When the students returned from their holiday, Draco was both relieved and anxious to have others flooding the halls again. He had spent the entire holiday working on the cabinet, except for Christmas when he slept the day away, and he had become accustomed to the freedom and quiet, but the loneliness had steadily eaten away at him. He craved the reminder that he wasn't alone more than he cared to admit…
Draco scanned the Great Hall as the returning students filtered in from the train station, some breaking off to head straight to their dormitory, most talking excitedly about their holidays in little groups. He spotted Amaris with Hayden and Ballard, a bright smile on her face as they exchanged stories. His eyes skimmed her figure, taking in the details now that she wasn't in uniform. She wore an olive-colored, long-sleeve tunic dress with brown stockings and matching ankle boots. The white-gold moon-drop hung around her neck and a small, crossbody satchel hung at her hip. Her hair was twisted into a soft braid and pulled over one shoulder.
Adorable. It was the only word that popped into his head to describe her, which annoyed him greatly since he wanted to be mad at her. Mad because she never smiled that freely with him, never spoke so openly with him. Mad because she didn't choose him, would never choose him—not now that he was branded with the Dark Mark—and he couldn't bear her inevitable rejection.
Which was why when their eyes met across the Great Hall, students bustling between them, his heart dived into his stomach and he turned away, walked out of the hall, and down a quiet corridor with every intention to return to the Slytherin common room. After their last meeting, he knew she would have some expectation of congeniality between them, but there was no point in continuing to enable such a mindset. It would be better to forget her entirely.
When he was far enough away from the noise of the Great Hall, he noticed footsteps following him. He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach flipped. She was there, slowly coming up behind him. Was she following him? Or was it just a coincidence? The Hufflepuff and Slytherin dormitories were in the same direction, after all…
He turned a corner away from the dorms just to see if she would turn, too. She did. She was following him… Excitement stirred in his belly no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He should have gone straight to the dorm, ignored her entirely, but he didn't. He ducked into an empty classroom and waited for her to appear.
Amaris was smiling when she came into the room, and he had to admit to himself that he had missed seeing it, but that smile instantly faltered when she took him in. It immediately set him on the defensive.
"Following me, Grey?" he sneered.
"You've lost weight…" she murmured, concern etched into the bend of her brow.
"Taking a leaf out of Potter's book, are you?"
"What happened?"
"It's incredibly rude, you know."
"Draco!" she exclaimed and her voice spiked with worry. He just glared at her. She turned and closed the door, somehow reminding him of his dream where she came on to him, which caused his stomach to tighten in a primal response. She faced him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine, Grey," he snapped.
"You've lost so much weight—"
He tsked. "What are you, my mother?" He narrowed his gaze on her. "And why are you following me?"
"I wanted to see you."
His heart jumped without his permission, but he still countered with, "Well, I don't want to see you."
"Why not?" she asked evenly.
Draco blinked, rendered utterly speechless. He had expected her to get upset, to flash hurt or anger before resolving to be civil to him. He didn't expect her ask him why. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I have something for you," she said at length.
Draco glanced at her as she slowly approached him, fishing something out of her satchel. She withdrew a basket and opened the top. The scent of apricot scones filled his nostrils, heat wafting up. He realized the basket was magical, probably enchanted to keep its contents warm and fresh.
"I made these for you," she said, peeling back the linen that covered the pastries, "as promised."
Draco looked at her, once against thinking she looked too adorable with her olive-green dress and haphazard braid and basket of baked goods. This wasn't the seductress who came to his house last Christmas or the naïve Hogwarts student or even the Pureblood bachelorette he saw at the summer party. This was the teenage girl who enjoyed reading romance novels, looking at stars, and probably dancing to the Weird Sisters when she thought no one was watching.
How was it possible that he liked all of these versions of her?
When he didn't reach for a pastry, she set the basket on the nearby table and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. He stared at her, studying her pale skin, her delicate collarbone, her dark lashes that hid the color of her irises as she gazed anywhere but his eyes—at the ground, at the table, at his chest.
"How was your holiday?" she finally asked.
"Quiet," was all he replied with. She nodded and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly groping for another question.
"And your mother, how is she?" When he didn't answer, she asked, "Did you have a nice Christmas?"
Draco suddenly remembered her gift. "I suppose thanks are in order," he said.
She shook her head and again made the motion to tuck her hair behind her ear, but there was no hair to tuck. She's nervous, he realized, but about what?
"Did you like them?" she asked.
Draco briefly considered lying just to provoke her but the words, "I did," popped out instead. When she looked up at him with such a hopeful expression, he couldn't help but clarify, "I do."
Amaris smiled happily, and it was as sharp as a knife digging into his skin. He grimaced, unable to bear it. The hurtful words were bubbling up and out of him before he could stop them.
"I suppose your Uncle spent the holiday auctioning you off. Did he finally match you, or do all your suitors still think you're tainted by our association?"
She opened her mouth in surprise, jaw bobbling wordlessly for a moment. "No one thinks that," she managed.
"Spare me," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Draco—"
"You didn't answer the question, did you?" He suddenly leaned down, getting right in her face. "Did someone make you an offer?"
