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Chapter Text

October 31st, 2003

Soft music swept through an elegant ballroom filled to capacity with people. Colorful leaves swirled in the air, dancing among magnificently carved pumpkins lit from within by sparkling fairy lights.

Draco forced back a yawn as his eyes scanned the swirling dancers. His mother would give him a possibly well-earned lecture if she caught him looking bored at what was supposed to be the event of the season. Likely as she had spent the past three months planning out every detail.

Down to the each hand-picked feather adorning his mask.

He was just terribly bored with it all.

He sometimes wondered if he would be so bored if he had gone to Hogwarts rather than Beauxbatons. From what his childhood friend, Theo, had said there were no dances there. Well, with the exception of the Yule Ball, but as a fourth year he'd been too young to be considered as a competitor. If he had gone to Hogwarts he could have at least watched the tournament.

But, no, his father had been disgusted with the Hogwarts Headmaster and his mother had declared Durmstrang to be too far away.

So to Beauxbatons he had gone.

Gone and flourished, truth be told. But, contrary to what many thought, flourishing did nothing to combat ennui.

He snagged a glass of something fruity and alcoholic from a tray floating by.

He surveyed the crowd once more as he took a sip.

If his mother really wanted him to find someone and start giving her grandchildren then organizing a masked ball to celebrate Halloween was not the way to go about it.

How could he be attracted to someone if he could not see their face?

He had yet to see a single witch he'd be willing to dance with. Either they were in costumes more suited to a muggle party or they had no couth.

Like that bimbo hanging on the arm of a red-haired man as he attempted to hold a conversation with someone all in black, with a mask that resembled a skull.

He had to give the wizard credit, coming as Death was a unique idea.

Much better than the peacock inspired costume he wore. Every time he looked in the mirror he felt like he should start preening himself.

Just as he began to raise his glass to take another sip a soft form was pushed into him by the growing crowd.

"Oh!"

He barely avoided spilling his drink. He scowled and looked down, preparing to scold the imbecile.

Soft brown eyes looked up at him; framed in a mask that was a delicate mix of oranges and browns. Almost as intricate as his own blue and green one. Though she sported a pair of lifelike cat ears that twitched in time with the music.

He felt his breath catch in his chest as he looked below the mask and saw a perfect set of lips formed into a circle of surprise.

He had the urge to lean down and kiss them. His scowl softened and he felt confused. He had never before had such a reaction to any witch.

The girl pulled back and nervously looked down as he began smoothing her robes. Robes that continued the color pattern introduced by her mask as they hugged her delicate figure in all the right places.

"Pardon me, I'm not used to such a crush."

Her accent only told him that she was British and from a middle or upper income family somewhere around London.

Likely the daughter of some Ministry official. Invited to keep them happy as his father continued to entertain himself by playing at being a politician.

Sensing a cure for his ennui he adopted the accent many of his classmates had when they spoke in English.

"It ez all right. At Beauxbatons ze dances can become quite crowded. One learnz to adapt."

Her eyes widened at his accent and then she gave a brilliant smile that made his heart lurch.

"Oh! Parlez-vous le Français!"

He was grateful for the mask to hide the shock at her near-flawless (just a bit of an English accent) French, even if she was being a bit formal. He responded back to her in French that was as close to perfect as one could get after seven years of studying magic in the language.

"Oui, I lived in France for many years. And you?"

"My parents have always enjoyed going on holiday there. When I was six we went to this lovely village near Marseille and I fell in love with the country. I convinced my parents to get me a language tutor. When I entered Hogwarts I continued my studies when I had time."

"May I ask why you went to Hogwarts? If you spoke French, Beauxbatons would have been perfect for you."

She grimaced and looked uncomfortable, "My parents...well, let's just say they preferred me being close to home."

He put on his best smile and looked her up and down, "I can see why. To let such an English rose escape... Tell me, are you here with someone?"

She shook her head, "Non, I came on my own."

"Well, then may I have the honor of requesting a dance with you?"

Through the mask he could see her eyes widen just a fraction.

"With me?"

"Oui."

She hesitantly raised her wrist and took off her dance card.

When he took it he cursed every other male in England for being a complete idiot.

The card was entirely empty.

Feeling mischievous he touched each slot on the card and whispered, "Monsieur Peacock."

He was not going to risk her learning who he was. He had already had some dark-haired chit dressed like a green snake go all odd when she learned his name.

Apparently Hogwarts students knew of him and his family, even if he didn't know them.

Rather unsettling when compared to the near anonymity he'd experienced at Beauxbatons.

He handed the card back to her with a small bow and a flourish. She took it with a shaking hand.

"What...this is a joke, isn't it? Lavender put you up to it, didn't she? She's still convinced I want to steal her boyfriend. As if I would touch Ronald with a ten-foot pole!"

She lapsed into English halfway through her rant and his smile turned into a frown.

"I don't know who those people are and I can assure you this is no joke. I want to dance with you."

