Alone
I woke up before the sun, the misty winter morning still trying to pull away from the darkness of night. I had fallen asleep far earlier than I normally did, and because of this, I had at least two hours before classes started. The headache that was already beginning to pound at my skull urged me from bed in search of some water, and as quietly as I could, I slipped on a olive sweater discarded on the chair by my bed and my shoes and snuck out of the dormitory, trying not to wake the four other still-sleeping girls that shared the room. The common room was frigid, the fire having died down long ago, and I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to preserve some of the warmth from my bed.
I didn’t pass a single living soul on my trek to the nearest restroom, the stone echoing each of my footsteps and amplifying them as I trudged through the corridors. As I entered the bathroom, I bumped into Pansy Parkinson, a girl that I was rather unfortunately familiar with, though I hadn’t seen her much at all this year, which was something I was very grateful for.
Her black hair seemed to suck the dim light out of the room and her dull brown eyes were fiery with disdain as she regarded me.
“Watch where you’re going, Mudblood,” She snarled.
God, it is too early for this.
I was exhausted, sleep still weighing down my bones, so I merely mumbled a fake apology and tried to move around her, but she stepped to the side and blocked my path.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I sighed audibly, wrapping the sleeves of my sweater around my icy hands. “Going to the bathroom, Parkinson. I think that’s pretty clear.”
Her eyes narrowed, her thin lips twisting with annoyance. “No shit, Muggle. Don’t be a bitch.”
“You’re the one blocking my way,” I said, slightly exasperated.
“I’m not done talking to you,” Pansy said, crossing her arms.
“Well, get on with it then. I have to pee,” I deadpanned, so ridiculously annoyed that I had to deal with this so early in the morning.
“I’d fucking watch your tongue if I were you, Adler. You’re already on my last fucking nerve after all the shit you’ve been pulling with Draco,” Pansy snapped, pushing out one hip and placing her weight on one leg.
“What?” I asked, bewildered. “What the hell are you on about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You tried to get him alone just yesterday. I heard all about your little ‘accident’,” She said, putting air quotes around accident. “You’re not fucking smooth, and you’re stupider than shit if you think he’d ever even think of a waste of space like you in that way.”
I couldn’t help it; I let out a loud laugh, one full of disbelief and genuine humor. This earned me a nasty look from Pansy, but I couldn’t care less. “My god, Parkinson, I knew you were thick, but I didn’t think you were this idiotic. I burnt the shit out of my hand and Slughorn asked Malfoy to walk me up, not me,” I said, the remains of laughter still wracking my frame. “Thank you, though. I needed a good laugh.”
Pansy’s weasel-like face twisted with rage, and before I could open my mouth again, her open palm collided with my face with a rather sharp sound. The blow wasn’t really that hard, but the surprise of it made it hurt more than it would’ve otherwise.
“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, touching my cheek gently.
“Like I said, watch your mouth, Muggle. I know how girls work, and I’d bet anything that you did that on purpose, just to get him to worry about you,” Pansy snarled, and I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously, Parkinson, you’re daft. I’m not that desperate or that stupid,” I responded, the stinging in my cheek barely subsiding. “Just because you have to go through that to get with a guy doesn’t mean everyone has to.”
Pansy let out a barking laugh. “I’ll have you know, Draco and I are together, so I wouldn’t be so fucking sure about that.”
Actual surprise coursed through me at her words. I had had no clue that the two of them were together, but they definitely deserved each other.
“Good for you,” I retorted. “Malfoy’s never said anything about you, so I had no clue.”
Just like I wanted, anger flashed in her eyes, even though it should’ve been obvious to her that since Malfoy had barely spared me two words since our first night back, he hadn’t really said much about anything. “I can’t believe that a Mudblood like you would fucking dare to talk to me like that. You better stay out of my way, and stay the hell away from Draco, or else.”
I snorted. “‘Or else’? You don’t scare me, Parkinson. Why would I be scared of someone who has Malfoy and Zabini fight all her fights for her?”
