TEN::

HP*~*SS

“My Lord?” L’oReen called, stepping into the room. It appeared to be empty, but he knew Harry hadn’t left the room since his arrival. L’oReen had checked on him after leaving Severus and found the doors to the balcony open. A moment’s dread had risen in him at the sight and he’d hurried to the doors, half expecting to find that the boy had leapt over the banister. To his great relief, he’d merely fallen asleep on one of the chaise lounges. L’oReen had picked him up and brought him to the bed, detailing a house elf to keep an eye on his activities after that.

“My Lord?” he tried again, stepping further into the room. The bathroom door was closed, emitting only the faintest sounds of movement from within. He stepped up close the door and set a hand against the cool wood. “My Lord, your guests will be arriving soon, and the Lord and Lady Snape have arrived early to meet you.”

“Come in,” Harry called after a minute.

L’oReen turned the knob and let himself in the room, being careful to avert his eyes.

“It’s okay. The curtain is closed,” Harry told him, his voice soft.

The Centripath straightened and turned towards the large tub, verifying that the charmed curtain was, indeed, closed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your bath, but you need to get ready for this evening,” he said, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as he could. A wave of emotion washed over him and he stilled briefly, quickly picking up on the melancholy and panic, among other things, that momentarily suffused his consciousness. He gently pushed the wave away and set up a partial barrier to keep the boy’s confused and helpless emotions from affecting him.

“Can’t you just tell them that I’m sick?” Harry tried.

L’oReen gave him a soft smile, reminded of another terrified boy who’d asked him the same thing so many years ago. He answered now and he did then. “It would not aid you in the long run if I did.”

“I don’t even know what to wear,” Harry confessed finally. “Or who’s going to be there, or what to say to them, or how to act! I’m just going to make a fool of myself and Snape and really, wouldn’t that be worse than just telling them that I’m deathly ill and can never leave my room again?” Harry tried, obviously going for a light, joking tone, but the desperate truth of the matter came through anyways.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Either Severus or I will be by your side the entire night. Why don’t you get out and dry off and I’ll get your robes ready?” L’oReen said gently, keeping his own voice soothing and calm. Harry gave him a resigned affirmative and L’oReen abandoned the bathing chamber in favor of the wardrobe.

He closed the door and gave the handle a sharp twist to the left before opening it again to reveal Harry’s wardrobe. Madame Lin had sent over the first shipment early in the morning and the clothing had already been arranged on the hangers according to style, color and fabric. He chose an emerald robe with gold embroidery and selected the appropriate shirt, vest and pants to wear beneath. When he emerged, Harry was already standing nervously by the bed, clutching the collar of his dressing gown as he tried to pull himself together.

“My Lord?”

“Please don’t call me that,” Harry said, his voice strangely weary, even as his body seemed to be poised for a fight.

“What would you rather I call you?”

“Harry is fine,” the boy answered, his eyes darkening for a moment. He made a visible effort to smile. “Because ‘Mr. Potter’ doesn’t apply anymore, right?” He’d been trying, again, to aim for light-hearted, but came off depressingly honest. L’oReen gave him a sympathetic smile and approached him with his arms held out, the fine robes extended for his approval.

Harry gave them a quick glance and took them from the Centripath. L’oReen waited for him to remove his dressing gown, but Harry merely gave him a nervous look before darting into the bathroom.

He emerged a moment later, having gotten the shirt, vest and pants on fine but was holding the robe out in front of him and glaring.

“Can we try something else? This thing has got to have a thousand buttons!”

L’oReen laughed and made a gesture for the robe. Harry sighed and held it out to him then stood patiently while L’oReen literally pieced it together and secured all the buttons and fastenings. Tiny 24 karat gold buttons went up the sleeves from wrist to elbow, all the way up both sides from floor to hip, from the neck to the waist, front and back and a series of frog hooks kept everything in place. Harry tugged at the high collar and the tight sleeves and offered L’oReen a glare.

“Couldn’t have picked something less complicated?” he asked, much to the Centripath’s amusement.

“It’s not so bad really,” he said with a smile. “As long as you have help.”

