Selwyn kept chatting with me while Amanda remained silent, lost in her thoughts. Something was clearly bothering her today. Though I could guess at a possible reason, the picture remained incomplete.
"By the way," Leonard lowered his voice, "if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have met my sister at all. So you could say 'thank you.'"
"I will," I replied calmly, "when she stops asking for favors and then checking if I did everything."
"That's innate with her," he laughed. "Selwyns don't even trust mirrors until they're sure the reflection behaves properly."
All three of us laughed, but I sensed — Leonard hadn't come just to chat. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
"And yet," he said after a pause, "I'm surprised you're here. Do you even like this atmosphere? I can't stand all of it."
"Quite. A worthy evening with worthy people. Though, of course, not everyone here is a paragon of virtue. You know, sometimes it's useful to observe those who think themselves smarter than others," I answered. "It's easy to learn from their mistakes."
"And you're studying them, of course? Don't make me laugh — almost everyone here is more cunning than you and me."
"Don't generalize. And if need be..." I smiled. "One can also learn from others' vanity. Especially when it's poured into the air in full measure, like tonight."
Leonard snorted but remained silent. A smart guy — knew when to shut up, not arguing for the sake of it.
As we talked, I studied the surroundings. Pairs in precious robes glided through the hall, accompanied by laughter, the clinking of glasses, and hushed conversations. Loners could be spotted here and there, but guests mostly formed groups, constantly swapping conversation partners. I noted that none of my inner circle was present — neither Avery, nor Cassius, nor Blackwell. And that was predictable.
We were only here because our parents literally constituted the supreme judicial authority of magical Britain. Here gathered the owners of names — families who built magical Britain, whose crests adorned the walls of the Wizengamot. Twenty-eight sacred lineages, and beside them — only those admitted to power by blood or gold. The rest were extras, serving as scenery.
My friends' families belonged to the influential and wealthy. The Averys, for instance, owned a chain of shops across the country. Their father's recent closeness with my family was clearly linked to our school friendship. I had mentioned in letters more than once my good relations with Marcus. His family had significantly strengthened its position over the last decade and now awaited a new surge of growth. Probably, Marcus's father was somewhere here, but I likely wouldn't recognize him. An awkward oversight.
The same went for the families of Blackwell and Cassius — their parents could very well have received invitations. But the chance to present their children here fell to few.
"They say," Leonard took a sip of juice, "this year they even invited a couple of Muggle-borns from the Ministry, mostly Aurors. And goblins from Gringotts are supposed to be here, but I haven't spotted them yet."
"Naturally," I nodded. "The Ministry loves to demonstrate that opportunities are open to all. One just needs to make an effort. Even if it means inviting those whose achievements are limited to smiles and reports."
"You're getting more and more sarcastic," he smirked.
"Haven't noticed such a tendency in myself, so I might take that as an insult."
He smirked again.
"Alright, got it. I admit — you're like a fish in water here. Maybe they'll even invite you to give a speech soon, like Lord Greengrass today."
"Sooner or later — absolutely," I said quietly. Not that I aspired to it, but I knew that one day everyone would be forced to listen to me.
Leonard looked at me more intently. Caution flickered in his gaze, then he seemed to make a decision and finally stopped fiddling with his cuffs.
"You know, Arcturus," he said quietly, "you're frighteningly calm for your age."
"And you," I countered, "are frighteningly talkative for a third-year."
Amanda snorted, and Leonard raised his hands in theatrical surrender with a sigh.
"Alright, alright. I'll go look for my sister. I hope your sarcasm is contagious — she could use some cheering up."
Despite the external snark, we got along well enough, so he allowed himself such liberties. Though the ease present in my conversations with Avery never arose between us. Selwyn was undoubtedly intelligent and in many ways resembled Marcus, but an invisible distance remained between us.
Watching him leave, I noted that today all conversations seemed to be conducted on two levels simultaneously.
The world of purebloods resembled a chessboard: you remain a pawn until you learn to think like a queen. And though I already understood much, some moves still eluded my attention.
"You could," Amanda remarked coolly, watching her brother's retreating figure, "at least not encourage his hints."
