Hissing with uncontrolled rage, a dark haired girl stormed through the dungeons of Hogwarts, her angry footsteps echoing loudly. The spiral staircase seemed to take annoyingly longer than usual, but the girl was simply too wrapped up in her rage to take notice of it. She marched straight up to the bare stone wall at the end of the hallway.
"Salazar," She hissed at the unsuspecting stones.
They gave way, as intimidated by her rage as stones can possibly be. The Slytherin Common Room was filled nearly to the brim this evening, with very little airspace visible between the tops of people's heads and the low ceiling. The girl pushed her way impatiently through the crowd, pausing only to nod in recognition at an acquaintance or two.
"What's got your panties in a knot, Turner?"
The girl whipped around to come face to face with Montague.
"Nothing thick-head, don't blow a brain cell worrying yourself over it," She spat, looking disgustedly at the enormous boy.
"Matilda, what's the matter?" inquired a much smaller voice.
Matilda looked behind Montague's massive being to see the face of a young girl sitting on the sofa. Young, innocent, and not yet shaped by the cunning ways Slytherin was noted for, it was hard to turn away Piper Miller. As a first year, she had not yet been completely exposed to the doings of her older housemates.
"Nothing," Matilda said, keeping her voice under control this time and trying to maintain a pleasant face.
"Come off it, Turner," Montague said, "If we're goin' to have to listen to you breaking things all night long, we mine as well know why."
Matilda failed to notice the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team (or rather what would've been the Quidditch team, had there been a tournament that year) crowding around, all smirking and eying her with varies forms of lust or amusement on their faces.
"Yeah, Matilda," said Crabbe, apparently attempting to sound tough amongst his future teammates.
His friend Goyle sniggered beside him, the two of them oblivious to how much they looked like a pair of Quidditch wannabes.
"I'm sorry, did I ask you to speak?" Matilda said, her tone jabbing at the borderline between condescending and just plain bitchy.
"Ohhh," was the immediate response from the crowd.
She glared at them, as their stares continued taking no heed from Crabbe's poor example. The rather unfortunate fourth-year was now standing red-faced and cowering behind his friend.
"Don't mind her, gents. She's got steam comin' out her ears 'cause the famous Viktor Krum asked someone else to the Valentine's Day Ball."
Matilda whipped around to see Adrian Pucey entering the Common Room, swaggering confidently toward them, his cocky grin aimed straight at her.
"Merlin's Beard, Adrian…didn't know you were capable of actual words…and you've managed to string them together in a sentence, how wonderful!"
On the contrary to looking taken aback, the tall dark-eyed brunette surveyed the girl in front of him with an amused, almost pleased, gaze.
"Who're you going to go to the ball with now that your dream date's been snagged?" he asked, his gaze bluntly mocking her.
"I don't believe that's any of your concern, Adrian, unless you'd like me to let you know ahead of time so you can beat me to him," Matilda said, raising her eyebrows at him in just the proper manner to make the intended implications.
Adrian granted her a cocky half-smile, but otherwise ignored her comment. Those in the crowd still surrounding her gave it enough attention, chuckling at her purposeful blow to his pride.
"You could go with me, you know," he suggested, eying her airily as though he were doing her a favor.
"What's that?!" Matilda gasped, feigning surprise, "You mean?--you haven't already bewitched some poor wench into going with you?
She slapped a hand over her chest and gasped in an over-exaggerated manner, golden eyes flashing dramatically in the dim green light.
"Oh, you're sooooo clever…too bad that little Mudblood turned out to be the cleverer in the end," Adrian rebutted with little hesitation.
Matilda looked mildly offended, the source of her original anger resurfacing. How she could possibly be beaten out for a date by some filthy bookworm of a Mudblood was beyond her.
"I'm going to ask one more time," Adrian said, obviously satisfied at her offended expression, "will you go to the ball with me?"
Matilda gave a short laugh, as though thoroughly amused by something, despite the fact that the anger still burned in the depths of her eyes. She stepped playfully towards him, leaning up so her lips touched the soft edge of his ear.
"I think not," she whispered before pulling back and walking away in the direction of the girl's dormitories.
"Don't take it out on me that loverboy rejected you," Adrian threw at her retreating back, face writhing with offense.
Two weeks later, it was late at night when Matilda sat alone in a chair by the fire of the Common Room. She'd been sitting in the same chair for hours already, turning away request after request for her hand to the dance. Word had spread quickly throughout Slytherin, and the rest of the school for that matter, that Matilda Turner, object of desire for nearly the entire male population of Hogwarts, had no date to the Valentine's Day Ball. Dozens of hopeful young men had approached her on a daily basis for the past two weeks, though the process of rejecting them seemed only to entertain her rather than wear her down.
Matilda smiled darkly at the necklace she held in her hands. Rather than having been given to her by an admirer, as so many of her other belongings were, she'd purchased it herself with one sole purpose in mind.
"Never cease to impress, do you, Matilda?" a familiar voice said.
She didn't lift her head from the glittering sight in her hands.
"I've no idea what you could possibly be implying, Adrian."
