Misconception

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and stuff is not mine.

Author's Note: For all of those who have reviewed, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I loved every single one of those reviews, and they really mean a lot to me. I appreciate any type of feedback. They really made my day. And for those you haven't, shame on you. Again, please take just five seconds to type a simple review. I don't know if you guys (who don't review) know how frustrating it is to see the number of hits grow, but not the number of reviews. Make sense?

Anyway, on with the chapter!

Chapter 12: The Christmas Ball

Draco awoke with a start in his soft, king-sized bed when he heard a really loud pounding echoing throughout the manor. He rolled to his side and groaned. Attempting to block out the noise, he put a pillow over his head. However, the pounding noise continued loudly, as if shouting at him to get up. It seemed like just an hour ago when he had come home from the train station and when he had kissed Ginny…

Groggily, he got out of his warm bed, meeting the cold air in his room. He shivered a bit, as he walked to his window and pulled away the heavy curtains. A great light shined on his face, and he squinted and blinked several times. Snow was still gently falling to the ground of the vast land where the Malfoy Manor was located. His window faced the side of the mansion, where there was a fountain and a hidden path leading to his mother's garden.

He walked away from the window and quickly got dressed. The pounding noise was now followed by other noises and some random shouts. He frowned in bewilderment, as he opened his door and looked down the hallways that were tiled in marble. His footsteps echoed along with the noise, and after a few doors, he pulled open the one that led to the dining room.

Draco found his mother sitting alone at the end of the long dining table, sipping a cup of tea. She was absorbed in reading the Daily Prophet and did not even look up when Draco arrived. Immediately, a few house elves came in with breakfast and they set the tray next to his mother. She nodded, and they bowed , while walking away backwards. Draco frowned, when she still did not look up to greet him. The pounding noises continued, and he was getting rather frustrated.

"Mother," he began flatly.

"Good morning, Draco," she said, still skimming the articles and sipping her tea.

"Care to explain the noise?" asked Draco, walking toward the end of the table and taking a seat across from her.

Narcissa looked up and shot him an irritable look. "I'm trying to read," she said.

Draco scowled and retorted, "Well, I was trying to sleep."

"Please, Draco," said Narcissa, rolling her blue eyes. "It's for the Christmas Ball. Don't tell me you forgot about that."

"How could I?" muttered Draco, irritably. He reached for her plate of food, seeing that she wasn't going to eat it. She merely glanced at him and continued reading the Daily Prophet.

As he began to eat, Narcissa set down the paper with a sigh. She pursed her lips and poured herself more hot tea. There was complete silence between the mother and son, except for the occasional clanking of silverware, and the loud pounding that echoed every once in a while. After stirring her tea, she set down the spoon and looked at Draco with a rare smile. Draco arched an eyebrow and did not say anything.

"So," she said, "The Christmas Ball will be glamorous…they're working on it right now. I expect there will be more than a thousand people coming."

"Right." said Draco, barely listening to what she was saying.

"Are you going to bring a girl, Draco?" asked Narcissa.

Draco looked up from his food and frowned. What kind of question was that? There was no need for him to bring someone to the ball; did it require a dance, like the Yule Ball?

"Why?" asked Draco.

"Well, who are you going to dance with?" said Narcissa. "Oh, well, I think the Parkinsons will be there. You fancy their daughter, right?"

"That was fourth year, Mother." said Draco through gritted teeth.

"Never mind that, then," said Narcissa, waving it off. "I'm sure you'll meet plenty of lovely girls at the ball."

When Narcissa said "lovely girls", she meant rich and pureblood. Even if Draco wanted to invite Ginny, it was already out of the question. She was pureblood, but she would have, what Narcissa liked to call the Weasleys, "no class whatsoever". Draco scoffed lightly, and Narcissa shot him an angry look.

"Don't laugh, Draco," snapped Narcissa. "It's about time you found yourself a girl, anyway."

"Right," he said, sarcastically, "Because a lot of people get married by the time they're eighteen or nineteen."

"You're seventeen," said Narcissa.

"I know, I am, Mother." Draco said grimly.

