HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER
NEW YEARS BALL

( Wednesday 31st December 1997 )

After watching a practically comical match between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams, where Ravenclaw had been practically annihilated, everybody had been sent home for the Christmas break. Rowan spent a majority of it in her bedroom, studying unfortunately, or out in the garden practising Quidditch by herself. She met up with Pansy in Muggle London for a day out, however, thanks to the time of year, it had been absolutely packed.

Christmas Day itself was nothing but a disappointment as always. Lunch had been served by the house elves in the dining hall, but she and her father had sat opposite sides of a long table. She'd been given money, and then once he had cleared his plate, he was off to attend some important business, apparently.

New Year's Eve came around rather slowly, but when it did, Rowan was actually happy. Finally, she could get out of the manor, away from her father for a while. She was excited to see Pansy again, even if they'd already met up in the break. However, surprisingly, Rowan also found herself eager to see Blaise and Theo again.

Draco was another story. She was glad to have a break from him for a while. The sex dream she'd had about him played on her mind a little too much for her liking, but she managed to brush it off right before Christmas. He'd upped Quidditch practice to three times a week after seeing how good Gryffindor were this year, so she had to see him even more often.

When the evening rolled around, Rowan unzipped the bag hanging up in her wardrobe, delicately pulling out the dress that she had bought in Hogsmeade specifically for tonight. She was excited to wear it. Even the woman who owned the shop had gasped upon seeing Rowan wearing it, and she couldn't wait to show it off.

She slipped it on once she had done her hair and makeup. Winged eyeliner of course, but she'd also gone for a berry-coloured lip stain. Her dress was everything Rowan could have possibly wanted in a dress.

It was black and strapless with a sweetheart neckline, corset-like really with the way it cinched her waist in, and then the skirt flowed down to her feet, a slit in the side that allowed her leg to poke through. The top was decorated with sparkling jewels that faded and became sparse down the skirt. Her favourite part was the sparkled mesh cape that came with it. There was dark material that covered her bare shoulders and reached up her neck, the rest flowing down to rest on the floor with her skirt.

Rowan looked in the mirror and she felt powerful.

When the clock in her bedroom read nine in the evening, Rowan carefully stepped down the staircase, reaching the foyer where her father was waiting. His robes were dark and neat, his greying hair pulled back into a short ponytail behind his head. He glanced up when he heard her heels click on the marble flooring, his lips pursing into a straight line.

"That slit in your dress is hardly respectable, is it, Rowan?" He hissed, but held his arm out so she could place hers on top for the side Apparition. "You don't leave much to the imagination."

Rowan squirmed at the comment, suddenly feeling exposed and disgusted, but she felt the pull behind her belly button as she was Apparated away from Yaxley Manor and planted outside the gate of Malfoy Manor.

She walked alongside her father, her eyes trained on her feet as he spoke to the man at the gate. They shared a laugh over something, but Rowan wasn't paying attention. Her arms wrapped around her middle. She wanted to disappear.

She followed him down the path, all the way to the front door where someone took his coat and her bag. Her father glanced around, grinning as he approached the host of the party.

"Lucius," Corban grinned, extending his hand. "Thank you for having us."

Lucius grabbed Corban's hand and shook it hard. "Thank you for coming, Corban. Miss Yaxley, lovely for you to come."

Rowan knew her lines. "It's lovely to be here, Mr Malfoy. Your home looks amazing."

Lucius' smile seemed deadly — harsher than even Draco's. "Draco tells me that you're on his Quidditch team. I must say, back in my days at Hogwarts, we hardly saw a lady taking part in such a violent game."

Rowan clenched her jaw ever so slightly. "I can handle it."

Corban chuckled, his hand finding Rowan's shoulder and digging in. "Rowan focuses more on her studies than Quidditch. She's aiming for a Ministry job."

"Is that so?" Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Ah, a true Slytherin. Ambitious."

Rowan merely offered him a small smile back. Lucius Malfoy made her skin crawl.

"Where's Narcissa, Lucius? I must tell her how grand your house looks," Corban said.

"Oh, unfortunately Narcissa is still stuck in France," Lucius replied, "She was here this morning, only there was an issue with the house we just bought out there that she's in charge of refurnishing. Supposedly, the wizard that specialises in the plant that she insists on having in our front garden plans on retiring and moving to Bulgaria in the New Year. You know how my dear Narcissa is with her gardening, Corban."

