“Haha! Look at Seamus, Malfoy.” Crabbe said, his big face scrunching up as his fat finger pointed to the clumsy boy across the room. Draco spared a glance, seeing the boy with a black face, looking into his potion helplessly as the explosion just occurred. Malfoy rolled his eyes, shooting Crabbe a glare before looking back to his task at hand.

But, when he glanced at his hand, he saw little flowers forming, the ink moist as whoever was drawing it was doing it in real time. Petal after petal appeared, forming a decent picture. He grumbled, grabbing the towel Seamus used to wipe his face and aggressively rubbed the skin, terribly smearing the ink on the back of his hand, the flowers mushing together, making it not look so decent anymore.

He flung the towel on the table beside him, and picked up the knife he placed down, going back to his previous actions.

“What now, Malfoy?” Goyle asked. Draco snarled.

“Stupid soulmate drawing on their skin again. Seriously, they can’t draw on a piece of parchment?” He complained, his chops becoming more harsh on the cutting board.

Goyle shrugged. “Unless they’re bored in class. What is it anyway? Little reminders?”

“No, course not! In fact, I’d rather it be that instead of rubbish drawings of dumb flowers! Look at that rubbish,” Draco started, repeating the word he said earlier with a bitter taste growing in his mouth. He showed the two boys what was left of the flowers on his hand. “Honestly, how ugly.”

The two boys agreed, but they had hints of smiles on their faces.

Draco noticed and barked. “What’s so funny, boys?”

The smiles dropped instantly on Goyle’s face but Crabbe still had a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nothing, just that your soulmate draws on her skin.”

Draco squinted. “And what’s so funny about that? Enlighten me, I’d rather laugh than roll my eyes.”

Goyle shrugged. “Just that she must be doing it in purpose. Ya know, for you to see?”

Draco thought about it for a moment, ignoring the new lines forming on his hand.

“Why would I want to see this?” Draco wondered, irritation brewing inside him. “Especially on my hand, I don’t need it there, it’s annoying really.”

“You know how girls are. She’s desperate, man.” Crabbe jumped in, entering the conversation once he found out Draco wasn’t as upset as he thought.

Draco scoffed. “You know what, you’re right, Crabbe. She’s desperate for me. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s annoying and I don’t want it there.”

Draco then finally looked down at his hand, and this time he saw an eye with shading, the smooth strokes of eyelashes now forming on his skin. Once she was done, Draco saw more stokes forming above the eye, and, wondering what it is, leaned forward to see what she was drawing. It turned out to be an eyebrow, but the way the lines were drawn helped Draco see the direction the hairs were going in, adding detail to the drawing he didn’t know was needed.

He gripped the towel between his finger tips of his other hand, but he felt some sort of guilt eating at his chest for rubbing away such work. But he didn’t want to be walking around with silly eyes and eyebrows on his hand, so with unwanted shame brewing in his chest he rubbed the fabric on the back of his hand, the once was ink smearing, covering his skin in black.

The girl frowned deeply as she watched once more the drawings she made were harshly rubbed away. The ink from her quill was a black blob now once the person was satisfied enough. Satisfied that the pictures were gone.

Her heart sank in her stomach for an unknown reason.

Well, she knew the reason, she just didn’t want to admit to herself that what her soulmate was doing was effecting her in this way.

She shouldn’t be surprised that he rubbed them off; I mean, who wants to walk around the corridors with silly drawings on the back of their hand? She didn’t have a problem with it, but he clearly did.

After the last moment of Lupin’s lecture faded away with the bell she grumbly got up and out her things away, making her way to the bathroom to rub the ink off. (Despite the nonexistent problem with walking around with drawings on herself, she did have a problem with walking around with a big ink smear in their place.)

She bent over the sink, her bag discarded at her feet as she rubbed the skin, forming red marks in their wake. The ink slowly ran down the drain, her heart going down with it.

She wished her soulmate accepted her actions on showing she was there, existing, live and breathing, to assure them that someone out there wanted them. But was he just embarrassed? Did he not want her as much as she thought he did? Did he have an annoyance towards the whole soulmate concept?

She sure hoped not, because her want to show her love was strong, yet the want to receive it was even stronger.

She wanted someone to love.

That loved her right back.

Did he even want that?

“Any drawings today, Malfoy?” Crabbe asked, a soft chuckle escaping his big mouth. Draco snarled at the boy beside him, also glaring at Goyle who was making interesting-meaning quite disgusting- noises while he was eating the feast the house elves provided.

The boy who received the glare quickly composed himself, swallowing the large amount of whatever it was down his throat, a loud gulping sound heard around the table.

Draco glared again.

Finally he turned to the other boy who addressed him earlier and replied reluctantly.

