every now and then, i get my act together and post something...hope you enjoy!
Chapter Ten:
Friday evening and what was she up to? Off on a hot date with her adorable new boyfriend? Of course not.
In fact, Aurora couldn't think of anything worse to be stuck doing after Friday classes than voluntarily spending time with Slytherins.
Well, there is one Slytherin you wouldn't mind so much…
Damn that voice in her head. Had it already forgotten she and Liam had made things official mere days before? And that she'd fully sworn off James Potter in any and all capacities? Not like he'd been paying her any attention lately anyway.
Who CARES if he pays you attention, Malfoy?! she practically screamed in her head. Maybe she and Potter had decided to lay off one another, but that was absolutely it. Didn't matter that he was possibly the most attractive bloke at Hogwarts and that she still couldn't get their snog out of her head. James Potter was the drug that had tempted her, exhilarated her…and now it was time to detox. Because there was no use getting addicted when there was no chance in hell he'd be with her.
NOT TO MENTION THAT BOYFRIEND OF YOURS, she thought hotly to herself. What was her bloody problem?
Aurora shook her head furiously to clear her mind, hoping she didn't look too insane to the younger Hufflepuffs she'd just passed, who had fixed her with rather curious stares.
No, Aurora had to get her mind on business. Important business—her term-long project with Black and Parkinson-Pucey, whom she was due to meet in the library in about two minutes.
Arriving, Aurora pushed open the heavy library door and looked around. She soon spotted Black with his back to her, bent over some books already. She semi-smiled subconsciously. Her cousin—well, it was a bit more complicated than that, what with the generation gaps, but that was how her parents had always simplified it—was really quite the serious student, a truth Aurora often found herself forgetting when so many of their interactions involved insults, sneering, and, of course, the Potters.
But then, there had been that hug. That totally unexpected but supremely comforting embrace right after her mother had been attacked that had somehow felt like an older brother's, despite the obvious lack of any sort of meaningful relationship between the two. Aurora had let it slip from her mind since Black hadn't made any other attempt to communicate with her since, but she couldn't deny it had stirred up a certain sadness in her. She really wished they could have been closer, but it just didn't seem to be in the cards. Presently, Aurora sat down next to him hesitantly.
"Black," she greeted him stiffly, setting down her bag and eyeing him rather furtively.
Black looked up and nodded at her. "Malfoy."
"Parkinson-Pucey coming?" she asked, glancing around.
Black, who had turned back to his work, shrugged. "She should be," he told her. "Laurel acts like she doesn't care about her grades, but her parents actually hold her to a rather high standard."
Aurora's brows rose and she was surprised to see Black smirk at his page of notes, evidently in silent agreement about how unexpected it was that Laurel should have so much going on upstairs. "I was just researching some basic human transfiguration," he went on without looking up from his annotations.
Aurora nodded, watching him. He was left-handed and had almost illegible writing. "Well," she began, realizing she was staring, "shall we begin a schedule?"
Black nodded as well, raising his head and meeting her eyes at last. The natural intensity of his icy blue eyes made her throat tighten uncomfortably, and once again her thoughts fleetingly returned to the afternoon he'd hugged her. Clearly no hope to make friends with her cousin if she got anxious just by bloody looking him in the eye.
"I'm here," Parkinson-Pucey announced with a heaving sigh as she came up from behind them and plopped her things unceremoniously on the table. She ducked down to kiss Aiden's cheek then primly sat in the open chair beside him.
"Hi," Aurora said curtly.
Pucey ignored her. "What are you writing, Aids?" she asked, glancing over at his scrawled notes.
An annoyed expression passed transiently across Black's features, and Aurora had to stifle a laugh. So far, Black had not been at all what she'd expected. Not that she really knew him all that well, obviously. But this was quite possibly the first time ever—outside of family gatherings—that they'd had to force a civil interaction and work together toward a common goal…and instead of biting her head off, he was practically wearing his emotions on his sleeve.
Calm the fuck down, Malfoy, a voice in her head said in a sarcastic tone suggestive of a massive eye-roll. You're two minutes in, you twit.
But Black looked up to see Aurora suppressing a smile and a lopsided, conspiratorial smirk slowly appeared on his own lips. Aurora barely kept from snorting and instead trained her gaze on Pucey.
"We were going to work out a schedule," she told the girl, her lips pursing. "But we'd better decide who to transfigure before we try to work out anything else."
No one spoke, Pucey's pretty little nose wrinkling in distaste as she looked back and forth between the other two. Finally, she spoke up, tilting her chin up haughtily. "You, obviously," Pucey said coldly, looking Aurora dead on, a single impeccably shaped eyebrow rising. "You're the Gryffindor—brave enough to handle it and all," she said with a hint of a smirk playing at one corner of her lips.
Aurora had opened her mouth to send back a bitchy retort when Black shook his head and interjected.
"We can't transfigure Malfoy," he said briskly. "Her mother's the Minister of Magic. McGonagall'd never allow it."
Under normal circumstances, Aurora would've directly contradicted anything forbidden to her by virtue of her mother's position, but in all honesty, she was pretty relieved to hear Black's words. No matter the alleged braininess hidden beneath her blonde mane—given the choice, Aurora would prefer not to be transfigured by Laurel Parkinson-Pucey.
Black now looked critically at Pucey.
The girl clearly wasn't as dumb as she acted—she caught right on. "We can't do me," she sputtered, blinking rapidly and agitatedly yanking on a fistful of her much-envied hair, long strands the color of a peeled banana becoming taut under her grip. "Suppose I get stuck a centaur? Or the process deforms me?" She put her hands to her cheeks in horror.
"Look, Laur," Black started soothingly. "McGonagall clearly put Malfoy and I together to do this assignment because it's a really difficult one and we're both needed to do it properly. You'll be perfectly safe if McGonagall thinks we can do it. And she'll be there monitoring it."
Pucey glowered at Aiden. "So she put me in your group as the poor daft fool for you to experiment on?" she hissed, arms folded tightly across her chest.
Aurora actually snorted this time, unable to contain herself. Pucey fixed a glare on her while Black shot Aurora his most apologetic lopsided grin, rolling his eyes in a little in exaggerated exasperation. Aurora found it even harder to wipe the smile from her face. Maybe she'd been wrong about her partners. Maybe it wasn't going to be Slytherins teaming up against the Gryffindor, but The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black against Laurel Parkinson-Pucey.
"Alright then, I'll be your bloody guinea pig," Pucey sneered at Aurora, huffing and refolding her arms in front of her. "You harm one hair on my head and I swear, Malfoy, I bloody swear I'll Avada you myself."
