the kiss list, adrian pucey
𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟐

chapter thirty-five
number 12: ANTHONY RICKETT

✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧

ONE-SIDED LOVE IS FUCKING AWFUL. The best way to describe it would be when something is right in front of you, but just that tiny bit out of reach, but because it's so close, you're tortured with the reminder that you cannot have it.

Adrian is currently suffering from this.

By the time that December 30th came around, Bianca's Chess Tournament didn't seem like a priority to Adrian anymore. He remembered it, of course, but the aching inside of him made it hurt too much to go and see Bianca, as well as support her through something that Adrian knew meant a lot to her. He let a second-year Slytherin use the supplies he bought for a banner, for next year when Quidditch matches happen again. Adrian didn't sweat it that much — he thought that it was a good cause considering the kid will be supporting him when the time comes around again.

Adrian took this as his opportunity. He was going to distance himself. Because he needed to get over her. It was this whole plan he came up with. He heard it himself — she did not feel the same way and therefore his chances of her falling in love with him in the future, were very slim indeed.

He knew not going to the Tournament would be the hardest part. He had managed four days so far. It was four days ago that Adrian had overheard Bianca tell Maxine O'Flaherty that she is most definitely not in love with Adrian. And she made it very clear.

So, four days and counting. Bianca was sure to have picked up on it. He was avoiding her, and that was not like him. And by December 30th, he was numb from the pain.

Above the ground, in the Great Hall, Bianca Larsson was approaching her first opponent, a third-year Hufflepuff girl, with pigtails, and a bright smile. Bianca took a seat opposite and the pair shook hands. The girl's skin was sweaty and clammy, and it was clear now that the smile was just a bluff for how nervous this young girl was. But Bianca's been there — the girl will get her chance eventually. And so, Bianca was not going to go easy under any circumstances.

Leo Raywood had dragged his girlfriend along to this. Alicia Spinnet knew a little more about Chess than Leo did, and yet she was missing the incredible enthusiasm that her boyfriend brought to the table. He was smiling, and planning on watching Bianca's every move, even if he had no idea whether it was a good one or not. Bianca had noticed this, seen as he was standing but a few meters away from her table and board, and she appreciated his support very much. Even if this was only the first match of many and she knew his enthusiasm would falter when boredom kicks in — there were quite a few contests this year.

The Hufflepuff girl, playing white, went first, sliding her end pawn along two squares, hitting the small clock beside her to stop it from ticking away (Professor Binns believed in Muggle Chess for an amateur Tournament like his, not Wizards Chess), before scribbling down a little note in the pad beside her.

And the games had begun.

Four matches later and Bianca was beginning to think she might actually win this year. Although, she didn't doubt that the reigning champion from last year would return for this one, which, when it came down to it, will most definately be a challenge. And for now, she hadn't experienced that much competition — just a few younger years that she admired their courage and skill for such a young age. She was once in their position, and she believed their victory will come with time. But for now? She didn't care how cute you were.

The only problem to spoil her clean, and easy sweep of the first few games was that she had yet to spot Adrian. He had said he was going to be there front and center to support her, and yet, Leo and Alicia were as about as front and center and up close and personal as you can get a prestigious Tournament like this one. Maybe he was late? Yes, that's it. He was late.

Bianca had never played so well before in her entire life. She was crushing the competition, and she had ended herself a place in the final in no time. And still no Adrian.

Bianca was right to assume that the reigning Champion would be returning for 1992's Tournament. She just didn't know who that was.

Regrouping with Leo and Alicia for the final was definitely what Bianca needed. Her opponent, the Hufflepuff that had won it the previous year, was already settled at the table in the center of the room. Everyone was waiting on her.

Leo gave her one last squeeze on the arm, and Alicia an encouraging grin before she took her seat opposite him. Bianca didn't look at her opponent straight away — she was too busy distracted by the spectators all surrounding this one single table, ogling at her. All the other desks and boards had been removed from the Great Hall, leaving one to remain. There was a large score blackboard, at the front, Professor Binns stood beside it. Her name and Anthony Rickett at the top, marking the two finalists.

That's when she finally looked her opponent in the eyes. It was the same boy that helped her and Katie and Angelina into the Hufflepuff Common Room for Malcolm's birthday.

Anthony Rickett also happens to be number twelve. You know, all that Kiss List business? But that wasn't her concern right now. Adrian hadn't shown up, and this was quite literally the most important chess match of her entire life. Bianca wasn't going to go on to play chess professionally, so this is as serious as it gets. She doesn't need to distract her brain from the game by cooking up various ways she can steal a kiss from the guy she's about to play after one of them has beaten the other.

