Stretching my arms, I hit a series of poses. Flexing, hopping up and down, spinning in a circle— that kind of thing.
When I spun, the hem of the flowing dark green robes lifted up and fanned out. Dress robes. That's what they were called. It was a slightly tight fit in places, especially at the wrists and around my chest, but that was better than it could've been.
"They fit. It's official. You're my savior."
Harry was laying on his back in bed, reading his potions textbook. He turned his neck to look at me.
"If you're wearing them, it means I'm not going, which is all the thanks that I need," he said. "They aren't too tight? I had them enlarged by a professional last year, just in case, but I haven't worn them since my fourth year."
"I wouldn't want to fight in them… but they'll get me through a party."
Sitting on the edge of his own bed with a homework assignment across his knees, Ron gave me a strange look. "That's a weird way to judge it."
I looked at the clock, shrugging.
"Just an example," I said. "I've gotta go."
I trotted down the stairs and passed through the common room. Near the fireplace Lavender whistled when I went by. I gave her a wave.
I was more proud than I probably should've been about finding my way to the meeting place on time without getting lost.
Just the way she said she'd be, Daphne was waiting there. It looked like she'd just arrived.
When I saw her, I stopped and looked her up and down, openly staring. Luckily she was doing the same thing to me, so I got away with it.
Her dress robes mostly looked like a normal dress, but they came with sleeves that reached her elbows and had a hood, so she looked a little bit like a Robin Hood cosplayer. I couldn't point it out even if I wanted to, since she'd have no clue who that was.
Daphne's fingers were bedazzled with eight rings spread across her two hands. The fabric of her outfit was a brighter green than mine. She always looked pretty, even in Potions class or on the train to school, but tonight she'd gone the extra mile. I'm too much of a dude to explain exactly what she'd changed, so I'll just say her makeup was making her features pop out a little extra.
Since she was already as pretty as a goddess, that meant tonight she was shining.
Daphne held her hand out without saying a word, her fingers hanging limply toward the floor. I wasn't so uncultured that I didn't know what to do with that.
I took her hand and we started the climb toward Slughorn's room.
"I admit, I wasn't sure you even knew what dress robes were," Daphne said.
I hadn't. It took a question from Hermione to teach me that they existed, and an offer from Harry to get me a pair in time. A real team effort.
I resisted the urge to flex, instead holding out the arm that wasn't attached to Daphne's.
"They look pretty good, don't they!" I said, grinning.
"They're a size too small."
"Guilty." My smile didn't go anywhere. "But they still look good."
For a second, her eyes lingered around my arms, outlined in detail by the taut sleeves covering them.
"I've seen worse," Daphne said.
We arrived at the party not early or late, when the room was still half full. I figured Daphne planned it that way.
As we wandered in, taking a position near the snack table, I watched the people who were there before us as well as the ones coming in. They were all important. Not that I knew them, I could just tell from how they stood and walked, holding their heads high the way gods do.
"Celebrities," I said.
It was just one word, but Daphne knew what I was getting at.
"The man next to the door is Tiberius Ogden," she said. "Cormac's uncle, as well as a member of the Minister's inner cabinet."
I spotted a man talking to two much younger, very pretty witches. He liked to move his hands as he talked, and it was obvious he talked a lot.
"The man already making himself the center of attention is Eldred Warple, a man whose books fly off Flourish and Blott's shelves for reasons unexplained. The trio coming toward him are the Weird Sisters, Britain's foremost musical performers."
Warple was a skinny guy, tall with a thick moustache that looked a few decades out of date. Like Daphne said, he'd stuck himself in the middle of everyone, telling stories so loudly that everyone around had no choice but to listen. The Weird Sisters surrounded him and thumped him on the back, clearly old friends. The musicians' dress robes were shredded over their knees and elbows, which seemed like a touch they added themselves.
Daphne inclined her head to draw my attention elsewhere. "The woman sneaking behind the punch bowl in an attempt to spike it is Gwenog Jones. She captains the British National Quidditch Team."
A tall woman with the muscular build of a daughter of Ares saw us looking at her, freezing right before she could pour a hip flask of something into one of three big fruit punch basins.
Gwenog put a finger to her lips, winked, and dumped the contents in. She quickly walked away immediately after, whistling to herself.
As if we'd seen nothing, Daphne turned to me. "It's quite a who's-who of our society. Slughorn's connections are as deep as anyone's, and once he's taken a shine to someone they never entirely get away from him."
"Harry's trying."
"He'll be worn down. The game is young yet. As you found out."
I didn't have a clever answer for that, so I spooned a cup of punch for both of us. From one of the non-spiked bowls.
Slughorn's guests might've been famous, but they were a minority in the room. Most were students like us. Members of Slughorn's little unofficial club or the dates they'd brought with them. Hermione was here somewhere. Blaise Zabini passed by once and I caught him giving us side-eye.
I just smiled back.
