Chapter twenty eight
New Year´s Eve party
/
The longer time Harry spent in the Burrow, the more he missed Angela. Her eyes, her smile, her voice and kisses. He had plenty of time to think. He realized that even though they have only been dating secretly for three months, it felt like he had known her for a year.
He just could not help but keep thinking about her.
What is she doing? What is it like for her to live at Malfoy Manor?
Isn't she in danger? Does she miss him as well?
Willy-nilly, he had to admit it. He was in love with Angela Rosier and longed for her. When he calculated that there were still a few days until the end of the holidays, he could not even imagine how he could bear it.
The only thing that helped him a little was the presence of Ron, who did not let him sit around being melancholic for even a moment and kept inventing crazy things to do. Harry strongly suspected that he was also doing it so he would not have to think about Hermione, who was at her parents' house. Although, the owls with letters kept flying briskly between their homes almost every day.
Mrs Weasley fed them as well only she was able to, Ginny played many games with them, and they kept checking in on Fred and George about their business and what they were up to. The twins rarely showed up at home, but when they did, neither the Weasleys nor Harry gave them a moment's respite. The Christmas atmosphere was only slightly spoiled by the absence of Percy, who still was not speaking with his parents.
During one night, the snow clouds finally disappeared and after a long time the winter sun shone fully. Everything around was glittering in such a strong silver aura that it almost hurt eyes. The younger generation immediately took advantage of this and threw themselves into the winter fun with full vigour.
In the garden, they built two large snowmen in front of the kitchen window, which – with a little help from Fred and George – looked like Mr and Mrs Weasley hugging.
Molly Weasley blushed with delight when she saw their masterpiece and ushered them home for the hot chocolate drink.
So, the days in the Burrow were passing peacefully and pleasantly. The last day of the year was fast approaching and Harry´s mood was finally starting to get much better. They were supposed to return to school in just two days…
/
Angela sat by the dressing table, lit by the setting sun, her arms wrapped around one bent knee, as she gazed thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror. It was perhaps the first time ever that she was looking forward to school after the holidays. She had enough of the lavish white mansion.
The atmosphere in the house was quite unpleasant. Madame Narcissa was not talking to her husband, while Lucius was trying to get a little closer to Angela and get to know her better, which made her stomach clench. And Draco was not responding to his father's attempts to start a conversation with him and was only communicating with his mother and Angela.
Mary Rosier also appeared in the mansion three times. Angela had to control herself a lot every time not to start arguing with her. Although for most of that time, Mary locked herself in the living room with Lucius and Narcissa. Anyway, daughter and mother were far from building up any better relationships.
Mary reacted literally offended to the dress that Angela got as a Christmas gift and almost had a fight with Narcissa because of it, although Angela did not really understand why. But she could keep it and the obligation of her presence at the party persisted. Her mother assured her that she would be there as well.
At the thought of that posh party, defiance suddenly rose in her. Just the thought of having to smile fondly at the wizarding moneybags and aristocrats, most of them being Death Eaters of course, made her sick. She threw the clothes she already prepared on the chair back into the closet and sprawled out in the comfortable bed. Nothing would make her go there. It was not her duty.
/
An hour later, half past six to be exact, the door to her room flew open without a knock and closed again by itself. Angela did not even look up. Mary Rosier walked into the room, still smiling brightly, wearing a burgundy dress with a high neckline and high heels. A wide necklace glittered around her neck, and on her hand, she wore a bracelet in the same style, only in a smaller version.
She focused her gaze on Angela, lying on her side on the bed in jeans and a sweater, reading a thick book. Her smile stiffened until it completely disappeared. Angela still ignored her.
"Could you please explain to me how comes you are not dressed yet? The guests will start arriving in half an hour and you're rolling around in bed!" Mary snapped in a voice full of cold rage.
"Of course I could, mother. I'm not going to dress up because I'm not going to the party," her daughter replied calmly.
"What?" Mary asked in a dangerous tone.
