A/N: Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry, but I had to split this chapter into two, so there's two chapters of Draco side-by-side, because I was writing, and it went past nine pages, past ten, so I have to divide it. Sorree. Anywho, Draco meets two lovely ladies, but neither of them can match up to the one in his heart.
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
The Stone Speaks
Twenty: Funeral Speeches and Muggle Games
DRACO
Nervous. Muttered you look nices and hellos, trying to prepare, but it was like preparing your funeral speech. "Hey, how's it going?" he tried, throwing in a spunky wink and a cheeky grin. I look like I'm gay. The last thing I want is for the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang students to all thing I'm gay. Hair slicked back. Hair messed up. Hair parted neatly. Hair spiked with gel. Bald?
"Oh, this is pointless," snapped Draco at the mirror, glaring at his stubborn reflection.
"Ouch, you're a right little ray of sunshine, aren't cha?" sang the mirror.
"Shut it, glass-face, or I'll break your reflective arse," Draco told it irritably, and attempted to fix his hair, to no avail. "I give up." He shook his head insanely, sending his hair flying everywhere, and then flipped his head back, tossing the unruly hair out of his blue eyes, and then focused on the rest of his Yule Ball attire.
He wore a smart dress robe in a shade of grey that made Draco look less pale, with a light-blue waistcoat designed to bring out his eyes. Lucius Malfoy had ordered it from the tailors' the summer of Draco's fifth year – Draco had never worn it, but now he clung to anything of his father that he possessed. Unnaturally shiny leather shoes clothed Draco's feet, hiding bright orange socks (for confidence, Loony Lovegood once told him. It was a load of rubbish, but… just in case).
Draco took a deep breath, and turned slowly to inspect every inch of his outfit. It'll have to do, he decided – he knew that it wasn't perfect, but, funnily enough, couldn't think of how it could be more perfect. He shrugged, and tucked his wand into his inside pocket. Ready, Draco? He asked himself. Draco nodded at his own reflection, and then moved from the seventh year common room, feeling as though he might run back and be sick.
The dungeons were colder than ever, now that winter had truly set in, and Draco could tell by the intense hush that it had snowed, creating a sound-proofed wall to the ceiling. He clenched his hands into fists to give himself courage, and moved more quickly to the steps. In twenty days, Draco hadn't found the courage to ask Ginny to the dance, and he doubted that Myrtle would be able to come, but he intended to find Ginny and ask her as soon as he got to the Entrance Hall.
As he pushed open the dungeons' door, he saw a smiling Granger, in a shimmering dress of lilac, chatting to Parvati Patil, in gold robes, and Lavender Brown, in silver. Draco stayed close to the far wall, trying not to be seen. He would look very stupid if anyone found out that so far he did not have a date. He pushed open the Entrance Hall and was immediately engulfed in laughter, chatter and anticipation.
All of the students' tables had cleared, and replaced with a giant, slightly glowing, white circle that brushed the four walls, and the raised dais where the teachers' table sat. Almost every Hogwarts teenager above fourteen was milling around in the Entrance Hall, gossiping, or making predictions for what the night would hold, or commenting on others' outfits. Seeing this, Draco felt self-conscious, and skulked further back into the wall.
"Students!" Professor Umbridge trilled. Draco looked up at the Headmistess, and gagged. She was wearing a vile, frilly, pink dress with bows, lace and ribbons everywhere. She had even plastered make-up on her flabby face, and her hair was scraped into a bun, exposing a hideous, once-hidden neck. The other students seemed to agree with Draco's opinion, as an appalled silence fell. Not even Parvati and Lavender giggled shrilly. Then:
"Oh. My. God," a girl's voice was heard through the absolute quiet, "that is, quite honestly, the most ghastly thing I have ever seen."
"I think… I'm going… to be sick…" said another voice, and Draco recognized Ginny's disgusted tone.
"She's not deaf, Ginny," Granger's voice hissed. "Everyone can hear you."
Professor Umbridge couldn't possibly not have heard these comments, but she pretended that she had, and shook her ribbons out to all of their terrifying glory. "Students," she repeated, "the time has come. We are setting off to Beauxbatons School for Girls now; please, everyone, step into the Apparation circle."
There was a tremendous clatter of footsteps as six-hundred teenagers all crammed themselves into the same place; Draco stepped just inside the ring, not wanting to find himself wedged in the centre of a crowd of angry people who hated him. Not the best situation to be in, he mused as he waited, with hundreds of others, for something to happen.
"Apparate," all of the Professors cried together, pointing their wands at the circle. There was a flash of light that Draco saw, almost as though he was watching himself from above, and then the Entrance Hall disappeared, replaced with a swirling abyss of changing colours. Draco, who could Apparate, and took pride in being very good at it, only felt mildly nauseous; the younger ones all gasped and clutched at their mouths, trying to stop them from throwing up in the void.
"Don't worry," Draco said, aiming to reassure them that they wouldn't all die in a blaze of what looked like a rainbow on fire, swirling around them madly. His voice was thrown everywhere, but a few fourth- and fifth-years caught his words, and looked desperately to him for advice.
