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Author's Note: So popular opinion tells me that people don't like Oliver right now. Good. You shouldn't. He is being a confusing ass. You should like Derek or Alex or somebody else more than him. But the great author has some tricks up her sleeve so just try to keep not liking Oliver and see where we go. Someone mentioned that they don't want Graham to still like Katie. That is a whole 'nother can of worms but let's go with the flow.

Chapter Ten: The Grown-Up Girl

So the day-or night I should say- of the ball arrived. I had literally spent the entire day switching Adrian's sex. He had become Adriana in between 10am and 6pm and I was quite proud of myself. Though I have no real talent with makeup I know how a girl should look. A plus is that Adrian does not now look like a whore which was something he was worried about.

Around 6, the guys came to my room, dressed in costumes. Very phantom of the opera-ish. I honestly did not know who was who. I just knew that Richard, Luke and Alex had demanded to tag along with Derek, Marcus, Terrence and myself. Graham was still hiding out, I had no idea if he would show up at the ball. All I knew at present was that I was staring at six guys who I could not recognize.

"May I escort the lady?" I recognized Derek's voice as he held his arm out to me. He was dressed in total glittery phantom of the opera get up and he looked like a fucking fruit. A sexy fruit but a fruit all the same.

"You may," I said taking his arm. "My counsin Adriana is meeting us downstairs," I said.

"I thought you didn't have any female cousins," I realized it was Marcus who spoke, behind me.

"I have one. I don't like her though," I faked a scowl, except they didn't know it was fake.

"I'll kep h'r away from you," it was Alex who said that one, I should have known, he is the only one who is about 6'6.

"Really?" I looked at the tall man of mystery who looked even more fruity than Derek.

"Ov courz."

"Thank you, Alex."

"Morgana!" someone screamed as we entered the lobby. I cried out in surprise as Adrian glued himself to me, perfectly playing the part of the annoying-female-cousin-who-is-going-to-get-some-ass. "You're gorgeous!" s(he) slapped me playfully. "I hate you!"

"Ugh," I groaned. "Hello Adriana."

"And who are these men?" he looked at them all seductively. I, knowing that it is really Adrian Pucey beneath all that makeup, refuse to call him a she. I introduced her and looked to Alex for support. He instantly offered her his arm and Adrian took it with a big smile. He is having way too much fun with this.

The ball was being held at my parents country house. Fuck. When I got there they had remodeled the place into like country castle. The last time I was here I was fifteen . . . did I miss something? "Is there a medieval theme or something?" Luke asked.

"I certainly hope so," I replied, "or else my parents are utterly bonkers."

We walked through the gates (technically doors but with this medieval theme they turned to gates) and found ourselves standing along a tall staircase overlooking the dance floor, food tables, basically the ballroom. Two horns blasted. Richard and Derek covered their ears. "Fuck!" they screamed simultaneously. I glanced over. Fucking house elves. They walked in front of us and blew their horns again. "The Lady Morgana Montague has arrived!" Don't I feel important. "Followed by the great quidditch players, Derek Bole! Marcus Flint! Alexander Petersen! Adrian Pucey!" I saw Adrian blanch but I gave him a look telling him to keep his cool. "Richard Kent! Luke James! And Terrence Higgs!"

"Where is Adrian?" Derek asked.

"Somewhere that you aren't, if you know what I mean," I replied.

"Oh . . . gotcha." I broke away from him as my parents approached and I believe he walked over to relay information to the guys.

"Morgana!" my mother embraced me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You look gorgeous. How kind of Derek to escort you."

"Yes," I said through my teeth. "He is extremely kind."

"Cute too," my mother said, discretely leaning over and staring at his backside. Sickening. "You enjoy yourself tonight dear," she said, looking at me. Now that was a loaded phrase. "We'll be watching." Well, at least she's being honest.

"Morgana!" Suddenly I was picked up about four feet off the ground and spun around. "How long has it been! You became a celebrity without even coming home for Christmas!" It was Damien. My unmarried older brother who was far to cared about me far to much to have been slytherin's former quidditch captain and a terror to Charlie Weasley.

