The Difference Between Wanting and Needing

[Ariane Chan]

It started with the Winter Ball.

Ariane really did not want to go. She didn’t want to mingle with fake people she didn’t know, but who pretended to know you and smiled at you with big, backstabbing grins. She didn’t want to wear some stupid costume for others to judge, because if you’re pretty you’re too pretty, and if you’re ugly then that’s downright true. Ariane, as always, wanted to stay locked up in her dormitory with only silence as her companion. Book on her lap, light flickering in the arriving darkness. That was all she wanted; that was all she needed.

Somehow, Ariane never gets what she wants, and she never gets what she needs either. She’s come to the conclusion life is merely a conspiracy against her. In the end, instead of curled comfortably on her bed with a book, she finds herself sitting on a freezing bench in the Courtyard, waiting for Aurora to grace her with her presence. But one thing never changes; she’s alone again. Ariane is always left alone, and she likes that. She really likes that. Just her against the world, alone, in her own little solitude. Ariane likes that.

People don’t believe her, but it’s true. Ariane likes to be alone. She likes silence, likes space. She doesn’t need people; what she needs is time for herself. That is what Ariane wants, and what Ariane needs. No one understands Ariane, no one ‘gets’ her. Ariane is an onion; an onion, like Ariane, has multiple layers. So many, in fact, you’ll never peel away enough layers to get to the core. Eventually, it will fall to pieces between your fingers, dropping like liquid through the gaps, never to be whole again. That was Ariane; you could try to peel the layers of skin, and maybe one day you would reach the centre. But by that time there will be nothing left to salvage, and Ariane would be gone again.

Ariane feels her heart thudding against her ribcage and hates it. She hates that her fragile, easily broken body relies on literally one single organ – the heart. Ariane’s heart, therefore, is frozen in ice. Why? Because she doesn’t like her heart. Her heart tells her things she doesn’t agree with; it makes her do and say things she doesn’t want to do. Sometimes it feels like Ariane’s heart is completely separate from her body. Yet, it is the object that her body needs to function. There it is again; the thin line between wanting, and needing.

Arms wrapped around her icy body, Ariane waits. Her thick winter cloak circles her, and Ariane hates being dependent on it to stay warm. Ariane convinces herself she likes the cold; she likes to be cold. That’s why, underneath she has neglected to wear anything else. Underneath she trembles from the cruel winds of the winter night. Still, Ariane refuses to acknowledge the truth, even when it’s hitting her in the face. Even though Ariane wants nothing but the truth, her life is based on lies, based on deceptions. This is Ariane’s life. This is what she wants.

Ariane wonders why she is here. Why she is still here. It’s been an hour already; the bright lights continue to filter into the gardens to alight the silent white moths as they flit across the black sky. Stars twinkle as merrily as the music and happy chatter that emanates from the Great Hall. Ariane does not like it. Listening to those students inside, being happy, does not make her happy. But she bears it, because this is her life, the life she has chosen, and the life inside belongs to them. Ariane is separate from that world, and is glad of it. That is something she certainly does not need. Ariane did wind up witnessing the beginning ceremony, but she had ulterior motives; none of them originated from wanting to spend ‘joyful’ time with her fellow Hogwarts students.

Harmony was crowned Princess. Ariane ponders this revelation. She is happy for Harmony… or rather, she wants to be happy for Harmony. But what Ariane wants she does not get, and yet again she is left with a bitter taste in her mouth. Harmony is probably happy right now, Ariane thinks. Harmony is enjoying herself, enjoying her life. But then, so is Ariane. Ariane is definitely enjoying herself; sitting out here in the dark and cold, shivering and waiting.

Ariane just feels like a fool.

She does not blame Aurora. Ariane promised Aurora she would be here, waiting. But Ariane should have known better; she should have gone back to her dormitory, should have returned later instead of asking pneumonia to bless her dependent body. Ariane sighs loudly, her breath a warm puff of condensation in the air. All she can do now is wait. Wait because this is what she wants, but not what she needs. For once, Ariane is defying her needs, and yet – she does not want this.

