darkgreeninked

💕 = safe & fluffy 🕯️= cheeky mentions / suggestive themes 🔥 = pure smut 🤭 = cheeky/funny 🖤 = angst

Hogwarts years

Don't bite me, Stormborn 💕

No sex until the Cup! - 🕯️

Not-so-secret anymore! -🤭

Grey Sweatshirts! -🕯️

Smells like Trouble 💕

Winter Sea, Raven Eyes 💕

Ask me again after class - 🕯️

Wrong girl, Potter! 💕

Break a Malfoy, Take his Girl 💕

Love letters from Draco 💕

The only spell that works - 🕯️

Mine, evene Asleep -💕

Right after the End 💕

Sick, Spoiled and a Little Bit in Love -💕

Property of Draco Malfoy- 🔥

Pick your Posion - 🔥

Blame it on the Mistletoe! - 💕

Two hearts in a Teacup - 💕

How to Ask a Ravenclaw to the Ball - 💕

Hands and Troubles - 🕯️

Signed, Malfoy - 💕

Let's Pretend -🖤

How two Psycopaths make Love

In Quiet Arms -

Mission Malfoy - 🤭

If I may suggest... -💕

How to tame a Malfoy 🔥

I think I'll go fuck Malfoy now - 💕

Dirty Poems - 🔥

All you can eat 🔥

Oh that eye roll! 💕

Two shards of glass 💕

From Snake to Puppy 💕

Then, of course, there's the fanon 🤭

Goodboy 🔥

Say you're mine 💕

Just Slytherins being Slytherins 🖤

Malfoy Withdrawal Symptoms 💕

Not so bossy anymore, are we? 🔥

Malfoy's girl 💕

How to start a war between families, by Draco Malfoy 💕

Break a Malfoy. Take his girl (Draco POV) 🖤

A very Bad Idea 🤭

Such a Cutie 💕

Post-War

Home

Green Is the Color of Grief

Definitely Just Friends

Quiet Night, Loud Heartbeats

Unsent

Chamomille and other Demons

The Curious Case of Draco's Love Letters

Mrs Malfoy, if you please.

The most adorable fawn

All the Things I know About You 💕

Of Cakes and Heirs 🔥

Frozen in Charcoal 💕

1. Arrogant. Petty. Vain. 🤭 2. The warm side of the bed 💕

I Do believe I've won 💕

“I am totally in favour of this” Pansy announced from the sofa, lazily turning a page of her magazine.

“Frankly, Hogwarts has been depressingly ugly lately.”

Ramona looked back at Draco, amusement pulling faintly at her mouth.

“Oh, well. Go on then. If you manage to convince McGonagall to organise an entire ball just because you want one…”

“She’ll be more than happy to” Draco interrupted smoothly.

“That old witch lives for opportunities to wear tartan and get drunk. And this time... ” Draco continued, lowering himself on Ramona’s armchair until his face hovered dangerously close to hers,

“I get to see you do the same.”

“I have plenty of occasions to wear a gown, Draco.”

“Not a ball gown.”

“And regardless, if you get to play knight of the evening, that it's still be seen”

Draco scoffed softly.

“I believe I have every right in the world.”

“Without even asking, Malfoy?” Ramona tilted her head, feigning disbelief.

“Entitled, are we?”

“What exactly would you like me to do then, Grimsby?” he asked

“Get on my knees and pray?”

“You could try convincing me with a kiss” she replied lightly, smirking with deliberate arrogance.

Draco did not smirk.

He did not raise an eyebrow, did not answer with some sharp, polished little remark designed to provoke her.

He only gave her... a look.

The most authoritative, possessive, knee-weakening look he had ever given her in his life.

He bent toward her and pressed his mouth to hers so slowly that, for one completely absurd second, Ramona had to remind herself that this was in fact her boyfriend. Draco. The same Draco who had kissed her hundreds of times before.

Still, her stomach turned violently enough to make her smile against his lips.

In that abnormal moment in which his tongue caressed hers , and she pushed her own almost into his throat without a single ounce of dignity left in her body...Ramona Grimsby had no clever thought left to offer.

His mouth pulled away from hers with a soft click, leaving Ramona’s parted lips suspended there for a second, breathless and visibly unwilling to let him go.

Draco, equally ruined by that point, clicked his tongue against his teeth with quiet hunger.

“You may require a bit more convincing in my bedroom, I suppose”

“I believe I do” she murmured lazily.

He lowered toward her again immediately, one hand already returning to her jaw, but before he could kiss her a strong hand caught his shoulder and yanked him backward.

“I believe” Blaise announced flatly, “we have Quidditch practice, Draco”

“You can train without me.”

“No, we absolutely cannot.”

“Pretty sure you can, mate” Draco replied, already trying to shove his arm away so he could return to Ramona with absolutely no shame whatsoever.

Blaise grabbed him again.

“Ramona” he said sharply

“...please. For once in your life, be a sweethear and make him see reason.”

Ramona crossed one leg over the other.

“But he said you can.”

Draco pointed vaguely toward her without even looking away.

“See?”

“Oh, not a chance” Blaise snapped, dragging him backward again by the shoulder.

Draco let out a long, suffering sigh, though the smirk he threw Ramona over his shoulder ruined the performance entirely.

And as the boys disappeared through the door , Blaise physically hauling him away while Draco still looked one second away from walking straight back to her, Ramona only smirked to herself, shaking her head faintly.

“He is such a cutie, isn’t he?” she murmured dreamily, eyes still glowing.

“Oh yeah” Pansy replied flatly, not even bothering to look up from her magazine.

You weren’t even the guy had heard you, but you didn’t care.

Your half-drunk mind was already picturing the whole group of young Slytherins going quiet as Draco stepped in, Crabbe and Goyle at his sides.

No one would have dared to go against him.

Draco was practically Slytherin royalty.

Seventh year, prefect, Quidditch captain, richer, blonder, sharper than anyone in the room... basically untouchable.

No one would have dared to speak or fight back or say another word or...

Oh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, unfocused, the noise of the pub crashing back in all at once.

“…shit” you whispered, cause, yeah, you really had no business calling Draco to step in for you.

Or Malfoy, since that’s what you’d gone back to calling him.

Or calling him at all, for that matter.

Because Malfoy was nothing to you anymore

just your insufferable, bastard, arrogant, shithead ex-boyfriend.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“I was about to hit you instead of that viper when you said you were calling Malfoy” Lavender murmured hoarsely, slumped against the bedpost.

Her hair was a complete mess, curls crushed on one side and frizzing wildly on the other, her face still pale in that unmistakable, just-thrown-up kind of way.

You dragged a hand down your face.

“Can we please not ...”

“No!” she cut in, sharper now despite how exhausted she looked.

“We absolutely have to, because last time you got drunk you ended up dating the most self-absorbed arsehole in the castle.

And look how that genius plan turned out! Three months of fights, shouting , and ‘he’s such an asshole’ on a loop” Lavender snapped.

“…it was just instinct!” you said finally

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“Instincts are rarely accidental.” Parvati said and you groaned again

“I’m not in the mood for Ravenclaw wisdom right now, Parv… and I’m definitely not discussing Malfoy again.”

“Right…” she said slowly.

“Because you’re over him, aren’t you?”

“I am” you cut in

“Alright…” Parvati blinked, entirely unbothered, lifting her mug again. “I’m just asking.”

Padma’s loud snoring filled the room and your eyes drifted on her shoe, half hanging off her foot at the edge of the bed, dangling with every small movement like it might fall at any second.

“I mean... I don’t know...” you started, and Lavender let out a loud, disbelieving breath.

"Are you being serious, right now?"

“Oh, Lav, for Merlin’s sake what exactly do you want me to say?”

“How about the truth, for once? Yesterday you were going on about how much you hated being with him.”

"Well, I did like it at some point, alright?” you said, waving a hand vaguely

“Being… Malfoy’s girl,or whatever .”

“No, let me finish” you cut in quickly as Lavender opened her mouth again

“Because... because there are perks, alright? There are! I mean... Slytherins don’t even look at you the wrong way” you said, ticking it off on your fingers.

“ It’s all very ‘oh, sorry,’ ‘after you,’ like they’ve been trained. It’s peaceful.”

“Mhm.”

“And... he gives nice gifts” you went on, gesturing vaguely.

“Of course he does, he is filthy rich!

"Yeah, and I mean, why should I complain about that? And... he’s actually smart” you added

“He explains things properly and it's a massive help with Snape assignments. He is funny, attractive, super protective and caring and.. ” you continued, raising both hands now in surrender as if admitting defeat

“... and I’m not going to lie, alright? I am being completely honest here."

"No judgement, girl."

"I will judge you very much" Lavender said but you ignore her

“…he has a very... ” you paused squinting sligthly then powered through

“... very, very, very nice... dick.”

Parvati burst into quiet laughter, while even Lavender shook her head, a reluctant smile breaking through.

“Yeah” she muttered, exhaling.

“You were very clear about that the whole time”

“...So, these were the good things” you said, waving a hand as if brushing them aside.

“Now, bad things?” You let out a short, humorless laugh.

“plenty!”

You resumed pacing.

“He’s a control freak. Constant questions, who, where, why, like you owe him an explanation even if you owl was delivering post after curfew.”

You shook your head, exhaling through your nose.

“And he cannot lose an argument. It’s actually impressive. You can be completely right and somehow still end up apologizing just because he refuses to drop it.

And the mood swings? He’ll be fine, then suddenly in a mood because Potter outshined him for a minute.”

Lavender nodded slowly.

"I can see that..."

“And he never says sorry properly, like... like if he’s doing you a favor.”

And then, one day he’s all over you like and the next day he acts like you barely exist if his friends are around. It’s exhausting.”

A brief pause.

Then you let out a breath, something settling into place.

“…you know what, I’m definitely over him.”

You declared it loud enough that Padma flinched.

She jerked upright from her half-hanging position, hair in her face, eyes squinting at you.

“Who are you over?” she mumbled thickly.

“Malfoy” Parvati replied calmly.

“Oh… yeah…” Padma muttered, already halfway back to sleep, her head lolling back against the mattress.

“Did he reply, then?”

You frowned, the words taking a second too long to land.

“Replied to what?”

“To your letter...” she said, yawning

"The one you sent him at the pub !”

Your stomach dropped properly this time.

“I did not... ”

“You did” Padma echoed, now rolling onto her back

You turned slowly toward Lavender, who was already staring at you as a very upset mother.

“That’s not possible, Lav!” you said, shaking your head, even as something cold crept up your spine.

“My owl is asleep. There’s no way I could have summoned all the way from Hosmead... ”

Your voice faltered as you pulled your wardrobe open.

Only to find the cage of your owl

Empty.

For a long second, you just stood there staring at the empty cage, your brain lagging behind the very obvious, very terrible reality in front of you.

Behind you, Lavender let out a sharp, horrified scream

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!”

“Oh,my,Godric…” Parvati breathed, lowering her mug slowly.

You shut your eyes, dread settling deep and heavy in your chest.

