June, 2017

Chapter 11: The Slytherin and the Hufflepuff (moved)

"…as long as nothing happens between them,

the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened."

― Marguerite Duras, Blue Eyes, Black Hair

She remembered the first time she'd seen Henry and Miranda together in public. It had been strange, initially, to see the pair underneath the pink curtains of Madam Pudifoots in Hogsmeade. Hazel smiled at the memory of Miranda laughing at something Henry had said, covering the bright smile with her hand, surrounded by teacups and frilly cushions. As if no one else was there, as if it was just the two of them. Once, Edward had told her they'd be the first to get married after Hogwarts. And here they were.

With tears brimming her eyelids, Hazel glanced to her right at the stunning witch in white. Briefly, the brunette swore that she saw a glimmer in the woman's own dark eyes. She'd always been beautiful, but tonight, the white lace fit Mirandaperfectly, flowing down and around her, past the flower-laden arch and small crowd before them. With the help of the professor - and officiator for the ceremony - the ballroom of the Lodge was hardly recognizable, transfigured into a sparkling array of light and flowers. Above their heads, elegant candles floated in a clear night sky. However, it was the smile on Miranda's face as she had walked down the aisle, towards Henry, that had lit up the room.

The wedding had taken place in December, but tonight, it only felt like yesterday. Hazel wasn't sure why her thoughts kept straying to that night. She knew, but didn't want to consider the possibility; just because she cared about him didn't mean she – Somewhere inside, a door slammed, jerking her out of her reverie. At almost midnight, the witch found herself on a rather secluded section of the Lodge's roof. Hazel shook her head, grateful for the rare moment alone. And she was spending it reminiscing. Still, the wedding had been…perfect.

When he'd seen the bride, Henry had been barely able to contain the tears that streaked past the grin on his lips. There'd been a small laugh across the room when Henry had almost kissed the witch before Ridgeway had even begun the ceremony, interrupting the joyous couple with the clearing of his throat and a small, proud smile. To their right, the phoenix let out a small trill from his perch. When she had walked down the aisle, Hazel had nearly cried before the bride had even arrived; in the place of the best man, the Corre had set a spot for Leon in honor of their fallen friend. Markus...you should've been here. We miss you. After Ridgeway had pronounced them man and wife, Hazel's tears turned to laughter at Henry's expression as Miranda grabbed her husband's collar to pull him in for a passionate kiss. They were perfect together.

Their first dance had been to a slow, moving song Hazel didn't recognize; Miranda and Henry, now husband and wife, appeared to float around the room. As if no one else was there, as if it was just the two of them. Despite the festivities, Hazel had to leave before the couple had completed the song. Blinking the tears away - she wouldn't dare ruin this day for them - the witch had silently snuck out of the crowded hall with no one the wiser. Or so she thought.

That night, it was at the empty dock that Hazel let herself miss him. Kestis….I wish you were here to see this. It's...so beautiful. They're perfect for each other, always have been. Smiling to herself, Hazel looked up at the moon above her head. Even with the cold, it was almost as gorgeous outside; the moonlight seemed to glitter against the snow and water, and stars peppered the sky above her. Whoever said that a Slytherin and Hufflepuff wouldn't work clearly had never met Miranda and Henry. Removing any evidence that she'd cried - though she could always blame the ceremony for her reddened eyes - Hazel took a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself down. Thankfully, no one will notice her slipping back into the ballroom.

"Hazel?" What? Surprised, Hazel had spun at the sound of her name. Her quick movement made her heel catch on the dock's surface, and suddenly she found two, firm hands keeping her from falling into the lake. Mason smiled down at her, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he righted the witch. "Are you alright? The last thing I'd want is to ruin your dress." He paused, something flickering in his expression he added, "Miranda would likely murder me for scaring her maid of honor into the lake." Hazel laughed, "I'm alright, but I can only imagine her reaction." Before she could ask why he'd come outside, a shiver rippled across her exposed skin. Merlin, it was freezing. Mason's hands seemed to tighten on her arms for a moment before his arms dropped, and Hazel resisted the urge to rub the cold away from where his hands had been. Wordlessly, the grey-eyed wizard cast a warming charm over the pair. Show off.

"What are you thinking about that made you forget it's December...in Iceland? Must be serious." Mason's voice seemed to echo across the open space. She hesitated, looking at the pale-haired man beside her, who was now facing the lake. "I...I was just thinking about how perfect they are for each other. It, well, it makes me wish I had something like that." In an attempt to ease her nerves, Hazel tried to shrug at Mason with a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "Something about weddings, I suppose." Why had she said that? Why had she brought him up? When he hadn't responded, Hazel glanced over at Mason in concern. Wrong thing to say, it seemed. Great job, Hazel.

Mason had been looking up at the moon; something about the smile on his face seemed...bittersweet. At her curious stare, he looked down at her, and his grey eyes almost appeared to reflect the moonlight. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. Was she..? Turning away, Mason silently glanced back towards the Lodge, his own breath escaping his lips in a small puff. "Mason -" Before she could say anything, he cut her off with a smile, holding his hand out to her, palm facing up, "Let's go inside before someone notices we're gone." With her own breath curling and dissipating into the air, Hazel slowly took the proffered hand, "Sure, though I doubt that anyone even noticed."

