Ophidian Crown | A Draco Malfoy FanFiction

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢

She turned to her parents, only to find that they had disappeared. Craning her neck, she could make out their heads through the swelling throng of bodies assembling in the ballroom. There would be nearly too much mingling tonight; better to get started as late as possible.

Turning on her heels, Ophelia made her way to the lounge, nearly as full as the ballroom had been, filled with sharp scents of cider and malt, stinging her nose. She knew barely anyone here, and was hoping to find Draco soon. This party would be unbearable without him.

A loud pop sounded from across the room, eliciting festive cheers and hoots from inebriated adults who all reeked the same potent stench of spirits. The scent nearly suffocated her as she weaved her way through the crowd, resorting to solely breathing through her mouth. She finally made her way to an open window, near the bar, unfortunately. The liquor shelves were lined with multi-coloured liquids, ranging from what she thought to be an aged whiskey, to the bright cerulean hue of Orchid's Drop. She had studied the production of Orchid's Drop a while back, a fermented reduction of an orchid's sap diluted in trays of water from the faraway nation of Tibet before being bottled and brought to Wizarding spirit merchants. It was a costly beverage, and it seemed the Malfoy's owned several bottles, the seventh topped off as the bartender refilled a pink-cheeked lady's glass, her golden attire stark against the dark room filled with dark raiment. The room was opulently decorated, it's leather couches and magnificent carpet concealing the wooden-planked floors. Above a lit hearth hung a family portrait, though none of the characters present were ones of the current age. They were dressed in Elizabethan attire, the older woman sitting centre, with a tall ruff that extended her neck, the puff sleeves creased at the elbows as she rested easy. The embroidered gown she wore draped to the floor, with her tiny feet peeking out from below the layers and layers of petticoats. Flanking her stood two boys, presumably twin sons to the woman. They each wore similar attire, dark camica and cloaks with green stocking and polished shoes. How they wore that every day? She didn't know.

"Ophelia Barrows, is that you?!" A booming voice called through the crowd, drawing the young girl's attention away from the grand portrait. She scanned the mass, raising her chin just so to skim the heads of all party-goers. Elbowing their way through the crowd, a big, plump man raised a hand, occupied by a translucent glass full of ruby liquor. His face was flushed with inebriation and eyes wrinkled with holiday cheer. Ophelia promptly recognised him to be her Uncle Dominic, her father's older brother. She hopped down from her perch and pulled the large man into a hug. He chuckled and laughed, setting his drink upon the bar to take a full look at his niece.

"It's good to see you, Uncle Dominic." She smiled warmly, taking a few steps back from the febrile man, who was almost bursting with merriment.

"Ah yes, it is. How was your first term at Hogwarts?" He asked as he lifted the claret drink, the rock ice tumbling against his face as he swallowed the liquid whole.

"It was terrific. I can't wait to go back." Ophelia grinned, resting her hand upon the crook of her elbow.

"I remember your father and I racing around the halls after hours, setting pranks for our professors. A troublemaker he is..." Her uncle chuckled, rambling on about his adventures during his years at Hogwarts. Something along the lines of dung bombs and biting doorknobs. He laughed to himself for a good minute. The young girl raked the room for what seemed to be the thousandth time, yet still no sign of Draco. Another round of pops set off, and another round of cheers from the crowd filled the room. People were enjoying themselves, and surely, Ophelia would too. Just as she was beginning to bore, the young boy emerged from the crowd, his pressed tail-coat somehow still pristine. Draco was scanning the room as well, thankfully landing on the young girl before he could leave. His eyes brightened, a mirthful grin spread across his face. Desperate to talk to him, she pushed past her discursive uncle.