EVELYN Young hated Draco Malfoy.
That sounded too aggressive, scratch that.
Contemplating my emotions in my head as I sat in the Gryffindor dorm room—Hermione Granger's, to be specific. The silver stone walls and wooden floors creaked when you entered. Red curtains surrounded the windows; it was different from the Slytherin dormitories. The red and yellow carpet really tied everything together, as the house crest was right on the middle of the wall.
"Are you done observing?" Granger's voice interrupted my thoughts as I looked at her. She sat cross-legged, her skirt hitching up slightly as the sleeves of her sweater were rolled up to her elbows. Her hair pulled into a small low bun, cheeks the color of rosy. "Evelyn?"
"I was just looking around Granger," I smiled, "it's not every day a Slytherin gets to walk into a Gryffindor dormitory." I shifted my body to lay on my back against the harsh carpet that irritated my skin. "Do those lion paintings always stare at you at night?"
"We're supposed to be solving this sword," she sighed, "and the painting doesn't stare at me all the time. Although it is quite creepy to look at sometimes, I'll say." She looked up with me, the painting, moving around as the lion hopped around with the log of wood wiggling its tail. "It's cute as well, I'm not sure
"Unless you put cute in the same category as scary, then I'll agree." I laughed, turning my body, laying on my stomach as my hands hovered over the sword, the palm of hands lighting up — the shade of a light red, glazing my eyes as my body felt infused with magic. "So I can siphon magic, which isn't concerning at all. Don't you think Dumbledore should know something about this, or is he completely useless?"
"Professor Dumbledore isn't useless, he's been busy as well. We just aren't aware of where he is, though. Harry says that he's helping with the Horcruxes as well; he's in England right now. In Sussex, to be specific, it's in the South of East England."
"What could we possibly find in Sussex?" I questioned, rolling over to my side again, watching the palm of my hands glaze red as it faded away slowly. "He's been the least helpful in the search for the Horcruxes. The teenagers are doing all the work."
"He's been searching for something that Regulus left behind. Regulus Black, the brother of Sirius Black — Harry is his grandson."
"So the Black family and the Malfoy family are related to the Potter family? Is what you're telling me? Isn't that sort of weird. Wait — does that mean Potter and Malfoy are also related — distant cousins, maybe?"
"It's hard to explain, the pureblood are related to each other in some way, so you can put it like that to make more sense. Every pureblood is related to each other in some weird way. Sometimes it makes me feel happy that I was a muggle-born."
"I'd rather be a muggle-born than pureblood, it seems much more simple. Fewer regulations to follow, you don't have to care about who you fall in love with or who you associate with. Don't have to act like your royalty, it's absolutely pathetic. Like, why does being pure-blood make you superior? It all depends on how great of a witch you are."
"Tell that to Salazar Slytherin, who only wanted pure-bloods to attend school. He believed that any student that has a muggle parentage isn't trustworthy. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all magical families. Many people decided to make that part of their family traditions, not quite sure why."
"I personally find it the most pathetic thing to exist—I think they are mostly jealous of what witches that have muggle parentage can do. Maybe they thought you were untrustworthy because of the ability you contained. Insecure arseholes."
"I don't understand why you think that way." Granger paused, "I mean, the Pierce family — your family was literally surrounded with pure-blood beliefs growing up, as well as the fact of their association with the Malfoy and Black family until Lorenzo Pierce — your father left."
"I personally don't think they mattered—I found it foolish and highly ignorant of wizards or witches that had the right to be treated the same as any pure-blood family. I don't know why blood is such a big matter. Your blood doesn't define anything; it's what's on the inside that matters the most. Anyone that treats you differently because of your blood status is one insecure, dull-witted, brainless person."
Her eyes peered over me as she slowly studied me. Perhaps she was still unsure of why someone that was a pureblood, almost royalty, would think in such a way. It's hard to comprehend. But maybe some people just don't entirely give a fuck about those things; life is more meaningful than that.
My mind wandered slightly to the fact that Malfoy was someone who had the same beliefs—he was a blood supremacist. He believed that pure-bloods were superior, as well as the fact that he was rich, which made him twice as unbearable. It reminded me of every reason why I began to hate him, the way he would speak of Muggleborns as if they were the scum of the earth, the way he would call Hermione a 'Mudblood' because it's what he thought was right.
I haven't thought about that part of him in a while. My mind completely wanders somewhere else when I watch him walk into a room. He's one confusing person, I'll say, the way he would stay and comfort me, despised the fact he hated me as much as I hated him. The way we would be there in a split second to help each other — the jealousy that would spark between us whenever we saw someone that wasn't us touching either of us.
I wonder if he would have done all of those things if I were a Muggleborn; I wonder that a lot. My mind quite often thinks of possibilities that don't exist, but I think about them because there's a reason they're called a possibility.
