--I own Desiree McDaniels. That's it. Everyone else is the product of that wonderful woman J.K. Rowling. From here... the plot thickens.--
A week passed from the start-of-the-term banquet, and things went on as normal. Draco had abandoned his normal pastime -- pestering Potter and Company -- in the face of a new hobby: ridiculing Desiree McDaniels. It wasn't as if she were a challenge; she had a face that, to Draco, just begged to be tormented. "Here I am," it seemed to cry. "Point out what else is wrong with me! I like it, I swear!" McDaniels' entrance helped as well, and it all added up to one great big heap of fun for Draco Malfoy.
To begin with, Slytherins and Ravenclaws shared a Transfigurations class. McDaniels sat a few seats ahead of Draco. He had expected her to be a bumbling fool when it came to magic, but she disappointed him; home-schooling must've paid off, because she handled the Transfiguration beautifully. That, to Draco, was yet another cry to be ridiculed.
"Look at her," he said under his breath to Crabbe and Goyle, who were flanking him as usual. They watched in silence as McDaniels pointed her wand at a glass of water and successfully -- flawlessly -- transformed it into a bowl of cherries. She half-smiled down at it.
"Professor," she said softly, flagging down McGonagall. "I've completed the assignment."
"She's as bad as Hermione," Draco muttered, and his cronies sniggered.
"Very good, Miss McDaniels," McGonagall said, pleased. "You may experiment a bit more if you wish until the rest of the class finishes up." McDaniels half-smiled at the teacher now.
"Thank you." Draco rolled his eyes in distaste. It was disgusting, and had to be stopped.
"Watch this," he murmured to Crabbe and Goyle, raising his wand. McDaniels had just picked up a cherry from the bowl to pop into her mouth; Draco whispered the spell he had in mind -- one his father had taught him for low-power firecrackers -- and jerked the wand sharply. The cherry in McDaniels' hand exploded in a small cloud of red juice and pulp, spattering her face and the front of her robes. Draco had been planning to play innocent afterwards, but he couldn't help it -- the look on her face, half-masked by cherry innards, was just too precious to ignore. He burst into laughter the moment he lowered his wand, and McGonagall was particularly observant that day.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said sharply. Draco stifled his laughter immediately. At least he'd gotten that much out -- if he hadn't laughed at all, he knew he would've exploded. Just like that cherry had. The thought nearly made him collapse in laughter again, but he escaped with a strangled snicker that sounded more like a cough.
"Yes, Professor --" McGonagall looked at him with her hard eyes and he fell silent again. That little incident cost Slytherin fifteen points, but it didn't matter to Draco; if he was ever having a bad day, the image of McDaniels with a faceful of cherry juice and wide, bewildered eyes would be enough to cheer him up.
He was heading for the dungeons that night when he thought he heard someone following him. Draco stopped and tilted his head, listening hard.
"Come out, come out," he murmured to no one, and felt a faint flush of embarrassment. He'd been going to Hogwarts for five years now and he still couldn't distinguish between the castle's sounds and footsteps. "Stupid," Draco muttered. He continued walking -- then came to a dead halt when the phantom footsteps started up again.
"Hello?" he said again, less confident. "Anyone there?" Draco jumped as footsteps suddenly echoed around the corner. "Stupid," he repeated. "Getting skittish now whenever I hear the slightest sound. I'm acting like Potter. I'm going to wait until whoever it is catches up with me, and then they'll get it --" Nevertheless, his body tensed until the shadow rounded the corner and light revealed who it was. "McDaniels?" Draco sputtered in surprise, then recovered with a sneer. "What are you doing here? Ravenclaw common rooms are upstairs, in case you haven't memorized the layout of the school yet." He smirked. "Or mastered the art of climbing stairs." The McDaniels Klutz, as he'd aptly named her, stood there in near-silence. She was wearing a dull gray sweatshirt (still covered with splatters of cherry juice, which almost started him laughing again) and jeans beneath her Hogwarts robes. Her mousy-brown hair was mussed.
