Marilyn had done a good job at mentally convincing herself that Draco wouldn't show up to the party. As she carefully applied her make-up, she reasoned that Wiltshire was a pretty long way away and nobody wanted to travel over the holidays, much less do all of the packing and staying in a hotel with the sole aim of attending a party where they only really knew one person there. Hell, she could barely be arsed attending and it was happening at her home.

As she curled her hair, she considered the fact that if he truly wanted to avoid whatever function his parents were throwing tonight, he had to have a multitude of choices that were much closer to home and ten times more convenient. If they had any real way of contacting each other, he'd have probably already called and made his excuses. Maybe she should've given him her home number, that way he could use the landline at his place. The invite had been more of...oh, an offer of an option than a real expectation that he would attend.

Finally, as she shimmied into her dress - a little low-cut black one that was so skin-tight she'd probably have to be cut out of it at the end of the night, a la Olivia Newton John in Grease - she resolved not to dwell on Draco's presence, or lack thereof. It wasn't anything personal. Even if she was loaded and money wasn't an issue, she'd wince at being invited to a party all the way across the country. It was probably weird of her to invite him in the first place. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time. Most of the time they'd spent together so far had just been the two of them watching movies in her room, with the small exceptions of the cinema and the night in the pub. A change of pace would have been nice...if only to prove that she wasn't some sort of weird shut-in who did little other than teaching and watching movies. Perhaps to show her housemates that Sarah's initial dim view of him was undeserved. Taylor didn't need much convincing - she'd dubbed him adorable ever since he'd shown up on the doorstep soaked through and looking like a kicked puppy.

But there would be other opportunities. She hoped. The pessimist in her was still doggedly insisting that he wouldn't ever return to York again, but she had the presence of mind to label that as more of a fear than a prediction. It was just rough hanging out (if that was what they were doing) with somebody who she couldn't text or even email to double-check that their plans were still in place. Even as she bemoaned that fact, she could practically hear her grandparents scoffing at her and muttering a 'back in my day…'

It was all of this dithering and mental back-and-forth that had her feeling pretty stupid when Draco turned up on the doorstep at eight on the dot. Strange robe-like party attire nowhere to be found, he wore a simple white shirt and black trousers, not even a suit jacket in sight beneath his black winter coat. He'd had his hair cut while he was gone, with it now brushing his ears rather than his shirt collar.

"Nice haircut," she greeted him.

"Nice socks," he responded in turn.

Marilyn snorted in response, posing her legs in a stance that would've suited the stage, before casting a glance down towards her canary yellow knee-high woolly socks.

"I'm not wearing shoes in my own house, and my feet were cold. I think I make it work," she shrugged.

It also made the allure of the dress appear a little less intentional...lest she appear desperate or, worse, any of the guys at the party take it as a signal. Any of the guys who weren't Draco. She might have still been a ways away from admitting it out loud, but she was still enjoying this little game of theirs. And if he thought her last dress was lovely, this one ought to knock him dead.

"It's a good thing I didn't wear mine, it would've made things awkward," he stepped inside as she made room for him to do so, glancing around "Is the party cancelled?"

"No, but people won't bother turning up for a good hour or so. Gives us time to get a headstart on getting hammered - most turn up shitfaced to begin with."

"Ah, I missed out on that tradition."

"And here I thought you were just an extremely sober drunk," she nodded for him to follow her once he'd toed off his shoes "How was your Christmas?"

"I remain unmarried," he shrugged "It was alright. Yours?"

"Uneventful. Although I spoiled Koda and he didn't get me anything in return, so things have been a bit awkward ever since."

She was certain that she wasn't imagining the fondness on his face as he smirked at her before he turned his attention to the drink table - usually known as the dining table.

"All of this is for tonight?" He asked doubtfully.

"Oh, this won't last the night. The guests will bring more."

"I didn't bring anything."

"I didn't ask you to," she shrugged "And anyway, anything you brought would've just been nicked and sold."

