Ravenclaw, drabble, dinner party, WC: 811
In a Muggledom world. AU.
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"Sorry, why are we going again?" I ask, pinning another curl to the side of my head as Draco switches on the razor in the bathroom. He spends a few seconds sorting through the settings, then switching it off again. He pauses in the doorway, thinking.
"Because you love my family," he answers finally, going back to the mirror to inspect his light stubble. I roll my eyes. "Or at least because you love me?"
"I do love you," I say, resignedly. Draco curves the razor over his cheeks, pulling silly faces at me through the open door. One of the many stupid reasons as to why I love him. Then he stops, satisfied, and smiles at me.
"Great," he murmurs, moving out of the bathroom towards me. Draco places a light kiss on my cheek, his eyes reflecting the pale-yellow light emanating from the lamp on the vanity. He really is beautiful. "Nearly ready?"
"Says he without the tie or shirt," I mutter, glancing down at him. He steps away, laughing light-heartedly.
"That will take me all of two seconds."
Ten minutes later, he's zipping me into the ridiculously heavy black, velvet dress. I'm half worried the top half of me will fall out of my dress, but it doesn't seem so realistic with the dress on. In fact, it feels comfortable. Only the daunting evening draws my spirit down now as we haul ourselves into the awaiting taxi. Half a second feels to have passed before we arrive at the Manor. Draco opens the door for me, as if I was determined to stay inside the car and journey back to our home alone (which I definitely would have done, if I hadn't already promised that I wouldn't do that exact thing).
We step out into the chilly air, me wrapping my arms and thin shawl closer to me, trying to accumulate a little more warmth. It's a fruitless attempt. Draco takes my right arm, leading me towards the glowing doorway, uttering warm, comforting words to me. As though they make a difference. I still feel the blanket of cold rush over me, fear and trepidation.
However, once we reach the grand doorway, the light doesn't seem so frightening. Instead of a pale, deathly glow, it's almost orange in colour. An enormous contrast to the rest of the home, I know. The light reflects off the dark walls and the peeling wallpaper. You'd think rich people might want to keep their home modernised and friendlier. Apparently not.
"Miss, may I take your shawl?" asks a small brunette standing in the doorway, holding a flannel over his suit jacket for some peculiar reason. I'm too stunned to even formulate some kind of response.
"Thank you, Harvey," Draco responds kindly, slipping the material from my shoulders and leaving me far too exposed for comfort. I suppose that I should feel as though I've left half of my clothes behind. Draco takes hold of my arm again then, as I'm gazing around the wide expansive hall, too formal an occasion for hand-holding.
He leads me into the dining hall, and it feels as though my eyes have been thrown into some sort of whirlwind, churning in my mind. The hall is enormous, decorated lavishly with silver and dark wood. Ornate figures are carved into the doorways, etched into the fibre of the room.
"Hermione dear," a voice echoes from the expanse, setting a different sort of chill over my skin. "We are so glad that you're here. We can get started on dinner now. Lucius, please sit. It's just us tonight."
Narcissa Malfoy stands at the other end of the room, dressed in a dark green satin dress. She smiles, and it feels as though my heart stops. She hates me. And a very real fear enters my body whenever she looks in my direction.
We sit at the table, Draco pulling out the chair for me, and Lucius sitting opposite me, with Narcissa opposite her son. It's odd. I've never known the Malfoys to not hold an elaborate party when naming it 'Dinner party'. This seems suspicious.
"I thought we might as well get started right away," Narcissa continues, as if nothing had happened between her introduction and us taking out seats at the table. She glances in her husband's direction, as if he ought to share a private look between the two of them. Draco reaches for my cold hand beneath the table, but it doesn't begin to help. The only thing I imagine will be my saving grace is the food tonight. In the cold air of winter surrounding us, the warmth of food and wine will hopefully bring something good to the table.
I can only hope.
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Thanks for reading!
