thinking he takes a step forward and actually sets one hand on her lower back in a protective and… possessive way. The warmth and smoothness of her skin making his whole body come to a halt. Pettigrew sees his movement and how Hermione doesn't refuse it sets something off on the other man. Clicking his tongue, he snorts and turns away, walking further into a hall and leaving Harry and Hermione alone on that particular spot.

Strangely they don't move. She doesn't turn to look at Harry, but she doesn't walk away either. And he stays there with a hand on her lower back, his fingers itching to trace her spine, to caress her in a way.

"I'm sorry about the whole thing, Harry." She says in a low voice. "I know you wanted to dance with Sally." She states, her words echoing between them. But in reality Harry tries his best not to think how relieved he is that Hermione won't be dancing with Pettigrew anymore.

"Couldn't he borrow a wand?" He whispers back.

She shakes her head. "It would be a demonstration of weakness. Of frail magic."

Hermione turns and he realizes they're very close. His hand slips from her back and immediately he pockets both to keep them away from her body. But his eyes fall to the slit, - damn slit - her long leg exposed just an inch in front of him. Unconsciously he wets his lips, letting out a ragged breath. Hermione is watching him intensively, her own breaths coming short.

"There's another thing." She whispers.

"What?"

"We dance first. Alone. Before anyone else."

He widens his eyes. All the attention will be on them. "Why?"

"Because I'm Tom Riddle's daughter, Harry." There's a hint of something in her words and they're a slap to his face, the reality of who she is and who he is swallowing him whole in guilt while he takes a step back, clearing his throat.

"Right. Of course."

She opens her mouth, but he'll never know what she wanted to say because the wooden door of the study opens and they move their heads to see Bellatrix coming out. She narrows her eyes at them, a tiny smile pulling at the side of her mouth.

"Hermione, love, is everything alright?" Hermione just nods. "D'Angelo, it was quite an impressive Patronus you showed us." There's only admiration in her tone and he almost frowns. She's… kind. Which is odd.

"Thank you, Mrs Riddle."

She nods. "Hope you have a great dance. Hermione, can you come with me for a second?"

They move away from him and Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. This it not going how he imagined. At all. And before he starts stressing about their dance, he searches something else to occupy his mind with. Fetching another glass of champagne, he moves to the middle of the room. There isn't a single face he recognizes. No one approaches him and Harry doesn't mind, maybe this way he can explore the mansion on his own. He would give anything to have an entire hour alone inside Riddle's study. There's not a doubt in his mind that he would find evidences of his cruelty and maybe ways of weakening his sway on these Pureblood families…

Because as Harry walks and drinks, he understands that bringing Tom Riddle down is going to be more difficult than he imagined at first. It's not only him. He has the support of numerous Pureblood families, Supremacists that will fight off anyone who tries changing things. Matteo used to say to Harry that there's nothing more addictive than power. And these wizards know no other life… only the one where they're above right or wrong, their blood and ancestry the only things that matter.

"Harry, dear." He turns on his heels. Eleonora Black is there with… Remus Lupin. "I don't think you've met Remus." She gestures to the man.

"Remus Lupin."

"Harry D'Angelo."

They shake hands firmly and he tries not flinching at the way Remus is staring at him. With hunger. Searching and analyzing.

"It's refreshing to see a new face around here, Mr D'Angelo. We're so used to meeting always the same people that I'm honestly wondering why we keep doing it."

Harry chuckles slightly. "It beats me."

Remus laughs. "I heard you're dancing with Sally tonight!" Remus says excitedly. "I have to say, I hope you treat her well-"

"Actually," Harry interrupts, "I- there's been a change… I'm dancing with Hermione."

Remus frowns and Eleonora gasps. "As in Hermione Riddle?" Remus asks. Harry just nods. "Wow. What her father thinks of that?"

Harry doesn't fully understand the question, "He was the one who suggested it."

Remus and Eleonora share a glance. Remus looks down and before he can say anything else, the deep sound similar to a bell tolls inside the mansion.

