Chapter Eight:
Following the humiliating loss to Gryffindor, the team had gone back to the common room to mourn. Urquhart was livid with Vaisey for taking a Bludger to the head, at Crabbe and/or Goyle (it was still unclear who) for aiming that Bludger, and at Malfoy for being "sick."
After getting demolished by the Weasleys, Anne sincerely thought about ditching the team. It just wasn't that important to her, especially considering that she had only really joined it to annoy Draco. However, with the captain so upset over losing so many players already, she decided it might be best to hold off until he had some time to forget over Christmas break.
One thing that was definitely hard to forget about was Slughor's party, especially with the corridors constantly congested with Potter's gaggle of fans. It seemed he had yet to find a partner for the party. Of course he was in the club, he was Harry "the Chosen One'' Potter. Anne did her best to avoid the crowds by hiding in her dormitory. After all, she had little interest in Potter, Chosen One or not. She hardly had interest in the party, but she owed it to Zabini after ditching him at the Quidditch match. That conversation hadn't been pleasant.
To her credit, Anne had conceded to buying a special set of dress robes through mail order from Madame Malkin's for the occasion. They, like the vast majority of her clothing, were black, but inlaid with silver and emerald thread around the sleeves and hood to fit her House colors. When Pansy saw Anne studying them in front of the mirror in their room, she gasped.
"Those are beautiful, Prince! Zabini is going to die. I'm so jealous. I wish Draco was in that stupid club so I could come with you."
Their friendship was strange. Anne had never been particularly fond of Pansy Parkinson, not since she'd met her at the Sorting ceremony. Yet she found she could sometimes tolerate Pansy, and, on rare occasions, even share things with her. Besides, Anne didn't have many friends, and so she couldn't shun this girl who, after all these years, remained clueless to Anne's indifference.
"I wish you could go instead of me," Anne sighed. "I hate parties. They're so," she struggled to find the right word, "claustrophobic." She twirled in front of the mirror, "These are nice, though."
"I wonder who Potter's taking? It's hard not to notice all those idiots around him constantly. Trying to slip him a love potion, no doubt. As if 'the Chosen One' would fall for that."
"Careful, Parkinson. Don't let Draco hear you call Potter that," Anne teased, folding the satin dress robes neatly and replacing them in the package they'd arrived.
"Oh," Pansy scowled, "shut up and help me pack for the holidays."
Anne laughed and picked up her wand from the foot of her four-poster, swishing and flicking Pansy's pile of clothing into the cluttered trunk that lay sprawled open on the floor.
"Done," she said, waving her wand again to close and lock the trunk.
"Show off," Pansy mumbled, rolling her eyes. "Is there any spell you don't know?"
"We learned that in first year, airhead," Anne chuckled, putting on her best Professor Flitwick voice, "Swish and flick, that's it. See, now, Miss Granger's got it!"
Pansy stifled a laugh. "Know-it-all Granger. Now, there's a show off."
"Apparently she made it to Slughorn's little club as well, according to Blaise."
"I still can't believe that! And the Weasley girl, too. What interest could Slughorn have in mud bloods and blood traitors? Honestly, that fat old man has no standards."
•¥•
The night of the party, Anne stood in the entrance hall waiting for Blaise. A large group of girls had gathered there, waiting for Potter, by the looks of it. They were staring at a girl wearing spangled silver robes and giggling obnoxiously. Anne rolled her eyes as Zabini arrived just after Potter had whisked away the strange girl. Blaise held out his arm for her.
"Shall we?"
She took his arm silently and followed him up the marble staircase toward Slughorn's office.
"You look great," she said, admiring the fit of his tailored suit jacket.
"I know," he grinned, accepting the compliment without hesitation.
She shoved him gently. "I'm sorry again about, you know…" she looked down.
She was looking for Malfoy, he remembered bitterly. He said, "Let's forget about that," and kept walking in silence.
As they approached the entrance to Slughorn's office, they could hear the chatter of conversation from within. It appeared that Slughorn had invited quite the crowd of teachers and other apparently famous witches and wizards as well as his prized "Slug Club" students. Anne's chest tightened when she saw the crowd in the room, so many unfamiliar faces made her anxious. She squeezed Blaise's arm, frozen in place. She was normally fine with crowds, dining in the Great Hall and roaming the corridors at school, they were inevitable. Here she felt uncomfortable, parties never were her thing.
"What's wrong?" Blaise whispered.
"I don't like parties," she mumbled, her lips hardly moving.
They lingered in the doorway, others pushing past them to join the festivities and myriad conversations. Blaise pulled her closer to him so they wouldn't be so much in the way of the other party guests.
"When you said it was an 'exclusive' thing, I thought maybe I could manage, but…" She trailed off and rested her head on him, scanning the room desperately for anything or anyone familiar to help ground herself. She could see a drunken Slughorn schmoozing, and she also noticed Trelawney, the batty Divination professor, chatting with the girl in the silver robes from earlier.