“…you have got to be kidding me.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

As it turned out, the moment it clicked that you couldn’t just pull your usual Draco Malfoy card, you’d ended up shut inside a bathroom stall, crying in a way that was extremely dramatic for the occasion.

Padma, somehow even drunker than you, had eventually found you there and had taken it upon herself to “help.”

Which mostly meant nodding very seriously at everything you said, handing you increasingly useless pieces of toilet paper, and agreeing, at great length, that

yes, Malfoy was an asshole, and

yes, you were absolutely justified, and

yes, writing to him immediately was a brilliant idea.

At the time, it had felt like a perfectly reasonable course of action.

In hindsight… not so much.

“What the fuck did I write to him? ”

“I don’t know!” Padma yelped, her head wobbling as you grabbed her shoulders, hair flying everywhere.

“ I was not reading over your shoulder!” she shot back pushing your hands away.

"Or maybe I was... I don't know, I genuinely don’t remember!”

“Oh, brilliant! Fantastic decision-making. Ten out of ten.” you groaned, squinting against the light as you stumbled toward your seat.

Around you, the low murmur of students settling in grated against your skull, every scrape of a chair and clink of glass painfully loud.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers harder against your temples.

“Okay. Fine. Fine. It’s fine. Maybe I just told him he’s an asshole. That’s manageable.”

Padma made a face.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on that. You did say you kind of missed him....”

You went very still.

“I said what? And why the hell you didn't slap me in the face right there?"

"Oh baby I am so sorry, I really shouldn’t have had that last dri...”

The door slammed open and every sound in the room died instantly.

“Sit” Snape said coldly, and you straightened automatically, your jaw tightening as you tried very hard to not look at the Slytherin side of the room.

A few nervous glances flickered around the room, but you barely registered any of it.

“The thing is” you murmured quietly, barely moving your lips,

“he didn’t even reply, did he? So not only did I send him some unhinged drunk owl, I also got ignored.”

“Maybe he’s emotionally destroyed” Padma added faintly

"You can be a bit savage with your exes.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, the sound turning into a poorly disguised cough just as Snape’s head snapped in your direction.

“Sorry, professor” you said, all politeness.

He lingered for a second too long, eyes narrowed, before turning back to the board.

“…or” you muttered under your breath

“I said that I miss the sex and now he’s too pleased with himself to bother replying.”

“Or, you said that you miss the sex and emotionally destroyed him on everything else.”

You pressed your lips together hard, both of you ducking your heads to hide it, but the giggling died instantly when something soft bonked onto your parchment.

Your soul briefly left your body.

“…fuck” you breathed, snatching the paper bird so fast you nearly knocked over your ink, shoving it under the desk just as Snape turned again.

Padma nudged your elbow with microscopic caution.

“Open it.”

You flicked your eyes up to the front again, then slowly uncurled your fingers around the paper bird.

It gave a tiny, indignant flutter of its wings before going completely still in your palm.

At the very top, in neat, precise, unmistakably Malfoy handwriting, there was a single line:

"Thought you might’ve wanted to read it when sober."

Your stomach dropped the second your eyes moved below it, to your own handwriting.

"You are such an asshole and I don’t even know why I’m writing this because I’m obviously over you which, by the way, was entirely your fault cause we were cute, but you were exhausting but also your abs are unfair and I hate you for that.

...and your House is full of idiots."

“Oh dear…” you murmured under your breath.

"What, what did he s..." Padma started, but you only passed her the note and proceeded with hiding your face in your hand, eyes shut in humiliation.

“Why am I like this?” you muttered, shaking your head slightly.

You tore a small corner of parchment, dipped your quill in ink, and without thinking too much, because thinking had clearly not helped so far, you wrote a single word.

Apologies.

You folded it quickly into a thin strip, then coaxed it into a tight little roll between your fingers, gave it the slightest push and the paper obeyed, rolling neatly off your desk, gliding across the stone floor straight toward its intended recipient.

You were deeply hoping, praying, really, that he would just ignore it. That this would be the end of it. No reply, no acknowledgment, no further humiliation.

That hope lasted approximately ten seconds.

You might want to be more specific. I believe you owe me apologies for more than one thing.

You grimaced, unable to keep a straight face at the sheer absurdity of it all, and forced, really forced, yourself to set the quill down, refusing to rise to the bait.

But when more ink began to bloom across the parchment, you couldn’t help yourself.

Your eyes flicked back.

"Why is my House full of idiots by the way? What happened?"

" nothing happened."

"Then why did Theo say he saw you and Brown shouting at someone at three Broomstick? Do I need to deal with someone in my House?

"The real question is why Nott thinks it’s his job to report to you what I do."

"Cause I have asked him to. Now, the real real question is why I was your first thought in that moment. I thought you were over me."

Somehow, that line offended you more than anything else he had written.

And even more so because

it was exactly what had happened.

You stared at the parchment for a moment, then a different idea crept in.

Fine.

If he wanted to play, you could play too.

You dipped your quill.

Yes, I did need you to deal with those idiots. I was also very bloody drunk, and I fully intended to come to your bedroom.

You paused just long enough to smirk faintly to yourself.

Good thing you didn’t reply, because honestly, that would have been a very, very, very bad idea.

You bit your cheek, watching the ink settle, and Padma elbowed your side.

“Lavender is so going to kill you.”

"I wouldn’t have said no , you know. You can still come now."

You frowned.

“We’re in the middle of a lesson, in case that slipped your mind.”

“I noticed. But I can easily stop the lesson.” "You really don't have to"

"...easily"

You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking slightly as you stared down at the parchment, already hearing the exact tone he’d use.

"You miss me that much, Draco? Are you so bored without me in your bed?"

From where you sat, you couldn’t fully see him without turning around, but you did hear a heavy, frustrated huff from somewhere on the Slytherin side of the room.

"You say that like you don’t miss it too."

You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting slightly as you let the ink settle, then, slowly, you kept writing.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I do miss all those very nice things I could do to you…

…and the ones you did to me. That was…

very entertaining."

Not caring in the slightest about Snape, you turned in your chair just enough to look toward his desk, catching him right as he reached the end of your message, quill stilled, lips parted like he’d paused mid-thought.

And when he found you already watching him, something amused and unmistakably eager flickered across his face.

Let’s go, he mouthed, tipping his head slightly toward the door.

You tilted your own in a small, almost apologetic gesture.

Then you turned back to your parchment and wrote quickly

Nah... that’d be such a bad idea.

You didn’t wait for a reply and, with all the calm in the world, folded the parchment and slipped it back into your bag, fully intending to focus on the lesson now, to copy the notes from the board, and pretend none of this had happened.

But after a moment, halfway between counter-curse displacement and wand reversal timing, your eyes caught something new forming at the edge of theboard.

I fucking love bad ideas!

SNIPPET RELATED TO THIS STORY:

Library ✶ Tongues ✶ Skirts ✶ Family

PARTS

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9 - you are reading it 💓

Draco.

Draco, who had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, Draco who had made all of this possible.

That had caused all those deaths.

Dumbledore. Harry. Hermione.

Morgana's vision blurred, swallowed by a sharp, blinding rage that only deepened when the woman brushed her cheek with the tip of her wand, studying her like something mildly interesting.

"Well... at least he'll have some fun with you" she added with a careless shrug.

"You are rather pretty."

The moment the wand left her skin, Morgana went rigid, her breath catching as Bellatrix's voice rang out into the corridor.

"DRACO. Care to do the honors?"

A second later, Draco's figure appeared in the doorway, framed by ruin and smoke.

Impeccable. Untouched. The youngest Death Eater. The pride of the Malfoy name.

His eyes barely lingered on Hermione's lifeless body before snapping to Morgana, scanning her quickly, searching,until they stopped at the blood soaking through her shoulder.

"I couldn't find you anywhere" he said quietly, stepping toward her and Morgana stumbled back with every step he took.

"Stay away from me."

She tried to say it, but the words died in her throat, escaping only as a strained, bitter whisper.

Draco stopped.

For a moment, he simply watched her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, before turning his head slightly toward his aunt.

"Aunt Bellatrix" he said, his voice calm, almost detached

"leave us."

There was a pause.

"And close the door" he replied evenly.

"I'd rather not be interrupted."

Bellatrix's lips curved, interest sparking in her gaze as she studied him.

"Well" she hummed

"...aren't you full of surprises tonight."

A low, delighted laugh slipped past her lips as she turned, her robes sweeping softly against the stone as she stepped into the corridor.

Just before disappearing, she glanced back at him, something knowing lingering in her expression.

Then she was gone.

The door creaked as it swung inward, and shut with a heavy, echoing thud.

Morgana raised her hands, disarmed, as his presence grew too close, his scent too strong, his body nearly touching hers.

Now, truly,

truly,

truly, she had no way out.

She was trapped.

"You nearly scared me to death" he whispered, brushing her cheek.

"I thought they'd mistaken you for a Mudblood"

"Don't you dare..." she tried to push herself away from the wall, jaw clenched, but his touch tightened into a painful grip around her chin.

"You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do, Morgana. Do you understand? It's over" he breathed against her.

There was no trace of the concern from before.

Only adrenaline.

Something darker.

The thrill of finally having her within reach.

"Now, nothing you say will matter. You're my reward. He promised me that..." he murmured, his lips grazing her cheek in a sweet kiss.

Morgana shivered.

Breathing felt impossible.

"Now you're mine. Completely."

Draco hesitated for a moment, as if it still didn't feel real, as if he was almost afraid to touch her.

"I told you I would protect you..." he whispered, lifting her gaze to his. "We'll marry, and I'll protect you. "

His voice softened, almost gentle, and the tears slipped from her eyes.

Draco waited, just a moment longer, before finally pressing his lips, slowly, against hers soft, despite the pain tightening them.

His body ignited like gasoline thrown onto a fire.

Finally.

Finally, he was kissing her.

After years spent only imagining the taste of her. After years spent imagining what it would feel like to cross that threshold that now resisted his tongue.

But Morgana had no choice anymore.

Draco refused to give her one.

He grabbed her hair with one hand, and the pain forced her mouth open, leaving him free to explore it with his tongue.

Morgana pulled away, her legs giving out beneath her as she tried to escape downward.

Perhaps it was only then that Draco realized he could do more than just kiss her, that he could take in all of her, not just her lips.

It was the reason he had worked so hard to please the Dark Lord with such zeal.

Morgana was his reward.

And she was his, now.

Entirely his.

When Morgana was sorted into Gryffindor, she had almost dared to hope.

Almost believed the Malfoys would be disappointed enough to break that absurd agreement.

Over the years, she had prayed, begged her body to turn into something hideous, for her nose to become crooked, for her chest to remain flat, for her legs to be less firm, less desirable.

But her body had other plans.

It gifted her her father’s arrogant beauty and her mother’s graceful form.

And even when she refused to eat for months, in her third year, even when her flesh seemed to cling to her bones and the red in her cheeks vanished beneath her cheekbones, even then, Draco Malfoy did not seem to care.

He was, still, obsessed with her.

In a way that wasn’t sweet nor romantic.

It was sickening. It was deranged.

To him, their childhood betrothal meant one thing: 

Morgana Grimshaw was his.

She belonged to him.

