𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

twenty

Contrary to her beliefs, Betty doesn't relish in hurting her feelings or anyone else's, even Malfoy's.

But she isn't blind either, to the way she feels when Malfoy's present - to the wave of serenity that consumes her, to the urge to take one step closer to him, to smile when he permits a soft upward tug of his lips. She is just scared.

Burying her face in her palms, sitting alone on a faraway empty table where no one could find her, she dreads the night's passing.

It was her fault, honestly. If she hadn't acted on her impulse - hadn't kissed the boy - the weight resting on her heart would be much lighter, she believes. She had messed everything up. Allowed herself to act on her feelings. Had she never done that, she might still have a chance of surrendering this tortuous feeling, instead of surrendering to it.

It is nearing midnight, the ball would come to a close soon, and she has made it the worst night for herself.

Thankfully, she hasn't nearly forgotten her hidden motive here. She is just waiting for the right timing to act - which is now.

When the drab professor is solemnly idling by the doors of the hall, monitoring the students with an expression of repulsion. And the Slytherin students have finally cleared the table to ram their heads along to the beat of the Weird Sisters' music - who had been invited for the Yule Ball in the past.

Betty has a potion in the tiny glass she has slipped into her thigh holster. It was the Drowsiness Draught, a potion that would beget the fatigue and weariness in the drinker, allowing them to lose all control of themselves. That'd do heaven's work in throwing Snape off.

Whilst everyone is jumping and drifting off into pure bliss with the band's ringing instruments, Betty makes her way to the Slytherin table, lifts the cloths to reveal her new salvations.

She decides to take the tequila, knowing it might add to the potion's effect - make Snape forget the night's events even.

"Stealing, are we?"

Betty glances upwards to see Malfoy, looming over her with a rather malicious look on his face.

It is only him, though, as his friends are preoccupied with the band. She doesn't know if she's more relieved or more afraid.

"Only enough to fill one glass," she tries, a bogus hopeful smile playing on her lips. Then she stands to her feet, kicking her gown slightly to put it in place, to hide the outline of her thigh holster.

His grey eyes are colder than earlier, like a tougher facade he is exhibiting.

"Come with me," he orders seriously.

Betty furrows her brows. "No - I'm not going to."

"Would you rather have me call Snape on you?"

"I could threaten you with the same thing, you know," she says smugly, "Imagine his displeasure knowing that his students' have snuck in alcohol."

The boy rolls his eyes. "Where do you think we get the alcohol from? We're all underaged, do I have to remind you, Lin?"

Her mouth flies open in shock. She had never thought that the stern, tough professor would be the one buying liquor and handing them to his fellow students. Though, now that she is thinking it through, it shouldn't surprise her that much.

Malfoy smirks snobbishly, then saunters past her and heads towards the great doors. He expects her to trail behind him, which she does, only because she's got no choice.

There aren't many teachers left around, only Snape who has been burdened with the duty of watching them vigilantly.

Dumbledore, too, has vanished, which would tarnish her plan if she ever gets the chance to set it in motion.