Finally. Footsteps crunch and grow louder. Ariane’s ears perk in anticipation, her eyes swivelling to await the familiar figure of Aurora. Ariane finds herself squinting as she mentally recites what she has been rehearsing for an hour. ”Hey. What took you so long?” However, it only takes the sighting of a mere foot for Ariane to know immediately that this is not Aurora; this is an impostor, a stranger. Aurora is meant to be in heeled shoes, with a lavender gown spread across her path. Ariane knows it well; she had helped construct the masterpiece. Suddenly the long thought-out words flee Ariane’s mind. Who could this mystery figure be? Where he or she stood was encased in darkness round the corner, and all Ariane can make out is a leg attached to the foot, and somewhere, a head. The head of a boy; or a girl with very short hair.

Eventually the figure steps forward into the moonlight, blue, blue eyes twinkling like stars under its beams, and Ariane finds her breath trapped in her throat. She knows this boy. She knows this boy, has seen this boy before. She has even talked to him, confessed to him, cried to him; yelled at him, hated him, denied him. But most of all, she wanted him; and for a split second, Ariane thinks she needs him too.

((This thread is meant for Tristan MacCay; no one else may reply to this. I couldn't fit his name into the title! Also, I know this is set in the Courtyard, but seeing as it’s set at the same time as the Ball, I thought it best to put it here. It’s also written in a very odd way; I hope it’s all right, Tristan. I think the mood suits Ari.))

[Tristan MacCay]

Tristan MacCay had nothing against balls. In fact, if he was asked what he thought of them, his answer would be along the lines of, "A night full of dancing, free food, and lively conversation? What's to hate?" He would flash his most charming smile, give a girl a wink, and then state; "But if only I had a date…" In an instant, he had his absolute choice of any girl for the ball. That's how things went for Tristan every other ball – this year was quite different. This year he wasn't looking forward to the ball, and any girl that asked him to go with her he'd stare at blankly and shook his head of blonde hair – mumbling an excuse before turning on his heel and leaving. Yes, it was quite obvious how different Tristan MacCay was this year from last, and it was quite obvious to anyone who paid any type of attention to him that he probably wasn't ever going to return to the Tristan MacCay everyone knew. Why he had changed, no one knew. No one except Tristan, and he would have liked to keep it that way for as long as possible. He knew it wasn't going to be too difficult, either, because Katya never talked to him anymore – and no one else cared enough to know why he was acting so strangely. Why was he? One simple reason, Ariane Chan. Ever since the ride back to school – he had been completely perplexed. He wasn't certain why she was so angry with him, what he must have done to make her mad. She couldn't possibly be upset with him over Olivia and Jez and there was absolutely nothing else he could have possibly done to upset her. It was something Tristan puzzled over all the time. He never could solve it; it was one puzzle Tristan didn't want to have to finish because it wore him out that bad.

Regardless, he was still going to attend this ball – and it was for this exact reason that he was getting ready for the ball. He wasn't dressing up in a costume, though, because he thought the whole concept of that went out the window if you didn’t have a date – and so he wore a simple black tuxedo with his hair combed nicely. Some would say he didn't look like Tristan MacCay at all, but he didn't feel like Tristan MacCay – or perhaps this was a different Tristan MacCay. Either way, it wasn't how he usually was… he wasn't feeling…like he used to. He would have liked to blame Ariane, but he wasn't sure if he should blame her – or give her credit. There was no doubt that this new Tristan was most definitely a better Tristan – but there were definitely people out there who missed the old Tristan. For instance, his followers. They had inevitably kicked him out of their group once they realised he wasn't going to do anymore videotaping for the sheer entertainment of it… at least not at the other peoples' expense. Tristan fixed the rose that was in his jacket pocket and then brushed some lint of the sleeve of it before leaving the dormitory and heading out through the common room. A group of girls stopped and stared at him and he heard, "Such a pity…" flitter from one of them, but he paid no mind to it. It was just the way it was and although this new Tristan was a miserable and confused Tristan, Tristan knew that he would have to figure everything out and be happy with it. If only Ariane didn't run from him whenever she spotted him. Perhaps he should have dressed up so he could have asked her to dance, without her knowing it was him, and then talk to her… but it was too late now.

