𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐦 | 𝐜.𝐝 𝐟𝐟

𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚.

We all walked in silence to building three, and Mike's expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight... I had to keep my witchy behaviour polished. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Parkinson first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said.

I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens - to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me -would Edward be waiting to sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens ' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled - Spanish had made us late - but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family.

Right. Because vampires don't walk under the light.

I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favour of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while wallowing in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of the house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner - I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on - but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too.

I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of spell books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume I could find. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in the small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different spells in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. But I angrily shoved the books away because I've mastered all of them. None of these would be challenging enough for me.

I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt...

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of the Audi turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Draco?" I asked. But I could hear the door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Malfoy and Pansy were hanging up their coats.

"Sorry, guys, dinner's not ready yet - I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," Malfoy said. "We had a heavy lunch anyways. You only need to cook for Blaise and Theo. They went out on a run."

I watched the television with everyone after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but neither liked sports, so Malfoy turned it to some mindless sitcom that none of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.

"Hey, guys," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose... do you guys want to join?"

"Jessica Stanley?" Parkinson asked.

"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave them the details.

Nott was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, but I'm helping them find dresses - you know, giving them constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to Parkinson.

"Hmmm, no thanks." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff.

"We're gonna leave after school. So you guys decide who to drive. And you guys will be okay for dinner, right?"

"Zee, we've fed ourselves for seventeen years," Zabini reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."