The Malfoy Project

𝟐𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

   ༻⚜️༺     

     Euphoria.

     It danced in my head and within my chest and in the tips of my fingers, making me giddy.

     My heart was thumping like the steady beat of dragons' wings. No, a swan. A submerged swan, just like Pablo Neruda says.

     Ainsley's swan.

     A strand of hair tickled my brow. I combed it back with my fingers for the third time, only for it to droop down again. I brush it up, moulding it harder to the other more obedient strands. There. 

     Somewhere downstairs, a beat starts up, pulsating through the floor and vibrating up my feet. Laughter, shouts of greeting, girls squealing drift up the stairwell.

     It was almost time.

     A packet of crystallised pineapples sits on my bedside table, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a yellow ribbon. Unlike the last time when I had simply left them by the Hufflepuff Common Room, this time, I was going to put the bag in Ainsley's hands myself.

     I picked it up, turned to the mirror, drew a deep breath.

     "Ainsley, for you."

     No, too curt.

     "Ainsley, I heard you like these."

     Well, obviously. She had already told me that herself, twice. It didn't need to be said the third time.

     "Ainsley, I got you these to say..."

     To say what?

     "Thank you."

     I could imagine her amused voice, sandpaper and silk. Thank you for what, Draco?

     Godric, why was this so difficult?

     A raucous discordance of voices approached the dorm. I managed to cram the sweets into my jacket just as Blaise, Theo, and Urquhart stuck their heads around the door. "Oi!" called Blaise. "Preparing to meet the Queen or something?"

     My cheeks flamed. "Fuck off," I said, trying to sound casual, but I felt like I had just hidden a bloody Horcrux instead of a bag of cubed sugared fruits.

     "Well, the Cap is asking for you, so hurry up," said Urquhart. "This is literally your party, you know, to celebrate your catch of the year." 

     "I'll be down in a moment," I mumbled and pretended to fiddle with my shirt buttons.

     They left as promptly as they came. When the sound of their footsteps died away, I turned back to the mirror and blew my cheeks out at my own reflection.

     I was psyching myself out. It wouldn't be as difficult as I thought. This was Ainsley we were talking about. She had the heart of a lion; nothing fazes her. I could produce a live Phoenix from my pocket and she wouldn't bat an eyelash.

     I took the stairs down two at a time, the cellophane bag swinging against my hips. She would blush, thank me profusely, take it from my hands. Would our fingers touch? She would undo the ribbon and offer me one. This time, I'd accept. It might rot my teeth and brains, but if it would make Ainsley smile, so be it.

     They cheered when I entered - a whole throng of people pumping their fists in the air and clapping. They reached for my hand to shake, thumped me on the shoulder, shouted their congratulations through the defeating music. I nodded politely, modestly.