CHAPTER TWO

"For Merlin's sake, Dahlia!" Lily groaned, her face buried in her hands as she turned away, clearly flustered by the scene unfolding before her. "I love you, but goodness, could you at least give me—or anyone—a warning next time? Or have you ever heard of putting your tie on the door when you're... you know, entertaining someone?"

Dahlia chuckled softly, watching as the Hufflepuff male—his face flushed with embarrassment—scurried out of the girls' dorm room like a startled rabbit, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.

"Relax, Lily," Dahlia said nonchalantly, adjusting her dishevelled robes with a grin. "I was just snogging him—I'm not that stupid. I'm not about to shag someone in a shared room." She winked playfully at Lily, who still had her face hidden in her hands, utterly mortified.

Lily let out a long sigh, slowly removing her hands from her face and sitting up on the bed. "Honestly, Dahlia, don't you ever get tired of doing this?" Her tone was a mix of exasperation and concern, but there was also an underlying note of curiosity.

"Nope," Dahlia replied with a carefree shrug, an amused smile on her lips.

Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "Let me rephrase that," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Do you ever get worried that you might actually fall for one of them?"

"No," Dahlia answered easily, shaking her head as she flopped back on the bed with an air of finality. "Not gonna happen. I mean, I can't love. Not in the way people think."

"Dahlia," Lily said, shaking her head in disbelief, her voice tinged with frustration. She sat up fully now and threw herself onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling as if searching for answers in the air above her. "When are you going to stop pretending? When are you going to tell people the truth?"

Dahlia tilted her head to the side, her lips curling into a playful grin. "Hmm?" She hummed innocently, feigning ignorance. "About what?"

Lily's exasperation deepened, and she threw her hands up in the air. "How long are you going to keep ignoring the truth? You know what I mean."

Dahlia's eyes twinkled mischievously as she stood up from the bed, placing her hands confidently on her hips. "Maybe until I get bored," she said, offering a sly wink as she turned to leave the room. "Which, by the way, won't be anytime soon."

Lily muttered to herself, barely able to hear the words over her frustration. "Merlin, please, if you're out there, make something happen for Dahlia. Make her stop playing these games before she ends up getting hurt."

As Dahlia walked out of the dormitory and into the Gryffindor common room, her mind wandered, but the noise of the room brought her focus back. She spotted the one person in the room who had caught her attention—the only person she had ever secretly wanted to "experiment" with. Hugo Granger-Weasley. She hated to admit it, but he had always intrigued her.

Yet, there were boundaries she respected, and Hugo, being related to Lily, was one of those lines she wouldn't cross. Lily was her only true friend, and Dahlia wasn't about to risk that for a little bit of fun.

"Eye candy," Dahlia muttered under her breath, a playful smile crossing her face as she approached the couch where Hugo was seated. His head was resting on the table, appearing to be asleep, but Dahlia knew better. He was just pretending, no doubt hoping to avoid conversation. Dahlia, of course, had no such intentions.

She strutted over to the couch and perched herself behind him, leaning over his shoulder with a teasing whistle. Her eyes immediately landed on the pile of schoolwork spread out before him, her gaze quickly locking onto a potion's essay that had clearly been abandoned for too long.

She reached out instinctively to grab it—her passion for potions driving her hand more than she realized.

"Blimey, this is horrid," she blurted out, her voice full of unfiltered honesty. The reaction from Hugo was immediate, his eyes snapping open and making a face at her.

"You didn't have to say it that harshly," Hugo grumbled, sitting up straight with a stretch, snatching the essay out of her hand. "No one can outwit you in potions, Jones. So spare me the brutal honesty, yeah?"

Dahlia flashed a grin, leaning on her palm as she observed him with amusement. "I mean, you're not wrong," she said with an exaggerated shrug, but she didn't back down from her opinion. "However, Granger-Weasley, this?" She waved the paper dramatically. "This is absolute rubbish. Slughorn would seriously consider retiring if he saw this."

Hugo groaned, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He glanced back at the essay, frowning as he looked over his work. "I know potions isn't my best subject," he muttered, "but it can't be that bad, can it?"

"Pumpkin tart, this is like something a first-year would turn in," Dahlia said with a tilt of her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge whether Hugo was truly that unaware of the disaster he'd written. "But, I can help you out. I'm generous like that."

"No thanks," Hugo shot back immediately, shaking his head firmly. "Not a chance and enough with the nicknames."

Dahlia raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What's the harm in it?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Hugo rolled his eyes dramatically and stood up, gathering his books and assignments into his arms. "Many things, Jones, many things," he replied, his tone a mixture of humour and finality. "Look, while the offer is nice, I'm not one of your playthings. So, don't bother trying it with me." With that, he turned and made his way toward the male dorms, leaving Dahlia standing there, unfazed by his rejection.

Dahlia let out a quiet sigh, her body leaning back as she shifted her weight, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was no real sting from Hugo's words—she hadn't expected anything different, after all.

She didn't care for the rejection, nor did it leave a mark on her. Truthfully, she hadn't intended to play games with him, though his response had been exactly what she'd anticipated. But explaining herself? That was something she had long stopped doing. Why bother? The effort to clarify her thoughts, to explain her actions and intentions to others, simply wasn't worth it. It was easier to let people think whatever they wanted.

In the end, Hugo was just another person who didn't fully understand her, and honestly, that was fine. She didn't need to be understood. She had learned long ago that people only saw what they wanted to see, and no amount of explaining would change that. So, why waste the energy? The truth, in her mind, was irrelevant to most. What mattered was how things played out—on her terms, and with no need for validation or approval from anyone.

Hugo's rejection was just another example of the kind of misunderstanding that followed her wherever she went. It wasn't personal. It was just the way things were, and that was something Dahlia had long since accepted. People would come and go, their judgments and assumptions never stopping. But she could handle it. She always had. And she always would.

With a final glance at the empty common room, Dahlia straightened up, the half-smile never fading as she turned and walked toward the door. Her footsteps were quiet, deliberate, as if she were in no rush to leave, but rather savouring the moment of solitude. The walls of the common room, usually filled with chatter and movement, now felt more like a silent witness to her thoughts, an almost comforting presence. Yet, the weight of the silence didn't bother her. It was something she had grown accustomed to—the space between herself and the rest of the world.

As she reached the door, her hand lingered on the handle, pausing for just a moment. In that fleeting instant, she allowed herself a brief reflection on everything—the rumours, the expectations, the games she played, and the people who would never truly understand her. But those reflections were fleeting, like wisps of smoke that vanished the moment they formed. There was no room for sentimentality in her life, not when she had learned long ago that it only led to complications she didn't want to deal with.

The picture frame creaked open as she stepped through, her eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway beyond. It was empty, as expected, a quiet place to continue her thoughts, far from the prying eyes and judgment of others. She stepped forward, the smile still tugging at her lips as she walked down the corridor, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. No one truly understood her, and perhaps that was just as it should be. In the end, Dahlia was her person, with her own rules, and nothing—no one—was going to change that.