Invisibility is generally thought of as magical, unobtainable, something out of Harry Potter or a superhero comic. But optics, the physics of light, is very much science. How can you manipulate light so that you are completely invisible?
We see an object when light hits or goes through it and comes back to our eyes. Therefore, then, there are two things we can see: reflection, the bouncing of light, and refraction, the bending of light. Because of this, we can see glass and water even though they are transparent.
Latias, then, bends the light around its body to appear invisible. When light refracts, the angle that it bends is proportional to the index of refraction (n) of the material. Snell’s Law says:
Don’t get too discouraged by the math: it just means that the larger the index of refraction is, the more light will be bent when it enters the medium. For example, air has an index of refraction close to 1, and diamond is 2.4.
This also means that if two mediums have the same index of refraction, then light won’t bend at all when it passes through it. For example, this glass rod has the same index of refraction as the oil, which makes it disappear:
That’s invisibility, but not the kind we’re looking for. If Latias’ feather had the same index of refraction as the air that it flies through, then yes, its feathers would be invisible. But you could see straight through to her skin, organs, lungs, heart, eyes, etc. We aren’t looking for a way to make light go through Latias, we want the light to go completely around her.
Until recently, this was largely thought impossible. To bend light completely around a visible object like an invisibility cloak, you would need a negative index of refraction. By definition a substance’s index of refraction is calculated with a square root, and we can’t take a square root of a negative number. There was no substance on Earth that met these requirements.
Until, in 1964, Victor Vesalago mathematically proved that a negative index was not impossible. You simply need to take a “left hand rule” approach instead of the standard “right hand rule” for electromagnetics. And much more recently, in 2000, we’ve successfully engineered materials with negative indices of refraction.
The catch is, light is made up of a spectrum of different wavelengths. The “invisibility” material that we have only cloaks the object from microwaves, not visible light. Research is still being done, as you can imagine, true invisibility would be a revolutionizing breakthrough.
Latias’ feathers have a negative index of refraction, bending visible light completely around her body and making her invisible.
Because she’s not invisible all the time, Latias must have several layers of feathers; the red and white for normal, and the invisibility ones for stealth.
For @sayruq - who sent me an ask, but I’ve put it at the bottom because otherwise it might give the plot away slightly.
Contains bullying, sort of sexual bullying and bad language, and all of the usual angst you expect with my Snape stories. Sorry.
“How many times have you been told?” Eileen snapped, waving
her son away from the open cauldron in the tiny kitchen. “Keep your nose out.”
“I’m only lookin’,” he whined, tucking his greasy hair
behind his ears and peering over the pot once more. He sniffed.
“Smells like viper venom.”
“And what else?”
“Grass,” he said, hesitantly. He paused and sniffed again. “Rhubarb?”
He screwed his face up. “I dunno,
it’s sorta citrus. Not lemon. Weird…a bit like, raspberry and lime and…” He inhaled deeply. “It’s blood orange!”
“Very good.” Eileen
wiped her hands on her apron and shooed him away. “Now get on with you!”
“Who’s it for? What’s
“Minnie Jones,” his mother said. “And none of your beeswax, lad.”
“She’s gettin’ married.”
Severus paused by the kitchen door. “Is it a wedding present?” His face twisted into a leer. “Is it for her or for him?”
He gave a soft laugh.
“I’m fifteen, mam. You can tell
Later that night, he padded down the stairs and peered into
the cooling cauldron. His mother had
added something else late in the process, because the liquid had solidified and
turned canary yellow. He prodded the
potion tentatively with a clean glass rod, and watched in fascination as the
jellied concoction moved as one around the pot.
He peered at the cauldron and then grabbed a jar from under
the sink. His mother wouldn’t miss a jar
full. He carefully ladled some of the
mixture from the cauldron, and tightened the top, before secreting the jar in
his schoolbag which lay discarded in the hall.
It wouldn’t do for his mother to find such a thing in his bedroom.
He still didn’t know what it did, but a newlywed potion
could only be fun.
