-O L I V I A-
I don't know what had gotten into Draco, but I liked it. At some point today, he went from scheming and childish to a mature gentleman. He danced with me. He pulled out my chair. He even held my hand. Somehow, we even managed to hold a conversation for longer than a minute without a single snide remark.
And now, as the dance floor began to clear and students retired to their dorms, I swayed to the sound of my favorite Weird Sisters song, Magic Works, with his arms around me. "You know, you're a pretty good dancer," He said, a smile on his face.
I could feel my cheeks going red. "You're not so bad yourself," I whispered bashfully as I glanced down at our feet.
He was quiet for a moment before he sighed, "Vance, I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I've had a really good time with you tonight."
I suddenly became very aware of my heartbeat racing in my chest, almost choking on my own pulse. "I'm glad," I said, "because I've enjoyed my time with you as well."
"I'm sorry that my friends are a bit unpleasant."
I shook my head, "It's okay, I've gotten used to it by now."
"No, it's not okay," he insisted, "They were totally out of line. I shouldn't have let it go that far."
My hand slid down from where it rested on his shoulder, landing on his chest. "Do you maybe want to get out of here? We could go somewhere quiet and talk. After all this, I'd like to get to know you a bit better."
My gaze raised to meet his. "That sounds wonderful," He whispered, dropping his grasp on me and grabbing my hand. "Do you have a particular place in mind?"
"The boat house on the lake?" I suggested. He nodded in agreement. "Would you mind if I went and changed into something a little less... stuffy? I'll meet you there."
"Of course."
And we parted ways.
"Someone looks cheery," I heard as I was on my way back out after swapping my ballgown for a cozy jumper and jeans.
I jumped, stopping in my tracks. To my relief, it was only Fred, leaned against the mantlepiece. "What are you still doing up?" I asked.
"I could ask you the same thing," he pointed out, "how was Draco?"
I shrugged, struggling to for words. "He was surprisingly pleasant."
"I saw you two dancing. He actually looked happy for once. I don't think I'd ever seen him smile so much before," Fred laughed. He was right. Draco was never truly happy, even when he was torturing poor first years.
"I seem to have that effect on people," I said arrogantly, "Now if you don't mind, I've got somewhere to be."
He stood up straighter, watching me carefully. "And where might that be?"
"Somewhere," I repeated, slipping out of the common room before he could question me further.
The boat house was dark and eerie, though I always found a strange sort of comfort there. The sound of the water lapping against the docks was steady and calming. The lake gave off a cool breeze, gently rustling my long hair. But it was quieter than I had expected. Draco hadn't shown.
I felt another wave of tears hitting me, similar to at dinner earlier tonight. I leaned back against the wall, feeling defeated. I don't know why I had expected anything different of him. He only went on this date with me because his bonehead friends told him to. Of course he wouldn't sneak out of the castle to see me.
But then I heard footsteps approaching. I held my breath and ducked behind one of the canoes mounted on the wall, not wanting to get caught.
"Vance?" I heard a voice whisper. A pale face rounded the corner. It was Draco, a large basket in his hand. He had swapped out his dress robes for a more comfortable green sweater.
"Malfoy," I whispered back, stepping out from my hiding spot.
A smile appeared on his face the second he saw me. "Sorry I'm a little late," he said, "I snuck by the kitchen and grabbed some refreshments." He pulled a bottle of butterbeer out of the basket. I took a closer look at it, seeing that it was also filled with blankets and an assortment of fruit and sweet treats.
He placed the blanket on the floor and started to unpack it. "Oh silly," I said with a smile.
"What?" He said worriedly, "What did I do?"
I shook my head and grabbed my wand from where I had tucked it inside my boot. With a swift flick, all of the items began to float out of the basket and arrange themselves for the perfect late night picnic.
"That works too," He chuckled, offering his hand to me. We both sat down on the picnic blanket and he handed me a butterbeer. "That's a beautiful wand you have," He noted, "Would you mind if I take a look at it?"
I handed it over and he took it excitedly. "Blackthorn. Dragon Heartstring."
"Where'd you get it?"
