The night had barely even started, and Ron had already begun marking out his territory. An excited Lavender had sprung from the darkness, latching onto him for a kiss as Harry had looked away with disgust. Tonight Ron will move on…he can't seem to help it…It is tragic that I can't even bring myself to pity Lavender… Harry only barely restrained a sigh of complete despair… the marked glares they were receiving from the Slytherins only pushed Harry's ire further. Running a rough hand through his already rumpled hair did little to disguise his frustration, and as much as he hated to admit it, the glare of the lights was really beginning to screw up his vision. Pulling them off, he slipped them unconsciously into his pocket, he blinked rapidly adjusting to the flickering light, he was better off without them. Only four or so hours until I can get out without public incident. However it wasn't the hours that annoyed him, it was the knowledge of how much embarrassment he would be suffering due to Ron's 'womanising' over the rest of the night. Looking over in a quick once over surveillance, Ron was already chatting to some other brunette in the corner…
Lavender was probably off getting the non-existent 'punch'…
Harry resumed his relaxed stance, leaning against one of the many pylons that lined the ballroom. Every female face was covered by a domino half-mask, most probably formed by magic than by human craftsmanship. With that slight aide memoire in mind, Harry pulled his own wand from within his dress robes to allow a white domino to materialize over his boyishly handsome features. Though it would not disguise who he was, it was much easier to travel through a crowd of students as a semi-unknown, then the famous, yet –for some reason- oddly threatening 'boy who lived'.
Harry surreptitiously attempted to blow a wayward lock of hair from his forehead, whilst also managing to cool his flushed complexion. The ballroom was getting stuffy and overcrowded, with people streaming in from almost every angle. Harry attempted to hold his position, but knew when he was fighting a losing battle, so with a final sigh of resignation; he followed the streaming crowd only to break away, walking out of the hall onto a terrace. This had not been here prior to the ball, so Harry could only assume they had been created especially for tonight. Was the school promoting loose behaviour? Harry suspected that if Hermione had known, she may not have decided to spend the night up in the hospital wing after all. But then again, she had appeared to have changed, now that Malfoy –that is, Draco- had entered her love life. Harry pondered over how very much life had changed… Hermione with Mal- Draco… He'd never even seen it coming.
And despite how much he wished otherwise, he knew that Hermione's changes had been for the better. He wished he could have condemned Draco, called him an asshole for taking Hermione's innocence… but to his surprise, he could not. Bad blood had always flown free, but now that river had run dry…
All it took was one look at the poor bastard to see that Hermione was first and foremost in his mind, she held his heart in a vice so strong, Harry knew Draco would never go unloved again.
Bloody hell… he'd killed his own freaking father… for Hermione.
But then again, Harry had often wanted to kill Draco's father… and he would have willingly done it for anyone, had it not been illegal. It had been fortunate that Draco got away with his quick thinking and strong self defence…
I wonder if I could ever feel like that for someone… Harry recalled the beautiful nymph he had met today on the fringe of the woods. Quickly he forced the ethereal image from his already troubled mind.
Looking up, Harry admired the night sky –despite its erroneous substance- which glittered with magical light. Harry hoped that tonight would at least hold promise for someone, even if it wasn't to be him. Leaning against the railing, the cool steel beneath his fingers felt so tangible, sometimes it was hard to believe that all of this that he had come to love could all be extinguished or rebuilt by the mere flick of a wand. Harry could not recall when he had felt so content. However this short spurt of happiness was to be short lived, when Harry suddenly felt himself being jolted against the railing. A hand had flown over his mouth, masking all intelligible speech. The strength of his assailant rose more from the art of surprise than physical strength, and Harry hardly had the time to fight it as he was pushed onto one of the stone benches, further away from the revealing glow of the ballroom.
Harry was on his back as he felt a heavy weight brace itself his body, heavy breathing whistling past his ear. Harry could feel his pulse racing… that is until he heard his attacker speak.
