Malfoy and Nott returned to the sofa. Sitting down, they casually, or perhaps deliberately, shoved Crabbe, who in turn shoved Goyle.
"Hey, what's with you guys..."
"Nothing," Nott snapped.
"Forget it," Malfoy waved it off. "Don't pay attention."
"And how am I supposed to not pay attention?"
They both watched Granger and Greengrass, and they were both infuriated that the two looked entirely too harmonious in their blue outfits amidst the icy décor of the Great Hall.
"What do you care?" Malfoy began to speak more slowly, which meant he had calmed down. "So she came in a dress to match him, so what?"
"It's all wrong," Nott was in no hurry to calm down, but that was only on the outside, for in his thoughts he was contemplating some nasty trick and the urgent need to show Granger his place, and Greengrass—the error of her ways.
"Don't fly off the handle," Malfoy finally settled into his usual rhythm of thought and smoothed his hair with his hand. "Let them do what they want. Your people are already negotiating with the Greengrasses?"
"Yes, as far as I know."
"That's it then. Whatever these two come up with, the outcome is still the same."
"But what if..."
"So make it so she doesn't even look at him."
"Wouldn't it be better to explain to her..."
"Don't you even dare," Malfoy replied extremely seriously and turned to Nott, looking at him. "If you pull some stupidity towards Daphne, you can forget about our friendship."
"Are you defending her or something?"
"Don't be an idiot, or I'll ask my father to ask your father to beat all sorts of nonsense out of you. Work on Granger. Do whatever you want..."
"So maybe pressure his Mudblood sister?"
Crabbe and Goyle looked at Nott, exchanged glances, nodded to each other, clearly drawing some conclusions, and moved away almost imperceptibly.
"Didn't you understand that he is perfectly aware of dueling etiquette?"
"Big deal, who will take him seriously? It's a Mudblood. I can send him and his challenges to hell."
"Yeah, right," Malfoy smirked, feeling his superiority in knowledge and understanding of the situation, which had happened rarely lately and greatly saddened the blond. "Do something to his sister, and you won't be able to refuse a duel—he will be within his rights. And if you refuse... Well, you know how that goes."
"Shit..." Nott hit his knee with his fist with feeling. "Damn it..."
"I say, forget it. Let them do whatever, fall in love, make plans, date or whatever. The outcome is one. The Greengrasses need assets in your business, which means the union will be. And then you'll explain to both her and him whose place is where. After Hogwarts, you understand yourself, Mudbloods have no prospects. Just remember, no rash actions."
"I get it... I get it. Go dance with Parkinson at least."
"Don't want to. I asked her not to wear a pink dress. So let her stand there now."
The dance ended, Hector "returned" a suspiciously pleased Daphne back to the Slytherin buffet, exchanged a couple of phrases, and, to Malfoy's surprise, invited Pansy. To even greater surprise, she agreed and now they are waltzing around the hall. Of course, the combination of their costumes was quite eye-gouging—Draco even developed a nervous tic—but Pansy looked pleased.
"Forget it," Nott said venomously. "Don't pay attention."
"You... I don't care at all!" Malfoy demonstratively leaned back on the sofa. "Just like that."
"No, friend," Nott smirked. "Now I definitely feel better and don't care. And you, friend, are breaking out in spots."
"To Mordred! Let's go drink everything we can reach."
"Very Slytherin. Guys?" Nott looked at the two big guys, but they demonstrated large bottles with something appearing from nowhere and two plates with a heap of delicacies. "Everything is clear. Sometimes it seems to me that you are the most Slytherin Slytherins, only your compass is a little off."
The guys silently shrugged and began destroying snacks and drinks.
And the ball continued its course, approaching its middle, and Hector was not the only one waiting for something special at this event. But will it happen? Given that some redheads brought a sea of alcohol and pour it everywhere they can reach, nothing can be ruled out.
. . . . .
A ball for students, teenagers going through a rather difficult period of their lives, growing up, hormones and so on—is a complex and responsible event. Is it hard for the organizers? Undoubtedly, because even those of the students who had previously attended such events were there with adults, with parents, and those very adults were the majority. Here, an illusion was created that there are only them, teenagers, around, and the whole world is now revolving around them. Can this create problems?
