Hadrian Potter, Revenge (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Spilled Champagne

"They saw him, right through him and didn't run."

...

"You okay?" Daphne whispered, keeping her eyes level with the ballroom, a pleasant smile dancing across her lips appeasing the rest of the guests.

"I'm so fucking over it," Pansy replied, her voice small yet furious, "you know what he said to me, what he said he'd do."

"I'm not defending him, not for how he treated you," Daphne sighed, sipping her glass of sparkling champagne, "but you should know, he's trying to protect you."

"Protecting me from who?" Pansy spat, her golden eyes swirling in temper.

"You know who," Daphne replied quickly, sliding her friend a heated look, "I know he's your father, but he's a pile of shit. What you represent to him makes me sick."

"Do you think I don't know that!" Pansy yelled in a whisper, her chest rising heatedly, "Do you think I don't know what he is? This fucking shit has been my whole life. But that doesn't mean I don't love him any less, he's my father."

Daphne sighed.

"Hadrian's getting worse Daph," Pansy contemplated, looking down and swirling her glass, "Sometimes I can't even recognise him, like he's there one moment and then gone the next."

"Can't you see it? Can't you see he's terrified to lose us?" Daphne turned quickly, somehow managing it smoothly despite the height of her silver heels.

"Terrified? Fuck... I've seen about five emotions on Hadrian Potter's face and terrified isn't one of them." Pansy laughed humourlessly, tipping her champagne, and downing the remnants in one.

"Some people can't show that they care, they've never been taught how," Daphne sighed, gently placing her lips on the glass, and taking a sip. 

"Well... I would be able to understand him slightly better if he spoke to us about his feelings, his life... his fucking hobbies. But again, I don't seem to get that very special privilege. God... I feel like a fucking whore sometimes... but, oh wait, men actually talk to their whores so I'm not even that special."

The tirade was spoken so quickly and with such intensity that Daphne was left a little stunned. She cleared her throat softly, tucking a dark silky strand behind her bejewelled ear, she watched the dance floor for a moment.

"Will you try? Try and speak to him?" Daphne pleaded, her voice for the first time containing a tremor of something alike concern, fear, or maybe even panic.

Pansy's golden eyes rushed to her friend's face, concern wrinkling at the corner of her eyes. It wasn't often Daphne Greengrass displayed such obvious emotion; the beautiful girl had perfected the art of being scrupulously refined. So unlike Pansy, who was a ticking time bomb, the girl was explosive, wild, and not to mention a little vicious.

"I'll try." Pansy finally sighed, unable to see that look on her friend's olive-toned face.

"Thank you," Daphne breathed and swallowed tightly before shaking it off and putting on a small smile, "Now, come on, the boys are waiting..." 

Daphne linked her arm with Pansy's and walked through the mass of glittering dresses. The music had changed. The band that stood in the corner of the room unleashed a torrent of infectious rhythms, a saxophone, drummer, and pianist conjured vibrant melodies causing the partygoers to sway and twirl on the dance floor. Moving smoothly, Daphne and Pansy skirted the edge of the dance floor.