Chapter 18

Zoe

Sometimes, something of great significance consumes our mind so deeply that we cannot shake the thought of it for even a minute. In a situation like this, it's logical to ask why this thing means so much to us.

I've asked myself this question what feels like dozens of times today, and I haven't even begun to discover the answer.

Blaise. Me. Blaise kissing me. Me liking it. Me feeling ashamed for liking it. Me being mad at Blaise for kissing me, and even more mad at myself for how much I liked it. Me wondering what could possibly be going through Blaise's mind right now.

I wonder if he is obsessing over the kiss as much as I am. If he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since it happened. I know that I sure haven't. I wasn't able to focus in any of my classes today - my mind kept wandering off to a land of thoughts forbidden. Confusing, frustrating, and tempting thoughts that I just can't seem to resist occupying myself with. I want to be thinking about anything but it (the kiss), but I can't seem to separate myself from the memory.

When Blaise's lips touched mine, a sensation so full of warmth had rushed through me that I thought I might collapse. It was short - a sensitive touch of the lips, and then nothing. But when he pulled away, I found that my breathing was deep and irregular. Why?

I want to pull my hair out in frustration. Blaise is cold, and an ass to me most of the times. There is no way I could like him. How could I like someone like that? I'd always pictured myself with a man that had traits somewhat similar to those of my grandpa's - compassion, kindness, and strength, folded like a warm blanket over a good heart. This is not Blaise. For a moment, I try to picture the two of us together - him with his arms around me late at night, once the rest of the world has gone to sleep. I can't tell if I don't know how I feel about it or if I just don't want to know.

I sit still on a couch in the Slytherin common room. There are a dozen other students spread out across the room, but I feel alone. I inch my toes closer to the fire, allowing the heat of the flames to warm them.

"Zoelle."

Flint appears next to me, the unoccupied space of couch sinking down as he plops onto it. The sound of my full name rolling off his tongue makes me feel strangely uncomfortable.

"I'm glad I found you. I needed help on this damned Herbology essay." He pulls a piece of parchment out of his back pocket, slaps it down on the table in front of us. The thing is wrinkled and torn and looks like it has been run over by a car several times. A few lousy lines of chicken scratch grace the top of the paper.

"I'm not sure why you're asking me. You know I'm dreadful in that class."

"Better than me, though. And everyone else has bailed on me." He gives me a puppy-dog eyed look, as if it will somehow win over my time.

"Please? I'd do it for you."

Guilt-tripping - nice touch.

"Alright, then." I say.

I quickly realize that Herbology is the last thing Flint wants to discuss. He starts simple - how was my day? Am I tired? The classics - mere fillers that provide leeway into the more intense topics. His questions do turn more personal. He wants to know where I'm from, what's something I regret, what are my parents like (I'm not keen on answering this one). Then, all of a sudden, he pelts me with -

"Are you a virgin?"

My hand gives a little jerk, causing the quill I'm holding to make a panicky scribbling motion.

"Um, what?"

"Well, you seem like you would be."

I set my quill down, feeling like boiling water. "No offense, but that's really none of your business."

"Oh, c'mon, Fletch. It's just a question, don't get your panties in a knot." He pushes.

"Flint, I swear to god if one more word comes out of your mouth about it -"

"Why won't you tell me?" He pretends to tease, but I can tell he's itching to know. His fingers are creeping up onto my knee. "Is there a guy I don't know about it?"

I am so unnerved by him that I look away, over my shoulder, desperate for any kind of escape from this situation. I find Blaise. He is sitting in an arm chair some ways behind us, and when I realize that our eyes have met and that he must've already been looking at me before I turned around, my heart flutters. I want to smush the feeling like a bug under my shoe.

I swiftly whip my head back towards Flint, but I can't hide the sudden appearance of heat on my cheeks. Images from the previous night - Blaise's hands on me, his lips on mine - are flashing through my head.

He looks at Blaise, then at me. Blaise. Me.

"You two?" The sly, playful smile on his face has disappeared.

I gulp, and answer no. I can't seem to meet his eyes when I say the word.

We spend another ten minutes or so actually working on the essay. The air between us is tense and stiff with awkwardness.

There's something venomous about him, now. I don't know what he'll do.

***

Blaise

When I think about Flint touching Zoe, I want to punch him in the fucking face.