He didn't know why he was pressing it. She had already told him that she wouldn't allow herself to be matched. But she was good at playing the role her Uncle wanted her to play for the sake of keeping the peace. She had spent a lot of time with him and his family playing that role and she might very well have to do it again with another family, another wizard. He didn't like it.
Amaris looked away. "Yes," she admitted, and his jealousy roared to life.
"Who?" he snapped, stepping toward her. She kept her face turned away from him, refusing to meet his gaze, which told him that he wouldn't like the answer. "Who was it? Was it that Ravenclaw?"
She quickly shook her head. "No—"
"Then who?"
"It doesn't matter who."
"Like hell it doesn't. Did your Uncle accept?"
"No, not that I know of. So please, just drop it—"
"Tell me who it is," he said, and it was a command. He hadn't ordered her around in so long… It almost felt strange to do so. It didn't fill him with the same rush it used to.
Amaris looked flustered as she sputtered, "I will, but only if you tell me what happened to you over the holiday."
"Bribery? Really?" His teeth pressed together before he ground out, "Fine. I didn't go home." He sneered at the sadness and worry on her face, quickly saying, "Your turn."
"Draco…"
"Your turn, Grey," he insisted.
"But you didn't—"
"Your. Turn."
Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her chin. "Goyle," she said quietly.
"Goyle?" he repeated in shock, and he wasn't sure if he should feel betrayed or laugh his ass off. "Gregory Goyle?"
"Well, his father—"
"Obviously." Draco knew that Goyle was too thick-headed to go after Amaris on his own, but he probably didn't object when his father gave him the news. "Did you spend your holiday with Goyle, then?"
Her mouth twisted to the side. "Only one evening," she answered.
He scoffed, remembering the way Goyle had chatted easily with her at Christmas dinner. "I bet you two had loads to talk about."
"Actually, we didn't talk at all," she told him. "We only said five words between us." When he gave her a look to elaborate, she held up her hand and counted each word with a finger. "How are you? I'm hungry."
Draco blinked at her and then burst into laughter. She pursed her lips so as not to join him but a smile found its way onto her face.
"Oh, don't tease him, please," she begged him. "He was so nervous!"
Draco continued to laugh. It was easy to imagine Goyle, red-faced and awkwardly staring at his lap, sitting there next to Amaris. She probably looked beautiful in some sexy dress and full make-up, just like she had at his house, and naturally Goyle would be dumbfounded, especially so considering the purpose of the visit was that of potential match-making. Draco's only consolation was that she was probably wearing her mother's moon-drop and, in a small way, that meant that he was also there with her.
"Draco, please," she said again, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm. "Don't tell him you know. It would embarrass him…"
He eyed her playfully, enjoying the heat of her hand. "Awfully concerned for Goyle, aren't you, Grey?" He leaned forward. "He likes you, you know."
Amaris blushed. "That's precisely why…"
"Why what?"
"Why you shouldn't tease him."
Draco's smile faltered. "And why not?" he asked tightly.
"I don't want to hurt him," she replied with a guilty shrug, and Draco understood what she wasn't saying. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he would be hurt when she rejected the match.
"Fine," he conceded flippantly, happiness churning beneath his indifferent exterior. He turned toward the basket of scones, selected one, took a bite, and couldn't help the soft groan in the back of his throat. It tasted incredible.
He swallowed and glanced at her, saw that hopeful expression had returned. Instead of answering her unasked question, he just took another bite. She smiled, satisfied, and if he wasn't so busy chewing, he would have found something snarky to say to wipe the smile off her face. But his mouth was full, wasn't it? So he would let her keep her joy this time.
Amaris leaned against the table and looked down at the basket. "I haven't actually had an apricot scone in so long."
"Didn't you make them?" he muttered.
"I did, but I didn't eat them. They were for you." She tilted her head. "Do you mind if I have one?"
He froze with the pastry halfway to his mouth. "No," immediately popped out of his mouth. Her brows shot up in surprise, the ghost of that pleased smile at one corner of her lips. He rolled his eyes. "Only one," he gave in, and she made a little noise of delight that he found—fuck—adorable. He watched as she plucked one up, took a bite, and hummed pleasantly. "Well?"
She nodded indecisively left to right as she chewed. "It's all right," she finally said after swallowing.
"Just all right?" he blurted, incredulous.
She shrugged. "Blueberry is better," she told him, bringing the scone back to her mouth. Draco scoffed and snatched it out of her hand before she could take another bite. "Hey!"
"You don't deserve this," he said then stuffed it into his mouth while she gaped at him in unabashedly amused surprise. "Blueberry is better," he muttered in disgust before finishing his original pastry, as though cleansing his palate.
Amaris laughed and settled against the table facing him. She watched him openly, without any hint of awkwardness or discomfort. He ate one more scone before placing the top back on the basket. When he finished chewing, she whipped a handkerchief out of her satchel and passed it to him.
"Really?" he asked, but he took the offered cloth and wiped his mouth. He handed it back to her.
"See you tomorrow," she said happily, and she turned and left him standing there with the basket of remaining scones.
Author's Note: You thought I forgot about Goyle, but I didn't! I actually feel a little bad for him... I never intended for this "subplot" to exist, it just happened. Funny how it works out sometimes.