"I am fine," I said trying to keep my cool.

He bent down to me, "Look are you really marrying Draco Malfoy?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Good, cause I saw the git and wondered how on earth my beautiful sister could love him."

"I don't love him, plain and simple."

"Then you won't be marrying him on my watch." He smiled at me before my brother Chris called to him. They were dressed in costume but I someone recognized him. Perhaps it has something to do with my brother Damien saying. "Bloody hell, after he married that bint he's had a stick up his ass." My brother walked away, the compassion falling away and he became Damien the ice prince once again.

Ugh, I had to find Draco before music started up. I walked as fast as I could in these heels (they were seemingly mandatory NOT my idea) which was surprisingly quick. However, I really wished masked men wouldn't look at me, know who I was and move aside. I wanted to have to push through them and complain. Fuck. The music started and if people know me well enough to part for my way, they most surely will ask me to dance.

Sure enough, once that thought was finished I saw a tall masked man, dressed in festive medieval gear coming towards. I ignored the fact that he was slightly cute and fled the other direction. I caught a glimpse of some bleach blond hair and was about to call his name when . . .I ran into someone and fell right on my ass.

"Fuck!" I cursed and prayed it wasn't someone important.

"Morgana!" the man hissed and knelt down beside me. "It's me! Graham."

I stared at him wide-eyed. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Look, lay off the fucks for a second. Mum and Dad figuratively dragged Sophia and I out of are hotel room. I've never made up more lies in a five minute period."

"Are you sure? I think the guys and I could challenge that."

"Well now it is like I was right there with you."

"So where is Sophia? What did you tell them?"

Graham took a deep breathe. "I told them, in short, that Sophia and I worked together, her boyfriend had just left her and I was comforting her my taking her to Worlds."

I covered my face with a hand but tried not to smear my makeup. "Do you know how bad that looks, fromwhat you just toldme?"

He winced behind the mask, "Pretty bad?"

"Very bad and where is Sophia."

"Um," he looked away. "That is kind of the problem. She ran outside, it was pressure she cried. Not said, cried. She won't speak to me."

I groaned. "And you want me to go do your dirty work?"

"It isn't dirty work . . ."

"Don't lie to yourself, Graham," I said irritably. "I'm going to have to clean up your mess and make her fee comfortable (and impossible task). But because I love you I am going," I got to my feet as I spoke. "And because I refuse to admit to myself I am being pushed around, I am taking Terrence with me."

I walked briskly away from my brother and towards the guys, all huddled together (that is how I recognized them). Why Terrence you might ask? Well, after a few weeks I had come to realize that Terrence was relatively the same Terrence, except grown up. You have seen how Marcus Flint grew up, imagine Terrence. He is the perfect adult slytherin (the realistic way not the stereotypical way, which means he is: protective, strong, determined and romantic in his own way) except I have noticed something that Sophia really needs. Someone who's fatherly. Terrence, my friends, is fatherly, as much as he might want to deny it. So I grabbed his arm and dragged him outside.

"So we are going after Sophia why?" Terrence asked as we hustled outside, trying to be as discrete as possible.

"Because she is my brother's ex-fling, carrying his child and he guilted me into it."

My old compadre raised his eyebrows at me. "You? Morgana Montague? Guilt?"

My gaze didn't differ from my path as I replied, "Stranger things have happened."

"Not in my opinion."

I stopped and looked at him. Not in anger or anything, he was more of a focal point while realization and shock swept over me. I had changed. Dare I say it? I had . . . grown up. "Fuck!" I screamed, grabbing at my hair to circulate my emotions. "Jesus fucking Christ!" I stamped my feet like a child because I could not believe what time had done right under my nose. Marcus, Derek, Adrian, Graham . . . they had all grown up. I never "officially" thought I had as well, strange as that sounds. When Oliver came back into my life, I realized that I had been sucked back into the thinking I was still sixteen that he was still sixteen. Had those letters taught me nothing?

