I awoke to three sensations. My right hand was flung out and pressed to soft cotton through which I could feel the warmth of someone’s leg. My left hand was on my chest, clasping loosely a long fingered hand of exceeding softness. Another hand, not my own, stroked my hair gently, the cool fingertips brushing against my warm forehead. Where was I, and who was this person?
Sleepily, through half-lidded eyes, I tried to fight the urge to sleep. I shifted my head, only to realize it was resting in someone’s lap. That was the spark that jolted me to full wakefulness, and I opened my eyes all the way. Above me, smiling faintly as she stared at the empty fireplace, was Andromeda Black.
Hers was the hand I held to my chest. Hers was the hand that stroked my hair in a fashion so familiar; it was as if she had done it for years. Hers was the lap where my head rested. Hers was the leg that my hand was against. I smiled; sleepy still as I gave the hand I held a gentle squeeze.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” I murmured.
She looked at me in shock, her warm golden brown eyes wide. I lifted my cast out hand and twisted a lock of her hair. Even with her long hair in disarray, and her face unmasked in the early light, she looked stunning. I felt the faint burn of desire, but I pushed it away. It would not do to allow myself more than innocent friendship with this girl, the daughter of a staunchly Slytherin pureblooded family.
Her surprised expression melted away into a soft smile. “Good morning to you. It’s about time you woke up; I was wondering if I would spend the rest of my life with the head of a snoring man in my lap,” she teased kindly.
“I don’t snore at all! You’re quite mistaken. That must have been Margaret you heard,” I protested, grinning despite myself.
“I heard that,” remarked Margaret, clearly and unwillingly awake.
“Ah, I had hoped you would not,” I laughingly answered back.
For my pertinence, I received a pillow to the head, only causing me to chuckle some more. I lifted myself up from Dromeda’s lap, settling myself against the coach beside her.
“Were you terribly uncomfortable with me in your lap?” I asked quietly, looking at her with mock seriousness.
She paused to consider, her dark brows drawing together in her pale face. “Well, no I suppose…” she answered reluctantly, the response ruined by her bright eyes.
“Good, because we can’t have that. It is your first night in the Hufflepuff world, after all.”
Her gaze turned to my face at once, curiosity and something else there in her eyes. “Do you see me returning here often?”
Her suddenly aware attitude and attentiveness did not tell me whether she wanted to return or not. I stared at her a long while, considering what words to use, and when I did, I chose them with care. “Yes, but only if you wish to return.”
Her smile was wide and encouraging, and her eyes merry. I grinned back at her, confident that I had said something that pleased her. She didn’t say anything, but I could suddenly make out her desire to return here. It was in the way she looked around us at the so familiar furniture I took advantage of. It was there on her face when she looked at the people sprawled out in sleep who had accepted her with no questions or rude words. Perhaps the best move I could have made was to bring her here.
It only made me wonder more what the Slytherins were like to each other, and what their rooms looked like. Was it really as awful as that?
“Dromeda, what are th”” I started, only to be interrupted by an irritable Margaret. Absorbed in my time with Dromeda, I had failed to remember that Margaret was a light sleeper, and grumpy in the mornings.
“Ted, shut the bloody hell up. I’m trying to sleep here!” She threw another pillow at me, missing, but her message was sent.
“Okay, okay. Shall we go down to the Great Hall for some food?” My gaze found the eyes of the girl who had haunted me for longer than I was aware of until this moment.
She smiled her enigmatic smile and nodded. “Sure.”
Rising, I turned to her, surprised to see she already had a hand stretched towards me for my help. I laughed at her rebellious look, and lifted her up easily. We walked in agreed silence to the door and exited just as quietly. Outside, we exchanged looks, and her laughter burst forth from her lips.
“Margaret is not a morning person?” she questioned.
I shook my head vehemently, pleased to see her amused smile. “Not at all. You are a very daring and deserving young woman,” I taunted her, referring back to that moment when she had dared me to treat her like royalty who expected their due.
