Masquerade Ball

9569 words

Rating: K+

1st September 1818

Hermione Granger slowly walked into the opulent ballroom of Malfoy Manor and held her breath tightly in her chest as she openly looked around at the splendour displayed in front of her. The evening air held a touch of magic to it and in the pit of her stomach, Hermione had a feeling that tonight was going to hold something life changing for her.

Tearing her eyes away from the lavish sculptures and the majestic paintings adorning the wall, she stepped further into the room and turned her attention to the many guests in attendance tonight. As she glanced over at the various members of the ton, their bodies draped with expensive fabrics and jewels whilst their faces were hidden by their mysterious masks, the butterflies in her stomach reared up once more as she reminded herself of the mission before her.

Scanning the crowd as best she could behind the shade her own mask provided, she gasped in a hushed breath of air as she caught sight of the man who had invited her into his home. The wizard in question was dressed in his mandatory black velvet robes and his pale blond hair was tied simply at the nape of his neck, the remainder flowing down his back in a rope of pure silk.

Hermione's heart told her to take a step forward and approach him- demand answers on why he had put forward his unexpected proposal and how he could be so callous as to turn out a dying man and his lone child from the only home they had ever known. A home they had thought they owned but now knew differently.

But her mind took over and she remained still, merely gazing at the wizard's back as she held herself in check. The time for questions would come in the future but today she was here to observe the wizard from behind the safety of her mask. She could already see one or two heads turning her way as Lord Malfoy's peers tried to deduce who she was.

Their curious stares would have once caused a blush to rise on Hermione's cheeks but with her identity hidden, she felt strangely empowered and so very grateful that her "costume" was carrying out its purpose.

If Lord Malfoy realised who she was, or possibly even the fact that she was here, he would surely take it to mean she had agreed to his marriage proposal, even though she had not.

Yet.

It wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter.

It was only earlier today, when she had been nursing her sick father, that he had admitted he'd been visited by Lord Malfoy. When she had questioned him further, he had revealed the purpose behind the older wizard's visit.

Hermione's arm, that had been in the middle of sponging off her father's flushed skin, had been struck numb as he had revealed the truth to her. There had been times that her father seemed so delirious and weakened by his disease that Hermione had trouble calming him down after his fever driven rants. For a brief moment, she had thought that what her father was now telling her was another one of his made up untruths.

But the sinking feeling had deepened as he had continued speaking, repeating the vow he had made to her mother when she herself had been on her own death bed. The entire conversation had been interspersed with hacking coughs and apologies.

Hermione had also been present the night that her mother had extracted the promise from her father. A promise that he would ensure Hermione married a man she loved, who would care for her and that she would live a happy life with babes at her feet before her father left this world to join her in the next.

The words had been ingrained in Hermione's memory as soon as they had left her mother's lips, despite her only being eight years old at the time they'd been spoken. Hermione had never given much thought to the vow as she'd grown up in Granger cottage, situated in a quaint village in the green Wiltshire countryside. Well that is to say, she hadn't it given it much thought other than the rudimentary dreams that every little girl had about her Prince Charming. Only unlike her friends, Hermione's knight in shining armour wasn't a knight. He didn't ride a shining white steed and slay a dragon for her. Instead, he was a kind, caring, gentle man who shared her love of books.

That was the husband Hermione dreamed of. She didn't wish to become a Duchess, or a Marchioness, or a Countess, or a Viscountess, or even a Baroness. Hermione was more than happy to settle for a life where she was merely a Mrs. just like her mother before her.

And she had kept her dream safely locked in her heart until it had been destroyed in her very first Season in London. The stifling heat had been unbearable from the moment she'd entered the capital and although she had been sponsored by a very distant aunt of her mother's, allowing doors to be opened and invitations to be offered to her that would have otherwise not been, the aunt in question had not felt it her responsibility to educate Hermione on the intricate and odious ways of the ton.

And so when Hermione had entered her first dance being held at the Greengrass townhouse, she had been exceedingly unprepared. Throughout her life, the stronger sex had registered very lowly on Hermione's list of priorities. After the death of her mother, her father had sunk into a deep depression as he mourned the love of his life, which meant Hermione's childhood had been over in a snap. When she wasn't helping Mrs. Patil, the Granger's housekeeper with the chores, she was sneaking off to her father's shop in town with her friend and helping the head seamstress with the orders they were receiving.

Her mother had taught Hermione how to sew from a young age and Hermione had spent many hours with Padma, sitting in the backroom with the other girls her father employed, out of sight and giggling as they sewed dresses and petticoats and vests and trousers for the distinguished members of the county who frequented their store.

All this in addition to taking care of her father meant Hermione had never even been kissed before she'd stepped into the Greengrass townhouse. And she had most certainly not been prepared for the flirtations she had received by the men present.

Whilst the other young witches present blushed prettily and simpered at the attention they received, Hermione had been oddly embarrassed and secretly unimpressed at the variety of suitors facing her.

Rakes and Rascals. Every single one of them.

Hermione could tell this from the arrogant way in which they walked around the room, the wicked twinkle in their eyes when they spoke to her and the lack of decorum they showed when trying to persuade her to dance with them.

Hermione may not have been educated in every nuance of the ton but even she knew the respectable distance that was to be kept between herself and for all intents and purposes, a virtual stranger! And a wizard leaning forward to whisper comments in her ear that she didn't fully understand but innately knew were indecent, was certainly not it!

