Ah, going away parties.
I hear they're real fun.
I don't know if this is real great, but you be the judge of that.
"Felicia! There's a tryout for keeper today!" Ivy beamed, tugging Felicia from the common room. The two twelve- year-olds sprinted down the hall, speedily making their way to the quidditch pitch. "You have your broom?" asked Ivy looking at her friend. "Yeah, I do. I stole Nandi's Nimbus 2001. You don't think he'll miss it, right, Ivy?" Felicia winked. "Leesha! He's on the team!" Ivy laughed. "All the more reason why he won't miss it!" she grinned. The two girls laughed.
Their laughter was heard by Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team; and Ferdinand, Felicia's elder brother. The seventeen-year-old was tall, handsome, slick, and a heartbreaker by nature. "What's that terrifying sound I hear? Oh wait, that's my little sister," Ferdinand sneered. He bared his aligned, pearly-white teeth. "Hello, brother," Felicia twitched. "She's trying out for keeper? I don't want to scream out 'De Ford' and two of you turn around!" Flint laughed, showing his yellowed, decaying teeth. Felicia frowned in disgust. "And you stole my broom? Not to worry, Father got me another. Just sent it over today," Ferdinand bragged. "So you won't miss it? Great then," Felicia smirked. She threw the broom to the ground and stepped on it, breaking the broom cleanly in two.
"What a waste of a perfectly good broom," said the seeker, Malfoy. "How would you know anything about wasting things? Oh yeah, your life is one too," retorted the younger De Ford. "I like her, Flint. Stubborn, annoying, and unyielding. The perfect keeper," Malfoy smirked. "I guess so, Malfoy. You're on the team, Mini-De Ford," Flint concluded. The newly-instated keeper turned to the seeker. "So I'm on the team? Just like that?" She asked, snapping her fingers. "Exactly, just like that," Malfoy echoed, snapping his gloved fingers. "If I was a Gryffindor, I'd say I owe you one. But what house am I in? Ah yes, Slytherin. What's in it for you, Malfoy?" she asked, sensing the favor exchange taking place.
"Isn't my little sister just a Slytherin?" Ferdinand whispered to Callista Schoonrad, Cameron (Felicia's friend) Schoonrad's elder sister and one of the other chasers. "She's a lot like you, Ferdinand. I'm afraid I can't say the same of Cameron, though," Callista nodded.
"Perhaps the house cup," Malfoy replied smartly. "How can you be in it for the cup if I'm in it for the cup too?" Felicia raised an eyebrow. "I don't quite know, De Ford, stop asking me questions!" Malfoy snapped, irritated by the new keeper's behavior. "De Ford can mean Xavier, my father; or Fern, my mother; or Ferdinand, my brother; or any of my paternal cousins. If you order me to do something, the whole De Ford clan is being ordered to do something," Felicia answered matter-of-factly.
Felix smirked. "Felix," someone said very calmly. She continued to doze off. "Felix," the voice said again, a little louder this time. She mumbled something about later. The voice rested.
"FELICIA XAVIERRE VAUGHN DE FORD! WAKE UP!"
She jumped out of bed, looking around frantically for the owner of the voice. Fern De Ford stood in the middle of the black-and-white room, in a dark blue bathrobe, becoming the easiest focal point of the room.
Her chocolate brown tresses were swept up in a chic bun, and her clear blue eyes were rimmed in metallic purple eyeliner. She had her hands on her hips, the most inelegant scowl upon her face. Her lips were glossed in pink, her robe feathering over the floor.
"Oh. Hi mum," Felix murmured weakly to her mother's majestic (but still not quite ready) form. "Don't you 'hi mum' me. Do you know what time it is?" her mother snapped. "Er, no mum. I was kind of asleep. But would you give me the pleasure of asking you?" she asked politely. "It's 4 in the afternoon. Bloody four in the afternoon! Your cousin Fabiana is coming at four thirty! Do you know how near that is from now?! Very, very, very near Felicia! You should have eaten both breakfast and lunch, and gotten ready for her arrival and the beginning of the party! The party is beginning at five! You have to get ready after welcoming your cousin. I believe she has your dress, so you be nice to her!" Her mother gave her an entire scolding in the span of one or two minutes. "Yes, mother," Felix replied softly.