“Whoever hit you should’ve hit you harder, you piece of shit,” Pansy said, eyeing the slowly yellowing bruise gracing my face.
Granted, her comment did sting, but I was oddly shocked that Malfoy hadn’t told her that it was my father, because he had forced me to tell him and I was sure that he would’ve told all his little cronies.
But he hadn’t.
“Are you done?” I asked, eyeing the bathroom stall to my right.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yes. I can’t stand to be around such a poor excuse for a witch. You better fucking stay away from Draco, and I mean that.”
She gave me one last piercing look before leaving, and I was finally able to use the restroom and get a drink. The fact that she and Malfoy were together...I shivered at the vile thought of those two in a relationship and an unpleasant feeling rippled through me at the fact that I might actually have to witness their disgusting displays of affection. I could genuinely say that that was the last thing I’d ever want to see, and as I sipped icy water down my parched throat, I contemplated whether I’d rather see them kiss or get hit by another Bludger.
Bludger, absolutely.
My little exchange with Pansy left me in a bit of a sour mood, so I decided to talk a short walk around the grounds in the cool morning mist, the sun not quite peaking over the rolling hills and offering its meager warmth. The air was colder than I expected, but the chill cleared my mind of its sleepy fog, and I set off, my pace slow as the frostbitten grass crunched beneath my shoes. There were a few birds perching in the trees that I passed as I walked, their soft chirping one of the ambient sounds I had come to love during my time at Hogwarts. I sucked in a big gulp of the winter air, feeling like I could finally breathe after the events of the past few days, which had seemed like an entire lifetime.
As I walked round the frozen lake, the sight of my tree that I visited every so often brought Harry to mind, and I sighed. I knew I wouldn’t be mad at him forever, and I knew eventually things would go back to normal; I just couldn’t shake the needling pain that entered my heart every time I thought about him. Ginny was probably a better match for him anyways, but it still stung that I had come second even in Harry’s life.
The only sounds that filled my ears were the faint whisper of the wind in the grass and the chirps and twills of birds. At least, those were the only sounds until I heard Pansy’s shrill voice cut through the frigid air.
“She said you hadn’t mentioned me, Malfoy! What the hell?” Pansy demanded as she and Malfoy came into view as I rounded the final turn of the lake on my way back to the castle. I knew eavesdropping wasn’t terribly polite, but I had always had trouble keeping my nose out of other’s business, and the fact that I could finally get some dirt on Malfoy only sweetened the situation.
Malfoy’s hands were shoved in his pocket, but his shoulders were noticeably tense, even from my position half-hidden behind a tree a good distance away. “Why would I? I don’t make it a habit to share personal information with her,” He replied casually.
“But you haven’t even mentioned me once at all to anyone!” Her voice had taken on a high pitch that seemed to ring in my ears.
She stepped closer to him, sliding her arms around his neck and mussing the back of his blond hair. “C’mon Draco, aren’t you happy to be with me?”
“We’re not even technically together,” Malfoy said, though his hands remained in his pockets and it seemed as though he was nearly bored to death.
Pansy smacked him on the shoulder. “You’re a prick! Of course we are. I told you last night I liked you, and you agreed with me! That means you and I are together, Draco. Don’t you like me?”
“Whatever you say,” He drawled lazily.
Pansy grinned and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was far too wet in my taste, and I had to hold back a retch at the awful sight.
I figured I should get back to the castle before too long so that I could actually get ready for the day, but to do so, I would have to pass Malfoy and Pansy’s romantic little scene. Groaning to myself, I walked in their direction, Pansy’s lips still pressed to Malfoy’s and Malfoy’s hands were now resting lightly on her hips, though it seemed that it was more to keep her at bay than anything.
My footsteps on the frozen grass were loud enough to break them apart once I got within a few feet of them, and Pansy whirled around, looking at me with hate in her dull eyes.
“Merlin’s beard, Alder, can’t you fucking piss off?” She snapped at me.
I continued walking, not ready for an encounter with both of them so early. “Didn’t know you owned the damn lake, Parkinson,” I mumbled, though it was still loud enough that they both could hear me.