His deep rumble of a chuckle reached her ears.
"Of course not."
She heard the nearing footsteps of his shoes on the cold stone floor before his voice filled her ears once again with its sarcastic mockery.
"Let me guess," He began, standing behind her from what she could tell from the direction of his voice, "You'll get some unsuspecting first year to give the necklace to the Mudblood, saying it's a present from dear old Krum. She'll put it on completely clueless, and—what's that? Fur sprouting from her arms, acne covering her face, nose growing to ten times its normal size..."
He trailed off, and though she couldn't see him, she could tell he was still watching knowingly.
"Tell me, what hex were you planning on using?" He asked curiously.
She gave a little amused "humph".
"Actually, you pinned all three down," she said flatly, "except…I thought some antlers, shrinking limbs, and painful rashes might be in order as well."
She heard him chuckle amusedly, just as she'd expected, and heard his footsteps drawing closer.
"Why're you wasting your time with the Mudblood and her little prat," He whispered in her ear, causing not at all unpleasant chills to shiver their way up her spine. "Why not just find someone else."
Matilda practically snorted, as though the very idea was completely out of the question.
"Who else?" she said skeptically, stubbornly fixed upon the idea her mind seemed to have clamped firmly onto.
Her eyes remained still on the necklace, its sparkling allure so hard for her scheming mind to resist. Why should she just find someone else? The Mudblood didn't deserve Viktor Krum…so why not make that clear to the little brat?
"I believe I already made my suggestion on that matter," Adrian said, taking a seat across from her.
Matilda rolled her eyes.
"Yes, and I heard you," she said, holding her fingers to one temple.
She heard him sigh, which confused her.
"No, you didn't," he said, his voice darker than she'd ever heard it.
She looked up at him for the first time.
What in the name of Merlin is he talking about?
Matilda had always had an unusual way of looking straight through a person, her uncannily golden eyes bearing into the soul until it surrendered the information she was seeking. It helped as well that her ethereal beauty and smart mouth were a dynamic combination when it came to intimidation.
Hoping to make the best of this talent, Matilda concentrated hard on Adrian's face. Unlike other victims to her stare, who might have flinched or shrunken back, Adrian held her gaze, looking directly back at her as though he had nothing to hide. Without realizing it, Matilda found that her eyebrows had slowly furrowed closer together from the effort. She twisted her mouth around in pure frustration, jumping up from her seat and stomping away from the infuriating boy.
She'd never been good at keeping things bottled up.
"Think about it," Adrian's voice advised.
She jumped as she felt his hand settle momentarily on her shoulder. Just as soon as she was sure she could feel the warmth seeping from his fingers into her bare collarbone, he pulled his hand away and walked off.
Think about it.
Matilda had indeed thought about it…so much so that her head felt as though it would burst at the seams should she even form her mouth into the word 'think'. As much as she despised dependence on other people, there were two she felt a desperate need to speak to, in order to keep her own over-stuffed mind from ripping her apart.
"Morning," said an exasperated voice.
The swift steps of an approaching figure led straight to the seat across from Matilda at the table, and she soon found herself opposite one of the very people she needed to talk to.
"Are you ill?" The girl opposite her asked immediately, seeing the peculiar expression on Matilda's face.
Matilda shook her head.
"No."
Faylivia regarded the younger girl before her with a critical eye, as though deciding whether or not to inquire further.
"Where's Jo?" Matilda managed through her clouded mind.
Faylivia rolled her eyes.
"Bletchley had to drag her lazy arse out of bed this morning," She said, sending a glare down the aisle between the tables, where a sleepy girl in Slytherin robes lagged behind her.
Matilda rolled her eyes similarly as the girl sat drowsily down at the table, wisps of her blonde hair crowding her face.
"Food," the girl demanded abruptly upon sitting down.
A nearby Slytherin boy obediently levitated food onto a plate and slid it down the table toward her. Halting it in front of her with one hand, she impatiently dug in without bothering to thank him.
"Jo," Matilda greeted with a nod of her head.
Jo nodded back without looking up and Faylivia shot her a disgusted look at the mounds of food she was consuming.
"Honestly…" Faylivia said, "You'd think you were some pudgy old Gryffindor."
How Faylivia Bleen could possibly have been placed in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin was considered a great mystery among all the students of their class. She lacked neither the pureblood nor cunning, but seemed to have been placed according to her scarily alert wits and sharp mind. Too deceitful in her ways for her fellow Ravenclaws though, she spent the majority of her time among the Slytherins, who made her house placement a regular joke: i.e. "Well if it isn't the reject Ravenclaw" and "How's our little raven doing?"
"Anyway, what's your story?" Faylivia said, directing the question at Matilda with a swift jerk of her head.
Matilda groaned and pressed the tips of her fingers deep into her temples, until her hairline seemed to have been pulled up an inch from the pressure.
"Don't do that," Jo commanded, "the look doesn't work for you."