The trace of the tips of his fingers on my skin, the whispers of his voice against my ear as his lips would brush against my cheeks — sending a wave of heat all over me. The way he would watch—oh how much he enjoyed watching. He liked when people would melt on the tips of his fingers, but it was different with me: I wanted him to whimper beneath me, to feel control, being above him, I enjoyed that and I think part of him did too.
The constant bickering and insults being thrown at each other had become part of our daily routine, something to look forward to. The way his mouth would enjoy throwing the most humiliating things, but that same mouth would leave a trail of kisses along my body, complimenting how perfect I felt beneath him.
"Okay, so far, we're aware that this sword is doing the opposite of what destroying a Horcrux is. It's like it's absorbing it or something, I can't seem to understand it at all." Pushing the book onto the carpeted floor as she brought her face between the palm of her hands — she had taken more stress than either of us. She was doing all she could to prove herself; it hurt me.
"Wait — did you say absorbing?" I questioned, getting immediately up, moving the book to space my view. "Hermione?"
"Yes — yes, I said absorbing. How is that going to help anything?" She groaned. "What are you — what are you doing?"
"How could we be so dumb?" I chuckled, almost so infused with all the answers in my brain as I began separating each book, marking them all at a specific page and a topic. "Holy shit," I muttered under my breath. My eyes, looking at the answers forming right in front of me—this was like gold being found in a treasure.
"So are you going to start explaining or do you need me to talk louder for you to hear me?" Hermione almost felt offended that I was able to figure something out that we have been working on for the past few months.
"Look here," I pointed at a paragraph in the book, "If a person is more emotionally vulnerable, it is possible for the soul inside the Horcrux to take control of him or her," I read it out loud as I looked at her. "Remember the time when Ginny Weasley had possession of the diary? Riddle had used that as a weapon, rather than a safeguard, to help reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Do you realize how Ginny Weasley was using it as a form of a regular diary, but the thing is, the Horcrux can feed on another person's life or negative emotion to strengthen itself and increase the ability of the soul fragment to act independently in the physical world. Ginny Weasley was basically feeding the Horcrux power when she wrote down all her thoughts."
"So it's basically like when Ron and Harry were carrying the Salazar Slytherin's locket around their neck, the Horcrux was making them more vulnerable, in a way. It possesses the magical abilities to influence those in the vicinity and affect them mentally. That's why Ron saw Harry and I basically, erm — kissing each other. Because I'd be feeding the locket more power—it feeds off our emotions, is what you're saying?"
"Yes — yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." I almost grinned at the entire moment. "The Horcrux feeds off of your emotion and I couldn't understand it before, but when you said the word 'absorbing' it all just made sense. The sword contains regular magic, of course, because it's the Gryffindor sword, although it also contains dark magic and I couldn't understand this before until now. The sword was never destroying the Horcruxes; instead, it was absorbing the power of all of them and making Riddle twice as strong as he was before. We're basically helping Riddle become stronger by doing the job of killing all the Horcruxes for him. The Gryffindor sword is a Horcrux. Of course, he chose this because no one would ever point its finger at Gryffindor. Slytherin and Gryffindors were always assigned as natural enemies due to the houses, so he made people think that he wouldn't put a Horcrux in this house. It all makes sense: the Ravenclaw diadem, the Helga Hufflepuff Cup, the Salazar Slytherin Locket, and last, but definitely not the least, the Sword of Gryffindor."
"The sword has been absorbing all of the energy from the other Horcruxes into itself, and it's being highly motivated due to Harry and Ron's impulses. They were basically feeding the sword more energy," Hermione stated, a state of shock across her face, her fingers scrunched around the hem of her skirt. "The Sword of Gryffindor is a Horcrux. Riddle put it as a Horcrux this whole time. We've had the Horcrux right in front of us and we had no idea. You're bloody brilliant, Evelyn."
"I couldn't have done this without you, Hermione," I smiled. "I think my magic recognized the dark magic swirling around the sword. Remember when my magic first came in contact with it, there were so many sparks and knocked us both unconscious. It's like it wanted me to stay away from it. But I kept being pulled into the darkness of it. There's something about it and I can't understand it." I looked back at the sword, my hand glowing red as it came near the metal blade, "I need to figure out who my real parents are and what contact I have with them and this magic. I think it has to do with a certain bloodline, these siphoning powers."
"Let's practice it then," Hermione said. "Let's see what you can do with it, then."
I nodded my head, sitting right across from it, my eyes staring right into hers as I looked down at my hands. "I don't know how to use siphoning powers. It's not like I can do much besides absorbing magic."
"Absorb magic," Hermione mumbled. "You're quite literally like the sword of Gryffindor: you absorb magic just like it absorbs the power of Horcruxes. Put your hand on the sword."
I raised a brow, my thoughts jumbled together. Shaking away the thoughts as I shifted my body to my left. Raising my hand as it hovered over the sword, my hand glowing red, the intensity of the magic feeling like a pressure in my head. I enjoyed it, though, how rich the darkness felt pouring out of that sword. My hand clutched around the metal of the blade, closing my eyes for a minute as let the magic run through me.