"Hello, Malfoy," she said quietly.
"Honestly," Draco went on flawlessly, "you'd think that one would take more pride in their appearance. You look worse than Weasley's mother." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Come back for more cherries, hm?" McDaniels stood there for a moment, her dull blue eyes inspecting him with something along the lines of faint interest.
"What are you doing out here?" Her tone had dropped even more, and there was something faint and whispery shifting under her words. Draco shivered involuntarily, then scolded himself for doing so.
"That's none of your business," he responded coolly. "This is, after all, my house's corridor." McDaniels rose one brow slightly, and Draco shivered again. He didn't know why, but she was looking less and less like the McDaniels Klutz every moment.
"Tell me, Malfoy," she murmured, taking a step towards him. "What do you want?" He frowned a little. The bird was babbling.
"I don't want anything. You're the one down here, lurking about where you have no business to--"
"No, you misunderstand me." Her eyes flicked over him briefly. "What do you really want?" She took another step towards him, and Draco involuntarily stumbled backwards.
"Stop pestering me," he snapped, trying to hide the unease in his voice. "Go back to your own common room. It's after hours, you're not even supposed to be--"
"What do you really want, Malfoy?" McDaniels whispered. He took a few more steps back and felt his shoulderblades hit stone; he was trapped, and even though this girl was about as harmless as a piece of Swiss cheese, Draco's heart sped up. Something wasn't right.
"McDaniels, I'll tell Snape -- I really will --" He began to inch to his left, trying to find a way out. "He'll take away fifteen points -- no, fifty points for bothering me --" McDaniels didn't seem bothered. She paused, looking him over slowly. Something wasn't right -- and then it clicked. Her eyes.
Oh my God, Draco thought suddenly, her eyes are silver.
Her liquid metal eyes flicked over him yet again; at last, they seemed to find what they were looking for. McDaniels smiled. There's something wrong with her, he thought frantically. I need to get out of here, she's been possessed, there's a spell on her, she's going to do something horrible, she's going to--
"There it is," she murmured, voice quiet.
"I'll tell Snape," Draco said weakly. Apparently, that had not been the right thing to say; McDaniels closed in fast, moving with surprising swiftness. Before he knew what was going on, she had him pinned back against the wall, arms pressed tightly to his sides. "What are you --" he began, and abruptly stopped.
She started to change.
Her face melted in a rush of shining silver; her hair twisted like snakes and thinned into nonexistence. McDaniels had her head tilted back and her eyes closed, making it a perfect opportunity for Draco to attempt escape. But he couldn't. He was frozen in terror, and perhaps that was just as well -- who knew what she might do if he tried to run now? Her breath escaped her in a kind of quiet scream, and Draco squeezed his own eyes closed. I'll never make fun of her again, he told himself frantically. I'll never make fun of her again, I'll never make fun of her again, I promise, I promise...
"Erised," she murmured. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi." She's speaking in another language, Draco thought wildly. She's putting a spell on me, some kind of foreign spell, isn't that just grand?
"Please don't hurt me," he pleaded softly, but her hands were still tight on his sleeves. There was a long, terrible moment of silence.
"Open your eyes, Draco," McDaniels whispered huskily in his ear. He didn't want to -- he had no desire to see what monstrosity she'd become. But he did anyway.
She was gorgeous.
It wasn't McDaniels anymore, at least not as far as Draco could see; this girl in front of him was her complete opposite. She was slender, but not skinny -- all the right curves in all the right places, as his father probably would've said. Her mousy brown hair had become a thick, golden blonde, hanging loosely down her back in fat curls. Even her face was different; she was still just as pale, but her freckles were gone and she had lost the sallow milk color of one who's constantly ready to throw up. Her cheekbones had become higher, more defined, and her bone structure was more delicate. But perhaps the best part was that McDaniels no longer had those horribly cold silver eyes -- now they were blue, blue enough to catch the light and gleam like blue diamonds.
