Pretension
Just A Penniless Writer

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Plea: Not my response to the Masquerade Challenge, but inspired by it. Short and barely edited.

He likes to watch her as she flits around the party, looking deceivingly beautiful in her elegant blue dress robes. He likes to watch as she pretends to be more socially apt than she is, saying the phrases he has taught her, reciting the lines he has provided. That she knows the identity and vault holdings of every guest is no coincidence. He likes to think he trained her well, certainly well enough to allow for this display.

For all that they dislike each other, he has to admit that she certainly could fit the part were it not for her filthy heritage. Perhaps had he not known... but even then she still would have been a puppet of a pureblood. An imitation, perhaps a damn great imitation, but a fake all the same. He allows her to pretend she belongs here because then he can pretend as well, imagine this was not a farce, a falsity, and that she actually was someone he could love.

However, for all that he dresses her finely, for all that he teaches her social graces she can never truly appreciate, she is still only masquerading as someone he wants. He watches her, knowing she resents him for it.


She knows he is watching her with that distracted smile, attempting to pretend he is infatuated with her. While others in the room may believe it, she is not prone to such rubbish. She can see it in the slight cringe every time she touches him, see it in the twitch in his cheek when they are together, that he still considers her less and wishes nothing to do with her.

A plan, so simple really, to help a failing society with a false romance that was spoiled by deeply ingrained beliefs that she would never change. For all they pretended, for all they tried, he would never see beyond her parents, just as she could never see beyond his ignorance.

She wonders how much longer they would keep up the pretense, as she was growing weary of the role. She wishes sometimes, wishes vehemently, that she was like the audience they play for and unaware of the disgust he hides so well, because he could so easily be a man she could love. Controlled and capable of such manipulation of the rules, passionate about his causes... if only her destruction hadn't been his cause. But she cannot kid herself anymore than he can. Their attraction is fake, their relationship is a play, and they are but masquerading as lovers.

Hiding a sigh with a sip of wine, she continues on to the next guest, aware of his eyes on her, wishing they couldn't see through to something she scarely thought mattered.