"Well don't just stand there looking at me, get ready! Get some tea! Wear a sundress! I don't know, just don't wear black!" her mother shrieked. "Yes mother. Can I dress now please?" Felix asked innocently. Her mother exited the room with a nod and a scoff.
She opened the black wardrobe.
I can see why you painted it black, Mother. Almost everything in here is black.
Thankfully, one corner was devoted to color. There were whites, blues, reds, and purples, to name a few. She picked out a plain white shift dress and black gladiator sandals.
She stripped, showered, dried, and dressed. She parted her brown locks with a comb, running her fingers through them.
Felix went out of her bedroom, carrying her wand. One of the maids passed her muttering something about "Mistress Fern won't be happy."
"Carmen? Carmen, right?" she asked the maid. "Yes, Mistress De Ford?" the maid asked fearfully. "Can I have a cup of tea? I'm starving, but it seems a bit late for breakfast," she tried to smile. "Yes Mistress. I'll get right on it. Where should I serve you your tea?" asked the maid, smiling now. "The sitting room on the ground floor, if you will. I want to see what's going on before meeting Fabiana," the maid nodded and Felix went down the staircase. The staircase was grand, black, wooden, and shiny, like everything wooden in the mansion.
She arrived in the sitting room with the high ceiling, and sat down on a black couch. Felix glanced up at the family portrait. It was still, like muggle ones, painted, also like muggle ones, but far more detailed. She was fifteen when the portrait was painted, so her hair was still long. Her hair in the portrait was swept up, and she was wearing a black dress. Her brother stood at her back, his hand on her shoulder. Her mother was holding her hand, and her father's. Her mother had the glint of a smile in her eyes, and her father's expression could only be translated as to one of power. Her brother was smirking, one of domineering. Her own was a very powerful expression, like she was without a doubt the best of everything.
"Mistress?" Carmen the maid appeared with a silver tray bearing a single cup of tea. "Ah! Yes. Of course, the tea. Set it down here," she gestured to the black table beside her. The maid did was she was told and looked to her young mistress. "Anything else, Mistress De Ford?" Carmen clutched her silver tray to her chest. "No, that will be all, Carmen," Felicia sipped her tea as the maid scurried off to the kitchens, where the maids were told to stay when not called for.
Unlike the parlors and libraries, there was only one kitchen. This singular kitchen was large, and all sorts of food were prepared there: from a simple slice of toast to crème brulee. It was black and white, like the rest of the mansion, but the food brought all the color in. Not to mention the delicious aromas wafting out of the kitchen livened it up tenfold. The maids could sit around the breakfast island and relax; something they weren't allowed to do anywhere else in the house. Come to think of it, the guidelines Fern exercised on the help were stricter than the ones she implied on Felix and her brother.
Case in point: Maids aren't allowed in any of the rooms unless ordered to clean, nothing else; maids are not allowed to visit the stables or fraternize with the stable boys. Any indication of fraternization results in immediate removal from the De Ford estate; maids are not allowed to taste any food to be served to the De Ford clan or any of its associates, etc.
Fern Vaughn De Ford was half-French, so she had the best cuisine in the world in her maidenhood. After all, Fern's mother, Cantrelle Charpentier Vaughn learned to cook from the best culinary school in France (DuPont Culinary Academy of Southern France) before marrying Ferdinand Vaughn, an English wine connoisseur and pureblood wizard. Hence, when Fern became mistress of a vast estate and large kitchen, she requested the best chef in her mother's cooking school to become their chief of cuisine. Enter Armand DuPont, headmaster of DuPont Culinary Academy.
