There is an unmade bed between them. The candles are bright and leave no room for shadows. Theodore turns his attention from the magic flames to her. She is stepping into her dress, head hanging low, and he can't help but recall the chandelier outside in the dining hall. Much like the decadent chandelier, her golden hair moves back and forth, past her shoulders. He can't see her eyes.
"Your dress shouldn't have been that easy to take off," he reflects sardonically in an attempt to lighten the mood. She pauses, as does her curls. Perhaps she silently agrees.
There should have been obstacles. Theodore wasn't supposed to be at the Malfoy Manor party. Weasley should have been by her side. Pansy was supposed to shriek when he took Granger's hand and led her drunkenly upstairs. And just where was her watchdog, Potter?
Theodore eyes the bed. Only moments ago, something inside him reached out and grabbed Granger by her neck. She responded with a moan. There was a desperation between them, beneath the sheets. Granger clung to him with a voracity he underestimated. He wondered if he was just as insatiable.
"This…this was a mistake," she says in an attempt at prim and proper.
"It wasn't. We took a chance."
She laughs sadly. It's the kind of chuckle one would issue a child of naivete. Theodore isn't offended. The door opens, closes, and he is left standing alone in a room where the light is far too bright.