Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
I put on my coyest smile, and looked down, staring at him through my thick eyelashes, "Well, you see Marcus," I opted for his first name instead of his surname. It's much more intimate and would greatly impact the situation, "I've sort of," I tried being embarrassed and shy, as I laughed nervously, "liked you too." I concluded, looking up and directly into his eyes.
Then, just as if it were magic...he was entranced.
What?
I'm a flirt...
Of course, it was a lie—but somehow, when I said it, even I thought it was a little true. His answering smile was incandescent. It didn't seem like lying was that big of a deal when it made someone else happy. And no, I'm not self sacrificing. Ha, Don't even think that I am.
"I can't believe it," He reacted giddily, "I thought that you've always fancied—" He trailed off as if he, himself couldn't finish the sentence.
"Draco?" I could finish the sentence, "Well you've already said that, and I've already denounced it."
He looked a little puzzled, "Actually, you never said that it wasn't true."
I gave him my sweetest smile as it masked my panic well. My heartbeat spiked, beating an irregular, frantic rhythm. I didn't love Draco Malfoy. I didn't.
"Well, Silly, I am now."
This answer satisfied him for present, though knowing the male mind, I'm sure that it will remain a lurking suspicion in the back of his head and a source of jealousy. I'd have to be careful.
"So, you'll really dine with me? Tomorrow evening?"
"I did say I would, didn't I?"
He laughed lightly, "You did."
"Well then," I replied, looking at him with an vulnerable expression, "I guess that's that. What time will you be picking me up?"
"Seven?"
"Flint—"
"Please, Darling, call me Marcus now." He interjected, if he'd lost any of his confidence before, he'd most certainly found it.
"Okay, Marcus," I nearly purred, "You don't have to make that sound like a question, as the man in this relationship," his face lit up when I said the word relationship—a misconception amongst men, that they were in charge in the relationship. The woman lets him pretend that he's in charge, but with subtle suggestions, she influences every decision, "you are more than apt to chose the time for which we shall dine."
"I'll be picking you up at seven then," He stood up, and walked over towards me, I was afraid he'd be so bold as to kiss me now, however he settled for a kiss on the forehead, "I cannot wait for tomorrow, Parting is such sweet sorrow," he began, pulling my hand off my knee and holding it within his own, "That I must say farwell, til it be morrow."
"Your mother has you quoting Romeo and Juliet, as well?"
"No, that I knew to do on my own."
"Marcus flint, you've been raised well," I replied this time letting the innocence drop from my face, I smoldered as I watched him leave—and I could see in his face (and in his pants) that leaving was the last thing he wanted to do.
When the doors closed behind him, I began to regret my decision.
Why did I do that? It wasn't like I liked flint that way—I mean, I'm sure that I could grow to like him. I sort of did like him, he was handsome, he was usually nice, and he really did care about me.
It's just that I like someone else more...love, not like. I'm in love with someone—someone that I should have been able to get over. But I never did, I never could. It's pathetic—I was eight years old when I fell in love with Draco Malfoy. An eight year old doesn't know love.
There's no way that what I felt was real...
Then why, everytime I see him, do I get the same feeling in my stomach?
As soon as I thought I had peace and begun to think over what I'd really just agreed to, my mother came bursting into the room, my father in tow. He with a subdued expression, she looked as if she were nearly about to wet herself from excitement.
"You agreed to dine with Marcus Flint!" She enthralled—as if she didn't realize that this was just about two minutes ago, and I had completely forgotten entirely.
I faked a yawn, "Yes, I did...now, if you'd excuse me, I must get off to bed." She nodded, and bid me goodnight.
Dressing for the date with Flint was harder than I imagined.
I went through a plethora of outfits, finding fault in every one.
I ended up settling with an deep emerald silk cocktail dress. It hugged my hips gracefully, and had a very vintage halter neckline—very Nineteen Forties. I chose my favorite pair of black peek a boo stiletto heels.