After she had inadvertently made a scene and accidentally retorted too loudly at the first "gentleman" who had tried to proposition her into meeting him in the Greengrass gardens for some amorous activities, word had spread like wildfire on how unapproachable and cold the young Miss Granger was. The gossip may have solved the problem Hermione had currently been facing but unfortunately, it had also meant she was often given a wide berth from any kind and caring suitors who had no wish to be eaten and spat back out again if they dared to ask her to dance.

Not that Hermione had any idea how to dance. And so her utter refusal to accept any such offers from any wizard certainly hadn't helped matters any.

All in all, Hermione's first season which had started out as semi promising since she was more than passably pretty, something which she had been told on more than one occasion, had turned into a downright disaster. When the time came to retire to the countryside once more, Hermione hadn't received even one marriage proposal.

Her second season had been even worse. Every suitor who approached her was not the kind of man she wished to spend the remainder of her life with and once more, she had retired to the countryside with her father with no potential husband in sight.

She had at least received one marriage proposal but Hermione had no wish to marry a man whose penchants lay elsewhere. She wasn't the type of woman who would be able to turn a blind eye as her husband spent time with his mistress…or mister as would have been in this case, no matter how wealthy that man may be.

Hermione came back to the present as she saw Lord Malfoy turn to the side slightly and she hurried over to the refreshment stand to snag a glass of champagne in order to wet her dry mouth.

She may not have been the kind of wife who tolerated a mistress before but she certainly had no choice now. It was common knowledge that Lord Malfoy had kept a mistress throughout his marriage to the late Lady Malfoy and she was not foolish enough to think that he would give her up now that he was set to marry her.

Hermione sipped from her flute and wandered around the edge of the room, her eyes firmly fixed on Lord Malfoy. In fact, she was so busy intently studying her subject that she completely missed the whispers she was now receiving herself. More importantly, the fact that she now had the sole attention of a son whose father was the very man she was going to marry!

ooo

Lord Malfoy, Lord Draco Malfoy to be precise, kept his eyes firmly fixed on the brunette haired witch who was slowly making a turn of the room. He wasn't the only person studying her but he knew he would be the one to make the first move. With a puzzled frown, he tried to remember who his father had invited and who the woman could possibly be but he had drowned out his father's voice when he had been lecturing him earlier on in the day on just who would be attending tonight. Now Draco was beginning to wish he had listened with a sharper ear.

She had to be someone he knew or had met before… Although he had been away for a long time. He had just returned from France two weeks previous where he had been studying since he was a young boy. And until this very moment, all his thoughts had been on how he could return to France and escape the hell he now found himself in.

Studying in France had been his mother's dying wish and therefore his father had felt honour bound, for the first time in his life, to listen to the witch he had married and heed her final request. Draco had known his mother despaired over passing and leaving him alone with the cold man his father was and this was the only way she could think of to ensure Draco was kept safe.

And so he had been shipped to France merely days after Narcissa's death.

Draco hadn't been happy about the move to a country he had only briefly visited once before. Like his many friends, he had always dreamt of attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for Young Wizards but the French equivalent had been surprisingly enjoyable. Even more so when he had been joined by his long-time friend, Blaise Zabini.

Draco had flourished under the absence of the strict set of rules that came with being a member of the London peerage as well as the heir to Lord Lucius Malfoy, Earl of Wiltshire. And he had most certainly enjoyed the way the French went about their lives in such a relaxed fashion… the French witches especially.

There were no shy glances or ear splitting tittering like the young witches in attendance tonight. Witches that kept being thrown in his direction by their marriage obsessed mothers. Draco knew he would eventually need to find himself a wife, but he was still young. And the pickings were so slim that he was quite happy to wait.

He and his friend had both noticed the object of his stare when she had first entered the hall. But they had both been busy trying to make polite conversation with Lady Brown whilst making it evident that neither of them had any interest in her daughter with her pathetic flowery name.

Draco had assumed, like all other young witches in attendance tonight, that once the witch of his attention had entered the room, she and her chaperone would naturally gravitate in his direction or his fathers in order to garner an introduction to himself. He was stunned when it hadn't happened. The witch had merely walked towards the refreshment table before making her way around the room.

Observing but not participating.

Merlin, she hadn't even glanced his way once since entering the ballroom, which was a miracle in itself.

Draco narrowed his grey gaze back on her when she reappeared from behind a thick stone pillar. He may have been annoyed at the edict his father had sent him, informing him that he was to return to England immediately, but now that he had caught sight of this delectable morsel, maybe it wouldn't all be so bad.

"Do you know who she is?" his friend asked from beside him.

Draco glanced his way as he shook his head. And then his lips curled into a smile. "Not yet anyway."

Blaise chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling from behind his equally dark mask. "Tell me again why we are here and not spending the evening at Nott's?"

Draco's smile wilted at the question. Truth be told, he too would have preferred to spend the evening at his friend's father's gentleman's club. A night of gaming sounded perfect. But after the news his father had dropped on him when he had returned to Malfoy Manor, Draco had hoped that his father's fiancée, Merlin have mercy on him, would have made an appearance tonight.

And in the middle of the ballroom, he recalled the conversation he'd had when he had confronted his father.

ooo

"Do not take that tone with me boy. I never implied that this was a love marriage. Believe what you will but I loved your mother and no-one can replace her in my heart."

