AN

Slughorn's Christmas Party. That's all I have to say.

December 1942, 5th year

At the beginning of December, a first-year Slytherin approached Naenia and the others, holding a few scrolls tied with purple bows.

They were eating lunch and chatting about the meeting of the Duelling Club they were going to afterwards, but the attention soon turned to the scrolls which were clearly from Professor Slughorn. Naenia couldn't help but notice that all of Tom's flock had received one.

They were invitations to Professor Slughorn's Christmas Party. That was all there was to it.

Just as she had not partaken in the Duelling Club until recently, Naenia hadn't been to any of the Slug Club meetings – though the latter had been intentional on her side.

Because Naenia had been under constant supervision from the school nurse at the beginning of the year and then continued to keep Professor Slughorn under the impression that eating still gave her great difficulties (which wasn't even a complete lie, but certainly exaggerated), she had been able to successfully avoid four of his meetings. She had been very happy about that.

But there was no way she could get away with missing the Christmas Party as well, because her excuses were running thin and it was scheduled to be right at the beginning of the holidays, so even if she had wanted to return home she couldn't have declined.

Soon the conversation drifted off to the Duelling Club again and didn't resume until after the meeting. (Weatherton, the instructor, seemed glad to have Naenia back, though he hadn't let her participate in any of the duels yet. She wasn't particularly sad about that.)

"His parties are not that different from his dinners," Rosier explained to Malfoy and Carrow, who had joined the Slug Club only this year.

According to Tom there was only the addition of one fourth-year Ravenclaw apart from those two, but that didn't tell Naenia much, because she hadn't attended any meetings in their fourth year.

She did know who was attending from her own house, but couldn't say anything about the other three.

"Apart from the dancing," Nott said.

Naenia saw apprehension flicker across Tom's face.

She leaned in closer and said, in a lowered voice, "Do you not like dancing?"

"Where would I have learned it?" he returned, equally as quiet.

That made sense, she supposed, remembering that Tom had grown up in an orphanage.

"I could show you," she said carefully, knowing that Tom didn't like it when someone knew something he did not.

But he only nodded and gave her a rare smile.

They used their private room up on the seventh floor, of course, because there was no way Tom would admit to anyone else that he didn't know how to dance. It was one of those pureblood traditions he desperately wanted to pride himself with having full knowledge of but couldn't properly teach himself.

It was weirdly intimate. Their room had provided them with a record player and a selection of classical music pieces and was decorated festively with clothes draped across the walls and low hanging chandeliers.

Like all purebloods, those coming from rich families in particular, Naenia had been instructed in many dances from the classical waltz to the more modern foxtrot that had been introduced from America only recently. She did her best to show Tom all that she knew – not 'teach', because Tom did not have to be taught. She showed him and he observed and then just did it. Usually.

It seemed as if dancing did not come as easily to him as learning spells did. But he was a fast learner nonetheless, so it only took them a few afternoons until he had memorized every movement.

At first, he only bothered because he was Tom and he needed to be perfect at everything. But after Naenia pointed out to him that dancing was mandatory at pureblood balls, he became more invested.

"Will you invite me as your date, then?" he asked in response.

"Only if you receive an invitation yourself. I am not going to be your stepladder into pureblood society."

"Never, then," Tom said with amusement, "because I will be so gracious as to ask you every time – regardless of whether you have received an invitation yourself or not."

"How very kind of you," Naenia replied dryly.

Tom did not ask Naenia for this occasion, but there was no doubt they would attend together. Nott asked his fellow prefect Walburga Black 'because it was convenient' and she in turn arranged for her second cousin Lucretia to accompany Rosier, both of them already being engaged to other people. The rest had to be very careful in their selections, because it could open possibilities for future courting. (Naenia was very glad that she did not have to worry about that at all.)

Perseus Black decided to be the exception. He asked Amelia. Naenia didn't know what to feel about the fact that neither Black nor Amelia, whom she both considered her friends, had told her that they would be attending the party together.

All this Naenia learned in the few minutes she spent with Nott in the common room, where they were waiting for their respective partners.

When Tom arrived, clad in a black dress robe of the finest material, the first thing that came to Naenia's mind was the question how he had obtained those very expensive looking garments.

She, herself, had enough dress robes to last for a lifetime, because her family liked to give her very boring presents indeed, and hadn't been able to decide between a dark green and a dark purple one.

In the end, she had chosen the latter, because it fit better with her silver accessories. She had taken more time carefully pinning up her hair than deciding between robes, though, because she had to make sure the white strand harmonized perfectly with her otherwise dark brown hair to make up a very artfully styled updo.

