Chapter One:
Astoria
"Circe's tits, Zabini was actually right for once, he has decided to bless society with his presence tonight! Looks like I'm out 50 galleons." Daphne sloshed back what was left of her sparkling wine.
" 50 galleons really Daphne?!" Gabrielle nearly topples over the serving tray as she goes to pick up a glass for herself and Pansy. "Opps so sorry love" she coos to the server.
"Really Daph after all this time you'd think you'd have learned better than to wager against Blaise." Pansy drawls taking the offered class.
I'd think they'd learn to read between the lines of the society pages. With his 25th birthday just on the horizon, it could be deduced that Draco Malfoy, like any pureblood, was about to gain access to his inheritance. An inheritance no doubt accompanied with the typical antiquated contingencies. If I were to cast my coins anywhere it would be that Narcissa has likely been responsible for her son's recent resurgence in the papers highlighting everyone's favorite Silver-Eyed Scoundrel . A moniker coined by Skeeter after his release from Azkaban. You have to give her credit where credit is due; it's one of the journalist's best rebranding to date.
Yet following a few years of being a featured favorite, no doubt keeping the publication afloat, his coverage had simmered as he went on to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Rather than the typical scandalous headlines featuring him out the lads or with his lady du jour, his coverage became increasingly infrequent these past five years as the major publications and Witches Weekly preferred to direct their spotlight on the investigative adventures of Potter and Weasley and Hermione Granger's work of activism.
If anyone was paying attention, they would note that Daphne could have saved herself the galleons by digesting the past three months of WW . Most definitely enough to cover the annual subscription fees of everyone on our side of the room, or possibly even two thirds of the tonight's attendants if they went paperless.
Zeroing my eyes in on my hunt of the evening and my main joy of attending events like this … the desserts. I pluck some sort of sugared fruit off the passing bronzed tray savoring the satisfying crack of the shell between my teeth. It's some type of caramelized citrus that would pair perfectly with a firewhisky old fashion, unfortunately it would not be proper for a lady of my status to toss back the hard stuff this early in the evening and the champagne gives me heartburn.
"What is he doing here? He hasn't been to an event in three years." Daphne nicks the remaining slice of fruit off my plate as she continues. "I doubt he even gets up to dance!"
"Most likely searching for a wife". I smirk as I watch her choke on the candied fruit, moving on… "Pans what exactly is this creation of yours?"
"It's a new blood orange variant I sourced from Sicily. Do hold it together Daph." She reaches out, giving my sister a swift pat on the back.
"A wife! Really Astoria – I'd bet my right tit that man will not be married until he is 45 with Cissy dragging him down the aisle by the ear." Her blonde ponytail, intricately woven with freshwater pearls, swings side to side in reaction to her animated motions.
"Sister dearest, if you were looking to improve your aim in archery, I do believe that myth about amazonian women was busted, best to be a bit more careful with your bets for the rest of the evening." Not that she needs any improvement, as evidenced by the multitude of accolades that adorn an entire wall in Greengrass Manor bearing her name.
Where were the crème pâtissière ? Parkinson promised her famous puffs!
"Pans, I thought you told us there would be choux."
"Eh there was, don't even get me started, some idiot forgot to reset the cooling charm and most of the dough was ruined. We only had enough for a single batch. I did give some to Daph to bring to the table." Pansy fidgets with her fringe, shifting her gaze from me to the couple dancing beside her as they recover from a stumble into a nearby chair.
Daphne's blue eyes grow comically round as I narrow mine at the thief, wondering if anyone will notice if I flick a glob of pudding down her dress.
"Don't blame me, Gabrielle ate some as well" et tu brute?
"Bêtises! I only had one… okay maybe trois. Oh is that Ginny waving me over? Her and I need to discuss, eh something." My former housemate is off as she exclaims a quick bisou bisou .
I am beginning to question if our friendship of over ten years has run its course.
Then across the terrace, past the marbled dance floor, my eyes lock onto a heavenly sight. Positioned on a table that mirrors our own, as if some long-forgotten deity has blessed us with a gift, I see a full plate of Pansy's signature cream puffs. With my target in scope, it's time to strategize my attack.
Pansy notices my gaze has wandered and gently nudges me back to the conversation at hand. "I heard the Valois brothers were in town looking for locations to set up a few of their boutiques."
"I don't see why, as their clientele has no issue traveling to France." Daphne's empty coupe is replaced with a fresh one, this time with miniature strawberry slices floating like tiny hearts amongst the bubbly.