Her brown eyes hardened in suspicion and he was suddenly fearful of her turning and walking out of his life. He didn't understand why he felt such an instant connection with this witch but he was not letting her get away before he had fully explored it.

"Why?"

"Well, you're beautiful," she scoffed in disbelief, but he pressed on, "you are also polite and well-spoken. It is but a bonus that you speak French; though the fact that you began learning it at six and then continued shows you are also intelligent and persistent. And I have always admired those two traits."

Her mouth was hanging open - just a bit - in surprise. He had the sudden desire to lean down and kiss her again.

This time he took it.

Just a small brush of lips. As soft as a peacock feather on the skin.

She gasped and he pulled back, a lazy smile sliding onto his face.

"I swear I am speaking the truth." She nodded mutely and blinked rapidly, obviously trying to regain control of her ability to think.

His smile widened and he held out his arm.

"Dance with me?"

She nodded once more and slipped her arm into his.

Once they were on the dance floor Draco was sure that he was falling in love.

She moved with an innate grace that could not be learned; fitting in his arms like she was meant to be there.

They danced in silence at first, but by the second set they were conversing.

He learned that she had obtained near perfect scores on her NEWTs and that now she worked at the Ministry in an entry position. They discussed things that would make his father shiver in disgust. Things like house elf rights, proper introductions to the magical world for muggleborns, and creating equality on the Wizengamot.

For once he wondered if he might be better off at Beauxbatons, rather than Hogwarts. After living in such a traditional, and yet honestly liberal place as France he couldn't help but see his little cat's side of the argument. What did blood purity really mean, or even race?

Madam Maxine was a truly competent and rather terrifying headmistress, possibly because of – rather than in spite of - the giant blood he was sure ran through her veins.

Besides, if he did as his parents wished and married a pureblood girl he would be forced to forget the adorably intelligent cat in his arms. And that would be a true shame.

She was much too passionate about her causes to be a pureblood. Unless she was a Weasley, he'd heard they were rather passionate about things that other purebloods considered beneath them.

He gave his cat a twirl and watched a few tendrils of curly brown hair escape from whatever contraption was holding her hair up.

No, definitely not a Weasley. He'd heard they all had bright red or orange hair. Like the man he'd seen early talking with Death.

By the end of the sixth song he could see her steps were beginning to falter. And her endearing cat ears were beginning to droop.

"Would you care for some refreshment?"

She nodded and smiled, her little cat ears perking up a bit.

He led her off the dance floor, easily sidestepping Death and his red-headed dance partner (had to be a Weasley) as the two of them fumbled their way awkwardly through the dance.

He winced when he saw Death tread on the- he paused, what was her costume? As far as he could tell it was merely dress robes and a mask.

"That has to be Harry and Ginny Weasley," his cat murmured in French after they were off the dance floor.

Draco frowned, why did the name Potter sound familiar? "Potter?"

"Ah, yes, the name would be familiar, even if you don't know them. Harry Potter is the son of James and Lily Potter. A rather scandalous marriage between a pureblood and a muggleborn. James Potter is a wealthy pureblood, but he found the life of wealth to be rather boring. He, along with his best friend - Sirius Black - funded a joke shop back in the mid-80s. Yes," she said upon seeing his raised eyebrows, "Sirius Black, as in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

She said it as if she had heard those words spoken just a tad too many names.

He wasn't surprised, he'd spent many a Christmas with his cousin, Scorpius Black. According to his mother the brat was a carbon copy of his father - Regulus Black - at the same age.

One of the few good things about not going to Hogwarts was the fact he hadn't had to share a house with that prat for seven years.

There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he would have been a Slytherin if he had attended Hogwarts.

"Well, they opened a store you may recognize - Marauder's Mysteries. I hear they're planning to go international soon. Or at least license their products. They're in the papers quite often."

"You certainly know a lot about them," he felt a bit of jealousy that she knew so much about another man. He knew it was irrational, but he didn't care.

"Oh, Harry is in my year and we're both in Gryffindor House. Sadly, he's great friends with that nitwit Ronald, but aside from that he's good people. He agrees with me on many of my causes. Partly because of his mother, but also just because he has a good heart. Also, another one of his father's friends is a werewolf. He helps them run the business, it caused a lot of controversy at first."

"It's widely believed at Beauxbatons that Madam Maxine - our headmistress - is part giant. I've always wondered if that is part of the reason she's such a competent witch."

They reached the refreshment table and he handed her a plate. Once they had selected a variety of delicacies he made sure to find them a table far from the crowds.

When he found the table he had a strong suspicion that his mother had tampered with it.

His eyes found it much too easily and it was partially hidden from view. There was even a deep orange curtain that, with a flick of his wand, could completely shield them from view.

His little cat gave him a look that he was sure would be better appreciated without the mask.

Hopefully he could keep her with him until midnight, when the unmasking would occur. He was really curious about what those interesting expressions of hers looked like without a mask in the way.

"I would not be surprised if she does," his cat said once they were seated. "The Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts is nearly the same size as Madam Maxine and he once told me his mother was a giantess."