Despite her screaming the opposite at him. Despite how hard she tried to avoid his eyes during lessons or dodge his gaze at meals.

Draco Malfoy loved her. He loved everything about her.

From her beautiful dark wavy hair to her blue eyes. Her full lips he constantly watched, her young woman’s body that, from third year onward, filled his dreams, both at night and day.

Morgana was perfect. None of the girls he brought to his bed ever came close.

None had her voice.

Sharp, confident, trembling with hatred every time Draco spoke to her.

But he was patient. He stayed calm.

He could wait.

None of those bursts of hatred could shake his obsession with her. At least, that’s what he thought.

Until a November afternoon.

It was their fifth year.

And it was snowing.

Morgana had been invited by Marcus Flint to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer.

Draco knew it. He had read her letters.

He watched her climb the stairs, laughing, her hand wrapped in Flint’s, while the wooden steps creaked beneath them.

Draco didn’t move. 

One hand held the door slightly open, just enough to catch the curve of Morgana’s body in that crimson dress. 

The other clenched the handle so hard it hurt.

His eyes moved slowly.

From her careless smile, to her bare ankles. Then back up again, lingering on her thighs, covered by the thick fabric.

“Where are you going? I thought we were already at the top floor!”

“Afraid of the unknown, Flint?” Morgana laughed, glancing back from the last flight of stairs.

Not many people knew that the Three Broomsticks had a third floor, completely empty.

Clearly, Flint didn’t know either, and that seemed to amuse Morgana very much.

Draco closed his eyes, resting his head against the doorframe for a moment.

She had never spoken to him like that. Not with that lightness. That happiness. That joy.

Hatred, only hatred and revulsion. That was all he ever received from her.

He breathed in a shaky breath as he heard their footsteps reach the attic.

Slowly, he stepped out and followed the same path.

When he reached the open doorway at the top floor, he had to clench his fists and take a deep breath.

Flint had Morgana pinned against the wall, his body pushed into hers, his hands sliding up her thighs, gripping, lifting her onto a cluttered desk, pushing himself between her legs like an animal.

And their lips devoured each other, and their bodies moved, desperate and breathless.

“FLINT!”

His voice cut through the air, breaking the silence filled with their gasps, as they pulled apart in shock.

“Malfoy, what the hell do you…”

“I told you to stay away from her…” Draco said through clenched teeth.

His wand cut the air and Flitch was thrown across the room, crashing hard into a dusty wardrobe, his back hitting the wood with a loud crack.

“NO!” Morgana leapt from the desk, rushing toward Marcus, but Draco was faster.

“Morgana…”

“LET ME GO!” she screamed, wrenching her wrist away from his grip in disgust.

There it was again, that look. Full of hatred. Of resentment. 

God, he hated to be looked at like that!

“You’re sick in the brain, Malfoy. Stay the hell away from me.”

“Don’t call me Malfoy, for fuck’s sake, we’re going to be married one day…”

“Oh, pathetic. Stupid boy.” She scoffed, circling around him.

“You really don’t understand, do you? I would never choose you. I’d choose death over a life tied to you. I’ve told you that before!

Draco exhaled slowly, already recognizing the familiar burn in his chest.

“ It's you the pathetic and stupid one, if you think I’d ever let you give yourself to someone else…” he hissed, stepping closer.

He saw the way she seemed to shrink under his gaze, her eyes darting to the wand still clenched in his hand and it only made him angrier.

“You.are.mine” he went on

“Your mind is mine! Your future is mine! And your body, most of all, belongs to me!” His voice hardened. 

“You’re foolish to think you could offer it to anyone but me.”

Now Morgana had nowhere to go.

Her back hit the wall, and she shivered at the contact, the damp, rotting wood of the attic pressing cold against her spine.

Even breathing felt difficult.

“But I forgive you” Draco murmured after a moment, sweetly almost.

 “I forgive you for trying.”

His hand moved suddenly, catching her cheek and she flinched.

Only now did he seem to realize how close she was, how real it felt to touch her.

For the first time. Ever.

“No one else gets to touch you. I should be the only one who…”

His voice faltered.

His fingers slid down to her throat, brushing over the pulse at her neck.

Lower.

Dangerously lower.

Almost brushing her collarbones, almost slipping beneath the soft line of the boat neckline of her velvet dress.

His fingers trembled when they reached that point, where her skin softened under his touch.

When, suddenly, a faint tremor passed through her.

The echo of Morgana’s laughter filled the room, alive beneath his fingertips, disrupting his thoughts.

“Do you really think Marcus would’ve been the first?”

Morgana’s voice cut through him, laughing, cruelly, savoring the pain her words were carving into him.

“You’re too late, Malfoy.”

Her smile twisted, sharp and merciless.

“Far too late.”

Draco’s hand stilled, completely, and his eyes snapped back to hers

“What?” he whispered, and something inside him collapsed completely.

"No..."

Morgana pulled away suddenly, taking advantage of his moment of distraction.

Being that close to him made her skin crawl.

She hated him, truly, deeply, and the feeling of his fingers on her was enough to turn her stomach.

“You’re lying!” he breathed, his voice tight, strained.

“I don’t lie. Ever.” she spat, her voice dripping with hatred. “And if it helps you sleep at night, you were never even an option in the first place”

Morgana had thrown harsh words at him before.

Many times she had seen anger twist his face, seen indignation burn in his eyes.

But never, never had she seen this.

The pain that now darkened his gaze.

She had hurt him, truly hurt him, this time and... god, how she loved it.

“You stay away from me, you twisted freak” Morgana said at last, stepping past him and out the door.

Utterly indifferent to the wound she had just carved into the black heart of her betrothed.

FULL STORY ON WATTPAD

A collective groan rippled through the team. 

From below, Crabbe straightened halfway through a set of push-ups, face flushed. 

“Why do we have to do this without brooms? This is Quidditch, not…”

“Because” Draco snapped, not even letting him finish,

 “...you look like you’d snap a broomstick in half before you even left the ground, you fat ass!”

A few snickers broke out and Crabbe went back down with a groan .

“Alright, you heard him, another lap around the pitch!” Blaise called, clapping his hands, amused. 

He was probably the only one who was actually enjoying that type of training.

Draco’s shoulders eased as the team’s attention shifted fully to Blaise now.

Only then did Draco allow himself a slow, controlled exhale.

From the pitch, all anyone would see was Draco, but not much else. 

They wouldn’t see the clench of his jaw, the white-knuckled grip on the wood. 

They certainly wouldn’t see his girlfriend,  hidden beneath the heavy wooden platform of the commentator’s box, her head bobbing slowly, so slowly, back and forth.

“Merlin, Ray… you’re killing me.”

A low, husky chuckle vibrated against him, and he felt the bottom of her throat take the tip of him again, a deep, swallowing heat that made his vision blur. 

“Merlin’s sake…” he only managed to whisper again, as rigid as ever, trying desperately not to let any of the guys down on the pitch raise their heads in suspicion.

She pulled back, letting him slip from her mouth and Draco’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk forward, seeking that heat again.

“Eager, Captain?” she whispered with a wicked smile, well aware of how suffering he was.

“I’ll hardly be that anymore if you keep doing this…” he breathed

“Doing what?” she smiled.

“This?”

She leaned in and took him deep again, all the way, until his tip nudged the back of her throat. 

Draco shut his eyes, biting a lip half suffering half amused.

The sensation was unreal, the tight, velvety suction, the flick of her tongue along his underside.

Down below, Crabbe stumbled, earning a sharp rebuke from Blaise. 

The distraction was momentary, but it was enough for Draco to let his guard down for one second and…

“Hm, fuck!” Draco ground out under his breath, the sensation of release running straight through. 

Down on the pitch, Blaise blew a whistle.

 “Malfoy! They’re slacking again. Your call!”

Ramona, softly chuckled from below, entirely too pleased  wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her robe.

“Well?” she whispered

“Are you going to yell at them, Captain? Or do you need a minute?”

Draco huffed a quiet, something almost like a laugh, and straightened slightly, rolling his shoulders back into place.

“Another lap, then grab your brooms!” he called down, and a wave of relieved groans spread across the pitch.

Only once the team scattered again did he step back, adjusting his Quidditch uniform into place, composure snapping neatly back together.

He offered Ramona a hand, helping her up from her kneeled down position.

“Do you realise I could have just rescheduled practice if you needed this much attention?”

Ramona adjusted her skirt, entirely unbothered. 

“I didn’t need attention… I just felt like giving you a blowjob ”

Draco let out a quiet scoff, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“How generous of you, darling.”

“ I know” 

“ I could still reschedule it, though. I might be the one feeling generous now.” he murmured with a smirk adjusting her robe on her shoulders 

“Well, if you’re feeling generous then you can help me with my Herbology essay tonight.”

Draco let out a quiet, irritated scoff

“Unbelievable! Was that entire display just to make sure I’d agree?”

“Of course it wasn’t” she said lightly adjusting her skirt.

“You’d say yes eventually. You always do.”

“That’s not…” he stopped, jaw tightening.

A beat.

“I don’t always do!” he muttered, less convincingly.

Before he could say anything else, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

“Oi, Malfoy!” Blaise’s voice rang out 

“Is that  why we’ve been doing burpees for the past half hour?” he added, pointing his broom lazily toward Ramona.

Ramona turned her head lazily, entirely unbothered. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Blaise” she called back lightly.

 “I just got here.”

“Of course you did.” he said. 

“Funny timing, that.”

“Try keeping your commentary relevant to the pitch, Blaise, will you?” Draco cut in coolly.

“Up” he ordered to his broomstick, mounting it in one smooth motion before glancing at Ramona.

“Come on.”

Blaise’s grin turned outright amused now.

“Oh, we’re escorting guests mid-practice? That’s new.”

 “Start drills. If I come back and you’re still standing around, you’ll wish it was just burpees.”

“So you are coming back then? Or are we meant to carry on without you while you’re… occupied?” Blaise drawled. 

“Don’t worry Blaise” Ramona said, climbing up behind Draco.

 “I have asked him to help me with my Herbology essay. He’d rather face you lot than that.”

Draco gave a quiet, unimpressed scoff.

“Oh, you know me so well, love” he muttered dryly.

And before Blaise could add anything else, he kicked off, the broom lifting fast and clean into the air.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

As Ramona had predicted, Draco took his time on the pitch. 

He not only dragged the drills out for nearly three hours, but lingered another half hour with Blaise and Crabbe, discussing tactics and dissecting the new players’ performances.

By the time they made it back to the castle, dinner was long over.

He showered, sorted his bag for the next day, and spent a suspicious amount of time doing absolutely nothing on his bed.

Eventually, he realised he couldn’t drag it out any longer.

With a quiet groan, Draco got up and headed downstairs, hoping that Ramona had abandoned any intention of studying Herbology that night.

But as soon as he got in the Common Room, he stopped for a second, already sighing.

Pansy and Daphne were still there, bent over their books, parchment spread out between them, quills scratching steadily.

“Brilliant” he muttered under his breath,noticing Ramona’s books next to theirs.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re attempting to salvage something that’s clearly beyond saving?”

