𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

~*~

5th September 1998

Deafening, the music filling her ears. All around are happy people, smiles, and laughter. Drunken teenagers spilling drinks, the floor flooding with each one. The windows might as well burst through, let The Black Lake pour in, drown her and fill her lungs.

Cheering in her head, let it fill her lungs!

How are people so happy? How do they all just carry on with everything and live like this when so much fucking shit literally happened only four fucking months ago. Can people really move on that quickly?

She can’t, no matter what she does. She can’t. It’s always there in the back of her mind.

Forced to come, she doesn’t want to be here, she’d much rather sleep, read, even go for a late-night walk around the castle and freeze to death, she’s only wearing a skimpy dress after all. It’d be a long and painful death, she’d feel something. She’d do anything if it meant she could be alone too and away from these insufferable idiots.

All living in their imaginary worlds in a castle that has only just been put back to-bloody-gether.

She fought hard, avoided several curses, fired a fair few out herself, protected herself with Protego too. Was even almost hit by that dreaded green flash that she saw kill classmates. Felt like she had good input in winning too, back in the Room of Requirement talking about the Diadem from her house, agreeing with Luna.

Yet here she is, desperately trying hard to not down the whole bottle of Firewhiskey her shaking hands are wrapped around. Let it wipe her memory, a more suitable method to Obliviate.

Children, the lot of them. Immature, ignoring the reality happening around them, she’s not. She’s fully aware that one of her friends died just right outside this common room. She watched it happen.

A flash of white shone onto her face suddenly, making her raise her hand and cover her blinded eyes. She hates them lights, every fucking party leaves her with bright spots behind her closed eyelids for a few days. What’s the fucking point? It’s dark in here, she likes that ambience but when they add the lights it’s too lively for her liking.

The floor is vibrating, the chandelier is shaking. The crowd shuffling and moving around to a muggle song she heard a lot over the summer, girls trying way too hard to impress the boys around them. Someones brought a vinyl player with them, a muggle invention she’s heard of, she likes them. Add an Amplifying Charm and it’s pulsating through the room. She’s open to muggle things, they’re not as stupid as some people say, even if they can’t do magic, they find ways around it.

One thing she really likes from the muggles is their drugs. Weed mainly, she spent many nights getting high with muggle neighbours over summer. She’s a giddy girl high, can’t stop laughing, makes her feel happy for a while.

To her left someone stumbles, knocking her shoulder.

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” She scoffs at the imbecile.

He just carries on, cheering all too loudly and jumping like a twat on the open space they like to call a dance floor. All they’ve done is push the green leather couches out and created a bigger gap between them, hardly a nightclub. She’s the least bit impressed.

She’s being miserable, she knows she is. Can you blame her? It’s nothing serious, all these jokes though, she doesn’t mean it, it’s just a way to laugh about things, find some kind of humour amongst it all. Gallows humour, that’s what it’s called.

Hiding in the back, watching her peer pressuring friend giggle at boys and flirt her way into their dorms. That’s one way to do it, but not how this girl likes to do it, she prefers the kind where she never has to see them again. That happened a lot over the summer when she’d find herself walking around her quiet Northern town in the early hours of the morning. She could’ve used Floo Powder, but why get dirty and back to her home quickly when a nice two-hour-long walk is just the same. She gets to see the sunrise then, gets to clear her head, gets to breathe for a moment before suffocating again.

The music is thundering, beating, it’s too much for her. She needs the quiet, the peace. Out and about, she prefers being on top of the water, hearing it crash against the rocks and pebbled beach not underneath it watching through the green-tinted windows. The feel of the wind blowing through her hair, running along her skin, making her feel alive.

She’s thankful to be alive, she really is. She just wishes it was under better circumstances, that there wasn’t a whole fucking war and people hadn’t died around her. What can she do? Nothing. She’s just going to have to learn to move on like the rest of them.

