Hey guys! Quiddie here with a brand new story for ya! I was thinking about it, and I was wondering if Angelina ever thought she was as pretty as other people thought she was. Of course, you figure she'd know it after being told so much by the likes of Lee Jordan and some of the other boys at Hogwarts, but I wanted a definitive moment when she realized she was more than just good at Quidditch.
And I try to keep my fics consistent with one another, so I figured this would be a good chance to play up her pureblood heritage, as well as elucidate on the ways of wizarding "high society". And no pureblood story is complete without at least one appearance by our boy Draco! Am I right?
So here we go: another story that was partially a study for Angelina. Just trying to complete my picture of her. Let me know what you think! I think it's a fairly complete and autonomous story, but pending some good feedback, I've got a direction I'd like to take the plot in. I've just had an itch to write Draco since reading Tulip in the Sand (which, by the way, if you haven't read is an absolutely BRILLANT story. Really.)
So yeah, insert witty disclaimer here, and I hope you enjoy! Read and Review! I live for it!
Q
"I'm not going, and you can't make me!"
Scarcely before she'd been given time to drop off her trunk in her wing of the compound (she rarely referred to the Welsh manor as her "home" anymore), her parents had nearly cornered her and told her about the annual Christmas Gala they would be attending that evening. She couldn't feign surprise at the announcement; she'd been going to that same stuffy social every year for as long as she could remember.
She hated it. Stupid, uncomfortable robes that made the awkwardly tall girl feel even more obtrusive. Derisive looks and two-faced comments about her house placement and future profession. And always the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach when she caught bits of hushed conversation: deep, soft tones carrying rumors about the return of the Dark Lord…but they never sounded fearful, like other wizards. Rather, the whispers waxed anxious and hopeful. It terrified her.
"Must we do this every year, darling?" Her mother's voice rang annoyed and bored with the argument. She looked to her husband and rolled her eyes. "Edwaard, please do something with your daughter. The tailors will be here any minute."
Before allowing her husband to try and reason with their stubborn offspring, though, Alcmene jumped right back in again. "You know how important this is to me, don't you? You're 15 now, and it's time for you to start acting like the beautiful young pureblooded woman you are!"
Angie unsuccessfully fought a look of horror. "For Merlin's sake! Do we really have to talk about THAT? Now?"
The sudden crimson flush showed just how much she knew about what being 15 in high wizard's society meant. Rather than "Oh, look how adorable little 'Lina looks", she'd begin hearing "And what a wonderful woman she's become…a good wife to whatever man is lucky enough to tame her". She could hardly stand boys as it was, let alone pondering the prospect of marrying one.
"If I'm not even old enough to apparate…"
"Enough, Lina!" Her father's booming voice immediately ended Angelina's tirade.
"The house elves will take you things to your room. It's been a long train ride, so you ought to try and tidy yourself up before the tailors arrive. And you will be ready by 8:30, just as always. And I will not here another word about it, do you understand?"
The imposingly large black man leered down at his daughter, who nodded weakly before excusing herself to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, feeling her lip twitch in a mixture of loathing and anger at what she saw in the mirror.
She narrowed her gaze, forcing herself to retract the shining new tears of frustration begging for release from her deep brown eyes. Was she really about to start sobbing like some little child who didn't get her way? She crudely wiped her face on the sleeve of her robes, looking at herself once more. She was gangly. Too tall to feel normal. Her nose was too big. Her shoulders too broad. She was thin, curveless, and her hair was puffy and stupid. Why did her mother always have to tell her she was pretty? She was the exact opposite…and no boys would ever like her. They called her a tomboy and made fun of her love for Quidditch.
Nobody in this house understood her, and even if she tried, she couldn't be what her parents wanted her to be. The Sorting Hat had made sure of that her first day at Hogwarts. The first non-Slytherin in three centuries, at least. And a Gryffindor, no less. She might as well have the plague.
The familiar whooshing sound of the fire downstairs signaled the arrival of the robe-fitters. She splashed a bit of cool water on her face and went to greet the tailor, quickly pulling him into the parlor and shutting the door before her parents could intervene on her outfit for the evening.
"Guten Abend, Fraulein. Ich bin der Schneider. I am the tailor, Anton. My my, aren't we quite die Schonheit? You've grown into quite the lovely young lady, if I do say so myself."
Angelina smiled shyly. She would have been a bit more creeped out if she hadn't had the overwhelming impression Anton wasn't really interested in her. She bit her lip as the slightly effeminate German gave her a once over. "I see you parents are not with us. Do you know what you are looking for to wear tonight?"
She took a little breath and sterned herself before nodding. "Actually, Anton, I do have some ideas…"
She looked over her shoulder at the shut parlor door before beginning to explain what she'd had in mind. For her parents' sake, and maybe for a bit of her own sake as well also, she'd try it their way. Perhaps they might be right about things.
8:30 rolled around and Alcmene and Edwaard hovered impatiently by their portal fireplace, Floo Powder in hand. They both wore robes of black satin, Alcmene wearing a modest silk gown beneath her wizards' apparel. Edwaard glanced at the clock sitting atop the mantel, then back at the empty staircase. Of course, they would have rather simply apparated, but thus was the burden of underage children. "I told her to be ready by now. I honestly don't know what to do with that child! Bloody Gryffindor…it's that god-awful house. No sense of personal or family pride. I ought to have a word with the Headmaster…"
"Now dear," Alcmene placed a hand on her husband's arm, "there's really no need to get all out of sorts. Perhaps she's actually taking her time to get ready? She is a teenager now."
