Chapter 25 - Dememoriapraeterita etfuturacreare
Silver taffeta was artfully draped from each of the walls of the ballroom at Potter Manor. It exuded an elegance and class that could not be acquired or learned. It came from being born into a world of opulence and frivolity.
Small tables dotted the perimeter of the room, each also swathed in silver fabric. The glassware sitting atop each table gently refracted the candlelight into a myriad of colour, adding a warm glow that extended to the dance floor at the centre of the room. Small pumpkins with names carved into them, under the cut out faces, acted as place cards for the guests.
Hermione ignored the ethereal beauty of the room as she paused in the doorway. She was gracefully dressed in long chiffon dress robes. An empire waist highlighted the smallest part of her torso while the tiered skirt flared out to her ankles. The dusky rose colour of the gown added more of a glow to her already pink cheeks.
‘He’s not here,’ she thought as disappointment and embarrassment flooded her body.
Her thoughts were cut short and when she felt a hand move into her own.
“You look beautiful,” a voice buzzed into her ear. Recognising the voice, she relaxed into him. His hand slid over her lower back and hooked onto her hip. Her eyes lost their uneasiness as they glided together across the polished wooden floor.
“Young Mr Black,” a voice wheezed nearby, interrupting their peace.
“Mr Pettigrew, a pleasure to see you again,” said Sirius, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“Likewise.”
He turned to look at Hermione. She had the most terrified look on her face.
“And this must be Miss Potter,” he said with a slight smirk that made Hermione squirm with discomfort. It felt like he was undressing her with his eyes.
Mr Pettigew’s eyes remained on Hermione and he rubbed his hands together gleefully as he spoke.
“My Peter, speaks very highly of you, very highly indeed, Miss Potter.”
“I shall have to thank him the next time I see him,” said Hermione calmly, not giving away any of her discomfort.
However, Sirius felt Hermione begin to shake beneath his hand and he had seen the look on her face moments earlier. He knew he had to, for whatever reason, get her away from this man.
“Hermione, love, I think I see your mother and father over there. They appear to be waiting for us.”
He turned and looked disdainfully at Peter’s father.
“Once again, Mr Pettigrew, a pleasure speaking with you, but we must not keep Mr and Mrs Potter waiting. Send my regards to Mrs Pettigrew and Peter.”
He guided Hermione back out the door and into the deserted corridor. Tears that threatened to spill over during their conversation with Mr Pettigrew now flowed freely, leaving a web of faint black mascara lines.
Sirius gently moved a rogue curl out of the way before pulling Hermione closer to him in a firm hug.
He whispered a few words of comfort before pulling her away from him. Silver eyes bored into brown.
“Can you explain to me what this is all about?” he said, in a kind voice.
Hermione simply shook her head.
Sirius sighed. He was torn between wanting to find out why Hermione would suddenly burst into tears or go vague over the most random matters, and between wanting to respect her and her privacy. Perhaps she would tell him one day about what was going on, but he did not know if he could wait for that day.
“Please Hermione, you can talk to me. I won’t tell a soul, please Hermione, you know I won’t.”
In her frightened and vulnerable state, she almost gave in to his plea, but stopped at the last minute. She knew that it would destroy him to find out why she had reacted the way she had.
The truth was that Peter’s father had reminded Hermione of Peter himself at that age, in her ‘past’. They shared the same watery blue eyes and the same wheezy voice. On any other day her reaction may have not been so severe, but tonight was Halloween night. It was the night that Peter Pettigrew had betrayed Harry’s parents. It was that night that had begun it all. Seeing that man had brought back many repressed memories for her and she had needed to get away from that time of fear and hurt.
In her mind’s eye she saw not Peter as a boy, not his father, but Wormtail as a man. It was the same Wormtail that had as good as murdered Harry’s parents with his own hands, then looked their son in the eye and begged for forgiveness.
She saw a memory of Sirius. He had been shouting.
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”
Hermione winced at this memory. She saw not the Sirius standing before her now, but the emaciated one from that day in the Shrieking shack. The one who survived off rats and lived in a cave so that he could be close to Harry.
She pulled her mind from that dark place and pushed herself into the arms of Sirius. She had to know that he was alright. She had to feel, physically feel, that he was safe, and healthy and whole, not the shadow of the man that she had once met.
Sirius wrapped his arms around her shaking frame until her sobs had subsided.
Still holding on to Hermione, Sirius directed her towards the front door of the Manor. As they approached the door, Sirius paused for a moment and muttered a spell under his breath. A whizzing sound preceded the forms of two travelling cloaks that were zooming towards them. Sirius reached out to snatch them from the air and deftly fastened one to himself and the other onto a slightly calmer Hermione.