After dancing with Pansy, who, to my slight surprise, was more than happy about this very dance, I returned to the buffet, where Miss Delacour was reluctantly rejecting guys who dared to invite her. I found it interesting that the guests from Durmstrang were practically immune to her influence. Perhaps there, in the north of Europe, if one believes the caveats about the too-short day in winter, Veelas are much more common and the guys are no longer impressed by either their beauty or their aura?
In general, the girl in the company of her French colleagues, predominantly female, and several guys who were able to maintain self-control, stood by the buffet, enjoying drinks and glancing at the rapidly decreasing number of dancing couples.
"Fleur," I approached with a smile and took the first glass that came to hand, taking a rather large sip. "It seems people are gradually dispersing."
"That is so," Fleur nodded. "But mostly they are going to the garden, to the courtyards."
"Hmm... Indeed. Getting some fresh air wouldn't hurt."
"But not before the last dance?" Fleur literally took the suggestion off my tongue, to which I couldn't help but smile.
"Exactly."
Leading the girl by the arm, I noted out of the corner of my eye an elusive change in the atmosphere. The eyes of many began to shine, movements became somewhat different, blurred. But the cherry on the cake of suspicion turned out to be two smirks of the red-haired twins observing what was happening.
"It seems to me," I spoke when Fleur and I went into a slow dance. "That the Weasley twins have pulled off some prank."
"That is so..."
Now, in a slow dance to a lyrical melody and among the small number of remaining couples on the dance floor, I noticed a slight wild glint in Fleur's eyes.
"They," the girl continued the thought, "if I understood correctly, mixed a little alcohol into almost all the drinks."
"And deftly pulled it off, the rascals," I smirked. "And how did you understand?"
"We..." Fleur thought for a moment, as if checking herself. "Are quite sensitive to any substances and potions that alter consciousness. I don't think there's any need to worry. Too little. Even getting drunk will be problematic."
"Of course," I nodded, looking at a silver strand of Veela hair that had escaped from her hairstyle. "But even small doses are enough for us to relax too much out of habit."
Fleur smiled wider, almost laughing.
"You are very observant, but somehow selectively. Even some of your classmates brought in a little alcohol. I think there's no point talking about the older ones."
"Perhaps."
The dance didn't last long, and if you feel the music, you can dance further, because one slow melody flowed into another. And Fleur was mercilessly pressing me with her aura. Naturally, I tried to show her this with a look, to which the Veela only smiled, relaxing against me and dancing.
"Very pleasant not to keep this under control," she spoke quietly. "Directing at one is not difficult at all. Even... easier than just letting go. But suppressing is extremely tiring."
"And I already thought that you decided to get a reaction from me after all."
"But I want to."
"Everyone wants to," I nodded. "To be hugged tighter, and have a gentle word said, and for these embraces to grow into something more, and not to have to wake up alone."
Fleur pressed closer, but without erotic subtext, although a piece of my consciousness was hysterically searching for it, this hidden meaning.
"And if you also like the person..."
"...then it's generally wonderful," I nodded.
After dancing for some time, Fleur and I returned to the buffet, around which there were fewer students, new faces appeared. Polite nods, a couple of phrases "about the weather"—nothing special. Drinks flowed like a river, but as Fleur said, there was almost no alcohol there. Or maybe I, having experience in using such things, didn't really pay attention, knowing what to expect. However, there really was a fair share of relaxation in the behavior of those around, and it seems the students attributed this to banal fatigue and tension.
"Shall we take a walk?" I suggested to Fleur, and here we were already leaving the Great Hall arm in arm, not forgetting to grab a glass with some variation on the theme of punch.
The practically straight corridor to the Entrance Hall ended suspiciously quickly, and we had almost reached the exit to the second inner courtyard, which was on the other side from the exit from the castle grounds. In a not particularly hidden, but also not the most conspicuous corner, some couple was kissing with great enthusiasm, not particularly familiar to me, but from the sixth year. They paid absolutely no attention to us and to another couple walking towards us from the courtyard.
"Are we going for a breath of air, or..." Fleur looked at me with a wild gaze. "'a breath of air?'"
"Without subtext," I nodded, following that very couple walking towards us with my eyes—the girl's hairstyle was disheveled, but she didn't care.
"Pity," surprisingly quickly she resigned herself to such a thing.