I left my hair down and curly, making the curls more tame, and less wild than they usually preferred to be.
I wanted to make a statement with the earrings I chose; I frantically searched through my jewelry box, knowing I had to have the perfect pair. I found a lot of fancy, diamond earrings—an assortment of rubies, even more emeralds—but green earrings would be a little too much for this outfit.
Then, I found them. Pear drop earrings in onyx.
I threaded the earrings through my ears, and did a final once over on my makeup. I had simple, pale pink lips—and darkened eyes. I didn't usually do heavy eye, simple lip, usually I did heavy lip, simple eye...but there was something sexy about the opposite look.
I found, in my heart—that I was excited about going out with Flint...I mean, Marcus. He was likable, he was handsome, he was a gentleman. I could see myself falling for him, ardently.
I took another sip of tea, careful not to mess up my makeup—"What herb did you say this was, Mother? It's quite delicious?"
"It's chamomile and mint, with a hint of vanilla."
"And something else..." I muttered, I sat the glass down looking into the mirror once more, I studied my eyes. Yes, I would find flint very agreeable.
"Hayley?" Marie stuck her head into my room, a giddy smile on her face, "Flint is here for you." I nodded once, and taking one glance in the full length mirror—this dress made my hips hypnotic.
As I made my way down the stairs, I saw that flint saw this too.
I made my way to him, and we left without any further words.
On the front porch, he grabbed my hand, and held me out from him, "You look," he sighed, "Wow."
"Wow?" I cocked my head to the side, "I was previously unaware that 'wow' was something a person could look."
He chuckled, "Wow—you look lovely, breathtaking, amazing," he looked into my eyes, and once again my stomach did that weird fuzzy thing. "Absolutely beautiful."
"As opposed to usual?" I teased.
"I wouldn't have thought that a woman could look more beautiful," he replied, "I wouldn't think that it was possibly for you to look more beautiful, surely, there must be a limit somewhere—but your beauty shows no signs of stopping." I smothered the laughter that fought to be free, "But let me not dawdle, the hour is late, and I'm sure that you're hungry."
He pulled me in, closer, until my body was pressed against his, "Close your eyes," he replied, I did so, safely nestling my head in his chest.
With an audible crack, we were transported to another place. I slowly stepped back from him—side along apparation was dizzy-making, I held onto his hand.
"Ah, Mister Flint—let me show you and your lovely date to your table." I looked around, we were in an upscale restaurant that I didn't recognize. Maybe, that was due to the fact that it was not in France, and as of late, I was no longer in France.
The maitre d led us to a table outside, in the center of a gazebo, covered in greenery, and lit with small, tiny fairies swarming around.
I sat down in the seat he pulled out for me. The hazy glow created a very romantic atmosphere, and I couldn't help but notice the cute dimples in Flint's cheeks when he smiled. The smile on his face was almost contagious, in a strange glow. I couldn't help but look at him with the same glow.
Dinner went lovely, as lovely as I could have asked for. He chose the courses, and the desert, but that was okay. That's what he was supposed to do. conversation flowed easily for us, and we exchanged stories of the last several years.
"I'm really glad that you said yes, Hayley." He commented looking at me through his lashes—if I didn't know better I'd have thought he was flirting with me.
Oh wait, this is the reality that I live in now—a reality which I'm on a date with Flint...
Who would have thought...?
"Flint keeps looking at us funny," I whispered in Draco's ear with an edge of malice in my voice. My ten year old self struggled to keep her hair out of her face—it hung in chaos down her back.
"It's probably because he thinks you're pretty," Draco whispered back.
"No way. I'm not pretty." I replied—still in whispers, taking glimpses at Flint.
"What are you over there whispering about, Bennett?" Flint looked nervous, jumpy even, I wondered why.
"How egg shaped your head is," I replied, shoving a hand on my hip.
"Egg shaped? Coming from you—the Boobless Bennett?" I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively and shook my mane of hair down my back. I clenched my hand into a fist, and lunged for him, Draco pulled me back.