A loud pounding followed, as Narcissa glared at Draco. The noise stopped, but Narcissa was still looking at Draco in a dangerous glare. He shrugged and finished off the rest of his breakfast. Refraining from saying something, Narcissa sipped her tea again and pretended to be interested in an article she had already read.

"I already placed an order for your new dress robes, and they should be here by the afternoon." she said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Thanks," muttered Draco.

Right at that moment, the double doors flung open and a very angry Lucius stormed in.

"How is a man supposed to get any sleep with all this damn noise!" he shouted.

Another pounding noise began, and Draco could distinctly hear the workers shouting at each other for doing something wrong. Then, a drilling noise started. Draco wondered why they weren't using magic…

Draco poured himself a cup of tea and pretended he wasn't even there. Lucius was glaring daggers at Narcissa, but she merely looked at him with the utmost indifference. She sniffed and pretended to be in an article, once again.

"I've been working all night, and now I can't get any sleep because of all this-this—God damned noise!" yelled Lucius. "Do you know how tired I am, woman?"

"Calm down, Lucius," said Narcissa coolly. "You'll give yourself a heart attack."

Draco snorted in his tea and quickly choked on his laughter. He bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from laughing at his father's anger that was just about to explode. Lucius was staring at Narcissa incredulously. She got up from her seat and smiled at him.

"Well, I need to check on those workers," said Narcissa. "You get some rest now."

She kissed him on the cheek and swiftly left the dining room. Lucius glared at her retreating back and then shot a glare at Draco.

"You," said Lucius, pointing at his son, "In my office, we still need to talk."

Draco nodded and followed Lucius to his office. On the way there, Draco saw the workers waving their wands and having the tools do the work to their free will. Each pound made his father cringe , which made Draco smirk behind his back. Lucius muttered something about his mother being unreasonable, as they walked down the hallway to his office.

Lucius pushed open the door angrily and seated himself in the armchair, behind his desk. It reminded Draco of when he was in Dumbledore's office, but he noticed that Dumbledore's office was brighter. It also had more strange things in it that were not related to the Dark Arts.

"This is the second time I have heard suspicions from Blaise," began Lucius quietly. He opened his drawer and took out a bottle of whiskey. He began pouring it in a glass cup that he magically conjured. Draco watched the cup slowly fill up with the liquor.

"And?" said Draco, feeling annoyed that he had to be questioned again.

Lucius brought the glass to his lips and then put it down again. He looked at Draco and said, "You have nothing to say for yourself?"

"Nope," said Draco boldly. "I'm telling the truth. If you or the others don't believe me then, tough."

"Watch that attitude, Draco." said Lucius, glaring at him. Draco glared back, feeling his temper rising already.

"Blaise Zabini has done more work than you," continued Lucius, now putting away the bottle of whiskey. "God knows that he deserves the higher rank."

"So I've been told," said Draco coldly, clenching his jaw in anger.

"What have you done, Draco, for the Death Eaters and for the Dark Lord?" asked Lucius. It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but Draco answered it anyway.

"Tortured, killed, and gotten the most useful information for the Death Eaters," spat Draco angrily. "And you know that, Lucius."

"Then what are these suspicions of Blaise?" asked Lucius, setting down his glass loudly. "Going into Dumbledore's office, making friends with a Weasley?"

"What?" said Draco, looking genuinely outraged. "You think I'd actually befriend a Weasley? Those dirt poor blood traitors? Disgrace to all purebloods? Father, why would I associate myself with such filth?"

Lucius smiled, satisfied. Draco, however, was feeling guilty. Any other time, he wouldn't care how many times he insulted the Weasleys, but this time it was different. As much as Draco would've liked to deny it, the reasons for feeling such guilt all led to Ginny. Why did it always have to be her?

"And, as for going to Dumbledore's office," said Draco, in the same cold manner, "I'm Head Boy, if you haven't noticed."

Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but Draco abruptly cut him off by getting up from his seat. He briskly left the office, feeling his anger seeping. He walked past the workers and looked at their work so far. Even though he was angry and annoyed, he had to admit, they were doing a pretty good job. Narcissa was watching them and instructing them what to do with the place…

A few days later, Draco found himself on the side of their ballroom. A magnificent crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, lighting up the whole room in glamour. There were, indeed, thousands of people at the ball, all dressed up in dress robes and beautiful dresses. All of them were pureblood—or they claimed to be. All of them were wealthy and supported the Dark Lord one way or the other. Not all of them were Death Eaters, but they believed that the Dark Lord had the right thing in mind.