Draco didn't believe a word his father was saying. He'd seen what his father's supposed love had got his mother. "Then tell me why you are doing this?" After so many years, he couldn't understand why his father had decided to remarry when he had Rose, his mistress, to wile away his time with.

"I'm doing this for you, Draco. I'm securing your future."

Draco frowned. "That wasn't an answer to my question, father."

"…Did you know that my fiancée's mother was your mother's first lady's maid?"

Draco's frown deepened. He had been too young when he had left Malfoy Manor to notice all the servants that were employed by his father. And to be honest, he hadn't ever really cared.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"After years of loyal service, your mother chose to deed her lady maid the house she lived in with her husband and daughter. It's the cottage on the other side of the woods."

"The cottage that lies on Malfoy land?"

His father nodded. "Your mother didn't tell me that she had deeded the cottage away…especially since it wasn't hers to deed. I only found this out a few weeks ago when I was going through our assets in preparation for your arrival."

At Draco's confused look, he continued. "You're no longer a boy, Draco. Now that you have finished your schooling, I want you to play a larger role within the family businesses. After all, it will all be yours one day. I wished to get all the assets and their records together so you had a clear understanding of what you stand to inherit."

"From what I remember of the cottage, it's worth nothing that we can't afford to lose."

Lucius smiled and scoffed in the same moment. "Unfortunately, that isn't quite true. Your mother and I had a somewhat fiery relationship when you were a young boy."

"I noticed." Draco commented dryly. His first memories of his mother were of her rapidly swinging moods. They had calmed somewhat in the years before her death but Draco still remembered her wails echoing through Malfoy Manor and how hard he would try to stay away from her when she was experiencing "a fit of nerves" as the Healers had put it.

"You remember how she would get sometimes. After she found out about Rose, well it set her off. During her fit she informed me that she had written a letter of some of the more unsavoury events I may or may not have participated in in order to get our family to the standing we have now reached in polite society. She told me that she had handed it to someone for safe keeping and that I would never find it. At the time, I ignored it as her usual ramblings but on her death bed…she mentioned it again."

"…You think she gave the letter to your fiancée's mother."

His father nodded before concluding. "And then deeded her the cottage so I would be unable to legally enter the property and discover if she had it in her possession. When I marry Miss Granger, the cottage will be part of her dowry until her father passes and then it will return to our family. We must get that letter back, Draco. It could ruin us if it got into the wrong hands."

ooo

Pushing away the memories, Draco answered his friend's question. "You know why. I told you earlier."

"I thought Lucius said she had declined his invitation to attend tonight."

"She did." Draco replied in an annoyed tone at the fact he wouldn't be able to have a word or two with his father's fiancée and study her himself. "But by the time the information reached my ears, I had already informed father that I would be attending this farce." He said, gesturing to the guests.

The Malfoy Masquerade Ball was an exclusive, annual event that his mother had taken pride in hosting. The ton would clamour and cosy up to his parents in the hope of an invitation but Draco had always thought his father had hated holding the event in his Manor. And yet every year since his mother's death, he carried on the tradition without fail.

Draco watched Blaise nod, his gaze already focused on a witch wearing a red mask as she hurriedly made her way across the ball room…to the witch Draco had been studying, he noted with interest. Blaise noted too, his eyebrows rising from behind his mask.

"Well, it seems as if the evening just took a pleasurable turn." He said with a wicked smile.

Draco smiled back. Yes, it certainly did.

ooo

Padma caught sight of Hermione's white dress and mask and quickly made her way across the room. Her friend seemed happy to have caught sight of her and greeted her with a warm smile.

Padma breathed out a sigh in relief. "Well it seems as if things are going to plan," she said in a hushed whisper as she glanced around the room, "I managed to find Parvati in the kitchens and she's going to find Mr. Smith. He's agreed to keep your presence quiet and if anyone asks, he'll tell them that you're a distant relative of Narcissa's who came over with Lord Malfoy's son."

Hermione's gaze turned from relief and gratitude to worry. "Lord Malfoy's son is here?"

Padma nodded before casting another glance around the room. "He returned from France a fortnight ago but I'm unsure if he is in attendance tonight. It's so difficult trying to find out who anyone else is." She stated in an annoyed tone.

Hermione's arm landed on her hand. "Be grateful for that fact."

Padma sighed before nodding her head, realising the truth behind her friend's words. "Have you learnt anything yet?"

Hermione nodded her head. "Now that I'm here I'm not sure if we thought out every aspect of our plan in enough detail. I don't know what I hoped to learn tonight." She admitted.

"You wished to learn more about the man you are to marry. You can hardly do that on your wedding day." Padma pointed out before her expression turned stony as she turned and saw Lucius Malfoy working his way through the crowd and greeting his esteemed guests.

"I'm sorry that Parvati and Mr. Smith are having to lie on my behalf."

Padma shook her head and waved dismissingly. "Do not worry about them. Everything will work out just fine. Worse comes to worse and you get caught- well you can simply tell Lord Malfoy that you changed your mind about attending."

From beside her, Hermione sighed at the thought. "I do hope he doesn't recognise me tonight. Thank You for your help in getting my mask and dress ready in time." Padma waved off her thanks and Hermione continued, "Truth be told I'm not ready to face up to the situation at the moment and if Lord Malfoy were to catch me here, I fear he would announce our engagement to the ton."

Padma sighed upon hearing the defeat in her childhood friend's voice. There had to be something she could do. Something so that Hermione didn't have to marry Lord Malfoy. Smiling politely at the group of woman who walked past her and Hermione, she turned so she could speak and not be overheard.