Pansy looked up the moment he approached, expression flat.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

Her gaze flicked over him, unimpressed.

“Ramona will be thrilled you remembered.”

Draco pulled out a chair, sitting with a quiet scrape, already reaching for the parchment.

“Funny, Parkinson. Where is she anyway? Or am I meant to sit here and complete the entire disaster myself?” he asked coolly, glancing at the spread of notes.

“merlin, listen to you. The devoted boyfriend.” Pansy snorted. “I fail to see what’s ‘devoted’ about being used for academic labour” Draco replied coolly

Daphne leaned back, eyeing him. “Oh, don’t start. She'll be back any minute. She’s gone to the library", "by the way.”" Daphne said.

“ We needed the glossary… this new book of Madam Pomfrey’s might as well be written in a dead language. She said she wouldn’t be long.”

“She’s already taking too long.” Pansy muttered, shaking her head, annoyed.

Time dragged.

What had started as sharp, biting commentary gradually thinned into quieter stretches, broken only by the scratch of Draco’s quill and the occasional impatient sigh from Pansy. 

The candles burned lower, the dorm got slowly emptier, and still, no Ramona.

Draco didn’t comment on it at first.

But he started to get impatient.

The door creaked open and his head lifted. A group of third years passed through, his gaze lingered a second too long before dropping back to the parchment.

Another few minutes.

Footsteps in the corridor, his eyes flicked up again. Not her.

Again.

And again.

“For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy!” Pansy snapped suddenly, dropping her quill. 

“Will you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“That” she said, gesturing vaguely toward him.

 “The constant looking. It’s driving me mad.” “Well, forgive me for noticing that Ramona’s been gone far longer than ‘any minute.’” he replied, shifting his seat.

“Are you sure she went to the library? It’s not like she’s asleep upstairs while I’m stuck here?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, Draco, I’m sure” Pansy snapped. 

“What, do you think I made it up?”

“I think” he said annoyed.

“... that it’s late, and I’d rather be in bed than rewriting an essay of three parchment.”

“Then go” Pansy fired back immediately.

 “No one asked you to stay.”

There was a brief pause.

Draco’s jaw tightened again, gaze flicking, once more toward the door.

Then he pushed his chair back.

“I’m going to the library.”

“Seriously?” Pansy stared at him.

 “Draco, it’s past curfew. She’s probably just been caught by McGonagall and is getting detention…”

“Who’s getting detention?”

Theodore and Blaise had just come in, looking far too relaxed for the tension they’d walked into.

“Ramona, possibly” Daphne said.

“Why?” Blaise frowned. 

“Where is she?”

“Fuck knows!” Draco snapped, outright angry now. “She went to the library ages ago. These two just let her wander off alone at night.”

“Oh, please” Pansy cut in, rolling her eyes.

 “Do you even know your girlfriend? She hates it when we so much as walk her to the bathroom together. She’ll be fine. Relax.”

“Yeah, Draco, what if she’s exactly where she said she’d be, and you’re about to get yourself detention for nothing? ” Blaise said lightly 

“And what if she’s not, instead?”

 “…She is!” Pansy said again, exhausted. “I mean, what the hell could happen from the library to here?”

“Well… whatever could happen is going to find her unprepared” Theodore said.

That earned him a round of confused looks, and he only  flicked his eyes toward the table.

“She left her wand here” 

For a second, no one moved.

Then both Draco and Pansy’s gazes snapped to it, to the wand that had been sitting there the entire time, unnoticed.

Dark reddish-brown. The carved handle unmistakable now that they were actually looking.

The colour drained from their faces.

“…Shit” Pansy breathed.

“I’m going to the library.”

“I’m coming with you” Pansy shot back instantly.

“Wait… ” Daphne started, but Draco was moving before anyone else had fully caught up.

“Blaise, check the corridors” he snapped. 

“Daphne, common rooms. If she’s not in the library, I want every floor covered.”

Parchment and quills were abandoned without a second thought, chairs scraping loudly against the stone floor as they all moved at once.

“Ten minutes” Draco added sharply. 

“If no one finds her, we regroup.”

“Draco…” Daphne tried again.

“Move.”

And they did.

In less than ten minutes, they were scattered across the castle, searching.

When Draco returned to the entrance of the common room and saw them reappearing one by one, all empty-handed, something in his stomach twisted.

Then everything got worse.

Pansy came tearing around the corner, breathless, eyes wide in a way Draco had never seen before.

“Vampire” she gasped.

 “I swear to Merlin, I’m not losing my mind, I saw a vampire near the lower dungeon corridor.”

Draco went cold all over.

“Snape” he said at once, already turning. 

By the time Severus Snape opened the door to his office, Draco looked nothing like himself.

Pale. Sweaty. Breathing just a little too fast.

He’d lost his robe somewhere along the way, his shirt slightly dishevelled, hair no longer in place.

Within minutes, the entirety of the Hogwarts staff was called.

Professors were summoned from their quarters, robes thrown hastily over nightclothes, voices low and urgent as they moved toward the dungeons. 

The corridors filled with the sharp echo of footsteps and the flicker of wandlight.

By the time Professor Flitwick reached the dungeon corridor, several of the portraits along the walls had already begun muttering amongst themselves, their painted faces pale with agitation.

 It took only a brief, precise line of questioning from the professor before one of them confirmed it.

A vampire on the loose.

Prefects were dispatched at once, moving swiftly through the Slytherin dormitories, rousing students from their beds. 

The students were ushered out, still half-asleep, and directed toward the kitchens, to a safer, more easily secured area for the night.

Doors were warded. Corridors sealed.

No one was to remain below ground.

Draco, however, refused to go.

“Get off, I’m not going anywhere” he snapped, as one of the prefects tried to usher him along, and it took Snape in person to at least redirect him to the Great Hall.

But even there he couldn’t sit still.

He picked at his nails, biting the skin around them until it stung. He paced back and forth, over and over, like stopping might make everything worse.

And the moment the first trace of sunrise began to spill over the hill beyond Hogwarts, he crossed the Hall and drew every curtain shut himself.

He felt sick.

Truly sick.

Everything around him had become unbearable.

 Theodore hovering uselessly nearby, Blaise telling him to calm down, Pansy crying and asking over and over whether this was somehow her fault.

And then Draco snapped.

“Of course it’s your fault, Pansy. Yours and Daphne’s.” His voice cut across the Hall, sharp and ugly.

 “Couldn’t one of you just go with her?”

Daphne turned on him at once.

“Just stop it now, Malfoy!” she shot back. 

"Why didn’t you go with her instead? Or were you too busy flying around?”

That shut him up. To everyone’s surprise, really.

Draco said nothing.

Because somewhere beneath the panic, beneath the anger, beneath the sick, he knew she was right.

He felt like it was his fault.

Why hadn’t he just gone straight to the common room after Quidditch?

Why had he dragged practice out, the shower, then everything else?

And now Ramona was missing, somewhere in the castle with a vampire in the dungeons, and the thought was enough to make him feel as though he might come apart where he stood.

Eventually, the pacing stopped.

Draco dropped into a seat at the far end of the Slytherin table, as far from the others as he could manage.

He just sat there.

One hand dragged slowly through his hair, over and over, pushing it back only for it to fall again. His foot tapped restlessly against the stone floor, a steady, uneven rhythm that never quite settled.

He stared at nothing.

He felt like he might cry.

Not properly… not like Pansy, not in a way anyone could see. 

Draco didn’t do that. Never had. 

But the pressure was there, tight in his chest, behind his eyes, like something trying to break through and finding no way out.

What if…

He swallowed hard.

What if something had actually happened?

What if she’d run into it?

What if she hadn’t even had time to react?

What if…

No.

No, she wouldn’t.

She was clever. Careful. She’d…

Stop. Stop, please. Stop.

What if he’d never see her again?

His fingers curled tighter in his hair, grip almost painful, like he was trying to hold himself together by force alone.

No.

He exhaled slowly, shakily, forcing the thought back, forcing everything back.

She was fine.

She had to be.

The doors of the Great Hall opened, and Draco shot to his feet.

His heart lurched straight into his throat, his chest turning heavy the moment he realised it was only a Hufflepuff boy stepping uncertainly inside, glancing around before making for his table.

Draco hadn’t even noticed it was fully morning.

More students began to trickle in after him,the normal rhythm of morning creeping back in as if nothing had happened.

One by one, the curtains were drawn back, and pale daylight spilled into the Hall. He kept his head high, eyes scanning every face that came through the doors with growing impatience.

Then impatience turned to something uglier.

His gaze snapped toward the High Table, searching for any sign, any movement, any indication that the professors had done something, anything.

What were they doing?

Why hadn’t they brought her back?

Why hadn’t Dumbledore, for Merlin’s sake, handled it already?

What good was any of this, this castle, these protections, if one student could just disappear ?

Draco didn’t even realise he’d moved until the bench scraped violently behind him.

One second he was sitting, barely holding himself together, and the next he was up, boots hitting the stone with a sharp crack that turned heads all along the Slytherin table.

“Draco…” Blaise started.

But he was already climbing onto the table.

Someone swore as pumpkin juice sloshed over the edge, but Draco didn’t so much as glance down. 

He stepped forward along the length of the table like it was solid ground, so he could see.

Every face. Every single bloody face in the Hall.

“What the hell…” “Is that Malfoy?”

His eyes moved fast, scanning row after row, searching with a kind of frantic precision that bordered on desperation. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, again, again, again…

Not there.

Not there.

Not there.

Not…fuck!

A hand seized his arm. Hard.

“Enough.” Snape’s fingers dug into Draco’s arm as he hauled him down from the table with sharp, practiced force.

“Compose yourself, Draco!” Snape murmured

 “You are drawing attention in a way that is neither useful nor intelligent. Keep it together.”

“Keep it together?” he echoed, wrenching his arm free.

“How? By standing here staring at the bloody ceiling and hoping news just falls out of it? “

His gaze snapped back to Snape, sharp and searching.

“Where is she?” he pressed.

“Have you found her? Has anyone found anything?”

“Not yet” Snape replied, measured as ever. 

Draco let out a short, hollow laugh, dragging a hand roughly through his hair.

“What exactly are you all doing?” he demanded, louder now.

“Apart from keeping us locked in here like fucking sheep?”

“Lower your voice.”

“NO! I’m not lowering anything” Draco went on, not even trying to keep his voice down anymore. 

“It’s been over eight fucking hours and no one is doing anything…”

“Our assessment is that she is hiding somewhere within the dungeons, likely in an area not yet searched. You will wait while we continue.”

“Wait for what? For someone to walk in and tell us it’s too fucking late?”

By now, the Hall had gone noticeably quieter, attention shifting toward them, though Draco seemed entirely indifferent to it.

Snape held his gaze, steady and unyielding.

For a brief moment, something passed across his expression.

Recognition, maybe.

As if he understood exactly what that kind of fear felt like… and knew there was nothing he could say that would make it easier.

“Severus.”

The voice came from just behind them.

“Professor Slughorn requires your assistance” Professor McGonagall said calmly

“If you would.”

Snape’s attention shifted to her, irritation flickering briefly before it disappeared behind something more controlled. He hesitated for only a second, then gave a short nod.

