#mastermindmiko

Hello, Lily, it’s me James. I know that it’s been a while, but I still haven’t stopped thinking about you. I love you, I know it’s getting crazy repetitive after all these years, but I can’t help it, it’s true. I love you. I love everything about you from your hair to your clothes and especially the way you act, even when you’re yelling at me. Call me if you get this, or text or send a pigeon, anything. 

I look at the message again for the fourth time since I’ve received it this morning, the message that I got on my new phone after I changed my number, a message very clearly not intended for me. I shouldn’t meddle, whoever this James is, he will surely understand sooner or later that he sent this (sweet) message to the wrong number. My phone dings.

I’m sorry, that was too forward, but it’s nothing you didn’t already know, right? Ha, well I’m making a fool of myself here, I’ll talk to you at the reunion in a few weeks alright?

Oh, I sure hope everything ends up well from him. I lean over my phone, shielding it with my body, moving side to side on my chair, avoiding all the work that’s glaring at me from my computer’s screen. My chair swivels around quickly to the other side, someone’s hand twirling it on its base, making me face them. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Lizzy asks, taking my phone away from my hands, even after I desperately clutch it in between my fingers, accidentally pressing all the buttons. The screen turns black, but Lizzy only inserts my password to turn it on. I can never escape her. I groan, “Come on, Lizzy. We’ve talked about this. Not at home and at work-” 

“You didn’t tell me your name is Lily,” she says, furrowing an eyebrow at me in question. She pushes and probes at the screen as if it’s going to give her any more answers other than the heartfelt text that was sent. I shake my head, “It’s not.” 

“It’s an endearing message, are you going to reply?” she says, handing me back my phone by the tips of her fingers, carelessly. I clutch it in my lap and quickly look at the messages before looking at her, her body leaning on her desk, arms crossed. I shake my head again and say, “no, definitely not. It’s none of my business.” 

She nods but then she bites her lip the way she always does when she’s plotting something, most of the time, that something is not tasteful. She explains, “But what if he mentions the text at this reunion and completely embarrasses himself?”

“I didn’t think of that part…” I mumbled, my heart launched itself in my throat like a rocket when I saw the message. I couldn’t remember when was the last time someone told me something even close to that. Lizzy continues, “Exactly, and he seems nice enough, just give him a call and let him know that it’s the wrong number.” 

“Maybe a text would be better,” I say, I can’t imagine what a conversation on the phone would even look like, it’ll be easier to break the news via text. Lizzy rolls her eyes at me, taking my phone away from my hands again, this time I don’t resist. She clicks a few times before asking, “Do you think he’s hot?” 

“What?” 

“He sounds like he’s hot.” 

“How would I know-” I say, the first thing I checked when I received the message was the profile picture, that didn’t have any picture present. Our boss yells out from the door to her office, and Lizzy sprints back to her desk, and I turn, fast, hitting my knees on the desk beside me as I turn to face my computer, moving the mouse, haphazardly, acting as though work was the thing on my mind. 

Hey, James. I text as soon as our boss turns around after I looked behind me to make sure that she isn’t looking. I put my phone on my desk, and clear my head of all this nonsense. There are still six more hours to this workday and one hour till lunch, I need to get all this work done. 

My phone rings, loudly, echoing through the walls of the office. I rush to mute the ring before looking to find my boss glaring at me. I look at the caller, and- oh, god, it’s James. Caller ID showing his name in full James Potter, I don’t know any other James but him. I stand up abruptly, and whisper an apology to my boss, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” 

I walk out to the office, and stand outside the glass doors, finding Lizzy looking at me, curiously. I take a breath before sliding my finger on my phone, answering the call. 

“Lily?” 

James says, his voice soft and hopeful. I scrunch up my nose, this is exactly why I didn’t want to do this on call. I clear my throat and I say, “No, actually this is…um well, you can call me Birdie, everyone does.” 

“Is this not Lily Evan’s phone?” he says, deflated. I shake my head, and my face flushes, I reply, “No-I uh I just got this number a few weeks ago, she must’ve changed her’s.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, it stays for a few seconds and I have to check if the call wasn’t cut off. There’s a long sigh before he asks, “So you read the message that I sent?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything-” 

“It’s okay, I’m glad I found this out before the reunion or else I would’ve completely humiliated myself trying to talk to her about the text,” he whispers, his words all breathy. The disappointment must be astronomical. I try to lift the burden by saying, “It was a really sweet message, maybe try to find her number and tell her again.”

“Nahh, I don’t think she’d want to hear it again,” he says. It must not be the first time he’s told her his feelings, though I gathered that much from the message. But why would he tell her again? No, no, this is none of my business, though James rambles, “I mean, it’s been years and I’ve been asking for a sign, maybe this is my sign. Do you think this is a sign?” 

“I-uh”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t involve you in this,” he says, saving me from having to answer. I shrug, “It’s okay.” I support my weight on the brick wall next to me and look inside the office through the glass doors. Lizzy, still looking at me curiously and our boss, still glaring. Another moment passes, and I hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. He says, “I think it’s a sign.” 

“I don’t know what’s happened between the both of you, but if this isn’t the first time you’ve confessed your feelings and all the times before they weren’t reciprocated…then as much as I hate to say it…it might not be meant to be,” I say, offering the advice that he didn’t ask for. My face turns red, who am I to act all high and mighty involving relationships when I’ve never had one?

“I’ll think about it,” his voice quivers at the end, “you said your name was Birdie?” 

“Nickname- uh, yes.” 

“Well, thank you, Birdie, I don’t want to waste any more of your day. Thank you for replying,” he says, and I bite my lip and roll my shoulders, trying to ease out the tension. That wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. I stand up, straightening, tearing my body off the wall, and walking the few steps to the door of the office. I say, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” 

*** 

“We do not need name brand cereal,” I say, convincing Lizzy to put the expensive sugary breakfast back on the shelves. She points her finger at me, threatening, “If we don’t get the name brand cereal, then we should splurge on our hair.” 

She fails to realise that throwing money at cereal is much less costly than throwing money on a bunch of hair care products. Unconsciously, I twirl the ends of my hair around my fingers and I straighten my face to stop myself from wincing. I reach out my hand and shake hers, “Deal.” 

The store’s bell rings and a noisy group starts to walk through the aisles. I push our trolley away to the other side, heading to the personal items section. Lizzy starts to pick out specific products for her tightly coiled hair while I try to find a shampoo that will suit us both. 

“Sirius, just try not to waste all our time here,” someone says a few feet away from us. There’s a group of men that are also searching for shampoos of their own. The one named serious (?) replies, “Come on mooney, one doesn’t just wake up looking this good.” 

He flips his hair while doing so, his friends roll their eyes and continue to peruse the rows of products. I turn back to Lizzy, seeing her attention drawn to the boisterous group next to us, her eyes trained on the one named Sirius? She leaves the bottle of gel on the shelf and whispers in my ear, “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” 

I look back at the group, focusing on their appearance. There’s three of them. The first, the one who was referred to as moony, is much taller than the other two and he has brown hair. The second, Sirius, who’s caught Lizzy's fancy has longer black hair and is dressed in a leather jacket. The last one is more muscular than the other two with dark curly hair and glasses perched on his nose. 

“Well you sure do try,” the last one teases, with a beautiful smile on his face. Sirius ribs him in his stomach, but it doesn’t bother him that much. Sirius flips his hair over his shoulder, overdramatically, saying, “Shut up, James. Maybe if you gave in a little more effort the ladies would like you as much as they do me.” 

