godsent | h. potter

nine.

Silver eyes turning a shade darker, Malfoy sent her a sad smile. Patricia had half-expected him to spit out an insult, or even throw a tantrum, but all he said was, "Potter finally grew some balls to ask?"

Frowning, Patricia replies, "How'd you know?"

Malfoy snorted. He looked at her in disbelief before he rolled his eyes, "Only a dolt wouldn't know that Scarhead fancies you."

Silence ensued. It was awkward, none of them knew what to say next, but neither made a move to leave. Patricia squirmed slightly from where stood, feeling the Slytherin's stare. She looks up, and sea green meets gray, the same shade she'd see when a storm was brewing. It was swirling with emotions she couldn't fathom, thoughts she couldn't read. It was what made Draco Malfoy was so different from Harry. Draco Malfoy was a conundrum, a book full of mysteries written in an entirely new language. Whereas Harry Potter was the familiar, the book filled with her favorite things, written in her language.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow at her, and she knew he was questioning her for staring, but he didn't look away. Instead, he sends her a smile and says, "Since you've left me hanging for days only to turn me down, I am charging you payment. A single dance will suffice, I suppose."

Patricia snorts, shaking her head, "Sure. Just get your toes ready, because by the time we finish, they'd probably be dead."

-

The stranger had appeared in her dreams again after a while. And like all other times, Patricia was determined to finally take a glimpse at who was beneath the alluring royal blue shawl. "Will you finally tell me who you are?" asked Patricia, her voice filled with exasperation.

Time seemed to still as the stranger nods, their hands moving to grab the cloth covering their face. Patricia was stunned into silence. Her heart was hammering thunderously in her chest, and beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. She gulps, her sea green eyes focused on the figure in front of her.

This is it. I can finally know who sent me here, thought Patricia as she waits, with bated breath, as the stranger finally unveils the royal blue shawl.

And then all of a sudden, she feels her heart drop and her world spin. What she had seen didn't make sense at all. She feels nauseous and suffocated. Her whole body was trembling, as if she were having a seizure. 

"Hera?" she manages to breath out. Her throat was constricting and it was difficult to speak, "It was you all along? B-But why? This...This doesn't make sense! Why would you ㅡ I don't ㅡ you -?"

Hera stayed quiet. She watches with her cold, black eyes, as Patricia falls to her knees, shaking and rasping for air. She watches, silently and with no single show of mercy, as the teen struggles to regain her breathing. For a moment, the dream flickers ㅡ Patricia was slipping back to consciousness.

It was only then that Hera finally spoke, "It is not time for you to go back. Be patient, daughter of Poseidon."

From her spot on the floor, Patricia looks up to send the goddess a look of contempt. Calming down, she tries to reason, "But everyday, I'm losing control of my powers! Just yesterday I could barely breathe underwater. And then I even caused a minor earthquake the day before that. It's making me feel so we-"

Then, as if a bulb flicked open, everything fell into place. Patricia understood why Hera was letting her stay despite the effects.