McGonagall waited until he was gone before stepping fully into his place.

“Mr. Malfoy. We will find her” she said.

“Every available member of staff is searching. The castle has been secured, and nothing is being overlooked.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“When she is found you will be informed immediately. She will be brought straight to you. Is that alright?”

That made him look at her properly.

For a moment, just a moment, the tightness in his chest eased. Not gone, not even close, but enough for him to breathe without it catching halfway through.

Draco let out a slow, unsteady exhale. His gaze dropped briefly, then flicked back toward the doors, as if part of him still wasn’t convinced he should stay.

He hesitated.

Then gave a short, restrained nod.

McGonagall’s expression softened, the hint of a smile, quiet and reassuring, but still entirely composed.

“Go and eat something” she said gently.

Draco almost scoffed at that, but didn’t say another word.

He stayed where he was.

In the end, he sat because there was nothing else left to do. Not properly. Not without being physically stopped again. So he dropped heavily onto the bench, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and let time drag over him in thick, miserable stretches.

The Hall grew louder, then quieter, then louder again around him. Students came and went. Plates shifted. Voices rose and blurred into nonsense. 

None of it meant anything.

It was nearly an hour later when he finally raised his head again.

McGonagall’s words had stayed with him, lodged somewhere deep and immovable.

He would never have admitted it aloud, but they had done something. 

Not enough to calm him, not enough to stop the awful churn in his chest, but enough to keep him still.

Enough to make him believe, against his better judgement, against everything in him that wanted to tear through the castle stone by stone, that she would keep her promise.

That they would have found Ramona and would have brought her straight to him.

So when the Great Hall doors opened again and he caught sight of McGonall pausing there, his whole body reacted before his mind did.

Draco was on his feet so fast the bench legs scraped violently against the floor.

A moment later

There she was.

Love of my life.

Her dark hair was loose and disordered, her face looked too pale beneath the candlelight, and there were faint scratches along her skin that made something hot and vicious twist in his stomach. 

But it was the trembling that undid him.

A fine, unsteady tremors running through her like her body still hadn’t understood that it was over.

He reached her and pulled her into him so hard he nearly lost his own breath with it.

For one terrifying instant, he felt how cold she was.

Then her arms came around his back, clutching at him, and the force of her silent sobs hit his chest.

Alive.

That was the first clear thought he had.

Alive, alive, alive.

He buried his face briefly against her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her beneath the damp stone, dust, and fear, and the relief that went through him was so fierce it was almost painful.

“Blaise” he said sharply, without looking away from her. 

“The cloak.”

A second later, the dark green Slytherin cloak was pressed into Draco’s free hand, and he pulled it around Ramona’s shoulders immediately, wrapping it close and shielding her from the room, from the stares, from all of them.

There. Better!

As if covering her could somehow undo the fact that anyone else had seen her like this.

He drew back just enough to look at her.

“Are you alright?”

Ramona nodded anyway against his chest, breath catching unevenly, trying with visible effort to pull herself back together.

“You’re safe” he whispered, one hand still at the back of her neck. 

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

“Mr. Malfoy” McGonagall said, careful not to startle.

“She should be taken to the infirmary” she said gently. 

“Madam Pomfrey will want to see her at once.”

Draco exhaled, slow and controlled, and glanced down at Ramona.

“You are okay with it?” he murmured, and she gave a small nod, barely lifting her head.

He adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, then steadied her with one arm firmly around her back.

“I’ll take her” he said, more quietly now.

Then he turned, keeping her tucked against him as they left the Hall, his grip steady, unyielding, as if letting go wasn’t an option anymore.

Other version of this Oneshot - here

He didn’t raise his voice, yet what he said seemed to take over the room, heavier than anything left from the events of the night before.

“Marry?” Goyle said slowly, frowning as if trying to make sense of the word . “Like… husband and wife?”

Theodore let out a sharp breath, already shaking his head.

 “Draco, you are seventeen. This isn’t even remotely reasonable."

“I’m not asking for your approval.”

“That’s obvious” Blaise muttered

“Because if you were, you wouldn’t be saying this at three in the morning.”

The discussion unraveled quickly after that.

What started as confusion turned into argument, voices overlapping, each of them trying in their own way to pull him back toward something sensible. 

Every argument was thrown at him: that he was too young, that this was reckless, that he was reacting out of panic rather than thinking.

Draco dismissed all of it.

Every are you mad, every attempt to reason with him slid off without leaving a mark. 

His mind had already settled somewhere none of them could reach.

Because none of them had been there.

The next morning, early after dusk, he wrote to his father.

I will be there this afternoon. 

There is something we need to discuss.

Afterward, Draco went straight to Snape. 

It took little more than a quiet exchange for the professor to sign a temporary leave certificate.

Minutes later, Draco stepped into the fireplace in Snape’s office, took a handful of Floo powder, and spoke clearly:

“Malfoy Manor.”

And in an instant, he was gone.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Draco… this is rather soon, don’t you think? You’re only seventeen.”

“Yes, Mother, I am aware of my age” he replied with a sharp sigh, already losing patience.

“Everyone seems determined to remind me of it! And as far as I recall... ” Draco went on, glancing toward his father

“My father proposed at eighteen, and somehow that was considered perfectly reasonable.”

Lucius didn’t even look at him at first, idly adjusting the fire with a precise flick of his wand.

“Your father is standing in this very room, Draco, and I assure you the circumstances then were not what they are now.”

Draco rolled his eyes slightly.

 “Of course they were.”

“Draco, her family will not take kindly to this. The Grimsby women have never been inclined to yield easily, and they certainly won’t have their daughter step into marriage so soon….”

“I’m not asking to marry her tomorrow!” Draco snapped, quicker now. 

“I’m asking for a proper understanding. A long-term engagement. And we are seventeen, not twelve!”

Narcissa exhaled softly. 

“And you believe her parents will simply accept that?”

“I believe that I’m not an idiot. I have no intention of tying the knot before I’m even out of the Hogwarts uniform. But I want it settled. Clear.”

Narcissa studied him more carefully now. 

“Is this is because of what happened last night? ”

“It’s because I’ve decided.” Draco’s jaw tightened.

“We have been together since third year. It’s not like I met her yesterday…”

Lucius let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“You are impatient,” Lucius drawled.

“Very much like your mother…”

“Oh, do spare me” Narcissa said, rolling her eyes as she took a measured sip of tea.

“And just as stubborn” Lucius continued smoothly, lowering himself into the armchair beside her. 

“Though in your case, Draco, that trait comes with rather more consequence. You carry a name that requires careful decisions… particularly when it comes to who inherits it.”

“She’s pure-blood, well-connected, and a Slytherin, Father” Draco shot back. 

“I fail to see what exactly is lacking.”

“Nothing” Lucius replied at once, lifting a brow. 

“Which is precisely why I’m not objecting.”

Narcissa turned to him, mildly exasperated. 

“Lucius.”

“What?” he said lightly. 

“You expect me to oppose a perfectly suitable match?”

“I expect you to be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable, Cissy” he returned, calm as ever. 

“I would much prefer him attached to Miss Ramona Grimsby at seventeen than left to make a far less suitably choice later on.”

“I have no intention of making any other choice later on!” Draco cut in at once, irritated but now eager

“So that’s a yes? You’ll give me the ring? She’s at her parents’ for the week,  I can go now, I’m still… ”

“Draco!” Narcissa interrupted sharply, setting her teacup down with more force than before.

 “You are not going to arrive at Grimsby Hall with a ring in your hand like some overeager suitor. Astor Grimsby would have his wand at your throat before you finished the sentence.”

Draco scoffed.

 “Mr Grimsby loves me. He does!” Draco insisted, more sharply now. 

“How could he not? He knows I’m the only one who can deal with his daughter.”

“That is hardly the reassurance you think it is” Narcissa replied coolly.

“Then what exactly is the problem?”

“Her mother.”

A brief pause, then Draco leaned back slightly, exhaling. 

“Right.”

Narcissa’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Isabel is a particularly…”

“Difficult bitch!” Draco finished flatly. 

“Among other things.”

Lucius let out a quiet, almost approving hum, as if the description was entirely adequate and Narcissa did not correct him.

“... It would be wiser to do it at Hogwarts” Narcissa said, more gently now. 

“Away from her mother’s eyes. I have no doubt Ramona will accept, and she can deal with her parents privately, in her own time.”

Draco licked his teeth, considering it.

She wasn’t wrong.

Of course she wasn’t. But the thought of waiting an entire week, with the family heirloom sitting in his pocket, untouched, was enough to irritate him all over again.

“Fine!” he said at last

“I’ll wait.”

Then he looked between them again, impatience already creeping back in.

“So” he added, more pointedly

 “...where is the ring?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Needless to say, he didn’t wait.

The idea of it vanished the moment his father placed the ring in his hand, nestled in its dark velvet box.

By the time Draco stepped out of Snape’s office again, any intention of patience had already been abandoned. 

He was moving before the door had even fully closed behind him, striding quickly through the corridors before breaking into a run, taking the stairs two at a time on his way to the owlery.

It was crowded, students rushing to send their last letters before curfew, but he barely spared them a glance.

He reached for a sheet of parchment, pulled a heavy envelope toward him, and dipped his quill into the ink without hesitation.

Then he began to write.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Ramona took the cup from her grandmother and drank the warm green potion slowly, the heat settling somewhere deep in her chest.

She sat wrapped in a soft blanket her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her usual composure only slightly frayed at the edges.

 Even like this, pale, tired, marked faintly at the collarbone where the scratches had begun to fade, she looked put together in a way most people could never quite manage.

“A vampire” her grandmother muttered again settling back into her chair. 

“At Hogwarts… under Dumbledore’s protection. One does have to question what, exactly, he’s protecting if not his students!”

“Dumbledore allows far too much these days. Creatures wandering the dungeons, honestly, it’s a miracle more hasn’t happened.” Isabel Grimsby shot back, rage still making her blonde curl shake.

“But mark my words, this will be in the Daily Prophet by morning, and the Minister will hear of it from me personally.” she added

Her father, by contrast, remained still near the mantel, arms loosely crossed. 

“You managed it well, Ramona” he said at last. 

“That matters.”

“Thanks Father” Ramona said with a sigh.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, really.”

“You shouldn’t have been in that situation at all” her mother cut in immediately. 

“Alone, in the dungeons, at that hour, what were you thinking, Ramona?”

Ramona exhaled, irritation flickering through the fatigue.

 “It’s not as though I planned to be cornered by a vampire, Mother.”

“That is hardly the point!”

“And as I’ve already said!” Ramona went on

“I feel fine. Tired, yes, but fine.”

“Then you may as well return to school instead of sitting here all day!” her grandmother replied, fixing her with a severe look.

“She will do no such thing, mother!” her father cut in.

“She’s staying here until she’s properly recovered. A week, at the very least, the healer was quite clear.”

“She will stay longer than that if I am not satisfied those dungeons have been secured!” her mother added sharply and Ramona rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am not missing weeks of lessons because of this.”

She shifted slightly against the cushions, irritated.