James? Funny how that name has been popping up so much in the last few months. He actually does sound kind of like…Lizzy continues that thought, “How funny would it be if it were James that texted you his un-dying love?” 

“He didn’t text me-” I start but my eyes fall to the group coming closer towards us and that’s how I notice the shelves of men’s shampoo right next to me. They toss us a few smiles before standing in front of the shelves picking up the strong smelling shampoos. Lizzy’s eyes trail over Sirius’ body before she grabs my hand for us to head over to the conditioners. She says, “Come on, Birdie.” 

“Birdie? James isn’t that the same-” 

Someone taps my shoulder. I turned around to face them, Lizzy’s fingers still wrapped tightly around my wrist, my shoulder tugged towards her. Sirius is standing with a wide inquisitive grin on his face. James hides behind ‘moony’, his face burning. Sirius clears his throat before asking, “Excuse me, this might sound a bit odd, but do you happen to be the Bridie that my dear James confused his undying love to mistakenly three months ago?” 

Lizzy shoves me to the side, and peeks her face from behind me. She places both her hands on my shoulders and shakes me. Lizzy answers for me, “Yup, that’s her.” 

James perks up from behind his tall friend, and before I can question anything, Sirius is on his knees on the ground, with his palms clutched together, as if he were pleading. He starts to say, “Thank you, thank you, after years, and years, you finally got it into prongs’ head that Lily doesn’t want him. Thank you!” 

“Prongs?”

“That’s James’ lil’ nickname. Anyways, thank you for doing what none of us could. THANK YOU!” he ends with his forehead landing on his clasped hands with his hair falling from behind his shoulders. My eyes flicker to Lizzy in questioning, what is happening? ‘Moony’ steps up and lifts Sirius up from the ground and he has an apologetic look on his face. 

“I’m not really sure I did much, maybe he just had that revelation on his own,” I mumble, my ears are red, people from the store are already watching this encounter. James finally speaks up, shoving Sirius to the side, giving him a tiny glare, “I’m really sorry about him, Birdie.” 

“It’s okay,” I say, trying not to flush under his gaze. I guess Lizzy was right, James is more handsome than I imagined. Sirius bounces on his feet and he says, looking back at ‘moony’ for a second, “We have to thank them, we should go buy them drinks.” 

“Sirius, we really shouldn’t-” 

“Oh, Remy, don’t worry-” he turns back to look at us, “You pick the place obviously, whatever makes you both comfortable.” 

I look back at Lizzy, we’re still doing our shopping despite how this situation is, we couldn’t just go out with them? She has a smile on her face, and she lifts her finger, while she pulls me behind, "Excuse us for a moment.” 

“So what are you thinking?” Lizzy says, as soon as we’re out of ear-shot, hidden behind one of the aisles. I take a peak back to where we were standing and notice James giving Sirius a heated talk while Remy watches in amusement. I answer, “I don’t know…” 

“I think we should go. I know we don’t know them, but we’ll just pick our regular coffee shop, the people there know us, and it’s bright out, and I can’t imagine us staying out for long. We can finally do something spontaneous and not spend the day arguing about what to spend on. Plus, they’re really hot,” Lizzy concludes, this time her head turning back for her to take a look.

She doesn’t say it, but I know she wants to, she wants me to finally go out and do something else, something new. She wants me to date, and she thinks this will be a stepping stone, though I don’t know how this will help with that. I shrug my shoulders and mumble, “Alright.” 

She grins and we walk back to them. Remy notices first, clearing his throat loudly, alerting the other two of our presence and they both look away, straightening up. Lizzy says, “I know this great spot for coffee, you alright with coffee?” 

They all nod and we head on our way. 

***

“What do you want, gorgeous?” Sirius asks as soon as Lizzy and I sit down on the couch, giving Lizzy a sly grin. She mirrors the expression and slides her hair behind her shoulder, she replies, coyly, “A shaken espresso with oat milk.” 

I shove her playfully as soon as Sirius is out of view and her cheeks flush a light pink that I rarely see. James juts his bottom lip out and asks, “What about you Birdie? And Remus?” 

“It’s okay I don’t mind anything,” I reply shrugging my shoulders, avoiding looking directly into his beautiful brown eyes. Remy? No- Remus says, “You really don’t mind anything?” 

I’m about to repeat the same statement as before when Lizzy nudges me with a look. I flush and say, “My favorite is actually a caramel latte please, if you don’t mind.” 

“Your wish is my command,” James jokes with a pretty smile before turning to Remus, “The usual?” 

Remus nods, and he sits down on the chair beside the couch we’re on. Lizzy’s too busy staring at Sirius’ back to notice Remus wanting to say something. I turn to the brunette and he starts, “I hope you’re not feeling too uncomfortable, Sirius always means well even if he doesn’t always get the social cues.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, what’s wrong with a little bit of spontaneity?" a reply with a grimace at the last part, I can’t remember the last time I did something without extensive planning, Lizzy squeezes my thigh under the table in comfort. I thank her with a smile. My eyes glance over to where James and Sirius are getting drinks, and I mumble, “I’m not sure James wants to do this though.” 

“Oh-I I think he does, he’s mentioned you a few times, I think it’s a surprise-” he stutters before Lizzy turns to him quickly as soon as she sees the two men walking over hands filled with drinks. She asks, “Is Sirius dating anyone?” 

“No-” 

“Perfect,” she says, before leaning forward on the table, forcing her chest out. I chuckle under my breath at my friend’s antics, and even Remus’ lips quirk upwards. Sirius sets down Lizzy’s drink in front of her with a wink and she wraps her lips around the straw and sets her eyes on him. I look away, Lizzy sure is bold. 

James looks away from the ongoing interaction and clears his throat. He sets down Remus’ drink from his left hand and my own with his right, then he grabs his cup that was suffocating between his bicep and forearm. I try not to look at the condensation dripping on his muscles from the cold drink. The only difference between Lizzy and I is that I keep the thoughts in my head. 

James sits opposite to me and Sirius next to him. I sip my drink quietly enjoying the sugar flavor on my tongue. I look to my left and notice the espresso shot that Remus is drinking, I ask, “You don’t drink it with any sugar or cream?” 

Remus gulps down the sip he was taking and sets the small paper cup down with a small clunk. He shakes his head and explains, “I like coffee, I don’t need anything to drown the taste.” 

I nod my head and feel the awkwardness to seep in, what was there to talk about? I barely know a thing about these people, and as I face the right and find Lizzy still making eyes at Sirius, I feel the urge to say anything. As seamlessly as possible I try to open my phone, and scroll the chat between James and I, trying to find a clue on what to say, looking up every few seconds to make sure that I’m not offending anyone- yes, okay this is good. 

“You mentioned that you had a high school reunion or something like that?” 

“Ah yes, it was uh- a few weeks ago,” James answers, connecting the dots since he mentioned it to me around a month ago. That pulls Sirius’ attention and he slams his hand on his friends shoulder, a strong hand that doesn’t move James in the slightest, must be all the muscles. Sirius says, “It was exactly seventy two days ago, I will remember that historical day for all my life.” 

“Why exactly is it historical again?” Lizzy asks, and just as Sirius beams, James sags. Sirius leans back in his chair and tangles his fingers on the table in front of him. He explains, boistrously, “The day that James finally proved that he moved on from Lily.” 