"Evelyn!" Hermione called out my name, "move your hand!" I opened my eyes, the glow appearing around my body—I felt like a magical fairy in books for a minute. The color fading away as I looked down at my hands, there were black ink filling into my veins, a cut through my palm because of the sharp blades
"That's not good at all," I mumbled, my eyes, looking up at her. "This is some seriously dark magic, and I think I'm the only one that could absorb the magic of this sword."
"What — no, you're not going to absorb dark magic, Evelyn," she spoke loudly, swatting my hand away from the sword. "I don't know what you're reading, but messing with dark magic never ends, right. It'll eat you whole and there'll be nothing left of you. As well as the fact we don't know how your magic works, neither do we know why it correlates with this sword." She breathed. "There's black ink leaking through your hands right now, Evelyn, and all it took was less than ten seconds."
"We still need to figure out how to destroy it," I paused, "I need to know how I play into this because both you and I know that it's too big of a coincidence that I happened to have siphoning powers that we still don't know much about, as well as a sword that happens to absorb all Horcruxes, and no known way to destroy it."
"I'm not going to put you on a suicide mission like Harry does to himself without learning about it properly. No one knows that. We know that gives us a huge advantage."
|
Walking through the Hogwarts corridors as I slipped my potions book into my bag. Looking around as Amelia slipped off to go see someone. Bonnie has been with her parents since last week due to some emergencies.
Malfoy wasn't in class, we usually sat behind each other in potions, as he always kicked my seat to annoy me purposely. He hasn't been in his classes at all actually, missing homework, not attending the Great Hall to eat food.
I haven't seen him since the day he let me sleep on his chest because it was the only thing I was comfortable with. He was basically missing to say in other words. I've barely caught a few glimpses of him over the last few days.
He always looked distraught — tired. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, a person who could really use a hug. I don't think he likes hugs, though, not sure. The circles under his eyes are growing. He was becoming paler each day, he needed nutrients and he wasn't having any of it.
Every time I caught a glimpse of him, he looked like a person who didn't want to be seen — watched — or even followed. Mysterious disappearing during the night, always wearing a black shade of clothing to blend in with the darkness, the shiny Slytherin pin on his lapel blinking brightly.
There was practically a new girl every night at his dorm for a week straight or no one lingering around him for days. He couldn't decide whether he wasn't to be isolated or needed distractions. He was a confusing being, yet I seemed to understand it.
Stay clear of him, no interactions at all, no eye contact.
Then I saw him walking out of the Great Hall, loosening his tie around his neck, as the dark sweater looked oversized upon him. He looked distressed, completely deranged from reality, as his long legs quickly paced out of the corridors.
I decided to follow him.
His steps were echoing through the empty corridors; he seemed so out of place. His messy, platinum hair — ruffled together, turning into another hallway. Breathing heavily as I tried to stay right behind him, but not in view. My robes brushing against my bare ankles, feeling almost scared.
There were many abandoned classrooms in Hogwarts. Empty potion rooms, chairs, and desks being coated in dust. There were empty, prefect bathrooms and regular lavatories that weren't used as much as it was before. Standing behind the tall brown doors as I peeked my head inside.
He was leaning against the sink, looking down as if he was trying to search for an answer somehow. I didn't know what to do. He quickly turned out the tap, water pouring out of it as he splashed it into his face, I could hear him breathing almost. Taking off his sweater as he threw it onto the other side of the sink.
"I can't do it," he whispered.
I stepped inside, my hand gripping the side of the door. I felt like my breath was ripped out of my throat as he looked up at the mirror to catch me staring right at him. Water droplets going down his forehead as both of his hands were on the sink — he was crying?
My heart saddened a little at the sight of it, at the sight of seeing him at such a vulnerable point. I stood at the door so straightened and so terrified of the way he was looking back at me.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He spoke loudly, his voice echoing throughout the prefect's bathroom. I couldn't speak—it's like I had lost the normal ability to speak, almost wanting to slap myself across the face for it. "Are you fucking daft, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"I saw — I saw you come in — I mean, I watched you. No, I didn't watch you, I just saw you come in," I blurted out the wrong words, wanting to bury myself six feet under as he turned around to look at me. "Are you hurt?"
"Am I hurt? Does — does it look like I need your help?" He yelled out. A few strands of his hair fell out in front of his eyes; he always seemed to look more attractive when he was upset.
"You look hurt." I stepped forward, my hands falling to my sides brushing against the silk of my robes. "I can help—"
"I don't need you," he stepped forward, "or your fucking pity-filled help, so get the fuck out."
He turned around, his hand gripping the sink. Again, I wasn't stung by his words; it didn't impact me. I blinked at him in confusion moving forward. My fingers pressed against the edge of the sink, almost touching his hand.
