Enchanted

My Eleventh Birthday

    A mouth watering layered cake stands tall with eleven candles placed around the top. My parents really outdid themselves. The ballroom is decked out with f/c and accents of (gold/silver your preference) to match the jewelry dangling from my ears, neck, and wrists. Classical music along with guests' conversations. From the ceiling, light cascades from the chandelier of diamonds. Below is a vast area of floor cleared for dancing. Surrounding that are tables filled with family, some acquaintances, and a handful of unfamiliar guests. Most of the guests I've never might are pure bloods. The arrogant kind. The kind of pure bloods that want to befriend me for my family's influence, while simultaneously looking down at our views. They're plain awful, but they're the type to put loads of money into my father's pocket.

    Thanks to my mum's good judgement, the L/n's are dubbed 'blood traitors'. She came from a long line of Slytherins. However, she was the black sheep of the family, a Gryffindor. My father a Slytherin. During their time at Hogwarts, my father fell for her and outgrew his outdated ideals. Although, I'd say his desire for success contributed to his change the most. He told me once, "A wizard or witches blood doesn't matter me as long as they support my career." And indeed many people supported his quidditch career as a Seeker for the Wimborne Wasps. He became an icon. In his prime, witches and wizards spent billions of galleons on his merchandise. His influence on the wizarding world made even the most arrogant pure bloods respect his name. His empire continues to grow now that he is the owner of The Nimbus Racing Broom Company, producing the fastest broom to date. My mother on the other hand is quite impressive as well, climbing the ranks of the Ministry to become the youngest Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.

    I smile as I trudge around with aching feet. Heavy f/c fabric flows behind me as I approach the dessert table. Standing around aimlessly, I watch all the partygoers with my favorite chocolatey dessert on a plate. Scanning the large room, I spot a striking head of slicked back platinum blonde hair. The figure swivels around. Must be a Malfoy, have we met? The current head of the Malfoy's went to Hogwarts with my parents so they've been invited to my house before. I wonder why they decided to show up now? Once of my brows lifts up thoughtfully.

    The gentleman wears a classy black tuxedo along with a tired expression and a fake grin as he swaggers away from a girl with short dark hair. His eyes widen as they catch my gaze, amused to find me staring. I scoff while a tinge of blood rushes to my face in embarrassment. The blonde is probably an insufferable pure blood supremacist. Despite that thought, I walk in the boy's direction, my plate of desserts still in hand. I part my way through crowds of guests to greet the boy. It's only polite that I greet him after I had been caught gawking at his unusual hair color.

    As I near the unknown boy, I can better define his features. He looks around my age. His face is pleasant looking and he has pretty bluish gray eyes. However, his hair is just awful, slathered in pounds of gel. A mischievous smirk drags on his thin lips as he saunters closer. We gather on the side of the dance floor. The blonde is slightly shorter than me, so I peer my head down slightly. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, it's a pleasure to meet you, birthday girl," he introduces himself smoothly, bowing with a confident grin. Gracefully, I curtsy back at him. He reaches his hand out to me, and I oblige as he plants his lips on the backside of my hand. His actions are the same as everyone I've encountered at my party. Whether they're motivated to o strike a business deal with my father, convince my parents to vote for them, or ask for my hand in marriage to further their pure blood line. Each person who's approached me has had some sort of agenda to impress me.

    "I'm just about your age. No need to be so uptight," I remark jokingly with a grin. Malfoy straightens up. He fixes his neck tie with his head held high. Although, his eyes scan the room nervously.

    "Well, there are some important people and gorgeous ladies here that I need to impress before heading off to Hogwarts," Malfoy counters as he looks me up and down. Then, the blonde's gray eyes wander across the ballroom, his confidence fading when he finds what he was looking for. Subtly, I glance in the same direction as the blonde, and there stands a stern-looking man with the same colored hair except much longer. He watches the younger Malfoy intensely. The blonde is clearly following orders to speak to me, but a familiar feeling washes over me: the pressure. The heavy and constant weight on my shoulders to live up to my parents'  high expectations. I can't help but relate to the blonde's anxiety.