“An ex girlfriend?” Lizzy asks, I musn’t have filled her in on all the details. Sirius repeats all the information that I already know to Lizzy with every explanation and facial expression flirtatious. It’s a special talent to make a simple conversation flirtatious. I feel someone’s eyes on me and I find James, watching me. I flush and look away again while he inconspiciously grabs his cup and starts to suck on the straw. 

I stare out of the window and think, what is the goal here again? Obviously, Lizzy and Sirius have it figured out, but what am I doing here? I’m definelty not going to ask James out, he seems embaressed by the whole ordeal actually. I know I would be if the roles were reversed. 

“Hey, Biride, can you go get me a cookie?” Lizzy interupts my thoughts and bats her eyelashes at me. I purse my lips, suspiciously but nod anyways. After I stand, Sirius looks to James and says, “Hey, mate, can you go get me a cookie too?” 

Sirius also bats his eyelashes at James. It only makes me look at Lizzy with more suspicioun. When did they plan this? James doesn’t give his friend a response, he instead stands and tilts his head to ask me, “Come with me?” 

I nod my head and scoot between the table and couch and behind Remus’ chair. We walk the two feet together, but not before I shot Lizzy a look, she instead gives me two excited thumbs up. My face heats up and I hear James saying, “Two cookies please.”

He hands his card over to Charles the cachier, and I stumble over my words, “Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Come on, Birdie, let your handsome date pay for your things,” Charles interupts, and I glare at him and ignore the way he eyes James, not that I’ve been any better. James says, “I forgot you were a regular here.” 

I nod my head and internally beg Charles to stop talking but he starts to- oh, god- threaten James, “I see Birdie here every few days, if you so much as even look at her the wrong way, I will have your head. I might not look it, but I can swing a nice punch.” 

“It’s not-” 

“I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry,” James says, and Charlies smiles, genuinly and wishes him a nice day while giving him his receipt, reverting back to his customer service voice. We move aside away from the line waiting at the cachier and stand to the side to receive our order. I lift my hands up to my face and press the back of my fingers to my cheeks trying to cool down the heat. 

“I’m sorry about him,” I say, giving Charles a glare while he takes the order of the next customer. James chuckles deep with his chest, and says, “It’s okay, I’m sorry about this whole thing too.” 

“It’s okay,” I mirror his words, and he leans on the ceramic table. His arms bulging under his weight, I move my eyes back to his face quickly, hoping that he didn’t catch me oogling his arms for the millionth time in the last hour. He asks, “when you called me, you were at work,  right?” 

I nod my head and remember the stern talking to that my boss gave me after I hung up the phone. I’m not in the mood to talk about my own job, so I turn the question around, “What do you do?”  

“I’m a hockey player,” James replies, and my mouth forms an ‘O’ in understanding. I say before I can stop myself, “Well, that explains it.” 

“Explains what?” James asks, innocently but with his lips turned upwards. Oh my god, what am I supposed to say? That explains your amazing muscular body, I can’t- I swear I see his pecs flex under his shirt. I ramble, “I- I mean, you’re just- I don’t know, well, you know, you seem-” 

“I’m just messing with you,” James laughs, and I cover my face with my hands. This couldn’t be going any worse. My face must be burning. James leans down, and through my fingers I can see him. I pull my hands away from my face, and he grins, oh, he’s going to kill me, instinctivly, I look away, my eyes falling on my friend who is pulling out all her moves right before my eyes; the lip bite, the hair toss, the works. 

I also notice that Sirius’ hand is itching to grab her’s over the table. They seem to be really hitting it off. To the other end of the table, there is Remus sitting, phone face down, and espresso cup empty, looking anywhere but at the sight in front of him. I say, “we should go save Remus.” 

“You’re very kind, but he’s used to it by now,” James says, and I frown slightly. Does Sirius do this sort of thing a lot? I wouldn’t want Lizzy to get too invested and have her heart broken. James adds, “Don’t worry about your friend, Sirius acts all flirtatious but he has a good heart.” 

I nod my head and look away from the table. Marjorie slides two plates over to us, gliding over the ceramic counter, each with a cookie on top of them. James grabs both before I can act, and we start walking towards the table. Just two feet away, still out of earshot because of the chatter in the cafe. He stops and says, “Birdie.” 

I hum, and turn to face him, I notice the tight grip he has on the small circular plates. He stares at his shoes and then looks me in the eye. I press my lips together and he starts, “Excuse me if I’m being too-uh forward, but are you seeing anyone right now?” 

I accidentally slightly bite my lip in surprise. I let out a small pained noise, and James takes a step forward qujickly apologizeing, “I’m sorry I asked, it’s none of my business-” 

I wave him off and take a moment to let the sting in my mouth quiet down. I explain, “Sorry, I just bit my tongue,” James laughs and I can’t help but chuckle too as the pain simmers down, “no, I’m not seeing anyone, right now.” 

He smiles and nods his head, sheepishly. We take another step towards the table when he adds, “You wouldn’t mind if I called you sometime?” 

I shake my head, and say, “Not at all,” his smile widens, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. I look at the wooden boards, feeling my own grin on my face. Lizzy notices, of course and her eye brows quirk up with a knowing expression. We sit back down on the table, and it’s only an hour before we have to leave to go on with our own days. 

I try not to think about James calling, most men say they will, but don’t, or say they will and actually call many days or even a week later. Still, I can’t help but make sure that my phone is on the maximum volume, making sure I don’t miss the phone when it does ring. On our way home Lizzy says, “It’s sort of like fate, isn’t it? A sign?” 

I shrug my shoulders, the words simillar to what I heard from James three months ago. I try not to get my hopes up, but I have a good feeling about all this. Lizzy gave Sirius her number too. Later in the day, just an hour after the sun went down, my phone rings, Lizzy laughs when I jump to where it is. Caller ID says, James Potter.

He called so quickly, this has got to be a good sign, right? I take in a deep breath and let it ring for an extra second before I pick it up, “Hello?” 

“Hey, Birdie.” 

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading! If you think this didn’t completely suck, feel free to check out my other masterlists. You can also support the blog or buy me a coffee here.

Birdie Masterlist here

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The faint music coming from the Great Hall only weighs down my heart as I listen to it. The music is jaunty and lively, I can hear the chatter of everyone talking and even worse, the laughter. The stairs are cold and dark, only illuminated by the light coming from inside the hall. My dress falls on the stairs below me and I rest my head on my hand, and my elbow on my knee.  

Consistently, someone would come out from inside the ball and talk about how wonderous the party is and how beautiful the decorations are. I haven’t gone inside. I couldn’t go inside. Not while he’s inside having the time of his life with someone other than me, both of them having their worlds redefined. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” Hermione asks me, slumping down on the steps beside me, kicking her shoes off. I tilt my head towards her and I shrug. The truth burns my chest but at least it doesn’t seem like I’m the only one dismayed. I say, “I don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“Aren’t you going with Fred?” She says, sitting next to me on the steps, and I purse my lips. I wanted to go with Fred, but he didn’t seem to want the same thing. I look down at my dress, the edges no doubt getting covered with dust from the stairs, it’s a shame that I wasted such a dress on a night like this. I remind her, “Fred asked Angelina, remember?” 