The garden into which the rather large inner courtyard of the castle was turned was indeed good. Rare magical lanterns, no less magical fireflies flying over rose bushes or along paths—all this gave the surroundings a completely unique atmosphere. The teachers created a real garden here with paths, benches, bushes, and small trees of different heights, which allowed creating an illusion of an infinite route during a walk, along which you walk and walk, and there is no end to it, and after every turn you see something new.
"...minus fifty points..." Snape's voice came from somewhere far away, and we just walked and drank.
"...minus twenty points..." we heard his voice again, but from the other end of the garden.
Passing by a ridge of bushes behind which an artificial pond could be seen, we clearly heard some rustling and movement there. Exchanging glances, Fleur and I briskly looked into these bushes, creating bright Lumos on the tips of wands that appeared in our hands by themselves.
"Well-well," I parodied Snape's voice. "Who do we have here?"
A girl and a guy from the fifth year recoiled from each other without looking, dashing off in different directions at a trot, and the girl was adjusting the neckline of her dress, covering herself with a cloak. A moment, and they disappeared.
"Hee-hee-hee..." Fleur and I laughed quietly and went for a walk further.
"Turns out, seeking out such couples is much more interesting," Fleur listened to the surroundings with shining eyes, "than being one of them."
"Especially if you know the manners of a certain gloomy professor."
In about fifteen minutes of such a walk, out of spite, no other way, we dispersed six couples who were selflessly kissing, allowing themselves some liberties in studying each other's anatomy. They ran like from fire, as if they were committing something so illegal that it couldn't be worse. On the edge of my magical sensitivity, I felt pursuit and observation behind us, but remembering the conversation between Romanova and Kuragina, I suspected that this observer, the only one by the way, is Romanova herself. Does the girl have nothing to do, huh? Although, considering that she came to the ball with Polyakov, about whom it is difficult to say anything good—not surprising.
"We have a tail," I whispered quietly in Fleur's ear, leaning slightly.
"Yes?"
"I think I know who it is. Shall we provoke?"
"And how?"
Looking around, I rather sharply turned off the path, pulling the joyfully squeaking Fleur with me. A moment and we are in the bushes.
"Oh, how the heart is beating," she smiled, pressing against me and placing my palm slightly above her chest.
"Fleur," I exhaled reproachfully, but she only smiled wider, her eyes shining.
"I know, but I won't stop trying. I simply like it," she answered quietly.
Her behavior might be misleading, but despite all this, she held a magic wand in her hands and was ready for any surprises.
"A couple of seconds," I whispered and we prepared, although she didn't let me remove my hand, and all this really aroused, albeit without excesses.
Saying "this," I mean absolutely everything. Gloomy but beautiful garden, starry sky, atmosphere. Beautiful girl, a drop of alcohol, silence, breathing, gaze. Setting a trap, waiting, the slow run of seconds.
It seemed like an eternity passed, but in fact, no more than ten seconds. The bushes rustled sharply, and onto the tiny patch behind these bushes, where Fleur and I stood and prepared to meet guests, Romanova literally flew in her burgundy dress, which in the darkness of the park seemed black.
"Aha!" she shouted accusatorily, clearly wishing to catch us in indecency and pointing her wand.
Only we were ready and immediately disarmed the brown-haired girl, twisting her with simple binding charms.
"Hic..." she uttered, swaying a little and looking with a slightly wild gaze. "Unexpected... dammit..."
Exchanging glances with Fleur, we supported the swaying Romanova again.
"And why aren't you kissing?" she shifted her gaze from me to the Veela. "Kiss."
"Are you drunk?" I asked the obvious question, although in fact, Romanova was not so much drunk as tipsy.
"By no means. Where would alcohol come from there? Hic... Is that alcohol? Funny... Scoundrel."
Rustling of bushes forced Fleur and me to prepare again. Polyakov came out into the "light of God" with two glasses.
"...Wait, we haven't finished..." he broadcasted into space, but upon seeing us fell into a stupor. "Uh-oh..."
I quietly whispered: "Petrificus Totalus," and the guy sharply stood at attention, falling to the ground.
"Goat," Romanova jumped in place, turning around. "Decided to get me drunk... Thank you."
"O-kay," I thought, dispelled the charms from Romanova, and Fleur and I, without saying a word, took her by the arms, and came out of the bushes.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Romanova broadcasted, inspired by such a turn of events. "And where are we three going? Saying right away... Hic... I haven't participated in such things yet."
"And not in such?" I couldn't resist a dig.