“Ah, but not at all. I’m a very demure and faithless girl for I wish to turn on the backs of my mates and have not yet the courage to do so,” she responded, her dark gaze serious, but still amused.
Thinking over her words, I could only summarize that she wished to leave either the Slytherins or her family. “Which disease are you speaking of?” asked I, amused with our slight code.
Her lips lifted upward in a vague, absentminded smile. “My family. I can live with being Slytherin. I do deserve that fate, for that is how my heart and mind run together. Their beliefs and mine are not the same however, which only spills over into the issue of my family who are part of the most violent in their wish to follow their beliefs.”
“Maybe, if you ever get the courage, you could break away from them.” I was unsure of what to say, and my words came hesitantly. Once they were out in the open, it crossed my mind that I wouldn’t mind helping her through that break. Discomfited, I looked at her.
Instead of looking at me head on, she stared at me from the corners of her eyes, her lips pursed in a slight frown. “Perhaps,” was all she said, her voice giving away her doubt of that proposal.
There was something in that dark-eyed slanted gaze that caused a shiver down my spine. If someone had asked me right at that moment to describe what the exact origin of the shiver was, I’d have been too baffled and disturbed to explain. Biting my tongue, I refrained from responding. I wouldn’t have known what to say if asked to speak…
----------------------------------------------
“Do you realize you’re still holding my hand?”
I startled, looking to my left at the girl in green and black beside me. Her entertained expression was diverting, and I returned her warm smile easily. I had rather let my mind wander as we walked through the grounds, still burningly and astonishingly aware of the touch of her skin against mine. My thoughts did not help, most of them being about the girl herself.
“Oh, am I? I didn’t realize…” I trailed off, my words honest enough, though not quite as honest as they should have been. How could I tell her that her touch sent warning bells off in my head, but heat through my body? Not exactly a conversation stimulator, and awkward as hell to bring up. It was rather strange to think that I had only really known her for a couple of months; it felt like ages, as if I had known her all my life.
I shot a glance at her, and grinned sheepishly to see her staring at me with a raised eyebrow and waiting look that I now knew was something she had learned from birth. It was a look that was slightly condescending, though it often had other emotions attached. I dropped my gaze down to our clasped hands, noticing for the first time that our fingers were twined together. A sense of bliss welled up in my chest at the sight, sending off yet another set of alarm bells in my mind. It was stupidity and foolishness to get myself so involved, and yet I couldn’t seem to help it. Something in her just drew me in.
During our winter break, if she hadn’t stayed in the Hufflepuff common room, within minutes of arriving at the Great Hall, we gravitated towards each other. We had spent almost all of the full, mindless days together, and when we weren’t, I was certain to be thinking about her in some shape or form. If it wasn’t wishing she was with me, it was thinking that something or other would have been enjoyed by her, or hated by her. In all sense, Aveline would have called me a boy obsessed, in my own mold of teenage craze. I had only half an idea of what she thought about while we parted, and only because she willingly shared. The rest would be greeted with one of her signature slanted looks and a small, secretive smile. It could drive a person insane wondering what she was thinking behind those guarded eyes…
The sound of a cleared throat jerked me violently back to reality, and I gave her another abashed glance. “Do you want me to let go?” I asked with confusion. She looked expectant, amused and a bit exasperated.
Dromeda’s eyes widened, and the smile slipped from her lips. “Oh! Not at all!” She sounded appalled at the very idea, another train of thought that had me cursing my traitorous body and emotions inwardly.
Feeling my brow pucker in consternation, I tried to figure out what was behind her attention seeking noise. After a long moment of pure turmoil, I finally spoke up.
“What is it, then?”
She laughed, her dark eyes growing lighter with joy. “What were you thinking? Your expressions were intriguing and surprisingly unreadable.”
I felt warmth spread up my neck in embarrassment. If she had known, if I were to actually tell her, would she run from me in anger, or be pleased? I simply didn’t know, though her reactions were growing warmer and warmer every time to my presence and touch. Yet, the few times I had tried to broach the subject, she cut me off with a jerky little shake of her head, alarm and fear darkening her already dark eyes. I tried to tell myself it was because of our houses, and the way she was raised, but I knew those were feeble lies to keep myself happy. I knew the real reason, if she did indeed feel something for me too: her family. As unbelievable as it was to me, she felt like she needed their love, and actually loved them despite their wickedness to her.
