LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 2 : SCENE 1 : CHAPTER 71
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"Nott! Zabini! Pay Attention!"
Professor Snape's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Potions class on Thursday, and Y/N and Daphne smirked as the two boys jumped and looked up. They had been setting up Y/N's mini Ironbelly against several potion ingredients ranging from dead spiders to unicorn hair, silently cheering every time it had set something on fire.
"Now that Nott and Zabini have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor Snape, with a sharp look at the pair of them as Y/N scooped her Ironbelly into her hand and placed it on her shoulder, "I have something to say to you all.
"The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. The ball will be open only to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish," he said, as the class broke out into excited mutters and whispers. Y/N herself was interested, and a tiny part of her hoped that Draco would ask. She doubted it, though – he was far too arrogant and probably assumed she was going with him. "Ballroom attire will be worn, and the ball itself will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then –"
Professor Snape stared deliberately around the class.
"The Yule Ball is a chance for us all to let our hair down," he said in a disapproving voice.
Y/N giggled to herself, imagining what Professor Snape would look like with his hair pinned half-way back, with pretty barrettes around his cold face –
"But that does NOT mean," he went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Slytherin student embarrasses the school in any way."
The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.
Professor Snape called above the nose, "Missus Grace – a word, if you please."
Assuming he wanted the key to the abandoned classroom back, Y/N fumbled with her lanyard as she proceeded briskly to the teacher's desk. Professor Snape waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, "Miss Grace, the champions and their partners traditionally open the ball. I assume you've got someone in mind?"
He was hinting towards Draco.
"If he asks me," Y/N muttered, before piping up. "Yes, sir – I do."
"Good," he said, and waved her off.
Y/N had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; for the last two years she did (and had to this year), but she had always been very much in the minority before now. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Y/N to be obsessed with the coming ball – and she could understand why. She herself had starred in a ball, for her coronation, and she couldn't help but smile as all the girls either giggled and whispered in the corridors, shrieked with laughter as boys passed, or excitedly compared notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas day.
Y/N had a faint idea of what she was going to wear – she wanted to wear something that would blend in colour wise (like a bluish color, with the wintery theme), but perhaps a big and poofy dress, like a ballgown. The reason being, was that she wanted other girls to stand out, to feel good on their special day – she didn't want to be in the spotlight, she's had it long enough. Besides . . . she already had her special moment, she could do with being in the background. She probably had many more dances to go to in her upcoming years, so this measly school dance wasn't all that important.
That didn't mean she couldn't dress her best, of course.
Right after the announcement of the Yule Ball, Y/N couldn't help but notice a lot of boys asking her within the first classes of the next day. From all three schools, boys asked her, and Y/N – politely – declined them all, waiting. Just . . . waiting for Draco Malfoy to ask her. Although . . . Fred Weasley did make an offer she couldn't refuse, just as she entered the Great Hall for lunch three days later.
"Walk with me," he said to her, linking her arm with his and pulling her away from Daphne, who narrowed her eyes.
"Fred Weasley, I will tell you this once and once only," she sighed heavily, walking briskly through the corridor with him to the grounds, "my answer is –"
"I haven't even asked the question, buttercup," he teased. "And I don't think you really want to refuse, do you?"
Y/N's squinted up at him.
"What?"
"So we all know how infatuated with Malfoy you are –"
"I am not!"
"– but we also know how much of an arse he is, and automatically assumes everything," Fred continued, leading her to the Black Lake. "So I propose that if he doesn't ask you before Yule Ball, that you go with me, because I could always ask Ginny-dearest or someone else. I mean – I am very charming, who would say no to a face like mine?"
Y/N thought for a moment, before sticking out her hand.
"You've got yourself a deal, Mister Fred Weasley."
Time passed, and Draco still never asked Y/N, even with all the opportunities he had. When she tied his tie in the mornings, at mealtimes, in between classes, on weekends – anytime he wanted, and he still didn't ask. Annoyed, Y/N contemplated sending a letter to Mrs. Malfoy but decided against it – if she went to the ball with Fred, then she might just have a better time than with Draco. Even if she had such a wonderful time (despite the snarky comments) at her coronation. . . .
To her surprise, Viktor Krum stalked over to Y/N one day while she was in the courtyard, his flurry of fan girls discreetly following him. Assuming he was going to ask her, Y/N was delighted to find that he also wanted to make a deal with her - but this time, it wasn't like Fred's, where he told her he'd go with her if Draco didn't ask.
"I 'ave a proposition," he said, and led her, like Fred, out onto the grounds.