He was cornered, four-on-one, by the library. He’d reacted swiftly, but not swiftly enough
– and now he found himself at the wrong end of Sirius Black’s wand, his wrists
pinned to the wall behind him.
“What’ve you got in here?” Potter said, rooting through his
bag. “Shabby book, shabby book, another
shabby book.” He threw one at Peter, and
laughed as several pages fell out.
“Whoops. Looks like you need a
new Transfiguration textbook, Sniv.”
“Git,” Severus spat, and Sirius flicked his wand, causing an
invisible hand to slap Severus’ cheek. “Ow! Fuck off, Black!”
“Such language,” Potter mocked delving deeper into his
bag. “And what are these?” He held up three tubes of potions – one
glittering, one blue and one a canary yellow.
“Oi! I’m talking to you. These unlabelled potions. What are they?”
“Don’t trust him, James,” Remus said, quickly.
“Yes, don’t trust me. One will
bring eternal wealth, one eternal glory, and one eternal impotency… Choose wisely, Potter.”
Despite himself, Sirius snorted. “All yours, James. I don’t fancy my chances.”
“Eternal impotency,” James scoffed. “If one of these brought eternal wealth,
Snivellus wouldn’t be so scruffy.”
Sirius barked a laugh.
“Yeah, our house-elves have smarter tea-towels than you do clothes,
James picked up the potions one by one, examining them in
the light, glancing at Severus as he did so.
“So which are you fearful of, Snivvy?”
He paused, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll be keeping these two,” he said,
pocketing the shining potion, and the blue potion. “You looked rather more cautious at this
one.” He waved the yellow one before his
“So the yellow one it is,” Sirius laughed. “Open wide.”
Carthaginian Glass Head Pendant, 5th-4th century BC
The earliest type of head-pendants date to the 6th century BC and were produced in Phoenicia. Later types such as this one were produced in the Phoenician colony of Carthage as well as other Phoenician settlements located in Cyprus, Rhodes, Egypt, Sardinia, Sicily, Ibiza and Spain.
These pendants are highly ornamental elements of necklaces. Their function was not religious, though they possibly may have sometimes been used as talismans.
100 Things I Am No Longer Allowed To Do at the Resistance Base
1. We’re not just letting Ciel think she’s in charge because she’s “absolutely pwecious”. It is wrong to tell new recruits this.
2. Pantheons are not good eats. Conversely, the red stuff they leak is not ketchup.
3. Despite our status as outcasts, I will not refer to us as an army of thieves and whores.
4. While the suggestion that General Harpuia is a woman is an entertaining notion, it does not count as useful enemy intelligence. Especially the seventh time.
5. We do not live in Mordor.
6. There are much better uses of resources than giving the cyber elves tiny hand-knitted outfits.
7. No matter how it’s framed, suggestions to outfit the foot soldiers with red shirts will be greatly frowned upon.
8. For the last time, even if they turn into bigger, better versions of themselves when they eat, cyber elves are not digimon.
9. Just because we are a resistance and primarily named like Francophones does not mean I can have a guillotine.
10. Not allowed to, upon hearing that our plan is to wake a legendary hero, break into Latin Chanting.
11. My battle cry is not “THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA” at the top of my lungs.
12. I cannot requisition a golem to serve as my battle steed.
13. “I thought you’d be taller” is not the appropriate greeting to the legendary hero. Nor is “Hey, aren’t you really famous for dying a lot?”
14. Not allowed to convince Alouette that Zero’s hair is a braiding free-for-all zone.
15. Even if the base could use some repair and maintenance, a couple strategically placed throw pillows is hardly going to help things.
16. Just because there is a Necromancess does not mean I can become a wizard.
17. There is not a secret society of gnomes hiding cyber elf capsules.
18. The fact that a general’s first name is “Fighting” does not mean I can give myself a similarly-lettered name based on other kinds of prowess.
