Traitor: A Draco Malfoy Story

thirty-three

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT

I dragged the brush across my eyelid, blending the light brown in my crease as I finished my make-up. The music from downstairs was snaking up into the dormitories and became louder as Jenna burst through the door. "Hey, you ready? Nott and Zabini nicked some fire whiskey from the Hog's Head a couple of days ago and we're taking shots."

I gave my hair one last fluff and tugged on the bottom of my skirt as I stood. The bralette I was wearing accentuated everything I had to offer and I smiled to myself in the mirror.

"Yes, yes, you're hot, come on, let's go," Jenna said waving me through the door impatiently.

"Are Ethan and Ashton coming?" I asked as we walked down the stone steps into the hazy common room, the entire ceiling lit up with floating candles. There were several bowls of liquid all around the room, and there were so many people packed into it that it was standing room only, Jenna and I holding hands so that we wouldn't lose each other. I had yet to see all 200 Slytherins in the common room at once, and while it might not have been everybody, it was pretty close.

"No, it's Slytherin only," Jenna responded, facing away from me. "It is a victory party, after all. Don't want to let any losers in." She grinned.

I hadn't noticed just how many girls were interested in Malfoy before tonight. I'd only ever noticed Parkinson and loathed her for it. Maybe it was because he caught the Snitch, maybe just because he did so in such a stupidly risky way, but he had a blonde on his right side and a brunette on his left, his arm draped across the couch behind her. To top off his collection, a redhead leaned over him from behind the couch, playing with his hair. Disgusting.

I downed my cup in one gulp and went back to get more, annoyed at how jealous I was. I had no business to be, and I should be grateful he was taking his filth and bullshit somewhere that wasn't me. But my mind drifted to the flight, the kisses, the hospital wing...every time he did something somewhat redeeming, he cut me off again. I ignored the small voice inside my head that told me that this time was my fault. I knew it had meant something, I just didn't want Harry to know. I guess. Continuing to justify it is not going to help you, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Sighing, I dipped the punch ladle in the bowl and poured the reddish-pink contents into my cup. My head was already starting to get fuzzy, and my mood was improving a little. Just as I raised the cup to my lips, someone crashed into me from behind and the drink sloshed over the sides onto my face and chest. I gasped at the cool liquid touching my skin and turned around to see who I needed to kill when I was met with light brown curls and a half-drunken smile.

"God, I'm so sorry I didn't see you--" he started, but stopped himself. Arching an eyebrow, a small smirk played on his face, cheeks flushed with intoxication. "Though, I'm not sure how I didn't." his eyes traveled over my body, pausing on my drink-stained bralette.

"Watch where you're going, Nott," I rolled my eyes. I didn't know Theodore Nott that well, only saw him around Hogwarts. His smirk was different than Malfoy's; it was brighter and more playful as opposed to the blond's dark undertones to the expression. It was almost as attractive.

Even when talking to a near stranger I was comparing him to Malfoy. I hated the hold he had on me.

"Call me Theo," he said, grabbing a wad of napkins from a table covered in chips. "Here, let me help you."

He reached towards me like he was going to wipe off the drink, but he stopped, his eyes unsure. "I mean, do you want to do it yourself, or can I?"

I hadn't expected him to ask, I'd just prepared myself to hex him when he tried to touch me, and I was pleasantly surprised. I smiled at him, about to say he could if he wanted to, but before I could, a hand gripped my waist and everyone's favorite blond drawled, "She's perfectly capable of doing it herself." I couldn't help butremember how he'd put his arms around me when I got off my broom. He'd never letme get over our moments.