"Okay. Shoot."
"If vou tell me somezings about vour friend with vee bushy hair, I vill tell vou vee secret to ve egg," he said, dragging his hand through his floppy dark hair. "I vant to ask her to vee ball."
Y/N grinned – getting secrets to the egg and scoring Hermione a date? Sign her up!
"Any catches?" she said suspiciously as they stopped.
Viktor hummed. "Vou . . . cannot tell anyvone else about vee egg."
Y/N nodded. Those were good terms, nothing too strict . . .
"All right – what do you want to know about Hermione?"
Y/N sat in the tub of the Prefect's bathroom, chewing at her lip as she stared at the egg in her hands. The mini Ironbelly, who was propped next to her, let out a small phut! of fire and she rolled her eyes, saying,
"You can't just set everything on fire, you know that?"
It let out a tiny hmph! and curled up, snoring softly as it fell asleep.
"Well – here goes," Y/N muttered, and let herself go under water. Opening the hinges of the egg, she wished she could breathe longer as, instead of screeching, the egg let out one of the prettiest songs she's ever heard:
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this;
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Coming up for air, Y/N sat back, grinning. A riddle! She loved riddles, such as that one in her first year about potions . . . it was a shame that she hasn't had many in the past few years, so this really boosted her mood from the arsehole she had for a fiancé.
Having brought a spare bit of parchment, Y/N scribbled the riddle down with a sugar quill, sucking on the end as she stared at it. Some bits were obvious – they've taken a treasured possession of hers; she'll only have an hour to find it – but then, some parts of it puzzled Y/N –
We cannot sing above the ground? Where would they be, then – dirt?
Y/N thought about the line for a solid ten minutes before it finally occurred to her, and she couldn't think any stupider of herself.
Why else would they have to open the egg under water, if where they took the treasured possessions was in the Black Lake!
The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Y/N didn't believe half of them – for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked to Weird Sisters – who Y/N, on her tour of what seemed like the whole magical world, had met over the summer.
Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Monday, and spent most of it talking to Y/N about the powerful Freezing Charm she had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions – as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him odd. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Blaise's love life.
Speaking of love, Y/N couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as Daphne talked to her and Pansy about how Theodore asked her to the Ball late last night, and had gotten her a pretty necklace and chocolates. It made Y/N feel horrible inside, seeing as her so-called fiancé hadn't asked her at all yet – she loved Fred, she really did, but something within her wanted to relive the dance at her coronation, and she couldn't do that if her partner wasn't the same one as before.
They were heading for dinner when a measly first-year ran up to Y/N, shoved a folded slip of parchment in her face, and ran off. Furrowing her brows, she opened it:
I don't use spells, or cauldrons, or charms,
And I sure cause you a great deal of harm;
People either love me, or hate me, or both,
All I can say, is I'm a part of your growth;
I am located in an abundance of locations,
A place you went was part of your vacation;
Similar to there, you'll find your next clue,
A hint for you- it's where Oliver would screw.
"What?" said Pansy, looking at the parchment with severe confusion.
Y/N read it over several times before spinning on her heel, grinning as she snapped her fingers.
"The Quidditch Pitch!"
"Huh?" Daphne muttered, but Y/N was already off, racing for the Quidditch Pitch.
As it came into view, she could see Cedric Diggory standing there, a small smile on his face as she stumbled down the hill to the lawn, where she raced across to get to him. Panting slightly, she stood, swallowing deeply.
"I got the first clue," she said, holding it out.
"I see that," he nodded, and handed her a book and another slip of parchment before stalking off.
Looking down, Y/N noticed that the book was - a limited edition of her favorite Muggle book! They didn't sell those anymore!
Smiling softly, she opened the parchment, reading:
The second clue, three hoorays for you,
But this next one might be out of the blue;
A significant mark of the Hogwarts castle,
This place is more or less a huge big hassle;
It's where we live, deep under and below,
Radiating inside of it is a great green glow;
It's not the common room, not nearly one bit,
But rather what sit right outside of it;
Go to the top and you'll get your third,
Right out of the hands of a great big nerd.
Great big nerd?
This riddle took Y/N a small bit more time – what in Merlin sat right outside of the Slytherin common room? Then it occurred to her – they lived under the Black Lake! And go to the top – ?
Y/N hurried up the steep hill up to the grounds, where she met Daphne and Pansy, panting as they shivered in the frozen atmosphere. Looking down to the lake, she saw a bundled figure, with bushy hair sticking outside of a woolly hat.
