under the mistletoe

Mallory Finlay was not a happy camper. First, she woke up late and was a few minutes late to her Transfiguration class, which certainly did not make Professor McGonagall happy with her. Then she had accidentally run into Professor Snape in the hallway which earned her a detention and made Ravenclaw lose 20 points. And now she couldn’t for the life of her find the book she needed for her Potions assignment. While she was ninety percent sure she remembered correctly all of the uses of newt’s eyes in potions, she still felt like she needed to check with the tome for good measure, just to be completely sure that she didn’t miss anything. She resorted to asking Madam Pince for help. The librarian drily told her that there was only one copy available and that if she could not find it on the bookshelves, she was either blind, or someone else had already taken it. Which left Mallory standing in front of the bookshelf where the book in question was supposed to be located; except that its designated spot was empty. “Finlay,” she startled at the sound of her name coming right from behind her and dropped the stack of parchments she was holding in her hands. Why did it have to be him? She was quite familiar with the voice and didn’t deign to look at the person who had spoken, choosing instead to bend down to collect the parchments strewn on the floor. “Morgana’s tits, what is it with you?” Now he sounded annoyed. Finally, she stood up and turned around to face him. Draco Malfoy stood before her in all his Slytherin Prince glory and, lo and behold, he was holding the book she needed in his hands. “Malfoy,” she nodded curtly. “Can I help you?” “No, but I believe I can help you,” he looked pointedly at the tome he was holding. “Looking for this?” “Yes, I— how did you know?” Mallory asked with suspicion. “It doesn’t take to be a genius, Finlay.” He huffed. “You are aware that we share Potions, aren’t you?” he asked sarcastically. “Here,” he handed her the book. She took it gingerly and nodded curtly in thanks. However, instead of walking away, Draco continued standing there. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes, which he immediately averted. He opened his mouth, then closed it “Say, Finlay…” he paused for a moment, as though hesitating. “Have you got a date yet?” “A— what?” Mallory was left dumbfounded. She had no idea what he was talking about. “A date, Finlay.” He repeated patiently. “For the Yule Ball.” He elaborated at her look devoid of understanding. Oh! She had completely forgotten about that. Though, to be completely honest, once it has been announced that a Yule Ball would be taking place, she immediately decided that she had no intention whatsoever of going to the Ball because… She told herself it was because she would be busy studying to spare time for such foolery, but the truth was that she was acutely aware of the minuscule possibility of anyone asking her to go together and how slim her chances were of having a date. “Well?” Interrupted Draco her musings on the topic. “No,” she said resolutely. It’s not like it was a big secret—at this point everyone in the castle knew the names of every couple by heart and she was not among those people. “In that case,” he bowed his head a little. “Mallory Finlay, will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” His head was still bowed and he was studiously avoiding eye contact with her. “Is this some kind of joke?” She asked incredulously. “No, Finlay,” he said quietly but firmly. “I am being completely serious.” He swallowed thickly and finally raised his head to look at her. His cheeks spotted a faint red and droplets of sweat had appeared on his forehead. That could only mean one thing… “I think you have a fever, Malfoy,” she stated as calmly as she could in that moment and reached for his forehead to check—he did feel a bit warm under her touch. “I’ll take you to the Hospital Wing.” “What— no,” he uttered indignantly and swatted her hand away. “I’m perfectly fine.” He adjusted his green tie and shot a glare in Mallory’s direction. “Don’t think you are special, just because I am asking you out. Pansy got sick with dragon pox and the Mediwitch said she’ll need weeks to recover and,” He cleared his throat and stated in a parody of Madam Pomfrey’s voice, “obviously, she cannot go to the Yule Ball.” He blew a strand of blond hair away from his face. “Every girl in Slytherin and Beauxbatons is already taken, and I cannot very well go alone to the Ball, can I?” he ended rhetorically. “So, that leaves you.” He looked at her expectantly. “What about me?” she asked defiantly. “Aren’t there plenty of purebloods in Ravenclaw? I’m just a ‘filthy half-blood and a blood traitor’, remember?” “They are all taken, as well,” he muttered angrily. “If I had any choice left at all, I certainly would not be asking you. So? What is it going to be?” Mallory hesitated. While he saw a logic in his words that aligned perfectly with Malfoy’s beliefs which were infamously famous at Hogwarts, thanks to his daily fights with Potter and the lot, she was still suspicious of him. But, even if he did have some ulterior motives, this may very well be her only chance of scoring a date for the Ball—that is, if she intended to go, which she absolutely did not. Yes, you do, whispered a traitorous little voice at the back of her mind. “Fine,” stated Mallory at last. “I’ll go to the Ball with you. No funny business though,” she warned him. “Pfft,” he let out a small laugh and shook his head. “As if I would want to have anything with you. I simply need someone to dance with me and look pretty for the night.” She was about to make a sarcastic retort, when she realised that… oh. Did he just… did he just call her pretty? She felt blood rush to her face. “Sure, Malfoy.” She said with as much nonchalance as the could muster. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and she felt out of breath all of a sudden. “Was there something else you needed…?” Malfoy just looked her up and down for a moment, then turned sharply on his heels and walked away. Huh. That was certainly interesting, thought Mallory to herself. Before her thoughts could start wandering places, she sternly reminded herself that she could worry about that later—for now she had to take care of the Potions assignment. She sighed and dumped the parchments and the book that Malfoy had given her on the nearest table. Time to get to work. She opened the tome and started looking for the information she needed; soon her mind was absorbed with all the different uses of newt’s eyes in potions and rituals and she had all but forgotten about the conversation she had with Malfoy.