Feeling utterly miserable, Kingsley stood in front of the mirror hanging in the loo. As always, he looked stupid in his dress robes. But he didn’t even bother to conjure the extra fabric to cover his ankles and wrists. What did it matter what he looked like? Elysia wasn’t coming. She still hated him.
More than anything he wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep. He could pretend that there was no ball. Maybe he could even pretend that there was no Elysia. He just didn’t want to face it. He’d let his hopes get up, and now he was crashing in disappointment.
Sighing, he knew he couldn’t hide. He was required to be at this idiotic dance. There was no escaping it. It didn’t really matter. He could go, stand around like a fool, have a few drinks, and then hopefully make a graceful exit. Nothing to it. He’d be fine. He just had to keep himself from thinking about Elysia.
Before his mind could be invaded by thoughts of her, he turned away from the mirror and Apparated to his office at the Ministry. The room was dark and cool. Heating was turned off at eight, unless otherwise stated. Still, he assumed he’d be more comfortable in the cold darkness than at the warm festivities down the hall.
He stepped into the hall before he could chicken out. Unlike his office, the hall was both lit and heated. The lighting was not the usual harsh fluorescents, but a soft light, similar to candle or moonlight.
As he continued down the hall, he could hear music escaping from the cafeteria. He wondered what the room looked like. It was normally so dingy; he couldn’t believe they had chosen it for the ball. Of course, it was probably the only room big enough to accommodate all the expected guests.
Stepping into the room, he actually gasped. At first, he wasn’t even sure he was in the cafeteria. The room looked nothing like it usually did. All the regular tables had been removed, replaced with more elegant tables, dressed in lace tablecloths. The only light offered came from candles spread throughout the room, giving everything a soft, gentle look to it. He felt like he’d just entered an intimate diner somewhere in France. Even the music was soft and enjoyable. None of those crazy Christmas songs about Hippogriffs.
The room was nice, but he still felt uncomfortable. Most of the faces were familiar, but he didn’t want to approach anyone. He was afraid they would ask about his date. What could he say; she was a million miles away and refusing to speak to him? That would sound good.
Instead of seeking social interaction, he followed his original plan, and looked for the punch bowl. He spotted it in the far corner of the room. A chandelier lit with candles hung above it, offering sparkling shadows around the bowl. Elegant, he thought, Elysia probably would’ve liked that.
Shaking his head, he began to walk towards the bowl. He couldn’t let himself think about her. She didn’t want to be there and he couldn’t blame her. He had to focus on getting through the evening. Any thoughts about his love would only make his job harder.
When he reached the bowl, he helped himself to a glass of punch. After one sip, he could tell that the drink was virgin. Too bad, he really could’ve used something to settle his nerves. Sighing, he stood by the bowl, sipping his drink, and trying to look entertained by the music.
“Hey, Kingsley,” Harry greeted him a few minutes later. Ginny stood beside him, dressed in pale pink gown. Her hair was piled atop her head. For the first time, she looked like a woman and not a little girl.
“Harry,” he nodded. “Nice to see you, Ginny.”
“You too,” she replied. “Isn’t this gorgeous? They must’ve put so much work into it. I never expected the room to look anything like this. It’s almost like being back at Hogwarts.”
“It really is lovely,” Kingsley agreed, without much enthusiasm.
“Lovely?” Ron said, joining their circle with Hermione in tow. “It’s bloody brilliant. I can’t believe they did all this. You should give them a raise.”
“I was thinking I should dock them a week’s pay,” Kingsley replied. “Obviously, they’ve been working on this as opposed to their actual jobs.”
“I see you’re still feeling like the Grinch,” Harry muttered.
“What’s that?” Kingsley, Ron, and Ginny asked.
Both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes. Even after all these years, they would sometimes forget that their Muggle analogies would be misunderstood.
“A Muggle cartoon,” Hermione told them. “Don’t worry about it. Kingsley, will you dance with me?”
“Honestly, Hermione, I don’t need a pity dance,” he replied, knowing Ron and Harry had told their wives all about his predicament. “I’m sure you would much rather dance with your husband.”
“Are you mental?” she asked. “He stomps my feet every time. These are sandal shoes. I assure you, you’d be doing me a favor.”
“If you wish,” he replied, feeling exasperated. The last thing he wanted was to dance, unless of course, it was with his Elysia.
Hermione offered him her arm, and he led her onto the floor. She settled against his waist and they began to sway with the music.
“Ron told me about you old girlfriend,” she said. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I honestly can’t imagine someone not wanting to be with you. She must be daft.”
Kingsley chuckled, “She’s not daft, Hermione. I hurt her.”
“Hurt feelings rarely last forever,” she replied.
“Look, I was wrong,” he told her. “I did something foolish. I don’t blame her for not wanting me back in her life.”
“I don’t think you’re capable of doing anything that horrible,” she replied. “You just don’t have it in you.”
Kingsley smirked as he glanced around the room. Hermione couldn’t possibly understand. He’d been young and ambitious once. Like everyone, he’d made mistakes.
His eyes gazed around the room, staring at blurs of reds, greens, whites and pinks from swirling dressing. Everything really was beautiful.
He was about to return his gaze to Hermione when it lingered on the door. He gasped.
“Kingsley?” Hermione asked.
“She’s here,” he replied.