She whispered

by Lucas Chesterton

  ‘What does that mean?’ he asks her and underneath the red eyes and dark circles, he recognizes his friend as she smirks.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He’s not certain if he likes the sound of it or not.

  JAMES

  There is something in the air, he can’t put his finger on it, but it lingers over him and he has the distinct feeling something is going to happen. Bas doesn’t seem particularly concerned, he notices, and perhaps that’s a good thing. When Bas has a bad feeling, that is when he usually gets concerned.

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ he asks and Bas rolls his eyes as they walk through the corridors, each of them carrying their potion textbooks and he isn’t even entirely certain why.

  ‘You sound more like a prefect than when you actually werea prefect, Jay,’ Davy says and James’ mood only sours further as he frowns.

  ‘Well it sounds like a trap,’ James replies. ‘You get invited to a mysterious party by Malfoy and suddenly no one is concerned that she could be setting us up.’

  ‘She’s not setting us up,’ Bas says, and his voice is short because it’s the second time he’s had to say it tonight. ‘I saw it.’

  James frowns.

  ‘Saw it how? In one of your visions?’ he asks and even Davy finds humor in this statement. ‘Are you Professor Trelawney now?’

  ‘The leaves never lie, mate,’ Bas replies, unfazed as they continue downwards into the dungeons.

  ‘I’ve heard about these, you know?’ Davy says. ‘Rumours of Slytherin parties, always under wraps. They say they’ve never gotten caught.’

  ‘Whosays?’ James asks.

  ‘I overheard it from a few Ravenclaws who were invited last year. They were talking about a Yule party thrown in the dungeons. They never hold the same party twice. It’s some sort of hazing ritual for sixth years to throw an undetectable party, right under the faculty’s noses.’

  James isn’t sure about it all but he’s overruled and admittedly slightly curious. He’s been actively avoiding Thea since he managed to land her in another detention and he has a feeling that going into the lion’s den won’t exactly help things.

  ‘Relax, mate,’ Bas says. ‘It’s going to be a good time.’

  ‘If anything we’ll get to see what all the fuss is about,’ adds Davy. ‘They say the Slytherin common room is the gateway to hell.’

  ‘Then speak of the Devil,’ James mutters as they approach the end of the corridor, a large stone wall that hides the Slytherin common room stands before them.

  As well as Thea Malfoy.

  She’s head to toe in black. Black stilettos, black trousers and a black blouse with thin straps. Her dark curls fall down past her collarbone and atop her head are a pair of devil’s horns, the same deep red as her lipstick. She smirks when she sees them.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d have the bollocks, Sebastian,’ she says. ‘You didn’t say you’d be bringing friends.’

  ‘But you hoped I would,’ he replies and Thea’s smile widens, an impish grin to match her subtle costume.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she says, snapping her fingers and James is startled when a long scroll appears, unraveling itself to reveal what looks like a contract with three lines at the bottom. ‘Just a standard privacy contract, ensures that you’ll keep your mouths shut about what goes on tonight, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Does this say you own our souls?’ Davy asks, picking the bottom of the parchment up from the floor and she shrugs.

  ‘Just for tonight of course,’ she says with a wink in James’ direction and he’s already contemplating how he can get out of this. She must notice his hesitation because she hands him the quill first. ‘Don’t worry, Jamie. It’s just a formality,’ she whispers.

  ‘Is that supposed to comfort me?’ he asks and she doesn’t lose her smile as she dances the quill in front of him.

  ‘Would it make it easier if I tell you I have exactly three bottles of vintage Bilshen’s firewhiskey from my uncle’s cellar Inverness?’

  Something stirs in him then and he wonders how exactly she knows that Bilshen’s is his favorite brand of whiskey. He quickly assumes it must be his brother’s doing.

  ‘Cinnamon?’ Davy asks and both Thea and James make a face at the same time.

  ‘Christ, Finnegan. If you want cinnamon flavored shit, I hear Davis and Corner are spiking the cocoa in the library,’ she says over her shoulder and holds the quill once more up at James. ‘Well, Potter? What’s it to be?’