As strange as it sounds, despite everything (and as pissed as I was to have realized I have gotten older) I admitted to myself that I had been foolish. I was convinced my real world, the one in which I get into verbal spats with Russian celebrities and in which I am expected to uphold the family name, was not the same as my Oliver world. In that world, all that keeps us from being together is not our fault but because of our houses or the other people in our lives and we already knew each other inside and out. In the Oliver world I was sixteen. In the real world, I was out of Hogwarts. In my world . . . what about my world? Well, I didn't exactly have time to contemplate the who/what/when/where/why and how's of my world because Terrence was snapping his fingers in my face.

"Morgan! Morgana! Yoo-hoo!"

"What?" I snapped.

"Aren't we going to find that Sophia girl?"

"Oh yeah," I tried to get back on course. This is just great isn't it? I am perfectly confused and I get the joy of motivating someone who I honestly don't know that well. Motivating Adrian is tedious at times but I can do it because I have lived intimately with the bloke for six years (as in I have seen him naked, in a moving-about-the-house kind of way) and if you include Hogwarts years, I have been around the guy for about thirteen years. This girl however, I talked two for about five hours, tops. Only talked. Again I am grateful for skill inherited by Slytherin house.

Terrence and I found Sophia sitting by a gargoyle overlooking the garden crying her eyes out. I mean that in a realistic literal sense; Her makeup was puddling in her hands. "But she's pretty!" Terrence hissed in my ear.

"That is probably why Graham slept with her in the first place!" I whispered sharply in reply.

"Lucky bastard," I heard him mumble under his breath.

"Sophia," I called. She faced me and a look of utter embarrassment came over her features. She buried her face into her hands.

"Please go away."

"I can't do that," I said calmly sitting down next to her.

"Neither can I because-" I elbowed him in the balls before he could say something to make her feel worse. His eyes popped out and he remarkably enough was able to glare at me through the pain. "Because you're gorgeous," he finished the sentence an octave higher.

Sophia laughed. "Yeah right," her American accent was as thick as ever. She looked at me, raccoon eyes and all. "I don't know how you do it, Morgana. I mean, I have looked up to ever since you started playing for the Yanks. You are so powerful, so smart, so independent and you hang around the most gorgeous men without losing your composure. You are gorgeous yourself. That night I went to Graham's apartment I . . . never thought I would be coming face-to-face with you. My idol was his sister." She looked away and started to dry sob in between words. "Here I was telling you I was pregnant when all along since I found out I have been telling myself 'What would Morgana Montague do?'I -" She started sobbing and Terrence tried to hug her but I held him back. She needed to get this stuff out.

"I am only 20, Morgana. I have idolized you since I was in 3rd year and here I am. I thought I could make it work with Graham. I came here thinking that and then I realize I can't compete in your world. I just can't do it. Moreover I have honestly have nothing in common with the guy, Graham I mean. And you're -"

"Shut up," I said calmly but quickly. She abruptly complied and looked at me liked where-did-that-come-from-bitch? "You look up to me so much but you honestly know nothing about what made me the way I am. Here–"I was cut off by Terrence shoving a hand over my mouth and practically throwing me out of my spot beside her, taking it for himself.

"Morgana, no one cares. You had a couple of affairs with the same guy but let's move on. This is about Sophia and Sophia, let's elaborate more on how Graham is a prick and how you can deserve better."

She raised her raccoon eyes at him. "Are you being sarcastic or serious?"

He smirked a devilish slytherin smirk that made me want to puke at the time. "Serious as a heart-attack because, babe, Graham is a prick and there are much better British guys out there who find you sexy as hell." He winked. God even fucking Terrence has grown up. Here I thought he was fatherly and now he's hitting on a pregnant woman. Maybe I misread my signals?

"I'm pregnant," she said flatly, testing him rather harshly.

Terrence looked into her eyes and put a hand gently on her abdomen. "I love kids."