"I appreciate the consideration you hold for my diamond encrusted champagne bottles."

Marilyn grinned. She'd missed him. Damn him.

It was funny, seeing Draco surrounded by her friends-of-friends and acquaintances. Throw Taylor's ABBA-heavy music choices into the mix and it was even funnier. The only people here that she was properly friends with were Taylor and Sarah, and this was the longest he'd been in the same room as either of them, too. While she hadn't expected him to be the life and soul of the party - she'd hardly pegged him as the type that would get into a drinking contest, down ten shots in a row and end the night with his head in a bucket - she hadn't expected him to be quite so reserved, either. He spoke to those who spoke to him, and nobody could complain that he wasn't polite, but he seemed more content to observe the party than actually participate in it.

Draco's confidence was a quiet sort. It bordered on aloofness - what with the disinterest when he was approached (usually by women), but there was no frost to it. Just a sort of brutal honesty. There was certainly no awkward shyness of the sort that usually kept people hanging around on the sidelines at a party like this. It seemed his quietness had a very different impact to the one he was aiming for - if he was intentionally aiming to make any sort of impact in the first place - though, because by the time midnight began to steadily loom larger and larger, she'd fielded what felt like hundreds of questions about her new friend. Not only had people noticed him, they'd also noticed that she was the only one he would properly bother with (their words, not hers).

Marilyn didn't fully agree with that assessment. Taylor had endeavoured to draw him into conversation plenty of times, with less and less coherency as she drank more, and he humoured here each and every time with his own brand of amicability. He'd even smiled once or twice. Sarah hadn't ignored him either - Marilyn had caught the two of them trading barbs more than once. This didn't concern her, though, for there was no bite to them on either side. No insult was thrown without the offender's tongue planted firmly in their cheek, and the recipient fighting back a smirk. It just seemed to be how they got along now. It was almost cute - if only because of how much it seemed to bewilder and discomfit those around them.

Even Marilyn, though, had to concede that the people did have half a point. She did her best to stick with Draco throughout the night. It'd be shitty of her not to, considering she'd invited him and everybody else was either a stranger or as good as in his eyes, but on the occasions that she was pulled away, their eyes couldn't help but meet. When she wasn't, they chatted happily. It seemed the others had noticed that she was able to get more than five words out of him at any given time - none of which seemed to be insults. She'd be lying if she pretended she wasn't a little smug about it, but she liked to think she hid it well.

And anyway, any smugness was buried firmly beneath the high she was riding due to this spark between them. Maybe it was the alcohol - despite the fact that she was far from drunk - or, more aptly, maybe it was the time apart, however meagre it might've been, adding a sort of oomph to their reunion, but the ease she felt around him seemed to have increased tenfold. They talked, they laughed, they flirted - and without any of the awkwardness or reluctance which so often plagued the latter. Which was dangerous, really, because that was what had it fast becoming addictive. That addictive quality was entirely unhelped by what she'd seen tonight. She had no doubts that Draco was capable of being charming and personable when he wanted to be. He'd have to be, it was the sort of thing that was expected of people living his lifestyle - and he'd turned that charm in her direction quite a few times, much to her quiet delight. That was the key though; when he wanted to be. Which could only mean that with the others who had approached him - beautiful women, at that - he did not want to be.

Marilyn might've felt less intrigued by what grew beneath them if that was simply how he was with everybody. If he had a habit of just falling into the lives of all who were available. She'd known guys like that in the past, men whose sole hobbies were people and partying. While she never suspected Draco was one of them, it was both a relief and an ego boost to have been provided with cold hard evidence of that tonight.

Still, she never could've seen what he was about to say coming until he followed her into the hallway for a brief moment of quiet and said it.

"I have a gift for you."

Marilyn stared at him in mild horror - not at the idea of him getting her a gift, but because she'd had no idea that he would and, therefore, hadn't gotten him anything in return. Well, shit.

"Oh, Draco, I didn't get you anything," she winced "I'm sorry."