"You heard it right, Mother," the girl finally looked up. "I really don't care about pretending to have fun among the wizard snobs. Nice hairdo, by the way," she added in the same tone as she looked at her mother's artfully tied hair and bent down again to the pages of the book.
Mary was at her bedside in a flash, heels or not heels, grabbed her daughter's arm and pulled her roughly to her feet. Surprised, Angela dropped the book on the floor, where it splayed the pages down and stared into her mother's furious face.
"You get dressed right away, put on your make-up, do your hair, and come down to show me within twenty minutes. If I'm not happy with you, then prepare for the consequences," Mary hissed right into Angela's face and threw her back onto the bed.
Angela started to rub her aching arm in shock. She was sure she would have a print there for at least an hour. The mother turned away from her.
"But why? It's not that important for me to be there!" she attempted for one last protest.
"You'll be there. Period," her mother retorted, slamming the door behind her so loudly that Angela flinched in fright.
She closed her eyes tiredly for a moment. She did not sleep well at night again, so she would really prefer to read for a while and go to sleep. Instead… She had to go through that damn performance downstairs. She finally forced herself to get up with a sigh and headed to the wardrobe again.
/
Fifteen minutes later, she stood unsteadily in front of the tall mirror by the window. Madame Narcissa picked exactly the right size for her. Her dress and shoes fitted like a glove. She applied her make-up sparingly, but carefully. She just did not know what to do with her hair, which cascaded halfway down her back.
If only Harry could see me like this, she thought sadly. I wonder what he´s doing right now… Well, with Weasleys, he definitely has more fun than I have…
There was a quick knock.
"Just come in, Draco," Angela called over her shoulder.
The door opened.
"How did you know it was me?" asked the Slytherin prince, looking incredibly handsome in a black suit and white shirt.
"No one else here knocks like that," Angela enlightened him logically and turned to him.
Draco looked her up and down and whistled approvingly.
"You look good," he said admiringly.
Angela smiled: "Thanks. You too. I just don't know what to do with my hair," she shrugged helplessly.
Draco observed her again.
"Keep them loose," he said after a moment. "It suits you the best anyway."
"Alright then," she agreed, grateful for any advice and headed over to the dressing table for the neck chain.
"May I?" Draco approached her as he saw her struggle with hooking it up.
Angela nodded gratefully and lifted her long hair. A shiver ran down her spine when she felt Draco´s cold fingers on her neck. In the mirror, their eyes met for a moment, but both quickly looked away again. Angela glanced at the clock.
"I'm almost out of time, I should go downstairs."
"Out of time?" wondered the young Malfoy.
"I didn't want to go to that party, but my mother convinced me otherwise twenty minutes ago," Angela replied already on her way to the door.
"Ah," Draco understood. "Then I'll accompany you if you allow, Miss Rosier," he suggested and opened the door for her.
Angela smiled at him beautifully again: "All right, thank you, Mr Malfoy."
Draco offered her his arm and she hung onto it. "I admit I'll feel better with you standing next to me…" she added softly.
The door closed behind them and all the candles in the room went out.
/
After three hours, Angela had really enough of the New Year's Eve party. Her feet hurt because she was not used to walking in such high heels, her face was cramping from the fake smiles, and she did not like the looks some of the guests were throwing at her and her mother. Although most of them were already somewhat tipsy…
She unobtrusively sought out Draco, who was being held captive by an older, heavily jewelled lady, and apologetically pulled him aside. In the shadows by the window curtains, she whispered her proposal in his ear. Draco was silent for a moment in thought, but then nodded. They separated their tasks and then quickly went in opposite directions.
After two minutes of making sure her mother was drunk enough not to come after her, Angela sneaked out of the living room into the hall and through it into the kitchen.
"Jory!" she called softly.
The house elf was with her in no time.
"Yes, Miss?" she asked with a bow.
"I don't want to delay you too much, I see you have a mountain of work here," Angela looked around the dirty dishes. "I just want four Butterbeers, fire whiskey, tonic and two glasses."
"Right away, Miss."
It did not even take a minute, and a swaying tray appeared in front of Angela.
