Choice's Curse

It turned out I had shattered quite a few little bones in my hand with my incredibly mature outburst, meaning that I had to keep my hand wrapped for at least a week, even after the work that Madam Pomfrey did on it. 

Great. 

I was a goddamn idiot for kissing Malfoy, and I was an even bigger idiot for hitting the very obviously solid brick wall like I did. After leaving the infirmary, I realized that my next class was Potions, and with dread and anxiety twisting my stomach into knots, I decided that I wouldn’t be going. I couldn’t face Malfoy, and I couldn’t deal with the rejection that was sure to come, even though I tried to tell myself I was only skipping because my hand hurt. 

My footsteps were heavy and sullen on the dense stones as I bypassed the entrance to the dungeon completely and headed up to the library, because if I was going to skip Potions, I might as well be productive with my newly-found free time. To my relief, the room was practically empty, allowing me to nestle myself away in the furthest, dimmest corner of the library with the heaping pile of homework that seemed to be always growing no matter how much work I did.

Picking up my quill to dip it in my pot of midnight ink, my hand screamed in protest as I tried to wrap my fingers around the pen, pain radiating from my knuckles. Dropping the quill, I did my best to hold in the whimper that crept up into my throat as the pain refused to subside. I heard a soft sound and looked up from my damaged appendage to see Dean Thomas standing in front of me, a warm smile on his kind face. 

“Need some help?” He asked, looking at where my bandaged hand was cradled to my chest. 

I was about to protest, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get this paper done by myself anytime soon, so I nodded, smiling gratefully at him as he pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. 

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Dean returned my smile, his eyes kind. “No problem. That looks pretty sore,” He told me, gesturing to my hand. 

I let out a pained laugh. “I didn’t think it would hurt so bad, honestly.”

“What happened?” He asked, picking up my dropped quill and setting it in my ink well. 

“Oh, um, I’m just super clumsy and I fell weird last night. Madam Pomfrey said it should heal rather quickly,” I answered, trying my best to sell the fib. I didn’t want to lie to Dean; he had always been very kind to me, but I’d rather not admit that I punched a wall because Draco Malfoy let me after we made out for the first time. 

A knowing look glinted in his eyes, as if he had caught my lie, but he didn’t press me any further. “What are we writing about?” 

----------

My little impromptu study date with Dean was a welcome bright spot in a rather long streak of terrible days, so when we left the library, I had a little smile in my eyes. Dean had written practically my entire paper, with me dictating to him what I wanted to say. The paper had been for Herbology, and I wasn’t the brightest in the subject, so Dean guided me through parts I didn’t quite understand. He and I had never been close, but he was one of those people that would always greet you if you looked a bit down, even if you weren’t friends with him. 

“Thank you again,” I told Dean, shouldering my bag. “You have no idea how much you just helped me out.”

Dean smiled and shrugged. “No big deal, Elaine. Just glad I could be of service,” He joked softly. “You honestly looked like you were having a bit of a bad day.”

I sighed slowly. “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

“Well, if you ever need more help, or really anything at all, please let me know. I had fun with you,” Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or, you know, if you even just wanted to hang out ever. There’s a little party one of my friends is throwing tonight, and I’d love for you to come. I think it would cheer you up a bit.”

Though it had been a terrible two days, I found myself wanting to accept his offer, so I did, a bit excited about maybe having some fun, letting some stress out. “I’d love to.”

Dean’s face brightened as I answered. “Wicked! It’s in an empty classroom on the third floor, y’know the big one by the painting of that creepy troll?”

I nodded, recalling that that was sometimes a hang-out spot of some of the other students in my year. 

“It’s there at nine, and you have to do this weird knock so that the door will let you in,” Dean explained, and demonstrated the knock. “It’s actually a rather brilliant bit of magic, in my opinion. Pretty sure it was the work of one of the Weasley twins.”

That made me let out a light giggle. That definitely did not surprise me at all, knowing Fred and George. As wild as they may have been, the two of them were wicked smart when it came to a lot of magic. Mrs. Weasley continuously nagged them about how they needed to apply themselves in school, but after their grand exit last year, I was confident that, as they claimed, their talents did indeed lie elsewhere. 

“And just show up in whatever you’d like,” Dean added. “It’s nothing formal, just a bit of fun.”

“Sounds wonderful, and thank you for everything, Dean. I’ll see you later!” I told him, and he waved goodbye as we went our separate ways, the school day having just finished.

