Deception

A loud shriek came from the girl sitting beside Amara. Amara jumped as the girls butterbeer poured over the rim and got both Amara and the girl wet. Amara turned in her seat and glared first at Cho Chang, then at her friend Marietta Edgecombe, who had been the one to spill her drink.

The reason for the shriek and spilled drink was because Granger had said You-Know-Who’s name.

With a few angry curse words directed at Marietta from Amara, and Marietta bluntly ignoring Amara’s sour mood, Potter and friends continued to talk about whether they should believe Harry or not.

The room erupted into arguments and discussions on whether or not Harry was really going to teach them anything, whether or not You-Know-Who is really back, whether or not anyone believed anything. It seemed like a never-ending conversation.

Amara, or Vivian as she was still disguised as the Hufflepuff, sat there watching everyone get agitated with one another. But more importantly, Amara sat there watching Potter. The boy who lived, the boy who has caused so many people to suffer loss of loved ones. What was so special about this boy that people laid their lives on the line for him? What made him so special, exactly?

Angrily she looked away.

“I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge - or anybody else - what we’re up to.” Hermione said, eyeing everyone in the room.

Fred Weasley took the parchment from Hermione’s hands and signed. Kids around them looked unhappy about this and tried to back out, but in the end decided they would sign it.

Amara took the parchment and, making sure her the signature was nothing like her own writing, signed Vivian Catwell.

Gabby gave Amara a reproachful look when she saw this, it dawning on her that Amara was planning on joining them again. That Amara would know all of their secrets.

Amara simply smirked, before following people out of the pub.

She felt the polyjuice weakening and quickly dashed into a dark alleyway. She felt herself inch taller, her hair turned lighter and grew. She let out a relieved sigh, resting her back against the brick wall.

She glanced around to make sure no one had witnessed what had just happened before leaving the alley and heading towards The Three Broomsticks.

She smiled as the pub came into view before she knew it she was letting herself in.

It was crowded with students from Hogwarts and Amara was finding it hard to spot Draco. Luckily for her, Goyle found her.

“Come on,” he grunted, taking her arm and dragging her through the crowd.

She let him lead her towards the table Malfoy and Crabbe sat waiting for her. Amara quickly slid into the seat next to Malfoy and sent Crabbe a quick smile.

An extra butterbeer was already on the table waiting for her. Amara couldn’t help but smirk at this.

“Where were you?” Malfoy asked, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him. He took a quick sip of his drink before turning and giving his full attention to Amara.

“I was doing something,” Amara shrugged. She took a giant gulp of butterbeer and couldn’t help but grimace as the liquid went down her throat. She was sick and tired of butterbeer. Having drank a glassful only fifteen minutes earlier. Not to mention her clothes were still damp from Cho’s brainless friend.

“What were you doing?” Draco asked, ignoring Amara’s annoyed look.

“That’s on a need-to-know bases.” She answered. “And you, Malfoy, are not in the need-to-know.”

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled at this, and Malfoy’s face turned a bright pink.

“Come on, Hart,” the blond began to whine and Amara couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Don’t whine, Draco. It makes you sound like a little girl.”

This had both Crabbe and Goyle howling with laughter that ended abruptly when Draco shot them each a dirty look.

Amara couldn’t help but grin as she took a small sip of her drink. “Anyways, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You should be.” Draco shot back.

“Oh?” Amara raised a brow in curiosity. “And why is that?”

A smile was tugging at the corner of Malfoy’s lips. “Crabbe here was telling us all about the date he has planned for the two of you, assuming you say yes of course.”

It took Amara a moment to comprehend what Draco had said. Goyle sat across from her, snickering at Crabbe’s reddening face. Draco sat there looking amused by the whole thing.

“I’m sorry Crabbe,” Amara started, the words spilling out before she could fully comprehend what she was saying. The pudgy boys face fell and he avoided her gaze. “I’d love to go on a date with you. But I’ve already agree to Malfoy’s.”

Goyle stopped snickering and Draco’s amusement vanished instantly. Instead, he sat there looking quite confused. Crabbe lifted his gaze to meet Amara’s.

“I’d rather go on a date with you,” Amara cooed, But then nodded her head towards Draco. “But we know how snippy this one gets if you deny him. Plus, I felt bad, I just couldn’t refuse his date.”

Draco furrowed his brows, a mix of emotions crossing his face. Annoyed, confused, curious. “And where exactly are we going on this date of ours?”

Amara shrugged before giving Malfoy a small shove. “I don’t know, you’re the one planning it. And it best be good, I did not just turn down a date with Crabbe for some mediocre date.”

Goyle was laughing again and a smile even appeared of Crabbe’s face.

“Especially,” Amara couldn’t help but continue. “Since I’m sure Crabbe’s an amazing kisser. You, Malfoy, best not disappoint there either.”

Draco looked horrified. The very idea of being compared to Crabbe was agitating to him, Amara could tell.

“Listen here, Hart-”

Amara placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him in for a quick kiss. It didn’t last long, but Amara couldn’t help but blush when his warm lips pressed against hers.

She pulled away, a grin on her face. She picked up her drink and brought it to her lips. She watched Crabbe and Goyle closely over the brim of her cup while a flabbergasted Malfoy sat next to her.

Inside Amara was livid at herself. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach was certainly not part of the plan.