26: The Masquerade Ball

Tom came to consciousness but dared not to stir. His head was propped up on something that felt a lot like a pair of legs. Fingers absentmindedly ran through his hair.

Memories of earlier came to him. Tom and Hermione were in the library reading. He must have fallen asleep and somehow wound up in Hermione's lap. Much to Tom's indignation, he felt relaxed with this girl running her fingers through his hair as if they were lovers.

Tom propped himself up onto his elbows slowly so as to not startle the witch. It wasn't out of consideration, he just didn't want to startle her in case she drew her wand. He realized he was making excuses in his head as to why he lingered in her touch. If Tom was to succeed in the future that he had planned out, he would have to figure out what was wrong with him.

"You're awake," said Hermione with a small, friendly smile, one he had not seen from her before.

Tom narrowed his eyes. He noticed that it was becoming difficult to glare with each passing day. "You were running your fingers through my hair," accused Tom.

She frowned. "I did?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

Before he could say anything more, a pecking sound came from the window behind them. Turning around, he saw his large barn owl, Wizengamot. Presumptuous, he knows, but it doesn't hurt to dream.

"Whose owl is that?"

"Mine." Tom got up to go to the window. He thought it best to put some distance between him and the witch instead of just magically opening the window. He untied the letter off the owl's leg. He closed the window when it flew away. Tom unfurled the parchment and quickly read over it.

"Who is it from?" Tom couldn't help but to notice her accusatory tone.

"Do I detect jealousy," chuckled Tom. "Fear not, it is not from a lover."

He watched as the witch bristled with annoyance. "I'm not jealous. I just don't want to see letters from your followers." Her distaste for him having followers is clear. Tom knew she hated the idea of having followers, though he couldn't understand why.

"Well, it's not from my followers either." Tom decided to spare her, not wanting to have the witch in a grumpy mood. He loved to push her to the point of anger but this was different. She wasn't as amusing when she was angered by his beliefs than by his antics. "The letter is an invitation to a masquerade ball from my grandmother."

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "I thought the only family you had left living was an uncle."

Tom shook his head as he rolled the parchment up. "My paternal grandparents are alive and who invited us to the ball."

He couldn't help but to feel some satisfaction when Hermione's thought process skipped over the word us. "And you get along with them? I thought you hated muggles!"

"I don't hate muggles, I just find them to be mere pests. As for my grandparents, I do not get along with my grandfather. The guy is rather distasteful. My grandmother, on the other hand, is trying to reach out and connect with me. I believe it to be in my best interest in case I ever need their influence in the muggle world." Tom wanted to grit his teeth and curse himself. He didn't understand why he wanted to-no, needed to-explain his life to her. She better be willing to join his side by the end of the break or he would seriously consider taking a page out of Abraxas Malfoy's book and obliviate all traces of Hermione Norris from his mind to save himself from the insanity of it all.

"So. . . you're going?"

"Yes, we are."

Hermione jolted up from her seat. "What do you mean we?"

Ah, how he lov-enjoyed the sight of a flustered Hermione. "It is a ball. I cannot attend by myself."

He watched as she opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally speaking. "Can't you just take one of your cronies? I'm sure they would be honored to go in my place." Tom couldn't believe what he heard. Hermione hated the fact that he had followers but was okay with them if it meant getting out of going on a date with him! "Now, what has you pissed?" He heard Hermione shout through the pounding of his veins. His puzzlement must have shown because she went on to explain, "your eyes flashed blue. I know something I said angered you and don't try to deny it."

Tom laughed when he saw her wagging a finger at him. Hermione paused and looked at him in shock. "You are not afraid to talk to me like that? You know what I'm capable of."

Hermione visibly gulped. "I did not forget." Her words were barely spoken and Tom struggled to hear them. "I could never forget."

He hated the way she sounded so broken. Tom decided to momentarily forget about how broken she sounded and how appalled she seemed to be at the idea of a date with him. He had other matters to worry about first.

"Go with me. It's taking place tomorrow night and I would prefer to have you with me than a moron who doesn't know how to work a wand."

Hermione nodded in defeat. Tom narrowed his eyes, not liking that look on her one bit. "Let's apparate to Madam Delecour's Dress Shop." Most women would cheer up with the idea of choosing a new gown but not Hermione. She was so unlike the other witches.

Tom grabbed her arm and apparated them to the shop before Hermione could change her mind. Fabric of every color hung along the walls while already made outfits hung on wracks in the center of the shop.

"Welcome," greeted the seamstress. "Let me know when you find something to your liking and I'll fit it to you."

