So I love the absolutely meager number of reviewers I have. Simply delicious. Tell your friends, everyone! Tell them about The Tulip Baroo! For adoration will ensue. And before I forget, thank you again (nonetheless) for the very kind and very gracious reviews.
I suppose this chapter is mainly clearing up some of the aftermath of the last chapter. I beg you to not be bored to tears? I'll make it as interesting as I can without obstructing the delicious probability of it all. Hah.
liannimation
Ch. 11: Small Places
And so he had kissed her. Quite impressively, if I may add. Trite, yes, but very fun to read, nonetheless.
For it was in the pouring rain, and who can resist?
A picture of perfect lusting. And it was not sinful in the least bit.
I would say it was an experience worthy of a century in time, but things really don't happen that way.
But it was ever so romantic.
In fact, Cho was so taken-aback that she nearly choked (and it was good she didn't), for here was the absolute epitome of her loathing. Kissing her. Kissing her.
But she had to admit, he was awfully good at it. He held her face ever so gently, softly pulled her toward his sopping body (yes, he was sopping).
And the kiss. Oh, the kiss. It was amazing.
For a while, she simply could not place what she felt. In all her life, she never thought one could experience a feeling that left you threatened, inarticulate, enraged, and completely infatuated all at the same time. But this was exactly that. Staring her directly in the face. Or mouth, however you like it.
It was an expression of such lightness, such tenderness. But it was so overpowered by this incredible muted, nearly animalistic sense of longing and desire.
Of course, Cho had no time to reflect upon it in such a way as this, but I'm sure she thought about it later.
To be precise (and entirely realistic), it lasted approximately 38 seconds, 23 milliseconds. 4 microseconds. No fireworks, no stars, no shift in heavenly grounds.
All real.
And then they were in a room. Cho was really quite caught up in the moment, but she noticed the blue drapes on the four poster. A Ravenclaw dormitory. She could still hear the party raging downstairs. Why still Ravenclaw Tower? Malfoy was the one who had Apparated the both of them. But oh well.
With some effort, Cho managed to let her drenched hair fall freely without disrupting any of her actions.
They worked their way onto the bed, and soon, Cho had Malfoy's shirt unbuttoned (his chest was smooth and slim and only slightly defined).
Was this a horrible thing to do? Probably. She really didn't care.
His hair, now damp hung wavy and dark, grazed her face. She was sitting back, with her arms propped up behind her; Malfoy leaning over her, with his hands on either side, kissing beautifully.
And with one swift motion, Cho was out of her very heavy, very wet (and very ruined) ball gown. She (definitely) hadn't anticipated anything like this would happen, but she still had on some very lacy undergarments.
There was a moment between Malfoy's stares and when he pushed her back onto the sheets that Cho had a fierce twinge of regret. But it quickly went away.
He kissed her and kissed her and kissed away, down her neck, down her stomach (and then some), and then, just as things were getting a bit heated...Malfoy jumped up screaming.
"AHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"
Cho sat, up, blinked several times before the situation registered entirely. Malfoy had a large, brown barn owl flapping and fluttering (and making a complete ruckus) at his head.
"BLOODY HELL, GET IT OFF!"
So Cho, with the best judgment that she could muster at the moment, seized Malfoy's wand and stunned the bugger. It fell to the floor with a squawk.
Malfoy stood, flustered, with his tie hanging down his bare chest, hands in his hair. His face was frozen in an expression of embarrassment and shock for a moment, but he quickly regained the look of a nondescript "what?"
He took his hands from his hair, leaving tufts sticking up every which way. He looked down at the stunned owl, and let out a low whistle.
"Bloody thing," he said, bending down and picking it up. He paused, took a piece of parchment from its leg. "Went for my hair, it did. Reckon why?"
"You have shiny, luscious locks, dear," Cho said with a smile.
"Don't be so cheeky, Chang," Malfoy said, breaking the wax seal. He read aloud:
"To the Prefects of All Houses: Please report to duties.
Keep all students under control. Do not ignore this, we will know.
Headmistress, Professor M. McGonagall
"Hm. A threat, that is." Cho said.
"Yeah," Malfoy looked at the window from where the owl had flown and scratched the back of his head, "How do they always know where we are?"
Cho got up, started for the door.
"Sorry, Malfoy," she said, "I'll see you around,"
Back in the confines of her dormitory, she was relieved that she hadn't gone through with it. She knew that if she had, she would have argued with herself for weeks, felt regret, yes yes, the whole shebang.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and the first blouse she came across, marched down to the Common Room to report to duties. Duties, she assumed, would mean breaking up her own party. She sighed, but she knew she had to.
However, when she was back among the mass of buzzing-drunkenness, she decided that there were far too many people, and that it was too late to go and chase everyone out.
So instead, she found Amita and Madeline (they were both Prefects), and told them her intentions. The three of them set off, making the Butterbeer kegs disappear, and clearing out the people who were sufficiently passed out. That took approximately twenty minutes, but that twenty minutes had Cho exhausted. She located a couch, and without missing a beat, curled up and was out in a hair.
