𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

9 | ﴾ Among Other Things ﴿

Several weeks passed without a notable interaction with Malfoy. The first Quidditch game came and passed uneventfully, and the Slytherin common room had been quiet under the pressure of the imminent pre-holiday exams.

I had been processing the altercation for some time now. My guilt and frustrations had boiled down into a well-conceived notion that both of us were probably toxic for each other. My wanton lust for his body coupled with his desperate need to have any other connection besides with Astoria was bound to end in flames. Neither of us seemed to be logically chasing each other, instead more to a means of shallow gratification. Despite Luna's words, that were fairly clear regarding my role as a healer, I was still certain that space was the best choice. He also seemed to be on the same page because he had ostensibly avoided me like the plague. Even when I had dared to glance at him in classes his eyes had been glued to the teacher without a flinch.

It was October 31st; Hallows Eve. My favourite holiday. It was also perfectly a Saturday, and the girls Slytherin bathroom was buzzing with activity. Beautiful, terrifying females clustered together in front of the mirrors as they dressed up festively. There was a myriad of chosen disguises, including magical creatures and famed wizards. One girl had gone so far as to dress up like Peeves in an arguably sexual, and disturbing fashion.

I had chosen a dragon. My face and neck absolutely covered in icy, glittering decor. My long blond hair cascaded around my shoulders, tied only in one place as a thin braid that framed the left side of my face. It had taken 20 minutes alone just to draw the scales on. Darned appropriately over my slim physique was a white-blue dress, long, tight, with full arms and an open back, and with pointed shoulders. The energy from my gait alone was sheer power.

Hilda sighed and turned to me in admiration, "Well, aren't we a couple of rockets." Her sly grin had me returning the gesture. She had dressed as a Slytherin Quidditch player, taking my uniform and madly correcting it to look quite perversely sexual. I had granted her the notion when I'd explained to her in secret my first practice session alone with Malfoy. Her wavy brown hair was down for once, and her blue eyes were shadowed heavily by silver and green.

"I'm excited for tonight," she purred while straightening her gloves on her arms, "the Slytherin Halloween party is elite every year. Gryffindor's practically lose their minds to get invited. Not that they would admit it. Are you bringing Potter?" She glanced towards me with a raised eyebrow.

I watched as my mirror reflection twitched. I hadn't even considered it. It was incredibly rare to see a Gryffindor at the Halloween party in the dungeons. I'd spent a decent amount of time with him over the past few weeks, studying, chatting... he was enamored with me in a way I hadn't experienced before. It was gentle, and careful, and limitless. I had become acquainted with his close friends, who really weren't that insufferable. Although, they seemed to frequently drop hints of guidance and wisdom in my direction like I was a lost dog. Suffice to say I had mastered the art of stifling eye rolls.

One day in the great hall he'd brushed my cheek gently and for a moment I'd thought he was going to kiss me in front of the whole student body, but he then claimed to have just noticed a stray eyelash. The sheer embarrassment of the assumption had caused me to leave the hall abruptly and my lunch had remained entirely untouched.

I studied my highly decorated reflection. I was a dragon. I didn't need to feel any embarrassment and I didn't need to hold back on basic human desires. I would invite Potter, and maybe more than just his presence would be requested, "Mmm, yes I think 'e'll do as a good date," I bit my lip in a saucy grin and glanced at Hilda.

"I got more gin for tonight," She confirmed as she bounced in a dance, excited and gloriously reckless.

"Great, because we all want to see you two fall on your faces before the party even starts. That muggle garbage is putrid," Pansy snorted from a few spots down the line. Other girls laughed in appreciation of the comment. She had a set of demonic horns locked onto her head and a bright red dress. It was the first time I'd noticed her body was competitively fit. I pursed my lips to prevent beginning an argument on the basis of her costume being referenced from a muggle religious system.