simple

5.

This was not good, Hera thought as she took the wrapped towel off around her damp hair.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she frowned. Her face had lost all the moisture it had, due to her long boiling shower. She fumbled around her bathroom drawer to find an appropriate sheet mask, then put it on. Then, she changed into a fluffy white robe, one that had a 'H' printed onto the left breast in gold lettering.

Hera had one of those upturned, small noses and full, pouty lips. Her eyebrows were thin and dark and her eyes were a bright pale green, outlined with a more forest sort of green. She rarely tanned and was quite pale, yet somehow sported a beautiful sprinkle of freckles on her nose, which ran down like tiny graceful snowflakes to her feet.

All of this considered, Hera still though she was ugly.

She went over to her mini-fridge and got a cold water, only to drink about a half-sip then return to the bathroom. She just enjoyed the mini-fridge, honestly. Muggles came up with the cutest little contraptions. Meticulously, she applied her hair serums, body lotions and cuticle oils. She often thought about how she probably was being fooled into using these items by stupid standards nobody was ever going to fully achieve. But here she was, using all of them again.

As she peeled the face mask off her face, she noticed the mirror started to get foggy again. Absent-mindedly, she threw the mask into the bin and opened the door to the bathroom, in order for colder air to come and diminish the steam inside. She wasn't fond of leaving the excess goo of face mask on, so she bent down to wash her face.

When she lifted her head up, the mirror was covered in an almost opaque layer of white blur. Then it clicked.

He was messing with her.

How did she know it was him, you may ask?

As she wiped her face with a small towel, a curly 'D' was being traced onto the mist. There was nobody there, only the trace of a phantom finger, somewhere else.

Hera chuckled lowly, but without giving away a smile.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she addressed the general space around her.

The steam evenly distributed itself again, covering Draco's initial to make an empty canvas.

"I.... want... to... see... you," Hera said slowly as the letters appeared on the mirror.

"Ok... who doesn't?" Hera said, walking out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

She tried to not think about the possibility that he had somehow seen her while she was taking a shower.

That set off a spark of anger inside of her.
"Haven't you seen enough, arsehole ?" she asked, frustration lacing her voice. What did he want with her, anyways? There was nothing that he didn't already have that she could give him. And vice-versa, of course. As she sat down on her bed and sighed dramatically, the full-length mirror in her bedroom started fogging up. Hera was quickly getting annoyed.

"Wanna see what Furnunculus feels like, Malfoy? Stop this shit."
The tone of voice seemed very serious, and Draco didn't wish to be covered in painful boils, no. He apparated to her room, sitting on her leather armchair, crossing his legs confidently and grinning.

"I have not seen enough, Nostrova, to answer your question," Draco said with a subtle grin. "Wish I had, though."

Hera stood up from her bed and started looking through her closet, trying to seem as unbothered as possible by a messy-haired-Sunday-morning Draco.

"Can you please tell me what the fuck it is you want from me, Malfoy? I've got shit to do, people to see- unlike you."

" I want you to come to Hallow's Eve with me," Draco said, disregarding her sharp tongue.

Hera's head snapped towards him, her hands stopping fiddling with the clothes in her closet. She didn't expect that, admittedly. This year, someone had decided to make Hallow's Eve more similar to the Muggle Halloween. This meant dressing up 'scary'.

This whole concept puzzled Hera ( in that, she found it a very ironic) because she knew that most Muggles actually found wizards very scary, and the school was just trying to overcompensate because of last year. That was why they were having A Hallow's Eve Halloween.

"All this for that? Why would I do that? I don't want anything to do with you."

"I know, that's why I have to blackmail you now."

Hera snorted and continued fiddling. He had nothing he could-

"I'll tell people I bought you the bag. You've been wearing it an awful lot. People are going to think you've gone soft for me!"

Draco smiled as Hera froze.

"That's how much you care about me, Nostrova! Awww, look at you, you're lost for words, how adorable!"

Hera's features darkened, but she didn't turn to look at him. He could just tell. A few seconds passed until she found something that would sound definite enough to make him go away.

"I don't want to go to the ball with you, Malfoy."
He was silent for a moment.

"Why?" he asked sort of quietly, somewhat scared of the answer. It was also very uncharacteristic of him to be this mild.

"Well, for one, I never thought of you as an intelligent person. I never did think of you at all, actually. It confounds me how you're Number One) still studying here and Number 2) not greatly opposed to celebrating Hallow's Eve Muggle style."

She did have a point. Hallow's Eve Muggle-Style sort of made him sort of want to rip his eyes out of his sockets.

At least he was working on his acceptance. It was... hard for him.

"Secondly, I didn't enjoy the feeling of being watched, let alone the cryptic messages you have not yet explained, and which I am not sure you even understand yourself. Thirdly- you have come into my private space and 'blackmailed' me with your empty threats. I would really wish to know why you think I would be embarrassed to wear your gift. Do you think I would be ashamed of wearing something a man has given me, or is it simply that you find yourself embarrassing, Draco Malfoy? Either way, I'm feeling a bit sorry for you right now, to be quite honest."

Hera was taking various clothing items off their hangers and throwing them onto her bed for her to wear. It was astounding to Draco how she could keep up with such a seamless speech while also choosing her outfit.
She turned to him, no emotions visible in her face:
"How you think you should have the guts to come and demand my presence on a night as mediocre as that one is beyond me."

She was done talking. Draco swallowed but was determined to not sink under the weight of her words. He breathed in:
"You would not have accepted my invitation, had I asked you nicely, Nostrova."

He saw her eyes shift , but she didn't respond. He went on.

"Maybe it was foolish of me to see similarities between us and our ways of thinking, because I do not know you."
He fidgeted with the cuff of his long sleeve, unsure if he should say this last part. It was hard to speak his mind. It felt like pushing a giant boulder off a cliff.

" And you may not have paid attention to me as I did to you."

He stood up from her armchair and felt a surge of joy realising he was a lot taller than her. Significantly so. This gave him some courage, though he was horribly nervous of the thing he was about to propose. Never before had he been so positively terrified of a person.The key word here was 'positively'.

"On Sunday evening, I will wait for you on the viaduct at eight o 'clock. Come to the middle."

He didn't wait for her to say any more, and disapparated. She wouldn't come. His breathing would have been the same, had he ran a marathon. As he tried to slow it down and regain some sort of personal dignity, Draco closed his eyes and tried not to think of all the things Hera now could hold against him. He tried to discard the possibility that she would not come- a very likely one, indeed. He tried not to imagine her making fun of him with her friends- a rumour spreading across the school yards like wildfire: "She refused him!" He restrained himself from going over to the tall windows of his room to look below him. When he didn't have to think about the mechanics of his breathing, all seemed silent and empty again. Great.

There was exactly a week left until All Hallow's Eve. As she had made it clear to him before, she would be the one who would decide.