32Faveo is such an overbearing, chauvinistic, arse-backwards, he-should- be-kicking-his-own-shins-for-being-that-stupid, example of why you don't mix blood lines and marry cousins. Would he shut up and stop being so damned full of himself for one second? One moment of peace is all I require. Really, just enough to take a bath and dress without his roses, notes, bitter chocolates (never enough to get fat on, by the bye, because he would rather A.K. himself than have me gain an ounce. I want to get fat just so he'll leave me alone.), and moonlight serenades with his flat voice.
Though my comments that first day might prove otherwise, I was never in love (or even in toleration, for that matter) with Faveo. The bastard enjoys thinking so, so why not humor him? That theory has bitten me in the arse, now hasn't it? He has thought that I was obsessed him since the moment he laid eyes on me. We were toddlers and he would insist on playing international delegate, and guess whom he told to order the dinner for the gala? Yes, that would be me. He decided I would be his wife from three years old and I played along. Then I met Draco.
When talks started with Draco's family, Faveo left. I didn't ask any questions, all I knew was that he was gone and should stay that way. Soon after he left, though, he sent me a series of three letters, each saying the correspondence (which we didn't have) couldn't go on and that he hated me. That didn't bother me one bit, I didn't want to be within two hundred meters Faveo, but what did bother me was that in the third letter, he attacked me. He explained that he couldn't think of even associating with me because my family was shamed. I was a slut and my money was cheap. Insult me, okay; insult my family, you'll suffer. I sent him one back saying good riddance, I hope he chokes on something sharp. Judging by his sentiments a few days ago, he either didn't get it, or is thicker than dragon hide. I have the distinct feeling that it's a bit of both.
He just waltzes into my home and expects me to fall, love struck, at his feet? He should think himself lucky he still has feet. He attacked my family's reputation and that is something not to be tolerated. I don't know what is going on with Draco, but I do know that no matter what I will not give him up.
~~~
The next morning, I stepped back into my room after showering and stood by my vanity. I picked up a guilt brush and began working it through my coarse hair. The moment I looked down for a ribbon, I wanted to hit something with my fists. Not one note from Faveo, but two. I threw down my brush, watching a diamond fly from it with small satisfaction, and opened the first.
Dear Pansy, my love,
You must be my escort to the ball this evening. I couldn't bear to touch another woman's hand, but your fair one. Find the dress of dresses, spare no expense, and meet me in the floo room at seven.
Forever awaiting your beauty,
Faveo
P.S. Would you wear this favor? It would give me pleasure beyond what you know.
I was filled with the cold feeling of hatred the moment I saw his handwriting. After I finished it, the note began to smolder and smoke. The small flames gave way to three intertwined silver chains connected to three blazing amber stones, and an emerald green card. I threw the piece of jewelry down, though this time nothing flew off, and read the back of the business card.
I hope you enjoy the jewelry I have designed for you. When I heard of Mr. Maligo's want of a special surprise for you I just jumped at the chance to create something to don your exquisite neck, Miss Parkinson. There are three stones, your past, present, and future with Mr. Maligo, each with it's own mystery.
Think of us in the future,
Johnny Iris, maker of fine jewelry and amulets
I tossed the card into my fireplace. Johnny Iris would do anything to have his merchandise on a rich family's daughter. I was tempted to throw the necklace into the flames as well, but I stopped. Iris was famous for having little quirks about his work; the thing could blow up a whole house if it wanted to. I doubted he'd try anything too experimental on a girl's necklace, but his reputation as an eccentric always got me.
Now what ball was this for? I figured the answer was in the second note, so I opened that as well. It was not from Faveo, but from Lucius.
Dear Miss Parkinson,
You are ever so cordially invited to a ball this evening in the name of your esteemed guest and first suitor; Faveo Maligo.
(It went on to name his accomplishments, most of which were not real, and the families that had also been invited.)
Your gracious host,
Lucius Malfoy
I don't know how long I stood there, stunned, but the wave of emotions that followed almost knocked me off my feet. My eyes clouded with rage and tears. The only full thought I could get out was 'find mother'.
~~~
I did find her, but I also found I truth that I did not want to own to.
She sat me down and explained what was happening.
"Dear, you know what this invitation means." I nodded, keeping my mouth closed, for it was the only thing I could do to keep from crying. "You can't be surprised."
"But I am," I yelled, fighting the tears. "They went back on their word!"
"Yes, that's what people like us do. We don't do loyalty, we are Slytherins, all of us, to the bone. We fight against the systems that don't work for us, only to put up ones that do." She stopped for a moment and sighed. "It was a verbal contract. They planned it this way, honey. They're Malfoys, they fix the game."
"But why?" The hot tears burned my cheeks.
"Lucius has found a snag in his plan, now he's fixing it."
"What was his plan?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
I stood, enraged that I was just a part of some sick game of chess. I always knew I was a bartering piece, but never has it worked against me in this way. "In the mean time, what am I to do? Marry Faveo." My mother didn't look me in the eye and I fell to my knees with the weight of that one gesture. One invitation and my world is crashing down. "I am, that's why he's here, isn't it? To collect me as his pay for being out of the way all these years? What better way of getting me out of Draco's sight? Sell me off to a Russian jackass." I laughed a bitter laugh that wasn't my own. "A brilliant plan mother. My gratitude to you, Lucius, and Draco for letting me see how full of shit everyone around me really is."
