Chapter Text
The Ministry’s annual Yule Fundraising Ball was about as festive as the Travers family got. Every year Elise and her baby brother Emory were forced into dress robes and shoved through the floo to their father’s place of work.
The Atrium, usually echoing with the clatter of official footsteps and the rustle of parchment, had been transformed with enchanted garlands and glittering icicles that hung like daggers from the ceiling. It was all very impressive, in a suffocating sort of way. The hall was filled with the sound of polite laughter, the kind of laughter that only came from the sort of people that were only here so everyone else could see just how generous they were with their hard earned inheritance.
Her mother had spent the entire afternoon reminding her to stand up straight, to smile pleasantly, and to avoid saying anything “too clever,” and was now too busy gossiping with Prophet Journalists to notice her. Her father was already deep in conversation with a man from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, looking every bit the respectable civil servant he longed to be seen as.
That left Elise and Emory unbearably bored. The two of them circled the edge of the hall in search of anything even remotely interesting. They had yet to spot anyone anywhere near either of their ages, although that was to be expected at such a party.
“Was the Yule Ball at Hogwarts this boring?” Emory asked as they finished their fourth lap around the room.
“No,” Elise shook her head, “The Yule Ball was fun. We had to waltz a few times but then they had a band play and it was way more fun.”
“It was so boring coming here last year without even you to talk to. I just stayed with dad the whole night.”
Elise wrinkled her nose, “I'm sure it was. At least next year you’ll have the option of staying at Hogwarts.”
Emory snorted, “As if mum would let me. She makes you come home for every holiday, you only got to stay last year because you had a nice pureblood to go to the ball with.”
Elise grinned, “No I didn’t.”
Emory’s blue eyes went wide, “What do you mean you didn’t?”
“I went with Terry Boot. I just didn’t tell mum his name.”
“How in Merlin's name did you get away with not telling her his name?”
“I told her we weren’t official yet so I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone his name and assured her he was pureblooded. It really wasn’t that hard.”
“Oi, Travers!”
Both Travers kids turned at the sound of their last name, blinking in shock at the realization of who had called them.
Draco Malfoy was striding toward them, champagne glass in hand, his expression that practiced mixture of boredom and amusement that came so naturally to him. He looked perfectly at ease among the glittering crowd, as if he’d been born beneath chandeliers and charmed ceilings, which, of course, he had.
“Malfoy,” Elise said, straightening instinctively, “I didn’t know you were here.”
He arched a pale brow. “My father insists we make an appearance every few years. Says it’s good for the family image.” His tone made it clear just how little he cared for his image. His gaze flicked to Emory, who was gaping openly at him. “And you must be the little brother I’ve heard about. You’ve got your sister’s looks, pity about the manners.”
Emory flushed scarlet. “I didn’t say anything!”
“Exactly.” Draco smirked. “Not even a hello.”
Elise rolled her eyes. “Ignore him, Em. He likes to test how many people he can irritate in the first five minutes of a conversation.”
Draco put his free hand to his chest, gasping in mock offense. “You wound me, Travers,” he said, smirk widening. “I was being charming.”
Elise snorted. “If that was charming, then Merlin help whoever you actually fancy.”
Draco gave a low laugh. “Careful, you’ll make me think you’re flirting.”
“In your dreams, Malfoy.”
“Not recently,” he said smoothly, raising his glass in mock salute. “But I’ll keep you in mind.”
Emory made a face that clearly said he wanted no part of this conversation and mumbled something about finding the dessert table before disappearing into the crowd. Elise couldn’t blame him.
“Congratulations,” she said dryly. “You’ve scared off the ten-year-old.”
“Good. I was starting to feel like I’d crashed a family outing,” Draco replied. “Come on, you can’t actually be planning to spend the entire night glued to the wall.”
“I have a feeling I’ll like the wall much better than wherever you plan to take me.”
Draco shook his head, “It’ll be fun, I swear. Nott snuck into his father’s office and stole some firewhiskey.”
“Nott’s here? I didn’t see his father.”
“His father is out of the country, Theo is staying at mine.”
Elise made a face, but knew better than to comment on someone else’s family drama. She didn’t need hers brought up and thrown in her face any more than it already was. “So, your grand plan for the evening is to illegally drink firewhiskey in a government building?”
Draco’s grin turned wicked. “You make it sound like I suggested committing treason.”
“It’s you. And Nott. And firewhiskey,” she said, crossing her arms. “Treason doesn’t sound very far-fetched.”
He tilted his head, studying her with infuriating amusement. “Now that you mention it, treason does sound appealing.”
Elise exhaled through her nose. “Merlin help me, you sound just like Micheal Corner.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment. Do you even know who Micheal is?”
He took a slow sip of his drink, clearly unbothered. “Of course, he’s the dealer. You coming or not?”