Them who are dancing wildly in front of her.

It’s quite a show, she does find it amusing so a little smile curls at the corner of her mouth as she holds the large glass bottle up to her lips. The first sip reminds her of the sharp taste, the sting, and then the burn as it falls down her throat. The second swig is more comforting, she grows used to it again and by the third and fourth gulp, it’s nothing but chemicals that will spin her world.

She wonders if she could slip out, carry the liquor with her, maybe another bottle too. Slide through the gaps elegantly and escape, go up to the top of her tower, a place with a better view. Her friend would notice though, she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

Instead, she just accepts the fact she’ll be stuck here until her friend leaves, and her friend is notorious for being one of the last ones to do so. Leaning her back and head against the wall, her legs stretched out and crossed in front of her, one hand playing with a strand of hair, the other consistently bringing the beloved bottle up to her red-stained lips. They part and the liquids flow in, burning then relaxing.

Her long brown hair, curled and reaching around her ribs, flowing down her back with waves of chocolate and auburn. That skimpy dress is black silk with spaghetti straps, only just covering her. She didn’t pick this outfit, her friend did but she can’t deny how confident she feels in it. She only wore an outfit like this over summer when she was going out and had intentions to stay over somewhere other than her own house.

“You look so hot!”

“Have I got taste or what?”

A deep sigh, another sip. Her slender fingers rake through her hair, undoing knots and tangles. How it drapes over her shoulders so perfectly.

Over the room she can see drinking games, students snogging and hands wandering. More dancing while classmates wobble and shuffle around the stone floor. Stairs leading up to different areas, the long study tables being used for conversations, and places to hold the drinks on offer. She can see another full bottle, one that she hopes will become hers in no time, once this one has gone.

She remains in the dark corner, where she can’t be seen. She’s annoyed she can’t even feel the effects of the alcohol yet, not even a tremble of her hands, not even an uncontrollable sway to the music being played. She actually likes this music but she’d need several bottles to be caught dancing amongst them all.

“Not dancing?”

A confident voice appears next to her, her secluded corner already feeling too crowded.

“Absolutely not.” She scoffs refusing to look at the person next to her.

“Don’t blame you.” It’s a male voice, it’s closer. She can sense the warmth of his body next to her shoulder, he’s mirroring her stance and leaning back against the wall too. “It’s funny isn’t it.”

“What?” Her eyes remained forward.

“How happy they all are.” She hears a deep sigh. “May I?” His hand appears around the bottle she’s holding.

“Go ahead, it’s not even mine.” She handed it over and heard him take a few gulps, watching from the corner of her deep hazel eyes as a good amount of the murky drink flowed out the bottle.

“Thanks.” He stopped and passed it back to her using the back of his hand to wipe his wet chin. “Who does it belong to?”

“A Hufflepuffs I think. Stole it quickly before they could see.” She took a swig herself as the boy chuckled.

“Smart, the last thing they need is more bloody energy.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” She laughs, quietly with an exhale. Hardly a real laugh but she is amused. “So you agree?”

“Agree to what?” Their shoulders are touching, they’re talking but she still hasn’t even looked at him. Still doesn’t know who he is but for the first time in a while, it’s a conversation she isn’t disgusted by.

“How absurd all this shit is, like, look at how they’re all smiling.” She points over with her free hand, her finger stretching out and drawing attention to certain white-toothed smiles.

“Yeah, I do.” He sighs.

“I wonder what they’re thinking.” She bites on her lip, studying their movements and expressions. What are they happy about?

“Probably nothing important, that’s why they’re like that.” He’s clever.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, can’t be anything serious and real.” She holds the bottle up for him again, his fingers wrap around it, and touch her own.

“Thanks. Do you think they even know what the real world is like?”

“No, definitely not.”

She hears another chuckle.

“Why are you in this corner?” He asks, holding the bottle down by his side, next to her own hand. She can feel the coldness of the glass against the back of it, then a touch of warmth from his fingers as they brush against her.