"Do you want to take it somewhere, Miss?" offered the elf.
"No, thanks," she thanked gratefully. "I'll take it away. And one more thing… I know you're not allowed to lie to your masters, but if they don't ask outright, then I wasn't here, okay?"
"Yes, Miss," the elf bowed again, and Angela walked away contentedly.
Draco was already waiting for her under the stairs, constantly watching the living room door for someone to come out.
"Give it to me, I'll take it," he took the tray from her and they both quickly started up the stairs. "We'll go to my room. It´s bigger."
"Fine," Angela agreed willingly.
"You wanna get drunk or what?" Draco asked already in his spacious room as he placed the tray on the small table in front of the fireplace and took a good look at it.
Angela dropped herself in a comfortable armchair and kicked off her shoes with relief.
"I know what I'm doing," she replied confidently.
"I'm not so sure about that," Draco remarked, already heading to his secret cigarette stash.
"Well, I try to know at least… Take some more for me, please," Angela prompted him and grabbed one of the bottles.
Draco shot her an incredulous look, but then just shrugged and pulled out another box.
/
Actually, Angela really kind of knew what she was doing, but that applied only for mixing great drinks. She was already a little on edge with measure. And she was not the only one.
From downstairs, the muffled sounds of drunken merriment reached them faintly, while Draco's room was smoky and hot. The Butterbeer glasses were already gone, as were many of the cigarettes.
"I guess you were right… I'm getting drunk," Angela announced after a seizure of laughter.
"You're not too wasted until you realize that," Draco muttered in response.
"That's true," she nodded matter-of-factly, pouring herself a shot of whiskey.
"But we've had quite a bit," Draco looked over the empty bottles. "Do you remember the last time we drank like this together?"
Angela ran her fingers through her hair slowly. "Yeah, I do," she replied quietly then. It was after her second personal encounter with the Dark Lord. She did not like to think about it… She was scared shitless back then.
"It was… fine," Draco noted in the same tone.
She glared at him in disbelief: "How can you know that? We both got really disgustingly drunk."
"Well, we definitely needed it… And it´s true that what happened after, when we drank everything that was on hand, I remember vaguely and sketchily. But otherwise also quite vividly," Draco closed his eyes for a moment. "It wasn't that long ago..."
"It was just a fling," Angela´s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, as she eyed his relaxed expression. "That's what we agreed on and we promised..."
"Yeah, I know. We promised to never talk about it," Draco cut her off. Then he stared at her intently. "Do you think it would have happened if we weren't drunk?" he then asked challengingly.
The atmosphere in the room somewhat thickened.
Angela returned Draco's gaze with a slight frown. Why in the hell did he have to start with this topic? Looking back at that night, it was a mistake, but they both desperately needed someone´s understanding and closeness in that moment. It made her feel safe again. And it hurt her when Draco just brushed it off the morning after…
She leaned toward him from her chair to finally reply: "No."
"How can you be so sure?" Draco drawled.
Angela did not answer, only a strange glint appeared in her eyes.
"We were attracted to each other. You have to admit that," he continued.
She wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, attracted and naive… None of it longer applies," she responded grumpily.
"No… Not anymore," Draco agreed very slowly.
"So, one more time," Angela began in a noticeably drunken voice. "We will never talk about it again. Will you promise me that?"
"Was it that terrible for you?" Draco sneered.
Angela pursed her lips in displeasure: "Draco Malfoy, can you be serious for a moment?"
"I can," he shrugged. "After you answer me."
She sighed: "No, it wasn't… terrible at all. On the contrary," she acknowledged quietly, the words adding to the blush on her cheeks. "So, do you promise?"
"Oh, yeah," Draco leant his head over the back of the chair. "I promise."
"Fine," she breathed out. "It's never going to happen again anyway, so there's no point in discussing it," Angela stated firmly, taking another drink.
"Because you're in love?" Draco eyed her questioningly and took another swig, straight from the bottle.
Angela smiled in a strange way. Her head was spinning, but it was a pleasant feeling: "Yeah, I guess."