Another thing to note: Bianca will never look at the twenty-one members of The Kiss List normally again. She will never run into one of them and think, "Oh hey! Jeremy, from Charms!" ever again. She'll just be reminded of that adolescent bet that Adrian Pucey set her up to in her sixth year, where she had to kiss them for Adrian's Quidditch resignation. They're all just names on a list and walking targets.

The most striking thing about Anthony was not his chocolate brown eyes or olive skin, but just the fact that he was shockingly attractive for a child prodigy chess player. Like seriously. His scruffy dirty blonde hair sat comfortably on his head. His biceps were so defined, even through his chunky, turtle neck sweater that was cream in colour, and topped with a crisp, black blazer. He looked incredibly professional. Bianca wishes she had a blazer, but now her trouser-cardigan duo will have to do. Besides, this was a chess match, not a fashion show.

But can this kid really play Chess as well as he does Quidditch? And looking as good as he does whilst doing it? Bianca was about to find out.

The answer? Yes, he was very good. That was made clear, very early on. Bianca's pieces were dropping fast, and his face was so unreadable and emotionless, that Bianca had no clue where his head was at. Which she guesses is a good tactic when you think about it.

The final game felt as though it went on for hours. Bianca had had her heart in her throat since the moment the two finalists shook hands, and it was yet to be unlodged. She was constantly pulling at strands of her hair that had fallen loose from her now very messy low ponytail. And always biting her nails. And occasionally scratching the same spot on her neck. And Anthony? He hadn't even broken a sweat. It was clear he was a natural competitor, and he was experienced when it came to big finals like this one, which shook Bianca to her core.

But when it felt as though all hope was lost for her, Bianca saw her golden opportunity. The pair had been checking each other's kings for a while now, and it was only a matter of time before one of them Checkmated the other.

Bianca could practically see the machines working inside of Anthony's brain, and seeing that felt even better now she had gained more confidence.

It was a risky move and opened up her Queen for a takeout. But if she was right, and hadn't missed any possible moves that he could take to escape, Bianca could Checkmate his King, and then that would be game.

She bit her nail harder. To make the move, or not. Her clock was ticking away, and since they had been playing for an awfully long time, it wasn't long now until that clock ran out.

Bianca decided to do it. She moved her last Knight a space forward, and one diagonally, and it was done. She tentatively tapped the button on the top of her clock, the clicking sound signaling her move to be final before she roughly wrote down her most recent move onto the pad beside her. She muttered the words "Checkmate" quietly, as if to herself, terrified if she was wrong. That would be far too embarrassing this deep into the competition.

But the worst was yet to come. She watched as he stared at the board. At her pieces and at his own. At the painted squares, at the cracks between them. His eyes were moving in every direction, analyzing his next possible moves — that was if he had any.

And after precisely a minute of waiting, it was clear to Anthony that he hadn't any. And Bianca had won.

The sight of Anthony knocking his King onto his side, the echo very dramatic for such a small object, was so amazing, Bianca didn't quite know what to do.

Bianca didn't do bets, and the childish one she was currently doing with a Slytherin in her year, she hadn't won yet. Bianca didn't play Quidditch, and the matches she did watch, winning didn't feel as good as a supporter as it would as a player. And Bianca didn't win that often. Cards didn't count — her friends were incompetent and therefore no competition. Normally, Chess wouldn't even count either — the only person that agreed to play with her was Adrian, and he may have won once, but it'll never happen again. The boy's sloppy, and wins with zero strategies involved.

Which is why winning her first-ever Chess Tournament, was one of the best feelings ever. Some may think this is sad and tragic, but Bianca doesn't. Chess is her thing, and she had just beaten several people that also label Chess as their thing. And that feels pretty damn great.

What sucks is that Adrian wasn't there to see it.

He had yet to show up, and Bianca had finally given in to the part of her that kept constantly defending him. He was a no-show and all Bianca could do, was hide her disappointment. She had just won after all.

Anthony leaned over the board and offered out his hand for Bianca to shake, his smile laced with a lot more pride than she would have imagined from him. Or even expected — he had just lost out on the trophy by one game, and he still managed to find it in him to be happy for her. Or at least look happy for her.

Bianca gladly took his offering, and they shook above the remains of the game, her cleverly played out Checkmate still standing strong.

