UNTIL TOMORROW | D. MALFOY

𝟐. 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞

"So, what you are saying is, if we were no longer friends, your brother would be on the market? Noted." I look over as she nods her head and holds her hand in the air, appearing to be making mental notes.

"Speaking of the market, we are both making our debuts this upcoming season," the sentence fades from Pansy's lips and settles in the air between us. We reach an unspoken agreement to move past the thought of us both debuting and what that entails.

"During the summer, Father was doing business, obviously," her eyes roll as she says this, "and a childhood friend came to visit."

"Oh? Who is this 'childhood friend' you speak of?" I raise one eyebrow and stop walking, waiting for her to continue.

"Our Fathers both went to Cambridge. He is a handsome fellow, attractive. Did I mention that he is a prince? Theodore Nott. I believe you'd like him, he is incredibly humorous, he knows how to have a good time."

"There are many princes on the market Pansy," a puff of air leaves my lips. "But who would want a prince? Are they not all arrogant, entitled bastards who believe they are above everyone?"

"Do not lie to me, Arabella. You never once dreamed of being a princess when you were a child? I believe I have a certain memory of us dressed in fluffy dresses as children," she pauses as she falls into a reverie, "actually, Mother!" I poke my head over the aisle and see our mothers turn their attention towards us.

"Shut it, right this second!" I tug on her arm and pull her deeper through the store. She simpers, knowing that she caught me.

"Okay, so what? Everyone has ridiculous dreams as a child, and then we wake up and face reality. The reality is that princes are despicable and wreak nothing but havoc. Unlike Midas, everything they touch crumbles." My chest is heaving and my breath leaves my nose rapidly. I turn around and begin my return to the front of the shop. Pansy runs up beside me.

"So, no princes—understood. You wouldn't like a higher title? I know you are a duchess and all, but, doesn't princess sound nice? I think it has a nice ring to it, Princess Arabella Reeves," I give her a deathly glare, hoping to get my point across that all princes are privileged arseholes that I will not be fraternizing with.

—

The air is crisp and there is a slight breeze. It is the middle of October, so the air is transitioning from the stagnant, hot air of summer to something drier. The feeling doesn't compare to the country, but it still feels nice to be back in the city.

The cobblestones click and shift slightly as Pansy and I stroll down the lane. She swings her parasol as we walk, nearly knocking into a couple behind us.

"My apologies," Pansy bows her head slightly before turning back around and passing me a look.

"How are you supposed to debut when you do things like swinging your parasol, thwarting innocent bystanders?" I can't stop the giggle that leaves my mouth. It truly astounds me how careless she is, in the best way.

"What a brilliant question. I must ask Mother, there is a possibility I was dropped as a child," she shrugs her shoulders and sidesteps a misplaced cobblestone.

The city is boisterous and loud. Sounds are coming from every home, each street, and they travel through the air, finding their way into listening ears. I can hear the sound of our shoes clicking, opposite of one another, alternating steps. Across the road, I can hear laughter cascading from an open window. A horse's hooves snap across the road as it pulls a carriage.

A newsboy runs across the road, narrowly missing the horse and its carriage, delivering the weekly paper to patrons. The sound of silver clinks in his small bag as he dashes around.