He headed up toward the Great Hall where the ball was to be held, but at the last minute he turned out into the courtyard. He just didn't know if he could bear all of the happiness he was sure to see at the ball. He felt so gloomy, why would he feel happy? Tristan sighed audibly, but it was alright because no one was around to hear, as he made his way further into the courtyard – letting the darkness engulf him and the moon be his only source of light. Sure, there was light filtering from the windows and such, but not enough for him to see a path that he could take. The moonlight gave him that light. He had no idea where he was going, what he was doing, or if he was going to spend the entire night out in the courtyard – but he had no intention of figuring all of that out right at that moment either. Tristan really wouldn't have tried to figure anything out really if it wasn't for the fact that he noticed he wasn't alone in the courtyard. There standing some feet away was a girl in a costume that Tristan couldn't quite make out, but that was okay – because he recognised the girl without looking for too long. He recognised how she stood, and the way she seemed to be holding the world at arm's length. Tristan watched her for a moment or so and then he stepped from behind his hiding place, causing the figure to turn around. He stood in the moonlight, a small gap between them, but not enough to feel her fear or her apprehension – he wasn't quite sure which. They stood in silence for a minute, and right before he felt her tensing to run, Tristan put out a hand to stop her, "Please, don't go." His voice was soft as he spoke, almost a whisper, and it held a hint of begging, "Please…"

((I liked the way you wrote your post. And I can't quite remember what's supposed to happen in this.. so you'll have to remind me - if there's anything I need to change, let me know.))

[Ariane Chan]

Ariane felt her throat tighten; it constricted, diminished her breathing to shallow, silent gasps. Her numbed fingers subconsciously squeezed into shaking fists, and her entire body tensed, her muscles moving not an inch as she saw Tristan come into view. It was like the moment he laid his eyes on her she was encased in a column of icy blue fire, burning her inside out. Unable to move, trapped in this moment, Ariane’s gaze could not disconnect from Tristan’s intent one. It was like he alone was holding her there with a simple look; one that held such longing it made Ariane fearful. Heart pounding in her chest, the only sound piercing the tense silence that enveloped the two in their own little world, Ariane finally heard something else that broke the thumps of her icy heart. "Please, don't go." Ariane blinked as his whispers arrived at her ear, and she shuddered visibly; it was as though his breath was caressing the shell of her lobe, as though he had just said those words right next to her. But he wasn’t; Tristan was at least a few metres away from her, both of them stock-still. Ariane could feel his need though, emanating like waves from him; he needed her to stay. Eyes fluttering shut to try to block those piercing blue eyes in vain, Ariane mustered some cold air into her lungs, before opening them and trying to look Tristan strongly. She couldn’t break from this… she couldn’t.

Ariane was feeling many emotions; fear, anxiety, wariness; but most of all, confusion and guilt. After all, now that it had been revealed that it had been in fact Jez Cuthbert, and not Tristan, who had spoken those treacherous words that summer day so long ago, Ariane could only blame her stupidity and irrationality. Thinking back on it so many times since, she could barely believe how naïve she was to associate that smarmy voice with Tristan’s more arrogant one; yet she knew that wasn’t the way he addressed her. He was more gentle with her, but she just wanted to believe it was him. Ariane wanted so much to say the word ‘sorry’, but… it was so hard! She couldn’t make it come out, and every single time she had seen Tristan in the corridors she had freaked so much she had halted, turned around, and disappeared in the opposite direction. Just like that day. Ariane wondered if Tristan had noticed her doing it so many times; she wondered if anyone else had either. But she was so scared of this boy; she felt so guilty, so confused about him. It was all she could do, run away from him. That was all she did now, run, run, run as fast as the wind could carry her, away from her problems, away from facing her fears. Ariane was truly sorry for blaming Tristan, for avoiding him, because evidently he wanted to speak to her. She had noticed the change in him at school since the beginning of their sixth year; she had been too observant of the gossip surrounding that enigmatic young man. Her heart had ached unknowingly when she heard such words. She really wanted to speak to him.

And this was Ariane’s chance. Trying not to shiver from the cold, she looked away, desperate not to gaze into those eyes that captured her soul and caused it to hurt so much. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She closed it again, before resolving she had to say something. If not ‘sorry’, then… “Forgive me?” Ariane’s voice finally returned after what seemed to be a long silence. Tears pricked at her eyes, glistening in the moonlight, but they stayed securely back from escaping. Her voice was but a whisper in the night air, but she knew Tristan had heard it; he had to have heard it. Ariane didn’t think she could utter those two words again, and she didn’t know what she would do if Tristan didn’t forgive her. Maybe her heart would be torn in two, she couldn’t tell. Ariane was scared because she couldn’t foresee her future right now. She wanted to hate Tristan for doing this to her, but all she felt was guilt, not anger. Her words hung in the air, and finally Ariane looked up to Tristan with gleaming eyes, desperate for an answer herself. She was sorry she could never give him any, but please… please let him give her this. She needed to hear him say it. Maybe then, maybe then this pain in her heart would fade a little. Maybe then Ariane could breathe easy.