"Don't do anything, Hayley—it's not worth it. He's just being a jerk." I ignored Draco, inwardly pleased at his hands holding mine, and leaned around him to look at Flint.
"You know what, Egg head?" I hissed, "That'll change. Just because I haven't grown boobs yet, doesn't mean I won't. but you know what?"
"What?" he asked haughtily.
"Your egg head will never change." Draco kept trying to hide me, behind him. I didn't need to be protected by a boy, Draco knew this—but I suppose he just wanted to be chivalrous.
"There you are, Draco, protecting your little girlfriend." Flint gave Draco a nasty look.
"You know, maybe your head would change, if we chopped it off for you. You want to see if it'll regrow?" Draco offered, smirking at Flint—over all sporting a self satisfied expression.
"Don't smirk, Draco!" I hissed, "It's stupid." I groaned, smacking him upside his head.
"Hey! Don't mess up my hair!" He took a hand and slicked it back into place.
"You two are something else." Flint muttered, "Both of you are freaks—perfect for each other."
I was infuriated by this, "You know what though?" I countered, "They don't make freaks like you. You'll never have anyone."
"Oh, I'm so scared! A bunch of six year olds are condemning my life to be lived alone!"
"I'm eleven," I narrowing my eyes.
"I'm thirteen," Flint replied, as if this made everything better.
"Together, Hayley and I are twenty two—"
"Yeah," I interjected, "We're older than you, so you should listen to us."
"Oooh, I'm scared."
"Hayley?" I snapped out of the flashback, shaking my head, feeling my hair tickle my eyebrows, "Is everything alright?"
I smiled, but it was faulty—I presumed that flint took notice so I sighed, "I was just thinking about how things used to be, I would have never thought that things would end up the way they have."
He laughed lightly, "I wouldn't have ever dreamed..."
"Don't listen to him," Draco pulled on my hands, wiping the tear from my cheek, "He's just a stupid power hungry weenie. He only feels like a boy when he picks on girls."
"You're just saying that," I laughed.
"No, I'm not. And the prettier the girl is, the more powerful he feels. Don't take anything from him, Hayley." I squared my jaw, suddenly ashamed I'd let Draco seen me cry.
"Like I would."
He laughed lightly, taking in the serious expression of my face, "So I don't have to worry about you ever dating him, do I?"
"No." I laughed at the absurdity, "As if—I wouldn't date Mucus Flint." Draco laughed at our little nickname for Flint.
"You better not. He likes you, I'm telling you." It was my turn to laugh.
"I don't know why you always say that."
"Just promise me, you won't date him? He's not good."
"I promise, Draco."
"Is everything alright?" Flint looked at my puzzled expression.
"Yes, I'm just growing tired. And you know, Tomorrow is Pansy's ball—I've got a big day ahead of me."
"Yes, very true—well let's take you home."
I smiled, "I had a lovely evening, Flint."
"I've asked you, Call me Marcus."
"Okay, Marcus."
"Well, there's one more thing I wanted to ask, I know that it's the first date—but I must secure your answer. I want to know that we're exclusive. I've already secured your parents favor and approval. I'd like to remain close to you from here on. I have every intentions of seeking your hand, and wooing you in my favor. But first, I'd like to know that you're only involved with me. I'm not proposing, but I'm sort of preproposing, I don't want us to be as trite as boyfriend-girlfriend—those words sound childish. I'm proposing the idea of proposing. We'll enter the dating phase, that's true, but we will both know that a formal betrothal is on its way."
I couldn't say no—that would question my honor, but I couldn't say yes, either—that would break a promise I made.
"Hayley?"
"That's a big offer to make, Flint." I replied, "I will have to think about it." I tried to smile sweetly, "Over talk it with my parents." There was no way I could get out of this now...
"I already talked about it with your parents. They heartily give their consent."
"Then I suppose," I swallowed hard, "My answer is yes."