The end of Saturday was welcome. I had spent the afternoon in the hospital wing with a seemingly endless stream of fussing visitors. But there was one person whose absence I had noted. Tom. I wished I had concussion, because then maybe I could kid myself that I was just out when he visited. But that was stupid, maybe thinking we were friends to start with was stupid.
When I was discharged, I wasn't really in the mood to join in the Ravenclaw celebrations, or the scrutinising eyes of my family so I went to bed. Sunday, I sat quietly in the library, pouring over a potions essay. The sound of footsteps made me look up.
"Tom," I said warmly, smiling up at him.
But his face was stony.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked jovially, not wanted my unease at his expression to show.
"What's wrong with me?" he hissed, eyes flashing. "What is wrong with you?" He slid into the seat next to me. I didn't have an answer.
"What were you thinking?" he demanded. He looked furious, and I could not think what I had done to upset him.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, feeling idiotic, what had I missed?
"Don't play dumb with me Poppy, it is not becoming," he seethed. I was stunned into silence.
"I was watching before your little accident," he accused. "You could have dodged it."
"It was coming at me so fast-" I tried to defend myself, but feebly obviously because Tom cut me off.
"It was tactics," he stated. I could not deny it to him. He shook his head, regarding me with evident distain.
"And I thought you were intelligent," he spat. His eyes raked down me, that scowl of disgust still tainting his perfect features, making him sour.
He stood abruptly, banging the desk and without another word he stalked off, leaving me confused and close to tears. I shook it off.
It wasn't like I cared about his opinion of me anyway.
I went back to my potions essay, but I hardly wrote another sentence, my mind was too preoccupied.
Frustrated, I resigned myself to going back to the tower and swapping this hard wooden chair for the armchair in my bedroom, but then the scraping of a chair being moved broke the quiet. I did not even bother to look up; for it was far too subdued to be the person I wanted to talk to.
"How are you feeling?" asked Liam's familiar voice softly. I just shrugged. We had not spoken in a few weeks, but it was as if nothing had changed, his manners were still easy and unaffected as if we were lifelong friends.
"That was some amazing flying yesterday," he said kindly, giving me a small smile.
"Thank you," I replied, I could hear my tone was flat and distant. I should have put more of an effort in to sound fine.
"Poppy?" he said cautiously. "Shall we go and talk somewhere private?"
I nodded silently.
We walked up to the seventh floor in silence and entered a comfortable common room with a merry fire, we knew we would never be disturbed up here in the room of requirement.
"Come on then Poppy," Liam said as we sunk into the sofa cushions. "What's wrong?"
"My ankle," I murmured, only half lying as I pulled at the loose thread in my sleeve.
"Wasn't it fixed? Does it still hurt?" he asked, concern laced in his tone.
"No," I said, tone clipped. "It feels fine."
"What is it?" Liam asked, reaching forward to grasp my hand supportively.
"I can't run for two months," I admitted, still the truth. Even I could hear the sorrow in my voice, and I could hardly tell him that Tom and I had argued for five minutes and that was the reason for my behaviour.
"Poppy," he breathed, shaking his head I could see the memories of every argument we had ever had about my 'obsession' with running raced through his mind. But I guess I must have looked so forlorn he did not have the heart to have another. "Come here."
I gratefully shifted into his lap, and leant into him, desperate for the warm comfort he provided.
"Poppy, is something else wrong?" he asked.
There was silence.
"I miss my grandparents, I didn't think I would so much, but I spent two years with them. It's so strange them not being here," I murmured eventually. "They were the constant which kept me from missing home, I suppose."
"I know, it is difficult Poppy," he said soothingly, stroking my glossy curls. "But I'm here, you're not alone."
"Liam," I breathed, turning to face him. "Thank you."
Our faces were close, too close. Slowly he reached out one calloused finger to a tear I didn't know was clinging to an eyelash and brushed it away with astonishing gentleness.