"As bloody if," Aurora drawled with a pointed stare. "Unlike you, my head's got a bit more going on than just being a spot for blonde hair to hang from."
Pucey looked positively violated, but she was soon distracted as Black swooped in to kiss her forehead.
"Thanks, Laur," he said in a low voice, turning a roguish grin on the girl. He took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. In an instant, Pucey's wide-eyed anger transformed with perfect calculation into a wounded pout. With knitted brows, her upturned face nodded bravely at him.
Aurora nearly gagged.
Didn't the idiot see the number Black was pulling on her? But then again, despite what Aurora's earlier jab had meant to imply, Pucey obviously did have something more of a brain than some of her cohorts—a bit more wiley than the average popular tart. Perhaps Pucey just didn't care that a few moments before, Black hadn't given her a second look. Maybe that was just the sort of (completely disgusting) relationship they maintained.
Then Black shot Aurora a look and winked almost imperceptibly at her. Her eyes widened in astonishment. Was he being all friendly to excuse his absence after The Hug? Or maybe he'd just decided to set their petty House rivalry aside for the sake of a good grade. Whatever it was, the cloud of doom Aurora had felt hanging over her since learning about her partners was suddenly starting to lift a bit…
Stella walked purposefully up to her twin, who was lounging on his four-poster bed in his deserted room, staring thoughtfully up at the canopy, his hands behind his head.
"James," she said pointedly, halting in front of him and putting her hands on her hips, preparing for confrontation.
"Hi, love," James said, propping himself up on one elbow. "What's up?"
"I'm going to ask someone to the dance," she said, no beating around the bush. She'd been contemplating how to broach this subject since Aiden had backed out of their singles date. But now, worried she was running out of date options, Stella had decided being upfront was the most sensible—albeit most intimidating—route.
James's eyes narrowed immediately. "Who?" he snapped, scowling at her suspiciously.
Stella rolled her own green eyes. "Oh, give it up," she said exasperatedly. "It doesn't matter who. You all are taking dates and I'm not going to be the spinster at the couples table."
James's face was contorted grouchily but he said nothing, apparently conceded to the fact that he had no rational argument to counter with but obviously quite displeased by the implications of letting her win. He did mutter something like, "Don't see what's so wrong with that," under his breath, but with him still lying down and looking so huffy, Stella couldn't help an amused smirk from appearing on her face.
She sat down next to her twin, running her hand over his hair. "No need to be so protective, James," she said softly.
"Well, least every bloke in school is well aware that I'd kill anyone who hurt you," James snapped, causing a giggle to escape from Stella's lips.
"It's just one dance," she said teasingly, rapping her brother affectionately against the head. "And I doubt I'll fall for any ladykillers like you or Aids," she laughed.
James snorted, rolling his eyes. "And yet the girls still chase me," he said, laying on the smugness for comedic effect.
Stella rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "You conceited prat," she said, trying to suppress her smile.
James toyed with a lock of her hair. "I know I'm protective of you, Stell," he said finally. "But I can't help it." He looked down. "I just want to make sure you're with someone who deserves you."
Stella smiled gently. "Noted," she said, touched by her brother's sincerity.
"And it better not be a bloody Hufflepuff," he went on warningly, but the moment of seriousness broke as he tried and failed to prevent a grin from stealing onto his face.
"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Stella said with a teasing snigger, shaking her head.
James shrugged a little, trying to look nonchalant, but his was smirk widening. "A bit."
Stella rolled her eyes laughingly. "Very smooth," she said.
After kissing her brother on the cheek goodbye, she left the Slytherin dungeons to consider the next important hurdle: who to ask. Who would say yes to Ice Princess Potter? And of those, whose company would she actually enjoy? Bloody shame about Nolen van der Spek already going with that dreadful Weasley girl.
Stella found herself wandering up to Gem's room and was gratified to find the girl sitting at a desk, carefully writing up an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The redhead looked up as Stella came in and waved her over.
"Who can I get to take me to the dance?" Stella asked, unable to keep the whine out of her voice.
Gem burst out laughing. "Really? You ask the girl who can count the guys she knows here on one hand?"
Stella giggled a little. "Momentary lapse," she said. "Memory's not what it used to be, you see."
Gem nodded wisely, her eyes narrowing in mock thoughtfulness. "Fair enough," she joked. "I'm no closer myself…though I do believe I'm crushing a little on my project partner," she went on, raising a finger to absently press her tiny stud more firmly against her nostril.
"Weasley?" Stella said incredulously, then quickly checked herself. She wasn't about to go all James on her new friend. "He hasn't snapped your head off for being a Slytherin, then?" she asked, moderately surprised. Not that Weasley seemed to be as mindlessly judgmental as his horrid little sister.
Gem shook her head. "Met up earlier for a bit to make a schedule, he was perfectly nice. And man is he attractive."
Stella certainly couldn't contest that. "Wait till you see him on a broomstick at the match tomorrow," she said, finally able to come up with something she genuinely admired about the boy, despite the fact that she considered a Slytherin fancying a Gryffindor to be utter madness. "Been the best Chaser in school since we all started as first-years."
Gem looked a little like she'd swallowed a toad.
"Don't like Quidditch?" Stella asked, puzzled by the reaction.
"I may have a mild case of Extreme Terror of Heights," she said with a wry half-smile. "Can't get near a broomstick and don't even talk to me about those stands for the spectators."
Stella bit back a chuckle. Sure, Gem was being pretty amusing about it, but she didn't want to make fun of the girl's fear.
"But then, the lure of a hot man being all athletic and shit is a strong motivator," Gem went on, smile widening.
"Well, you'd still better be cheering for me and the rest of the Slytherins," Stella said teasingly.
"You kidding me? I don't want to get beat up," Gem laughed. "I bet that Laurel packs a mean punch."
Stella joined her in laughing, reveling for quite possibly the first time ever at how wonderful it felt to have a girlfriend to giggle with.
James stared up at the canopy of his bed, his thoughts turned to the dance now his sister had brought up the topic. He still hadn't come up with any sort of acceptable choice for a date—but at least Aiden had settled it with that Gryffindor Stella suggested. Now he could focus his efforts on getting himself a worthy date. But no one was coming to mind.
Well, that wasn't true. A vision of a certain blonde Gryffindor had appeared in his mind's eye, but that was obviously delusions of a bruised ego and nothing else.
