Bulgaria

End

Hermione gasped beside her father as the attendant took their cloaks. Not even Hogwarts had looked so wonderful during festivities. There was this warm sparkle of candlelight thrown around every reflective surface in the large hall-which meant every bejeweled lady and sparkling mask, every piece of silver and glass, every polished floor and window to the starry night.

Hermione fell in love with the old carved wood detailing around every door and every wall panel, and especially loved the intricate banisters as they walked down to the ballroom.

"I think I have the most beautiful maiden in the room," her father leaned down to whisper, his toothy dragon mask chosen as a salute for his practice.

Hermione startled and looked around, she blushed under her ornate mask of a golden lioness when she noticed the almost silent room and stilled audience. She turned up to her father rather guiltily, "I was just admiring the wood carvings."

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. Patting her hand where it rested on his arm, he smiled and shook his head. "Only my daughter," he said with exasperated pride.

Hermione verily beamed up at him. There was no describing the absolute joy that sprang up from her soul when he expressed his pride in her. She'd gone so long without any verbal confirmation as she jumped between the two worlds pulling at her that having any connection to him, causing joy in him, made her glad on such a basic overwhelming level.

She ducked her head and bit her lip, marveling at such a wonderful start to the night.

"I think the swan is getting a rubber neck," her father whispered.

Hermione snapped open her fan and discreetly checked the direction of his gaze. She tittered and turned to her father-"I think she's rather taken with you, watch how she tries to get the other ladies' attention away from you, especially the poodle."

Her father snorted and shook his head. Hermione raised a hidden eyebrow but didn't comment. He still hadn't internalized the need to nod for no and shake for yes. She half thought he'd lead on some poor woman who mistook his 'yes' from across the room as a come-hither gesture.

She snickered at the thought.

"This Mrs. Markovski, she is here?"

"She wouldn't miss it."

"Then I would like to meet the woman who wrote me that letter and befriended you so thoroughly."

Hermione bit her lip and grinned up at her father, leaning into his arm and whispering. "I have it on good authority that she is dressed as the phoenix, something about renewable youth and retainable wisdom."

Her father grinned and pulled up her hand to kiss the back of it. Hermione smiled wider and whispered, "I am glad you decided to come with me," before quickly turning her attention to the crowd of elaborate costumes and fancy masks.

Her father squeezed her hand but otherwise didn't try to draw her attention back to him. Hermione was glad, sure that he could see the way she was heating up her mask with a blush.

They found Ms. Markovski not too soon after that, her jaunty wave and unmistakable grin hard to miss-especially with her sparklingly elaborate mask.

It would have done Fawkes proud.

She hugged and bussed the older woman, grinning as she introduced the matron to her father for the first time. After exchanging pleasantries and commenting generally on the décor and attendees her father took in a slow breath.

Hermione's attention was immediately on him-that was the breath he took before he, her shy and thoughtful father, revealed something personal.

Ms. Markovski appeared only politely interested.