The Black Ball

'What do you think? I cannot find any more faults here.'

The boy slowly rose to his feet. Moonlight was shining into the small chamber and illuminated the boy in his noble robes of irregularly flowing dark colours. The grey gleam that rushed through the window seemed to softly embrace the frail figure; like a shroud, it clung to his body in an aura of unnerving wrongness. An equally haunting sight was the hundreds upon hundreds of eerily glowing signs and symbols on the floor, scattered about like loose blots of paint on strangely crumpled scraps of parchment. An observant bystander might have noticed that some kind of dark grey script had been scribbled on the wall. A thoroughly paranoid spectator might even have caught it moving ever so slightly. Some kind of intent could be felt seeping through the room. Something was there.

A gust swept along the curtains – maybe...

The boy wagged his head and crept towards the centre of the room where a small scroll of parchment that lay in seven circles of pale red seemed to pulsate in anticipation. His only company was the flickering shadows and the far presence of the satellite that looked down on its wayward fosterling.

'Thou shalt embark upon thy endeavour, young one, ere Cynthia expires, as she seems fain to not hinder thee.'

~BLHD~

Two days later, Harry was harried by two house elves. 'Quick, Master Harry! The guests will be here momentarily. Quick, quick!'

Harry straightened his tie and looked critically into the mirror. He was very pleased with Aenor's choice of attire. The classy elegance with just a hint of understatement was exactly what he personally preferred on these occasions, or any occasion, really. Aenor herself had given her blessings to his dress robes, though she had resolutely refused to parade her own dress in return. Arcturus had chuckled when Harry had complained to him about that and said, 'My wise council? Better get used to it early, Harry.'

The young scion casually made his way to the ballroom, politely thanking the portraits who offered their compliments. Some older guests had already arrived and sat at a few prominent tables with an unobstructed view of the dance floor. He tried to briefly ascertain that there was nobody present who required his immediate attention and welcome. Nodding to the few witches and wizards who noticed him, he identified the guests and started sorting them in the order they would command his salutations. Just as he had made his way to start with Madam Marchbanks, he doubled back. Sitting beside the ancient woman, besieged by her elders and clearly uncomfortable for it, sat a vastly overstrained Tracey. She seemed to feel his gaze, as her eyes sought his and grew wide with a plea for rescue. Immediately, she tried to excuse herself for a few moments, sporting a smile that was extremely painful to witness. Before Harry could look for someone to engage in a deep conversation, the short witch had already sprinted across half the room and arrived before him, displeasure oozing off her.

'Harry, what the hell is wrong with the seating arrangements? Have I done something to Arcturus to deserve this? All the guests at my table are at least a hundred years old! I've already had to suffer through dozens of stories about how life was so much better way back in the olden days, or how the Galleon will soon be worth less than dragon dung and all that rubbish. And I've been here hardly ten minutes!'

Harry tried to keep a neutral expression and asked politely, 'Is your date also sitting there? Who is accompanying you, by the way?'

'That's just it! Some complete arse seated Daphne with Draco and the rest, but I alone get to sit with the hags. This better be some kind of joke...'

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. 'What? You invited Daphne? But – but she's a girl! How come you get away with that?'

Tracey smirked. 'Oh, Black. I'm just the silly little girl, nobody even bothers me with these things any more.'

He scowled in annoyance, thinking he could've had some much easier days. Well – in the end, it maybe wasn't so bad, but this was a matter of principle. 'Come on, Tracey! How is this fair?'

'It's your own fault, Harry!' she answered complacently. 'You always get so serious about the whole family stuff, so nobody would buy into that anyway.'

'Damn! What about the others? Did they get real dates?'

Tracey sniggered. 'Well, two guys would either be considered gay or losers, your pick. With young and respectable ladies, it's just cute,' she proclaimed with dignity and proceeded to ruin it by sticking out her tongue. 'Draco went with Amy. The others won't come, probably.'

Harry blinked incredulously. 'Draco asked Amy out? Have I missed something?'

Tracey laughed mirthfully in response. 'I think Amy threatened to burn off his eyebrows if he didn't ask her, so I think it's still the same old business.'

Harry shook his head while looking at a new pack of arriving guests, until he spotted someone he hadn't expected. Quickly, he returned his attention to the petite witch at his side. 'Tracey, is that Fawley? What's she doing here?'