I pretended not to understand and smiled slightly.
"And I thought you perceived it as harmless humor."
"Harmless?" she raised an eyebrow. "A strange sense of humor you have, Arcturus."
Amanda averted her gaze, adjusting the pendant on her neck.
"I've already said I suspect you..." her voice grew quieter, "...of always knowing everything in advance."
"Losing count of how many times."
"That's why I have no doubt we both understood what hints were in your conversation."
The corners of her lips trembled, but wariness was evident in her gaze.
"Today you look especially confident. Even by your standards."
"Perhaps I'm simply pleased with how things are. Our council is gaining influence, and no serious obstacles are in sight yet."
"No arguing with that. But are you sure everything is under control?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Hinting at something specific?"
"No... Just remembered that not only we know how to exact revenge."
"Answorth might still try to cause trouble, but his chances are negligible. And serious threat from him... I don't expect — he's too spineless for that."
She snorted, but without the previous tension. Though something still lingered.
"And yet you are terrible. Terrible in your self-assurance."
"Trying to measure up," I smiled. "But believe me, everything is fine. Stop worrying about Answorth. Let's go — and dance."
"Mr. Malfoy, where are your manners!?" She returned to our usual game.
I barely held back a smile.
"My apologies, Miss Rosier. I forgot everything, enchanted by your eyes. Dare I hope I've earned one dance?"
A sly smile reappeared on Amanda's face, and I felt relief — she'd been gloomier than a storm cloud all evening.
"Thank you for the compliment. So be it — I agree to one dance."
She accepted my hand, and we headed to the center of the hall, where couples were already swirling in a waltz.
***
POV. Amanda Rosier
Arcturus Malfoy was too perfect for his age. Even standing amidst the ball, among men in expensive robes and ladies drowning in jewels, he stood out, and Amanda couldn't look away.
His straight back and lightness of movement, but most of all his confidence — there wasn't a drop of anxiety in him, as if he were part of an old portrait come to life for this evening. He wasn't flustered by all those respected people, adults, dancing nearby. He wasn't worried that the clumsy dance of two teenagers could be seen by everyone at the Ministry reception, where the most important people were gathered. Amanda couldn't even remember Arcturus ever being anxious in his life...
His platinum-blond hair stood out brightly under the magical lighting, and his cold blue eyes seemed to see right through her. Clear, cold-blue... the color of a winter sky. They seemed to pierce anyone who met his gaze. That's why she worried even more that he would figure it out now.
And his voice... calm, even, slightly mocking. The voice of her classmate and the person she had met as a ten-year-old girl in this very place, during the Ministry's annual reception. Now they communicated well, and almost every day at school, her day was accompanied by their conversation. Amanda knew he was too smart. Sometimes it scared her, and sometimes it drew her thoughts. After all, they weren't just classmates, but members of the Slytherin Council, which in Amanda's opinion, was an extremely important project created, again, by Arcturus.
There was no boyish confusion in him, typical even of upperclassmen. Every movement was precise, every word measured. He could talk to her as a simple peer, or speak so complexly and intricately that even she, the daughter of the Rosier family, might not understand all the nuances of his cunning words.
Yet Arcturus Malfoy was more reliable than any adult in her life. And that was perhaps the most attractive thing about him. His reliability was a double-edged trait, striking enemies and drawing friends.
Amanda never felt support from her father, mother, or grandfather; they all saw her only as a bargaining chip. Yes, they hired her the best tutors, bought the best things, raised her, and even treated her well... but she, though she didn't know the difference, felt that something was missing in their family. They lacked love.
That's why she didn't understand for a long time what was happening to her. During the dance, she felt his fingers touch her waist. And she shuddered — because she herself was clutching his strong shoulders with her palms... her object of affection?
He didn't even suspect. Didn't know that their fathers had almost decided everything. That soon they might become more than just friends. This thought burned, seared. For half a year — a whole six months she had lived with this knowledge, watching him furtively, analyzing her feelings, but she didn't understand into what a simple attraction to a handsome guy who treated her with respect and honesty had grown.
