Chapter 18 – The Coeus Awards
The evening of the Coeus Awards, Draco's costume befitted his recently acquired reputation. He wore a fitted, very stylish black prince charming suit with pronounced iridescent red undertones while small red horns with black tips poked from beneath his silver hair. To accentuate his devilish air, he had a cane with a Coop devil head on top. He took a little Sedo potion to calm his lust for Hermione that night.
Draco arrived at the Renaissance Ballroom, a French Rococo style, grandiose hall that glorified tradition and riches, owned by several pure-blood families who also hosted the Coeus Award ceremonies. At 10 PM, the award's coordinators directed that he would give an acceptance speech, not Hermione due to his status in society. The guests poured in wearing various medieval and renaissance costumes, a family tradition that started ages ago.
Amidst the clinking of wine glasses, he spotted Hermione in a silver, gauzy long medieval dress that to his delight showed every curve and every detail. Looking exactly like the sprite in the Italian book, she wore small silver wings on her back and had silver streaks throughout her hair. When he approached, she gleefully greeted him. "Good evening, Puro."
"Crisalide," he whispered in her ear, "captivating Crisalide." After he brushed her hair back, he kissed her neck with a butterfly kiss, enjoying her perfume. "Wow," he whispered.
Audibly, she gasped with pleasure as she looked at him, her eyes glassy with happiness. The sheerness of her top revealed just how much she did enjoy it. "Since we're not really dating, you really shouldn't kiss me there." She winked.
"It's an old French tradition." To ease her embarrassment, he confessed his own to her. "To be fair, I'll let you know mine: my earlobes, makes me crazy."
"Thanks. Now, I'm not quite so embarrassed." She gave him the once over. "You're quite handsome." She touched the tip of one of his devil horns. "Very appropriate," she remarked. "Maybe my charm will combat evil?"
"More than you realize," he commented taking her arm, thinking about the passage from the book. "Moments like tonight don't happen often. I'll savor every bit of it."
"I agree," she agreed squeezing his arm. "It's still so hard to believe that we won." She took his hand and escorted him behind a plant. "Somehow, my book made it to a publishing company and they accepted it, conditionally. I'm to write two short stories to build up the excitement for the book and establish myself." She hugged him and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He returned her hug. "It's a secret, I take it."
"Yes, in two weeks Rita Skeeter will interview me for The Daily Prophet just prior to the printing one of my short stories in Witch Weekly. I'm terrified."
Seeing her stage fright, he squeezed her hand in comfort. "Everything will be fine. I promise." Then he tucked her hand in his arm. "Let's socialize."
As they mingled their way through the crowd, he found they had one thing in common: the indifference of their friends and peers. Her friends and the Muggle borns ignored him and his pure-blood friends snubbed her. At her behest, he got Hermione white wine a few times throughout the evening in order to calm her nerves.
As speech time neared, the hosts ushered them backstage. They insisted he give the speech and not Hermione. The award, a gold cauldron on a platform with his name and Hermione's name beneath it, stood ten inches tall. "I'm sorry about this," he said.
"Don't be. You know I hate speeches."
Behind the podium, he accepted the award with Hermione next to him but slightly behind. Most eyes were upon him. "On behalf, of Hermione and myself, thank you." Winthin the crowd, several witches and wizards talked amongst themselves. Shock then charm. "Mudblood!" After the crowd gasped, all eyes watched him intently. "I have said that word often enough with the intention of belittling others without just cause. However, I only hurt myself. I denied myself the opportunity to be friends with the brilliant and noble witch who now stands next to me." Taking Hermione's hand, he pulled her forward. Most of the crowd stood there mouths agape. "Voldemort," he exclaimed. Again, he heard startled gasps. "Whose fault is it that he arose to such power?" They looked around. "Everyone one of you pure-bloods who uses your status to promote the slightest bit of hatred towards Mudbloods or their sympathizers; be it missed job opportunities or simply rude comments, are guilty."