"Tell me again what your father told you?"

Hermione sighed before she re-told the tale in brief detail. "You already know of the vow my father made to my mother. It seems that when I was visiting the shop a few days ago my father had a visit from Lord Malfoy. My mother used to be lady maid to his wife and served her for many years. As a gift, Lady Malfoy deeded our cottage that sits within Malfoy land to my parents. When Lord Malfoy visited my father, he informed him that Lady Malfoy had not requested permission from him to deed the cottage to my parents."

"And he wants it back? After all these years? The cottage is nothing to a man of his worth." Padma injected disgustedly.

Hermione shook her head in despair. "That is what I do not understand myself. Or why he requires me to marry him in order for my father to remain in the cottage until he passes. Lord Malfoy said he would gift the cottage to me after our marriage but what use will it be?"

A lump appeared in her throat as she continued. "We both know my father will not last long and what use will a cottage be when I will be required to reside in Malfoy Manor."

Padma placed a comforting palm on Hermione's hand. "I know you hoped to remain in the cottage, alone, without marrying."

Hermione nodded her head, grateful that the mask was partially shading the grief that was probably evident to all in her eyes.

"Is it possible to continue paying the fee to Lord Malfoy as your parents did many years ago?"

Hermione shook her head. Her father's shop had lost much business over the years when it became fashionable to have your clothes designed by the French tailors in London. Whilst the shop still saw a steady stream of orders from the working class families in the area, it suffered from the absence of the more expensive pieces, particularly by the peerage who required new clothes before every London season and had once been a source of regular business.

The shop's decline had gone on for a few years before Hermione had had enough and simply hired another seamstress who would be able to put on a French accent when dealing with customers. Business was now slowly picking back up again, unbelievably… but she feared it might not be enough to sustain the cottage's rental fees in the future.

"Hermione," Padma began slowly, knowing what the answer to her question was going to be but feeling the need to try once more, "You know Mother and I have talked. Our wages, along with Parvati's we-"

"No." Hermione interjected firmly. "No. I won't accept charity from you or your family. You've already done enough for me. I don't know what I would have done without you or your mother beside me all these years."

Padma sighed in defeat. As she swept her assessing eyes over the room once more, her attention snagged on a wizard standing on the opposite side of the hall. She quickly looked away to make out as if she had been simply scanning the room but fifteen seconds later, when she looked back in the wizard's direction and saw his gaze still firmly fixed on her and Hermione, she quickly turned to her friend.

"I fear we may have been caught." She told her.

Hermione breathed in tightly as Padma moved her body to shield Hermione's from view. "Who?" she muttered under her breath.

"On the opposite side of the room. The man in the darkly coloured mask. He hasn't looked away from us."

Hermione covertly looked in the man's direction, her breath catching in her throat. "Neither has his friend in the grey mask."

Padma breathed in jerkily. "What shall we do?"

"You remain here. I'll continue my turn around the room and see if I can slip away for a moment."

Padma nodded. "I will find you later when it is time to leave."

She watched Hermione hurry from the room before she took in a deep breath and turned around. Her gasp escaped before she could stop it as she came face to face with a maroon velvet draped chest. Snapping her head backwards, she looked up to see glinting black eyes looking down on her.

"Good evening." Said the man in the dark mask.

ooo

Draco watched with close attention as his witch glanced behind her before covertly entering the library. With a smile on his face, he walked further up the corridor until he came to the door that would allow him entrance into the back of the library, making it seem as if he had been there all along.

He stepped into the room, closed the door quietly behind him, and walked along the aisles, making sure to remain hidden from sight.

He paused when he caught sight of the girl. She was leaning against the library door, her back flush against it as the chest under her white dress panted.

He gave her a further moment to calm herself before he stepped out. "I see I wasn't the only one who required a break from the festivities." He murmured.

The woman gasped audibly, her head snapping forward from where it had been resting on the door and a small hand came to flutter at her chest. Her brain must have finally caught up with her as after a few moments she quickly gathered herself. Stepping forward, she offered him a clumsy curtsy and he bowed his head slightly in response, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"My apologies for intruding," she began to say as he stepped forward further, "I wasn't aware the room was already occupied."

When she would have made to turn around and walk out, Draco spoke. "There is no need to apologise. I have no problem sharing my peace and I have a feeling the company in this library is infinitely better than what I'll find in the ballroom."

The woman paused at his words, a hesitant, unsure smile forming at her lips and Draco continued. "I'm unsure if we have been introduced before."

His brow puzzled when he saw the witch startle at his words. He watched her swallow visibly before she spoke. "Of course. My name is Isabella Black. I'm a distant cousin of Lady Malfoy's. I came over from France with her son."

Draco froze.

His mind first registered the audacity she had to lie to him of all wizards but then when she didn't take her words back, his mind registered only disbelief. Did she not realise who he was? Everyone that he had encountered since he'd stepped back on English soil knew who he was. There wasn't a wizard who didn't want to be his friend, hoping that a connection with him and his family name would benefit him in some way. There wasn't a witch who didn't want to become his wife for the very same reasons.

But the bottom line was that everyone in the Wizarding World, regardless of whether he was wearing a mask or not, knew who he was.

