"Marcy you have a package!" yelled a boy from the front of the Gryffindor house table. He was young, maybe a first year, and started to tremble as Marcy Malfoy strode past him towards the spot on the table where a large barn owl had dropped her package. She did not consider herself intimidating although her family name had a way of making the newer students shrink away from her. Giving the owl a slight tap on the head and yelling 'thank you' over her shoulder towards the boy, Marcy proceeded to plop into her usual place at the house table. Dinner had only been put out moments before and the best parts were still plenty full and hot. With a grumbling stomach, Marcy began to shovel a hefty portion of Lancashire Hotpot onto her plate, the package momentarily forgotten. Students began to pile in after her, taking their seats at the different tables and smiling brightly at the array of smells that had come from the kitchen. Marcy waved through a mouthful of pumpkin juice at Julian, who was deep in conversation with another Slytherin. She frowned when he did not wave back.
"Marcy, did you do the Herbology assignment yet?" Abbie asked as she sat next to her daintily, her eyes scanning the delicacies in front of her.
"Nah. I'm hoping for a snow day," Marcy mumbled through a mouthful, using her fork as a pointer, "If it snows enough over the holiday like the Prophet said, hopefully all our classes will be cancelled. I'd love not to see Binns for a day."
Abbie, who had been serving herself a very small portion of roasted potatoes, scrunched up her nose at Marcy's comment, "Come now Marcy. Professor Binns has been here for hundreds of years. You can not expect him to just leave now, not when there is still so much history to learn." Marcy was about to argue that Binns was only still there because he was already dead, but was interrupted by Charlie and Michael, who had approached the table at a run, "wow, aren't you boys hasty," added Abbie.
"Starving," Michael muttered as he piled his plate high, giving Marcy a quaint nod hello before slamming it down and diving in. For cousins, Marcy found it odd that she rarely if ever spoke to Michael in school. During the summer she found that they talked a lot, laughing over Aunt Hermione's pitiful attempts to cook and Uncle Ron's obsession with the Chudley Cannons. At Hogwarts, it was as if they were two completely different people. Michael latched onto Charlie who, although much younger, was one of the few people other than Andrew Potter that he confided in. They talked about boy things. Marcy enjoyed her time with Abbie. They talked about girl things.
"Marcy?" Abbie interrupted her thoughts and it was obvious from her expression that she had been asking her a question. Marcy mumbled an apology, "Its fine. I was wondering what you want to do tomorrow night. You still have not tried on those dress robes I set out for you."
Marcy gulped, forcing herself to look straight ahead instead of catching a glimpse of Charlie Lawson. She had agreed, almost regrettably, to attend the Yule Ball with him on Christmas Eve. It would not have been such a terrible agreement; they were best friends, had it not been for Andrew Potter. Marcy was sure Andrew had been about to ask her to the ball himself on that winter night just a few weeks before. Charlie had just had lousy timing. Truth be told, Marcy had no desire to attend the ball in Abbie's dress robes at all. She had seen the bottle green silk sitting on Abbie's bed and had examined them carefully. They were modest, almost too modest, and would hang all the wrong ways on her. The robes were meant to bring out Abbie's form, not hers.
"We can talk about it later," Marcy added, trying to change the subject.
"Who are you going with Abbie?" Michael asked quietly from behind a pile of food.
"Joseph Whitney. He's a Hufflepuff fourth year," she said proudly, looking over her shoulder at a very nerdy boy with large glasses and an obvious overbite. Marcy giggled a bit to herself and turned forward before the boy saw her staring. For such a pretty girl, Abbie was known for her eclectic tastes in boys, especially ones that did not seem to measure up in the physical department, "He wants to be a librarian when he's older so he can make a better system for cataloging research. It would make the current system so much easier; it's ingenious really."
"Or it's absolutely barmy," Charlie interjected, causing Marcy's giggle to be pushed out almost forcefully. Abbie glared at both of them and turned her attention to Michael.
"What about you Michael?"
"Oh, I'm not going," he said quietly, "I've got some things to do." Marcy frowned at her cousin. He was a rather quiet boy to begin with. She had hoped he would have taken the opportunity to get out a bit, "But I'm helping Andrew get ready."