Tracey followed his gaze and gave a nod. 'Yeah, those are the Fawleys. I think they're here at the pleasure of Madam Greengrass. I gather they're sisters.'

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. 'The Fawley at school is Daphne's second cousin? How do you know?'

'There is a younger Fawley squaller, too. I think he's due to start school next year or something. Daphne showed me her family tree.'

Harry nearly dropped the drink he had just accepted from a house-elf.

'She did what?' he spluttered loudly.

'Yup – the whole thing.' Tracey grinned rather guiltily.

Harry looked at her sharply. 'Please make sure she does nothing stupid like that ever again, Davis.'

'Don't worry, Black. I intend to keep Daphy safe and ignorant. Those things really suit her best.' She paused for a bit before she added, 'While we're on the subject, who are you attending with? We've been trying to guess, but we all know that you normally don't keep the company of women who aren't your family.'

Harry kept his silence. He closed his eyes and smiled like a man preparing to open a '45 Mouton-Rothschild.

'So?' Tracey prodded in tangible curiosity. 'Who is it?'

'That would be me, Miss Davis.'

Aenor had silently floated near them. Harry turned his head and had to exercise all his mental discipline to keep his chin from dropping. Aenor was wearing a stunningly-cut long dress that clung tightly to her enchanting body and was sure to make many women weep and men drool after her. Her hair was set in elaborate braids that were adorned with small bands and ornaments, resulting in her outfit radiating a medieval glamour that forcefully reminded Harry of religious portrayals of angels. Rose's entire presence seemed to illuminate the space around her, and Harry couldn't help but admire her flawless skin, her picturesque features...her phenomenal eyes. He had regarded her daily appearance strikingly fair and lovely, but now he had to admit that she probably didn't even try any other day. If someone ever needed an effigy to personify beauty, grace and temptation, Harry was sure he would find her outmatching his expectations...

Tracey had evidently failed to overcome her surprise, considering that she had been reduced to staring incredulously at Aenor. After a while, she turned her head to Harry and then again back to Aenor. 'No! No, absolutely not possible. I refuse to believe this!'

Aenor seemed to enjoy Tracey's looks of complete shock and incredulity at least as much as Harry. She made a great show of walking up to Harry and giving him a much exaggerated, intimate hug that left Harry flustered and his cheeks subtly flushed. Aenor then proceeded to stand right next to him, rather closer than necessary, beaming at Harry, before eventually turning a predatory grin towards Tracey.

'A very good evening to you, Miss Davis. I hope you're enjoying yourself so far?' She quickly gestured to a nearby house elf, who turned out to be Kreacher.

The elf bowed low and asked, 'How can Kreacher be of assistance to Miss Rose?'

'I would like two glasses of the good Champagne and...' her voice trailed off a bit. 'Oh yes! And one hot chocolate with cream for Miss Davis.'

While Tracey obviously registered the taunting remark, she continued to stare at the non-existent gap between Harry and Aenor.

'Wha...But! How? What kind of joke is this?' she demanded, stomping her foot angrily.

Harry tried not to laugh and said politely, 'What seems to be the problem, Tracey? You yourself said that only a young lady could get away with having someone of the same sex accompanying her.'

Aenor caught on scarily quick. 'Oh – Miss Davis! That is just so dinky. I'm really glad you act your height-I mean age.'

Tracey looked as if she'd been slapped, yet at the same time she seemed incapable of retaliating.

Aenor pounced viciously on her weakness, all the while smiling sweetly. 'Pardon me, but look - here's your hot chocolate! Now, be careful not to burn yourself, poppet.' Still smiling charmingly, she handed a bewildered Tracey her drink.

Tracey, on the other hand, was livid, and Harry could (to his immense satisfaction) not remember her ever failing to come back from a taunt for so long. Grumpily, she took her hot beverage, trying hard not to show how much she actually liked the choice Aenor had made for her.

'Please do excuse us, Miss Davis. I wish to truly enjoy the evening with my date, and I think we should take the opportunity to enjoy some private moments now before the rest of the guests arrive and interrupt our rendezvous. We might see each other on the dance floor later, but please do enjoy the polite conversation at your table until then.'