  James stares down at her, ignoring Bas’ smirk from behind her and he realizes the challenge in her eyes is one he isn’t going to be able to refuse. He doesn’t break eye contact as he signs his name on the first line and there is a warm sensation that rushes through his veins and he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake.

  The others quickly follow suit, Davy grumbling under his breath as he does so, and when he’s done she snaps her fingers again and the parchment rolls itself up and disappears with a magician’s poof.

  ‘Ready for your potions lesson?’ she says, pulling out her wand, waving over the stones.

  Her words are something strange, vaguely familiar but in a different language. It takes him several moments to realize she’s speaking parseltongue as the stones rearrange themselves to reveal a tall, ornate, wooden door behind it. They all lean in to take a better look, walking through the doorway which reassembles behind them. They see only a handful of Slytherin’s sitting at tables with books in front of them. One of them yawns.

  When he looks up Thea’s eyes are on him and he raises an eyebrow.

  ‘This is it?’ he asks and she laughs, snapping her fingers once more.

  The scene in front of him changes so immediately that he is startled at the blaring music and the flashing lights. She grabs their books and throws them in a pile inside a tall cupboard nearby. The room is crowded with bodies, mostly Slytherin but he sees several students from other houses as well.

  ‘Gryffindor royalty, everyone!’ she says, her voice elevated by her wand and the room erupts into amused and drunken cheers. She glances over her shoulder, beckoning them with the crook of her finger. ‘Welcome to hell, boys.’

  She disappears into the crowd, finding her way to the leather couch near the fireplace. She grabs a coupe of champagne on her way. She drapes her legs over Albus’ lap then and he assumes by the smiles on both of their faces that they’ve made up from whatever row they were having.

  Bas drags him to a table covered in bottles and glasses float around filling themselves with ease. There, in the center, are the three bottles of firewhiskey Thea had previously alluded to and when he pours himself a glass and glances in her direction, she raises her glass from across the room and he reluctantly does the same.

  He turns then to Bas and Davy, their glasses filled to the brim in the form of shots and the too raise their glasses.

  ‘To the dead,’ Bas says.

  Davy and James repeat in unison. ‘To the dead.’

  The firewhiskey burns his throat as he downs it but the feeling that follows is courage laced in euphoria. Whatever misgivings he has about Thea and this party, are quickly fading into the back of his mind.

  James doesn’t like dancing, but somehow in the span of an hour he finds himself on the dancefloor with several Slytherin girls who eye him curiously as if he’s one of Professor Hagrid’s magical creatures. The music pulses and hums as the liquor swirls through him and decides, as Torra Bletchley’s hand slithers up his chest that, perhaps dancing isn’t so bad after all.

  He’s out of breath when the song ends and Torra whispers enticing offers in his ear though he excuses himself for another drink. She grins, saying she’ll allow it if only he’ll bring her one as well. James agrees, pulling her arms from around him and finds his way back towards a table filled with delectable sweets where Davy seems to have taken up permanent residence.

  He’s sitting, a pint in one hand and a girl sitting on his lap, their lips attached in drunken lus
t. He only stops when she slips away, promising to return and he begs for her to hurry back. Davy downs his drink with an idiotic grin and James joins Bas in a round of laughter.

  James is handed a beer and something he assumes is spliff, letting the drag linger in his lungs longer than usual before exhaling it slowly up into the air. When it’s all left his lungs in a glorious cloud of heavenly herb, his eyes are drawn towards the fireplace on the other side of the room.

  She doesn’t see him. Or if she does, she pretends not to notice as she sits there, swirling what looks like the same champagne she’s had in her hand since they walked in. Albus sits next to her, slumped together on the leather couch and James wonders how his brother always manages to keep Thea Malfoy engrossed in conversation when no one else can.