Edwaard never got a chance to share his sarcastic retort, because both pairs of eyes flew to the stairs at the sound of a pair of heels echoing off the marble. Angelina tried her best to avoid falling as she lifted the front of her ball gown and made her way downstairs. Matching her parents in black satin, the gown was strapless and corseted, blooming into a full (but not overly so) skirt of black tulle. Her hair was unbraided, wavy and loose about her shoulders. A simple black ribbon tied as a chocker around her neck served as her jewelry, save for a pair of black onyx stud earrings. Her father was speechless, and she could have sworn her mother was starting to cry. Bordering on mortification, she took the first pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames, stepping in and quickly sputtering "Malfoy Manor!"
She was helped from the fireplace by some nameless servant. Hardly acknowledging him, she exited and waited as her parents appeared in the fire moments later. She watched them step forward, her mother attaching herself dutifully to her husbands arm. This was the part she hated most. The announcement of their arrival. For once, they were actually fairly late, and Angelina knew that meant all eyes would be on them. Another pair of servants opened the large white doors to the ballroom, and she barely had the chance to settle her stomach before she heard the herald calling out their names. "The Honorable Magistrate Edwaard Johnson and his wife Alcmene."
Angelina felt a short-lived pang of relief at having been left out of the announcement…until she realized she was officially of age to be introduced in her own right. She felt herself pale slightly as the herald began again after her parents descended the red velvet-clad steps. "And announcing their daughter, Miss Angelina Johnson."
She reluctantly stepped forward, the sound of her own racing heartbeat easily drowning out the small orchestra playing a lighthearted waltz in the background. Peering down from the stairs to the ballroom floor, her worst fears were realized. Every single witch and wizard turned to look up at her. But as she very slowly (once again, for fear of falling) made her way down, she realized the stares didn't hold those same looks of contempt as they had in the past. She almost misstepped when she noticed Beaumont Bones, the oldest son of Madame Bones nodding in what was unmistakably surprised approval.
Her parents quickly joined her at the bottom of the staircase, her mother absolutely beaming. "Come now dear, you must say hello to everyone."
Angelina wondered how long her mother had been looking forward to showing her off like this, but even more pressing was just how her mother had gotten a hold of a glass of wine after arriving seconds earlier. Watching her mother gush and her father puff proudly, Angelina allowed herself to be ushered around the room mercilessly, until Alcmene ran out of people to "introduce" her to. Not like she didn't know them all already. She managed to slip away eventually, but found herself at quite a loss with respects to where she should go next. So she went to the catering table.
Deep in her private thoughts as to what the pureed blue fluff on the top of her cracker could possibly be, she never noticed the approach of several of her schoolmates. All boys. All Slytherin. "Yo, will you take a look at this, boys? The little lioness cleans up nice."
Angelina immediately recognized Derrick Bole's voice. He was flanked by just about the entire Quidditch team. David Montague, Adrian Pucey, Draco Malfoy and his gargoyle-like cronies, and Braeden Zabini with his younger brother, Blaise. Despite all of them being dressed to the nines as well, they all had that slightly unkempt air brought on by the smell of alcohol on their breaths. Apparently they'd been doing a bit of celebrating on their own with a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey.
"Hey, calm down Gryffindor. We're here in good faith, honest." Adrian swooned slightly towards her, a distinct violation of her personal space. She was more unnerved by the unapologetic looks the silent boys were giving her. Especially that pale little rat Draco.
"Who'd have thought beneath this was beneath all those horrid Quidditch robes, boys?"
"You'd better watch your tongue, Draco, or I'll make sure your puberty is very boring."
Angelina's leer and serious tone made Draco's eyes light up dramatically, and he immediately began scanning the table for food instead of eye contact.
"'Lina, can't you play nice for even one night?"
Angelina looked at David, instantly annoyed with that steady, cool demeanor of his. It made her sick. She looked around and snatched a flute of champagne from one of the waiters roaming the floor. Just as he was about to chide her for being far too young to drink, a quick icy stare perfected by all wizards of her station sent the man on his way, muttering under his breath. She turned back to the boys and smirked. "Yeah, I can be a good sport as long as you can."
She quickly downed the drink in a single go, politely suppressing the carbonation burp. "Angelina, when will you learn that it's not always a competition?"
She simply shrugged and did her best to be amiable, which she noticed was incredibly easy this year. They didn't quite treat her like "one of the guys", especially when she was called away by Lucius Malfoy to share the first dance of the evening. She did her best not to embarrass herself too badly on the dance floor, and it seemed to have worked. She actually had to refuse dances after a while when her feet grew tired. And the Slytherin boys actually followed her to her chair and sat with her instead of going their own separate ways.
As the group of boys escorted her to the Floo when her family prepared to leave, she knew that something had changed. Really, truly changed. The dynamic had shifted, and she could only assume that her new look had something to do with it. Maybe she wasn't quite as awkward and hopeless as she'd thought. Maybe she really was fairly pretty, and now more than just her mother knew it. But most importantly, she knew it now. Tilting up her chin and smirking that same cocky smirk she saved solely for the Quidditch pitch, Angelina said her goodnights and followed her parents as the exited. This changes everything.