“Or had stopped fooling around and charmed the buttons closed,” announced a dry voice at the door. Harry whirled and glared at him while L’oReen pursed his lips and gave Severus a dark look. Of course he could have charmed the buttons closed, but Harry had desperately needed the time to collect himself and something else to focus on besides the upcoming function and the dreaded ‘meet the parents.’

“Are you finished yet?” Severus asked, giving Harry a once over. The boy looked magnificent, but he wasn’t about to tell him that, no matter how much it might help his flagging sense of self-confidence.

“Acceptable?” Harry asked caustically, spinning with his arms out. The robe flowed around him like water, the special fabric being just heavy enough to create a blossoming effect when he moved. It was the same sort of fabric Severus used in his everyday wardrobe for just that very effect.

“Get your shoes on, Potter.”

“I thought we were on a first name basis, Severus,” Harry reminded him, his voice pitched low and tone deliberately nasty. L’oReen sighed and without a word returned to the wardrobe to bring out Harry’s tall boots.

Made of black whelping hide, the boots would go up to Harry’s knee and display his calves flatteringly. L’oReen had intended to fasten the multitude of straps and clips manually for the same reason he labored over the tiny buttons, but now that Severus had intruded on the small amount of time Harry had left before he was tossed to the lions, the plan was no longer possible and would probably only succeed in making Harry more frustrated and nervous.

He set the boots next to a chair and gestured for Harry to sit, but before he could kneel and help him with the boots, Harry snatched them up and began shoving his foot into one, wrestling with the tight leather and growing more and more angry every second the boot didn’t cooperate. Yet L’oReen could sense that he would be only more incensed if someone tried to help him now.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” Severus snapped, finally fed up with watching his wife struggle. He went to his knees and yanked the boot out of Harry’s hand.

“I can do it myself!” Harry shouted, genuine fury flashing in his eyes.

“Obviously, you cannot,” Severus shot back. Harry glowered at him hotly while Severus opened the fastenings with a flick of his wand and roughly shoved them onto Harry’s feet before refastening the straps with another muttered charm. He rose to his feet and Harry continued to glare at him.

“I could have managed,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Maybe if you’d had another week to do so,” Severus returned, his voice tainted with sarcastic scorn.

L’oReen shook his head and intervened, physically putting himself between them and pulling Harry up from the chair. He brushed the boy down and gave him a little push towards the door.

“Come, Severus, wouldn’t want to keep your parents waiting, now would we?” he asked, his voice chilly and eyes alight with disappointment as he looked over his shoulder at the tall Lord of the Manor. Severus had the good grace to give him an almost apologetic wince, but did not express his regret to his wife, who most needed to hear it.

As soon as they were out the door, Severus pulled ahead of them.

“We’ll be in the Solar room,” he said over his shoulder. L’oReen put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to hold him back a little while Severus stretched his legs and hurried down the corridor.

“We’ll take the long way,” L’oReen said, giving him a smile. “We’ll take a little tour. You’re in the master bedroom and the surrounding corridors make up the ‘private’ wing of the Manor. No one but family and close friends venture into this part of the Manor. The other wings hold guest rooms and social halls.”

“Snape said I would have my own wing,” Harry said suddenly, giving L’oReen a searching, pleading look.

“He had planned to have you in one of the tower wings, I believe, but we haven’t set anything up. Sometime before you leave for school, we’ll take a more complete tour and you can choose your room and, I’m sure, have the surrounding wing. Through here is the private library. There’s a larger and less controversial library in the ‘public’ wing.”

Harry peeked into the library briefly and could just see Hermione’s reaction to it. From what he could see from the brief look, it was easily the size of Hogwarts' library, and, from L’oReen’s comment, probably contained quite a few books that wouldn’t be available to students. He made a mental note to invite her over for the winter holidays, at least for a day or so.

As long as Severus allows it, he thought darkly.

They wandered through the halls, L’oReen pointing out empty rooms and introducing Snape ancestors who glared down their noses and muttered about ‘Potters in the halls of my fathers’?!” L’oReen ignored them and Harry made it a point to sneer at them as he passed, and once even gave into the urge to stick his tongue out a particularly pompous woman, who let out a scandalized gasp and turned her nose up.