She hesitated, glancing across the glittering hall. Her mother was deep in conversation with Mrs. Parkinson, her father still laughing too loudly near the buffet. No one would notice if she disappeared for a few minutes, probably.
“Where are we going?” she asked finally.
He didn't respond, just turned on his heel and weaved through the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who'd never been told no. Elise followed, trying not to look like she was following, which was significantly harder than it should have been.
They slipped past a cluster of witches in emerald robes, ducked behind an enchanted ice sculpture of a phoenix, and made their way toward a narrow corridor that branched off from the main hall. The sounds of the party faded behind them, replaced by the hollow echo of their footsteps on polished stone.
"This is a terrible idea," Elise muttered.
"Most of my ideas are," Draco said without looking back. "That's what makes them fun."
They climbed a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever, the air growing colder with each step. Finally, they emerged onto a balcony overlooking the Atrium, the glittering party spread out below them like a snow globe.
Theodore Nott was already there, lounging against the railing. He looked up as they approached, his grey eyes sharp and assessing.
"Travers," he said by way of greeting, holding up a bottle of firewhiskey. "Didn't think Malfoy would actually convince you."
Elise shrugged, eyeing the bottle. "I figured this would be more interesting than watching my mother network."
Theo's mouth quirked. "Fair enough." He conjured three glasses with a lazy flick of his wand and poured generous measures into each. "To surviving another year of our parents' ambitions."
Draco took his glass and raised it. "And to not getting caught."
Elise took hers more carefully, the amber liquid catching the light from the enchanted icicles below. "You two are going to get me expelled before the term even starts."
"Relax, Travers," Draco said, leaning against the railing beside her. "We're practically adults now. What's the worst that could happen?"
Elise raised her eyebrows at him skeptically, “We’re fifteen Draco. We are not practically adults.”
“Do you have to correct everything I say?” Draco rolled his eyes, “Take the damn shot already Travers.”
Elise smirked and knocked back the firewhiskey in one swift motion. It burned all the way down, leaving her eyes watering and her throat on fire.
"There," she said, her voice only slightly strained. "Happy?"
Draco looked almost impressed. "I expected more complaining, honestly."
"Please," Elise said, setting down her glass. "I’m a Ravenclaw and I hang out with a bunch of Hufflepuffs. This isn't my first firewhiskey."
"Fair point." Theodore held out the bottle toward her. "Another?"
“Why not?” She shrugged, and took the bottle. “You reek of cigarettes by the way.”
“Sorry,” Nott mumbled.
Elise shrugged, “Just warning you so you don't get caught.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. At some point the three of them were caught by an auror and sent down from the balcony back to the party.
The descent down the spiral staircase was significantly less graceful than the climb up had been. Elise concentrated very hard on putting one foot in front of the other, acutely aware that she was more than a little drunk and desperately hoping it wasn't obvious.
It was definitely obvious.
"Walk straight," Draco hissed at her as they approached the main hall.
"I am walking straight," she hissed back.
"You're veering left."
"Your face is veering left."
Theodore snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough. The auror shot them all a warning look that suggested his patience was wearing dangerously thin.
They emerged back into the glittering chaos of the ball, and Elise immediately spotted her mother scanning the crowd with that particular expression that meant someone was about to get a lecture. Possibly her. Probably her.
"Right," the auror said, his tone suggesting he regretted every career choice that had led him to this moment. "Separate. Find your families. And for Merlin's sake, try to look like you haven't been drinking."
"How do we do that?" Elise asked, genuinely curious.
"Not my problem." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, probably to find somewhere quiet to question his life choices.
Draco straightened his robes and ran a hand through his hair, somehow managing to look almost presentable despite everything. "Well. That could have gone worse."
"How?" Elise demanded. "He caught us red-handed with stolen firewhiskey on a Ministry balcony."
"He could have told our parents," Theodore pointed out reasonably.
Elise opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Fair point.
"Elise Josephine Travers!"
All three of them winced at the sound of her mother's voice cutting through the ambient noise of the party. Elise turned slowly, pasting on what she desperately hoped was an innocent smile. “Yes mum?”
"Where have you been?" her mother demanded. "I've been looking everywhere for you. The Greengrasses want to meet you, and you just disappeared—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Have you been drinking?"
"No," Elise said, at the exact same moment that the smell of firewhiskey presumably reached her mother's nose.
There was a long, terrible silence.
"We'll discuss this at home," her mother said, each word clipped and precise. "Say goodbye to your friends— oh, Mr Malfoy, Mr Nott.
Her mother's expression shifted so quickly Elise nearly got whiplash watching it. The fury smoothed into something approximating pleasantness, though her eyes remained sharp.
