Chapter 7
The tension in the room was stifling, pressing down like the insufferable humidity before a storm.
The point…
It was incredibly palpable.
Before Hermione stood Victor Krum, her fleeting Yule Ball date, his spiced cologne mingling with the scent of hearth smoke as he professed a sudden, impulsive desire to know her better. Facing him were Harry and Draco, rigid as Grecian statues – though Draco's slate eyes glinted sharper than any blade.
Albeit one appeared more welcoming than the other.
Hermione gathered her poise, the swish of her skirts punctuating the silence. "You do my family great honor with your kind words, sir," she replied, honeying her tone though tension coiled in her core.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?"
Krum's gaze was granite as he considered her, his low voice rumbling through the quiet room. "I wished to become better acquainted with the young lady who has so captured my notice." His bold words struck like thunder, eliciting murmurs all around.
"A tad too forward on your part, wouldn't you agree Mr. Krum?" drawled Draco, his cutting voice slicing the murmurs short like the crack of a whip.
All eyes swiveled to Draco, the room crackling with tension as taut as a bowstring. Hermione held her breath, pulse racing like a trapped Snitch.
What game was Draco playing by so openly criticizing Krum's intentions?
His silver eyes glinted like weapons in the sunlight.
Krum stared back, unbowed, his bulky frame dominating the space. "Forward, perhaps, but honest," he rebutted, voice hard as steel. "Better that than dancing around one's interest, don't you think?" His black gaze bored into Draco's like twin gun barrels.
"Oh, but certainly, Mr. Krum. You do well in your honesty," encouraged Mrs. Weasley nervously, her voice warbling and thin as a reed.
Glancing at Hermione, Krum continued his gesture, the beams of sunlight dancing over his craggy features. "A man by such a handsome woman's side should be considered a genius," he declared, his lightly accented words floating through the room.
With an elegant chuckle, Mr. Malfoy rebutted, "Or undoubtedly mad." His amused drawl dripped with implications.
Hermione stood pinned in place, nerves twisting her stomach into knots.
What exactly was Draco insinuating?
That a man would need to be mad to be with her? She bristled at the thought.
Mr. Potter tapped Mr. Malfoy's arm lightly, as if to gently steer his friend's retreat from the conversation. The clear dislike between the two men charged the air like gathering lightning. However, Draco Malfoy was not one to back down when provoked.
"I think Mr. Krum's visit is a well-intended one," Potter interjected with a polite smile, his soothing voice like a balm diffusing tension. "After all, who could blame him for wanting to be acquainted with such a lovely family?"
Charmed, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny beamed back gladly, a flush rising in their cheeks.
Behind them, the Weasley brothers were huddled together discussing in eager whispers who would be the first to touch the coveted World Quidditch Cup after Hermione's inevitable marriage to the imposing Mr. Krum.
But Draco remained unmoved, regarding Hermione intently, his stormy eyes churning with unnamed thoughts.
When he spoke again, his silken voice wrapped around her like a caress.
Or more likely, a noose.
"Perhaps Potter is correct. I may have misjudged this...unexpected development." He inclined his head courteously, though his gaze never left hers. "My apologies for any offense caused, Miss Granger. I'm sure you will...consider wisely."
Smoothing her skirts with a suddenly clammy hand, Hermione turned her attention determinedly back to Mr. Krum.
"Mr. Krum, I appreciate your interest in me," she began, gathering her nerve. "I would be untruthful if I said you did not also garner interest within me after our meeting today."
Krum's rugged features softened at her admission, though she continued on firmly, "However, I do implore you to know me better before relishing such confessions of intent. After all, I am a lady of many traits and habits."
"Of course, it would be a journey I would gladly take," Mr. Krum replied instantly, a proud grin flashing across his face.
Hermione thought she saw his dark eyes flash briefly toward Draco, as if claiming victory in some unspoken bout between them.
But she cared not to puzzle out why the brooding Mr. Malfoy seemed to dislike Mr. Krum so intensely.