"Oh, and in such too... yeah generally, not a participant. Nowhere. Even didn't let me into the tournament. Bitches."
"Have you drunk before?"
"Me?" she was indignant and almost broke free, but eventually continued to walk between me and Fleur, allowing herself to be led wherever we pleased. "Decent girls don't drink... Voluntarily, as it turned out. Hic... What is it?"
After one of the turns we ran into Professor Snape, followed closely by Karkaroff actively trying to explain something. Actively, and extremely quietly, clearly covering himself with privacy charms tied to a person.
"What are you doing here?" Snape asked dryly and with notes of irritation.
"Walking, Professor," I answered, expecting a reaction.
"Then walk."
Snape waved his cloak and walked quickly somewhere further into the park, and Karkaroff hurried after him, throwing a quick glance at me. It seems the Durmstrang Headmaster has thoroughly fed up our Potions Master with the mere fact of his existence.
Soon Fleur, Romanova, and I decided to return to the Great Hall, meeting a few more couples on the way. Surprisingly, outside the Great Hall, students broke up precisely into romantic couples. Most likely, some large groups had long found unused classrooms or other rooms for spending time. At least in order to get drunk without prying eyes—no matter how good or bad my opinion about Hogwarts and its students, but, as it sometimes seems to me, alcohol and teenagers are inseparable concepts.
Music performed by the Weird Sisters continued to play in the Great Hall, but very few dancers remained—almost everyone preferred to break up into companies, sit at tables or sofas, losing that feigned aristocracy—like schoolchildren at prom, everything was somehow... Rolling, maybe? But not this caught my eye, but some clearly escalating hysteria at one of the tables.
"What's there?" Fleur also noticed this, and importantly, she very much disliked that such a calm holiday was being spoiled by some ugly nastiness.
"Fight!" a predatory smile appeared on Romanova's face, her gaze sharply focused and became absolutely sober. Outwardly.
"Let's find out," I nodded, and we moved in that direction.
Only we took a couple of steps towards the table where the conflict was unfolding, I could make out that the sources of the loud argument were Ron Weasley and Hermione. The first, it seems, decided to attend the event after all, albeit without his eternal friend Potter. He was wearing a black suit and robe, clearly from someone else's shoulder, and his face was flushed.
"...idiot, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione threw sharply and loudly.
Instantly picking up speed, my sister rushed to the exit from the hall, and tears just began to appear in her eyes. Around the table towards which I was swiftly walking, other students from different years could be seen, listening with a detached look to the recently flared up and, apparently, ended scandal. Look, Malfoy with comrades, for example, stood literally five meters away and received true pleasure from what they saw.
"What will you do?" with excitement and slight indignation directed at those around, Fleur asked, tearing Romanova from my arm. We almost approached the table.
"Don't know yet."
"Waste the redhead!" Romanova spoke quietly, but with feeling, waving her hand to me, as if blessing for feats.
When I approached, Ron turned to me.
"Oh, another one. Just like his sister... Consorts with enemies," he literally spat out.
One of the twins, who was nearby, wanted to somehow calm his younger brother, but didn't have time.
"Tell me, Weasley," I came up close, looking at the angry, disgruntled, and reddened Ron. "Why would my sister leave your company in tears?"
"I don't give a damn about any traitors who go to balls with Krum... He is an enemy, and that says it all..."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw how this very Krum, a minute ago standing with two glasses in the company of his comrades, looks around—now to one side, now to the other—and, it seems to me, cannot understand where Hermione has gone.
The structure of a simple and essentially joking curse, once caught on platform nine and three-quarters, surfaced in my memory. Exactly such a structure I recreated in my hand, clenched a fist and sharply hit the redhead in the jaw with a right hook. Characteristic sensations from the blow and sound could tell that the jaw is done for.
With the blow, it seems, I overdid it, and the redhead just tipped back unconscious.
"Oh..."
"Ah..."
Exclamations were heard from different sides.
"Ooh-ooh-ooh," Malfoy along with comrades drawled contentedly.
"Can't leave him for a second..." one of the twins resented, immediately appearing next to Ron and lifting him from the floor, sitting him on a chair and attaching him to it with charms. I just stood and waited. Fred, or George, hell knows which one, looked at me.
"Questions? Claims?" I raised one eyebrow, like Snape.
"Well, he deserved it, what can you say..." one of the twins shrugged.
