Chapter 25

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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.

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