Joining the rushing crowd of students heading to their dorms after a long week, I made my way to the Ravenclaw tower, the amount of students thinning out as I neared closer. I figured I had about four or so hours before I even needed to start getting ready, but I had no clue what to do with all my extra time until then. As I rounded a corner, I felt a hand grab the strap of my bag and yank me back, making me gasp in surprise. My stomach sunk as soon as his cologne hit me; I don’t think, for the rest of my life, that I’d be able to get that particular scent out of my head. 

Malfoy’s statuesque face whirled into view as he turned me around, the hallway around us vacant. My heart pounded dangerously fast in my chest, and it felt hard to swallow as I looked up at him. Subconsciously, I tucked my injured hand behind my back, not wanting him to see how him leaving had affected me the night before. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Malfoy demanded, his grip still tight on the strap of my bookbag, as if he were afraid I was going to run away, which did sound rather appealing right now. My back was to the empty hallway behind me, making me feel incredibly exposed even though it was just the two of us there. 

I swallowed. “When?” I asked, sounding stupid even to my own ears. 

“During Potions, you damn idiot,” Malfoy clarified, and I kicked myself mentally, though it rather surprised me that he had noticed my absence. 

“None of your business,” I told him, because it wasn’t, and I didn’t want to go into the fact that I had been too scared to show up. 

Malfoy’s face tightened, and he blew air out of his nose, clearly aggravated. “Yes it is, Adler. Where were you?”

“No, it isn’t, Malfoy,” I replied, trying to free my bag from his grasp by tugging the strap gently.. “I don’t see why you care, anyways.” 

Malfoy wouldn’t let go, and I felt exasperation rise in my chest. His face was blank, entirely unreadable, but his eyes were scanning mine as though they held some sort of hidden truth that he desperately wanted to know. 

“Just tell me,” Malfoy demanded, his voice low, yet still full of insistence. “You never skip classes. You’re too much of a teacher’s pet for that.”

“I am not a teacher’s pet,” I argued back, giving up on prying his hand from my bag. “And I’ve skipped before, but your head was probably just too far up your own ass to notice, you prick.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; I had skipped before, but only once, and I found that it really wasn’t fun enough to risk doing it again. 

Malfoy glared at me, and then his gaze drifted down to the arm I was holding behind my back. “You know, you’re fucking unbearable. I asked you a simple question, and you still insist on being stubborn, like always.” 

“Me? Stubborn?” I asked. “I don’t know why you think you have some sort of right to know where I was, but you don’t, Malfoy. You’ve made it pretty damn clear you don’t give two shits whether I’m around or not.” 

I left out any mention of last night, but I’d have to be incredibly thick not to notice the way last night hung in the air between the two of us, like a storm cloud over a restless sea. Malfoy’s confession rose to the surface of my mind for the first time since he had blurted out his feelings, and my face reddened at the memory. 

“What are you thinking about?” Malfoy inquired suddenly. 

“What? Nothing,” I lied, looking down at the nail beds of my undamaged hand, suddenly finding the ruined cuticles there very interesting. 

Malfoy let out a snort. “You’re a shit liar. You always have been. Why can’t you just answer a simple question?” He asked once more as he tugged me closer by the strap of my bookbag. My steps stumbled as he did, and I nearly tripped over the corner of an uneven stone on the floor due to the sudden jostling moving. 

Malfoy’s other hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, steadying me. I righted myself, completely fine, but Malfoy’s hand stayed on my arm, his grip softer than I would’ve expected. 

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep you here until you do?” Malfoy asked. 

I rolled my eyes. “Piss off, Malfoy. I don’t have any interest in dealing with you today. You honestly can’t guess why I skipped Potions?” I was getting very fed up with him very quickly, and I was so confused as to why he cared so damn much about where I had been. My mind began suggesting that maybe, just maybe, last night had changed things, but I cut that thought down nearly as quickly as it appeared. There was no way that a simple kiss would change Malfoy; I wasn’t even sure if anything could.

“What, are you suddenly afraid of me or something?” He demanded. 

I shook my head. “Dealing with you is always exhausting, but after last night?” I shrugged his hand off my upper arm and brushed my wild hair out of my face. “You honestly think I’d want to be around you after you just ran off like that?” 

Malfoy’s face stayed annoyingly unreadable as he thought for a moment. “I didn’t run off,” He said, a sharp, angry edge creeping into his voice. 

