Chapter 41
It was just as well Draco had arranged everything before the ball. He had a hotel room to sleep in, a bag of clothes to change into, and a hair appointment the next day to restore the same short cut he was forced to take in spring. It was enough that no one could tell what a mess he was when he returned home. He held it together long enough to greet his mother, then his aunt, and of course Teddy. He listened to one wistful comment from his mother about Draco attending his first equinox ball before he completely lost it and had to get away.
Thankfully, the adults just thought it funny that he was tired and wanted to return to bed.
He didn’t sleep. He ached to, but his mind whirled and his heart raced and there was no sleep to be had. He lay in bed for hours second guessing every choice he’d ever made. As if as a child he might have done something different and won King Voldermort the war. Or, as an adult, he could have done something different and learned how to be a wallflower who never said anything and wasn’t noticed by the king.
Draco was in a sleep-deprived haze when he stumbled back down the stairs for dinner.
His mother kept smiling at him. It was excruciating. She hardly ever smiled, anymore. She wanted to know everything. Draco was forced to reflect on the details of his evening, pulling out pieces extravagant enough to impress his mother and bland enough that they might have happened to anyone. It was only after he spent ten minutes reflecting on the ship’s transformation from daylight to stars that he realized both women were watching him intently.
“That sounds wonderful, Draco,” his mother said. Her eyes were shining with life. He didn’t dare say anything that would contradict her assessment.
“It’s about time you were invited,” Andromeda added, pragmatic but pleased.
Draco ducked his head. “Everyone was invited,” he mumbled, before shoving a forkful of chicken into his mouth.
Andromeda waved the comment off. “You’ll be invited next time, too,” she said decisively.
Draco slumped. It was likely Andromeda already knew, in that way old wise people knew everything, that he had made friends with equinox committee members. How was he to explain that he no longer cared to go?
“What happened next?” His mother asked, because there was no escaping.
Draco fidgeted with his fork as he considered how to merge fact and fiction to protect his secrets without once again being overcome by the guilt of lying. He talked about how horrible the grog was because he thought it would make his mother laugh. Andromeda even chortled. Draco realized he hadn’t actually visited the other rooms and couldn’t describe them, so instead he described the intricate costumes he saw, drawing inspiration from his companions throughout the night, but also fabricating a few so that it wouldn’t match anyone they knew.
“Remind me, what did you go as?” Andromeda asked.
The lie was ready on Draco’s lips. “An eclipse,” he said. He rubbed a hand over his shorn hair. “I wore a black suit with gold edges. It was clean and simple.” He saw Andromeda’s musing and added, “Next time I’ll probably do more,” to cut off any commentary. Draco caught his mother’s small smile as she delicately took a bite of food. His mother glanced up and winked at him.
“You should have let me pay for an outfit,” Andromeda chided gently.
Draco gulped and stared down to speak to his plate as he replied. “I like making it myself.”
Andromeda could only nod at that, and because she was loyal to Draco she had to remark on how talented Draco’s sewing was. Then she followed up with more questions about the activities and Draco was panicked and admitted the king’s announcement about clues and puzzles. He explained in detail the constructed captain’s quarters where he found the marine chronometer and the stamp. He extrapolated on minor details to make it sound bigger than it was - and to eat up time while his family ate their dinner. The women were thrilled, but Draco couldn’t make the story last beyond the dinner course. The servants cleared their plates and brought out dessert, while his mother once again beckoned him to share what happened next.
Draco didn’t know what happened next for those who had stayed in the ballroom, but he didn’t dare reveal he took part in the greater puzzle. So, he lied. He took what details he could recall from the beginning of the evening and spun a tale of lining up to see the king and claim the prize for the clue, which was a dance with King Harry. Draco had danced with King Harry before, and he used that to explain what it had been like to waltz around a ship deck with the leader of their kingdom. He caught his own wistful tone and cut himself off. He dunked his spoon into his pudding and took a large swallow to buy time. He added after, “I was the better dancer, of course.” His mother laughed, truly sounding happy.
Draco felt awful. He wished his evening had been as lighthearted as the picture he painted for his mother. He wished there was someone to confide in about what had actually happened. There wasn’t a single person in his life he could tell. Loneliness nearly overwhelmed him, and despite his desire to see his mother laugh again, Draco had to get away from the cheer. He strained himself to maintain a smile and thank both women for his evening. Then he made excuses to leave.