As if, Potter, a snide voice in his head sniggered, but James ignored it. If the time wasn't right to make a move on Aurora and get the bet over with, then he was going to bully her out of his thoughts until such a time arose.
But this environment certainly wasn't breeding success, so James, jumping out of bed and raking a hand through his hair to straighten it, headed down to the commons to see if inspiration might strike.
And strike it did, most fortunately for him. Naomi Holloway, Addie Chen, Siran Spencer sprinkled around the room in various stages of multitasking, attention spread between homework, flirting, and gossiping. Bunch of twits, really, but what other options did he have? Better a Slytherin tart than another House's.
After a brief round of internal eenie-meenie-miney-mo (the sniggering voice in his head cackled with laughter, screeching, Potter, you sorry little pansy!), James wandered up to Addie Chen, who sat with a couple girlfriends, including Nayana Black.
"Hey there," he said smoothly, sitting on the armrest of their sofa.
Nayana, ever a sweetheart, sent a genuine smile in his direction. Addie offered a slow sultry smirk.
Merlin, this wasn't going to fly either. He turned to Nayana, who fortunately sat closest. "Got any friends as sweet as you whose brothers won't pummel me for asking them to a dance?" he asked, as flirtsy as he dared get with his best friend's baby sister.
Nayana burst out laughing, and beside her, Addie looked violently jealous at being left out. "Verena Zimmermann," she whispered back conspiratorially, winking obviously for effect. "Then again, Berg's pretty terrifying."
"Genius," James exclaimed, impressed by the suggestion. "Thanks, Nays," he said, standing and bending to kiss her cheek before wandering off back toward the dorms. He could feel poor Addie Chen's eyes burning into his back, almost if she'd known his initial, abandoned intention to ask her to the dance.
And within minutes, he'd located, chatted up, and solidified a date with Verena Zimmermann. A perfect solution; he might even go so far as to say Verena reminded him of Stella. With a gentle smile but quietly snarky, she was a refreshing change from Camila's clinginess and Addie's inflated sense of self.
There was just one teeny-tiny problem.
She was no Aurora Malfoy.
Having finished their project planning in the library, Aiden made a mad dash toward the exit to escape having to walk back to the dungeons with Laurel. Unfortunately, she seemed to have anticipated this and he soon felt her presence fall into step beside him.
"So I hear you've asked that little Gryffindor to the dance," she said bluntly, all pretense of a flirty romance gone now that the two were in private.
Aiden stifled a groan. How had he allowed her to get him alone? He knew the girl wasn't the easily appeased idiot she pretended to be for the sake of the female population at Hogwarts…so how could Aiden have hoped she'd let this one go?
And mind, this was the side of Laurel's personality he actually enjoyed, when she finally stopped being the snippy, possessive bitch and actually proved all that was just a well-practiced act. This was in fact the major reason he kept getting back with her—once he got her alone, she was every bit as confident and sexy as she was annoying and petty the rest of the time.
"Laur, not now," he said tersely.
She let out a low, sexy chuckle. "Oh come on now, after that performance in the library I think I deserve to hear why she's so much more worthy than I." She grabbed for his elbow to slow him down, but in response, Aiden abruptly halted, pushed Laurel up against the wall, and pinned her in place.
"Really want to know, then, Pucey?" he breathed, his nose an inch from hers.
Laurel's eyes had at first widened in alarm, but she quickly settled into a smoldering stare, a half-smile playing at her lips. A veil of golden hair flopped down to shield an eye, but did nothing to lessen the intensity of her gaze, her startlingly dark brows low over her equally dark eyes. Unlike her usual come-hither looks, over the top and meant to intrigue the opposite sex, this expression was pure seductress. "I really do," she whispered back, her voice mocking but somehow all the more enticing for it. Aiden couldn't deny a growing arousal, despite the conflicting emotions the girl brought up within him.
"Cause you're such a bloody minx when we're alone," he growled with a roguish smirk, "but I can't fucking deal with your little posse, love." He leaned forward to kiss her nose, as if that settled the matter.
Instead of acting offended, as she would have done in front of her friends, Laurel simply grinned cheekily—really, she was such a wonderful catch buried beneath all the bloody attitude—and reached forward to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.
Unknowingly letting out a low groan, Aiden responded immediately by picking her up by the bum so she could wrap her legs around him, all the while feverishly kissing him with her back up against the wall. From there, he broke from her lips briefly to survey the area, then carried her into the nearest darkened classroom while she kissed up and down his neck.
The room was pitch black but for the glimmer of moonlight stealing in at the top of a window, and Aiden could just barely make out a desk near where he stood at the back of the room. Perching Laurel on the desktop, he stared into her eyes, gently lit from the moonlight, while he slowly began to unbutton the tiny shirtdress she wore.
Making his way lower and lower, he knelt to kiss the trail of skin he was continuously revealing. Laurel shivered a little beneath his lips as he moved down from her neck, between her modest breasts, and along her flat stomach, stopping just short of the waistband of her flimsy underwear. Unbuttoning the dress the rest of the way, he ran his hands up her smooth thighs, bring them slowly closer toward the spot of skin his lips were teasing. Maybe it was all the Emma-induced sexual frustration, but Merlin, he wanted Laurel just this moment.
Aiden dipped his mouth lower, kissing her through the gauzy underwear and rubbing a thumb tantalizingly across her most sensitive places. Aiden heard a soft groan escape Laurel's lips and stood up to kiss her lips then gently lower her down on the desk before resuming his task. As her breathing became more erratic, Aiden slipped her underwear down and went back to ravishing the girl, his tongue slipping out to make quick loops and swirls. He smiled a little as he heard a few more soft sighs and moans come from the girl's lips, and responded by bring his fingers to move inside her while his tongue kept licking and pressing and teasing her. Laurel's hips gyrated more urgently against him until, panting and apparently unable to take it any longer, she sat up quickly and grabbed at the waistband of his pants. Unzipping and deftly tugging the pants off him, Laurel hungrily kissed him and moved in on his boxer briefs. Aiden chuckled softly against her mouth. "In a hurry, are we?" he whispered into her ear as he felt her hands successfully pull down the underwear and a warm palm cup him.
Laurel pulled her head back far enough to look him in the eyes, more mussed blonde strands in her face, cheeks tinged pink, and her mouth slightly agape for panting. "You're a bloody nuisance, you know that, Black?" she said, dragging a soft index finger slowly along the underside of his shaft to reach its end. Her thumb rubbed teasingly across the wet tip, still looking straight at him. "Suppose we could just stop there," she said carelessly, wrapping her hand gently around his member.