19. Not allowed to play schmultzy adult video music over the video feeds of Zero and Leviathan fighting.
20. The fact that Master X is utterly awful at naming things is not considered relevant enemy intelligence.
21. Not allowed to note how many redheads there are in the resistance while suggestively waggling my eyebrows at Cerveau.
22. Aztec Falcon cannot be disabled simply by pointing out that the Mayan calendar has already run out.
23. In the fight to prove that beam sabers should be standard gear for a resistance member, I will keep in mind that Zero’s killcount is a statistical outlier and will not be counted.
24. Running bets on whether Fefnir or Leviathan has a bigger crush on Zero are discouraged. Possibly with Beam Saber.
25. Just because Master X is a copy does not mean there is a copy of me ruling over a city somewhere, waiting for its rightful leader.
26. Elpizo is not our band-aid solution pretty boy.
27. No, I may not set up a love triangle reality TV show between Elpizo, Zero and Ciel. Even if all that is on is Neo Arcadian propaganda.
28. Not allowed to tap the baby elf’s glass.
29. The Chain Rod is not a toy, and definitely not a sex swing.
30. Not allowed to grade my fellow members’ missions on a bell curve.
31. Playing “Fuck the System” every time Elpizo tries to make his speech about invading Neo Arcadia is in incredibly poor taste.
32. Just because the guardians all have descriptive first names does not mean Harpuia is the spice lord.
33. Cyber Elf X is not Zero’s stalker boyfriend, so it should logically follow that I am not allowed to file a restraining order on Zero’s behalf.
34. Not allowed to ask what other swords Zero might need to train up.
35. Now that we have a better base, the appropriate response is to be grateful, not complain that I don’t get a cooler uniform like the new guys.
36. The reason Zero is not going on the invasion trip is not “an HR-determined conflict of interest”.
37. “I told you so” is not an appropriate response to our crushing defeat, even if Zero agrees with me.
38. Phantom’s ghost does not haunt Zero’s hair. It is wrong to tell new recruits this.
39. When we are having a missile lobbed at us is an incredibly poor time to level petty vendettas against the snack machines, even if I am completely confident in Ciel and Zero’s abilites.
40. Not allowed to parrot everything Elpizo says back in a whiny emo band voice.
41. Cyber Elf X is not secretly princess Leia’s hologram, despite overwhelming parallels.
42. Phoenix Magnion is not, and will never be, up for s'mores.
43. Despite the fact that his guns are called “Sodom” and “Gomorrah”, his outfit, and his overwhelming interest in Zero, not allowed to contact Neo Arcadia to confirm my suspicions about Fefnir’s sexuality.
44. The Baby Elves are not up for vulgar renaming after the recent turn of events, unless I wish to see Alouette cry.
45. “You’ve gained weight” might not be the best thing to tell Leviathan’s armed phenomenon.
46. Elpizo’s transformation does not get power from its bling.
47. The Dark Elf is not, in fact, Drizz’t.
48. Not allowed to organize Cyber Elf cage matches.
50. Cyberspace is not a social media site. It is wrong to tell new recruits this.
51. Amusing video remixes of the guardians getting smacked down by Omega are in poor taste.
52. Not allowed to frame my rampant crayon wall-vandalism on Alouette.
53. If I must experiment on which aspects of Dwarf Fortress are realistic, I should not start with filling our base with cats.
54. Not allowed to tamper with the secret disks to spread my rumour that Leviathan does bikini shoots in her spare time.
55. You cannot equip “One head chip on top, another on bottom”. It is wrong to tell new recruits this.
56. The new Copy X is not Copy Copy X, Carbon Copy X, or any similarly ridiculous distinction.
57. While Harpuia is in our base, not allowed to harrass him for future plot twists in Neo Arcadian sitcoms.
58. The eight gentle judges are not the mythological reploid naming commitee.
59. The eight gentle judges are not mahou shoujo, transformation sequences notwithstanding.
60. Cubit Foxtar is not just a member of the judges because of affirmative action.
61. Giant detached floating hands are not the ultimate measure of enemy power.
62. Not allowed to use Cyberspace as my personal shortcut to the recroom.
63. Finding out how on earth anyone named Blazin’ Flizzard got a judiciary position is not the final goal of our intelligence-gathering mission.
