Spectre: The Dark Riddles #1

2: Thestral*

[Chapter warning: alcohol, violence]

***

"These dark, outcasted creatures are deeply loyal and able to discern between friend and foe. They are only seen by those who have witnessed death and accepted its permanence."

--from the journals of Elastra N. Malfoy, on the topic of Thestrals, 1999

***

The dress is a bit much. As I stand in front of the mirror fixing my hair into a braided crown, nervousness creeps in, and I wonder if it's too late to back out. Slytherin parties aren't anything new, but Draco stopped inviting me to them last year, and I don't want to make things tense. But Theo asked me. I can't pass up the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Two days later and our practice session in the library still feels like a dream. If there's a chance of a part two tonight, I'm not going to pass it up.

Even if I hate this dress.

It's simple and elegant, a cami dress of lush velvet that falls halfway to my knees. Paired with my knee-high black boots, it could be hot, maybe even halfway sexy, but the black cardigan I refuse to go anywhere without drops it back down to cute. It's not me.

If I had my choice, I'd be spending my Friday night in the Hufflepuff common room. Reading my latest romance novel, maybe even journaling or writing letters. Wearing something comfortable like a sweater and leggings and long, fuzzy socks. That's the kind of girl I really am, the one who spends Friday nights locked away in her own world, antisocial and cozy, not out doing hot girl stuff.

But this is fine, too.

For Theo, I remind myself. I'm doing this to spend time with Theo.

He's waiting for me outside the Hufflepuff common room, just as he promised. His button-down shirt, a deep, forest green, and the black pants make us look like a couple.

I smile, feeling myself fall back into that dreamy headspace. This can't be real, and yet it is.

He comments about how beautiful I look and I blush as we walk to the dungeons. I'm grateful I stuck with the dress. It may not be my favorite thing, but we pair well together, like wine and cheese or bowtruckles and trees.

But as we get closer to the dungeons, I remember what Slytherin parties are like. They are not the fun, casual events that Hufflepuffs throw, or even the wilder celebrations of the Gryffindors. There will be blasting music and flowing alcohol and, if Mattheo Riddle is there, a fistfight will happen before the night is old.

"Theo," I say suddenly, just as we turn down the hall that leads to the Slytherin common room. "What does being drunk feel like?"

I've had a sip of my mother's wine on occasion, and my father's liquor once, but never enough to feel intoxicated. If I stick with Theo tonight, I might have to drink. I just want to be prepared.

He pauses for a moment, unsure how to respond. I'm grateful he doesn't laugh at me. What sixteen-year-old hasn't been drunk before? "Well," he says at last, "it can be a mix of feelings. Sometimes it makes you happy and carefree, or emotional, or it can just make you feel dizzy and out of control. It just depends on how much you drink. Have you..." He seems hesitant to ask. "Have you never been drunk before, Ella?" He says it with all the casualness of someone who does this on a weekly basis.

I wrap my arms around myself. He and I have lived such different lives, been exposed to such different worlds, and it's painfully apparent in this moment.

"Well... I've wanted to, but Draco never lets me do anything reckless. And when I try to do it without him..." I cringe at the memories. His chiding voice, that mocking laughter, the isolation that only a sibling can make you feel. "I've tried some of my mother's wine before, but no, I've never been drunk. I think Draco would be mortified if I did something to soil the family name."