“All right, Harry, we’re here. I know you’ve received no training on how to deal with these people, but I think you’ll be okay. Just remember that you’re the wife. Be deferential to your husband and his father, and do your best to be sweet and quiet with his mother. She’ll do most of the talking, and you may, at best, be asked a few vague questions about school or the weather. Helene is a she-wolf in a poodle’s clothing so consider things very carefully before answering them. And however you may feel about Severus, at no time should you let them know that you’re not happy. I guarantee you will regret it.”

“What will she do?” Harry asked, already considering letting Snape have a piece of his mind while he couldn’t say anything about it.

“She may very well use it as an excuse to move in.”

Harry gave him a searching look and weighed the prospect of having a mother-in-law in house versus getting a little payback. Eventually, he decided that it probably wasn’t worth it, but he was sorely tempted.

“Now, I’m going to announce you. Take a deep breath and calm down; you’ll be fine,” L’oReen told him, his smile reassuring despite Harry’s frazzled nerves. He nodded and closed his eyes while L’oReen pushed the door open and took a step into the room beyond.

“The Lordess Harry Snape,” he announced, his voice just loud enough to carry, but soft enough not to be intrusive. He stepped away from the door and ushered Harry in with a soft smile and a slight hand gesture. Harry squared his shoulders and stepped into the room, trying to school his expression into something like Malfoy’s. Cold and austere, without seeming prickish. Well, he’d always thought that Malfoy looked prickish no matter what, but he could see the advantage of the expression; it didn’t show emotion and it didn’t invite approach.

Snape and another man Harry didn’t recognize rose as he approached and Harry forced himself to give them a small smile. Snape gestured to an overstuffed armchair and Harry slid into it. As soon as he was seated the other two men also returned to their chairs.

“Harry, this is my mother and father, and my brother Aiden.” He then turned to his family and reached across the small table separating them to pick up Harry’s hand. “And this is my new wife, Harry, formerly of the Potter family.”

Harry’s hand tightened in Snape’s and his arm tensed as though to pull away, but Snape tightened his grip and Harry reluctantly allowed the implied intimacy. His eyes lifted slowly from his lap and surveyed the people in front of him. His mother –Helene, L’oReen had called her- was a slender thing who looked more Severus’ age than her husband’s. She had red hair and bright blue eyes set in the porcelain face of a china doll. Her eyes flitted briefly to where Severus still held Harry’s hand and a small smile stretched across her perfect face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, darling,” she said. She had a sweet voice, like Mrs. Weasley’s, but not roughened by years of shouting. Yet there was something slightly dangerous in her voice as well and it made Harry strangely uncomfortable. Reflexively, he squeezed Snape’s hand, seeking some small comfort from someone familiar.

Severus glanced at him briefly out of the corner of his eye and surreptitiously squeezed back.

Octavius Snape was a rotund man fast approaching the realm of ‘fat.’ He had small beady black eyes that darted about the room almost compulsively, as though seeking some invisible attacker. His face was weighed down by heavy jowls and a salt-and-pepper mustache hid his upper lip, revealing only a plump lower lip that looked as though he chewed on it fairly often. His hair looked like it had once been blond, but was now almost completely gray. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the man, besides the fact that he vaguely unnerved him. Octavius said nothing and Harry finally turned his attention to the last man.

Aiden Snape looked to be about Severus’ age, perhaps a year or so younger. He had short, charmingly mussed red hair and blue eyes like his mother. His skin did not have her porcelain-like pallor, but instead had a healthy golden shade that reminded Harry of the Weasleys. He had an easy smile and the freckles that combined with his sparkling eyes made him quite an attractive man. Aiden smiled at him and Harry tentatively returned the smile, his fingers going lax in Severus’ grip as he slowly relaxed.

“So, Harry, how do you get along with my son, here?” Helene asked, her expression innocent and voice sweet.

Harry’s eyes momentarily narrowed as he thought about L’oReen’s warning. He considered his answer carefully before giving her a smile and saying, “Severus and I have known each other for quite a while.” He paused while considering how to phrase ‘we hate each other’s guts’ into something that sounded like ‘we’re madly in love’ without saying ‘we’re madly in love.’ “I have a good deal of respect for your son,” he said finally, giving her another of his most charming smiles. It wasn’t a lie exactly. He did, as painful as it was to admit it, have a lot of respect for Snape.