"Given The Ministry's recent discussions on reforming personal imports, it's likely they are seeking to establish a strong position around shipments." I offer, as my sister unsuccessfully tries to use her tongue to extract a red slice without drawing attention. Very unsuccessfully as I'm pretty sure one of the Patil twins a few tables over has noticed her antics.
Officially, the Valois family has long been known for their series of boutiques and department stores, which for centuries have been outfitting the upper-crust of European witches and wizards. Their ability to acquire rare materials and squeeze access from their competitors is unparalleled. The Valois's seasonal showcases are highly sought-after, with only the crème de la crème puffs of society going to great lengths for an invitation to get their spidersilk gloved hands on the latest collections and custom work. 1793 was a great year for British admittance.
Recently, the Valois patriarch has stepped down as head of the business to concentrate on politics, leaving Vian and Valentin to take the reins. The duo plans to expand their operations beyond France by setting up new stores to cater to the younger wizarding world that prefers order from home and parcel in their orders. With the influx of spelled delivery the Ministry has been debating strategies to improve their tracking and inventory systems for personal imports. Establishing a physical presence in England will also lend benefit to the House of Valois' more unscrupulous dealings.
"Thank goodness. As long as they don't restrict travel again, what would we do without our autumn and spring trips to Paris? By the way, Ria, did you ever cross paths with them during your years at Beauxbaton?" Pansy continues.
"Hmm yes, Gabrielle and I were the same year as the younger brother Vian." My sister appears to have completely zoned out from the conversation, intent on a certain couple as they gracefully flow across the marble floor. Or rather her focus is drawn to a particular Slytherin with whom she owes a 50 galleon debt. He spins his partner, a remarkably long-legged witch with hair the exact shade of autumn leaves I once saw in the States. My sister's coupe is now void of strawberries.
"I hear they seem quite self-important, but I am sure that can be overlooked with those jawlines and access to the Valois family vaults!" Pansy eyes seem glassed over, picturing herself sashaying through family archives of gowns and jewels. Only she could pull off 14th century gothic and make it chic.
"Trust me, no trousseau could be worth it. However, if you are looking for a killer jawline it looks as though Longbottom has finally mustered up the Gryffindor courage to come over here and ask you to dance." Over my friends stiffened shoulders, I watch Nevielle as he attempts to navigate around Mrs. Zambini and her latest flame. Almost three tables away when he's ultimately roped into a conversation with Professor Slughorn. The plate of puffs is down by three. No worries twenty remain. I make a mental note to warn Pansy later about the Valois' and their dubious ideals that make even the Sacred Twenty-Eight patriarchs look progressive.
Tittering voices and clinked glasses fill the open-air of tonight's annual fundraiser for the Wizard's Health Foundation. The donations from this year's event to secure funding for a new research facility to focus on the development of specialized equipment, diagnostic analysis, and training programs. Towards the end of the evening Daphne is set to present the grand reveal for the center's designs.
Despite the impressive placement of temperature cooling florals suspended mid-air around the extended veranda, most of the 250 guests were not discussing the innovative medical or floral projects. No, the majority of the whispers are speculations on the youngest Malofy's attendance tonight. Theo Nott's name can also be heard amongst the musings. Outside of events held by his closest of friends it was a rare night indeed that he graced us with his face. A face in which Gabrielle likes to define as being in "default brood mode".
Ah, my mistake. I do hear a few women discussing the fairly lights, but only in the context of how they reflect in a certain pair of grey eyes. Tis a pity, as Daphne truly outdid herself with her designs tonight, even enlisting Neville's help to graft new plants. I make note to compliment Neville on his latest innovation, thinking wistfully that such creations were not limited to the wizarding world.
"Well ladies, it's been lovely but it is time I go procure the puffs. Do wish me luck." I take my leave from our group, seeing as this might be my last few moments before dinner begins.
Planning my angle of attack, I pause only to congratulate the necessary acquaintances and connect with a few family friends. I learn Ginny Potter has recently secured her latest sponsorship for the Holyhead Harpies. Soon we are sure to see her face on every bottle of Nimbus Nourishment's latest sports refreshment. Citrus Maximus claims to boost your immunity and have rapid rehabilitative properties, all while keeping you hydrated to the max. Seven more puffs seem to have been eaten.
I notice my father over by the mixologist bar engaged in conversation with a few Department Heads in the Ministry. As I make my final turn towards my goal, I a dash of long golden hair in yellow silk zipping towards me. Her scent arrives a good three seconds before she does. Once she reaches me, I pull her close and lean in as if to tell her a secret.