Receiving the trophy was the best part. The cold metal beneath her fingers even felt like victory. The best part being her name, freshly engraved on the silver, shiny plaque at the bottom: Bianca Larsson, 1992. The flashing of the camera, her hand locked with Professor Binns, her other holding up the golden brass painted with her triumph, was attention she didn't usually like getting and yet part of her — the part that had just won a Tournament she had been entering since her first year, not once being successful at winning it — was loving it. She was soaking up her win, and all the smiling faces and crying congratulations that came with it.

Bianca loved this strange, new feeling — she felt like she was on top of the world — but it was sure as hell tedious. Pictures after pictures. One's with all of the contesters, one on her own. Then there was the picture with the two runner's up — Anthony, and a fourth-year Ravenclaw that looked utterly gutted with a strong essence of bitterness all cooped up in his shaggy head of blonde hair.

The only one she didn't mind was the one with just her and Anthony. She was still baffled by his appearance. It's technically bad, and stereotypical of her, but Bianca never knew that someone who played such an old-people game could be so good-looking.

The two of them held the trophy together, her cheeks aching from all of the smiling, but she managed to pull off a bright, flashy grin, all the same. Anthony did too, Bianca noticed — charming as ever, dimples popped, teeth white. This guy was way too attractive to play Chess for Christ's sake.

At the end of the pictures, when Bianca was given a second to catch her breath after all of the handshaking, Anthony came over to congratulate her once more. Maybe she didn't mind one more shake.

"You were brilliant, seriously," he complimented. Bianca chewed the inside of her mouth after realizing she started blushing way too early into the conversation.

Bianca gulped down any nerves, and broadened her smile, "Thank you, Anthony. That's very sweet. But let's not discard your play — you're truly gifted. And I don't say that to a lot of Chess players," she added in hastily, to make sure he didn't think she was just trying to warm up to him because she just stole his chance of winning two years in a row.

Anthony licked his lips, sliding his hands in his jean pockets, as he chuckled. Again — way too attractive to play chess. "Thank you. But your win was very well deserved."

"Speaking of wins," Bianca beamed, "I believe a title pass-over is now due, please, and thank you."

Anthony made a sort of "oof" sound like he had just been winded. "Champion Chess player and flirty."

Bianca wasn't thinking about the list. But she is now. She didn't often flirt unless she was trying really hard, and some might class this as trying really hard, so she decided to go along with it. Bianca batted her lashes, "That was only flirty if you wanted it to be."

Intense eye contact was held for a few seconds before Anthony untucked his hands from his pockets, and filed through the inside ones of his blazer, where he fished out a small badge. "Well, as a matter of fact, I am due to give you this," his charming smile was yet to fade, as he passed the badge over. Bianca took it in her hand, and curiously examined it. The words "Hogwarts Chess Champion" were typed in a curly font and framed behind a glossy layer of glass; the background of it unironically, a black and white checkerboard. "I decided not to wear it the entire time just in case someone swooped in at the last minute and took the same title from me."

The words were quite sad actually, but Bianca watched as he winked in her direction, and replanted his hands in his pockets.

"Thank you very much," she said with a smile, her neck slightly aching from all of this staring up. Anthony Rickett was also way too tall to be a Chess Player. "I shall take good care of it," she reassured, before angling herself to give him a quick peck on the cheek for good measure and to be a good sport.

Bianca would like to make it very clear that she did not plan on kissing Anthony Rickett, her first runner's up for the Annual Hogwarts Chess Championship, and her, more or less, new friend. And she didn't. At least she didn't want to say she was the cause of it.

Anthony understood her body movements instantly, and leaned in too, aiming for her right cheek, and soon, they were but inches apart. And it was Angelina Johnson all of over again.

Bianca didn't get the chance to find out what his lips tasted like — but she could sure as hell tell they were as smooth as anything — but their lips definitely touched. It was a peck, and they both pulled away as soon as they made contact because that wasn't supposed to happen, but their lips did touch. And that's what a kiss is right?

For the next few seconds, Bianca zoned out. Anthony was verbalizing his apologies for accidentally kissing her, and Bianca was miming some kind of reply, but she had zoned out. Did that count? Is that fair on Adrian? She didn't plan to, but does it still pass the authenticity test? He doesn't know. Does she tell him?

And that's when she made her decision — Adrian doesn't know. Because he didn't show up.

Nope, she was taking it. She deserved it. What with her hard work, and strategic play. If Adrian had spoken to her for the past four days then maybe she'd cut him some slack and say no, it doesn't count. But he hadn't.