“No. Thank goodness. I’ve been sick and tired of constantly having to distress my skin; honestly, the embarrassment of walking around with a red tomato colored hand.”

Crabbe agreed with a hum, in the middle of chewing. Draco definitely noticed him paying extra attention to the noises he was making, so he didn’t annoy Draco any further.

“Never mind that,” Draco said, pulling through Daily Prophet out of his robes, long pale fingers flipping the pages until he got to the one he wanted.

“Father’s in the paper, as always.” He said proudly, showing the two boys the picture of his father. “Oh! And look!” He added, chuckling madly as he pointed to the same article, the name ‘Arthur Weasley’ printed as it told a story about him.

“Ridiculous, honestly.” Malfoy muttered, shoving the paper to Goyle across the table since he was (according to Draco) taking too long to read it.

“Ugh, Care of Magical Creatures today.” Draco complained, looking at his schedule. “That silly Hagrid, honestly, I swear I’m going to die each time I attend his classes.”

Goyle swallowed again. “Seriously, how many times does he have to bring in a deadly creature that might chop my head off-”

“Well I would certainly enjoy that.” Draco snapped. Goyle’s cheeks turned pink.

“God this place has gone to the dogs.” Draco muttered, stuffing his schedule in his pocket, taking one last gulp of pumpkin juice, and storming out of the Hall, and without question, the two boys followed him.

“‘Ello! Please step dis way,” Hagrid said, large hands clapping together. Draco scoffed but reluctantly followed the orders.

“Taken’ care of- well more of lookin’ at interestin’ creatures today; take a step back now.” He warned. (Malfoy gladly stepped back)

The crates ended up being full of slimy creatures Draco ended up forgetting the name of, too busy trying to keep his fingers attacked to his hands. “Gross, Goyle you do it.” He said, handing the boy the food and watched as his friend gave the creature its supper, hands shaking nervously.

Draco looked around as Goyle did the work, folding his arms as he watched with amusement as the Gryffindors struggled to feed the animals.

He then spotted another Slytherin working alone, the back of her head the only thing visible when it came to her features near her face.

Two small braids were on either side of her head, easily blending with her hair but he could see the twisted strands in the sunlight much easier.

She turned so he saw her profile, and, from what he could see, her eyes were bright but hesitant, a look of disgust on her lips as she fed the creature. As soon as all the food was gone, she instantly dropped the tool she was using to handle the food and grabbed a rag, wiping her hands off even though she didn’t touch it or the animal.

It was then Draco saw it. The small detail on her left hand, as so his.

A patch of distressed skin was there, in the same exact shape as Draco’s. He found himself looking at his own hand, then at hers, and back at his once again to double check.

They matched.

They matched.

Which means only one thing.

The girl that he’s never seen before, which was quite surprising since he often told himself that he knew all the Slytherins, was his soulmate.

What was more surprising though was something much weirder and stranger. And that something was this:

The realization didn’t bother him one bit.

Your father is just telling one of his iconic stories from his time at Hogwarts, about how he and his best friends once roamed the huge halls of the castle, and the overall atmosphere in the room is so far away from what Draco usually associates with family dinners.

No tension, no awkward silence, no fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment. An hour ago, Draco would have believed that it couldn't be any other way. The second he crossed the threshold into your family's house, however, he was convinced of the opposite.

James and Lily are the kindest people Draco has ever met. They welcomed him with open arms straight away, even though they didn't even know him - expect from what is general knowledge in the wizarding world about him and specifically his family of course. And maybe from the stories Harry told them, when Draco and Harry were still very far from ever sitting anywhere near each other. But over time, many things have changed and you played a big role in improving their difficult relationship.

At first, you couldn't believe that the boy who usually treated your brother like shit had suddenly turned into a completely different person in your presence. But he did and it didn't take long until stronger feelings developed. Harry certainly couldn't believe it but here you are, eating your mum's homemade food, chatting and laughing away.

"Tell me, Draco. Have you mastered the Patronus Charm yet? Y/N told us that you tried it in Defence against the Dark Arts recently. Should have happened way earlier in my opinion, but oh well", James asks your boyfriend, a smile on his lips and genuine interest evident on his face. Draco's parents wouldn't even think of asking something like that.

"Not quite. I mean I managed it, but unfortunately it hasn't taken on a shape yet", Draco replies kindly, but doesn't maintain eye contact with James as he's too uncomfortable. You know that such an answer would probably be punished by his parents if he ever were to say it aloud in front of them, which is why you reach for his hand under the table. On his thigh, you intertwine his fingers with yours, the silver sigil ring cold against your skin. Looking at him from the side, you squeeze his hand and softly smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetheart! You'll get to it", your mother cheers him up, smiling between the two of you and you just know she saw your intertwined hands and loving gaze. You also know that Draco did not expect such a kind reaction and even though he visibly relaxes, he doesn't know what to answer.

