thegrassisgreener-daphne:
Sure, Daphne had done her fair share of sneaking around at these dull affairs. A glutton for gossip as some might say, though Daphne preferred to call it a cure-all for her boredom. There was that St. Mungo’s Charity event where she watched ministry officials stroll off into the moonlight only to come back disheveled and breathless. She could have sworn she spotted claw marks as well. The raucous at a Shacklebolt dinner party was another notable one. Officials scurrying off to the powder room only to return deliriously and irrationally happy. Daphne suspected improper use of the Euphoria Elixir.
However, this was different, and the trove of high society scandals didn’t compare to the taste of the fresh spring air she now drew in, breathing life into the cliche she was perpetuating. Spoiled, rich girl desperate for adventure and purpose. But hey– she had to start somewhere.
The allure of adventure brought an artful grin to Daphne’s lips as she led them beyond the doorway and through the elaborate garden pathway ignoring just how taken aback Draco seemed. If anything, his uneasiness fueled her more.
“Naturally. Please accept my sincerest apologies oh infamous one,” Daphne teased, feigning her exasperation. For good measure, she spun around and curtseyed allowing herself the leeway to do so. Even if she may not have spoken to the fellow in Slytherin in years, the light hearted back and forth relaxed her, giving Daphne the proper courage to lead way with each determined step of her designer stiletto.
“Well, of course it’s a rather exclusive spot, not just any witch or wizard can waltz right in. Drinks, music, dancing. I even hear they have the finest, elf-made wine.” Daphne waved Draco on, completely sure of herself and this new found rebellious nature. The pathway from the party soon came to an end, and Daphne was now faced with the age old question: left or right. She made a start down the dimly light road, trusting her poor sense of direction and once again throwing caution to the wind. “And the best part: it’s just this way. Come on.”
Draco couldn’t help but bark a short laugh at her graceful curtsy. He still wasn’t entirely certain if she was mocking him or just playing along -- maybe a little bit of both -- but to his surprise, he found himself worrying less about that than he would have expected; instead, he was simply enjoying himself. Something of a novel concept in public, these days.
Although he supposed that a dark garden path with an old school friend didn’t really count as public, did it? Still, they had left “public” not far behind them and were ostensibly on their way to locate more “public” via Daphne’s “new, hot spot” so he decided it counted, or came near enough to counting as to make no difference. At least when his parents asked if he had enjoyed himself, he wouldn’t be lying if he replied “a bit, at least” -- which was a far step up on the last party they had coerced him into attending.
(Better not to think about the debacle that had been Mrs. Burke’s winter ball, though.)
Pulling his thoughts back to the here-and-now, Draco dipped a half-bow in mid-stride to Daphne in response and said lightly, “Oh very well, you are quite forgiven. It is far too pleasant a night to hold a grudge, after all.” Now that was just a flat-out lie; like a proper Slytherin, Draco could hold a grudge in any weather or atmospheric mood, and he suspected that Daphne shared that trait. That did nothing to undercut the intention of the comment, though -- and besides, they were merely bantering. Probably.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured noncommittally as she outlined the virtues of their intended destination. He wondered how much of that spiel was serious; he wondered what sort of “exclusivity” she meant, and whether it was the sort that included Malfoys these days. Once Draco would have scoffed at the very notion of there being anywhere in Wizarding Society that would dare turn-away a Malfoy -- but that had been before the Dark Lord.
Still, Daphne wasn’t an idiot; she knew who he was and what he was, and if she thought she could get in with him on her arm -- well, she was the one who knew the place. So all Draco said aloud was, “Sounds lovely,” and offered said arm in escort. Granted, she would be the one leading the way since Draco didn’t even know the name of the place, but that was no reason why the niceties shouldn’t be observed. “What’s this shrine of delights called, then?” he asked as they sauntered forth into the moonlight. “Go there often, do you?” Draco knew there had been some kind of engagement, and then a falling-out, for Daphne in the years after the war -- but he hadn’t paid much attention, being too consumed with his own problems to care. At the moment, he couldn’t even recall the former- fiancé’s name.
