Dark, Twisted and Time Turned

Chapter 29: The Annual Malfoy Gala

(*Warning: allusions to sex, alcohol use, drug use)

"Are you ready, mes lune? Even though you get along with them so well, I'd still not want to be too late for the gala. My parent's take it very seriously." Abraxas says, muffled through her closed door, while she stares at herself in the mirror, attempting to calm her breathing. The silver dress he had purchases for her, several months back, was now hanging delicately on her frame, along with her locket keeping her ever company.

It was true- as long as she had been staying with the Malfoy's, she had got along with Abraxas's parents remarkably well, however that did nothing to calm her spasming nerves. She was about to be on display, in front of much of the pureblood nobility and community, on the arm of Abraxas Malfoy. And the press! The press was here, which meant she would just as well be on display to the rest of the world, too. There's rich witches and wizards, famous, pureblood, family of Abraxas. There was no way to verbalise the amount of immense tree she was in.

She glances back again at the mirror, checking her figure and shape, adjusting the short train, assuring it wasn't bunching anywhere. She had tamed her hair into slightly less of a mass, keeping it still in curls and rolls pinned elegantly to the top of her head. She takes another deep breath, slipping an infused-lemon drop into her mouth before slipping on a pair of gloves and opening the door.

"Is it alright?" She asks nervously, looking at Abraxas earnestly. He remains silent, eyes sweeping over her form. In his hands was a small white bag- from Gilligan's, that he had bought for her several months ago that he evidently had never given her. "My love? Is it alright?" Finally his eyes reach hers, and she's surprised to find his grey irises had darkened.

"More than ok. Much more than okay- it would look so much better off, though." She flushes then, hot and crimson.

"Oh, Salazar, Abraxas," she mumbles, and he gives her a small smile before taking a jewellery box from the bag in his hands.

"I had it custom made," he says, cracking open the box to reveal a crested ring. "They haven't made a Dagworth-Granger crest for a hundred or so years- this one is made to look like the original cursed ring. It serves as a signet, too, for your letters."

"Oh, Abraxas, I love it. You didn't have to go through the trouble for this-" he beams at her as he interrupts.

"Yes I did. You should always have a signet ring, for letters, for status display, and such and such," he pauses to slide the ornate ring onto her hand, pressing a kiss to her finger tips. "Shall we be off?" She takes a moment to lock Parvus into his cage- Crookshanks had made it his mission to catch the little niffler, and likely had the same plans for it as he had had for Scabbers- Pettigrew, rather.

He offers her his arm as she covers the cage with a slip, and she places her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they make their way down to the ballroom. His parents wait near the entrance for them

"Oh, how good of you two to join us," Malina mutters, and the foursome finally enter the ballroom. Almost immediately, the cameras begin flashing and there's a few calls from the press in attendance. Hermione's hand tightens on Abraxas's arm and he covers in reassuringly.

"It's alright, my love," he whispers, brushing his fingers between the creases of her wrist.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy, and Miss- pardon me- Lady Dagworth-Granger." The harold announces, and the group makes their way down the stairs onto the floor. Hermione's eyes dart around at the flashing cameras and the clusters of well dressed individuals gossiping eyes on them- no, eyes on her, on the new heiress in their midsts. These are the people she would be expected to socialise with. And the title of Lady, that was new, she hadn't heard that before.