"Is he a good wizard?" Draco asked as he popped a small piece of chocolate pastry in his mouth.

"He's very talented, though he often forgets the rest of us are not half-giants like him, but he truly knows the material. Though he thinks – for some odd reason – that dragons are cute. You should have seen him cooing during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament."

Draco snickered at that, "I can't say my old headmistress has any similar quirks, but she certainly can be intimidating."

His cat smiled and shook her head, making the ears flatten in annoyance as the mask was jostled. "Oh, Professor Hagrid looks intimidating, but he's really just a giant teddy bear. I actually took a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures as I enjoyed his class so much."

"That's high praise."

She nodded and they grew silent after that, both silently eating. Draco waved at a passing tray of drinks and it drifted over.

He was nearly halfway through his drink when she spoke again.

"You are an odd wizard, Monsieur Peacock."

He smirked at her name for him, "And are you not an odd witch Miss Cat?"

She shrugged, "They certainly thought me odd at Hogwarts. I was a terrible know-it-all. The professors loved me, but my classmates..."

She began to nibble at her lip and he was entranced, so much so that he almost didn't hear her next words.

"Well, children can be cruel. Did you know I've never actually enjoyed Halloween before?"

There was such sadness in her voice that he looked up and met her eyes. It was hard to see in the dancing candlelight - no bright pumpkins floating here - but there was such sorrow in her voice...

"Why not?"

"Growing up, my parents refused to celebrate Halloween. They believed it lead to unhealthy habits. I was so excited my first year at Hogwarts. The Great Hall was decorated almost as well as this ballroom. I heard older students speaking of the feast and I could hear the excitement and eagerness in their voice. But then, in the afternoon, Ronald," she spat out his name, "said something nasty to me. It was too much, I ran off and spent the evening crying in the girl's bathroom. No one ever came to look for me. Not until a prefect did a head count and went out to find me. Funny that it was Ronald's older brother, Percy, who comforted me. You see, he'd also had trouble with people not accepting him. He's been a wonderful friend to me over the years, even helped by putting in a good word for me when I applied for my job. But I never could make myself go to the Hogwarts Halloween Feast after that. Not even to hear who the Triwizard Champions were."

Draco reached out and took her hand in his. It felt so soft, he wanted to touch more of her skin, see if it was even softer.

"I too had trouble when I started school. You see, my father is a very important man, and I believed that made me important as well. It took a number of detentions and getting beat up by other students for me to realize I had to prove myself. My father's name meant nothing to my classmates or professors."

She winced, "No one ever hit me, and things did get better once I toned myself down in class. It just took a few years. But, by then my reputation was already set in stone. No boy would date me for fear I would nag him to death about homework. Well, except for one, but he was a Durmstrang student. When I went to the Yule Ball with him I think multiple people lost their minds from the shock."

She chuckled wryly and he took the moment to slide closer to her on the curved bench.

When she once again looked up they were much closer. He heard her breath catch as her eyes widened behind the mask. Even her little cat ears went completely still.

He leaned forward slowly, giving her a chance to back away if he had misread the situation.

She didn't move and he felt his heart soar.

Their lips met and Draco felt like he was flying.

He flicked his tongue over her lips and she opened them. He took the chance to deepen the kiss. When she moaned he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer,

Soft breasts pressed against his chest and he felt an instant response. Her hands moved up and tangled themselves in his hair.

Merlin, she was perfect.

How had his mother managed to find such a witch? Granted, she didn't fit his parents' requirement that she be a pureblood, but that was alright. He'd rather be happy than following a dusty tradition.

Time slipped by, they only stopped long enough for him to close the curtains.

He was breathing hard and about to ruin his pants when his mother's voice cut through his lust.

"Witches and Wizards, I would like to thank you for your attendance. We are now a minute away from midnight. As such, I would ask that you prepare to have your mask removed. You will be able to reclaim it upon exiting the ballroom."

His cat gasped and reached up to touch her mask. He noticed with some satisfaction that her lips were swollen and her hair was hanging around her face in a gorgeous tangle of curls. Hopefully after the unmasking he could once more get his hands in those curls.

His thoughts were abruptly derailed when she stood up so suddenly the table fell over into his lap.

She took off running and he stared after her in shock for a moment. He couldn't believe she would run from him. Hadn't they just been having a magnificent time?

He almost let her go, after all, it was never smart to chase after an unwilling woman.

But, no, he wanted answers!

He shoved the table away and took off running after her.

The other guests were beginning to count down.

"Ten!"

He shoved past Death and his Weasley. The two of them had their lips locked and seemed completely oblivious to the crowd around them.

"Nine!"

He almost gagged at the sight of the snake witch that had encountered him earlier. She had her fangs sunk into his cousin. And Scorpious was such a nitwit he appeared to be actually enjoying it!

"Eight!"

He saw a pair of cat ears over the head of some blonde chit in a rainbow-inspired costume.

"Seven!"

He sped up and then felt himself go flying after his feet hit something.