"Christ, Laur," he groaned, letting his forehead drop onto hers.
In response she scooted her hips forward, grabbed him by the bum to pull him close enough to touch her, and kissed him meaningfully, to which Aiden reacted by gratifying them both and entering her at last. Her legs wrapped around his waist to draw him even closer, and Aiden wrapped an arm around her slender rib cage to thrust more deeply. While she writhed her hips to meet his, Aiden's other hand came up to ravish her breast. His thumb passed gently across her nipple before he ducked to kiss, suck, and lick the delicate skin, all the while rhythmically pushing into her, her pubic bone grinding back against him.
As the minutes ticked by, her breathing again turned more ragged, and Aiden lifted his head to look in her eyes. Laurel stared back, wrapping her arms tightly against his neck to draw his face close, and gyrated more deeply against him. Not daring to break the stare, Aiden watched the lovely girl's dark eyebrows knit together, her brown eyes almost desperate looking, until at last she sucked in a long, shuddering breath and grabbed him fiercely, leaning her chin over his shoulder as her nails dug into the skin of his back, before going rather limp in his arms.
Then Aiden bit his lip smilingly as Laurel pulled herself together a little, and began moving slowly against him once more. She pulled back, the sultry, shadowy look back on her face, and Aiden couldn't take but a few more deep thrusts before his own orgasm overcame him and he finished inside of her. They stood there a few long minutes, breath haggard, clutching each other's sweaty bodies close. Aiden let his eyes flutter shut, his head resting against the side of hers, and allowed himself enjoy the peace that came from particularly good sex.
Much as his reputation might have indicated otherwise, Aiden wasn't just about the fuck—he wanted the connection. And to catch Laurel at her best (both in talent and in manner), at a moment when he couldn't help but be wildly attracted to her…well, it felt damned good. Good enough to remind him that all the shit he'd have to go through to be with a girl he really cared about shouldn't dissuade him in the slightest.
Even with Emma's face in mind, Aiden felt himself curl up into Laurel's embrace. That night, he led her by the hand to his bed and slept more peacefully than he had in weeks, coiled protectively around the girl.
By the time Gem had woken, thrown on some comfy clothes, and wandered into the commons the next day—at what she felt was an ordinary hour to do so on a Saturday morning—it seemed the rest of the Slytherins had already vacated the premises. This struck her as odd until she remembered that the night before, Stella had mentioned an impending Quidditch match against Gryffindor. Clearly the rest of her house was eating breakfast, if not already at the Quidditch pitch, and she had been the last to know.
Not that she cared all that much, given her feelings about heights in general and Quidditch in particular. But there was the small issue of her having precisely one semi-friend at this point, and Gem wasn't about to alienate Stella by skipping out on a game that clearly meant so much to her, her team, and the rest of Slytherin. Oh and, it didn't hurt that the competition counted her new project-partner-turned-crush among their numbers. Vertigo or not, she was human, after all.
After a brief hesitation born of an inner battle between her laziness and her desire to look at least moderately presentable in front of the entire student body, Gem heaved a sigh and tramped back up the stairs to her room. She peeled her leggings off and pulled on a pair of dark jeans instead. Then, sliding a chunky sweater over her head to keep warm against the October chill, she wandered to the bathroom to reevaluate her appearance. Laziness won out this time as she opted not to do anything fancier to her hair than leave it in its current messy topknot, but she swiped on a little mascara before heading back down to the commons and off to breakfast.
Gem was relieved to see that Stella was still in the Great Hall for the time being—again, zero real friends at this point—and plopped down beside her unceremoniously.
"Morning," she said to the other girl, then glanced around to smile at James and Aiden as well.
"Hello," Stella replied cheerily, but her expression seemed a bit tight. Gem cocked a brow rather quizzically at her and almost instantly, Stella's face dropped and a sour look appeared where her smile had been. "Having just a lovely breakfast with Aiden and his beloved," she muttered with an eye roll and a quick jerk of the head toward Aiden. Beside him sat Laurel, and whereas every other time Gem had seen the pair together, Laurel had been draped over an oblivious or annoyed Aiden, at this moment, Aiden was gazing into her eyes, his expression cheeky, while Laurel leaned in, scrunching her nose and smiling coyly back up at him.
Gem's brows rose in surprise.
"Revolting, isn't it?" Stella breathed, turning back to her plate. She stabbed at her eggs then took a grim bite, shaking her head.
Gem shot a sidelong glance at Stella, wondering briefly at why exactly the girl was so upset before deciding she was probably just bothered that her best friend was ditching her for someone as horrible as Laurel. Or something?
"Yeah," she agreed mildly, still a little distracted by her confusion over the intensity of Stella's displeasure, then reached forward to grab a biscuit and begin spreading raspberry jam on it.
Stella narrowed her eyes a moment as if trying to decide if she should be offended by Gem's apparent lack of interest, then shrugged and seemed to brush away the thought. "Anyway," she said, "I've got to head to the pitch soon. Are you coming to watch the game?" She looked expectantly at Gem.
A flush worked its way up from Gem's neck and into her cheeks. She nodded hesitantly. "Yes?" she said, though it came out more like a question.
Stella grinned and elbowed her affectionately. "Brill! You can sit with Tommy," she went on, gesturing the boy across the table. "James and Aiden"— she tossed another bitter look his way— "are both on the team with me."
Gem gulped but nodded, eyeing Tommy, who had overheard Stella and was now shooting a friendly smile back at Gem. Wonderful, she thought to herself, starting to feel a little faint. What had she gotten herself into? Somehow she'd allowed the mere idea of a guy she barely knew (even if he had a grin that made her weak in the knees) to convince her she was prepared to face her fear; now, after having conveniently forgotten she'd be up in those stands all by her lonesome, she was committed to attending the damned match. She offered a watery smile back at Tommy. You're in for a treat, she thought wryly, thinking that poor Tommy might have gotten himself more than he'd bargained for.
"Sure you don't want some food?" Zoey asked from where she lay, fully naked, on her stomach. She gazed at Marcus, who was on his back, a few beads of sweat noticeable on his forehead and chest, and staring up at the canopy of his four-poster. "I know you plan on eating those Slytherins for breakfast, but I'm pretty sure we used up a few extra calories just now," she added with a teasing grin. Knowing full well the rest of the school would have hurried down to the Great Hall before going to the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin this morning, Zoey and Marcus had chosen to take advantage of the afforded privacy—and to hope it didn't occur to anyone that they might be missing in action together. However, that meant Marcus was cutting it awfully close between finding some breakfast and making it to the pitch in time for warm up.