“Though I’m not particularly looking forward to going back, that’s for certain.” Ramona went on, leaning her head briefly against the back of the settee. 

“Merlin knows what it will be like. The questions, the staring…When I walked into the Great Hall, it was like a spectacle. Honestly, it was insufferable.”

“It will pass, darling. People do enjoy a bit of drama.”

“Of course they do” Ramona sighed

“Particularly when it’s pure-blood drama, apparently.”

She paused, then turned toward her father.

 “Is there any letter for me? Anything from Draco?”

“There is a pile of letters for you, Ramona” her mother answered before he could. 

“Seems like half the country has sent their regards. We are not going through them now. Maybe, after dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you will sit with us regardless.”

Ramona tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. 

 “I can sit and read. Preferably Draco’s letter, if he’s managed to send one.

And if he hasn’t, I’ll send him an Howler instead. It should reach him just in time for dinner. I imagine the Great Hall could use the entertainment.”

“He has written!” her mother said dryly, rolling her eyes. 

“And sent enough flowers to fill the house. And it can wait until after dinner!”

“Oh, please!” Ramona groaned impatiently 

“Can I just have them? I need to know whether I’m about to curse him or not.”

Her mother sighed, exasperated, while Mr Grimsby let out a quiet chuckle at the exchange.

“I’ll fetch them!” he said at last, pushing himself away from the mantel. 

 “Do try not to start a war without me.”

“Just bring the letters, dad!” Ramona replied at once.

Her mother shook her head, smoothing the cushions beside her with absent precision.

“Honestly, your impatience is becoming rather exhausting.”

Ramona lowered her cup as her grandmother rose, leaning down to press a brief kiss to her cheek before leaving the room.

Her mother lingered a moment longer, then sighed.

“Go on, then. Read your letters, but come downstairs afterward” she said, moving toward the door.

“While you are in this house, you follow its rules.”

She paused, glancing back briefly.

“And tell Draco that if he insists on sending more flowers, I will personally see them burned.”

Ramona couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at her lips, already imagining the absurd number of flowers waiting for her downstairs. 

Draco did have a talent for excess when it came to gifts.

Her father returned shortly after with a stack of letters, placing them beside her before leaving her to it.

Ramona took her time going through them.

Some she read with polite attention, her expression barely shifting as she moved from one to the next, carefully leaving Draco’s letters stacked neatly to the side.

She let out a short laugh at Pansy’s or Daphne’s, the familiar dramatics almost comforting, then scoffed under her breath at a few others, with  names she barely recognized, suddenly writing with an interest that could only be described as morbid curiosity.

When she was finally satisfied, Ramona reached for the three letters Draco had sent, and gathered them in her hands.

She opened them in order of arrival.

The first had come the night before, not long after she had left Hogwarts.

My love,

Are you home already? How do you feel?

I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Please rest, alright? Take care.

Write to me in the morning.

—D

She frowned, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that it?” she muttered, slipping the letter back into its envelope. 

“Honestly, Dray… you can do better than that.”

She reached for the second one.

This one had arrived that morning.

Ramona

Why no reply? 

What happened?

The Minister turned up for an inspection. 

Spent the entire morning interrogating everyone before lessons.

Of course, nothing will come of it… apparently near-death experiences are perfectly acceptable now, as long as Dumbledore remains in charge.

I did ask you to write, in case you’ve forgotten. And yet, nothing.”

Ramona folded the letter with deliberate care, unimpressed.

“Nope… that’s even worse than the first.”

She reached for the last letter .

She tilted her head, noticing how densely the parchment was covered in writing, lines pressed close together as if he hadn’t wanted to leave a single thought unsaid.

“Well… that’s more like it” she murmured, starting to read it. And her heart hammered at each word.

Ray,

I don’t know how to protect someone who doesn’t need anyone.And you’ve always seemed like that to me.Untouchable. Unreachable. Invincible.

When you didn’t return to the Common Room, I thought I’d lose my mind.And I don’t say that lightly.It wasn’t panic or anxiety.It was something else.

I couldn’t breathe.I couldn’t think.I searched every damn corridor for you.Sent Blaise to threaten Peeves and Crabbe to search the dungeons.

I’m not good with words, you know that.Usually, I rely on sarcasm and veiled threats.But that doesn’t work with you anymore.Like I said, it’s something else.

 It’s obsession.It’s rage when you ignore me.It’s nausea at the thought of something happening to you.It’s this brutal, merciless, overwhelming thing that robs me of reason.

I already consider you mine.Not as a possession, but as the only person I can be myself with, shamelessly.

You’re my partner in crime, Ray.My favorite weakness.

We’re two idiot teenagers who fight in front of the whole class,  who kiss in hallways and fuck in locker rooms . But I’m already looking forward to the day I can take that stubborn last name you wear so proudly and replace it with mine.

 – Draco Malfoy

The moment her eyes reached the end of the letter, something appeared out of thin air and dropped softly into her lap.

A small, velvety box, its surface engraved with the Malfoy crest in fine, precise detail.

Her heart stuttered.

For a second, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Then, the box opened on its own with a quiet, deliberate click.

Inside, the ring caught the light. 

She knew it instantly.

She had seen that ring a hundred times before, glinting on Draco’s hand. Not this exact one, but its pair. 

Its match. 

The one that completed it.

The one meant for the future Mrs Malfoy.

And now.

It layed in her lap.

Ramona’s gaze flicked from the ring… to the letter still resting in her hand… then back again.

Once. Twice.

As if her mind refused to settle on either.

She barely registered the faint shimmer of magic curling across the surface of the box, golden letters beginning to form…

will you…

Her breath hitched.

And then her thoughts snapped back all at once, rushing in too fast, too loud, too much.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The old Mrs Grimsby’s fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against the china as a sharp scream echoed through the dining room, nearly making all three at the table choke.

“What on Merlin’s hat happened?” she murmured but no one had the time to figure it out as the doors burst open.

“I AM ENGAGED!”

Ramona stood in the doorway, breathless, eyes bright her hand raised without hesitation.

For a moment, no one moved.

Her mother shot to her feet so abruptly the chair screeched back across the floor.

“What?” she spat, staring at the ring

“What do you mean engaged?”

Ramona stepped forward, a breathless laugh slipping past her lips.

“I’m engaged” she repeated, lifting her hand again.

“It’s the Malfoy’s ring. I am Engaged!”

“You are not” Lisabel said, her eyes remained fixed on the ring, as if refusing to accept it as real. 

“Not without this house being informed, and certainly not without my consent.”

“Well”Ramona said, still slightly breathless but now smiling far too brightly

“it seems we’re a bit late for that. I am wearing it, so it’s done!”

“Astor!” her mother snapped, turning sharply toward her husband.

 “A ring, at seventeen! Are you not going to say anything about this?”

Mr Grimsby took a moment before answering, his gaze still resting on the ring.

“That is… unexpected, Ramona” he said at last, measured as ever. 

“You haven’t even finished Hogwarts.”

“I know” she said easily, waving a hand as if that were a minor inconvenience. 

“It’s not like we’re running off tomorrow. It’s just a commitment.”

She looked at the ring at her hand again before adding, brighter

“We could start looking for a house, though.”

“A house?” her mother repeated, incredulous.

 “And what comes after that! A child before you’ve even had a life of your own?”

Ramona laughed lightly, shaking her head.

“Oh, please. I’m not completely unhinged. No babies before twenty-seven, at the very least.”

“I should hope not” her mother said sharply. 

“Though it hardly matters, because you are not getting married now.”

She turned abruptly, already moving toward the door.

“I will be writing to Draco at once.”

“Oh, please do” Ramona said sweetly, looking again at the ring

“He does love your letters, mother.”

“And if that boy thinks he can propose without addressing this family, Lucius Malfoy himself will have to answer for it.” she went on, voice rising. 

Ramona only lifted her hand again, admiring the ring with a small, satisfied smile.

“Well” she said lightly 

“...he did send the proper ring. That counts for something.”

Her father let out a quiet breath that might almost have been a laugh, while her grandmother exhaled loudly, clearly unimpressed.

“LISABEL! COME BACK HERE!” she called sharply, then turned her attention to her son.

“Well? What is your position on this, Astor? I suggest you answer quickly, before your wife starts a war between households.”

Astor cleared his throat, taking his time as he cut into his steak with deliberate calm, as though nothing at all were out of the ordinary.

“I believe Ramona is perfectly capable of deciding for herself” he said at last, glancing up at her. 

 “So, darling, are you saying yes? Darling?”

“Hm?” Ramona replied absently, her attention still fixed on how the engraved M caught the light against her skin.

"Sorry dad, what did you say?"

Astor paused, then gave a small nod.

“I’ll take that as confirmation… Would you mind stopping your mother before she escalates this further?”

“I will, Dad” Ramona said easily, already half-turning toward the door.

“And could you have the elves pack my things? I’d rather go back to Hogwarts tonight.”

“As you wish, darling.”

Her grandmother shook her head with a sigh, resuming her meal as if this were all mildly inconvenient rather than outrageous.

“So spoiled, these new heirs, they just do what they want, whenever they want …” she muttered under her breath.

Seamus Finnigan, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom all jerked upright, as if caught mid-crime, the crumpled parchment in their hands suddenly very interesting.

"Nothing!" Ron said at once. 

"Just...the Daily Prophet. Bit of news."

"The Prophet?" Ginny repeated, narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah" Neville added quickly, far too quickly. 

"Er...Luna's dad's written something particularly...interesting...."

Ron rounded on him. 

"That's the Quibbler, Neville, you prat."

"What he means..." Harry stepped in smoothly, 

"...is that the Prophet article reads like something out of the Quibbler. Bit unbelievable."

Neville nodded with relief. 

"That's...yes. Exactly what I meant!"

"That's not a very kind thing to say about Luna's paper." Hermione scolded, pretending to believe him, while Ginny casually circled around the armchair.

Before her brother could react, Ginny jabbed him in the side with the tip of her wand and snatched the parchment from his hands despite his protests.

"Oi!"

"Merlin's beard! Are you spying on Malfoy's mail?"

"'Spying' is a bit strong... we were just—"

"Snooping, that's what you were doing," Hermione cut in, her eyes widening as she leaned in beside Ginny to read.

"Hang on, it's not what it looks like!" Ron protested. 

"We were coming back from the pitch and that s—when that fat, miserable owl Malfoy calls a pet came crashing down out of nowhere. Nearly dead."

"It did look properly half-dead!" Neville added earnestly.

"We were going to take it to Hagrid" Harry said. 

"Make sure it was alright and then return the letter."

"That was before we realised who it was from..." Seamus cut in, grinning, 

"... and thought we might have a quick look."

But Ginny and Hermione weren't listening anymore.

Halfway through the letter, both of them went very still.

Ginny's expression shifted, sharp curiosity melting into something softer. Hermione's hand rose unconsciously to her mouth.

Their silence, and the astonished looks on their faces, caught the attention of Lavender Brown and Padma Patil, who drifted closer to peek over Ginny's shoulder.

Within moments, they too were breathless, lips pressed tight with emotion.