“Yes, but until recently your relationship has been that of a student to a professor, unless…?”

“Oh, no! No we never…” he coughed uncomfortably and knew he was blushing red to the hairline.

“Harry and I have not, until recently, had the opportunity to really get to know one another,” Severus interrupted, apparently seeing the danger of the discussion.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like us to move in? For just a short time while your wife becomes acquainted with the Manor and society? I’m sure he would appreciate the help around the house and there is much I could teach him,” Helene said, turning slightly towards Snape, though her eyes remained on Harry.

To the casual listener, she would have appeared to be nothing more than a concerned mother trying make her new son-in-law’s life a little easier. But even Harry could hear the strange undercurrent of something far more sinister than simple concern.

“I’m sure Harry is touched by your concern, Mother, as am I, but there is no reason for you to upset your life and make such a stressful move when Harry and I will be returning shortly to Hogwarts, and L’oReen is more than capable of teaching Harry anything he needs to know about the running of a household and the ins and outs of society.”

“Oh, are you sure? I know mothers are imperative in this sort of instruction.”

“I would appreciate anything you could teach me of course,” Harry hurried to reassure her. “But you needn’t inconvenience yourself,” he added firmly.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m only a firecall away and more than happy to assist you with anything you may need.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Boy!”

Harry startled visibly at the unexpected boom of the man’s voice into the far too large room, but no one else seemed to take notice. Apparently, he was a little hard of hearing.

“Yes, father?” Severus asked politely, gently untangling his fingers from Harry’s and leaning forward to fill a teacup. Without a word, he added a liberal amount of milk and two spoons of sugar. Giving Harry a deceptively warm smile, he handed him the cup and saucer. Harry accepted it with a slightly shocked look and set to blowing across it.

“You’re married now, boy! When are you going to leave that cockamamie job of yours and settle down?”

“Father,” Severus said, his voice soft and tone suggesting that he was well acquainted with this discussion and expecting it. “My position is perfectly acceptable and the work I do is important. Furthermore, I am hardly suited for the Ministry,” he added.

“And why not? That Malfoy boy is doing well enough!” Octavius declared.

“Lucius Malfoy is uniquely suited to his position, just as I am uniquely suited to mine.”

“You!”

Harry jumped when he realized that Octavius was referring to him. “Yes, sir?”

“Don’t you think your husband should be home?!”

“I…” Harry glanced nervously at Severus, but surprisingly enough, received the most encouragement from Aiden. “I myself am still at school, as I’m sure you’re aware. I couldn’t imagine a Hogwarts without Professor Snape.”

Octavius glared balefully and turned half in his chair. “Aiden! Don’t you think it’s time Severus here stopped this business of dealing with children? Especially since he has none of his own?!”

“Severus is young yet, Father. He has plenty of time to see to his need for an heir.”

Octavius grunted and, beside him, Severus appeared to relax. Harry glanced discreetly at Aiden and received a smile and a slight nod. When Harry’s eyes lifted again he was caught by the strangely… triumphant? expression on Helene’s face.

The rest of the meeting passed relatively smoothly. Harry followed L’oReen’s advice did his best to make it seem like he was paying attention, while keeping his eyes on his tea, and answered any questions as politely and shortly as he could manage.

When Severus finally excused them, Harry could have kissed the man. They walked arm-in-arm to the door and Severus gestured graciously for Harry to precede him, which the younger man did gratefully.

However, once the door was closed, Severus grabbed Harry’s arm in a crushing grip and began to haul him down the corridor at a pace just barely short of a run.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked finally, having to stretch oddly to keep up with him and keep his arm from being pulled out of its socket.

Abruptly, Severus stopped and with a nearly audible growl, threw Harry against the wall. The impact forced the air out of his lungs and Harry looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“You stay clear of Aiden, do you hear me?” he growled, his nose almost brushing against Harry’s and eyes narrowed to fiery obsidian points.

“I… what?!”

“Do not cross me in this!” Snape warned, pushing Harry harder into the wall and then letting him go. Losing his balance, Harry crashed down to the floor and was left looking up at Severus’ retreating back in confused shock.