Slowly he leaned in towards me, I knew he was giving me time to pull away if I wanted to, but I didn't. He covered my lips with his own, and it was so familiar and calming and normal. For once I didn't have to worry about emotional unavailability and mood swings which almost winded me, so I let him kiss me. Tenderly he brought his hands up, caressing my face. I seemed so small in his arms, so delicate, I felt like I needed his protection. I melted into his kiss, drinking in the comfort and reassurance I so desperately needed.
We had done this half a hundred times before.
Liam was safe. That was all he was. But that was all I wanted. There was no fear of the unknown.
I didn't know how much Tom's words had affected me.
Later, tucked up against his side I couldn't comprehend how I had dealt without this for so long. The physical warmth he provided had morphed into my own contentment. He adjusted the blanket and pulled me closer.
"We've got time," he murmured, sensing how I was about to get up. "You can sleep." He was right, he knew I was tired. I nodded and closed my eyes.
The feel of his fingers as they traced the lines of my face was strangely soothing; I smiled slightly and nuzzled into his shoulder, but did not open my eyes. He smoothed my hair again, I cracked one eye open when his movements stopped. His own eyes had drifted closed, his heavy chest rising and falling slowly, rhythmically. I shut my eyes and let sleep overcome me as well.
Sunday evenings in the common room had a certain peaceful quality; many Ravenclaws were in the library studying for a full day of lessons the next day. So when I returned to the common room myself, I was not surprised to see it so quiet.
"Poppy," Lizzie beckoned; she was sat curled on a sofa.
"Good evening," I said, dropping down beside her.
"Are you okay?" she asked bluntly, her blue eyes surveying me critically.
"Of course I am," I replied, giving her a small smile. "Why would you think otherwise?"
"It seems like you've been hiding," she said, giving me look which halted the denial rising in my throat. "What is the matter?"
I sighed and shrugged.
"I guess I'm just worried about Cassie," I lied with ease. "She's the rock of our family, you know."
Lizzie gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my hand.
"You worry too much," she said affectionately. "What are you doing this Saturday?"
"Nothing… working I suppose," I replied.
"Elena and Cedrella want us to go to Hogsmeade, to buy dresses for the Slytherin Christmas party," she said with a smile. "What do you say? Us girls can all go out together and have a lovely time."
"I wouldn't miss it," I replied. Lizzie smiled and pulled me in for a quick hug.
"Thank you Lizzie," I said sincerely, a small lump of guilt for not sharing my actual day's events with her when she was worried. "I'm grateful."
"What are friends for sweetie?" she replied with a grin. I couldn't help but smile back.
"I've got prefect duty," I sighed. "I should probably go and get my cloak and head off."
"I'm going to get an early night, I'll see you in the morning," she said as farewell.
Prefect duty on Wednesday was just as dull as Sunday's to start with, wandering the cold corridors, bundled under my thickest cloak to keep off the winter night's bitter wind which blew through the glassless windows. I was dreading January if it was this cold now. I patrolled the staircases most often, the action of climbing steps kept me warm, as well as being well lit with burning torches which gave off a little heat. Just as I was contemplating charming my lantern to give off more heat, someone had joined me. I jumped, the figure appearing the dark appearing out of nowhere, or so it seemed.
"Tom," I said breathlessly. "You almost made me have a heart attack."
"Well now we are even," he muttered, fixing me with an icy stare. I pretended not to hear.
"I thought you were patrolling the dungeons this evening?" I said, averting my gaze.
"I was, but it is cold in the dungeons and you know how the teachers are if they find you casting magic whilst on patrol, I thought I would venture somewhere a little less chilly," he replied. "I notice you did not deign to show up to our usual arrangement yesterday."
"Well usually you mention it beforehand," I defended, before trailing off in a small voice. "I thought after Sunday…"
"You thought wrong," he replied. "Just because you made an idiotic decision on the Quidditch pitch does not mean we can stop practicing."
"Okay."
I wanted to tell him that it wasn't his decision to make- that I was upset that he jumped so quickly to condemn and ignore me. But I was so relieved that his silence was broken that the words died in my throat.
