A Visit To Bulgaria

Chapter 9 - In Which Anastasia and Alexei Dance the Tango

The day had been noticeably warm, though few inside the Fortress had given it any mind because of the numerous temperature-stabilizing spells in use. Hermione's day had already been one of extremes, and in her stomach apprehension and excitement churned into an uncomfortable ache. Though thanks to Anastasia's skillful ministrations, her skin felt like one huge mass of glowing health, the nail polish on her fingers was unfamiliar and irritating. Also, she was unused to wearing such clothes as she was. Constantly nervous about tripping over her rather expensive dress, she found that she had to use one hand to hold her skirt up like some Renaissance lady. Mostly, however, she was worried that her hair, notorious for having a mind of its own, would escape its confining spells and form into a messy, definitely not elegant halo of frizz.

Yet the pleasures of the evening definitely outweighed the inconveniences. When she descended the spiral staircases on the way to the Gardens where the Ball would be held, she was reminded of a Muggle movie about a big ship that sunk whose title she couldn't quite remember. She thought its premise and plot rather silly, but right now she realized why that guy named Jack got up on the railing and shouted, "I'm the king of the world!"

At the bottom, they met with Anastasia and Alexei, who looked possibly more perfect together than she and Viktor did. Anastasia was dressed in a very simple, elegant gown of deep purple, her hair tied into a rather Grecian style, criss-crossed with gold ribbons. She seemed like a goddess, and indeed Hermione would not have been surprised if, for that night, she was. As they set off down the hall towards the side entrance that would lead them to the Gardens, Anastasia was the first to speak. She and Hermione were walking together, with Viktor and Alexei talking to each other a few feet ahead.

"'ermione, you are ready for ze night?"

"Ready...? I don't see how I could need anything else."

"No, no, that ees not what I mean. I meant zat eef you ever find zat...well, let me just say that I 'ave got your Revels clothes in my handbag."

Hermione eyed Anastasia's tiny clutch bag and raised an eyebrow. "Must have taken quite a few Shrinking Charms, dear..."

"Ah, do not worry. I will not 'ave you worrying at all tonight. Een fact," she said imperiously, hands on hips in a but of humor, "I order you to enjoy yourself tonight. Eef you do not, I will be tres displeased."

"Mais oui, madame. Je vis mais pour obeir."

"Vous parlez francais? Quelle bizarre! Je n'ai jamais savu."

"Bien, je n'ai pas voulu blesser les garcons en parlant francais devant eux, quand evidemment ils ne savent pas un mot de lui."

Hermione laughed, for Alexei and Viktor had begun to give them strange looks. "Pas un mot."

The path to the pavilion where the Ball was to be held was lighted by floating candles that gave off an enticing jasmine scent. Rose petals of many different colors were scattered here and there. Though one might have thought that the predominance of flowers would be overpowering, in fact it was anything but. It was more of a feast for the eyes, as the sun blazed in the sky as a red-orange ball and set fire to the petals with its rays. In effect, the peculiar almost-sunset light turned the countryside into a vast garden of jewels: emerald leaves, ruby roses, and sapphire forget-me-nots. The day had been somewhat hot and sticky, but the night brought with it the gentlest of breezes.

Hermione in all thought it rather perfect, almost too perfect to be real. Though she understood the amazing effects that a simple magic spell could have, it seemed that no amount of magic spells could create the paradise she was standing in now. Anastasia, however, did not seem to be distracted by the extraordinary beauty of their surroundings. She was chatting animatedly with Alexei, as if she saw such things every day. Hermione would never cease to be amazed by this talent of Anastasia's.

As for she and Viktor, they were winding their way slowly along the path, and right then were about halfway between the Fortress and the pavilion. They walked in silence, in a sort of mood that needed no words. She sensed a bit of nervousness from him, and a tinge of excitement, and too some uncertainty. She knew that he felt this because she felt the very same things. However, the past few weeks had taught her to revise her general assumptions about life, and in general her feeling was of anticipation, for in some corner of her head she knew that something momentous was to happen tonight.

"Thank you," she said. It came out suddenly, and she herself wasn't sure why. But she felt that he understood.

"It is I that should thank you."

"But I have made your life far more complicated than it was before."

"Yet where would I be if you were not here, with me, now? I would still be as I was, working too hard, never tasting life while I have the youth to enjoy it."

"Ah, well, I think that Anastasia is enough of a good influence on you..."

They were out of earshot of Anastasia and Alexei, so he did not bother to lower his voice. "Do not misunderstand me. Stasi is the best sister and greatest friend one could ask for. But she...how should I say this...is very concerned with herself, and with her affairs. She does not understand me, and I doubt she ever will. But you...you, Hermione, you are a person much like me, in attitude, in ethic, in personality, I think. And you have shown me that life must be lived."

Yet in her mind there was that question that must be asked but could not be put into the open so that it could fester like an infected wound between them. He glanced at her face and knew, knew with the uncanny link that their emotions now shared.

