The Game | D.M

43

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'Christmas Chronicles'

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Mid-December

Aria Zabini

I folded the last of my clothes and placed them neatly in my trunk, though my mind was far from neat and organized. Packing for the holiday break should've filled me with some sort of excitement, but it didn't. I wasn't even sure what to feel about going home.

Home.

It didn't even feel like that anymore. I hadn't seen my mother in basically a year—not even during the summer break. That wasn't new, though. 

The latch on my trunk snapped shut with a dull click just as there was a knock at my door. I stiffened, a sense of anticipation I hadn't expected creeping up my spine. Slowly, I crossed the room and pulled the door open, my heart nearly stopping when I saw who was standing there.

Laurent.

With that damn smug smirk on his face, like he knew exactly the chaos he caused by showing up. My eyes widened, and I instinctively looked around the hallway, checking for anyone who might be nearby. My heart pounded harder than it should have.

"Are you bloody insane?" I hissed, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him inside quickly. I slammed the door shut behind us, pressing my back against it. "I told you not to come here during daylight."

His apology was half-hearted, but it was accompanied by a chuckle as he dropped onto my bed casually, acting like he owned the place. Before I could scold him any further, he reached out and pulled me into a long, heated kiss. And despite every ounce of reason screaming at me, I didn't stop him.

I kissed him back, letting the moment linger longer than I should've. There was something intoxicating about the way Laurent made me feel. That spark of rebellion, the thrill of doing something I knew was wrong. But it wasn't just the adrenaline—I needed the attention. 

As much as I hated myself for it, for seeking it out in someone like Laurent, I couldn't help it. Especially now, with the holidays looming and nothing to look forward to except an empty house and awkward silences with my mother.

When I finally pulled away, I hit him on the arm lightly. "You're a pain, you know that?"

He grinned, entirely unbothered. "You love it."

I rolled my eyes, though a part of me knew he wasn't completely wrong. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, running a hand through my hair. "You're lucky no one saw you. Last thing I need is to hear Pansy or Blaise's shit."

Laurent shrugged, completely relaxed, lounging like he had nowhere else to be. "They don't scare me. Besides, it's not like it'd be the first time people talked about us."

"That's not the point," I muttered. I wanted to be angry at him, but I wasn't. I couldn't be, not really. I was mad at myself more than anything—for letting this happen again. 

I knew it was dumb, messing around with Laurent after everything, but in moments like this, it was like all logic and self-control flew out the window.

I hated myself for it. But that didn't stop me.

He studied me, his smirk softening just a bit, as if he could see right through me. And maybe he could. "So, you're going home?"

I nodded, feeling that familiar pit in my stomach. "Yeah. For what it's worth."