Perhaps some happening of the past, long before their first meeting today.
Or more likely, she mused, he was simply a sour and bitter man by nature.
"As a matter of fact, a few Aurors and myself are attending the party over at the Parkinson estate this week," suggested Mr. Krum. "It would be grand if you all could attend."
The Parkinson estate.
Hermione suppressed a bemused smile as Pansy Parkinson's name arose yet again in this reality.
However she tried; she could not seem to escape reminders of her Hogwarts life.
In her own time, Pansy had become a different woman after the war. Grieving the loss of her parents, the formerly spiteful girl had changed into someone more understanding and brighter. They weren't necessarily friends, but before Pansy’s transfer to Beauxbatons for her degree, the two had made amends over many frustrating Charms lessons.
Here, who knew what or who Pansy Parkinson might be?
Likely still the haughty pureblood princess Hermione recalled from school. She wondered how their first meeting in this timeline might go.
Surely better than Draco Malfoy's overt disdain...
Speaking of, Hermione noticed a subtle tension come over Mr. Malfoy at the mention of the Parkinson festivities. Though his face remained impassive, she caught the slight narrowing of his stormy eyes, hinting at displeasure. His reaction further stoked her curiosity about his and Mr. Krum's possible shared history with the family.
"How lovely, we would be delighted to attend!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice bright as a sunbeam bursting through clouds. She eagerly accepted the invitation on behalf of them all.
“A party! Doesn’t that just sound grand, Draco?” cheered Mr. Potter, his energy bright and infectious as a Lumos charm.
Mr. Malfoy, however, remained stoic amidst the excitement, his expression shuttered like a boarded up manor. As lively chatter continued around him, he drew a slow, steadying breath that lifted his tall frame.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he murmured after a moment, tone clipped.
With a terse nod to the group, Mr. Malfoy turned sharply on his heel, shoes clicking crisply across the floorboards as he strides toward the door.
Hermione watched his retreating back, curiosity rising. His abrupt departure in the wake of the party invitation was clearly no coincidence. She suspected some history with the Parkinsons festered beneath his cool exterior, souring his mood.
But then again, what interaction wouldn't turn sour in Mr. Malfoy's presence?
The man seemed to ooze disdain and brooding wherever he went. She had yet to see him crack a genuine smile or make pleasant conversation beyond cutting remarks.
Perhaps this party would be a welcome respite from his sullen aura for a time. The thought sent a spark of mischievous delight through Hermione. Let Mr. Malfoy retreat to his dark clouds - she intended to enjoy herself regardless.
Glancing back at Mr. Krum, she caught a glint of satisfaction in his hooded eyes, though his stony expression remained impassive. A subtle upturn of his lips was the only indication of his pleasure at Mr. Malfoy's hasty exit.
Yes, Hermione mused, there was definitely no love lost between those two.
After the eventful visit ended, the Weasley family was elated.
Chatter and laughter bubbling up like a spring as such wonderful company, Mr. Malfoy's dour presence aside, clearly signaled their solid standing in society's eyes.
To Mrs. Weasley, it was a fantasy turned reality.
She bustled about, face flushed, making plans for new gowns and hairstyles to impress at the Parkinson's, her voice melodic as a songbird's.
Her husband, however, was more reserved. While he loved Molly dearly, matters of status and romance were often superficial to him. Knowledge and creativity were far more important traits to cultivate.
He observed his wife's joy with a tolerant smile, patting her hand absently as she prattled on. There were new inventions and discoveries to be made - what did it matter if some Quidditch chap had taken a liking to their Granger girl? Arthur's mind was already lighting up with new ideas, his thoughts drifting to his tinkering shed where he could bring them to life.
Let Molly have her fun with parties and matchmaking.
Arthur was content to let her flutter while he dove into his passion.
Though different in nature, their happiness was equal in its own way.
Later in Hermione's bedchamber, Ginny gushed about the day's gentlemen callers, her excitement bubbling over like champagne.
