The Girl Who Lived ☆ D. MALFOY

Chapter 11

Word count: 2112

Y/n's POV:

I sit on my bed the night of Slughorn's Christmas party. My emerald green dress rests in front of me. It used to be to the floor, have no sleeves, up to my neck, and terribly plain. Now, it is knee length with a black ribbon over the waist, and a v-neck. I think it's a bit much, but Hermione says it's perfect. I have short, black heels to go with it, my white gold necklace, and a silver ring. My usually unruly hair is woven in two elegant but simple plaits over my shoulders, and I wore light, natural makeup done by Hermione as well.

I was unbelievably giddy as I walked up the stairs to the seventh-floor corridor. My racing heartbeat could probably be heard echoing through the whole hallway, but thankfully, it was abandoned.

I walked and walked without thinking about where I was going. I had only ever been to this part of the castle once or twice, but my legs knew where to take me while my mind was elsewhere. I wondered how Harry would react. I wondered whether or not he would get even more angry and make a scene, or if he'd simply be disappointed and talk to me later. I tried to convince myself that I didn't care, but in all honesty, I know that I do. His disappointment was always something I could never deal with easily, but it was seemingly something I seemed to always have.

I held my head high as I entered the room that had been turned into a lavish dance floor with tables upon tables of food along the walls, and a few benches to rest on. I scan the room for familiar platinum blonde hair, but Draco doesn't show himself. Instead I look for my bushy haired friend in the crowd of witches and wizards when I suddenly feel hands on my shoulders and I spin to see my best friend standing there. She smiles brightly at me, but her eyes read extreme discomfort.

"Hey, 'Mione. Everything alright?" I ask. She nods quickly, but glances around the room in worry as though she was being followed. "I never asked, who did you come with?" She winces slightly in response.

"No one. I don't know if you'd know him." she answers. I can tell she's avoiding the truth. I look at her impassively with a raised eyebrow.

"I know a lot of people, Hermione. Who is it?" She mumbles an answer.
"Pardon?"

"Cormac McLaggen," she states, barely above a whisper. I can't help but make a face. McLaggen had tried his very hardest to court me since our third year at Hogwarts, and every time he'd ask me out on a date, he was unable to take no for an answer. Long story short, he tended to leave our conversations with pink hair or singed robes.

"Why in the world would you want to come with him?" I ask, utterly disgusted.

"I figured it'd annoy Ronald the most," she replies truthfully. I shrug, seeing as she made a good point, then looked around at the door once again.

"Where's Malfoy?" Hermione asks, looking concerned. I sigh, not taking my eyes off the entrance.

"I don't know. I suppose he's late." I say quietly, trying to believe myself. All of a sudden, there's a commotion in the centre of the ballroom, and we shove our way to the front of the crowd to see my grey eyed date standing there with Filch clutching his collar.

"I found this one lurking in the corridors. He claims to have been invited to you party," Filtch says to a tipsy Professor Slughorn.

"I'm here with a date!" Draco growls, looking at Filtch with a mix of disgust and annoyance.

"He's my date." I state in the silence, pushing my way into the open. I hear a few people gasp, others scoff, but I don't pay them any mind. Draco gives me a genuine smile once his eyes meet mine, though his cheeks seem slightly more sunken than usual.