𝙰/𝙽: 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚕𝚢 <3

—

Having Hermione's old time turner would be great right now; if I had it, I wouldn't be on my way to the Headmaster's office, following Dumbledore and a distraught Snape.

Time.

"Now, Heather, did you think it well to deliver Professor Snape such a dangerous concoction?"

Scoffing at the absolute over-exaggeration that undeniably comes with the biased Headmaster, I cross my arms and begin my defense. "Dangerous? It's a laughing potion, besides, he'll be fine in a few hours."

Daring to glance at the wizard the both of us are speaking about, his hard look and narrowed eyes are enough to make me feel small in the large space. Don't get me wrong, once we all heard the howling escaping from the corners of the moody teacher's lips, it was extremely difficult to keep my own giggles of victory and amusement inside.

Recalling that exact moment allowed my mind to remember the delight-filled faces of George and Fred once they saw the completed task they have given to me. At that moment, seeing how they were exclaiming louder than anyone in the school and high-giving each other permitted my own feelings to grow in pridefulness and joy in my successes.

Promoting myself back to the present, Snape's crossed arms and slightly terrified expression emits a roll of laughter to bubble up inside, forcing me to press my lips together in a thin line to avoid a more severe retribution.

Dumbledore strokes his beard in thought, his mouth's corners turn up once again. "Yes, you may have thought you were presenting Professor Snape with a simple laughing draught. However, I am to guess that the potion itself wasn't brewed correctly, and in that, the effects of it turned more... permanent."

Feeling my face fall in disbelief, I un-cross my arms and blink rapidly. "What?"

However, I don't need the aging wizard to repeat himself, this was already expected by me once I was handed the potion from those evil twins. The discoloration of it provoked my thoughts to question if the liquid was manufactured accurately, however those boys briskly and carelessly brushed it off.

How nice of them to leave my fate to an inexperienced thirteen-year old boy.

"It seems as though, Miss Mortem, your seemingly benign mischievous act has transformed itself into a more acute side effect. It'll take days for Professor Snape here to return to normal.", the man explains, seemingly calm. "As the end of this escapade, Professor Snape is to grant you your punishment."

Snape is quick to open his mouth before speaking, only to close his lips in vexation at the giggle that would surpass his lips if he dared to use his vocals. Instead, the brooding man retrieves a piece of parchment along with a quill and a pot of ink, writing down his thoughts on how I should be chastised.

His hand moving so fast, I wondered how I would be able to read such messy handwriting once I was to be given the parchment. The professor slams the quill down on a nearby table, slowly lifting himself up to a standing position and hands me the dreaded papyrus.

Keeping my eyes locked onto his, I unhurriedly reach my right hand out to grasp the parchment, now reading the written ink, both my hands handling the object.

"No. No, absolutely not!"

"Miss Mortem, I'm afraid Professor Snape has already chosen his punishment, and in so, you have no other choice but to fulfill it."

The loathsome parchment now thrown out of my reach out of total agitation, my eyes narrow towards Snape's, the teacher having gifting me with the worst kind of penance possible. "I'll do anything. Anything other than— than this!"

Professor Dumbledore, instead of raising his voice in an irritated manner to my hesitance, continues his silent trance, heavily in thought. "Miss Mortem, if I may, I do believe that having to presently attend the Yule Ball with Mister Malfoy should be the least of your concerns for this year. Perhaps, even, you may think back to this exact moment in your future and wonder if it was all on purpose. However, I have an inkling that somehow, after all your assumptions are made, you'll understand."

...

What the fuck was that?

Taking the old man's words to mind, memorizing every word he said, the tone he said certain words in, deciding that I shall overthink this later. Right now, I've got other things to handle.

Still in utter shock and confusion, I eye the headmaster up and down, cocking my head to the side a bit, trying to decipher what exactly caused his eyes to look so carefree. As if the man knew which words to say, to what extent they'll fuck with my brain.

One thing he got correct, my brain is fucked by the contents that spilled out of his mouth quite humorlessly.

Instead of taking the action to speak further, possibly to reset my entire memory of today, walking out of the Headmaster's Office seems like the best idea.

However a thought forces my body to turn around, facing the two men once again. Snape still as irritated as ever, I point to him and ask the other, "What about him? Will he be...alright?"

Dumbledore is quick to answer, almost as if he wants my rendered body out as soon as possible. "Yes, he'll be alright", he states, quoting my words back to me.

With that, I leave, only to be haunted by the recurring thoughts that surround my head, swirling about as if it was their only purpose. Ticking off the mental checklist of responsibilities I've created since the start of this year, only a few things are completely out of my way.

Snape has been handled with. Studying still needs a bit of work. Fuck! I still need to become closer with Professor Moody, as much as I'd sincerely rather spend hours trapped in a room with my worst nightmare.

Speaking of, the blond boy must be dealt with as well. For now, what's best is to avoid speaking to him at any cost, sparing a glance his way won't do, either.

And George, poor, sweet George. I know the only way to feel for him the way he feels for me is to spend more time with him. Exactly something I'd begin to do soon.

Opting to head back into my dorm was the best decision I've made all day. Perhaps this week. Falling into a deep slumber as I toss and turn in the satin sheets, my thoughts failing to plague my mind at nightfall.

—

Defense Against the Dark Arts is dreadful this year.

Absolutely. Dreadful.

