Ravenclaw, Prefect Additional short, Glamour charm, WC: 956
AU, not canon-compliant. A start of something new, to be continued later.
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A little bit of glamour is what the world needs. At least, that's what Cosmo says. I suppose it applies in the same respect here. However, here I am talking about a glamour charm.
When I was younger, there was a different sort of novelty in dressing up. Playing around in princess dresses from back when I was around seven or eight years old is entirely different. Now, the sparkling dresses feel like a charm themselves. Whether silk, satin, sequin, or sheer, they behave in different ways. They are part of the disguise.
Tonight, I'm wearing green satin, tall shoes, and an ear piece which connects me to the tech agent outside – the one operating the cameras. The glamour charm changes my face to someone no one here will recognise immediately, and certainly without much effort. It doesn't even tickle the skin. My wand is stowed in the clutch in my hand, along with lipstick, and Muggle money. With confidence, I stalk towards the men at the doors, passing off a sultry smile as my alias is ticked off the list of names. Hermione Granger is Holiday Baxter tonight.
Fortunately for me, Holiday Baxter doesn't actually exist. She's a fictitious character intended for the extended workings of this particular case. Her backstory was invented and built up over the last year, culminating at this one party. Now is my chance to break out as Holiday and take the case to the next level. I have to engage with the target.
Draco Malfoy. Aged twenty-seven. Unmarried.
It would be incorrect for me to say that Draco Malfoy is untouchable, but it's pretty damn close. At the moment, the closest someone can get is through business or more recreational means. Seduction, for instance. Perhaps I'm proposing a little bit of both tonight.
"He's talking to Otto Bettelheim. German. Nuclear weapons development," mutters the voice of the tech agent, Sophie Johnson, in my ear piece (developed by George Weasley from their Extendable Ears product). "Potentially very dangerous." I tap my fingers gently against the side of my left thigh; a signal. "Go get 'em," Sophie murmurs.
The music is gentle and rich, swirling in patterns around the lavishly decorated room. Ornate gold figures pose between pillars and the wide staircase leading upstairs, broad balcony doors closed to the chill of night outside. I blend in with the well-dressed immediately, slipping between them as though I belong here, taking a glass of the circling champagne as soon as I'm offered. A list of conversation candidates forms in my head. I'm not one to go straight for the target. There has to be mingling. There has to be some semblance of having come a little for the party, instead of only coming for business. That's just polite.
"My dear Miss Baxter," a cool female voice says from beside me. "I am absolutely delighted that you're here. I can't be the only lady in attendance."
"Astoria," I breathe, relieved, then joke, "but there are other women here."
"These women are just women." She smiles, wrapping her arm in mine. My skin prickles at the touch, not worried enough yet to debunk the mission and certainly not ready to let it fall flat because there is someone I like in my presence. "They are the additions of their men. You and I are different. We're single."
"Freedom is a gift," I tell her. "You didn't bring anyone else?"
"I'm here for one man only. Draco Malfoy."
"You and me both, sister," I mutter. Astoria smiles brilliantly at me, and we begin to walk the room, our arms no longer linked. At this point, I gather that she has taken me somewhat hostage for the evening. As much as I adore her charming nature, this is not something I need. Sophie agrees.
"Ditch her when you can."
I tap my leg in response.
Astoria is beautiful. Stunning. Thick, dark, wavy hair that frames her chest and the deep plunge in her dress. Of course, she draws attention immediately as we chat amiably, sipping at the champagne and watching the men watch us (whether accompanied by their additions or otherwise). Her wide eyes seek out the most handsome, doing the non-existent moves to attract further attention from said suitors. It makes me smile. Throughout our somewhat lazy parade of the golden room, Sophie murmurs into my earpiece sporadically, giving information on those around me. Where Draco goes, who he speaks to, and when I might get an opening.
"I'm just going to get some air," I tell Astoria, kissing her lightly on the cheek and setting down my glass. She glances in my direction before continuing her conversation with Blaise Zabini, another of my school friends. Well, not so much a friend.
I push open the balcony doors at the other end of the enormous hall, letting the music filter out into the cool air for a moment before shutting the doors behind me and slumping for a brief second. As it happens, the night air was exactly what I required; a certain level of shock to the system to allow a reboot. Playing someone else in a warm, crowded room, after two tall glasses of champagne can numb the senses.
"Everything alright?" asks a casual, drawling voice from beside me.
For a moment, I blink in surprise. It takes an effort to stifle the smile that threatens behind my mask. I didn't have to seek him out after all; he's just fallen into my trap. And completely by coincidence.
Breathing a little heavier, I stand up straight and turn to face him.
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Ta all.