Chapter 9
Hermione glided into the dazzling ballroom, the clicks of her heels echoing off the polished marble floors. The warm glow of the crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft golden light as the muted sounds of an orchestra drifted through the air.
As she made her way through the crowded room, smiling faces turned to greet her, the faint scent of perfume mingling with the floral bouquets adorning the tables.
Arriving at an area bustling with socialization, she turned to Ginny and Luna, their eyes alight with excitement.
"My word, Mione. Isn't this just marvelous?" Ginny gushed, her voice nearly drowned out by the din of chatter and laughter surrounding them.
It was marvelous indeed.
Hermione's eyes swept over the grand room, taking in the intricate details.
The soaring ceilings were frescoed with delicate paintings of cherubs and clouds, intricate gold moldings lining the edges. The smell of roses and lilies mingled with the musky scent of gentlemen's cologne as couples whirled across the dance floor, their footsteps light and graceful.
Violins and cellos provided a melodic backdrop as the well-dressed guests mingled and chatted, crystal glasses of champagne glinting under the warm light.
Hermione smiled at Ginny's words, the opulence of the ballroom washing over her senses.
The air seemed to shimmer with magic, unlike anywhere she had been before.
As the orchestra struck up a lively tune, Ron's face lit up in recognition.
"It's my favorite!" he exclaimed, turning to Hermione and grabbing her hand eagerly. "Come on, let's dance!"
Before she could protest, Hermione felt herself being pulled towards the crowded dancefloor by Ron's enthusiastic grip. The music swelled around them, violins singing out the rapid notes. Hermione's feet moved quick to match Ron's steps, years of Yule balls overworking their attempt to match his skill.
The dancefloor was a blur of color as dresses twirled, the soft glow of the chandeliers catching on jewels and silks.
Laughter echoed through the hall over the music, joyful and melodic.
Ron grinned as he spun Hermione, her hair fanning out. She couldn't help but smile back, caught up in the enjoyment of it all.
Hermione felt the exhilaration of the lively dance fade as the music slowed to a gentle waltz. Laughter still bubbled inside her as she turned, only to come face-to-face with Viktor Krum's brooding presence.
A chill crept down Hermione's spine at the unknown energy radiating from him. Instinctively she took a half-step back before catching herself.
"Mr. Krum," she greeted politely with a dip of her chin.
Viktor gave a short bow, the movement crisp and formal.
"Miss Granger," he replied, his accent curling around her name. His eyes flickered over her appreciatively. "You look lovely."
Though his words were complimentary, something about his tone revealed a steely confidence.
She offered a thin smile in return. "You are too kind."
As Viktor moved closer, invading her personal space, he extended a hand for her to take.
“May I have this dance?”
"You may," Hermione acquiesced finally, placing her hand lightly in Viktor's. His grip closed firmly over her fingers, both confident and proud.
As he led her towards the dance floor, Hermione glanced back, hoping to catch Ron’s eye. But he had been waylaid by a cluster of ladies. Resigning herself, she turned to face her partner.
They danced slowly to the rhythm of the song, the notorious bachelor guiding them expertly around the floor as some guests began to observe them. His skills, although recognizably good, were a grand display for onlookers of his courtship abilities, yet they hardly appeared truly aimed at Hermione.
However, their bodies remained close, their proximity and his tight grip constant as they moved fluidly.
He inclined his head to speak low in her ear, his breath stirring tendrils of her chestnut hair. "I'm incredibly glad you accepted my invitation."
Though his tone was polite, it held an expectation that she attempted not to recognize.
"Of course, Mr. Krum. It is a lovely ball," she replied lightly, attempting to lean back. But his arm secured her firmly against him, trapping her in the pretense of intimacy.
The dance dragged on, Viktor using the maneuvers to pull Hermione closer until she was pressed flush against his athletic frame.
Though uncomfortable, she tried to convince herself it was merely awkwardness from inexperience being so close to the opposite sex.
After all, her studious nature meant she had forgone many social events in favor of solitary evenings reading in the common room.
This lack of exposure to formal dances and male company must be the reason for her disquiet, she reasoned.
After all, Viktor Krum was the picture of a gentleman.
She cast aside her unsure thoughts and beamed a bright smile, her partner swiftly unaware of her inner turmoil.