"M-McDaniels?" Draco whispered in disbelief. He felt he'd been shocked into a haze of panic, and now that panic was slowly giving way to wonder. The Not-Quite-McDaniels smiled, a smiled of unusually white and even teeth. A smile that belongs on the cover of some pin-up magazine, Draco thought suddenly.
"Desiree," she murmured, leaning closer. "My name is Desiree. And you will do well to remember it." Finally, he regained control of himself; Draco's mouth twitched into a smirk.
"Nice parlor trick, McDaniels," he said drily, and began an attempt to squirm away. "Now let me go and maybe I'll think twice before reporting you to Snape." He managed to get an arm free, but just as he did she slammed him hard against the wall and pinned his arms tightly to his side once again.
"I believe," McDaniels said coolly, "that I said my name was Desiree." Startled, Draco could only blink at first. Then he smirked.
"I'll just have to work harder on that, won't I?" McDaniels managed a smirk of her own.
"Yes, you will," she said quietly. That flutter of something not quite right whispered under her words again, but Draco hardly had time to worry about that, because it was at that very moment that she pressed her mouth against his.
"Mmph!" he protested loudly through her lips. Desiree didn't back off, only seemed to force her mouth harder on his. How dare she! Draco thought furiously. How dare she even think of making such a -- He heard himself make a soft noise, and Draco felt his tightly tensed muscles relax a little. Perhaps it wasn't such a horrible thing she'd just done.
"Think you'll remember my name now?" Desiree whispered, pulling back much too quickly. Draco gasped for breath to slow his racing heart. That had felt -- with no other way to put it -- perfect. Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that she had melted into silver, or that she had all but hunted him down like a dog, or that they were snogging right there in the Slytherin hall after hours. Because quite suddenly, he wanted her. Badly.
"Desiree," Draco said breathlessly. "Your name is Desiree." Her mouth curled into a smile, another one that belonged on a magazine cover. Maybe not a magazine cover, he thought hazily. Maybe a movie screen. Or an oil painting.
"Very good," Desiree said, releasing one of his arms. Her hand crept up to brush a few errant strands of silvery-blonde hair away from his forehead. Draco made no move to escape.
"How did you do that?" he asked, voice awed, then he blushed in embarrassment. "Not -- not that, but changing into someone else -- you don't look half bad." She laughed quietly under her breath, a sound that sent his heart racing again for two different reasons.
"Questions later, Draco-dear." Desiree paused, her movie-star mouth twitched into a halfways smirk. "Questions later. We have more important things to deal with right now."
"Like what?" Draco asked softly, and hoped she wouldn't notice that his free arm was snaking around her waist. She did.
"This, apparently," she said, amused. He felt his face burn again.
"I --"
"Don't explain." Desiree paused again, then placed one long, slender finger over his lips. "Don't talk, either. In fact --" She tipped her face towards Draco's, slipping her finger away. "-- don't do anything." Desiree just barely moistened his lips with hers and drew back again. He felt a strange sense of disappointment. Not fair, he thought sullenly, not fair at all.
"I don't take orders from women," Draco said coolly, grasping at his old air of arrogance. Desiree's now-blue eyes very briefly glinted silver; he cringed at the sight of it. Something about those silvery eyes made his skin crawl... but it didn't matter, because they were blue again, so blue that when they caught the light one might think they were jewels instead of eyes.
"You'll take orders from this one," Desiree whispered huskily, and their lips met in another smoldering kiss.
It went on like that for another fifteen minutes of pure bliss before she went a step farther. Draco made a soft sound of protest when she drew away, but Desiree had something more important than his whining, it seemed. Quickly, almost harshly, she pulled the black Hogwarts robes right off his shoulders and dropped them on the floor.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a breathless whisper. It was one thing to snog in the hall, but it was quite another to go past that to... well, to something more than kissing.
