Dahlia
The mirrors in the girls dorm bathroom were crowded with pampered reflections. Makeup, hair brushes, combs, and clips scattered the vanity counters. The stained glass windows were colorfully monotonous, frosted with the scenery of the stars' umbrageous canopy. Dahlia had shed her Gryffindor tee-shirt and was left wrapped in her white long sleeve, her silver necklace infringing upon her deep v-neck.
The Dahlia that was in the mirror investigated herself, scrutinizing her as if she were a consummating crusade; the mellow eyeliner eclipse of her eyes, the wet velvet smooth of her lips, starry with pink gloss, and her hair that was not yet brushed.
Behind her, in the reversed perception of the glass, Lavender and Parvati withdrew from the bathroom. Lavender's hand enveloped around the bronze handle of the dorm door, hauling it from its residence in the stone wall, markedly voiceless. The torches vivacity of the stairwell arrived in the room like a welcomed guest, a lucid hue on their makeup matured faces. Then, like an usher, guided them out. Their footsteps moments away from bridging with the mosaic music of the soon-to-be party.
When her eyes met her own again in the mirror, she recorded Hermione's retreating eyes, ducking behind the cover of her eyelids as she looked back down to the sealed lip gloss in her hand.
The four had been chattering aimlessly as they prepared themselves for the party. But their last wire of dialogue had knotted when the other girls walked out.
Hermione's exploration for another topic initiated with a trivial cough. "I can't believe we haven't found who the kiss was yet. It's baffling." A giggle tenanting in her throat, leaping forth like a rabbit out of its den.
Dahlia's stomach comedically lofted through her abdomen, cueing a memory of when her parents would drive too fast over a bump in the road. A jolt of keen dread buzzing about her body. "Yeah, insane." She verified with a sluggish coldness, quickly reviling herself for the blatant uninterest.
The lip gloss stopper uncorked with an iconic pop! Hermione's head turned from the Barbie pink tube in her hand, shooting her sight to Dahlia, challenging her to look back.
When Dahlia did, she found a disbelieving look expertly carved into Hermione's face, chiseling deeper grooves of different theories. They stared for a moment, Dahlia's guard deteriorating for a flick of the light fixture above her, through her patchwork defense, she hurriedly smiled.
"What?" Dahlia disregarded softly, looking at the hairbrush in her hand, it moved across the pane of glass as she disentangled her blonde hair. The simple transparency of her truth sparkled in her attitude. The hairbrush parting her hair many times over, through its many dividing bristles.
A smack about the hollow room, Hermione's mouth fell open.
"Do you know who it was?" There was incredible desperation and enjoyment in her voice, her eyes, in the step she took closer, stressing upon the intricacy of Dahlia's distant face.
"No, of course not. I just wouldn't want it to be known and gossiped about if it were me." Confirmed Dahlia, deceitfully casual, a shrug rolling her shoulders.
Dahlia was a horrible liar, the mirror a picture of forgery.
Her face told one hundred different stories.
The urge to flee the rain of questions was beckoning her out of the tiled bathroom.
Subsequently meeting Hermione with a lying blink, her mouth, still suspended, curved into a cheshire smile. The shadow of her position stormed the olive skin of her face to overcast.
Dahlia could see the words bubbling up Hermione's throat.
Fuck.
"It was you, wasn't it."
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When the Stars Align (Neville Longbottom)
Fanfiction'Before he could give it another thought, Dahlia had leaned up, kissing desperately close to his lips, the corners essentially overlapping. It was deep, lasting, her hands had found his neck, her fingertips grazing over his jaw. He leaned his head d...