Aenor linked arms with him, made a polite little bow towards Tracey and steered Harry towards a quiet corner of the room where they could converse without being overheard. Once they were out of earshot, Harry turned towards her, his face alight with exhilaration. 'That was so awesome, Aenor! Much better than I had hoped, even!'

She grinned back at him and took a sip from her glass. 'Thanks! But I did enjoy it myself. Davis has been getting on my nerves a bit with her constant jeering in class.' Very deliberately, she put the glass on a nearby table, took a few graceful steps back and twirled once for him.

'So? How do I look, Harry?' she asked, posing teasingly.

'Eh...' Harry gestured wildly, fumbling for words. After a while his uneasiness grew, but Aenor looked expectant, and so he gulped, muttering as quietly as possible, 'Stupefyingly amazing, to be honest.'

She awarded his efforts with a radiant smile. 'Thanks! You look very regal yourself, if you will permit me to comment. Oh! And you don't have to drink that, by the way. I'm not sure if your grandfather would approve, and it really was just another thing to mess with Davis.'

~BLHD~

Daphne was having trouble controlling her temper, cross that, she was having trouble restraining herself from tossing chairs and tables across the room, and her obvious desire to explode had already caused Draco to flee the scene. Tracey had tried to calm her down, though it was obvious that she was taking it no better, even if her reasons might have been different. In contrast, Amy sat contentedly at their table experiencing more or less subdued fits of laughter, apparently having the time of her life.

Daphne continued to tap the polished wooden table and shot a dark glance towards Rose, clicking her tongue to vent her displeasure. 'What's with all the baubles and hairbands anyway? She looks just like a "Merry Christmas Tree" I once saw in an old Muggle-studies book.'

'Don't be like that! I hear they're quite fashionable for pure-bloods of higher standing in certain parts of Europe. But look, they're dancing again! That must be like the fifteenth time or something,' countered the youngest witch. She was playing with her curly black hair while enjoying the pained looks that passed between her friends' faces.

'Seventeenth,' muttered Tracey darkly.

Daphne couldn't restrain herself, and her temper got the better of her again. 'Do they really have to dance so closely? However he got over his problem with that quean is a mystery to me, but does she have to parade it like that?'

'What I want to know,' interjected Tracey, 'is what that silly sciolist is here for in the first place. Look how everyone thinks her so cultured! Harry and Arcturus have already introduced her to at least half a dozen individuals of quality and they were all so enthralled. It's disgusting!'

Amy couldn't contain her laughter any more. 'Silly sciolist? Not bad, Tracey!' Chuckling in a mocking tone, she continued, 'But look closely at Harry! I don't think he really minds her company,' she paused delicately, 'or her attire.'

Daphne reined in her immediate desire to throttle Amy and settled for a very menacing look. Amy, schadenfreude incarnate, merely smiled heartily in return.

To Daphne's great relief, though, Tracey had not yet finished her rant. 'How did that bitch get me to sit with the old hags? Before you guys came, she explicitly wished me fun at my table. Why would the elves refuse to serve me anywhere else? She must have set it up!'

Tracey's eyes narrowed, before eventually widening again comically. 'Oh damn! This must be because of my talk with Harry.'

Amy's expression changed subtly, Daphne noted with vague worry. Yet she couldn't help herself from rounding on Tracey, too. 'What?' she demanded hotly. 'What did you talk to him about? How come he would talk to you, anyway? You told me he ignored you as much as me! Tracey...?'

Tracey jerked her hand to her mouth and sighed softly. 'Damn. Uh, it was just that one time, Daphne. I kind of ambushed him to have a few words. It was about the ball and how he should pick a real date. I was just relaying a message, but now I guess I know what that was about.'

She imperceptibly indicated a location. Amy and Daphne cast a careful look and soon spotted Lady Longbottom. Amy glowered, but Daphne couldn't help lowering her eyes and averting her gaze.

'Tracey, what does this have to do with Rose?'

Her best friend slumped down on the table, her voice mournful. 'Sorry, Sweetie. I think I might have upset Harry a bit; what with...pointing my wand at him and stealing his and such. So I, uh, think part of his reasoning to have Rose as his date may just have been to spite me.'

