"You will have to cast your answers at the same time after our countdown. If we notice you changing your colour midway through, your team will be disqualified," the leaders announced. "Now, raise your hand if you are the partner that the questions will be about."
I panicked, realizing Draco and I hadn't even decided on that part and had instead alloted our time to bickering. But then, Draco grabbed my forearm and pulled my hand up into the air, signaling to the leaders that I was the designated person.
I was sort of relieved. I just had to answer the questions honestly. He was the one who would have to rack his brain out trying to figure out what was going on inside my head — come to think of it, if anyone here was a legimens, they could totally cheat at this game.
But alas, this was Malfoy. He definitely was not a legimens. At least, I hoped not, for my privacy's sake.
"Great. Now, onto the first question..." one of the leaders began emphatically. "True or false: this Slytherin is an avid reader... Three, two, one!"
I lit my wand red and was relieved to see that Draco did too. Excellent. We passed the first question. I almost lit mine green, thinking the books I read for potions research would count but decided that reading in general wasn't exactly a hobby of mine.
A few pairs were immediately disqualified from the first question. Those who lost went to the sidelines to watch. I noticed that Tracey Davis was among them, her arms crossed, presumably miffed. James and Amirah were still in the game. I could also spot Isaiah (his bright red hair making his whereabouts obvious) not too far from them, paired up with a strawberry-blonde-haired girl.
"Second question! True or false: this Slytherin owns an owl... Three, two, one..."
That may have been too easy a question. Malfoy and I both lit our wands green, and so did most teams. Perhaps Draco and I weren't the only pair who personally knew each other. Only one team was disqualified this turn.
"Be careful. This next question will be a little bit more difficult. True or false: this Slytherin would rather spend an evening with a ghoul than with a boggart."
Bloody Hell —
"Three, two, one..."
To my surprise, Draco and I were in sync. Both our wands were lit red. I didn't have much time to think about my answer except that I knew the spell for boggarts and not for ghouls — Perhaps Malfoy thought of the same thing.
A handful of groups were disqualified this round, including Isaiah's pair.
"Lovely! Less than ten couples left. Now, last question: this Slytherin's favourite season is Winter. Three, two, one..."
Red. Both Draco and I's wands were lit red. A few other pairs got mis-matched colours, including James' group. Apparently Amirah loved Winter. Now there were less than six groups left.
Was it pure dumb luck that Malfoy kept getting the answers right, or did he know me more than I thought? I had to admit, however, that the questions were far too easy.
"Splendid. We've just enough candidates left for the last activity. Everybody else, do stick around for this one will be most entertaining."
Everybody gathered closer, awaiting the instructions for the next activity. I glanced nervously at Malfoy, realizing we were so close to winning the secret prize, whatever it may be. He glanced back at me, offering only a sleek smirk.
"For the last activity, you must impress us, the judges, with your dancing as a pair—" a few people groaned, to which the seventh-year student leader responded, "Fine, we'll tell you what the final prize is in advance. That ought to encourage you all to participate. Shafiq?"
Another student — Shafiq, I imagined — rummaged through her robes and pulled out a clear liquid vial. "Liquid luck."
Murmurs of excitement rumbled through the common room. Where in the Hells did they get this? Sure, they were seventh year students, but wasn't Liquid Luck extremely difficult to brew? I knew even I couldn't brew one. Far too difficult.
"Where the bloody Hell did you get this?" someone from the sidelines shouted. They were from a previously eliminated team.
"Doesn't matter where we got it. All that matters is we've got one," Shafiq responded smugly.
"Not fair! If I knew that was the prize, I would have tried harder at winning," someone else complained. A bunch of other people murmured in agreement.
"But we told you that the final prize was worth fighting for!" The other seventh year leader said.
"I want a do-over," someone else shot out. A bunch of other people agreed, looking expectantly at the leaders.
"There won't be any do-overs," one of the leaders asserted.
"Why not?! It's so unfair," someone else cried out.
"Anyway, onto the explanations for the dancing," the leader went on, ignoring the indignant cries of the Slytherins who previously got eliminated. "In your pair, all you have to do is dance. The pairs who make mistakes while dancing will be eliminated. So, if you can't dance, then, tough luck, no Liquid Luck for you."
Well, I was screwed. I could technically dance, having learned it at home since I was very young, but dancing with Malfoy? I was going to fail. There was no way I could stay level-headed while dancing with him. Too weird, too... intimate.
