Chapter Four
Every girl's dream was Zara's worst nightmare. Endless rows of dresses in every possible shade of pastel extended before them.
"Merlin's beard," she groaned at the prospect of shopping for a cotillion dress. "They're all the same."
"Not really," Stella said, annoyingly perky. "There's pink and purple, not just white. There's blue too, and green. A-line dresses, ball gowns, or the more fit and flare sort of thing."
"Why can't we go for something black?" Zara insisted, refusing to pass even the first row of dresses; each more poofy and hideous than the other.
"Because, it's a 'coming of age' thing," Stella said. "We're supposed to be passed off as dreamy, innocent virgins. They wear pink, not black."
Zara snorted. "An innocent virgin, you?"
"Yes, speaking of," Stella's beamed, tirelessly pulling out dresses to study them more intently. To Zara's great shock, she didn't hang them all back, but selected some to try on. "Can you cover for me tonight? I told my mum I'm staying at your house."
"For what?" Zara frowned, attempting to follow her example, but quickly putting the dress back in disgust.
"For my date," Stella chuckled.
"The photographer guy date? Isn't he way too old for you?"
"No way! I've outgrown the schoolboy stage. Isn't that what this ball is supposed to underline?"
"I don't think when my grandparents thought of hosting the cotillion they wanted to encourage us dating guys twice our age. Not unless they're on my grandfather's list of 'approved and suitable marriage candidates," Zara laughed, quickly passing the worst shades of pink.
"He's not twice my age, maybe just one and a half time," Stella said. "And he has a list?" She stopped in front of a full-length mirror in the shop to hold a pale blue dress in front of her. "What do you think of this one?"
"I don't doubt he has one," Zara replied. "It looks fine, you should buy it."
"Ha!" Stella grinned. "You're not getting rid of this that easily, Potter. I'm going to try this one on, and many more. And you're going to try them on too. I'll help you pick, before your mum does."
Zara sighed and figured she was going to have to wear something to the ball. Stella always knew what would look good on anyone, while she herself was at a complete loss. She didn't think a dress would look good, anyway. She barely had anything worth wearing a bra for, and since her limbs were always full of Quidditch- bruises showing arms or legs was a bad idea.
"Zara!" sounded her mother's voice from somewhere in the back of the store. "Have you selected anything yet?"
"Tons of dresses!" Zara called back grumpily, standing still while she let her friend hold out dress after dress in front of her.
"Let's try on these," Stella finally concluded, holding an arm full of dresses. "It's a waste you don't like shopping, anything could fit you."
"Ha!" Zara snorted. "You mean when I stuff my bra, and forget my broomstick-resembling figure?"
"Oh please. If you were taller, you could be a model," Stella said, heading towards the back of the store, where their mothers were.
"I am tall!" Zara defended her decent 5'7".
"Not tall enough to be a model."
"But you are. What happened to your ambitions?" Zara inquired, anything to not think of the dresses; each more dreadful than the other. "Have you heard from that audition?"
"Not yet, but the date may help," Stella chuckled. She only continued when she spotted Zara's expression. "I'm just kidding, Potter, hold your hippogriffs, and try on these dresses."
"I will if you will."
The girls made their way over to the fitting rooms, but Zara paused at the sight of her mother and Stella's mother appearing engaged in serious conversation. She quickly pulled Stella along to hide behind a plant- which could barely conceal them and the heap of dresses in their arms. Stella gave her a questioning look, but she ignored it and leaned in closer to overhear what the two women were discussing.
"- how Harry's not at all crazy about this party," said Lucia. "I mean, I understand it won't look well at the Ministry. It's a Pureblood tradition in its essence after all, and the slightest hint of radicalism is enough to alarm everyone there."
"So why go through with it?".
Stella's mum, Evangeline Foxworth-and modern enough to go by 'Evie' for anyone including her children's friends, seemed just as crazy about dresses as her daughter. She was having a hard time dividing her attention between the dresses and the conversation.
"I keep asking myself that," Lucia admitted, momentarily disappearing behind an oversized dress Zara hoped she wouldn't make her try on. "This is the first attempt my parents made to reach out to us since Zara's birth. She deserves to have grandparents."
"Not that I want –them- for grandparents," Zara whispered in her friend's ear, who suppressed a giggle.
"Maybe they're trying to make up for the lost time?" suggested Evie, who clearly did not know the Malfoys very well.
"I doubt my father is at all capable of benevolence," Lucia said. "To be honest, Harry thinks there's more behind all this."
"A catch?" Evie asked, losing her attention for the dresses as the conversation turned more interesting. "But you just told me, your father's getting old. It doesn't seem so strange for an old man to want to spend time with his children and grandchildren right?"
"It is when your name is Lucius Malfoy," Lucia sighed.
"So what could the catch be?"
Zara watched her mother shake her head slowly. "With my parents, you never know."
After an impressively extended shopping session, both Stella and Zara settled for a dress. Stella's was very impressive both in fit and colour, while Zara's reminded her just a tad too much of a cupcake. But by the end she was so through with it she relented and let her mother buy the one she kept nagging her about. Once at home, Zara had made sure it disappeared into the back of her wardrobe before her little sisters had the chance to notice it.