I let out an amused laugh. “Yes, actually, you did. Because you’re a coward, and you know, deep down, that that’s true. You’re a damn coward, Draco, and I’m so sick of being on the receiving end of your shitty actions because of it. I do nothing but try and stay out of your way, and still, you find any excuse possible to target your rage and inability to properly deal with your emotions onto me. You’re a coward, and you’re a child.”

It was the first time I had ever used his first name, and Malfoy’s face actually flashed with shock before he smoothed it out to his usual stony front. It had felt odd to call him that after so many years of only calling him by his surname, but it had actually gotten through to him. 

“I’m not a coward,” He seethed, gripping my arm tighter and making me wince. “I am not a fucking coward. Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Or what?” I shot back. “You’ll hurt me? You’ll tell your father? Fine, go ahead. Prove everyone right about you. Prove me right, because that would mean you really were a coward.”  

His fingers were digging into the tender flesh on my upper arm, and I wanted to pull it away, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make him think he could actually affect me. I met his gaze, as terrifying as it was, and I didn’t look away, not even when I could practically see how much he hated me. 

“You’re the most aggravating, idiotic, dimwitted person I have ever met,” Malfoy snarled. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I don’t run to my father for everything, and I only hurt people if they deserve it.” 

My eyes widened in shock. “And somehow, I deserve it? What the hell did I do to deserve the bruises you left on my legs last night, or the bruises you’re leaving on my arm right now? What did I do, Malfoy?” I demanded, a sick feeling in my stomach as I waited for his answer. 

“You annoy me, and constantly are in my head, and you do that goddamn thing with your lip when you’re nervous,” He began, looking down to where I was, in fact, chewing on the inside of my lower lip like I had been for years. There was an amass of scar tissue there to prove it. 

“And you fucking drive me insane with your pretend innocence and your obliviousness and sometimes you make me so angry, I--” He ranted, taking in heavy breaths as he spoke. “I don’t know whether I want to hit you or kiss you.” 

Somehow, that being the second admission of feelings from him in as many days didn’t make it any less shocking than the first. I felt the blood drain out of my face. Hearing just how much I lived in his head, even if I wasn’t around, was something I had never expected. I searched for anything to say, but my mind was blank once again. I hated the way that he had been able to render me speechless so much lately; it was like he made me lose every sensible notion the moment he opened his mouth. The fact that he did feel the inclination to hit me, however, was not lost in the surprise, and I tore my arm away from his tight grip, choosing to drop my bag over my other arm onto the ground instead to get away from him. 

“Hit me?” I asked, appalled. He had never actually hit me, and up until this year, he had never even deigned to touch me, always making remarks about how filthy I was because I was a Muggle-born. “You know what, Harry was right. You need to stay the hell away from me, Malfoy.”

“I said I wanted to, not that I would,” Malfoy defended, making me roll my eyes. “You know that I would never actually hit y--anyone. And what the hell do you mean, Potter was right?” 

I glared at him. “I mean , that Harry knows what happened between us last night because you were stupid and left a huge fucking bruise on my neck, and he warned me to stay away from you because you would end up hurting me. I thought he was just being a dick, but it seems like he knows you better than I do.” I tugged down the collar of my shirt, exposing the red mark that marred my skin. 

Malfoy’s eyes traveled over it, taking more than a few seconds before he spoke again. “You fucking told him?”

“No, you absolute asshole, he figured it out. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together; I didn’t have the bruise when we were saving your sorry ass, you made him leave, and the next morning, I had it. Doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure that one out.” I shoved my collar back over the humiliating reminder of last night, wanting to forget about it as soon as I could.

“You could’ve hooked up with anyone after he left. I told you not to tell anyone,” He growled, erasing the space between us and making me step back as he approached. 

I ran my hand through my hair, anger and rage and bitterness and fire coursing through me. “And I didn’t, you dick. You think I’m proud that I made out with a boy who hates me, who thinks I’m worth nothing, and got left by him immediately after? Because I’m not. I’m fucking ashamed, Malfoy. I hate that it happened, and I hope it never happens again.” 

Liar.

Actual hurt pricked Malfoy’s eyes as my words hit him, and I felt proud. Good. They should hurt; I wanted them to hurt, because I was tired of this continuously unbalanced dynamic where he takes everything out on me and I just stand there and take it. 

