The Snails
It was Malfoy’s family turn to host a party. They usually hosted the grandest of all parties the pureblood would ever lay their eyes on.
The Malfoys preferred comfort for the guest. They often used their huge backyards to provide tables for each family. The Greengrass got one close to Malfoy’s. The table was the imitation of Hogwarts’ dining table which meant that food could appear as scheduled. The rundown was dinner and then socialisation and live music. Better, the guest could order any food they wanted.
Everyone had already received their meals except Story.
“It’s alright,” Story tried to assure her family. “You can eat first. I won’t mind.”
“What did you order?” Dad asked before he sipped his champagne. “Maybe I can check with the host.”
“I ordered—”
“Has your food not arrived yet?” A new, cold and demanding but familiar voice asked in disbelief and distaste. All heads turned to the famous, tall and beautiful man.
“Mr. Malfoy! It’s nice to meet you.” Dad quickly got up from his seat and offered his hand. Mum, Story and Daphne followed suit. Draco Malfoy began shaking hands with his gloved hands. When it was Story’s turn, she looked at him as their hands gently brushed.
Standing right in front of her was a tall man with slick blonde hair and sharp jawline. His eyes were a deep storm cloud that she could drown herself in any minute. His shoulders were broad beneath his black suit. He tilted his head slightly when their gaze met. She could feel his gaze slowly burned into her, studying her as if she was a diamond or something precious. Shivers began to run down her spine the more he stared.
Dad cleared his throat. “It was such a wonderful party, Mr. Malfoy.”
Malfoy immediately lowered his hands and nodded briefly to Dad before he turned to Story. “Well?”
“We were about to ask you about that as well.” Dad spoke before Story could open her mouth. “My daughter’s meal hasn’t arrived yet. Could you maybe check the kitchen?”
Malfoy took the small paper that had her family’s orders and read it. “What kind of order is this?”
Story bit her lips, trying not to grin like a fool.
He looked at her in disbelief. “Did you order snails?”
“I-I’d like to try them,” Story found herself stuttering.
Daphne snorted. Story ignored her and tried to hold her gaze against him. But whenever she looked at him, she found herself unable to forget the way his gaze slowly studied her.
He nodded. “I’ll see the kitchen.”
Then he walked away. Her family then returned to their seats.
They all let out their breaths.
“Snails? Really?” Mum asked in disbelief after they all had calmed down and continued eating. “Do you even know what snails taste like? Why did you order that?”
“Malfoy said we could order anything we want,” Story explained. “I tried snails.”
“She’s testing the system, Mum,” Daphne added. “I don’t think they know how to prepare—”
Suddenly, Story’s meal appeared on the table. It was indeed snails but a bit different from what she imagined. It was plated so beautifully that she had to make sure it was snail.
“Do you know how to eat it?” Mum asked with concern. “You know, you can switch with mine if—”
“It’s okay, Mum. I can eat it.” Story glanced at Daphne as she lifted the snail fork.
Daphne chuckled in disbelief. “Let me teach you, sister.”
After dinner, her family went in their own ways to socialise with others. Story would stick with Daphne while finding a group that they could sneak in and socialise. They finally found one and sat nearby to listen their gossip.
“How was your dinner?”
Story turned to her right. She didn’t notice that Malfoy had been standing next to her. His presence was so calm that no one would probably notice that he was in the group too.
“It was good,” Story replied.
There was a brief pregnant silence before he asked, “You ordered snails, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Story raised her eyebrow. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to know what you serve to your guests?”
“Did you expect me to keep up with them?”
Not really.
But she didn’t want to look defeated right in front of him. “As a good host—"
“As a good host, I have to make sure that you’re not starving. I don’t care what you eat.”
“Even if I have food poisoning afterwards?”
“That won’t happen,” Malfoy assured her. “My parents do a very, very thorough quality control on our ingredients. However, if that happens because of your allergy, then it’s your fault, not mine.”
“Let’s say I have one and it’s my fault. Will you still take care of me?”
He raised his eyebrow. “Why should I?”
“Because I’m your guest.”
“You have allergy, you’re not careful with it, and I’m supposed to take care of you. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he sneered.
“I mean, if you become my guest and you have food poisoning, I’ll take care of you.” She saw the fire flickering in front of her, warming the guests. “I’ll let you sleep on my couch until you feel better.”
Then everyone around her began to laugh at something. Even Daphne joined the laughter with a man beside her. They hadn’t seemed to realise each other’s presences, because when they did, they looked at each other and giggled together.
“Maybe I can make an exception for you.”
She turned to him. “How so?”
“I’ll let you rest on my couch as well.”
She crossed her arms on her chest. “I’ll give my guest a cup of warm tea and hot towel.”
“I can do that as well.”
She couldn’t help grinning. “If my guest needs it, I’ll give them a massage.”
He raised his eyebrow. “What does massage have to do with food poisoning?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they just feel like they need it so bad.” She bit her lips to stifle her laughter. “It’s fine if you can’t give it to your guest. I mean, as long as it’s in my capability, I’ll do it.”
He sighed in disbelief. “Just rest, a cup of warm tea and hot towel for you. Nothing else.”
“Are you a man of your words?” Story challenged him.
“I’m always trying to be,” Malfoy admitted. “Are you a woman of your words?”
She hesitated before she parted her lips and replied, “I am.”
Suddenly, everyone around her raised their glasses and made a toast for something that she didn’t catch on. She tried to listen in the conversation but decided to give up when they all started laughing together again. Even Daphne made a small toast with the man next to her and drank together.
“I don’t think I have introduced myself properly.” It suddenly stuck in Story’s mind. She held out her hand to him. “I’m Astoria Greengrass. You can call me Story.”
“Story as in story in a storybook?” Malfoy asked.
She snorted. “Yeah. My name is a bit complicated so they shortened it to Story.”
“It’s not.” His eyes fixated on the fire in front of them before he muttered audible enough for her to hear, “It’s beautiful.”
She felt a tug in her chest.
When Story was little, everyone kept saying that her name was such a tongue twister. Daphne came up with the solution to call her Story. Ever since that, everyone finally stopped commenting on her name. They stopped talking about it. She stopped thinking about it. She stopped loving the name that her grandmother blessed her.
Until that night. Beneath the stars. Among the crowd of rich pureblood. Next to a tall man that she had never imagined herself having a conversation with.
She could feel the laughter around her started to fade away, as if the world around her began to dissolve, leaving Malfoy and the sound of flickering fire accompanying her. She saw him holding his right-hand glove with his left fingers, hesitation was painted in all of his face. He began pulling it off his right hand—
“Malfoy!”
Story watched Dahlia Avery approached them. She ignored Story and tugged Malfoy’s sleeve. “Your parents are looking for us. Come on.”
Story looked at Malfoy alarmingly. Please, don’t go—
“Enjoy the party, Miss Greengrass.” Malfoy tugged the glove back onto his hand and turned to Avery. “What do they want this time?”
She watched them disappearing from her sight. Then, she lowered her hand that she had unconsciously lifted to reach for him.