Marcus turned his head to gaze at her, a smile appearing on his face that was so tender, she felt her heart swell in her chest. Not roguish, not cheeky—though, don't get her wrong, those other smiles of his were completely swoon-worthy as well—but downright amorous.
As she was busy staring at him, Marcus reached a finger to smooth her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're beautiful," he breathed by way of an answer.
Zoey felt a fizzle of electricity zip through her. She rose up on her elbows and leaned over to kiss him deeply. "You're beautiful, Marcus Weasley," she said softly, looking down at him and weaving the fingers of her right hand gently through his hair. She felt his large, Quidditch-roughened hand reach over and come to rest on her lower back, then rub smoothly down to her bum and thigh before coming back up again.
"Sleep with me tonight," he whispered, his hand now moving in big, slow circles across her back.
Zoey played with his hair, her other hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I'd stay in bed all day with you, if I could," she replied with a little laugh.
Marcus shot her an impish lopsided grin. "If only," he murmured, leaning up to kiss her. "Maybe we could even sneak off to Hogsmeade later," he mused. "I'd like to take you on a proper date, Zo."
"Sounds perfect." Zoey bent down to kiss him once more, disentangling her right hand from his hair and instead reaching down to gentle rub around his hipbone before moving across to his lower abdomen. "Now," she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his as she slowly edged over until her body was on top of his, "if you're not interested in making it to breakfast before your match, I've got an idea of what we can do instead."
Stella shot yet another glance across the table at Aiden, her stomach turning sickeningly as she watched him reach a hand down to rest on Laurel's thigh absently while forking a piece of sausage with the other hand and popping it in his mouth.
It was disgusting. And what was more, it was insane. What in the world had happened between the pair of them? Last she'd been aware, Aiden was sick of the girl—although quite possibly still sleeping with her for reasons Stella couldn't fathom (what on Earth could that girl do in bed that so thoroughly made up for her personality?). But apparently Stella's information was suddenly out of date where Aiden was concerned, a thought that troubled her and left a rather unpleasant knot in her stomach. She was Aiden's girl, not Laurel. Maybe not romantically, or whatever, but he already had a best friend to tease and eat breakfast with, thank you very much.
"I'm sure whatever this is will be over by the end of the day," Gem pointed out, clearly noting Stella's preoccupation.
She breathed a deep sigh. Gem was right, of course—why couldn't she react as rationally as that? And hadn't Aiden said he was just trying to stop all the gossip that he and Stella were an item? Surely that was what was going on here.
He could have stood to look a little less pleased about the situation, though. She eyed him again, doubtful that even with years of luring in girl after girl, Aiden could be this good of an actor. That was, of course, her major problem with this situation.
Yeah, and that you're jealous as fuck, the voice in her head pointed out.
Am not, she thought stubbornly. She was just worried that Aiden had actually come to realize he did want Laurel after all. Had these past few weeks of avoiding girls only been a fluke?
Stella stood abruptly, as if that action alone could quiet her noisy thoughts. Gem looked up at her in surprise.
"Better dash," she said by way of explanation, tossing down a half-eaten piece of toast and scrambling away before Gem could protest. She felt bad about ditching the girl, who she actually really liked and was most certainly the closest thing she'd ever had to a girlfriend—or even a friend that was primarily hers, and not James's or Aiden's—but she couldn't take a second longer of watching Aiden and Laurel acting so cutesy with each other.
Shaking her head forcefully, Stella walked quickly out of the Great Hall, down the corridor, and out the main entrance. Once outside, she headed in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, relishing the cold October wind that was whipping hard against her cheeks, doing its part to remind her that she shouldn't give a damn what Aiden did or didn't do. It was problem enough that she cared so much, but it would be worse still if she let her anger affect the match…the last thing Slytherin needed was a pair of Beaters intent on knocking each other out with their Bludgers.
"Alright, team. Let's go over it again." Sam rapped a few fingers sharply on the blackboard that had been pushed unceremoniously into the back of their Quidditch locker room, drawing Aurora's gaze and attention back to her friend as he outlined the strategy he'd come up with during practice to help them beat the Slytherins. She just couldn't help her poor focus this morning.
For the past few weeks, her new normal had been to alternately worry about her mother and throw herself into her studies, Quidditch, and the idiotic ups and downs of her burgeoning love life. While that for the most part meant her schoolwork and sport performance hadn't suffered, there did come the odd day when she couldn't transition from one line of anxious obsession into a more productive distraction. Hot on the heels of an evening spent wondering about Aiden Black's behavior, her Transfiguration project, and her feelings toward Liam (and, okay—if she was being honest—feelings toward James, too), she had awoken that morning with a pit of guilt and nerves in her stomach. She hadn't been worrying about her mother. She'd let herself forget about how scary the situation was, let herself get caught up in the melodrama of a self-centered teenager.
And just like that, Aurora realized she'd lost herself in her thoughts again and snapped back to Sam, cheeks heating up though no attention had been called to her lack of focus. Her friend looked serious, had his Captain's face on as he lectured them on fake-outs and plays. She sighed and succumbed to her inattention once more, allowing her gaze to wander to the rest of the team, noting without judgment or true realization that Marcus seemed more disheveled than normal, that a scowling Emmy looked far more fearsome than usual, that Nolen appeared to be swallowing down first-match jitters.
She glanced down at her own hands, clamped tightly together, as if by sheer force she could keep the worries in the back of her head at bay. But this morning was a hard one. Even as Aurora looked around the room, she did so unseeingly. Instead, snippets of half-baked worst-case scenarios and ghostly images of her mother passed before her eyes.
"Right—let's do this then," Sam called firmly, drawing Aurora's face toward him once more. "Let's show those jackasses how it's really done."
She nodded along with the rousing cheers, standing and following her team to the pitch. Sam fell into step beside her, not as oblivious to her distraction as she'd hoped.
"What's up, Rors," he said in a hushed voice, his face betraying a mixture of concern for her with a dash of anxiety about how his team was about to fare against their archrivals. "You sure you're up to this? We've got Jake in the wings if you need time."
Aurora shook her head but avoided his gaze. "I've got this, Sam," she said, with more confidence than she felt. She felt his gaze on her, dubious, but she ignored his obvious doubt. She just had to cross her fingers and hope that the adrenaline, the pressure, and her long-standing rivalry with James Potter—despite terribly mixed-up feelings toward him of late—helped her to get through the match without embarrassing herself or letting down the team.