And then it dawned on him. For the first time in his life, he had the chance to be Draco Malfoy and not Draco Malfoy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Lady Black. My name is Blaise Zabini." He said, saying the first name that popped into his head. He had a feeling that if Isabella didn't know who he was, she wouldn't know who his friend was either.

He was right. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Zabini."

Draco smiled at her acceptance of his lie and he moved forward, noting that the tension seemed to have eased from her shoulders.

"I take it you're not a fan of masked balls? Most peculiar for a woman your age."

He relished in the blush that bloomed across her cheeks. She smiled before speaking. "I suppose I should warn you that I'm not like many other witches my age."

Draco laughed out loud at the slightly serious tone of her words. "Then I'm even more pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Black."

The pink in her cheeks deepened.

He leant forward as if he were about to divulge a great secret. "Truth be told, I'm in here because I'm hiding."

A thin brown eyebrow emerged from the top of Isabella's mask. She leant forward herself. "Oh?"

"Yes. It's a relief to have a moment to myself without some marriage manic mother parading her daughter under my nose."

ooo

Hermione let out a giggle before she quickly stifled the inappropriate sound. She could certainly see just why the marriage manic mothers had taken to throwing their daughters at him. From what she could see he was very handsome, his eyes an unusual colour of grey, his skin pale and flawless. It probably didn't help that his wealth was evident in the way he carried himself with an aura of powerful authority, something that was only enhanced by the richness of the fabric his clothes were tailored from.

"You're complaining of something that many other wizards your age would be pleased of."

He echoed her earlier words. "Perhaps I'm not like every other wizard my age."

Hermione smiled even as she felt her cheeks warm. No, she could see that he wasn't like every other man his age. It made for a pleasant surprise.

She cursed the fact that she had finally possibly found the kind of suitor she had always wished for and it was on the eve of the announcement of her engagement to another man.

"Pray tell, what does a unique wizard such as yourself look for in a wife?" Hermione couldn't believe the flirtatious words had just escaped from her mouth. Merlin, all those years spent in the shop's backroom with the other workers and Padma for company had evidently rubbed off on her.

And then another voice in her head popped up. Why shouldn't she flirt with a handsome man? Most women her age had learnt the delicate act of coyly flirting with a man for many years now. She had spent so long looking after the interests of her father, and soon she would be looking after the interests of her future husband, shouldn't she be allowed this one chance to selfishly indulge… this one moment to be herself?

"I'll inform you on what I look for in a wife if you'll tell me what you're looking for in a husband." Lord Zabini cajoled.

Hermione hesitated before she gave in to his secretive smile. "Very well." She said as she stepped closer to Lord Zabini.

"Ladies first."

Hermione swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "I wish for a marriage like my parents."

At Lord Zabini's confused frown, she continued.

"My parents were deeply in love. My father was a tailor and considered socially beneath my mother. They married against the wishes of my mother's family but regardless of the loss of her family, they were never happier. I want a husband who is kind, gentle, caring and who shares the same interests as I."

"And what interests would those be?"

"Namely, reading."

"Ah, a fellow book lover. Not one of the more valued attributes in a wife unfortunately."

Hermione smiled at his words. "No, it isn't." she said, growing suddenly angry. "Neither it seems is a brain or the ability to do anything else other than laugh prettily, talk about mundane topics like the weather and dance."

Hermione stopped from her rant and this time, she blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

She watched Lord Zabini's smile widen, his white teeth flashing bright in the dimness of the room. "You have no reason to apologise. It just so happens that a passionate nature is only one of the attributes I look for in a wife."

His emphasised words caused her to blush even though she didn't fully comprehend the meaning behind them.

"Does this mean that if I pencil my name in for a dance on your dance card I'll find myself turned down?"

Hermione bent her head. "Yes…but not for the reason I imagine you are thinking of at the moment."

"Oh?"

"I-I was never taught how to dance." She admitted quietly.

"…Then it means I shall have the pleasure of teaching you." Lord Zabini walked forward and offered her his hand which she looked at blankly, "Lady Black, May I have this dance?" he requested formally.

Hermione froze, still looking at his hand as an internal war raged on inside her. Something within her desperately wanted to take his hand but it was so… improper. Wasn't it?

Though the library doors were closed, the faint trickle of music, indicating the dancing for the evening had begun, was still audible… And no-one would know, would they? She could have her dance with Lord Zabini and then walk away to find Padma so they could both leave and no-one would be any the wiser.

Having convinced herself to give in, she placed her hand into Lord Zabini's outstretched one and followed blindly as he pulled her towards him.

ooo

Whilst the fake Lord Zabini was having his dance in the library, the real Lord Zabini was indulging in a dance himself in the ballroom. He had a smile of amusement on his face as his uncooperative dance partner studiously ignored him and stiffly followed him as he led her around the floor.

He had given her no choice in accompanying him, having voiced his request loud enough for the other guests around him to hear his invitation and he particularly enjoyed the glare she had sent his way before she had reluctantly accepted his hand, squeezing it as tightly as she could along the way.

It had felt like being squeezed by a butterfly. He had kept his opinion to himself, having an inkling that the firebrand in his hold would not hesitate to aim a swift kick to an area she would be coming to know most closely in the near future if he had anything to do with it.

Ignoring protocol, he leaned his head into the curve of her neck that was bared so nicely to him since she'd twisted her head away in an effort to look away from him. "You never did tell you me your name."

For the first time since he'd approached her, she tilted her head up towards his and looked him straight in the eyes for longer than two seconds. Blaise frowned at the alarm flashing across her face before a stony expression settled over it.

