Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

18 slughorn's party: sixteenth letter

There will be no lessons tonight. I will be at Slughorn's party. Practice.

So, that's exactly where Draco found himself despite Snape's note, hiding behind a tapestry at Slughorn's party, watching Hermione struggling from Cormac McLaggen's vicious grip under the mistletoe.

"Harry has probably arrived..." Hermione said, her voice strangled and tired as McLaggen held her by the waist and interlocked their hands so she can't push him away. "I have to check." She looked pretty in her pink dress that fell just above her knees but she looked haggard from the way McLaggen is handling her. The boy had the manners of a troll!

"Yeah, he can wait, can he? He probably has to tend to his date," McLaggen nuzzled his nose against her delicate neck, where there was a string of pearls that complimented her creamy complexion. She drew back from him as far away as she could by the looks of it she might get a stiff neck. "What perfume are you..."

Draco could not take anymore of this. He tugged hard on the tapestry and it instantly fell down along with years of dust and cobwebs. It made him hack, smothering his lungs and making him sneeze. But it covered him fully as he walked towards them. The centuries old dust clung to his skin and made it itch.

"Boggart!"

McLaggen screamed. "Riddikulus! Riddikulus!" But it had no effect.

"I'll get help," Hermione said as she ran away. He saw her wand strapped on her bare thigh as she ran away, pink dress fluttering. When did she get so cheeky?

"Stupid boy! What are you yelling at?"

Filch arrived and McLaggen explained the problem to him. Draco tried to make a break for it but tripped. Before he knew it, he was being hauled by Filch to Slughorn's party.

Which Draco, of course, verbally abused as much as he could on their way. "Unhand me, you filthy squib! I am a guest! You're no good than a drooling idiot! Wait until my father hears about this, you'll be thrown out unceremoniously into the nearest pit, you greasy faced son of a-"

"Professsor Slughorn, sir. I've discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to be invited to your party."

Draco wished beyond wish that Snape will not be there with Slughorn but, alas, fate is not kind. His Head of house is sipping mead with the new Potions Master. "Okay! Okay! I was gate crashing. Happy?"

Slughorn looked at Draco through glazed eyes, he's far too drunk and happy. Ignorance is bliss. This is merely the calm before the storm. He told Snape to just let Draco be since it is Christmas, in return Draco assumed the role of the flattering leech.

Then he felt Snape's tight grip on his shoulder. A dark haze fell over him. A familiar feeling, he tried to fight it, of course, but there's no use.

Fear at it's purest form.

No use that he can see Hermione's shoes beneath a tapestry as she conversed to Potter in secret. She's hiding from McLaggen, he thought fondly. Why can't she just Confund that half human, half slimeball, joke of a man? It will be easier. Now that he has noticed though, she has really great skin, her legs look really smooth, translucent even...

Draco was yanked backwards and soon the liveliness of the party was gone, the bright colors and the smell of food. They were back on the dimly lit halls. Snape dragged him into an empty classroom.

This is it. He's going to be reprimanded. Thought unworthy of the mission. He can do this. How hard can it be? It's only killing. Voldemort is the only one who can live forever.

"What are you hiding from me?"

There was a flash of him looking at Hermione's leg beneath the tapestry, then at the wand strapped on her thigh beneath a flutter of pink satin-