"How lovely to see you both," her mother continued, as if she hadn't just been about to deliver a scathing lecture. "Give my best to your families. Thank you for keeping an eye on Elise this evening."
Draco, to his credit, didn't miss a beat. "Of course, Mrs. Travers. It was our pleasure." Nott nodded in agreement, his expression perfectly neutral.
"Such polite young men," her mother said, her grip on Elise's elbow tightening just enough to be painful. "Elise, say goodnight."
"Goodnight," Elise managed, catching the barely suppressed smirk on Draco's face.
"See you at school, Travers," he said, waving her goodbye as her mother yanked her toward the fireplaces.
Her father was waiting, on hand on Emory’s shoulder and the other holding his gold pocket watch. The auror from only a few seconds ago was walking away from him.
Her father looked up when he heard them approaching. “Where were you?” His expression was carefully neutral, but Elise could see the tension in his jaw.
“Not now,” Her mother said tightly, steering Elise toward the fireplace. "Emory, floo powder. Now."
Emory, who had clearly picked up on the tension radiating from their mother like heat from a fire, scrambled to grab a handful of powder from the ornate bowl beside the hearth. He shot Elise a wide-eyed look that was equal parts sympathy and morbid curiosity.
"Now," her mother said sternly.
Emory went, disappearing in a rush of green flames. Her father followed, leaving Elise alone with her mother for one terrible moment.
"Not. One. Word," her mother hissed, so quietly that no one nearby could possibly hear. "You will not say another word until your father and I decide what to do with you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Elise said, her voice smaller than she'd intended.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Her mother's grip loosened fractionally. "Go."
Elise grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into the fireplace, and spoke their address clearly despite the way her head was spinning. The world dissolved into spinning green flames and lurching movement, and then she was stumbling out into their sitting room, catching herself on the mantle before she could fall.
Emory was hovering near the stairs, clearly torn between fleeing to safety and staying to witness whatever was about to happen. Their father stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the dark London street.
Her mother arrived moments later in a swirl of expensive robes and barely contained fury.
"Upstairs," she said, pointing at Emory. "Bed. Now."
"But—"
"Now, Emory Richard."
He fled, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. Elise heard his bedroom door slam a moment later.
Elise's father explained to her mother what the auror, Dawlish apparently, had just told him.
The silence that followed was somehow worse than any shouting could have been. Her father turned from the window, and Elise was struck by how tired he looked. Not angry, just disappointed. Which was infinitely worse.
"Drinking," her mother said finally. "At a Ministry function. With boys. In a restricted area." She rubbed her temples. “What were you thinking?’
"I—"
"I am not finished." Her mother's voice was ice-cold. "Do you have any idea what people will say? Your father works with these people, Elise."
"I'm sorry," Elise said, and part of her even meant it.
"You're sorry," her mother repeated flatly. "You're sorry. Well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?"
Her father cleared his throat. "Elizabeth—"
"Don't," her mother cut him off. "Don't you dare defend this, Richard. Our daughter was caught drinking stolen alcohol on a Ministry balcony. By an Auror. Do you understand how serious this could have been? If it hadn’t been Dawlish? If he'd reported it officially?"
Elise hadn't thought about that. She swallowed hard.
"But he didn't," her father said quietly. "Dawlish will be discrete.”
"That's not the point!"
"Then what is the point, Elizabeth?" Her father's voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it now. "Because from where I'm standing, our fifteen-year-old daughter made a stupid mistake, got caught, and is clearly aware she's in trouble. What exactly are we accomplishing with this?"
Her mother's jaw worked. "She needs to understand—"
"I think she understands." Her father looked at Elise, and she found she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Don't you, Elise?"
"Yes, sir," she said quietly.
He nodded slowly. "You're grounded. Until the New Year. No floo, no owls except for school correspondence, no visitors. You'll help your mother with whatever she needs, and you won’t complain. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then go to bed. We'll discuss this further in the morning when everyone's had time to think clearly."
Elise didn't need to be told twice. She headed for the stairs, acutely aware of her mother's eyes boring into her back.
She climbed the stairs slowly, trying to hear her parents' voices behind her.
“At least she was with respectable people, although she made an awful impression,” she heard her mother say.
Emory's door cracked open as she passed. "Are you alive?" he whispered.
"Barely," Elise whispered back. "Grounded till New Years."
"Brutal."
"Yeah."
"Was it worth it?"
Elise thought about the firewhiskey, Draco's smirk and the way the whole glittering party had looked from above. The brief moment of feeling like herself instead of the person everyone expected her to be.
“Yeah,” she whispered, “It was.”
Emory grinned. "Night, Elle."
"Night, Em."
She made it to her room, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto her bed still fully dressed. She listened to the faint sounds of St Albans at night, and drifted off to sleep.