Arching his eyebrows he looks around, surprised by everyone's rigid posture as they open way on the ballroom. Harry presses his lips together. Hermione is coming to him, her stride firm and intentional. Remus and Eleonora step back like all the others and it's crazy how hard his heart is beating inside his chest.

It's time for their dance.

The bell tolls again.

Hermione takes his hand. He holds hers tightly. The contact warm and reassuring. And he lets her guide him to the center of the ballroom. There's total silence around them and Harry can't help feeling a bit overwhelmed. She turns to him and when they lock their gazes, he remembers the day they practiced together, how he touched her and how they silently tried to figure out something between them.

All lights go down. It's total darkness and she moves forward, her lips pressing against his ear.

"It's just us. Forget about the others."

He nods and when all lights come on again, she's already that extra step away from him. The music invades the ballroom. Hermione nods her head discreetly and he understands perfectly when it's the right time to move, after all, she taught him well.

She takes the step and bows and he does the same, their eyes glued on each other's. She's absolutely breathtaking. Harry falls into step easily, their hands meeting at the middle, that same tingle on their lefts, intriguing both. He keeps his eyes on hers, his feet moving on their own, the music making them really dance around each other.

It happens so smoothly that Harry almost misses the way many wizards and witches step into their dance to take part in the circles. But he doesn't care about them, only about her. He can only think of Hermione. Of her eyes on him, of their bodies studying one another in this old and strange dance. It's crazy how what they're doing doesn't seem like a simple dance anymore, it feels like… something more.

They stop in front of each other. Hermione moves first, following the music and casting her Patronus. Harry sees the serpent appearing behind her in a rigid stance and when he realizes it's his turn, he silently prays he can pull off that wandless Patronus again.

To his relief, he does, his lion appearing behind him.

And now he takes a deep breath.

They step into each other's space to take their stance to start waltzing. Harry has a hard time concentrating when one of his hands goes to her upper back, her arm above his, her hand on his shoulder. They ground themselves. And when their other hands come together, it's... powerful.

And not giving a damn for the rest of the world, they start waltzing. Their feet move incredibly fast and with dexterity, as if they were made to do this, to perform this dance together. Her posture is flawless, her neck a bit exposed to him, his senses on alert while he feels consumed by her skin, by her scent, by her.

She squeezes his hand tighter and he reciprocates the gesture, his mind running fast, trying to catch up with what's happening, with the magnitude of it. And he swallows a lump on his throat, something tugging at his chest. He realizes he doesn't want it to end.

But the music starts fading and they slow down, knowing they'll stop soon and part from each other. And when Harry becomes aware of the rest of the room, he notices they're all clapping in rhythm. If he had to guess, this surely isn't common.

They come to a halt at the center and Hermione opens her mouth slightly, her eyes falling on their Patronus. Harry follows her gaze and inhales sharply at the scene. His lion is lying down lazily, the serpent around his whole body, its head under the lion's jaw. It could be, but it's not predatory at all. It's intimate. It shows trust. Desire. Involvement.

The music ends.

But people keep clapping. He raises an eyebrow at Hermione, lowering his arms, instinctively bringing her closer. "Why are they clapping?" He asks in a low voice, seeing the doubt in hers.

"It-" She's holding firmly both his arms. "They do this when the couple dancing shows… perfect harmony." He cocks his head. A tiny smile on his lips. "And they'll keep clapping until we kiss."

"Kiss? On the lips?"

"Yes. You don't have to. I mean," She says fast, "don't do it. If you do, you'll probably be forced to ask me to marry you. It's kind of a tradition."

He frowns. Denying how much he wants to really kiss her, he only leans and gently, reverently, kisses her forehead instead. Hermione sighs, her body moving closer to his. He lets his lips linger. After a few beats people stop clapping and he closes his eyes.

I don't wanna let go.

Their Patronus disappear.

Their dance is over.

.

(...)