RW*~*DM

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his dress robes. He’d spent the day with Narcissa –Mother, as she insisted on being called- being drilled tirelessly on high society manners. After the dining lesson, he’d been dragged upstairs where he was attacked by a group of chatty Asian women who washed him –Ron blushed again at the mere memory- measured him, put strange things on his face and painted his nails. Okay, so the paint was clear. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamnit! And all the while, Narcissa went on about the do’s and don’t's of social gatherings

Now he was dressed in a wine colored robe –that Narcissa swore ‘highlighted’ his eyes- with black silk everything underneath. Everything.

And to add insult to injury, apparently his spine was crooked. Until it could be ‘fixed’ –Ron shuddered at the thought- he was being made to wear a posture charm. It had just been applied a few moments ago and already his back was aching.

“Stop fidgeting, dear. Malfoys do not fidget,” Narcissa said quietly, managing to keep her tone polite despite the content of the message.

Malfoys don’t fidget, he mocked silently. Not that he’d likely ever have the balls to mock her openly. The woman was positively terrifying. They were sitting in comfy chairs –not that Ron could lean back into the comfortable padding- at the top of the stairs apparently waiting for their ‘entrance.’ He wouldn’t be surprised if Lucius –Father, Ron thought with an uncomfortable grimace- and Draco were standing at the other stairs, waiting for the same thing.

“One of us will be with you the entire time, so you have nothing to worry about, darling. Just remember that you are soon to be a Malfoy wife and keep in mind the things I’ve told you and you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ron said wearily.

“You look upon this life with scorn, I can see it,” she said suddenly, yet her slow, soft voice made the statement appear to be anything but abrupt.

Ron stilled anxiously and looked over at her, his eyes wide. She gave him a gentle smile that somehow did not ease his fears in the least.

“It’s quite all right. When I was young I went through a rebellious period of my own. The life of a socialite is extremely difficult, Ronald. Very little of your upcoming existence will be your own. Sometimes it seems that even your very thoughts are forfeit. In this world, we, the women and the wives, have the more difficult role to play. From this point onward, you will lead two lives, and you will have two faces, sometimes even more.

“There is the face you will show to society, and the face you will show to your family. The first, a fabrication, and the second, a carefully constructed front of calm and security. In this world of lions and snakes, we are neither. We are the phoenix that soars above everything else, we dazzle, we awe, we sing for them, and, occasionally, even take part in their shadowy world.

“This world is dangerous, Ronald.” She turned to look at him, her eyes coming into focus and face deadly serious. “And we are the safe haven for our husbands and children. We are the tiny fortress of calm amidst the storm, the circle of saving grace amidst the darkness. Remember that.”

That having been said, she rose gracefully from her chair and held out a delicate hand, which Ron took, his mind still seeking to grasp her words. She did not so much pull him out of the chair, as merely raise his hand so he was forced to stand.

“It is time.”

“How do you know?” Ron asked. As far as he could tell, nothing significant had occurred to ‘tip her off’ so to speak.

“You will learn these things, my dear,” she said, her smile as mysterious as her words. “When I reach the bottom of the stairs, you follow. Never steal another’s entrance unless you mean to make an enemy of them,” she warned, her eyes glittering in a strangely… alive sort of way.

He lifted one eyebrow and nodded. She straightened her gown, set one hand so it hovered just above the railing and began her descent. Once her back was turned, Ron attempted to hunch over in defeat, but the charm sent a warning tingle up his spine and he straightened quickly. The charm supported his spine so that his back remained straight ‘naturally’ but he could hunch on purpose if he tried. Which is why Narcissa had added the other charm that ‘reminded’ him to stay upright. He groaned softly and glanced towards the stairs.

“How am I supposed to know she’s at the bottom?” he asked himself crossly. The stairs curved so he couldn’t see the bottom, unless he started down them. He growled in annoyance and tried to lean against the wall so he could –hopefully- see down the stairs. But no luck.

He was just about to creep down and peer around the bend when he heard Lucius’ voice float up the stairs.

