7:41 P.M.
"Hermione...Good Merlin... You look fabulous!"
"Nefertari, the Great Hall has never looked this bloody good... Neither have you.... What did you do?"
"Merlin's beard, Mione, if only Viktor could see you now!"
"Oh, shut up, Harry," Hermione grumbled irritably. It felt Friday Night Dance all over again as she stalked away from the massive instrumental platform at the foot of the Great Hall dance floor, a forced grin on her face as she nodded to all her well-wishers, although she had stuck out her tongue at the passing Harry's last impish comment.
Sulkily, she muttered in a remarkably accurate, higher-pitched Lavender Brown voice, "Trust me, Hermy! It will be lovely, Hermy!"
Although Hermione's physical presence was without question, her mind was miles away as she unenthusiastically trudged along the edge of the Great Hall. She dodged a group of giggling fifth years, two of whom were twirling and twirling in wild circles just to see how far their dresses could billow out. Hermione couldn't help but be briefly jealous of them, these happy-go-lucky teenage girls without a trouble in the world—or, at least, none of them had self-imploded and traveled back in time fifty years to halt the rise of a Dark Lord.
Sighing tiredly and with nothing better to do, Hermione figured she might as well double-check on the moonlight magnolias dotted around the Great Hall doors to ensure that the flowers had begun to open.
As far as the Head Girl could tell, the first three-quarters of the night had been a resounding success. Everything about the Holiday Soiree had run smoothly—perfectly, even.
Multitudes of students bedecked in dazzling dress robes and dresses of all shapes, sizes, and colors whirled and glided across the mist-enveloped dance floor, some more skilled than others, some with other ideas than dancing on their mind. The time-mist enchantments in themselves had resulted in dramatically supernatural effects.
The other half had immediately bee-lined for the bench Hermione had had so much trouble with earlier that afternoon. It had since been transformed into a magnificently ornate, room-length, multi-layered buffet table.
With the help of numerous, eager house-elves—much to Hermione's chagrin— it now sagged under the weight of elaborate platters of every kind of hors d'oeuvre, drink, and dessert imaginable, and the delectable smells of a hundred different foods mingled together into one mouth-watering aroma that temptingly wafted around the Great Hall Ballroom.
Everything had run smoothly... except for her personal life.
The waltz ended, the instruments slowly stopping. She smiled at herself, quite proud that she was able to pull such a big event off. She was about to go look for any of her friends when the familiar scent of expensive cologne filled the air around her.
"Have I told you that you look breathtaking tonight, Nef," A familiar, confident drawl purred in her ear. Hermione was surprised and hardly pleased when Draco spun her around to face him. Her breathing hitched when he pulled her closer by her hand. A pulse of searing heat simultaneously erupted from the Amulet of Eras. "Let's dance, shall we?"
Hermione clutched her burning neck with one hand and tried to resist his pull with the other. He leads them towards the dance floor gracefully. She noticed that she hadn't locked eyes with him yet, "Draco, you... you are...."
"I think the word you're searching for is devilishly good looking," Draco helpfully supplied, a knowing smirk spreading across his aristocratic face. His white hair seemed to cover his eyes...or at least the parts Hermione would have seen. For being as cocky and arrogant as the old Malfoy was, Hermione had a sickening feeling that he wasn't acting quite right.
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Misunderstood Maledictions | Tomione
Любовные романы"Have you ever really been hated, Nefertari? Have you ever been disowned by your own bloody father before he even met you? Have you ever been cursed by the woman who called herself your mother before you could even crawl? Have you ever... asked a qu...