Pansy huffed, folding her arms in front of her as she looked at Malfoy. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Malfoy shrugged, clearly checked out of the situation and probably still continuing his weird avoidance of me. As I walked out of earshot, the last thing I heard was Pansy nagging Malfoy that he hadn’t defended her, or some ridiculous thing like that, and I snorted to myself as I entered the castle. Those two definitely had met their match.
-----------------
The day was full of note-taking and professors assigning a disgusting amount of work, and strangely, I’d had trouble focusing because Pansy and Draco’s new relationship kept tugging at my mind, and so by the time classes had ended for the day, my brain was so full I had almost forgotten I had to meet Malfoy to make up the potion that we had missed the day before. Right as I had set down my bag, the thought popped into my head, and I barely had time to throw on a worn dark blue sweater and comfy black jeans and grab my bag again before heading right back out of Ravenclaw tower and down into the freezing dungeon, the classroom empty besides Malfoy lounging at our table, his feet kicked up and resting on the black table top. He looked like a painting; his skin porcelain and smooth, his silver eyes fluttering softly as he closed them, his long, dark eyelashes framing his eyes gently. Even Malfoy’s body was artistic with the way his long arms that rested behind his head strained against his shirt and his torso flexed with every breath, pulling at the buttons of his top. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away.
Unbelievable.
Upon my entrance, he swung his long, muscled legs off the table and sat up, and I prayed that my face wasn’t warm from embarrassment.“Took you long enough.”
I sighed, pulling my hair back into a twist and securing it with a clip I kept in my bag, hoping that the shock of him actually speaking to me didn’t register on my face.“Whatever, Malfoy. Let’s just get this over with.”
He rolled his eyes, going back to the storeroom to grab some ingredients as I lit the fire under the cauldron. Malfoy’s arms were full when he returned and he dumped everything unceremoniously onto the table.
“Surprised you can light a fire without burning the whole place down,” Malfoy remarked as we flipped open our books.
“Oh, so you’re talking to me now? Piss off. It was an accident,” I defended, my bandaged hand pulsing at the mention of my fiery mishap the day before.
He snorted, though he looked away from me quickly, finding the right page in his book, and began preparing the ingredients.
“What potion are we making anyways?” I asked out loud as I scanned the page. The top read, in loopy writing, Amortentia . My brow furrowed as I read the name. I had never heard of the potion before, so I had no idea what our correct end result was meant to be.
“What is it then,” Malfoy said, rather than asked, and I held back my sigh.
“Um, it says Amortentia. You heard of it?”
Malfoy’s hand slipped, knocking over the little glass vile that he had just put down. “You’re fucking joking,” He replied as he looked at his own book, as if to confirm what I had said.
“What?” I asked, curious as to what it was that had caused such a reaction from Malfoy, and surprised that he was actually talking to me again.
He ran his large hands through his blond hair, tousling it gently as he closed his eyes, clearly exasperated. “It’s a fucking love potion ,” He said, his voice full of contempt.
“I don’t see the issue,” I responded. “I think it’s kind of interesting.”
“Of course you do. You girls are all the damn same,” Malfoy responded sarcastically. “Always obsessed with love and feelings. It’s so childish.”
“I would’ve thought you getting a girlfriend would’ve made you more of a romantic,” I replied, humor dancing lightly through my words.
Malfoy shot a glare at me. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”
I snorted. “Well, Pansy sure seems to think differently.”
Malfoy ran his hand through his hair again, clearly annoyed. “I wouldn’t put up with any of her shit if she weren’t a good fuck. She’s useless beyond that.”
His words were rather harsh, and disgust filled me, even though it was about a girl I didn’t care for. Shaking my head, I decided it might be best to just drop it and start working. I began doing the first task in the instructions and Malfoy rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt slightly, exposing his wrists and a few inches of veined forearm and began his own, our workspace now silent as we concentrated. His hand was still a fresh pink, though it seemed some of the shallower cuts were beginning to pull together, and the rest looked surprisingly okay.
