Duplicitous | T.N.

LXVIII • Jam on toast

"Might as well warn Lucien and Miles, alert them of this tragedy."

Hours passed. Most of Slytherin had retreated to bed, blissful and comfortable in their own private spaces. Blaise Zabini, Adrien Pucey, Miles Bletchley and Lucien Bole had yet to receive the chance to do such themselves.

Pansy trudged down the stairs, and each boy glanced up, hopeful she'd be there to deliver good news. "It's still there, they aren't finished." The Parkinson witch grimaced at the remembrance of what she had heard on her way to check if the tie still hung, nothing but a bed rocking and screaming, she had gagged. Yet complaining had grown old already, they each simply sighed. 

"Taking his bloody time." Adrien yawned, shuffling into his armchair by the fire.

"I hate his stamina." Groaned Blaise.

"Tell me about it." The witch scoffed, collecting the last of her things.

"Oi, where're you going?" Zabini noticed how the girl attempted to flee, she turned on her heel.

"I'm going to bed, Daphne and I have plans for tomorrow early morning and I can't stay up any later than this." Envious of her ability to escape and find sanctuary within the walls of her own dorm, each boy glared at the girl as she walked away.

Pulling off the final rings her fingers bore, Pansy walked sleepily towards her dorm, uncaring upon matters around her, not that there was much happening during those late hours. And as she turned a corner her eyes flickered up towards her friends door, searching for the green neck tie, only it was not there, and neither was the door.

She halted in her movements as she watched the door swing fully ajar and she could do nothing but watch, jaw collapsed towards the ground as Aurora Flores slid past the frame, her jumper and stockings piled in her arms. The Slytherin witch could not fathom the sight before her, and it was even more difficult to process the way Theodore's arms grasped her from behind and pulled her back into him.

Aurora Flores laughed as he did so. Pansy had seen her laugh many times before, from a distance sure, yet never had she realised how boyish it was, how untamed, almost ugly. Theodore, one of her best friends, kissed up the Gryffindor witches neck, pressing pecks along her olive skin, and turning her around to steal a passionate kiss. "You are so beautiful." He pulled away from her.

"You're alright." The Flores girl grinned playfully. He flashed an unimpressed glance. "Fine, you are so beautiful." She gasped dramatically. "Like a princess." He smiled bashfully, cheeks aflame. He let her kiss them too.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night." He clasped her hand in his. She shook her head, no. The boy sighed. "Okay, fine. But just know–"

Pansy could not hear what he'd whispered to her next, or the way her cheeks too caught sickly red, instead she stood motionless, her own confusion forbade her from speaking, from doing anything, anything at all, and that was not at all like Pansy Parkinson.

•   •   •

Theodore Nott was not very popular the following morning. Awoke late for breakfast, he neared the table, stealing the last empty seat aside his friends. Unbothered to greet anyone, he snatched the final last slice of toast from the buffet before him. The boy frowned. "There's no more jam."

"We didn't save any for you." Adrien took a slow bite of his jam sandwich.

"Asshole." Theodore instead began to spread honey atop his bread. A smile twisted as he did this, aware as to why they each glared. He was also very much aware why Blaise sat with twelve pieces of toast on his plate, each smudged with Theodore's favourite jam. "You seem to have taken a liking, huh Blaise?" The guilty smirked.