64. While Harpuia is being repaired, not allowed to doodle obscene things on his face.
65. Not allowed to sell tickets to the video feed of Zero’s fight with Copy X. Especially if the tagline is “Tonight, someone dies!”
66. Not allowed to keep pet viruses in cyberspace.
67. Even if Cerveau just gave Harpuia a logic smackdown, yelling “OH SNAP” from the hall probably won’t increase his chances of joining forces with us.
68. Just because the Dark Elf fuses with people willy-nilly does not mean there’s a cool ultimate form in my future.
69. The easiest way to catch the Dark Elf would not have been to just be the biggest, most pompous jerk in the room, despite the trend.
70. Nobody is interested in the irony of Phantom having a ghost, least of all Harpuia.
71. Not allowed to copyright any of our enemies’ names as titles for metal bands.
72. Having been Maverick for a few minutes does not give me the rights to intimate counselling.
73. Cyber Elf X is not obligated to explain how he happens to know the exact counter for the heretofore unknown maverick field the enemy is using.
74. Omega does not get more powerful the prettier he gets.
75. The guardians are not the new Elvis.
76. Not allowed to suggest “alternative” uses for the Z-Knuckle’s grabbing feature.
77. Not allowed to break into the computer system just to make my mission grades spell out words.
78. Not allowed to fiddle with the weather system just to mess with people who dressed for clear skies.
79. Our caravan is not in dire need of bumper stickers.
80. Croire is not a digimon.
81. Not allowed to street race other caravans.
82. Area Zero’s name is a coincidence, despite the fact that I haven’t heard of any Area Ones or Twos, have you?
83. When we’re on the road, not allowed to share my antiquiated, quaint stories about caravans being ambushed by natives.
84. Not allowed to create item recipes for illicit products and mix them in with the regular ones.
85. Not allowed to tell Neige she missed the scoop on scandalous pics of Harpuia at the resistance base.
86. Craft has no relation whatsover to Kraft dinner, even if they are both very cheesy.
87. Not allowed to test Weil for tragically chronic mythological naming addiction.
88. Not allowed to ask where Weil got all of the energy for this artifical sun when we’re in the middle of an energy crisis.
89. Pegasolta Eclair is not a type of ice cream.
90. … Which also means that Popla Cocapetri is not a soft drink.
91. Not allowed to play cheesy romance music over Zero’s Comm whenever Craft and Neige are in the same place.
92. Ragnarok is not just Weil compensating for something.
93. Not allowed to teach Croire dirty words.
94. Can’t just take down the giant laser space station with another giant laser, even if it worked last time.
95. Craft and Neige’s relationship is not stockholm syndrome.
96. Not allowed to just take the space elevator. That’s patently ridiculous.
97. The inside of Ragnarok is not in actuality just an acid trip.
98. Not allowed to tell Weil he’s gotten a head in life.
99. During the final climactic battle, not allowed to sell popcorn and e-crystals.
100. Not allowed to just assume Zero will be back, because… He won’t.
Joe’s dark blue tunic is a little too big on his foster son. But, they can’t afford a new set of clothes for Barry. At least not with the income Joe makes. The tunic is annoying when Barry has to go into town. Even with the belt Iris made, the fabric still slides off his shoulders. His very, very skinny shoulders.
His brown boots crunch against the ground, stomping on the stray strands of hay. Boy, this sack is heavy. Barry readjusts the dirty brown bag over his shoulder, grunting slightly, green eyes fixated on the ground. Hopefully Cisco will be at the stables; he needs help sorting through the stuff, picking out what to trade and whatnot.