The next morning was Sunday. The rain was pouring, the air was cold, and the Ravenclaw Common Room was in a quite dastardly state. Cho woke to the sounds of people stepping on filth. Ew.
She opened her eyes, smacked her lips. Stretched, and looked out the window. The clouds were thick and grey.
Glancing at the clock, she calculated that she had been asleep for four hours—it was nine o'clock. She got up slowly, realized she had a splitting headache, and groaned, lay back down. Stumbling upstairs, she dragged herself into the shower and stayed there for forty minutes. Madeline was knocking persistently on the door before she even considered stepping out.
"We have a hell of a mess to clean," Madeline said once Cho was out in a towel.
"I know, I woke up to it,"
"Well, get dressed and we can start," She paused, and there was a hint of a smile etched onto her face, "Oh, and another thing, Amita's still asleep. And she's not alone, mind you."
"Ooh!" Cho said, too hung-over to think of something to say, but very excited nonetheless.
"She's in the room next door. Wake her up while you're at it—she needs to help clean, even if she didn't help set up."
"Who is she with?"
"Go see! And wake her up,"
"I don't want to wake her up. You do it,"
"I was awake before you,"
"All the more reason for you—"
They were cut short (what a shame) when the door opened to reveal Amita. Very frazzled indeed.
"Hi, guys," was all she could manage.
"Amita, dear, we know you've had a rough night, but please get dressed and help us with cleaning the Common Room," Madeline said, every bit of her Madeline-ness expressing itself (muah, I do love thee, Margio).
"But I didn't even set up, why—"
"Amita, you best listen to her. I dare say, she'll short several nerve endings if you don't do what she says," Cho said this with the most genuine of smirks traced upon her face.
"Yes, listen to her, Mita. She knows what she's talking about," Madeline said, while scrounging for a pair of clean socks.
"So I take it you two are back on the friendly side of things?"
"Not if she doesn't help us," Madeline said, poking her head up from behind the bed, "I swear McGonagall will have our heads if she sees what we did…"
How wonderful.
Cho remembered what she was originally going to say, but was pushed out of the room by Madeline before she had the chance.
So Cho, Madeline, and Amita started their morning cleaning the Common Room (there had been significant wreckage done to several windows and there was so much rubbish on the floor). It was their doing, after all.
(A/N: I know this whole cleaning business seems a bit stupid and unnecessary, but just try and believe that it was intended to be a most casual and convenient type of…segue, if you will. Really, I would think there is a point to it. I guess I tend to want to be 'startlingly realistic.')
Amita began with clearing the floor, but in the end, she decided that spraying Madeline with a heap-load of grime and trash would do everyone good. Cho stood idly, making portraits and windows go back into place with a flick of wand. She had that glazed look you get when you have no intention of paying any attention at all to your surroundings. She was thinking of the previous night. Usually, she would be dying to tell someone by now, but she found herself rather unwilling. What had exactly possessed her to go on with that? Wasn't that exactly what Malfoy wanted? And how could she fall for it—was she really that stupid? But the question was…did she fall into a trap, or walk through a wall? After all, wasn't she the one moping around all that time because she was wasn't getting any action? And who was Amita with that night? But that is beside the point. She couldn't make up her mind. She still thought Malfoy was a complete ass. But for some reason, she couldn't help thinking of what his real intentions had been. The kissing was really absolutely fabulous…
But, alas, Cho's business was once again cut short.
Not by a bird, though.
Which is good.
"Cho,"
"Hm…?"
"Cho…"
"Hmmph…?"
"CHO!"
"What?" Cho came out from her daze (something that happened often), and realized she had been maneuvering the same portrait for the past three minutes. "What? What do you want?"
"Oh dear, Cho, you are so out of it. That Potter boy is here again. Thought you'd want to know," Madeline looked peeved.
Cho came out of her daze, and a stone dropped in her stomach—in dread. Dammit, why now?
Harry stood, looking very uncertain of himself. He was blinking too—Cho noticed his glasses were gone.
"Cho," he started, not really looking directly at her (that's what happens when you're cursed with bad eye-sight…and a price on your head involving the greatest Dark Wizard of all time), "I came here to apologize,"
Of course.
Cho resorted to looking at him skeptically, waited for him to continue.
"Uh…yeah,"
Oh, Christ.
"I was a bit tipsy, and last night was not a good night for me…Malfoy, you know?"
Oh-ho, you don't know.
"But…yeah. I really hope you're alright. And, Cho I really do care about you, so I understand if you still hate me…"
"Harry, I don't hate you. Just use better judgment next time,"
Harry raised an eyebrow. Cho could tell he was thinking, a next time, eh?
"And that is in the most hypothetical sense."
His face fell.
"Well…okay. I'll see you around then, I guess," He turned to leave. Cho felt bad. She didn't know why, but she did. Sadly.
"Harry," He turned back around, "Friends?"
"Yeah," he said, "Friends," And left. Pshaw. The last time she'd said that, he was considerably more enthusiastic. The boy learned.
"Oh, thank God." Cho said when she joined Amita and Madeline, "I thought he'd never leave,"
"You should be nicer," Madeline said, "He is Harry Potter, after all. You should go easy on him. What did he do to you?"
