"You look lovely," Pansy said with a grin, "trying to impress anyone in particular?"
Maeve didn't miss the pointed look her cousin levelled on Theo, but she pretended to. She had never felt anything other than a sisterly sort of affection for him, and she was certain he felt the exact same way. Instead of entertaining Pansy's matchmaking dreams, Maeve took in her cousin's black dress dotted with magical flashing stars, "I could say the same things to you, Pansy."
Placated by the flattery, Pansy gave a little twirl that fanned out the skirt enchantingly, "I love these stupid parties for the sole reason that I get to dress up."
Maeve grinned to herself, "remember when we were toddlers and we ran about under the tablecloths?"
"I remember you barely speaking English and us bonding over the innate need to cause trouble," Pansy's eyes glazed with memories of the past and a nostalgic smile spread over her lips.
The first hour or so of the party Maeve spent in a shadowy corner with Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, trying to subtly mess with Blaise's dress robes without his notice. Guests trickled in slowly, each wearing extravagant evening wear. Some gravitated into groups, some made a beeline to the dance floor and waltzed around the room to the songs played by a self-playing string quartet.
Parkinson Manor had an impressive ballroom that doubled as a music room when there weren't grandiose parties occurring. The smooth, pale beige floor was glossy with fresh polish under the feet of the guests. The white walls were nearly entirely covered by fluttering gold drapes, fir garlands, and red bows. The ceiling was hidden entirely by the thin strips of golden material that rained down at differing lengths, occasionally spotted with hanging mistletoe and floating candles that emitted far more light than made logical sense.
Pansy had already dragged Blaise off twice for a rather public snog under hanging mistletoe.
Tables bearing food were scattered along the sidelines of the space cleared for dancing, as well as tables and chairs for guests to break or catch up with friends.
Maeve and her friends hid in a corner as far away from both of the entrances to the large room. The large double doors that led directly to the entrance hall and front doors still allowed the odd late coming in. The doors on the opposite side opened and closed as hired waiters and house elves disappeared in and out, presumably to the kitchens.
Sipping idly at a glass of sparkling wine, Maeve kept her eyes canvassing the room thoroughly. She had a strict plan to follow if she was to succeed in minimal contact with her parents. It felt silly, but her festering feelings towards them had only grown and she wanted nothing more than to avoid them until she could speak with a clear mind.
She didn't know what to say to them, in truth. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't involve her in the worldly conflict at some level. That scared her.
"Malfoy looks horrible."
Maeve glanced in the direction of the whisper. She had thought it was one of her friends, but it was actually a pair of wizards around her parents' age. One had a thick, but well-groomed black beard, the other had slicked-back dark hair.
Turning to the door that led to the entrance hall, Maeve caught sight of what they had meant. The two hadn't been poking fun at Draco, who walked between his parents, but Lucius Malfoy. He had a shadow along his jaw from lack of attention and purple smudges beneath his eyes. In short, he looked nothing like the all-powerful man he had seemed to be years ago in the daily prophet and the odd time she'd caught a glance at him at the train station.
Out of habit, Maeve's eyes darted to Draco. He had his nose held high, and his eyes were narrowed to slits as he glared at the guests who dared to stare at him and his family. He had gained an unhealthy looking pallor after mere days after returning home.
Aside from that, however, he looked just as he did wandering the halls of Hogwarts.
Narcissa hadn't changed a hair on her head since Maeve had seen her at Diagon Alley. She couldn't help but respect the woman. Narcissa Malfoy was made of tougher stuff than she appeared to.
Maeve broke her gaze from the family and tuned back into the idle conversation her friends had been engaged in for quite some time. It had turned into more of an argument at some point, but she couldn't recall exactly when.
Pansy took a threatening step towards Theo, "All that I am saying, Theo, is that — "
Heart jumping to her throat, Maeve threw back the remainder of the sparkling wine in her glass and dropped it on a tray of a passing waiter.
Her parents had arrived.
"Have to dash," she murmured to her friends half-heartedly. She expected they wouldn't notice her absence until they had well and truly settled their debate.
As she had been before, her parents' eyes canvased the room. No doubt Pansy's parents had informed them of her being a stowaway. They were looking for her.
Angelica Selwyn was clad in a black dress that matched her father's dark dress robes. It reminded Maeve of the Death Eater's robes she'd seen them wearing.
Catching sight of a familiar figure, Maeve darted forward and slid beside Crabbe and Goyle, "well, hello boys. Would one of you care to dance?"
The two exchanged looks that either meant they were surprised or disgusted at the prospect. Her confusion was remedied when Goyle took her hand in his meaty one and he steered her toward the centre of the room.
The music was fast-paced, and Goyle was a surprisingly agile dancer. He twirled her around more than necessary, making her dizzy, but it was a pleasant distraction. The two were laughing by the time they came to a stop as the music ended.
Goyle bowed mockingly, "a pleasure."
Maeve curtsied, "'twas all mine."