Tom nodded to the shopkeeper before moving to the wracks of already made clothing. The cost of premade clothes would be far cheaper than the cost of having a whole new outfit made.

"Is there somewhere I can try this on?"

Tom looked behind him to find that Hermione had already found a dress. The blue material draped from her arms like water. "Blue? Maybe find another color?" suggested Tom.

Hermione glared at him though the look didn't have the same effect since she couldn't put her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with the color? I happen to love it," growled Hermione threateningly.

"Nothing. You just wear a lot of it," commented Tom with a shrug. It was true. Ever since the break had begun, Hermione wore a lot of blue, black, and scarlett in that order.

"I think it's a lovely color," placated the seamstress as she ushered Hermione off to a hidden changing room.

Tom turned back to the clothing in front of him. He started looking for suits that matched the dress that was in Hermione's arms.

"Lovely," breathed the seamstress.

Tom turned around to see what had the worker starstruck. Hermione stood by a hallway that Tom hadn't noticed. She had her arms in front of her, wringing her fingers nervously. Tom took in the rest of her and had to agree with the seamstress. The gown was a lovely shade of royal blue with gold swirls sewed into the skirt. The top half of the gown hugged Hermione perfectly with a low enough neckline to tempt the imagination. The sleeves hung off her shoulders and flowed long past her wrists in a ribbon-like manner.

Hermione ran her hands nervously down the front of the gown. "I don't know."

"It's suitable," said Tom, earning scowls from Hermione and the seamstress. "We'll need masks to match."

"I assume you two will match?" asked the seamstress with a slight growl. Tom nodded in affirmation. The seamstress plucked a suit off the wrack that Tom hadn't seen yet and thrusted it at him.

He wanted to curse the woman with both magic and language but held it in, barely. Instead, to keep his calm, he went to the changing room and quickly dressed into the suit. He appreciated the fact that this shop sold both wizarding and muggle clothing. It would not help him in any way to show up to a muggle masquerade ball in dress robes.

When he finished he went out to the main area to have the seamstress work her magic to make the suit fit perfectly. Something similar to panic flashed through him when he did not see Hermione.

"I finished with the gown. The girl went back to grab money to pay with. Honestly, how could you forget to grab money then expect a young lady to go back for it." Tom quickly apologized to the woman to get her to shut up. She didn't. The angry seamstress pulled his arms out with force. "How could you say that to such a lovely girl? Suitable! Eh, no manners you have."

Tom realized that the woman was muttering about the compliment he had given to Hermione earlier. "It was a compliment?" He hated that his voice quivered with unsureness.

"Complement! Complement." The seamstress threw her arms up in annoyance, her wand gripped tightly in her left hand. "That is not a compliment. A compliment is telling her that she looks magnificent or that she is your amortentia." Tom flinched with her last comment.

A pop alerted them to someone apparating in. "Sorry it took so long," said a breathless Hermione. Tom was disappointed to find that she had changed into one of her everyday outfits that consisted of a long sleeve shirt paired with a long skirt and stockings.

"You're right on time, dear." The seamstress gestured for Tom to lower his arms. "I just finished."

Tom looked himself over in the mirror that the seamstress had provided. His suit was also royal blue but there were no designs on it. The shirt and collar were white while the tie was gold. "What about the masks?"

"I dropped them off at the Manor with the gown," said Hermione as she handed the sack of coins to the seamstress.

Tom allowed himself to smile before he went back to the dressing room to change back into his outfit.

. . .

"What are your plans before you leave for the party tonight?" asked Dippet during breakfast.

"Library," said Hermione distractedly.

"I'm going to practice for a bit then maybe join Hermione." That had become a daily routine for them. Hermione would spend all day in the library reading unless Tom forced her to fly with him, which was most mornings but he decided to let her have a break today. Her skills with the broom were increasing with each practice and she was becoming quite skilled in dodging the bludgers. Tom had joked with her about having a tryout for the Gryffindor team, what she didn't know was that Tom was being quite serious. He even sent a message to Potter to tell him of Hermione's developing skills and that he would be foolish to not force her to try out. Potter agreed.

Tom hid his snicker when he imagined how furious Hermione would become when she found out. He found himself wishing that the break would end soon.

Tom finished his breakfast first and went out onto the pitch. He unleashed the bludgers and the snitch. Though he was the keeper, Tom figured it would be best to be able to do everything that way he could help his team more and give better advice if one of his teammates needed it.