He waved a hand "It's nothing grand, don't worry, I wasn't expecting anything. It's just...well, I'm better off showing you."

Digging a hand into his trouser pocket, he produced a necklace. A strange necklace. A phial in the shape of an upside down teardrop on a long silver chain, the contents of which was a strange glimmering shade of sky blue.

"It's pretty," she blinked in surprise, tentatively taking it from his grasp "What's inside?"

"I made it myself. I had a bit of a knack for chemistry back at school."

He said the word 'chemistry' slowly, as if he was unsure of it. Which seemed a bit suspect - like he secretly brewed drugs in his spare time or something.

"Is that your way of telling me this is a very pretty phial of heroin?" She peered at the substance.

Draco blinked "I...Don't think so?"

...add Class A drugs to the list of things she'd have to educate him on. Or, well, maybe not.

"There's a sort of trick to it. I know I don't have a phone, so you can't contact me in case of an emergency, but this should help. Should you find yourself in trouble - real, serious danger - break the phial."

"So it's some kind of weapon?" She frowned "Like pepper spray or something?"

"No, it's harmless. It's...think of it as an alarm. If you break it - if somebody is trying to harm you, I'll know."

Marilyn looked at him, unable to help being somewhat amused at his words. What was he, the UK's answer to Batman?

"And you will find them and you will kill them?" Marilyn deadpanned.

Draco looked at her blankly in return, visibly unsure of how to react - or whether her question was a serious one. Marilyn added Taken to the list, too. Eventually he seemed to decide to disregard her comment altogether, continuing on.

"Just make sure you have it on you at all times. Promise me."

Pressing the phial into her hand, he curled her fingers over it and then clasped her hand in between both of his,, apparently too intent on getting her agreement to consider what such a gesture might mean. Or maybe he was well aware of what it might mean and stood by it. It was too difficult to tell. He didn't even flinch when one of the party-goers ducked out of the living room and shot their intertwined hands an amused look on their way to the drinks table. All that she was certain of was his seriousness. In fact, she was sure she'd never seen him be quite so grave.

"Alright," she said softly.

She would have agreed to sell him the house if he asked while giving her that look - a strange mix of endearment, hope, and solemnity strewn across his features. It did the trick though, his eyes losing the darkness that had fallen across them in favour of relief.

"Good," he sighed before making a visible attempt at lightening his demeanour.

Rolling his shoulders, he straightened a little and sighed before nodding, saying it again but more casually this time "Good. Just remember to wear the damn thing, yes?"

"I'll never take it off," she rolled her eyes like a child being scolded by a teacher "Here, help me put it on? Just in case you turn your back and I get accosted by Koda."

"That's not quite the sort of danger I was talking about," he snorted but motioned for her to turn around all the same.

Marilyn did so, gathering her hair in her hands to lift it up and away from her neck. The silver chain was long, but not quite long enough to just slip over her head - the phial came to rest just above her cleavage (which was modest...despite the best efforts of the dress she wore, which was certain to have more internal scaffolding at play than Notre Dame when it was being built). The gesture felt oddly intimate. She kept feeling the backs of Draco's fingers graze the nape of her neck as he fiddled with the clasp, and was keenly aware of the fact that if she swayed even a little backwards she would close what little space there was between them.

Despite her best efforts, she felt warmth slowly creep up her neck and across her cheeks and had to bite back a soft curse at the feeling. What was she, a teenager on her first ever date? She caught that particular thought thought and stopped it in its tracks, before promptly squashing it for good measure - it was that line of thinking that was the problem. This wasn't even a date. Whatever this was, it wasn't that far. Not yet...if ever. There was no denying that there was some kind of spark between them and while she was intrigued to see where it might lead, the romantic in her - because it was still there, no matter how she tried to beat it back - was at war with the realist. The part that knew there could be no future in it, and was even more certain of the fact that some kind of casual fling wouldn't do, either.

