The Black Lion

 The Black Lion 

Chapter 13

Hermione paced the length of her room, her gaze darting between her reflection and the dress Regulus had insisted she wear. The gown was elegant yet bold, the Black family crest delicately embroidered on the fabric. It was beautiful but unfamiliar, a reminder of everything new she was stepping into. In a way, she felt like an imposter she almost wanted to run away. She runs her hand down the gown a beautiful green with black lace on the trim and sleeves.

Spinning quickly when she hears a soft knock on her door. 

“Enter.” she tells the person her voice soft almost too soft like a whisper.

Regulus enters the room and smiles seeing her in the dress he picked out for her, “You look beautiful, Hermione. They won’t know what hit them” he tells her.

Managing a weak smile she looks at him, biting her lip slightly, “Thank you. I hope you’re right. I just... I’ve never been to anything like this. What if I make a mistake?” she asks him softly. 

At the moment she didn’t feel like the strong Hermione she once was but a little girl needing her dad's guidance and kind words.

Chuckling softly, Regulus motions for her to lift her hair up. He places a silver necklace around her neck. It was a dainty necklace with an M wrapped with a B in cursive hanging on it. 

“Mistakes? Darling, you’re a Black and Meadows by blood, and a Granger by nature. The combination is unstoppable. Society can be fickle, but remember, it’s their privilege to meet you. Not the other way around.” he tells her pointing to the necklace he gave her.

Letting his words wash over her, she smiles at him. 

“Thank you, Father,” she whispered softly, the word slipping out before she could stop it. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of it, feeling both foreign and warm at once. She grabs the necklace to look at it too nervous to look at his reaction.

Regulus stops and looks at her in shock. He quickly gains his composure and kisses her forehead.

At Malfoy Manor, Draco was going through his own nervousness. Draco adjusted his collar for what felt like the hundredth time, glancing at his reflection and then back down at his cufflinks. His mother’s presence behind him was calm, yet he could feel her watchful gaze, always just a heartbeat away.

Narcissa’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Dragon, you look perfect.” her voice showed her impatience with him.

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair, “It’s not that Mother. I just want tonight to go right for her. It’s her first time at an event like this. I’m nervous.” he tells her 

Narcissa smiles slightly, her son is kind but he overworries. “Yes, you’re nervous and so is she. Imagine how she feels. You have to be strong for her my Dragon.” she tells him.

Draco’s lips quirked in a small smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is.” She lifted his chin with a gentle hand. “You’ve been trained to handle any situation. Trust in yourself, Draco. And remember she’s your fiancée. You’re there together.”

He took a steadying breath, feeling his confidence return. “Thank you, Mother.”

She smiled warmly, brushing a bit of imaginary dust from his shoulder. “Now, let’s make a lasting impression, shall we?”

The grand hall of Longbottom Manor gleamed under the soft glow of floating candles, with walls draped in ancient tapestries bearing the Longbottom crest. The crowd was an eclectic mix of old wizarding families, every guest impeccably dressed and casting curious glances toward the entrance, where the newest arrivals were beginning to make their way inside.

Linking her arms with Regulus, Hermione held her head high. To others it might seem she was confident however her fingers were gripping his arm so tightly that her that they were turning white. Across the room, Draco had just arrived with his mother, his eyes scanning the crowd almost instinctively before they found Hermione. For a split second, he just looked at her, taking in her elegance, and his nerves seemed to settle. Taking in her look once again he takes a sharp breath. Her hair was pinned up in a nice bun with a few curls waterfalling her face, the gown fitted her perfectly, gripping her curves but leaving something to the imagination. She looked everything of a pureblood woman but like Hermione as well.

Regulus leaned toward her. “Ah, your betrothed seems as smitten as ever.” he whispers in her ear

.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I hardly think he’s…” she mutters under her breath. 

Hermione’s gaze flickered across the room to where Draco stood with his mother, his eyes scanning the crowd. For a moment, she caught his gaze, and something in his expression softened. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something more... protective. She felt a warmth spread in her chest, but just as quickly, a sharp pang of guilt followed. What if she wasn't ready for all of this? What if she couldn't live up to the expectations that seemed to tower over her at every turn?