She nods her head, she was there afterall, when Fred decided to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball, in front of possibly half of Gryffindor house while we were trying to focus on our school work with Snape lurking behind us. Unlike Hermione, I didn’t finish my work fast enough to be able to leave after the event happened, I had to stay and mess up my essay because I was too busy thinking about the both of them dancing the night away. 

“I can hardly believe that no one asked you out,” she says, trying to distract from her own problems, but I can see her eyes turn glossy. If talking about myself helps her take her mind off things, then I’ll do it. I swallow my pride. 

“Roger Davis asked me,” I mumble quietly. Hermione's head jerks towards me, almost so appalled that she reaches her hand up and clutches the neckline of her dress. She says loudly, “Roger Davis!” 

A few people around us turn to look at us in suspicion. More and more people gather outside the hall to either kiss their dates goodnight or to cry because of them. What a disastrous night this is. Hermione shyed away and she repeated again this time, quietly while she shuffled closer to me, “Roger Davis, but he’s awful, Birdie!” 

“Yes, I know,” I say, mournfully, ignoring the nickname that was made popular by none other than Fred himself. Roger Davis was an arrogant slime. He cheated when he could on both tests and women, but most importantly, he cheats during Quidditch and that made him the perfect prospect to irritate Fred. I explain, “I knew he’d make Fred jealous.”

“That’s the most stupid reason I ever heard someone agree to date someone else for,” Hermione says, chest puffed out and her noise in the air. She may be dressed like a lady right now, but she’s still a fourteen year old girl. The plan seemed fool-proof, so I might as well go put on some bells on my head, and wear large pointed shoes. I say, “You’ll understand someday, Hermione.” 

I lift my hands to my face and rub, not at all gently, the makeup feels heavy on my face now, though there’s a tinge of sadness in me to waste the time and effort spent to make sure I looked extra good tonight. I thought it made sense if Fred asked me, ever since the ball was announced, he’d been alluding to it. The flirtations winks and the lingering hands, though I can imagine the boundaries dissolving when someone starts to like their friend. 

“Why aren’t you dancing with him now?” 

Another thing about Davis is that he’s a Ravenclaw and he isn’t anything if not smart. That’s how he got away with most of the things that he does. The second I reached the bottom of these stairs, it only took one look at Fred before he knew exactly what this was. Fred didn’t even wave to me before he ran to the Great Hall, only sparing Davis a glare. I say, “He preferred to dance with Fleur Delacour.” 

She nods her head and places her hand on mine. My feet ache yearning to dance the way they should be when they aren’t, it only stings more when I hear the sound of the footsteps moving in unison inside during a slow dance. I start to ask Hermione about her troubles; why she isn’t with Viktor Krum? Why I just saw her screaming and Ron and Harry (mostly Ron)? The heartfelt talk is disrupted when someone looms over us both, blocking the few rays illuminating from the party going on.

He’s standing at the last step of the stairs, looking like something out of a dream, the world around him covered in a haze of stardust. He truly was a vision. I cling my top teeth and bottom teeth together, forcing my mouth closed, so it doesn’t fall open in awe. He looks completely different in his suit. He says, “I didn’t expect to find you here.” 

Hermione looks between Fred and I and then she stands. She exclaims some nonsense excuse, “I need to go find my heels,” nevermind that she has them in her hands as she skitters away. Fred takes her place beside me on the stairs, just farther. 

“I saw Davis dancing with Delacour,” he mentions, twiddling with his fingers like he didn’t want to mention it at all. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. I didn’t manage to get his jealousy but I managed to get his pity. I turn my head away from him, wanting to curl up and die. 

“You should go, you don’t want to leave Angelina waiting,” I say, looking back at the entrance of the Great Hall that’s flashing with a pastel blue snowy light as the rock song shifts to a more slow song. I doubt that Angelina would want to miss that. Fred leans forward into my line of sight, head tilting to the side, his shaggy hair framing his face perfectly. I hope that tomorrow doesn’t hurt like today does.  

“I don’t think Angelina would mind, she’s dancing with George,” he says, and I frown thinking of George’s own date. I ask, “What about Alicia?” 

“She’s sick, she wasn’t able to come,” he explains, I didn’t even hear about Alicia getting sick. There’s no reason for me to be sitting on the stairs wallowing when I could be taking care of my friend. I rise, the fabric of my dress falling just below my ankles, protected from the dirty floor by my heels. 

“I should go make sure she’s okay,” I turn and begin to climb the stairs. Fred stops me, standing holding me in place by my wrist even when I’m two steps away. My heart imitating a hummingbird’s wings.  

“Stay.” 

If he wanted me to stay then he should’ve asked me to the ball instead. So many opportunities squandered over the last month; at every meal, at every class, after every Quidditch practice, and all the moments shared together. He clears his throat. He drops my hand and he goes up the two steps. Now, he’s towing over me again. He admits, “I should’ve asked you.” 

It stood my heart in its tracks and lodged my breath in my throat. He seems to have regained some sense. I say nothing. He heaves before repeating, “I should have asked you…I was…scared.” 

I find that hard to believe. I’ve seen him face, irritate and escape trolls, and I watched him as he tried to put his name in the goblet for this forsaken competition. He even faced Mrs. Weasley while she’s angry, the scariest of all. I scoff, “I don’t believe that.” 

“It’s true. Everything is different when it’s with you,” my cheeks flush again, this time far from embarrassed. He pushes a piece of a strand of my hair that fell from my updo behind my shoulder. He pushes the lapels of his suit down, adjusting the color, the heat rising up his neck noticeable when he does. He continues, “I saw the risk and I-I folded.” 

He’s talking slowly, his voice gentle and low. Unlike the usual loud and confident tone that he takes. It makes my palms sweat. The risk, the risk, the years of friendship thrown away if there’s a mistake in the relationship. He sighs,  “When I saw you with Davis, I couldn’t take it.” 

“I haven’t danced to a single song yet, couldn’t if it wasn’t with you,” he says. Fred takes both my hands in his and he pleads, “Please, spend the rest of the night with me, I’ve already made us waste enough time.” 

When did he learn to talk that way? It’s so…swoony. Then the piece de resistance, he smiles. It’s been years and his smile still hasn’t lost its powers. I mirror his expression and squeeze his hand. I cave in, “It would be a shame to waste this dress. And my hair also looks pretty good.” 

“You look beautiful,” he echoes, and I roll my eyes, fondly. The song changes from inside the Great Hall back to an upbeat song. Fred recognises the song instantly, he beams and even bounces a little. Two years ago, he spent the entire summer only listening to his song day and night. He exclaims, “That’s bloody brilliant! I love this song.” 

He tugs me towards the Great Hall or more like sprints actually. I laugh as I steady myself running down the stairs, and laugh again as I enter the winter wonderland and prepare myself for what could possibly be one of the best nights of my life. I just have to remember to tell Hermione that jealousy does work.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading! If you think this didn’t completely suck, feel free to check out my other masterlists. You can also support the blog or buy me a coffee here.

“Not specifically, it’s used in wands because of its stability, not because of its calm nature,” he repeats, but this time, the causes flipped. I bite my bottom lip, confused again. He places his hand on mine gently and he reassures me, “I’ll help you when we get back to the dorms.” 

“Not the only thing he’ll help you with if he gets his way,” Barty interrupts from the seat behind us, Evan sitting next to him, asleep on the desk, mouth open, just about ready to drool. Regulus’ face flushes, and he snaps, “Shut up, Crouch.” 

