Underneath the Mistletoe

ChapterFortyFive

Draco's POV
FifthYear-DaySix-StillEveningoftheBall

"Politically speaking-"

"-not about that-"

"Have you heard-?"

"-the Fawley's son!"

"-Cora told me-"

"What a shame."

Draco caught snippets of conversation as he made his way through the swarm of people that had gathered over the past two hours. Things hadn't actually been going terribly. Draco had, so far, only been obliged to dance with three older women. He'd spent the night talking about school and his parents with the guests.

As a responsible son of the hosting party Draco was circling the room in attempt to mingle with everyone. The ballroom was full of Christmas decorations. Glittering white pine trees stood tall in every corner, holding delicate ornaments on their branches. Mistletoe hung on archways and under chandeliers. White candles were set up on ledges and tables, releasing a sweet fragrance that filled his nose. Draco was about to start a conversation with the Greengrass's when another guest caught his eye. Draco told himself it was only for a moment. Yet he couldn't deny that it was a moment none the less. The other boy looked to be a year or two older. Carmel skin, shiny brown hair, dressed similarly to Draco in a bottom up white dress shirt and slacks. His gaze lingered a second longer when the boy flashed a smile at the person he was talking to. Draco tore his eyes away to see who that person might be.

His nostrils flared, in her limp curl and long nosed glory was Meave. Of bloody fucking course. Ripping his eyes away from the pair he went to take a step towards the Greengrass's again when a strong hand grabbed onto his upper arm. Draco turned quickly, coming face-to-face with his Father. Draco inhaled a sharp breath of surprise and took a respective, and nervous, step back. Something was wrong. Draco could see it in the way his Fathers eyes were twitching. The way he stood rocking back and forth just the slightest on the balls of his feet. The way he kept having to re-adjust his grip on his champagne glass because his palms were sweaty.

Draco schooled his features and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. "Father."

"Draco..." His Father wouldn't meet his eyes. "How are you finding the party?"

"People seem to be enjoying themselves."

"Indeed. And you?"

"Me, Father?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

He kept his expression blank. "I am." Lie.

However the Malfoy Patriarch didn't seem to notice the lie, or if he did he didn't comment. Instead his Fathers eyes roved over the crowd in their fine attire, the sparkling drinks in the crystal glasses, the dimmed lights, the shimmering decor.

"Yes, quite well."

Draco thought his Father was speaking more to himself than to him so he didn't say anything. Until he was addressed directly of course.

"You've been socializing with everyone?"

"I'm making my way around, yes."

"Good, good, anything I should be aware of?"

"Ms. Donallias lost her husband to an...accident a few weeks back." Draco moved so he was standing beside his Father opposed to facing him. He pointed out the older woman. He'd been subjected to a dance with her. It hadn't been awful, Draco had gone through worse, however she has smelled strongly of body odour. "She is still heavily grieving." His Father nodded.