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— sorry for the late + shitty chapter :( —
"You came," Graham says across from me, a look of surprise on his face as he looks up at someone standing behind me.
I shift in my seat to glance over my shoulder, instantly spotting Celeste. She glances at Graham briefly before looking away to dust the snow off her shoulders and gently patting at her hair. I lift my eyebrows when I scan her—there isn't even a speck of red or pink on her. She's wearing a long black overcoat, her gloved hands undoing the the golden buttons to reveal. Her entire outfit is black—a tight turtleneck, a tight skirt, and sheer stockings with little black boots. Her locket is out and proudly displayed, and when she takes her coat off and tucks it over her arm, I see her nails painted a matching gold.
She looks up, her eyes darting to me for a moment. Her plum-colored lips turn up into a small smirk.
"Hey, Celeste," Graham says, grabbing her attention again. I shift back to sit normally, taking a sip of my Butterbeer, while he says, "Come sit here! I think we can make some space."
The booth is long, but it's cramped, especially because half the people sitting on Graham's side are bulky Quidditch players. He shoves them down, making space hardly big enough for a toddler. Celeste steps forward a little, peering skeptically at him before gesturing to the space beside me.
"No worries," she says lightly, sitting down next to me and hanging her coat over the corner of the booth. "There's plenty of space right here."
"Oh," Graham says, ruffling his hair with an odd smile. "Okay, cool."
She shoots him a short smile before turning to glance at me. I raise my eyebrows at her before turning to glance back to the center of the table where Warrington and Verona are in a heated debate about whether The Montrose Magpies (Scottish Quidditch team) should've won the last match or not (theres heavy debate about whether or not one of their beaters committed a foul) when Celeste's silky, irritatingly alluring voice beckons my attention.
"You look festive," she teases as a waiter walks by to drop off a whole round of drinks for the table.
I roll my eyes and look back at her. "Blame Pansy," I say sourly, glancing down at the thin, dark red sweater she managed to shove me into. "She threatened to spike my drink with Amortentia if I didn't wear red or pink. How the hell did you manage to get out of it?"
Celeste smirks slightly dragging a cup of steaming hot cocoa towards her. "I didn't."
"You're not wearing red," I point out with a frown, scanning her up and down. "Or pink."
"I am," she says lightly, pushing her curls over her shoulder as she takes a small sip of the cocoa. "You just can't see it."
I give her an odd look, but she just laughs softly and looks past me to where Warrington and Verona look like they want to strangle each other. I shake my head and turn back to look, seeing Pansy, next to me, turning bright red as Verona shakes her jacket off, seemingly overheated, to reveal the low cut tank top. I snort when Pansy turns away, eyes closed, face flushed, shaking her head as she whispers to me—