Don't get me wrong; Armand wasn't some ancient geezer from "Old Paris". He was around thirty, with a head full of rich blond hair and a million culinary credentials. Armand was the son of the original DuPont, and he had proved his worth as a sous chef in an upscale Parisian restaurant. He readily agreed when Fern said she was Cantrelle Charpentier's only daughter, his reason being that Cantrelle supported his talents.
Felix set down her empty cup on the saucer, waiting for the doorbell to ring. She heard the doorbell, stood up, and watched her mother descend the stairs.
Her jaw dropped.
Fern was clad in a Greek one shouldered sky blue chiffon masterpiece and gold sandals, her hair braided with gold ribbon.
Her mother caught her staring as she made her majestic way to the door.
"Felicia, close your mouth. It's unattractive."
Felix did was she was told and followed her mother to the end of the hall, where the front door was. Fern opened the acacia passageway with a small flick of her wand.
"Fabiana. You came," her mother ushered the tall brunette girl in with a hug. "I couldn't refuse the offer, Aunt Fern. You know how Daddy is about family," Fabiana replied coolly. "Of course. I'm sorry I can't welcome you properly, but I have to make sure everything is perfect for the party," Fern apologized to the brunette and waved goodbye, disappearing down the hall.
Fabiana Vaughn was tall, taller than Felix, and had long dark brown tresses in a neat ponytail. Her eyes were hazel, unlike Felix's, but they held the same mischievous look. Fabiana was the same age as Ferdinand, 21.
"Leesha!" She hugged her cousin excitedly. "OMG, what happened to you?" Felix rolled her eyes when Fabiana let go. "Nice to see you too, Yana." Fabiana smiled endearingly. "Just kidding, Leesha. So, how've you been?" Felix flicked her wand toward the stairs and Fabiana's luggage levitated to the guestroom on the second floor.
"I've been well," said Felix as they ascended the stairs to the guestroom. "Well as in good or 'my heart's broken in two and I'm managing' well?" Fabiana asked, unzipping her suitcase. "Good. We don't have much time, so I suggest you prepare. Mum said you have my dress?" replied Felix as she peeped inside the suitcase.
Fabiana Vaughn was a fashion designer; she studied at Beauxbatons and then had an internship for the muggle designer Tom Ford; but now she had her own label and she was very famous in France, from what Felix heard.
Fabiana took out a white dryclean bag from her suitcase, unzipping it slowly to reveal the shiny silk black dress. "So, what do you think?"
Felix was stunned. It had ¾ sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, the top corseted and the bottom fanning out until 2 inches above her knee. "It's…gorgeous."
"I knew you'd love it. This hasn't been released yet, so you're the first one to wear it. I named the collection after you, in fact," the designer said it in a sort of dreamy voice. Fabiana passed the dress to Felix. "Wear those two-inch pumps I sent you from Paris. No funny business," Fabiana said in a business-like tone.
"Yeah. I'll see you at the stairs with your sisters?" asked Felix as she made a move to leave. "Mmhm," Fabiana let down her hair and started brushing it.
Felix apparated to her room, stripped off her clothes, and found the shoes already on the floor beside her bed. She quickly put on the dress, stepped into the heels, put her wand on the dresser, and frantically tried finding some sort of silver necklace.
All the while she put on her makeup (eyeliner, clear lipgloss, and powder) very carefully.
Felix found one, a silver heart-shaped locket with her parents' picture inside. She clasped it around her neck and took one final look at herself in the mirror.
The dress fit perfectly, accentuating her collarbone and not her lack of curves. She left her room, making her way to the stairs. Once she arrived, Fabiana was already there with her two other sisters.
Fabiana was the eldest at 21, wearing a white toga-style gown; Finola was the second youngest at 15, wearing a plain lilac shift dress; and lastly Faith was the youngest at 12, wearing a dark blue baby doll dress. The three sisters watched the people mingling downstairs in the hallway and sitting room.
