Homages

Convergence - Another Homage

Till Hermione entered the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and looked in vain for Ron among the cluster of dress robes there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed her.

Due to the uniqueness of this event, she had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely asked not to attend for Mr. Malfoy's pleasure; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his dorm-mate Seamus, to whom Lavender Brown eagerly applied, and who told them that Ron had been obliged to go to the Burrow the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain student who, by rights, will be here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lavender, was caught by Hermione, and, as it assured her that Malfoy was not less answerable for Ron's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. Attendance, forbearance, patience with Malfoy, was injury to Ron. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to any of the other Slytherins, especially those whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Hermione was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Ginny Weasley, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of their classmate which she had recently begun to perceive, and to point them out to her particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Neville, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.

She danced next with another Gryffindor, and had the refreshment of talking of Ron, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over she returned to Ginny Weasley, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Malfoy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Ginny tried to console her.

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! -- That would be the greatest misfortune of all! -- To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! -- Do not wish me such an evil."

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Malfoy approached to claim her hand, Ginny could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for another to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Hermione made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Malfoy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Malfoy. -- I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well. -- That reply will do for the present. -- Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. -- But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as is possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"Both," replied Hermione archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. -- You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."

"I must not decide on my own performance."

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she did not very often walk to Hogsmeade. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming reinvigorating an acquaintance."

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Hermione, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Malfoy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Weasley is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends -- whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to have your enmity," replied Hermione with emphasis, "and in a manner which you have ensured he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Malfoy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment Professor Lupin appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Malfoy he stopt with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Hermione (glancing at Harry, who was deep in conversation with Miss Cho), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Malfoy: -- but let me not interrupt you, Sir. -- You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

The latter part of this address was scarcely, heard by Malfoy; but Professor Lupin's allusion to Hermione's friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Miss Cho and Harry, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said,

"Professor Lupin's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."

"I do not think we were speaking at all. Professor Lupin could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. -- We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books -- Oh! no. -- I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. -- We may compare our different opinions."

"No -- I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes -- does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming,

"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Malfoy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am," said he, with a firm voice.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."

"May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."

"And what is your success?"

She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Granger, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Malfoy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.