The room was pretty spacious. I don't know what it was usually for, but Slughorn had really put it through a makeover. Green streamers hung from the ceiling and ran along all the walls. There was a balcony with a great view of the grounds. Someone had enchanted tiny little paper snakes to slither along the streamers overhead, giving the decorations an active touch. Horderves were being brought around by trays that had no one carrying them. They floated on their own, letting guests snag whatever they wanted. I grabbed a square of cheese and threw it in my mouth.
"Neat. And tasty. Want one?"
Daphne shook her head.
"What did you come here for, Percy?" she asked.
That felt like a loaded question. I swiped another piece of cheese to prepare myself.
"I'm here because Slughorn blackmailed me," I said cheerfully. "Once I've made my appearance, I'll leave without thinking twice."
Daphne stared at me. I noticed she held her punch cup like a stemmed glass, purely out of habit.
"This room is filled to the brim with powerful people," Daphne said. "You could get an autograph worth fifty Galleons from at least five people within twenty meters of us. One good conversation could secure your job prospects after graduation. Whether it's a Quidditch trial, an internship in any department of the Ministry, or a publishing deal, all of that is on offer around us. It's a playground for anyone with even a flicker of ambition." She leaned forward, getting surprisingly close to my face. "So why do you, Percy Jackson, look so bored?"
"Because I don't want any of those things."
"Are you rich?"
"My Dad is. My Mom's not. I'd say I'm in between. I don't have to worry about going hungry."
"Do you have no drive? No goal? The people here are famous. With the right moves, any student could follow in their footsteps. We could be known throughout all of Britain."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Here you are!"
Daphne gave me an irritated look, wanting to know what I'd found funny, but having no chance to ask as Hermione appeared. She was dragging Neville Longbottom behind her by the hand.
"At least there's one friendly face here this time," Hermione said. "Ginny should be here somewhere as well, but she'll be glued to Dean I imagine. How do you like the party?"
"It's pretty tame," I said, although maybe that was because I was comparing it to celebrations on Olympus. "It should get more exciting when the punch starts getting around."
"The punch?" Hermione said. She hadn't seen Gwenog spike it. "Never mind. I'm sure that I don't want to know."
She turned to Daphne and the two stared at each other.
"You're very good at Potions," Hermione said.
"I'm even better at Charms," Daphne said. "I seem to be second in both, however."
Hermione blushed and smiled at the same time. She liked praise, yet didn't know how to handle it.
"It's been hard to stay at the top," Hermione said.
"Is that meant to be a compliment?" Daphne said.
Hermione looked unsure. "Yes?"
Daphne nodded, offering no additional comment. I jumped in as Hermione's smile slowly got more awkward.
"What do you usually do at these things?" I asked.
"Well, socialize," Hermione said. "There are all kinds of interesting people. Bathilda Bagshot even attended one! That's the author of Hogwarts: A History."
"That sounds like a textbook," I said.
"It is!"
The wizard version of the Beatles were standing in the room with us right now, and Hermione was reminiscing about meeting a textbook author.
"It all makes me a bit nervous," Neville confessed, speaking up. He had the opposite problem to me. His brown dress robes looked a few sizes too big. "I think Slughorn wants to stop inviting me. I wouldn't mind if he did, except that he looks at me like I'm such a letdown…"
"You were invited because of your parents, most likely," Daphne said.
Neville jumped. He took a step back, too. I think Daphne kind of scared him, although plenty of things did that.
"You know about my parents?" Neville asked.
"Aurors of some repute," Daphne said. "They had a bad encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange shortly before her capture, where they were… killed."
Neville opened his mouth, just to slowly close it and nod. "Something like that."
"How do you know about that?" Hermione asked, squinting at Daphne.
"It appeared in the Daily Prophet. It's still available today, if you visit their archive. And I am an avid reader," Daphne said.
That phrase felt loaded with how she said it, like a spring pressed all the way down. But whatever hidden meaning was in there I was helpless to figure it out.
Slughorn got to us after that. He shook hands with everyone and slapped me on the back, sounding so happy to see me that you never would've guessed he blackmailed me into showing up. He even pulled me away from the others and steered me toward other guests.
"Ah, Tiberius, I'd like you to meet Percy! He's a young student with a truly great future—"
"Here you are, Myron you old goat! You know, this lad here — Percy's his name — reminds me of the rascal you used to be—"
"Camelia! Looking as lovely as ever! Don't you think so, Percy? This lad's a sixth year, hailing from your old house—"
I felt like a new engagement ring the way he was showing me off. We didn't stay with any of the guests for that long. A greeting, a few passing pleasantries, Slughorn would bring up an old in-joke between them, then we'd be off to the next person. It showed no signs of stopping any time soon.
Eventually, I took matters into my own hands.
"So how many of these people have met Hecate?" I asked, not loudly but not exactly quietly, either.
Slughorn went stiff. I'd noticed before— mentioning the goddess of magic made him uncomfortable. He was interested in her, make no mistake, but she scared him. He was hesitant to talk about things related to her, especially in a room full of his special acquaintances. Some of whom had probably been visited by the goddess herself.
