Dark Ends ~ Kayden Buckley

T H R E E

September 3rd, 1996

As soon as Y/N sat down, I noticed it.

There was a dime sized bruise on her neck. It was purple, blue, and grey. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and announced a lively. "Morning, everyone."

I chose to ignore the fact that she then mumbled about Pansy being a pugface.

It was difficult enough to get her to stop crying last night. By the time Daisy and I did, my head was pounding and my ears were ringing.

I will never get women.

I don't even know why I followed Daisy out the door yesterday, but I did.

But today is a different day, and there's a bruise on Y/N's neck.

"Y/N?" My eyebrows furrowed.

"Kayden?" She responded casually.

"What's on your neck?"

She smacked her hand to her neck so hard the sound echoed across the Great Hall. "Oh, nothing."

I tugged her hand away and got a closer look, a smirk rising on my fave when I asked. "Is that a hickey?"

Daisy chimed in. "Ooh, is Parkinson getting some action?"

"Who's the lucky man?" Blaise chanted.

"Your dad." snapped Y/N with fire gleaming in her eyes.

I could see how invested Pansy was by the look on her face. It was the same look she had when she heard people speaking about gossip in the corridors. That girl is a walking gossip machine.

She would work amazingly with Rita Skeeter.

I wonder if she ever thought of her love for gossip as a career.

I threw my hands up in defense. "Woah, Parkinson. No need to get fiesty."

Y/N retorted. "I'll do what I want, when I want."

"More like who." Daisy whispered rather loudly to Blaise.

"Say that again, Beaumont." Y/N chided, her fingers flexing against the wooden table.

I'll admit it. It was rather amusing.

Daisy didn't let it down. "Are you embarrassed that we'll judge you? Come on! Just tell us who you fucked already!"

She looked like a toddler begging for a toy in a store. Her knees were bouncing and her hands were running through her honey blonde locks repeatedly as if they needed something to do. Her blue eyes looked like saucers.

Is it possible to be an addict to drama?

"Yeah, Parkinson," Blaise smirked. "Tell us who you fucked."

I propped my arm up on the table and rested my hand on it.

"It's none of your goddamn business, you dicks!" Y/N hissed.

I couldn't help myself. "We'll stop being dicks if you tell us who gave you dick."

The table got tense. Pansy and Daisy were like twin siamese cats, leaning in together in order to breathe in the information like some type of strong drug. Blaise looked to the point of breaking, and Y/N shot a quick glance at Malfoy.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Just tell them already!" Blaise broke, staring at Y/N and then to Malfoy.

What the fuck is my life?

Malfoy and Y/N?

What. The. Fuck. ???

Daisy gasped, turning to Blaise in an instant. "You know?"