My hand hovering over his shoulder, I didn't know if he would be okay with me touching him, invading his space when he clearly told me to leave him alone. I couldn't—I felt like I had owed him or something because of the way he was with me when I was in this state.
I was about to open my mouth to say something when he turned around, his hand gripping my waist as his thumb pressed against my hip bone. Locking me in place as he towered over me, his eyes peering over my face, his hands touching my skin, his face so, so close to mine. "When I told you to fucking leave, witch, you should've left. You can't listen, can you? So fucking stubborn, always doing what you think is right."
"I'm not leaving," I whispered, inching forward, his eyes looking down at my lips. "I'm not. You clearly look distressed, I'm not leaving you like this. You don't scare me, your words don't have an impact on me."
His thumb pressed harder against my hips, almost brushing up and down my breath stopping in my lungs as I'm looking up at him. "You haven't seen anything that is enough to scare you away, you haven't seen anything. You should've left when I told you to. Why are you so fucking stubborn?"
"You're just as stubborn as me," I muttered, my eyes not being able to refrain from breaking eye contact. "Nothing you have to show to me is going to scare me, nothing you say is going to scare me. So let me help you. Let people take care of you. Just because you think you're unworthy of being cared for doesn't mean others think the same."
His left hand slowly moved up from my waist, tracing up my shirt, inching forward as his index finger studied the curve of my jaw — putting his finger below it as he brought my face higher to look directly at me. He wanted me to look at him as if he'd do something to terrify me. Because of his existence, there was only room for one person to be stubborn.
"Tell me, witch," he whispered against my ear, "how desperate are you to try and fix things that aren't mendable?" His hands were in my hair as his body pressed against mine, my cheeks completely flushed. "How fucking desperate are you trying to fix me just because you can't fix yourself?"
"That's not what this is—"
He brought his hand under my jaw aggressively holding it as he squished my cheeks together, an alarming pit growing in my stomach. My hands gripped the sink so I could lean on it instead of crumbling onto the floor. "I am not a toy for you to pick up and put together like a puzzle piece, Young. So stop acting like you or your annoying fucking words can fix anything that goes on in my life. I am not your fucking game, do you understand that?"
I looked at him, my fingers wrapped around his wrist. There was a terrifying feeling developing in my body. He was trying to frighten me, trying to scare me and some part of me didn't want to be so gullible and mold into it. Though I had no idea what to do.
"Speak when you're fucking spoken to."
I moved his hand away, a small grunt from my lips as I'm pushing him away. Pushing my hands against his chest as he wouldn't budge. "You know who's being treated like a fucking toy?" I looked up at him, "I'm being treated like a toy. Do you even realize the words that come out of your mouth? The way you speak of other people as if you're superior to them? The way you act like a fucking trophy that can't be scratched. Here we are, aren't we?" I looked up at him. His eyes were burning into me, his hands were molded into fists.
"How pathetic you look standing here." He stepped forward, "like the whore you are, Young. Always trying to act like you're so fucking amazing, the almighty Slytherin that everyone adores, yet you're so miserable inside." He walked around me, his lips brushing against my ear, "tell me how much you hate yourself?" He hummed.
"You pretend as if you don't hate yourself more."
He laughed. He looked terrifying almost. "I don't have anything to hate about myself," he chuckled, "you, on the other hand, have a whole list. Tell me how wretched you feel when you look at me, knowing what goes on in your head shouldn't be there?" He stepped closer as I took a step back. "Tell me how fucking feeble you feel to know that you're not but a desperate little slut that will do anything, even for a guy like me, will let yourself be treated like shit for the smallest bit of attention. Are you that fucking miserable?"
His words shouldn't hurt, but they felt like a dagger that had been driven through my own heart by the person I was trying to help. He took a step forward, backing me up to a wall as I allowed him. His arm stretched out as his palm pressed against the stone walls. His eyes looking directly at me, he's amused, the corner of his mouth tugged up. I was biting down onto my tongue, refraining from feeling any emotions towards his words, but I couldn't stop myself as a tear slipped from the corner of my eye.
"Did you ever realize that maybe the times you needed someone, I was the only one there?" I looked up at him as another tear slipped from my eye. "I stood with you at times because I thought you were worthy of being treated like a human — that you were maybe more than you act on the outside. I thought that you deserved a chance to be more than the bully that everyone sees you as maybe see you as a person who is desperate enough to want to be seen. That is desperate enough to do things over the last few years to catch attention because you never received it. So you humiliated others to make yourself feel better about the horrors of your life."
"You can't even look me in the fucking eye and accept the things that go in your head," he spoke, "because you're so afraid of ruining them yourself, you think things break around you, isn't that pathetic Young. Maybe you're causing it for attention."
My eyes snapped back to his, another tear slid down my face. "You really think I'd cause the death of someone I love for attention?" I stepped forward, my finger poking into his chest, "do you really think I'd put myself in a position to get assaulted? Do you really fucking think I would do that?" I looked up at him, giving him a push, "speak when you're spoken to."