With a deep sigh, the brunette hobbles along, not watching where he’s going. Until he’s face to face with a horse! It howls, jumping back and he tumbles to the ground, green eyes blown wide, bag at his side. “Easy, easy! Buttercup, easy!” he hears you try and sooth the pale horse, brushing its mane. Barry breathes heavily, propping himself on his elbows. “Are you alright?” you ask, hopping off Buttercup, magenta dress falling at your feet.
Oh shit. It’s the Princess! Barry nods, standing to his feet, tunic falling off, exposing his white shoulder. “I am quite alright, Your Hi-” His voice is muffled by your hand and his crinkled eyebrows furrow together. You glance to the side, thankful nobody caught wind of the peasant’s words, before tugging him to the side of the building.
“Shh, I do not wish to be known!” you hiss, pulling the pink hood further over your eyes. He makes a soft hum against your palm, arching a bushy eyebrow, back pressed to the stone wall. “But you are very handsome, for a peasant.” you smile, hearing Buttercup hooves come behind you. “I will let go, if you swear you will not scream. Can you do that?”
He nods slowly, waiting for your soft palm to release his mouth. When you do, he stands up, realizing he is quite tall compared to you. “My apologies. I am flattered though, Pri-” he cuts himself off, gazing around to see no one, “Princess.” he whispers, neck bent slightly, face as pink as your hood. “You caused me no harm, do not worry. I was not watching my steps.” he admits bashfully. You grin wider, leaving to retrieve the brown sack that he dropped. “Oh no, you do not need t-”
You open the bag, mouth ajar as you come across a long silver rod with glass at both ends. “What is this?” you ask curiously, squinting at the item, turning it over in your fingers, ignoring the peasant’s gasps. Flipping it, you place your eye against the larger glass, peering at the tall boy. “How are you so far away!” you hollar, reaching your hand out, unexpectedly touching one of his moles, causing you to jump.
A broad smile stretches across his lips, experiencing the cuteness up close. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and he giggles. “May I?” he questions, pointing to the item; you hand it to him, watching him flip it around so the small glass is facing you instead. “This is a telescope; it can let you see things closer.” he explains, bringing it up to your eye and pointing at the clouds, “It is more for the evening, to stargaze.” he mutters when you put it back in the bag.
“What is this?” you ask again, pulling out a sundial. Barry can’t wait to explain it to you.
Pairing: Jaspearl (as usual) Content: Bondage, capture and interrogation, electroplay, tickling, heavy use of vibrators, edging, fluff and enthusiastic consent A/N: Thanks as always to @molded-from-clay for proofreading for me!
Everywhere Jasper turned, those damn holograms were there. She was running hard, punching them to smithereens every time one got too close, but she was heavily outnumbered. It had been half an hour that she had been fighting off the army of Holo-Pearls all along the beach and it didn’t seem to be making any difference. She was tired. She’d have to submit eventually, she knew, but not before making a show out of it. She’d never submit that easily.
Request: I was wondering if you could do a Draco X reader fic in which the reader is a member of the golden trio and Draco teases/flirts with her, yet gets jealous when she’s with Harry until he eventually tells her how he feels? (Also any scene in Snapes potion class is greatly appreciated)
A/N: So the title of this fic is called Moonstone. Moonstones are used in the potion Draught of Peace, which is first Potions lesson in the fifth year. This is also when this one shot is based. Furthermore, moonstones are said to be stone of women, femininity, power and love.
WARNINGS: SOME DISCRIMINATION, STEREOTYPING OF HOUSES, MENTION OF WAR
“Y/N, pass me some porcupine quills.” Draco asked, glancing up at you from his potions book.
“Get your own,” You replied teasingly, continuing to grind yours into a powder.
“Please.” Draco rolled his eyes.
“Now, was that so hard?” You grinned, tossing him your bag of porcupine quills.
You added the porcupine quills to the cauldron until it turned orange. You placed your spoon back in the mortar. You picked up your glass rod and began stirring your potion.
“Stop flirting with the enemy.” Ron hissed under his breath.
You laughed slightly, before you realised he was serious. “Ron. He’s not the enemy.” You replied, your lips still twitching upwards.