Corban laughed. "Of course, Lucius."

"She should Apparate back soon," Lucius said and patted Corban's shoulder. "Feel free to enjoy our party. I'm afraid I must mingle with some of our other guests. Narcissa will have my guts for garters if she finds out I have been ignoring them."

Rowan's father barked yet another loud, obnoxious laugh and turned so Lucius could head over to a man and a woman dressed in dark robes with aristoic features. She followed her father into the Malfoys' ballroom. It was huge, maybe nearing the size of the Great Hall, and was filled with tables and a huge space on the floor. Music played and decorations were hung around.

Rowan spotted many familiar faces. Clay Inkwood stood nearby with his younger sister and their parents, talking to a family Rowan didn't recognise. The New Years balls were always for Purebloods (not strictly or even explicitly, but there was not a half-blood in sight, and no invitations had been sent out for them either). Therefore, the place was crawling with Slytherins and rich people, many of which were Rowan's classmates.

The Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria, sat off to the side, looking bored in grand dresses, resting their chins on their palms, looking over in the same direction. Rowan glanced in the direction they were looking, ignoring the chatter of her father with some family she didn't recognise properly.

Her eyes met silver ones. Draco Malfoy was dressed in a black suit, his hair styled perfectly as it always was. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, his eyes boring into Rowan's, a few men from the Ministry chatting his ear off to the side. He hardly looked like he was listening to them.

Why was he looking at her? Rowan swallowed and glanced away, self consciously pulling some of her hair out from behind her ear.

"You remember Rowan, don't you?" Corban placed a hand on the back of her and pushed her forwards.

She forced a smile at the group of men, but realised with a cold flush why they looked so familiar. Most of them she had seen since, but they were near enough the exact group of men who had been over her house when she was younger – when Fenrir Greyback had called her down. They looked the same, just older and greyer and balder.

"Happy New Years," Rowan murmured.

One chuckled. He looked drunk already. "Happy New Years, Miss Yaxley."

"You can go and find your friends," her father said, releasing her shoulder. "If you need me, I will be here."

Rowan gave a small, firm nod and offered no more words as she retreated from her father and his Ministry friends. She glanced around, spotting Mr and Mrs Parkinson sitting and conversing with the Rosiers. However, there was no Pansy in sight.

"You look beautiful." Clay had parted from his family and was holding out a glass of champagne for her, his own half-empty and cradled in his other hand. "You also look lost."

He wore a kind smile and it just made Rowan feel worse. She felt bad whenever she saw him, unless it was at Quidditch — then she was focused on the game. Rowan sort of wished she could just like Clay back, and not be involved in Theo's revenge plan on Draco. Life would certainly be a lot easier.

"Not lost." Rowan sent him a half-hearted smile. "I was just looking for —"

"Parkinson is over there." Draco's voice was firm as he interrupted her, nodding his head ever so slightly to the other corner of the room where sure enough her best friend was sitting with Theo and Blaise.

Rowan hated that he somehow managed to look better up close and he didn't smell terrible either. There was something in his scent that was sweet, perhaps like apples, but the old spice overpowered.

"Right," Rowan replied, "Would you like to come and sit with us, Inkwood?"

Clay seemed to falter a little. Rowan realised she'd said his last name instead of his first.

"I'm okay, thanks. I should keep my sister company. There's not many other Gryffindors about. She doesn't really know anyone," Clay muttered, averting his gaze back to his family.

His sister looked like the feminine version of him. Probably about fifteen years old. She stood beside her mother, looking as bored as anything.

"Your sister can j–"

"Have a good evening, Inkwood," Draco cut in.

Rowan had almost forgotten that he was standing there, slender fingers wrapped around a glass of alcohol.

"Practice is bumping up to four times a week in January," Draco said, his face and voice void of any sort of human emotion. "And we have our Ravenclaw match in twenty days. I hope you've been practising."

"Of course," Clay said, almost through gritted teeth, as if angry Draco would doubt him. "Even got a new broom for Christmas."

Draco raised his brows. "How nice..." He muttered and then exhaled through his nose. "Come on then, Yaxley. I'm sure your best friends are all eager to see you."