“Awwah, come on Ted! You must tell me,” she pleaded, grabbing our clasped hands with her free one. Dromeda turned towards me, and looked me in the face. I could see how badly the curiosity was burning her up inside, and felt a slight twist of resentment that there was no desire or excitement in that gaze.
I shook my head though; there was no way I was going to tell her that my thoughts had been about her.
“You don’t want to know,” I warned her cautiously.
That was entirely the wrong thing to say. I knew it the moment it came out of my mouth, for the interest in her eyes blazed, catching me off guard. “I”” Almost telling her, I snapped my jaw shut resolutely, feeling a muscle twitch at the constant tension.
“Pleeeeease,” she breathed, leaning against my shoulder with an appealing expression on her face.
I felt my breath quicken with my heart, felt a heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with attraction and excitement. My thoughts scattered, and for a few moments, I was completely thoughtless. I simply stared down at her, unconsciously drawing nearer to her.
The look changed subtly; her fluttering eyelashes slowed, her widened eyes narrowed in an almost sleepy, but inviting look. Dromeda’s lips parted slightly, and her chin tilted up. It was every sign of a girl waiting and hoping to be kissed. Once again, I heard those imaginary warning bells, and I jerked away from her unwillingly. My body rebelled against the action, feeling the magnetic pull that was always between us, and the overwhelming sense of desire.
Instantly, she stepped away from me, but failing to go far enough that my hold on her hand was broken. However, she turned her face away too fast for me to read the change in her expression. It didn’t look exactly happy, not if she was refusing to look at me. I didn’t speak, and followed her lead when she began to walk again. I simply followed her lead, fighting with myself about what to do.
On the one hand, I could do the thing we both seemed to have wanted so desperately only moments ago. I myself could feel the desire still twisted inside me, waiting with little butterfly wings in my lower abdomen. I could only guess that she too felt something there, waiting like a monster for its final release.
On the other, I knew the thing we seemed to crave was so incredibly something she didn’t want to have to face. It was a step into a relationship with a person whose life and philosophy was completely foreign to her, and it scared her. I saw that whenever the subject had come up vaguely before. All she knew was a life as a Slytherin pureblood, a daughter from a long and illustrious line of snobby upstarts. It was to step into defiance against the family she loved so hopelessly, as only a love-starved woman could do.
I stole a glance at her, and saw that she still didn’t look towards me, or even straight ahead. I felt a pang of regret that I had caused her pain, but it was a situation that could have hardly been avoided other than complete isolation from each other.
“Dromeda. Dromeda, please, look at me.” I sounded pleading and sorrowful even to my own ears, and I chose not to say anything more.
A long while passed with no response, and I felt a twist of hurt as she continued to ignore me.
“Dromeda, please.”
My voice was no more than a whisper, and I waited while holding my breath. Slowly, very slowly, she turned to me, and I could see the accusation in her eyes.
“No, Andromeda, don’t please. Sweetheart, don’t think like that,” I begged with no shame, not noticing the endearment slip from my tongue until it was too late.
“Like what? Like I’m undesirable? Like no person seems to want me for who I am, not just what I can bring to them?” she asked bitingly, her voice full of derision and resentment. The anger flared in her eyes, so sudden and unexpected that I reacted in a way that was common for most red-blooded teenage boys who felt lust and desire.
I kissed her.
A Little Lighter Than Black by kritchen
Chapter Notes: So here's the latest chapter. It's been quite a while since I've written anything for it. However, I'm fairly certain those of who you read this will enjoy the ending and think the wait was worth it. :D
Chapter Endnotes: Now before any of you say this was anti-climatic, just wait for the next chapter. :D You can't blame Ted; he's just a teenage boy who tends to quit thinking when he's with a girl he likes.