Helter Skelter

Chapter 13: Helter Skelter

Hermione broke the kiss an instant before their Apparition into the Ministry of Magic. She threaded her arm through Severus's, unable to hide her smile as they strolled through the atrium. Tiny lights sparkled overhead like thousands of fireflies. Across the room, an enchanted orchestra played while couples glided across the marble dance floor.

"Drink?" asked Severus.

"Definitely." She stood beside an exotic palm tree, beneath a canopy of purple fronds, and admired her date's broad shoulders as he walked to the crowded bar.

Although she'd become skilled at ignoring the sound of gossip, she couldn't help notice the whispers grew to a steady hiss as she stood there, alone. She fixed her gaze upon Severus. The casual way he leant against the bar...and the memory of the kiss they'd just shared...brought a sense of peace that made it easier to dismiss the curious eyes upon her. Still, she had to fight the urge to fidget with her dress.

When she'd first found the gown, she had wondered if it was too revealing, if she should consider something more modest. But she had overruled the thought in a small fit of temper, knowing it would hardly matter. If the dress flattered her body, the papers would suggest she had loose morals...but if it covered her curves, no doubt they'd brand her a dowdy spinster. In the end, she had made her selection based on what she had liked best, and what she had thought Severus might enjoy. Judging from his reaction when he'd first seen the dress...and the possessive looks he kept throwing her way...she had chosen well.

He returned with drinks in hand. Their fingers brushed as she took the glass, and her skin tingled, just as it had when he'd first discovered her alone in an empty field, stranded by her co-workers. The room seemed to fade when their eyes met. The other couples disappeared. She could no longer hear the music. Even the whispers quieted, as if they had descended to the bottom of the ocean. They could have been the only two people in the room. Perhaps that was why she failed to notice the pale witch and wizard who had arrived beside them.

"Severus! Good to see you, old friend," said Lucius Malfoy.

She hadn't heard the voice in several years, but the familiar drawl sent a chill down her spine. Memories of being taken to Malfoy Manor by the Snatchers still had the power to infiltrate her dreams and had been the cause of more than one nightmare.

Severus offered his greetings, shaking Lucius's hand and kissing Narcissa's cheek. He shifted his body to draw Hermione into their circle. His hand stayed on the small of her back. "I daresay you remember Miss Granger."

"Of course," said Lucius. Crystalline grey eyes scrutinised her. "It's a pleasure to see you here, Miss Granger."

She nodded but couldn't bring herself to echo his sentiments. The Malfoys might have renounced Dark Magic, but their timely change of heart felt a bit too convenient. She suspected their willingness to provide vast financial support towards bringing peace to the wizarding world had helped sway the tide of public opinion in their favour. Perhaps one day, she would appreciate the irony of the former Death Eaters becoming such media darlings, while she was more maligned than the English weather. At least their Galleons went to charity now, a definite improvement over white peacocks.

"What a stunning dress, Miss Granger," said Narcissa.

Hermione searched her face for the lie, surprised by the lack of sarcasm in her tone. Her sentiment appeared to be genuine.

"Thank you." She smiled self-consciously, then complimented the elegant cobalt gown worn by the older woman. Narcissa had always been beautiful, albeit in a rather cold, brittle way. But tonight she looked softer somehow: even her expression bordered on approachable. Her blue eyes studied the unusual tree they stood beneath, and when Hermione confessed her ignorance of the species, Narcissa launched into a thorough history and description for her benefit. It seemed the witch had a surprising affinity...and talent...for botany.

The men stood to the side, deep in conversation. Their hushed tones indicated a desire for privacy, so Hermione continued her chat with Narcissa. She was surprised to feel comfortable...almost relaxed...in her presence. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her condemnation. After all, Narcissa had lied to Voldemort, effectively saving Harry's life, just to obtain information about her son's welfare. Her role as a loving parent was a point in her favour.

Hermione turned her attention to the orchestra as they began to play a waltz. Lucius appeared at her side and said, "Will you grant me the pleasure of a dance, Miss Granger?"

She glanced at Severus, but his face was frustratingly impassive. "I'm afraid I'm a rather dreadful dancer, Mr Malfoy," she said and shook her head. Her opinion of Narcissa might have changed, but she wasn't quite ready to provide Lucius the same reprieve.

Severus contradicted her. "Your skills were far from dreadful when you led the opening dance at the Yule ball," he said quietly. "As I recall, you were the very picture of grace under pressure. The entire room was watching, yet you never missed a step. Surely, you haven't forgotten."

An odd sort of fluttering travelled through her stomach. Of course she hadn't forgotten the Yule ball. But she would never have guessed her disagreeable Potions professor had been among those watching her dance. Or that the Malfoys' presence would not stop him confessing the recollection.

"Then it's settled." Lucius captured her hand and offered a smooth smile. "Come, Miss Granger. There's no need for such modesty."