"I don't know," he paused, "you tell me."
I felt everything pause around me, everything felt like it was closing in. I had stopped breathing for a couple of seconds, my mouth parted from shock; I had no idea how to respond to that. I looked up at him, tears falling from my eyes, staining my face like a painting, a painting full of every emotion written across my face from the paintbrush.
"I'm scared to ruin things," I said, wiping my face with the sleeves of my shirt, "I wanted to stay away from you because I was afraid to ruin you. I believe that you deserved to have someone who'd look at you like you're human," my voice broke, "I guess I was wrong."
I turned around, waited for a second as I looked back at him. "You're just as pathetic as I thought you were. It's sad you try to ruin all the good things in your life because you're so afraid," I spoke, turning around as I gathered my robes and walked out the prefect's bathroom.
|
It's Valentine's Day.
I hated this day.
I hate Valentine's Day.
I hated receiving boxes of chocolates and bouquets of flowers.
I liked the simplicity of receiving just a single white rose.
I looked at the mirror in front of me, zipping up the dress I was going to wear for Valentine's Day party tonight. I didn't want to stay in—it was too damn depressing and I'd rather stay in a room full of drunk teenagers.
Tucking my hair behind my ear as a knock came from the door. My eyes lit up as Bonnie was standing, smiling as she looked at me. Not giving me a chance before she completely ambushed me with a hug. "I missed you so much," she cried out.
"Never leave like that again," I mumbled against her hair, my arms wrapped around her body as I completely nestled in, making myself comfortable with her finally being here. "It has been quite the week without you."
"You have to tell me all about it." Oh, I wish I could.
"I most definitely will," I said as I whispered 'some other time' underneath my breath as she quickly settled her things onto the floor of my dorm. "Amelia is waiting downstairs, she made Cupid drinks and cupcakes. She also put up pink and red balloons all over the floor. Amelia is the only person keeping this party together. Theo decided to go to the damn rooftop with Blaise."
"You've got to be joking with me," she almost screamed from the lavatory of my room, "don't tell me they're smoking without me. Blaise always has a good stash and I'm definitely not going to be missing it. Smoking on Valentine's Day," she smiled, reaching up to place a kiss on my cheek, "cheers to that."
I walked through the people drooling over each other as they confessed their eternal love for each other. I wasn't the affectionate type, I didn't know how to express it without feeling the need to drown myself — well that almost did happen. I really sucked at expressing my feelings for someone—I wanted to do better and show them my care, but it felt terribly straining — more like a scare that once I show my true feelings, they'll leave or something bad will happen.
Walking up to the table, I picked up a round-shaped glass filled with a pink drink as I brought it up to my eye level, looking at it for a minute as I downed it. It was not good at all — it was pure sweet, cotton candy flavored and no balance of the salt. Sticking my tongue out as I fanned my hand in the air as if it would get rid of the residue.
"I don't know if I wished I was here earlier to tell you that it's terribly bad or to watch you go through that again." Adrian approached me wearing a white shirt tucked into his black, comfortable bottoms. "We're almost matching."
I looked down at the white dress I decided to wear, worst choice or best choice — I don't know. It was short on me and seemed to be a little backless as the rims were on a curve. A square-shaped line on the chest as the bottom curls of my hair surrounded my shoulder. "Should've warned me before I drank that, it was too sweet." I looked at him. "I have a sweet tooth, but that thing is horrendous."
He laughed. "Here," he spoke, looking around as he pulled out a small silver-colored flask from his pocket. Twisting the small-cap as he handed it to me, "drink up."
I looked at the flask in his hand, the Slytherin rings flashing from the blazing lights, as I looked up again. I haven't properly had a drink in a good while and when I drink, things don't usually end well. My eyes drifted for a second to behind Adrian's head, a familiar light-haired boy pushing the raven-haired girl against the wall. Kissing against her neck as his eyes looked up to meet mine, a smile playing on his lips as he dipped his head down again.
"Definitely drinking up." I took the flask from his hand, pressing my lips to the steel, tasting opening, as the liquid burned in my throat — pouring down.
"Slow down!" Adrian scolded me, taking the flask from my hands, "you're not going to live past ten minutes in this common room if you drink at that rate."
"Well, that doesn't seem so bad." I looked at him. "Right?"
"No."
"Oh okay," I mumbled, looking up at him, "you know I'm not going to listen to you, right?"
"Yes."
Taking the flask from his hand as I pressed it against my lips, my eyes looked at the fair-haired Slytherin, who was already looking at me — consuming the liquor that tasted bitter but slightly sweet. My eyes looked away as Adrian pressed his hand against my lower back, leading me into the party.
The flashing colored lights, red plastic cups all over the floor as bodies were pressed up against the wall. My hand tracing the slit of the dress as a holster was strapped around my thigh, a small dagger holding it in place. I've carried one along with me quite a few times — just in case I had to get physical with someone.