There was a small orchestra playing songs that could barely be heard over the mindless chatter and laughter of the rich and powerful. A large Christmas tree was in the middle of room, decorated in various ornaments of silver and gold. Although it was cold and snowing, they managed to even unfreeze the fountain, at the side of the house. The garden was also green and the flowers, unnaturally in bloom.

Narcissa was standing with a large group of women, a champagne glass in her hand. She stood in an elegant poise that was unlike many other women. She had a sense of dignity that none of them had, and she knew it. Lucius was on the other side of the room, talking seriously to some suspicious looking people.

It was right after the Death Eater meeting, and Draco wasn't exactly in a good mood. The Dark Lord, himself, had confronted Draco with the suspicions. It was a good thing that Draco was also exceptionally good at Occlumency, or he would have seen right through him. He looked mildly convinced, but he was satisfied, nonetheless.

In the meantime, Draco stood idly, wondering when the bloody ball would end. He wished he could just go upstairs to his room and be at peace. However, he was forced to attend by his mother, who had put a little bit too much effort into the ball. Draco found that she puts too much effort in every fancy event she plans.

Draco somehow managed to find his way outside. He stood next to the flowing fountain, thankful that only a few people were out here. He took out his pack of cigarettes from his dress robe pocket and lit one up. He inhaled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Draco blew out a puff of smoke and looked at the garden that his mother had lit up for the guests to see.

Sooner or later, they're going to find out what who you're really working for.

Draco stuffed his empty hand in his pocket and thought about what he was going to do. However, he found that his mind came to peace when his thoughts wandered to Ginny…Out of all the people, why did it have to be her? Was it because she saved him? Was it because he kissed her? He could not deny the fact that he, indeed, felt something when he kissed her-- Something that was never there when he kissed other girls.

He exhaled another stream of smoke.

"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" asked someone from behind.

He turned around with a look of indifference on his face. However, he was somewhat startled by the person who asked the question. It was a beautiful girl, about his age. She had silvery blonde hair, with light blue eyes. She wore an elegant light blue dress, which brought out the color of her eyes even more.

"And you are?" said Draco, keeping his cold indifference.

"Helen Chamberlain," she said.

"Daughter of Richard Chamberlain?" asked Draco.

Richard Chamberlain was one of the richest wizards alive. He was powerful in the Ministry and was almost elected as Minister after the resignation of Cornelius Fudge. However, once authorities learned that he was supportive of the Dark Arts, he was never made Minister in fear that he would bring the Dark Lord to power.

"That's it," she said, smiling.

Draco was about to throw down his half-finished cigarette, until Helen said, "Hey, could I have one?"

Draco immediately put his cigarette back in his mouth and offered her a new one. She lit it up with her wand and inhaled deeply. Draco was half expecting her to start coughing violently, but she didn't. In fact, she was a rather casual smoker.

"So you go to Hogwarts, right?" said Helen, exhaling a white puff of smoke.

"Yeah," answered Draco, flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette. He held it between his fingers and put it back in his mouth, inhaling once again. "I'm guessing you don't."

"Beauxbatons," she answered with an air of superiority.

"Ah, I see."

"If you ask me, Hogwarts isn't the best school, is it?" she continued, "I mean, I heard they don't even teach you Dark Arts."

Although she was beautiful, with her elegant dress and strikingly stunning eyes, Draco found her superiority slightly annoying. He threw down his cigarette and put it out with his heel. Helen faced him and smiled seductively. Instantly, all the things that annoyed Draco about her seemed to slowly fade away into some distant place.

In the background, Draco could hear a slow, mournful tune coming from a solo violin. Helen averted her eyes to where the music was coming from and then back at Draco.

"Would you like to dance, Draco?" she asked, almost in a purr.

Before Draco could answer, Helen grabbed his wrist and led him to the ballroom, where others had begun dancing as well. Before Helen pulled him into the stance, Draco saw Narcissa eyeing them, positively delighted and beaming. Draco frowned, directing it toward Narcissa, who continued to smile.