"Sh," Desiree ordered softly, fingers moving swiftly to unbutton the white shirt that had been exposed. Draco frowned and shook his head slowly. He placed his hands on her shoulders in an effort to push her back, noting dully that she didn't have her cherry-splattered sweatshirt on anymore. It was a low-cut black dress, one that nearly made his mouth water. But he had to stop this -- no matter how good she looked in that slinky black thing.
"We can't do --"
"Sh," she repeated, and pressed her mouth hard against his. He felt his muscles melt into submission once again as Desiree finished unbuttoning his shirt. She drew back slightly, but her eyes weren't on his face -- they were on his chest. Draco's cheeks blushed bright crimson. She didn't pay any attention.
"What are you --"
"Erised," Desiree whispered, placing a fingertip on the pale skin of his chest. It shocked him, how cold her finger was, but Draco couldn't pull away. It was as if she'd paralyzed him. It was as if her finger had turned...
...to silver.
The spot she'd touched began to glow a faint, pulsating red; it throbbed every few seconds, and Draco realized it was his heartbeat.
"Wh --" He began another question, but Desiree stopped it with her lips. It had the same effect as it normally did, but this time -- it was more. Not only did his muscles relax, but they seemed to go limp and useless. He couldn't move.
"Erised," Desiree repeated, drawing back for a moment, and placed her mouth next to his. This time, she didn't kiss -- she breathed in. Draco's limbs went from jelly to water, and his vision began to swim. What was happening to him?
"Desiree?" he whispered confusedly.
"Not now, love," she said softly. "I'm busy." Desiree took another whispery breath. His muscles went from water to nonexistence; he frowned, unable to comprehend what was happening. Draco opened his mouth to speak again, but his voice was gone. "Erised," she said for a third time, and took a deep breath. His vision -- which had begun to spin wildly -- faded into darkness, and the last thing Draco remembered was that her eyes had gone back to silver again.
A week passed from the start-of-the-term banquet, and things went on as normal. Draco had abandoned his normal pastime -- pestering Potter and Company -- in the face of a new hobby: ridiculing Desiree McDaniels. It wasn't as if she were a challenge; she had a face that, to Draco, just begged to be tormented. "Here I am," it seemed to cry. "Point out what else is wrong with me! I like it, I swear!" McDaniels' entrance helped as well, and it all added up to one great big heap of fun for Draco Malfoy.
To begin with, Slytherins and Ravenclaws shared a Transfigurations class. McDaniels sat a few seats ahead of Draco. He had expected her to be a bumbling fool when it came to magic, but she disappointed him; home-schooling must've paid off, because she handled the Transfiguration beautifully. That, to Draco, was yet another cry to be ridiculed.
"Look at her," he said under his breath to Crabbe and Goyle, who were flanking him as usual. They watched in silence as McDaniels pointed her wand at a glass of water and successfully -- flawlessly -- transformed it into a bowl of cherries. She half-smiled down at it.
"Professor," she said softly, flagging down McGonagall. "I've completed the assignment."
"She's as bad as Hermione," Draco muttered, and his cronies sniggered.
"Very good, Miss McDaniels," McGonagall said, pleased. "You may experiment a bit more if you wish until the rest of the class finishes up." McDaniels half-smiled at the teacher now.
"Thank you." Draco rolled his eyes in distaste. It was disgusting, and had to be stopped.
