The Royal Tragedy

Chapter Four: Queen only by Name

Chapter Four: Queen only by Name

Hermione gazed mindlessly into the mirror, her hand playing with the Wedding band she had stuffed onto her finger. For the second time in two weeks, she had donned a too expensive dress, crushed her feet into the torture devices known as heels, and let maids lather her face in makeup whilst simultaneously yanking her hair every which way into a perfect up do. Her fists clenched. Like most things in her life at the moment, she had no control over how she looked. She hadn't picked out the dress, the makeup, the hairdo, the shoes, and she certainly hadn't had any involvement in the day itself.

She had considered her involvement. Maybe if she had joined in, the day would be bearable at best, but she highly doubted that Narcissa and Malfoy would agree to the idea of her outfit being made of baggy trousers and a baggier top in a ceremony of just herself, Malfoy and Kingsley. Even then, Hermione wouldn't have enjoyed it. The idea of being stuck in this world made her stomach turn and her head pound.

"You look gorgeous Hermione." Hermione's eyes met those of Cynthia who stood leaning against the bed post in one of the manor's many guest bedrooms. "You'd look even better in that large mirror in yours and Mr Malfoy's bedroom." Hermione frowned at the comment. She still hadn't been in the room longer than it took her to sneak in, get her outfit for the day, and creep back out before Malfoy had chance to stop her. Not even marrying the prick could convince her that staying in the same room as him was a good idea.

"I look sickly sweet enough in this mirror thank you. I don't need more than one angle to snarl at my reflection." Hermione let her eyes scan her own form once more.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were standing in my position." Hermione whirled around, just for Cynthia to wink at her, clicking her tongue as she did. Hermione could barely hold the laughter back. She had felt so tense lately, it felt like a bomb that had been contained and finally set free.

"And that is a sound I'd die to hear more often." Cynthia generally smiled, watching Hermione's every move, like she was going to apparate and never come back.

"Hang around more often and you just might." Hermione smiled back, but to Cynthia, it didn't seem to have the same energy. It wasn't sad, just more tired and worn, like it almost didn't belong. And it only seemed to grow as Hermione caught herself in the mirror for a second time that day. Cynthia almost chocked on the sadness that seemed to suddenly tumble from her, she had no idea how hard it must be on Hermione.

"Are you ready? Because the maid parade is about ready to bust in here to put on your final touches." Cynthia didn't know what else to say to cut through the sudden heaviness.

"What more could they do?" Hermione breathed out, her tone low, monotone.

"I honestly don't know. I tried to ask, but then they started babbling on about the finite details of beauty, and how if even one eyelash is out of place, the whole world will crumble, and the papers will run rampant with your reputation if they notice that your blush is the wrong shade, and I kinda zoned out. Honesty, if people put as much attention into important things, like healing, as they did their looks, the world wouldn't end up as crappy as it is today."

"I'd drink to that. That is, if I didn't have a band of renegade maids just outside my door that would kill me and you, if I smudged my lip gloss." Hermione suddenly felt freer, like something was carefully being pulled off her chest, giving her lungs chance to breath.

"We could just tell them we kissed. I'd love to see what they'd do to you then." Cynthia launched her body onto the bed, resting her hands behind her head, a Cheshire grin swallowing her face.