That best described how she felt. Torn. They both felt something, but how wise would it be to act upon it? It was too early to be concerned with the long-term, but wouldn't not worrying about it at all only guarantee pain in the future? If she didn't worry about it now, when should she do so? How long could they go on tentatively flirting with one another before it had to culminate in something, or they had to squash it entirely? How much longer could they go on like this before she'd lose any and all ability to play it cool when he inevitably met some posh little bint who he actually liked; one called, oh, Christabel or something - who owned three horses and had a wine cellar and named her dogs after French cuisine, or whatever it was upper class people did.

Yeah. That would suck. If the novelty of the little northern commoner wore off and the visits abruptly ended out of the blue and this whole thing just became a strange story that was flitted around the house late into movie nights. Remember that time you brought home that blond guy? Whatever happened to him anyway? An amusing anecdote that she'd one day have to pretend didn't produce pangs of sadness whenever it was dredged up.

Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit. All right, she definitely wasn't giving him enough credit. The route her mind had strayed down was a cynical one, rooted more in habit and suspicion than any real evidence. Certainly not in anything Draco had said or done. If she prepared herself for things ending badly, she couldn't be surprised if (or when) they did. There had been a time when she'd never dreamed that an injury would end her career - that sort of thing happened to other dancers, not her. Look at where that had gotten her.

Once she felt Draco drop the clasp gently against her neck, she dropped her hair and turned to face him once again. A glance at her watch told her there were only minutes left to go before midnight, so she spoke up rather than allowing the quiet between them to develop into a real sort of silence.

"Come on, I'm going to do you the honour of sharing my little midnight countdown tradition with you."

"Why does that sound ominous?"

"It may or may not involve human sacrifice - congratulations, you're this year's candidate."

"I'm honoured."

Marilyn smiled, leading him past the drinks table where they swiped up a couple of refills, and to the small side door in the kitchen which led out to their little patch of concrete that masqueraded as a garden. The garden was bricked in by three high walls, with a rickety wooden door on the far side that led out to the alleyway behind the house. It was a pretty sad garden, if she was being honest - especially in winter. In the warmer months they'd often make an effort to spruce it up a bit for parties and the like, but in winter there was nothing left outside but an old wooden bench. It had once been painted a deep shade of forest green, but the paint had long worn off of most of it, the wood beneath a sad shade of greyish brown.

"Hold on a second," she said.

Handing him her drink, she ducked back inside and grabbed an old shawl from the hooks by the side door, spreading it across the bench so that they could side.

"I don't feel like spending the first hour of the new year helping you pick splinters from your backside," she explained "Or vice versa."

"Well there goes my New Year's Eve ritual," he handed her back her drink.

"Next year, maybe," she laughed.

They took a moment to get comfortable on the bench, setting their drinks down at their feet, Marilyn embracing the cold rather than flinching against it.

"So what's next? With this tradition of yours?"

"This, mostly. Sometimes Koda joins me, but tonight he must've found somebody who gives superior belly rubs. Usually I just look at the stars and bask in the quiet."

The walls around the garden were so high that looking at the stars required looking directly upwards, but it was worth the sore neck.

"Is that my cue to stop talking?"

Marilyn smiled fondly, shaking her head "No, it's okay. It's just normally I don't have any of my own friends over. They're all so busy - if they're not working, they want to spend this time with their families or their boyfriends or whatever. When we do hang out, they act like I have some kind of terminal illness, which I get. I'm their worst fear come to life. If I have to hear one more 'it's good that you're keeping yourself busy', I'll lose my mind. Most of the people here tonight are more Sarah or Taylor's friends than they are mine. They're not bad people, just not my kind of people. Plus there always tends to be at least one annoying guy from Sarah's med school classes who feels the need to explain my own injury to me. I prefer to be out here on my own when the clock hits midnight than surrounded by all of that...get my mind right for the year ahead, figure out where I've done well or what I can do better."

She trailed off with a grimace before sighing "I'm whining, I don't mean to whine."