Matilda rolled her eyes up to face the enchanted ceiling before burying her head in her hands. Jo was the most mindful of appearances out of the three, and was a seventh year along with Faylivia. Their trio of looks had been admired for years among all of the houses alike, Jo with her falsely endearing periwinkle eyes, Faylivia with her light brown tresses, and Matilda in all her fierce beauty.
"Well?" Faylivia pressed impatiently when her question went unanswered.
Matilda tilted her buried head on its side, so that it lay cushioned on her arms.
"Adrian…." She groaned.
Faylivia groaned back mockingly, "What about him?"
Matilda relayed the events of the night before.
"So?" was all Jo had to say by the end of it.
Faylivia shot the girl one of her looks that said quite clearly that she was being an idiot.
"So?!" Matilda shouted, "So, he's being bloody confusing!"
As usual, she did nothing to keep it to herself, looking wildly to Faylivia for help. There was silence for a moment.
"Who are we talking about again?" Jo asked.
Faylivia rolled her eyes and Matilda merely stared at the girl with a dropped jaw.
"Adrian Pucey," Faylivia filled in for her.
Jo looked confused, and said, "Who's that?"
"Matilda's witty banter companion."
The glare Matilda sent her way could've melted a glacier.
"What?" She demanded hotly.
Faylivia rolled her eyes once again.
"Oh, you know," she said, waving a hand dismissively, "Every time the two of you meet, it's like your competing to see who can manage more sarcastic comments than the other."
"But---" Matilda started.
Jo interrupted her, "Let's stay on topic, people."
Faylivia pursed her lips in aggravation but didn't say anything.
"So what in bloody hell was he talking about?!" Matilda said.
"Isn't it obvious?" Faylivia said vaguely, moving some scrambled egg about on her plate.
When Matilda didn't reply, she continued.
"He wants to go to the ball with you," She said informatively.
Matilda looked dumbfounded.
"Oh Merlin, I'm surrounded by idiots," Faylivia muttered exasperated under her breath, "Just go talk to him would you."
"You mine as well go with him," Jo reasoned, "I mean, now that Krum's taken and all."
Her comment evidently hit a still sensitive spot, and Matilda's eyes flashed.
"He's not all that bad to look at either," Faylivia added, catching Matilda's offended demeanor but choosing to ignore it for conversation's sake. "Mine as well go talk to him now...he just walked in."
Matilda whipped her head around to see that Adrian had indeed just entered the Great Hall, flanked by Theodore Nott and Montague.
"Hey Pucey!" Faylivia yelled, effectively gaining his attention before Matilda hushed her.
"I can do it on my own," Matilda said, waving a hand around in the face of the other girl.
Rising from her seat, she strode confidently towards the three Slytherin boys, who had slowed as they came near the dining tables. Adrian smirked at her as she neared.
"What's your matter, Turner?" Montague asked thickly.
Matilda's eyes rested on him momentarily as though just noticing he was there.
"Haven't I already told you to shut your abnormally large mouth before you swallow your own head," she said coolly.
Her comment was met with laughter from Montague and Nott, Adrian sporting an amused smirk if only for a few seconds.
"Adrian," Matilda said, redirecting her attention to the task at hand, "I need to speak to you."
She motioned towards the outside of the Great Hall doors. Adrian nodded and said goodbye to Nott and Montague. She led the way through the great oak doors and over to a corner of the Entrance Hall, where she was fairly sure no late risers walking past would overhear them.
"What is it you wanted?" Adrian asked, though he knew exactly what it was she wanted to talk about.
Matilda looked him straight in the eye as though about to scare the wits out of some poor first year.
"If you weren't acting so bloody confusing I might know what I wanted," she said.
He looked away for only a second, scanning the hall as though for other students, and then looked back at her once more.
"Do you want to go to the ball with me?" He asked, with a tone of finality in his voice that suggested he wasn't happy with having to ask three times.
"Yes!" Matilda said quickly, as though the answer was obvious.
Adrian gave her a look, the corners of his mouth barely turning up in satisfaction.
"Well then," he said, "would've saved us all a lot of trouble if you'd just said that in the first place."
Matilda didn't saying anything, looking perfectly satisfied with herself and raising an eyebrow at him as if daring him to challenge her judgement.
He didn't.
"What're you going to do with the necklace now?" he said smirking, referring to the would-be cursed necklace she'd held that night in the Common Room.
Matilda looked puzzled.
"Well I…I haven't actually been able to find it…" she trailed off.
Adrian smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling the familiar necklace out and dangling it in front of her eyes.
"Hey!" She said, reaching up to grab it from him.
Adrian caught her lips in the middle of her movement, capturing her for just a moment in a kiss. She closed her eyes for a second, relishing in the feeling of his lips against hers, and the scrape of his muscled jaw-line against her skin. When she opened them again, Adrian was back to staring at her, this time in a questioning manner.
"Well then," she said, "would've saved us all a lot of trouble if you'd just done that in the first place."
Adrian sent her one of his looks again and a pleasant shiver ran up her spine. The next thing either of them knew, they were in a broom closet, his hands on her hips and her fingers in his hair.
She'd never been good at keeping things bottled up.