𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐍 | 𝐇.𝐏. | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟎𝟎𝟑 - 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐦𝐞

HAZEL EYES ARE DRAWN to the ceiling and coffee colored curls are tangled in the sheets. There's a soreness between her thighs and she wonders if he dreamt about her too.

She doesn't usually have pleasant dreams. She always hears them scream. But not last night. Last night, she dreamt of him.

Dim rays of sunshine slip through the windows. It's dawn, or close to it. She wishes it was midnight, the moon hanging high overhead, nowhere close to recommencing day time activities. Nowhere close to judgemental stares and death threats.

She wets her lips, counts the wooden panels in her unfamiliar dormitory, but all she can really think of are forest green eyes and the touch of warm skin against hers.

She feels cold without him.

Jade throws her legs over the edge of her bed, rests her head on her palms and stares.

Stares at the empty four-poster bed next to her and loathes the fact that Pansy slept at Theo's last night. She left her with Golden Girl Granger, no less.

Granger's a loud snorer.

She scoffs.

***

"You've got to be shitting me," says Pansy as McGonagall hands her a plain, black wand.

"I assure you i am not, miss Parkinson," sighs McGonagall, passing Jade an identical one. "And watch your tone."

She steadies the wand between her fingers, can already feel how pliable it is without bending it. She doesn't want to bend it, knows she'll be disappointed.

As expected, it's simple and flexible, very unlike her. She misses her ash wood wand; the rigidity, brittleness of it all.

"I'll go over the rules and limitations of your wands one more time," says McGonagall, taking the one from Blaise to demonstrate. "This is a Ministry-approved wand, specifically designed for your probation terms."

Draco snorts. McGonagall gives him an irked look.

"These wands will only allow you to do spells that are required in a certain class." she says, twirling it between her fingers like it's a toy. "Take Charms for example, you'll go over to professor Flitwick's desk and he will activate your given wand for a certain amount of time," she continues, drawing her own wand. "In that time, you'll be able to perform that one specific branch of magic that is required from you. Like so,"

McGonagall points her wand at the black one, and a thin, golden wisp coils around it, turning it brown. "Now, it allows you to conjure butterflies," the sarcasm drips from her voice.

A pit of fury roars inside Jade's stomach. They're a joke to them.

When they enter the Great Hall, the others are snorting and whispering already, their gazes fixed upon the black wands.

Slytherins, the dregs of society.

That's what everyone thinks.

Without properly realizing it, she's already found his eyes. Bright green and hiding behind spectacles. They're looking back at her. Her breath hitches. He looks away.

The whispers become louder.

She takes a seat at the far end of the table, looks down at the floor. Avoid all eye contact. Don't let them get to you.

"Me mum bought me one of those when I was a toddler," Finnigan snickers, "Child's play, those wands, if you can even call them that."

Everyone at the table roars with laughter. They stay quiet.