There we go! That's the Terrence I was sure was there. "I'll vouge for him on that," I said. She looked at me and smiled, as though my approval really meant something. "Graham isn't exactly ready for this kind of thing anyway."

I turned to walk away and she called after me, sounding much happier now that there was a hot man completely into her pregnant self, "Tell Graham I appreciate his support."

I reluctantly stopped and half-turned. "Honey, you might as well call yourself cursed because you have all of our support. From the Montague twins to Marcus Flint to Derek Bole. You might as well pack your fucking bags because you're not going anywhere for a while," I said as I walked away.

"My name is Terrence Higgs," I heard him suavely introduce himself and kiss her hand. "And you are?"

She giggled and replied, "Sophia Jenkins."

"Charmed. So Sophia, how do you like England?"

"I have been locked up in a hotel room."

"Well that just won't do."

"Are you saying there's something better?"

I turned around just as Terrence smiled, "There are things much better." Huh, who would have thought. Perhaps I was too quick to judge Terrence's sudden interest. Sure I hadn't seen the guy in a while but I knew a genuine smile when I saw one. Good for him. Now wasn't I on a train to self-discovery moments ago? Oh yes! Must get back to that.

But before I could, someone practically appeared in front of me. I jerked to a halt. It was a man, slightly taller than I, dressed in a fabulous costume(black silk, gold trim, the works) and cape with a mask. He extended his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked in a sexy voice I could not recognize. Strange because I usually can classify sexy voices based on, as lame as this sounds, how slytherin girls used to. That guy over there, don't know his name but he's sexy like Roger Davies, hm, no, Caspian Kroger (a slytherin three years ahead of me)!

When I didn't respond he asked again and the fact that I could pinpoint what the voice reminded me off was ticking me off. I was thinking of everyone who could possibly be at the party when I saw the man's chocolate brown eyes, I dropped it. "May I have this dance?" he asked again.

I listened to the music and recognized it as Moonlight Sonata. "Fuck no," I stated my thoughts aloud.

"Pardon me?" he said and stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"I refuse to dance to this song," I said simply. "Find another girl."

"But I insist, Ms. Montague. There is no other girl in the entire world I would rather dance with. I happen to know you dance very well."

I eyed him and silently wished the invitations had said women get to wear masks as well. "I don't even know your name but you know mine. That doesn't make me want to dance."

"Everyone knows the Morgana Montague, daughter of the house and if not for that, than for her amazing skills as a beater."

"Do you really think you're clever by not giving me your name?"

I felt him grin underneath his plain white mask. "Are names really necessary for a dance? And wouldn't you be a bit hypocritical to demand my name, when you dance with men in the States all the time?"

He had a point. Bastard. "Fine," I said curtly. I took his hand. "Let's go." He took the lead before I could and we walked to the ballroom floor. Thinking back to the whole worlds argument I had with myself. I began to feel insecure. Who had answered him? My sixteen year old self? Or that other self? When Oliver came back into my life months ago, did I suddenly start to see the world and romance as sixteen year old cynic? Or . . .what?

"Look at me," he commanded as we started dancing.

My head snapped to him in surprise if nothing else. "Don't you sir, dare command me of anything."

"Maybe that is what you want."

I glared at him before he spun me around. "Don't get too liberal or else I will leave you stranded on the dance floor."

"Oh really?" he said and the next move pulled me up against his chest.

"Reall– Draco!" I shouted when I finally spotted the blond bastard and was not going to let him avoid the most pressing issue. So I broke away from mister mystery and walked across the dance floor.

I tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around. "Morgana!" he sounded surprised that I dare pick him out in a crowd. He bid his entourage goodbye and pulled me off the dance floor. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"What the fuck was with the fucking headline the other day!" asked harshly. Yes, fuck was the word of the night.

"Do you think I wanted it there?"

"I see no evidence to the contrary. Now where is your father, I believe he would love to know about his son's intimate relationship with a Weasley," I spat.

