24
The grand ballroom of the Dark Palace glowed with enchanted starlight, floating crystal blooms casting warm light over the assembled magical elite of Britain. Alice stood just outside the massive double doors, her heart thundering in her chest as she waited for her cue to enter.
And then he was there beside her, a dark presence that somehow made her racing pulse steady. She turned to look at him and nearly forgot to breathe. While his features retained their serpentine quality, there was an undeniable handsomeness to him – smooth and angled, as if he was a marble carving come to life. His dark formal robes cut an imposing figure, silver threads catching the light like scattered stars.
"I hear you've been practicing," he murmured, offering his arm.
"Extensively," she replied with a touch of sureness that made his lips curve. "I wouldn't want to disappoint."
The doors swung open, and they entered together, every eye in the room fixed upon them. Alice felt a surge of confidence as they approached the center of the ballroom. After all those hours of practice with Antonin, as they had smoothed out their steps, surely she could manage one simple performance—
Her foot caught his on the very first turn, and she stumbled, catching herself with her pointed heel into his foot.
The assembled court seemed to hold its collective breath. Alice looked up in horror, only to find Voldemort watching her with unconcealed amusement, his red eyes dancing with mirth.
"Extensively, you said?" he murmured, so only she could hear, smoothly guiding her into the next turn as if nothing had happened.
"I may have overestimated my abilities," she whispered back, horrified as heat rushed up her face.
"Clearly." His voice held that dangerous warmth she'd grown so accustomed to. "You should know, you're the first person to cause me bodily harm in decades. Almost... impressive.."
As they continued to dance, his subtle magic guiding her steps, Alice became aware of the whispers rippling through the crowd. Not about her misstep, but about the unprecedented sight before them – their Lord, openly teasing his muggle ward, his usual cold mask softened by something that looked remarkably like affection.
"They're staring," she murmured.
"Let them," he replied simply, and spun her into another turn – this time, perfectly executed.
As the opening dance drew to a close, other couples began joining them on the floor. Alice felt herself relax slightly as the attention of the court dispersed, though she remained acutely aware of his hand at her waist, his graceful movements guiding her own.
"You know," he mused, his voice pitched for her ears alone, "for an endeavour you spent weeks practicing, that was a rather spectacular failure."
Alice wished the marble floor would open up and swallow her whole. "I don't suppose we could pretend that didn't happen?"
"And deny the court such memorable entertainment?" His eyes glinted with that dangerous humor. "I think not."
As the dance ended, he led her off the floor with perfect courtesy, though she didn't miss the slight smirk playing at his lips. The assembled guests watched their every move, whispering behind jeweled fans and crystal glasses.
Alice buried her face in her hands. "I stepped on his foot. In front of everyone. After weeks of practice.”
"Yes," Narcissa agreed, a strange note in her voice. "And he laughed about it. Do you understand how extraordinary that is?"
The celebration spun on in a whirl of music and magic. Floating lights danced through the air like stars come down from heaven, and enchanted flowers bloomed along the walls, their petals casting ever-changing patterns across the marble floors.
Alice found herself swept into conversation after conversation, each interaction easier than the last. She discussed ancient runes with Lord Greengrass, debated the merits of different magical translations with Theodore Nott (who seemed to have temporarily forgotten his seating arrangement woes), and even shared a surprisingly pleasant moment with Draco Malfoy over the enchanted orchestra's selection.
As the evening progressed, Alice found herself relaxing into her role as co-hostess. Even her earlier mishap seemed to have worked in her favor – the court's whispers now carried notes of fascination rather than judgment, all centred on how their Lord had responded to her blunder with unexpected warmth.
Later in the evening, Antonin appeared at her elbow. "May I?" he asked formally, extending his hand.
As they took to the floor, Alice was relieved to find their countless practice sessions had paid off – at least with him. They moved in perfect synchronization, their steps flowing smoothly through the complicated patterns of the dance.
