“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.”

— Audrey Hepburn

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Draco closed his eyes, heart drumming nervously in his chest. On the count of three, he'll open them and have his eyes land on the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with.

One.

Two.

Three.

His eyes flew open and travelled up the marble staircase to see Granger.

He blinked rapidly, thinking maybe he’d just mistaken Ophelia for Granger, because, really, the woman was hard to recognise without that nest of hair. But no, it was definitely Hermione. No other woman would be doing what she was. 

She was bending over, cursing under her breath and fixing up the straps of her heels. Natalie was both disapproving and agitated from having the limelight stolen from her daughter. When Granger straightened up again, she looked them all over with her brows furrowed. Then, as if thinking something was hanging out, glanced down at her chest. Draco smiled slightly at her obliviousness.

Narcissa caught her eye when she stood up properly and shook her head. “Hermione, darling, could you step aside for us?” She made a sideways motion with her hands. 

“Hm?”

“There’s someone behind you,” Natalie said impatiently.

Ganger did a little glance behind her and let out a startled, “Oh!” She quickly, well, as fast as she could in those heels, darted down the staircase, and then into Draco’s view was Ophelia.

She had light blonde hair just as her mother, only shorter and shinier. It was a real golden shade – much more livelier than the Malfoys blonde, and it came out to a nice flick at the ends, barely reaching her shoulders. She had an upturned nose, and lips that were coated in a shimmering peach lipstick. Her skin was flawless; there was not a dimple, freckle, mole, beauty spot, nothing. Her frame was petite, her height only just reaching up to Draco’s shoulder, though he thought her heels added some height. Her green eyes were flittering from her mother, to Narcissa, Granger, and finally to Draco. Repeatedly they did this, seemingly unsure where she should look. Draco presumed she didn’t really what to stare openly at him the way he was to her.

His summary of Ophelia was that she was quite pretty, maybe even beautiful. She could also most certainly pass for a Malfoy.

What puzzled him what that he didn’t feel any better about her appearance. Draco wasn’t as shallow as he used to be but, hell, he was still Draco Malfoy. He thought maybe how she looked would somehow make this whole ideal that much easier (it didn’t).

“Ophelia,” Natalie said, almost bursting with excitement, “this is Draco. Draco, this is Ophelia.”

Draco almost rolled his eyes. Way to state the obvious, lady.

“How do you do?” she asked timidly, stretching out a reluctant hand.

He took it with hesitance of his own. When her smooth frail hand was in his own, he felt it tremble.

That was when it dawned on him. Ophelia was just as frightened about this as he was. Perhaps he should have considered her feelings from the start, but he never had. He always somehow pictured Ophelia to be the very definition of calm, and when her eyes met his, he realised that she had been thinking exactly the same thing.

“Ooh!” exclaimed Natalie, coming between the two and throwing her arms over their shoulders. “I knew I should have brought a camera! You know, this day will forever be implanted in your heads! This is the day you’ll be telling your grandchildren of how…”

Draco tuned her out, and his eyes met Granger’s without making the conscious decision to do so. She was standing a little further back, just behind Narcissa, while fidgeting with her hands. She looked strange and very unsure, and the distance she kept between herself and the rest of them suggested a lack of belonging.

She smiled vaguely at Draco and took a cautious step towards them. But then Natalie, still gushing, pulled him into a group hug with Ophelia. His side was pressed into her, and he could feel her jaw moving above his head as she continued to ramble. Draco’s eyes never left Granger, though. She looked between them before taking a step backwards. With a look in her eyes that wasn’t happy or sad, a look he couldn’t place, she slowly walked away.

It seemed she had made the decision she didn’t belong here after all. And it was strange, because Draco felt like he should have gone with her. 

***

“What are you doing over here?”

Hermione turned towards the voice and found herself staring at a very formal looking Derek.

“Oh, hey,” she said, smiling softly. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to get a hold of you. About what happened in the coffee room, and I brought up that… embarrassing incident of yours. I never meant to… well, it was harsh and I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you when Draco was just as much to blame.”

