Draco Malfoy, in disguise as Steven Carmichael, scanned the room with a frown on his face. He didn't see her.
A small sense of panic rose in his chest at the thought that his careful preparation these past few months had been for nothing. If Granger didn't show up tonight, he was out of luck and almost out of time. Every day he spent in hiding, he was surely one day closer to being located by the Dark Lord. If that happened before he had time to set his plan in motion, he wouldn't be alive much longer.
He felt anger rise inside him. Of course, Granger would be the one to spoil his plans. She always was an annoyance. A know-it-all and goody-goody if he ever saw one.
Sure, he had been horrible to her in school the entire time he knew her, but her self-righteous attitude had always irked him. To her the world was black and white, good and evil, and she had no hesitation in placing him into the evil category.
She had no idea the indoctrination he had been subjected to growing up. Her sheltered Muggle-born life knew nothing of how, from the time he was born, he had been raised to loathe and destroy anything decent. She didn't know what it was like to be bred to hate.
She had been raised to be good, so she had been good. And she expected everyone else to be as virtuous as her. She couldn't fathom what it would be like to have to stand up against everything you'd been taught to believe, and risk death for doing so.
His eyes scanned the room once again. More guests were arriving by the minute. He assumed an uptight witch like Granger would be so eager to please her new bosses that she'd arrive early to an event like this.
Then he spotted her. He did a double take and realized he may have missed her when he had first searched. She looked different.
Gone was the bushy-haired, gawky witch he had known in his teens. Standing across the room was a lovely young woman. He looked her up and down with a critical eye, begrudgingly admitting to himself that she certainly had blossomed.
Instead of the oversized robes and baggy jumper she had worn at Hogwarts, she had on a tastefully fitted white dress that showed off her figure. She was still slim, but her legs looked long and shapely and her arms seemed defined, not skinny.
Her hair was still big but not the frizzy mess he remembered. Instead, it hung in graceful curls, framing her face and falling down the middle of her back.
But what struck him most were her features. She talked animatedly to an aged wizard whom Draco vaguely recognized. She smiled warmly, and her eyes lit up her whole face. Unlike Draco's own eyes, hers were bright and vibrant.
The eyes of someone with a clear conscience, he thought to himself. Her cheekbones seemed higher and more defined than he remembered, and her cheeks had an attractive flush about them.
Huh. So, Granger was attractive. He supposed she always had been, somewhat. He had just been too busy being annoyed by her to notice. No matter. Either way, he had a job to do.
He cleared his throat and straightened his robes, then confidently strode over in her direction. He reminded himself to disguise his voice and talk with an American accent, since he was supposed to be Steven, after all.
"Mr. Beems!" He smiled warmly at the elderly wizard engaged in conversation with Granger. "It's so good to see you again."
"Steven!" The wizard beamed back at him. "How are you, my boy? I was thrilled to see your name on the guest list this year. How are things in the States?"
"Splendid!" Draco-as-Steven replied in a crisp New York accent, "I've just started teaching at Ilvermorny. Arithmancy, you know, has always been a passion of mine."
Draco had to refrain from rolling his eyes as he spoke the words. Arithmancy had been the dullest of subjects in school. But he had to stay true to his character, and the real Steven Carmichael had been mad about it.
He turned politely to Granger and saw her eyes light up with interest at his last words. Figures.
"Arithmancy was one of my favorite classes!" She smiled at him. "Have you read Septima Vector's new book Numerological Advancements in Speculation and Knowledge?"
Draco was struck by two things. One, how much lovelier she looked now that he was even closer to her and, two, how he had never before had one of her genuine smiles directed at him. It felt odd.
"I have. It's fascinating," he lied, although he was sure the real Steven would have read the book cover-to-cover by the time the ink had barely dried.
"I haven't had a chance yet," she admitted, mournfully. "But I've heard his theories on complex number charts are quite riveting."
"That they are," Draco replied pleasantly, ready to change the subject, and held out his hand, introducing himself. "Steven Carmichael."
Richard Beems, who had been watching their exchange, spoke up.
"Forgive me for not making proper introductions! Steven, this is Hermione Granger, just graduated from Hogwarts and joined my Department of Education team. Top of her class, this one, and a real asset to the Department. Hermione, Steven's family and I go way back. They've often hosted me at their Hampton estate over the summer holidays."
As Hermione held out her hand to Draco, he gently took it in his. Bending slightly, he gazed at her and laid a gentle kiss on her hand.
"Enchanted to meet you, Miss Granger. It's not every day one meets a beautiful witch so interested in Arithmancy."
She blushed, and Draco chuckled inwardly to himself. Of course, if she knew who she was really talking to, she would have hexed him insensible and certainly never allowed him to kiss her hand.
Since she had no idea who he really was, it was quite easy to use the Malfoy charm on her. The real Steven Carmichael was a bumbling nerd who would have frozen up if a beautiful witch paid attention to him. Draco hoped Richard Beems wouldn't notice anything odd about Steven's suddenly bold character.
