Laugh with the Sinners;Cry with the Saints

“What the hell was that?!” I screeched as we quickly made our way through the crowd of fellow students. It was hard work to fight against the crowd that was hurrying towards the scream. It seemed that Draco and I were the only ones running away from the commotion. I could feel his grip tighten around my wrist that he’d grabbed before he started making his way through the crowd. “Draco, answer my question.” I demanded as I tried to force the heels of my shoes into the ground.

“What the hell was what?” He replied, not stopping. “Me kissing you? You told me to act like we were together.”

“I meant hold my hand, not suck my face off!”

“Well, Bartley, it could just be me, but you kissed me back.”

“Only because if I didn’t it would have looked as if you were forcing yourself on me!” I stuttered out, I could feel my cheeks grow red. He stopped, turning to look at me, a sly smirk on his face. Oh God, now what?

“So, if I tried to kiss you again, right here with no one around,” I looked around, and there was indeed, no one around; we’d reached the castle already, “you’d push me off of you?”

Jerking my wrist out of his grasp, I pushed past him and entered the castle, content to be away from him. When I didn’t hear the large door close behind me, I knew that he’d followed me. I could hear him chuckling from the doorway, and I failed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. With my arms across my chest, I stopped, sighing.

“What now, Draco?” I asked, not turning to face him.

“So, if I were to kiss you again, you’d do nothing, right?” I turned in a huff, ready to tear his head off. He stood, leaning against the door, his hands in his pockets.

“Why are you so desperate to kiss me, Malfoy?! Tell me, I’d love to know.”

“You wish I were, Bartley.” He snarled, the smirk falling from his lips.

“Oh, really, I do, do I? It seems you’re the one that keeps bringing it up; I’m thinking that maybe it was you that enjoyed that kiss, Malfoy.”

“Ha. Now that’s where you’re wrong.”

“I am?” I raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.” I challenged.

Before I could register what was happening he’d wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me into another kiss. My hands grasped his forearms to keep from losing my balance as I felt his lips move against mine in what seemed like a panicked fashion. His hand dropped to my shoulder as he pulled away, his face inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face as he spoke through labored breath.

“Didn’t feel a thing.” He told me, letting his hand fall from my shoulder and to his side. Before I could find my breath, he’d turned and headed for the staircase, leaving me in a daze. It was then that I realized that maybe it was me that enjoyed kissing him.

--

“So, you’re little public display of affection with Malfoy yesterday didn’t go unnoticed.” Trent commented as we sat in the Ravenclaw common room reading over notes from our previous potions class.

“Oh, just shut up, Trent.” I muttered without looking at him.

“No, I just don’t get it. Why would you date someone who’s tormented anyone who wasn’t pureblood, including me?” He asked, slamming his book shut, the sound reverberating off the stone walls of the common room. Around our group, I could feel the fellow Ravenclaw’s eyes on us—namely me. For a moment, I was shocked, as were both Jamie and Emily.

Trent was the calm one of our group; he was laid back; nothing got to him. I sat staring at him, my mouth slightly agape. It took me a minute to regain my composure—and when I spoke, anger seethed from my words. I had a feeling that Jamie noticed that, as she gave me a look that told me to let it go, but I ignored her.

“You said the things he said didn’t bother you, and besides, who said you have the right to tell me who I could date or not?” I asked, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

“El-“ Emily began, Trent cut her off.

“You’re right.” He shrugged. “It’s not like you could even consider us your friends anymore, so why should we worry about your love life; all you do his hang around with Malfoy hoping you’ll overhear something that will make Potter happy and make him like you. Newsflash, Elsie: That’ll never work. He’s never going to like you. I just didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to actually date that Neanderthal.”

I was surprised to feel the tears well up behind my eyes. Slamming my own book closed I took a breath, which came out as more of a huff. Glancing around the common room, I was horrified to see that even more eyes were on our group, specifically me. I felt my cheeks redden as I stood, and grabbed my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. I forced the tears back, and opened my mouth, hoping my voice wouldn’t waiver, and that I’d sound more collected than I actually felt.

“For your information, Trent, I’m not dating him.” Turning my back on them, I stormed for the common room door.

“Where’re you going?” Jamie asked.

“Anywhere but here.” I muttered before continuing my trek to the exit.

--

I found myself in the library, still hoping to finish my homework even in the aftermath of the worst fight with my friends I’d ever have. Sighing, I walked to the back of the library and set my bag down on a table before going to the shelves in search of potions books that could help me on the 12 inch essay that was due the following week.

As I returned to my table, I heard a frustrated sigh from a few tables over. Turning to look in the direction of the sound, I saw the blonde Slytherin sitting at the table, books covering the table, some opened, others closed and stacked on top of others. He ran his hand through his hair as he let out another sigh before turning back to the book, and scribbling notes on the parchment in front of him.

Inching forward a bit, I craned my neck to see what class he was studying for—and thinking that maybe I could ask him for help with my potions essay. I scanned (with difficulty) the notes that he’d written, and two words jumped out at me.

Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut; I speak before my brain has time to register what I’m actually saying. That trait is one of the things I’m not proud of. I’d gotten myself into a lot of trouble with that little problem of mine.

I took one last look at his notes, and before I could stop myself, I felt the words fall out of my mouth before my brain could catch up to them.

“What’s a vanishing cabinet?”