Summary: The annual Malfoy gala is being held a week early this year, although no one dares to mention such a thing to Lady Narcissa. Instead, they spend the entire night confused by the girl with dark curly hair on the arm of Draco Malfoy.
Draco was neither blind nor stupid; he could see the way his mother's guests kept staring at them and as much as he wanted to believe it was because he was wearing exceptionally stunning dress robes, he knew it was because of Hermione. She was doing a wonderful job ignoring the stares, but Draco knew these people better than she did so he knew what they were thinking. He refused to leave her alone for even a minute in case Marcus Flint Sr. thought it was appropriate to talk to her. It wasn't hard to recognise the look on Dahlia Parkinson's face either as she looked Hermione up and down.
"You're tense," Hermione said quietly, nodding politely as they passed Teddy Nott. The elder Nott nodded back, but Draco caught his eyes lingering on Hermione a moment longer than polite and sent the older man a glare that would have had his mother scolding him. At least from this corner of the ballroom, she couldn't find him very easily.
"I'm plenty relaxed," Draco lied, slipping his arm from hers to wrap around her waist. Hermione gave him a look but Draco was too busy eyeing Greggory Goyle across the room.
At a sudden poke to his side, Draco jumped and glared down at Hermione. She looked away innocently and took a sip from her champagne. When she had acquired it, Draco had no idea. Her hands had been conveniently empty a few minutes earlier and the glass was already almost half gone.
"You're tense," Hermione repeated. Her free arm winded around Draco's back and she slipped under his arm. As she rubbed his back—her hand hidden away under his thick dress robe—Draco couldn't help but sigh. Having her there was both a blessing and a curse.
"I hate these galas," he murmured, tightening his arm around her when he noticed Lady Greengrass staring rather rudely at them. "Everyone is fake and the insults are more hidden than I prefer."
"Yes, but that's not why you're tense," Hermione told him.
Draco looked down at her and rolled his eyes when he noticed her champagne was now all but gone. He would have scolded her for drinking it so quickly so early in the night, but he'd seen firsthand just how well she could hold her alcohol and knew there was no way she'd get even the slightest bit tipsy.
"They're staring," Draco informed her.
Hermione glanced around before looking up at him.
"And why does that bother you?"
It was a fair question, he figured, considering he'd grown up with the annual galas and the stares. After his trial and the following two years, he'd been stared at more than he was right now even.
"I know what they think when they stare like this," Draco answered.
As he noticed four different people staring at them at that moment, he groaned and pulled Hermione out of the ballroom and down the hall where he knew they wouldn't be disturbed. They passed a snooping guest on their way, but Draco didn't pay the man any attention as he dragged Hermione out onto a patio and closed the doors firmly behind them.
He sighed in relief and wrapped his arm around Hermione again as he said, "Better."
Hermione just smiled and curled closer to him, neither confirming nor denying if she liked it better away from the ballroom.