"I seem to recall you listening rather patiently to me grumbling about my parents - which is hardly a good look for a man grown," Draco snorted.

"I didn't mind," she shrugged "Seemed like you needed it at the time. If you have any more I'm happy to hear them."

Too preoccupied with looking up at the cloudless sky, she didn't see his reaction. She did, however, feel him lean just a little closer to her, relaxing where he sat.

"I'll save the grumblings I stored away over Christmas for a less pleasant moment."

Marilyn smiled. It was hard to say how long they sat there, undisturbed in comfortable silence, but it was eventually broken by a roar of cheers and whistles from inside the house, the likes of which was usually only heard at concerts or football matches.

"Happy New Year, Baxter," Draco tapped his plastic cup against her bottle of cider.

"Happy New Year, Malfoy," she echoed, taking a sip of her drink.

Was it strange that his presence heralded a new wave of optimism in her? Not because of Draco himself, but because of the manner of which he'd crash-landed into her life. All right, she could have done without the creepy stalker and the police reports, but everything to do with Draco himself, and only Draco, had been oddly uplifting. Mainly because there'd been no warning. Something in her life had suddenly changed for the better - broken the monotony and added a bit of novelty, some fresh air. It was nice to think that she might have good things working their way through the universe towards her that she couldn't even fathom just yet. Sitting here in the dark, looking up at the stars, she could almost readily believe it.

She was vaguely aware of Draco sipping at his own drink beside her, but only once the commotion inside died down to its former pre-midnight level (which was still pretty damn loud) did she tear her eyes from the sky to look at him...only to find him looking right back at her. There was no trace of his trademark aloof boredom, nor the sort of teasing back-and-forth that they so comfortably settled into whenever they were around each other. Instead there was just...openness. A rare thing indeed, when it concerned the man sitting beside her. Marilyn vaguely wondered in the back of her mind what he saw, looking back at her here and now. Any thoughts on that matter were soon pushed out of her mind in favour of realising just how close their faces were.

There had been times late at night...and early in the morning...and during her particularly quiet lunch breaks…okay, pretty much any time her mind was allowed to stray in the direction of the blond gentleman at her side, when she'd mused over what might happen in a moment like this. In the end, especially on the occasions where she was feeling more cynical than fanciful, she tended to come to two conclusions. The first was that it would be her to initiate things, perhaps caught up in either too much alcohol or hope - either could do the trick - and that Draco would pull away, cough out a few awkward excuses to leave, and then do so as swiftly as possible. The second was that should anything happen, it would be brief, perhaps even awkward, and ultimately disappointing after so long spent wondering. They weren't so much genuine expectations of what would happen, if she was being honest. Moreso just things she told herself so that she might avoid doing anything stupid, despite how much of a foregone conclusion it often seemed.

And a foregone conclusion it apparently was, which was why she was delighted to find that she had been wrong on all counts, because Draco checked her gaze for something - the same desire he felt, perhaps, or even just a hint of an invitation - and then he kissed her with such a passion that her mind fell totally blank. Gone were thoughts of implications, consequences, or complications, and only two thoughts remained. The first being thank god, and the second being that she'd totally underestimated Draco Malfoy...but definitely for the last time.

Whatever coolness he often exuded so effortlessly was nowhere to be found here, this kiss was all heat and unbridled longing, the kind of which could only be born of resisting temptation for so long. Too long. His lips were hot and insistent against her own, a stark but welcome contrast to the freezing night around them. Marilyn practically melted against him, almost coming unbalanced as she leaned towards him in her inconvenience of a dress. They parted for just a moment, but rather than let it put a stop to where things were leading, Draco enveloped her in his arms and pulled her against him, all but into his lap, and kissed her again.

Marilyn let loose an involuntary squeak in the back of her throat, taken aback by his passion but utterly thrilled by it. Thrilled didn't even do it justice, she felt like her chest was trying to leap up into her throat. She was vaguely aware of the drinks on the ground being knocked over, but she didn't care. Wrapping her arms around his neck to anchor herself properly (not that his firm grip allowed her much room to slip), she kissed him back with just as much fervour - as if one kiss could prove that she'd been feeling everything he had.