"I see you don't have a drink yet, Miss Granger. If Richard wouldn't mind, allow me to get you one." Draco smiled at Hermione.
"Of course! Of course!" Richard Beems exclaimed, good-naturedly. "You young ones enjoy your time. I see Arthur Weasley and need to talk to him about last night's Quidditch match, anyway." He winked at them and moved away.
Draco gently took Hermione's elbow and led her to the bar.
Over the next hour or so he stayed close to her. He made sure to engage enough with other witches and wizards at the ball so that she did not feel stifled by him, but he always made his way back to her. He invited her to sit with him at dinner and she accepted with a smile.
Through dinner they talked almost exclusively to each other, although there were eight others at their table.
Draco was surprised how easily conversation flowed between them. He had prepared himself by rehearsing various Steven Carmichael-like conversation topics, but he ended up needing very few.
Instead, Draco found himself answering her questions about the Hamptons and America with his own experiences at the Carmichael estate.
The Malfoy family also went far back with the Carmichael family, as the Carmichaels were a long line of Pureblood, well-off wizards like the Malfoys. However, Steven Carmichael Sr. did not share Lucius Malfoy's same views on Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, and the Carmichaels had never expressed interest in aligning themselves with Voldemort. As a consequence, the Malfoy family visits had waned over recent years.
At the time, Draco hadn't particularly minded, as Steven and he had never gotten along that well (he really was dreadfully boring). But as Draco recounted stories of his summer adventures there, he had a sad sense of nostalgia for a simpler time.
Draco had just finished telling Hermione a particularly humorous story about the time he'd fallen from a rogue Pegasus at the Carmichael stables, when the orchestra began playing traditional Christmas tunes. Couples left their tables to begin dancing.
Hermione was choking back laughter, when Draco smiled and held out his hand to her.
"Don't worry, I promise I dance better than I ride. Would you care to dance?"
Accepting his outstretched hand, Hermione laid her napkin down on the table.
"I suppose I can give it a go." She made a slight face. "Although I should warn you, I'm not very good."
"The great Hermione Granger, not good at something? I find that hard to believe!" He mocked her good-naturedly, more as himself than Steven, he realized too late.
Luckily, Hermione didn't find his statement odd, no doubt assuming Richard Beems and others at the party had been singing her praises to him all evening.
"Trust me," she said, laughing. "My dancing skills are only good compared to my broom-riding skills."
Draco laughed genuinely at this, recalling her first-year anger when her broom hadn't responded to the simple command of "Up!" Of course, he couldn't remind her of this, so he said nothing as he led her out to the floor.
He placed his right hand on the small of her back and gently took her right hand in his left. He was struck by how delicate she felt in his arms. However, he knew she was anything but, as a flash of her slapping him hard across the cheek in their third year came back to him. They slowly began swaying to the music.
This was no doubt the closest he had ever been to her, and Draco found it strange that it didn't feel unnatural to have her cheek next to his.
The orchestra was playing a slow, somewhat sad song that he vaguely recognized as being titled "I'll Be Home for Christmas." He didn't know any of the lyrics. Christmas carols hadn't been big in the Malfoy household.
Hermione exhaled slowly and said softly, "I love this song. It's so sad though."
He turned his head slightly to look into her eyes and, indeed, saw sadness there.
"Why is it sad? I don't really know it."
She sighed, and he spun her in time to the music.
"Well, it's not completely sad as it is tragic, I guess. The thought of being with the ones you love at Christmas in your dreams is a beautiful concept. But it's sad that it's only in your dreams and not reality. I guess I can relate to it a lot this year."
"Oh, and why's that?" He glanced at her quizzically and narrowed his eyes slightly. He expected her to say something about Weasley and how she loved him, but they couldn't be together due to him and Potter traipsing across the globe on secret missions. He remembered talk of her and the Weasel being romantically involved at school. The thought of it never bothered him before, but now, for some reason, it made him frown.
"Oh well, it's complicated," she replied, obviously realizing she was perhaps discussing something intimate with him. "Due to the impending war and the rise of Voldemort, I had to Obliviate my parents' memories and send them somewhere safe. I couldn't risk them being targeted by Death Eaters because of me." She glanced down sadly.
He swallowed hard and felt a twinge of pity for her. He had no idea she had done that. Although it made sense, because Voldemort had ordered for her parents to be targeted, no doubt hoping the brains of the Golden Trio would be too distressed to properly assist Potter if she were grieving her parents' deaths.
Luckily, no one had been able to locate them, and their England home had been vacant each time they had raided it. Draco had been along on one of the raids and had been ordered to kill them himself, if he were to encounter them.
This thought sobered him and reminded him of what he was really doing there. He took this to be an opening of how to get the information from her that he really wanted.
"You're good friends with Harry Potter, aren't you? I thought your name sounded familiar when Beems introduced you."
"Yes, we've been friends since our first year of Hogwarts." Her sad eyes met his again although she smiled. "I wouldn't trade my friendship with Harry for the world, but..." She bit her lower lip gently, as if feeling guilty for admitting it. "Being friends with Harry comes with risks."