The topic of the conversation changes and your dad can't help himself but to ask Draco all about his Quidditch tactics. Obviously, he can't tell him a lot about it since Harry is sitting right next to him, but seeing the three most important men in your life talk so passionately about something they love makes your heart jump. They keep on chatting over dinner and when it's time to clear the table, they don't even notice your mother and you collecting all the plates, too focused on their conversation.

You smile to yourself, following your mum into the kitchen where you put the dirty dishes into the sink and let the water run over them. Immediately, you notice her staring at you with a soft smile on her lips.

"What?", you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"Nothing. It's just..", she says, stopping herself as if to think how to best phrase her next words. "You two remind me a lot of your dad and I when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes. The banter, the loving gazes, the not keeping your hands off each other", she giggles, drying the dishes you hand her with a towel. "From what I have seen so far, I feel like you're truly meant for each other. It seems like you compensate the weakness of the other."

"Mum, stop it", you chuckle, feeling the blush creep onto your cheeks but you know that she is right. She always is. And you truly feel like you can be yourself when Draco is around so you are glad that she genuinely accepts him.

"Don't tell your brother or your dad that I said that though", she then laughs, both of you knowing that the Potter men can be really protective. The moment Draco enters the kitchen, you stifle your laughter.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Potter?", he asks your mum politely and the knowing smile on your mother's face is so obvious you want to sink into the ground.

"Draco, how often do I need to tell you that you can call me Lily-"

"We're almost done, but thank you so much for offering. We'll be right back", you answer and Draco nods, leaving again.

"He is so sweet! What a gentleman!", your mum almost squeaks but lowers her voice so he can't hear her anymore. All you can hear as an immediate response to your mother's comment is a snort, coming from Harry who just entered the kitchen with two glasses, putting them into the sink.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a girlfriend", you mock him while your mum tries to hide her giggle.

"You had all the guys of Hogwarts at your disposal and you seriously went for Draco Malfoy", is all Harry says before leaving again, but deep down you know that if they truly hated each other the way they always pretend they do, they would not be sitting at a table together and they would definitely not be talking about Quidditch.

"He'll come around, don't worry", your mum tells you, stroking over your shoulder as she finishes drying off the last glass. Once all the dishes are back where they belong, you go back to the dining room, happy to see that they are still chatting away.

When Draco meets your gaze, he reaches for your hand and helps you sit down on your seat again. From the corner of your eye you see your parents looking at each other, understanding the other without a word and you can't stop thinking about what your mum just told you about their own young love back then.

That is how it works. You are in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere. Still in Britain, you think you decided that a while ago, but you’ve been trying not to make any details certain. They say the Death Eaters can look inside your brain, peel it apart by layers and learn every single damned secret you keep about the Order of the Phoenix. The less you know, the less you’ll give them, the better.

But how can you keep any secret for long? The few members of the Order that cross your path all bring back horrific stories of the torture inflicted upon the witches and wizards unfortunate enough to get themselves captured. You’re no hero. You’re just a magical person, trying to keep your part of the warfront intact, and if you were tortured, you’d give up whatever information you had for the pain to stop. It’s the same with everybody. They say the really gung-ho ones have started trying to master casting the Killing Curse wandless so they can off themselves once they’re captured, but you’ve been too afraid of accidentally turning it upon yourself too early to ever give that one a go.

So, you wait. You’re out here for a reason, after all. You are in charge of maintaining the northeastern Node, one in a chain of– well, you don’t know how many. That’s the point. No one should know all of anything. Your job is to maintain a small camp that can house up to a dozen members of the Order at any time, and keep it protected by a heavy curtain of protection charms and enchantments to ward off the Death Eaters. You’re in the forest surrounding a small town, far off the beaten trail. When they dropped you off here at the start of the war, they instructed you to refresh your hiding charms every day, but you’ve been at it a lot more frequently than that. It gives you something to do, at least. Something more than just staring at the odd assortment of chests and boots and odd Muggle trinkets littered in the center of your camp.

After all, you’re not just out here for fun. The point of the Node maintainers is that they safeguard an extensive collection of Portkeys that lead to the locations of various Order bases across Europe. Some, you can refresh yourself, but often members of the Order will drop by and swap out a boot for a hat, or a football for the broken head of a broomstick. They never tell you where the Portkeys go, and you’re not stupid enough to ask. Members appear and disappear out of nowhere, always in a hurry, always terrified, and then they leave you through another Portkey and you’re alone again.