"We don't have to stay," Blaise told her. "We could—"
"Snape?" Anne cut him off when she spotted Severus skulking in a back corner of the room, looking out of place in his signature billowing black robes. "Professor Snape!" she called, tugging Blaise toward Severus, who was examining the crowd with a scowl.
"Hello," Severus intoned. "Miss Prince, Mr. Zabini." Snape's brow lifted in an unspoken question to Anne.
She returned the look.
"I trust your holidays are going well," he began, "You will be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas this year, Prince?"
"Yes," she answered, more at ease now that she had found someone who shared her awkwardness. "Father's away on business. Blaise, will you get us drinks? I'm a little thirsty," she said, nudging a thoroughly confused Zabini.
"Of course," he replied slowly, "cold or hot?"
"Surprise me," she smiled.
She's so strange, Blaise thought as he walked away, leaving her with Snape. They seemed to have struck up a conversation as soon as he left them. She had said she might quit Quidditch, perhaps she was informing their head of house.
"What business does Nicholas have?" Severus drawled in his monotone. "I was under the impression that your family always spent the holidays together. Or are you staying at Hogwarts for… other reasons?" He asked, shifting his gaze toward Blaise's back as he headed to the refreshments table.
She flushed. "Zabini's just… a distraction," she said, carefully ensuring her thoughts were hidden from Snape's prying. He was not going to read her mind again.
"Ah. Have you had any luck with your… friend, Malfoy?" Severus interjected.
Anne's expression soured, "No," she replied, crossing her arms, "and I hate that you're using me to get through to him."
"Well, the boy has left me little—"
Just then, someone grabbed Severus and pulled him away from her.
"Sever—uh, Professor Snape?" she called after him.
Slughorn had dragged Snape into his chat with Potter and the batty Divination professor Trelawney. Anne hovered closeby, feeling isolated without Severus or Blaise to talk to.
It seemed Slughorn was bragging about Potter's ability in Potions to Severus, giving him credit for teaching the subject for so long.
Severus looked unimpressed.
"... using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease," Potter's date was saying as Anne got close enough to catch the end of the conversation.
Potter laughed so hard he soaked himself with mead. Anne was about to get Severus's attention when she heard the wheezy voice of Argus Filch approaching the teachers.
"Professor Slughorn," he interrupted, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited."
"All right, I wasn't invited!" Draco pulled himself free of Filch's grip furiously. "I was trying to gate crash, happy?"
"No, I'm not!" Filch retorted, though his face betrayed the glee he felt at having caught a student doing something wrong. "You're in trouble, you are!"
"That's all right, Argus," Slughorn waved. "It's Christmas! You may stay, Draco."
Filch was outraged, but Draco didn't exactly seem thrilled to have actually been invited to the party. Anne would even dare to say Draco looked a bit ill, as though he hadn't slept in days. He quickly rearranged his features into the careful mask Anne knew him to put on around others and thanked Slughorn for letting him stay.
"I did know your grandfather, after all…" Slughorn was slurring.
"I'd like a word with you, Draco," Severus said just as Anne was reaching out for Draco's arm.
"Drat," she hissed as Blaise approached her, nearly spilling butterbeer down her front.
"There you are," he said. "Was that Malfoy I just saw?"
Anne wasn't listening, she was trying to see what was happening behind Blaise. Severus was leading Draco out into the corridor, away from the party.
"Anne?" Blaise spoke through his teeth as he tried to keep a smile on his face in front of the professors. "I got you a drink." He held the butterbeer out to her stiffly and downed his own drink aggressively. "Didn't you say you were thirsty?"
She took the bottle without comment and continued to stare past him through the door as Potter hurried out shortly after Snape and Draco.
"Blaise," she shook her head clear. "I—Thank you." She took a sip of the butterbeer and pushed the bottle back into his hands. "I'm sorry."
"Wh—"
She pushed past him and followed Potter out into the corridor.
"Prince! Where are you going?!" Blaise called after her.
•¥•
Anne snuck quietly down the hall, casting a nonverbal disillusionment charm as she walked to avoid being seen by Potter, who, it seemed, had gone off to the restroom for she saw no sign of him anywhere.
"It's none of your business!"
That was Draco's voice. She approached the door she'd heard it coming from cautiously.
"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish…" Severus.
"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"
"Keep your voice down!"
She could only hear bits of the conversation. She didn't dare get too close and risk being caught. Anne was even more confused about Draco's "mission" and Severus's involvement in it. Why did he need her to spy on Draco? What did he want?
"What does it matter?" Draco's voice drifted in and out, "—it's all just a joke, isnt' it, an act?"
"It's an act crucial to success, Draco!" Snape's voice rose as he seemed to reprimand Draco for something, "and if you're placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle—"
"I've got other people… better people!"
Who? Anne thought. Who is he working with?
"You are speaking like a child." Severus spoke coldly, "I quite understand your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you—"
The door burst suddenly open and Draco nearly bumped into her as she pressed her back against the wall and watched him stride away past the party and around a distant corner. Severus returned to the party. Anne decided to follow Draco. She needed answers tonight.