The second thing that came to her mind when she saw Tom, was that they would most likely be the most immaculate and striking couple at the party. What was that saying? Dress to impress. They certainly were the embodiment of it.

Nott raised his eyebrows and said, quietly and quickly enough so that Tom wouldn't overhear, "I am surprised that he chose the robes I gifted him, because I am pretty sure Malfoy gave him even more impressive ones."

Naenia wasn't able to ask a follow-up question before Tom reached them, but it was an interesting piece of information all the same.

Tom offered her his arm and off they were.

From the Slytherin Common Room it was not very far to Slughorn's Office, where the party was held. It had been decorated with clothes in green and red and gold, there were fairies fluttering about, music played in the background and the overall impression was very Christmassy.

Several guests had already arrived, famous witches and wizards, talking among themselves.

Professor Slughorn greeted them personally. "Tom, m'boy! So glad you could make it. And you brought Miss Lémure. Wonderful, wonderful! All is well again, then? The food not bothering you anymore? Excellent! Come in, come in, let me introduce you –"

Naenia already anticipated the slowly building headache. How someone who had been once sorted into their house could be so boisterous and jovial, she would never understand.

She soon realized the problem with having Tom as her partner – he, of course, wanted to make the most of this opportunity and form as many connections as possible. And Naenia could not just wander off on her own and withdraw to a quiet corner, so she resigned herself to be a pretty little accessory no one paid attention to.

Thanks to Tom's natural (faked) charm, the guests barely even looked at her and therefore her identity never really registered in their minds. That, at least, was nice – not being looked at with fear or contempt or at least wariness, just a passing glance before Tom drew them into a conversation.

They danced a few times and Naenia danced some more without Tom when first Black, then Nott and later even Lestrange asked her. She barely found time to greet Amelia while eating some food under the watchful gaze of her friends and she might have even enjoyed herself a bit, but overall it was mostly exhausting socializing. She didn't even do any socializing herself, could not name a single guest that wasn't a student, and was still very tired by the end of it.

The only time she did pay attention to one of the conversations around her, was when she found herself among a small gathering of her fellow Slytherins (and Amelia) between dances with Black and Nott.

"It is your last year, dear cousin," Walburga Black was saying to Perseus, coldly assessing Amelia. "You might not become Lord Black, but you still owe our family a responsibility to fulfil."

"To marry a pureblood," Perseus said and took a sip of his wine, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "Yes, I am acutely aware, dearest cousin."

Naenia almost pitied him. Almost. She was worried more for Amelia, who she knew was not used to these typical pureblood conversations and behaviours. To her credit, the Hufflepuff was standing proudly at Perseus' side, not showing any sign of being uncomfortable – but not smiling either.

"All of the Black children are engaged already," Walburga continued, "except for you. This cannot go on."

"I'll cut in there," Rosier said. "You are engaged to Orion, Orion to you. Lucretia is engaged to Ignatius Prewett and Cygnus to my little sister Druella. Perseus has not been assigned anyone new, ever since his engagement to you was broken off and most everyone else is already married – but what about Alphard?"

Walburga raised her chin. "We have secured a match with the Lestranges."

"You did?" Lestrange said surprised. "That's news to me."

"It has not been made official yet, but we shall expect an announcement soon." Walburga turned to Malfoy. "Do the Malfoys have a daughter?"

He shook his head.

"Pity," Walburga said and then her eyes fell on Naenia.

She did not look away.

Naenia blinked. "The Lémures have already explained their decision to decline your gracious offer."

Walburga tutted. "That they have indeed."

When she finally averted her gaze, Naenia inwardly sighed with relief. That girl's scrutinizing eyes were intense, that was for sure. And Naenia really hadn't been looking forward to yet another discussion about the reason the Lémures had turned down the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'. There had been more than enough of that already – and Naenia hadn't even been part of it, thankfully.

She looked around. Nearly everyone was listening to Walburga with rapt attention except for herself, Amelia, Perseus and Nott. Tom might have been less interested, too, but he was on the other side of the room talking with two older wizards.

"Well," said Nott, "I do not need to concern myself with these matters until I graduate, so I will just leave you to it." He turned to Naenia and extended his hand. "Might I ask for a dance?"

Naenia smiled and gladly accepted.

"I thought you had postponed your engagement until you were of age?" she asked, once they had reached the dance floor.

Nott didn't answer for a while, leading her through a slow waltz.