She could have killed Taylor when she interrupted.

"Hey, Lyn, we're going to- whoops!"

Draco's hold on her loosened just enough for her to settle back down onto the bench at his side, his hand moving quickly to tug down the hem of her dress where it had ridden up her thighs. Marilyn blinked at Taylor, stunned.

"Nevermind, carry on," her housemate said quickly, spinning on her heel and hurrying back into the house.

Draco sighed heavily at her side. But he didn't let go, nor make any hurried move to put some distance between the two of them. In fact, the hand that lay between her shoulder blades travelled up lazily so that he could tangle his fingers in the ends of her hair. Marilyn echoed his sigh, relaxing against him.

Then, when she looked at him, she laughed. His mouth was covered in her deep red lipstick.

Draco shut the door behind him once they were in her bedroom. They hadn't yet said a word about what had just happened. Instead they'd just remained out there in the dark, smeared with lipstick and entirely reluctant to let go of one another in case it should break whatever spell had befallen them in the first place.

For her part, Marilyn couldn't quite form words. And she'd thought kisses leaving someone speechless was something found solely in songs and novels. Marilyn did her best to shake some of the numbness out of her hands as she walked towards her desk, opening the top drawer and pulling out a pack of makeup wipes. Pulling two out in quick succession, she handed one to Draco and wiped at her own lips with the other as she closed the pack with her free hand. He mirrored her action, but his eyes never left her form. She could feel them burning into her, reigniting whatever heat the kiss had sparked. Before she could close the drawer, though, she spotted something that jogged a memory.

"Oh, I meant to show you earlier - look at what I found in my bag a little while ago."

It was a better topic than hopelessly babbling about something totally inane for the sake of filling the silence.

She picked the scrap of paper out of the drawer. Well, it wasn't quite paper - more like parchment, really. It reminded her of when she was a kid, when she'd stain scraps of paper with tea bags and burn the edges to make it look like something out of a fantasy movie. Unlike that, though, this felt like the real deal. It was thicker than paper, and when she ran her thumb across it as she picked it up, she could feel the quality. Waiting until her voice would no longer be muffled by the makeup wipe, she continued.

"Did you do this?" she unfolded the scrap, which was no bigger than her hand, as she passed it to him.

She didn't see why he would do it, or even when he might have, but the image it held was too specific for it to be some sort of strange coincidence, and how else would it have found its way into her bag? When she found it she'd done her best to try to recall if it harkened back to some sort of inside joke between the two of them, and drew a complete blank. But she had her answer in the look of confusion on his face as he moved to accept it.

"The drawing on it is the same as that tattoo of yours, see?" She added as he accepted it.

The skull with the snake for a tongue was in the middle of the parchment, a shade so dark it was practically blacker than black, inked carefully and meticulously as it snarled up at them. Draco's face went a startling shade of grey.

A/N: Super long chapter, but I hope it makes up for the little break I'm about to take! I thought about posting it in two parts, but it felt too disjointed, but let me know if you guys would prefer shorter chapters even if it means they're broken up into segments. The Taken reference in this chapter is a bit anachronistic, but I couldn't resist. Anyway — SOMETHING FINALLY HAPPENED. It's a Christmas miracle!

The Protean Charm, mentioned in the last chapter, is what Hermione used in the OOTP book to notify members of Dumbledore's Army of meetings - she'd change her coin, and theirs would change too. So the idea here is that Draco will have a phial matching Marilyn's, and should hers break, his will too. Just wanted to make that clear in case it left anybody confused, the charm was a bit of a fleeting detail in the books and didn't feature in the movies at all (from what I remember).

Happy holidays/New Year/Sunday, whatever you do or don't celebrate! I hope you guys have the best time possible considering the state of things. I'll be back a week or two into January.