"I know he is with someone else…"
Harry could barely restrain his surprise "Lavender?" He choked, imagining his ribcage crushing as he gasped for air beneath her unexpectedly heavy weight.
Lavender released a wild moan, grinding herself against his pelvis. Harry struggled, but being pinned in such a way, he could not possibly move without shattering his hipbone. He lay prone as she clumsily attempted to seduce him, however her careful ministrations creating nothing but disgust.
However Lavender remained oblivious to his abhorrence, misinterpreting his struggles for something more suggestive. "Ooooh Harry…" Leaning down to capture his mouth, Harry brutally shoved her away. Only so much gentlemanly behaviour could be exhibited before enough was enough. Lavender seemed shocked at his actions. "What is wrong…?" she purred as she carefully dipped to lower her sagging cleavage into his line of vision, rubbing herself against his chest.
Harry could feel the bile rising up in his throat. He choked "Lavender, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Harry managed to gently push her off. "Ron is your boyfriend, remember? …"
Lavender gave an almost frightening giggle "Of course I know, but he doesn't seem to remember sometimes…"
It was then that Harry noticed how sheer Lavender's entire garment was, it was almost entirely see through, and he suspected that the glass of … well, whatever it was… was probably responsible…she'd probably dumped the stuff all over herself. "Have you been drinking?"
Lavender seemed to pull herself up, tugging at her loose neckline. However, as if thinking better of it, allowed her bodice to droop once more, only to run her fingers across her billowing flesh; her eyes sparkling with unbridled lust. "Yes, but you know how it is Harry… why would I want Ron, when I could be with you?"
Harry felt a grim expression cross his face. "Because I don't want you Lavender… and I never will…"
Lavender's face turned to a mask of livid rage; her lips quivering with an unspoken rage. "YOU AND HIM ARE EXACTLY ALIKE!"
"what!?"
Lavender tried desperately to regain her composure, but the damage was already done… and not only to her cheap foundation which seemed to crack under Harry's fierce frown. "You are more likely more… how shall I put this…? Discreet with your affairs, but that disgusting Ron used me, and has just now disgraced me in front of this entire ball!"
Harry could hardly comprehend her thought "So you think by having sex with me, you can gain your revenge on him?"
Lavender's gaze turned sultry, however in Harry's eyes, it only furthered her into the land of the ridiculous. "Well, to tell you the truth, it was always you I wanted…" Her eyes appeared to strip him bare. "I always assumed you to be more… hard… than your red haired companion, but you never seemed to want me then… and Ron always did fancy my… assets." With a crude manner -that seemed to reflect Ron's, she pushed her breasts together as if to display her wares to the bumbling buyer. However Harry was no simpering green-boy virgin, and with a proud tilt to his chin, which he liked to believe he had gained from Hermione, he moved to edge past Lavender.
A firm hand latched onto his sleeve, and a sharp whisper crackled in his ears. "You think it makes me happy, seeing him dancing with that blonde bitch? You think it makes me feel like a better woman?" An odd hitch in her breath managed to catch Harry's attention – a sob? From Lavender Brown? Impossible! "Just think about you and I okay? It might just end up being worth it…"
And with those final words ringing through his mind, Harry tugged his arm free. He was mid-stride when he stumbled over a non-existent obstacle –probably conjured from his own thoughts.
Did she just say blonde?