"Watch this," he murmured to Crabbe and Goyle, raising his wand. McDaniels had just picked up a cherry from the bowl to pop into her mouth; Draco whispered the spell he had in mind -- one his father had taught him for low-power firecrackers -- and jerked the wand sharply. The cherry in McDaniels' hand exploded in a small cloud of red juice and pulp, spattering her face and the front of her robes. Draco had been planning to play innocent afterwards, but he couldn't help it -- the look on her face, half-masked by cherry innards, was just too precious to ignore. He burst into laughter the moment he lowered his wand, and McGonagall was particularly observant that day.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said sharply. Draco stifled his laughter immediately. At least he'd gotten that much out -- if he hadn't laughed at all, he knew he would've exploded. Just like that cherry had. The thought nearly made him collapse in laughter again, but he escaped with a strangled snicker that sounded more like a cough.
"Yes, Professor --" McGonagall looked at him with her hard eyes and he fell silent again. That little incident cost Slytherin fifteen points, but it didn't matter to Draco; if he was ever having a bad day, the image of McDaniels with a faceful of cherry juice and wide, bewildered eyes would be enough to cheer him up.
He was heading for the dungeons that night when he thought he heard someone following him. Draco stopped and tilted his head, listening hard.
"Come out, come out," he murmured to no one, and felt a faint flush of embarrassment. He'd been going to Hogwarts for five years now and he still couldn't distinguish between the castle's sounds and footsteps. "Stupid," Draco muttered. He continued walking -- then came to a dead halt when the phantom footsteps started up again.
"Hello?" he said again, less confident. "Anyone there?" Draco jumped as footsteps suddenly echoed around the corner. "Stupid," he repeated. "Getting skittish now whenever I hear the slightest sound. I'm acting like Potter. I'm going to wait until whoever it is catches up with me, and then they'll get it --" Nevertheless, his body tensed until the shadow rounded the corner and light revealed who it was. "McDaniels?" Draco sputtered in surprise, then recovered with a sneer. "What are you doing here? Ravenclaw common rooms are upstairs, in case you haven't memorized the layout of the school yet." He smirked. "Or mastered the art of climbing stairs." The McDaniels Klutz, as he'd aptly named her, stood there in near-silence. She was wearing a dull gray sweatshirt (still covered with splatters of cherry juice, which almost started him laughing again) and jeans beneath her Hogwarts robes. Her mousy-brown hair was mussed.
"Hello, Malfoy," she said quietly.
"Honestly," Draco went on flawlessly, "you'd think that one would take more pride in their appearance. You look worse than Weasley's mother." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Come back for more cherries, hm?" McDaniels stood there for a moment, her dull blue eyes inspecting him with something along the lines of faint interest.
"What are you doing out here?" Her tone had dropped even more, and there was something faint and whispery shifting under her words. Draco shivered involuntarily, then scolded himself for doing so.
"That's none of your business," he responded coolly. "This is, after all, my house's corridor." McDaniels rose one brow slightly, and Draco shivered again. He didn't know why, but she was looking less and less like the McDaniels Klutz every moment.
"Tell me, Malfoy," she murmured, taking a step towards him. "What do you want?" He frowned a little. The bird was babbling.
"I don't want anything. You're the one down here, lurking about where you have no business to--"
"No, you misunderstand me." Her eyes flicked over him briefly. "What do you really want?" She took another step towards him, and Draco involuntarily stumbled backwards.
"Stop pestering me," he snapped, trying to hide the unease in his voice. "Go back to your own common room. It's after hours, you're not even supposed to be--"
"What do you really want, Malfoy?" McDaniels whispered. He took a few more steps back and felt his shoulderblades hit stone; he was trapped, and even though this girl was about as harmless as a piece of Swiss cheese, Draco's heart sped up. Something wasn't right.
"McDaniels, I'll tell Snape -- I really will --" He began to inch to his left, trying to find a way out. "He'll take away fifteen points -- no, fifty points for bothering me --" McDaniels didn't seem bothered. She paused, looking him over slowly. Something wasn't right -- and then it clicked. Her eyes.
Oh my God, Draco thought suddenly, her eyes are silver.