"Oh, look," he said looking over her shoulder. "He is pining again."

When they turned Naenia found Tom, still talking to the same two wizards. She did not deign Nott's statement with an answer.

"I managed to persuade my parents for more time," he said eventually. "Said I wanted to focus on my N.E.W.T. levels."

They had reached the spot where their housemates were gathered, again, though Perseus Black and Amelia were no longer among them. Naenia found the two with the other dancing couples.

"Everyone thinks you and Riddle will one day marry," Nott said in a low voice, leaning closer to her ear.

It was unlikely that anyone could hear them over the music, but Naenia could understand his caution. The people flocking around Tom were all admiring him, even Black and Nott who were more careful of his darker nature than the others. But they all understood that some things were better left unsaid or should not reach Tom's ears, if they didn't want to incite his anger.

Well, she said she could understand his caution, but she wasn't sure that this particular topic made it necessary.

"I do not intend to marry," she said to Nott, not bothering to lean in, but still keeping her voice down. "But I expect Tom to secure a match for himself that shall grant him a lot of power and influence."

"Wouldn't you, yourself, be perfect, then?"

Naenia waited for a few turns, before answering, "That may be the case, but the same is not true in reverse."

Understanding dawned on Nott's face. "Riddle does not meet 'the requirements'."

"Indeed." Naenia sighed. "And like I said, I do not wish to marry."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Nott hummed. "You are lucky to be able to make this decision."

"I might not be for much longer," Naenia answered honestly, "with the way things currently are in my family."

The song ended and another one began. It was not customary to have more than one dance with the same partner consecutively, though not explicitly frowned upon. Nott led them away and to a more or less private corner anyway.

"How so?" he asked.

"In our family the succession is determined by the one who ensures that the bloodline survives," she explained. "Therefore, the title could fall to either of my brothers. Or me."

"Sounds simple and clear," Nott said. "So I assume at least one of them has a problem with that?"

Naenia nodded. "And the other cannot be allowed to inherit the title."

"And then the duty falls to you. I see…"

"Naenia," a voice said and they both turned to see Tom approaching.

He gave Nott an indecipherable look, before deciding against whatever had been going through his head and offering his arm to Naenia instead.

He walked them over to one of the many tables offering food and drink, where another pair of guests was already waiting for them. And so the evening continued.

"This is exhausting," Amelia said to Naenia at one point, when they had a rare moment to themselves. "I don't know how you purebloods do it all the time."

Naenia smiled. "You clearly haven't been to a true pureblood ball yet."

"Thankfully. I can only imagine how dreadful that would be. Is marriage all they ever talk about?"

"Politics and politics and making worthy connections. And money and social status, too, I suppose. Engagements are only part of that."

"Yeah, no. Definitely not the right place for me," Amelia said and waved a hand dismissively.

"Because you're too soft-hearted," Naenia said half-jokingly.

Amelia laughed. "I won't even deny that. And I'd say it's a good thing."

"That it is," Naenia had to agree.

"Hey, how much of a scandal do you think it would be if I asked you for a dance?"

Naenia raised an eyebrow. "Most likely not worth the outcome. And I was trying to stay unnoticed as much as possible – I didn't interact with any guests at all, only approached them at the side of Tom, whose charm made them forget all about me. I don't really want to disrupt that little bit of peace. Besides," she gave her friend an amused look, "do you even know how to dance the male part?"

Amelia ducked her head. "No. Do you?"

Naenia hummed. "In theory, but I have never tried it."

"And you really don't want to change that now?"

Naenia smiled. "Not really, no."

"Fine." Amelia said. "Guess I'll have to find Black again. He's quite nice, by the way. A true gentleman."

"I'm sure there are others who would like to dance with you as well."

"What – the snobbish purebloods? No way. Oh, look, there's two of them," Amelia gestured to the two boys approaching them.

One was Lestrange, but Naenia didn't recognize the other one.

"A dance, my lady?" the stranger asked Amelia with his most radiant smile.

Amelia blushed and nodded wordlessly. Naenia tried not to grin at her friend.

Lestrange offered his hand as well and Naenia went for her seventh dance of the evening, only three of which had belonged to Tom.

She supposed it was not a total waste of time. Naenia had been able to enjoy dancing with her friends and spending at least some time with them, and being at Tom's side while he was conversing with the guests hadn't been all that bad. Not even watching Perseus Black kiss Amelia on the cheek when they had to part for their respective common rooms could sour her mood. There was a mistletoe hanging over their heads, after all.