Bianca had officially kissed Anthony Rickett, and would now like to make a public statement that she is crossing him off of The Kiss List.

After a few sweet goodbyes, and appreciative smiles, Bianca disappeared back into the crowd of spectators — it was a rather large turnout for what it was. The only difference going into the same crowd of people a second time was that now, the only thing on Bianca's mind was Adrian. And the guilt for giving herself that kiss a few seconds ago was now clinging onto a tiny molecule of hope that Adrian was here somewhere, and just late. And that would mean no kiss scored, and Bianca would be free of any shameful feelings. Better late than never right?

Leo was beside himself with pride. No, he didn't quite understand the rules of chess, and not even he, the best friend of the victor, could deny that for the most part, this Tournament had been boring, but he was ecstatic that Bianca had won. And he wanted to celebrate in the best way possible.

He pulled her aside right after she had finished shaking the hands of all the other twenty competitors. "So like what now?" he asked excitedly. Bianca looked very distracted, but he kept going. "You want me to throw you a party? Cause I dunno how you're supposed to celebrate winning a Chess Tournament," he winced.

Bianca took a moment to appreciate Leo's effort. "No, it's okay," she smiled briefly before continuing to glance over Leo's shoulder, to her left, and then looking behind her. "You don't have to do that."

"Really?" Leo cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, well . . .," he drifted off, as he watched her eyes dart around the room. "Are you looking for someone?"

Bianca pulled her eyes back to her best friend, "I'll be right back," she assured, before fleeing the scene, and heading for the Dungeons.

Adrian didn't show up. Not even for the end. Not even for a little bit. She would have liked to have thought that he'd be there for the final, especially since she was in it for Pete's sake. But no, and it was clear he was nowhere near the Great Hall at all. After quite a few days of no word from him, Bianca decided to find out what was wrong. She was a people-pleaser (to those she liked at least), and the idea of him having a problem with her stressed Bianca out. Madly.

Thinking back, Bianca wouldn't have thought learning the Slytherin's password to their common room for one party would have been so useful. And yet, here she was, mumbling that same callous and cruel word that grants the speaker access into the Serpent's lounge, once again.

She needed to stop visiting Adrian in his dorm — Bianca was never going to get used to the stares she got just by creeping across the carpet.

It was like a massive sigh of relief, and tension crusher when she made it to the dorm area, away from prying eyes, plunged into an eerie silence. Trophy in hand, Bianca made it to his door, and offered three short knocks, and waited for it to swing open.

Bianca hadn't forgotten that Adrian shares a dorm with two other Slytherins in their year, but she wasn't expecting Cassius Warrington to be on the other end when the iron handle clanged, and hinges creaked signifying the door's opening.

Cassius raised his eyebrows at the girl, glanced down at the golden cup hanging low by her sides, and waited for her to speak. Bianca couldn't see past his large stature and towering height. She was beginning to think that expecting Adrian to be in his dorm, on a day during the Christmas holidays, in the late afternoon, was probably a not very thought out assessment of her's. Bianca swallowed and fixed her posture. "I'm here to see Adrian?"

Cassius chewed his minty gum a few times, and Bianca could hear the clacking of it against his teeth. "I gathered," he said; she could see the faint hint of a smile, creeping up his lips.

The boy stepped to one side, still holding onto the door handle, to reveal the rest of their shared dorm — still very messy (besides Adrian's section), still very boyish, and still very green. Adrian was perched at a desk, his head down, and his back to her.

Graham was nowhere in sight, and suddenly, neither was Cassius. Bianca just heard the clicking of the lock, and the door coming to a close. The boy had decided to give them some "privacy" except, that just made the air a lot more stuffy, and the atmosphere a heck of a lot more awkward.

Not that it was a norm for Bianca, — although it totally was — but Bianca hadn't spoken to Adrian in four days. September-Bianca would find that perfectly adequate, but December-Bianca was all but pleased that that's how it was going. Confused, because Adrian had never let that happen before. One day, sure, but four? She would have thought he'd have driven his friends insane (although, maybe that's the reason Cassius left the room? . . .). Then there's disappointed, because she would have liked to have spoken to him at least once, whether that be work-related or just because they were friends? And then not going to see her at the Tournament? That hurt the most. But Bianca was sure he had a reason for it, and so, she decided that for once, maybe she should be the one to initiate conversation.

