It was no secret to anybody who knew him, really knew him, that he didn’t enjoy the events held by his parents. They were over-crowded and over-formal. He couldn’t blink without worrying that he would do something to embarrass his family, to incur his father’s wrath. He had fallen into the habit of making a few rounds, parroting the views of his parents for anybody it was important to impress, playing a song or two when his mother asked him to, before slinking away to hide in another wing of the manor.
Which was exactly what he had done tonight. The sound of quiet and serious conversation could be heard from the drawing room, it was a small event. Rather intimate, all things considered. But that didn’t make his starched and classical dress robes any less uncomfortable. It didn’t stop his collar from cutting into his neck, it didn’t stop his hands from shaking, or his constant anxiety from swelling with the sound of laughter. Merlin, he just wanted the evening to end, but it would be hours until the few select families decided to leave.
He stared down at the grand piano before him, still trying to drown out the sound of the party with his own quiet song. The piano room was cavernous, despite being considered one of the manor’s more humble rooms, and it seemed to swallow the sound. He sighed, letting the melody falter to a halt. A brief glance out of the large, ornate windows only served to make him feel trapped so he pushed away from the instrument, standing rigidly and brushing himself off.
Only as he turned to leave did he notice Emma standing in the doorway. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. A nervous habit, but a rather frustrating one when his hair was slick with Sleekeazy’s.
Their relationship had always been a little strange. When they were children they had been close, only to drift apart during their first few years at school. He had always assumed his embarrassing display during the Sorting Ceremony had been responsible for that, though he could hardly blame her for protecting her own reputation. Now that they were seventeen, now that he had begun to earn back the respect he had lost after showing such blatant signs of weakness, their friendship was blossoming again. Tentatively, but they were making progress regardless.
“Does Father know you are wandering the halls of our house?” He asked quietly, eyeing her outfit as he did so. It was his first chance to speak to her, given how many adults expected his undivided attention and only now was he realising what she had chosen to wear. A red coat... or was it a dress? With black knee high boots... He tore his gaze away, knowing it was incredibly inappropriate to be staring. “Dressed as a Muggle, no less.”