Barty continues to chuckle while Regulus’ face gets more red. I look between both of them. Barty smirks and I turn to ask Regulus, tugging slightly on the sleeve of his arm, “What does he mean, Reggie?” 

“He’s just teasing, don’t worry darling,” the nickname rolls off his tongue, making me nervous and making my heartbeat quicken. I remember that we’re still in class when professor Slughorn starts to wrap up, “Remember, there’s a paper on the calming drought due next week, and I’m excited to see everyone for my dinner tonight at the slug club, don’t forget to wear your best attire!” 

He claps his hand with excitement and it reminds me, I’ve yet to decide on the finishing touches of my own outfit. I turn to Regulus and ask him, “Can you help me with my outfit, pleaasseee?” 

“I thought we were going to go over today’s information before we went to the dinner?” Regulus asks, his voice smooth and sweet. Yes, we did say that, but the outfit is much more important. I pout and say, “But the outfit needs to be done before seven, the paper isn’t due until next week, that’s plenty of time!” 

“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” he replies, after he gulps. I grin and clasp my hands together in excitement. I giggle, “You’ll be a great help, I’m sure.” 

But that isn’t exactly how it went. 

“I need you to actually help me.” I say, huffing slightly. Regulus was refusing to give me any direct opinions, all his responses were yes, you’re right or whatever you think. What’s the point of having someone to help me with my clothes if they weren’t going to actually help? He says, “I think you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” 

This time, I actually huff, I try not to pound my foot to the ground too. I say with a pout, “That’s exactly what I don’t want to hear, but thank you anyways,” my cheeks bloom with pink at the compliment, nonetheless. I puff out my chest and lift both options in the air; a black bow and a green bow. I ask, “Which one should I wear?” 

“The green one,” he chooses, and I bite my lip in thought. I twirl, showing off my similar green satin dress, and say, “wouldn’t it be too much green this way?” 

I remember last summer at the Rosier’s, Mrs. Rosier told me not to wear too much of the same color or else I’ll drown in it. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t follow her advice. She has the most beautiful dresses that always match the flowers that she plants in her gardens. 

He thinks for a bit before concluding, “there can never be enough green.” 

“Don’t listen to him. His Slytherin pride is getting in the way of him making a sound decision. The black bow for sure, it matches your ballet flats.” Pandora says, walking into the swinging door of our dorm. I nod my head and listen to my friend, the only one who dresses better than Mrs. Rosier is Pandora, I hand the black bow to Regulus while he sits on my bed. I walk to the mirror and attach the black bow to my hair. 

“How are you even here anyways? You shouldn't be allowed in the girls’ dorms because of your ‘impure intentions’,” Pandora says, picking up a pair of heels that she’s going to wear to Slughorn’s dinner, making air quotes at the end of her statement. Regulus shrugs his shoulders, but I interrupt, “What do you mean by pure intentions?” 

They both share a look, but neither reply. Regulus turns red. I repeat, “What do you mean by impure intentions? I asked Regulus to come help me with my outfit.” 

“Nevermind,” Pandora backs down, and starts to apply some makeup to her face. Regulus is still flushed while he fusses with his suit. I pout, and then try to explain, exasperated,  “He is my date afterall!” 

“Forget I said anything, now quick before the dinner starts in ten minutes,” Pandora says, and she places her brush down and walks out the door. Regulus stands up from my bed and he walks towards me holding his hand out. We leave the dorm then the common room. I start to walk left, but I’m pulled to the right. He says, “Love, it’s the other way.” 

“Oh, thank you, Reggie.” I giggle slightly, and I hook my arm tighter around his bicep. I wonder why I’m the only one who he calls love. 

The dinner is already in full swing as it usually is by the time we get there. Slughorn already had two cups of wine, and everyone was sitting at their designated spots. Regulus leads me to where we usually sit, and Pandora walks to her own date, Lovegood who was sitting opposite Regulus and I. 

Where half-way into the first course when Professor Slughorn notes, “Ahh, Miss y/l/n, I see you’re missing your usual pink attire tonight.” 

I swallow the piece of food in my mouth before nodding my head. I reach out to squeeze Regulus’ hand, and say “Yes, Professor, I decided to wear something that will match Regulus instead.” 

Barty ribs Regulus from beside him, and subconsciously, Regulus toys with his signature emerald green tie, that my dress is matching. Professor Slughorn lifts his elbow to the table and rests his cheek on his hand, wistfully, he says, “Young love, such a wonderful couple.” 

My face turns red, and I turn to Regulus, “Should we correct him?” 

Regulus shakes his head, and he takes my hand in his own, though his face is expressing emotions that I don’t understand. He says, “At the rate that he’s downing the wine, he won’t remember by tomorrow.” 

I nod my head, it does make sense. Slughorn always stumbles to get back to his office by the end of the dinners anyways. But I can’t help the nagging feeling that stings in my chest. Barty alludes to something for the second time today and for the millionth time in my life, “Or maybe Regulus doesn’t want to correct him, ever thought of that?” 

I frown, why wouldn’t Regulus want to correct Professor Slughorn? I ask, my voice hushed, I’m sure the professor wouldn’t want to hear the answer to this question, “do you not like Professor Slughorn?” 

Barty simply just chuckles while Regulus shoots him a glare. Pandora who also took note of the interaction was also laughing. What is it that I’m missing? I’m starting to get really annoyed. I huff, “What is it that you’re all laughing at?” 

A few people turn from a few seats away, but all I can focus on is Regulus’ face turning down, the tips of his ears turning hot as Pandora, Evan and Barty continue to chuckle. Barty ribs Regulus one more time before saying, his voice low, “Maybe it’s time you finally admit your secret.” 

A secret. Regulus has a secret? He seems to contemplate the thought, before standing up, still holding my hand. He lowers his head slightly and says, his voice loud enough for Professor Slughorn to hear even when he’s engrossed in conversation with someone else, “Excuse us for a moment, please.” 

I love the way he talks, it’s always so elegant. We walk out of the room, and Regulus lowers my hand, and he leans against the corridor’s brick walls. He sighs, and I say, “Are you going to tell me your secret?” 

“Yes…” he says, trailing off. I wait, I don’t like being rushed when I’m about to tell a secret, though I don’t have many. He fumbles with his fingers a little before admitting, “I want you to know, that there is no pressure for you to answer this, or even reciprocate.” 

“Reciprocate?” I giggle, what kind of secrets do I need to share with him? It only seems to make him more nervous. He takes a step towards me, standing up to his full height, filled with Gryffindor courage despite the Slytherin in our veins. He declares, “I like you, as more than a friend. I want to be with you, romantically speaking, as in, a relationship.” 

It takes me a second. Regulus likes me? I didn't think about that at all, do I like him? I think out loud, “I don’t know, I- I always get nervous when I’m around you, and my heart beats faster. And there are these butterflies that sort of just go bonkers when you’re around.” 

“I believe it does mean that you share my feelings…unless it means that you hate me,” he says, face falling at the end. I shake my head vigorously, and I reply quickly,  “No, I don’t hate you. I always want to be around you.” 

“Okay, well, can I kiss you?” he suggests, and I’m excited when he asks. I guess I do share his feelings, I don’t think there’s anyone that I would like to be with romantically, other than him. 