I scoffed, "Ollivander's, of course! I remember it like it was yesterday." I really did. Even though it had been five years since the wand maker placed the wand in my hands, I could still see the look on his face when it instantly started to glow. It wasn't the usual look of satisfaction that I had seen him give other young witches and wizards. Rather, it was a look of great trepidation. I remembered what he'd told me about the materials, confirming my greatest fears. "He said that both blackthorn wood and dragon heartstrings have a tendency to lend easily to dark magic."
Draco nodded slowly, turning the silver hilt over and over in his hands. "Olivia," he sighed solemnly, "I know who you are."
My heart plummeted. "You what?"
"I know who your parents are," he said, his voice catching. "My father knew your family quite well before they were sent to Azkaban."
I tried to speak, but my jaw flapped uselessly, unable to form words.
He put the wand down gently, reaching for my hand. But I pulled it away. "I know it's no secret my parents have flirted with the dark arts. It's okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed of," he muttered, trying to reassure me.
"But my parents haven't just flirted, Draco. It's so different. They murdered countless people. I've spent my entire life trying to escape it. Draco, please, please, don't tell anyone," I said angrily.
"Trust me, I won't," he promised, "why else do you think I told Pansy off?"
I looked up at him for the first time. His eyes rested lightly on me, pleading. "Why did you do that? I thought you hated me," I said, trying to change the subject.
He smirked. "It's my natural instinct to people down. I don't always mean the things that I say."
"Then why do you say them?"
He broke out eye contact. "I have an image to keep up. I have to make my father proud by perpetuating his beliefs. If I said any differently, he'd disown me."
"Being disowned isn't too bad," I joked. I had never joked about that before.
He laughed, "It seems to have done you well. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get out of it all?"
"Dumbledore," I said simply. "When my parents were sentenced, he took it upon himself to rehome me properly. He found the best person he possibly could, the person who could offer me the brightest future."
"How old were you?"
"I was only four. I don't remember anything before that though."
"They Obliviated you," He said certainly. I had never thought about that before. I wouldn't have put it past Dumbledore to Obliviate me to remove the bad influences in my early childhood.
"Maybe they did," I shrugged. Most people my age would probably have a more extreme reaction to being told that the first four years of their life, the only time that they knew their parents, had been erased from their memory, but there wasn't much to do about it now.
He took a big sip from his bottle and glanced around the boat house. "This is an interesting place to choose. I like it. It's relaxing."
I grinned, "I try to spend as much time outside as I can while at Hogwarts. I like the city, but it can get a bit stale sometimes."
"Whereabouts do you live?"
"London," I said, "close to Mum's work. But enough about me! I want to know more about you."
"Well," Draco started, "My father was a-"
I cut him off. "No, I don't want to know about your father. I want to know about Draco. What do you want to do when your older? What's your favorite book? How do you like to spend your summers?"
This conversation continued on for what felt like hours. He told me how he'd always had an interest in writing and reading, saying that he'd enjoy a career in publications. He said that he recently read a book called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which he found fascinating having never heard of the creatures mentioned. He sadly noted that he usually spent his summers doing whatever his father asked of him, though they got to travel a bit and he quite liked that. There was so much more to him than I had ever imagined. It sounds crazy to say that I never really thought of him as a person, but it was true. Before now, he had just always been a pesky Slytherin who liked to stick his nose in places that it didn't belong. I hadn't thought much about him enjoying anything other than tormenting his inferiors. Slowly, everything about him started to fall into place.
With every bottle of butterbeer, we inched closer and closer together. Eventually, we had grown so near that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. "— And that's how I learned that I could never be a beater." I finished with a laugh. He let out a low, breathy chuckle. I looked up to see his eyes drifting away from mine and down towards my lips. Everything seemed to slow down. I could hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. I could smell what was left of his cologne, mixed with the musky scent of sweat. And then, I could taste his lips on mine. They tasted of butterscotch. They glided gently but still maintained a certain dominance about them. His hand cupped my face, sliding back into my hair.
I teased my lips against his, kissing back before pulling back slightly, just enough to get another good look at him before leaning my weight into him, our mouths crashing back together.
I was kissing Draco Malfoy.
