Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

As my gaze roamed about, someone caught my eye. Long platinum blonde hair that could easily be described as 'silver.' Slender and wearing a pearlescent cocktail dress, she looked like a model or actress. That wasn't why my gaze had stopped on her, however.

"What the hell?" I couldn't help but mutter.

"Ah, someone catch your eye?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked, a teasing note in her voice.

"Whoa, that's weird," Justin muttered, seeing the same woman I had. "She looks like an older, female Draco Malfoy!"

"Who?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked.

"He's a first-year in Slytherin. Kind of a bigot and jerk. He's always trying to mess with Harry Potter and his friends," Justin explained.

"And his father is one of those 'undesirable elements' within the Wizengamot," I replied softly.

"One of those 'Death Eaters' you mentioned?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yes," I replied with a solemn nod. "But I don't think… something must be off. The Malfoys are crazy bigoted, they'd never have anything to do with the mundane world. She must be… a Squib."

'Like me,' went unsaid, but Justin and Mr. and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley heard it all the same.

Was she ditched by her family in a mundane orphanage when her lack of magic was discovered? Or was she from a relative of Lucius? She looked to be about my age, but I'd not heard anything about the Malfoys having a child before Draco. Perhaps they covered it up? But even if they had, you'd think there'd be some rumors about it.

'Then again, I didn't really focus on the gossip of the wizarding world after I found out I was a Squib myself,' I mused in the privacy of my mind. 'That was a bit of a mistake, in hindsight. I should ask mother if she knows anything. Later, of course.'

I put those questions to the side for the moment. My curiosity was piqued, but there's a lot of different questions in my mind. Like what her name was, for instance.

I grabbed a pair of drinks from a passing waiter and went up to meet her.

"Hello there, miss," I said casually, offering her one of the drinks. "This may be presumptuous of me, but I must know your name!"

"Delilah Hunt," she said in greeting, giving me a demure, polite smile that was obviously fake as she accepted a drink from me. She didn't drink from it, though.

"Edward Rose," I said with a bit of a bow. "I saw you across the room, and I just had to talk to you."

"What a charmer you are," she giggled airily. She then frowned. "I'm afraid I don't recognize your name."

"Understandable," I said with a nod. "I was invited by the Finch-Fletchleys."

Delilah immediately understood what I was saying, nodding slowly while some of her mask faded away, allowing me to see a flicker of genuine curiosity in her eyes. No doubt she was wondering why I was here.

"Then you must be awfully confused," she said sympathetically. She then offered me her arm. "Why don't I show you around a bit?"

"I would enjoy that," I said.

"Over there is Michael Walton, he's an important member of the Labor Party. He's speaking with Rogan Hull and Carter Landon, entrepreneurial investors," Delilah informed me, pointing to a trio by a decorative palm tree.

"Lord Samuel Tolly works under the Prime Minister, and the woman speaking to him is Sasha Cray, one of the best contract lawyers around. Don't let her cute looks fool you. She's quite crafty."

"And over by the drink table you can spot John Cutler, already halfway to drunkenness, while his poor wife watches," Delilah said with a shake of her head. "Hard to believe he's one of the biggest owners of real estate this side of London."

"Who's that?" I asked, noticing a rather odd sight. He was a wrinkly old man, bald with liver spots all over. He was in a wheel chair, a cashmere blanket covering his legs. He had a grumpy expression, even while conversing with a few other people. What drew my attention to him was the golden, jewel studded rings on his fingers. I couldn't be certain without getting closer, but they may have been magical!

"That is Sir Jonah Briar," the young woman on my arm said, noticing where my eyes had gone. "He made his fortune in pharmaceuticals."

"Pharmaceuticals, you say?" I hummed, intrigued. 'He could be perfect for my medicinal side of the business. And my hair growth balm would need to be carefully examined by the proper authorities before I can sell it widescale. Perhaps I can use him. Especially if he's a fellow Squib like I'm assuming he is.'

"I take it you know him?" I asked, and she nodded.

"My father is on the board of his company."

"Ah, a business man, then," I mused. "Is your father here, tonight?"

"Not at all," Delilah chuckled. "Everyone knows my father and Mr. Briar can't stand each other."

I made a quiet hum in understanding. "So, your father is using you to do his duties here, then?" I guessed.

"You catch on quick," she smirked.

"Well, if you're going to schmooze and mingle, you shouldn't do it on an empty stomach," I offered, leading Delilah over to the buffet table. "I saw mini quiches on the way over."

"You have some lovely ideas," she chuckled. "Lead the way."

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