"Ooh who is Andrew taking to the ball!" one of Marcy's no-name roommates yelped from down the table, practically running to push next to Marcy on the bench. The girl's cheeks were overdone with blush and her lips were a wicked color of red. She was holding her face in her hands and staring at Michael with lash-filtered puppy dog eyes. Marcy saw Michael gulp forcefully before answering.
"Cummings. Uh…Sarah Cummings." The girl began to pout to herself and scuttled away, causing everyone to start laughing. Even Michael broke a smile.
"So Marcy…" started Charlie, "I was thinking, how about I wait for you around 7:30 or so? That would give us plenty of time to get there and take pictures and things." Marcy nodded and set to taking up dessert, which consisted of peanut butter cookies and some sort of cake. Charlie beamed and added, "Don't forget your package," before getting up and heading off into the halls.
It was then that Marcy remembered the package sitting next to her. It was long and rectangular with a very noticeable loopy handwriting scrawled across its face. She gasped out loud, totally surprised as to why she had not noticed it before. Shoving a cookie in her mouth, Marcy grabbed the package and forced her way to Gryffindor tower and the safety of her curtained bedroom.
Her mother had sent her something in the mail.
Marcy fingered the fabric lightly, allowing the smooth satin to run across the tips. It was royal blue and practically flickered in the growing moonlight from the softest application of glitter and sparkle. Marcy examined herself in the mirror as she let go of the fabric, forcing herself to take in the shapes and curves of the new dress.
It was cut to fit Marcy's shape, with a double folded neckline that draped around the back. The bodice and length of the dress hug her hips and flowed out just past her knees. Her shoulders and collarbone were exposed due to its lack of sleeves, creating a perfect line that extended down to the tips of her fingers. In the mirror she could see her eyes popping against her otherwise pale skin, the color practically dragging them to the surface. Marcy smiled and spun around.
She would never truly understand why her mother had sent her the exquisite set of robes. They hardly talked anymore; Ginny Weasley called occasionally on holidays and always remembered to send a card on her birthday. Marcy had grown to accept in the six months since her parent's divorce that her mother, although brilliant, had lost herself somewhere between Julian's birth and Marcy's first showing. Ginny had needed the time alone and Marcy had needed a mother. Ginny had just been incapable of doing both.
There was no note attached to the dress, no way of knowing the motivations behind her mother's surprise gift. It had come with a small silver chain, a set of hair crystals, and tiny sandal shoes that were just the right size. Marcy felt anticipation brimming up in the depth of her stomach as she looked at herself in the mirror.
Mum would be proud.
"MARCY GET DOWN HERE!" Abbie yelled loudly up the stairs to the girls floor of Gryffindor Tower. Andrew Potter laughed at the audacity of the thirteen year old in front of him and smiled as he adjusted the tie around his neck. He had chosen a dark green suit because his father had told him that Potter men always looked good in green, although now he wondered if it was possibly a terrible idea. Sarah's dress was a brilliant egg yolk yellow that contrasted nastily with his outfit. She was currently standing in the corner sulking with two friends as he stood around Abbie and Charlie.
Abbie was wearing a shade of periwinkle that drew attention to her violet eyes, something Joseph Whitney had obviously not noticed. He was staring more at the voluptuous curve of her chest and the way it moved every time she breathed in and out. Honestly, Andrew could not blame the boy. No matter how absolutely lousy he had come off in the real world initially, he was obviously very much male.
"Oh my…" a girl across the room whispered, causing Andrew to spin around and suck in a tight breath of air. Marcy Malfoy was descending the steps in the most amazing color of blue he had ever seen. Her strawberry blonde hair shone in a way he had not realized hair could and her cobalt eyes were practically piercing into his body as she came to rest just next to him. He looked her up and down as inconspicuously as possible before breathing out slowly, giving her a nod, and moving towards Sarah. He had to get away from Marcy Malfoy as soon as possible, before inappropriate thoughts entered his head again.
"Having fun yet!" Charlie yelled above the music of the Weird Sisters, twirling his hips in a way that was just awkward for a boy of his age. Marcy nodded regrettably and spun around him, twisting and turning her hands in the air to the contemporary music. The dance floor was not very crowded, many having returned to their tables too tired and full. The meal had been delicious and Marcy had been highly impressed by the ready-to-order menus that the House Elves had created. Charlie had eaten too quickly and had barely given her time to finish before pulling her back to the center of the floor. Abbie had smiled at her apologetically from her seat next to Joseph, and the chatterboxes laughed uproariously as Charlie pulled her a little too close during one of the slow songs.