She had no idea. In fact, it was for that reason she was in his arms right now, unwittingly dancing with her enemy and a marked Death Eater.
He continued to gently prod her for information, making sure to give her a sympathetic look as he did so.
"I can imagine. Where is Potter anyway? There hasn't been much about him in the papers recently. Almost seems like he's disappeared from the planet."
"Oh, well..." Her eyes left his and scanned the floor for a moment. He knew she was searching for the easiest way to answer his question without revealing too much information. "He's working on learning more about how to defeat Voldemort. As you can imagine, it's no easy task. Also, he has to keep his whereabouts secret to stay safe."
Her answer told him nothing he didn't already know, but it confirmed Draco's suspicions that she probably knew where he was. That was the information he needed.
"Do you see him much?" he asked.
"No, unfortunately, not as much as I'd like. My job here at the Ministry allows me to access an amazing number of records to help him in his research. Unfortunately, it doesn't allow me to travel with him, so sometimes we go for months without speaking."
That wasn't what Draco wanted to hear and he cursed internally. However, he could sense her discomfort growing from the conversation, and didn't want her suspecting his real reason for being interested in her this evening. He knew he had to change the subject and continue with the rest of his plan. He only hoped she knew where Potter was, so he wouldn't have to go through with all of it.
"Do you like to travel?" Draco asked to change the topic from Harry and get her back to her earlier comfort level.
"Oh yes!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically, and Draco smiled as her eyes lit up again. "But unfortunately, I haven't done half as much as I would have liked to for leisure. I only got my Apparition license recently, and I've never even been to the States."
Twirling her again, he replied, "Well, you'll have to come visit me sometime. I'd give you the grand tour."
"I'd like that."
From there, she asked him about places he had traveled and, once again, he answered her honestly with tales of his family trips to various exotic places.
They danced and talked for another hour, and just when Hermione finished telling him about the Muggle holiday traditions she would miss enjoying with her family that year, Draco felt the fifteen-minute Polyjuice Potion warning that he had incorporated into his potion tingle in his hand. It would be wearing off soon, and he couldn't risk anyone really seeing him.
Draco looked down at his watch.
"I really must be going. I have an early meeting in New York tomorrow." He looked back up at her. "But I'd love to see you again. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
Draco held his breath expectantly. Here is where he would find out if his plan would progress or not.
"I'd love that," Hermione replied with a smile.
"Wonderful!" Draco returned her smile as he led her off the dance floor and back to their table. "Should I pick you up at seven?"
"That sounds great." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small star-shaped token and handed it to him. Draco recognized it as one of the new measures in place to keep Floo networks safe. He had used a similar one that he had taken off of the real Steven Carmichael to Floo to the Ministry this evening.
"Here," she said. "You'll need this to Floo to my place. I have wards set up everywhere, so you won't be able to Apparate."
I know, he thought bitterly. I wasted a week trying to get past them with no luck.
Draco took the token from her and let his hand linger on hers.
"Thank you for the delightful evening," he said. Then he surprised himself by adding, honestly, "It was one of the best I've had in a long time."
"Me too." She smiled.
At that moment Richard Beems strolled by, eyes twinkling with what looked like a little too much holiday liquor.
"Look at you two having a splendid time! And see, you're under the mistletoe!" He pointed up at the ceiling and winked at them as he walked away.
With Draco's hand still holding hers, Hermione and he both looked up, startled, then back at each other. She blushed slightly, but smiled, and held his gaze.
Draco cursed inwardly. This wasn't in his plan. Dancing with her and charming her to agree to a date with him while he was under Polyjuice Potion was one thing, but, for some reason, the thought of kissing her while in disguise as someone else seemed wrong.
Oh, grow up! he scolded himself. It was an innocent kiss, not a marriage proposal. He couldn't very well not kiss her and risk her misinterpreting Draco-as-Steven's intentions, which he had worked so hard to establish all evening. What if she canceled their date?
With her hand still in his, Draco took a step closer to her and brought his other hand up to her cheek.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione Granger," he murmured, then closed his eyes and brought his lips gently down upon hers.
Draco was not expecting to feel anything significant. After all, he'd kissed many girls in his life, and this wasn't a passionate kiss, by any means. But as their lips met, he felt a strange sensation race through him. Draco stepped back and regarded her.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
Squeezing his hand gently, she said, "Happy Christmas, Steven...I'll see you tomorrow night."
With that, she let go of his hand and Flooed away, leaving him staring after her like a fool.
Draco shook his head, frowning.
What was that?
Nothing, he reasoned, absolutely nothing. He had just been thrown off because it wasn't part of the plan to kiss her under the stupid mistletoe. Christmas was a hazard.
He told himself that he had been under so much stress lately, that his mind was no doubt completely addled by doing something as normal as kissing a pretty girl.
That's all, Draco decided and Flooed back to his safehouse to prepare for tomorrow evening.