Impossible Love
Chapter Fourteen – The Halloween Ball Part 2
Perching on a stool at the bar, with the tulle of her dress spread around her, Lara ordered a much-needed drink.
"I'm not actually allowed to serve students alcohol," said the barman with a sympathetic shake of the head.
Lara clenched her fists, took in a deep, steadying breath, and gave him a glowering look as if challenging him to refuse her again. She was of age after all … in the wizarding world.
"On second thoughts, what's one student?" The barman hastily began making the ordered Firewhisky Sour.
Glancing down the bar to check no one was watching, the young man pushed not one but two glass tumblers containing the smoking concoction in front of Lara.
"Thank you," Lara said in earnest, picking up one of the drinks and gulping it down.
Grimacing slightly at the strength, Lara felt the alcohol burning a path of warmth down her throat. It tingled her senses and relaxed her muscles. With the magic brew working, Lara popped the cherry garnish into her mouth. She savoured the sweet taste and failed to notice the sauntering approach of a particular Gryffindor.
"If it isn't our delectable Head Girl," he said, clutching her hand and bringing it up to his lips.
Christian Jordan winked cockily as he looked up.
Well that was unwanted.
Taking her stunned silence as a good sign, Christian continued his obviously rehearsed speech. He hadn't inherited his cousin's engaging articulacy.
"I heard a naughty little rumour about you and me," said Christian conspiratorially as he smoothed his thumb across her knuckles. "If you wanted me to ask you out, you should have just said. You're not my usual athletic type, but I can definitely see the appeal." Christian's eyes lingered on Lara's cleavage a couple of moments too long, and he wet his lips with his tongue. "Plus, any opportunity to stick it to Burke has my immediate interest."
Lara spluttered in a combination of anger and disbelief. Who on earth did he think he was? She had Hestia to partially thank for this unwanted encounter, but his rudeness was entirely his own responsibility.
"My eyes are up here, Casanova," said Lara with a harsh tone. "I didn't want you to ask me out or speak to me, come to think of it."
Christian let her hand go as if burned by it.
"Bloody hell, what's wrong with you?" he retorted. "It's meant to be a party. You could at least smile and look like you're having fun for once."
Lara laughed at the disgust in his tone. How quickly he'd changed his tune.
"I don't actually owe you anything," she replied. "Certainly not a smile. Or fun. I think we have vastly different ideas of what constitutes fun anyway. So bye."
Lara turned to her drink as Christian stalked off to his watching friends who were laughing at his failure. This time she took a measured sip, enjoying the combination of ice-cold liquid and heated firewhisky. Technically she shouldn't be drinking here, but since they'd opened the ball and completed the formal part of the evening, she couldn't see what the harm was. As long as the fuzzy-round-the-edges feeling from the drink stayed at just that, and she didn't embarrass herself, McGonagall would be none the wiser.
Glancing over her shoulder to the dance floor, Lara smiled as she saw Hestia and Akari, hand-in-hand, with eyes only for each other. The music was blaring now, and they both bounced with the rest of the dance floor to the beat. Seventh year was going alright for some people it seemed.
A pint was placed on the other side of her at the bar, and Neville dragged a stool across to take a seat next to her.
"Everything ok?" he asked, observing her empty glass, alongside the half-filled one.
"Better now," she replied instantly before blushing at her own boldness.
Neville chuckled. His blue eyes held hers and crinkled at the edges with his smile.
"I didn't know whether you'd need a rescue party sending in to get rid of Jordan … but you seemed to handle him. Angry at him or Burke or both?"
Lara thought about it. She was angry at Christian. Quite frankly she'd been told to 'smile' by random men more times than most, so his presumptuous attitude was nothing new. It still rankled though. The societal double-standards, that meant she was expected to be sweetness and light with a smile on her face for any man, were frustrating and sexist. But it wasn't that which had her demanding drinks from the harried bar staff. Lara was more annoyed by Jamie. His compliments, his whispered words as he held her close and then spoke about his real date for the evening, only added to the insult of his warning the seventh year boys off Lara. As if she was his to possess. Well she wasn't going to be anyone's to own, and she wouldn't forget this anytime soon.
"They're just silly boys," she said finally in reply and finished her drink. "Can we have that dance now?"
The firewhisky had done the trick as Lara felt no issues with grabbing Neville's hand and leading him to the dance floor. They attracted a few quizzical looks from other students. Some teachers were dancing in groups with students, or with each other, but there weren't any members of staff dancing with just one pupil.
The song was up tempo, and Neville loosely twirled Lara out and round. The light layers of tulle lifted as she spun and softly touched the ground again. Candlelight seemed to glitter off the tiny black gems dotted in the bodice which had gone unnoticed in the London boutique. Adjusting the lace sleeve to better sit on her shoulder, Lara was disappointed when Neville dropped her hand and began awkwardly shuffling from side-to-side. Her dress now acted as natural barrier keeping others, and Neville, at a slight distance.
"I'm better at ballroom!" Neville shouted over the music.
"What?" she shouted back. Closing the distance between them, Lara placed her hands on Neville's biceps and leant forward. "I couldn't hear you."
Abruptly, the energetic number halted and was replaced with a slow ballad. Dancers around them paired off or left the floor, and Lara noticed a triumphant Hestia smirking in her direction. How she'd managed it, Lara was sure she didn't want to know, but she felt certain this slow dance was for her and the Professor her hands rested on.
After an awkward beat of hesitation, Neville brought one arm round to encircle Lara's waist as his other gently held hers, bringing it towards his chest.
"I said I'm better at ballroom."
Neville's smooth and assured steps confirmed the truth of that statement as he led her around their small corner of the dance floor.
Lara didn't know or care whether anyone was watching as she focused on the sensation of being held by Neville. As if they were emitting heat, Lara could feel Neville's fingertips spanning her waist. Her body's familiar response to his touch took over as she arched imperceptibly towards him, pushing her chest forward and against him. Her breath hitched as she felt his grip tighten at her waist, pulling her closer. Regrettably, the volume in her gown prevented her from feeling what she desired as she thought of their hips flush together. Lara was sure it wasn't just her heart that was racing.
"You look lovely tonight," he said quietly in her ear. His breath causing a delicious shiver to ripple down her body.
Pulling back at little, Lara bit her lip, not sure how to reply to the admiration evident in Neville's eyes.
"Better than lovely," said Neville, his voice dropping lower. "Exquisite."
Brushing a tendril of curls from the side of her cheek, Neville's eyes swirled with conflict and the unsaid. Lara's breathing quickened as his fingers trailed down her hair, resting on her collarbone lightly. His hand lingered there for a moment as they swayed to the closing bars of the ballad. The proximity felt intoxicating to Lara and she didn't want the song to end.
"We should leave," she breathed out as the last notes faded in the air; their hands dropped to their sides, fingertips still interlinked.
With a confidence that could only come from being 17 and slightly tipsy, Lara stepped away from him and walked off the dance floor, pausing to give Neville a half-smile over her shoulder as she checked he was following her.