"Is this not a masquerade ball we are at?" she demanded.

Blaise smiled, knowing where she was going to take this conversation but willing to humour her for the moment. "I believe the fact that I am present and wearing a mask indicates the fact that yes, we are at a masquerade ball."

His sarcastic reply had her arms jerking in anger. Another glare was sent his way when he merely tightened his grip on her so she couldn't move away from him.

"And I assume that you realise the premise of wearing a mask is to keep one's identity hidden."

"I do."

"Then I shall allow myself to follow the unwritten rules of a masquerade ball and keep my identity a secret."

"Didn't your mother tell you when you were a little girl that you shouldn't dance with strangers?"

"I didn't wish to dance with you in the first place."

"And yet here you are in my arms."

"You know very well that you allowed me no choice in the matter."

"You insult me; I would never force a woman to dance with me."

His words earned him another glare and Blaise couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped his mouth. When he looked back down at her, she had once more turned her head away from him. That suited him just fine and he bent his head back down to whisper into her ear.

"I'll stop dancing with you if you inform me of your name."

Another glare was sent in his direction as she tilted her head up to his.

"I would rather suffer through this dance than tell my name to the likes of you."

Blaise stiffened at the disgust behind her words. "What do you mean the likes of me?" he demanded as his hold on her tightened unconsciously.

She wriggled in his arms before answering with no less ire in her tone. "I meant someone like you. A good for nothing rake who wiles away his time with indecent activities whilst living off the allowance his father gives him. I've met gentlemen like you before and I have no interest in befriending you or becoming one of your conquests."

Blaise snapped at her damning words and he pulled her body towards him harshly. He looked down on her upturned face heatedly. "You just insulted my honour little girl. If you had been a man I would have already challenged you to a duel. I'll just have to carry out my punishment in another manner."

His right hand dipped low, passing her waist and coming to rest above the curve of her behind. She gasped at the action and then again as she understood the innuendo hidden in his words.

"How dare you?" She gasped. With a fierce wrench, she pulled herself out of his hold. Blaise let her go before she could hurt herself.

With one last fiery glare, she gritted her teeth, tilted her chin up at him before she flounced away. Blaise noted the stares that she received as she walked off the dance floor and smiled.

"I dare." He said to himself. And then he followed behind her.

ooo

Draco's own lips curved into a smile as Isabella laughed out loud in delight. It had taken her a few moments to get into the dance but now...

In first few moments she had looked so studious as she listened to his teachings and then she'd refused to look up from her feet in the fear she would step on his toes.

She had been stiff in his arms as he silently led her around the library, no noise between them other than the faint sound of the orchestra and the occasional murmur as Isabella counted the steps under her breath.

But when she had first accidentally stepped on his toes, her mouth agape in an endearing look of horrified discomfiture until he had thrown his head back and laughed, she had slowly let go off the tension in her body and relaxed.

As Draco swung them gently around the room, his mind let go of all thoughts to do with his father's new fiancée and seducing a witch to have some fun with. All he was concentrating on was the woman in his arms.

"Tell me more about yourself." he murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb the ambiance of contentment between them.

"What would you like to know?" Isabella asked him.

The truth, Draco thought silently. But he couldn't very well ask her that without letting it be known who he was in return. "You mentioned you just returned from France with Lord Malfoy's son? Have you lived in France for long?"

Isabella stiffened in his arms and gave a small shrug. "A while." She sad vaguely.

"You don't speak with a French accent." He continued to prod lightly.

"M-My mother was English."

"Ah…May I ask why you decided to come to England? I've spent time in France myself, and out of the two countries, I would pick France to reside in if I had a choice."

"You've visited France?" she said excitedly before evidently realising that she too, "lived" there.

Draco let her off the hook and answered her question. "Yes, I studied there."

"How was it studying in France?"

"Better than I could have ever hoped for." He admitted truthfully.

"Did you study at Beauxbaton's?"

Draco nodded and he heard Isabella sigh wistfully. They danced in silence for the next few moments despite the many questions racing through his mind.

"I always dreamt of attending a school such as that." She admitted quietly.

Draco nearly staggered at the trust she had shown in him by speaking those words out loud. Practicing magic was forbidden for an unmarried woman and simply indicating that she wanted to own a wand would have been enough to ostracise her from society.

An idea popped into his head but it took him a few seconds to act on it. When he did, he still couldn't believe what he was risking for this woman he had not even known for fifteen minutes at most. Releasing his arms from around her, he reached inside his robes and slowly pulled out his wand.

When Isabella caught sight of it, she gasped, the eyes behind her mask growing wide. She flicked her gaze to him but it was pulled back to his wand a mere second later. When he extracted it fully, he held it out in front of him, allowing her to study it in greater detail. Her stare was almost reverent and in that moment, Draco knew he had made the right decision regardless of any consequences he might face.

Walking behind her, he shuffled until he was as close to her back as he could possibly get without actually touching her. His arms went around her so the wand was in front of her body, pointing away from them.

"Put your hands on it." He whispered in her ear.

Her hands shook as she complied. His own palms came to cover hers and he non-verbally extinguished the candles in the room. When she gasped quietly, he moved closer. "Say Lumos out loud after the count of three."

"Lumos?" she queried.

"Yes. After three. One. Two. Three."

She said the charm out loud at the same moment as he said it non- verbally in his head. The wand heeded his command and the candles burned bright once more.

