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It’s unnecessarily grandiose to use an Open Sesame on the doors, but I do it anyway because I know everyone will be in the dining hall, and I may as well make an entrance.
Snow is the first to react- sends the furniture flying like the uncivilized prick he is. I try not to roll my eyes at him, but I pause for a moment as I take in the sight of him. He is thin- too thin, I might say- even though he is usually back to clobbering weight by now. Bunce is trying to pull him down, let him not make a scene but he won't even look at her.
Then wonder of wonders; he shakes off his meddling sidekick from his arm and starts marching up to me and I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest and smirking. If he wants to make a spectacle of himself in front of everyone, then I'm certainly not going to stop him from doing so.
“Where were you?” He snarls as he comes up to me. I am aware of everyone's gaze on the two of us, some people have stopped chewing, others have glasses or spoons halfway frozen to their lips. It's like someone has paused them. Dev and Niall are exchanging an amused look, waiting for me to answer him.
“Well, Snow, as far as I'm aware, it's really not any of your damn business.” I answer him coolly, raising my eyebrow higher still. That only makes him more mad, I can see that. He grunts and huffs, his breath warm against my face.
“Were you plotting? The whole time you were away, were you plotting something?”
Crowley, is he aware that he sounds like a ridiculous five year old right now? I hear a few snickers and giggles and almost feel sorry for this idiot, who heroically ignores them all.
“Yes, Snow. You caught me.” I drawl out, rolling my eyes. “I was certainly plotting against you because that's the only reason why I would need to stay from school.”
“Then why weren't you here? Were you sick?” If I hadn't already known that he hated me, I would have said that Simon almost sounded worried.
“Like I said, Snow, none of your business.”
He gives a frustrated grunt and then before I can say anything or even protest, he is pulling me out of the dining hall and dragging me towards a deserted corridor. I try not to wince as my injured leg bumps along, I won't ever show any weakness to him. That'd be disastrous because I am already so so weak and powerless in front of him.
“Answer me truthfully now.” He says, pushing me against a wall, baring his teeth. There's a gap between his front teeth, barely noticeable but visible so up close. Another thing I now instantly adore about him.
I can push him off myself easily, even though weeks of starvation has rendered me weak. But a part of me, a disturbed part of me, is enjoying this immensely. A part of me doesn't want to move from under his hands.
Pinning me against a wall, snogging me senseless. That was a fifth year fantasy of mine and I dare say, that prospect is still very inviting. He has fulfilled half of it now, anyways. The other half- well that will probably always remain a fantasy. The idea of him snogging me is a distant, far fetched dream.
“Were you plotting?” He asks again and I scoff disdainfully, rolling my eyes at him. He huffs in response, scrunching up his nose and I hate to say this, but he looks adorable when he does that.
“Were you sick?” He says, grip relaxing ever so slightly, eyes showing a hint of concern. I swallow down my nervousness and sneer at him.
“Why do you care?”
“Crowley, you are really fucking thick.” He whispers and then his lips are pressing against mine, grip relaxing on my collar completely. For a second, I am too stunned to react, unable to believe that this is happening.
Then I am bringing my arms around his waist, pulling him into me, kissing him back hungrily. I haven't ever done this before but he clearly has, because he knows what he is doing. His lips are warm and so is his mouth and he moves his chin back and forth, doing something unexpected but really nice. One of his hands is rubbing my stomach and dear fucking Crowley, that feels so good. So good.
When we finally surface for air, I give him a glare while he is just smirking me, looking pleased with himself. “Eight weeks were long enough for me to figure shit out.” He says, his smirk morphing into a dopey smile. “I think I fancy you a little.”
“You're an idiot.” I say, before I kiss him again.