Chapter Text
Chapter One
The Yule Ball
Draco had been staring at herself in the mirror for long enough that her reflection was beginning to look judgmental.
She looked good. There was no point pretending otherwise.
Her dress had arrived from home two days earlier, wrapped in tissue paper and accompanied by a letter from her mother. Narcissa had written several affectionate paragraphs about enjoying the evening, behaving herself and remembering that she represented the Malfoy family.
Draco had found the order of those instructions rather amusing.
She adjusted one of her earrings.
Behind her, Pansy was stretched across the bed, watching.
"You've checked that three times."
"Twice."
"Three."
Draco glanced at her reflection.
"You're counting?"
"I'm bored."
"You could help."
"I did. I told you the necklace was fine."
"It is slightly crooked."
"It isn't."
Draco touched it anyway.
Pansy sighed.
"You know, normal people would simply put their clothes on and go downstairs."
"Normal people don't have to spend an evening being inspected by half the school."
"Nobody is inspecting you."
Draco gave her a look.
Pansy considered that.
"All right. Everyone is inspecting you."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Draco smiled despite herself.
Pansy sat up.
"Are you actually nervous?"
Draco hesitated.
"A little."
"About your date?"
"No."
"Good. He's boring."
"You've spoken to him twice."
"Twice was enough."
Draco laughed softly.
That was the thing about Pansy. She could be cruel, but rarely in the ways Draco expected. She noticed things. She remembered what Draco liked, what she hated, which subjects made her miserable and which professors she secretly enjoyed.
"He's perfectly nice," Draco said.
"That's worse."
"You're impossible."
"And you're stalling."
Draco looked at herself one last time.
The dress really was lovely.
She straightened her shoulders.
"Fine."
Pansy grinned.
"There's the Malfoy."
Draco rolled her eyes.
They went downstairs together.
The Great Hall looked nothing like it usually did. Enchanted snow drifted beneath the ceiling, candles floated above the tables and enormous arrangements of white flowers framed the dance floor. Music filled the room, louder and warmer than Draco had expected.
She stopped for a moment.
Pansy bumped her shoulder.
"Don't look impressed."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm assessing the decorations."
"Of course you are."
Draco smiled.
Her date arrived a moment later.
He was perfectly acceptable. Well dressed, polite, reasonably handsome, and from a family Draco had heard of. He had sent her flowers before the holidays and had remembered that she disliked roses.
She appreciated the effort.
She simply wasn't particularly interested.
Still, Draco knew how to be pleasant when she needed to be.
She smiled at him, and his entire face brightened.
That was rather sweet.
They entered the hall together.
For the first hour, Draco behaved impeccably.
She danced when she was expected to dance, laughed at the appropriate moments and endured a surprisingly detailed conversation about the Triwizard Tournament. Her date was not boring when he talked about Quidditch, which was something at least.
Then, during a slower song, he was drawn into conversation with a group of boys from Beauxbatons.
Draco wandered toward the edge of the dance floor.
She watched the dancers.
Nobody looked particularly elegant.
Someone nearly collided with a table. Another couple were moving in completely different directions. Two girls were laughing so hard they could barely dance at all.
Draco found herself smiling.
A boy passing her caught the expression.
"You're laughing at us."
"Not at you."
"That's disappointing."
She looked at him.
He was grinning.
Draco tilted her head.
"Do you always talk to girls you've never met?"
"Only the ones who look like they're about to be bored."
She laughed.
"Bold."
"I thought so."
He held out his hand.
"Come on."
Draco glanced toward her date.
Still talking.
She placed her hand in the boy's.
"One dance."
"Two."
"Don't push your luck."
He smiled.
"Two, then."
Draco let him lead her onto the floor.
It was fun.
More fun than she expected.
He was a terrible dancer, but he knew it, which made the whole thing considerably more entertaining. When he spun her the wrong way and nearly lost his balance, Draco laughed.
"You are dreadful."
"I warned you."
"You did not."
"I implied it."
"That's not the same thing."
He laughed.
And Draco realised something.
She liked this.
Not just the dancing.
The ease of it.
She didn't have to think about what to say. She could tease him, smile when she wanted, let her eyes linger for half a second longer than necessary, and somehow the conversation kept moving.
When the song ended, he offered to get her something to drink.
Draco smiled.
"Pumpkin juice."
He looked disappointed.
