When Aine strode into the Great Hall she felt eyes on her immediately. She resisted giving into the sensation and looking up for approximately a minute until she had slid into the Ravenclaw table between Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. When she glanced towards the Slytherin table she met Draco Malfoy’s mercurial gaze. For a moment, he peered at her with an inscrutable expression and she found herself peering back, unnerved by the storm in his eyes. And then a slow smirk slid over his pale features. Terry and Anthony sat up straighter, glancing back and forth between their housemate and her tormenter, but Aine rolled her eyes at the Slytherin and tossed her hair, turning her attention to the boys on either side of her.
Malfoy’s smirk turned into a scowl at her dismissal, and he glared into his glass of pumpkin juice before hitching the signature superior expression back onto his face.
“Something the matter, Malfoy?” Blaise Zabini asked, amused by the interaction he’d witnessed between his housemate and the Ravenclaw girl. “Still playing your little game with the half breed?”
Malfoy frowned at him, but he let the smirk pass over his face again. “Not for much longer,” he replied smugly. “She doesn’t know who she’s playing with.”
“Oh?” Zabini said, his full mouth turning up at the corners. “She seems to be holding up quite well.”
Malfoy scowled at him, but he didn’t get a chance to respond. As he tilted his pumpkin juice towards his mouth, he let out a startled noise, jerking the goblet away from him and sloshing the contents across the front of his robes. Pansy Parkinson looked at him incredulously.
“What is wrong with you, Draco?” she demanded, appalled.
He resisted the urge to gasp and instead glared across the table at the Ravenclaws. Aine Armstrong looked innocent, but the small, shrivelled hand that had reached out of his glass toward his nose had surely been her doing. The illusion had faded as quickly as it had appeared, around only long enough for his dignity to have been thoroughly damaged; the other Slytherins were looking at him as if he’d gone insane.
“Nothing,” he muttered, scourgifying his robes quickly whilst glaring at the rest of his table as if to dare them to say anything.
They all looked away, returning to their breakfasts as if nothing had happened, but they sneaked surreptitious glances at him as if waiting for him to make another disgraceful blunder. At the Ravenclaw table Aine Armstrong grinned into her own glass of pumpkin juice. If Malfoy thought he’d beaten her the night before, he was sorely mistaken. You don’t know who you’re playing with, Malfoy.
***
Draco Malfoy peered to the left and right, creeping out of the Arithmancy classroom cautiously. He breathed a sigh of relief. No beast or spectre awaited him outside in the corridor as they had all week. There was no sign of the red-haired Ravenclaw, either, but then there never was. He saw Aine in class and at mealtimes, though any time he attempted to corner her, hastening after her at the end of classes or when she’d left the Great Hall, she seemed to vanish into thin air.
She was proving to be a worthier adversary than he’d ever expected, and if he didn’t loathe her so completely, he might have been impressed. Illusions assaulted him any time he left the Slytherin common room. Tiny skeletons scuttled across his Potions book as he studied in the library; disembodied fingers reached for him out of his potatoes at dinner; ghouls haunted him in the corridors, and snakes the size of Hagrid pursued him to the Herbology greenhouses. He had taken to slinking in and out of the corridors alone, afraid one of his housemates would witness his humiliations; he didn’t think he’d screamed so much since he was six years old and he’d first discovered the Dark artefacts in his father’s locked cabinet.
The half breed witch was clever. She never attacked in the same place at the same time, and Draco had been living his days constantly on guard, relaxing only when he was safely ensconced in one of the dark green couches in the Slytherin common room. She was everywhere, but he could never seem to catch her in the act. In classes his attacks had been effectively deflected by her ubiquitous bodyguards, Boot, Corner and Goldstein. She ignored him completely and looked past him as if he wasn’t there, as if he was completely invisible. He was strung out, his nerves were frayed, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. He spent nights lying awake in bed, thinking of her, hating her nearly as much as the Gryffindor Trio and plotting how to repay her torments.
Draco had gotten the upper hand when he’d kissed her outside the trophy room, but he’d been unable to get close enough to even speak to her let alone touch her again. If he could get her alone, away from her hulking Ravenclaw accessories, he could take back control of the situation. He had to find a way to turn this around, to get back on top of the game.
He paused outside of the Great Hall, inspiration striking him. She may be a clever Ravenclaw, but he was a cunning Slytherin. He could play her mind games as well as she. With a grin he shoved open the doors, striding lazily towards the Slytherin table. As he passed Aine at the Ravenclaw table he caught her eyes. She started to look away until a slow smile spread over his face. It wasn’t a smirk; it wasn’t a wolfish show of teeth. It was a wide, genuine smile complete with twinkling silver eyes and a charming wink. He saw her jaw drop in shock and looked away, casually veering for his table.