He shrugged, though he did appear pleased. “Forget it.”

Silence fell.

“You look nice,” he told her, eyes surveying the bits of skin that was exposed.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Hermione crossed her arms awkwardly. Then realised she’d given him a better view of her breasts and let them fall hopelessly to her sides again. But then she felt exposed again. Repeated the action. Then let her arms drop again.

“So,” he began, amused, “you still never answered my question.”

“What was it again?”

“You never told me why you’re over here.”

“What, a girl can’t stand near the refreshment table and eat all the Chocolate Frogs by herself?” she asked jokingly, but her tone was oddly flat, so it wasn’t very effective. He smiled politely nevertheless. Hermione found herself wishing he’d be like Draco and just tell her straight out the joke was horrible.

“The girls here go for the carrot sticks.” He gestured to a glass tray, where only three carrot sticks and two celeries were left.

“And the men?” she asked.

He grinned. “In the dinning room.”

She snorted, suddenly remembering Ron. “Typical. God forbid the women might want more than rabbit food.”

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Well, I was invited, so –”

“No, no. I mean, why are you here alone?”

“I’m not alone,” she said quickly, feeling a need to defend herself. He looked at her sceptically. Hermione sighed in surrender. “Okay, fine. I’m by myself like some –”

“Crazy cat lady?” he offered.

“Yeah –” She stopped short and did a double take. “Where did you hear that?”

He smiled that crooked smile. “Daily Prophet, and I quote: ‘the crazy cat lady is what we call her, a resident of the building reveals. It’s recommended we don’t make any sudden movements around her or she may set her cats to gouge out our eyes.’” He clucked. “I still can’t believe you made the whole building evacuate only for it to be a false alarm.” 

Hermione blushed. Bloody Draco.

“Oh look,” he said suddenly, staring at a point beyond her shoulder, “everyone’s moving out onto the dance floor.”

She turned absently. “Yeah, guess they are.” 

“Where’s Malfoy?” Derek asked.

“Somewhere over there.” She waved her hand impalpably.

He frowned, standing taller to see over the heads gathering in the centre of the room. “Where? I don’t see.”

“Let’s dance,” said Hermione quickly, grabbing onto his arm and pulling. He followed uncertainly.

“It’s the guys job to ask…” His voice became unclear over the music and chattering couples.

Hermione took his hand in hers. “Just relax,” she told him.

***

“So… you like, geography books, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And quiet nights in?”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“Your favourite drink’s champagne?”

“Mm.”

Ophelia pursed her lips. 

Draco knew he was being impolite. He just couldn’t will himself to play along with all these lies. It was the lies that got him into this mess. He was now dancing with Ophelia, much to his resentment, because he’d told Natalie he liked dancing. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Draco considered Advera Kedavraing himself right there on the spot.

“Your favourite animals are bunnies?”

Draco mentally groaned. He was really starting to miss his earlier school days, when everything had been easier. He also found himself wishing Ophelia was Granger, and would make a comment about his favourite animal being a ferret, not that it was but… sigh. He was feeling rotten for bringing her to this stupid ball and then abandoning her. He just hoped she’d found Blaise or Pansy or –

Armstrong?

Draco’s gaze fell on the both of them. He had to move his head around a bit to keep his eyes on them because of the two dancing couples obscuring his view, but he could see well enough through the small gap.

She was keeping herself a good distance from him: they were not nearly as pressed up closely as other couples were. She wasn’t smiling and her hand would probably have fell of out his if he weren’t gripping it. She was only half-heartedly making an effort of the dance for Armstrong’s sake.

But Draco saw none of this. He just saw her dancing with someone he hated and it bothered him.

“Ouch! Uh, Draco?” Ophelia sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re kinda squeezing my hand.”

Why was he even here? Stupid prat shouldn’t even exist, much less be at this ball!

“Draco!”

“What?” he snapped.

“My hand!”