I look at myself in the mirror for the last time, taking in a deep breath. Adjusting my veil over my head, making sure it falls just right. Oooh, I really hope I don’t cry, I forgot to bring the waterproof mascara, and had to borrow regular mascara from Hermione. Speaking of the devil, she walks in and closes the door behind her. I smile at my sister, but she has her back turned towards me. She turns to face me slowly, she says, “We have a problem.”  

“Tell Ron that if he can’t figure out how to use the camera, that he should give it to Harry instead,” I say, Ron has been insistent that he be the one to take the photos, but he couldn’t figure out a muggle camera if his life depended on it. Hermione shakes her head, and my blood runs cold. My mind reels at all the possibilities; did the venue get double booked? Did the caterer pull out at the last second? Did the-

“The Malfoys are here.” 

My whole body stiffens, and I shuffle back a few steps, only slightly stepping on my huge white dress. I sink onto the big chair, pulling the left sleeve of my dress back to my shoulder, and clutching the fabric in front of my heart to prepare for the news, if the Malfoys were here that didn’t mean anything good. We hid this wedding for a reason, Draco and I dating is one thing, but marriage… 

 “Draco-he- he left with them. He said there isn’t going to be a wedding.” 

***

It’s been exactly three months since it happened. Three months since Draco-that slimmey git left me the day of my wedding, in front of all my friends and family. After a whole month of wallowing, I decided that I shouldn’t be the one to suffer, he should. He couldn’t escape me, even after what he did, he couldn’t flee from what he did, not when we worked in the same office at the ministry. 

“Hello, yes? This is Mr. Malfoy’s secretary, I’m sending in this patronus to make sure that you put him on the list for any updates-” I hum, “Yes, updates about well, what updates can you offer?” 

The woman working at the Daily Prophet’s office starts listing out all the categories; sports, literature, science, politics, animals, the crossword puzzle, the comic books, and more and more. Helen asks, “Along with the newspaper there is also a new special- fast alert feature. We can send a patronus alert. Would you like to add Mr. Malfoy to the alerts?” 

“You mean, wherever he is…whenever there is an update, you’ll send a patronus to him, with the information?” I clarify, the idea of a patronus appearing and booming with noise to tell him about things ranging from an ongoing conflict to a new crossword, has me twirling around on my office chair, kicking the chair to spin faster. Helen agrees and I say, “Well, then send both the patronus alert and the newspapers please.” 

I start to give her the bank number at Gringotts, his bank number at Gringotts, where she can go and collect the money. He seemed to have forgotten to change his bank account number when he decided that we weren’t going to get married anymore, too bad for him. The reason for this subscription wasn’t about wasting his money, but rather seeing him annoyed. To see his face flushed in anger, a sharp contrast against his pale skin, and his lips pouting-

“Oh, and make sure that I’m the only one who can cancel his subscription, thank you very much Helen!” 

It started working less than half a day later. It started out with a small owl delivering the newspaper of the day to him during lunch, the paper landed right on his head and fell into his plate of food. I laughed from the corner of his room, holding my own plate of food as a bit of his soup splashed onto his face. He picks it up, looking at it suspiciously before tucking it into his briefcase, picking up his napkin to wipe away the food droplets from his cheek. 

Then, the patronus subscription was activated. Now, I was aware that he was going to be getting at least two alerts a day, but what I didn’t know is that he was going to get at least two alerts every hour. For the seventh time that day, a patronus appeared in front of his desk, only a few desks away from mine. The patronus declared, the voice echoing through the walls of our floor, “Greetings Mr. Malfoy, A new volume of the famous ‘Potions Partners’ romance comic was released thirty seconds ago.” 

“I don’t care about some stupid comic!” Draco shouts, infuriated as a few of our colleagues groan at the interruption for the millionth time today. I, however, enjoy the vein that’s just about to burst on his forehead. He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, frustrated, “I apologise everyone, I’ll call the office and try to cancel this subscription.” 

Goodluck with that!

***

Theodore sits in front of me with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s very conflicted about this, but nothing a little discussion can’t fix. It’s only a matter of time before he caves in. He tuts, “I don’t know about this.” 

“All you’ll have to do is sneak this into his bathroom next boys night,” I repeat, slipping the potion into his hand once again, wrapping his fingers around the small bottle. Theodore was the only one of Draco’s friends to attend the wedding, the only one who not only knew about the wedding but he also approved. He shakes his head, and says, “A Daily Prophet subscription is one thing, but this…I don’t think I can do that to him.” 

“Doesn’t he deserve it, Theo?” I say, slipping in the nickname for good measure, holding his hand in mine, shuffling closer to him, sliding to the edge of my ottoman, my knees hitting the edge of his seat. I explain, “He was awful to me, and besides it will grow back-” 

“He loves his hair, Birdie,” he says, using my own nickname to try to convince me, but I pout. Draco’s hair is possibly his best feature; the color, the length (that he obsessively keeps the same), the feel of it when I run my fingers through- I clear my throat and try, ““Worst case is that he’ll get another potion and it will make his hair grow back-” 

“Exactly! You won’t even get to see it,” he opposes, but a wicked grin spreads over my face, as I watch his play with the hair remover potion in his hands disguised as Draco’s favourite shampoo, the same shampoo that he’s been using ever since I’ve known him. I smirk, “No but I’ll imagine it.”  

When he starts to wash out his shampoo and the hair keeps falling into his fingers, until he starts to freak out- stepping out of the shower to look into his mirror to find zero hair still on his head. He’ll run his hands frantically over his head in search and finding not a single hair follicle. I squeeze his hands, and ask, “will you do it, Theo?” 

“He was a prick…” he thinks, the idea starting to sink in as he remembers the night when he had to hold me while I cried because of what Draco did.  I wriggle my legs excitedly and I push, “Yes, he was a prick, and it’s totally harmless.” 

Harmless is a little far fetched, he didn’t know that I planned on buying all of the hair growth potions within the area, as soon as he accepted this potion in his hands. He looks up at the ceiling, conflicted, and then he shakes his head, and gives in, “Fine!” 

He stands up and I clap my hands together, a large smile spreading over my face as I reach over to hug him. He pats my back and moves to the side, and he gives me a pointed look, and he presses his index finger to my forehead, “I still think that the both of you should talk.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I refuse, pulling his finger down. There’s nothing he could say that I would even want to hear. He already knew that his parents didn’t approve of us. What could they have said to magically change his mind for the few minutes that they popped up for? And, honestly? I’m glad to be rid of him. 

***

“You did this!” A voice shouts, as soon as the elevator door dings open on our floor. I’m waving my wand to hold up a stack of files up in the air till I get to my office. Even while working at the ministry of magic, I still have to work with files. I turn around quickly and see Draco walking-no stomping towards me with a large pink scarf on his head. I chortle immediately, remembering that yesterday was a Sunday, the day where Theodore spends his time with Draco. 

He stops in front of me and I bite the inside of my cheek to try to stifle my laughter. People who pass by take note of Draco Malfoy walking furiously into the office, earlier than usual, his tie all crooked and his suit wrinkled with a pink scarf covering up his usually shiny platinum blond hair. I try to ignore the fact that it’s actually my pink scarf that he’s using to hide his, now bald head. 

“Did what?” I ask innocently, purposefully making my eyes wider and putting my lips into a pout, with a slight tilt to my head, the most pristine expression I can muster when I’m dying to sneak a glance under that scarf. I ask, “Malfoy, why are you hiding your head like that? Is something wrong?” 