Rowan's brows pinched together for a brief moment, and then a cold hand was touching her back through the thin black mesh cape she wore. Whilst not overly large or princess-like at all, Draco made sure to make a point of stepping around her skirt, and though he was slightly behind her, his hand on her, he still led the way.

"Let's replace that," Draco said, plucking the glass that Clay had given her and placing it on the tray of a nearby waiter, grabbing a different one off of it. "This one is sweeter — you can really taste the crispness of the apples."

Rowan accepted it, but was baffled into silence. Why was Draco actually acting decent? Was it because there were so many Ministry officials about? Was his father keeping him on a tight leash? Even then, she thought he'd ignore her to avoid problems — not actually act like a good host.

"How was your Christmas, Yaxley?" Draco asked, his eyes trained on their friends as they approached them.

"It was... okay," Rowan replied unsurely. "How was yours?"

"Amazing," he answered, though he sounded completely sarcastic. "Hello."

They came to a stop in front of their three friends. They all looked amused or confused, eyebrows raising and faces pulling as they realised Draco and Rowan had come to find them together. Rowan only thought about how good Pansy looked in her dress. Her bobbed hair straightened and her makeup glittering, her dark green dress clinging to her upper half and offering a plunging neckline.

"Oh, look. You two are matching again," Blaise teased, referring to the all-black outfits of Rowan and Draco.

Both simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"What a shit party, Malfoy," Pansy quipped, "The music is making me want to fall asleep."

Draco ignored her.

"You look beautiful, Rowan," Theo stated.

Rowan smiled. "Thank you, Theo. You look handsome. So do you, Blaise."

Blaise grinned smugly and offered her a compliment back.

They did look especially handsome today, their best robes on, their hair done and their skin radiant. Unfortunately, Draco still seemed to outshine them from where he stood beside the two other Slytherin boys, and Rowan hated it. She hated it so much, and she had to remind herself that just because he had a pretty face, it didn't mean he was worthy of her affection or interest.

Pansy was quick to guide them to the nearest empty table. The teenagers sat around it, drinking their champagne and mostly sitting in silence, watching the other party-goers. Most people in the ballroom were over forty. It didn't exactly make for the party of the year — Rowan had attended better ones in the common room, but she supposed this would be the kind of thing she'd be forced to enjoy in the next twenty years when she was married with small children.

"I think my mother is scouting out a new husband," Blaise laughed, pointing towards a beautiful woman with the same high cheekbones and dark skin as Blaise. "Theo, Rowan — I'd hide your fathers unless you want them dead within the year."

Theo scoffed. "Let her have him."

Rowan's cheeks were flushed from the alcohol as she gave a small laugh. "My father's over there if your mother would like me to personally direct her."

Pansy gave Rowan a small warning look and pulled her second champagne glass away from her. "Maybe slow down on that, Row."

Rowan didn't protest, though she also wasn't very pleased.

"Hello there, Draco," a voice purred, and Rowan groaned so loudly that everybody turned to look at her — including Draco and Daphne, who'd come over to no doubt lure him in.

"She's had quite a bit," Pansy muttered at the offended look Daphne was giving.

Draco was sort of smirking in amusement.

"What is it, Greengrass?" Draco huffed, turning to face the blonde.

"Would you rather sit with my sister, Millicent, Tracey, and I?" Daphne asked, running a hand up Draco's suit and smoothing against his broad shoulder. "You can bring Zabini and Nott, if you wish."

"How kind of you, Greengrass," Draco said, a certain bitterness to his tone as he plucked her fingers off of him like she was some sort of diseased tissue. "Though I think I will be more comfortable over here."

Daphne gritted her teeth. "Would you like us to come over and sit here, then?"

"If you do that," Draco said, "I think I would be more comfortable somewhere else after all."

Rowan's grin widened and she began to laugh. Pansy was snickering too, but she tried smacking Rowan to shut her up.

Daphne huffed. "Fine. Don't expect me to wait around for you though, Malfoy. I have other options, you know."

She waltzed away, her dress and hair swishing behind her, her shoulders tense as she carried the weight of her anger and embarrassment.

"She makes my blood boil," Pansy muttered as she took a sip of her drink. "Homophobic cow."

Rowan stared at Draco for a few moments. He was acting odd today. She had seen him reject girls before, including Daphne on numerous occasions, however, he seemed almost carefree with it. There was a shift in the air.

