"Draco, are you ready yet?" Daphne Greengrass-Malfoy's voice was shrill as she screeched her most-used phrase once again. Her question was met with heavy silence. She huffed, and lowered herself gingerly into a chair. Herself and Draco Malfoy had only been married a month, and she was sick of him already. He never paid attention to her, and never gave her expensive gifts. He was always working, always attending benefits and such, and the rare times he wasn't working, he was off with his mates, most likely drinking and shouting to pretty girls.
Daphne crossed her legs, and stroked the arm of the beautiful chair, thinking of how her life should be, when Draco strutted out of the bedroom, looking pompous and beautiful as usual.
"Get your grubby hands off of the chair," he sneered, looking pointedly at a freckle on the back of Daphne's hand. Freckles were for lower-class people and Muggles. Daphne whipped her hand off the chair as if she had been electrocuted, rubbing self-consciously at the blemish.
"Very proper," Draco drawled. Daphne flushed scarlet. "Let's start moving if we want to be at the benefit by tomorrow," Draco stated, moving toward the fireplace.
"Draco," Daphne called quietly, "can you please help me? I'm a bit sore from, er, earlier." Draco stopped at the fireplace, and turned around slowly.
"How pathetic can you possibly get? You're too pitiful to take a good shag like a proper woman? Do it yourself," he snapped, walking into the fireplace and disappearing in a flash of emerald flames. Daphne whimpered softly, then closed her eyes and set her face in an emotionless mask.
"I'll show him pitiful," she muttered to herself, "I'll show him."
"Oi! Mate! Over here!" Draco sauntered over toward Blaise Zabini, the handsome, dark-skinned wizard who all the girls were after in Hogwarts, even the Mudbloods. Zabini was currently sitting between two large-breasted, barely clothed blonds who were drinking martinis delicately.
"Ladies, this is--"
"Draco Malfoy," the blond on the left purred.
"Like we don't know," the other blond finished.
"Well then, Draco, this is Marquita," Blaise jerked his chin to the first blonde, who waved, "and Shaylyn," the second blond licked her lips slowly. Draco nodded to both girls, and pulled up a chair to join Blaise around the table. Very soon, more Pureblood wizards had seated themselves, laughing and drinking.
"So, Draco, how goes the married life?" asked Theodore Nott, the thin, weedy wizard from Hogwarts.
"Bitch won't leave me alone," Draco responded, taking a sip of water.
"Ah, those damned arranged marriages," sighed Crabbe, who watched his wife hatedly. "Isn't that her?" Draco nodded slowly.
Daphne stumbled out of a nearby fireplace, cluthing a glass full of amber liquid.
"Hi Drakey," she hiccupped, draping herself over Draco, who looked utterly disgusted. Daphne gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before pushing herself off and walking unsteadily toward the group of wizard's wives. Draco shook his head and turned his attention to the conversation.
Half an hour later, and Daphne was trashed out of her mind. She was dancing with the group of women, who had all had a few drinks too many, slurring song lyrics as they weaved.
"Do you know how many thimes a week Draco screws me?" Daphne slurred to Millicent Bulstrode, who was married to Crabbe. She shook her head.
"None. Not a single one. Except for today. And guess what?" Daphne's voice was gradually getting louder, and it attracted the attention of Draco.
"What?" giggled Millicent.
"I didn't do a Contraception Charm!" shrieked Daphne, who dissolved in a fit of giggles. Draco heard this, as did all the wizards at the table. They all went silent. Draco stood up slowly, and walked toward Daphne.
"Hi cutie," Daphne said, still giggling.
"What did you just say?" Draco asked coldly. Daphne stopped laughing, and looked up at him with big, unseeing eyes.
"When we shagged before, I, hiccup, didn't, er, hiccup, do a Charm?"
Draco's hand came up and slapped Daphne loudly. She stumbled back a bit, and touched her cheek, biting her lip.
"Go home. Now." Draco walked back to his table, and picked up his water, taking a sip calmly.
"What's the entertainment for tonight?"
After the brief silence, Blaise spoke up. "It's a circus--they do Muggle-like acts, but they're magical and such." Draco nodded slowly.
"Might be fun," he mused.
Draco stayed in his seat for another hour, greeting old friends and new, soon-to-be clients. He laughed with them, he joked with them, he talked business. He was laughing with Blaise when a small, Italian man came up to the table with a box.
"Please-a sirs, take a masque? For show, for show," and he thrusted the box toward the men. They all reached into the box and took a surprisingly elegant mask. Draco grabbed a black one with small, twinkling stars around his eyes. He put the mask on, and looked around the room. Everyone was wearing one. Suddenly, the lights when off, and the room was plunged into darkness.
"What's the name of this circus again?" Draco whispered to Blaise.
"Le cirque du Dragon," Blaise whispered back. Draco knew enough French to understand that he was about to experience the Circus of the Dragon.