Bianca held the trophy in two hands, her arms relaxed in front of her. "Hi," she uttered, her slight smile unbeknown to him — he still hadn't turned to look at her.

She watched his hand move as he scribbled something on some parchment. He cleared his throat, took a second, and replied. "Hi," he said flatly back.

Bianca didn't know what to do. Her smile had gone (he never saw it anyway) and when someone sits with their back to you, it's quite hard to read the situation. Bianca gathered she'd have to carry the conversation. "I didn't see you at the tournament?"

Adrian's chest rose and fell, and his wrist stopped moving. "I was busy," he said. Pause. "Practice," And then the sound of scratching indicated that that was all the explanation Bianca was going to get.

Not seeing Adrian support her at her Chess Tournament was no big deal for Bianca. Before she told him about it, she didn't expect him to go to something as boring, or as low-life as that. Even when she told him, part of her expected him to tell her "Oh that's great. Good luck" and no more. It was just the fact he was so enthusiastic at the idea of supporting her, that made the day so much more exciting. Almost as if he knew she would win. And when she did? He wasn't there to say "Well done!" like he promised.

Bianca swallowed. And hard. It was difficult, staring into the back of his head. Like the room was empty and it was just her. She felt stupid throwing around her success at him. "Oh, uh, okay," she mumbled. Bianca raised the cup in her hand a little higher but brought it down immediately when she realized that he couldn't see it. And, at the rate this conversation — if you could even call it that — was going, she didn't see him turning around any time soon unless she asked him. "Well, I won!" she sang her temporary smile, very much being temporary.

Adrian clenched his jaw but shook his head as if to shake away any feelings of guilt that were bashing him over the head. She thought he was at practice — that was a plausible excuse. A fake one, albeit, but she was never going to know that. And there is that sharp pang of guilt again. Adrian could feel her smile fading even with his back to her. He wasn't going to turn around, because he couldn't. "Congrats," he mumbled, keeping his head craned down, and keeping himself occupied with a quill and paper.

Bianca would like to think that there was an essence of happiness in his voice, but maybe that was just a concept she had created in her mind because she wanted it to be true. She couldn't read his emotions — it was difficult to analyze how he was feeling when all she could see was a big, knitted jumper, and a patch of brunette hair. "Thanks."

When he didn't reply, she gathered the problem was herself. Unless he actually was busy and studying was his priority at the moment and she had just intruded at the wrong time, but being the overthinker she was, her mind instantly went to labeling herself as the issue. "Did I do something?" she asked cautiously, tentative to even move in the slightest.

She watched as he shook his head. "Nope," he said, momentarily stopping writing to pop the "p" sound.

Bianca hesitated before she asked what she had wanted to say since she arrived there. "So can you look at me when you talk to me? Or is that too much to ask?"

In a matter of minutes, her victory, which she had worked so hard for, wasn't all that special anymore.

Adrian lifted his head a little, stared straight ahead, before swiveling in his seat. There was an intense moment of eye contact, and Bianca hated herself for realizing that she had missed his crystal-like eyes over the past ninety-six hours. He glanced down at the trophy in her hands, fought the urge to smile, and then forced himself to reinstate the eye contact. "Happy?"

Bianca's shoulders drooped to the floor, "Well, no," she quaked. "What's going on with you?"

Adrian scowled at Bianca and she hadn't seen that look aimed at her for months. "Jesus, nothing," he hissed. "I was just busy."

"I wasn't talking about the tournament," she said, and despite his slightly tipped-off expression, her voice was laced with softness. Adrian expected that from her — be nice even if he was acting like a dick — and that's why the feelings of guilt were still lodged in his throat. "You've been avoiding me for like four days."

The scowl disappeared and was replaced by a pair of beading eyes and a sunken expression. Adrian clawed his eyes away from her. Hard, it was as well — the sun was setting, and its colourful rays were beaming across her skin, making it glow and glisten. A ball of sunlight reflected in her eyes, and her hair was more golden than ever. He picked the skin where his nail met its bed. "I would have thought that was a nice break for you, considering how much you dislike me."

Bianca saw a glimmer of hope that he was just being playful by saying that. That he was going to pout like a child and flutter his lashes like a puppy. "I don't dislike you, Adrian," she sighed.

Adrian moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth and he got up from his seat. "Congrats on the tournament," he said, approaching the exit of his dorm. And that's when Bianca realized she had thought wrong — he wasn't being playful. He actually didn't want her there. "You deserve it."