The letter, written in elegant, flawless handwriting, read as follows:

Dear Demetra,

You asked how I am in your last letter.

I've considered answering with a simple "fine", butI have little interest in being called a liar by you in particular.

So.

I am... well enough.

Hogwarts is much as you'd expect, if you imagine it through the lens of someone no longer welcome in it.

I hear the word Death Eater often enough to grow accustomed to it. It seems to follow me down corridors. Some look at me with disgust. Others with pity, which I find considerably worse.

In any case, I've grown used to it. One does.

I sleep better, more or less, thanks to Pomfrey's potions. 

I eat. I attend lessons. I exist in a way that appears, from the outside, entirely functional.

Which I imagine is what everyone wanted.

On the brighter side, I've put on weight and I've returned to the Quidditch team.

Apparently, surviving disgrace has its own peculiar charm. There are once again girls in the stands who feel compelled to scream my name.

I've also discovered, somewhat to my surprise, that I still have friends here.

Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Daphne... I have told you about them.

It seems I am not completely alone, which is... inconveniently reassuring.

And yet.

Even without nightmares, I wake in the middle of the night and find myself staring at the ceiling for hours.

I cannot concentrate. 

I drift off in the middle of lessons, thinking of you.

Blaise claims I smile when I say your name.

I would deny it, but I suspect he's right.

Draw your own conclusions.

What I find most absurd is this:

After everything I have done, after everything I have been, I did not expect to be granted the luxury of... feeling this.

I almost dare to say, I may be in love with you.

I never thought I'd experience the sort of thing that makes people behave like idiots.

And yet, here we are.

I assume you'll have something insufferably insightful to say about it.

Now, something more practical.

Tell me, would you come to Malfoy Manor for Christmas?

There are thirty-seven rooms you can pick from.

There are a few ghosts, and certain corridors that haven't improved with time, but I trust you're not easily frightened.

Write back.

And since you seem so intent on asking questions

How are you?

—Draco Malfoy

✧❖✦❖✧

Now, while the letter had sparked sniggers and crude commentary from the Gryffindor boys, the girls' reaction could not have been more different.

"No one's ever written anything like that to me" Lavender sighed dreamily.

"They must have met at that reform programme he was sent to over the summer" Padma suggested. "You know, the one the Wizengamot sentenced him to before letting him come back to Hogwarts."

"So you think she's... well..."

"A Death Eater?" Padma shook her head.

"No. I've never heard the name. And I would have,  my auntie works at the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Blimey" Ginny muttered, reading the letter again, slower this time. 

"Draco Malfoy is in love!"

"Oh, honestly, you four!" Hermione snapped, making the boys jump in their seats.

"What? You're doing exactly the same thing we did!" Ron protested.

"That's not the point!" Hermione snapped. 

"You weren't supposed to open it in the first place! Now she may never receive it."

"Well, we can still send it" Ginny said quickly.

"How?" Lavanda demanded. 

"It's already been opened. She'll notice."

"You can't be serious," Harry cut in, snatching the parchment back from Ginny. 

"Malfoy wouldn't think twice about binning one of ours if he found it first. And owls go missing all the time... he'll just write another one!"

Ron grinned. 

"Yeah, imagine him waiting around for a reply that never comes. Might actually do him some good."

But the joke only made the girls look more outraged.

"You're horrible" Padma said sharply, snatching the parchment straight back from Harry. 

"We can repair the seal and no one will know. I refuse to be responsible for ruining a perfectly good love story."

She turned sharply on her heel, her long dark hair whipping across the boys' faces.

One by one, Hermione, Ginny, and Lavender followed her, each shooting them a look of pure disapproval before disappearing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

✧❖✦❖✧

For two weeks, no one knew whether the letter had actually reached its destination, or whether Demetra had noticed the tampering.

Still, the eight Gryffindors looked at Draco Malfoy differently now.

The girls watched him with a mix of curiosity and quiet fascination; the boys with poorly concealed annoyance, and, though none of them would admit it, a flicker of jealousy. Was it seriously possible that Malfoy of all people, that smug, insufferable git, was capable of writing something like that?

Apparently, yes.

In the girls' dormitory, it was all anyone talked about.

And they made sure the boys never heard the end of it, bringing up their complete lack of sensitivity at every possible opportunity.

Then, one afternoon in mid-December, something finally happened.

In the Transfiguration classroom, a slightly scruffy-looking eagle owl fluttered uncertainly between the desks.

The lesson had just ended, and the Gryffindors were packing away ink bottles and parchment.

At first, no one paid it much attention.

Then Ron squinted at it and muttered

"Honestly... I always thought Errol was the worst of the lot. First Malfoy's miserable bird, now this one."

He exchanged a suspicious look with Harry, and from the desk behind them, Hermione suddenly glanced up at the owl as well

It happened in an instant.

Harry and Hermione both lunged for the owl at the same time. 

Hermione was quicker and snatched the letter, but before she could read it, Harry grabbed her wrist.

"You're not seriously going to start snooping again, are you?"

Hermione shot him an indignant look. "Of course not! I just want to make sure Demetra didn't notice anything and that everything's all right."

But before she could finish, Ron had already grabbed the letter out of her hands.

Seamus and Neville immediately leaned in, drawn like moths to flame, as Ron tore the envelope open with zero ceremony.

"Dear Draco..."

Just reading those words silently was enough to make the boys stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Hermione demanded, crossing her arms.

"Nothing that concerns you...unless you feel like snooping" Ron shot back, earning a glare as Hermione tightened her arms across her chest.

Then he went on, eyes scanning the page, this time over handwriting noticeably less refined than Malfoy's.

Dear Draco

I'm fine. 

But back to your problem.

"In love" is a rather dramatic choice of words, don't you think?

There are so many more reasonable explanations. 

You could be under the influence of a well-brewed potion. 

Mildly cursed. 

Temporarily unwell.

I might have slipped Amortentia into your breakfast. Pancakes are particularly accommodating for that sort of thing.

Pumpkin soup, too, if one is patient.

So before you decide you're "in love," I suggest you consider all the available alternatives.

It would be rather immature not to.

Likewise, before I abandon this charming city and rent a house in London simply to see you, I should probably confirm that you are, in fact, in love.

Otherwise, I'd be just as immature myself.

Not that I've been looking at properties.

Or discussing it with my mother.

That would be irrational.

And I am, as you know, a perfectly reasonable person.

As for the rest, you may be interested to hear that I've been released. Sentence served.

Apparently, setting one's stepfather's house on fire is considered excessive... no matter how justified it may have been.

So now I'm free.

Which brings us to Christmas.

But I won't hope to see you.

I will, see you.

On one condition:

That, among those thirty-seven rooms, I get to choose yours.

I miss you.

Write back.

With affection, Demetra Berkinshire

Ron, Seamus, and Harry exchanged stunned looks, while Neville's eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

"Well?" Hermione asked, a trace of impatience in her voice.

"Well," Ron huffed, clearing his throat.

"I'll say this... none of you girls have ever written anything like that neither!"

✧❖✦❖✧

Once again, Padma and Lavender's concealment charms worked just well enough to deliver the letter to Malfoy without him noticing anything amiss.

Hermione handled everything with meticulous care, subtly Confunding Malfoy's already unreliable owl just seconds before it reached the Great Hall.

The bird swooped in awkwardly, and promptly crash-landed straight into Draco's bowl of porridge.

"Stupid bird! Useless, senile thing..." Malfoy muttered, flicking milk and oats off his robes in irritation.

With a look of distaste, he picked up the letter, crumpled and soaked, and gave it a careful shake to drain as much liquid as possible.

He didn't dare use a drying charm. 

The risk of smudging the ink was far too great, and that was not a possibility he was willing to entertain.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Hermione nudged Ginny lightly, a signal that had Lavender and Padma glancing up from their plates as well.

Malfoy opened the letter with uncharacteristic haste.

A few seconds passed, just long enough for his eyes to skim those uneven lines of handwriting he now knew by heart.

Then, slowly, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

Not his usual sneer. Not that cold, practiced mask of indifference.

Something real.

He read it again, faster this time, his eyes moving with restless urgency, as though searching for a particular line.

Then he pushed back from the Slytherin table so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor, leaving his untouched porridge behind.

"Where's he going?" Ginny whispered, following him with her eyes as he strode quickly out of the Great Hall.

Hermione allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

"Most likely" she said, "to write back."

That scent was everywhere there.

It had clung on to her own skin.

And she hated that smell.

And therefore she hated her own skin, now.

She clenched her jaw, forcing the words she wanted to say to remain locked behind her teeth as the elf pulled her hair with the brush.

“Miss, please… cooperate. You know they’re watching.” Memphis whispered, and her big round eyes flicked nervously toward Narcissa Malfoy’s portrait hanging on the wall.

“Oh, I know” Cassidy drawled, as she lifted her gaze to meet Mrs Malfoy’s painted eyes.  “But they won’t be watching for long, Memphis. Not. for. long.”

The elf visibly trembled. She jumped down from the stool at once, hands shaking as she finally freed Cassidy from the brush.

“This is a terrible idea” Memphis whispered urgently. 

“Such a terrible, terrible idea, Miss.”

Cassidy smirked and loosened her hair from the half-bun the elf had just meticulously arranged, letting dark strands fall back into disobedient waves.

“Well, It’s also a terrible idea to bind me to this place for a full year Memphis” she said softly. 

“But no one thought to explain that to that Malfoy’s spoiled brat”

She spat the name, eyes snapping toward  Memphis and the elf pressed a hand to her chest, breath hitching.

In that full year, she had learned exactly how angry, and how stubborn, Cassidy Rochfield  could become. 

At times, she feared that unwilling guest, that prisoner, far more than she feared her own Master.

“He should have released me long ago. But I suppose it’s far too entertaining to parade a captive faerie at his stupid parties” Cassidy said, curling a loose strand around her finger.

She drew a slow breath through her nose, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced, irritated gesture.

“Fine. If he won’t honour the promise, I’ll simply find… alternative methods to reclaim my freedom.”

Memphis’s ears sagged immediately.

“Miss” she whispered, voice trembling, hurrying after her as she tried to smooth the back of Cassidy’s dress.

“Please don’t do this. It’s a terrible idea… terrible. You could be sent to Azkaban, miss…”

Cassidy scoffed. 

“Oh, I’ll be halfway across the continent before the Aurors even realise I was here.”

 She swatted the elf’s hands away.

 “And stop pulling at this dress, Memphis!”

The elf recoiled, wringing her hands, eyes huge and wet. 

Cassidy paused, then bent down so they were face to face,

“You’re going to stay exactly where you are” she murmured

“And you won’t breathe a word. To anyone. Do you understand, Memphis?”

The elf nodded so fast it looked like fear trying to escape her body.

“Thanks” Cassidy drawled, straightening to her full height again. 

She lingered a couple of minutes more, fingers curling impatiently in her own hair as she counted the seconds. When the hallway fell quiet, she leaned outside the door and peeked into the corridor.

No one in sight.

Good.

A ghost drifted across the corridor not far from her, its edges flickering like a dying candle flame. 