"Look who finally decided to join us." I looked down at Theodore—he was sitting shirtless, his brunette hair in a mess. "How much did you smoke?" I bent down, taking his jaw in my hands as I made him look at me.
"Do you know what a vegetarian zombie eats?" A hiccup from his lips as he leaned forward, his scent reeking from liquor. I nodded my head, sitting on the floor with him. "GRAINSSSSSS."
"Real funny, Theo," I chuckled, looking around him. "Where's Bonnie? Did you leave her alone again? You never leave Bonnie alone in a party, the next thing you know—" My eyes looked up as I turned around to see Bonnie standing on top of the Slytherin table, Amelia right next to her. They held bottles of liquor in their hands, pouring them down everyone's throat as they cheered.
Blaise was in the crowd, jumping up and down as he raised his hands in their air — cheering so loudly as Amelia poured alcohol into her mouth, closing her mouth as she leaned forward, spitting it down his throat. My eyes widened as I sat next to Theo, laughing with him as I pointed at them.
"They're going to regret that in the morning," I laughed as Theo picked up the empty red cup — pouring the remaining liquid down his throat. "Gross," I said, "don't drink that." I pulled out the flask as I smiled at him, giving it to him. He smirked as he pulled his hand into his pocket, lighting the cigarette in his hand as he handed it to me.
"Cheers?"
I smiled up at him, "cheers."
I looked at the cigarette between my two fingers, knowing I don't smoke, passing it down to Adrian, who was slumped down next to me. Muttering something to himself as I rolled my eyes. "Dap — e, hair, she has pretty hair."
"Who has pretty hair?" I leaned back, my head pressing against the stone wall, my back slouching onto the carpeted floor.
"So," he said with a hiccup, "this person has pretty hair. It's like soft platinum blonde hair, so soft." He leaned forward, taking the cigarette from my hands as he almost poked himself in the eye with it.
My mind thought of a certain platinum blonde, thinking of the fact that Adrian may like guys. I didn't want to ask—I wasn't sure if I'd make it awkward.
"Adrian, do you like Malfoy?" I asked, my body shifting forward, holding the alcoholic flask as I turned my head to watch Theodore making its way to Bonnie, who was very close to stripping with Amelia on the table.
"What?" He asked, his eyes widened. "No — I don't like Malfoy. Why would I like him — I mean, I'm not saying he's ugly, he's a good-looking bloke. That sounds weird—I mean, I'm not saying he is unattractive, what the fuck."
"Erm," I mumbled, my mind clouded with ten different things. Maybe Adrian likes the other gender but is too afraid. Is he scared like Amelia was at the beginning of the month? Probably. So Adrian likes guys—does that mean he's gay — or he could be bisexual, like me. "It's alright to like guys, Adrian."
"I mean, of course, anyone can like whoever they choose to like." He stood up, blowing out smoke—I'm going to tell them."
"Oh — oh okay." I almost panicked. "Yes — yes, you should, do you want me to help you?" I stood next to him, gripping the table to keep myself from collapsing. "Like be your wing-woman like, you know, throw you a mint, right — a mint — here," I passed one to him from the aluminum box on the table, "like, give you hand directions to help — you?"
"I think I'm going to kiss them," he protested, "tonight."
"Oh — okay, okay, you're going to kiss them." He's going to kiss Malfoy. Okay. "Do you need me to come along with you? I would like to be sure everything goes well." I wasn't sure what I was going to do—I was going to help Adrian, considering I almost drowned him. I could help Adrian kiss Malfoy, no big deal at all.
"No," he laughed, "I got this." He stumbled away as I pressed my lips to the top of the flask, again downing the last of the liquor in it, squeezing my eyes shut as I aggressively placed it on the table.
"I'm going to take this," I said as I grabbed the half-empty liquor bottle from a Slytherin who was nice enough to not argue. Taking another sip from it as I walked down the common room, the lights were still flashing as I saw Bonnie stumbling to keep Theodore up walking up the boys' dormitory.
Blaise was on the couch, placing cards on the table, his eyes completely focused as Amelia was sitting on the opposite side of him, surrounded by Cormac, Seamus, Ginny Weasley, and Zacharias Smith. Adrian had disappeared from my view as I wished him luck in my head.
Adrian Pucey was going to kiss Draco Malfoy.
Everything was going to be fine.
Picking up a bowl of sweets as I brought it up higher, holding it closer to the flashing lights so I could see if it had what I wanted. My hands searched through the stringmints, liquorice wands, sherbet lemons, toffees, and blood lollipops.
I couldn't find the chocolate bars.
Searching for the sweets from one hand as I held the bottle of liquor in the other, absolutely consumed in my own world.
"Hey, darling," a manly voice approached me as I looked up. Holding a round glass in his hand, wearing a dark maroon shirt — the first toe buttons were undone. "You look like you could use a friend."