-D R A C O-
When I opened my eyes, the sun was beaming in through the single window in the dorm, the heavy green curtains pulled back. I blinked hard and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Besides myself, the room was empty. Everyone else had already headed down for breakfast. Pulling the sheets back, I sat up. But as I did so, a sharp pain radiated through my head. I knew that I had overindulged with the butterbeer last night, but I wasn't expecting to feel it in the morning.
I sat back, remembering the night before. Somehow, the night that I had been dreading for days turned into one of the best nights of my entire life. For the first time ever, I felt like someone was actually interested in me as a person, not for my family's wealth or status. Olivia didn't care about any of that. She seemed so genuinely happy to listen to me carry on about secret passions that I had kept quiet for years. It definitely helped that she was so easy to talk to. I could still hear her quiet laugh and see her subtle smile.
What was I thinking? This was Olivia Vance, a Gryffindor prefect a year older than me. I was supposed to hate her. Although I kind of did in this moment. I hated her for making me feel so conflicted. If my father found out about this, he'd be furious with me. And somehow, my father found out about everything.
I shook those thoughts out of my head and stood up, changing out of my pajamas and into a pair of black trousers and a white oxford shirt, chucking on a grey jumper over top.
The Great Hall no longer looked like the winter wonderland that it had been last night, but it was still buzzing with students. "Somebody was out late," Pansy said as I approached the table.
I shrugged and sat down, reaching for a piece of toast. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," I lied.
"Did your new little friend join you?" She pressed.
I rolled my eyes, "She's not my friend."
"Does she know that? It certainly didn't look like it last night."
She really wasn't going to let this go. "I didn't want the Ball to be a complete waste of her time," I said, trying not to sound too defensive.
"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" Goyle asked, butting into the conversation.
Thankfully, Pansy didn't give me any time to answer. "Either way," She scoffed, "that girl is definitely hiding something, and I'm going to find out what it is." With that, she stood and marched off, abandoning her half eaten plate of scrambled eggs.
I held back from yelling after her, from trying to stop her, because that would only seem more suspicious. Instead, I grabbed her plate and finished it off myself.
Today was Sunday, which meant there were no classes. I usually loved weekends, but for once I wished that I had a lesson to go to in order to take my mind off of Olivia. I tried to take advantage of having free time by getting some classwork done, but I just couldn't focus on anything no matter how hard I tried.
I groaned and leaned back against the foot of the couch, exasperated. I had been sat here on the floor of the common room for what felt like forever, rereading the same paragraph over and over again. None of it would absorb into my brain. The words simply swam across my eyes. This was just a waste of my time. I needed to get out of here. So, I turned to the next best thing: flying practice.
I packed up my books and parchment and headed off the the Quidditch pitch.
After an hour or so of flying, I returned to the common room sweaty and exhausted feeling much better. Quidditch always helped me clear my head. My father always discouraged me from "wasting my time" with the sport because he felt that it wouldn't contribute to my future and distracted from more important matters. Despite his wishes, I continued to play. This, however minor, was my small act of defiance. After doing everything he asked of me for my entire life in an attempt to make him proud of me, I thought I deserved this small amount of freedom. Nevertheless, Father always blamed everything on Quidditch. Regardless of the fact that I always got fairly good grades, he always insisted that they could be better if I spent less time on my broom. The only reason that he allowed me to join the team in the first place was because he wanted me to prove that I was better than Potter. Even then, I managed to let him down.
The sound of Pansy's voice pulled me out of my own thoughts. "I figured it out!" She said enthusiastically when she saw me enter.
"Figured out what?" I asked halfheartedly. After everything she had pulled over the last 24 hours, I was even less fond of her than I was before. That was another thing that my father liked to dictate: my friendships. He basically told me who I was or wasn't allowed to hang around with, and because he worked closely with the Parkinsons, the Crabbes, and the Goyles, he would find out if I disobeyed.
"I figured out Vance's big secret!" She smiled, "or should I say Riddle's secret?"
I could feel my heart sink inside my chest. "How..." So many thoughts raced through my tired mind at once, but none of them were coherent.
"Hogwarts' records," She chimed, brandishing a large leather-bound book. The front of it read Student Records: 1994-1995. "The school is required to publish them every year. It's public information, and everything has to be filed using the student's full legal name."
"Pansy," I choked out, still struggling to formulate sentences, "you can't tell anyone."
She waved a hand at me dismissively. "Too late."