The entire class time was spent glancing at the stupid boy that kept showing up everywhere. Somehow, even if Draco wasn't in the room, he would be brought in by mention, somehow his presence would linger around wherever I went. So, as I stared at him from time to time, all I could think about was how quickly and supposedly my life began to revolve around him.

It was as if it was fated by the Parcae themselves, as if they sought to create my destiny by bringing him closer and closer, and watched as I myself began to involve and promote a deeper connection.

I don't hate the boy. It takes a lot for me to hate someone, and even though he's an annoying bastard riddled with terrible manners and daddy issues, all I do is throw an insult and hope whatever he mentally caught isn't contagious.

I just need more time. Time to figure this out. What do I do? What can I do?

Time.

Moody dismisses the class, and my thoughts are interrupted by Harry nudging my side. "You alright, Heather?"

Sighing, I reply, my answer full of deceit, "Yes, I'm fine, thank you, Harry."

Nodding, he takes off into the Great Hall for our afternoon meal. How typical of him to take my answer and just leave it at that. Honestly, I love the boy, but he can be so clueless at times. Most of the time.

"Yes, are you alright, Heather?"

Keeping my back facing towards the voice, I don't even turn around to look at the source of the sound. Prompting to grab my bag and just blatantly leave, I open the corners of my mouth to let out just one, small, harmless sentence, which will hopefully be enough to put up my defenses.

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy."

Now that I've said it out loud, it sounds like the stupidest demand ever made. The weakest.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Repeat yourself.", he demands. The nerve of him.

"You heard me.", I state, my impatience returning, now walking away with the boy right behind my heels as the both of us seemingly take off into the Great Hall.

"You know what? Yes, I did hear you. Whatever happened to the sarcasm? The wit? What's going on with you?"

The last inquiry was nothing short of caring, or curiosity. It was full of disinterest, dishonesty. Just as if he detected a slight change in our usual...catch-ups.

"Why does it matter? You've gotten what you wanted.", noting to walk faster now, I notice the boy moving his hands into his robe pockets, even though he is behind me.

A change of angle occurs, feeling stone against my back as Draco has, once again, trapped me between the wall nearest to us and himself, both his arms extending to either side of me on the panel.

He looks down at me, slowly, taking his time for his eyes to absorb the sight in front of him. Grey eyes moving from mine, down to my lips, and back up again. "Who said that was what I wanted?"

Heather didn't have much time to process what the young wizard in front of her had just spilled, she was too busy nervously glancing her eyes from left to right as she followed the sight of her friend walking down the hallway. She prayed to the gods above that Luna and the Hufflepuff girl she was holding hands with didn't notice the tight situation the brown-haired girl was in. An eggshell relationship with her supposed enemy.

Although, is it really a relationship? Now only because they're older, quite old enough to kiss someone who isn't family, does it really define what a relationship is? Does the act of finding yourself in someone else, to the point where you begin to have feelings for one, does that show everyone how a love story can grow? Heather doesn't think so, especially in this case, where the rose bud that blossoms between her and the one right in front of her isn't a part of a love story, it's a part of a tragedy.

A tragedy Sophocles couldn't even muster to think up himself.

Noting that the two were now gone from her sight, Heather glanced back up at Draco. A look that's been shared between them seemingly a thousand times grows into her honey eyes, reciprocated once again by the grey's opposite her. Inhaling shortly, she begins her response.

"It's not what you wanted? Then what would you have wanted? To embarrass me in front of the whole school once more? I'd bet you'd love that, bet you'd love messing with me just for fun while everyone laughs at me-"

Swift and sweet, the girl was cut off in the same manner as the day before. Lips slightly parted, waiting for the boy's now closer head to meet hers in a passionate kiss.

Only does she open her eyes when she realizes, the only reason why his head moved closer, was to get her to shut up. Effective, however, it caused the both of them to catch the girl in her advances. Would she really be mad at this boy for kissing her if she was just now waiting for him to do it again?

"You always think so negatively, no? What I wanted, was to take you to the Yule Ball. And now, I've gotten what I wanted."

Allowing my eyebrows to furrow at the confusion his words brought, he notices my expression and rolls his eyes. "Snape told me about your...punishment."

Snapping my eyes up to his at the sound of my exposure, I blink rapidly, however, still bewildered.

Had it not been just about twelve hours prior to me receiving my fate? And...didn't our dear Headmaster explain that it would take days for Snape to begin to talk again?

"Snape told you how?"

What a daring move. Asking such a question as if the boy in front of me would ans-

"He just told me. Like a normal person."

Rolling my eyes and scoffing lowly at the small insult, I ask again, needing to be sure. "You mean, he used...words?"

"Of course, he didn't. He brought me outside of the castle, took out his wand, and performed an entire fireworks show. At the end, he wrote in the sky in big block letters-"

Cutting him off by hitting him on his arm, I quietly mutter foreign curses at him.

That's impossible. No way the professor told him about our new arrangement. There has to be another way...

"Are you just going to keep staring in blank space, or..?"

Smacking him once again, I scoff under my breath. "So, the Yule Ball?"

His lips begin to slowly form into a smile, sort of genuine, however heavily laced with danger and mischief. A combination only a Slytherin-Malfoy could create and absolutely pull off. "Je te verrai là-bas, chérie, quand on complote pour, s'entre-tuer. (I'll see you there, honey, when we're plotting to kill each other.)"

If only I had more time to figure things out...

Time.