  James watches her from the corner of the room where he stands, only half listening to Davy and Bas babble on about one of the Slytherin sixth years Bas has been trying to chat up. But James hardly notices the girl in question. He’s drawn in by lazy smiles and dark red lipstick that currently stains Albus’ cheek.

  He doesn’t know if it’s the firewhiskey muddling his brain or the herb Bas has handed to him but there is something swimming through him and he finds himself willing her to gaze to meet his own.

  ‘Merlin bless Slytherins and their expensive taste in alcohol,’ Bas says from beside him and James finally pulls his eyes from Thea long enough to see that his fellow Gryffindors are fully reaping the benefits of the situation at hand.

  James isn’t sure how they manage to get so many people in under the noses of the professors, but the Slytherin common room is filled to the brim with upperclassmen in various stages of intoxication. He has to concede that he’s impressed.

  James takes another long drag before passing the herb to Bas and then turns back to see Albus sitting alone, the seat next to him on the black leather couch now vacated. He peers around the room, unable to locate her red devil’s horns or her matching lipstick amongst the crowd of girls dancing to music so loud he can feel it in his chest.

  He stands, taking his empty bottle with him as he feigns interest in grabbing a few more, promising his comrades something for them as well. At the drink table he finds bottles, filling themselves every time someone takes a pour, and he grabs a bottle of something dark and walks toward the large prominent window nearby. Outside is the Black Lake which, unlike its name, does not seem very black as he peers out into the blue-green abyss darkened by the night.

  ‘Having fun, Potter?’ a voice whispers from behind him, like a purr, and he spins around to see her standing there, still holding her near full champagne coupe, her lips pressed together in a curious grin. He smiles back.

  Something is assuredly wrong with him.

  ‘And since when is my mood any concern of yours?’ he asks, attempting and failing to to erase the grin. Her lips rise further at the corners at his mocking. ‘Really Mafloy, it’s rather disturbing how obsessed you are with me.’

  ‘Funny,’ she says, stepping closer so that they are now side by side. She stares out at the lake but James is unable to look away from her as she speaks. ‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

  ‘So,’ he asks but he pauses when he realizes he doesn’t want to talk about Albus. He doesn’t want to mention the way they laugh and smile because something inside of him is sick of the image.

  And so he says nothing except ‘so’ and she stares at him when the moment lingers. She places her hands front of her, closing one eye as she places her fingers in the shape of a rectangle, leaving her glass floating nearby.

  ‘There he is again,’ she says dramatically. ‘I see why she couldn’t keep her hands off of you.’

  His brow furrows as he asks, ‘Who?’

  She looks like she’s about to answer but she doesn’t and pulls out a small silver case from her back pocket. The case is engraved with an ornate letter ‘M’ and inside are what look like several hand-rolled cigarettes. She pulls one to her lips, slide the case back into her pocket but then searches another pocket for a lighter which must be missing because she looks put out when she doesn’t find it.

  James suddenly remembers Bas handing him his lighter which James slipped into his pocket earlier when his friend found a distraction on the other side of the room. James pulls the lighter out and sees the surprise in her eyes when he lights it for her. She looks up at him, under her dark lashes and leans in, taking a few puffs as the end glows red.

  ‘The devil without any fire? Sounds problematic,’ he whispers and she scoffs lightly as she blows the smoke from her lips. When she pulls the cigarette from her lips she holds it in front of him.

  James’ hand twitches at his side for only a moment before he reaches up for it, noticing the red lip stain around it as he takes it from her. He closes his eyes when he places it to his lips, inhaling what is most definitely not a cigarette. The herb is delicious as it winds it’s way over his tongue and down the back of his throat.

  When he opens his eyes he nearly chokes on the smoke when he sees the blue-green water overtaken by a large creature, more specifically it’s large eye and tentacles that dance across the glass.

  ‘What in Dumbledore’s name is���’ he starts, through his fit of coughs and Thea laughs, stepping forward and placing her hand against the glass.

  ‘Giant squid,’ she says, the tentacle sliding up over her hand, the glass between them. ‘He likes the music.’