Her liquid metal eyes flicked over him yet again; at last, they seemed to find what they were looking for. McDaniels smiled. There's something wrong with her, he thought frantically. I need to get out of here, she's been possessed, there's a spell on her, she's going to do something horrible, she's going to--
"There it is," she murmured, voice quiet.
"I'll tell Snape," Draco said weakly. Apparently, that had not been the right thing to say; McDaniels closed in fast, moving with surprising swiftness. Before he knew what was going on, she had him pinned back against the wall, arms pressed tightly to his sides. "What are you --" he began, and abruptly stopped.
She started to change.
Her face melted in a rush of shining silver; her hair twisted like snakes and thinned into nonexistence. McDaniels had her head tilted back and her eyes closed, making it a perfect opportunity for Draco to attempt escape. But he couldn't. He was frozen in terror, and perhaps that was just as well -- who knew what she might do if he tried to run now? Her breath escaped her in a kind of quiet scream, and Draco squeezed his own eyes closed. I'll never make fun of her again, he told himself frantically. I'll never make fun of her again, I'll never make fun of her again, I promise, I promise...
"Erised," she murmured. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi." She's speaking in another language, Draco thought wildly. She's putting a spell on me, some kind of foreign spell, isn't that just grand?
"Please don't hurt me," he pleaded softly, but her hands were still tight on his sleeves. There was a long, terrible moment of silence.
"Open your eyes, Draco," McDaniels whispered huskily in his ear. He didn't want to -- he had no desire to see what monstrosity she'd become. But he did anyway.
She was gorgeous.
It wasn't McDaniels anymore, at least not as far as Draco could see; this girl in front of him was her complete opposite. She was slender, but not skinny -- all the right curves in all the right places, as his father probably would've said. Her mousy brown hair had become a thick, golden blonde, hanging loosely down her back in fat curls. Even her face was different; she was still just as pale, but her freckles were gone and she had lost the sallow milk color of one who's constantly ready to throw up. Her cheekbones had become higher, more defined, and her bone structure was more delicate. But perhaps the best part was that McDaniels no longer had those horribly cold silver eyes -- now they were blue, blue enough to catch the light and gleam like blue diamonds.
"M-McDaniels?" Draco whispered in disbelief. He felt he'd been shocked into a haze of panic, and now that panic was slowly giving way to wonder. The Not-Quite-McDaniels smiled, a smiled of unusually white and even teeth. A smile that belongs on the cover of some pin-up magazine, Draco thought suddenly.
"Desiree," she murmured, leaning closer. "My name is Desiree. And you will do well to remember it." Finally, he regained control of himself; Draco's mouth twitched into a smirk.
"Nice parlor trick, McDaniels," he said drily, and began an attempt to squirm away. "Now let me go and maybe I'll think twice before reporting you to Snape." He managed to get an arm free, but just as he did she slammed him hard against the wall and pinned his arms tightly to his side once again.
"I believe," McDaniels said coolly, "that I said my name was Desiree." Startled, Draco could only blink at first. Then he smirked.
"I'll just have to work harder on that, won't I?" McDaniels managed a smirk of her own.
"Yes, you will," she said quietly. That flutter of something not quite right whispered under her words again, but Draco hardly had time to worry about that, because it was at that very moment that she pressed her mouth against his.
"Mmph!" he protested loudly through her lips. Desiree didn't back off, only seemed to force her mouth harder on his. How dare she! Draco thought furiously. How dare she even think of making such a -- He heard himself make a soft noise, and Draco felt his tightly tensed muscles relax a little. Perhaps it wasn't such a horrible thing she'd just done.
"Think you'll remember my name now?" Desiree whispered, pulling back much too quickly. Draco gasped for breath to slow his racing heart. That had felt -- with no other way to put it -- perfect. Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that she had melted into silver, or that she had all but hunted him down like a dog, or that they were snogging right there in the Slytherin hall after hours. Because quite suddenly, he wanted her. Badly.