“I don’t believe you,” Malfoy replied, his voice low and rough. “Like I said, you’re a shitty liar. I can see right through you.” 

My breath caught in my throat. “You don’t know a damn thing. If you ever touch me again, I swear to God, I’ll curse you so hard you can’t walk for a week,” I threatened, trying to force as much power as I could into my voice. 

Malfoy stepped forward once more, and I hit an outcropping in the wall behind me. Anxiety began whirling in my stomach and I tried to look anywhere besides Malfoy’s stupidly elegant, cold face. 

“Tell me,” He began, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but not so close that he could trap me in. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t enjoy what we did last night. Tell me that you hated my hands and mouth on you, tell me that you hated the way your body reacted.” His eyes traveled the length of my body, stopping at the curves of my chest and hips, his hands tucked into his robe pockets.

I gulped, and I forced myself to meet his silver eyes, the dim corridor lighting making them shine in an otherworldly sort of way. “I hated it,” I said weakly, and I wanted to scream at myself because it sounded so fucking unconvincing, and I couldn’t bring myself to make it sound any more real, because...fuck. 

Because I had enjoyed kissing him, and I had never hated myself more for anything in my entire life. I had enjoyed the feel of his hands heating my skin, of his mouth pressing warm kisses to mine, of his arousal pressed between my hips. 

“I don’t believe you,” He whispered. 

“I--” I stammered. “Malfoy--” 

“Look at me, without turning away, without blinking, and tell me that you hate me and want me to stay away, and if you mean it, I will,” Malfoy pressed on, his eyes searching my face. “I swear, I’ll never talk to you again if you can honestly tell me that you despise me.” 

I did, god, I hated him, more than anything, but even as I thought the words they sounded pathetic and weak. I didn’t understand what the hell had happened, because I had hated him with every fiber of my being, but I felt this stupid, horrible, unyielding tug in my chest every time I saw him in the past four months, and it hadn’t gone away, not even when I had been with Harry. 

“I don’t hate you,” I admitted weakly, flexing my injured hand to give me some sort of clarity with the pain. Malfoy’s eyes lit up with a dangerous excitement, but I continued. “But I want to. I have to. You--you don’t give a shit about me, and I know that. You have Pansy, and even if we weren’t...what we’ve been since we’ve met, I have no interest in being someone’s second choice or fleeting amusement until they’re ready to settle down with the person they actually want again. I’m not some toy you can play with when you’re bored like all the other girls you’ve ever been with. I don’t even believe that you don’t have some ulterior motive, that this isn’t just another one of your nasty ruses to humiliate me.” 

“It’s none of Pansy’s damn business what I do, and--”

“And nothing,” I interjected, stepping to the side so that Malfoy wasn’t cornering me against a solid wall. “You and I both know that this was a stupid, one-time thing. I haven’t the slightest doubt that tomorrow, you’ll be your same mean, bigoted self.”

Malfoy’s face hardened, and he put more space between us, giving me room to step forward and grab my bag that was behind him. I reached out with my injured hand, letting out a curse as I forgot and wrapped it around the straps of my bag, pain ricocheting through my limb. 

“You didn’t say you wanted me to leave you alone,” Malfoy pointed out as I recovered, his voice smug. 

“Yes, I-” I started, but Malfoy turned quickly, walking off and leaving me before I could begin to tell him that I wanted him to leave me alone more desperately than anything in the entire world. 

I couldn’t admit to myself that I was relieved that he had. 

Shaking off the usual jitters that lingered after any conversation with Malfoy, the remaining hours until the party were spent getting bits of reading done and readying myself. Dean had said it was merely a casual gathering, but I still wanted to look nice, if not for any reason other than looking nice. 

Cho helped me arrange my hair in a low bun with hair pulled loose to gently frame my face, and I discarded my school uniform in favor of simple jeans and a cozy blue button-up cardigan who’s sleeves reached past halfway down my hands. The night sky outside my window was inky black and twinkling with pinpricks of starlight, and Cho suggested I get moving so that I’d not be too late. 

I struggled to remember exactly how to get to the right classroom from the Ravenclaw tower, but eventually I found my way to the rather gruesome portrait of the troll that hung across from the door. Knocking on the door, I heard a light click, and it pulled open, revealing Dean’s grinning face. 

“Elaine! So glad you’re here,” Dean said, gesturing for me to come in, a cup in his hand. 