-
Sylphide could hardly deny the magic that flooded her entire being when she walked through the doors of the Great Hall. The vivid golden hangings arrested the gaze, sending a calming warmth through her body. Despite Madame Maxine's talk, Beauxbatons –with all it's professions of beauty, had never been able to conjure anything this… majestic… this overwhelmingly awe-inspiring… With a long outtake of breath, she swept her golden hair aside, her blood red domino glittering in tandem with the sparkle in her violet eyes. Looking over her lithe form, she felt a wave of self consciousness wash over her already unstable state of mind. She had begged Olivia not to tie the stays too tightly, but alas her pleas had received no compassion. Her otherwise small breasts had been pushed so high that they appeared to be the size of melons… ugh, well.. hopefully not that awful… She felt like some sort of sordid masked courtesan, her waist appeared to be tiny and her skin shone of a bronzed statue. However it was her legs that made Sylphide blush in maidenly shame. They seemed so very long – a fact she knew to be horribly false- and as she walked, one leg managed to peek through the fabric… as if teasing the senses. …Of men…
Her heart beat a wild tattoo against her chest, and as she walked she could feel many eyes gracing her form as she glided slowly into the hall. Many of them vindictive, but most admiring. Sylphide was glad no one could tell who she was… if it hadn't been for the money Olivia had offered, she would not have come at all… not that she was mercenary, but if one thing was certain, she needed money. Sylphide wiped the look of desperation from her features as she set forth, planning to dance for a while, fulfilling her bargain, then leaving… the memory of the 'woman in red' the only thing left to remember the night by.
With a sultry glance at her surroundings, she descended the magnificent sandstone staircase. Her lashes created a lush shadow which fanned over her cheeks, the roses in her cheeks highlighting her unusual violet coloured eyes - which for once were not obscured by her spectacles. The minute she entered the crush, the music happened to fade to a slow dance. Navigating her way through the abundant crowd, Sylphide soon found herself utterly lost. Her arms were losing their feeling as they were squashed by gyrating couples.
It was hardly any time at all until she felt hands circling her waist from behind. Dammit… His hot breath sent shivers down her neck – and not the good kind. Sylphide shuddered, her hands instinctively clamping down on those wrapped tightly around her. Unfortunately these sweaty hands only seemed to tighten, pulling her flush up against his body. Sylphide cringed as she could feel sloppy kisses being placed all the way down her neck. With all the strength she possessed, she swung around to confront her abuser. Only to come face to face with Ronald Weasley, the childhood friend of Harry Potter. Her eyes widened in abject terror as his lips descended to clumsily lock onto her own.
Not to mention he was absolutely pissed.
His eyes lacked awareness, one hand appearing from her waist to crudely clamp onto her breast. Sylphide nearly retched as Ron's nails dug into her supple flesh and with a squeal of horror; she slapped his hands away wrenching her body from his wandering fingers. However her struggles seemed to be in vain as she felt his appendage stir against her softness, as if aroused by her resistance, rather than deterred. She desperately wished to swab her entire mouth with antiseptic, but contented herself to thinking that she could easily do that when she got back to her own dorm. However that didn't dissolve the disgusting taste that now resided on her lips. This was not turning out well at all, in fact the night seemed to be becoming an abject disaster! With movement that brought tears to her eyes, Ron ground his hips against her, soiling her person. Finally with a movement at old as time itself, she reached her hand back only to bring it back in a strong arch, slapping Ron across the face. His neck seemed to snap with the force, his eyes momentarily regaining their focus to register the red welt that burned at his cheek.
Suddenly a hand appeared on Ron's shoulder, and her aggressor was spun around, leaving her staring at his back. However as soon as she heard her saviour's voice, she almost passed out in fear.
"Ron," Harry growled with barely restrained anger. "How many times do we have to tell you? I would have thought Hermione had taught you this lesson. Your constant red cheeks do not match the décor." And with a loud crack of bone meeting bone, Ron's entire body was thrown back from the force of Harry's fist. Sylphide only just managed to escape being crushed by Ron's prone torso as it fell unheeded to the ground. And as she saw him slowly get engulfed by the other people who flooded the dance floor, she realised that despite the swelling of the crowd, she could not hide from Harry's green eyed stare. She could feel it boring into her face, and as she lifted her eyes, her lashes delicately tried to mask her fervent admiration that glowed throughout her very soul. This was the 'boy who lived', who could not admire all that he had achieved? Sylphide was convinced that it was nothing about his lean frame, rumpled raven hair or his smouldering gaze that seemed to light her insides afire. Sylphide felt a blush start over her bosom, slowly rising to overcome her features. When she had seen him last, he had been deliciously sexy, but now he was so very handsome, he honestly took her breath away.