"Where's your mother, Draco?" Mrs Zabini suddenly appeared by them, placing a hand on the back of her son's chair, another in his hair as Blaise tried to get away. "I haven't seen her all evening."

"My mother's in France, Mrs Zabini," Draco replied, "An unexpected meeting with the French Ministry over our documents that allow us to ward our holiday home."

Rowan felt her face tug down into a frown. Hadn't his father had said something about flowers? Granted, Rowan hadn't been paying full attention, but those were two completely different stories.

Mrs Zabini huffed. "Yes, it took me ages to get my licence to use permanent magic in France. I hate all of the rules abroad for foreign magic. Absolute waste of time if you ask me. Why on New Years, though?"

Draco only pursed his lips. "You know how the French are."

"Oh, yes, I do!" Mrs Zabini barked a laugh. "My second to last husband was French."

"So you must understand completely, Mrs Zabini." Draco's tone was almost silky, a small smile on his face.

He'd had the Pureblood training too, it seemed. Rowan knew the politeness all too well.

Rowan climbed from her seat. "I'm going to head to the bathroom, Pans."

"I'll come with you."

The two girls headed for the bathrooms, doing their business and washing up in the sinks. Pansy fixed her fringe in the mirror and wiped some of her smudged lipstick off from the peak of her upper lip. They linked arms as they left, laughing over the look on Daphne's face. Rowan found herself keeping Draco's unusual behaviour to herself, and the fact that the Malfoy men had two different stories about the absence of Narcissa Malfoy. She didn't know why. Usually she told Pansy everything as soon as it happened.

"I wish Astoria Greengrass wasn't so fucking straight," Pansy muttered bitterly as they stood by the bottom of the staircase. "She looks gorgeous in that dress."

Rowan glanced over as she blindly grabbed a third glass of champagne from a moving waiter. Astoria was two years below, in her fifth year, and dressed in a silver dress. Her hair was a dirty blonde colour but had been pinned up into a bun. She did look pretty, Rowan decided.

"How do you know she's straight?" Rowan asked, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Pansy shrugged. "She just looks it. Hasn't she been with Malfoy?"

"I don't think so, actually," Rowan replied, "I think I heard Daphne threaten her once about it. Said something about not wanting her future children to have a father that's shagged their aunt. Proper weird, she is."

Pansy laughed. "Delusional too! I'd pay to read her thoughts. I think I'd roll over and die at most of them."

Both teenage girls smiled to themselves. Rowan shook her head at the idea and Pansy watched Astoria again for a few moments before sighing.

"I suppose we should make it back to those three idiots. Oh Merlin, never mind. Minister Fudge is going up to Malfoy. I think we should wait it out a few moments so we don't have to talk to him," Pansy muttered.

Rowan grinned slyly in agreement, watching as her blond enemy was forced to converse with Fudge. Though, she bet Draco Malfoy was the sort to absolutely love kissing the arses of people higher up than him. He used to brag a lot when they were younger — he still did sometimes.

"Excuse me," a dangerously familiar voice muttered from behind her. "Oh, Rowan. Sorry, I hardly recognised you from behind. You look beautiful. As do you, Parkinson."

"Adrian," Rowan greeted her ex-boyfriend with a surprised look. "Thank you."

Somehow, it had completely passed Rowan's mind that he might be here tonight. He looked slightly older, even if the last time she had seen him was only June. His dark curly hair seemed thicker, his jaw sharper and wider, his shoulders broader.

Pansy raised an eyebrow and didn't reply to his compliment. She'd never been much of a fan of Adrian.

"How have you been?" Adrian leant himself against the wall. "How is your final year treating you?"

"I've been just fine, thank you," Rowan replied.

"And the Quidditch team? I assume you are still on it."

Rowan felt slightly childish talking about her school team, especially when Adrian was a part of the Ministry now, already high up enough to have made a bigger status for himself.

"I am. Slytherin have only played Hufflepuff so far," Rowan answered, "And we beat them— of course."

Adrian barked a short laugh. "I'd be concerned if you didn't. Though, I heard Montague gave Captain to Malfoy. If he's anything like his father, he's all talk and no action. I've worked with Lucius recently — such a tosser."

"Malfoy's a good captain." Rowan didn't even process the words before her lips were speaking them. "I have very high hopes for Slytherin this year."