"Now she dances perfectly," he muttered, his eyes glinting with barely suppressed mirth. "After all those hours of practice, you manage to step on the Dark Lord's foot instead of mine. I'm almost offended."
Alice groaned softly. "Don't remind me. I don't understand what happened. We practiced for weeks!"
"Performance anxiety," he suggested, guiding her through a turn with practiced ease. "Though I must say, your... mishap seems to have worked in your favor. The court can't stop talking about how he smiled."
"Wonderful," she replied dryly. "I'll be remembered as the muggle who made the Dark Lord laugh by injuring him at a formal event."
"There are worse legacies," Antonin observed, his lips twitching. “But perhaps next time, aim for his robes instead of his feet."
“Next time, I’ll start practicing a year early.” Alice mumbled, then sobered. "Thank you, by the way. For all those midnight lessons."
The night flowed on like enchanted wine, each moment blending into the next in a whirl of music and magic. Alice found herself falling into an easy rhythm – greeting guests, managing small crises (like when Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson nearly crossed paths by the refreshment table), and somehow, despite everything, enjoying herself.
"I must say," Lady Zabini commented, materializing beside her with the silent grace that had made her famous (or perhaps infamous), "you've caused quite a stir tonight."
"Not intentionally," Alice assured her, watching the dancers swirl across the floor.
“Do you know,” The elegant witch's dark eyes sparkled. "I've attended these gatherings for decades, and I've never seen him quite so... entertained. It's rather shocking, actually."
Even the more traditional members of the court seemed to have relaxed their usual rigid formality. Lord Selwyn was actually laughing at something Draco had said, while nearby, Lady Greengrass appeared to be enjoying a lively debate with the Rowle patriarch.
"You see?" Narcissa murmured, appearing at her side. "Sometimes the most memorable moments arise from what we think are our worst mistakes."
Alice watched as another couple took to the dance floor – young Astoria Greengrass and Draco, moving with the practiced grace of those born to this world. "I suppose there's something to be said for making an impression."
"Indeed." Narcissa's eyes held that knowing look again. "Though I don't believe any of us expected quite such a... warm response from our Lord."
Neither did I, Alice thought, remembering the way his eyes had danced with mirth, the gentle teasing that had turned her mortification into something almost... magical. As she thought about it, she could still feel the heat of where his hand had rested at her waist.
From across the room, she caught glimpses of him throughout the night – always at the center of some important conversation, yet somehow his gaze would find hers occasionally, that dangerous smile playing at his lips as if sharing a private joke.
It was, Alice realized with a start, exactly what Narcissa had promised – not a solemn ritual like the solstice, but a true celebration. And somehow, her spectacular mishap had only added to the evening's charm, breaking through the usual formal veneer to reveal something more genuine beneath.
As the celebration began winding down in the early hours of morning, Alice found herself taking a moment alone in one of the quieter corridors, letting the cool night air from an open window clear her head. The evening had been a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, and unexpected success – despite her initial mishap with Voldemort (or perhaps because of it).
She was about to return to the great hall when voices drifted from around the corner, making her pause.
She was about to return to the ballroom when voices drifted from around the corner, making her pause.
"The northern project proceeds according to schedule," a voice she recognized as Lord Greengrass's murmured. "The initial phase is complete."
"Good," another voice replied – Lord Selwyn, she thought. "The equinox energies should serve our purposes well. I look forward to seeing how the theory translates to practice."
"As do I. It's remarkable how the most overlooked resources often prove the most valuable."
Alice felt a slight chill, though she couldn't say exactly why. Before she could hear more, footsteps approached, and she quickly moved away, her mind turning over their cryptic exchange. Something about their tone had seemed... off, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what had bothered her.
But before she could dwell on it, a house-elf appeared to inform her that Lady Malfoy needed her assistance with the departing guests. Alice pushed the unsettling conversation to the back of her mind, plastered on her hostess smile, and returned to her duties.