"Six!"

He heard laughter, but ignored it as he dragged himself to his feet again.

"Five!"

It took a moment to orient himself again. The crowd was growing thicker.

"Four!"

There! Not ten feet away!

"Three!"

He shoved a tall rather plainly dressed young man out of his way.

"Two!"

Almost there! He could see her, right by the doorway!

"One!"

As he watched she shoved the bimbo of a witch he'd seen hanging on the red-haired man earlier out of the way.

"Zero!"

She passed through the doorway just as Draco felt his mask disappear.

He leapt over the witch knocked down by his cat and tore through the doorway - just in time to see his cat disappear into the fireplace, leaving only green flames in her wake.

He cursed and stamped his foot.

She'd been perfect! He'd felt like they understood each other! True, he'd led her to believe he was French, but that wasn't important! She hadn't discovered that. Besides, that could be explained away as part of the masquerade experience.

He whirled around, preparing to storm up to his rooms in a huff.

That was when his eye caught the wall and all of the masks displayed on it. There, sitting beside his peacock one, was the cat mask, its ears beginning to droop.

He raised his wand and summoned the two masks. As he looked down at them in his hands he felt a sense of determination come over him. He knew the basics about her. And it took some talent to make a mask like that. He'd figure out who she was - and just why she didn't want to acknowledge the obvious chemistry between them.

After that, he would ask her to dinner.

Chapter Text

October 24, 2003

Hermione grunted as she shoved a stack of papers out of her way.  What she wouldn’t give for more storage room.  Sadly, her little work space consisted of a small desk half the size of everyone else’s.  It was also stuck in a little nook that made it impossible to add many shelves or drawers for storage.

There were serious disadvantages to being a Muggle-born with only one connection in the Ministry. And while Percy was lovely, he was also a Weasley and only a few years older than her.  Even with his father also recommending her they'd only been able to get her an interview for one of the worst positions in the entire Ministry: Requisitions

She spent her entire day at her desk, buried in pointless paperwork and unable to do anything that showed off her abilities.

After all, how hard was it to check boxes and stamp 'accepted' or 'denied' on everything?

Besides, every time someone filled out a paper incorrectly and she had to deny them they hated her just a bit more.  She was as unable to escape her reputation from school as she was her own blood status.

It didn't matter that she had gotten NEWTs in eight subjects when most only took five or six.  No one cared that her scores had been near perfect.  You would think her ability to speak French fluently, and hold decent conversations in German, Spanish, and Italian would be a plus, but not to the wizard that had interviewed her.

No, Mr. Lestrange had only seen a mudblood with no powerful connections.  She still rolled her eyes at the name.  How could you view a word as bad if you never heard it until you were twelve?  Granted, it hurt to know others thought poorly of her, but they really were - in her opinion - just showing their own ignorance.

She bet she could beat almost all of her classmates in a magical duel.  She already knew she could out think them.

"You look rather serious."

She looked up from the papers lying before her and twisted to see Percy standing between the wall and column that typically separated her 'office' from everyone else.

"Just lamenting my lot in life, as usual."

His lips twisted into an ironic smile, "We both do that much too often.  Though, I do come bearing good news - of a sort."

"Oh?"

He reached into his robes and pulled out a gold and cream envelope.  While she was curious about the envelope, she couldn't help but admire Percy's robes with pride.  She had developed a way to sew glamors into the patches on his elbows, thus allowing him to actually present himself well, despite his poor salary.

He handed the envelope to her and she pulled out an ornate invitation.

It only took a quick scan for her to understand what it was.  She let out an indelicate snort and handed it back.

"I know you're between girlfriends at the moment, but do you really think it's a good idea to bring a Muggle-born as your plus one to a pureblood gala?  Besides, how did you get an invite?  I thought the Malfoys hated the Weasleys."

"Apparently the Potters and the Browns refused to make an appearance if the Weasleys were not honored with invitations.  Besides, haven't you heard?  My eldest brother got himself engaged to a Delacour.  My family is moving up in the world."

She snorted, "I'm guessing it was really the Potters' idea, not the Browns'. And congratulations on your brother.  I met Fleur when I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor.  She was actually fairly nice to me, even if she is a bit spoiled and arrogant."

Percy chuckled, "Mum hates her.  As does Ginny.  I'm rather surprised you don't, from what I hear most part-veela have trouble with those competing for the same gender."

Hermione shrugged, "I guess I just wasn't seen as competition to her.  After all..."

She gestured at her rather bookish and severe appearance; making Percy frown.

"You are being much too hard on yourself.  Most wizards are just idiots.  I should know, I'm related to at least three such morons."

Hermione giggled, "Charlie and Bill aren't idiots?"

"Oh, no, they can have idiotic moments, but they do tend to use their brains more than my younger brothers.  Now," he gave her a pointed stare, "are you coming with me?  You'll need a costume, of course.  I am thinking something in muted colors, it will be attractive, yet not make you stand out too much.  Merlin knows what the Malfoy's will do if they learn I brought a Muggle-born.  I don't yet have the influence to get away with that.  Unlike the Potters."