Then, she caught sight of her father. Their eyes locked and he began striding towards her. She smiled apologetically at Goyle and slipped into the dancers that stood idle as they waited for the next song to begin.
Wearing green to a Christmas party that had a guest list dominated by those who had attended Hogwarts as Slytherins turned out to be perfect camouflage. Half of the guest-list wore some shade of green or other.
Finally breaking free from those standing on the dance floor, Maeve looked around for her next possible hiding spot. The exit was looking rather appealing, but just as the thought crossed her mind, her mother appeared. She joined Narcissa and Lena Flint in conversation right at the mouth of the entrance hall.
"Ah," Maeve sucked at her teeth. She felt utterly trapped, "putain."
Catching sight of a shock of platinum hair, Maeve steeled herself for what she had to do next. She approached Draco slowly, as if he were a feral animal. He stood alone at the edge of the dance floor. He clearly hadn't caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle, or Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, yet.
"Malfoy," she offered by way of greeting.
"I distinctly remember you telling me on numerous occasions to piss off," he mused, looking down at her hands as he twisted a silver signet ring stamped with a rearing snake. His expression was one of forced indifference.
"This just happens to be one where I don't," there was silence for a moment before she felt the need to break the silence. She didn't want him to strand her alone with her father looking for her. Ragnor was far less likely to bother her with private family matters if she seemed to be engaged in a conversation with someone not close to the family. With Pansy and Theo, she had a feeling he would have simply started speaking regardless of whether her friends were present, "how has ... uh ... how has your break been so far?"
The poor attempt at small talk actually succeeded in garnering a laugh from Draco that she'd thought was him choking at first, "far worse than yours, I assume."
"Presumptuous of you."
Draco levelled her with a placid smile, "my house is no longer my home. You've been here with your cousin and friends. As horrible as Blaise and Pansy are, I reckon I win. I have seen death in the halls of Malfoy Manor, the home where I learned how to ride a broom."
Maeve almost winced at his words. His honesty frightened her in a way. She'd never been close with Draco. He had no reason to air his inner thoughts to her, "why are you telling me this?"
He smirked down at her in a way she'd seen him do for years. He looked like he thought himself the smartest wizard in the room, "who could you tell that would believe you?"
"I haven't truly spoken to my parents since the vow," Maeve glanced down at her hand absently, traced the faint lines with her finger, "I know they will want to talk, to explain. But I don't want to speak to them because it makes everything real. I don't want to choose a side in this war."
She caught his eyes widen. He hadn't expected her to match his confession.
"Treasonous of you to say, some would say."
"But who could you tell that would believe you?" Maeve forced a smile as she parroted his words, "people are perfectly happy to believe I am whatever they think I am."
"Huh," Draco shook his head and smiled to himself, before he extended a hand to her, "shall we dance?"
Maeve stared at his hand, his long, slim fingers, the pale silver band of his ring. It was so foreign. Malfoy had been nothing but a nuisance to avoid for years and he was offering his hand to her to dance.
"Before you answer," Draco drawled, "I think you should consider your father, who finally spotted you, coming this way. Not to mention the fact that we've been standing under mistletoe for the past few minutes and I don't plan on kissing you, if that's what you're truly after."
Maeve more bared her teeth at him than smiled as she took his hand, "si je pouvais, je voudrais te tuer."
Draco just gave her a questioning look as he led her to the dance floor. Just as they arrived a new song started. He slid his had to her waist, pulling her closer to him as she leaned back. He rolled his eyes, "please. You act as if dancing with me is a punishment. I'm a fine dancer."
She didn't respond until they had gotten into the swing of the song, "believe me, it is."
In all honesty, Goyle had been a better dancer. Draco was a fine dancer, but just fine. He followed the steps around the floor, but there was no liveliness. He was just following the instructions laid out. Maeve spent most of the dance gazing over his shoulder on the lookout for her father.
When the song came to an end, she stepped away from him quickly. They'd made ground around the room and she was only a few metres from the set of doors the house-elves were using to bring out refreshed plates of bite-sized cakes. When she turned her head back to look at Draco she caught his eyes turn from where she'd been looking to meet her eyes as well.
So, it had been his idea all along.
"Well," Maeve narrowed her eyes at him, "perhaps you aren't as useless as I thought."
"What a glowing compliment," Draco quipped back, running a hand through his hair and causing a thick chunk to fall into his eyes, "I would say the same, but I find my good mood is running out the longer I look at you."
Maeve moved her hand without thinking, flicking her finger a few feet from his face. The hair smoothed back to its previous position. Though it had been a stupid and reckless accident, his shocked expression had been somewhat worth it.
"Do try not to die before the break is over, Draco," Maeve called over her shoulder as she made to duck out of the ballroom.
She heard his response just before the door shut behind her, leaving her in muffled silence.
"You as well."
Her stomach twisted. Because in the turbulent times they lived in, it was a real possibility.
Si je pouvais, je voudrais te tuer - If I could kill you I would.