Draco grabbed my arm roughly. "Don't you dare."

"I dare to make your life a living hell if this marriage comes through."

He scowled. "I said I am working on it."

"Not hard or fast enough."

"Look, I confronted my father about the headline, we got into a bit of an argument and I said that I didn't want to marry you. Now my father is looking into proposing a replacement to your family or marrying my cousin to one of your two single brothers."

"Goody," I said sarcastically. "Who are you proposing?"

"Who do you want me to propose."

"I have seen it all, a Malfoy asking someone else's opinion and let my just say, you and your father are chauvinistic pricks."

"I know that. Now give me a name."

The name Oliver Wood was about to come out of my mouth. But I never did get a word in, "I have said, Derek Bole, Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey or Oliver Wood."

"What!"

"I just through that in there for motivation for the others. My father knows that was all that name was for."

"Peachy," I said with a sour face.

"Now excuse me," he said trying to brush past but I grabbed is arm tightly.

"No, you explain to me what the fuck is going on with you and Ginny Weasley."

"I don't have to explain jack shit to you," he said sternly, trying to pull away.

"NO! Tell me what is going on with her!" I felt a hand on my shoulder and I accidentally released his arm. Yes, accidentally.

Draco glared at the man standing behind me and I followed suit. It was Mystery Man. "Anyway," Draco said with a sneer. "My situation with Ginny is complicated. Don't you dare go judging me when I know from sources that you have a similar complex relationship."

"Oh bugger off," I said. "My relationship really isn't all the fucking complex and that has nothing to do with you."

"Oh yeah, like you haven't been pushing Bole away since forever."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You should be kissing my feet that I suggested you marry the bloke instead of me."

I kicked him in the shins and the heel of my shoe left a mark. "Prick," I growled. Before anything else could take place, I was whisked away by Mystery Man back to the dance floor.

"Is that why you broke away? To fight with another man?" his voice gave me shivers up and down my spine. I was excited and angry about that fact.

"I was hoping to get somewhere with him but evidently, you can't talk to twenty-year-old chauvinistic bastards and make progress."

"You knew that before you sought him out."

I actually I did now, didn't I? Sure the thing with Ginny was a bit of a surprise (again) but . . . I didn't have to be a genius to know that my efforts would be half-wasted. So why had I bothered then? Because I'm a girl . . . a grown up girl. I hate how that sounds. So, like a true slytherin, I changed the subject.

"How do you know what I knew when I approached him?" I raised a suspicious eyebrow.

He bend his head and whispered into my ear. "I could see it in your eyes." His hot breath tingled my ears and neck. I liked it so much that I just had to break away.

"Enough dancing," I said quickly ripping myself away from Mystery Man and walking swiftly off the dance floor. At least one thing had been established in my world, I could not stand being with someone that gave me butterflies in my stomach. Whoa! did I just say butterflies? No! I meant that prat! He doesn't even tell me his fucking name and I let him spin me and twirl me and make me feel good? Like I'm special or something?

I stopped. I realized just how silly I sounded. So I turned on my heel and walked right back to Mystery Man. Who was watching me and standing still amongst all the dancing couples as though he knew I would come back to him. "Couldn't resist my charms?" he purred into my ear as we resumed dancing.

I should have remembered a tone like that. A comment like that. I should have registered it as a cocky Marcus Flint or a seductive Warrington but no. I had no memory of this voice, no, not the voice as much as the feeling the voice evoked from me. I found myself saying, "Why not?"

We danced and it felt as though I was being sucked into a dream. "You're Morgana Montague. I thought you made it clear to anyone and everyone that you are not someone to be charmed."

I didn't get a change to respond because I felt myself plucked from Mystery Man's arms and facing Marcus Flint. "Morgana, I'm getting out of here. Do you want to come? I'll buy you a drink."

"Where's Adriana?" I asked, suddenly remembering my roommate-turned-drag-queen was out on the floor somewhere.