Sweat trickled on his eyebrow and beaded down his cheek. Tom wiped it away with the back of his hand. He had been practicing for nearly three hours without a break and the heat was starting to become unbearable.

A clap of thunder caused Tom to look up. Dark grey clouds formed, blocking out the sun. Tom wasn't sure what was going on but was grateful for the momentary relief. A creature with the head of an eagle flew over him. Tom was startled when it stopped outside the library window. He was even more surprised when Hermione opened the window to greet the creature with a smile.

Tom dropped off his broom and summoned the bludgers and snitch to their case. Once they were locked up, he ran into the Manor. What was a Thunderbird doing in England?

. . .

Hermione was sitting down on the settee when she heard the clap of thunder. She looked out the window to see a thunderbird appear. Not just any Thunderbird. It was the one in the picture that Newt Scamander had shown her one day after class.

She opened the window with a smile. If this creature was here then that meant the Newt had sent it. The Thunderbird dropped an envelope out of its mouth before it whistled a greeting.

"Thank you," said Hermione as she grabbed the letter. She was surprised when the creature made no move to leave. Figuring that it was waiting for a reply, she tore the envelope open and quickly read over its contents.

Just as she had guessed, the letter was indeed from Newt Scamander. He had gone looking for the real Hermione Norris with no success. In his letter, he asked if Hermione had something that he could use to track the girl.

Hermione humphed as she thought it over. The only thing she had in connection to the real Hermione Norris was the picture of Maureen that Dippet had given her. It was a long shot but it was the only thing she had. She summoned the picture and placed it in the envelope with a quick note explaining that it was a picture of Maureen Norris and that she hoped the emotional connection could be of some help.

After she resealed the envelope she gave it to the patiently waiting Thunderbird. "I hope this helps him," sighed Hermione. The Thunderbird chirped as if it was trying to cheer her up then it shot off into the sky, taking the storm clouds with it.

Tom burst into the library just as she shut the window. "Why was there a Thunderbird here?" shouted Tom from the bottom.

Hermione leaned over the railing to see him clearly. Tom stood below her breathing heavily. Dirt was smudged on his clothes. His normally neatly kept hair was windblown. Hermione loved when he looked like this, when he didn't look so put together.

"Newt Scamander sent it along with a letter," said Hermione. Tom's hands curled into fists and Hermione could see him clenching his jaw from where she stood.

"What did he want." Hermione was taken back from the hostility in his voice. If she didn't know any better she would think he was jealous.

"He's helping me with something," was all Hermione said on the matter. "I hope you're planning on cleaning up before tonight." Hermione quirked an eyebrow knowing that it would infuriate Tom. She really wanted to be alone right now.

She watched Tom clenched and unclenched his jaw. His knuckles were turning white. Just as she expected, Tom whirled out of the library without another word.

. . .

Tom straightened his suit jacket one more time. "Quit fidgeting," whispered Hermione.

They stood in a large ballroom. People in extravagant clothing and peculiar masks lingered about in groups, no one really dancing. An older couple walked around the groups, playing host.

"Are those your grandparents?"

"Yes." Tom tightened his grip on Hermione's arm, pulling her closer. "Whatever you do, do not give them our real names."

"Because of your grandfather," concluded Hermione.

Tom watched as his grandparents made their rounds. It would be quite some time before they reached Tom and Hermione. Tom glanced at the refreshment table near the back. "Would you like something to drink?" asked Tom, wanting something to do. He would have asked Hermione to dance but wasn't sure if she knew how nor did he want to draw attention to them.

Hermione smiled gratefully up at him. Her brown eyes appeared darker behind the golden mask that she wore. "Please."

Tom unwound his arm from hers and went to the refreshment table. On his way, several women, both young and old, watched his every move with ogling eyes. He kept his smirk hidden, loving that he stood out in a crowd even when he wore a mask.

The table held a variety of finger foods such as sandwiches and cheeses. The only drinks available were red and white wine. He grabbed two flutes and filled them with the white wine. He turned around to find that his grandparents had made it to Hermione. He watched as his grandmother's eyes flitted to him with a knowing look.

Tom tightened his grip on the glasses and confidently walked to where Hermione stood. By the time he reached her, his grandparents had moved on to the next group of people.

"What did you say?" asked Tom with a tight jaw.

Hermione took the offered glass out of his hand. "Thank you." She took a sip of it much to his annoyance. "I told him that my husband and I had heard about their parties and had come with my cousin."

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. "Husband?" The word sounded foreign on his tongue though it sent pleasant shivers down his spine. He took a sip of his own wine as he looked out into the crowd. "Prey tell, what cousin did we come with?"