She paused, then squeezed his hand lightly, "Except for you, that is. Should I be asking if you're okay?" Mason laughed softly as they walked across the expanse of snow, shaking his head at the teasing remark. "I'll be fine, Cross, don't worry about me." Hazel grinned at the nickname before gently shoving the wizard with her shoulder. Hand slipping out of his - the warming charm must be wearing off - Hazel made the mature decision to stick her tongue out at Mason, then took off in a sprint towards the Lodge as fast as her heels would allow her. "Last one there has to ask Mohinder to dance!" Heart racing at the sudden adrenaline in her system, Hazel felt laughter bubble in her chest at the indignant sound behind her, followed by quick, muted footsteps. At the reminder of the boy, she grinned. Hazel had nothing against Mohinder; he was a wonderful person, and a rather passionate wizard...but had a habit of stepping on people's toes. She let out a surprised shriek as familiar hands pulled at her waist just before her hand had closed around the doorknob. "You cheater!" Hazel tried to yell, laughing as he set her down further from her goal, grey eyes sparkling with mischief. Smirking, Mason pulled the double doors open with a flourish, "I have no idea what you're referring to." She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to tamper the grin on her lips as she lifted her head and tried to walk calmly into the ballroom.

A shiver ran across the witch, returning her to the present. With a quick wave, the warming spell protected Hazel against the bitter chill of the wind that whipped past. She should go inside soon, before either Kes or….or Mason noticed she wasn't there. Most people were asleep, but…She didn't move, watching the ripples across the dark lake. Moonlight – much like that night – reflected dimly against the water.

When Mason and Hazel had finally returned to the festivities, the girl realized she felt much lighter than she had before. She was lucky to have friends like Mason in her life. Nodding at Edward - who was sitting fairly close to a vaguely familiar blonde wizard - the witch had tried to look around the room for the happy couple. "They're right there," A voice in her ear added, and Hazel followed Mason's line of sight to where a small group stood; in the center, Henry was planting a kiss on his wife's forehead, hand around her waist, as they conversed with Ridgeway and a few other students. Merlin, they were adorable. In the air, the previously upbeat song shifted into the beginning of a slow waltz. Tucking hair behind her ears - running hadn't been the best idea in a nice dress and updo - Hazel smiled, turning to Mason to argue why he should be the one to ask Mohinder.

Mason had been facing her, his expression unfamiliar as he lifted his hand to her once more, "Hazel, would you like to dance?" She tried to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks - she must be flushed from racing in the snow - and gently placed her hand in his. The music seemed to increase in volume as he pulled her to an empty spot in the corner of the dance floor, and Hazel realized that she recognized the song; it was an old ballad from a musical Jack had shown her. Strange. Wait...she didn't know how to waltz. Merlin, how could she have forgotten? When she'd told Mason as such, eyes wide in momentary panic, the pale-haired man had the gall to chuckle at her. Being a Pureblood came in handy sometimes, he'd replied. He guided her hand to his shoulder, keeping the other in his as they began to move.

Despite his smug smirk, Mason had been right, leading the girl with ease across the room. In the background, she could hear the singer crooning...Waiting here with you...Muted conversations seemed to die down as the swelling music filled the space. The world blurred around them as they moved, and Hazel wasn't sure how long she'd been smiling, only that she couldn't stop. When she tried to watch her feet, he suddenly spun her. Letting out a startled laugh, she met Mason's eyes, ignoring the eruption of nerves in her stomach. "Keep your head up," He leaned closer to whisper, and she was surprised by how easy it was to hear him over the music, "I won't let you trip." With a smirk, the wizard pulled them into another turn, and Hazel had to grip his shoulder tighter in surprise.

The music slowed, and Hazel found herself unable - unable, or unwilling? Be careful, Hazel… - to pull away from Mason. A flash nearly blinded the pair, and Hazel glanced over to see a younger girl aiming a camera at them. Christi, of course. The shorter witch waved energetically, turning to take a photo of Carly a few feet away, who was resting her head on Ben's shoulder as they swayed. If she'd been honest, Hazel hadn't even noticed the couple there until this moment. If she'd been honest, Hazel would've considered the implications. Instead, the brunette cleared her throat, reluctantly stepping away from Mason's grasp. "Thank you for the dance. I..it was fun." The strange smile from before returned, and Mason nodded, "Thank you for not stepping on my toes."

Her mouth dropped open at the unexpected, and lighthearted, insult, though she was glad to feel as if they were returning to normal. When had they left it behind? "Don't push your luck, Whitehall." She nudged him gently as she waved at the approaching couple, ignoring the feeling of eyes lingering on her. "Hey Ben, Carly. Isn't this absolutely beautiful? Ridgeway did an incredible job."

The rest of the night went smoothly, even wonderfully. She'd gotten to dance with Ridgeway, Henry, and even Mohinder, who hadn't actually stepped on her feet. She ignored the temptation to find Mason again, or to ask him to dance one last song. As she laid in bed, though, Hazel found it hard to block out the beating in her chest. She could lie to herself all she wanted - that it'd been a perfectly wonderful, but normal night, or that she didn't see grey when she closed her eyes, or that it'd only been adrenaline that made her feel breathless. She didn't even know where Kes was, or how he felt about her...Were they even together, still?

Voices drifted from below as light spilled onto the snow. Hazel leaned forwards to peer over the edge, ignoring the ache in her chest at the memory. She'd realized something that night. About herself…about her feelings. She'd pushed it down, been almost successful in ignoring it until now. As the witch stood, brushing snow off her pants, Hazel wondered why she couldn't stop thinking about Mason and those haunting grey eyes. Maybe, just maybe, she felt something more than platonic for Mason Whitehall….what a mess.