[Tristan MacCay]

Forgive me? Tristan drew in a quick breath, the cold blistering the warm interior of his mouth. It washed over him, pulled him at all different angles. He had no control over his emotions anymore and that was something Tristan wasn't used to. He was usually fully capable of controlling his emotions. Shoving this one aside, forgetting this one existed, exercising this one to its extreme. When it came to Ariane, however, his emotions were at completely different levels. New emotions were sprouting up, ones he hated were becoming apparent. For the longest time he thought perhaps he had lost his ability to be strong, but after one long night of thinking – he came to the conclusion that Ariane just made him feel like any other person should feel. His hands were shaking by his sides and he tried to keep them steady or at least ease their visibility. If Tristan cried, which he didn't, there would possibly be tears in his eyes as well. For what, he wasn't quite sure, but he felt it inside him. Tristan closed his eyes against the cold, against Ariane, and then let out a lengthy breath. Forgive me? He opened his eyes again and peered at Ariane intently. She was looking everywhere but at him. That rather stung, but Tristan wasn't about to force her to look at him. He didn't want to force her to do anything.

Forgive me? "For what you think I should forgive you is trivial, Ariane. It was a mistake, an honest…decent…mistake. But if you must have my forgiveness, then you have it," Tristan took a step closer to her tentatively, as if she were a cat or something that might run away if approached too quickly, "I forgive you." Another step closer to her and he was an arm's length away from her, but he wouldn't push the boundaries she had set up around her. He would respect her personal bubble, something he didn't do with anyone else – or hadn't done. Tristan found himself bewildered at times at how much he had changed. He no longer laughed at other people, he respected them. He thought about other people before he did something. Tristan had become a thoughtful person. He still had Slytherin tendencies, though, he was still as arrogant as ever if you caught him at the right time, and he still would do anything to get what he wanted – he had just changed how he went about things to get his way. He didn't humiliate and blackmail anymore, instead he reasoned and tried to get the person to understand him or to get himself to understand them. He found this worked a lot better than blackmail, especially since it gained him respect – something he hadn't had before except from his followers.

"Ariane, I…" he trailed off as he looked at her, shivering noticeably now, "Merlin, are you mad, Ari? Wearing only a winter cloak over that?" Tristan frowned and took off his winter cloak, taking the final step to wrap it around her, pulling it tight over her shoulders and clasping the button at the top. He hadn't realise he had just broken that personal bubble rule he had just enforced, because his mind was on how icicle like she was looking. His hands remained on her arms, rubbing them gently, as he stared at her. Then realisation seemed to hit him and he let his hands drop by his sides again, "I… I've been trying to talk to you since term began." He looked at her intently, waiting for her to tell him to get lost waiting for her to say that she didn't want to see him ever again. That he wasn’t worth the trouble. Tristan stood there, his eyes watching her as he waited for her response. If she asked what he had wanted to talk about, Tristan wasn't sure what he'd tell her. Maybe he would tell her the truth, maybe not. Probably not.

He let out a slow breath, and he could see it coming out in a puff of white steam in the cold night air. Tristan wasn't cold, though, even after he had given Ariane his cloak. His heart was pounding harder than normal, his hands were clammy. I suppose you could say he was nervous and so him being nervous warmed his body. Tristan clenched his fists loosely to shop the shaking as he spoke again in a soft tone, "I've been wanting to talk to you about what…what happened in Diagon Alley. You know…what you mistook me for doing. I…would like to know exactly what I was being accused of…and…" even more so, what the hell Jez Cuthbert did to make you cry. He looked down at his feet.

