A Midnight Event(Lucius)

[Brooke Davis]

Hey, sweetie, missed me?
Didn't think so.
The hell, it hadn't bothered me before, and its not gonna start.
Meet me in the Trophy Room in ten minutes.
If you're gonna be late, don't even bother showin' up.
Kisses.
Your-effin'-goddess.

Despite her obnonxious words, Brooke felt anything but confident as she set the note off into the darkness of the empty corridors. The charm needed to send the letter flying off into its adressee's room was pretty advanced, and she barely had the power needed to pull it off. Vey much unlike usual, where she could do it without a second't thought or hesitation. 'What in the world was going on?' A thought that may have crossed most peoples' minds right about now. Well, suck it up, because the same thought had crossed Brooke's own mind so many times she was seriously considering giving up and just heading back to bed, where she could hopefully sleep this weird feeling off and wake up completely refreshed.

But she was no weakling, and was a fighter to the very end. To just leave right than would be considered giving up, which was never an option. Brooke sat in the farthest corner, hugging her knees and looking for all in the world like a lost child. She was in shorts and a pale blue tee, make-up-less with her wavy dark hair pulled up in a bouncy ponytail, much differing from her normal outfit for such adventures with dramatic make-up and revealing uniform.

Eh. Differing from her 'normal' adventures with Lucius. How did she even come to such an arrangement? Well, it started in their fifth year, and somehow managed to survive the last two years. Brooke always felt in complete control, which was far from how she felt now. The cavenrous rooms with its shining trophies somehow managed to make her feel cautrastophic, and the walls were almost closing in on her. The dark haired girl sighed, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees and burrowed her face in them.

"Get a grip," she told herself visciously, riled somehow by her own words and stood up, brushing herself off. Her movements were stiff and unnatural, her face set in grim determination. Her eyes, though, were slowly filling with tears she had no power over. How she wished she was somewhere-anywhere-else at the moment. Wiping away her tears as she gritted her teeth, Brooke leaned against the wall, crossing her arms in what she hoped was a copy of her normal breezy manner.

The idiot had two minutes left, and after that she could leave without losing her dignity. Of course, the seconds felt like entire lifetimes. Oh Rowena, help me.

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[Lucius Malfoy]

Lucius was sitting alone in the common room when he recieved the note. He swore as he finished reading it, realizing he had only ten minutes to get up four flights of stairs. He jumped to his feet, regretting it almost immediatley as he began to feel a little dizzy. He'd been drinking for a couple of hours now, but he refused to believe he was drunk. There wasn't much left in the bottle of firewhiskey when he'd started, and whatever he did drink of it was diluted in butterbeer. 'Not to mention the fact that it's taken a hell of a lot more than three drinks to get you drunk for a while now,' he reminded himself as he began to walk toward his dormitory door, an idea playing in his head.

He walked out of the common room with broom in hand and only eight minutes left to reach the Trophy Room. He mounted the broom slowly and, holding the handle firmly, kicked off hard on the stone floor. He rose five feet and smiled as he took off, soaring through the corridors. He arrived on the third floor with less than a minute to go. Quickly, he dismounted and ran the rest of the way to the open Trophy Room door. Lucius stumbled into the room, his broom in one hand, the other holding on to the doorframe as he tried to catch his breath.

"You do realize I live in the dungeons, right?" he said when he spotted Brooke leaning against the wall. "So, had I not been brilliant enough to think of using a broom, a half-hour really would have been more appropriate." He walked over to her, stopping when there was about five feet between them. "Why are you crying?" he asked, just now noticing her tears.

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[Brooke Davis]

Brooke was just getting ready to leave, a half hopeful, half anxious look on her face as she watched her watch ticked the last seconds away. Thank Merlin, it was undoubtedly her lucky night. Even if that was actually the only real piece of luck she had in a while. Brooke felt sparks of relief painfully intermingled with disappointment flow through her, feeling alive for the first time in hours, and she pushed herself away from the wall. Now she could just go to bed without feeling like a total loser. For once, the fates seemed to be patting her on the back.

And pasting a 'kick me' sign on her while they're at it.

The loud footsteps alerted her of his presence, even though Lucius was normally not so uncoordinated. Maybe the whole castle weren't quite themselves that night. It made her feel a hint better to know that she was not the only one suffering. She wiped her eyes roughly once again with the back of her arm a split second before the Slytherin bursted into the room, and Brooke wasn't sure if he noticed. He was miraculously unobservant, befitting his snake image, but she hadn't expected him to make it in time either.

She raised an eyebrow at his panting frame, than broke into an unexpected laugh at his words. "What in the world have I done to make you think I'd wait half an hour for a guy?" She scoffed, in a weaker version of her normal haughtiness. She stood as still as a statue as Lucius approached-this was expected, although she was already counting the minutes to when she could leave without seeming suspicious. Him stopping, however, was not, and Brooke fought to hide her uneasiness, trying to stare him down with an unimpressed look.

"Why are you crying?" Her eyes widened fractionally, and she visibly gritted her teeth. Brooke was far from used to having him care, and she wanted it to stop. If only it didn't feel so nice..."I am not," she answered childishly, her stuffy voice playing traitor against her. She shook her head. The truth was not an option-but lying was. "Those damned marauders," she mumbled, not too loud that he would think she was throwing him the line on marauders, but loud enough for her words to be audible. Now,she thought desperately, her eyes casted down onto the ground between them. If he'd just let it drop!