Tightening the strap of forearm guard nearest his left wrist, James looked up at the roaring crowd around him. Despite the brisk weather, the school was out in full force, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs displaying temporary allegiance to either Slytherin House or Gryffindor in their choice of wardrobe and signs. Far above him, his rowdy sixth-year housemates were enthusiastically cheering them on, Tommy and the other lads clapping and whooping excitedly while Camila, Laurel and Theodora huddled together for warmth, the three of them clutching a long, serpent-shaped emerald banner by their gloved fingertips that quipped, "Slytherins Do It Better."
James couldn't help the lopsided smirk that appeared on him lips. He remained transfixed, gazing up at the group, and Cam, noticing, blew him a dainty kiss. His grin widened and, like the asshole playboy he was, he tapped a few fingers over his heart then raised them to point at her. He couldn't read the words she mouthed back but a good bet said they were something naughty.
A shrill warning whistle that the players ought to line up for the start of the match came from Madam Hooch, a harsh and impatient woman who had apparently experienced the reverse of mellowing out as the years wore on. James strode to take his place on the pitch, straddling his broomstick and catching sight of Aurora for the first time, who stood astride her own broom exactly opposite him. She looked horrible, but he didn't have time to contemplate it before Madam Hooch's whistle blew once more and they were off.
James kicked off the ground, quickly flying out of the chaos of the Chasers to a spot overhead, where he could get his bearings and begin his search for the Snitch. As he settled himself and began roving around the field, it occurred to him once more how off Aurora had looked, and his eyes scanned the pitch for her. He spotted her near the midfield, far from aimless, but to James's familiar eye, his longtime Seeker competitor was far from fully engaged with the match around her.
He frowned, peeking glances at her as he continued to survey the pitch. Rather than his usual habit of watching her for sudden swoops and dives that might indicate she'd seen the Snitch, James found himself off his own game for wondering and worrying about her.
You fucking disaster, he thought with disgust. His mood plummeted further as shortly thereafter he watched Marcus Weasley, on a breakaway, first feint to the left, then right, then swoop above Slytherin's Keeper to score. Making it look like the easiest goddamn thing on Earth. James fumed, swiveling around and resuming his search for the Snitch with more determination.
The match wore on, the two teams neck and neck for points. The game was thus far noteworthy only for a complete lack of trash talk, or really even any interaction whatsoever between him and Aurora. And here it had even crossed his mind, however naively, that this new little truce between them might translate to some sort of competitive flirtation on the pitch. Could it be that he was at the root of her glumness? Was it really a misinterpreted iciness that had kept her minding her own business? Or had something happened to her mother that had thrown her for a loop, leaving her dazed and out of sync?
James grew antsier, the desire to end the match beginning to suffocate him. Restless, he wove back and forth across the pitch, shooting glances backward at Aurora.
"Where are you, you little fucker," he muttered to himself, squinting around for any glint of gold that could possibly be the Snitch.
He darted another look at Aurora, his heart sinking at her wan, tired form hunched over the broomstick. It was only then that he realized with horror that he'd begun searching even more urgently for the Snitch not simply to clinch the victory, but to put the poor girl out of her misery. Which was fucking ludicrous.
With a final attempt at resolve, James turned and flew away from her, but an internal battle continued to rage. He couldn't bloody believe an ashen face or a game played just a few beats behind her normal caliber was enough to distract him this much.
And then suddenly, in an ultimate show of just how much more on top of her shit she was than him, Aurora soared across the field, swooping below two Chasers in their own confrontation and above a Bludger that Stella—who appeared to have recognized the dive before any other player on the pitch had—had shot Aurora's way, and at last pulled up, victorious, the Golden Snitch clutched in her fist.
James's first thought was to be relieved for her, but it was quickly replaced by utter mortification. He hadn't even been fucking close. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time (had it ever happened?) when he hadn't been neck and neck with any competitor who managed to best him.
Anger began to boil within him, his throat fiery and tight as the fury overtook his embarrassment, and, unable to face his team or the crowd around him, James abruptly landed near the passageway to the lockers and stalked off the field.
It was with both trepidation and relief that Gem watched Aurora Malfoy clinch a win for Gryffindor—and thus a loss for her friends and house—by capturing the Snitch. She was thrilled to finally be free to leave the treacherous Quidditch stands but could only imagine what a state Stella and the others might be in.
The game had lasted for what felt to her like ages. Though she had tried to focus on other things—Stella expertly whacking Bludgers at distracted Chasers, Marcus effortlessly scoring goal after goal—there had been the low, background hum that was her vertigo always at the edge of her consciousness. Waves of lightheadedness and instability would wash over her, and every so often poor sweet Tommy Flint would glance over to see what must have been her ashen face then place a hand firmly on her shoulder and ask if she was alright.
To which Gem would nod vigorously while wishing the floor could swallow her up to spare her this humiliation. She was no goddamn damsel in distress and she loathed the idea of the boy thinking she needed him to look out for her wellbeing. Not that she held anything against Tommy—she just didn't like feeling out of control.
And yet, here she found herself. Dizzy, faint, and a steep set of stairs between her and safety on the ground, and certainly requiring more help balancing on her way down than she cared to admit. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought over and over. Why had she agreed to go to this fucking game?
Gem faltered at the top of the steps, the crowd that was anxious to leave the stands thick and pressuring her forward, then clutched at the handrail and stumbled on. She gritted her teeth, slowing so much that the impatient crowd worked its way obliviously around her as she progressed at a snail's pace. It wasn't long before the mass of students had all passed her, Tommy having either lost her in the crowd or sadly forgotten any concern he'd had for her, and leaving her all by herself.
She huffed a little, angry with herself for brushing him aside so many times and now finding herself abandoned in her hour of need. It wasn't even the goddamn height at this point, she'd just worked herself up over it for so long that her body's stress response seemed to have taken over.
Gem sighed heavily, resigned. Maybe she should just sit the fuck down. If the dizziness was now more from winding herself up than from the height then surely a rest would help, no matter the altitude at which it was taken. Heaving a sigh, she tripped down a few more steps to a landing then plunked down, putting her head beneath her knees and praying for the black spots before her eyes to clear. For several terrible moments, Gem thought she might vomit. But she calmed, took a few deep breaths, then bravely stood again to try her luck once more. At which point the nausea proved not to have resolved one bit and she threw up, missing her shoes by inches.
That's great, she thought miserably, plunking back down on a step. Just fucking great.