[Ariane Chan]

“Is it? Was it?” Ariane found herself asking straight away when Tristan said it was trivial. Was he forgiving her? Was she forgiven? Ariane was too caught up in her guilt to feel anything else. “Is it trivial? Was it a mistake? I should’ve… I should’ve believed in you!” Ariane found herself saying blindly, tears pricking again at her eyes. Why, oh why was she always crying around Tristan? Ariane hated crying, she wanted to be strong, but everything this one man did reduced her to tears. Why? And how? Ariane didn’t notice when Tristan took a step forward, only hearing the words “you have it”. She had his forgiveness. Ariane’s heart stopped for a moment, then started again, beating faster than ever. Somehow she still couldn’t breathe easy. “Is it really that simple?” Ariane half-moaned to herself, looking at the dark sky above her with a torn expression. “If I had been you, would I have forgiven you so easily? Could I have done the same for you?” She looked back at Tristan forlornly, shaking her head. “Can you really forgive me? Did I cut you into a thousand pieces? Because if I did…” Ariane’s gaze diverted in shame again, not able to bear Tristan’s face looking at her so honestly. It hurt. Everything, everything hurt. “Oh god,” She suddenly gasped aloud, the pain filling her mind, occupying each corner. “I’m so sorry, I really am.” And she was saying those dreaded words, that one hard, difficult word. Sorry.

But Tristan repeated it. He repeated the words “I forgive you.” Ariane looked to him again, uncertain, but felt an apparent weight lift off her shoulders. Suddenly breathing didn’t seem so hard. Her pants slowed to a normal pace, her blood stilled in her veins to its usual flow. However, that only seemed to make Ariane colder as she shivered visibly beneath her thin cloak. A shirt, a pair of trousers, boots and a cloak; she really was stupid as Tristan pulled off his own and threw it over her. She was mad, she agreed. She was too cold, too emotional to run from Tristan as he pulled her closer to him, the cloak going round her shoulders to encase her in his warmth. Ariane was frozen on the outside, but on the inside she was burning, burning to a dull black crisp. Her emotions raged and her breathing heightened again as she realised just how close she was to Tristan; almost face to face again like on the train, body to body, nose to nose. Why was he being so kind to her? Her heart ached from this simple action. It was as if he cared for her. Ariane looked up, speechless, barely able to utter even a simple ‘thank you’. He seemed to realise the closeness too, as he let his arms drop; immediately Ariane felt their loss, and restrained a whimper. He began to speak, and his voice echoed around the Courtyard quietly, but filling her ears like the clear ring of a bell. “I… I’m sorry.” Ariane murmured again, not able to meet his intense gaze. She knew she had been avoiding him diligently since the train ride. As if he were the plague, she had fled from him. She didn’t want to, but fear and desire drove her on. It always did.

Ariane absorbed Tristan’s second line, before lifting her eyes and observing his face. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, and she felt her guilt rise again. “It’s nothing.” Ariane found her mouth moving before her brain did, the words coming out sharp and harsh. However, she wanted to retract them immediately, and looked helpless as she sought better words. Ariane was honest. She didn’t lie. “Um, no, I mean…” She shook her head helplessly. “It’s nothing you… need to worry about. Some words were said. I… felt hurt.” She admitted, also staring down at her feet. At their feet. “He… didn’t say that much, but… I’m weak, after all.” A bitter smile reached her lips. “I can’t believe I thought you…” Her head continued to shake in disbelief, in guilt. “I’m sorry. I don’t, I honestly don’t think you are like him at all. I was just… I was crying and losing control, and… and then he came in and was saying things, and I thought for sure… I was so sure it was you. I couldn’t see him, but… I was angry at you. I felt… betrayed.” Ariane paused, breathed, and continued, but her voice grew smaller. “It wasn’t the words themselves… they would have hurt coming from anyone. But I thought it was you. And… I felt so angry. I was so, so angry. I…” Ariane looked up and tried to catch Tristan’s gaze desperately. “Believe me,” she pleaded in a whisper, “I never meant to do it. I never meant to hate you… I-I can’t hate you. I've tried, but... I just can't.”

[Tristan MacCay]

Tristan watched Ariane as she seemed to go through emotion after emotion. He had never prided himself on understanding girls in the least. They were confusing characters; they felt too many things at too many times. Tristan could only nod when she asked if it was enough, and smile softly when she asked if she would have forgiven him if the situation were reversed. He wanted to say probably not, but that was because they were two completely different people. At least, on the outside they were. Once they got down to it, Tristan and Ariane were alike in so many ways. Tristan watched as she seemed to get hurt by something she said. What had she said? Something along the lines of cutting into him a thousand pieces. Tristan frowned and shook his head, "No. Not that bad. Hey, it's okay, really. I forgive you." He resisted the urge to reach over and touch her hair in a comforting sense. He knew that words would only go so far as to ease her pain and fear, but he wouldn't overstep the boundaries and do anything physical wise to comfort her. He couldn't.