“Trust me. I know that look. It’s the same one I used to give your mother when she wasn’t looking.” Regulus interrupted, amused. 

As Draco approached, his mother patted his arm and gave him a nod, signaling for him to join Hermione. He moved toward her, offering a small but sincere smile as he reached her side. “You look beautiful,” he whispers in her ear before the elf tells them it is time to be introduced. 

As the soft murmur of the room quieted, a house-elf dressed in elaborate livery stepped forward with a small, respectful bow. The elf’s voice was clear and polite, but formal.

"Good evening, honored guests," the house elf announced, its eyes scanning the room as it continued. 

"Entering now is Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir of the House Of Malfoy, and Hermione Granger Meadows Black, heir of the House Of Black."

The room goes into soft murmurs as everyone waits for the new couple to come into the room. There’s been talk all over the wizarding community about them. Not Draco, who everyone knew but Hermione Granger Meadows Black, who is a new figure in this society. Yes, they knew of her and all the things she did in the war but now she was considered one of them.

Draco gave a short nod to the room, his lips curling into a controlled smile, but it was his eyes that betrayed the slight unease he felt. Hermione, her stomach churning with nerves, took a steadying breath and glanced briefly at the people around them. She was keenly aware of the weight of her name, of the eyes following her every move.

After a brief pause, they turned to make their way toward Neville and Augusta, who were standing near the edge of the room, surrounded by well-wishers.

As they moved through the crowd Hermione could feel everyone's eyes on them. Her breath quickened, and her hands trembled slightly as she clung to Draco’s arm, as though his presence could anchor her in a sea of uncertainty. It wasn’t just the grandiosity of the party or the people staring at her that unsettled her. It was the weight of expectation the way every part of her life had changed in the blink of an eye.

She was no longer just Hermione Granger, the girl who had fought in wars and defied the odds. She was Hermione Granger Meadows Black now, heir to a house that had existed for centuries, bound by rules and rituals that felt suffocating rather than empowering. 

The eyes that followed her, the whispers she couldn’t hear but knew existed they were all reminders of the life she was supposed to step into. But what if she wasn’t enough? What if she could never be the woman everyone expected her to be?

“You got this, stand tall. I’m here.” Draco whispers softly to her. Nodding slightly Hermione takes a deep breath as they approach Neville and Lady Longbottom.

Neville beamed at them both when they approached. 

“Thank you both for coming here. It means a lot to me,” he tells them his voice full of sincerity. 

Draco gave a small bow of his head. "It’s an honor to be here, Heir Longbottom. Congratulations on your coming-of-age."

Hermione smiled, her thoughts briefly flashing to the elaborate coming-of-age rituals of the pureblood families. She had no idea what it must feel like to have grown up knowing that such an event would be celebrated with such importance.

Augusta smiled warmly, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of them, approval in her gaze. "It’s good to see you both. You’re looking quite well," she remarked, her tone both welcoming and wise. She had a knowing look on her face when she looked at Draco."I trust the evening is treating you well?"

"Yes, thank you for everything," Hermione said, her voice a little quieter but polite, still feeling a bit out of place in the grandiosity of it all. She wasn’t just talking about the party but the training as well.

Draco reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box, handing it to Neville. "A small token to mark the occasion," Draco said, his voice smooth and steady. 

"I thought it appropriate, considering our families’ connection. I know my bethroal sees you as a little brother. I hope this gift moves us past old family tension." he continues his voice hopeful as it comes out with a slight rush.

Neville, his eyes wide with surprise, took the box with careful hands. He looked at Draco with genuine appreciation, then turned to Hermione, offering her a grateful smile.

"I don’t know what to say," Neville began, clearly touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Heir Malfoy, really."

Hermione couldn’t help but glance over at the gift, a small frown tugging at her features. She had learned that, in their world, it was improper for a woman to give such gifts, particularly to a man who wasn’t her immediate family. However, Neville wasn’t just any male he was her little brother. She knew it would be considered presumptuous, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake tonight. Still, the notion of gifts and rituals left her with a strange feeling.

