Bridget once again awoke in a bed that was not her own, leading her to believe that she had left with the guy from the slightly stuff ball that she had attended the night previously. Her parents had been on good terms with many of the Pureblood families of high rank in the wizarding community and, despite their early deaths, Bridget was still invited to parties hosted by their friends (or at least, they were as good as friends, since her parents didn't really have friends. Just acquaintances and people they didn't dislike).
She didn't remember much of said party, which didn't speak well for it at all. All she remembered was the dress that she had worn, a gorgeous one of a kind cocktail dress, hand sewn by Muggles. It was a dress which now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor next to the bed she was laying on, the deep wine tones a stark contrast against pure white carpeting.
A dull ache in the back of her head reminded her that she still did not know where she was (probably thanks to the copious amount of hard liquor that she had consumed to keep herself from going insane. Someone touched her, which made her turn over to have a look at whatever lucky, undeserving creature she had gone home with that evening. He wasn’t the worst of them, though he was by no means the best either. His eyes were closed but Bridget remembered them as being a sort of muddy brown color.
He wasn’t unattractive, but he was hardly above average, so she must have had a bit more to drink than she remembered. Dark hair, brown eyes, chiseled chin, defined shoulders. He was, by all accounts, a decent looking guy, but Bridget picked out every little flaw he had and magnified it tenfold, easily bumping him down to average. His case wasn’t helped by the practically deafening snores that rumbled from his mouth. She grabbed her wand from her little bag that lay almost forgotten to the side of her dress and extracted herself from the sickening grasp of the man whose name she neither remembered nor cared about.
With a single wave of her wand, the dress shortened itself and altered the silhouette to something that was a little bit more appropriate for day wear. Just because she was doing the walk of shame didn’t mean that people needed to know that she was. Another flick lightened the color from a deep red to a pale peach, leaving the dress nearly unrecognizable. She gladly crawled out of the bed, which was covered in white satin sheets to match the carpet. What was with this guy and white?
Pulling the dress over her head, she adjusted it so that it lay perfectly and did up the side zipper. She smoothed the front of the dress. She knew she should have gone into designing when she had the chance. Now she was stuck teaching Ancient Runes, which she was very good at but hated. Something about small children gave her a permanent headache, not to mention that some of the older students had been there when she was. She was only 23, after all. Twenty-three was still old enough for her to have gotten comfortable living a life of luxury, which she despised having interrupted to go teach. She made up for it through parties like the one she had attended the previous day, after which she usually went home with someone who looked good enough through the skewed vision of Firewhiskey and vodka but turned out to be totally not worth it when she woke up the next morning.
Oh well, since he wasted my time with this, he’s going to have to pay for it, she thought as she strapped her shoes back on her feet and picked up her bag. She went over to the enormous walk-in closet that was attached to the room to have a look around.
As she expected, there were women’s clothes, as well as a large jewelry box that was full to the brim with diamonds and other precious stones. She shook her head with a smirk. This was always the story with this type of man. His girlfriend was going to be in for a nasty shock when she returned from whatever trip she was likely on and found that some of her necklaces and things were missing, but that was nothing compared to how upset she was going to be when her boyfriend couldn’t explain how they came to be missing.
She pawed through the box and examined each piece that struck her fancy. The ones that made the cut were stored safely in her bag while the rejects were tossed back where they came from. One particular necklace caught her attention, not because it was beautiful, but because of how horribly gaudy it was. A closer look at the stones that were embedded in the cheap gold chain revealed them to be obviously fake.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t love you at all, does he?” she asked to the absent woman’s clothes in a sing-song voice. “Sleeping with strangers and buying you fake jewels doesn’t exactly scream commitment.”
What sort of self-respecting witch didn’t check to see if her jewels were real? It was simple enough to do. Unless…
She heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a car door closing and she started to piece it all together. The woman in question must have been a muggle. Poor girl probably didn’t even have a clue that her boyfriend was a wizard.
Always willing to watch a good disaster, Bridget clasped her purse closed and went back into the bedroom, where the bed’s occupant was just beginning to stir. “Obliviate,” she cast easily, since she’d done it so very many times before.
Taking his memories in addition to jewelry was a bit beyond cruel, but she didn’t care. He’d taken a few hours of his time, so it was the least he could do for her. She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and moved so that she would be out of the way when the girlfriend came upstairs, though she left a few telling clues that someone else had been there, though there was no substitute for the marks on the man’s back.
It didn’t take long for a blonde to appear in the room, nor did it take very long for her to spot the messy sheets and the scratches on her boyfriend’s back. She woke her boyfriend with a sharp slap that rung out in the quiet room, which left Bridget needing to stifle a snicker.
She listened as the girlfriend hurled accusations (most of which were true) and the boyfriend tried to insist that they were false, which they were to him, since Bridget had removed all accounts of the event from his memory. The girlfriend was starting to concede to the honest look on her boyfriend’s face, which meant it was time for Bridget to stir the pot even more. It was just a shame that she wouldn’t be able to stick around to enjoy it.
She slipped out of the open door and down the stairs, removing the charm that concealed her when she got to the bottom. She smirked at the marble floor and smirked. It would make for the perfect exit. She took heavy steps toward the front door, letting her heels click freely on the polished stone as she went. Behind her, she could hear someone coming to investigate, likely the girlfriend, though she would see nothing but a glimpse of messy brown curls as Bridget left the house, slamming the front door behind her.
She disapparated to her own lavish flat, which she could have done from inside the house, but then she would have missed out on one final chance to antagonize the unfortunate girlfriend of the leech she had spent the night with, and that was a delight that she simply couldn’t pass up. She added her new pieces to her own jewelry box and smiled. The night may have been a complete waste, but the day after was already starting out smashingly. She decided to put in a rare appearance at one of the pubs later that day to celebrate. It was going to be absolutely fabulous.