Was it love? Or just a desire to ease the moral torment, because soon everything might be predetermined? In her world, marriages were arranged by calculation, but somewhere deep down, a hope smoldered that their union could be an exception. What if they were betrothed not only to strengthen two families, but also because of such a strange and pleasant feeling as love. Amanda was fond of reading romance novels, like many other girls her age, though she would never admit it to anyone. After all, girls mature faster than boys.
"And yet," he said, "I think you're hiding something. Especially today."
'I carry this secret like a curse,' she thought in a futile attempt to come up with another lie, though she had spoken with him so easily before.
"You hide a lot too."
"Perhaps. But no more than you."
He smiled.
"Me?" Amanda made her eyes wide with feigned surprise, though her heart was pounding wildly.
"Amanda, you've been dodging my questions all day. You have that look when you want to say something but don't."
Amanda's father and grandfather considered this union a brilliant match. To become related to the Malfoys — and many prospects would open again before the Rosier line. Two extremely wealthy and influential families could accomplish a great deal together; that's what her grandfather, Rosier Senior, or, as he was called, Lord Rosier, thought.
'And I... I'm still not sure I'm ready for this. The thought of a possible betrothal evoked mixed feelings — but most of all, fear. What if he feels nothing, what if nothing works out, what if… there were many "what ifs,"' Amanda thought, continuing the dance.
***
Amanda had been strangely tense since the beginning of the ball. I felt her fingers trembling on my shoulder, though she tried to hide it. Something was clearly bothering her. And it was clearly not about the ball.
"Amanda, I know you well. Tell me, if you can trust me."
She forced a smile, but anxiety was evident in her eyes:
"It's just... I don't like it when people stare at me so intently. Especially you."
"Do I stare in some special way?" I accidentally squeezed her waist slightly, feeling her shudder.
She was hiding something. Something important. Over a year and a half of acquaintance and close communication, I had learned to read her. This nervousness, avoiding eye contact... Definitely something serious. The usual Amanda behaved confidently and cattily.
Ever since we met in Diagon Alley last winter, something in her had changed. I felt it but didn't pay it much mind. Until today, under my intense gaze, at some moment during one of the dance moves our tutors had taught us, Amanda suddenly spoke.
"You know," she said unexpectedly, "sometimes I think we're all just puppets in someone else's play."
An interesting comparison. I tilted my head slightly:
"Puppets? No. We're more like chess pieces. It's just that some of us are learning to move independently."
She avoided my gaze, which was very unlike her.
"It's just... Father and Grandfather talk too much about the future. You know, about alliances, other families… Sometimes I wish I could just be a witch, not a bargaining chip in others' games."
Everything fell into place. I looked at her attentively:
"I think I understand. They're preparing you for a betrothal."
She shuddered, and that was answer enough. The only question was — with whom? My thoughts immediately turned to possible candidates. Nott? Avery? Or...
"You... how did you..." she faltered, and I felt her pulse quicken.
"I just know how to listen," I gently squeezed her hand. "And see. Especially what they try to hide."
Her nervousness was now clear. A forced betrothal — not the best prospect, especially for a proud nature like Amanda's.
"A bargaining chip…"
"No, none of us is a bargaining chip until we accept such a fate."
The music was fading. We slowly swirled in the last bars of the waltz. I needed to understand who this prospective groom was.
"What would you do," she couldn't help but ask, "if your fate were decided without you?"
A strange question. I pondered for a moment:
"I would find a way to make that decision my exclusive right. No one should decide for me. I love freedom, Amanda."
The dance ended. I released her hand, but my fingers lingered on her palm for a moment. She looked so lost...
"Thank you," she whispered. "For the dance and the conversation."
"You don't thank me often, but this time, I should be the one thanking you," I inclined my head slightly. "And hoping we might repeat it sometime."
As I stepped away from the dance floor, a picture was forming in my mind. Her strange behavior, talk of betrothal... Perhaps her father had indeed agreed to a marriage with someone. I would need to find out. After all, Amanda was a valuable ally, and the thought that some unworthy individual might win her hand... No, that could not be allowed. There was also the option... but unlikely! They hadn't said anything to me, so it couldn't be me.