Hermione weighed the options in her mind.  She really had enjoyed herself at the Yule Ball back at Hogwarts.  Dancing was fun and she'd likely be able to get partners if she was in a costume.  Besides, it would be interesting to see how such an event worked.

Plus, it would be a laugh to see the shock on certain people's faces when she took her mask off at midnight.  Hell, if she played her cards right she might even be able to get someone to see the light.

"Alright, I'll go."

He grinned, "Brilliant!"

XXX

October 31, 2003

Hermione's fingers tightened on Percy's arm as they stepped into the ballroom of Malfoy Manor.  She had to stop her jaw from dropping at the decorations.

He chuckled, "Outshines Hogwarts, doesn't it?  The Malfoys have always been ostentatious.  I think that's part of the reason Malfoys and Weasleys have never gotten on."

She gave her head a small shake to get rid of the completely neophyte look she knew was gracing it, "And you aren't ostentatious?  Remember that ring you tried to buy - oh, what's her name?  Truly gag worthy."

He sniffed and pointed his nose in the air, it actually fit rather well with his hippogriff costume.  He looked arrogant enough to be a Black. "There are exceptions. Oh!  There's Mr. Crouch - he refuses to use a costume.  I should greet him, let him know that I am here."

Percy began to steer them through the crowd, but she tugged lightly on his arm.

He paused and looked down, "Yes?"

"Mr. Crouch is rather perceptive and he knows me.  He also likely knows you are without a current girlfriend.  I think it's best if I don't go over with you."

He thought for a moment and then nodded, "You're quite right.  Why don't I meet you over by the refreshment table?"

She nodded and slipped off his arm.  After he had walked away she looked around.  She could see the dancers swirling across the floor not too far away, but there was no sign of a refreshment table.  Not with all those leaves and pumpkins floating through the air, obscuring her view.

She was roughly bumped by a walrus that she highly suspected was her old Potions professor - Horace Slughorn.  That man and his Slug Club had caused her endless issues.  She sometimes wished she had taken him up on the invitation to join.

She grimaced and tried to move out of the thick of people, keeping her eyes open.  She needed to either find someone to set her sights on or go wait for Percy and he could help her.  She wanted someone from Hogwarts or the Ministry.  

Maybe, with the mask on, she would actually get a chance to have a real conversation without someone asking how she could be so knowledgeable.  After all, she was only a Muggle-born.

Stupid bloody prejudices.  The entire Wizarding World needed to be cleaned up.  Someone needed to poke the hornet's nest that was blood status.  And if no one else will, then she would.

She heard a deep, dark laugh and turned to see a tall dark skinned man with another man.  Both were dressed all in black with white half-masks. The tall one had to be Zabini.  No one else quite filled out robes like he did.  

That meant the shorter one was Scorpious Black.  She grimaced in distaste before taking a deep breath.

Zabini would work for her plan.  He wasn't a complete blood purist like Black.  Not to mention she knew he was easily swayed by a pretty face - male or female.

And Hermione knew she looked quite fetching her homemade costume.  No, it wasn't her appearance that kept the men away.

She took a step towards them and then felt someone bump her, she gasped as she was shoved into a hard body.

She looked up to apologize and froze as her eyes met pure, liquid silver.

All thoughts of Zabini left her. 

XXX

November 1, 2003

She tumbled out of the fireplace and onto the small rug that lay before the hearth.  Heart pounding, breath coming too fast, hands shaking as she dug out her wand.

She was grateful she could cast her locking spells nonverbally.  She didn't think her vocal cords would work.

She was a bloody idiot.

What had happened to her plan?

Hell, what had happened to Percy?

What had she been thinking!?!  Spending her time talking, dancing, and-and kissing!  Kissing a French wizard who had never been to Hogwarts and likely held no power in the UK!

How could she change anything if she was so weak as to let her emotions get the best of her!  People were counting on her, even if they didn't know it.  The Creevy brothers, who loved magic so much, forced to find employment in the muggle world.

Dean and Seamus, who spoke of how hard their parents had it.  Dean's father a wizard that married a witch; Seamus' mother a witch that married a muggle.  Both had struggled growing up, their parents facing discrimination for daring to marry a muggle.  

And so many others.

The discrimination needed to be acknowledged!  It had to be pulled, screaming out into the light.  How could anyone fight the problem when people refused to accept that there was one?

And she'd screwed up her chance to sway someone with clout and connections to her side.

All because of a pair of silver eyes and a voice like rough silk that kept whispering smooth French in her ears.  A man so sure of himself he’d come as a peacock.  The arrogance and audacity of him, taking up every dance on her card.  For half a second she’d assumed that Ronald had somehow figured out or heard who his brother was taking.  If he’d told Lavender, who Hermione could see bribing or hiring someone to make a fool of her.

She lay back on the rug and looked up at her cracked ceiling.  

