Untitled Part 1

42

A ton of muffled whispers echoed the area as all eyes fell on the back of the great hall at once. Came strolling down was a tall-looking young man, you could say he was about six foot or so. He had a slim shaped figure yet it still looked pretty tough, as his shoulders were broad and pushed back confidently.
Dark brown hair strands dangled slightly along his forehead—from a distance, it looked more blackish. Meanwhile, those piercing blue orbs of his could easily catch one's heed from miles away—a glare from him seemed like it could make a being drop dead on the spot. It wasn't complex to figure out that he had sharp and appealing features. Lucien's face-form took the shape of a diamond, his jawline looked as if it could cut like knives.

He was aware of the obvious whispering and gossiping on each of his side, but the student managed to keep walking, heading towards the headmastress. His chin was held high, just like his gaze. He did not bother to neither look nor make any sort of eye contact with anyone as he strutted. However, despite his first impression of quite bitterness, his lips were curled up in a slight mischievous smirk since the second he walked in.

The golden trio eyed one another a couple of times here and there, wondering why would a new student be joining them now, it was basically their last year of Hogwarts, but Ronald suggested to just shrug it off, saying that he's probably an exchange student or something.

"Please take a seat right here Mr. De Martel," Professor McGonagall claimed, gesturing her arm towards the stool. "in order for you to be sorted."

The chattering tunes got lower as the sorting hat found it's voice. Without any further action, Lucien casually seated himself upon the stool, the smirk never fading away from his lips. Every student seemed like they suddenly became more and more eager, or you could say cautious. They probably noticed his first impression and jumped to a conclusion that he was definitely not a Hufflepuff.

"Alright alright," Spoke the voice of the sorting hat carefully, inspecting every bit of the young man underneath him, both mentally and emotionally. "I see, Mr. De Martel, you seem like an utterly intelligent boy, yes, a lot of wisdom," It paused for a moment, "but not quite the wit for a Ravenclaw. Most definitely not a Hufflepuff, although you'd make a great loyal peer, or perhaps not I s'pose."
Lucien chuckled silently at the last comment, but it wasn't much visible nor hearable. He kept his chin held high, as if he owns the place, and waited for the hat to continue, even though he looked like he already knew where he belonged to.

"Yes, there is quite bravery in you Mr. De Martel, however, I don't reckon Gryffindoor is the best fit for you." It spoke, then let out a small hum. "On the other hand, I definitely see some ambition somewhere in there, you seem to also have a thirst to prove yourself very often, am I right?"

Lucien did not hesitate to tear his gaze away from in front of him, he smirked just a little more, and nodded briefly, indicating a yes.

"Alright. You're also a hard-worker I s'pose, not really the type to give up easily without getting exactly what they wish for." Assured the sorting hat once again. "Okay then. That'll be,"

"SLYTHERIN"

Silence and stillness suffused the hall, and the whispers immediately withdrew. Some gasps were echoed here and there through the aura, while some students did not even look amused by the sorting hat's decision—and Harry was one of them to be specific.

Him, Ron, Hermione, and some other Gryffindoors gaped as the new student strutted confidently towards the Slytherin table—his face gestured that he was not at all surprised, but in fact pretty pleased. The second Lucien settled down on there, he happened to be very comfortable—most of the other Slytherins began chatting with him easily.

"I bet he's definitely some rich pureblood." Mumbled Ron, stuffing his face with a ton of spoon fulls of mashed potato and washing it down with pumpkin juice. The other two sensed back into reality and tore their gaze away from the mysterious young man, however Harry still seemed out of place.

"He looks familiar... or-or a bit suspicious. Dontcha' think so?" He asked, scratching the back of his head with his fingers. He looked back at his two friends, and seeing that they both gave him a weird and confused expression, he just shrugged it off.
"Never mind. I'm probably still hungover from la-"

"Yeah, about that." Hermione cut him off quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. "What happened Harry?"

The boy groaned in irritation, clearly not in the mood to explain everything to his best friends at that moment. However, now that he'd mentioned it, he couldn't help but peer over at the Slytherin table, since Malfoy immediately crossed his mind again.
He ignored Hermione's hundred questions about where he'd snuck off last night, and permitted his eyes to rummage for a certain blonde.

Until,

Grey finally met green.

They held intense eye contact, neither of them bothering to break it. Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably on his seat, he felt himself get somehow sweaty as flashbacks from last night started rushing back all at once—and the most triggering thing was that he was still staring into the other boy's soul, and the blonde still returned the favor.

"Harry! For God's sake, I'm speaking to you!" The shrieking voice of Hermione snapped him back to actuality. He never thought in his life that he'd be thankful for his best friend's usual "torment", but for now, he was—his knees were beginning to feel weaker and weaker every second he stared into Malfoy's eyes, even though he was not even standing.

"Okay, okay. I will." He muttered, rolling his eyes as he began venting to Hermione and Ron who listened cautiously.

—

After he did so, his two best friends literally burned him with questions and comments.

"Mate! You sure you're alright? Maybe that was all just a dream. You wouldn't do that." Spoke Ron—for once he looked surprised by something.

"I'm fine Ron, and yes, I would." Harry replied back, obviously sounding tired and extended worn off.

"Y'know what, just go back to your dorm. I don't think it's a good idea for you to attend any classes today while you're in this awful state. You look like you're going to throw up." Suggested Hermione. "I'll inform the professors that you have to deal with something important, or come up with an excuse, let's hope they'll understand."

"K. Thanks." He uttered, but 'Mione held him back as soon as he got up from his seat by his arm.

"Yes, but don't think we're done with you. When you feel better, I'm going to have you tell me what on Earth was on your mind in order for you to consume hard drugs, Harry." She spat, giving him a warning glare.

Harry only rolled his eyes once again. He received sayings like that quite a lot from Hermione. "Yeah yeah sure."

And with that, he turned his heels around and walked away from the great hall.

However,

While he was strolling, he could feel a pair of eyes burning on the figure of his back. At first, he decided to just shrug it off, thinking it was just Malfoy. But then, for some reason, he thought fuck it.

Tilting his head back for a split second, Harry caught the gaze of a certain pair of  blue orbs.

He immediately gulped and turned himself back around, continuing his way back up to his dorm.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he finally arrived,

because it was not Draco's gaze in which he met,

but in fact Lucien De Martel's.