"Gabrielle Amaryllis Delacour, are you high?" She seems to have cast an eye-clearing charm but failed to remember the smell.
"Un petit peu" As I sense her sniffing at her curls and trying to hold back a fit of giggles, Gabrielle whispers into my shoulder. Her attempt at suppressing the laughter comes out as a snort, which causes me to chuckle along. As she stands back upright, I cast a spell on the nearest suspended floral arrangement, which triggers the magical bud to emit a burst of fragrance effectively neutralizing her eau de ganja. Only ten puffs remain.
"And what has you in such a hurry to get to me?" I summon each of us a glass of sparkling water from a nearby bar. Ice in the shapes of tiny blossoms.
"Oh yes, I was just on my way back from the koi pond with Luna, we were well… I'm sure you can guess. Did you know that they have fish that glow in the moonlight?" Before I can make a reply she carries on…
"Ria! I found more creme puffs!" She gives me a crooked grin just as I notice a bit of cream on her chin.
"Yes, I have found them as well, and you seem to have some left on your face." Maybe we won't have to complete my heist job at la table des Zabnini/Malfoy/Nott .
"Oui, I grabbed some for you. But then we might have eaten them."
Maybe it is time for a new best friend.
"Don't worry Astoria, we just have to make our way to the table right over there! " She attempts to make a small pointing gesture while her hand remains near her hip accompanied by an exaggerated side eye towards the table. She looks like one of those black cat clocks from our favorite no-maj diner.
"Let's go Ria, we just need to make our way around that troupeau of people. I mean I get it, they are all scrumptious specimens but everyone is falling over themselves.
"For the pâtissière or the men?" I envision a food fight, champagne and creme, splattering, silk and linen ripping, buttons flying to reveal hard chests and abs. My teeth crack a piece of ice as my glass instantly refills.
"Both I suppose. Don't they have their clubs to connect with the boys , are they even going to ask anyone to dance? Does that one even speak?" She narrows her eyes at the sandy haired gentleman in question as he swirls the sphere of ice in his tumbler. I refrain from pointing out that at least Blaise has already taken a few turns around the floor this evening.
"Should I set up a monitoring charm to tally how many words Mr. Nott says tonight? I bet he does not exceed seven full sentences by the end of dinner. Loser buys brunch tomorrow?" The only change in facial movement that can be seen is a slight uptick on the right corner of his mouth, an almost smirk as he listens to Draco's reply to Xenophilius Lovegood, the father of Gab's newest cannabis buddy.
"Hmm then again I suppose he doesn't need to talk." She trails off and I wait to see where she is going with this.
"I'd be fine with his one word responses and grunts in the bedroom or broom closet or rose garden. Oh! I bet Daph knows where to find a secret balcony?" I also wouldn't mind hearing his single world instructions in a dark corner somewhere.
"There are a few fun places to hide, how about you distract them while I swoop in for Operation Powerpuff Girls."
"Bah, am I allowed entry to your mission?" She trades her glass of water for a spritz from a tray gliding by.
"Yes, but only to make up for your double betrayal so far this evening." Inspired, I trade mine as well.
"Magnifique I'm Bubbles!"
"Of course." Minding the citrus wedge I take a sip, some type of lemon and elderflower liqueur that is quite refreshing.
Holding hands we move forward before splitting in opposite directions, with her taking the phalanx to the right and me approaching from the left. As Gabrielle passes by I see heads turn in her wake, mesmerized by the sway of her hair in tandem with the flutter of her lemon yellow gown. I have no doubt the part-veela will be able to effectively distract the men at and around the table.
Weaving between the legions of old school friends, prattling politicians, and tittering toffs, I scan the table for my target. I fixate on the tray of cream-filled puffs, but to my utter dismay, only seven remain. Fortunately, Blaise's contagious laughter at Gabrielle's joke creates a sufficient distraction, allowing me to advance.
Before making my final move, I quickly survey the area around to ensure no one is paying attention. Don't mind me, just an ordinary witch, no veela blood here. As the mammoth of a man in front of me shifts to the left, I let my weight transfer to the ball of my right foot sliding closer to the table, my hip about a breath's distance from the shimmering tablecloth.
To my surprise, I hear Theo remark a short response to whatever it is Gabrielle is discussing. One sentence tallied. From the bits I gather she's debating the merit of hippogriff vs dragon leather saddles. Though I hold a personal preference towards acromantula, now is not the time to add my thoughts on the matter . Not with the distance between my fingertips and the tempting puff so minuscule it could be measured in mere micrometers. Glory will be mine.
"And you are?"
Hecate help me. I've been caught.