Light in the Darkness

Chapter Eleven

Daphne's haunting words hung like rain clouds on what should have been the sunny day that was the impending party. Instead of excitement bumping through her at the thought of seeing Draco, only dread and nerves filled her.

She tried not to think too deeply into her sister's ideas, not think of how they made her feel; about this being something more than friendship. She tried not to let any emotions surface at the notion. Instead, she could only see the complications and problems that would arise if this was the case, if her sister was correct.

Draco was engaged. She was dying. Together, the two situations led to an explosively disastrous outcome.

No. No. This was not the case. She couldn't let herself believe it.

In a subconscious grab for security, she let her hair hang down in loose curls instead of fixing and weaving it into an elaborate bun. Perhaps the lack of effort would better help to ensure how not desirable she was? It was a weak attempt, seeing as how no matter what dress her mother stuffed her in made no difference, so nor should this. And, after she'd let it fall down from the top knot she was twisting it into, she thought of how ridiculous the whole idea was.

She didn't need to worry about her hair, because she didn't need to worry about any part of the situation. They were just friends, and Draco only thought of her as such.

Nonetheless, she also skipped putting any lipstick on.

* * *

"Why's your hair down?" Daphne asked in a low whisper as they entered the doors to the Malfoy Manor.

"Huh? Oh, I dunno, I just thought it, um, looked -- never mind."

Daphne shrugged it off, and the family began their usual charade of greeting the host family. She kept her eyes on Draco, the two of them silently and inconspicuously mocking their mother's cooing and gushing words toward each other by slightly widening their eyes in faux surprise and delight with each dip and crest of the frivolous conversation.

Catching a side eyed glance from Daphne, she quickly stopped, lowering her head slightly. Draco's brows merely dipped in mild confusion.

The already overly long conversation between their parents was cut short by the Parkinsons, sauntering over, Pansy in another dress of her usual pink.

At the sight of her, Astoria did not look back over to Draco. Instead, she kept her head down and walked briskly away with her family, back to their claimed table.

For some reason, seeing Pansy there with him was making her feel bizarrely. . . weird. Too consumed with her own strangeness to notice, Astoria hadn't had time to dart away from Lawrence Avery, who meandered over to her before she could reach her family's table.

"You know," he said, as though they were already in mid conversation, "after all these months, I still haven't had the pleasure of a dance with you," he said, and in that moment, a slow song sounded from the orchestra situated at the back of the room.

"What?" she said, being pulled from her aloofness. He said nothing, but extended his hand for her to take, motioning over to the center of the ballroom, where a few couples twirled in a waltz.

The idea sickened her, but she thought about Pansy, who had the audacity to think there was something going on between her and Draco. Seeing her dance with another would surely curb that suspicion, right?

So, instead of finding some excuse, she took his hand, his grin widening only slightly as he led her to the center of the room.

He placed a hand at her waist, the other holding hers. The touch made her insides squirm, and she wasn't overly fond of the closeness, but she complied nonetheless, seeing as how they couldn't dance from a respectable ten feet apart.