Some of the Muggle borns nodded. "And you Muggle borns and their friends, many of you are just as guilty. In retaliation for injustices of the past, you assume all pure-bloods hate Muggle borns instead of judging them as individuals." Dead silence filtered through the crowd. "Everyone has lost someone they care about because of Voldemort." Amongst the crowd, several folks nodded. "How can someone like him be prevented from getting power again?" They looked around. "Forgiveness and cooperation." He motioned Hermione forward. "This wonderful witch forgave me for all the horrible things I said to her over the years. Together, we cooperated and invented a potion that might just save a life or two." He reflected a moment. "From now on, the term Mudblood, if it reflects half of the wonderful qualities this witch before you possesses, can only be a compliment. Thank you."
The crowd clapped before he escorted Hermione off the stage. "You deserve this more than I do," he said as he handed her the trophy.
Tears of joy welled in her eyes. "Thank you." She hugged him. "That was a wonderful speech."
"I meant every word of it," he said kissing her forehead. "We're friends now and look what we've accomplished." She seemed a little withdrawn after that. Afterwards, they joined the party for a little while before Hermione excused herself to the powder room.
While he circulated amongst the crowd, lively orchestral music scintillated through the air as couples began to dance. Despite looking everywhere for Hermione, he could not find her. Then Pansy bumped into to him. "Good evening, Pansy."
"Good evening, Draco." Her eyes hinted in expectation to fulfill his obligation as a gentleman and ask her to dance.
With another disappointing once around the room, he looked at Pansy. "Would you like to dance?"
"I thought you would never ask." As they danced she commented, "That speech you gave really opened my eyes."
"Thanks," he said as he continued to scan the room.
"So you and Bianca are getting married I hear?"
"Sure," he muttered as he now spotted Hermione. Inspired by his speech, his pure-blood competition flocked around her as she laughed at their jokes. Then Pierre Budois, who most of the witches referred to as tall, handsome and oh so French, cut through the passel and took Hermione's hand, leading her to the dance floor. Ever since Pierre's affair with Bianca, Draco hated him. Frequently, they stole the witches the other was interested in and now it seemed Pierre resumed their competition. As Hermione danced with him, she gazed up to him with a dazzling smile while her giggles lilted though the air. Then he kissed her neck in the spot Draco fancied for himself. "Excuse me." He untangled himself from Pansy whose hand slid beneath his jacket, pressing herself firmly against him.
Draco sliced through the crowd and forcefully tapped Pierre on the shoulder. When he turned, sternly Draco met his gaze. "She's a princess who doesn't kiss frogs, so bugger off." Almost pushing Pierre aside, he whirled Hermione away on the dance floor. "You should try to remember who you're here with."
"That was completely, rude," she whispered tersely, "especially, coming from someone, who was practically having sex with his ex on the dance floor." They danced a moment. "You're being a complete prat."
"Of course I am." He smirked trying to lighten her silent mood. "To retain my thrown, I have to stay in practice." After a once around the dance floor, he calmed a little. "I'm merely protecting you. Pierre has a reputation. He wants to shag you."
"You're wrong," she stated adamantly. "I shagged him in the cloak room earlier. This witch can't resist a handsome French wizard." Immediately, he stopped dancing and looked down at her irately making her snicker. "Just kidding. You're not the only one with a wicked sense of humor. Besides, it shouldn't matter to you. We are just friends."
"You're right, Crisalide," he admitted when he dipped her. "From now on, I will act like a friend except when we are enacting this charade for Bianca and then we are only acting." Reflecting on his behavior, he concluded that indeed he hadn't been a gentleman. "I promise, on my family's name, I'll act like a complete gentleman from now on."
"As long as I have your word," she replied. As he whirled her around the dance floor, she smiled gleefully. "This is wonderful. I love attending soirees like this."
"Because of my family's status," he stated slightly indignantly, "I've been to more than my fair share. For the next few months, I would be honored if you would attend these functions with me."
"That would be fantastic." Gleefully, she twirled out and back next to him while he showed off his moves. "Since we are going to pretend to be dating for a little while, would you like to come to my birthday party Wednesday? It's nothing fancy, just my parents and a few friends."
"Thank you. I would love to."
"You'll find out anyways; I'm turning 18. I started school early," she confessed.
"All this time and you never said anything." He thought a second. "I have been giving you wine all evening. We can now add intoxicating a minor to my list of crimes."
"It's such a long and varied list who would notice." With a Cheshire-cat grin, she winked. "I didn't want anyone to know. They might have teased me."