And, to make it even worse, she'd panicked there at the end.  He had to be a pureblood.  Or else a very well-to-do half-blood.  He had even said his father was important.

She didn't want to see disbelief or possible scorn when she took off her mask and revealed her name.  

He'd ask if she was related to Hector Dagworth-Granger and she'd have to say no.  Then his face would fill with disbelief - quickly followed by scorn.

She couldn't let such a lovely night end that way.  Even if she'd already screwed up her plans.

So, she had taken the coward's way and run.

Though, she had to admit she had told him enough he could discover who she was.  After all, not many girls had been in the same year as Harry and in Gryffindor House.  And, if he was paying attention he would know exactly what classes she had taken at NEWT level.

BUT, he would learn her blood status long before he found her.  She wouldn't have to see those delicious lips thin into a nasty scowl.  She wouldn't have to once again convince herself that growing old alone, with only Crookshanks, was perfectly acceptable as long as she made a difference in the world.

She reached up and touched her own lips.  Her fingers traced them as she remembered how it had felt to have his moving against hers.

A loud "Mrrow," cut through her memories from earlier that evening.  She reached over and felt Crookshanks rub his head against her hand, demanding attention.

She sat up and pulled him into her arms, burying her nose in his fur and taking a deep breath to chase away the urge to cry.

Sometimes she wished the world was different.

XXX

November 3, 2003

Hermione came to work early enough on Monday that she encountered no one but the janitorial staff on the way to her cramped little desk.

She pulled out her mug, cast a quick cleaning charm on it, and prepared herself a nice cup of tea.  

She moaned in delight as soon as she took the first sight.

"That is a delightful sound.  Do you think I could take the place of that mug?"

She jumped and almost spilled her tea everywhere as smooth, delightfully silky French slipped through her little corner.

She looked up in shock to see a tall and elegantly dressed man standing between the wall and the column.  Not two feet away from her.  His blonde hair gleamed almost as silver as his eyes in the harsh Ministry lighting.

She felt her mouth grow dry as she tried to form words.  She turned beet red when all she managed was a squeaky, "What?"

He looked even more delicious than he had a few days before.  Granted, this time she could actually see his face.

"You, know, Miss Cat, you weren't terribly hard to identify, though I can't say the same for finding you.  My uncle – he’s a piece of work – laughed in my face when I said I was looking for you.  Asked if you were a good lay.  I decided to ignore all Ministry employees after that and go back to people you went to Hogwarts with.  It took quite a bit to convince Potter I meant you no harm before he admitted his fiancée’s brother was good friends with you.  Good enough to actually know where you live and also where the Ministry keeps you hidden away.  Funny that only Percy Weasley cares enough about you - I'm beginning to wonder if everyone in Britain has empty space between their ears.  Mr. Weasley was quick to give up the location of your office, if not your flat, once I convinced him I truly didn't care if you were pureblood, Muggle-born, or a house elf in disguise.  Though, I was surprised you are Muggle-born.  To hear my father talk, Muggle-borns never become truly accustomed to the Magical World.  Granted, my father says a lot of bullshit.  At Beauxbatons there's an optional two week camp before the first year.  It goes over wizarding customs and magical dangers.  I didn't become close friends with any Muggle-borns there, but the few I knew took the course.  During your last two years there you could volunteer to mentor anywhere from one to three first-year students.  I did if my last year, once I got my head out of my arse and realized I wasn't above that.  A true learning experience, helping an eleven-year old Muggle-born navigate a magical school.  Never did tell my parents I did that."

She gaped at him, but he continued.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit out of touch with the British Wizarding World.  I attended Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts, and I've spent the past few years either studying or traveling abroad.  Oh, I do apologize," he switched over to flawless English and she gaped even more, "I mislead you with my French.  I've been only speaking it regularly since I was eleven.  Last Friday I found it amusing to pretend I was French.  With my coloring I can be rather easily identifiable.  But, what I am trying it convey to you is that I had not realized just how, well…" he paused and looked around at her cramped little space.  At the mountains of paperwork on her desk and the ragged, almost dilapidated furniture, "problematic my country has become.  I've had some time to think since I met with your friend, Mr. Weasley, on Saturday.  I used to wish I had gone to Hogwarts, I always knew I would be a Slytherin.  But I find I am very grateful I did not.  For I fear I would be quite like my cousin, Scorpious Black, if I did so.  And if that thought doesn't give me nightmares, I don't know what would.  Now, when I decided to look for you I was determined to find out why you ran, but upon further consideration and gathering more information I can make a fair deduction." He stared at her, and she couldn't decide if she wanted to squirm in her seat like a naughty school girl or cross the small space and take up where they had left off last.

He searched her face and then gave a small smirk and took a step forwards, making the air leave her lungs in a sudden rush.

It felt like all the air disappeared and her heart rate sped up.  She was caught, trapped in those deep silver pools.  She shivered when his hand touched hers.  He gently took the mug of tea out of her grasp and set it on the table before pulling her up.

They were standing so close that she brushed against him with every breath.

