Yes, Professor Malfoy?

t h i r t y - t w o

Though I did have to agree that the manor looked the most alive it had done in a long time. The chandelier was lit, the candles and candelabras on the walls too. The portraits were clean, as were the cabinets and frames.

Surely, Scorpius hadn't missed the fact that there was only one family picture up.

One from when I was aged seven or eight, hair loose but sleek and wavy, dressed in my Sunday best, beside a happier-looking mother, and father looking bored as ever, sat off to the right. As the image moved, I watched myself giggle at the front, rocking on the heels in my black patent shoes, unbeknownst of the crinkle in mother's brow as she turned to look at her husband.

It was disappointment on her face in the last frame.

I briefly lost myself watching it play on repeat, before glancing at the others. School pictures from every single year, all small and ascending by year in a row, a gap where the most recent ought to go. My last one.

"I'm telling you, someone's going to snap. Our family doesn't get along, but everyone's playing nice at the moment. It's unnerving." My voice wavered and I turned back to the boy, fiddling with the thin stem of the margarita glass in my hand.

"It'll be fine." He assured me. "On the brighter side, look who's coming over here. It's your boyfriend."

"How many times do I have to tell you to- Diggs, hi!" A forced smile found its way onto my face as he approached.

"Clarabelle." His pearly grin was fixed in place, entirety immaculate - from the tidy hair on his head down to the perfectly polished shoes. "You have a beautiful home. How are you?"

"Thank you, though I must say I can't stay and chat, as I have to help my mother. À venir..." One of my hands touched his shoulder apologetically as I swerved past him, palms practically sweating from nerves.

"I'm good, too, by the way." Scorpius muttered before taking a small sip from his glass of champagne. "Thanks for asking."

I felt eyes on me as I passed through the hallway and entrance to the lounge, slipping through the door to the dining room where mother was setting up the table, a swirl of rose-pink shawl as she glided back and forth. I watched her line up the silverware beside each placement, bare plates and bowls lining the table.

"Need a hand? You know you don't have to do this all by yourself, right?"

"That's alright, Belle. I wanted to do this the old fashioned way. Magic is so very over-used, anyway. Besides, I need to keep my hands busy or else I get too anxious..."

Well, that makes two of us.

"Right. Is there anything I can do?"

My throat was dry, despite the glass of champagne and margarita I had already had, swallowing was rough.

"Not really, but maybe ask around if anyone would like another drink?" She called to me over her shoulder, throwing one end of her shawl around her neck as she leaned over the surface to the centre.

I nodded and retraced my steps back through the double doors, walking carefully across the polished floor and onto the plush carpet of the living room, advancing on Fliss' group and waiting until there was a gap in the conversation to clear my throat.

"Excuse me, does anyone want a drink or anything?"

"Oh, you're quite literally playing hostess. How cute." She smirked as I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her forced American accent. After living there for a few months, she was beginning to override her French with a fake-sounding American one.