A/N: this is a new style for me so i'd appreciate feedback. i also had a blast writing this.
I don't think antiques are worth their value. Sure, there's a historical value to them somewhere but to be quite truthful, I find it difficult to even agree with that statement. I have no sentimental bones in my body, so becoming attached to things isn't exactly my forte. Dusty vases with overly ornate designs and a color scheme to put most with perfect eyesight like I do to shame.
This is such a petty peeve that I rarely ever voice it. So I plan on keeping this idea to myself because who would ask about my pettiest of peeves, anyway.
"Blaise, I can't believe you're thinking at a time like this," Millicent sneered at me, as if insulting someone like me would do her asymmetrical, disgusting mug any favors. She was as unrefined as she was strange looking, and this statement proved my theory further.
"Don't be jealous that you can't have my brilliant combination of brains and beauty, Bulstrode," I replied with malice equal to Millicent's. Her face scrunched up and turned red from anger.
"What? Have I offended you, Millie?" If I were to throw mud at her, might as well use things I knew she despised. Millicent loathed the nickname Millie with all of her heart to the point of finding it on the same level as a personal attack. Personally, I thought Millie suited her in an odd, somehow adorable way.
I would have never thought to call Millicent, of all people, adorable. There was definitely something unique about her, that's for sure. Of course she was tough as a brick wall and had a temperament that called for not getting on her bad side if you could help it. Despite her unrefined, downright rude behavior, I found something fascinating about her. But I couldn't let her win this battle. So it would be in my best interests to keep my mouth shut. At least, so I'd be unable to fawn over her with positive things to say about her.
"Yes, you have! You're more useless than an antique vase." Although this was supposed to sound insulting, I burst out into laughter. I don't know why I found Millicent's retort at all funny, though, because the words that came out of her mouth made her sound like an immature imbecile.
"I hate antiques," I murmured, unable to find a witty reply. A smug smirk spread across Millicent's face, as if she won the word spar she had with me. Just for the record, she hasn't won anything. She's too crude to craft words like a worldly scholar.
"I hate them, too. What if we hated them together?" She asked, her voice too eager. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. Millicent looked crestfallen, although I wasn't sure why. I hadn't done anything wrong. At least, not anything I could see that could be perceived as wrong. I was usually good at catching myself if I said something callous or tactless.
"Who asks others to hate antiques together?" I blurted out, again not catching myself for ever uttering this useless, tactless question. Her face contorted in a strange way and in an emotion I couldn't read. I was really feeling out of the loop, and I couldn't really explain why. Maybe being in the presence of someone as forgettable yet fascinating and contradictory as Millicent threw my brain waves off. That could explain it.
"People like me, that's who. You can say no, if you'd like," Millicent explained, as if it was the most obvious way to answer my question. Obviously, it wasn't. But I had to let it slide because what else would make sense, anyway.
"I think I fancy you!" I said without thinking. I cursed my out-of-control lips for moving without my brain's consent. I think fancying Millicent could explain my brain malfunctioning all throughout this conversation. Even before I've talked with her today and realizing my fascination with her did I find her intriguing. There were times in which I thought about how her eyebrows arched and how her long, thick bangs fell atop her brown eyes and how she was less conventionally beautiful than the other Slytherin girls and how-
This is ridiculous. A look of confused terror spreads across Millicent's face, and I agree. I could totally understand where her look came from. How could I even consider her emotionally or physically attractive? This would probably remain an eternally unanswered question.
"You've got the wrong girl," Millicent said, her face suddenly pale with embarrassment.
"I don't," I say with hesitation. I take a deep breath to steady my sudden bout of nerves.
"you're different than other girls-"
"I'm not. I'm just like all the other Slytherin girls. I'm cunning and ambitious and I've got a temper and I want good things for myself and I'm vulnerable-" She began to babble in defense of herself. I found that inexplicably attractive, and I should probably tell her that.
"Because you can admit that, Millicent, that makes you different than other girls. I know I've been a huge arse to you and never meant a single apology I gave you," she snorts out laughter because I've told her the truth coated in a joke, "and I want to make this relationship, well, this potential relationship, work." I stop myself before I embarrass myself any further. She took a step forward, and intertwined her fingers with mine. She leaned forward and placed a feather-soft peck on my cheek. I could barely tell she kissed me the first time and the only reason I noticed was because the cheek Millicent kissed tingled.
"This is all too much to take in for now, Blaise," she said, which I completely understood.
"When this whole thing sinks in, I'll formulate a coherent answer and get back to you." Millicent presses her lips onto mine in a quick, sloppy kiss, and scurries away. We don't talk about what happened today, because this was clearly a blunder on my part. If she never talks to me again, I would be relieved. Some time passed. And by "some" time, I meant precisely two and a half weeks on the dot. I know that it was the exact date, because I kept track. Pathetic, I know. But it kept me from obsessively asking her every day about how she felt. If I hounded her like that, Millicent would have pitched a fit, and I wouldn't want that sitting atop her shoulders.
"Hello, Blaise," Millicent greeted with a curt smile. I return that curt smile, and I notice that I feel giddy in her presence.
"Hello, Millicent," I replied, and bowed, trying to lighten the mood up. It didn't work, but it was worth the try.
"I'm sorry, Blaise," she said, and that wasn't a good sign. My heart sank. She didn't return my feelings. I was pretty set on her liking me.
"It's fine." I said, trying my best to keep my voice even.
"I actually meant that I'm sorry about not talking to you. I return your feelings." She said, her entire body glowing. I hugged her so tight that I was sure she couldn't breathe. I couldn't believe how happy I was that she finally told me her true feelings. It almost felt too good to be true.
"Prove to me that this isn't a dream, Millicent." She did so by kissing me so deeply and so passionately that when we broke apart, I gasped for air and pleaded for another wondrous, delicious kiss. She smirked, and pecked my cheek as if to spite me.
"I'm definitely going to enjoy dating you," I said, with a matching smirk.