“It’s dark and hidden. I can drink in peace and undisturbed.” She finally turns her head to the side, rolling it lazily on the wall to see the boy stood next to her.

He’s unrecognisable, no one she’s seen before. But that’s her own fault, she never socialised during the first years of school. You used to find her in the library or in her dorm room with her head stuck in a book. At dinner times she wouldn’t even glance away from the pages of whatever she was reading to look at the food on her plate, let alone at other students in the school. She’d stick to the back of classrooms with her head down and taking endless notes, especially in Charms.

She kept to herself, she was quiet. ‘Was’ being the keyword there, now she’s louder and now she’s more outspoken, blaming the anger inside of her.

She looks at this boy, brown hair, not long but not short, covering the top of his ears. Wavy and a few pieces of it fall over his forehead, strands dangling. A sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, and more distinct features. A flash from them awful bright lights allow for her to see green in his eyes, a dark, deep green. He’s alright, not really her type though, she prefers different beauty, this boy is a bit conventional. He’s beautiful, yes, but too typical.

“Well I apologise for disturbing the peace but I doubt it was too peaceful with this racket around us.” His head turns too, looking into her own eyes. She can see him more clearly now, they’re pretty, a nice shade of green that’s quite unique to any others.

A quick glance at what he’s wearing, nothing too outrageous. Just a plain, white linen shirt, partly tucked in loosely with dark grey jeans, she thinks.

“I’ll let you off. You seem to be quite decent, you can stay.” She rolled her eyes away but not before noticing a smile on both their faces.

“Great. Want some more?” The bottle waving in front of her.

“It is my bottle I think you’re failing to remember.” Snatching it back out of his hand. Growing more comfortable with each other.

“Wrong, it’s a Hufflepuffs bottle and you stole it. That’s what I remember you telling me to be precise.” He laughs again.

“Alright, I give.” The bottle is almost empty now, they’ve drunk a lot in the small time of their conversation. “Sorry, but who exactly are you?” She asks, looking at him again, trying to place him, what classes do they have together?

“Oh yeah, let me introduce myself I’m—,”

“Nott!”

He’s interrupted.

Both their faces twist abruptly to see a tall blond walk towards them.

Now, this person she knows, who doesn’t know him. From the hair to the mark on his arm. The articles about him in The Daily Prophet to his public trial with the Wizengamot. The boy who chose the other side when she and many others thought Harry Potter was dead.

The boy who was turned into a ferret in year four, she was sitting on a bench nearby when that happened, it interrupted her reading.

The boy who’d brag too loudly about the Quidditch match he’d won in previous years.

She doesn’t really feel anything towards this boy though, she knows he was on the other side but after reading about him in the newspaper and all that went on in his trial, all that helped him remain free never made her have any anger towards him. He had to do what he had to do, she doesn’t really care anymore.

He’s taller than she remembers, he’s more built too. His shoulders are broader, his arms are bigger. His platinum blonde hair is messy but looks good. A black shirt unbuttoned a couple from the top, black jeans to go with it. Similar features to the other boy, but more exaggerated. That jawline could cut someone.

She’s distracted, she stops.

But, she can’t help but look at his hands, she likes large hands and he has big ones, she especially likes his rings too. They’re adjusting his collar, neatening his shirt as he stalks over to them.

There was one guy over summer with large hands, she liked the complete and firm support they gave her chest as she straddled him.

There was another guy who had rings but his hands weren’t as big. She remembers the cold feeling of them on pressed against her thighs as his head lowered between them.

He’s not looking at her. Doesn’t even know she’s there. She just looks away and back to the gormless children jumping around on the floor. The boy is still stood next to her, she can feel his fingers at the hem of her dress, she doesn’t think it’s purposely.

“Nott, tell the fucking Hufflepuffs to leave, who even invited them?” The blond shouts out over the music.