“My darling, you look stunning,” he said, his voice carrying that ‘showman’s genuine’ quality that Ron had come to despise. This statement was followed by the faint sounds of Narcissa’s heels on the marble floor and Ron started down the stairs.

“Women do not touch the banister, but rest their hands above it,” Narcissa had explained. “You, however, are not a woman. In this world, you are not quite a man either. You are a Lordess. The male wife of a Lord. As you descend, you will place your palm lightly upon the banister, but will not touch it with your fingers.”

Ron did his best to imitate the ‘banister hold’ Narcissa had shown him very briefly as they mounted the stairs on the way to the crazy Chinese women. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and started down. He was supposed to move slowly, but make the motion look smooth. To someone who was used to stomping down stairs, running down stairs, indeed even jumping down stairs, gliding down stairs seemed an impossible feat and he was sure he looked a right fool following after Narcissa, who seemed to float down stairs.

As he came down the bend, all eyes were immediately fastened to him. He did his best not to look at them, but of course became immediately nervous and faltered, nearly stumbling down a few stairs before he regained his pace.

By the time he’d reached the floor, he felt like a freak in a sideshow, and knew he was red down to his collarbone and up to his hairline. He was so intent on not looking at anyone that he actually jumped when Draco’s arm slid around his waist.

“You look amazing,” he whispered, his lips close to Ron’s ear.

Ron flushed brighter and shot him an annoyed look. “I look like a great bloody ponce,” he muttered back.

Draco laughed good naturedly and squeezed him briefly. “Well, you are the most beautiful ‘great bloody ponce’ I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“Come, boys, or we’ll be late.”

“We already are late,” Ron pointed out, glancing at the massive clock over the door.

Lucius gave him a disgustingly fond look, Narcissa smiled and Draco chuckled, gently steering him towards the massive Floo in the front foyer.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘fashionably late’?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes,” Narcissa corrected immediately.

“Yes,” Ron amended, his voice just a little too taunt. But he was fast running out of ‘good manners’ and was afraid that next time someone tried to correct him on his manners he’d explode.

“Here, ‘fashionably late’ is early,” Draco told him.

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned, filing the little fact away with all the other junk that had been shoved forcefully into his head since lunch.

They were greeted at Snape Manor by two smiling, smartly dressed men waiting on the outside of the Floo, who announced them to the room beyond.

“Could you tell me if the Weasleys have arrived yet?” Ron asked hurriedly as they approached the stairs leading into the lower hall.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived with three of their children at promptly seven o’clock,” the man answered.

Ron smiled at him gratefully and Draco, who had slowed his step almost imperceptibly to allow for the small conversation, picked up his pace again. They descended the stairs arm in arm, Ron barely remembering to set his hand on the banister as eyes swiveled to examine the new arrivals.

Ron set immediately to looking for Harry or his parents, desperately hoping he could escape the Malfoys for even a moment.

Luckily for him, his mother had heard the announcement and hurried through the crowd to get at her son.

“Ron!” she greeted enthusiastically, as though they hadn’t seen each other in months, rather than just that morning.

“Hi, mum,” Ron greeted, sighing in relief and not even minding when she pulled him into a tight hug. He could practically feel Narcissa’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head and was sure he’d get a lecture on it later, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

“Hi, dad.”

“Hello there, son.” His father seemed a little uncomfortable and shifted from one foot to the other when Ron turned to him. Being in the ministry he’d been to more of these ‘high society’ get-togethers than his mother had and obviously knew that you didn’t hug the way the Weasleys hugged at home. But Ron needed the comfort almost as much as he’d needed it when he found out Ginny was missing in his second year. He put his arms around his father’s neck and Arthur gratefully wrapped his arms around Ron’s waist and hugged him tightly.

“How are you, son?”

“I’m doing quite well, Father, and yourself?” Ron said, trying to redeem himself before Narcissa popped a blood vessel.

“Quite the air you’ve got there, little brother,” a deep voice announced as a strong, familiar arm wound around his shoulders.

“Good evening, Professor Weasley,” Ron said primly, turning to look at him. Charlie laughed warmly and pulled him into a tight (but mostly polite) hug. Next to him, Bill merely smiled, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Percy approached them a few moments later, greeting Lucius first and then turning his attention to Draco. Ron didn’t mind too much that he was ignored. He probably would have ignored Percy anyways.

