Rise of the Death Eaters [3]

Chapter 65: Another Damn Ball

"I'm surprised you accepted my invitation."

I was in Paris once again, dressed to the nines in a new gown cut to the standards of Madam Léontine with the Hepburn theme illustrated in the seams. While the Grace Kelly dress was flowing fabric that whispered in the air as I moved, the Hepburn dress was cut for stillness. Nonexistent sleeves were hidden behind a high-rising neckline that let the silk fabric drape over my body and hide any shadow of a doubt about my size. I was thinner than sin this summer, and one look at myself in this dress confirmed what Elizabeth had been nagging at earlier.

I had lost enough weight over the summer that my body covered itself in shadows of concaved lines and sharp edges in my cheeks and clavicles. But I wasn't entirely eaten away which was probably why my mother hadn't said anything to me about it. Either that or she was hoping to ignore the problem, expecting it to solve itself.

No doubt a few weeks at Hogwarts with its overflowing tables of food will solve this for me. But until then...

Blaise turned to face me at the steps leading to the entrance. He was fashionably dressed in a simple black and white cut suit that highlighted the sharpness of his jaw and the lines of his eyes. He looked as happy to see me as I him.

"Don't expect my appearance to be any indication of wanting your attention, Fountaine."

"Nor I on inviting you here," I replied steadily. "I simply had a small list to choose from and yours was the least vexing option." He barely gave me a once over, his face impassive, before turning away from me and toward the door.

I walked up to him, leaving the car at the curb for my driver to leave us be. My mother had chosen to escort my grand'mère inside with the rest of the guests, leaving me to my own devices.

"Well then," I motioned, looking back to him as the car's engine roared to life. "Glad we got that out of the way. But do you have to make me lecture you on the rules of this ball that I know you know?" His gaze sliced to me for a barely another moment before he extended his arm to me as if he was biting back poison. I took his arm with a hint of a smile on my lips and then moved us forward.

The Parisian street that held the hotel hosting was in a quiet neighborhood filled with street lights that made the white of my dress shimmer like fairy lights. The contrast of my pale skin with the warmness of Blaise's hand made us a striking contrast to those watching. As the doors opened in, unveiling a long open marble hall with a long red carpet lining the entrance, numerous couples walking by glanced our way with cleverly placed features that almost entirely shielded their intrigue.

A photographer was waiting for us in the long hallway and stopped us a quarter of the way in to get our picture.

"And your names, if you please monsieur, mademoiselle?"

One look at Blaise's curling lips told me he would rather drink liquid acid than admit anything to the balding Frenchman.

"Blaise Zabini and Ava Fountaine."

The photographer gave a quick bow before ushering us forward, barely giving another look our way as we took another few steps forward, away from the moving company around us.

"You could try to enjoy yourself, Blaise. Otherwise I don't see why you came."

"Don't act like you gave me much of a choice," he cut in coldly, making me rise a brow.

No doubt his mother made him come. If what I've heard about his mother is true, and that she runs around marrying high society only to kill them off for their money and influence, I'm sure this invitation made her heart raise at such an opportunity.