The final notes of the lively waltz echoed through the grand hall as Viktor's strong hand tightened around Hermione's slender waist. With a graceful flourish, he lifted her effortlessly into the air, the layers of her gown swirling weightlessly around her. Hermione's crystal laughter chimed brightly over the giggles and excitement of the other couples. Viktor's eyes crinkled with amusement as he guided her gracefully back to the floor, the smell of his cologne mingling with the floral scents of perfumes and gowns.
His hands rested firmly at her waist, and Krum lifted Hermione once more. And as he spun her, Hermione's gaze floated dreamily over the crowd.
A flicker of movement on the balcony caught her attention.
Half-concealed in darkness stood Draco Malfoy, his stormy grey eyes fixed on her intently.
Hermione's breath stole away as she met Draco's smoldering gaze from across the hall. His eyes were pools of shadow, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the tension as he remained forged in place.
His long fingers gripped the balcony railing, knuckles nearly bone-white.
In the soft glow of the candlelight, his dislike was unmistakable.
The final notes faded into silence. Viktor's large hand enveloped Hermione's as he bowed deeply before her. But as his dark eyes sought hers, her focus remained locked above.
Her mind remained trained on their unwelcome observer.
When she dared another glance, he was still there, his tall figure cutting a dark silhouette against the warm light, unrelenting as a statue. A shiver danced down Hermione's arms and she turned away, but could not escape the prickling feeling of being watched, of cold mercury eyes tracking her through the murmuring crowd.
She glanced repeatedly behind, only to catch a whisper of Draco's black robes as he melted into the shadows.
It was an unspoken game of cat and mouse.
Why he was so intent upon her, Hermione could not guess.
Still, curiosity and unease bloomed in Hermione's mind like night flowers as she drifted from the dance floor with Mr. Krum by her side.
"Mr. Longbottom is definitely going to ask for you, Luna," smiled Ginny, her eyes twinkling knowingly in the candlelight.
Amused by her comment, Hermione's eyes widened, picking up on her friend's insinuation.
"Woah there, what is this chatter about our Luna?"
Luna's usually pale cheeks grew a slight tinge of pink as Ginny leaned in, her floral perfume washing over Hermione as she whispered, "Mr. Longbottom has asked her to three dances now. Hasn't danced with anyone else either!"
Hermione gasped, a grin spreading across her face. She noticed Neville across the hall, glancing repeatedly at Luna with ill-concealed longing, a fact that did not escape her friend's notice.
"A fated match, certainly," Hermione concluded, her eyes subtly scanning the room for the man she wished to see the least.
It did not take long for Draco to reveal himself from the shadows, strutting into the hall with a smug aura about him.
The clicking of his expensive dragonhide shoes echoed across the polished marble floor. He leaned in close to whisper in Harry’s ear, his platinum blond hair gleaming in the warm light.
"Miss Weasley," Harry breathed out, "you are a vision."
His emerald green eyes were soft as he took her hand gently.
Harry Potter deemed it nearly impossible to fall in love with her again, yet he experienced it anew each time he laid eyes on Miss Ginny Weasley.
As they glanced at one another, their eyes conveyed a profound longing and admiration.
Meanwhile, the dragon by Harry's side merely darted his eyes aside, uninterested in whatever interaction might arise from conversing with this party.
"Malfoy, I'm surprised to see you here," began Viktor Krum, his chest puffed out proudly.
His arm curved outward as Hermione's hand remained looped around it after their dance, displaying her like a trophy, although he considered himself the true prize.
"I'm glad my presence brings you such interest, Krum," Malfoy rebutted.
A hearty chuckle erupted from the Bulgarian bachelor, his mouth spreading into a smirk. "My interests lie solely with Miss Granger. However, I am shocked to see you socializing with the rest of us. You usually prefer lurking in some dark corner, brooding and plotting."
Krum finished his jest with a booming laugh that echoed through the hall, attracting the eyes of onlookers.
Malfoy's eyes glinted with an expression Hermione had grown to recognize over the years.
He wasn't angry at Krum's comment, not even bothered in the slightest.
If anything, he seemed darkly amused by the dig.
"Remind me why you're in town again, Krum?" Malfoy replied simply, his deep voice dripping with ominous knowledge as he tilted his head slightly.