Ah . . . "nerd".
So – Hermione.
Scurrying down to the lake, Y/N hesitantly stepped onto it, completely forgetting that she was a witch and slipping, falling straight on her arse several times as she hobbled over to Hermione. She could tell that she'd have several bruises and freeze burns the next day, which pained her, and she finally made it over to a giggling Hermione, who was holding yet another slip of parchment, a rather huge teddy bear, and a very poorly knitted sweater, which still looked cosy nonetheless.
"You're a lucky girl, sis," said Hermione as Y/N slipped the sweater over her head, which warmed her body and heart. She handed her the parchment, grinning as Y/N read.
As much as I know you love your riddles,
The author will run out of ideas in a little;
So here the last one is, as clear as May,
It's where we study at the opposite of day;
Stars and moons alike light up the sky,
But you're the only one who's caught my eye;
Go to the Astronomy Tower, don't forget,
I'll wait for you, standing at the parapet.
Y/N, whose cheeks were burning bright red, gave Hermione one last grin before scurrying away, slipping across the ice to get to the Astronomy Tower.
The entrance to the Astronomy Tower — a fifty-staired staircase, spiraling all the way to the landing at the top — stood before Y/N, teasing her, as it seemed to enlarge. Her heart racing and stomach flipping madly, she raced up the petal-strewn stairs, holding back her giddiness, as they were petals of her favorite flower.
Ten . . . twenty . . . thirty . . . a lifetime seemed to pass as Y/N came up to the fiftieth-stair, in front of it being a solid wooden door.
Well — here goes nothing.
Y/N swung open the door, her breath held in her chest, as she looked around. Several candles littered the areas, alighting the tower in a yellow haze as it warmed the air around her. The same flower petals from the stairs littered the floors here too, and a light, golden sparkle fell from the ceiling, settling in Y/N's hair.
Draco stood at the parapet, his back towards Y/N as his hands gripped the rails. His button-up sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his face was turned to the sky, and Y/N could faintly see a small smile gracing his lips as he marvelled at it.
"Draco?" she softly called, but he didn't turn to face her. Instead, his eyes stayed focused on the sky.
"Come here," he said, patting the metal rail lightly.
Frowning slightly, she strode over, leaving the teddy bear and book by the door, and stood next to him, looking up at the sky. She wondered what he was looking at until he took her hand and pointed at an orange-looking star.
"That's Eltanin," he muttered, not taking his eyes off the sky, "the brightest star of the constellation that represents Ladon, the great dragon that guards the Hesperides' gardens in Greek mythology."
He guided her hand to the next star.
"That's Rastaban – Grumium – Altais – Dziban – Athebyne – Edasich – Thuban – and Giasuar," he continued, pointing to each of the stars. "They all make up the Ladon constellation, which is more commonly known as 'Draco', or dragon."
"Why . . ?"
Draco finally turned to Y/N, his eyes slightly reddened as he kissed the hand still in his grasp.
"Promise you'll look up there to me when I'm not there to protect you?" he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face as he stared down at her. Her brows furrowed. She knew they were getting closer in their relationship, from the past few months, but this? What did she need protection from? "I-In the tasks, I mean."
"Uhm, y-yeah – sure, Draco," Y/N muttered, twisting her toe into the ground. She wanted to say something else but she didn't know what – lucky for her, he continued.
"Speaking of the Tournament," he said, gazing down at her face. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Will you go to the ball with me, Y/N? I know it's sort of late, but –"
Y/N's lip quirked and stood on her tip-toes to wrap her arms around his neck; his large hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her close, his face digging into her shoulder as he held on tight.
"Thank you for asking," she mumbled, her cheek squishing up against his shoulder as each refused to pry apart.
"Anytime, my love – and that sweater I knitted looks perfect on you."
Y/N grinned.
The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Y/N noticed that they were the most stunning she had yet seen inside the school – heck, they could rival the decorations at her coronation, for Merlin's sake. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were . . . less than school appropriate.
Y/N wore the sweater Draco had knitted almost every day she could. Sure, it wasn't the best handiwork . . . but she loved that he put thought into it, and wanted to share that with the world. Speaking of Draco –
"About fucking time that arsehole asked you," Fred muttered as Y/N walked around the grounds alongside him and George.
"Freddie," George said warningly, and ruffled Y/N's hair. "Lookie – he poorly knitted her a sweater! That's got to say something –"
"Yeah, that he needs lessons from mum," Fred rolled his eyes and picked at the arm sleeve. "Honestly Y/N, if you want one from mum to replace this then I'd be happy to ask –"
"No," she said stubbornly and crossed her arms. "Draco Malfoy, of all people, knitted for me. I'm keeping it."