"I cannot believe Mr. Krum came expressly to see you!" she exclaimed, smiling as she bit her lower lip. Her hands fidgeted with a red ribbon tied around her wrist, the satin whispering softly.
Ginny held out her arm for Hermione to admire it.
"Mr. Potter found this ribbon at Mrs. Levoir's shop - he said it reminded him of me," she sighed dreamily, cheeks flushing like the ribbon's crimson hue.
Examining the fine material, Hermione smiled. "That was awfully sweet of him."
"Sweet? Hermione, Viktor Krum came to our home just to invite you to a party!" Ginny insisted, eyes alight.
"He invited us all, Ginny," Hermione corrected gently.
Ginny waved a hand. "No, he asked you specifically - we're just the entourage."
Hermione sighed, not wanting to argue further. She busied herself, the day's interactions swirling in her mind.
The golden glow of candles washed over Hermione as she prepared for bed, lost in frustrated thoughts about the infuriating Mr. Malfoy. The crisp linen sheets felt cool against her skin, a balm for her temper which burned hot as fiery coals.
"Well regardless, I do hope Mr. Malfoy won't be in attendance," she said finally, unable to keep a bite from her tone. His behavior today had been simply awful.
When Ginny didn't immediately chime in agreement, Hermione glanced over. Her friend sat brushing her hair, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
"While I agree he was rather rude, perhaps the gentleman is simply misunderstood," Ginny offered mildly.
Hermione scoffed in disbelief.
"I doubt there's anything gentleman-like in Mr. Malfoy's genetic makeup."
Ginny's brows furrowed quizzically. "Genetic...makeup?"
"Never mind," Hermione waved a hand, the lace of her nightgown whispering. She realized her modern phrase was lost in this era. "The point is, Mr. Malfoy is absolutely dreadful. No matter his chiseled features and arresting eyes..."
She faltered, a rosy flush blooming on her cheeks like a peony.
Why did thoughts of him fluster her so?
It must be the anger. She concluded.
"Especially ignoring those vexing grey eyes," she pushed on, "he remains a terrible man. Any wise woman would shun the idea of him as a husband. One would have to be undeniably mad to love that man."
There.
She had firmly declared her disdain for the arrogant Mr. Malfoy.
Perhaps now Ginny would cease any notions of redeeming qualities in him.
But her friend just gazed back knowingly, smile playing on her lips, eyes glinting like sapphires. "If you say so," she replied airily.
The response made Hermione bristle, chin jutting up. "Well, you said so yourself - Mr. Krum is a true gentleman. He's polite, kind, and came expressly to invite me to a party." She knew she rambled on but could not seem to stop.
"I thought you said he invited us all," Ginny countered lightly, smile hidden as she brushed out her copper locks.
Hermione huffed, the scent of lavender wax filling the air from the candles' flickering flames. Ginny was determined to vex her this night.
"He invited me first and foremost," she insisted staunchly. "Mr. Krum is everything a woman could want in a suitor. Dare I even say husband."
Yet even as she proclaimed it so certainly, she wondered why she even cared at all.
Never before had she been one to ponder over boys or men who deemed women mere attainments.
But this new reality had opened her eyes to a different part of life that ventured beyond academic prowess. Here, life and love took priority in a woman's world. She could be everything all at once.
Though she struggled to accommodate such notions, they were certainly having an effect on her. Hermione felt her pragmatic nature shifting, realms of emotion and desire taking root inside her like first blooms after winter's thaw.
Could it be she longed for something more than knowledge and books?
One who might make her pulse quicken with a glance and set her skin aflame with a mere touch?
Surely not. Such fanciful musings were not like her. And yet...perhaps they indicated a shift occurring within, an awakening to realms of emotion and desire too long ignored.
In her pragmatic pursuit of scholarly achievements, had she denied her heart?
Perhaps this knowledge meant she was ready to return to her own world. After all, Luna did instruct this was all a design of her heart.