It's a strange feeling that doesn't sit well with me - I don't usually get this angry, and if I do, I'm pretty good at controlling it. Right now, I am hot, sweaty, and everything feels uncomfortable. The image of his hand on her knee replays over and over again in my mind like a broken record, igniting a dark fire beneath my rib cage.

That should be me. After our moment in the common room last night - which is all that I've been able to think about today - I feel territorial about her.

I half-sit on the edge of my bed, my left leg outstretched in confusion, not sure whether I need to stand and pace around a bit before returning to my bed corner. My hands clench and unclench, my toe tapping the ground in a vexing manner. I can't control my tics - if I sit completely still, I feel like I'll explode.

Flint enters the dorm room.

"What the hell, Zabini." It's a statement, not a question.

"What?" I shove my feelings down my throat and play it cool.

"You knew I was going for her. What the hell happened between you two."

"So somehow it's my fault that you don't always get every girl you want?"

He takes a few rigid paces into the empty room, stopping a few feet away from me.

"What about the bet, huh? I was the one we said was going for her, not you. Shit. You bet me ten damn galleons I could."

"Don't be a dick, Flint." I say. "It's not about the bet anymore and we both know it."

The Bet.

The bet, the bet.

I'd tried very hard to forget about the bet because I hadn't thought that it was a serious negotiation between Flint and I until he started pursuing her like a hunter after a doe. I'd started to suspect that Flint wanted her, really wanted her, and his evident rage now only confirms my theory. The bet bothers me, and the fact that he's taking it this seriously, trying to pin her down like some sort of prize, is bothering me even more.

I can see in his eyes that he knows I'm right. His lips curl with the frustration of defeat, and then something changes inside of him and I can see it in the way his entire head-to-toe demeanor shifts.

He is out the door before I can stop him.

***

Zoe

"Zoe." Flint says in a voice that's alarmingly loud, staggering down the stairs rapidly.

I'd been thinking about the kiss before he'd, once again, interrupted me.

"Zoe." He repeats my name as if I hadn't heard it the first time. I had.

"What?"

"You don't know anything about him. You think you know him and you don't."

"What the hell are you talking about?" My face begins to feel really, really hot as Flints strides towards me quicken. I am freezing up, a feeble animal, and in my mind I can picture him striking me sharply with the back of his hand.

"I saw you looking at him earlier, and don't try and give me that bullshit that you weren't, because I saw how your face changed when you did. You think he's perfect -"

Flint licks his lips aggressively and his saliva flecks my face. He is so close to me, a beacon of rage, and I'm terrified and furious all at the same time.

Blaise appears behind Flint's shoulder. I hadn't even heard him coming.

"Ah - the man of the hour! So glad you could join us tonight."

"I'm warning you, Flint -"

"Zoe," he laughs violently, points at Blaise, "HE'S a piece of shit. You have no idea what he's done, or - or who he is."

"Zo, don't listen to him -"

"How much do you really know him? Like really know him? You just met him two months ago and you think he's some angel -"

"Stop it, Flint." I interject, suddenly feeling defensive of Blaise. The words are involuntary, like vomit. "You don't know what you're saying."

Flint gives a crazed laugh. "Really? I don't know what the hell I'm talking about?"

The silence that follows is thick and drags across us like molasses. I already feel like an idiot before he tells me.

"Fine then. I'm done with you, Zoe." Flint says, and breaks for the staircase. "You can keep defending the guy who made a bet about your virginity."

I wasn't moving before, but now I just feel frozen. Like an iciness has consumed me from the inside out. My head pounds alike with my heart, so viciously that I can't process my thoughts.

"What?" I say meekly. The word feels weak, like it's dribbled out from my lips.

"I said, you can keep defending the guy that made a bet to me that I could fuck you. Within a month or two. Offered to pay me actual money, Zo - galleons - if I could bang you in a month."

I can't bring myself to look at Blaise. The thought of his face makes my stomach feel oily. That strong, bony jaw. Deep-set and dark eyes, occasionally graced with what I thought had been honesty. He'd been a lie this whole time.

"Zoe." Says Blaise's careful voice from beside me. My name is spoken in the same tone that would be used to calm a rabid animal.

He says my name again, tells me not to listen to Flint, but the words sound like a foreign language to me. I can't hear him or Flint anymore. I can't tell if either of them are really there, or if I'm really there. If this is really, truthfully happening.

It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel real.