"Now," he whispered in French against her ear, "I know you have work to do.  So, much as I want to, I shall not continue where we left off.  I will, however, ask you if you are free this evening.  For dinner."

He pulled back until their eyes were once again locked. 

For a moment she seriously considered forgetting about her job.  About throwing the past five years of her life away.  It wasn't like she was appreciated.  She could honestly understand why Harry's mother had first been a housewife and then gone to work in her husband's store.  It was hard to work in a place that didn't care about you.

No, she couldn't make a decision like that so suddenly.  

 But, she did know she could do one thing.  She could do dinner.

"Yes," she whispered right before she gave into temptation and stood up on her tiptoes.

Their lips touched and the world disappeared.  There was nothing but him.

Why had she run from this?

She was a bloody idiot.

"Hem hem."

She broke away from him with a gasp.  Dread pooling in her stomach as she realized who had interrupted them.

“We do not pay you to lock lips, Miss Granger.”

Her peacock – she realized she had yet to learn his name – did not turn around at Madam Umbridge’s words.  Rather, he pulled back a bit and pulled an elegant gold little pocket watch out of his robes.  After checking the time he snapped it closed and turned to face the fat, pink toad standing right outside the entrance to Hermione’s back corner (she didn’t quite fit between the wall and column). 

He kept one arm wrapped around Hermione and she was amazed to see a pleasant smile on his face.

“Ah, pardon me, mademoiselle.  You see, my watch must be off.  It says my dear Hermione still has a good five minutes until her shift starts.  I was just making arrangements for dinner tonight.  As I shall be busy all day and unable to send her a message.”

Umbridge’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she pulled herself up to her full – if miniscule – height.

“Sir, it does not matter if Miss Granger’s shift has not yet begun.  She is on Ministry property and such displays are not tolerated here.  I’m afraid I shall have to write her up for this.”

The dread in her stomach became a lead ball.  No!  She couldn’t lose this job!  She couldn’t change anything if she wasn’t in the wizarding world!  She’d already looked into other ways to support herself.  But she didn’t have the capital or charisma to start a business.  Not unless she-

Hermione cursed herself as an idea popped into her head.  True, she didn’t have the capital, but if she started a business that served both magical and muggle folks…and her peacock’s talk of optional camps before school gave her an idea.

She could get a muggle loan.

She could use her heritage to succeed, rather than letting it hold her back.

Why had she let fear control her for so long?  Maybe she’d just become too set in her ways.  Too worried of losing what little she had.

Well, hell, if all else failed she’d move to France.  From what her Peacock had said she wouldn’t face as many issues there.

And, she did speak French.

The toad looked back at Hermione and smiled sweetly, “This will be your third write-up, will it not, Miss Granger?  I’m afraid that is unacceptable in a Ministry employee.  You should-“

The lead ball felt as if it exploded.  Anger coursed through Hermione.  How!?!  How could this nasty little woman ruin one of the best moments in Hermione’s life? 

She yanked away from her peacock and pulled out her wand in one smooth movement.

Umbridge’s eyes widened in fear when she realized the wand was pointing straight at her.

“Oh, shut up, you nasty little toad.  So, you want to fire me?  Guess what?  I quit.  I’m done working in this little corner, breathing stale air and risking death by paperwork.  All for a pittance of a salary and no appreciation.  You know just as much as I do that I often come in early and stay late.  That every single one of those write-ups was fabricated.  Besides, you know Mr. Lestrange’s bloody bitch of a wife comes in and does quite a bit more than ‘lock lips’ on Ministry time.  So just shut your bloody mouth and get out of my way.”

Hermione turned back towards her desk and summoned her purse, as well as the few personal items she kept there.  She grinned when her mug dumped tea over all the requisition forms on her desk.  She snickered when her little lap blanket hit the tallest tower of paperwork and sent it falling down in a disorganized mess.

She almost lost control of her magic when her peacock reached out with one elegant hand and tipped over the other three piles.

“Oops,” he said unapologetically.

“WHY-!  You can’t DO that!  I’ll-I’ll have you arrested!”  Umbridge screeched.

Hermione slipped her purse over her shoulder and moved towards the nasty woman – who was now hopping around like the toad she looked like.

Something pricked Hermione’s memory when her peacock took her hand.  He’d said his coloring was very recognizable, and she only knew of two pureblood British families with hair that light.

She rather doubted he was a Lovegood.

“You’re Draco Malfoy, aren’t you?”

He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze, “I should have known you’d figure it out.”

Umbridge gave an extremely loud and horrified gasped as she realized who had been kissing Hermione.

Her peacock, no, Draco, snickered and stopped right in front of Umbridge.  “I see you’re rather terrified to find out exactly what I’ll do since you fired Hermione here.  You know who I am and who my family is.  Perhaps it will make you feel better to know that I won’t raise a hand or a word against you.”

Umbridge relaxed a bit and Draco snickered again.