Sleep finally overtook him that evening. He slept far too long into the morning, and still felt miserable when he awoke. He braced himself with more lies to share with his mother, but ultimately decided to put off seeing her by finally unpacking his bundle of clothes from the ball.
He laid out his outfit piece by piece. The exquisitely embroidered doublet. The only competently embroidered cape. His fully stamped invitation. The undergarments, hose, and breeches. The jewelry he’d ornamented himself with. Of course, his mother’s mask. He reached in again, but there was nothing left. Draco froze for a moment, then scrambled to turn the bag inside out. Nothing. He turned to his bed and pulled off each piece of clothing, examining each side and sleeve in case the bit of cloth had gotten stuck. No, it was nowhere. His handkerchief was lost.
True panic gripped him. Of all the things he could have lost, why did it have to be this? It wasn’t a piece of his costume, it was the most precious gift from his dear friends and he knew deep down they’d be devastated by his carelessness. Draco slumped to the floor, trying to grip at his hair but it was too short and he could only cling to the back of his head as he rasped in air and tried to think.
Where had he lost it?
No. It couldn’t have been there. He wouldn’t have left it for the king.
Only it had been dark, and he had been panicking, and he hadn’t checked what he’d scrambled to pick up off the floor before he ran from the room naked. He hadn’t even slipped back into his whole outfit before beelining for the nearest exit. He knew the castle well and was able to leave with hardly anyone even spotting him.
Draco groaned into his hands. It would be impossible to get the handkerchief back from the castle. Just as it would be impossible for him to lie to Molly and Lucy about having lost their gift. He knew they would forgive him, but also that he would lose a piece of their trust forever.
Draco was such a fuckup.
He shoved everything back in the bag, no longer caring about the pieces he had left from the ball. He was so lost in self loathing that he hid in Teddy’s room instead of joining his mother and aunt for breakfast. He tried to buck up and give Teddy all the love and attention he deserved. Usually, a morning with Teddy was exactly what Draco needed to cheer his spirits. Today, Draco’s turmoil lingered. Teddy must even have seen the cloud of misery surrounding Draco. The child compensated for it with extra hugs and requests for Draco to read him all the books Teddy knew Draco loved. It made Draco’s heart soar, and filled him with guilt that he couldn’t even restrain his angst so it wouldn’t tarnish Teddy.
After tucking Teddy in for his nap, Draco stepped out of the room and straight into his Aunt Andromeda.
“Walk with me,” Andromeda said in her no nonsense tone. Draco dared not do anything but follow.
Andromeda walked him to her study. She sat behind her large desk, next to the wall of shelves covered in pictures of her loved ones. She gestured for Draco to take a seat across from her. He sat, awkwardly, feeling like he’d been summoned to be scolded for bad behavior.
Andromeda scrutinized her nephew, noting his averted gaze and fidgeting fingers. Draco could see her watching. But she didn’t snap at him or make a biting comment, or do any of the things Draco might have expected.
Instead, Andromeda spoke kindly. “Are you alright?”
Draco glanced up at her. Andromeda’s gaze was shrewd, but soft. He worried about what details her sharp gaze would read off his face, but suddenly the fear she was angry at him evaporated. “I’m fine,” Draco lied.
Andromeda’s eyes narrowed momentarily, then relaxed as she smiled. “It’s alright if you’re not,” she said.
“I am,” Draco doubled down.
Andromeda nodded. “If you say so,” she said, clearly not meaning it. “You seem worn down.”
Draco winced. “I’ve just had a long…” day, week, month, year… years.
“You have,” Andromeda agreed. She smiled a tight, clenched smile. “And it’s not easy facing Narcissa when she sets her mind to something.”
Draco’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.” He really didn’t.
“It seems your mother has her heart set on you having experienced that equinox ball exactly as she did hers,” Andromeda said flatly. “It’s a hard weight to carry, living up to your parents expectations.”
Draco’s brows furrowed further. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he said, not sure exactly what Andromeda was saying it should be like, but still certain that it couldn’t be right.
Andromeda gazed at her nephew thoughtfully. “What did your mother tell you of the balls?” she asked.