A wash of paleness took over Krum's face, and with that, he muttered hasty excuses before excusing himself to greet members of his patrol. He turned abruptly, eager to escape Malfoy's knowing gaze and veiled threat.
It was clear Draco Malfoy had emerged victorious, though the mysterious information he held over Krum remained veiled.
He ran a hand through his icy blond locks, his impenetrable aura intact.
"How about we dance?" suggested Ginny, her hand quickly finding its way through Harry's arm.
Agreeing instantly, Harry egged on the idea.
"That'd be grand. I'm sure Miss Granger knows the steps, as does Malfoy."
Startled by his comment, Hermione already sensed what Harry would suggest next.
"You two should dance together!" Harry concluded, slowly making his way toward the dance floor with Ginny in tow.
Draco's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in protest as he looked at Harry.
"No."
The word fell unbidden from his lips before he could stop it.
No? Hermione thought, puzzled.
"No?" Harry repeated back to him in confusion, his gaze trailing between Draco and Hermione.
"I do not wish to dance," Mr. Malfoy finished decisively. "My apologies for the disappointment, Miss Granger."
"Why would I be disappointed?" she scoffed, feigning nonchalance.
Malfoy turned to her in surprise, her easy dismissal unexpected. A slight tinge of annoyance crept up his back as he realized she did not care one way or the other about dancing with him.
"I was just being polite, no need to take it personally," he replied tightly.
"I'm not. What makes you think I had any hopes of dancing with you?" She smiled slyly at him, relishing his obvious irritation at her indifference.
Malfoy straightened, gathering his composure.
If she wished to pretend the idea of dancing with him was absurd, he could match her feigned disinterest. "My mistake," he said smoothly. "I'm sure there are countless wizards here who would be honored by your attention."
"And I'm sure they'd find me more than tolerable, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes as a sly smirk played on her lips.
She turned her gaze toward a gentleman standing not far from them.
"Ginny, who's that?" she asked, nodding discreetly in the stranger's direction.
Following Hermione's glance, Ginny turned back to her friend with an expression of amusement and surprise.
"You mean Mr. Nott?"
Hermione gave a slight nod, taking a step forward as if to make her way toward the unknown gentleman. Malfoy may have gotten the better of Krum with his quick remark, but his comment about her potential suitors had been at the root of Hermione’s ire.
If asking Mr. Nott for a dance would prove Malfoy's irritating comment wrong...
She would do it.
As she moved to approach the dark-haired wizard, Hermione felt Malfoy's eyes boring into her back. Inside, her heart pounded with exhilaration at this subtle game between them.
She sensed Malfoy bristling with something unknown as he watched her seek Mr. Nott.
Let him stew, she thought defiantly.
She would show no weakness, no hint that she cared one whit what Draco Malfoy thought of her.
Hermione had only gone halfway before she was stopped abruptly by a firm grip on her wrist. It was at once strong yet strangely gentle, cold fingers enveloping her wrist in their entirety. She stood frozen for a moment before turning to face him.
As soon as those digits made contact with her bare skin, she knew exactly who it was.
She would recognize Draco Malfoy by touch alone - the smoothness of his hands, the subtle pressure of his grasp, the coolness of his skin against hers.
She could pick out his scent anywhere - clean and expensive cologne with a hint of spice.
Even blinded, she would know him - by the sound of his voice, his presence, the very way he carried himself.
The animosity she harbored for him had granted her an intimate awareness, like she had absorbed every detail through the years.
She disliked him, yes, but she knew him, in a way few others did.
As she turned, his stormy eyes latched onto hers, glimpsing the fire in her defiant gaze. Time seemed to stop for a breath as they stared, grey into brown, neither backing down. His hand still encircled her wrist lightly, though she made no move to withdraw from his touch.
"Don't," he uttered simply, his voice low and meant for her alone.
Around them, the ball swirled on, oblivious.
"Don't?" she challenged, annoyance flaring at his interruption. "Are you incapable of uttering sentences longer than a word, Mr. Malfoy?"
"You've proved your point, I'll dance with you," he gruffed out.
She eyed him defiantly, feeling the challenge coursing through her blood. "You have been nothing short of the most arrogant, self-centered, self-absorbed man I have ever met. You carry yourself with the superiority of someone who believes every man is below you and every woman would beg to be under you."