I raised a brow at him. "No," I spoke, "but I could definitely use a chocolate bar right now." I looked away, my eyes, back down at the bowl of sweets, completely unbothered, and very drunk.
"Oh," he spoke, stepping closer as I didn't take notice of it, "I have some back at my dorm, brought it recently from Hogsmeade." He approached me further, taking a slight step back as my hip pressed against the corner of the table.
"Oh thank god," I said, "I've been meaning to get chocolates from Hogsmeade but I had zero time to go there." He stepped closer, not paying attention, as his hand pressed against the table, moving closer. "They're just so amazing, you know? Like the taste of it. Especially at night when you're reading, it's just absolutely tasty."
"Yeah," he blurted, "yeah — definitely, reading and all of that." He stepped closer, "I have some at my dorm, we can go get them together if you like?" He smiled.
"Of course." I smiled. "You're a really good friend. I could really use some chocolate right now. This stupid bowl had nothing in it."
"But I'm a special friend, right?" He asked, "I'm helping you out." He smirked, it creeped me out. His black locks of hair falling to the side. He pressed his hand on my lower back, "shall we?"
I nodded my head. "Or maybe you could just bring it down from your dorm." I looked up at him. "It'll be better. I've had too much to drink, I'll most likely trip over the stairs."
"Oh, come on," he pleaded, "it'll be fun at my dorm."
I blinked at him; I couldn't think straight. We were only going to get chocolates. No big deal. We took a step forward as we were stopped, my head hurting as I looked down — pressing my fingers against my forehead.
"She doesn't need to come with you."
"We're just going to get her chocolates, it's none of your business." He pressed his hand against my back again to lead me as we were stopped again.
"She's not going with you, Parker," the voice demanded. He wasn't going to stop. I just wanted some chocolate. Looking up at him, he was standing there — wearing a black button-up shirt, the first three undone, revealing his chest.
My eyes completely betrayed me as they shamelessly stared at him. He looked extremely handsome. The way his eyes watched over to me, his hair ruffled together. His tousled shirt goes along with a simple pair of black bottoms.
"Malfoy." I smiled. My body automatically moves over to him. "I thought you were supposed to be someone else." My eyes were looking for Adrian, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"How much did you drink?" He asked. My eyes, looking over at the bottle in my hand. He let out a sigh, looking distressed from something as he took it away from my hand.
"Hey — don't do that, I still need that." I looked at him, almost pouting. "This man," I looked over, "was going to take me to get chocolate."
"We should definitely go right now," the man with no name spoke, I smiled as he took a hold of my wrist — looking over at Malfoy.
Another tug at my other wrist as I stood between two men. I only wanted to eat chocolates.
"She's not going with you, Parker." He looked at him, he was giving him a look, a deadly look. "Take your hands off of her now." He stepped forward, pulling me to him as I almost stumbled. "Let go."
The man with no name finally let go of my wrist, mumbling something at himself as Malfoy scoffed. Looking back at me, I was staring at him blankly. "You ruined my chocolate date."
"I don't care."
"Rude." I looked at him. "You also took away the liquor bottle I stole — well not really stole, I took from the other Slytherin. That isn't fair. You're interfering with my night, Malfoy."
"You've had too much to drink." He looked at me.
"I had no idea." My jaw dropped, throwing my hands into the air. "I'm completely aware. I was drinking with Adrian and Theo."
"Who are now nowhere to be found." He tilted his head.
I pressed my lips shut. "That's a statement I can't disagree with." Running my hand through my dress, feeling cold as I stood there. I don't know why I was talking to him—I wasn't supposed to, I was well aware of that.
He was curiously watching my every step — every movement, every blink, as if something terrible would happen if he would look away.
Sitting on the floor of his dorm as I rested my head against the wooden cabinet. I did not want to sober up. Pulling myself back as I hear a 'clink' sound from behind me. Turning around as I opened the cabinet, I discovered the hidden liquor cabinet.
Pulling out what firewhiskey bottle, smiling as I twisted the cap open, bringing it up to my lips as the lavatory door opened. He stood there looking down at me with a towel in his hand. Letting out a sigh as he looked up, mumbling something to himself — I felt offended.
"So are you going to drink with me, or just stand there looking like eye candy?" I looked up, bringing the bottle up to offer him his own alcohol.
"I'm not drinking with you."
"I promise it'll be fun. You don't always have to be so uptight all the time, it's exhausting." He took the bottle from my hand as I almost frowned, but he ended up taking a swig.
Smiling up at him as he returned the bottle, drinking from the same opening he pressed his lips to. We both had our eyes looking at each other as I swallowed.
A thought came to my head as I smiled. "I want to try something," I spoke to him. Standing up from the floor, my hair falling forward, as I slowly motioned myself to the bed.
It was raining outside, water pouring on the window as it was tapping against it. The room was deafening with the silence that was filling it. Our eyes were watching each other; there was much to say, but not the right time.
