𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

22 | ﴾ Do Not Forget Your Place ﴿

At midnight the dance was formally expected to begin. It was 11:40pm, and Draco excused us from the morbid Malfoy-Greengrass circle. The display had been meant to embarrass Astoria and her family and it was just further evidence of how inconsiderate the Malfoy's were. Draco had not shown any emotion; it was hard to tell whether or not he'd gained any pleasure from the confrontation.

He pulled me out of the ballroom and down a first floor hallway, nodding to guests that acknowledged him. We reached a small office of sorts and he clicked the door shut, leaning against the door with his head up and eyes closed. His sharp jaw jutted out. The music of the piano decreased substantially.

I floated around the room ignoring him in his apparent need for personal space, not feeling unnerved about being led away to a private place. The room was silent and eerie, so I plucked at objects like fancy quills and reading glasses. It was almost pitch black save for the moon streaming in through the window, making us both look like forgotten Victorian ghosts haunting the manor. I sat at the desk in the stiff leather chair and kicked off my heels, waiting, flipping a white quill between my fingers.

"Why are we 'ere Draco?" I reminded him of our surroundings. The sound of someone tripping against the wall in the hallway brought him back.

He was breathing slow, heavy breaths, running his hands through his hair, and started pacing around in front of the desk. He shot me several bizarre glances and kept shaking his head. The scene was making me feel queasy, "Draco. We are expected back in twenty minute." I waved my hands apart to physically manifest what?

"Okay. Okay... Madeleine, this isn't what you think," he said in a rickety voice with his hands on his hips, facing me with his head down. I felt an overwhelming feeling of dread seeping over me. Up until that moment the ball had not been too insufferable, but vaguely I recalled a moment at Hogwarts while holding the invitation where it had given off a heavy, dreadful energy. Just like the mood in the office then.

I sat forward, my heart starting to beat painfully with fearful anticipation. He was refusing to look at me, his straight blond locks fell now messy over his face. It was a sign of vulnerability. Pretty severe vulnerability if I could gauge it correctly.

I stood up and started walking slowly. He stepped towards the desk and gripped the edge, nearly stumbling. He looked like he was going to hurl, "Everything is going to change. Much sooner than I thought."

"You are scaring me," I whispered, "What es going to change?"

"Good," he choked on the word, "You should be scared."

The silence weighed down onto us like we had sunk to the bottom of a ship. Perhaps Titanic, I thought sarcastically.

I sat precariously on the desk edge by his bent figure and painstakingly used three fingers to bring his chin up to meet my eyes, "Talk to me. Be brave. Why should I be scared?"

His lip trembled as we met eyes and I felt my heart drop. His eyes were watery, "I wasn't informed of what they were planning... tonight... not until now. Today, when I came to get you..." He winced and pulled out of my fingers and I heard him gasping, his shoulders shaking.

"Are we getting married tonight?" I ventured, sounding more accepting of it than I had intended to.

"No, nothing so innocent as that." He turned to me, placing his hand on my knee and pulling my waist forward with the other one. I watched as two tears fell down his left cheek, the guilt on his face torturous. He stood between my legs now, grabbing my knees tightly, his face hung close to mine.

"What could possibly be worse dan dat!" I frowned deeply. I felt his tears hitting my arms in my lap. My heart was racing like a bolt of lighting.