“Sorry mate, can’t do that, it’s open to everyone.” The boy crosses his arms over his chest. She laughs at the conversation, she has the same thinking about the Hufflepuffs, their only purpose being the alcohol that’s in her small hands.

Now she’s being mean, she doesn’t hate Hufflepuffs, just people in general. Doesn’t mean to make it personal.

Nott, Nott, Nott. Who’s called Nott? Is it the last name? A first name? She can’t fucking think straight, that fucking music is throwing her off. Well, the blond always uses last names, so someone called blank Nott.

Nott.

Theodore Nott, of course, it is.

She’s heard that name before.

“I don’t fucking care, get them out of here.” Shouting louder, angrily. “And the Gryffindors, Saint Potter, Weasel, all of them.”

“It’s the start of the year party Malfoy, everyone’s welcome. Suck it up. Hufflepuffs aren’t even that bad, they provide Firewhiskey.” Nott turns back to the girl, she’s still holding onto the bottle and smirking. “My new friend can attest to that.”

“Acquaintance, you don’t know my name. And I’m not a Hufflepuff.” Shifting her head back to him as she replies.

“Am I ever going to hear your name?” He smiles down at her.

“I don’t care about the fucking drinks they bring.” Malfoy looks to her, eyes glancing up then down then up again back to her face, lingering before turning back to Nott. “I want them gone.”

She sees this glance, intrigued by it. She raises her eyebrows discreetly, smirking some more. Passing the bottle up to Nott so he can take the second to last swig.

“Tough shit. Don’t be rude now, my new friend is about to steal us another bottle.”

“Am I now?”

“Is she now?”

The girl and Malfoy say simultaneously, quickly looking back at each other. His grey eyes are staring into her own, she bites her bottom lip feeling the heat.

“Go on then.” Malfoy raises his brows, with a devilish smirk. “New friend of Notts, get us another bottle.”

She sighs heavily but remains in eye contact with him. Raising the Firewhiskey bottle to her lips, opening them a bit more than usual so they cover the top and she takes in the last drops. The bottles empty now, finally and she lowers it slowly, licking her lips and wiping away any remaining liquids from her lips with her thumb and finger.

She knows they’re both watching her closely. She’s laughing at them on the inside. Malfoys gaze is glued to her, but not restricted to her face. She watches as he peers down her, eyeing her up and picturing unholy things. She’s not stupid, she didn’t need to use Legilimens to figure that out.

“I’ll steal another one, sure, but if I come back is the real question.” She walks away from them, with a quick glance back and a smile. Pushing her way through the crowd and heading towards the bottle she spotted earlier.

The dark figures are hard to push through, there are two many of them, too close together. They’re knocking her around and she can feel her patience disappearing. It’s hideous and compact, disorganised but the people move in unison.

Along with the songs playing through the air, the people are rowdy and noisy. They sing along badly and out of tune, out of sync. Boisterous. She fucking hates it, hates it. If it wasn’t for the chemicals in her and the acceptable music she’d be screaming at the top of her lungs in frustration. But she focuses, keeps her eyes ahead and on the real prize. The hypnotising bottle across the common room.

Once she makes her way next to it, she realises she’s surrounded. But, no one is watching her, she can easily take it, down it and run away in a zigzag outside to the fresh air.

“Hey, gorgeous!”

A familiar voice echoes through the music. Her friend comes up behind her and wraps her little arms around her waist. Her chin resting on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you came babe, are you having a good time?”

“Claudia, you could say to some extent—,”

“Amazing.” Cut off. “I told you it would be a good night. Now I need the room tonight.” She spoke quickly and without regard to what the girl said. “See him over there?” With her hands on her hip, Claudia spins the girl to look at a tall brunette standing and tapping his foot. “He’s waiting for me to go back to him, with a full warranted permission of our room.”

