'And it's our godforsaken right to be loved.' - Jason Mraz, I'm Yours

I ignore my family for six days, sitting alone in my room or wandering around the grounds, drawing. Even Lily's annoyed with me for what I said to James, and maybe I regret it, but I'm not apologising.

On New Year's Eve, I hide in our extensive grounds as decorators, caterers, florists and who knows who else rushes around the house, getting it ready for the party. I even slip on a stiff shirt and tux without complaint because I just don't want to talk to my mum, who will yell at me if I make a fuss about the dress code.

At half past seven in the evening, a steady stream of guests is driving up our driveway to be greeted by valets, or Apparating outside the gate and walking up instead. The grand foyer of our house is dimly lit by candles, but the adjacent ballroom sparkles with light from the huge chandelier. Little sprigs of late mistletoe bloom in unlikely places as silver glitter softly spirals down from the ceiling, disappearing before it touches the heads of the guests who have already begun dancing. Music twists its way around the ballroom from the string quartet on the gallery above, and people chat to each other quietly as they sip wine or bite into starters. It looks great, as it does every year, but I'm hiding again to avoid being roped into greeting guests at the front door like James and Lily.

"Where are they?" Rose moans as she slumps in an armchair, her short but pretty baby-pink and gold dress crinkling around her, her ginger hair styled to perfection.

"Don't you remember? They said they're not coming this year." Lysander replies acidly, leaning against the wall in a tuxedo similar to mine, dark skin contrasting with the white shirt.

We're hiding in a little living room just off the foyer, bored already with the wait and Rose's moaning.

"Don't be so sarcastic." Emma reprimands Lysander gently. Her long dark-green dress makes her seem taller as it spirals around her and nearly skims the floor, and her honey blonde hair frames her face neatly.

"But I promised Scorpius the first dance! If he's not here soon, I'll have to go into the ballroom by myself and mum will make me dance with Hugo!" Rose scowls.

She was forced to take Hugo as her escort to the party, but once here, she ditched him and rushed to join us in waiting for our typically late friends.

"…what do you think, Al?" Rose suddenly says.

I realise I have missed some of the conversation, and just murmur an assent before focusing on the driveway again.

I'm seated on the window seat, watching the cars as they roll up. Only the rich people with nice cars drive to our New Year's Eve party, for the purpose of showing off, and I enjoy admiring the smooth vehicles.

But then my jaw drops.

"Oh, fuck." I swallow. "Guys, come and look at this."

"If this is another of your stupid cars you want to show us again, I'm not looking." Rose says grudgingly, but they crowd around me at the window anyway.

There's a pause.

"I'm not an expert on cars, but I have to say that car is pretty nice."

"Nice! Sander, it's - "

"Beautiful." Emma finishes off my sentence quietly.

"Exactly!" I exclaim. "That car right there is the pinnacle of current automotive engineering, the latest in cars. It's the car I would buy if I had the money and the permission."

We watch the sexy black sports car roll up the driveway smoothly. It throws the other vehicles into darkness and the guests walking up the driveway stop to stare as it drives past them. The tinted windows mean I can't make out the driver, but once the number plate comes into focus, speech leaves me.

A S POTTER

"But – but - " I don't know what's going on, and my mouth can't find the words. I think I'm hallucinating, my mind conjuring up images of what I dearly want to see, or else my contact lenses are jinxed.

The gorgeous car halts at the front door and the driver's and passenger's doors slide up smoothly.

With smart black loafers, a perfectly pressed tuxedo hugging a fit body, crisp white shirt, perfect bow tie, platinum cufflinks and ice blond hair, Scorpius Malfoy tosses the keys to a waiting valet and holds out his arm to his passenger.

Godric.

Elegant black heels, long tanned legs, and flowing black and silver hair, there are no words for how beautiful Ria Black looks tonight. A deep red dress floats down to her knees, tied around her waist with a gold ribbon. Dangly gold earrings brush against her neck as she looks up at the house, and a thin gold chain encircles her slim wrist resting on Scor's arm, along with the thin silver charm bracelet with the tiny key that she always wears.

We stumble out of the room and into the foyer, in time to see Ria embrace James, and Scor give Lily a kiss on her cheek.

They spot us staring, and grin.

"Hey Potter," Scor calls, striding towards us, an arm around Ria's waist, "Like my ride?"

I tear my eyes away from the girl at his side and nod like a loon. "Fuck yes."

"It's yours." His grin stretches wider. "The keys are with one of the valets."

I open and close my mouth like a goldfish, unable to comprehend his words.

"Happy birthday!" Ria is laughing at my expression.

…

I burst into tears.

"Shit." Scor spins me around to face away from the guests entering the house, to preserve my dignity, and my five friends gather around me, unsure what to do with the first time they've seen me cry.

Ria starts babbling. "I know you always say you don't want to celebrate your birthday, so we've never got you a present before, but today's your eighteenth birthday so we thought we'd get you something special. It was supposed to be a surprise because you've always said you wanted a car, but if you don't like it, I guess we can return it."

I take the handkerchief Lysander offers me and wipe my eyes. "It's the best fucking birthday present ever. Thank you." I pull her and Scor into an extremely emotional hug. I feel them relax in relief at the confirmation I like the present (they really thought I wouldn't?!) and Scor pats me on the back soothingly.

