enchanted • draco malfoy

Year 4: Dancing Lessons

Felicity's POV

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't question me any further about the bags under my eyes or the tear-stains on my cheeks in the Great Hall the next morning. They made idle chat, talking about homework and the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Hermione's eyes scanned the Daily Prophet as they chatted. My eyes drifted to the Slytherin table, but he wasn't there.

Suddenly, someone slid into the empty space next to me and greeted me with a pleasant, "Hey, Felicity." I turned to see Dalton, who I'd totally forgotten about in the midst of all the Draco mess. "Oh, hey, Dalton," I replied, only half-forcing a smile.

My friends looked at him once but went back to their conversations, though I could tell they were listening in. At least, Hermione was. "Are we still going to Hogsmeade together this weekend?" Dalton asked casually. My smile was small but real this time as I said, "Of course."

His grin widened. "Perfect." He seemed like he was about to say more before someone called his name and beckoned impatiently. He sighed a little before turning back to address me. "Can't wait," he said. I nodded as he left and Mione wiggled her eyebrows. I chuckled a little, swatting her arm. "Oh, sod off," I joked.

The smile fell from my face as two people walked in the room, hand in hand. Pansy Parkinson... and Draco Malfoy. I quickly looked to my breakfast as if I hadn't noticed them and stuffed a spoonful of scrambled eggs in my mouth, even though my appetite had completely disappeared. Ron must've seen them at the same time I did, because he made a noise of disgust. Hermione and Harry followed his gaze, and the former scoffed.

"They're perfect for each other, though," she stated quietly. I winced.

Then she abruptly slammed the newspaper on the table. "Look at this!" she seethed, "I can't believe it! She's done it again!" I looked to the picture she was pointing at as she read furiously, 'Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, are none other than the Bulgarian bonbon Viktor Krum'!"

She barely masked her outrage. Ron's attention remained fixed on his food as she continued, "'No word yet on how Harry Potter is taking this emotional blow.'"

Harry only rolled his eyes. My eyes, however, we're glued to Parkinson and Malfoy, who looked all too happy to be in each other's company. My stomach twisted. I was about to excuse myself before a short redhead boy marched up to Ron, holding a package. "Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley," he chirped, handing Ron the box. Ron smiled. "Thank you, Nigel."

Nigel stood there, grinning excitedly. Hermione cleared her throat and sent Ron a confused glance. Ron elbowed the little boy gently. "Not now, Nigel," he murmured, "Later." Nigel reluctantly departed, after beaming at Harry, who looked down awkwardly. We all looked to Ron for an explanation. He muttered, "I told him I'd get him Harry's autograph." Hermione and I sighed, but he ignored us and opened his package.

"Look," he announced, "Mum sent me something!" He pulled... something out of the box. A mix of frills and orange and brown cloths. Along with a musty scent. "Mum sent me a dress," Ron said, horrified. He'd managed to draw the attention of most of the Gryffindor Table. "Well, it does match your eyes," Harry added helpfully, "Is there a bonnet?" He searched through the box before pulling another scrap of cloth out triumphantly. Ron glared and snatched it away. "Nose down, Harry," he spat. He turned to his sister. "Ginny, these must be for you."

Ginny's eyes widened. "I'm not wearing that," she said, shaking her head and sending a wide-eyed glance towards Mine and me, "it's ghastly." Hermione and I stifled our laughter and Ron whirled on us. "What are you on about?" he demanded. I allowed Mione to clarify. "They're not for Ginny," she said, openly smiling now, "They're for you." Laughter exploded from the table. "Dress robes," I elaborated. Ron gaped. "Dress robes? For what?"