She worked that out when he held open the door and gestured for her to leave.

➼

ADRIAN WAS BLOODY DAMN HAPPY that he made a copy of the mixtape that he gifted Bianca Larsson for Christmas. Because now he had decided he needed to distance himself from the girl he was in love with in order to move on before his heart exploded (it's been six years, like give the guy a break), a mixtape that reminded him of her was as good as the real thing as it gets.

Most people — including all of Adrian's friends — would think that listening to his homemade "Cheesy is okay sometimes" mixtape on repeat in order to get over the girl he made it for, is self-destructive. But not for Adrian. It was the only way he could cope.

Adrian had even gone to great lengths to get his very own cassette player. Adrian had a family friend two years below, who he had paid to mail him one. His friends didn't get it. He was torturing himself. Yes, that's right. Adrian had opened up to his dormmates about his "avoiding" situation with Bianca. Most of it wasn't new information for them, because they knew all about Adrian's infatuation, practically since they met him, but Adrian's whole scheme to get over her was interesting news. But Graham and Cassius had both agreed to help him in every way that they could. Even if that meant leaving him alone when he pulled the mixtape out.

Since yesterday, Adrian thinks he has been going strong. In terms of this whole avoid-Bianca-because-I'm-in-love-with-her-but-she-doesn't-love-me-back regimen, Adrian has been rather successful. He had, after all, not spoken to her for four days prior yesterday. But it's the holidays, and pretty easy to avoid someone with the whole castle at your disposal. When lessons start again, that's where the trouble comes in. Adrian hasn't even let himself think about the idea of Potions yet.

Despite Bianca knowing the Slytherin Common Room password — seriously though. Who let her remember? — his dorm is about the only safe spot in the castle that can be named a "Bianca Free Zone". She's not a psycho-stalker, and he doesn't see her waltzing in every time she wants to talk to him sometime in the near future. Especially after yesterday — he might as well have kicked her out. Although, isn't that what he did anyway? Yikes. The Library is Bianca's safe space so that's too risky. The courtyard is one of her favourite places to read, so it's also a bit chancy. So unless he locks himself in his dorm or relies on Bianca's friends to keep her occupied in the Gryffindor common room 24/7, his chances of running into her (even if Hogwarts is huge) are very high. Extra yikes.

And so, with his birthday looming, and school returning in only two days, the last day of the year might as well mark the end of trying to avoid Bianca — because from now on, it would be near impossible.

But maybe he was just overreacting? He didn't have to completely shut her out and banish her from his life! He just needed to distance himself with no further explanation . . .

"Yo, you ready to go?" Graham Montague's gravelly voice brought Adrian back into the real world, where he was lying on his back, staring up into the roof of his four-poster bed, with Journey's "Faithfully" reaching its second chorus as it played into his ears.

New Year's Eve. No doubt a party. Not sure if Bianca would be present. But still a party he wasn't that up for.

Adrian groaned in response and rolled over onto his side. Physically? Yes, he was ready. Mentally? Not so up for it.

Adrian felt the bed dip as Graham took a seat at the foot of it, "You're not backing out now," he said as more of an instruction than a question. "It's New Years. And I dunno if we'll be able to have another party for your birthday. Now is literally your only chance to have fun."

Adrian has never been a big fan of birthdays. And that wasn't due to the fact that January third is always the day that school starts again, so he'd usually be spending it all cooped up on a train for eleven hours. And this year, now that everyone had stayed at school for the holidays due to the ball, Adrian still wasn't up for anything. He liked attention on the Quidditch pitch, not anywhere else.

To make his friend happy, and because there was potential for Adrian to have some fun, he decided he was going to go. You only get to experience the end of the year 1992 once right? And what are the chances that Bianca is going? Actually, Adrian isn't confident in that area. She has surprised him these last few months so anything could happen.

Adrian let Journey finish their ballad, before tucking the mixtape safely away in his nightstand and getting to his feet.

Maybe Mission Distance-Yourself-From-Bianca was possible with all of the drunken crowds, and dancing loons. Adrian just hopes "Rock with you" isn't on the DJ's setlist. He can sure as hell torture himself privately and listen to MJ via his mixtape in his dorm alone. But in public? In that case, for the short duration of the song, Adrian's worried that future-him wouldn't be able to resist, and would eventually give in and enjoy it. He also worries that future-him would secretly hope that Bianca would make an appearance and join him on the dancefloor, for that one song, and that one song only. And then Mission Impossible would get a whole lot more impossible.