"Something stronger?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"We're in school."
"Right."
He laughed and went to get it.
Draco watched him go.
That was interesting.
She had not asked.
Not really.
She had simply looked at him and smiled.
And he had wanted to do something nice for her.
She tucked that observation away.
Later, she tested it.
Not deliberately at first.
She complimented a girl's earrings and asked where she'd bought them. The girl immediately took one out and offered it to Draco to look at properly.
Draco admired it and returned it.
She mentioned to a Ravenclaw that she liked the little cakes being served. He brought her one. When she thanked him, he looked absurdly pleased with himself.
Draco began to suspect that people enjoyed being useful. Or perhaps they simply enjoyed being noticed. Either way, she was beginning to have fun with it.
She leaned toward a boy who was standing beside the punch bowl.
"Could you pass me that?"
He did.
"Thank you."
She smiled.
He smiled back.
Draco bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
This was ridiculous.
She wasn't ordering anyone around. She wasn't even asking for anything particularly important. She was simply being charming.
And people were responding.
Pansy found her near the edge of the dance floor.
"You look suspicious."
"I look beautiful."
"That too."
Draco grinned.
"I think I've discovered something."
Pansy folded her arms.
"That you enjoy attention?"
"I already knew that."
"Fair."
Draco lowered her voice.
"I think people will do almost anything if you make them feel as though you particularly like them."
Pansy stared at her.
Then she laughed.
"You've been flirting."
"I have been socialising."
"You've been flirting."
"There's a difference."
"Not when you do it."
Draco smiled innocently.
Pansy pointed at her.
"That. That exact face."
"What face?"
"The one that says you've just thought of something terrible."
Draco laughed.
Before she could answer, one of the Durmstrang students caught her eye from across the room.
He did not wave.
He simply touched two fingers to the inside of his robes.
Draco looked toward the door.
Then back at him.
Interesting.
She excused herself from Pansy and followed.
The corridor beyond the Great Hall was quiet. The music became muffled almost immediately, and the farther they walked, the more Draco became aware of just how much trouble they could be in if they were caught.
The Durmstrang student stopped beside an empty classroom.
Another boy was already waiting.
He glanced both ways before producing a bottle from beneath his robes.
Draco stared.
"Where did you get that?"
"Does it matter?"
"It will if we get caught."
"Then we won't get caught."
Pansy appeared behind Draco.
"I knew you were up to something."
Draco turned.
"You followed me."
"Obviously."
The boy unscrewed the bottle.
Pansy looked horrified.
"That's definitely not pumpkin juice."
"No."
Draco looked at the bottle.
Then at Pansy.
Then back at the bottle.
She took it.
"How bad?"
"Very."
Draco took the smallest sip imaginable.
Her eyes widened.
She swallowed.
"That's vile."
The boys laughed.
Pansy covered her mouth to stop herself.
Draco glared at them.
"I don't see what's funny."
"You drank it."
"I was curious."
"Drink some more."
Draco looked offended.
Then she took another sip.
It was still vile.
She handed it back.
"I've learned my lesson."
Pansy laughed.
"You'll do it again."
"Probably."
The music drifted faintly through the wall.
Draco looked toward the door.
Something warm and reckless had begun to settle in her chest.
"Come on."
Pansy groaned.
"Draco."
"One more dance."
"We've already danced."
"That was before."
"Before what?"
Draco smiled.
"Before I discovered I'm having fun."
Pansy looked at her for a moment.
Then she shook her head, smiling.
"You're impossible."
"I've been told."
They slipped back into the Great Hall.
Draco danced until the music stopped feeling like something happening around her and became something she was part of. She danced with Pansy, with her date, with friends of friends and people whose names she never properly learned. She laughed when someone stepped on her dress. She stopped worrying about whether her hair was still neat.
For once, she wasn't performing. She wasn't trying to be intimidating, impressive or perfectly behaved. She was simply enjoying herself.
And somewhere between one song and the next, Draco understood why she had always felt vaguely restless at the parties her parents hosted.
Those parties had never really been hers.
This was.
She liked the music. She liked the movement. She liked the little thrill of breaking a rule and getting away with it. Most of all, she liked discovering that she could walk into a room and decide what sort of person she wanted to be.
Pretty, apparently, was useful.
Charming was even better.
And Draco had a feeling she was going to become very good at both.