They had a brother, Frederick, and he was Felix's age. She assumed that he was with her brother and the men in the main library on the ground floor.
"Leesha," Finola kissed both her cheeks. "You look great," Felix smiled charmingly. "Thanks. Yana picked it out for me," Finola smiled. "Faith," she gave the youngest a hug. "Leesha, you're so tall," said Faith, awestruck. She just smiled. They (Fabiana and Finola) held champagne glasses. Fabiana passed her one. She noticed something on Fabiana's left ring finger. "Fabiana, is that an engagement ring?" Felix asked, looking at the diamond. She nodded and blushed. "Who's the lucky guy?" Felix sipped her champagne.
"You see that other blond beside Lucius Malfoy?" Felix nodded. The man was around Fabiana's age, and his hair was different, so she guessed this was Draco's cousin. "That's Orion Malfoy. I'm engaged to him," Fabiana grinned. "Congratulations," she toasted her cousin. "And you? I expect someone likes you, with that face," Fabiana sipped some of her champagne.
Felix grinned cryptically. "Come on, Leesha! Tell us!" Finola said excitedly. "Please? For me?" asked Faith with her puppy dog eyes. "Alright, but pay attention, all three of you," Felix began. The three sisters looked at her expectantly.
"You see that platinum blond talking to Ferdinand?" Felix said, looking at Draco talk to her brother. They nodded, looking at Draco hungrily. "Yummy. I think he has arms underneath those long, expensive sleeves," Fabiana observed. "Arms that keep you nice and warm on a particularly chilly night," Faith said dreamily. "Look at that face. Mmm," Finola added. The three Vaughn sisters agreed on one thing: Draco Malfoy was gorgeous, without a doubt.
A very confident voice rang through the house.
"Lucius, this is my daughter, Felicia," Fern said while Felix descended the stairs very gracefully (she hoped). She held her hand out to Lucius, and he kissed it. Felix felt that spot run cold.
She exchanged pleasantries with Narcissa and Lucius for a while, and then Fern ushered everyone to the ballroom. Even the Vaughn sisters entered the ballroom, Fabiana on the arm of Orion Malfoy.
Draco remained.
"I thought the conversation would go on forever," she sighed. He edged closer. "You handled it quite well," he replied calmly. "It was all Felicia this, Felicia that. I have never before been so sick of my name," she said exasperatedly. "Fe-li-cia," he said silkily. "It does sound good on your mouth," she said, taking his hand.
They entered the ballroom, fingers entwined.
Well, up until she was dragged away by her mother.
"I'd like you to meet someone," Fern put her in front of a guy with red hair and green eyes. He seemed mildly attractive, and the fact that she was the same height with him didn't help his average-looking face. "This is Harvey Pendleton."
Well hello, Harvey Pendleton, I find you unappealing.
She extended her hand and he kissed it.
Ha ha, you've kissed Lucius Malfoy.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked. Her mother mouthed a yes. She nodded stiffly. He seemed awkward while waltzing and he made boring conversation.
She spotted Draco drinking champagne and mouthed, "Help me," over Harvey's shoulder. Draco nodded and disappeared quickly.
"May I cut in?" asked a familiar voice to Harvey. "Sure," he replied tersely. The blond smirked as she took his hand he held her waist. "That boy can't dance," she mumbled, her head on his chest. "I think he found you intimidating," he pointed out smartly. She looked at him. "Do you?"
He shook his head.
When the waltz ended, they clapped for the orchestra, and discreetly exited the ballroom. They went into the gardens, him carrying champagne and two glasses.
They watched the stars twinkle above them.
"A toast," she said, filling the glasses up. "To snow," he joked. "To snow, to stars," she continued. "And to you," he concluded, kissing her fervently on her lips.
"No," she said once they broke apart. "To us," he kissed her once more.
Those were the last two words they ever said the whole evening.
R&R!