Chapter 33
Harry was feeling overwhelmed, almost. The guests had arrived in throngs, filling the mansion with extraordinary noises. There had almost been a slight mishap when the orchestra didn't arrive until the hour before the Ball was supposed to commence, but with magic, most was taken care of very rapidly.
Once everything was in motion, everything fell in its place. The guests were there, music was playing, food and drinks were being presented… Harry didn't have to worry about a thing. All slight glitches were reported to Molly, and she took care of it with her vast experience. For some strange reason, Molly hadn't left Hermione out of her sight. Parading the Muggleborn witch around, Harry suspected mostly Arthur took pleasure in introducing her to all their stuck-up pureblood friends from high society.
And Hermione was her perfect self: proper and decent in every way. She nodded respectfully to even the people Harry knew were to be most rude to Muggleborns, but she stayed the picture of decorum.
All this Harry saw from afar. He didn't dare approach her under the watchful eye from all society. So he kept to his circle of friends, and a few of their wives. Ron was talking, with a comrade of theirs from Hogwarts, Oliver Wood. They were debating Quidditch, and the rest of them were just listening, barely getting a word in, for more than an hour. The wives retreated at intervals to their own conversations, as well as some of the men. Most common were other political topics, though always kept light.
Harry overlooked the mass of people standing in his hallway. He was fortunate if he knew them all by name… Malfoy, unfortunately had showed up. The good news was that there hadn't been said anything between them, except for a brief salute. The Finnigans had come, even though the Thomas's hadn't. Harry had made sure they'd been invited, but Dean Thomas was a Muggleborn, married to a Halfblood, so maybe they hadn't felt at ease coming tonight? And apparently that made all the difference, since the Finnigans were both Halfbloods, at least.
Harry cursed the way people thought not for the first time in his life. It shouldn't matter who their fathers and mothers had been. If one carried the title of Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn… But then again, maybe Dean was just more sensible, because Harry didn't exactly considered all this 'fun'. There were too many intrigues, too much protocol to be followed to have fun.
He saw a few old men with their wives, tasting his wine with thorough attention. Of course, a few Ministers, and their advisers…. Harry controlled his anger, even though it was hard. They were going to put him on a leash, but for now, they seemed to take pleasure in taking advantage of his hospitality without shame.
Turning away, he came face to face with a red-cheeked Ginny.
"Come on, then Harry, you're the host, mingle!"
She proceeded to drag him to meet several people he had never seen before, but soon she was lost in the crowd, and he found himself bored to tears by a wizard explaining all of the botanic knowledge he possessed. Pity the man specialised in Herbology…
Finding an escape when Dobby ran by carrying several trays, Harry made his excuses to the man.
***
Hermione had a difficult time keeping up. She was not accustomed to meet this many people in one night. Keeping her cool manners as a shield, she nevertheless paid attention to the conversations she was privy to. The way people interacted, didn't quite correspond to the words they were speaking, and Hermione found herself being strangely fascinated.
The greatest lesson that was taught to her this night, was that appearances were everything, everything but the truth. Something she had always strongly believed, but she had never been witness to it on this large a scale. It was almost laughable how most false words were so easy to recognise. Though there were a few surprisingly interesting and relatively honest witches and wizards she had met too.
Still all the chatter made her head spin. Especially when she was to respond on some idle gossip, she cared nothing for. All the while keeping her mouth shut when it came to the political conversations the men were having.
It wasn't a moment too soon, when it became time for the children to go up. Surprisingly, even little James had been able to stay up until then, without getting cranky. Even more surprisingly, they went to bed quite without a fuss, even though that could be attributed to the fact that Mrs. R. Weasley and Hermione were aided by Mrs. A. Weasley… It was a welcome reprieve of peace and quiet…
Staying upstairs just a little while longer, Hermione checked on Lily again when the other adults went down to start dinner. The girl was already asleep, and Hermione couldn't help but move into her room and place a mother's good-night-kiss on her forehead. She hadn't been able to spend much time with Lily since the Weasleys had arrived, but she hoped to continue what they'd started when all this was over.
Realising she couldn't stay up much longer, she hastily retreated from Lily's room, and went back downstairs. Taking a deep breath, and smoothening down her robes, she prepared to enter the part of the mansion open to the guests.
She was interrupted by a noise, though. Curious, she recognised Miss Ginevra's voice. Planning to make her presence known, rather than eavesdrop, she reconsidered when she realised the emotional nature of the conversation. Unable to help herself, she quickly checked for anyone else being witness, and then changed into her cat form.
Hearing more accurately, she learned the identity of the person Miss Ginevra was speaking to.
"… go, Malfoy!"
"I want you, Princess, and I always get what I want! Why are you pretending you don't want me?"
"Because I really don't, now let go! And don't make me say it again! Or I will have to resort to more drastic measures!"
A ruffling of clothes told Hermione people were readjusting themselves. At the ready, though, Hermione knew she'd jump in once she heard the situation got beyond Miss Ginevra's control. Set on staying there until the witch was safely back among a crowd of people, Hermione as cat, had no attention of leaving.
What came next, though, surprised her even more. In much gentler tones, Miss Ginevra spoke.
"Draco, you have to let go… I can't be with you. You know that… there's too much standing between us! Just… find yourself a pureblood wife and…"
"I have found a pureblood wife… you!"
Miss Ginevra just snapped: "You know what I mean, Dragon!"
"If it's your stupid Weasels, Princess, they can't hurt me! I'll…"
"Draco! They're my brothers! And no, it isn't just that! You have these horrid views… I could never live with that! I don't think the way you do! I'm a Weasley, and you're a Malfoy!"
"But I could change! I know I could! And you know that's not true! Why else are you staying with the Potter Halfblood! To make me jealous? You just needed to be closer to me! Admit it!"
Miss Ginevra's tone was colder than ever when she responded:
"You'll never change, Draco! You talk of change and in the same breath you're calling Harry a Halfblood, like he's an disgusting creature! Why can't you see that it isn't right? That it can't be?"
There was a tense silence after that, and Hermione's curiosity got the best of her. Sneaking closer, she poked her cathead around the corner to get a look at what was going on.
Miss Ginevra was quite rumpled in appearance, her cheeks were red, and she looked as if she had already danced all night. Sweaty, she was leaning against the wall, engaged in a tense staring contest. The gentleman before her was quite obviously of great wealth, to look at his appearance. His face was angelically beautiful, though his mouth showed something arrogant. His white hair was held back in a perfectly groomed ponytail.
Hermione could almost feel the tension between those two people shift and reform itself. What started out as a hard, resentful look, for the both of them, shifted in something softer, something full of longing. Hermione was quite surprised to see that look on the gentleman mostly, since she wouldn't suspect him to let his guard down for anyone, even one he desired.
Before Hermione could look away, the both of them were embracing in a passionate kiss.
The hearth-wrenching scene didn't last, though. Soon Miss Ginevra was moaning her refusal, and they broke apart reluctantly. Out of breath, their foreheads were still touching, until the witch gathered enough courage to flee the man's embrace.
Hermione, transfixed, watched the wizard's face fall. Desperate grief made way soon for other emotions… His expression contorted in anger, making his handsome face ugly to see. With barely suppressed rage, though, he made his way back to the Ball.
***
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