He opened the front door and the couple stepped out into the gardens. Although it was not yet winter, the air was still brisk, however, it was not the cool air that made Hermione gasp as she gazed out into the perfectly manicured lawns of Potter Manor. She could see the shadows and outlines of various trees and statues, however, hovering in the air were hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling lights. Upon further inspection she saw that they were, in fact, tiny little luminescent fairies.
“It’s amazing,” whispered an awe-struck Hermione.
“Yes,” said Sirius in an equally hushed tone, “you are.”
Before Hermione could respond she felt his lips latch onto hers in a searing kiss. Their mouths were perfectly synchronised and it was only when Hermione felt herself go light-headed from lack of oxygen, did she break their connection.
Part of her was yearning for more. She never wanted it to end, however, she was far too pragmatic about the situation.
“We better get inside,” she said, her mouth twisting with regret, “we will be missed and they will start asking awkward questions.”
Sirius nodded soundlessly and hand in hand, they begun to move back inside. He knew she spoke the truth about going back to the others, but part of him wondered why she had pulled away like that.
Did she no longer like him like she said she did? His head was flooded with innumerable and unanswerable questions as they made their way back to the ballroom.
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As Hermione had helped Ma P with the preparations for the evening, she had helped to create the seating plan. This had allowed her to pick any table she wanted for herself and her friends to sit at.
She had eventually chosen an out-of-the-way table in the corner of the ballroom. Here they were free to be themselves without having to adhere to the decorum of the Pureblood society.
They chattered all through the prawn cocktail entree. It was mostly Remus catching up on what had been happening in the last 24 hours since he had seen the others, and vice versa. Peter watched on with a rapturous expression, seemingly happy to be included in the group. Talk moved on during the roast duck main course, to what they would do when they had to go back to Hogwarts the following day, before inevitable moving onto Quidditch just in time for dessert.
Hermione chose not to participate in this conversation and instead concentrated on her delicious dark chocolate parfait complete with white chocolate skull on top.
Sirius felt her hand underneath the table several times. The soft but insistent touch was reassuring to Hermione who, despite being mostly calm, still felt her blood boil every time she looked at the traitorous Peter. The only thing that was stopping Hermione smashing the parfait glass on his head and using the shards to tear him a new jugular, was the notion that Peter had not done anything to anyone, yet.
Throughout the meal, the band had been playing music from the likes of classical Muggle composers in an effort to create a relaxed environment, however, now the feast was over and it was time to dance.
Without even asking Hermione if she wanted to dance, Sirius took Hermione’s hand and whisked her off towards the dance floor. Hermione, who had been conversing with James and Lily up until this point, was left bewildered and shot one enquiring look at a beaming Lily.
Once amid the throng of guests, Sirius gently placed one hand on her waist and took her hand in his other one. They floated around the dance floor aimlessly, lost in the music.
When Hermione and Sirius left, Lily raised one auburn brow at James, silently questioning him why she was still sitting at the table, while Hermione was being gracefully twirled around the dance floor. Hermione giggled when she looked back just in time to see Lily turn her back to James in a huff.
As the intensity of the music increased, so too did Sirius’ grip on Hermione. After several songs, in which silence prevailed between the two, Hermione decided that enough was enough. She pulled Sirius’ hand to the top of her shoulder, and pulled her own arms around his neck, lifting herself up to the tips of her toes.
She touched her lips to his. It was gentle but insistent, and like many perfect kisses it was over much too soon. The song had finished and many people were retreating back to their seats. Sirius and Hermione suddenly became very self-conscious as the blockade of people shielding them was rapidly disappearing.
Arms still looped around one another, they simply smiled at one another and continued to sway on the spot as another song begun.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Remus and Estrella in a similar position. Her smile widened. Estrella was sweet, kind and above all, tolerant. Once the time came for Remus to reveal his ‘furry little problem’ to Estrella, Hermione knew that she would not scorn him or cast him away.
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“Whew! That was exhausting. I am completely out of breath,” puffed Hermione as she plonked herself down in her chair, quite a while later. After a few slow dances, it was back to a quick step tempo.
“Glad one of us is,” spoke a disgruntled Lily. James had attempted two dances with her before Lily thought it was safer for him to remain on his chair. Apparently, James was as ‘talented’ as Harry was when it came to dancing.
Sirius had just arrived carrying goblets of pumpkin juice, one for Hermione and one for himself. After handing Hermione her goblet he sat down on the chair next to her.
Hermione pulled her chair as close as possible to his and leaned into him. She had never felt more at peace with the world than she did right at this very moment.