Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Eleven

Halloween came and went, the feast as good as ever, and the Three Broomsticks trip was being set in motion. The whole ordeal was a little nerve racking.

    For starters, I wasn't sure what exactly was expected at this occasion. Was it a party? Was it just dinner? Would it be expected to talk to other people, running with my party theory? Too many variables -- I'd really just rather stay inside, in the warm comfort of the common room.

    Then of course there was the whole Draco aspect. Whether this was just a dinner or a party (I strongly suspected the latter), it would be a different environment than I was used to being with him in. If I was around him, it was usually at dinner (both of us contently eating and focused on our plates) or in the Common Room (both of us fixated on something, a textbook, a homework assignment -- something quiet and singular, not a group activity), not at a party.

    The whole thing was foreign.

    Nevertheless, I was going to go for two primary reasons, one, of course, being Draco asked me, he wanted to go and I wasn't about to stand him up. The other part, manifesting from the petty side of me, was to seize this opportunity to prove to Pansy she doesn't scare me.

If I didn't go, then she would see it as a victory, her intimidation had worked, and I'd flaked. That was not happening.

    So it was Saturday, and I still had to muster up something to wear, my dilemma of the lacking solidity of the theme of said event still proving to be an issue. I settled on a black sweater; you could never go wrong with black, or sweaters (Daphne logic).

    At six o' clock exactly (I didn't want to stand around waiting if I was early, or come running down in a hurry if I was late) I left my lonely dormitory, walking into the Common Room.

It seemed every Slytherin was in there at that moment, but I found Draco sitting near the windowsill in the corner of the full room.

    He smiled softly when he saw me, and stood.

    My heart was racing; why was my heart racing? What was wrong with me? I was used to a weary heartbeat, jumpy and erratic, always clopping too slow or pouding violently by the slightest effort. But this was not permitted -- I hadn't ran, or jumped, or gone too far out of my regular snail's pace -- nothing to insult my illness. Yet there it was, the rapid rattling of my heart.

    And my hands -- they were shaking. The tips of my fingers down to the base of my palm, stopping at my wrist. The sound of my breathing was magnified in my throat, filling my ears. What was wrong with me?

    Kids were filing out of the passage into the hallway, emptying the Common Room slightly.

    "Ready?" He said. I nodded with a simple smile, internally willing myself to cut it out with the nervousness.

    "D'you think all these kids are going?" I said, once we were outside and could still see the cluster of green scarves ahead of us.

    He nodded, and said, "Yeah, I suppose so. Pansy said a bunch of people were."

    Just the mention of her name gave a slight narrowing to my eyes, an instinctual reaction. He noticed, and snickered. We walked side by side, and my eyes lingered on him as he laughed and after, a smile on my face. I turned away when he turned toward me.

    When we entered the Three Broomsticks, I put a mental check mark on an imaginary field journal; my hypothesis was indeed correct, this was a party, or atleast party-esque.

    Kids bearing all different house-scarves were laughing and talking. Fiddles served as music, and clicking and clacking of butterbeer cups adorned the air. Friends and couples were dancing merrily in the cleared center of the floor. It was warm, with warm light, and a warm feeling.