She lifted her hand with the wine glass and pointed a finger toward a group of women that were whispering rather loudly while shooting hungry glances at him. "I told them she was among that flock."

Tom chuckled. "They are flocks, are they not?" Muggles along with wizards tend to form groups of like-minded people that were similar to flocks of sheep. It pleased him to hear Hermione comment on their behavior as such, showing that the two thought similarly even if she refused to admit it.

Hermione shot him a dark glare. "I did not mean it that way. They are not your flock to do with as you please. You are just the same as them." She walked off before he could correct her. In his mind, they were his flock because he was better than them.

As soon as Hermione was far enough away from him, the group of women that was ogling him rushed forward. They surrounded him in a matter of seconds. He really detested parties.

"May I cut in." The voice demanded in a polite, elegant tone that was by no means a question.

The nuisances that were surrounding him parted to reveal his grandmother. She wore a long ivory green dress and her reddish-brown locks were pinned into a neat and stylish bun with a diamond encrusted hairpiece. His grandmother grabbed his arm and led him off toward the side. "Tut-tut. Your husband might grow suspicious."

His grandmother let out a low and hearty chuckle. "That man is busy getting acquainted with the wine, as is your wife." Tom looked to the refreshment table to find that she was right. His grandfather was among a group of gentlemen that were getting well acquainted with the drinks being served. At the other end of the table was a pink-faced Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me you were married."

Tom laughed. Not a politely controlled laugh that was reserved for public occasions but a real one. "I would have told you but I am not married. Miss Norris is an acquaintance of mine."

His grandmother's blue eyes twinkled. "If you say so."

"I do." Tom found his gaze wandering back to the table. Hermione downed another glass and he watched as she walked on unsteady legs to the sandwiches.

"I fear it is time for my guest and I to depart," sighed Tom. He kissed his grandmother goodbye on the cheek and headed toward Hermione. He had to admit that as far as muggles go, his grandmother was definitely the better part, it was such a shame that she had no magical blood in her veins.

"Time to go." He wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist to keep her steady.

"I don't wanna go." She tried to pry herself out of his hold. He chuckled at her futile effort.

Tom leaned down until his lips grazed her ear. "What if I'm ready to go?" He felt her shiver against him. Maybe he did have some effect on her after all?

Hermione allowed him to steer her out of the Manor. The air outside was surprisingly chilly and felt marvelous against his warm skin. He apparated them back to Dippet Manor where they landed on the first floor.

The Manor was dark and eerily quiet. Dillie didn't even come to greet them.

He turned to head up the stairs but paused when he heard Hermione's unsteady footwork behind him. "Do you need help?"

"I don't need any help, I can manage quite well on my own." She must not have been too drunk if she was able to speak without slurring her words.

"Bollocks!" Tom turned around just in time for the swearing Hermione to fall into him. Her foot jammed into his, causing him to lose his balance. He wrapped his arms around Hermione as they fell to the ground. It was probably a good thing that Dippet was out drinking with professor Slughorn.

His back slammed into the ground. Hermione laid sprawled on top of his chest. "Sorry. I don't know what happened." Her curls fell to curtain them from the outside world. The mask that she had worn earlier had fallen off sometime during their descent exposing her ruby cheeks.

The conversation with the dressmaker from the day before fluttered through his head just then. "I think I may have forgotten to tell you how stunning you look tonight."

To his amazement, her face flushed a different shade of red. Unable to look away, she buried her face into his chest. He chuckled at her sudden shyness. Suddenly, he wanted to be like every other boy he went to school with. He tucked two fingers underneath her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his. He brought his other hand to the back of her head and guided her head until her lips were just centimeters away from his.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"This." He tilted his head up until his lips touched hers. He felt her sigh against him causing him to deepen the kiss. Her lips moved against his. The taste of alcohol was heavy on her breath.

Tom pulled away with a sigh. There was no way he wanted to continue this with a drunken Hermione, he would have to wait until she sobered up. "Time to get you to bed." Her lower lip puckered out, tempting him to ignore his resolve. Before he could change his mind, he pulled himself out from underneath her and stood up. He then reached down and picked her up, holding her in his arms. Something must be wrong with him if he was so easily willingly ready to become like all of the girl-crazed idiots that surrounded him. He was too goal-oriented to fall prey to normal human emotions.

Hermione snuggled closer to him, burying her face into his neck. Her warm breath tickled against his skin. Maybe being a normal idiot for a few days wouldn't hurt his goal in the long run, it might even help it if it got Hermione Norris on his side.