Hermione lowered her voice to an intense whisper, her chin tilting up to meet his mercurial stare.
"Unfortunately for you, I find you highly intolerable."
Malfoy's jaw tightened at her words.
"So no, Mr. Malfoy, I will not be dancing with you tonight."
As she studied his stormy eyes for a brief moment, she swiftly slipped her wrist from his grasp and turned away, the loss of his touch leaving her skin oddly cold.
She made her way swiftly out of the hall, not sparing him another glance.
Behind her, Malfoy stood frozen, seemingly unable to move or even draw breath.
The only sign of life was his hand flexing open at his side, desperately searching the empty air, remembering the feeling of her warm skin against his.
Malfoy stared after Hermione, rooted in place as her words echoed in his mind. No one had ever dared speak to him with such fire, such defiance.
The air still buzzed with the electricity of her bold retort.
He was shaken, though he'd never show it outwardly. Inside, his pulse raced wildly even as he kept his exterior cool and controlled. Bristling at the audacity of her verbal lashing, Malfoy turned sharply, his robes swirling, and followed behind her. The clicking of her heels on the marble floor guided him as he pursued, drawn by an irresistible force.
Her scent—lavender, cinnamon, and something indefinably hers—trailed in the air, allowing him to hunt her down.
The heady perfume flooded his senses, spurring him onwards through the shadowy corridors.
Malfoy's breath came faster, anger and frustration churning within him.
She had ignited something deep inside, a burning need to best her at her own game. He would make Hermione Granger apologize for the sin of speaking to him with such disdain.
He would wipe the contempt from those fiery chestnut eyes.
Silent as smoke, he slipped through an arched doorway and into a moonlit garden. There, in the midst of verdant blooms, she stood in a pool of silver light, her skin glowing ethereally as she gazed into a burbling fountain. The curve of her neck and cascade of the stray curls that had fallen from her updo rendered her a masterpiece brought to life.
Malfoy's heart stuttered at the vision.
"Running away?" his voice broke the silence.
She whirled, eyes flashing like twin stars as his tall form emerged from the darkness. The ripeness of her lips parted in surprise, her breath quickening.
"I don't run from the likes of you," she whispered.
Taking a step closer, he crossed the grass, the night air heavy with the perfume of blooms. “Then why are you out here?” he asked, his voice low.
She lifted her chin defiantly to meet his eyes.
“I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”
He moved nearer still, close enough to almost feel her proximity. “It’s not,” he admitted. “Yet you will tell me.” His stormy gaze held a hint of command.
Scoffing, she turned to walk away, her skirts whispering through the grass.
He reached out and caught her hand, electricity racing through the contact.
"Miss Granger," he murmured, voice rough with unnamed tension. “You have proven to be a challenge from the day we met. I ask only that you simply answer my question." He remained looking down at her.
She tilted her face up to his, near enough to count each of her dark lashes.
As she did, Malfoy’s eyes dropped to her mouth as his propriety threatened to unravel whilst she spoke.
"I'm trying to go home," she huffed, slipping her hand from his grasp and stepping back. "So just leave me be."
"Not before you apologize," he insisted, moving with her through the moonlit garden.
With an annoyed laugh, she stepped backwards, not looking as she approached a small cherub statue.
"Apologize? You must be mad!"
"Miss Granger, stop walking," he instructed, his voice tinged with slight concern beneath the command.
Glaring at him defiantly, she continued her reckless steps, stray brown curls bouncing.
"Stop telling me what to do!"
With that, her heels caught on the base of the decorative figure. As she lost her balance, she fell backwards and hit her head on the base of the fountain.
Quicker than she could comprehend, her surroundings began to turn into a blur of shadow and light. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog engulfing her mind.
Through the haze she became aware of him- strong arms cradling her, stormy eyes gazing down. With a tenderness that surprised them both, he gently brushed back a stray curl from her forehead.
"Hermione, look at me," he spoke softly.
But she could not focus, could not form words through the waves of dizzying pain.
As her eyes fluttered closed against her will, she saw him hovering over her, his chiseled features etched with an emotion she had only seen him exhibit twice in his life:
Worry.