Isabella cried out, her arms slipping out from under his as she turned around in exhilaration. He saw her body freeze as she registered just how close he was to her.

"Thank You." She whispered with feeling.

Draco knew he would forever regret this moment if he didn't try just once, and so when he spoke his "You're welcome", he ended it with a light brush of his lips across hers. When she didn't back away or slap him silly, he pressed firmer and it wasn't long before her lips began mimicking his actions.

He would have liked the kiss to last longer but when she pulled back after a few moments, he didn't follow her. She looked up at him uncertainly, her fingers coming up to rest over her lips before she caught her bottom lip between two of her teeth and looked over her shoulder to the doors.

"The music has stopped." She murmured.

"I believe the quadrille is next and I think every young woman should add the quadrille to her dancing repertoire."

Isabella smiled at him but stepped away, shaking her head. "I should return to the ball before I am missed."

Draco wanted to refuse but thought the better of it. When she returned to the ballroom and re-joined her chaperone, maybe he would recognise the older woman and correctly deduce Isabella's true identity.

"Of course." He said instead, graciously bowing his head at her.

She curtseyed in response. "Thank you for the dance, Lord Zabini…and for the magic."

"You're very welcome, Lady Black. Although I confess, I did have an ulterior motive for teaching you the waltz."

Isabella's eyes grew guarded. "Oh?" she hedged.

Draco smiled. "Now I get to ask you to dance the next waltz with me out in the ballroom. And since the old busybodies don't know about our first dance in here, they won't know any better when I ask you for a second."

Isabella smiled slightly.

"Until later then, Lady Black."

He frowned when Isabella's smile turned sad. "Goodbye, Lord Zabini." She said before she turned on her heel and quickly walked towards the exit.

Before Draco could say anymore, she had opened the doors and slipped out.

ooo

Padma glanced behind her and gritted her teeth as she saw a path of people clearing the way to allow the man in the dark mask to pass untouched through them.

Why was he following her?

She hadn't had a choice in dancing with the man since he'd asked so loudly and she hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself. She thought she would have managed to get through the dance whilst ignoring him but when he had asked her what her name was, she had frozen.

She, Hermione, her mother, the girls at the shop had spent hours sewing Hermione's and her dresses for tonight. They had extensively plotted out Hermione's back story, what she would say if anyone approached her, how she would act…the various excuses she could use in order to leave early.

But not once had they come up with a backstory for herself! She now realised how foolish they had been in thinking they wouldn't get caught. They should have listened to her mother's warnings when they'd had the chance.

Risking another glance back over her shoulder, her eyes met his and her hands turned to fists beside her. Behind the safety of her mask, she frantically glanced from side to side to see if she could spot Hermione- they had to leave right this moment. Hermione may have an invitation to the ball by Lord Malfoy, but she most certainly didn't. She didn't want to get her sister and Mr. Smith in trouble and put them in a position where they could lose their jobs.

When she saw a familiar flash of bright white, she quickly breathed out a sigh of relief and turned her gait to walk towards Hermione.

She was so close to the other woman, had made eye contact with her and sent an unspoken message that they needed to leave urgently, a message that was received as Hermione nodded slightly, when Padma's gaze of Hermione was blocked by a sea of black velvet.

Horrified, she stopped walking and watched numbly as Lord Malfoy walked up to Hermione. At the same time, a warm hand settled firmly around her waist in a possessive and inappropriate hold that she would have not allowed had she not been so shocked.

Warm breath hit her ear. "Do not think you can run from me. You owe me a punishment, little one."

Padma watched with wide eyes as Hermione shifted and glanced towards her helplessly…before she slowly lifted her arm and rested it on top of Lord Malfoy's.

"Oh, Merlin." She breathed out. The hand around her waist tightened.

They were in trouble.

ooo

Hermione walked beside Lord Malfoy with her arm resting on his arm. She might not have been aware of the stares she had been receiving when she had entered but she certainly noticed them now. The room was alternating between complete silence and bouts of hushed whispers and Hermione's chest burned from the breath she was holding tightly in her lungs.

Dear Merlin. Why had she come tonight? She glanced behind her and sought out Padma. Her accomplice in tonight's activities was standing away from her with the same look of helplessness in her eyes. When Hermione latched her gaze on the arm wrapped around her friend's waist, one that her friend was covertly trying to dislodge with her fingers, she realised there would be no help from Padma.

They were both in trouble.

Hermione still wasn't sure how Lord Malfoy had recognised her as she re-entered the ballroom but he had. When he'd made the statement that he was assuming her presence at the ball signalled she was agreeing to his marriage proposal, Hermione had had no choice but to nod her head in agreement.

She'd accepted his hand as he led her through the crowds, parading her for all to see, before they came to a stop by the refreshment stand. She knew what was coming and she mentally congratulated herself for keeping a steady grip on the champagne flute that was handed to her.

"Lords and Ladies, close friends, if I could please have your attention, I have an announcement to make."

Hermione scanned the crowd, seeing no faces until she latched onto a grey mask making his way through the crowd.

Oh dear Merlin, no… One night… all she wanted was one night, one untarnished memory she could keep locked away and safe for the remainder of her married life as Lady Malfoy. Lord Malfoy removed his mask and she knew she should remove her own.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before lifting a trembling hand to her mask. She still had her eyes shut when she removed it and with her heightened senses, the few gasps from the peerage that recognised her from her father's shop, sounded unbearably loud.