"I'd rather not talk about it. And I was as nice as I could be without coming off too friendly,"
"Please, tell us!" Amita said, looking as anxious as she could.
"Yes, yes, tell us, Chang,"
Cho sighed. There was no getting out of it. It was just so embarrassing.
She told them. About Harry. Oh, there was no way they would find out about a certain blonde Slytherin.
By twelve-thirty that afternoon, the job was finished and the trio trooped back to their dormitory to freshen up.
"Amita, darling…whoever were you with last night?" Cho sprang the question when she least expected it. Hehe.
"What?" Amita said, taking her head out from behind her bed curtains.
"Who, Miss Amita?"
"Oh. That," she said quite strangely, "I'm not sure,"
"You're not sure? How can you not be sure?"
(A/N: Let's not peruse so much. You'll find out in good time? The point is, Amita does not want to tell. Bashful, she is. Now, where were we…)
Madeline proposed the brilliant idea of going to Hogsmeade that afternoon.
"Well, you know," she stated thoughtfully, "We ought to enjoy a little break from all of this." Even if they really hadn't done a scrap of work for the past couple of weeks. So they dressed in sweaters and brought their umbrellas (I'm sure they have them in the Wizarding World) and were on their merry way in good time.
The rain would not cease. It shattered off the rooftops, left the ground flooded and the sky howling. It had been raining for nearly three days straight. The three took refuge in a small jazz café called Misty's, one of Cho's favorite places in Hogsmeade.
It was dark, sleek, and (misty), small tables set with small lamps and a small coffee bar to the side. Up front was a small stage, lit with small candles and small dim colored lights. Overall, (and in case you didn't quite understand), it was a very small place.
They sat down and ordered three cups of steaming chai, and were in heated discussion before several very peculiar events interrupted.
They were just about to get up for another order of drinks when a tapping was heard on the window to their right. When they ignored it, it grew louder, and when they finally were annoyed enough to notice it and turn around, Amita's mouth dropped.
"Oh shit," Amita muttered, for there stood Seamus Finnigan, the 'charming' Irish Gryffindor that had so bothered Harry last night at the ball. But Cho had nothing to fret about now—it was clear. Amita, with her open jaw, furrowed brow, and developing blush, had been with the person who was now knocking and winking suggestively.
"Who is that?" Madeline asked, looking at Seamus inquisitively. Apparently, Madeline did not know who Amita had spent the night with after all—only known there was someone.
"That," Cho said with triumph, "Is Seamus Finnigan," She laughed. With that, Seamus entered the café and walked over to their table. Cho was smirking at Amita (who looked mortified), but not for long.
"Hello, ladies," was all that Cho heard Seamus say, for about fifteen seconds after he had walked in, Draco Malfoy entered the premises, soaking wet from the rain and accompanied by a tall seventh-year Cho knew by the name of Blaise Zabini. Malfoy's eyes locked quickly on Cho, but he seemed indifferent, for soon after, he turned swiftly and made his way to the coffee bar.
Conversation with Seamus was now just a distant prattling.
She didn't know what compelled her to, but Cho excused herself and started toward the coffee bar. She located Malfoy's long, lanky form, hands in his pockets, scanning the menu above the counter. Blaise was somewhat off standing to his right.
Making sure she was out of the sight of Amita and Madeline (she didn't think they would have noticed anyway—they were in quite a conversation), she walked over.
"Well, look who the wind blew in," Cho said, just loud enough to be heard over what the band was playing. Malfoy turned around, unfazed.
"Hello, Chang," he said, not really looking at her.
"I'd just like to apologize for last night. You know how things go...owls included,"
"No problem,"
He was being rather dismissive.
"So…did you have a good time, then?"
"Yes, I guess you could say that. A tall, please. Black," he said, ordering. Cho opened her mouth to bid goodbye, but Malfoy beat her to it.
"Now, if you'll excuse us," and he walked off with Blaise Zabini. Cho didn't know quite what to think. She went back to her table, sat down, and looked like she was acknowledging the conversation. He had been so detached, and he usually wasn't. Cho was extremely jarred. She told herself (as she had so many times) that Draco Malfoy was not something she would ever consider taking interest in. No farther than a little fooling around, it seemed, but nonetheless, no one to trifle with. If he was not interested, she wouldn't care. And she didn't. But she had to ask herself: why did her head feel like it had just burst open?
Really.
She didn't know.
I know, quite an unproductive chapter. But then again, you can't go off having Cho/Draco sex every chapter now? I'll update now that school's out (weeee). Review!
I should have touched upon this a long while ago, but I guess I'm just really lazy. Thank you, Serena Goodkey, B.C Company, Iris C., artificial-sprite, Chele, Cho-Wood, H0n3yduk3s sweetie, Mystikalmagic, .AwwLukTheSkyIsCryin….
…and of course, two of my most avid and wonderful reviewers who happen to be two of the best friends anyone could have…Tu lo sai inc., and Lovah of Ron. You make me smile. Kind of.
I must have missed a bunch of you. But I'm mightily obliged even so.
Now, type type type! Reviews!
liannimation