𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter thirty three

December 20th, 7:00PM

"You look beautiful."

He spoke to her, the voices of attendees at the banquet growing louder as they approached the base of the great hall, ascending down the staircase.

She blushed, her hand wrapped around his arm as they walked at a peacefully slow pace, both dreading the reactions of alumni when they entered the hall.

They reached the arch, and the first head turned. A sea of others followed, hushed murmurs flooding the banquet like a wave.

"I love you," he murmured towards her ear as they walked through the hall of scattered conversation, students and their parents staring in gross disapproval. She gripped his arm tighter, and he knew that on the inside she wanted to burst into tears.

Her strong eyes and authoritative posture contrasted that feeling, her off the shoulder ivory gown framing her curves perfectly. The satin made her appear sophisticated, stunning, and utterly unapproachable at his side.

It was unlike the Yule Ball in that the lighting was somewhat yellow rather than an icy tone of blue, the walls and furniture decorated in black Victorian designs to commemorate the dead.

His heart was heavy, beating out of his chest with anxiety until he noticed Professor Evergreen, sitting at a corner table with a bottle of alcohol between her fingertips.

She winked at him with a nod before taking a sip, and he smiled, knowing teachers weren't allowed to drink at school occasions.

Draco blushed, glancing to Hermione who's curls were falling beautifully down her back, sparkles on her rosy cheeks, her eyelashes his favorite feeling when fluttering against his skin.

She was far more pleasant to look at than the sullen crowd that detested the both of them.

He noticed Pansy's parents, Theodore's father, Blaise's mother and her current boyfriend all crowded and staring in disapproval, their children nowhere to be found. It seemed they wanted little to do with the hatred that was for the group's two new counterparts.

It was then he realized that Potter and Weasley could be in this crowd, watching them, and when the ballad began and witches began to flood the floor, he felt compelled to offer her his palm.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked, bowing before her with honor but smirking up at her with sarcasm.

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, a smile finally breaking from her lips as she took his hand, "Fuck it."

She allowed him to whisk her out into the crowd, his hands resting around her waist, her own around his shoulders just as they'd practiced.

Her laugh was mesmeric as he spun her with little effort, every onlookers eyes gone unnoticed as that familiar feeling reentered his heart — that feeling that they two were the only ones in the room. The feeling that she was the only one who mattered.

That moment broke when he met eyes with Narcissa over Hermione's shoulder, standing still and alone with a wine glass glued between her fingertips, ankle bracelet covered by a floor length, long sleeve, gothic dark green dress, gaze utterly surprised.

But nothing could drag him away from her and the music crescendoed, Draco dipping her with the support of his forearm, noses brushing before he planted a tender kiss to her lips, the taste of her caramel soft on his tongue and soothing to his heart.

"You are such a romantic," she shook her head, cheeks flushed as the ballad came to a close, glancing to the cakes table, "Do romantics like dessert?"

Narcissa approached just as Hermione was munching down on a piece of fruitcake, mouth full and unable to speak with Draco's hand resting on her lower back.