As much as he wanted to stay in the safe circle of his family all night, Draco eased him away from them a few moments later and he gave them miserable looks as he said his goodbyes. He followed Draco semi-compliantly as they circled about the room. He said his hellos, shook hands, pretended that he cared what this person or that person thought about the state of Ministry affairs or fashion or the season’s ‘in’ flowers. Total rubbish.

“Ron!”

He could have whooped for joy when he heard Hermione’s familiar voice and turned to greet her. She looked stunning in her blue gown and even with a still-sulking Seamus on her arm, she looked happy.

“You look wonderful, Ron! And you too, M-Draco.” She gave Draco a dazzling smile, as though they were friends and she was just as happy to see him as she was to see Ron.

“Thanks, ‘Mione. You look… wow.” He blushed slightly and Draco discreetly squeezed his wrist. Oh, that’s right, he thought sarcastically I’m not straight anymore. He tossed his fiancé a glare and turned back to Hermione.

“How are you, Seamus?” he asked for politeness’ sake. Imagine what him mum would say if she heard that!

Seamus mumbled something unintelligible about punch and wandered off.

“Still being an arse, is he?” Ron asked darkly, his eyes tracing Seamus until he disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione sighed deeply and gave him a weary smile. “It’s all right, really. I understand that he isn’t happy to be with me.”

“More the fool him, then,” Draco added seamlessly. Ron turned to give him a searing glare, but stopped short. From the other boy’s expression he was being serious. Well… maybe.

“Really, it’s fine! We don’t have to be contracted and the actual marriage only has to last three years to satisfy the Sorting requirements. We’ll survive.” She gave Ron a bright smile. “Have you seen Harry yet tonight?”

“No, we haven’t found him yet,” Ron said, glancing discreetly around the room for a peek at his friend.

“He looks stunning!”

“He’s not a woman, ‘Mione!” Ron exclaimed, giving her a scornful look.

“I know that. But he does. He’s had his eyes charmed and his hair highlighted. And those robes! I just saw him a minute ago…” She rose up slightly on her heels to survey the room, not looking for Harry so much, as looking for Snape. He was much taller. “Oh! There they are! Come on!” She headed off towards the other side of the room immediately.

“Shouldn’t we wait for your fiancé?” Draco asked, his tone measured perfectly.

“No,” Hermione said, waving him off. “He’s probably chatting up one of the eligible bachelors.”

“This does not concern you?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted.

“Not really. It would be nice if he’d take some interest in me, but he’s not straight, and I don’t expect to be the one to unbend him.” She gave them a cheeky smile as she led them through the gathered crowds.

The reached the ‘happy couple’ just as they were excusing themselves from Narcissa and Lucius’ company.

“Ron! Er… Good evening, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley. So nice to see you again, Miss Granger,” Harry greeted, giving them a smile.

Ron stared at him open-mouthed as Draco flawlessly returned the greeting and engaged Snape in a discussion, effectively distracting him from Harry and his friends.

“Merlin, Harry! You look…” Ron blushed slightly. “Stunning,” he managed finally.

Harry winced. “I’m not a woman, Ron,” he muttered, much to Hermione’s delight.

“I’m sorry, mate, really, I am. But… you do,” Ron said defensively.

“Well… thanks I guess. Though I kinda feel like a woman, to tell you the truth. Merlin knows everyone’s been treating me like one.”

“How has your holiday been?” Ron asked, keeping his tone polite, but giving Harry a searching look.

“Pretty trying, actually,” Harry confessed, keeping his voice low. “We visited the Dursleys the other day and went to China for new wardrobes.”

“You got the crazy Chinese women too?!” Ron asked, his voice just a little too loud. He blushed when a nearby couple made a startled noise and turned to offer them an apology. They smiled fake smiles and wandered off whispering.

“Great. Probably gonna make the Prophet now,” he moaned.

Surprisingly, Harry laughed. “Good! Then you’ll know how it feels!”

Ron was just about to respond when Snape interrupted by placing a hand on Harry’s arm and giving them polite nods and –wonder of wonders (or perhaps horrors)- smiled. Harry’s expression immediately turned into an oddly dead mask and he gave them a vapid smile.