It felt like a trap question, but Draco didn’t dare avoid answering. As he spoke his eyes grew glassy and he stared into the distance, remembering his mother’s words. “They were like magic. They were the most beautiful events, where mystery hosts made unimaginable feats real. Only the most elite get invited, and anyone who was anyone would be there. There would be poetry, beautifully crafted with secret meanings, and the cleverest people would delve deeper into the experience. Each equinox ball was a fairytale, where anything could happen. My mother met my father at a ball, under the stars. It was love at first sight, and it was magic.”
Andromeda listened, her own gaze softening as she heard the reverence in Draco’s voice. “That does sound lovely,” Andromeda acknowledged.
Draco blinked and remembered where he was and who he was talking to. “Was it not like that for you?” he asked.
This time, Andromeda’s smile was forced in the way people smile at unpleasant memories. “I want to know what it was like for you,” she sidestepped. “Was it everything you expected?”
Draco opened his mouth to answer, but paused before words came out. Andromeda gave him time. Her steady gaze held his, but she no longer looked on him with judgment. She hadn’t for quite some time. And, unlike his mother, she wasn’t looking for details he couldn’t share without revealing too much. She was just giving him the space he needed to open up. Draco licked his lips and tried again.
“It was magic.” This was true. “The poetry was bad, but the puzzles were fun. And I was clever. Everyone saw and people wanted to be on my team.” Words got stuck in his throat but he forced them out. “I made friends,” for some reason he had to strain to say it. “It was like a fairy tale. Everyone wanted me to be there. They hugged me and cheered for me. I belonged.”
His aunt's soft eyes stared on with sympathy. “Why was that hard for you?” she asked, too perspective like so many people in Draco’s life.
Only, Draco thought maybe he could say it, to her. Just this once, in her office away from everyone else who thought he should think of the ball a certain way.
“They treated me different when I wore a mask,” admitted Draco. His voice didn’t break but his eyes clenched sad and despairing.
Andromeda nodded. “You get to be a different person,” she agreed.
Draco blinked to clear his eyes. He asked, “Um. Did you? Get to be a different person, I mean.”
Andromeda’s heavy sigh filled the room. She turned to the pictures on the shelf and stared at them, as if seeing something else. Achingly slow, she got to her feet and stepped closer to the shelf. She arched up on the tips of her toes and reached above her head until she could touch the roof of the shelf. Her fingers grazed it until she found something and pulled it down. Andromeda laid the picture frame on the desk in front of Draco, letting him stare down at a picture of three radiant young women, each in a celestial mask. Draco reached out so his fingers could graze across the frame.
“I went to a dozen of them, at least,” Andromeda shared. “Bella and Cissy loved them.” She paused then, realizing she’d reverted to childhood nicknames. Andromeda drew both hands back into her lap and sat up straight, refocusing. “Our parents only had girls, and lamented that their line would end with us. They overcompensated by insisting on each of us marrying up in society.” She pointed to the frame in front of Draco. “That night, Narcissa did them proud. Lucius had been courting another woman, but Narcissa charmed him at his own ball. She was truly the star of the evening, and Lucius never looked back. That night… well, it was when I realized I would likely never live up to those expectations. There had been a man courting me, as well, but he thought I wouldn’t recognize him in disguise and he used the evening to pursue other women. It was the first of several masquerade disappointments.”
Draco could only stare wide eyed, uncertain of how to take in his aunt’s recollections. He settled for indulging his curiosity. “But you kept going back?”
Andromeda’s smile was grim. “Anyone who was anyone was there,” she quoted Draco back to him.
“But you didn’t like them?” he needed to know.
His aunt shrugged. “I was good at the puzzles, and you saw how there can be spectacle. But, no, I don’t think they were for me.” She paused and her face lit up with a happiness Draco only ever saw on her when she looked at Teddy. “In the end, I didn’t need to be anyone. When I met Ted in that shop, I knew immediately he was the one. There was no spectacle to it at all.” The light faded a bit as she pulled back from the memory, but she still looked on Draco warmly. “There’s no right way to live your life, Draco. You just need to find the way that’s right for you.”
The words sat uncomfortably on Draco’s chest. They didn’t feel familiar, but they did feel warm and filled with possibilities. Draco supposed the discomfort was in daring to believe what she said was possible. Still… “What if I want a fairy tale?”
This time Andromeda’s smile was large, and shining, and only for Draco. “Whether it’s at a masquerade ball, or in a small stationary shop near the wharf, whenever you find your happy ending, you’ll look back, and every step that got you there will be a fairy tale.”
She believed it so thoroughly, Draco decided he could believe it, too.