simple

7.

Fog surrounded the castle. It hung lightly in the air but seemed impenetrable and dense. One could extend their arm and not see the very end of their fingers within it.

The high-ceiling stone walls of Hogwarts were lined with floating candles which created a deep yet flickering yellow light. If they were not charmed, they would have dripped hot wax everywhere, much like a leaking eavestrough.

The ghosts adorned fake moustaches and exaggerated wigs, sometimes even capes. On this night they would go out of their way to say 'boo' sarcastically. Perhaps, they, too, found muggles dressing up as the dead ironic. Because it very much was. Where and how the ghosts procured the costumes was beyond Hera.

She had not yet seen The Great Hall transformed, but the decorations already seemed elaborate thus far: decorative silver cobwebs clung to the ceiling and glowing pumpkins sat comfortably in every spacious corner available. Mcgonagall had really gone above and beyond. Maybe a bit of a try-hard.

To be fair, it did look good.

Hera descended the stairs from the Slytherin common room. Her white wrap-around heels lined her toned legs elegantly, giving her a slightly more elevated walk. A white, satin-like material flowed down the steps behind her, leading into a Grecian-style garment. She had decided to honour her own name, Hera. The Queen of the Gods. She had even attempted reading some more Hera stories, but she couldn't get around the Internet yet. It was all so... daft.

The costume draped over one shoulder, revealing a single defined clavicle on the other. The right sleeve ran from her shoulder to the ground, blending into the train seamlessly in a waterfall of white material. Her long black locks had been curled and styled to perfection to lay gently on her back; some of her hair was delicately tucked into a gold olive branch tiara on top of her head. Since she rarely wore white, this was a hige departure for her.

Maybe she did enjoy dressing up.

It was 8:03 when Hera pulled out her wand and said 'Lumos', to help her navigate the fogginess of the outside. It was also very cold.

Her plan was to be fashionably late.

The only thing stopping her was the fact that she could see absolutely nothing around her- she only hoped she was going the right way.

The fog wrapped around her and for a moment, she stopped to listen to the silence it had brought about. There was a certain eerienes to being enclosed inside a cloud of grey like this.

Remembering where she was headed, Hera started walking slowly to her left, to find the limit of the viaduct ( which she really hoped she was on, at this point. Such was the thickness of the fog). When her leg hit stone, she was startled by the cold surface.

Well, at least she was on the bloody thing. She exhaled with relief.

This was what she imagined being blind felt like; not being able to see anything but a light grey, all around you, forever. With her hand touching the viaduct's stone barrier, she shuffled on slowly towards what she supposed was The Great Hall, steadying herself with one hand touching the viaduct.

Why she was going at all perplexed even her. It was not that great a feeling; steadying herself against a short stone wall that barely would keep her from falling, were she to lose her balance.

A thought came abruptly into her mind.

He did this on purpose.

She had seen this thick, grey opaqueness somewhere before.

"Malfoy!" she yelled, trying not to sound dizzy but mad.

"Hera?" a voice replied back from the fog, sounding surprised. Draco had been waiting for her, witnessing the fog getting thicker without a further thought. He thought she wouldn't come and had been listening to the silence of the night with a sort of numb acceptance. It was quite peaceful for a while.

"Did you do this? Did you make the fog thicker so I wouldn't be able to make it?" Hera screamed. Even though there was an audible echo coming from somewhere, the fog seemed to quiet her screams. She couldn't tell where Malfoy's voice was coming from. The reduced visibility was starting to make her feel dizzy. Hera clutched her head, and breathed in quickly. Black spots clouded her vision.

"I knew I shouldn't have come, you're a fucking asshole," she said faintly.

"I didn't do anything! Where are you?"
Malfoy replied loudly , desperation lacing his voice. He received no answer. He couldn't place her, let alone himself.

"Hera?" he insisted into the fog. He had never seen a haze like this one in his life. For a few seconds, he sat and listened for her.
Suddenly, a white light shone through the blur of grey:

"Meteolojinx Recanto!"

A thud followed. With the viaduct now clear of fog, Draco saw they were about five meters away from each other, and Hera lay still on the ground.

"Hera!" Draco exclaimed. He ran to her and knelt down, not knowing what to do. There was nobody around.
Her eyes were closed but she was breathing.
"Atmospheric Charm," he murmured, feeling at a loss for words. " Hera, I swear it wasn't me... I swear it," Draco said, scooping her up into his arms.

There was nothing he could really say to make her believe he hadn't tricked her. He couldn't even be sure she heard him. He had never been so close to her, yet he felt uninterested in her beauty right then. "Rennervarte," he whispered almost inaudibly, momentarily closing his eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed and her leg moved, and she brought a hand up to her temple.

Her eyes opened to reveal a deep green. They stared right into Draco's soul, it seemed like.
"It wasn't you," she said quietly. She didn't fight him off her or pull away quickly from their closeness.

" Let's go," she simply said.

Hera stood up and rearranged her hair like nothing had happened. With a flick of her wand, her costume was white again, and not a trace of the fall was present.

"What was that? And how do you know it wasn't me? What's with all this trust? " Draco asked dumbly. It seemed like she knew all the answers. He almost instinctively extended his elbow for her to take, and she surprisingly did so with no hesitation. Now, they were walking like an old wizard couple alongside each other. Draco's heart seemed to want to jump out of his chest. He hoped she could not hear it.

"Someone's not happy about this," she said, gesturing between their bodies with her spare hand. Draco knew this wasn't the right moment, but she had said 'this' in a way that implied they were something.

'This' was something.

They walked into The Great Hall with their usual school demeanor: heads raised high, impenetrable expressions and flawless confidence.

"I forgot to mention," Draco said after a few moments of walking. His faux-confidence was kicking in: " You look great."

He felt her back stiffen, somehow. There was a lengthening of her neck- something kicking in that he knew and recognized all too well.
"I know," she said.

"You don't look bad, either," she added,
looking forwards.

And that was all he really needed, really.