Which would be precisely why Tristan had let his arms drop after he had let his hands rest on hers. He didn't want her to think that he was being rude and arrogant as her first impression of him had been. Tristan wasn't that guy anymore. At least, not to the point that he had been last year. Everyone could see the change in him. Everyone could see the change in Tristan and many didn't like it, but Tristan really couldn't care less because he wasn't changing for them. Yes, he let himself admit that he was changing, in fact, for Ariane. Why, he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was because he wanted to show her that he wasn’t the arrogant jerk she knew him to be, but Tristan didn't really know. All he knew was that she had sparked him to be different and that he would continue to be this new Tristan for as long as it suited him. He had been speaking now, leading up to his question; but Ariane had said she was sorry for avoiding him and Tristan smiled softly again, shaking his head as he continued to talk. She had no reason to be sorry for avoiding him because she had every reason to avoid him. She thought he had done something that he hadn't and then she had found out that he hadn't done what she had thought he had; so of course she was feeling shame for it, but Tristan wasn't going to let her feel terrible about it or feel the need to apologise.

When he had finished asking his question, Ariane's immediate response was 'it's nothing.' Tristan opened his mouth to say that if it were nothing she wouldn't have gotten so upset with him over something he didn't even do, but Ariane seemed to catch herself and went onto say that it was nothing for him to worry about. He watched her intently. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he had no reason to worry about it, and yet in some way – he felt like he did. He listened to her go on about how things were said and she was hurt. Tristan clenched his fists and closed his eyes, taking slow breaths. His anger was enveloping him, but he wouldn't do anything about it. He had no reason to feel angry and he probably shouldn't feel over protective of Ariane. She might not like that. He opened his eyes when she continued talking, actually explaining the situation. She apologised again. Tristan, instead of responding to it, waited patiently for her to finish. With her words, he felt all anger and tension seep away from him. He wasn't quite sure why, but he thought that it perhaps had something to do with the fact that he mattered that much to Ariane that something like that coming from him would hurt her more than from someone else. That probably wasn't something to be happy about.

His eyes were on his feet, and her feet, and he had been avoiding her gaze. Ariane tried to catch his gaze, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. He held her gaze a minute and then, propelled forward by some invisible force, he leaned toward her as if he was going to kiss her. But then, as if he gained his conscious thought back, he turned his head slightly at the last minute and kissed her cheek gently, letting his lips leave the slightest sensation on her cheek; "I believe you," he whispered as he stepped back slightly and looked at her. He didn't know what to else to do or say.

[Ariane Chan]

His eyes. Falling was the only way she could describe how they made her feel. His stare was so powerful she could never tear herself away from it, and when she did, it pained her, it truly did. Then, Ariane was alarmed when Tristan’s face seemed to sink down towards her, as though he was about to kiss her. However, maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was her mind, but she stayed put. She didn’t jerk away, turn her heel and run. No, she stayed still, albeit shaking; shaking even harder than she had been before, when she was freezing. She let him near her, so close to her lips, her eyes watching his fixedly, wide, large. Tristan seemed to realise what he was doing though, breaking his trance-like state and turning his mouth to gently caress Ariane against the cheek. She couldn’t help her reaction when he made contact with her skin, couldn’t help the strong shiver that ran tingling down her spine, the ripples of emotion across her body, the light-headedness that surfaced and swam. Her vision blurred for a moment, as long as it took for Tristan to pull away, but then it was clear again and she could see him take a step back and look at her again with that same gaze. His eyes were like glinting blue crystals, Ariane observed as she felt the invisible indent left on her cheek. She almost wanted to move a hand to her face to feel his touch still there… still lingering.

Tristan’s words were soft, almost inaudible, but Ariane heard them nonetheless. Her heart rate increased again with his gentle kiss, and his stare suddenly seemed so much more powerful. Ariane felt something pull herself towards him, as though there was a magnet within her heart urging her to… to go to him, let him in, believe him too. Not only believe him, but to believe in him, because she knew deep down that was what she wanted him to do too. She wanted him to accept her, she wanted to be cared for by this one man. She didn’t know why, since she had only spoken to Tristan on so few occasions, but the height and intensity of her emotions scared her. “Tristan…” Ariane’s lips moved without her consent, cold from the atmosphere, her voice barely a whisper. Her hand reached forward automatically, as though she had no control over her body anymore, and grasped Tristan’s shirt collar, crumpling it beneath her shaking icy fingers. Ariane didn’t really know what she was about to do, but she knew it felt right; this is what she wanted, and god, it felt right. She knew she longed to be touched like that again by Tristan… the gentle way he had brushed his lips against her cheek, like a ripple to water. Ariane needed it again; never had she felt anything so strong, so powerful.