He raised a brow, curiously watching me. His shirt was unbuttoned from the top as his hands were on both sides of his body. Sitting on the edge of the bed as I approached him.
Standing right in front of him as I moved his legs apart, putting my knee between him. My dress rode up as it revealed more of my skin, his eyes dared not to look nor touch. Bringing the bottle to my lips, taking a mouthful of the liquor — moving my eyes to him.
My hand moving on his jaw as my thumb traced his bottom lip — completely taking a hold of his jaw. I opened his mouth, leaning forward as I poured the liquid from my mouth into his, wiping down the residue from his bottom lip.
His eyes were darkening as I dragged his bottom lip down my thumb, my dress hitching up slowly as his hands grew uneasy next to him. Looking down at his lips, then remembering the words he spoke to me the other day as I moved away.
Looking at the things on his shelf, my hands scanning the spines of the books, a few crystal bookmarks as I looked around. The bottle brushed against my bare thighs as I walked around.
"He was going to take advantage of you," he broke the silence as I turned around. "Parker."
My brows knitted together as I looked at him, placing the bottle on the corner shelf. "Oh."
"You shouldn't drink alone, you tend to — you're a lightweight and some people take advantage of that." He stood up, leaning against the wall as he watched me; he watched the way my eyes traveled everywhere. Always picked up on the smallest details.
I was indeed a lightweight—it didn't take much time for it to fully cloud my mind and do the absolute worst things. "Thank you," I mumbled, looking at him as his eyes were on me, "why did you? I mean — why do you care?"
"I don't care if you're a lightweight, I'm just saying that some people will use that thing against you. It isn't the safest thing for you."
"I know." I took a step forward, the silence around us. "I'm asking why do you care if someone takes advantage of me. I mean, it's not going to affect you in any way and the other day — the way — the words you said clearly shows you don't care, so I don't understand why you did that."
"I don't want anyone else to take advantage of you the way he did." His voice grew angry. He took a step forward as air stuck in my lungs. "I don't want someone to take advantage of you the way I did."
I stared at him for a blank moment. Standing in the darkness of the room with dim lighting, we were both intoxicated with liquor, completely hot heads as we were about to get into a screaming match. "You didn't take advantage of me."
"I did," he said, "I took advantage of you, I shouldn't have touched you, I shouldn't have kissed you. I should have never let anything happen between us. What don't you understand? I took advantage of you."
"You didn't take advantage of me—"
"But I did." He took another step forward, his voice growing with spite, his body growing closer as mine grew completely stiff. "I fucked you when you needed someone else to coddle you. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know how to talk to you that way. I shouldn't have done any of that but Merlin you make me—"
"Make you what?" I took another step, "you're confusing, did you know that? One minute you're insulting me as if I don't have feelings — as if you're incapable of feelings as well. I sure hope you fucking do because no matter how much I despise you, you never took advantage of me. For fucks sake I wanted you to touch me, I wanted you to kiss me."
"I don't want you to kiss me because you're trying to forget things you don't want to remember!" He blared. "I want you to kiss me because you fucking want to, witch. Do you fucking understand that?" His lips twitched slightly as those words left his mouth. My back was pressed against the wall now and he was a step away from pressing his body against mine.
Part of him wasn't wrong, I did want him to touch me in places that would erase memories of the things I wanted to forever erase my mind. Though the other part he doesn't realize is I wanted him to kiss me because I enjoyed the way he kissed me, I enjoyed the way he would look at me and taste me in ways I yearn for. Merlin the way he would use his tongue.
"You've had too much to drink, Malfoy," I said, attempting to step away from him as he yanked me back — stepping closer as my back pressed against the hard wall. His hand on my face as he's lifting my face to look at him.
"Don't say that," he looked at me, his eyes burning into mine and I could feel all of his energy. The intoxication of his cologne, and the way his eyes drag all over my face. "Say my name, and say it right."
"Malfoy you're—"
"Don't make me get it out of the other way, love. Say it."
"Draco."
His eyes watched my lips, the way his name rolled off of my tongue, the way my eyes were staring at him. My chest rising up and down heavily, the hostility in his tone was sending a wave of heat through my body as I was trying to normalize my breathing.
He had my arms pinned against the wall, my eyes flickering from complete confusion, absolutely furious at him as our bodies were pressed against each other. His pants brushing against my thighs, my dress hitching up my thigh as the moon was shining upon us — the faded music coming from the common room.
"You're driving me insane. You're driving me fucking insane. You make me — you make me want to touch you, to care for you. What are you doing to me?" He mumbled quickly before I could even manage his words properly into my brain, stepping away. He's moving away from me and I still feel his presence around me.
He's looking at me as I'm looking back at him, striding towards him slowly. Neither of us is speaking but just quietly observing each other's movements.
The palm of my hand meeting his cheek, a slap.
—