  James watches her as she stares into the eye of the giant squid, her fingers tracing over the glass in patterns that he mirrors and the light from the candles that float above them glimmers off of her black nail polish. Nearby, her coupe still floats and he notices for the first time there is no lip stain on the pristine glass full of fizzing liquid.

  ‘Something in the booze I should be concerned about?’ he asks, nodding towards her glass when she looks back at him with a furrowed brow and she glances towards it. ‘Or do you just not like champagne?’

  ‘I, happen to lovechampagne,’ she tells him, taking the glass and placing it to her lips. She leaves behind her lipstick and he smirks.

  ‘Then why are you only just now having a drink?’ he says, wiping the lipstick from the cup and she glances up at him.

  ‘More perceptive than I thought,’ she says, cocking her head to the side. ‘I do love champagne,’ she says. ‘But I tend to prefer my parties sober.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  She’s looking up at him from under her lashes so she doesn’t have to stretch her neck upwards to meet his eyes. He doesn’t step back, hoping that she will. He reaches for the glass in her hand and he places it on a small study table nearby. When he looks back there is less space between them than before.

  ‘So,’ she says, her voice small and James swallows hard, remember that he’s still holding the herb between his fingers, Thea’s lipstick smudged from his own lips.

  ‘So what’s in this anyways?’ he asks, referring to the herb, when he can’t come up with anything else and she’s about to speak when they’re both interrupted.

  ‘James,’ he hears over the music and he sees Torra standing nearby, her fair hair draped over her shoulder. ‘I thought you were going to get me a drink?’

  ‘I…uh…got distracted. Sorry,’ he says, clearing his throat and handing her the rolled cigarette from his hand.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Thea whispers then, leaning in so that her breath grazes against his skin. ‘I think you’ll like it,’ she tells him, referring to his previous question.

  He allows Torra to grab hold of his hand, her fingers lacing between his and he realizes that his palms are damp. The music consumes them once more and she summons her own glass and when she sips the champagne, her pink lipstick doesn’t leave a mark.

  James allows her to lead him onto the dance floor and their bodies move together to the beat. She excuses his tense moves, easing him to relax but he can’t seem to concentrate on her or her blue eyes that stare into his and the way she bite
s her bottom lip.

  But his eyes are again drawn away, this time directly across the room where Bas stands, his arm leaning against the wall as he towers over a girl smaller than him. He wears a sly grin and sips his scotch from a glass the girl hands him. James frowns when he realizes said girl is Thea.

  ‘You ok?’ Torra asks, closing the gap between them, her hands on his hips and instead of delighting in the pressure of her body against his James only sees Bas’ body against hers.

  ‘Yes,’ he says too quickly, trying not to be distracted by the way Thea toys with the edge of Bas’ loosened tie, or how Bas makes her laugh when he whispers something in her ear. He feels his jaw clench at the sound.

  It was one thing to tell her the noble truth instead for the self-serving one, but quite another to lie directly to her face. And so he admitted it. ‘But not because I had him follow you. In fact, his task was to follow McVey.’

  ‘Which gave you the idea that you could just as easily have him tail me?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Your meeting with McVey behind my back was a blow to me! I didn’t know if I could trust you anymore.’

  ‘I told you, I just didn’t get around to tell you right away! And you’re putting Draco on my heels? How is that for trust?! It’s so unfair!’ Abruptly, she turned away in her seat and stared out of the car window. To her own horror, tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t usually so spontaneously emotional, but it was just the thing that he brought out in her.

  Daysen stared at the back of her head for a while, unsure of how to talk to her. He leant forward, tried to catch her eyes, but she turned away even more, hugged herself. He stretched out his hand, wanted to grip her shoulder and turn her around, but he sensed just in time that she would hate that. So he merely touched her hand with the tips of his fingers and said her name, very very quietly.

  ‘Why don’t you trust me?’ she hissed. ‘Don’t I deserve it, after all that happened?’ There was a certain degree of wailing in her voice.