Narcissa stood by the far wall, surrounded by pureblood 'friends' and desperate Ministry workers. Her son, Draco, stood by her side, occasionally whispering a tidbit about an acquaintance, or a snide remark about the eager-to-please Ministry workers that huddled around them, verbally kissing their feet. As always, her tiny enigmatic smile and occasional quirk of a well-shaped eyebrow were the only signs that she felt any amusement at the workers' antics, and even then, only those close to her knew that she was amused, to others, she appeared cold and indifferent, just as her parents had raised her to be.
A ball such as this would have been much more elegant, had it been hosted by her mother. Yes, Druella Black had a much better taste in décor, but this was the best she could expect from those Ministry fools. At least the dark red velvet drapes hung around the walls went nicely with the floor-to-ceiling mirror panels, and she would have to enquire about the witch or wizard responsible for the charmed ceiling that twinkled with stars. It was magnificent work, she had to admit.
She smiled politely at a pureblood witch who approached her, no doubt eager to gossip about trivial matters, as was common among the witches she had been taught to socialise with. As the witch twittered away about the latest scandal (One of Draco's pureblood classmates was seen with a muggle-born on a date, not that Narcissa cared), the older blonde witch tuned her out, wishing desperately for an intelligent conversation. She discretely took a glance at her son, catching his gaze and raising an eyebrow, to which he gave a roll of his eyes and a faint quirk of his mouth. The blabbering witch didn't notice, continuing to prattle on about something (Where Pansy Parkinson was seen on the weekend), and Narcissa restrained the urge to let out a loud sigh, instead choosing to smooth down the silk skirts of her purple gown.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose, her senses as sharp as ever, telling her that someone was watching her. Her senses had been honed by her years of attending balls like this, and from the years of hosting Voldemort in her home. Narcissa gave small shiver, going unnoticed by the witch in front of her, but garnering a concerned look from Draco, which she waved off, politely smiling at the gossipy witch and then making her excuses, seeing Astoria Greengrass making her way over (She was soon to be Malfoy, seeing as she was happily marrying Draco sometime next Spring). Greeting the younger witch with a kiss on each cheek, much more than her usual air kiss and limp embrace, she sighed in relief. Astoria held back a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she caught Narcissa's relief to be freed from the babbling witch. After Astoria greeted Draco with a chaste kiss, as was acceptable at such events, Narcissa manoeuvred them into a space from which she could easily seek out whoever was watching her.
Her eyes swept over the ballroom, grateful for Astoria's ability to read her. The younger witch had sensed Narcissa's need to survey the room, and had struck up a conversation with Draco, leaving the older witch to seek out someone. As her eyes swept through the crowds near the entrance, full of slicked hair and elegant hairstyles, her eyes met a pair of warm brown eyes. The brown eyes widened in shock, and Narcissa realised who they belonged to. Hermione Granger, famous witch, the brains of the Golden Trio, and a witch who most definitely had no reason to feel any kind of sympathy towards a witch such as Narcissa, even though it was well known that, under the power of Lucius and Voldemort, she had been a helpless prisoner in her own home, unable to act for fear of the wrath of the Dark Lord.
Something in those eyes sparked something deep inside Narcissa, something she had never felt, not in her marriage to Lucius. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she audibly gasped, drawing a curious look from Draco. She subconsciously ran her eyes over the brunette across the room, taking in the plunging neckline of the dress she wore. Narcissa caught herself looking eagerly at the younger witches cleavage, and when the crowd moved, it revealed Hermione's full figure. The blonde witch drank in the sight of the brunette in the shimmering silvery blue dress, her eyes lingering around the deep neckline and where the fabric clung to the curves of her waist and hips. Narcissa took a deep breath and attempted to smother an assaulting feeling that was strangling her self-control, a feeling which she refused to acknowledge as arousal.
Her hungry gazing at the brunette's figure was interrupted by the movement of the crowd, cutting off her view. All she could she now was the younger witch's head, their eyes locked until a person approached Hermione, drawing her attention away (Narcissa identified the person as Fleur Delacour), and then the brunette witch disappeared into the crowd, leaving Narcissa with a faint and hungry longing for more time to spend staring into those warm, deep, brown eyes, preferably, at a much closer distance.
Narcissa shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind as Astoria touched her arm. Had Narcissa been less in control of her own body, she might have jumped in surprise, but instead, she only jolted and stood up even straighter. Turning her head, she caught Astoria's knowing glance, accompanied by a cheeky wiggle of elegant brown eyebrows and an amused twinkle in the younger witch's eyes. Narcissa shot her a look and gently slapped the girl's arm, which caused her soon-to-be daughter-in-law to laugh, and the blonde witch silently wondered if she was that obvious in her hungry gazing at Hermione.
"You're not that obvious," Astoria whispered to her, having read the look on the blonde's face, "I knew you had a thing for witches, but I didn't know you liked attractive Gryffindor brunettes." Astoria dodged another slap and laughed at Narcissa's embarrassed and flushed face. Narcissa fought the urge to bury her face in her hands,
"Merlin's beard, Astoria!" she said, desperately fanning herself to reduce what she knew was a heavy blush, "I'm not attracted to her!"
The brunette rolled her eyes and smirked at the furiously blushing witch, "Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your little crush," she teased, giggling, "Well… I might tell Draco…" At Narcissa's horrified and pleading expression, she burst out laughing, drawing several curious glances from the crowd around them, "All right, all right…" she huffed, pouting, "I won't tell Draco. I'll leave you to explain to him why you're all red." She said this, and then turned to greet Draco with a kiss when he approached, as he had wandered off with Blaise Zabini.
"Hello mother," he greeted, noticing her flushed cheeks, "Are you all right?" Narcissa gave a hurried nod,
"Yes… Yes, I'm fine…" she said, fanning herself with a decorated fan from her clutch bag, "I think… I think I need some air… It is rather hot in here." Draco considered her answer for a moment and nodded, accepting it. Astoria took the older witch's arm,
"I shall escort her out onto the balcony so she can get some fresh air," she said, kissing Draco's cheek as a farewell, "I shall be back soon, Draco." She locked eyes with Narcissa, giving her a faint smirk, "Come, Lady Black, let's go outside." She escorted the blonde witch away from her son, and toward a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony, the crowd parting before them as they swept across the room. Narcissa once again felt the piercing stare of those brown eyes following her across the room until she stepped out onto the balcony.