“He’s Malfoy. His father is a Death Eater.”
“Yes, and so was my aunt, if I recall correctly.” You replied coldly with raised eyebrows.
“I-I- I didn’t mean it like that. You’re different.” He sputtered.
“Why? Because I got sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin?”
“I’m just saying, Ron. Just because he’s placed in Slytherin doesn’t automatically make him a bad person.”
“There hasn’t been one Slytherin who didn’t go bad.”
“Yes, actually, there have been a few.” You wanted to laugh, out of all your friends, you probably got on with Ron the least. Whilst you still trusted Ron with your life, and you were very close to him - just as you was close to Harry and Hermione - he often said things which weren’t of meaning or were derogatory of another person.
“Name one.” He challenged.
You chuckled slightly, “Merlin.”
“Well.. I- shut up.” Ron’s ears had gone a bright red and you shook your head at him in amusement.
“Weasley, have you made your potion yet?” Snape walked over to Ron’s cauldron, picking up a ladle and scooping out some of it. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”
“What? Why?” Ron asked, glaring at Snape.
“Your potion is incorrect, if you had been paying attention to the instructions instead of gossiping with Miss Y/N, then you would have realised you were supposed to add whole porcupine quills, not powdered porcupine quills.” Snape snapped, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the cauldron. All of a sudden the potion drained from the cauldron, leaving it empty. “Start again.”
You narrowed your eyes at Snape, he always seemed to hate your friends, though he had a particular dislike for Harry, that much was obvious. Ron’s ears blazed as he mumbled angrily under his breath.
“Relax.” You reassured him, “We’ll help you out.”
Needless to say, despite your help and Hermione’s - mainly Hermione’s - Ron still did very poorly. You blamed it on the fact that he had half the time to create a potion that was the same standard as most of the other students, and obviously that was going to cause some problems.
Snape walked over to Harry’s potion, sneered at with a smirk, “Potter, what is this supposed to be?”
“The Draught of Peace.” Harry replied stiffly. You froze, watching the spectacle with tense shoulders. The Slytherins looked up, watching eagerly.
“Tell me, Potter,” Snape said softly, “can you read?”
Draco laughed and you glared at him, his laugh ceasing immediately.
“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”
You glanced at the blackboard the same time Harry did, squinting through the haze of steam that rose from each cauldron.
“Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.”
“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?”
“No,” Harry said quietly. You swore internally, knowing that the Slytherins were going to have a field day with this.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No, I forgot the hellebore.” Harry spoke more loudly.
“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.”
The contents of Harry’s potion vanished and you silently seethed as you watched Snape walk away with a satisfied smirk.
“This is bullshit.” You muttered, angrily pouring your potion into a flagon. “That was utter bull.”
When you walked up the desk, you silently placed the flagon down on the table with controlled actions. You were seething at the injustice Snape had just shown Harry. Everyone knew Snape had a certain dislike for Harry, but to take it to the point where it interfered his teaching… you would have to talk to Dumbledore about this. This was in no way fair to Harry as a student, much less a person.
“Hey, Y/N.” Draco smirked as you passed him.
“Not now, Draco.” You replied shortly, cleaning away your items quickly so you could leave.
“Since when has Snape ever been fair to me?” Harry asked in the Great Hall, replying to Hermione’s statement. You didn’t reply, knowing that was nothing you could say to make him feel better about his zero marks in potions.
“I did think he might be a bit better this year,” Hermione said in a disappointed voice, “I mean…. you know…” she glanced around the empty seats besides them, “now he’s in the Order and everything.”
“Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots,” Ron said. You groaned as he made a jab at Dumbledore. Hermione immediately jumped to his defence and you noticed the way Harry’s hand gripped the fork, his knuckled turning white.
“Guys.” You tried to interrupt.
“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” Harry said heavily. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking both angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest? You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” With that, he dropped the fork and stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Harry!” You called after him, standing from your seat as you turned to your friends, “How could you not notice he has something on his mind?” You sighed, giving them no time to answer as you took after Harry, trying to spot his messy black hair in the crowd.