"I would like to share with you that this woman, Miss Hermione Granger, has accepted my hand in marriage."

That was all Lord Malfoy said. Him sipping from his glass created a wave through the room as everyone followed in his footsteps bar two people staring at her. Lord Zabini had removed his own mask, his features even more handsome than she had hoped, despite the angry look distorting his features. She took in a breath as he began walking towards her.

Tearing her eyes away from him, she blindly searched for Padma. Her friend was also making her way towards Hermione, her lips pursed in a tight line.

"Ah Miss Granger, here's someone I would like to introduce you to."

Hermione turned her attention back to Lord Malfoy and looked in the direction to where his gaze was directed. She froze.

"Miss Granger, I would like you to meet my son, Draco. Draco, this is my fiancée, Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione couldn't understand what was happening. Draco? Lord Malfoy's son? But this was Lord Zabini. Her Lord Zabini.

Her free hand was lifted from her side and Lord Malfoy's son brought her knuckles to his lips in an unfashionable display of attention.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hermione Granger. I'd be honoured if you'd join me for a dance tonight. The waltz perhaps?"

ooo

Draco clutched Isabella's hand tightly. The little lying bitch. Burning anger stirred in his stomach and rose up to spread throughout his body as he reminded himself of what a fool she had just made him.

As he let go off her arm, it fell limply back down to her side and she stared at him in a daze.

When a witch wearing a red mask emerged from the guests and boldly walked up to them, Hermione tore her eyes from him to face the arriving witch. She took in a deep breath as something flashed between her and this new woman, before she turned back to face him.

She had masked her face with a composed look but when she spoke, he heard the faint tremble running through her voice. "I'm afraid I will have to decline your invitation, Lord Malfoy. I only attended tonight to accept your f-father's proposal. I'm afraid I must return to my father at once."

Draco smiled coldly, not planning to allow her to leave just yet. Not until he got his bloody second waltz. Better yet, maybe he would ask her to dance the quadrille?

"May I ask how your father is?" his father spoke.

Hermione turned to face him. "As well as can be expected." She said quietly.

His father nodded understandingly and Draco remembered his father's earlier words. At the time he hadn't cared on how callous his father had sounded about the imminent death of his fiancée's father but now that he had met Isabella…no Hermione, it somehow felt wrong, despite the anger burning through him.

"Miss Granger?" the witch in red said quietly.

Hermione flinched in response, quickly composing herself once more. "Yes. I'm ready."

She smiled once more in his father's direction and Draco entered a daze as his world filled with an angry buzz as he looked at his perfect woman.

And then she was leaving…without even giving him one last look or a polite goodbye.

When she was finally out of sight, Draco turned back to his father in disgust. "You didn't tell me how young she was. Merlin, she's young enough to be your daughter." He spat out.

Lucius looked at him with fire in his icy eyes. "A man of my age marrying as woman young as she may have gone out of fashion in the last few years but don't pretend that it doesn't occur Draco, or that I would be the first."

"She's a lying-" he was forced to stop when one of his father's friends stepped up to congratulate him. Draco remained silent throughout the interaction until it was safe to begin again. "I know how important this is but what's in it for her. You're so worried about our assets and my inheritance..."

"Enough, Draco. This is not the time to talk about this. We will discuss this in private later."

And with that, his father walked away from him too.

ooo

Hermione wrapped herself in the shawl Padma had just handed over to her and the two of them climbed into the cart they had ridden on the way over. They began their journey in silence until Padma broke it.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

Hermione lifted her fingers to her lips. She swore she could still feel them tingling after Lord Zabini's kiss.

No! It wasn't Lord Zabini. It had been Lord Malfoy. Dear Merlin, it had been Lord Malfoy.

When he had taken her arm and kissed her knuckles, she had barely stopped herself from flinching at the action. The rage that had burned in his eyes caused acid to rise in her throat.

What a fool she'd been in thinking that she would be able to have one untarnished memory to see her through her marriage.

A shiver snaked up her spine. "So am I." she said in return to Padma's statement. "Who was the man in the dark mask? I saw him touching you."

From beside her, she felt Padma stiffen before she too, shivered. "No-one. He was no-one." She replied firmly.

Hermione didn't believe her friend but couldn't bring herself to take the conversation any further. And so in the dark countryside, both women wrapped their shawls tighter against their bodies, huddled their noses in the material and sat silently as they made their way home from a night which had changed their lives.

Author's Note: So I hoped you liked the first of what I hope to be are many regency era oneshots that I will be including in this collection. I'd like to dedicate the oneshot to waterflower20 who PM'd me asking me if I might write a oneshot with the plot idea "Hermione is getting married to Lucius but realises she is in love with Draco". She graciously asked that if possible, the oneshot be set in the regency era (although she didn't have a problem with it being set in the modern era either!) and the entire storyline just popped into my head, so thank you!

I'd also like to thank everyone who offered me the use of their tumblr accounts to sort out my little situation. As far as I can tell, it's all been sorted (I think) but if anyone of you see an audiobook of one of my stories or I see anything crop up in the future, please contact me as I will definitely be needing your help if your offers are still open.

Lastly, please forgive and point out any mistakes I've made in the chapter. It's late right now and I'm finding it physically impossible to go through the chapter to edit it fully. I'd have left it till tomorrow but I promised another reader an update today and I know there will be something I'll have missed.

Thank you for reading and until next time, Curiositykils