Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 55

Walking into that party was like walking into a room full of the heady fumes of felix felecis. And, Lucy thought vaguely, for all she knew, the room was full of them. The air seemed golden, light from floating candles bouncing off of silver and gold flowers on pale green garlands that wove around chandeliers and wall braces and hung lazily in between, swaying ever so slightly in the drafts that whispered through the room. Music drifted from the corner, jazzy and bright, and chatter filled the air, the sound full of laughter and mirth. The end result was a feeling like luck. Like invincibility. Like a certain certainty that tonight would be good. Would be bright. Would be fun.

It was exactly as Lucy had hoped it would be. Because one breath of that air and the conversation from mere moments ago was a memory. Five steps into the room and the fear of the halls behind her was a distant nightmare. One sip of the champagne she'd somehow already been offered and all her cares, all her worries, all the things bundled up in late nights and lit candles and stitched stars on a fraying book bag were gone.

There was nothing but this. But a holiday party and fun to be had with a boy at her side whose motives didn't matter.

Of course, ignoring his motives was more difficult when he was rather good at accomplishing them. And when she was rather good at spotting them.

They didn't go straight to Slughorn. Because of course they didn't, Lucy thought, sipping her champagne and waiting for the fizzy detachment she knew would come with it. It would have looked too eager. Too desperate. Too like he craved approval. Instead, they meandered. They grabbed bits of food off the trays carried around on the heads of house elves dressed in pressed white tea towels like little pristine togas. They chatted with other students who smiled for Tom and glared at Lucy the moment he glanced away.

She simply smiled back, half amused and half sad. Because it was sad, really, that their party could be ruined by the simple fact that she, of all people, was the one walking around on the arm of their idol.

When they finally did come across Slughorn, it seemed like an accident. They approached from the side, walking at a leisurely pace, and keeping just inside of the professor's peripheral vision. And the whole way, Tom kept up a conversation with Lucy. As though they were just walking through. Just talking. Just enjoying the party.

But Lucy saw the way Tom's eyes landed for just a second too long on Slughorn as they left her face. She saw the way his smile shifted to something a little brighter, a little more plastic. The way he steered their steps as though going towards the punch bowl at the side of the room, keeping far enough away that their lack of greeting was excusable. Because of course, Slughorn had to be the one to greet them. Tom couldn't be seen asking for Slughorn's attention. He would be seen receiving it without so much as saying a word.

The whole thing was designed to make Tom look like the deserving recipient of praise he hadn't asked for. And Lucy knew it. Knew also that it would work. That Tom would have made sure it would work. Would have made the mental calculations on Slughorn's love of a dramatic moment, his penchant for speaking a little too loudly when he praised his favorites and himself.

She swallowed a sigh and chased it with the last of her champagne.

"Tom!" Slughorn called as they approached, no doubt, Lucy thought, twisting her empty flute in her free hand, at exactly the moment Tom had predicted he would. "Wonderful to see you m'boy," the professor said as they came over, smile even and just the right level of bright on Tom's features, a practiced, pleasant neutrality on Lucy's own.

"Wonderful wonderful," Slughorn said, abandoning his false start for the too-loud praise Lucy had known was coming. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming you know," he admonished, "You're late!"