"You're just salty that she's not going to the ball with you," George teased Fred as they turned around to walk back to the castle.
"I'm salty that that little shit asked her last minute," Fred grumbled. "I can't believe you accepted, Y/Nkins."
"Well . . ." Y/N said, shivering. As if it knew she was cold, the sweater warmed abruptly, bringing a small smile to her lips. "He wrote me three riddles, found me one of my favorite limited edition books, got me a huge teddy bear, and, as you know, knitted me this sweater. How could I say no?"
"Two letters, buttercup – N-O."
"Ah, give it a rest, Freddie," said George as they trudged to the Inter-House common room, having skipped dinner. "Look on the bright side – now you can take Katie like you said you would without lying! Yay!"
Fred grumbled as he and George stalked off to a table in the corner with Lee Jordan, leaving Y/N all alone. Sighing softly, she grabbed a quilt of the four Houses and sat in front of the fire, thinking. She didn't get to think long because just then Ginny and Ron burst into the room, Ginny guiding an ashen-faced Ron over to the couch behind Y/N and setting him down.
"What happened –" Y/N started, but Ginny quietly shushed her, fighting back a smile a Ron gibbered.
"Why, why, why, why why – why did I do it? I must be going mad. Bloody hell – why did I do it?!"
Ginny, who still hadn't told Y/N anything, started talking to Ron in a low, soothing voice, and Y/N was still confused as to what happened to make Ron go ballistic. Then, Harry, Theodore, and Blaise walked in, talking, before they spotted the trio, and walked over.
"What's up, Ron?" said Harry, arching a brow at Y/N, who shrugged.
Ron looked up at him, a sort of blind horror in his face.
"Why did I do it?" he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"
"What?" said Theodore.
"He – er – just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny, still holding back her grin, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.
"You what?" said Blaise, his eyes wide. Y/N made a face of pure . . . well, she felt bad for him. Very bad.
"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people – all around – I've gone mad – everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall – she was standing there talking to Diggory – and it sort of came over me – and I asked her!"
Ron whimpered and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.
"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then – I dunno – I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."
"She's part veela," Y/N said matter-of-factly. "Her grandmother was one – she told me so. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it."
"She was wasting her time," Harry said gloomily. "He's going with Cho Chang."
Y/N looked up at him.
"I asked her to go with me just now," he said dully, "and she told me."
Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling and Y/N rolled her eyes at the dumb Potter.
"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone – well, except Neville. Hey – guess who he asked? Hermione!"
"What?" the three boys said simultaneously.
"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he stared to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff – but she told him she was already going with someone. I think she just doesn't want to go with Neville, now that she got pretty and all . . ."
"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. Earlier that week, she had told Y/N that Neville had asked her, so Y/N could understand why she was being so defensive. "Don't laugh –"
Just then Hermione and Daphne walked through the door, talking.
"Why weren't you three at dinner?" Hermione asked Harry, Ron, and Y/N.
"Was talking to the twins'," Y/N said. Ginny grinned.
"Ron and Harry – oh shut up laughing, you boys – because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!"
That shut up Harry and Ron, but Theodore and Blaise couldn't stop laughing.
"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.
"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."
But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.
"Hermione, Neville's right – you are a girl. . . ."
"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.
"Well – you can come with one of us!"
Y/N cringed.
"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.
"Oh come on," he said impatiently, and Theodore and Blaise stopped laughing, knowing where this was going. "We need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has . . ."
"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."
"No you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"
Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Uh – let's just drop the subject, eh?" said Theodore quickly, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and taking her by the elbow. He nodded for Y/N and Daphne to follow and they quickly stood, herding Hermione out of the room. "Toodaloo!"
"I hate him," Hermione said flatly, once they were out into the corridor. "Merlin, why couldn't I have something like you, Y/N? Malfoy knows how to ask someone to the ball."
"Erg – enough about the ball," Daphne groaned. "We've all got dates – except for Harry and Ron of course – so why are we stressing about that when Y/N still hasn't figured out that egg?"
"Oh no, I have," she said, grinning. "Krum told me the secret in exchange for an in with you, Hermione."
"What?!" she screeched, rounding on Y/N. "You're not supposed to cheat!"
"It's all right, Hermione," Y/N said. "But he told me not to tell Harry. Sucks for him, I guess – no date and no clues? Honestly, I'd hate to be him."