Chapter Two
Sloane woke up early the next morning staring up into the emerald green eyes of the metal snake curled above the mantle. It had been harder than usual to sleep on the floor the night before. She'd spent the night in fear that Draco would return with Crabbe and Goyle to torment her. He knew her secret now. He could single-handedly ruin her entire life. And then of course there was that kiss and whatever the hell that meant.
It wasn't until Sloane was getting ready for the day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the first floor that she wondered what Malfoy was even doing in the Common Room so late at night. What if his hustling of her was just a cover-up so that she wouldn't discover his plan?
Sloane leaned over the dirty cold steel sink toward the dim dirty mirror to brush a heavy layer of dark brown eye shadow across her eyelids. She smeared eyeliner across her lash line, the mask she hid behind. She finished with a double layer of mascara across her long black lashes so they fanned out to frame her big brown eyes.
Sloane stepped back from the mirror and ran her hands through her frizzy mane of black curls into some illusion of semblance. Times like this made her covet Cho Chang's thin straight hair or Ginny Weasley's silky red hair.
Why was she so concerned with her appearance today? There was nothing to be done about her hair or her face or her wrinkled uniform. She wasn't going to become Fleur Delacour overnight.
With one last brush of rosy red blush on the apples of her dark cheeks, Sloane re-packed her makeup bag and hid it in one of the dilapidated stalls. On her way down the stairs to the Grand Hall for breakfast, as fate would have it, she practically ran into Draco and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe and Goyle gawked at her with their permanently snarled faces. Against her will, Sloane's eyes were drawn to Draco's and she immediately regretted it. Gone was the brokenness of the night before. Now, in morning light, his eyes were glittering sapphires, hard and unyielding, a wall instead of a window. His lip curled back cruelly.
"Crabbe and Goyle, is it just me or does the Mudblood look like she just rolled out of bed?" Draco laughed harshly, each peal of laughter pierced her heart like shards of glass. "Even more than usual," he added with a sneer.
Draco made fun of her all the time. It wasn't personal, at least no more than usual. Tears still pricked the back of her eyeballs. She blinked hard. "Bugger off, Malfoy."
"Watch where you're walking, filthy Mudblood," he spit back, spraying spittle on the carpet by her feet.
Sloane resisted the urge to kick his arrogant ass as the boys walked off, chortling laughter trailing behind them. She roughly brushed away a tear, scratching her cheek in the process.
This was stupid. It was just Malfoy. Who gave a damn what he thought? Or how her stomach had felt when he kissed her? Or the imprint of his thumb on her wrist that she still rubbed absently as she walked? He was an abusive prick and an obnoxious git, nothing more.