Sylphide bit her lip, trying to inspire a fear of this boy in her mind, his strong hands abusing her flesh, his mouth ravishing her own… however no matter how much she told herself, she knew it was not his strength she feared, but rather was her own weakness to his charm – Gods! What if he recognises me? Her corset was restricting her breathing, and with her heart pulsating wildly against her breast, she was not surprised when Harry's stunning green eyes lingered for a second too long on her heaving chest. She was acting like a cake, and worst of all, she had no idea how to amend her current behaviour. So there she stood, gaping at him like a beached cod.
Does she not have any idea how beautiful she looks? Harry could hardly keep his features in check, his jaw threatened to unhinge from his face and crash to the cold ground. This was definitely her. There was no way of mistaking those same glowing violet eyes for any other. However this minx in from of him was no shrinking violet, no… she was all fire and passion. Her bejewelled corset drew a man's gaze like a moth to the flame, a trap designed only to leave the opposite sex frustrated as hell. Panting with lust, more like… Harry watched intently as her skirts promised a taste of heaven itself, as the slit rose up her bared flesh, carving a path to the sensual promise that lay beneath; the molten lava whirling around her legs, showcasing their suntanned perfection. Her revealing clothing, on any other woman, would have portrayed her wantonness, but on his angel, it revealed a gentle innocence he longed to protect.
No mask could hide her beauty from him… and as he swiftly glanced about, Harry noticed that he was not the only male that had been affected by her innocent charm. Jealousy - as heady as wine, intoxicated his mind. With a telling silence, he outstretched his hand and with a stunning lack of hesitation, Sylphide immediately laced her delicate fingers with his, entwining them. Tenderly he led her from the ballroom.
Sylphide had no idea what to make of him… One moment his eyes were glittering with banked sensuality, and the next he was yanking her out of the ball. Not that Sylphide could honestly say she didn't like the feeling… His hand, though callused was surprisingly gentle, and Sylphide felt her body ripple with excitement as he pulled off his jacket, revealing his lean but well muscled chest, barely covered by a white dress shirt. Lightly the garment was placed loosely over her shoulders, and Sylphide could not help but become giddy with the masculine scent that radiated from his clothing. The fragrance was all that was Harry, and Sylphide revelled in its warmth.
Harry could hardly believe he had just dragged her outside, running a hand through his hair he wondered at his impetuousness. His jacket appeared to engulf her, how very small and fragile she was… too delicate for me… he thought, as he looked down at his rough hands.
Suddenly her eyes looked onto his, violet mingling with green. She looked like she was about to speak, but retreated at the last instant. It was Harry who then murmured "Who are you?" His hands moving to her jaw, his fingers reverently grazing her features.
Sylphide felt her hand, on its own volition, reach up to loop with his. Her lips quivering with anticipation. Her heart was resting precariously on her sleeve, and with an action she knew she would later regret, she let her arms crawl up over his wide shoulders; her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. She didn't even know him, but somehow this just felt so right… was it really the magic of the Twelfth Night? The only thing Sylphide knew was that he attracted her like a lodestone, and tonight it didn't matter that this boy was 'the boy who lived' or the Dark Lord's enemy…
He wasn't even Harry Potter…
He was just Harry…
…and being in his strong embrace, she'd never felt more important
This was when Harry did possibly the most stupid thing in the world… or was it the most intelligent? Harry was cursed with the scar that marked not only his forehead, but his very soul. Spies could be anywhere, looking for a potential weakness with which they could use to kill him…
However, with a final curse at his own impulsiveness, he leaned down to capture his lips with hers…
And with that, the great Harry Potter had fallen.
Please tell me how you liked it… I would really love to gain some more reviews for this one! A big thank you to all the people who have already reviewed and I encourage you to review again… etc.
Yours with love,
Shakespeare-Lozza