"So what did you guys do all day?" she asked Teddy and Sebastian. Promising Stella to cover for her was so much easier when Sebastian turned up. The twins were always together, after all, so it was more reliable that way.
The three sat on the rug in Zara's spacious bedroom, sipping hot chocolate while the fireplace heated up the room. It was hard to believe it was summer holidays; English weather was as dreadful as always.
"Nothing much," Sebastian shrugged. "Went into Diagon Alley to have butterbeers and look at new brooms. If I get enough NEWTs next year mum might buy me one." He toyed with an unlit cigarette.
"You're not going to light that in here are you?" Zara frowned. "My mum will kill you."
Sebastian shrugged and moved over to the window, opening it to lean outside to light the cigarette and smoke. "She won't know the difference between the fireplace, will she?" he called over his shoulder.
"Trust me, she knows everything," Zara assured him, running a hand through her hair.
"So, Stella," Teddy said, bringing them back to the original topic. And the topic most interesting to him, no doubt. "This guy is really bad for her."
"I know, what do you want to do about it?" Zara said, warming her hands around the mug of hot chocolate; the opened window brought the chill back in. "We can't crash in? We don't even know where he lives."
"He thinks she's of age," Teddy continued his rant.
"She is of age," Sebastian reminded him with a slight grin. "Jealous, Ted?"
"Course not!" Teddy snorted. "just concerned. You should be, too."
"My sister, although she usually has no idea what she gets herself into, is more than capable of doing whatever she feels like. And she usually gets exactly what she wants."
"So you think it's safe?"
"If it's not: have you seen her Bat-Bogey hex? And that's just one of the many things she has up her sleeve," Sebastian assured them. He didn't look as brave as he sounded, though. In fact, when he poked his head out of the window to smoke again, Zara was quite certain she had spotted his face fall noticeably. Tough as he appeared to be, he was protective when it came to his sister.
"Well, at least you don't have to parade around in a dress that resembles a pumpkin pasty," Zara attempted to cheer up Teddy. At the cost of her own dignity, but that would soon be lost at her grandparents' ball, anyway.
This drew a slight grin from Teddy as he got to his feet. "That's true. I'm off to bed. Night Seb, and sis," he said.
"Good night, brother," Zara chuckled. Ever since Teddy had officially come to live with them since his grandmother's death, they had started playfully using these words. As a bit if of a joke, really, but it was obvious Teddy sometimes felt bad about his lack of direct family. As far as Zara was concerned, they –were- direct family. They were blood relatives, too. Zara's mum and Teddy's mum had been full cousins, after all.
"Yea, and don't dream of my sister," Sebastian laughed, closing the window once he had finished his cigarette.
"You're really not worried about Stella?" Zara asked once Teddy had disappeared into his own room.
"If I had the slightest idea she was in danger, that guy would be lucky to have any hands left to hold a camera," Sebastian assured her, dropping next to her on the rug. "She hates me to play the jealous brother type," he shrugged. "Do you suggest otherwise?"
"Nah, I guess not," Zara agreed. "Are you coming to my grandparents' ball as well?" she inquired. Eventually her mother had gotten the message across to her grandparents that she would not attend unless her friends, the twins and Teddy, would be invited.
"Free drinks, tons of girls, I'm in," he assured her. "Do you need a date?"
"Is this an offer?" Zara raised an eyebrow as if in doubt, before a grin broke through.
"Do you want it to be?"
"I don't think we need dates," she said quickly. She perhaps liked to imagine Sebastian's face showed a touch of disappointment. Not that she wanted it to. She didn't want to be anything but friends. Or didn't she? Somehow his question had confused her, and she quickly wished to leave the subject behind them.
"I think the whole tradition of the ball is to introduce the girls to suitable men," she explained with a forced chuckle. She jumped to her feet. "I'm closing the window, I guess there's a storm coming."
For a moment she busied herself closing her windows while outside the wind was picking up, and it was starting to rain as well. When she returned, the moment was gone. And the topic was in desperate need of a change of conversation.
"When Stella and I were shopping, we heard my and your mum talking. My mum seems to think there's a catch to the party, of some kind."
"What could he want from you?" Sebastian inquired, reaching to eat the remainder of the marshmallows. "He's got all the money in the world."
"I know, it wouldn't be money," Zara agreed. To be honest, she had little clue on what it could be. Having heard the stories of her grandparents, and her grandfather especially, she found it hard to believe they would throw such an event out of sentimentality. She was old enough to believe life was never such a fairy tale.
Before they had a chance to think about it further, they were disturbed at the sound of small pebbles tossed against the window. The thought of trouble entering their minds, Zara and Sebastian stood up in unison to head over to the window.
"Stella!" Zara exclaimed at the sight of her rain-soaked friend. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm supposed to be here, remember?" Stella reminded her impatiently. "I wasn't sure if your dad still had that anti-apparition charm on the house. Didn't want to risk friggin' splinching myself."
"Not since a week or two."
Two seconds and an audible crack! later, Stella stood in Zara's bedroom, dripping rainwater on the oak floor. It wasn't hard to see that rain was not the only thing pouring down Stella's face. She was visibly upset, which meant there were more things going on than Zara's grandfather's possible double agenda.