Hogwarts Ball - Arrivals

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Date: Saturday, 03 March, 2001
Time: 5:00pm
Location: Hogwarts
Rating: PG
Characters Involved: Anyone who wishes to attend

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[thelastgranger]

The dress was the single most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The red material fit her in a way that showed it had clearly been made for her. The design was flawless and Hermione gazed into the mirror for longer than she'd probably ever looked at herself at one time. She hardly looked like the same person. First she left her hair down, then she put it up and then down and then up and then she gave up on the hair and did her make-up. She wasn't nervous, no... Not at all.

Lips painted a gentle red, Hermione faced the problem of her hair once more. Securing it up, she didn't struggle to collect every strand, letting it fall down her back in natural curls. Hermione chose the black suede heels she always wore to fancy events and stockings that rarely left the draw.

The dress, the hair, the make-up and now all she needed was the date... Hermione had worried he'd accepted just out of politeness, but he had seemed pleased when she had received his owl... Searching through her top draw she removed a small bottle of perfume. It had been a gift from her grandmother, but Hermione hadn't been the type to wear such a thing. But, on a night like tonight, well the soft scent of Jasmine couldn't hurt.

She looked good.

Or so she decided as she chided herself for her vanity and locked her bedroom door.

She'd known they'd have gone to a fair effort but when she reached the top of the stairs, the entrance hall looked completely beautiful, people already wandering around, searching out their friends.

It was then she spotted him in the center of the room. If butterflies could kill, she'd be long dead and the moment she saw him she suddenly felt almost incapacitated by the flutter in her stomach. Doing her best to appear unfazed, she gathered the hem of her skirt to prevent her falling flat on her face.

[smallbruises]

As requested in the letter he'd received just the day before, Conall waited in the entrance hall of the grand castle. His arrival had been no easy thing at all. Those he'd managed to catch in Diagon Alley only cast odd looks at him rather than give him directions to the Wizard's school. His accent, apparently, accounted for nothing. It was a little girl who told him how to arrive at the castle. It is simple, she said, sissy does it all the time. A darling little girl she had been.

Idly he tugged at the sleeves of his tux jacket as his eyes traveled over the decorations of entrance - the ivy and crystals - instead of the people who moved around him as he waited. He was well aware that the traditional attire of such an event were dress robes, but he wore his tuxedo anyways. It had been a well made suit in Italy. The lines of his jacket and pants crisp and straight. Underneath the jacket was his vest made of soft, shiny pressed satin. His shirt was a bright white, the wing collar flared above his bow tie, and had black onyx buttons to match. His hair, which had been tied back more and more, had been brushed out and now fell in soft waves around his face.

For a brief moment, his eyes left the shining crystals to look around him. It was intended to be only a moment. That would change when his eyes were caught by the cascade of red on the stairwell. Amongst all the green and black, the color stood out. What was even more remarkable was the woman who wore the color. Before he could catch himself, he was staring at Hermoine as she descended the stairs. Before she could reach the last step he would remember himself. Though his look of mild amazement would not fade, he crossed the small distance to meet her at the base of the stairwell, a smile crossing his lips.

[thelastgranger]

Dress robes, tuxedo, it didn't matter to her, not in the slightest. But he looked astounding, like something from a magazine, or a film, not someone who should be meeting her with such a look on his face. Students were wandering around and other people were waiting in the entrance but it was hard to see anyone besides him.

"Monsieur Aurelius." Hermione gave a low curtsy, looking up at him with a soft smile in place. The fluttering in her stomach was threatening to cause her float away, even more intense now that they were close.

Hermione reached for his tie, tugging it gently to the left until it was exactly straight. "You look even more handsome than usual." Hermione grinned as she withdrew her hand, the back of her fingers brushing gently across his hair. She was probably blocking the stairway, but what girl in her position could bring themselves to care?

"I'm so glad you could come." Not that she needed to say it, the evidence of that seemed to be in her ever action. Why was she so nervous now? After she'd sat down to tea with him and relaxed, they'd had a wonderful time. Placing her hand over her stomach she tried not to make it quite so painfully obvious how her nerves were affecting her.

This was just a ball, she'd been to plenty of them since the war's end. This was just another night of dinner and dancing and a room full of people she knew. They'd be seeing people she knew.

"I hope you didn't have too much trouble finding the place."

[smallbruises]

Like any proper gentleman, Conall bowed - a shallow bow at the waist - in response to her curtsey. He'd practiced it so many times when he was a young boy, his mother teaching him to waltz. One hand behind his back, the other across his stomach holding his jacket and vest in place. He'd noticed over the years that not many men extended such a greeting anymore. Then again, not many people waltzed. It made the gesture all the more important to him. Something left of his parents.

"Ma petite chère," he said softly, taking the hand from his bow tie in his own. He surrounded her small hand with his two. He placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand as he guided her away from the stairwell. "You are but a butterfly." As he walked, he kept her hand in one of his, the other hand rested in the small of her back.

"At first I did, oui." Conall responded, leaning in so he could speak softly against her ear. "But a little girl named Luce helped me. Apparently, she is eagarly awaiting her letter."

[thelastgranger]

Maybe Ron had been right, maybe it did have something to do with the accent... Because when he spoke in soft French... There was no one else in the world, let alone the room.

"A butterfly?" Hermione questioned as she came to a stop in one of the least populate corners. It wasn't quite time to go in yet, so Hermione knew they'd have at least a little while to chat. His hand was warm and large, heating the flesh immediately under his touch instantly, the heated feeling spreading into her stomach as his breath brushed her ear.

"Oh I'm sorry, I should have given better directions!" Hermione was glad for his close proximity, a good reason to keep her voice low and as far away from the hysterics as possible. "I guess I was nervous and I just forgot the actually important details."

Even with the heels she had to stand on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his cheek, followed by the other. "Thank you for being here, I really do appreciate it." Hermione was used to being at these things on her own, sure she'd have drunk and danced with other people she knew and probably would have had a lovely night... But... This was so much nicer than that.