Marcus thought for a moment. "She ran off with the French Ambassador's son I think." I choked down a laugh. He mistook it for surprise at the French. "Yeah, I didn't know they were here either." Go Adrian. He has so much sexually pent up frustration that a Frenchman would be good for him. "So are you coming?" Marcus asked.

"Oh um," I wanted to leave earlier. Desperately so but with the knowledge that I would be leaving a dream world and into the muckymucky that was the real world or Oliver world or my world or whatever, I declined.

"Suit yourself," Marcus said and slipped through the crowd to find an escape. I briefly wondered what it would be like to be married to the bloke for all time. Ew. I shivered.

Turning around, expecting to see Mystery Man waiting for me, I was surprised to find that he was gone. I can't say I wasn't fazed. The feeling I got knowing he was waiting for me when I turned around was . . . nice if nothing else. But I shrugged of disappointment and left the ballroom in search of my old room. A drag down memory lane just wouldn't be complete without such a gut wrenching event.

I narrowly escaped my mother and went up to the staircase. My parents had changed the front, ballroom area for parties since I left, Graham had told me about it during his seventh year. The halls were the same and as I walked them, I found myself being drowned in a sense of . . . well let me put it this way. Much in the way I felt my ghosts would still be running around Diagon alley, I felt them here as well. I could practically hear the echo of my small five-year-old shoes as I chased after Graham and then he in return, chased me. I nearly felt every tackle Graham had done to me just to make it so I could not get back to sleep on Sunday morning. The echos of my mother shouting at my brothers and I for looking like heathens and the personal scolds on my every choice. But the ghosts were not all bad. I opened the door to my old room and could practically see, Graham and I huddled under my blankets-turned-tents teasing eachother about all that we've done and all we'll do in the next year at school. That tradition started when we were oh, twelve, just out of our first year and Graham was utterly mortified at the fact that he had been caught naked in the girls showers by other girls. Hey, he was eleven, cut him some slack.

I walked into my room and sat down on my bed. Dust covered everything. My walls, unlike Graham's were not littered in photos or posters but are plain, with only a mirror and some old to-do notes I pasted up in order not to forget the tasks. Books and photo albums previous overflowed from Graham's room next door had been taken and piled into the corner. Just like they were whenever I reentered this room after a year at school.

I suddenly felt eyes upon me and turned to find Mystery Man in the doorway. To say the least, I was not happy on having someone, anyone, intrude on this private memoir of mine. "Excuse me?" I said sharply. I stood up and walked over to him. "Have you ever heard of manners?" I found it surprisingly hard to insult, yell at or intimidate someone whose face you could not see. "First you walk out on me on the dance floor then you show up mysteriously at my room?" My voice was cold and calm as I spoke these words though frustration was bubbling up inside of me.

"You've done much worse. Why shouldn't I?"

I scowled at him. He had a point and it angered me. I like all former slytherins hate to be proved wrong and hate to be trapped into a corner. He had done this and I had no response. Worst of all, I had no idea who it was.

"Well now that you have gotten what you wanted," I said, trying to push past him, "why don't you run along and brag to your buddies that you got the famous quidditch player speechless. I hope all that hard research into who I am was worth it."

I never did get all the way past him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back into his chest. "You're worth the world," he whispered into my ear.

I jerked away, my mind had quickly taken over my heart was struggling to make this dream-like scenario as down to earth as possible. "Look here, pervert! I don't know who the fuck you are but cheap poetic sayings that only cost a nickel will get you nowhere."

"I happen to know you like mystery. In fact, I happen to know you love it. You feed on it. You get a high off secrets, lies, deception and–"

"I like whatever works," I said cutting him off. Was this the ghost of Morgana Montague past? Because this person was deadly accurate. Wait . . . if it is a ghost of former me, does it mean I'm a lesbian? Or does it mean the former me was incredibly masculine? Bloody hell, wait til Graham hears about this one.

"Are you sure," he said, advancing towards me until I was pressed up against the wall.