The steam of the potion boiling in our cauldron began rising in delicate spirals, and I smiled to myself once the instructions told me that meant things were going well. The air was warm from the heat of the fire, and the warmth was making a few small tendrils of Malfoy’s hair curl slightly on his forehead as we worked, his shirt pulling tight over his shoulders as he leaned forward, and as I returned to the table from the storeroom, I found myself scanning the lines of muscle, the gentle movement of his back as he cut the ingredient in front of him, before catching myself and turning away before he could see me, a feeling of shame and annoyance running through me.
Soon after, a delicious scent began to hit my nose and I took a deep pull of it before sighing softly and contently. The smell sent a warmth shooting through me, and though I couldn’t place where I knew it from, it was incredibly familiar. Malfoy, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose slightly, pouring in the last ingredient and making the liquid shine with an opalescent film.
“That smells amazing,” I commented as we watched it simmer.
“What does it smell like?” He asked, standing up from looking in the cauldron and looking at me strangely, his long body leaning up against the table edge.
I returned his look, a bit confused. “What? You mean you can’t smell it?”
Malfoy just stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “Since your large nose apparently doesn’t work anymore, it smells...peppery, warm. Woody, too. Like...I don’t know. Just good,” I said.
He snorted. “ Just good .”
“You’re the one who can’t fucking smell it,” I retorted, crossing my arms and looking up at him.
“I can smell it. It smells differently to each person,” He said simply, turning back to his book.
“Okay, idiot, then what does it smell like to you?” I asked.
He shrugged, his gaze still on his work.
“What does it smell like?” I persisted.
“It doesn’t smell like anything to me,” Malfoy said, his voice tight.
“You just said you could smell it,” I pointed out, his shoulders tensing at my words. “Just tell me. It’s not that hard.”
“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?” Malfoy snarled, slamming his book shut and finally looking back towards me.
“Because I asked you a question?”
He shook his head in frustration. “No, you fucking idiot. Because you can’t fucking mind your own business.”
“What? You asked me first!” I exclaimed.
Malfoy took a step towards me, his white shirt slightly damp at the collar with sweat and his hands clenched tightly. “I don’t fucking care. It’s none of your business,” He growled, his voice a bit quieter because of the increased closeness.
I huffed, tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear, my silver earrings clinking as my hand brushed them. “What does it smell like?” I asked once more, and sure enough, that familiar rage erupted in his steely eyes and his jaw clenched.
Malfoy encroached further into my space, walking around from the other side of our table to my side, making me back up until my back hit the sharp edge of the table, the cauldron wobbling slightly on its metal stand. He stopped when he was close enough that he could reach out and grab the edge of the table, his arms blocking me in as he looked at me with those wintery eyes of his. His mouth pressed into a thin line and his nose wrinkled once more as the smell hit him.
“Vanilla,” He said shortly, his voice rough and low as he stared at me. “And something else.”
I swallowed, unnerved at his closeness. I could smell that woody scent again, the cauldron still bubbling softly behind me. The dampened pieces of hair on his hairline curled gently, and it added a softness to him that I had never seen before. My heart was racing, surely due to being so near a person who was so consistently awful to me, but I found that I wasn’t actively looking for any chance to escape this time.
“Vanilla?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Malfoy nodded almost unnoticeably, and the air between us seemed to swell with tension; it felt like I could barely breathe, like if I even moved too quickly he would shock out of whatever state he was in now. He leaned in, slowly, God , so slowly, his strong arms making the table creak as he moved.
"Is that what Pansy smells like?" I questioned, ever the annoying person I was, but there was no heat to back my words.
A breath away from him. If I even shifted slightly once he stopped moving, I would be pressed up against him, feeling his lean chest under his opaque white shirt. My brain swam with confusion and anxiety and something else, something unnamable, as he leaned forward, as his silver eyes that I now noticed were shot with ice-blue gazed into mine, as his breath mingled with mine, my gulps of air short and quick.
"No," He whispered.
That warm, spiced scent seemed to be all I could smell, all I could think about as the heat of his body pressed into mine in the cold dungeon room, and I could’ve sworn his eyes lingered on my...my mouth.