“Me too,” I said, smiling. “It’s been a shit week. I definitely need some stress relief.”

Dean’s eyes glinted, and he led me to a table that had an incredibly wide spread of various alcohols and juices. “What’s your poison?” 

My eyes scanned the lineup, seeing both hard liquors and softer beers. I hadn’t had much experience with drinking, mostly because seeing what it did to my father had always caused me to be very cautious with it, but I figured that maybe tonight was the night to see what I really liked. “Surprise me.”

A grin erupted on his face, and Dean set his own drink down, grabbing a white bottle and a container of orange juice, pouring them together into a cup for me. “It’s not super strong, but it tastes really good. Perfect for a novice!”

I thanked him and lifted the cup to my mouth, the liquid passing through my lips. The taste on my tongue was sweet, but cut with a bit of a sour fire as the alcohol registered on my tastebuds. I hummed, pleased with the drink, and took another swig, looking around at the other people in the room. I spotted quite a few people that I knew, like Seamus, Cedric, Ron, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, and a spattering of Slytherins. 

Dean invited me to come over and sit with him, Seamus, and a Gryffindor who’s name I couldn’t quite recall. I hesitated as Dean plopped down in a wide, plush armchair, unsure of where to sit, but he patted the arm of the chair, so I took my seat beside him, balancing on the rounded surface. His arm slung around my waist to stabilize me, and the heat of him arm against my lower waist made me shiver. 

“Elaine, right?” Seamus asked, and I nodded my confirmation. “You’re one hell of a flier, you know that? Makes some of the other Chasers here look downright childish compared to you.” 

I blushed, not used to compliments about my Quidditch skills. “Thank you! It’s something I’ve always really loved.”

Dean spoke up. “You should see how wicked smart she is too. Helped her with an essay earlier and I could barely keep up as she told me what to write.”

“I’m alright. It’s mostly just because I read so often, y’know?” I explained, focusing my attention on my drink swirling in my cup, and I took another large mouthful. 

“So, what did happen with your hand?” Dean asked, motioning to the bandaged hand that rested in my lap. 

“Oh, nothing, really. I accidentally hit something and I guess I hit it just right and broke just some small bones in my hand. Madam Pomfrey said I’m probably okay to take off the wrapping tomorrow,” I said, and Seamus whistled. 

“Bit of a temper?” He teased, and I rolled my eyes, the alcohol beginning to hit my system and relax me a bit. 

“Something like that,” I acquiesced. 

Seamus and Dean began talking about some strange band they were both into, and I sat quietly, nursing my drink and finding that I did quite enjoy the way the liquor seemed to make my senses go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Dean had begun tracing slow circles on my back where his thumb rested, and I hummed with contentment, enjoying the casual affection. There was low music playing, something with a relaxed baseline, and I swayed softly to the beat.

Going to take another sip from my cup, I frowned as I realized it was empty, and I turned to Dean, who was still talking to Seamus. “Dean?”

Dean turned towards me, his eyes bright with mild intoxication. “You out already?” 

I nodded softly, and he smiled. “C’mon, let’s go get you another drink.” 

Standing up, the world began to tilt a bit before Dean pressed a light hand to the small of my back, anchoring me, and I giggled softly at myself. “Sorry,” I said meekly. 

“Here," Dean said, moving behind me, placing both hands on my hips. "I've got you."  

He guided me to the table with all the drinks, weaving in between groups of people talking and dancing, and I felt a comforting warmth in my head as my drink continued to affect me. His hands were warm against my skin, and his hips brushed against me more than once as we walked, making heat pool in my core. Taking my cup gently out my hand, Dean poured me another drink, this time with noticeably less alcohol, making me frown slightly as he gave me my drink back.

“Just being safe, Elaine,” Dean told me, looking at me kindly. “I don’t know how well you can handle your liquor and I wouldn’t want you to get yourself into any trouble tonight.”

“You,” I began, sighed. “Are so nice , you know that? Much nicer than other boys here,” I said, taking a sip of my drink, which was much sweeter this time. 

Dean blushed, and he scratched the back of his head. “Just looking out for you, that’s all. You seemed a bit upset in the library earlier.”

I sighed again, setting down my cup. “You have no idea. It just feels like everything is changing, and I am so sick of the way that Harry’s been treating me, and Malfoy, and everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Harry’s been just a huge dickhead to me lately and telling me that I’m just this terrible person for wanting to help someone, and Malfoy’s just so confusing and…” I sighed, my brain foggy. 

