Potter's Twin Sister || Draco Malfoy

44

The festive atmosphere in Hogwarts, infused with excitement for the upcoming Yule Ball, couldn't lift my spirits.

I walked around with a clear frown on my face, increasingly irritated by the sight of couples forming for the ball.

It wasn't that I hadn't been asked by anyone. I had received invitations from two boys—one from one of my fellow Slytherins and the other from Yordan.

Both times, I had declined with the same excuse: "Someone else had already asked me, and I said yes."

The crux of the matter was that a particular someone hadn't asked me yet, though I wouldn't say yes even if he did. But he might as well ask, though I didn't really want him to ask, because, well, I didn't like him that much, did I?

However, I wasn't the only one disenchanted with the Yule Ball.

Harry seemed to share my sentiment, especially when it came to asking someone to be his date.

"Seriously, how am I supposed to get a date when they move in packs?" Harry lamented as we navigated the sea of giggling girls on our way to the Great Hall.

"Summoning Charm." I suggested with a smirk.

"Very funny, Mel." Harry replied dryly.

"You do know that the champions are supposed to open the ball with their dates, right? It's only a few days away—two days, to be precise." I informed him as we entered the Great Hall.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "What? You've got to be kidding me."

"It's tradition, Harry, and since you're a Hogwarts champion..." I trailed off, trying to suppress my amusement but failing as my smirk made an appearance.

Harry rolled his eyes at me as we took our seats at the Gryffindor table.

All too soon, I noticed Malfoy's gaze fixed on me, his attention divided between Nott and Zabini.

Raising an eyebrow, I scoffed lightly, giving him a quick once-over before pretending to ignore his presence.

It had been over a month since I started distancing myself from him and also since we last kissed.

You'd expect someone in his position to feel dejected or frustrated by my dismissive attitude, but it was quite the opposite for Malfoy.

He found this situation amusing. Ever since our conversation in the arena, he seemed convinced that I was in denial about my growing feelings for him.

This so-called theory seemed to be inflating his ego rather satisfactorily.

Not a day went by without him teasing me about it. He even likened my behaviour to how Lyra was treating Zabini.

Sure, Malfoy persistently tried to kiss me whenever he got a chance, but I managed to evade those situations skillfully.

Experiencing the softness of his lips, mingling with his signature green apple scent—these sensations were not conducive to keeping him off my mind.

I was convinced that after a month of acting aloof, I would have clarity again.

But my plan hadn't worked, in fact, it might have backfired.

I began to wonder if I missed the thrill of our secret rendezvous in the corridors, the little games he played to steal a kiss, or even the absurd lines he came up with...

Just to clarify, I said, might have.

However, regardless of my internal debates, the reason for my hesitation sat beside me at the Gryffindor table—Harry, who was engaged in conversation with me.