"Now!" Suddenly, the classical music played even louder, drowning out the groans of annoyance from the losing teams. Immediately, Draco grabbed my hand and placed his other hand on my waist. I tried to ignore the weird fluttery feeling in my stomach because frankly it was making me panic. Reluctantly, I placed my free hand on his shoulder.
"Don't mess this up, Blackwood," he said seriously. "I want that Liquid Luck."
"Not sharing with your partner?" I asked, insulted he would assume it would be his. I was the potions master here.
"You can just brew one yourself," he said as if it were that simple. It was not that simple.
"No. I can't. It's way too difficult, not to mention the ingredients are rather rare," I pointed out. His hand shifted on my waist and I tried not to freeze as I knew I had to keep moving to the sound of the music.
"Not up for the challenge, Blackwood? I thought you liked brewing."
"I do, but — Hey, why do you want Liquid Luck? Afraid you'll lose the next quidditch game without it?"
He scoffed. "As if. I don't need it for that."
"Then, what do you need it for?" I queried. It seemed like speaking with Malfoy made it easier to dance with him. Of course, if I was too focused on what he had to say, I would not have to worry about where his hands were — on me, that is.
"Nothing in particular. I just believe it can come in handy, one day... Should the moment present itself," he said rather pompously.
"Ah. So, you don't actually need it. See, if I tried to brew Liquid Luck while under its influence, then my chances of successfully brewing it would be so high that I could just make more Liquid Luck, so logically, I should get the Liquid Luck."
"Sure, whatever gets you to win this thing," Malfoy said, unbothered by my very reasonable explanation. He glanced around at the other participants who were dancing.
I was so focused on Malfoy that I hadn't realize other pairs had been eliminated. It was now up to Malfoy and I, and three other pairs, whom I did not know the names of, since everyone had a mask on.
"Put both of your hands around my neck," Malfoy said. His fingers tightened slightly around my waist.
"What?"
"Do it," he hissed, looking around warily. "The music is starting to shift to something more romantic."
"What?!"
He eyed me like he wanted to kill me, so I swiftly moved my hand away from his so that it can join my other hand on his shoulders, while he held my waist with both of his hands instead of just one.
And perhaps that was a good call. The music did shift to something more romantic, and the only other pair who did not change their dance moves got eliminated for not following the music.
And then there were three. Pairs left, that is.
And Malfoy wasn't talking to me anymore. He was too focus on not messing up the steps and on dancing perfectly. And suddenly, nothing was distracting me from the fact that I was practically in his arms. His hands were gripping my waist ever so slightly, just enough to make me feel strange. Just enough to make me feel wobbly inside. Just enough to make me feel so confused.
There was something about Draco Malfoy, tonight. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something different about him. I felt different about him. I wasn't sure why, but I did not want to run away this time.
I spent so much time trying to avoid him, running away from him, even just earlier tonight I tried to evade him. But now? It was as if I had accepted him.
I didn't want to. He was a prick. He was prejudiced. He was arrogant. He was smug. Why would I ever accept him?
And yet, tonight, I felt compelled to continue this dance with him. Even if I didn't care about the prize that much. Or maybe I cared about the prize more than I cared about being in close proximity to Malfoy. Whatever it was. Tonight was weird. Something was off.
I blamed the masks. They were making me feel emboldened, I reckoned. Emboldened to forgive. Emboldened to... care.
My heart dropped to my feet.
Did I care about Draco Malfoy?
"WE HAVE OUR WINNERS!" shouted the seventh-year leaders in unison. A few people in the crowd clapped, though it was rather unenthusiastic.
I pulled myself away from Malfoy, feeling slightly nauseous.
"Our winners! Do come here to collect your prize."
Malfoy straightened his robes and marched over to the leaders. I quietly trailed behind him. He collected the prize and shot me a proud smirk.
"Didn't think you'd make it through," he said with a soft huff as he turned to face me.
"Congratulations to our winners! Thank you to everybody for participating! Let the ball proceed!"
And just like that, everything went back to how it was originally. People went back to dancing, mostly girls with each other. Folks went back to entertaining each other with jokes and chatter. It was as if they had forgotten about the activities. As if they'd rather not accept having lost, so they pretended it never happened.
