"So what exactly happened between you two in the forest last night?"
asked Claire suggestively, grinning like a Cheshire cat with her head in
her hands and elbows on the table at breakfast the following morning. She
was sitting across the table from Alice and Hypothia, who was sitting next
to Draco as usual. Alice shot her a glare that was filthy with severe
implications, and cocked her head toward Draco. If he found out about her
and Seamus. she shuddered at the mere though.
Claire took the hint and covered up with some irrelevant comment pertaining to the rafters.
Draco was busy talking to Marcus Flint, who was seated to his right. Hypothia leaned over to Alice and said, mutedly, "You KNOW it doesn't take an hour for someone to pick up their broom and fly out of a forest, so you're going to have to come up with a better explanation."
.
In potions class later that day, Alice purposefully sat across the room from Seamus, even though the seat next to him was empty. She didn't want any rumors getting around - her father would have an absolute FIT (kicking, screaming and all) if he found out that his beloved daughter was engaging in little rendezvous in the forest with some mixed-blooded Gryffindor boy. Lucius Malfoy, and most Malfoys actually, despised wizards and witches who weren't of pure heritage. Alice? She thought that was a lot of codswallop. Additionally, she was astonished by herself in general. Looking back on the previous day, she felt as if she'd become a different person for that short time. Such reckless spontaneity was so unlike her.
All throughout class, Seamus threw glances her way with those eyes the color of fog over the ocean that had a tendency to make her be born again as a new person every time she met them with hers. He looked so hurt, and yet she focused on her potions work instead of appeasing him with even a sideways glance. Looking at him made her feel as if she'd kicked a stray puppy.
When class ended, Professor Snape called Claire to help him with something in the storeroom (an occurrence that had become almost commonplace by then), leaving Alice stranded with Hypothia and Seamus, who had drifted toward her like a magnet. Sensing the hostility, Hypothia glanced at Alice understandingly, with a look that said 'this is for your own good', and walked away.
Once she was out of earshot, Seamus turned to Alice, the pain still blatantly obvious in his expression. (You could read him like a billboard) "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I. don't know," she confessed. She really wasn't good at maneuvering conversations such as these, but she'd been trying to improve so she added, "I just wasn't myself yesterday."
"Who were you, then?"
"Well." she began to ponder the deeper pretenses behind her situation, but stopped herself when a look of playful victory spread across his face. "Look," she said. "It's just not like me to do things like that. I'm. Alice MALFOY. I'm not LIKE that."
"Like. what?" he asked, now with an expression of horror. "Like anything other than what your family TELLS you you are?" She had expected him to be more surprised over the fact that she was a Malfoy, but he acted as if he had known all along.
She couldn't resist him any longer. She adored the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was so open, so. free. She stared back at him. He was looking at her demandingly, trying to decipher her, pushing all her buttons to try and figure out which ones worked. Noticing the thin, maroon across his cheek caused her to flash back to yesterday. She felt the freedom return momentarily - the sense of liberation and elation. And it scared her, so she shoved it back to where it had come from. HE was beginning to scare her - the way he read her, the way he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. and they had only met the day before and never even exchanged words beyond casual greetings. She felt violated, and yet more attracted to him than ever. There was so much more to this "damned beautiful Irish boy" than she could have ever imagined.
Claire took the hint and covered up with some irrelevant comment pertaining to the rafters.
Draco was busy talking to Marcus Flint, who was seated to his right. Hypothia leaned over to Alice and said, mutedly, "You KNOW it doesn't take an hour for someone to pick up their broom and fly out of a forest, so you're going to have to come up with a better explanation."
.
In potions class later that day, Alice purposefully sat across the room from Seamus, even though the seat next to him was empty. She didn't want any rumors getting around - her father would have an absolute FIT (kicking, screaming and all) if he found out that his beloved daughter was engaging in little rendezvous in the forest with some mixed-blooded Gryffindor boy. Lucius Malfoy, and most Malfoys actually, despised wizards and witches who weren't of pure heritage. Alice? She thought that was a lot of codswallop. Additionally, she was astonished by herself in general. Looking back on the previous day, she felt as if she'd become a different person for that short time. Such reckless spontaneity was so unlike her.
All throughout class, Seamus threw glances her way with those eyes the color of fog over the ocean that had a tendency to make her be born again as a new person every time she met them with hers. He looked so hurt, and yet she focused on her potions work instead of appeasing him with even a sideways glance. Looking at him made her feel as if she'd kicked a stray puppy.
When class ended, Professor Snape called Claire to help him with something in the storeroom (an occurrence that had become almost commonplace by then), leaving Alice stranded with Hypothia and Seamus, who had drifted toward her like a magnet. Sensing the hostility, Hypothia glanced at Alice understandingly, with a look that said 'this is for your own good', and walked away.
Once she was out of earshot, Seamus turned to Alice, the pain still blatantly obvious in his expression. (You could read him like a billboard) "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I. don't know," she confessed. She really wasn't good at maneuvering conversations such as these, but she'd been trying to improve so she added, "I just wasn't myself yesterday."
"Who were you, then?"
"Well." she began to ponder the deeper pretenses behind her situation, but stopped herself when a look of playful victory spread across his face. "Look," she said. "It's just not like me to do things like that. I'm. Alice MALFOY. I'm not LIKE that."
"Like. what?" he asked, now with an expression of horror. "Like anything other than what your family TELLS you you are?" She had expected him to be more surprised over the fact that she was a Malfoy, but he acted as if he had known all along.
She couldn't resist him any longer. She adored the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was so open, so. free. She stared back at him. He was looking at her demandingly, trying to decipher her, pushing all her buttons to try and figure out which ones worked. Noticing the thin, maroon across his cheek caused her to flash back to yesterday. She felt the freedom return momentarily - the sense of liberation and elation. And it scared her, so she shoved it back to where it had come from. HE was beginning to scare her - the way he read her, the way he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. and they had only met the day before and never even exchanged words beyond casual greetings. She felt violated, and yet more attracted to him than ever. There was so much more to this "damned beautiful Irish boy" than she could have ever imagined.