Shirt between her fingers, Ariane began to speak again, staring up at him with eyes that conveyed a lot of emotions. Confusion, distress, need. They flashed in the moonlight as though against a mirror surface. “Tristan…” She repeated again, this time a little louder, but just as frantic. “I don’t know what I want anymore. I just know… this feels right. My heart wants this. Maybe I should listen to it?” Her grip on his collar tightened without her realisation, but her eyes stayed fixed to Tristan’s. “I… I’m strong. I’m meant to be, anyway, you know?” A hollow, low laugh left her lips. “But when I’m around you… crap, I barely even know you… But even though that’s the case, when I’m around you, I can’t do anything but… but…” A frown marred her forehead. She couldn’t find the word. “You do something to me, Tristan.” She began again softly now, her gaze tender. “I feel like I would do anything for you. To be here, right now. To have your forgiveness. I don’t know why though, and that scares me. You, Tristan MacCay, scare the living daylights out of me.” Her tone was so heartbreakingly honest, she felt the start of tears prick at her eyes. “And although I hate admitting it,” She concluded in a whisper as her face inched upwards so she was literally speaking to him eye to eye, “This is what I want. Forgive me.”

And with that little speech over and done with, Ariane pulled Tristan’s collar forcefully, but still gently, causing the short distance that she had diminished to disappear completely. The rose on Tristan’s suit jacket crushed between them. Before Ariane could think of anything else, her eyes were closed and her lips were touching his so, oh so gently. A tender, pained, emotional kiss. Ariane’s first kiss, and one she put everything, everything into. Her entire heart, she poured into it. Ariane kissed Tristan with every feeling in her body, as though it was the end of the world. And maybe it was.

[Tristan MacCay]

His name on her lips was like the sweetest of honey. He parted his own lips to say something, perhaps to take his leave, Tristan couldn't be sure. He didn't know what he wanted to do, what he should do. He didn't know what was right and what was wrong anymore. Everything used to be black and white to him. Everyone except Slytherins weren't worthy enough to be around, but now…here he was…showing the kindness that he reserved for no one to a Gryffindor. Someone he couldn't stop thinking about. Tristan swallowed hard and looked down at her as her hand moved and caught the collar of his jacket. His eyes searched hers for an explanation of what she was doing, his hand reaching up to cover her wrist gently with his hand. Her skin icy cold beneath his warm touch. "Ariane…I…" she cut him off by saying his name again and Tristan closed his mouth, listening to her, his eyes never leaving her.

She spoke more, her words even more confusing than he'd ever had been confused before in his lifetime. He listened intently, though, more intently than he could ever muster. There was just something about Ariane that made Tristan want to pay attention to nothing more than her for a very long time. Perhaps it was the way she spoke, or what she said, or the tone with which she said it; Tristan couldn't be sure. But he listened to her, and when she told him to her forgive her, Tristan looked quizzical and opened his mouth to ask for what, but before he could get anything out – he felt himself being tugged down to her height and he felt her lips on his; pressed together so gently that Tristan had to ask himself if it was really happening.

His hand was still covering her wrist, but when he gained his composure enough to realise that she was kissing him, and he started to kiss her back, he moved his hand from wrist to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her up to his height, her feet lifting off the ground, her dress sweeping against the frosted stone flooring. It wasn't his first kiss, Tristan had kissed a lot of girls- he couldn't even remember his first kiss, but he knew that deep down this kiss was different; in a way, it was a first kiss. He somehow knew that it must have been hers as well, not because the kiss was bad – it wasn't bad in the least, in fact, Tristan could positively say it was the best kiss he'd ever had – but because Ariane was not the type of girl to kiss guys on a whim. She didn’t let random people in. Perhaps that was why Tristan was so intrigued with her, why his heart ached at the thought of her being upset with him. She had let him in, at least more so than she had let other people, and that made him special to her in some way – even if she didn't want him to be.