“Fuck off Claudia, I suppose you expect me to sleep on the couches again?” Reaching out for the bottle, the care of being caught is gone. No fucks are given.

“Look I’m really sorry, I am. But I’ve had my eye on this guy for a while, I mean he’s dreamy.” Heart-shaped eyes from Claudia as she smiled over to the boy.

“Fine, whatever.” She scoffs, knocking her head back with the opened bottle against her lips once more.

“Why don’t you find someone? I can help you before I go if you want?” Releasing her waist and allowing the girl to turn around and face her.

“No, I don’t trust your choice in men. Besides, boys from this school will mean I’ll have to see them again, you know—,”

“So you’re going to go the whole year without one satisfied scream?” Claudia raises her eyebrows to her, disbelief.

“Maybe.” She’s lying, she won’t be able to go that long.

“Well if you say so babe, I’m going now so you’re free. I’ll leave a pillow and blanket outside our dorm room for you.” A quick wink, adjusting of her dress and Claudia struts away, linking arms with the boy and heading out of the common room.

The girl closes her eyes, takes a slow inhale and tries to remain calm, stay chilled. Clears her head of the anger building up more. She wants to relax, she wants to ignore how she feels. All elated emotions that surround her are just confusing.

Where’s that fucking bottle?

Holding it up and close to her chest, in a pathetic attempt to keep it hidden, she makes her way to a different corner. She doesn’t want to have to deal with boys, especially right now. She finds a lone green, leather couch hidden away and immediately slumps down on it, laying across. Her long exposed legs stretching out on one side, her back leaning against the side of the couch.

It’s not the comfiest of couches, the leather is sticking to her skin. That and the unbearable heat from the room and she’s sticky, she’s sweaty and not in a way she likes. She’s cursing under her breath too, between large gulps of the drink and ignoring the burning of it. With her head rolling back she’s looking up at the painted ceiling, mesmerised by the intricate detailing in the stone.

Why is she still at this party? Her friend said she’s free, now would be a perfect time to sit by the lake. Watch the moonlight bounce off the still water as it reflects the heavens. She would see the stars shining brightly.

“You didn’t come back.”

Turning her head she sees the blond. He’s standing right next to her with a smirk. A smirk she knows too well. “Believe that’s my bottle you’re holding.”

“You’re terribly mistaken.” She raises her brows, smirking back at him. She can’t control what she’s doing because yes she is attracted to him. “It’s most definitely mine.”

She’s never talked to him before. They’ve never even looked at each other this way before, maybe that’s what’s enticing her further. The unknowing of it. He’d sure be someone she wouldn’t cross paths with again, they hadn’t before.

“You said you were going to steal it for us, new friend.” Another voice from the other boy appears behind her. He’s crouched down and his head is next to hers, she can feel his breathing against her ear.

The blond lifts her legs and sits in the space they occupied, pulling them over his lap instead. She doesn’t mind, she smiles and welcomes it.

“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” Raising the bottle again to hide her smile.

Nott reaches and takes the bottle out of her hand before she can drink and takes a swig of it himself, beside her. She can hear the liquids swirling against the glass.

Malfoys hands are placed on her shins, lightly, hardly. He’s waiting for her to say he can. So she does, lifting them higher for his hands to press against her skin. There are the large, veiny hands her eyes watched earlier, there’s the feel of the cold rings she craves and adores.

“Not very friendly, walking away with the bottle you promised us.” Malfoy keeps his eyes stuck on her.

“I’m not a friendly person. Like I said, more of an acquaintance.” She replies.

“I still don’t know your name, darling.” Nott rests his elbow on the couch and head in hand, looking at her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to know my name.” Taking the bottle back, handing it over to the blond. Their fingers touched in the process. He smiles at her.

“How mysterious. Why’s that?” Nott continues to question.

“Maybe it’s better that way. That’s how I prefer it.” She really does prefer the boys to not know her name. Anonymity.