"Am I that bad at dancing?" asked Helen, looking up at Draco's frowning face.

Draco looked at her and smiled apologetically. "Oh, sorry. No, I was just thinking about something."

"What's on your mind?" she asked, subtly licking her lips.

Draco frowned slightly at her insinuation and shook his head. They swayed to slow music, and Draco noticed that she seemingly moved closer to him. Draco smirked slightly at this and drew her closer, his hand firmly around her waist. Helen smiled at this; their faces were just a few centimeters apart. The music was slowly dying away, but it then continued with another beautiful song. Her smooth nose touched his, and she laughed quietly.

She drew her lips closer to his, and Draco held his breath. Their lips were just about to meet, when suddenly—

"Ah, Malfoy, I see you've moved on."

It was no other than Blaise Zabini. Helen instantly drew away, startled by the abrupt interruption.

"What do you want?" asked Draco irritably.

"Not with Weasley anymore?" asked Blaise with a wicked glint in his eye.

Draco felt his heart sink. Guilt began to pump through his veins, and he scolded himself for feeling this way. He was growing soft, and it was all because of a bloody Weasley. Draco clenched his jaw and glared at Blaise, who simply smiled.

Blaise smirked at Helen, and she returned a seductive smile. Behind Blaise, Pansy Parkinson was scowling and huffing indignantly. Helen glanced at Pansy with indifference and politely introduced herself.

Blaise kissed her soft hand and said, "Blaise Zabini."

"Pleasure," she said, "And who's your friend?" Helen nodded towards Pansy, who looked absolutely furious.

"Pansy Parkinson," said Blaise carelessly.

"Girlfriend?" asked Helen.

"I guess you can say that," said Blaise with a smirk.

Draco was surprised by Blaise's loyalty to Pansy. Helen looked slightly disappointed but instantly drew her attention to Draco. She put her hand in his, and Draco winced slightly. He felt like every ounce of guilt he could ever feel was just vibrating from her soft hand.

"Enjoy the party," said Blaise, putting his arm around Pansy's waist and walking away.

Draco watched Blaise go with Pansy, and he saw him turn around and smirk at him for the last time. Meanwhile, Helen was still licking her lips, insinuating that something that Draco did not really want to do. She pulled him into another dance, claiming that they were playing her favorite song.

"So," she began with a purr, "What are you doing afterwards?"

"Sleeping," replied Draco, shortly.

She laughed and put her head on his shoulder. "Can I join in?" she whispered in his ear.

Draco stiffened slightly. If this were any other time, he would have gladly given in to such an offer. Except this was not any other time. All the reasons for not wanting to do this all, eventually, led to Ginny. But Helen was beautiful, much more beautiful than any girl he had ever seen. Nevertheless, there was just something about Helen that made him instantly refuse the offer.

"I don't think so, Helen," said Draco flatly.

"Why?" asked Helen, smirking.

Draco chuckled mirthlessly and did not answer. The song slowly ended, and they stopped swaying along to the music. She leaned in again and whispered in his ear, "I don't take 'no' for an answer…"

With that, she kissed him with her soft lips. Draco began returning the kiss, at first, because her lips reminded him of Ginny. However, a few seconds later, he instantly pushed her away. A few people gasped and stared, but Helen only laughed, which made everyone go back to what they were doing.

"Honestly, Draco," she said quietly, "I don't bite."

"I don't care," he snapped.

He turned and walked away from her quickly. To his relief, Helen did not follow, as he ran up the stairs and down the long hallways, passing many doors, to his room. He quickly locked the door with an anti-Alohamora charm.

He breathed heavily from his run and collapsed onto his bed. Out of all the people, all of this was for Ginny bloody Weasley. Draco groaned, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. How did he develop feelings for Ginny? Why did those feelings run deep enough for him to turn down a shameless shag from a stunningly, beautiful and gorgeous girl? All of this was just an infatuation. Draco couldn't even think of a reason why he had feelings for Ginny. Why? Why? Why?

He laid down on his back and began to contemplate this, arguing with himself in his own mind. Without coming to any good conclusions, he drifted to sleep, still in his dress robes.