Chapter 34
Slightly stunned with all these revelations, Hermione got back to her human form. Pensively, she entered the ballroom once again, unaware that sharp blue eyes noticed her.
Joining Mrs. Weasley at the dinner table, she suffered through many more pleasantries and gossip before the end was near. At least, the concentration she had to put in keeping her calm front diverted her thoughts from the scene she'd witnessed between Miss Ginevra and Mr. Malfoy.
The party she was with was seated quite a distance from the real host and his entourage. Hermione had a perfect view, though, of Harry. Next to him, Miss Ginevra was having a calm moment, which seemed so out of character for the boisterous young witch… It didn't escape Hermione's eye, though, that she had refilled her glass with Firewhiskey a number of times, though it seemed her fellow table guests were quite oblivious to that.
She felt quite relieved when Mr. Weasley asked her for a spin on the dance floor after dessert. She felt more than ready to leave behind the old witches Mrs. Weasley had introduced her to. Even though she wasn't sure she was going to hold her own dancing. It had been since fifth year at school when the girls of Bleuboard had enjoyed such a lesson.
She needn't have worried. The older wizard leading her might be a grandfather; he was still quite strongly guiding their steps. The simple pleasure she felt was ended brutally by the sudden appearance of Miss Ginevra. Almost making Hermione trip, the young witch was uncharacteristically uncaring when she went for her father in an almost desperate manner, asking to cut in.
Hermione was still trying to get her bearings, smoothening down her gown, when she saw a giggly Miss Weasley lead her former dancing partner away from her.
Mindful of her own dignity, she wouldn't have dreamed of making a scene. So while removing her person from between the twirling couples, she didn't fail to notice the gentleman, Malfoy, glaring from the side of the dance floor. So the witch was fleeing from that wizard, again… The slight irritation she felt directed at Miss Ginevra made way for confusion. These two were engaged in a serious cat-and-mouse game…
She made her way back to the inviting guest of the party, mindful of the story she was told earlier that evening, and behaved properly for the rest of a rather boring evening. As soon as she got the chance to do so, following perfect decorum, she excused herself and went to leave the Ball.
Really, the only highlight had been her short stretch of legs with Mr. Weasley. She failed to see the appeal to a Ball if most were just standing around gossiping. And since she was clearly too inferior to be asked to dance by anyone else, or to participate in any meaningful conversation, the fancy dress-up had been just that: a dress-up…
***
Harry had been bored out of his mind all evening. He might have escaped strangers and found refuge with friends, but most of them were couples, and the conversation tonight, more often then not turned to good-natured jabs at married life. It wasn't easy for him to participate in the banter going around, since despite his marital status, he knew nothing about married life…
Hence, he could not find humour in the clichéd retelling of common misunderstandings or quarrels between husband and wife. The men, more often than not turned their conversation to politics or Quidditch, neither topics of which Harry felt like talking about. Politics; considering the recent news he'd gotten from Arthur, nor Quidditch, since Ron had been talking his ear off about that already… Neither could he participate in the conversation between the women about their children, since he had only one daughter. And he started to get this painfully suspicion that he knew very little of Lily… Which was mad, since he knew her best; he'd raised her, hadn't he?
As a result of his boredom, he was just going through the motions, a little envious when he saw Arthur taking Hermione for a spin. It was too painful to watch her beauty from afar, and not be able to stand up and cut in… take over from Arthur and taking her in his own arms… dancing the night away…
Startled out of his reverie, he turned his back to the dance floor. He never even liked to dance; why ever would he be thinking about 'dancing the night away'?
Taking a little bit of consolation in the Firewhiskey, he managed to stay polite to the Minister of Law Enforcement, when the conniving man made his compliments on a successful Ball. There was a moment he fought very hard to keep his cool when a cheap jibe about the Weasleys 'showing off the Muggleborn' came out of the disgusting, old wizard. But he managed not to show any emotion…
Around the time Harry finally calmed himself from the inner rage that had followed him since, he glanced discreetly in the governess's direction, only to find her saying her goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley. He noticed the party was entering the last stage. Many old wizards were already intoxicated, and the number of witches infected with uncontrollable giggles was increasing.
Following Hermione with slightly envy eyes, he knew she had the right idea to leave now, before manners were forgotten, and she'd have to endure more rudeness concerning her heritage. His eyes lingered on the doors that had just closed behind her, and he almost missed noticing someone had followed her.
***
Hermione heaved a deep sigh once the doors had closed behind her when she stepped into the hallway. Muffled noises still followed her, but the relative silence was bliss.
Her relief was quickly ended when she heard the Ball's music again with clarity. The doors had been opened, probably to permit someone else to leave, too. Reigning in her curiosity, she made her way towards the stairs, mindful to keep a dignified pace.
Feeling slightly uneasy, she noticed the sound was muffled once more, and that nothing since had hinted to the identity of the person or persons that was now with her in the hallway. Her unease soon turned to fright when she heard quick footsteps coming her way, nearing her before she could reach the stairs.
Her arm was suddenly yanked back, and she stood face to face with the gentleman she had come to know this night, albeit not officially. Mr. Malfoy, undoubtedly the master of the neighbouring mansion she'd encountered on her walk as Animagus, stood before her. Despite the distinct whiff of alcohol that came from him, she managed to stay quite calm, while he still had a rather painful grab on her arm.
A moment of pity was allowed for this man, though Hermione knew better than anyone that desperation and alcohol weren't the safest match. And the wizard in front of her was quite desperate, so much was clear to her. But showing fear would only work as a red flag to him… So with the courage she didn't quite feel, she asked him politely:
"Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?" looking pointedly at his hand squeezing her arm.
This had the effect to jolt him out of some thought process, because his face contorted into almost practised disgust, while he removed his hand from her person in a rapid way.
"Mudblood… So you do know my name? Has little Potty sent you on the mission of spying on me… Making sure I keep away from my Princess?"
Hermione didn't quite know how to answer the drunken slur of sentences. By the time she'd deciphered the meaning of the words, the wizard had already lost patience:
"Answer me! He wants her for himself, doesn't he? He's wants to take her away from me, just to get to me! But you can tell him, little Mudblood whore, I will not let him! You hear me!"
During his crazy rant, the blond wizard had advanced on her, making Hermione quite nervous.
***
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