Cassidy pressed herself to the wall and slipped past before it could turn

She descended the staircase quickly, feet barely touching the steps, and when her eyes found the entrance door she bit down a smirk.

Almost there. Almost free.

She paused, head tilting toward the dining hall. Nothing but silence. No voices, no footsteps, no rustle of a robe or whisper of a spell.

Just quiet.

She turned back to the entrance with a vicious smile tugging at her mouth.

Frankly, she didn’t give a damn if the dining hall guests were all nice and dead. In fact, she kind of hoped for it. Every single one of them deserved exactly that fate.

Her only concern was what was beyond the threshold of the Mansion. Of the newly nominated Malfoy Hall.

Possibilities. That's what she saw beyond those gates Different continents she’d never touched. Cities thrumming with life A dozen places she could vanish into. A hundred identities she could slip into like new skin.

All she had to do was step through that door.

But.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?”

Cassidy froze.

She closed her eyes for one long, murderous heartbeat, every fragile sliver of hope splintering cleanly inside her chest.

When she turned, Blaise Zabini stepped into her peripheral vision with the easy confidence of someone who enjoyed ruining perfectly good plans. 

“Really sorry to break it to you, but you are going in the wrong direction, little fae” he drawled, hands in his pockets, polite smile immaculate.

“Oh really?” Cassidy echoed

“And tell me, Zabini… are you Malfoy’s watchdog these days? Do you bark when someone gets too close to the door?”

Blaise didn’t flinch. His eyebrow rose a fraction.

“No. But I do care about my evening staying quiet, and Draco would kill me if I let his favourite… house feature wander off in front of my eyes!”

Then, almost kindly, he added,

“Sorry, darling. Wrong time, wrong place. But honestly… did you really think the kitchen elves wouldn’t notice a massive amount of poison simmering in the pot?”

Cassidy’s jaw clenched.

“So they snitched, then”

“They didn’t snitch. They panicked. And when house-elves panic…they run straight to their master .” Blaise corrected with one last infuriating smile

“But” he continued, casually checkingthe time on his pocket watch.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive your very naïve little stunt if you show up nice and pretty before the starters. You know how much he adores showing you off. So do yourself a favour and fix your hair, little fae.”

“Don’t you dare touch a single curl, Zabini” she snapped, stepping out of his reach.

“Or I’ll swear next time it’ll be your hand simmering in the pot!”

She barely caught the way Zabini sighed, long and patient, the sigh of a man accustomed to feminine tantrums, but she did feel the laces of her dress cinching tighter on their own, just as she pushed the dining hall doors open.

She clenched her teeth and pressed a hand to her waist, steadying herself as she stepped inside.

The noise of the dozens of conversations erupted in her ears.

Dozens of wizards and witches glanced at her , and some of the faces shifted from curiosity to recognition to something far uglier once they realised exactly who was walking past their tables.

The little, pretty fae caught and kept by a Malfoy.

Cassidy didn’t spare a single one of them a glance.

Keeping to the darker edge of the room, she moved straight toward the far end of the hall, and within seconds, cold grey eyes locked onto her.

She sat down next to him as if nothing had happened. “I am only staying here till dessert” 

“You’ll stay until I decide otherwise” Draco drawled, still facing forward, face composed but jaw far too tight to hide anything.

“Well that won’t be long, I hope”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure” he said

“You nearly killed half the room, and yet you think you can decide when and where to sit at my table?”

“It was the smallest amount of poison.”

“Poison?” Draco finally turned

“I almost convinced myself it was a mistake. A mismeasured sleeping draught. But clearly you really do hate me that much.”

“You should know very well how much I hate you, Malfoy” she whispered back.

 “You, your family, and your pretty little corrupted crowd of wizards. And if this is how you plan to entertain me for the rest of the night” Cassidy said, pushing back her chair, “... then I won’t even wait for dessert.”

She had barely risen an inch before Draco’s hand closed around her wrist

“Sit” he ordered, voice low enough that only she heard the threat coiled inside it.

Cassidy bit the inside of her cheek, fury simmering under her skin.

“Your wish, then…Certainly not mine.” she murmured as she sank back into the chair, eyes fixed on the tablecloth.

 · · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

And she had waited until dessert.

Barely.

Because the moment the cutlery shifted from a steak knife to a dainty dessert fork, Draco hadn’t even fully turned his head before the chair beside him scraped back and the girl vanished out of the dining hall without a single sound.

That girl. That impossible, infuriating girl.

He found her exactly where he expected,

In her room, silky dress still on, legs very much not gracefully arranged but tangled over the back of the sofa, an open book held casually in her hands as if nothing at all had happened.

As if she hadn’t just attempted murder.

She didn’t even look up when he entered.

Not a blink.

Not a twitch.

Just kept reading, legs draped over the back of the sofa like a bored cat.

“You truly have no manners.”  Draco said from the doorway, voice low and roughened by wine.

Her lashes flicked up for half a second, then deliberately lowered back to her book.

“If you’re here to lecture me again, I’m not in the mood.”

Draco chuckled, running a hand across his face, thumb brushing the dark smudge beneath one eye. 

The wine had softened him just enough to calm his anger, but had now left room for a different sort of heat to rise instead.

 “Trust me, little fae” he murmured, head tipping as his gaze dragged over her lazy, sprawled posture on the sofa. “...lecturing you is the last thing on my mind.”

Her fingers paused on the page the moment he got closer to the sofa.

She barely looked up when he slid a hand beneath the hem of her dress and shoved the fabric fully up her stomach.

“This is not the dress I told you to wear, by the way…” he muttered, palm sliding up the inside of her leg.

“Well, I’m not your mannequin ” she said, turning the page.  

“You’d be easier to manage if you were.”

“You’d be bored if I was.”

"I’d be rested, for once." he murmured, voice getting rasped as he bent down, mouth grazing the curve of her inner thigh. 

Cassidy’s hand trembled just a little when she felt his tongue ran flat along her clothed clit, hungry and possessive. 

It had been like this for months.

Her body used whenever he wanted, wherever they were. Taken. Bent. Pulled. A toy, a doll.

And she fucking liked it.

Maybe it was the only version of him she tolerated.

A Draco Malfoy with his mouth between her legs, doing what was right to make her come. 

“Merlin…” she whispered under her breath when his grip tightened around her hips, dragging her closer like he needed her to grind on his face just to breathe.

She resumed the reading, squinting slightly to find the line she had lost for a second, even though his mouth was devouring her pussy like it belonged to him. 

Which, in this twisted dance they played, it did.

Draco pulled away from her folds, when the hem of her dress slipped down again and he shoved it back up with an impatient growl.

“You should walk around naked” he drawled, voice low, lips brushing her skin as he spoke. 

One finger slid inside her, as if checking how ready she was for him.

“Actually…” he pushed in deeper, watching the slick on his knuckles with a proud look.

“...that’s exactly what we’re doing from now on. If it’s just me in the house, you’re not wearing a single thing.”

She turned page, tensing slightly when he added a second finger, moving them in and out .

“I am not doing anything of the sort” she murmured, flipping the page and catching only a blurred glimpse of him unbuckling his belt.

“Damn sure you are ” he said softly, pushing his trousers open.

“I own you. Literally.”

At those words she finally lifted her gaze, jaw tightening with a slow, irritated grind. He only smirked, thumb brushing lazily over her clit slow enough to mock her.

“Turn another page then” he murmured. “Show me how well you can multitask.”

“Why don't you go and fuck yourself, Mr Malfoy?”

“Sorry” he said, smirk widening as he angled his hips, 

“...too busy now.” 

His tip slid against her, just once,  and then he pushed into her in a single brutal stroke, burying deep as if he’d been waiting all day to be exactly there.

Draco groaned , pushing himself deeply,  his free hand grabbing the back of the sofa for leverage

She inhaled sharply, the book trembling between her fingers as he rocked into her again, his cock stretching her slick walls with unyielding force again. And again, and again, making it harder to focus on the words.

Then he exhaled impatiently. 

“I swear, this dress is insulting. Lift your hips.” he growled, his other hand yanking at the silky fabric bunched around her waist. 

Cassidy barely lifted herself, almost annoyed, just to prove she could follow the command without caring.

With a rough tug, he pulled the dress up and over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside like it offended him personally.

Her bare skin flushed under his gaze, breasts exposed under the thinfabric of the bra, nipples tightening under the cool air.

“Much better” he muttered, almost to himself, sliding her bra apart so to reveal a her naked breast.

Cassidy didn’t even lower the book.

“Mhm” she replied vaguely, eyes somewhere on the page. 

“Congratulations. You won your battle against fabric.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious” he muttered, pinning her hips with a sudden, bruising thrust that dragged a gasp out of her small unwilling gasp.

He lowered himself onto her neck, biting viciously, claiming skin. Cassidy had to physically lift the book above his head just to keep reading, his mouth roaming too low, too greedy to give her space.

He fucked her so deeply she felt him in places that made her toes curl, her breath hitching as she pushed at his shoulder once, twice, a half-hearted reminder that she was, in fact, made of flesh and bone and not whatever unbreakable thing he seemed to believe she was.

He acknowledged it with a grunt… …and immediately forgot the message entirely.

His hips snapped forward again, deliberate, brutal, as if trying to get further inside her than reality allowed.

Cassidy exhaled through her nose, stubbornly dragging her gaze back to the page even as he licked a hot stripe across her chest. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, slow and hungrier, teeth grazing, lips dragging wet, messy patterns along the curve of her breast.

A shiver ran through her spine and she steadied the book again.

“Turn over” he ordered, pulling out abruptly.

Before she could protest, he flipped her onto her stomach, book splayed beneath her as he manhandled her body like it was his to reposition at will. 

Her legs dangled off the sofa now, ass up in the air, and he wasted no time, lining up, he slammed back into her pussy from behind, the new angle letting him bury even deeper.

She gasped, fingers digging into the cushions, but snatched the book closer, propping it open again.

“Good girl.”' he rasped, one arm banding across her waist to hold her steady. 

He reached around, fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing firm circles, making her inner walls flutter around his thick length.

Cassidy bit the inside of her cheek, letting him do his thing and still trying damn hard to reach the end of the chapter.

He sped up, thrusts turning brutal, letting his  thumb press down on her clit

He chuckled when her lashes fluttered but her gaze stayed locked on the text, that unbothered mask cracking just enough to fuel his amusement.

“Stay there, stay there…don’t fucking move…”

With a final, savage push, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling hot spurts of cum deep inside her, hips jerking in sharp, involuntary snaps until the tension finally bled out of him.

He stayed exactly where he was, one hand braced on the sofa, the other still pinning her down over her lower back.

Cassidy sighed softly, rotating her shoulder once beneath his weight, then tilting her head just enough toward him to acknowledge his existence.

“Is there any carrot cake left?” she asked calmly, as if she weren’t full of him.

"If there is, I want some."

Draco snapped his gaze to her, still breathing hard, hair damp at the temples.

For a second, he simply stared, almost annoyed, but by know used to it.

She kept calling herself a prisoner, yet gods knew she was treated like a damn princess.

Finally he huffed with a nod of his head.

“I’ll tell the elves.”