'Date, please! Don't you start with that nonsense as well. Escort, more like!' Daphne spat. She felt slightly ashamed, but not being able to completely vent her wrath only made it so much worse.

Amy sniggered gleefully. 'Escort? You make it sound so dirty.'

Tracey lay her hand soothingly on Daphne's shoulder. 'Please! She's still a teacher, no matter how lousy she may be. It's ludicrous to assume anything indecent.'

Daphne immediately jumped on the subject. 'Yes, she is a teacher. And really old, to boot. She's like at least a dozen years older than him, I bet.'

'She's just gotten twenty. I heard some guys at another table talk about it,' supplied Amy helpfully.

Daphne shook her head in denial. 'Not happening. It's got to be really awkward for the both of them due to the age gap. And it's not like they can act all friendly at school. Bet she's just trying to cosy up to the Blacks.'

Amy leered knowingly before assuming a dreamy look. 'Oh, Daphne! I think they're about to start dancing tango. You shouldn't miss this, some of those moves are quite daring.'

~BLHD~

Daphne was still sitting in exactly the same spot some four hours later. The official part of the ball had long since ended, and quite a few people, the Lestranges and Malfoys among them, had already left and so had Daphne's anger – only a heart-breaking ache remained. Even though she had made several attempts, Harry continued to completely ignore her presence while greatly enjoying himself with that woman. Tracey had tried her best, naturally, but her efforts were completely in vain as every time there was even the prospect of recovery, that woman intentionally steered Harry through her field of vision. Daphne had known that Harry had gone through every formal training imaginable, but she'd never seen him enjoy dancing like this.

She sighed deeply.

By now, the general atmosphere was very mild, and the earlier enthusiasm of the younger crowd was replaced by scattered people enjoying pleasant conversation. Several guests had even joined her table; some to cheer her up, others because they knew they wouldn't be disturbed.

'Are you sure we shouldn't at least greet Arcturus, mam?'

'Yes, dear. I want nothing to do with the man, I've told you. I have given my compliments to Harry, and we've shared a good chat. That will do for me.'

'I'm surprised you managed to wrestle him from his date this evening.'

Daphne listened while grinding her teeth. Tracey rubbed her back compassionately.

'I mean, look at how much they are dancing. They must have shared more dances together than half the room in total.'

'Well, she is a very beautiful girl, Nymphadora. I'm not surprised Harry is smitten,' responded Andromeda.

Daphne, meanwhile, tried very hard not to bang her head on the table. She couldn't help listening, but every word was like acid.

'Yeah,' the girl agreed, laughing in a wild manner. 'Did you see all the guys lusting after her? She's rebuffed the lot of them, though. Only danced with Arcturus and Harry, I think.'

'I know you don't really care for these things, dear, but have you taken note of her jewellery?'

The younger witch paused a second before she said, without any gusto, 'Isn't that just obsidian or something? A bit on the cheap side for the companion of Harry, no?'

Andromeda laughed softly and flicked the forehead of her daughter in good spirit. 'Those, love, are black diamonds. Notice how Harry's cuff buttons are a matching pair.'

Daphne jerked her head around to ascertain this for herself. Her heart fell another mile as she found it to be quite true...possibly.

'What? Black diamonds? Come off it, mam! Those would be worth half a kingdom if they were real.' Nymphadora seemed to be dismissive, yet Daphne was not so certain. Merlin knew the Blacks could afford them should Harry ever want some.

'I wager they are, my dear. And I doubt very much if a young witch from abroad without any connections could really afford such luxury on her own.'

'What? You mean the Blacks gave them to her? Why would Harry do that? Or Arcturus?'

'If they indeed were a gift, my dear daughter,' Andromeda slowly stood up and smiled knowingly, 'then there would only be one occasion worthy of them. But this'll do for gossip this evening. Let us excuse ourselves from Harry and be on our way.'

Nymphadora knocked her chair over in shock. 'What? A present for their betrothal? NO WAY TH..!'

She had half screamed those last words until her mother had mercifully put her hand on her daughter's mouth. 'Shush, dear. We cannot be certain, so let's keep it to ourselves.'

And off they went, only to leave a thoroughly devastated Daphne behind. To her, it seemed as if her world had come crashing down those last few minutes. In horror, she turned towards Tracey, fighting back hot tears. The other witch had obviously listened in as well and hastily patted her hands.