She looked at Severus again and frowned. She had no desire to insult a friend of his, and by extension, him. But she could think of a great number of things she'd rather do than dance with Lucius Malfoy.

As if sensing her indecision, Severus scowled but jerked his head towards the dance floor. "There'll be no peace until you agree, I'm afraid. Lucius wants to prove he can be charming when the mood strikes him."

Light, feminine laughter sounded from Narcissa, but Lucius just clucked his tongue and shook his head. She suspected a great deal of his affrontedness was exaggerated, but she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. At least she recognised the waltz and knew its brevity offered the promise of a speedy escape.

They turned circles around the other couples, and after a few moments, Lucius spoke. "Severus was correct. You dance beautifully."

"Mm." Panic-filled memories played through her mind and eliminated any compunction she might have felt to offer a polite response.

He glanced at the area where they had left their partners. "I suppose I shouldn't have stolen you from Severus so quickly."

"Then why did you?" she asked, in no mood for games.

He blanched at her tone and avoided her question. "It gives me great pleasure to see you here with Severus."

She snorted. "Is that so?" She doubted he was ever pleased to see a Muggle-born.

"Indeed. I must confess, I was rather surprised when he told me whom he would escort to the Ministry ball. But after seeing you both together tonight, I fully support the decision. Why, I haven't seen Severus act this way since Li..."

Pale brows drew together, and he acted as if he'd said too much. He cleared his throat and finished, "I haven't seen him like this in a very long time, and it's quite obviously a result of your influence. Therefore, I approve."

She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. Was he telling the truth about Severus's behaviour, or was this all a ruse? She could easily believe Lucius capable of having a hidden agenda. What possible motivation could he have for saying such things unless he was working some unknown angle? It seemed as if he'd been about to mention Lily, but staging such a slip was a simple enough matter. She was not prepared to grant him the benefit of doubt.

"Mr Malfoy, I don't think I can begin to quantify how little your approval means to me."

"Well, this is a dreadful beginning," he said. "If you refuse to accept my commendation, what hope do I have to secure your forgiveness?"

"My forgiveness?" she asked, certain she'd misunderstood him.

"That is correct. I am here to beseech your forgiveness."

"You want me ... to forgive you?"

"As I've stated."

He couldn't be serious. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It's all quite simple and straightforward, I assure you. I tell you how sorry I am for my past transgressions, and I apologise for any pain or trauma you suffered by my actions or orders. Then you offer your forgiveness, and we all move forward."

She stared at him, unblinking. He couldn't have stunned her more if he'd used Stupefy. "And I assume this was your ultimate purpose in asking me to dance?"

"It was," he confirmed.

She blinked at last, several times in case she was dreaming. Or being teased. It wouldn't be the first time she'd fallen victim to someone's idea of a practical joke. She watched him carefully, dumbstruck to realise he seemed genuine. But how was she supposed to respond to such an extraordinary request?

"I'm afraid it's not that easy."

He sighed. "No, I didn't imagine it would be."

And yet he continued to study her, his expression expectant, as if absolution might come at any moment. She supposed he was accustomed to acquiescence; surely every request he made was instantly fulfilled. Only sheer arrogance would make him think she could forget the past simply because he snapped his fingers and asked her to.

Anger bubbled up inside her. "You tried to kill me, Mr Malfoy, when Harry retrieved the prophecy. Right here. In this very building."

"And I was duly incarcerated for my crimes," he reminded her.

"But less than two years later, you tried again. You ordered the Snatchers to bring us to your house. My friends and I nearly died."

"Yes." He nodded and had the decency to appear pained by the reminder. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

"You sat back and watched as your sister-in-law tortured me, and you did nothing when she offered me as a prize to your werewolf henchman."

"Well when you put it that way, I suppose it does sound rather unforgivable."

Something like laughter escaped her throat: part incredulous humour, part raw hysteria. "It's not the phrasing that makes it unforgivable, Mr Malfoy. It's the actions, themselves!"

"Exactly!" His expression turned fierce. "That is precisely why I wish to apologise for those actions."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, oblivious to the movements of her feet as they continue to carry her around the dance floor. "This is the last thing I expected to encounter tonight."

"I understand, and I further apologise for having blindsided you. But surely, we must start somewhere?"

"I suppose," she said, uncertainty drawing her brows together.

Redemption was a tricky business. While she fervently believed Severus had earned his forgiveness, Lucius Malfoy was another matter entirely. She replayed their conversation in her head while she considered his request.

He did seem remorseful, so perhaps he possessed some form of a conscience, after all. And he appeared eager for the opportunity to apologise. It was more of an overture than she'd expected, certainly more than she had ever believed him capable of. She sensed yet another paradigm about to shift and wondered how many more surprises she could handle in the course of one evening.

Grateful glomps to Karelia for her mad beta skillz.