Chapter 8
“You look gorgeous!” Parvati gushed from her perch on Hermione’s (well, it wasn’t really Hermione’s, technically, but she was the guest of the house) bed. “I knew the navy would be a good colour on you.”
“It feels a bit…” Hermione ran her fingers over the glittering crystals sewn into the satiny fabric. “… flashy.” She frowned in the mirror. The dress was undeniably beautiful, with sleek fabric flowing over her hips and sparkling jewels that shimmered whenever they caught the light, but there was no doubt that a dress like that would make a statement at the charity ball. Ron would definitely be there, and she didn’t want to think about what he’d assume if he saw her with a dress so eye-catching. “People are going to think I’m trying to garner male attention.”
“Well it would be a crime if you didn’t garner male attention in a dress like this.” Parvati came over and stood behind Hermione’s shoulder, gathering up her curls and beginning to pin them into place. “Besides, isn’t this the best way to get back at Ron? Show off what he’s missing out on? He had a stunning and intelligent girlfriend and he left all of that behind to pursue some stupid bimbo.”
Hermione winced when Parvati accidentally yanked a lock of her hair. “I don’t want to make a statement for Ron. I’m trying not to think about him.”
Parvati rolled her eyes. “If you’re not making Ron feel like absolute for shit for cheating on you, what are you going to do at the ball? You’re definitely not the drinking type,” she mused, prodding the up she had just created.
“I plan on gathering some sponsors for my Lycanthropy project instead of involving myself in petty affairs,” Hermione sniffed. “And possibly finding a potioneering agency that might be able to take it on.”
“Boring!” Parvati sang. “Harry and I plan on enjoying the hell out of the night. And also finding a way to shove a baby blast-ended skrewt into Ron’s pants when he’s not looking.”
Hermione burst into laughter, much to Parvati’s chagrin, who was trying to curl the brunette’s lashes with the tip of her wand. “I would love to see that.”
“See?” Parvati grinned. “Revenge is fun.”
Before Hermione could contest the statement, Harry stepped into the guest room. “You two look amazing.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Parvati bounded over to her husband to give him a peck on the cheek. “Hermione and I are planning revenge on Ron.”
“You could always punch him the old-fashioned way,” Harry suggested, adjusting his cufflinks. “I still remember the look on Malfoy’s face when you punched him in our third year.”
Hermione struggled to suppress her smile. “It was quite funny,” she admitted. Then she shook her head, grabbing her beaded bag, which had been transfigured into an elegant silver clutch. “But I don’t want it deal with any scenes at the ball. If I can get a few sponsors out of the ball, or even sign on an agency for our project, that would be better than anyrevenge on Ron. Let’s go.”
Parvati stopped her before she could get up out of her seat. “Darling, there’s no way you’re going to the ball without wearing any jewellery!” She admonished.
The other witch shrugged. “All my jewellery is still at the flat with Ron. It’s okay, the dress is so flashy that I doubt anyone will realise I’m not wearing any.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry grinned. “We already sorted it out for you.”
Vibrating with excitement, Parvati got out a small black box and lifted the lid back. Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Inside the box was an exquisite jewellery set of deep blue sapphires nestled in silver with intricate details all over the necklace. A pair of matching drop earrings with twisting dragon’s bodies coiling around the jewels rested in the velvet alongside a bracelet with a clasp shaped like a dragon’s head. “It’s Goblin-wrought silver,” the dark-haired witch beamed, “from the Black family vault!”
“Oh, Harry, Parvati,” Hermione whispered. “I can’t possibly take that. That must be worth millions!”
“Jesus, Hermione,” Harry groaned, throwing his head back. “When will you ever allow yourself to have nice things?”
“Please take it,” Parvati pleaded. “You know silver goes terribly with my skin tone and Harry has about a hundred other jewellery sets in that vault of his.” Then she began unclamping the dragon head clasp of the bracelet and draped it around Hermione’s wrist.
Her eyes brimming with tears, Hermione nodded. “I can’t thank you two enough,” she said breathlessly. With trembling fingers, she lifted the sapphire necklace out of the box and clasped it around her neck, shivering a little at the cold metal on her skin. Under the light, the silver dragons seemed to dance around the sapphires, seemingly coming to life. Then she blinked. They were coming to life. The miniature dragons were twisting and turning about, lazily twitching their tails, and occasionally breathing tiny jets of ice-blue fire that prickled her skin.
“I’ve never seen jewellery do that before,” Harry observed as Hermione gently clipped the earrings on.
“Jewellery gifted to wizards from goblins have a special property enchanted into them. It’s a very powerful goblin magic – it can’t be undone by wizards,” Hermione replied. “I read about it when we were preparing to break into Gringotts.”
“Who knew Goblins gifted wizards jewels?” Parvati wondered. “I always assumed that when wizards said that, it was some sort of propaganda to make them seem less colonial. Like when they said house elves enjoy being enslaved.”
Harry shrugged. “I guess it must be true. At least partially. The sword of Gryffindor had some magical properties too.”
Hermione flicked her wand and Harry’s lopsided bow tie straightened itself. “Are we ready to go?”
Parvati took Hermione by the hands and dragged her to the mirror. “Now we are.”
Side by side, the two witches looked like beautiful nymphs from opposing worlds. Hermione’s navy satin and silver jewellery contrasted beautifully against Parvati’s forest green dress detailed with gold embroidery and her gold Indian jewellery – likely one of the many wedding gifts she had received at her and Harry’s lavish wedding – glimmered in the soft light of the room. Hermione giggled when she caught sight of Harry, staring slack-jawed at his wife in the corner of the mirror.
“Come on, Harry. You can stare at your wife all you want when we get to the ball.” Hermione picked up her bag and let Parvati drag her to the fireplace in the kitchen, the other woman bouncing in delight. Parvati grabbed a handful of powder from the urn placed next to the fireplace and flung it into the grate. The fireplace roared to life.
Harry took each witch’s arm, and the three stepped into the swirling emerald flames.