“You know what’s wrong,” he seethes, the way he used to do when we were in Hogwarts together; the curses, the hexes and the insults. I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders, turning around and walking away, flicking my wrist to make sure that the papers continue to follow me. I hum, “Nope, no clue.”

He lets out a noise halfway in between a huff and a groan, the same way he did when I forgot to clean the dishes in the sink when it was my turn, and he takes my hand in his own and tugs me along with him. Startled by his cold hand against mine, the papers that were flying alongside me, dropped to the ground, grabbing the attention of more onlookers. He dragged me to our department and I attempted to rip my hand away as subtly as I could. Any more attention would be nothing less than crummy. 

I ignore the way his hand feels so familiar in mine, and the fact that this is the first time I’ve shared even a few words with him in months.The way he neglected the mere sight of me for days, not even a glance. He shuts the door to his office behind us, and he tears my scarf from his head. He points to his shiny bald head with his finger, angrily. He shouts, “YOU DID THIS!” 

I can’t help myself and I burst out laughing, the noise coming deep from inside my stomach. He drops my hand and he folds his arms in front of his chest. Serves him right, he leaves me at my wedding and then goes on to get promoted. I continue to laugh and Draco starts to tap his foot impatiently on the ground, but some of the fury fades from his eyes. 

“Like I said, you did this,” he repeats, as soon as my laughter dies down, though I have to make an effort not to look above his eyes or else I’ll start laughing again. He puts his hand out in front of me and he demands, “Now, hand over all the hair growth potions that you’ve taken from every place in this city.” 

I just love it when a plan falls perfectly into place. I shake my head, and I repeat with a bit more bite, “Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

I chortle again when I notice his eyebrows looking a little less dense than usual, the potion must’ve made it to his eyebrows too. Draco is fully frowning, why wouldn’t he be? His favourite feature is gone. He furrows his eyebrows, before saying, “You can yell at me if you want.” 

“What?” 

“You never got the chance to yell at me after…what happened,” he whispers in the last part, and all the amusement fades from my body. I never did yell, or shout or even talk to him after he left. Why would I? He didn’t want to be with me anymore and decided to ‘tell’ me in the worst way possible. I scoff, “I don’t need to, I’m over you.” 

He’s about to open his mouth when a knock sounds at the opposite end of the door. He clears his throat, and wraps my scarf around his head, and he opens the door. Knightly, an intern is waiting at the door, holding the papers that I’d dropped only a few minutes ago. He beams when he sees me, though my head is still reeling at Draco’s words. Did he think I was still hung up on him? 

“Ah, here are your papers, miss, I saw that you dropped them outside,” he mumbles, nervous but with a smile. I walk outside the office, Draco still holding the door open. I whisper the incantation under my breath and the papers fly to the air once more. Does he think that I’m still angry? That I’m still hurt or something? I only do these ‘pranks’ for my amusement, just because he’s the target that doesn’t mean- 

“Thank you, Knightly, that was very kind of you,” I say, giving him a smile, and he flushes. I walk out of the office, not bothering to spare Draco a glance. There’s still a long day of work ahead of me, and I’m not going to let Draco’s arrogance make the day any longer. Seriously, how long did he think I was going to sit around and mope for? 

***

“Have you thought about dating anyone?” Hermione asks me while we’re having lunch in her office. It’s been hard to find quality time to spend with her ever since she became the minister of magic. I choke on the sandwich that she’s bought me and I have to fumble for the glass of water sitting on her desk to stop the coughing fit that I’m having. She looks at me concerned and I have to clear my throat before asking, “what?” 

“Well, it’s just that, you haven’t gone on any dates since…” she trails off, yes, since I was left the day of my wedding, does everyone have to remind me every few seconds? I shrug my shoulders, I defend myself, “It hasn’t been all that long, you know- and no one’s piqued my interest, I mean if I saw someone I liked then maybe, but I’m not really interested in anyone.” 

“So if you found someone you were interested in, you’d go out on a date with them,” she asks, her posture raised like a meerkat. I shrug my shoulders again, and I look around the room, the idea of going on a date with anyone other than Draco makes the bile rise in my throat, what’s even worse, is the fact that it does. I lied, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“What about Dean?” Hermione suggests, it takes me a second to realise that she’s giving me an option for a person to date. I look at her confused but I reply, “Dean Thomas? No, he’s more of a friend than anything else.” 

“What about Fred? You always said that he was the most attractive Weasley,” she suggests another, and this time I can’t let the confusion go. I put my sandwich down and fold my hands on my lap. Why would I want to go out with my sister’s brother in law, and my long-term friend? Is she just naming every boy she knows? I ask, “Why are you pushing this?” 

“I think you should get out more, maybe go on a date, it has been four months,” she replies, avoiding eye contact and picking up her teaspoon to stir the liquid in her cup. I give her a pointed look when she finally looks at me and she gives in, “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but Ron and I, we saw Draco out on a date yesterday.”

“He what?” I repeat, and my sister knows better than to repeat her statement. I feel a pound in my chest. Four months was enough time for him to get over everything, but I guess, there never really was much for him to get over, he’s the one that didn’t want to marry me. After eight years…I feel my eyes start to water, and I want to slap myself silly. I whisper,  “He’s on a date.”

“With Astoria Greengrass,” Hermione adds, and my head snaps up from my lap. All the sadness dissipates and it’s turned into hot, red fury. I grit my teeth and I ask, “Astoria? His ex?” 

She nods her head, feverishly, and I nearly snark at the information. I groan loudly and I stand up from my chair abruptly, I curl my wand tightly in my grip, and I stomp out of my sister’s office. I murmur her name under my breath, “Astoria Greengrass.” 

I scoff and make it to the elevator, punching the numbers down to my department. I ignore the other two people standing in the elevator, and I pound my feet impatiently into the ground. He went on a date, huh? We will see about that. The elevator doors’ ding open and I match out of there. 

I make my way to the offices, and I ignore the people waving and manoeuvres through the crowd of people, getting their work done. Astoria, the same girl that we almost broke up almost four years ago because he wouldn’t believe that her crush on him never faded. He didn’t see the way she looked at him! With heart eyes and the way she looked at me like I was just something in the way. He told me not to worry. That dirty rat! 

I reach the end of the corridor and I don’t bother to knock on the door that says ‘Mr. Malfoy’, before slamming the door open. I skim the room, he’s not in his office, good. I see all the things I didn’t see the first time I was in here. In the corner of the room there’s the golf clubs that his mother got him for the first golf tournament that he won. I grab the biggest and heaviest one of them all, I take a swing at his desk. 

The object clatter on the ground and on his desk. Did he not want to marry me because he wanted her instead? I slam the club harder onto his desk, the clock tipping over and clinks onto the ground, along with his quill holder. The ink falls to the ground staining his carpet, but I don’t care. Was this even their first date? Or just the first date that I found out about? 

I notice the picture frame that’s on his desk, of him and I, in our house together only a few days after we moved in. I drop the club and grab the picture frame, throwing it to the wall, watching as the glass breaks, while we keep moving in the picture, the movement cutting off just as Draco bends down to kiss me. Was he with her when we were together? 

I don’t even notice that I’m crying until the door to his office swings open, Draco rushing in distressed. Someone must’ve heard the noise and told him. I notice all the people standing behind the door and I turn my face, wiping away the tears that were falling. I hear the door click shut, and I sniffle. I can’t believe that I wrecked someone’s office. 