"That's wonderful," I turned around and moved away, and Fleur cast such a contemptuous look at the redhead that even I felt ashamed.
Considering that the show was over, Fleur, Romanova, and I moved away to the buffet where the Veela's comrades used to be, and now—no one.
"Perhaps it's time for us to disperse," Fleur said with a note of sadness. "Drinking only with alcohol, food..."
Our gazes shifted to Romanova, who with appetite in her gaze was putting various canapés onto a small plate.
"Micro-sandwiches—gorgeous," the brown-haired girl in a burgundy dress nodded to herself, but suddenly shifted her gaze to me.
"Hmm..." she put the plate on the table, abruptly approached and instantly hugging me by the neck, kissed me.
Even if the kiss was quite simple, albeit by no means meek, but only for the first second. As soon as Romanova felt the responsive movements of lips, the kiss became vulgar to the point of horror, but just as short.
"Like that. Now can eat too," she returned to her affairs, carefully and according to a completely incomprehensible principle selecting canapés and putting them on her plate.
"Yeah..." all I could say. "And I didn't even plan such a thing."
"Like that, huh?" Fleur put her hands on her hips, shifting her gaze from me to Romanova. "I am here, means, restraining myself, compromising my desires."
"Kiss too?" notes of uncertainty about the correctness of the act clearly slipped into my voice.
"No way. Under the same circumstances to do it—is to become second."
"You have absolutely nothing to do, right?"
"It's just a kiss," the Veela shrugged, and a satisfied Romanova hummed some tune, tearing apart canapés with seafood and getting directly to the seafood.
"And you, I see, are not wasting time?" a voice sounded behind my back, and I immediately turned around.
Cedric stood quite satisfied, sober, but tired.
"Are you following me or what? How do you constantly appear from who knows where?"
"I was walking by," our champion shrugged with a smile. "We equipped a large classroom next to the common room for gatherings with the guys there. Me and a few other people lost the draw and we got the role of suppliers..."
Cedric patted a small bag thrown over his shoulder.
"Yeah? And when did you manage?"
"Not me. Just ours had nowhere to put energy since the beginning of the holidays, so they went all out."
"So seemingly... prepared for the ball, no?"
"Not exactly," Cedric smiled even wider. "Come to us. There are many people from different years there, you won't feel superfluous."
Turning to Fleur, I asked her opinion with one look, but she only shook her head.
"Perhaps, I'll decline," she smiled. "I'm just tired."
"Walk you?" I asked out of politeness, but was ready to walk her.
"No," Fleur looked somewhere to the side, and following her gaze, I saw a small group of French students. "I won't go alone. Moreover, the time is approaching twelve."
"Yes?" I instantly conjured Tempus. "Indeed. Katya?"
"Wha?" she ate carefully selected canapés without any unnecessary curtsies, holding the plate in her hands.
The girl, it seems, had already attended to her condition and did not look drunk at all, except that something could still be read in her gaze.
"What are the plans?"
"Have no idea at all. I am full of energy... But it seems that this is a deception," she thought.
"Maybe walk you to the ship?"
"Are there options?"
One look at Cedric was enough, as he shrugged, like: "Have no idea."
"Come with us."
"And do they feed there?"
"Most likely."
"Give drinks?"
"Not excluded."
"Somehow everything in your castle is too devoid of specifics. Also kissing on every corner..."
I followed Cedric, and Romanova walked next to me, having already got rid of the plate. She took my hand, leaning a little.
"Oh, how tired I am..."
"Actress."
"Of big and small theaters?"
"Uh-huh. And your name is too famous to name it."
The prefect led us rather quickly, by secret Hogwarts paths and passages, almost to the house common room and led us into a spacious classroom. There were about thirty people here, but it was damn spacious. Lots of sofas, armchairs, tables. Drinks, food, card games—everything was here. Like a variation on the theme of the house common room, only in a different setting. There were familiar faces here, and those with whom I had never even exchanged a word. Cedric kindly offered me and Romanova to sit on one of the sofas, next to which stood a table with food and drinks, well, and we followed this simple suggestion.
Surprisingly, but as it seemed to me, only a moment passed, and Romanova had already passed out, resting her head on my shoulder, and then I began to fall into sleep, succumbing to the accumulated mental fatigue. The noise of relatively calm gatherings only provoked the brain to shut down more.
Well... not a bad ball turned out. Hope, besides what I already know, nothing bad happened.
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