Dean looked at me, a soft smile in his eyes. “Well, I’m not entirely sure of the whole situation with Harry, or the one with Malfoy, but you definitely aren’t terrible. You’ve got one of the best personalities I know. Boys can be stupid, and you don’t deserve that. You just gotta brush it off.” His hand curved around my torso to rest on my lower back again, tentatively, as if he were nervous. He nudged me closer, and I readily complied. 

I shrugged, moving slightly to press into his touch more. “I just am so tired of being someone’s second choice,” I told him, my words slurring slightly, and I was faintly aware that I was rambling and that Dean probably didn’t want to hear all this, but it felt too nice to get everything off my chest to stop it. “I don’t get why, I guess.”

Dean chewed his lip, thinking of his answer. “I think that you are far too pretty to be someone’s second choice,” He told me, his voice soft. 

My face heated and I looked at him, shocked. “Really?” 

He let out a kind laugh. “Absolutely. You are...well, you’re beautiful, honestly. I know we don’t know each other as well as you know some of the other Gryffindors, but I’ve always thought you were lovely.” Dean reached out a hand to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of my face, and I leaned into his touch, encouraged by the drinks in my system. 

“Why, thank you, Dean Thomas. You are... very pretty, too” I slurred, in a terrible attempt at drunken flirting. A faint sense of embarrassment arose, but Dean seemed endeared by it, and I moved closer, having to crane my neck a bit to look up at him, splaying my hands out on his toned chest. 

“Wow, you’re tall,” I thought out loud, making a deep laugh rumble in his chest. 

"And you are absolutely adorable," He said. Dean began to lean down, his gaze bouncing to my mouth and back up to my eyes, and my heart raced with anticipation as I could feel his breath on my face, but he was suddenly yanked back roughly, making him shout in surprise. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy asked him angrily, appearing from behind Dean’s tall form. He was in dark pants and a button-up, his clothes comfortable, casual, yet still obviously expensive. His eyes were burning with fury, and he was looking at Dean as if he had just been about to kill me. 

“What the hell, man?” Dean exclaimed, righting himself. 

Malfoy glared at him. “You need to get off her. What, were you about to kiss her or something?” 

My face heated and through my drunken haze, I could see how angry and tense Malfoy looked. 

“Maybe I was, but it’s none of your business,” Dean answered. “Who even invited you anyways?” 

Malfoy scoffed. “I don’t need a damn invite, Thomas. Lucky for Elaine, I found out about it and thought I’d check it out. It’s horrifically lame, by the way. Pisspoor excuse for a party.”

“What do you mean, lucky for Elaine?” I interjected, my words garbled slightly. 

“You can’t tell me you seriously wanted this imbecile to kiss you?” Malfoy questioned, looking at me with those stupidly intense eyes of his. 

“I did, actually. Why do you care who I kiss?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I don’t, you idiot. It just seemed like you didn’t want Dean to kiss you.”

“Like you fucking know what I want,” I shot back, the fury in my words undermined by how sloppy they were. 

“I do, actually.”

Dean snorted. “Then why’d you just push me off of her like a damn madman? What, is Draco Malfoy actually capable of having human emotions?” 

Malfoy shot an angry glare at Dean, and I felt useless as the two of them argued. I tried to clear my head a bit so that I could speak without slurring my words, but I hadn’t had nearly enough water that day and the alcohol was sitting heavy in my stomach, making my head spin unevenly. 

“C’mon, we’re leaving,” Malfoy told me, grabbing my wrist, which I promptly yanked out of his grip. 

“What? No,” I retorted, whining as he grabbed my wrist again and tugged me after him. “I want to stay. Let me go!”

“She said she wanted to stay, asshole. Let go,” Dean defended, stepping in front of Malfoy, but he merely pushed him to the side and continued his stalk to the door. I shot an apologetic look back at Dean as Malfoy dragged me from the party, sad that I hadn’t gotten to kiss him. Dean looked rather furious, and I hoped that it wasn't at me, because I really didn't want to leave the party or him, but Malfoy was relentless as he stole me away from the only fun I had had all week. 

And I was angry, too, once the door shut behind us and we were in the dark, drafty corridor. I wrenched my arm out of Malfoy’s grasp, and he turned to me, letting me pull away. 

“What the hell?”