“Oh, don’t get comfortable.  You see, I plan to fully support Hermione in anything and everything she does.  Now, I’ve only known her for a few days - and I know you’ve known her for years - but I just can’t see her letting bygones be bygones.  So, if I were you, I’d be afraid.  Very afraid.”

Hermione couldn’t help it, she threw her arms around Draco’s neck and ‘locked lips’ with him once more.

By the time they came up for air she was entirely convinced that she was making the right decision.  Maybe this thing with Draco would last forever.  Maybe it would last a week.  Either way, she’d figure something out that made her happy and satisfied with life.

After all, she wasn’t a tree.  She had two good feet and a brilliant – if slightly bossy – mind.

She could do whatever the hell she wanted.

XXX

October 31, 2016

“You know, sometimes I miss the old masquerades,” Draco said wistfully as he looked around the empty ballroom.

“We did have a rather glorious first meeting here, didn’t we?” Hermione asked as she slipped her arms around his waist. 

“Too true, Miss Cat,” he said as he reached up and played with the magical cat ears stuck in her hair.

She leaned back and poked him, “That’s Mrs. Cat now, Monsieur Peacock.  It’s been over ten years, and yet you can’t even manage to get that right.”

He snickered and leaned down to kiss her.

She moaned and melted into his embrace.  He buried a hand in her thick, lovely curls and pulled her closer. 

“Ew, gross!”

They pulled apart slowly and glanced over at the doorway. 

Standing there were two of the three most important people in Hermione’s life.

“Mum!” Adhara whined, stomping her little foot - she certainly acted exactly like the princess she was dressed as.  “We’re going to be late!  And you know Lucy will never let me forget it if we’re late to our last Halloween Festival before Hogwarts!”

Rigel nodded and stated firmly, “Uncle Percy said we hafta be there at three sharp.”

“Have to,” Hermione corrected him absently as she slipped out of her husband’s arms.

It took less than five minutes to make sure they had everything and then they were flooing to one of Hermione’s favorite spots in the world - her school.

Mosscairn School for Elementary Magical Education.

 It had taken a lot of work – both magical and muggle – to get it going.  She'd been able to get funding from a muggle bank as most of the first students were muggleborn.  She’d registered the school without the magical part of its name in the muggle world.  Headmaster Dumbledore had been unwilling to disclose how Hogwarts identified magical children, so she’d had to come up with her own way.  That had added a few months onto the preparation time.

Apparently Professor McGonagall had almost had a heart attack the first time she’d taken a letter to a Muggle-born only to discover the child had known about magic for two years already and was quite looking forward to their letter.

When Muggle-borns started excelling in their Hogwarts classes, even when they weren’t geniuses like Hermione, the death threats had started. 

That was the first time Draco had played a major part.  Before he’d always stood off to the side, offering support and listening as she ranted about ‘bloody, prejudiced idiots’, but only doing what she asked.  This time he hadn’t even consulted her.  He’d taken every single nasty letter and cursed item – especially the ones sent to current and former students of Mosscairn – and stormed the Ministry.  He had raised such a storm that non-Ministry employees had begun to arrive just to witness it. 

And then Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had arrived and thrown their own voices into the mix.  They may not have approved of Draco marrying a Muggle-born, but once that ring was on Hermione’s finger she was family.  No one got away with attacking their family.  Especially when she was seven months pregnant with their grandchild.

Never before had the Ministry worked so quickly to discover those harassing and attacking someone through letters.

That was when the school had gained its first private backers.  Lily Potter had pinched, prodded, and bullied her husband and his friends into helping fund and support the school.  Harry had applied to join her teaching staff after his first son was born. 

With the funding they’d been able to turn the school from a small academy young magical children attended after their normal school to a full blown school.  Children started at six and came for four to six hours a day.  They learned everything from counting to broomstick riding.  No student started Hogwarts without knowing the difference between slicing and dicing potions ingredients.  None of them felt so unsteady and unsure that they would do anything to prove themselves.

Hermione had almost fainted in shock when Lavender and Ronald arrived to enroll their daughter in the school.  Little Rose Weasley had been the first pureblood to attend Mosscairn, but certainly not the last.

“Ah, there you are!  Adhara, Rigel, you’ll find the other children in the maths classroom.  Mrs. Scamander is telling stories of her recent travels,” Percy said as he approached, a clipboard in his hands and a tiger mask hanging from one arm.

Adhara and Rigel raced off to join their friends and Hermione couldn’t help but feel her heart squeeze in happiness. 

“Now, I have everything put together, but there are a few more things that need your personal touch, Hermione.  We still have a good two hours until most of the student body appears, plenty of time,” Percy stated, handing her the clipboard.

She got to work, digging into the job she loved and the students she had dedicated a large part of her life to.  All the while, Draco’s hand rested on the small of her back, offering his love and support.

Hours later, when the festival was over and the children asleep she brought him down to the ballroom.  With a wave of her wand music started playing and she smiled up at him as the little cat ears on her head twitched in time to the tune.  She held out her hand, an empty dance card hanging from it.

“Dance with me?”