"Rachel."

"Yes." She could feel the blood rushing to her face, beneath her makeup.

"You think that I..."

"Yes."

"No. I loved her. How could I not have? But I..." He stopped short of a complete acknowledgement of their relationship.

"Oh."

From then on, they continued in silence towards the pavilion, their unconscious exchange of thoughts only broken by Anastasia's laughter now and then.

The pavilion was set with about one hundred small tables seating six each, surrounded on all sides by rosebushes of infinite variety. The same deliciously scented floating candles lighted each table, and Anastasia quickly claimed a table near the dance floor, at which Hermione was not surprised. Alexei used a simple charm to let the table seat four instead of six, and they all were seated. It seemed to Hermione that just about every student from Durmstrang above the fourth year was in attendance, and the place sparkled not only with the candles but with the rather expensive dress robes of the girls. Not for nothing had Durmstrang acquired its reputation as a school for children of the old European aristocracy.

Hermione hardly noticed the food that appeared in front of her. It was edible, though, even tasty. Later she heard that it was some Bulgarian specialty, and greatly loved by all the students. What interested her more was the fact that there was no band, as at Hogwarts. Instead, the music seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere. Anastasia told her that it was a complex set of charms, rather like the ones on the kitchens, which produced whatever music the attendees desired. Right then a pleasant Vivaldi concerto was wafting over the pavilion, mixed with the sound of happy chatter and the scent of French perfumes.

"'ermione, tell us of the Balls zey 'ave at 'ogwarts. Are zey like zis?"

"Oh, not really...we have our Ball in winter, so of course it is indoors...and I think that there are not half as many flowers! But the same atmosphere, I think, is there. You know, Viktor," as she turned towards him, "when you described Durmstrang to me I thought of a very cold and windswept place, almost Nordic...but here, it is like Italy, or France. Provence, really, this place reminds me of Provence."

Alexei laughed. "Ah, but this is the summer, you see. In the winter it is worse than Antarctica. Snow, frosts, and blizzards everywhere. We spend most of the time in the winter cooped up beside the fireplaces. I hear that winters at Hogwarts are bad, but trust me, they are nothing compared to - "

He was cut off by the sound of a spoon tapping against a crystal glass. At the professors' table, Madame Vulchanov had stood up and was waiting for the conversation to die down. When everything was perfectly silent, she commenced to speak.

"I would like to thank all of the professors for helping to make this, our first Midsummer Ball, a success. It could not have been accomplished without you."

Hermione was amazed at Madame Vulchanov's skill as an orator. Her voice was a clear alto that commanded their attention and seemed to ring over the pavilion effortlessly, without the aid of magic.

"Since the arrest of Igor Karkaroff, the professors and I have striven to bring Durmstrang into these modern times. It has been difficult - that cannot be denied. However, I believe that it is entirely necessary if we are to take our place among the great academies of wizarding knowledge around the world. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Dai-Ichi, Salem - we all know these places. It is my sincerest wish that this will be a new era for our institution, an era that will again bring greatness - and respect - to the name of Durmstrang."

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the pavilion. Hermione joined in, even though she was shocked that Madame Vulchanov even knew of the Dai-Ichi - possibly the most secretive wizarding academy in the world, and its only university.

"With that said, I welcome all of you to our midsummer celebrations, and hope that you enjoy yourselves, and that you look forward as much as I do to the new era of Durmstrang."

As she sat down, the applause almost deafened Hermione. One by one, people started to stand up, and soon Madame Vulchanov was honored with a standing ovation. She smiled, which Hermione found disconcerting as she had never seen her smile before. When everyone finally sat down, conversation erupted immediately, from which Hermione was able to catch "absolutely brilliant", "revolutionary, don't you think?" and "an oration that will go down in history." Hermione herself was certainly impressed by the speech, and by the improvements and modernization that Durmstrang was obviously devoting so much of its resources to.

Dessert was soon served, and proved to be a white chocolate mousse atop a French pear tart. This seemed not quite so Bulgarian to Hermione, and when she asked as to the nature of this discrepancy, Anastasia informed her that it was Madame Vulchanov's favorite dessert from the days when she had taught at Beauxbatons. It was an exquisite combination of flavors, decadent and luxurious while not being overbearing. The dinner conversation ceased for a time as everyone occupied themselves with eating. Yet the arrival of the dessert really meant only one thing to Hermione, and that was the fact that after dessert dancing would begin.

"My Lord, if I may?"

"Lucius, you know that you may express your opinion whenever you wish."

Yes, thought Lucius Malfoy as he stood before the Dark Lord at the Death Eater Council, that is so, but certainly it would not be prudent.

"As to the question of our next offensive, I believe that it should not be made on Hogwarts. The problem of Potter is small compared to the dark storm that is brewing in Bulgaria."