"That's a really ridiculous joke," Draco chuckled. "You – having a crush on Potter! So you played it on me in that train, huh?"
"What train?" Angela asked in confusion. She was starting to lose control of her thoughts.
"Forget it," Draco replied with a wave of his hand. "He'll break up with you anyway, when he finds out who you really are."
Angela frowned: "Hmm… You're not in any better position, Blondie."
Draco shrunk a bit. "Yeah, that's a fact… In love with the girl, whose parents my father killed," he gave out a short, bitter chuckle. "Another bad joke."
Even though Angela was beginning to have trouble getting her perception right, Draco's confession surprised her. Not that she did not notice it on him, and especially on Daria, but she didn't expect a direct confession. It was probably because he was as drunk as she was.
"Shall we leave the pessimism behind?" she suggested quietly, curling up deeper into her armchair. She did not really care how awful her dress would look in the morning.
"Completely agreed," Draco nodded, tossing the empty bottle behind him.
Luckily, it landed on a soft carpet so it did not break.
"Who's going to get another drink?"
"Your turn," Angela sneered. "And before that, give me another cigar."
/
As Draco began to wake up late in the morning, he groaned in pain. His head was pounding, he had a strange bitter taste in his mouth, and even the dull winter sun through the window stung his eyes like shards.
He sat up groggily and his stomach immediately turned. He forced down the urge to throw up and was relieved to remember that he had not eaten much yesterday. He looked around with narrow eyes and realized he was sitting on his own unmade bed. He did not even know when he lay down. It must have been sometime in the morning.
He placed his fingers against his temples and grimaced again in pain.
"Shit," he cursed hoarsely. "Wizarding alcohol should at least reduce hangovers, dammit."
He stood up shakily and dropped his cigarette-smelling shirt to the ground. He slowly and carefully made his way to the bathroom where he put his head under the cold water.
It hardly helped at all, but at least he felt fully awake now. He slumped back on the bed tiredly. Even though the room was stifling, he could not bring himself to get up and open the window.
There was a short knock on the door and Angela slipped in with a steaming mug in hand.
"Well, you look like shit," she said instead of greeting as she closed the door behind her and eyed wet, dishevelled Draco with bloodshot eyes.
She slowly made her way toward him and he sat up: "You're not much better," he replied teasingly.
Angela just sneered: "But I definitely feel better. Drink this; you'll be fine in a few minutes. Then I'll bring you another one," she forced the hot mug into his hand and briskly headed to open both windows, ignoring the fact that it was freezing outside. Fresh winter air immediately began to flow into the room.
Draco sniffed at the fumes rising from the suspicious green-brown liquid. It half smelled like a very strong black coffee, and half like a mouldy broth from an old swamp. Together, it made a rather unattractive compound. He grimaced in disgust.
"Just take it in," Angela instructed him, noticing. "It's almost ten. I don't know when, but it might be soon, your parents will get up and they shouldn't see you like this. Although they probably won't be any better off," she added smugly.
She was right, so Draco dutifully stuffed his nose and self-deniably poured the drink into himself. He shivered all over, but then he felt soothing warmth spread down his throat and into his stomach.
"Get under the shower and I'll clean up that mess here," Angela said, looking around the room.
"What a…" mess, Draco wanted to say, but stopped when he looked a little more closely.
Everywhere, literally everywhere, there were various empty and half-empty bottles, cigarette boxes and butts, some crumpled packaging, the carpet in front of the fireplace was wet and one armchair was smeared with what looked like ice cream mixed with red wine.
"Merlin, what were we doing here at night?" he muttered in astonishment.
"Do you have such a beautiful blackout as I do?" Angela asked.
"Probably so..."
"Well, we won't find out then, unfortunately..."
"I'd rather go under that shower," Draco huffed and stood up.
Then he turned to Angela, who was already heading toward the extinguished fireplace: "How come you are so lively? You certainly didn't drink less than I did."
"Yeah, but I already had two of these mugs," Angela replied with a smirk.
"Ah, so," Draco shuddered and disappeared into the bathroom.