He nodded once.
"Goodnight Poppy."
Cassiopeia had summoned me to the Slytherin common room the next evening, I was greeted by a delighted Abraxas, who looked rather deflated when I said I had to speak with Cassie in private.
"But how about we sneak down to the kitchens afterwards," I proposed in an effort to lift his spirits. "Get a drink or something."
"Excellent idea Poppy," he said with a smile. "I've missed our morning runs."
"Not as much as I have," I muttered, before smiling politely and making my way to Cassie's chambers.
Cassie was lounging in an arm chair by the fire, a smug smirk on her face.
"Good evening Cassie," I said as I entered. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"
Cassie just flapped two pieces of parchment like a fan.
"What are they?" I asked, intrigued. Cassie sat up straight, taking her legs off the armrest, extending an arm to offer me a seat. I took it, still regarding the letters curiously.
"One is an invitation to a ball," she stated. "The other a letter from Lord Black."
"What does Grandpa say?" I asked eagerly.
"I shall read it to you," she said smugly. "Dearest Cassiopeia, I need your help in making a decision. You know how I value your knowledge about all things Hogwarts related. I have enclosed a copy of the invitation I received on Monday. You will notice it expresses Poppy's personal company at the prestigious Potter family Christmas ball. The Black family declined the original invitation from Lord Potter due to being Lady Black's birthday, but this is a formal invitation from Lord Malfoy for Poppy to attend the gathering as the date of the heir to the Malfoy title. I am of course eager to accept this invitation, further strengthening the alliance between our two noble houses but I am loathed to do anything against Poppy's wishes. I desire your input as to whether you believe Poppy and young Abraxas make a fine pair and if it is suitable for them to attend the ball together. Many thanks Cassiopeia and love to and from all the family, Lord Sirius Black."
I was silent.
"Well," Cassie demanded. "Is this not a cause for celebration? You have done it!"
"I don't understand," I said in a small voice.
"Lord Malfoy knows of Abraxas' intentions towards you, either they are honourable or he plays a very hard game," she said, with a wicked smirk. "Either way is perfect for us. I shall specially order you a dress for the occasion."
Cassiopeia looked so gleeful that I hardly knew what to say so I gave her a winning smile and looked suitably apologetic.
"Thank you much Cassie," I gushed falsely. "But said I would meet Abraxas for tea, so I have to go." Cassiopeia who had already pulled out a pile of thick catalogues just nodded and waved absentmindedly.
"Night Poppy."
Abraxas was surprised, but nonetheless happy to hear I was done with Cassie so swiftly.
"You seem out of sorts Poppy," he commented tentatively as we strolled down to the kitchens.
"Do I?" I asked disinterestedly. "I suppose I haven't been feeling well." Before he could press the subject further I decided to change the subject.
"Cassie wanted to speak to me about going to that ball with you," I said, giving him a pointed look. His eyes widened in horror and a blush crept onto his pale, angular cheeks.
"What?"
"The one near Christmas," I said, suddenly uncomfortable with his embarrassment. "She said that Lord Malfoy had sent my grandfather a request."
Abraxas brought a clenched fist up to his temple.
"I'm so sorry, Poppy, I would have asked you myself but I was too nervous and I had no idea my father would…" he trailed off in mortification.
"You? Nervous?" I scoffed. "Please." He shot me a look.
"Would you like me to explain how this happened?" he asked, ignoring my comment. I nodded.
"My father was badgering me whilst floo calling me last week, about whether I had an ulterior motive for not wanting to go to France this Christmas. He was insinuating perhaps I was seeing one of your family in secret, and he had this idea that Cassiopeia, of all people," he laughed. "Was the young lady in question. Now you can understand how I couldn't let that rumour be passed through high circles because it would hideously embarrassing when Cassie denied everything and I suppose I let slip my preference for your company over… well anybody."
"Well you'll be pleased to know that Lord Black accepts then," I replied, trying not to smile.