When he glanced across the Slytherin table from under his lashes she looked flustered, scowling deeply and peering at him as if she wasn’t sure who he was. He grinned into his goblet of juice. Yes, he had certainly gotten the upper hand this round.
There were no illusions at dinner that night. In fact, it seemed as if Aine Armstrong had given up her campaign altogether. Thus began Phase Three of the war.
***
The first Hogsmeade weekend of year was welcomed with nearly as much excitement as the announcement of a grounds party on Halloween night for fourth years and above. The Ravenclaw common room was bustling with girls chattering for hours about what they would wear. The boys grumbled about the girls’ enthusiasm and complained over the complication of having to persuade one of them to be their date”so as not to look as if they were incapable of doing so, of course.
Aine Armstrong slumped into a chair by the fireplace, scowling into the meagre flame. Luna Lovegood sat beside her, her large, translucent blue eyes distant and dreamy. She smiled wistfully. “Are you looking forward to seeing Malfoy today?” she asked in a far away sort of voice, glancing around at her housemates as they gathered their coats and gloves for their trip into town.
Aine’s eyes snapped to her incredulously. “What? Looking forward to seeing him? Luna, you really have gone ‘round the bend. I look forward to the day I never have to see him again.”
Luna seemed to ignore this response. “He’s been so nice lately, hasn’t he? He even held the door for us last night at dinner, and he didn’t even try to trip me like he usually does.”
Aine was looking more and more amazed at Luna’s every word. “Malfoy is a horrible, arrogant, nasty, bad tempered, foul-mouthed git. Don’t let him fool you; this is another of his games.”
“Do you think so?” Luna asked, leaning back in her seat comfortably. “I thought he was quite sincere when he said your hair looked nice on Wednesday.”
“Yes, well, I imagine growing up the son of a Death Eater who fooled the Ministry into believing he was innocent for fifteen years has taught him to lie quite effectively,” Aine sniped. “He’s just trying to get to me.”
“It’s working, isn’t it?” When Aine looked at the other girl she saw her eyes weren’t vague and wistful anymore; they were sharp and direct.
Aine sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, yes; it’s working. I don’t know what he’s planning, but whatever it is I am going to be ready for it.”
“Maybe he just got tired of your feud and decided to be a gentleman,” Luna suggested.
“Malfoy? A gentleman? Hardly. He’s got something in mind. I just wish I could figure out what he’s playing at.”
Luna shrugged. “Well, maybe he’s just starting to like you; he did kiss you after all.”
The older girl let out a disgusted noise. “Don’t remind me, and that was not the kind of kiss you give someone you like. It was dreadful.” She huffed and pushed herself out of the armchair. “Come on; everyone’s going down to breakfast. We’d better go, too, or we’ll be late for Hogsmeade.”
She kept her back to the Slytherin table all through the loud, boisterous meal, but she felt as if Malfoy’s eyes could bore right into her. She wondered if he would ever tire of their war; she herself thought she was at her wit’s very end. He was in her head constantly; she thought of him as she lay in bed, replaying whatever uncharacteristic and uncomfortably nice words he’d spoken that day. She thought of him as she entered the Great Hall for breakfast, tried to ignore his heavy stare, his capricious smiles and quicksilver gaze, and she worried before their shared classes what antics he might get up to. So far she had endured him holding doors for her and her friends, remarking on her excellent wand work in Transfiguration and complimenting various aspects of her appearance. He was always pleasant, always smiling and always chivalrous.
It was more disturbing than anything she might have expected him to do, and she suspected it was exactly why he was doing it. Aine tried to ignore him, but he was constantly there, relentlessly watching her, ready with a wink or a grin any time she glanced his way. If she didn’t despise him so much she might have admitted it was dead cunning; she was more off guard than when he’d been randomly hexing her in class and in the corridors. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could last before she broke down and screamed like a wild woman at him or launched herself at him with flying fists and claws.
When the other Ravenclaw girls stood, arguing over where to visit first to find the perfect outfit for the Halloween party, she felt a powerful wave of relief. Luna had been eyeing her from across the table the entire meal, watching Malfoy over her shoulder, and Aine had the familiar feeling that the strange blonde girl was not nearly as daft as she would have people think. Normally she enjoyed Luna’s moments of sharp lucidity, but today it was quite aggravating. “Come on, Luna,” Aine grumbled, allowing the other girls to sweep them up and out of the Great Hall.