Could’ve sworn that the white-hot hatred that usually filled his eyes when they looked at me were now filled with something just as hot, but not as quite angry.
Could’ve sworn that he leaned in, ever so slightly, as he spoke, his voice deep and warm like the smell that was crowding my nose.
“Tell me to get away.”
“W-What?” I stammered, because clearly I was hallucinating; we had made the potion wrong somehow and the fumes were toxic or something and now I was dreaming, because that was the only explanation for what was happening.
My hands had flown back to brace myself when he had herded me back against the table, and one of his hands that were resting there with mine wrapped around my wrist, his fingertips icicles on my flesh slowly, his skin igniting fire on mine. Malfoy pressed down, his lithe strength pining that hand to the black surface, and I had to swallow a gulp as he did so. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he spoke again, lower, clearer, making a distant heat spread minisculely in me. “Tell me. To get away," His voice was shaky even as he tried to make it strong, steady. It almost seemed like he needed me to tell him it, rather than it being a threat. I noticed a look of poorly hidden faint look of confusion and...desperation in his piercing eyes.
I...didn’t want to.
I was frozen; I couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less actual words as I felt his breath on my skin as he spoke. I couldn’t even open my mouth to tell my years-long enemy to get away like I had dozens of times over the years. My heart was beating so fast I was sure that it was bound to burst out of my chest, especially once he moved his hand up to gently, so softly I had to look to see that it had actually occured, place his hand on my cheek. His touch was so unsure, so light that it was really merely his fingertips that were on the smooth skin of my face, brushing my cheek more softly, more tentatively than I’d ever seen him do anything.
His skin on mine was ice and fire at the same time, impossibly hot and addicting, and cold and unforgiving. I couldn’t tell how long the touch lasted; it seemed to go on forever and ever until it was all I could feel, and the next moment it was if he had barely brushed my cheek, like he had given me a whiff of something wildly addictive and immediately hid it from me.
I knew I was pathetic for my knees buckling from such a poor excuse for contact, and I hated myself for it, but I longed, for just a fleeting second, for him to touch me again, even so minutely. He must’ve noticed the change in my demeanor, the way that I had stopped breathing, the way that I hadn’t even pulled away, even as he tilted his face down to be level with mine, as if he...
Must’ve, because the next thing I knew, Malfoy drew back from me like I was going to attack at any moment, the disconcerting stare replaced by stony calm, and once again his gaze was hotter than the sun with hatred and abhorrence, and I had to stop myself from shriveling under the withering look.
“You’re fucking pathetic, Alder,” Malfoy’s frigid voice spat.
My heart plummeted into my stomach, dear god, why had it been beating so fast in the first place, and I was still at a loss for words as he waited for a response, as he looked at me with bitter contempt.
“Fucking. Pathetic,” He repeated, as though his words hadn’t sunk in how he wanted. He looked like he was an animal cornered by a wild beast as I met his eyes one last time, my chest filling with utter shame and horror at what I had just let Malfoy do, even though by any standards it had been nearly completely innocent. Flexing his hand as if to get rid of the feeling of my skin, he backed away from me, grabbed his things haphazardly and almost ran out of the classroom, his composure entirely frazzled, though he tried to disguise it beneath a sudden facade of complete indifference.
With my lower back still pressed into the edge of the table, I took a moment to catch my breath, because it had truly felt as though I was choking, like the air was too filled with emotion to let me take some of it. Pushing myself off the table and turning back to our (thankfully) still correct-looking potion, I grabbed two empty vials, my motions mechanical as my brain still came down from the overload it had just gone through. I couldn’t even begin to describe how much I was feeling, and my skin still sparked with the quick heat of Malfoy’s hand, of his hand that had touched me. I labeled the bottles, my hand shaking slightly, and I gathered my things, noticing Malfoy’s book still lying on the table and decided to stuff it into my own bag.
I noticed faintly that the woody scent still lingered in the air, even as I grabbed my things and left the classroom.