The only person she had not seen was Andrew Potter. He had practically disappeared after she saw him in the common room and had not sat at their table as originally decided. She had thought she had looked rather good, had been told by a couple of girls she had not even known that she looked lovely, and yet Andrew had quickly and purposefully walked away from her. He had avoided her. A knot in her stomach grew as she thought of him hiding in a corner snogging with Sarah Cummings.
"Hey Marcy, I think I'm gunna go get a drink…you want anything?" Charlie interrupted, pointing towards the makeshift non-alcoholic bar. Marcy shook her head and watched him walk away to the tune of a starting slow ballad. She looked around sadly. Slow songs were her favorite.
She saw him then, standing off to the corner, devoid of the gigantic Big Bird that was Sarah Cummings. He was not looking at her but talking to some other sixth years when she approached him, and he looked astonished when she asked him to dance.
"I uh…yeah okay," Andrew muttered out and took her hand, leading them to the swarm of the center of the dance floor. Marcy carefully draped her arms around his neck although he was almost too tall for her and he cautiously gripped her sides. She looked to her right and he looked to his as they began to twirl to the music.
"Enjoying the dance?" she asked, not bothering to look at him.
"I guess," he muttered under his breath, "Sarah isn't exactly happy with me."
"Does it matter?"
"I…" He stopped and turned his head so the tip of his chin pressed against her temple, "No…I guess not."
"Well then don't worry about it," Marcy quipped, "I'm sure Charlie isn't all that pleased with me either."
"Why's that Mar?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, "I thought you two were, you know, becoming something…"
"I hope not!" she exclaimed a little too happily. Restarting, she said, "Charlie is a wonderful person but…" she stopped and turned her head, surprised to find Andrew staring down at her intently. The emotion in his eyes took her breath away. Marcy had not realized just how close he was to her, how the distance between them had closed and she was now practically pressed against his chest, his hands resting delicately on the top of her arse. She could feel the heat rising in her stomach and breathed slowly, willing herself to take in air.
"…he just isn't your type," Andrew added, barely looking away from her. She licked her lips as she watched his concentration suddenly dart to the bottom of her face and his eyes slowly slide back to hers. They were barely moving now, practically just standing, and the rest of the world seemed to have melted away, "Mar…"
"Yes?" she asked too quickly.
"You look beautiful tonight." She smiled then, big and wide, and let her head fall against his shoulder and felt his rest against her forehead. Something magical had just happened between them, some wonderful sort of understanding…
"ATTENTION!" came the ringing voice of Professor Flitwick, lifted into the air above the ball by a Hover Charm, "ATTENTION PLEASE. I NEED MR. POTTERAND MS. WEASLEY TO COME TO THE FRONT OF THE HALL. THE REST OF YOU WILL BE IMMEDIATELY ESCORTED BACK TO YOUR HOUSES BY THE PREFECTS. NO EXCEPTIONS!"
Marcy and Andrew pulled apart quickly and moved to the front of the room. The entire staff was surrounding the front table and discussing something in hushed whispers. Their faces were riddled with remorse and fear. Andrew grabbed Marcy's hand and squeezed it lightly.
"Professors?" Marcy asked.
"Ms. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid to inform you there has been an attack on the Ministry of Magic," Professor McGonagall said quietly, placing a hand on Marcy's shoulder, "You are to return to your houses, pack your things, and meet Mr. Weasley at the front gates. You will be escorted immediately to St. Mungo's."
"But Professor…is Aunt Hermione alright…" Marcy asked, knowing Hermione worked in a department in the far corner of the Ministry of Magic.
"Ms. Malfoy, I assure you that Mrs. Weasley is fine, but your presence is requested for another member of your family. We would floo, but with what has happened…"
"Its fine Professor," Andrew interjected despite Marcy's continued pleas and pulled her away from the table.
"Andrew! What is going on?"
"Marcy we need to get to St. Mungo's. The Minister is in trouble."
"You mean?" she started, feeling her heart drop, "The Minister of Magic? We're related to the Minister of Magic?"
"You are. He's your grandfather."