"Mate, it's not just from me and Ria. Rose got the personalised number plate and she's charmed it to be undetectable by speed cameras, not that we're encouraging you to drive over the speed limit. Em and Sander kitted out the inside of the car with some pretty sexy seat covers and gadgets, and Ria and I also managed to get you a safe garage in Hogsmeade to keep the car in if you want to take it to Hogwarts to drive at the weekends or whatever."

I'm quite literally speechless. I feel my eyes welling up again and pull Rose, Em and Sander into the group hug, unable to properly express how grateful I am to them.

Godric, I love these five idiots, to hell and back.

After I have composed myself, we head into the ballroom to find it absolutely brimming with smartly dressed people, considering that Scor and Ria are about 40 minutes late.

Scor immediately extends his hand to Rose like a true gentleman, and they sashay into the middle of the ballroom to dance extremely provocatively. Emma and Lysander join some of our fellow Hogwarts seventh years at a little table, and Ria winks at me before determinedly heading towards the free bar. Left by myself, I frantically look around for a place to conceal myself (I am most definitely not about to strike up a conversation with any of my classmates, and if I follow Ria and start drinking now, I won't be able to stop and will inevitably get drunk and start stripping, making a complete fool of myself in a way that I don't wish to do in front of the richest and most important people in the wizarding world), but mum spots me and calls me over to introduce me to some of her former team members of the Holyhead Harpies.

Fuck. She doesn't normally do this, afraid that I'll start swearing or something and embarrass her in front of her colleagues. This is clearly payback for not greeting guests earlier.

I groan internally, but go over to her and nod politely when she introduces her former co-workers. They ask me all the usual questions that you'd ask your friend's child – how's school going, what do you want to do after school etc. I give short answers and they soon give up on me, finally realising that I'm not interested in socialising, but mum maintains a tight grip on my arm, refusing to let me leave.

I slouch angrily and look around the room. Lysander is chatting to a hot lad (the guy's so straightforward that he really doesn't know how to flirt) and Emma is sipping some wine next to him, smiling as she gazes around the room and catches my eyes. Such a wallflower, but she loves it, so we leave her be. I raise an eyebrow and purposefully shift my gaze to a good-looking chap at her table, but she blushes and shakes her head, so I shrug and look away.

I look for the familiar head of carefully combed ice blond hair, and finally spot Scor and Ria making the rounds, frikkin' social butterflies that they are, and the enjoyment evident on Ria's face makes me smile.

My gaze then lands on the dance floor where James is dancing with Amy. He looks so sickeningly in love that I shudder, and the way Amy looks at him makes me want to throw up. Even someone as oblivious as me can see that she feels the same way about him. However, my face actually splits into a grin when I catch sight of Lorcan Scamander. He's slouched on a table by himself, determinedly glugging down an expensive bottle of champagne and scowling at anyone who dares come near him. I snigger when Rose sits down opposite him and leans her elbows on the table, staring at him. That mental girl takes pleasure in annoying the fuck out of Lorcan at parties. He sticks his middle finger in her face and she licks it. I outright laugh (the old Holyhead Harpies look at me weirdly) at Lorcan's expression of complete disgust.

Suddenly Ria is next to me, nodding politely at the Holyhead Harpies and smiling at my mum, "Great party, Ginny, you've really outdone yourself this year. And you look gorgeous, as usual."

Mum laughs. "You're a real charmer, you know that?"

Ria grins. "I've been told. Mind if I borrow Al for a bit?"

And just like that, with a few sweet words from my best friend, mum releases her death grip on my arm and Ria pulls me into the crowd of dancers.

She threads her hands through mine and I snort when she starts bopping to the music.

"What's wrong, Potter? Don't like my dancing?"

"I'm not sure that can really be classified as dancing."

Her jaw drops open in mock offense and she folds her arms across her chest. "Think you can do better?"

Well now, I can't resist a challenge.

I close my eyes, listening to the music. I can do this. I grin and take one of her hands in mine, placing the other on my waist. I smirk at her and then we're dancing around the ballroom, swinging past the other dancers smoothly.

And I'm surprised to find that she can match my steps with ease, and we're executing perfect ballroom steps without panicking or watching our feet.

I raise a surprised eyebrow. "Where did you learn to dance so well?"

She tilts her head slightly to look up at me. "I could ask you the same question."

I shrug, still leading her lightly around the dance floor. "I'm ashamed to say I took ballroom classes."

"Don't be ashamed; there's a lot to be said for a man that can dance. Your sex appeal is way higher than if you were sitting at a table scowling at everyone like Lorcan. As for the ballroom classes, yeah, same."

I mock-pout and she pretends to snap a picture. "You mean your mum made you take ballroom lessons too? Godric, they were hell, but I'm glad for them now."

Her smile widens. "No, Scor and I just had a strange urge to dance like royalty when we were younger, so we enrolled ourselves in a ballroom dancing school."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh yeah, it was the bomb."

I laugh and drop her hand reluctantly when the dance ends.

She runs a hand through her hair and smiles. "I think I'm going to go and make everyone think I'm bisexual by persuading Emma to dance, so see you in a bit?"

"Babe, I'll be up on the gallery, hiding from my mum and finally having a glass of alcohol, so you know, don't worry about me."

She curtseys, blowing me a kiss and then she's off to find Emma.

I make good on my idea for the rest of the party by stealing a bottle of classy wine from the bar, and sneaking up a staircase to sit on the gallery above the ballroom, opposite the string quartet where no one can see me, trying not to draw similarities between myself and Lorcan.