Gem couldn't help but feel horribly sorry for herself in that moment. Stranded on the stupid stands, which she had only dared ascend to prove she could make and hopefully keep one friend in this lonely new school of hers, Gem was overcome with homesickness. As much as the circumstances back home had sucked, at least she'd been somewhere familiar, with people she knew, and where she didn't make herself ill to watch a cute boy she'd just met fly a goddamn broom around a field.
A few tears trickled down her cheeks and Gem wiped them away halfheartedly. Now she'd thrown up, she had to admit she felt a little less ill. Well on the upside, she thought humorlessly, maybe I've bullied myself out of a fear of heights.
She was trying to gather the willpower to stand and ease her way down when she heard a sudden tramping of feet running up the steps, a voice calling, "I'll catch up, Cam! Forgot my bloody scarf."
Horrified and mortified, Gem was frozen in place as Laurel Parkinson-Pucey came into view, pounding up the stairs before she came to an abrupt halt in front of her.
"Hi," Gem said stupidly, then ducked her head as if that might conceal the puke at her feet or her general misery.
Laurel didn't respond, but she didn't move either. "Well you've made a mess of yourself, haven't you," she said at last, flatly.
Gem didn't look up at her. "Stomach bug, I think," she lied. Leave, she wanted to moan. Leave me alone to my disgusting self so this embarrassment can fucking end.
Laurel still hadn't moved. Gem finally looked up at her to see the other girl eyeing her critically, jaw set.
"Go on," Gem sighed. "Sorry to be in your way."
But Laurel's eyes narrowed and she pulled out her wand. Gem's heart sped up in alarm but the other girl merely flicked her wrist and the puke—and its nauseating stench—disappeared. With another swivel, a glass appeared in her hand, and she muttered "Aguamenti," pointing her wand into the cup as water began to pour from its end. She thrust the glass at Gem.
Gem's brows rose in surprise. She'd been totally horrible to the other girl when they'd met, and quite honestly she thought Laurel had deserved it. She'd felt even more self-righteous about the whole thing when Laurel had responded by childishly ignoring her existence in every encounter thereafter. But now she just felt awful. She couldn't say for certain she'd have done the same thing if their positions were reversed.
Gem took the glass, a sorry look upon her face. "Thanks," she mumbled, embarrassed.
Laurel said nothing, watching as she began sipping the water.
Gem glanced over her cup at her while she drank, taking in the other girl. She was quite possibly the most beautiful girl Gem had ever seen, though for whatever reason she seemed to be relegated to Camila's sidekick, Aiden's sometimes-girlfriend, and nothing more special than that. Surely her golden hair didn't exist in nature (a gentle fadeout from darker roots seemed to back up this theory), but its contrast with her milky skin and dark brows was truly stunning. What the girl—who had already proven herself a callous bitch—was doing helping her in this moment of need, Gem had no idea.
"I get a bit dizzy on the stairs sometimes," Laurel said, not unkindly. "They're rather steep."
"Listen, Laurel—" Gem began weakly once she'd finished the water, wanting to insist the other girl continue up the stairs, find her scarf, and be on her merry way. She was so overcome by guilt that she couldn't bear to hear Laurel offer up empathy, as stilted as it may be.
"Come on," Laurel interrupted, coming toward her. She leaned down and grabbed Gem's elbow to help her stand. "Let's get you down."
And with the girl's firm grip on her upper arm and the aid of the handrail—and a few breaks along the way—Gem successfully found herself 10 flights lower, with her feet on solid ground.
"Thanks," Gem said again, shame and embarrassment washing over her anew as she felt suddenly much more stable and energized.
"Don't mention it," Laurel said, and Gem got the distinct impression that she actually didn't want it mentioned, lest someone find out she had a kind bone in her body. Laurel let go of her but walked alongside her toward the castle. She seemed unwilling to actually talk to her, but Gem couldn't help but be touched by her continued presence.
In silence, the pair made it uneventfully back to the castle and toward the dungeons. "I'm really sorry about being a brat when we met," Gem blurted at last, one final effort at getting across just how grateful she was for Laurel in that moment.
A sly half-smile flashed on the other girl's lips. "I may have deserved it," said Laurel with the tiniest of chuckles before her smirk disappeared, any understanding between the two gone with it. Without another word, she walked into the Slytherin common room, leaving Gem to fend for herself and wonder what the hell kind of person Laurel actually was, hidden underneath that cold exterior.
"What the fuck, Potter," Aiden snapped, striding into the locker room to where his best friend was angrily slamming his locker shut and, having changed, about to leave. "Seriously, mate," he said, trailing after his best friend. "Who do you think you're kidding?"
"Go on then," James muttered, not slowing down at all. "Have a go, I deserve it."
Aiden rolled his eyes. So fucking melodramatic. He grabbed James by the shoulder to stop him, and the other boy whirled around, his eyes flashing. Aiden was unmoved. "Sure I'm pissed, you pansy," he said. "But come on, I know you well enough to know when something's off. What the hell happened out there?" He crossed his arms expectantly.
James faltered. He looked too taken aback by Aiden's understanding to form a response.
"Nothing," he finally said, shrugging. "Off day." He began walking again.
Aiden snorted. "Bullshit," he said, following James. He wasn't quite sure where all this compassion was coming from. Yeah, they were best friends, but they'd never been the touchy-feely sort.
Maybe since some of your—ahem—needs got taken care of last night, a voice in his head sniggered. You're feeling a touch more generous than normal, perhaps?
Aiden couldn't help the sly smirk that appeared on his face at the thought. That bloody minx, he mused, an image of Laurel appearing in his mind's eye, before turning his attention back to his sulky best friend.
"Something happen with Stell?" he prodded.
James shook his head. "No," he mumbled. "Nothing like that."
"Then like what?"
Finally, a small snicker from James. "You're a persistent fucker, aren't you?" He looked sidelong at Aiden, his expression a combination of amusement and mild exasperation.
Aiden laughed. He studied his friend a moment longer. "Malfoy," he pronounced at last.
James's posture stiffened, but he kept walking.
"Pissed she got a boyfriend? Can't get angry over that, mate. Owens is a heap of crap compared to the likes of you, anyway; she'll come around," Aiden said, his tone light though it somehow felt like a betrayal to even say the words. One stupid hug and he couldn't maintain his usual front with his cousin at their project meeting. And now what was this—him feeling protective over her? Over the girl he and his friends had taunted for years without a second thought? Who the hell was he to care what happened between her and James? If she decided to have anything to do with him, that was her right.