The kiss lasted as long as a couple of seconds, but it felt like it lasted forever. Like it would just hang in the air, suspended with bliss, with triumph. They both had wanted it for quite awhile, or at least Tristan had and he imagined, or rather hoped, that she had as well. His grip on Ariane did not loosen as the kiss ended on its own accord. He did not pull back, he did not open his eyes, he did not do anything but breathe softly, quietly, his forehead resting against hers. He knew what an odd sight it might be for someone to walk in on, but Tristan didn't want to let her down. Finally, after a moment, Tristan slowly set Ariane back down onto the ground, his arms not leaving from around her waist. He looked at her, keeping the silence lingering between them.

[Ariane Chan]

It was quick yet unhurried, lasted seconds but felt like a lifetime. It was everything Ariane imagined it would be, and more. Not that she had fantasised such a situation often, but when she had thought about the concept of kissing someone, she had assumed it would be a nice, warm feeling, since such an action was meant to symbolise affection and love. This was that and much more; it was, in fact, something Ariane found impossible to describe, and she knew she would never be able to put it into words even fifty years down the line. However, one thing was for sure - it was a nice sensation, not a horrible one; it was enjoyable, it was mind-blowing, so much so it made her shake, and not from the cold. Ariane had been so sure she would still be a virgin kisser by the time she was in her twenties, because she didn't think she'd meet anyone she'd want to put her lips on, want to touch so intimately and want it to be reciprocated. But here she was, doing it so readily... initiating it, even. And she was enjoying it, that warm, boiling sensation blooming in her chest like unstoppable wildfire. Maybe it was because it was her first time... maybe it was because she had never felt such intimacy. Maybe it was because it was only Tristan that could make her feel this way. Ariane didn't know, but she didn't care. For once she didn't dwell on it too much as it happened. She had made her choice, and she didn't regret it. Tristan. She had chosen him, he accepted her, and she didn't want this to end. However sappy, however clichéd it was, Ariane was happy. She was delighted, ecstatic, but she didn’t show it. She was bursting with joy and relief that Tristan evidently felt the same way.

Tristan's lips were surprisingly warm against hers, against the biting night air. Ariane found herself leaning into the kiss more, half-desperate and half-savouring. It was helped by Tristan's arms gently wrapping round her waist and pulling her up to his level, kissing her in return with apparently the same fervour as herself. It made her heart soar, made her head dizzy with emotion. It was like an almost two-decade-long cage on her feelings was broken, released in an engulfing waterfall that was drenching the dry land. Ariane didn't protest as Tristan's body pressed close to hers; in fact, rather than minding the proximity she was normally so uncomfortable with, she welcomed the warmth he offered to her still-freezing body. She had never been so close – so physically close especially – in anyone in her life. It was frightening, overwhelming… amazing. When they finally drew away, or rather, the kiss ended and their faces stayed put, foreheads gently leaning against one another, Ariane found herself out of breath. The kiss had lasted seconds, she hadn’t even moved an inch, and yet she was panting, her eyes still half-closed as she savoured the pleasurable sensations. Her lips became cold again, and already she missed the warmth of Tristan’s against her own as she regained her senses. His forehead was hot against hers though, if that was any consolation, and Ariane let her eyes eventually flicker open. She didn’t know what she expected to see… What emotions would Tristan’s eyes contain? A part of her was afraid to know. There wasn’t anyone else that made Ariane quite so scared and vulnerable as Tristan did; no one apart from her father had ever done that. But this wasn’t a fearful fear. It was different.

When Ariane’s eyes finally opened, it was when Tristan’s grip had loosened somewhat, and her feet touched the stone floor again. Still, his arms encircled her waist protectively, her body drawn to his in a warm embrace. Ariane gazed up at him a little uncertainly, searching for any unwillingness or displeasure, or even hatred, and found none. Rather, his bright blue eyes were twinkling like the stars in the sky; twinkling happily, as though something had just lit up his world. Ariane wondered what she looked like under his gaze, but didn’t ponder it. She merely smiled a little, letting the rare facial feature bring a soft glow to her face under the pale moonlight. The smile twitched at her lips as her eyes sought out his, admiring his familiar face with that warm feeling in her chest. She was so full of emotion she didn’t know what to say; she had always been a person of few words anyway. So, she let her actions lead her. Ariane’s arms reached up from his collar round his neck, and laid her head on his chest, snuggling into the shirt that smelled of… him. She breathed in deeply, pulling Tristan closer, as though to say, this is what we want, isn’t it?