"Desiree," Draco said breathlessly. "Your name is Desiree." Her mouth curled into a smile, another one that belonged on a magazine cover. Maybe not a magazine cover, he thought hazily. Maybe a movie screen. Or an oil painting.
"Very good," Desiree said, releasing one of his arms. Her hand crept up to brush a few errant strands of silvery-blonde hair away from his forehead. Draco made no move to escape.
"How did you do that?" he asked, voice awed, then he blushed in embarrassment. "Not -- not that, but changing into someone else -- you don't look half bad." She laughed quietly under her breath, a sound that sent his heart racing again for two different reasons.
"Questions later, Draco-dear." Desiree paused, her movie-star mouth twitched into a halfways smirk. "Questions later. We have more important things to deal with right now."
"Like what?" Draco asked softly, and hoped she wouldn't notice that his free arm was snaking around her waist. She did.
"This, apparently," she said, amused. He felt his face burn again.
"I --"
"Don't explain." Desiree paused again, then placed one long, slender finger over his lips. "Don't talk, either. In fact --" She tipped her face towards Draco's, slipping her finger away. "-- don't do anything." Desiree just barely moistened his lips with hers and drew back again. He felt a strange sense of disappointment. Not fair, he thought sullenly, not fair at all.
"I don't take orders from women," Draco said coolly, grasping at his old air of arrogance. Desiree's now-blue eyes very briefly glinted silver; he cringed at the sight of it. Something about those silvery eyes made his skin crawl... but it didn't matter, because they were blue again, so blue that when they caught the light one might think they were jewels instead of eyes.
"You'll take orders from this one," Desiree whispered huskily, and their lips met in another smoldering kiss.
It went on like that for another fifteen minutes of pure bliss before she went a step farther. Draco made a soft sound of protest when she drew away, but Desiree had something more important than his whining, it seemed. Quickly, almost harshly, she pulled the black Hogwarts robes right off his shoulders and dropped them on the floor.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a breathless whisper. It was one thing to snog in the hall, but it was quite another to go past that to... well, to something more than kissing.
"Sh," Desiree ordered softly, fingers moving swiftly to unbutton the white shirt that had been exposed. Draco frowned and shook his head slowly. He placed his hands on her shoulders in an effort to push her back, noting dully that she didn't have her cherry-splattered sweatshirt on anymore. It was a low-cut black dress, one that nearly made his mouth water. But he had to stop this -- no matter how good she looked in that slinky black thing.
"We can't do --"
"Sh," she repeated, and pressed her mouth hard against his. He felt his muscles melt into submission once again as Desiree finished unbuttoning his shirt. She drew back slightly, but her eyes weren't on his face -- they were on his chest. Draco's cheeks blushed bright crimson. She didn't pay any attention.
"What are you --"
"Erised," Desiree whispered, placing a fingertip on the pale skin of his chest. It shocked him, how cold her finger was, but Draco couldn't pull away. It was as if she'd paralyzed him. It was as if her finger had turned...
...to silver.
The spot she'd touched began to glow a faint, pulsating red; it throbbed every few seconds, and Draco realized it was his heartbeat.
"Wh --" He began another question, but Desiree stopped it with her lips. It had the same effect as it normally did, but this time -- it was more. Not only did his muscles relax, but they seemed to go limp and useless. He couldn't move.
"Erised," Desiree repeated, drawing back for a moment, and placed her mouth next to his. This time, she didn't kiss -- she breathed in. Draco's limbs went from jelly to water, and his vision began to swim. What was happening to him?
"Desiree?" he whispered confusedly.
"Not now, love," she said softly. "I'm busy." Desiree took another whispery breath. His muscles went from water to nonexistence; he frowned, unable to comprehend what was happening. Draco opened his mouth to speak again, but his voice was gone. "Erised," she said for a third time, and took a deep breath. His vision -- which had begun to spin wildly -- faded into darkness, and the last thing Draco remembered was that her eyes had gone back to silver again.