Meanwhile, Malfoy was beaming next to me, inspecting the Liquid Luck vial with intrigue.
"I wonder what I could use this for..." he mused, slipping it into his pocket.
"Like I said. I could make more if you'd just give it to me," I said in a sing-songy voice.
"Rubbish. That's not how Liquid Luck works. And anyway, doesn't brewing it take months?" he said, his lips parted into a sneer.
"Sure, but you only need one drop for luck. This vial, could last me a while," I reasoned. He didn't buy it.
"Sure, Blackwood," he said.
"Oh, come on, Malfoy. Don't you want to help me accomplish my goals—"
"I could get used to you begging," he mused suddenly, interrupting me in my speech.
I kept my mouth shut and instead narrowed my eyes at him. He chuckled.
"Oh, Blackwood. I really do wish you had no mask on so I could see your full reaction under there — Speaking of which, when do we take those off, anyway?"
"Midnight," I said, bunching my lips to the side. "I'd glady rip yours off your face if you're so impatient. Though, I'd have to warn you, it would hurt. Might rip your face off with it — Not a bad idea, actually."
"Keep talking, Blackwood, and I'm never giving the Liquid Luck to you."
I frowned, even though he couldn't see my full face with my mask on.
"Ah, there's another priceless reaction I wish I could see without the mask on."
"Are you saying that you miss my face, Malfoy? Sounds like something someone who fancies me would say," I said obnoxiously, evidently trying to poke the bear.
He grinned, which baffled me, but stranger things have pleased him before.
"Still delusional about that? You know, after seeing the way you were looking at me while we were dancing earlier, it's hard to believe that you don't fancy me."
"What are you even talking about? We had to dance for the prize."
"Oh, no. I'm not speaking about the dance itself. I'm talking about how quiet you got, staring up at me so intently. I almost thought you were going to kiss me back there—"
"I would never dream about kissing you, Malfoy. I'm appalled that you would even think so lowly of me. I would rather kiss a troll than allow my lips to get anywhere near yours."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But deep down, we both know how you feel about me."
"You little shit," I couldn't help but say. "You're just saying all of that to distract me from the fact that you fancy me. You want me to fancy you and that's why you're so convinced that I do."
He snickered.
"Let's agree to disagree, then."
"Stupid idea. Let's just agree that you're wrong and leave it at that," I insisted.
"Or if you would rather, we can agree that I keep the Liquid Luck forever and never share it with you," he countered, tapping his breast pocket where he left the vial in.
"Don't act as if you were planning on sharing it in the first place," I replied sharply, though I hoped he would prove me wrong.
"You don't know what my plans are, Blackwood," he said with an innocent shrug.
"No, you don't know what your plans are. I bet you're making it all up as you go."
"Perhaps."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Anything to make you suffer," he said.
I groaned, though there was an unfortunate hint of playfulness to my tone. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"Make me."
"You know I would, but I'm not sure that you'll fancy me attacking you again. Remember that time in the Great Hall? Snape had to pull me away from you."
He snickered again. "You really do have anger issues, don't you, Blackwood?"
"I don't. I just get angry at those who ask for it, and you, Malfoy, often ask for it."
"Such a swirl of conflicting emotions within you, Blackwood. You fancy me but you also wish I were dead. How romantic."
"How dreadful that you would think that."
"Ah. So you don't wish I were dead?"
"You know what I meant."
"I'm not sure that I do," he said rather convincinly.
I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn't help myself from laughing. He chuckled. When our short bashful laughter died down, I nervously tugged at the sleeves of my dress. I glanced around the ball, not brave enough to let my gaze land on him.
"Care for another dance?" Draco asked daringly. Even though he had a mask on, I could still tell that he was wincing at himself for asking, bracing himself for my answer.
I surprised even myself and said, "Okay." And for some ungodly reason, I had to force myself not to smirk.
He extended his hand out to me, and I gingerly grabbed it, feeling everything around me spiraling. My heart drummed in my chest as he pulled me back to the dancefloor.
I glanced around at the crowd as we marched through. No one seemed to care. No one was looking. And then I spotted Isaiah's bright red hair near the refreshment's table. And a dark-haired boy next to him.
James was sipping from a cup as his gaze landed on me and Malfoy preparing ourselves to dance. With the mask on, his expression was utterly unreadeable. I felt a pang in my chest as Draco and I began dancing.
What the bloody Hell was I doing?