Dancing With Draco

Chapter 3 - The Library

Hermione arrived in her room to find another parcel, this one crushed on one side, its brown paper torn, its front stamped by the Royal Mail and marked with her mother's unmistakable rushed handwriting. Parvati hadn't bothered to intercept this one. Inside the box was her true Yule Ball gown. In was three kinds of pink, satiny in the bodice, and layered to the floor in shaggy ruffles. The shoes at the bottom of the box were pink too, the darkest shade from the skirt, with high-heels pointy enough to have been responsible for ripping the paper wrapping. They arrived a day earlier than expected, in enough time for her to practice dancing in them during tomorrow's lesson, the final one. She hung the gown in her wardrobe, glancing a little wistfully at her trunk as she stepped past it.

Parvati and Lavender were standing over the sink, experimenting with fancy up-dos in the mirror, pins and long strands shed all over the floor. Lavender spun around to face her, almost forgetting Parvati's long, thick hair still coiled around her fingers. "You've come back," she said. "Good 'cause -- blimey, Hermione, what's happened?"

Parvati turned to look too. "Your hair -- even for you it's a bit, um..."

They parted to let Hermione see herself in the glass. What had Malfoy done to her hair? How could he have let her leave the room with it all pulled and twisted into this kind of mess. She ducked out of the mirror, battling her hair back into place as she rushed to find a book to hide behind.

"Been at the library all day, have you Hermione?" Lavender sang.

"Us too," Parvati said before she could answer, moving to her desk. "Yes, you're not the only one who can do research, Hermione. And even if we didn't find you at the library, we did flip through two whole years of Witch Weekly back issues before we finally found this."

She slapped an open magazine next to where Hermione sat on her bed pretending to read. There on the glossy, full-colour page stood a woman wearing a dress exactly like the one rumpled in Hermione's trunk at that moment. She stood with one hand on the shoulder of a very serious man with a set of flashing silver shears dangling lazily in his long, brown hands. He was a French celebrity dressmaker, and the woman standing over him with her gleaming blond hair and a gown the caption described as the only one of its kind, was the wealthy patron who had discovered him and made him famous. Her name was Narcissa Black Malfoy.

"So the secret identity of your mystery date is solved," Lavender grinned. "Draco Malfoy! I'll admit you surprised us, Hermione. We don't see how it's going to come off as anything but betrayal once Harry sees the two of you together."

The girls were both snickering as Hermione flicked the magazine closed. "He won't see us together because Malfoy is not my date. Obviously the dress was one of a kind when this photograph was taken two years ago, but it must not be anymore."

"Oh, please," said Parvati. "Far as we're concerned, your date is Malfoy until you prove otherwise."

Lavender folded her arms in solidarity.

"It is not Malfoy and that's the last I'll say about it."

Parvati smiled and linked her arm through Lavender's. "Have it your own way, Hermione. I'll try not to mention my Malfoy theory to Harry during our last dance lesson with McGonagall tomorrow."

She expected to be pleaded with not to talk to Harry about it, but instead Hermione raised one eyebrow and asked, "McGonagall stays with you the entire hour you're with Harry?"

Parvati blinked. "Who else is going to teach us the flaming Epicruvean waltz? We can't very well teach each other."

"Who cares?" Lavender cut in.

"Yeah, who?" Parvati resumed. "Do you not care if I ask Harry what he thinks about you dressing up as Madam Malfoy and strutting around with Draco in front of the whole school?"