"Hold on," Draco called to them, "we'll be in France soo-" Before he could even complete his sentence, screams rang out as the world was yanked back into view. The seventh-years and the Professors touched down neatly, while the younger ones all landed ungraciously in a sprawling heap on the floor.
"OW!" "Gettoffme!" "Can I be sick now?" "Okay, whoever is touching my head… get off." A disarray of voices, at first muffled and then loud, strong, and heavily complaining, could be heard as the younger Hogwarts students picked themselves apart from the great heap, with help from the Professors. Seeing that help was probably needed, Draco made his way to pile of squirming bodies. Maybe I can find Ginny, and valiantly rescue her from a pit of injured fourth-years. The thought popped into his mind and spoke before he could squash it, and he blushed slightly at his own brain's daring to say such things.
Draco spotted the frightened fifth-year who he had struggled to comfort, and heaved her out of the mess. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked concernedly.
She moaned. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus," she mumbled, but she forced a weak smile at Draco. She was a petite, pretty girl with chesnut-coloured, wavy hair cascading around her shoulders, and bright, almond-shaped eyes that glimmered cloud-after-rain-grey in the faint light, constrating pale eye colour against olive skin. Her dress was the same colour, gathered at the waist and sparkling in its folds. "I'm Sanchia Corteza," she said, speaking her name with a Spanish lilt that lit up every syllable.
Draco nodded politely. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Was that your first time Apparating?" he asked.
Sanchia nodded, grimacing. "I hate it. Your first as well? No, you must have Side-Along Apparated before, you seemed to know what you were doing," she grinned.
Draco nodded again. "Well, actually, I know how to Apparate. I learnt last year – I'm seventeen," he explained, trying to hide his shame at being thought younger than he really was.
Sanchia looked shocked. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought you were sixth-year, I'm sorry. Is it fun to Apparate alone, or does it hurt like that one did?" she asked as she helped Draco to haul other people to their feet.
"It's okay, I suppose," Draco shrugged lightly. "It does hurt, but you get used to it after a while. I also Side-Along Apparated a lot with…" my father, he finished silently, but he left the spoken sentence at that, and looked at his shoes.
"Students," called Professor Umbridge sweetly. No-one answered. "Students!"
"OI!" yelled Professor Tonks. "Pay attention!"
Professor Umbridge glared at the twenty-three-year-old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I would prefer," she simpered, "if you could stick to my methods of calling attention." With that, she turned her fat back on Tonks and addressed the students. "Now that we've arrived, we can progress into the ballroom."
"They have a ballroom?" someone said incredulously.
"Yes," Professor Umbridge snapped, struggling to keep her saccharine attitude with such a bunch of retards. "Beauxbatons has a ballroom, now please, will you all restrain yourselves and be quiet." She scowled around at the crowd of irritated teenagers, and then continued, "again, I expect you to be on your best behaviour, and try not to only mingle with Hogwarts éstudents. Inter-school friendship, that is why we're here."
Draco saw Granger smirk at Weasley, for reasons he did not know and did not particularly care to know. But where was Ginny? He scanned the cluster of teenagers, but before he could get anywhere close to locating her, everyone shuffled into rows and rows and columns and groups.
The teachers swept through the grand doors, and applause broke out. Draco heard: "l'année du un! Ze first-years!" before the nervous, frantic first-years scuffled through to the ballroom. "L'année du deux! Ze zecond-years!" Slightly more calm second-years hobbled in. "L'année du trios! Ze fird-years!" More of the teenage cluster of students disappeared through the doors. "L'année du quatre! Ze fourth-years!" And again, the mulitude of Hogwarts pupil diminished further. "L'année du cinq! Ze fifth-years!" Sanchia cast Draco a wary glance before marching after the rest of the fifth-year girls, alerting him that his time was fast approaching. "L'année du seis! Ze sixth-years!" They were striding away before Draco could search for Ginny, and then there was that god-awful silence as they waited for their turn.
"L'année du sept! Ze seventh-years!" Oh no, oh no, not now – the boys were fast disappearing, and Draco had to hurry forwards so that the widening gap between Blaise Zabini and him was decreased. Then the ballroom came into view, and Draco felt his jaw slack and fall open.
It was a vast, circular chamber, with a raised dais in the centre, where an orchestra sat, fiddling with their instruments to get ready for the musical feast ahead. Around the edge of the room ran a crystal-clear stream, and on the far side of the chamber, the other side of the sparkling water, was a banquet on various buffet tables, with waiters clad in shimmering ice-blue tuxedos waiting. Scattered here and there were fountains of beautiful women, made of glossy marble and carved so amazingly that they seemed to be smiling just at Draco. Benches, here and there, beds of flowers, and everything was so pretty and ice-delicate that the hefty Bulgarian boys in their crimson and black looked extremely out of place.
The other Hogwarts students were all grouped together awkwardly, looking at the Durmstrangs and the Beaxbatons and assessing them carefully, whispering to each other. The foreign girls and boys were doing the same, inspecting the Hogwarts adolescents.