Hogsmeade was crowded and noisy the weekend before Halloween, and Aine smiled, happy to be caught up in the hustle and bustle of the witches and wizards enjoying the last of the crisp autumn weather. Jack O’Lanterns hovered in the air over every doorway, and crunchy leaves formed a thick blanket over the streets. She loved Hogsmeade in autumn, especially at Halloween, and she was swept up with the other girls, enthusiastically tearing through clothing racks at Glad Rags and listening to Padma and Cho gossip over who was taking whom to the party.
“I’m going with Michael, of course,” Cho announced, grinning. “He’s even promised to dance with me.”
Padma shook her head, chuckling. “Boys. Parvati told me Dean Thomas asked her to be his date as long as he didn’t have to dance or wear anything embarrassing. She’s going with Alex Kincaid, that Gryffindor seventh year with the nice smile.”
“Who do you want to go with, Aine?” Cho asked slyly, and the younger girl rolled her eyes.
“I think I’ll be happy to go alone,” Aine replied, peering at a set of long, shimmery emerald green robes. “I doubt anyone would ask me, anyway.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that,” Padma replied, her eyes sliding to Cho’s just as slyly.
Aine narrowed her eyes at them. “What are you on about?” she demanded.
Luna appeared beside them, a pair of silky, ivory robes over her arm. They would have been quite uncharacteristically beautiful if she hadn’t had a strange, multi-coloured shawl that was blinking like Christmas lights in the other hand. “Well, I think they mean that Terry fancies you,” she murmured absently as she passed, eyeing the display of Halloween masks on the back wall.
“What?!” Aine exclaimed, glancing at the other girls for confirmation. They were nodding, grinning hugely. “What makes you think that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s always hanging around you, protecting you from Malfoy, isn’t he?” Padma said.
“He told Michael he thinks you’re really good-looking,” Cho added.
Aine waved her hand dismissively, flustered by the revelation. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she muttered, burying her face in a rack of cloaks.
“Nothing. Right.” Padma rolled her eyes, smirking at Cho. “We’ll see.”
“Well, who are you going with, Padma?” Su Li asked, edging closer to the small group to join the gossip.
“Eddie Carmichael,” Padma replied, grinning. She rolled her eyes. “I’ve only been waiting for him to ask me out since fourth year. Figures he’d wait until his last year, the prat.”
The girls continued chattering as they made their purchases, exclaiming over each other’s picks and piping in suggestions. Padma begged Luna to leave the Christmas-light shawl behind, but the girl refused. She did, however, agree to purchase a golden mask shaped like a butterfly that covered the top half of her face and made her corn silk hair shimmer with honey-toned highlights.
“Oh, Luna, it’s beautiful,” Aine remarked, privately hoping the other girls would be able to tear Luna away from the hideous shawl when the time came to dress for the party.
Luna beamed, but she cocked her head at Aine interestedly. “You’ve chosen Slytherin colours,” she remarked.
“What?” the red-haired girl demanded, looking again at the green robes and metallic silver mask she’d selected. “Oh, bollocks, I have.” She immediately dropped the items as if she’d been burned, feeling foolish the moment she did. The others girls laughed at her, and she blushed, bending down to scoop them up. “Well, I can’t very well wear them, can I?”
“But they were so pretty,” Mandy Brocklehurst lamented.
Aine held them up, considering. “I will not be caught dead in Slytherin colours,” she growled. “But they have the same robes in red.” She darted away quickly, ignoring her housemates’ teasing and laughter. When she peered at the deep crimson red robes, she decided they were infinitely better than any awful Slytherin green, and in fact she had no desire to associate herself with anything Slytherin-related and changed the silver mask for an identical one in black.
“Much better,” Padma told her, pressing her lips together to suppress a chuckle. “Can you imagine what Malfoy would have said if you’d shown up in his house colours?”
“He would have been delighted,” Lisa Turpin put in, chuckling.
“I have no interest in what Malfoy has to say about my robes or anything else,” Aine told them haughtily, slamming her money down on the counter harder than necessary and giving the sales girl an apologetic smile when she started.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” a drawling voice said behind Aine, and she closed her eyes for a moment in utter dismay. The Ravenclaw girls had gone very, very quiet, and she had no choice but to turn to face him or look like a complete fool.
An Soilsiu by India Inverse
Chapter Notes: Draco's seeing things, and he has a pretty good idea who's behind it. Aine's wondering exactly what's gotten into him and wishes Luna would just shut her mouth.