23
Time blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope of silks and smiles, of whispered conversations and the rhythmic glide of dance steps. Lady Malfoy’s meticulously crafted schedule left Alice breathless, swept from one social engagement to the next with barely a moment to pause for breath, let alone reflection. The days melted into a seamless tapestry of introductions and polite inquiries, of carefully chosen words and practiced smiles - not a moment to relax, not a single instance for her thoughts to wander.
Without her even noticing, the months slipped away from Alice, as she was carried by a stream that steadily picked up pace, threatening to sweep her under in her role.
"The Nott family has arrived early," a house-elf squeaked, appearing suddenly at Alice's elbow. "And Lady Parkinson is asking about the seating arrangements again."
“Thank you, Pippy,” she muttered with ferver. “And the desserts? Did we confirm with the kitchens the revised menu with the lemon cakes and not the fizzing sherbert?” Even as she spoke, a panic set in as she imagined the sweet ices splattering the guests.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she muttered in uncharacteristic fluster, quickening her steps to the kitchen to verify herself.
The spring equinox celebration was nothing like the solemn silence of the winter solstice – the Dark Palace buzzed with activity, house-elves darting to and fro, musicians setting up in the grand ballroom, and what felt like hundreds of last-minute details demanding her oversight.
She hurried down a corridor, consulting her lists, only to collide with something solid and decidedly corporeal. Strong hands steadied her before she could stumble, and she looked up to find Voldemort watching her with unconcealed amusement.
"In rather a rush, aren't we?" he observed, his lips curving into that dangerous smile.
"My Lord," she managed, trying to gather her scattered papers. "I apologize, I was just—"
"Scurrying about like a frantic house-elf, invoking your muggle god?" he suggested, a sardonic glint in his eyes. "Wherever is our constant, composed Alice?"
Alice felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Well, you know, someone has to make sure the dessert doesn’t attack the court."
His smile widened fractionally. "And here I thought the spring equinox was meant to be our most... relaxed gathering."
"Tell that to Lady Malfoy," she muttered, then caught herself. "I mean—"
But he merely chuckled, a sound that still surprised her whenever she heard it. "Go," he commanded softly. "Before the entire celebration descends into ruin without its hostess."
As she hurried away, she could have sworn she heard a single, low chuckle following her down the corridor.
The afternoon found Alice stationed in the grand entrance hall, a picture of composure despite her earlier flustered state. Her pale blue gown caught the light perfectly, and if anyone noticed the slightly harried look in her eyes, they were too polite to mention it.
"Lady Waters," Draco inclined his head as he passed, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I trust your... dancing has improved?"
"Lord Malfoy," she returned smoothly. "I trust your toes have recovered?"
His lips twitched. "Remarkably resilient, dragon-hide boots."
Before she could retort, Theodore Nott approached, a nervous tic in his jaw as he looked about nervously. "Hey Alice… might I have a word about the… seating arrangements?"
"Of course," she replied, noting the way his eyes darted toward where Pansy Parkinson was entering with her family. "Though I'm afraid any changes at this point would be... difficult to accommodate."
"I see," he said tensely. "Even if certain arrangements will…uh well. You know.”
"Perhaps that's precisely why they remain as they are," she suggested delicately. His eyes widened slightly at her implied knowledge of the situation.
As the afternoon wore on, Alice found herself greeting one familiar face after another. Lord Greengrass with his calculating smile, Lady Zabini in her striking emerald robes, even old Lord Selwyn who had once looked through her like she was less than a ghost now gave her the curtest of nods, with perfect pure-blood courtesy.
It struck her then, how different this was from her first formal event. She knew these people now – their histories, their allegiances, their subtle feuds and careful alliances. She had earned, if not their respect, at least their acknowledgment of her position.
The thought carried her through the rest of the arrivals with renewed confidence. After all, she wasn't just the Dark Lord's muggle ward anymore – she was the co-hostess of the spring equinox celebration at the Dark Palace itself.