My mother looked up with wet eyes as well. "This wasn't my plan Pansy, this wasn't the way things were supposed to happen."
"Best laid plans of mice, men, and bastards mother." I got up and went to the door, betraying no emotion. "See you this evening." And shut the door.
~~~
I understood why this was happening. Being a part of our circle means you are related to everyone and can trust no one. You are cousins, you are aunts, you are uncles, you have all the bonds of friendship on the surface, you all have the bruises of enemies beneath. It is the curse of the blood running through my veins and through Draco's: loyalty is never ours. You owe loyalty, you never bestow it, and you only owe it to two people, yourselves, and the dark wizard of your day. We are a new species, you see. We are not ruled by a monarch or a minister. We are ruled by self-interest, etiquette, and blood; and there are only two kinds of blood swirling in our melding pot, pure blood and spilled blood. Well damn etiquette, damn loyalty, and praise self interest. I am going to do things my way now and heaven help anyone who gets in my way.
~~~
Blaise
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, never ever do this to your eyelashes! Honestly! Blaise, you have hair! You have fantastic vibrant eyes! Please tell me you did not touch your eyelashes with that thing!" Max yelled, pointing accusingly at the dark black wand of eyeliner.
"Max, I'm not an infant, I can use eyeliner myself. Besides," I drawled. "Pansy Parkinson does the same thing and she is your clientele." As much as it pains me to say, Pansy does have impeccable taste and uses her Gringotts allowance well, but my mother has given me my own allowance and I refuse to be second at this monumental ball.
"You are an infant! Please, Pansy uses this because of her impeccable skin and flawless eyelashes. You, on the other hand, have those pretty little red things that need this." Max whipped out a clear wand with sparkling fluid inside.
"If you're going to wear my dresses, you will wear my make-up as well. My designs are never done halfway." He said, plucking hair from my eyebrows, with more force than necessary, for every syllable.
"I pay you good money, Max; I don't need this." I said flinching as he roughly curled my lashes.
"And so do hundreds of other girls, all going to this event. They all put up with me and don't complain."
"Even dear Miss Parkinson?" I said tauntingly. She is obviously Max's favorite. Her styles are the ones people see then ask Max to duplicate.
"Bitter? Just because Pansy has enough natural style to not have to be told simple rules, like you do. Now get into that dress, it may need alterations."
"Are you implying I have no style?" The thing did not just say that to me.
"Yes, now, please, get into the dress, I have other appointments-"
I cut him off. "I am paying you to insult me?"
"No, you're paying me to make you look good, but that's proving to be a harder task than outlined. Good bye." He packed up his things and hopped into the fireplace. Just as he left, Marcy Blackmode, my older, Ravenclaw, cousin, came in.
"Where did Max run off to? I wanted to see if he could put a little flair on my dress."
"He insulted me and ran off." I snarled, oh I hate it when I snarl, it makes my mouth look so unappealing.
"Really?" She asked, pulling a stray piece of jet black hair behind her ear. "I've never heard of him running out like that, he's usually very dependable. I wonder if it isn't too late to get you another stylist?" She said, holding up her elegant hand to snap for a house elf.
"I don't need another stylist for what I want to do. I can look ravishing myself." I said firmly.
"Don't tell me you're going for Draco." She sighed. "He's only been on the market for twelve hours." Marcy fell into one of my plush chairs.
I just stared for a moment. Really how is she a prefect? "Well obviously! I'm not getting this beautiful for Marcus Flint." I shuddered at the mere thought. Then I regained myself. "I know he's wanted out of that relationship for ages. And as you know when a family that has gone into talks with another family for betrothal holds an honor ball for the betrothed's first suitor, it means they relinquish the marriage promise. There by leaving the former bartering pieces to fall into a more prosperous marriage."
She looked at me for a moment. "Blaise, how do you get the grades you do?"
"Hon, if Hogwarts were finishing school, I would be head girl." I smiled and turned back to my vanity to finish my make-up.
"Faveo was Pansy's first suitor? The poor girl."
"He is a beast isn't he? His parents were the first to approach Pansy's. She doesn't remember this, but they were betrothed for a few years, then Draco came in." I slid into my dress to see how it looked and had Marcy button the back.
She sighed as she buttoned. "I know etiquette states it to be so, but are you sure it's done between them? Perhaps it's just a plot by his father- "
"Don't be silly, you just worry about your dress and I'll worry about mine. Maybe I'll stop by and see Pansy for a moment, just to see how she's carrying on. To be dumped by the most handsome boy in school must be awful." I giggled. It is so refreshing to see Pansy in pain. You see she's been my rival. Every date she had, every pair of shoes she owned, I wanted them. Now I can have what she wishes to have. I can rip her heart out and stomp on it (and oh how I want to). Nothing is so sweet as revenge.