"Positive," I said, maintaining my facade of confidence. In truth, this person had me week in the knees.

He pressed up against me and whispered in my ear, "You seem so strong yet you quiver at my touch."

"I don't quiver!" he ran his fingers down my side and I was caught red handed. "Ookay, maybe I do. What does that prove?"

"That you want me." His lips (no boobs, Mystery Man is officially a man) hovered above mine.

"It only proves that my body wants you, not my mind or soul." Oh good comeback, Montague!

He smirked beneath his mask which I was silently begging him to take off. "Then explain to me why you cared that I walked away? You know it was more than physical attraction."

"You really are a psycho you know that," I had one desperate last attempt to make this dream something I could hold, feel and break instead of what it was, something that floated, surrounded and drugged me.

"That is just what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night."

"We all have our bad habits." Shit my voice was getting husky. Of all the times, of all the Mystery Men in the world . . . why the one who was so literal about the term?

"Care to indulge in something you know you want?" I nodded. "Close your eyes." When I didn't do it he repeated himself. I let myself go and I did as he commanded. "Keep them closed." I felt him remove his mask, drop it to the floor and replace his hands on both sides of me. His lips were barely a millimeter away from mine. I wanted to lunge out but I couldn't, my word bound me.

"Now say my name," he whispered.

"But I don't even know who you –" His lips captured mine in possibly the most powerful, passionate kiss I have yet experienced. It was intoxicating. I was in limbo. I was dazed and far far gone. I , for the first time in my life, completely let go. I let myself be absorbed by all he was doing and all Mystery Man had done to me.

When he broke away, I had not time to even regain my thoughts but somehow I was able to speak. Without opening my eyes or even stringing a rational thought together, I whispered, "Oliver."

My lips were once again devoured and I still did not open my eyes. I wanted to run my finger through his hair but he pinned my hands above my head. I continued to kiss him and wrapped my legs around his and climbed up to his hips.

But as quickly as I was consumed, I was left cold. I slid down the floor and watching Mystery Man running down the corridor. His mask was lying next to me, used and forgotten. Since I felt like I had just been hit by a bus, I didn't actually try to figure out what Mystery Man's hair was like.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping Adrian wouldn't kill me for messing his hard work up. I had not only messed up a totally hot thing with whoever Mystery Man was but I also was plunged into the bottomless pit of Oliver-dom. The bloke haunted me, even in the throws of passion. What the fuck was I going to do?

"Morgana?" I looked up to see a very disheveled Adrian walking towards me. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to you?" I asked, covering up my confusion and the pain in my heart.

"I just fucked a Frenchman. You?"

"Nothing. Just a drag down memory lane."

Adrian looked into my old room and then back to me. "As hard as rough as memory lane is, I don't think it can smear you lipstick that much."

Fuck, Mr. Know-it-all-gay-sex-guru, though you didn't really need to be gay to figure the fact about my lipstick out. "Encountered a mystery man of my own."

"Well, I don't know if I would call the French Ambassador's son a mystery after what I did to him." He offered me a hand and he helped me to my feet.

"Do elaborate."

"Well, Ms. Sex-deprived, try not to get jealous but –"

"The image of you being screwed up the ass does not make me jealous." He hit me in the arm, hard. "Okay, sorry, sorry. Do share."

"Anyway," Adrian continued his story and the two of us, both clad in dresses, smeared makeup and disheveled hair, walked down the corridor. The realizations I had reached that night, the insecurities I had uncovered followed me like a shadow and were so close over my head that they lived in the corner of my every thought. But listening to Adrian's story of the dirty French ambassador's secretly gay son, made me feel a teeny bit better.

Author's Note: So who was the Mystery Man? You decide! Please, I LOVE feedback!!! I know I left you all a bit deprived but I love you all and it will get better for our poor heroine! I have to give compliments to my friend Sven who inserted Adrian's cross-dressing/gay dialogue for this chapter. Anyway, look forward to hearing from you all and see you in the next chapter!