As a woman of sense, Hermione knew she should cling to logic, not fanciful fantasies. And yet...the thought of strolling through spring gardens hand in hand with a suitor or laying her head on his shoulder as he read aloud to her...it filled her with longing she could no longer deny.
Perhaps in time the right gentleman would awaken these feelings inside her.
Though for now, she remained torn between her mind and newly discovered heart.
Regardless, any suitor with an ounce of sense and decorum would be preferable to that arrogant, brooding Mr. Malfoy. She had no desire to contend with cutting remarks and mocking eyes that saw far too much.
With that resolved, she blew out the candles and slipped determinedly off to sleep.
The moonlight bathed the garden in silver, the leaves crunching softly under Hermione's bare feet as she wandered further into the haunting beauty of the night. Cool grass caressed her soles with each step, sending a shiver up her spine.
The heady perfume of night-blooming jasmine and gardenia enveloped her, their sweet fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of rich soil.
In the distance, a lake shimmered, its inky surface rippling as gentle waves lapped at the shadowed shore. The whisper of moving water beckoned her closer, promising unknown depths.
As she drew nearer, she caught her breath at the sight - the lake was the dark glittering blue of a sapphire, moonlight fracturing across its glassy mirror.
Unable to resist, Hermione trailed her fingers slowly over the gossamer nightdress hugging her body. The fragile material slipped easily off her curves and pooled at her feet, leaving her bare skin caressed by the soft night air.
She stepped to the water's edge, dipping a toe in tentatively. The water was velvety cool against her flesh, raising goosebumps in its wake. Taking a breath, she waded in up to her waist, sighing as the lake embraced her body with silken coolness.
Weightless, she floated on her back, peering up at the expanse of stars scattered across the night sky like shards of diamonds on black velvet. A sense of euphoric peace infused her spirit.
She trailed her fingers through the water, watching the ripples dance outward in hypnotic circles.
It was undoubtedly stunning.
Suddenly, the surface began to glow, bathed in ethereal golden light as if it captured stray beams of sunshine in its rippling depths. Drawn to discover the source, Hermione took a deep breath and dove under. The glow surrounded her, warming her skin as she swam deeper.
It was like swimming through liquid starlight.
Emerging, she brushed back her wild, dripping curls. Rivulets of water trailed sensuously down her bare shoulders and skin like morning dew, tickling intimate paths along her flesh.
The night air kissed her damp skin, raising goosebumps in its wake.
Turning, she saw a lone figure standing on the shore watching her intently, his silver eyes glowing with intensity beneath the moonlight. Her heart stuttered as she recognized Draco Malfoy's chiseled features etched in luminous relief.
Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched breathless as he disrobed, revealing a body carved of alabaster marble. Hermione took in every detail - his broad shoulders and chiseled chest, the defined muscles of his arms and abdomen. A barely-there trail of blond hair disappeared tantalizingly into his trousers before those too dropped away, baring him fully.
Her mouth went dry at the sight.
He was sculpted perfection, a marble Adonis come to life. Utterly masculine and breathtaking.
Never breaking their locked gaze, he waded into the glimmering water to join her, moving with predatory grace. The rippling lake lapped at his athletic form, clinging like a lover's caress. Closer he drew, near enough now for Hermione to hear the quickening of his breath, see the flame of desire darkening his quicksilver eyes.
Her chest heaved in anticipation, skin tingling.
She wanted those strong hands caressing every inch of her flesh, that sensuous mouth claiming hers. As he stopped before her, the air seemed to crackle between them.
"Hermione," Draco whispered, drawing her close.
She sighed at the exquisite feel of their naked bodies pressed together, his warmth seeping into her skin. One hand drifted up her thigh beneath the water while the other tenderly cupped her cheek.
Unable to resist, she tilted her face up, lips parting in longing. With agonizing slowness, he lowered his mouth to hers, every nerve in her body exploding as they almost came together in a searing kiss...
Hermione jerked awake, heart racing. The vivid dream still consumed her thoughts, feeling far too real.
She shook her head sharply. It was just a dream, nothing more.