Adrian scoffed. "Right," he muttered sarcastically, raising his chin as he glanced around the room. "What do you say about dancing with me later, Rowan? For old time's sake."

"I'd say she has more self-respect than that," Pansy quipped.

"Oh, come on," Adrian chuckled, "Our breakup was mutual, wasn't it, Rowan?"

She didn't like his condescending tone. Almost as if he was trying to make a child smile or laugh out of embarrassment. He even ducked his head to match her height.

"I don't stay friends with my exes," Rowan replied firmly. "Therefore, I'll have to decline your offer. Have a happy new year, Adrian."

She linked arms with Pansy and the pair began to head back to the three Slytherin boys.

"I never liked him," Pansy muttered. "Too cocky. Also, it's twenty minutes until midnight. He totally planned on kissing you at twelve and then probably hoped to get lucky."

Rowan tried to suppress a giggle. "And who asks an ex to dance?"

"Adrian Pucey, apparently," Pansy giggled back. "You seem to have him wrapped around your finger, Rowan. Though..." Pansy grinned. "It may seem as though you are not quite as Pucey-whipped for him."

Rowan rolled her eyes and attempted not to burst into laughter as she gently shoved Pansy. Pansy opened her mouth to release yet another joke, but Rowan's name was called yet again. She resisted the dying urge to groan out loud. All she wanted to do was sit at a table with Pansy, and maybe Theo and Blaise, and perhaps carry on with Blaise's game of tipsy-ly rating the outfits of the party goers surrounding them.

"I'll be right there," Rowan whispered to Pansy before turning direction and heading to her father's table.

She dreaded everything as she approached. Rowan could detect all the signs of drunkenness from the slightly rowdier table. It was filled of men with hungry eyes, staring her down as if she wasn't young enough to be their daughter. When she made it to her father's side, he was still sitting in his chair.

Rowan's heart seemed to freeze when his hand moved out, wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer to him. Perhaps this was normal in a healthy father-daughter relationship, but her father hadn't laid a hand on her since she hit double digits in age. Everything was frozen.

"You see?" Corban said, and then forced her to turn with his hand. "Too grown up on her. She's not even eighteen until May."

"Yes, but seventeen's still the wizarding age to be!" One beside her father cackled. "She looks lovely, Corban. You should be proud of your daughter."

His hand moved to the slit in her dress and Rowan was quick to take a step back. There was a lump in her throat.

"Is there something you need, father?" Her voice was hoarse. She looked anywhere but at him.

  "We were just talking about how much you look like your mother, sweetheart," one of them spoke from across the table with a thick Cockney accent.

"That's a compliment, by the way," another chided, a filthy grin on his face. "A beautiful woman, Venus was."

"Come on, Corban." One man shoved her father a little. "Look at your daughter. Isn't she a sight for sore eyes?"

Rowan could feel the bile rising in her throat. Especially as she felt her father's eyes rake over her figure, silently violating every inch of her. Magic stemming from pure anger heated the pads of her fingers, threatening to act up as though she was a small child who didn't understand control yet.

"You're all fucking disgusting," Rowan hissed lowly, stunning the laughing men into silence, her eyes landing on her father last. "Especially you — I'm glad my mother isn't around to see what a complete and utter pig you are."

She took off. Back up the stairs, her hands shaking, her stomach twisting. Rowan retraced her steps back to the large bathroom she'd been in with Pansy before. She shoved the door closed behind her and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, breathing heavy for a moment before she began to retch — and then she threw up all of the champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

She stayed there for a moment and tried to ground herself. Rowan's brown eyes clenched shut. She still felt sick. Sick beyond the physical form of vomit — the kind of illness that seeped under your skin and clung to you and tried to drag you to the ground and curl you up.

They were talking about me, Rowan realised. My father and his friends had been watching me, talking about me sexually, degrading me... Grown men. My own father.

Rowan was sick again. 

"It wasn't the champagne, was it?" Draco's voice rang from behind her. Rowan turned, realising she had forgotten to lock the door as she saw the blond boy leaning up against it, his arms folded, his silver eyes watching her. "The sweeter kinds are often better in small doses. I saw you go for thirds."

"Go away, Malfoy," Rowan whimpered. Then she mentally kicked herself for sounding so weak and pathetic.