"A few, no doubt," Slughorn said. "Oh, my! Are you going after the pie already, Eldred? It's far too early for that!"
He bundled off to the author Daphne pointed out earlier, continuing his rounds without me. The question had chased him off for now, just like I'd hoped it would.
I went looking through the crowd for my date. The room was full enough that I had to turn sideways to slip between people. I couldn't see more than a few body lengths away. After bumping into what I'm eighty percent sure was a vampire, I finally caught a glimpse of the green hood I was after.
She wasn't alone.
"Would you look at that! And here I thought you had something against Gryffindors!"
The words were coming from Cormac Mclaggen. The big older Gryffindor stood out in the crowd. His dress robes were particularly nice (read: expensive) and unlike mine, they fit perfectly, tailored for him personally. He'd cornered Daphne and Hermione against the punch table, leaving Neville stuck on the side with a concerned look on his face.
"I suppose I just like some of them more than others," Daphne said.
"You've picked a decent one tonight," Cormac said appraisingly. "How are you, Hermione."
"Fine," Hermione said.
"Enjoying your night?"
"It's fine."
"I could make it great," Cormac said. "Say fine one more time and I'll sweep your off your feet."
Hermione scowled.
"Are you really doing this right in front of me?" asked a blond girl lingering behind Cormac. I didn't recognize her. She was probably his age. "If I knew you were going to be like this, I wouldn't have agreed to come!"
She stomped away. Cormac watched her leave. His attention reverted right after.
"And if I knew the two of you would be here like this, I wouldn't have asked her in the first place," he said.
I finally pushed through the last few bodies and came to stand next to Daphne. Cormac looked annoyed for a second. Even after that, he insisted on addressing Daphne, ignoring me.
"So you even take Gryffindors on dates! I've got to admit, I'm glad to know that. I'll make sure to remember it before the next party."
"I think… you should really move back," Neville said.
Over time, Cormac had been inching closer to the girls, leading them to move away, until they ran out of room. He'd continued getting closer, creeping into their personal space. I was ready to push him back myself, but Neville squeezed in before I could.
Cormac looked down at the shorter, younger, tubbier boy. Neville closed his eyes and gave Cormac a shove, which forced him backwards into another guest, who stumbled, drawing attention. But Cormac didn't take it lying down.
He hooked his foot behind Neville's ankle as he stumbled away, pulling Neville's leg out from under him. Neville would've fallen if I didn't catch the back of his dress robes. They meant for a grown adult, so for a second Neville dangled in his loose robes, my arm the only thing holding him up.
"Good lord, man!" Cormac said. "You should invest in some robes that fit! Keep stumbling around like that and you're bound to hurt someone!"
He was proud of himself as whispers spread. I considered knocking the smirk off his face. It would be worth however many detentions it netted me.
Before I could, Daphne stepped forward, right in front of Cormac, looking up at his face. She was almost a foot shorter.
"You're obsessed with me," Daphne said, stripping her right hand of rings as she spoke. "You've asked me on no less than three dates. Each time, I've turned you down. Was I too polite? I have no interest in you. You're worthless and it's past time that you got out of my sight."
We had an audience now. People were circling around, none of them getting in between the two. Slughorn would've stopped them, but he was on the other side of the room, hiding after my Hecate comment. He hadn't seen what was going on yet. Everyone else was watching it as in-house entertainment.
Cormac watched Daphne transfer all her rings over to her left hand, clearing her right. "What's this? Are you going to slap me?"
As her potions partner, I'd seen Daphne follow complex instructions with knives and tools, so I knew something about her that most people didn't.
She had fast hands.
Before Cormac saw it coming, Daphne's palm struck his face. It was a good slap. Loud. But the really devastating part was that she used her left hand.
She hadn't been taking her rings off to get them out of the way— she'd been stacking them up to increase the damage.
Cormac touched his face. His lip had been busted, and there were red marks along his cheek where the rings had made contact. Tears welled in his eyes, even as he looked mad.
"You—!" Cormac said.
Daphne walked away from him like nothing happened. As everyone watched her, she behaved like there was no audience, dunking a cup and filling it to the brim with punch. It wasn't accidental that she picked the bowl we watched Gwenog spike.
Downing the whole cup in one go, she marched back over, going straight past Cormac, and grabbed my head, grasping a fist's worth of hair.
The kiss that followed was loud, wet, and absolutely demanded the participation of my tongue. I felt the touch of Daphne's soft lips against my taste buds. I could see why the punch was still out even though Gwenog spiked it at the start of the party— whatever she used had no taste, leaving nothing but fruity sweetness to taste on Daphne's tongue.
When she separated from me, Daphne had to wipe away a trail of spit that was stubbornly hanging off her lip. Everyone around us was staring. Hermione was gaping. Cormac looked like he'd taken a shotgun slug to the foot
"If you were curious, that is what it looks like when I'm interested," Daphne said. "Sear it into your memory, if you must. That's the only place you'll be seeing it again."
Then she pulled me away by the hand, dragging me through the crowd, to the door and beyond. All without letting my fingers go.