"I don't like it when you speak in riddles, Lucius. Whatever you are saying should be as clear as day."

Lucius fidgeted as he felt the burning gaze of the twenty other Death Eaters on the Council penetrate him. "What I mean, my Lord, is that we should strike at Durmstrang."

A chaotic furor of voices erupted. Voldemort stood up and silenced them with a glare, then sat down again, a look of annoyance on his face. "Lucius, don't be ridiculous. Durmstrang is a stalwart champion of the Dark Arts. Even with Karkaroff gone, the principles he set down are so ingrained that even that Vulchanov twit can do nothing."

"Surely, my Lord, you know that Hermione Granger is there..."

"And what of it?"

"Her power equals Potter's. His only advantage is his flying skill. To turn her to the Dark Arts would be a great coup for us."

"She is nothing but a piece of Mudblood filth, Lucius."

Lucius recovered smoothly. "Yet there is another there who is already well versed in the Dark Arts, who was the greatest student of Karkaroff."

"I know of whom you speak." Though of course he did not show it, the Dark Lord was beginning to warm to Lucius' plan.

"And from Durmstrang we could set up a base from which eventually to attack Beauxbatons, and them Hogwarts."

"They are not the only wizarding schools in the world..."

"But they are the most influential."

Voldemort sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Lucius, you know that we are very busy with our operation at the Dai-Ichi, but if you can promise me that Karkaroff's protege will be in our hands by the end of the summer, then I will consider your suggestion."

"I can swear, my Lord, that he will be ours before then."

Voldemort, looking very tired, nodded and waved his hand to signal to Lucius that the audience was over.

Oh, my God. I have never been so nervous in my life.

Hermione was shaking so much she had to pinch the skin on her arm to stop. At the Yule Ball of nearly two years ago, the situation had been much different. She had been among people she knew, whose opinions of her she didn't particularly care about. "Dancing" at Hogwarts was little more than moving back and forth in time with the music, which any tone-deaf idiot could accomplish. But Durmstrang was full of the scions of the old Russian aristocracy, and only one dance would suffice in elegance for them: the waltz.

Alexei, generally regarded as the best dancer at Durmstrang, had kindly given her some lessons a few days before. In theory it did not seem so hard. But when Alexei had demonstrated the desired effect with Anastasia, Hermione knew that her two left feet would never be able to look so graceful. Hermione might have been a genius, yes. But dancing was certainly not her forte.

Her nervous shiverings were interrupted by the first strains of the "Blue Danube." I will not throw up my pear tart. I will not throw up my pear tart. Viktor offered her his hand, and, putting on a smile with a huge amount of effort, she followed him to the dance floor. He whispered in her ear as they adopted the waltz hold, "You remember what to do?"

She bit her lip. "One-two-three, one-two-three."

"Yes, that's it. Don't be nervous. You will do fine."

And they were off, one-two-three, one-two-three, and Hermione, once she had settled into the rhythm, found that waltzing was not very difficult, especially with someone as accomplished as Viktor, which she never would have expected from him. Still, sensing that this was the first time she had waltzed in her life, he did not attempt the dance floor theatrics that Alexei and Anastasia were up to.

Alexei and Anastasia had obviously both known the waltz for years. They whirled around the floor like a tornado, but an elegant tornado, to be certain. Anastasia's dress elegantly swirled with her, and they both had looks on their faces of complete absorption in the other. To them, it was obvious that nobody else was there, and that they were waltzing all for themselves. They dominated the dance floor that night, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Hermione was perfectly content to dance by the sidelines, leaving the real performance to Anastasia and Alexei, who tangoed, waltzed, and gavotted with amazing talent. She hardly noticed the time pass - but it is always so at these sort of times. It all sort of melted into a timeless continuum of Bach waltzes and Spanish guitar and lute, and always the quiet content.

Eventually she danced for a few pieces with Alexei, and Anastasia with her brother. While Alexei was a graceful and talented dancer, she could tell the difference between him and Viktor in dancing - he was all energy and theatrics, while Viktor was more sedate and controlled. This, she reflected, was also true of the two in real life. Watching Anastasia and Viktor also made her very happy. She was glad that he had someone in his life like Anastasia. Being an only child, she sincerely believed that everyone should have a sibling, at least for the unique experiences it provided.

After about an hour and a half of dancing, Anastasia took Hermione off the dance floor and sat her back down at the table. Viktor and Alexei, as if on cue, left the floor also and sat down.

"Now, 'ermione," said Anastasia, "we must leave for ze Revels."

"Already?"

"Yes. You see, zey are not exactly...allowed by Madam Vulchanov, and so we all slip away at different times so zat she does not notice us."

"Ah."

"Your clothes are een my bag." She turned to the boys. "Allons-y, oui?"

Without ceremony, and in a somewhat sneaky manner, so as not to attract attention to themselves, they slipped off into the forest, with Anastasia leading the way.