ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 - 𝐓𝐖𝐎

FLASHBACK SIX

It's supposed to be perfect. Everything is supposed to be perfect, every minor detail matters.

She was perfection, she desired perfection, she wanted perfection, and there was nothing she wasn't going to do to attain it. I felt like I didn't know if I was falling in the same steps or not.

As I brushed my hair, thoughts ran through my head, like a swirl. I was confused as to why that mark had appeared across the side of my forehead.

I lied when I said I was going to the Infirmary. I knew the cure to fix this myself, I just needed an excuse - anything to get me out of that situation.

Zeke was interesting, I will say that. There was a certain allure in his eyes as if dark secrets roamed behind them. The shadow of his dimples when he smugly smirked, made me look away.

We actually did meet up to get Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks like the way friends meet up to strike up a conversation. To catch up on whatever we missed out on, to talk about all the bad things in life with a good meal? Right?

That was supposed to be the idea of why we were going to actually meet up. Although something kept poking me hypothetically. It was just a thought, I could be wrong - I could be very wrong although I didn't want to misjudge.

Misjudgment is the worst thing to do and I didn't want to be the one person to do it. I listened to him talk about what he enjoyed. He doesn't like to read, he likes visuals, and his favorite color is blue - just like his eyes. He dislikes vanilla, and he has an older brother who is distant.

That's all I could get out of him. Well, not that I was trying as he willingly told me those things. I did the same thing, building trust. The first step to gaining anything at all, any information, any important lead, or a counterpoint.

Not being able to reach the zipper as my hand attempted to reach out as far as it possibly could. I looked at the time, it was exactly seven fifty at night. It meant I had ten minutes until I had to face my least favorite people.

Worse than Malfoy? Debatable. I think.

This wasn't a date - anything but a date. This was simply a mission, like in books where the main lead has to complete her assignment. I could look at it that way although I doubt she had the trouble of reaching her zipper.

I cursed at the tailor's constant habit of making it impossible to reach the zipper as I groaned. You're probably thinking that I could use magic, or my wand considering I'm eighteen.

If I'm being honest, I was deliberately not using my wand, I felt as if I kept myself distracted long enough with something. I wouldn't stand and stare at the clock the next minute as each second ticked quickly.

"If I were a witch, I would find every reason to use my magic." That voice was insanely familiar, and probably one of my favorite things to hear right now.