"Welcome, 'ogwarts students, and welcome Durmstrang students! I 'ope you 'ave a night magnifique! And now – dance!" Madam Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, stood. She was extraordinarily tall, with dark hair tied up at the top of her head, and jewels glittering everywhere on her figure.
"Viktor!" a voice cried, and then Granger ran forwards and wrapped her arms tight around a muscular Durmstrang man. Ronald Weasley turned green with rage and disappeared into the crowd. Draco smirked at the lovers' tiff, and then searched for Ginny –
"Excusez-moi?" said a delicate voice, and Draco turned to see a willowy girl with eyes like sapphires and hair flowing in a sheet of straight white-blonde around her bare shoulders. "May I 'ave zees dance?"
Draco stared, startled. "Er," he said, "sure." She tilted her head in a way that reminded him of Ginny – not Ginny, some other person, Pansy, it must be Pansy - and it was then that he realized that he could not dance. Draco glanced over at where other people were starting to dance, and reached forwards for the girls' hand when she pulled a ribbon from her belt and handed it to him.
"Do 'ogwarts not know le Danse du Rois?" the girl asked. "Never mind, I teach you, non?"
Draco blinked. "Um," he said, "yeah, okay", pretending that he knew what she was saying. She placed one end of the ribbon in Draco's hand, and took the other end, and began weaving around him.
"It is… how to say… ze Dance of… Kings. Ze King of France danced zees with his ladies," the girl said, smiling broadly and showing neat, even teeth. "Follow my steps."
Draco stumbled after the girl, spinning clumsily and twirling her around the ballroom. As the melody progressed, he found that he didn't have to focus on his footsteps, and could look up into the girl's face. "I'm Draco," he tried, with a small smile.
The girl grinned. "Je m'appelle Arlette," she replied fluently, and when Draco stared blankly at her, she translated, "it means 'my name is Arlette'." She laughed, a smooth, merry laugh like that of a timid fairy, and spun in a full circle, her blue skirt swirling out. As her back was turned, Draco felt his eyes drift to the sea of students, looking for Ginny.
He found her.
Seeming to sparkle with light, dancing with a tall, strong Durmstrang man with a mop of wavy dark-blonde hair and an arrogant grin. An amazing dress in bright, dark green that came over her shoulders in wide straps, and then gathered, tight, around her chest, before falling loosely to her waist. Astonishingly, it had no sleeves, and there was nothing hiding the ugly welts on the inside of her arm. Spinning, laughing, curly hair like molten fire whirled out, skirt churning around her knees, green-slippered feet dancing across the marble floor, like a ballerina. Hazel eyes sparkling incredibly, striking Draco across the wide dance floor, shining like beacons despite the distance.
Draco's breath caught in his throat, and when Arlette grew annoyed and tugged at the ribbon, it merely slid from his grasp and pooled on the floor. She's beautiful. He vaguely heard a French voice, and felt a tugging on his sleeve, but nothing else mattered, just the look on her creamy, heart-shaped as she pirouetted and twirled and –
"Pour l'amour du dieu, tu conard!" Arlette snapped, wrenching the ribbon away and storming back to her friends. Draco glanced over his shoulder backwards after her, but when he returned his gaze to the fiery-haired beauty across the ballroom, she was gone.
"Trouble in Paradise?" a voice teased beside Draco, and before he could sort his face into something resembling a look of casual indifference, a smile had broken out, and he turned to see Ginny.
"It was hardly Paradise to start with," Draco commented dryly, and then as Ginny laughed, he felt that he had to say something, anything, that was important and meaningful. Draco had meant to say something emotional and sweet, but instead it came out as a garbled, "Eryolookbeautitonight."
Ginny frowned. "Say what?"
Draco blushed to the very roots of his hair. "You – er – you look beautiful…" he mumbled, looking at his hands as his face heated violently.
Ginny blushed, and she ducked her head too, a wave of red hiding her face. "Um. Thanks," she said softly. "You look… um… nice too… um. Yeah." An embarrassed quiet fell (apart from, of course, the noise of the Ball) and Draco wanted, more than anything, to crawl into a hole and die.
"D'you – Ginny, do you want to go for a walk?" he suggested, gesturing towards a doorway that seemed to beckon explore me. Ginny appeared to have the same thoughts, as she tilted her head in that familiar way, and nodded happily.
It was a long, long walkway with endless sculptures, all of stunning French women with flowing marble curls and waves around their feet. Gothic windows lined the left wall, showing glimpse of a snow-struck fantasy world, frozen fountains queuing fantastic gardens, where a lone buck wandered, looking majestically up at the castle.
"It's amazing here," said Ginny. "It's so different. I know Hogwarts so well, and here… it's like an alien version of the castle that we know, only more feminine and icy." She pulled her hair over one shoulder, combing it loosely with her fingers. Draco nodded, eager to strike up a conversation, but before he could say anything, Ginny piped up, "Truth or dare."
Draco looked quizzically down at her. "What?" he asked.
"It's a Muggle game. Just play it," said Ginny with a bossy grin. "You choose to either tell the truth or do one task that I tell you." Draco nodded again, unsure what the hell he was getting himself into.
A/N: Sorree that it's so long. Please review.