“Y/N!” Draco walked towards you, a little smirk on his face, “You seem to be searching for someone, but you can stop now, I’m here.”
You rolled your eyes, “If I was looking for someone, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.”
Draco places a hand on his heart, “That hurts.”
“That was the point,” You laughed, “Have you seen Harry?” You glanced past him.
The teasing smile fell from Draco’s face, a frown taking it’s place. “No, I haven’t seen Potter.”.
“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” You asked in surprise at the coldness in his voice.
“Nothing. Go find your boyfriend, Potter.” With that he shoved past you, stalking into the Great Hall.
You stared after him in disbelief. What happened to him? You brushed off this incident, pushing it to the back of your head to ponder over another time, you had to find Harry for now.
You were walking out of your dreadfully boring Divination lesson when you heard your name being called. You looked in the direction of the sound, stopping when you saw Draco walk towards you.
“See you later.” Harry muttered, placing a hand on your arm before walking off with Ron.
You didn’t miss the way Draco glared at Harry, catching the end of it as you turned to look at him.
“Hey,” He greeted once he was close enough.
“Hi,” You replied warily, wondering whether he was still in a foul mood.
“I need to talk to you,” he gestured down the corridor. You sighed as you nodded and began to walk with him. “I wanted to apologise, for earlier.”
“What happened, anyway?” You inquired, “Was it something I said?”
Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “No… well yes - but not you entirely.”
“What?” You asked dumbfounded.
“I just - I haven’t been able to talk to you properly for a while… whenever I see you, you’re with bloody Potter.”
“He is my friend, Draco.” You raised your eyebrows, “Obviously I’m going to talk to him.”
“I know, it’s just…. I have to ask - are you and Harry dating?”
You glanced at him, wondering whether he was being serious. The look on his face insinuated that he wasn’t joking and you weren’t able to hold in your laughter as it burst from your lips.
“Haha - I’m sorry -” You choked out at the baffled look on Draco’s face, “Bu - hahaha - Harry and I - aha!”
“Y/N.” Draco deadpanned, though you could have sworn his lips tilted upwards as his shoulders slumped.
“Sorry,” You grinned, breathing out slowly to control your laughter, “but no, Harry and I are not dating. God, no.”
Draco grinned slightly, tilting his head to the floor.
“Why do you ask?” You turned to him, slightly confused at the look on his face.
“I just… Merlin, promise you won’t laugh,” Draco said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a secluded corridor. You noticed how his hand felt in yours, and you kind of liked it, the small sparks running up your arm making a giddy smile fall onto your face.
“What did you do?” You grinned, hoping that he had done something entirely stupid.
“Okay…” He breathed out, “shit. I can’t do this.”
“Draco, come on tell me.” You nagged, tugging at his arm. “What did you do?”
“I-fell-in-love-with-you.” He said in one go. Your eyes widened and you took a step back to process what he had just said. That had not been what you was expecting him to say. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn-”
You put up your spare hand, silencing him immediately as you worked through coming to terms with what he had said. It was a shock, certainly, but did you like him back? It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his company, because you did, and you wondered whether the way you felt happier every time you saw him was due to the small crush you harboured for him. “Don’t apologise for liking me.” You spoke finally, “I like you too, Draco… but I’m not sure if I’m ready for a relationship…” Your mind went to Voldemort’s return, his return meant there would be a war. Could you risk falling in love, only to possibly have it snatched from you?
“You don’t want to be with me?” Draco asked, dropping your hand slowly.
“No,” You disagreed, but then amended your statement, “I mean yes, I want to be with you, but I don’t know if I can, Draco.” You admitted, “There is so much that could get in the way, I just -”
“Would you at least like to go on a date? Just one. Then, we can take it from there.”
“I would like that.” You agreed, glancing down as Draco’s hand found yours once again.
Draco smiled softly, running his thumb over the back of your hand as his eyes shone brightly, betraying the happiness he was trying to conceal.