He looked at their hands and saw that her smaller one was very red, his own white from the force he was using. Draco instantly let go.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She rubbed it. “It’s fine.” She looked over to Armstrong and Granger. “You were staring at them.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. That was really rude.” And rethinking his words, Draco really did believe he owed this girl an apology. He hadn’t been very considerate all night towards her, which was not how one should treat anyone, let alone someone he may marry. “Really, Ophelia. I’m sorry.”

Her expression softened. “No, I get it. This whole thing is really scary. I was actually thinking, well…” She looked uncomfortable and stared down at her shoes. “Only if you wanted to, of course, but maybe one day we should meet up again? Not in the company of all these people we barely know but somewhere with just the two of us. No formal occasion to worry about.” She peeped up uncertainly. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He leaned a bit closer, forgetting himself, and admitted, “I’ve never been to one of these balls mother and Natalie host.”

“Me neither!” she exclaimed, looking relieved.

“Really?”

“Yes, I hate them.”  

“Me too.”

She laughed. “Oh gosh. What kind of children are we?”

“Really terrible ones.”

The dance ended around them.

“I’m going to talk to mother and tell her how it’s going.” She nodded her head over to the seats along the walls, where Natalie was speaking very quickly and happily to Narcissa.  “Pretty sure she’ll about burst if I don’t.”

“You’re going to tell her something positive, right?” he called after her.

She paused and shot him a grin. “No, I’m going to tell her you’re positively horrid.”

“So long as I’m doing a good job of it.”

“Of course you are,” she reassured. “I’ll talk to you a bit later, okay?” And then she edged her way past the thinning crowd and over to her mother.

Draco strode over to the refreshment table and poured himself some whiskey. So far, tonight had been both horrible and good. He gulped up it in one go and glanced over at the food on the table.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself before taking another drink. “Who ate all the Chocolate Frogs?”  

Eight drinks later and Draco was tottering around the huge ballroom. By now a fair few had already left, and at least half of the ones remaining were tipsy.

Draco passed a bunch of family photographs hanging on the walls that looked like they should’ve been for advertising companies rather than actual, real photos. He’d been hoping to find one with a kid covered in mud, or Natalie off her face, or something humiliating or messy instead of her consistent pompous attitude, but there was nothing.

He had just passed the twentieth Christmas photo when his eyes found something that was truly intriguing. It was subtle, so Draco very nearly walked past it. It also didn’t help that he wasn’t sober.

He had to blink a few times for it to come into focus again, and when it did, he really couldn’t believe it. Draco now finally understood why Armstrong looked so familiar to him. He was related to the Greengrass’. Armstrong had been Astoria’s cousin. And he remembered with a start something Astoria had once told him at King’s Cross.

*

“So that’s your father, huh?” Draco gazed ahead at the man waving.

She giggled. “Yep.”

His gaze travelled over to the shorter brunette at his side who was beaming. “And there’s your mother?” She nodded. “Who’s the other man?”

“My uncle. Dad’s only recently made up with him because he joined the Death Eaters,” she said quietly.

Draco felt uncomfortable. “So your father doesn’t like supporters of –?” 

“It’s not that. Uncle Devin became one at a real young age and abandoned the family, including his son and wife.”

“Where are they?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, and Draco could tell she was fighting down the urge to run towards her parents now that they were closer. “Michelle moved further into London and far away from him, taking Derek with.”

“How old's he?”

She laughed and skipped further ahead, turning just in time to say, “Why so interested Draco?” At his frown, she smiled playfully. “I don’t know. Nineteen, I guess.” And she spun around and ran forward until she leapt into her father’s arms.

*

“Found something, Draco?” Armstrong’s voice asked quietly behind him.

Suddenly, a lot made sense.  

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Next chapter; Blaise gets punched, Pansy's off her face, Hermione has her fair share of firewhiskey, and Draco leaves in a storm of fury. 

Hermione seethed and turned on her heel when Derek seized her wrist.

“You’re not going after him, are you?”

Hermione counted to three before she answered. “Yes.”

“Why? He doesn’t care about you as much as you do about him.”