“Are you okay?” Draco’s soft voice asks, and I feel his hands just barely skimming over my shoulders. I turn to him, angrily and the tears start streaming again. I shout, “Of course not! How could I be okay if I’m here trashing your office like some kind of crazy person!” 

Wasn’t this mad, angry phase supposed to pass a few months ago? He pulls his hands back to his sides, and I let out a sob, looking at the broken glass against the wall and I notice another thing, on one of the shelves of his desk, flickering the light coming from the ceiling and the candles, there they are, our wedding rings. I start to fume, “And how are you even asking me that?!” 

“You ruined everything! We were together for eight years, and that didn’t mean anything to you! At least in the movies when someone gets left at the altar, they get a note or something! I got no note! We were supposed to be together forever! And when I finally start to get better and get over you, you ask me why I haven’t shouted at you.” I gasp breaths in between my sentences, “Of course, I didn’t shout, and of course I didn’t yell because why would I let you know that you hurt me?” 

I walk towards him, and I raise my hands up to slam them against his chest. They only land in a soft thud before I start to cry harder and say, “Why would I let you know that you broke me when you so clearly don’t care about me?” 

The sobs rake through my body, each one coming out more broken than the other. My cheeks still flush embarrassed at all this, I can’t believe I let him know all this and especially when he’s just been on a date with another woman less than twenty four hours ago nonetheless. I rest my fists helplessly on his chest, and he cradles my wrists with his hands. 

He folds my arms in between us and he embraces me, arms wrapped around my body. It only makes me feel worse, the familiar scent of mint, green apples, and his cologne so familiar and it makes my heart quiet down. I’ve had a lot of hugs in the last few months; my parents, my friends, my sister, and this is the one that comforts me the most. 

“I hate you,” I say, muffled by my tears and stuffed nose, not meaning a word of it. He only squeezes me tighter. I accidentally rubbed my face against his chest and against his tie, not just any tie, the tie that I got him for one of our anniversaries, there were so many that I can’t remember which one. I feel the sinking feeling in my stomach even more. 

“I love you.” 

I shove his chest, and he stumbles back. The evidence suggests that he does; the years spent together, the years before that too, our rings on his shelf, the photo of us on his desk, the scarf of mine that he keeps, the tie that he still wears, and the look on his face now, that I’ve seen after every fight, but this isn’t like every fight and there’s another thing that goes against all that evidence, I yell, “How dare you? How dare you say that to me?”

“You still love me? You left me at our wedding! You were out on a date with another woman last night! You still love me?” I didn’t even know that my voice could reach this volume of menace and anger. He shakes his head vigorously and he takes a step towards me, I flush against the wall of his office, keeping the space between us. He negates, “I haven’t been on a date with anyone!” 

“Don’t lie to me, my sister saw you yesterday with Astoria,” I say, thinking about him sitting opposite to her at a fancy restaurant, their legs intertwined under the table and their hands above the table. Did the night even end at the restaurant? He says, “that was business.” 

“Business, right,” I scoff, folding my arms over my chest. I look away from him only to be reminded of the mess that I made in his office and I look back at him again. His hair’s already started to grow, looking like he’d got his hair buzzed instead. Damn him for still looking good. Draco explains, “Mr. Greengrass wanted to invest in a new Floo network, and he sent Astoria to teach her how to negotiate…though I doubt that was the only reason.” 

Astoria probably begged her father to send her to that meeting, knowing Draco was finally single. I don’t say a word, thinking about how happy she must’ve been when she found out that he left me, and in the most humiliating way too. He whispers, so low I can barely hear it, “It killed me when you called me Malfoy the other day.”

“What?” I ask, I don’t remember calling him that. I do know what other day he was referring to, the only time I’d talked to him since the wedding. He chuckles, but there’s not a bit of amusement in that laugh, “It reminded me when we were at Hogwarts, well, not really, but…” 

“You were terrible,” I say, remembering how my first year at Hogwarts, I’d been petrified and he’s called my sister and I mudbloods. I hated him so much, and he hated me more. Until he apologised years later when he found out that we were working in the same department. If only I knew it would’ve gotten me to this moment. I changed my words, “You are terrible.”

My heart stings when I see him looking back at me hurt, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough. He takes in a shaky breath before he says, “My parents, they came and they- they threatened me- us. The war might be over but there still are dark wizards out there. They care about the Malfoy bloodline more than anything, they didn’t want me to marry someone…” 

He didn’t have to say it, if he’d married me, any children of ours would’ve been half-bloods. Not pure enough for their bloodline. He continues, “they would’ve hurt you, to stop it from happening, and they said, they would take away my legislation and my access to the family account at Gringots.” 

It’s just like the Malfoys to come and ruin everything for the sake of their blood, and their money. There’s a reason why Draco didn’t let them know about the wedding, the reason why we all hid it, but they found out of course. He still didn’t have to let them ruin anything, though. He concludes, “I wouldn’t be any use to you without my money.” 

It takes me a second to realise what he’d said before I reply, “Are you dumb?”

He looks up from the ground, confused by the insult. Oh, he acts as though I didn’t used to insult him every day. I roll my eyes, and shout, exasperated, “My sister is the minister of magic!”

“I know, but-” 

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this, when have I ever used you for your money? I don’t care about all that! I work and you work, that’s plenty, we don’t need your ancient bloodline for that!” He’s an idiot, that’s what he is, an idiot. He doesn’t seem to share the same thoughts. He takes a step closer to me, and he whispers, “They were going to hurt you.” 

I see now all the things that I didn’t see before; the dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks more hollowed out, his shoulders sagging more than they should be. I say, “I can handle myself.” 

“I didn’t want to take the chance,” he replies. His parents would’ve sent ex-death eaters, ones that didn’t die in the battle, ones that would do anything for an extra buck and to prove their loyalty to the Malfoys. I ask, “Aren’t I worth the chance?” 

“Yes, but-” he stops himself, shoulders falling over. He takes an extra step towards me, and he leans down. His forehead, resting against my own. He closes his eyes, and so do I. I believe this is the only time I felt like I was at home for a long time. I try not to stumble into him, and he says, “I’m sorry, please come back to me.” 

“How do I know that you’re not going to chicken out again?” I say that if there is another wedding, after another eight years, I’m not going to be back in the same spot I am now, just older. He takes in a deep breath, stealing some of my own air, making me feel light headed, but that’s not the only reason. He promises, “I’ll prove it to you, every day, for every second. I’ll make it up to you. Please, just let me.” 

“These are only words, Draco,” I reply, and his hands, shaky, are raised up to my sides, resting on my waist. Oh, god, I missed him. His hands feel perfect on my body. A tear of his falls down and lands on my cheek, and he presses himself closer to me, our bodies so close to being melded into one. He says,  “I know, just give me the chance to show you.” 

“You better not mess this up,” I threaten him, the only threat that should matter. He presses his lips to mine, and as soon as he does, my back relaxes, the only time it has for a long time. It took me a year to trust him again, a year of dates, a year of gifts, a year of promises fulfilled, a year of apologies and a year of rebuilding, but in the end he didn’t chicken out again. 

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading and lmk if you want a mini-fic showing all the things Draco did to redeem himself. If you think this didn’t completely suck, feel free to check out my other masterlists. You can also support the blog or buy me a coffee here.

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