'Listen, Daphy! There's no way that is true. Arcturus would never draft a marriage contract for Harry. You know how much he adores him. Those contracts are a thing of the past, Sweetie.'

Daphne, however, couldn't fight back the tears anymore. Forcing down a sob, she stuttered, 'You don't know that for c-certain. Th-That contract could be really old, and that woman could have returned to Britain to fulfil it...'

'Come on, Sweetie. Don't let a bit of chit-chat get to you like that.'

Daphne hiccuped in misery. To her, it all made sense. It was like gears suddenly shifting into place, and with a burst of dolour, she remembered the words of her grandmother. 'T-Tracey, my gran recently mentioned something about a marriage contract.'

Tracey's eyes widened, and she gulped down at least three litres of air. 'But she didn't mention Harry, did she?'

Daphne broke down on at the table, all energy having truly left her. 'No. But who else could she have been talking about? I wasn't supposed to listen, but I caught a few fragments of a talk through the Floo. E-Even if it wasn't about Harry, that would only mean that she's found aa match for me or Astoria, doesn't it? And it can't be Harry either, obviously.' She pressed her face onto the table in an effort to vanish from the world. 'This is the worst ball ever; I wish I hadn't come...'

As if fate itself was trying to mock her, the current position of her head left her with a clear view of Harry's and that woman's deep embrace. Harry obviously intended to get some rest, as the evening had grown very late. Even though her heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly, she couldn't muster the effort to turn away as the bitch made a joke and gave Harry a lingering kiss on the cheek.

All of a sudden, Tracey's voice pierced Daphne's self-inflicted world of pain. 'Right. I'm going to talk to her.'

Daphne violently yanked her head around. Unfortunately, that meant she bumped her nose pretty sharply on the table. 'Ow! W-What do you mean? You don't mean her?'

Her best friend had her hands on her hips and looked ready to explode. 'That's exactly who I mean! You stay here, and I'll get some answers. See you in a bit.' Daphne watched incredulously as Tracey managed, despite her petite figure, to storm towards the exit where Harry and that woman had just disappeared in a very respectable imitation of a ferocious stampede.

What are you doing, Daphne. Are you really some kind of damsel who breaks down every time something happens with Harry?

Something squirmed uncomfortably in her stomach.

Are you going to let Tracey handle all of your problems now?

The really hard part about arguing with yourself was that your opponent knew more than was good for you either way.

Wasn't it enough that Tracey and even Harry had to console you at school? Is this really how you envision your future, Greengrass?

Slowly, like a puppet on strings, she rose from her chair. It took her a lot of effort, and she was terrified about what she may overhear, but she made to follow the unlikeliest pair of witches ever to hold a peaceful conversation.

She didn't have to go far; as soon as she was out of the ballroom, she heard Trace's shrill voice resounding from just beyond the first landing.

Carefully, she crept closer. She'd been at this manor often enough to know which steps it was better to avoid. A bit of unladylike sneaking later, she spotted both of them: They were in the small corridor that led to the guest quarters, as Daphne knew. She edged as close as she dared... For a fleeting second her heart stopped–she was sure that woman's eyes had shot towards her-but two seconds later it seemed to Daphne she was merely casting her eyes anywhere but at the small ball of fury in front of her.

'Is there any point to this, Miss Davis? It has gotten rather late; are you sure you're allowed to be out this long?' Rose's voice was dawdling, and it could not have been plainer that she didn't consider the small witch worthy of her time.

'What kind of game are you playing, Professor?' Daphne had never heard Tracey put so much contempt into a single world.

'Whatever are you referring to, Miss Davis?' her teacher returned calmly, still not looking at Daphne's best friend.

'Harry! Why do you try to ensnare him in such a transparent manner? What do you want from the Blacks?' Tracey had taken another half step forward, fists clenched. Her pose was quite aggressive.

Rose shrugged disinterestedly, examining her fingernails. 'And I really need to tell you, do I? Harry is bright enough not to do anything stupid just because we're gallivanting a bit. Anyway, what's it to you?'

'I'm a friend of Harry's, and I've known him longer than you can imagine. And my friends have known him even longer still. I'm only doing what's right here: stopping him from falling for some vixen!'