James grunted something incoherent in response.
"Oh yeah? Cool, mate," he said cheekily, nodding wisely.
James rolled his eyes and shot an amused smirk at him. "You're a little shit, you know that?" he asked, shoving Aiden a little.
"It's come up once or twice," he acknowledged with a snigger. "Usually I get it from the ladies, but there's a first for everything."
James laughed softly but said nothing. Aiden waited out the silence and was rewarded when James finally spoke up again. "I was worried about her," he muttered.
"Malfoy?"
James nodded once, sharply. "She was a fucking mess. Not that any of you lot would have noticed, but her game was off. Got to thinking about it so much that I must have forgotten she was still more than capable of finishing off the match."
Aiden was silent.
"What a bloody embarrassment," James groaned, raking a frustrated hand roughly through his hair. "And me just cruising along above the fray, totally fucking oblivious."
"You were wondering about her and Owens breaking up?"
James looked at him sharply. "I'm not that big a prick," he snapped. "I was wondering if she'd heard bad news about her mother."
Personally, Aiden didn't think his idea was all that far-fetched but kept this thought to himself. "Did something happen with her mother?" he asked instead.
"Dunno," James said tersely. "Didn't have a chance to ask and I'm not going to bloody go find her now."
"Fair enough," Aiden replied evenly. "What are you going to do then? You can't bring that foul temper back to Slytherin with you. The house is going to eat you alive."
James snorted. "What did you have in mind?" he said, his temper calming again. "Play up like I was ill, fall into Cam's arms?"
"That'll work," Aiden said, laughing. He slapped his friend on the back. "I'm here for you—alright, you stubborn piece of shit?" He didn't quite believe James would ever voluntarily open up about anything related to Aurora Malfoy, but he couldn't deny that this discussion had been a hell of a lot more palatable than just letting their tempers fly. If they could keep up this streak of mature behavior instead of fighting, Aiden would rather prefer it.
James's cheeks seemed to tinge just the slightest shade of pink but he quickly made a show of shoving Aiden off him. "Keep it together, you bloody sap," he snapped, but it was more bark than bite. Aiden couldn't help but grin.
"Where have you been," Stella moaned, having just spotted Gem in the door and subsequently raced up to her. "This day is a mess. You'll never believe what I've done. Wait, are you alright?" she babbled, but stopped short at the smudged mascara and slightly green tinge to her friend's cheeks.
Gem flashed a grin that was far too wide. "Peachy!" she said, looking a little dazed. She shook her head a little, linked her arm in Stella's, and began steering them upstairs toward the dormitories.
Stella raised a brow skeptically as they walked. "You sure?" she asked, looking over at the girl again, concerned.
Gem nodded emphatically but offered no further information. "You said you'd done something?" she prompted.
Once again reminded of the events of the last hour, Stella felt as if a hot liquid had been poured upon her head, the shame making her uncomfortably flushed. "I was in a state after the game," she said, gulping as she remembered her frustration with how the match had ended. "But honestly I was more frightened of how James was acting than I was mad about the score. Oh, alright," she added, rolling her eyes at Gem's knowing look, "I was angry. Bloody idiot had his head in the clouds. But point being, he was beating himself up and I was all confused over everything and so Torres—our Keeper, you saw him out there—he came over and gave my shoulder a pat. Very rational, that one."
Stella took a deep breath. She hadn't realized how slowly Gem had been leading her up the stairs until now, when they finally reached the landing.
"Come on," Gem said, motioning Stella follow her to her room, where she promptly fell on her bed and peered up at Stella from a fetal position.
Stella gave her a strange look. "Are you sure you're fine?" she asked, inspecting Gem's curled up frame. Comprehension suddenly dawned on her and she felt another wave of mortification wash over her. "Oh no, I didn't push you too hard to go up the stands, did I?" she moaned. "You told me heights weren't your cup of tea."
Gem silenced her with a brisk shake of the head against her pillow. "I'm fine," she said firmly. "Just tired. Go on, tell me about him patting your shoulder." She cracked a sly grin.
A lopsided smile, equal parts apprehensive and sheepish, crept onto Stella's lips as she rolled her eyes at the cheeky comment. "Well, Torres was being so thoughtful and I was all out of sorts wondering about James. And then I thought, screw that! If anyone should be worried about people being angry with him, it's James, right? Of course I feel badly and all but honestly, total fuck up on his part…"
Gem started to giggle a little, clearly amused by how circuitous Stella's story was.
She flushed again. She couldn't recall the last time she'd even had such a tale she needed to share so urgently with someone, much less someone who wasn't James or Aiden. Or maybe it was that she'd never gotten so excited about the prospect of dishing a secret because she'd never had anyone to tell these sorts of things to, or who would be so receptive. Either way, she was certainly babbling like she hadn't spoken to a living soul in weeks. "So, well, I got upset that I was bothered about James, the selfish git. And I had this, like, moment of empowerment, or something? Where I remembered him sort of guilt-tripping me about going with a guy to the dance. So, I asked Torres?"
Gem burst out laughing. "Are you asking me if you asked him?" she teased.
Stella joined in giggling. "Well, that's not all I did," she went on, looking hesitant.
"Uh oh, did he turn you down? And you went berserk?"
Stella swatted at her. "Worse," she said with a small moan. "He said yes but that he'd promised his friend they'd go alone together, and did I have someone who would be his friend's date?"
Comprehension seemed to dawn on Gem's face, but she looked far from angry. Another sly grin worked its way onto her features. "Oh yeah? And who am I going with, then?"
Relief flooded Stella's veins. "Oh, you'll do it!" She lunged forward, hugging the girl. "You're wonderful!"
Gem chuckled, then as Stella backed away from her, sat up fully. "So who's my date?" she asked again, looking expectant.
"I—I didn't get that far," Stella said, offering a sheepish look. "I was so shocked he said yes that I just told him that my friend and I would meet the pair of them before the dance."
Another bark of laughter erupted from the other girl, her red hair swishing across her shoulders as her head bobbed up and down. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?" she said, wiping at an eye, apparently brought to tears by her laughs.
"So you'll come then?" Stella asked eagerly.
"I'll come, you fool," Gem said, shaking her head. "In fact, I'm grateful I didn't need to ask anyone myself. So, nicely done."
Stella grinned. A few hours ago, she couldn't have imagined she'd summon the gall to ask anyone to the dance, let alone someone as normal and good-looking as Gabe Torres. And best of all, she'd have Gem with her!
Fuck all that Quidditch angst; she had a new friend.
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