“What else do you prefer?” Malfoy asks, the bottle raised to his lips. An obvious question, clear intentions.

“Do I have to pick? Can I not say both?” Her head rolls to look at Nott then back to Malfoy.

Both boys gulp. Sees it, hears it.

“Or maybe neither.” She grabs the bottle again, relishing in the clouds she’s caused in their minds. Malfoys hands grip a bit tighter on her knees now. Nott moves his head closer to her ear.

“We’re going to need a choice to be made, blonde or brown?” His lips are almost touching her ear.

“What about ginger? Is that not on the table?” She takes her eyes to the dance floor. She feels a beat, a pulse, a need she can’t deny.

“Ginger isn’t on the table, but you can be.”

Her eyes shot back to the blond who just spoke, looking down at him, admiring him. His fingers tracing up her leg some more.

For her there is a clear winner but how she wants to tease, especially because she would be happy with both. There’s just one that outshines the other, quite literally.

She smiles. “Very presumptuous, what if it’s a couch I prefer?”

“That can be arranged too if you’d like, love.” Nott’s hand appears on her other shoulder, hovering, also waiting for permission. She shrugs her shoulders with a welcome to the touch. His fingers linger on her exposed skin.

She’s being touched a lot, it’s adding to that beat. Her breathing is becoming staggered and it’s catching in her throat. Lifting a leg to bring her knee up higher, she puts her foot on the couch next to the blonds hip.

His eyes lower, side-eyeing her with veiled curiosity at each of her movements.

The boy behind dips his head further into her neck, his breath fanning down her chest.

Heartbeats are loud, blood is rushing around them all. Their sinful intentions might as well be playing through the vinyl player, through the gramophone and shouting with the Amplifying Charm.

But she’s not going to give in easily, she has the whole night to waste time now. Knowing she won’t be able to sleep in her own bed, her own dorm. She’d even suffer the torturous smiles around her a bit longer for this version of fun.

There’s still a part of her wanting to go up to the top but she can feel hands pulling her and keeping her under the water. Large hands with rings.

She chugs back another large amount of Firewhiskey and sits up straight, pulling her legs off the couch completely. Eyes fluttering between the two boys she releases a wicked smile. Putting her feet into the floor, without saying a word her black heels come off and she feels the chilling stone beneath her numb soles.

She stands up and walks backwards towards the space, finding a gap between the students around her. Swaying, hands in her hair and she’s actually dancing, the effects of the alcohol start to electrify her body. Glancing back over at the boys who are tempting her like the snakes they are.

Adrenaline pumping and she’s gone.

Moving to the music, in time with the rhythm. She can feel it, the something she wants to feel, the way the heat around her radiates. Eyes closing, lips parting.

She’s joined, pressed on either side of her. Opening her eyes slowly. The blonde is in front, his hands on her cinched waist stretched out. She leans her head back and it’s resting on the shoulder of the brunette, as his hands hold onto her arms.

Digging in from both sides, they’re all connected.

“You can have both if you want.” The brunette whispers into her ear, his lips pressing against it.

They spin her around and the blond now mutters into her ear, behind her.

“Or you can take your pick.”

She’s contemplating, she really is. What would she want more, does she even want this right now? Stupid question because of course she wants this but it’s a bit daunting to her reputation of being a quiet girl, a mysterious girl no one knows. She does this and that’s gone. It’d spread in no time.

She continues to move with them, their hands wandering, her own on their chests, the napes of their necks.

It’s all so intriguing, she’d be a fool to deny it. And that beat, it’s pulsing, it’s just growing more, and she’s feeling empty, it’s aching.

Her eyes keep catching with the silver and grey ones. He knows it too, knows he’s the one her mind is on. And her mind is on him. The things she wants his hands to do to her, the things she wouldn’t mind doing to him. She’s curious.

“Have you made a decision?” He asks, looking directly down at her.

“How about a game of tag?”

~*~