Rose laughed at that. 'I see, Miss Davis. You are just doing what's best for your friends, is that it?'

Tracey just glowered as she flexed her fingers. 'Yes, that's about it. More than you can say, no doubt. Got any real friends at all, Miss Mysterious?'

That woman's smile grew raptorial as she finally looked up, and Daphne didn't like that look at all. Suddenly, her enticing appearance appeared to be nothing but a deadly trap ready to be sprung.

'No need to get personal, Miss Davis. I know you to be a young lady of integrity.'

Tracey seemed to have trouble keeping up with this sudden change in tone and did not interrupt.

'After all,' Rose smirked sardonically, 'you've kept that interesting little story from your best friend, haven't you? How Harry isolates himself to protect you both among others. It is so touching to behold how diligently you try to balance the varying interests of all your friends, while in truth you hurt them all...'

Harry is trying to protect me?

Daphne's mind blanked out...

She must have stood there for quite some time, trying to loosen the knots her thoughts had created, because-all of a sudden-Tracey bumped into her. Daphne looked at her best friend, who, in turn, was obviously just as shocked to run into her.

'Daphne! H-How much did you hear?' She sounded very regretful, almost frightened.

Daphne sneered minatorially and shot her a look that promised retribution if she would not go along with her for now. 'You've got some guts, keeping that from me! You will stay right here and not move an inch until I return!'

Tracey threw a miserable and resigned look towards her shoes. 'Where are you going?' she asked meekly.

Daphne took a determined step towards the stairs and kept her answer simple. 'To Harry.'

~BLHD~

She strode along the corridor, wandering to what she knew to be Harry's bedroom. Her heart was beating so fast it was a wonder nobody had heard her yet. She was truly unsure what she would say to him. She wanted to scream and rage...to give him solace...and confess how very sorry she was. What kind of friend doesn't notice these things? In hindsight, everything was glaringly obvious. Their talk back in the empty storeroom had been so personal and intimate, how ludicrous and flimsy her only real attempt to get him to talk now seemed. Feeling the shame creeping up in her, she vigorously shook her head and redoubled her pace. No use thinking about that now, Daphne.

She half expected that old overprotective elf to turn up, but-to her great delight-he didn't obstruct her when she entered the wing that held the master bedrooms. Before she'd gathered herself, her steps had taken her to the last door sills of the floor. It now dawned on Daphne that what she wanted most of all was to return to those blissful times of childish games that had only lasted a single day at Hogwarts. Angrily rubbing her eyes, she swallowed hard and slowly turned the door handle. Carefully, she peeked through the gap.

Soft light shone from the window onto the precious furniture in the big room. A huge trunk stood next to a kingly desk upon which dozens of books were stacked in slightly worrying towers. She could hear no sound, so she pushed the door open. In the middle of the room stood a bed. For some strange reason, Daphne thought it was quite a bit larger than she remembered. On the middle of the bed, still in his dress robes, lay the small and huddled figure of Harry.

Daphne took a tentative step forward, but Harry didn't react. He looked so diminutive and frail, it was impossible to link this unimposing person resting on the covers to the confident and aloof scion of House Black who'd shaken hands with at least a hundred guests that evening.

She tiptoed closer and finally stood directly beside the bed. Harry had rolled into a ball and seemed forlorn on the huge bed. How defenceless he is...

As if daring herself, she gently brushed a loose strand of hair out of his face, but still he didn't stir. She couldn't believe that this vulnerable boy, who had to work hard to not panic around half of Hogwarts' population, had tried to shelter her from the harm and hate he himself endured on a daily basis.

Daphne felt her anger dissolve. Its place was taken by a burning determination she hadn't felt since Granger had decided to cheat at the game.

Bowing her head, she felt a strange, powerful tickling seeping through her bones as she slowly advanced. The only thing that could have made this any better would have been the sight of his intoxicating eyes, but then again, she doubted she would've had the nerve if he'd been awake. She moved closer, inch by inch. Nervousness numbed her mind, and only Harry's face managed to permeate the nebulous blankness numbing her thoughts.

I won't let you take a lonely stand, Harry.

Daphne closed her own eyes, hesitated for a moment, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.