As Neville carefully unwrapped the box, revealing an intricate set of cufflinks, Hermione’s thoughts continued to swirl. 

“Draco’s gift is nice, in the pureblood since… but I can’t help but wonder if Neville will think it’s odd that I haven’t given anything yet.”  she thinks sadly. 

Meanwhile, Draco’s smile was genuine as he watched Neville’s reaction. "It’s nothing grand," he said. "But I thought it fitting for someone about to join the ranks of full adulthood."

The night progressed for Hermione and Draco as they weaved in and out of conversations. For Draco, it was a regular occurrence but for Hermione, it was tedious and nerve-wracking. At times she wished she could run away and hide just so she didn’t have to talk to these people again.

Sensing her tense more and more as the night goes on, he extends a hand to her silently asking for a dance. Hermione hesitated slightly but Draco’s reassuring smile encouraged her to step forward, and he led her gracefully to the center of the floor.

“You’re doing perfectly,” he murmurs as he places a hand on her lower back.

Hermione glanced up at him, her nerves calming under his steady gaze as he began to guide her in the waltz. 

“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. 

The music filled the air, and all eyes turned to the couple. As they moved together, her focus narrowed to Draco's steady gaze, his touch grounding her amidst the whirl of the ballroom. The music swept around them, carrying a sense of timelessness.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of three familiar figures standing by the entrance, watching her: Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Their expressions were unreadable, yet the sight of them brought an instant rush of memories the familiarity, the loyalty, and the guilt she felt for stepping into this world so different from what they shared.

The weight of it hit her in a wave, catching her off guard. Her breaths became shallow, each one a struggle. Her vision narrowed, the opulence of the ballroom fading as her chest tightened painfully. Her pulse raced, her mind grasping at the comforting voice that had vanished under the pressure of judgment and expectation.

Draco noticed the moment her breath quickened, her hand trembling on his arm. The usual confidence he wore like a second skin faltered slightly, replaced by something raw. He gently guided her off the floor, his voice softer than she expected. 

“Just breathe, Hermione. We’ll go somewhere quiet, okay?” he whispers in her ear as his hand is steady on her back, grounding her as the world seems to spin around them.

But her focus wavered, the panic surging as she felt all the eyes on her, especially those of her friends. Closing her eyes tightly she takes a deep breath letting her breath try to match Draco's. Opening her eyes she smiles slightly trying to ignore the look he was giving her.

“No need to worry, I just need some fresh air,” she tells him. Not waiting for a response she heads out to find the balcony. Slipping away from Draco’s side with a soft smile, she made her way quietly through the side hall, clinging to the small, carefully wrapped package she’d hidden in her cloak. She knew the gift was only a small token, but it was personal something she’d chosen herself, a true acknowledgment of Neville’s place in her life.

After a few turns, she found Neville standing by a side window in a quieter corner and looking out over the garden. Smiling softly, she approached him, and his face brightened when he saw her.

“Neville,” she said, pressing the package into his hands. “I know Draco’s gift was from both of us, but this...this is something just from me. I wanted you to have it.”

Neville’s eyes lit up as he unwrapped it, revealing a small silver pendant engraved with a resilient plant, a symbol of the strength he’d shown through so much. “Hermione, this is beautiful,” he murmured, genuinely touched. “Thank you.”

She gave him a small, bittersweet smile. “You’ve always been like a brother to me, you know that.” Her voice softened, her expression pensive as she glanced down. “I only wish I could have done the same for... for all my brothers tonight.”

Unbeknownst to her, Harry had been walking past the corridor just in time to overhear her words. He paused, the sound of her voice stopping him dead in his tracks. She spoke with a quiet sadness, one that pierced through the walls he’d built around his own heart. "...I only wish I could have done the same for... for all my brothers tonight."

Harry’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he missed those days and how much he missed being that close to her. They’d been a family, of sorts, once before all of this drama with her and Ron. Her words felt like a reflection of everything they had lost, the bridge between them crumbling with every passing second.

He wanted to call out to her, to apologize for the way things had turned out. But as his eyes lingered on her, a strange sense of helplessness washed over him. Was it too late to rebuild what they had? Could she ever truly be his Hermione again?