𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐦 | 𝐜.𝐝 𝐟𝐟

𝙞 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙣𝙙.

That night Cedric starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my green turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Malfoy fried eggs for everyone; I had my bowl of cereal.

I wondered if they had forgotten about this Saturday. Zabini answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday..." he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

I cringed. "Yes, Blaise?"

"Are you actually going to Seattle?" Parkinson asked for him.

"No." I grimaced, wishing they hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

Nott squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "And you're sure you don't want me to stay with you?"

"I'm not going to ruin this opportunity for you." I glared.

I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a loving best friend; living in fear that your significant other would meet someone they liked, but also having to worry if they didn't. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Nott had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I had planned.

Everyone left then, with a goodbye wave after listening to my excuse to not drive them, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard the Audi pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in the Audi's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed — and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was always good — much more than good — when I was near him.

His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my shoulder to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, his face grave.

I rolled my eyes. "It changes from day to day."