Remus wasn't happy about the impending legislation, but agreed to reserve judgement until we'd seen the actual particulars. It was possible that being mostly in the muggle world would protect him, but it also might play havoc with teaching at Hogwarts. He did undersign my own worries: there was a good chance any further regulation would push werewolves trying to live in society and fight their curse into crime and embracing it.
The next couple of days, however, were pretty chill, and I mostly stayed around the house rather than risking going out in public to give the Death Eaters more shots at me. I'd considered that it might be a funny statement to take Remus as my "date" to Malfoy's party, especially with Umbridge there, but it had a high risk of him making connections when I met my godmother's "guest."
Also, I realized Mathilda would be upset if she found out I had a plus one and didn't take her to one of the premiere Ministry events of the season. It was getting harder and harder to pretend she wasn't my girlfriend. It was also getting harder and harder to keep her from figuring out the edges of the situation with my godmother. We'd met up for lunch the day before so I could show her the card that would actually let her get past Remus' fidelius for the date.
A few hours before the party, an owl arrived with another card from my godmother.
A Fidelius? Clever and useful. However, please go outside to accept delivery of your suit -L
Bemused, I let myself out of the house and out the back gate onto the nature preserve, glancing around to make sure none of the neighbors were watching. A few minutes later, there was a quiet pop, and a small, malformed humanoid appeared bearing a garment bag. He was bald, with extremely oversized eyes and ears, wearing nothing more than a pillowcase. I hadn't actually seen too many house elves in person, as the ones at Hogwarts liked to stay hidden.
"Dobby has brought Harry Dresden Lefayson his suit!" the tiny man warbled.
"Thank you, Dobby," I told him, taking the black bag from him. It was hand-tailored from a nice canvas.
"Harry Dresden Lefayson thanks Dobby, and says his name! He is a credit to his mother and his godmother!" he choked out.
"Wait, you knew my mother?" I asked, remembering that Malfoy had said her nickname was LeFay.
"Oh, not personally, sir. But she was a great witch! Very kind to house elves! Dobby's own family has never mistreated him, due to her good example, as well as Strange Mistress."
"I didn't know that," I told him. "Thank you for the information. And for bringing this."
Quietly muttering his own thanks, the elf bowed and then snapped his fingers to disapparate away.
Returning back inside, I found that the suit was an extremely nice mixture of black and dark purple, intricately embroidered, but felt like conjuration. The buttons were a completely transparent glass. Another card was inside from my godmother.
Since this is meant to be a celebration of the turning of the year, I shall give you until midnight in Greenland instead of local time before you must be home. -L
Faerie godmother jokes, that's what we'd come to. I guessed that meant the conjuration would wear out around two in the morning, but I'd try to get back by one just in case. Fully withdrawing the suit, I saw that it wasn't that different from a normal tuxedo with an overly long jacket (though lacking the same fashion genes like bow ties that had evolved due to muggle trends). I understood that "dress robes" similarly meant "dresses" for witches, since they enjoyed party wear that actually fit, as opposed to robes designed to keep you warm in an unheated wizard's tower. There are only so many ways to best show off the human body at a party.
Speaking of witches and dresses, I wasn't actually expecting mine to show up in one so nice. "You look great!" I told Mathilda, as she stepped out of Remus' fireplace. She'd gone with a dark red strapless dress with gold jewelry, aggressively Gryffindor.
"You too!" she said, checking me out in a suit that actually fit. "I didn't know you had a suit. Or were interested in parties!"
"I got specifically invited, and it seemed political," I told her. "And the suit evaporates an hour or two after midnight."
"Kinky," she grinned, taking my arm. As she did, I noticed the purple in my suit subtle shift in color to better compliment her dress.
We were about to head out but Remus yelled, "Pictures!" He must have caught my smirk that he was suddenly going all parental on me, and said, "When you're older, you'll regret not having more documentation of the good days." If my smile in the pictures he took was a little sad, it was because I was thinking of him having lost all of his school friends.
A minute later, though, thoughts of Remus' history were blown from my head by taking in the Malfoy mansion. We stepped out of the fireplace into a den that must have been as big as Remus' entire house. Furniture had been cleared out to make a receiving room, with a short line of guests in finery walking up to talk to the Malfoys before grabbing a drink from a server and then heading out into the rest of the house.
"Glad you could make it, Mr. Dresden," Lucius Malfoy told me when he greeted me. "A shame Mr. Weasley and Ms. Clearwater couldn't make it, as well."
Ah, so that's how he was playing this? Inviting them would be good cover for why I was actually here. "Protective parents," I shrugged. "I'm sure they're sad to miss it."
He nodded and passed me to what could only be his wife, Narcissa Malfoy née Black. She looked a fair bit like her sister and her niece, Tonks, but was very blond. "Mr. Dresden. A pleasure to finally meet you. So tall, like your mother." Her pleasant tone didn't completely reach her eyes, but I didn't get the impression she hated me on principle or anything.
"Likewise," I told her. "You knew my mother at school, I guess?"
"Far more than that," she corrected. "After all, she was over at our house all the time during the holidays, best friends as she was with my sister." With that last, she widened her eyes slightly and glanced over at the server by the door, releasing me to head over.
While the brown-haired waitress in subdued greens and grays didn't look anything like my godmother, her posture was as perfect as Narcissa's, and the half-mad look of amusement over the tray of wine glasses was instantly recognizable. "Polyjuice?" I asked, quietly, taking the offered glass of wine.