He pushed off of the door, watching as she flushed the chain and closed the lid, turning around to face him. Rowan looked pale, her entire body trembling.

"What did they say to you, Yaxley?" Draco demanded. "Those men, your father — what did they say to you?"

Rowan released a bitter laugh, using her palm to swipe away the tears that had managed to silently cascade down her heated cheeks. Draco Malfoy wasn't as ignorant as she thought he was. She shook her head, not looking at him. She took her time to cast a tooth and mouth cleansing spell as she looked in the mirror, ridding her of the taste of vomit. Surprisingly, Draco still stood there.

"As if you care," Rowan said, "Just go away, Malfoy. Find another bathroom to pester someone else in."

She heard the sound of the lock clicking. For a moment, she thought maybe he'd snuck out swiftly and silently, but upon glancing up, she realised Draco was still in the room, and he'd locked himself in there with her.

"Malfoy —"

"Just tell me, Yaxley."

Rowan felt the rage and sickness in her chest. Bubbling and burning, making her feel dizzy with hatred. She saw red when she looked at Malfoy, who'd shed himself of his blazer. It hung on the radiator with the hand towels beside him.

"You– you wonder why I hate you so much," Rowan snapped, "You —"

"I know why you hate me," Draco deadpanned, "You've made it your mission to remind me every day since fourth year."

Rowan shook her head furiously. "No! No! You don't even know the half of it, Malfoy! When you talk about girls, about people, you sound just like those men down there— like my father. It's disgusting, it's vile! I can't fucking stand you."

Theo would hate her for saying that, especially after all of this supposed progress, but she didn't care at the moment. Rowan wasn't thinking of Theo or his stupid plan.

Draco clenched his jaw. He looked angry, but he bit his tongue. "What did they say?" He asked again, quieter.

The dark-haired girl swallowed thickly and glanced away once more. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and then eased herself inside of it, her legs sticking out, her dress billowing around her, her eyeliner smudged as she planted her forehead against her hands. Draco watched her, unmoving.

Just leave, she wanted to scream.

"Awful things," she admitted, "I'd rather rip my ears out than have to listen to it all again."

Draco exhaled heavily through his nose. "I can make them leave."

Rowan's head snapped up to face him, scrunched up. "What is wrong with you today? You're acting decent. It's fucking offputting."

Something shifted in Draco's demeanour. He looked a little weaker, a little more human. Rowan could tell by his eyes and the way that he carried himself that maybe he'd had one too many glasses of champagne too. Most likely, he wouldn't be here without the alcohol in his system.

"I haven't been acting differently," he replied. "I just wanted to know what made you so upset that you were sick."

Rowan's stomach turned again at the reminder. "I don't mind it. The way you've been acting tonight," she muttered, "It beats the Malfoy I know."

Draco rolled his silver eyes and then took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at her.

"Are you going to come back down or stay up here and wallow in your sadness?"

Rowan glared at him. "I'm staying here. Send Pansy."

"The clock strikes twelve in ten minutes," Draco said.

"I don't care. I'd rather be up here than down there with those monsters."

He sighed. "I think I'll stay then."

Rowan looked at him like he had grown two heads. "What? Why? No, leave. I want to be by myself."

"Don't be so pathetic, Yaxley," Draco scoffed. "I can't think of many things sadder than spending your New Years in a bathtub crying whilst there's a party going on downstairs. Why are you even in the bathtub?"

"It's comfier than the floor," Rowan muttered. "And most likely cleaner too."

Much to her surprise, Draco slid down beside her. He sat on her dress a bit, but she didn't care. Her night had been ruined anyway.

"It's not comfy at all," Draco disclaimed.

"Then leave then," Rowan mumbled. "Enjoy your New Years party. Go snog Daphne on the dancefloor or whatever."

"Haven't you heard? Greengrass has more options. I'm afraid I've lost my turn," Draco replied, and Rowan very nearly snorted at his attempt at a joke.

"Impossible," Draco said, "You're smiling at something I said. I think I'll remember this moment forever, Yaxley."

She hadn't even realised he'd made her smile. Rowan tried to wipe it off of her face.

"Nobody will ever believe you," she muttered, a lightheartedness to her tone too.

Draco scoffed. "As if I'd tell people that I spent New Years Eve in a bathtub with Rowan Yaxley."