"I understand. As king of the insensitive prats of the world, that would have been excellent fodder for us." She laughed at his jest. As he danced with Hermione, he noticed Bianca enter the ballroom at midnight. Some of the ladies flocked to her and they spoke in a corner.
At 12:10, he led Hermione back behind the stage curtain. "Showtime," he commented. She looked mortified but he couldn't figure if it was stage fright or terror at the thought of his touch at which his heart grew heavy. "Are you sure you want to do this? Can you pretend we're in love?"
I'm just scared because I've been enjoying my time with you entirely too much. "Now that I know you, I can."
"I can see how you feel about this entire thing." When he saw the anxiety in her eyes, his temple ached. "I promise I won't take advantage of the situation and cause undue duress." Guilt over all the torments he inflicted over the years nauseated him. Swearing to himself that it would be only a peck, he swigged some Sedo potion.
As he gently tilted her head back, he caressed the silky softness of her cheek lightly brushing his lips against hers. Pulling her to him, his kiss intensified, as he leisurely tasted her ambrosial lips. Edaciously, he caressed her sensuous but firm curves. In an almost rhythmic motion, she pressed her entire body to him. Pure bliss enveloped him as her arms encircled his waist.
The curtain flew open and Bianca yelled, "So this is why you don't want to through with our marriage." Tearfully, she ran away.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from Crisalide's inviting lips, as he desperately tried to regain his senses. That kiss fired my senses more than any I remember. She's trembling a little because she's just kissed her worst enemy. It should have only been a peck.
Timidly, she leaned against avoiding their audience's gaze. I've just kissed Draco Malfoy, my enemy for so many years and it was the most amazing kiss I've ever had. This can't be.
"It's true. I will not marry someone I don't love. Tradition be damned." He escorted Hermione backstage. "Everything is fine." He continued to hold her. "I'm sorry. I guess my acting got the better of me."
Was it just acting for him? He kisses so well from rote. I wonder how I rate compared to the entourage of witches he's had. Bring yourself back to reality and quickly. "I just participated in a deception that decimated an arranged marriage between two of the most powerful families in the wizard world," she said dubiously.
"Just like we planned," he stated.
"I didn't think anyone would believe it." She breathed deeply for a moment. "All the old families will hate me."
"No they won't. I'm the one who will pay for this." Quizzically, she looked at him. "All those betrothed wizards out there, are now rethinking their engagements." Incredulously, she stared in. "Half have already expressed their interest in you. Imagine all the dueling I'll have to endure." With relief, she laughed. "Now for our second act," he said as he took her arm. Out of humiliation from catching them, Bianca disappeared. As planned, she would await the couple at his home to see how everything went afterwards.
As they entered the ballroom, the small press core that covered the ceremony besieged them with questions. Draco turned to the cameras, replying en masse. "I know you have many questions but here is your one answer." Gently, he took Hermione by the waste and pulled her close, he kissing her passionately with all his love. Incessant tugging on his coat ripped him from his bliss. Tinkey stood there scared. "What's wrong?"
She brought him to a quiet corner. "Miss Bianca is gravely ill."
He grabbed Hermione's hand. "We must leave, now. Tinkey said something is wrong with Bianca." After touching his portkey, they both raced inside the mansion to find Bianca convulsing on the living room floor, turning blue gasping for air. "Stay with her. I'll be right back." From his potions' closet, he grabbed a gold vial and forced its contents down Bianca's throat.
Hermione held Bianca's hand. "What's wrong?"
"She's deathly allergic to mushrooms. I've seen this reaction before." As her breathing became normal, he carried her to one of the bedrooms. "Tinkey, did she eat anything?"
"No master, she said she ate at the party."
"She's normally very careful," he commented.
"Do you think this could have been deliberate?"
"I don't think so," he replied. "She doesn't have any enemies that I know of."
"With everything that has happened, we have to keep this secret. It looks ghastly." She took Bianca's hand. "Too bad, we don't know who her lover is. I'm sure he would want to be here for her."
"I understand." He sat next to her. "For now, she has us." While they both sat next to her, her color returned during the next couple of hours. Hermione agreed to come back the next day to watch after Bianca while he visited his father.