"Thank you for the reminder," she said, voice deeper than her natural tone but using her normal cadence. She took a small crystal flask from her apron and used me as cover to take a swig. "That hour limit is inconvenient."
"No society matrons who couldn't make it but could donate some hair?"
"The servants hear so much more," she grinned.
"They don't usually go to finishing school, though," I told her. She quirked an eyebrow and I explained, "Your posture is too good."
"Such a helpful boy," she told me, relaxing her stance slightly. She was still not perfect, but wouldn't stand out as much. I was actually kind of pleased that my godmother was so bad at espionage, since it made it harder for her to trick me if she thought it would be amusing. "Enjoy the party. I'll introduce you to our guest later." Mathilda had finally extricated herself from the receiving line and had joined me, taking a wine glass. Bellatrix looked my date over as she turned away and shot me an approving nod.
"The ball room is this way," Mathilda guided me. "This is the third time I've been here! They usually just invite former Slytherins. Think we need to watch our backs all night?"
We had traveled a relatively short distance down a high-ceilinged hallway that was appointed with all kinds of portraits and expensive-looking bric-a-brac before turning into the ballroom. The den had been bigger than Remus' house, and the ballroom was pretty close to on par with Hogwarts' great hall. Without magical heating and house elves to clean, I wouldn't be able to imagine how they kept up a house like this. The room was swarming with richly-dressed couples, and I nodded Mathilda toward a few, "Looks like we have a little bit of backup." I'd noticed several people from Dumbledore's secret order of Gryffindors, including all three of the elder Longbottoms.
The evening was… strangely pleasant. There was a string quartet. There were abundant snacks. Mathilda and I were probably not remotely prepared to have nobody blink at handing us wine. We eventually found ourselves on the dance floor, and Mathilda noted, surprised, "You can dance!"
"Justin insisted on lessons for some reason," I told her. "Got good enough that the teacher suggested that I could teach as an option. I'm tall enough to partner with anyone."
"Well I'm glad! Maybe we'll have to do more of these."
"Are they all super political?" I asked, giving her a twirl, her loose reddish-brown hair flaring around her shoulders.
"No. Well, yes! But you can stay out of it," she said as she completed the spin. "They need ordinary people to fill out the room! If everyone was political, no dancing would get done."
"So if we just stay out on the dance floor, nobody will try to talk me into anything else political?" I asked.
"One way to find out," Mathilda grinned.
Of course, even staying on the dance floor, my hearing was too good to stay out of politics entirely. As we moved past a small older man who had opted for a more robelike green outfit to hide his girth, all topped with a lime green bowler hat, I overheard him talking to his dance partner. "Ah, yes. Turns out she's one of Abraxas' little secrets, from shortly before he passed. Barely older than young Draco, but technically Lucius' sister. At least her mother was a pureblood, even if she's illegitimate. Lovely people, the Malfoys, taking her in and sending her to Hogwarts now that they've discovered her."
On consideration, I had noticed a young woman in the orbit of the Malfoys who had the family's distinctive platinum hair. Before I could look for her again, Mathilda whispered, "Why is he paying so much attention?"
I glanced where she was looking, and saw that a tall, older wizard was observing us clinically from near one of the food tables. "Who is he?" I asked.
"Nott," she said. "One of the marked people that pled imperius."
"Like Draco's friend?" I asked, making a connection to the small dark-haired Slytherin that had been looking like he was trying to talk to me all year.
"His father," Mathilda agreed.
Without seeing him move, I couldn't be sure, but the height and build was right, "Think he might be the skinny Death Eater that's been after me?" I asked her.
"I didn't get a great look. But could be!" she agreed.
"Glad we have some backup here, then." I told her. "If we get separated, don't get anywhere near him."
"Definitely!" she frowned, the likely presence of the guy that'd been trying to capture me for months bringing down the fun of the evening.
I spent so much effort keeping an eye on Nott for the rest of the evening, that I didn't think about the mysterious Malfoy bastard again until much later. It was after midnight, we'd had a nice New Year's kiss, and were relaxing at a table while getting ready to leave when the server that I knew was my godmother got my attention and gave a very significant look to the approaching Lucius Malfoy and the young woman on his arm.
Her hair was, indeed, platinum blond, almost white, and from a distance I hadn't noticed that it was actually in dreadlocks. While she was incredibly slender and fitted in a blue gown fit for nobility, I caught hints of multiple piercings that had been removed for the party. Despite going for the punk vibe, she couldn't help but move with a noble bearing even more polished than the Black sisters.
And her glacier-blue eyes had the same madness as my godmother's.
"Mr. Dresden. Ms. Grimblehawk," Lucius explained as we stood from our table to greet them. "I don't think you've been introduced. This is my half-sister, from Ireland. We've only recently discovered her. She'll be transferring to Hogwarts next week as a fifth year. While she'll be in Slytherin, we'd all appreciate it if you could help her get acclimated, having transferred in late yourself."
I nodded, knowing I had no choice. Mathilda stiffened slightly next to me, and I took a glance. Her polite expression was very forced, and I thought there was a hint of suppressed emotions, possibly envy or jealousy: up close, the new "Malfoy" was impossibly attractive, and her presence felt like ice, rebellion, temptation, and sex, clawing at my mind. It was taking a lot of effort to keep my brain realizing that it was an aura and not a natural reaction. I didn't know exactly how it was hitting Mathilda.
"Please. We're going to treat each other as great friends, I can tell," she said insouciantly in an Irish accent. "Call me Maeve."
