𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐱𝐢: 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧❜𝐭 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲❜𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧❜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧❜𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. They went as such: one, she had gotten the hairs needed from Rosier so she could use his appearance; two, she needed to find Lily and give her the hairs before she did something completely drunk and stupid and messed up the whole plan; and three, there was a burning sensation between her legs—and she didn't know how long she could ignore it for.

She could barely think clearly: why the hell she hadn't just said yes to Rosier, she didn't know. But here she was, walking briskly through the crowd of dancing teenagers, only looking for one person in particular:

Lily Evans.

She found her, sitting on a table and sighing, with Marlene slumped over her shoulder. Her long, red hair was still shiny, but had lost its delightful shape in the heat and humidity.

"Lily," Amara called, approaching her, trying to even out her breathing. She turned, looking behind her to ensure Evan didn't follow her, then turned back to Lily and dug the hairs out of the bra of her dress. "Here, take this. You've got pockets?"

Lily nodded, but she was frowning. "Hey, Amara? Turn around again."

Amara obliged.

A massive grin spread on the redhead's face. "You just made out with him, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah." Amara adopted a suspicious expression. "Why?"

"Girl, you need to go get laid," Lily said. "You've got a...wet spot on the back of your dress."

She looked back, and Lily was right. "Oh, Merlin," she said, slapping her forehead and laughing. "Oh, bloody hell—it looks live I've pissed myself. Damn, he's a good kisser. Alright, well, I suppose I ought to. I had an offer earlier that seems pretty tempting..."

"Tell me everything after," Lily called after the blonde, shaking her head in amusement as Amara set off for the Prewett twins.

She saw Gideon first, still in his orange jumpsuit, and the sweat glistening on his neck and chest reflected the bright lights of the party. Amara, still breathing roughly, pushed past several other guys to get to him, and, when the tide of the music shifted, she found herself being shoved into him.

"Gideon," she gasped, hands on his chest as she steadied herself. "Sorry."

"Quite all right," he said, in an amused tone, eyes on hers. "Can I help you, Amara?"

"Yeah. Er—I was hoping to take you up on your offer from before. That is—if it's still on the table."

"Hell, yes, it's still on the table," Gideon said, grabbing her upper arm to lead her and saluting to his friends. They set off into the crowd. "Last I saw him, he was off with Vanity. You know, the Slytherin Quidditch player?" He sighed. "She's fit—I would've liked to get in with them. It may just be the two of us tonight."