“You’ll have to forgive us. The job of a host…ess is never done.” They said their goodbyes and Harry wrapped an arm around Severus’ as the man led him away.

“Merlin… poor Harry,” Ron said finally.

“I know,” Hermione commiserated. “Poor you too. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting today. You’re not too bad, you know,” Hermione teased, obviously trying to cheer him up. Ron shot her a glare.

“Would you like a posture charm or two, Hermione?” he asked sweetly.

“My dear, the lovely Miss Granger hardly needs any charms. Her posture is impeccable,” Draco cut in, giving Hermione a smile that bordered on flirtatious.

“How come you can flirt with Hermione and I can’t?” Ron asked, his voice pitched low. Hermione chuckled nervously, her cheeks flushing prettily.

“I am sure I have no idea what you mean, my love.” Draco gave him a smile that he probably would have believed if he didn’t know him, and presented Hermione with a gallant kiss to the hand. To his horror, Hermione giggled like a schoolgirl and then gave Ron an apologetic shrug.

“He’s very good at it,” she said in an undertone. Ron was sure he felt his blood boiling and just barely remembered that he wasn’t allowed to shout at her like he would have in the Gryffindor common room. He settled for glaring at her and she nudged him lightly in the shoulder as though to tell him to lighten up.

Some time later Seamus ambled back into the group and Draco gave him a cold look as approached.

“Mr. Finnigan, you shouldn’t leave a gem like our Miss Hermione alone in a place such as this. She would have been stolen away in a heartbeat if she had not been accompanied by myself and my fiancé, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well they can have her,” Seamus muttered, glaring into his drink.

Hermione stiffened and Ron probably would have clocked him right then and there, but before he could open his mouth or even cock his arm back, Draco stepped in between them, almost literally toe-to-toe with the sullen Irishman.

He leaned in close, his chin just a hair’s breath away from Seamus’ shoulder and lips nearly touching his ear.

Neither Ron nor Hermione heard what he said to the Gryffindor, but Seamus paled suddenly and reared back to give him an incredulously look.

“You wouldn’t dare!” he hissed. Draco merely raised one eyebrow and stepped back, a small smile gracing his flawless features.

“Think hard on that, Mr. Finnigan,” he said cryptically as he wrapped Ron’s arm around his and gently patted his hand.

“Miss Granger, I apologize but Ronald and I must be off. Please do come visit us at the Manor whenever you feel inclined.” He gave Hermione a piercing look. “You are more than welcome in our home.” He then turned and gave Seamus a bright smile. “Good evening, Mr. Finnigan.”

That having been said, he gently steered Ron away from the stunned couple and towards a short, portly man and his tall gangly wife.

“What did you say to him?” Ron asked, leaning over slightly so he would not be overhead.

“Nothing of consequence. Merely friendly chat among mates; you needn’t concern yourself with it, darling. Mr. and Mrs. Smith! What a pleasure to see you again. Petunia, my dear, you are looking lovely this evening! Have you done something with your hair?”

Effectively blocked from saying anything more to Draco, Ron was forced to join in the chatter. Mrs. Petunia Smith was taller than her husband by a foot or more and was dressed in a deep violet gown with a low-cut neckline that extended nearly to her solar plexus, displaying the tiny swells of her small breasts and her painfully visible sternum and ribs. She was also surrounded by a cloud of perfume and her face was literally caked in cosmetics. She smiled a horse-toothed smile that contained none of Narcissa’s pleasantness, though it was obvious she thought herself charming.

Contrastingly, Mr. Harold Smith was short and quite portly, had a heavy face and warm brown eyes. His hair was thinning and his mustache was peppered with bits of gray, but his teeth appeared to be straight and well-care for. He had an easy, belly-shaking laugh and winning grin that he utilized often. His voice was a pleasant baritone and his clothing was almost glaringly simple amidst all the gaudy jewelry and heavy fabrics that surrounded him, especially his wife’s.

Though Ron decided immediately that he would much prefer to stay and listen to Mr. Smith talk, he was dragged off by Petunia to a circle of gossiping ladies and lordesses.