  Rowan sniffed. "We never tell anyone of this," she agreed.

It went silent for a moment.

"Any New Year resolutions, Yaxley?" Draco asked halfheartedly, his gaze trained on the ceiling above them.

Rowan thought briefly. "I don't make resolutions, but I'd like to pass my NEWTs. And for Slytherin to win the House Cup."

More silence.

"What about you, Malfoy? You don't strike me as the type to make resolutions either."

He hummed. "On the contrary, I have made some. All the things you said and more."

"More?"

"I want to see my mother more," Draco replied, his tone odd – distant. "I want her to be proud of me."

"She'll certainly be proud if you lead our team to victory," Rowan said, playing with the black material of her dress.

"Not on a shallow level," Draco admitted, "Not because I got an Outstanding in my Potions NEWT, or because I was a good Captain. I want her to leave knowing that — leave back to France, that is — that she raised a good son. One she's proud of."

Rowan furrowed her eyebrows. She couldn't offer him any kind words. Couldn't lie to him and tell him he was a good person, because even if he had his tiny moments like now, Draco wasn't a good person.

"Right. So what's the way to doing that then?" Rowan asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know exactly yet. Still figuring it out."

They went silent again.

"I want to be a better friend to Theo too," Draco said, and Rowan knew he was drunk then. "Robertson asked me to dance with her before midnight earlier. He looked crushed. I don't... I don't like seeing him like that. Knowing I caused it."

Rowan stilled. She hesitated. "That sounds like a good one," she muttered stiffly.

"This is sappy as shit," Draco muttered, flinging an arm over his eyes. "I'm going to regret this all so much in the morning."

Rowan gave a half-smile. "I didn't think my night would end like this."

"Yeah?" Draco scoffed. "How did you expect it to end? Slow dancing with Inkwood? Giving him a snog behind one of the pillars?"

Rowan shook her head. "No. Nothing to do with Inkwood."

"Pucey? I saw you talking to him."

She shook her head again. "Definitely not him either. I was planning on being alone, I suppose."

"That's pathetic," Draco muttered.

Rowan raised a brow. "Whose neck did you plan on shoving your tongue down then, Malfoy? If not Greengrass or Robertson."

"I had no particular girl in mind."

"Do you ever wish you did?" Rowan asked in a hesitated whisper. "Have one person — that you love, that loves you back? Someone you can look at and know they'll already be looking back, or someone that would look for you in a crowd of people, someone that would pick you and defend you every single time?"

Draco's jaw was slightly clenched as he stared ahead. Just as Rowan thought he was about to answer, the bathroom door handle rattled and there was a loud knock on the other end.

"If it's locked, it's obviously fucking occupied," Draco growled back.

They heard a few angry mutters and then footsteps retreat. Rowan only noticed then that they could still hear the music downstairs, and then, "Ten! Nine!"

"Oh shit," Draco muttered.

"Eight!"

"It's nearly midnight," he said.

"Seven!"

Rowan nodded. "Should we get up?"

"Six!"

"Yeah," Draco replied, hauling himself out of the bathtub.

"Five! Four!"

"Here." He extended his hands, his slender fingers clasping around her dainty wrists, hauling her up.

"Three!"

Rowan found her footing as he pulled her, her heel sliding out, his grip too strong. She was planted against a firm chest.

"Two!"

The smell of champagne and old spice filled her nostrils. Draco was looking down at her, his blond hair a little tousled, his eyes slightly tired and yet glittering. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"One!"

Fuck it.

Rowan leaned up as Draco leant down. Their lips connected as fireworks exploded outside of the manor and people cheered downstairs. It was merely a vibration in their heads. One hand on her arm, the other in the back of her hair. Hers were around his neck, her head shifting as their lips folded on one another, opening as tongues met and overlapped. Draco gently pushed his leg between her thighs, keeping her there.

  Then, Rowan realised she was kissing Draco Malfoy — and she hadn't had Theo's bet in her mind. She was about to shove him off when Draco pulled away. His thumb swiped across her bottom lip.

"Happy New Year, Yaxley."

...

ahh!!! Draco and Rowan have finally kissed! don't worry though, it's not about to get really fluffy straight away aha— there's still a bit more slowburn to come!

thanks so much for reading and i hope you all enjoyed <333

word count: 5.9k

dyiansobrien.