Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Three

Draco dares another glance over his shoulder. Scorpius is at the gala too, but he's hiding somewhere. The fact that Draco can't find him in the crowd is a testament to how truly heinous everyone's wardrobe choices are. Astoria had sent him and Scorpius in nearly matching starched yellow robes that she assured them looked, 'perfectly dignified,' but would stand out like a doxy among fairies anywhere else.

The Ministry's ballroom is a swirl of colours. The Rainbow Ball is held every year to collect funds for SAGA, the wizarding world's premier organisation for sexuality and gender-based activism, and so everyone dresses in bright, solid tones that make it hard for anyone to stand out.

Draco tries to find some reserve of calm buried deep within him. Scorpius is smart. He's charismatic — when he wants to be. He doesn't need Draco trailing after him like a concerned mother goose. But it brings no comfort.

At least Theia is keeping up enough chatter beside him that he doesn't look out of place. She's shucked her standard-issue medical robes for the first time since he met her, and her sea of blonde curls springs merrily around her face. Something pink has been swiped across her pearly cheeks, and her blue tulle dress sparkles underneath the thousands of candles overhead.

The only schoolmate who acknowledges him is Lavender Brown. She raises her goblet in greeting across the gleaming white tables. Around her, people laugh and shout to be heard over the music. Her stunningly purple gown rises high on her neck, hiding a number of scars. She's got her magical eye trained on Neville Longbottom, who is sitting beside her and gesticulating broadly as he tells a story, but the rest of her attention is focused on Draco.

He hadn't been the first to treat Lavender's vision after she was mauled by Greyback, but he'd apprenticed under the man who had. When Draco developed a new line of prostheses — one that allowed wearers to blend in, for the most part, and look more natural — she was one of the first to try it out. He's not forgotten what a favour it was for her to trust her vanity to his hands.

He should catch up with her later. She does some sort of work with centaurs, which could make her a good contact for Scorpius. Unfortunately.

The things he does for his son.

"Well, have you nothing to say about how I look?" asks Theia.

"Hmm?" Draco hums distractedly. Theia is generous about the middle, but very short, so when he looks down, he mostly sees the top of her head and a swath of midnight blue fabric. "Let's keep it professional."

"I'm not accepting that. Have another go."

"You look very nice."

She pats him on the shoulder. "Just like a proper gentleman. Oh! I see canapés. Do you think they'll have something with prawn?"

"Why don't you go find out?"

She scurries away. At the centre of the food tables is a giant unicorn cleaved from ice, and it reflects all the lights. He recognises influence when he sees it: Luna. She'll be here somewhere, then. His racing pulse slows just a bit.

He hardly has time to bask in the silence before someone is approaching him.

"Malfoy."

Draco turns to find an inexpressive blond man standing just to his left. For a moment, he tenses, but then he takes in the eye patch and forces himself not to get worked up. It's been charmed to match the man's sharp, green suit.

A stranger knowing his name is never good, but someone in the market for a new prosthesis might have an actual reason to talk to him.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr...?"