You can’t tell which you would hate more, the endless torment of this solitary hideout in the forest or the constant peril of the front lines. You didn’t ask for this position, and the Order certainly wouldn’t trust anyone who did. You were pulled aside when assignments were first being handed out. You had been a member of Dumbledore’s Army back in your fifth year, and quite a promising spellcaster to boot, so you’d assumed you would have been drafted to fight just like many of the others.

Dumbledore’s Army. Merlin, it feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve spent many nights lying awake on your cot, remembering the complicated spells and jinxes you’d slung at your classmates as if you were in a dream. It feels impossible that could have happened just a few years ago. All you know now is dirt and blood, hiding and the looming fear of your eventual capture. The only life is the war. The fact that you could have ever existed beforehand, dressed in school robes, laughing with friends that hadn’t yet died, practicing the Expelliarmus charm while the afternoon sun filtered in through blue-tinted windows, is inconceivable.

All of Hogwarts seems like a distant memory now. How could it be that the biggest struggle in your life was trying to pass your classes, or getting enough points to win the House Cup? For years, your biggest enemy was a platinum blond Slytherin, and the only conflict in your life was finding a way to stay ahead of him in grades. You have no idea where Draco Malfoy is now, but based on his surname alone, you can assume he’s been drafted to fight just like you have, only on the opposite side.

You sigh, taking a careful glance at the forest surrounding you. It’s been a long time since you saw anyone from your school days, friend or otherwise. You have no idea if the people passing through your makeshift stronghold are running or pursuing, fleeing or fighting. You have only the barest notions of the war at all, only that it’s starting to go on longer than anyone expected and that hope is swiftly draining from everyone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are nowhere to be found. Witches and wizards disappear by the day, and then there’s people like you, split up, grasping at straws to figure out if your best friends have died yet.

What matters more than the physical Order is the idea of the Order, you decide. You have no idea how many members are still alive, if any are at all. You don’t know a single thing, only that you must remain at your Node and keep it safe. People come in from time to time, bleeding, ragged, half-dead already. You nurse some of them back to health, and bury others. Most leave after a few days. No one likes staying in one place for long, but you’ve been here eight months with no discernable change.

You used to go into town every now and then, during the early days. You’d transfigure rocks and leaves into Muggle money so you could buy food and necessities. It was morally wrong, maybe, and you’re certain that in a former life McGonagall had made you write a paper on the importance of only using transfiguration for ethical purposes, but you were starving more often than you weren’t and you had to get supplies somehow. After a close call that ended with Death Eaters combing the woods for you for weeks, however, you stopped your visits unless it was absolutely necessary.

Now, you don’t see anyone at all unless they’re stopping by your Node. They alternate between being maddeningly talkative and silent like the dead. You’re not sure which version unsettles you more, the ones who clutch the bony trees to support themselves while they whisper ceaselessly about the horrors they’ve seen, or the ones who curl up on the ground, shaking, mouth pressed together so firmly you almost wonder if their lips are stitched shut with a hex. Once they leave, you usually don’t see them again. Half the time, you find out from another walking ghost of the Order that they died in a battle some weeks later. No one stays alive for long.

It doesn’t matter what’s going on out there. None of that matters. The only important thing is maintaining the Portkeys. You’ve progressed to checking your protective charms hourly. Sometimes, Death Eaters apparate out of nowhere in the surrounding forest, and you have to press a hand over your mouth to stay silent as they walk so close they almost hear you breathing. One time, a pack of werewolves came through, and you swear they caught your scent. You’re certain they would have stuck around until they figured out how to pierce your enchantments and rip you to pieces were it not for the fact that they were called away by the appearance of a Dark Mark some distance to the east. That night, you checked your spells constantly, walking a never ending circle around your camp to make sure not a single sigil had faltered.

A shuffling sound behind you makes you startle, and you whip around to find that one of the Portkeys is shaking alarmingly. You whip out your wand, pointing it at the now furiously rattling Portkey and readying yourself for a fight. A sudden light glows from the object, bright and scalding, before growing to an impressive height and disappearing again. In its place is a man, his clothing rumpled and skin dashed with blood. Despite the gloom of the forest, a gold hoop shines from one of his ears. It looks like Kingsley Shacklebolt, but over the course of the war, you’ve had a lot of close encounters with what looked like your friends, and ultimately weren’t.

You don’t drop your wand for a second. “When you first met me, I was making a potion to heal an injured classmate. What were the core ingredients?”

The man doesn’t move a muscle. “Dittany and eagle feathers. What was the name of my first toad?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Since when have you had a toad?”

Your intruder points the tip of his wand at you. “Answer the question.”

You breathe out slowly, thinking. “Merlin, I haven’t the faintest of ideas. You’ve never mentioned a toad to me in your life. Is it a trick question?”

The wizard stares at you a second longer, then slowly lowers his wand. “Correct.”

You drop your wand with a sigh. “Kingsley, I have enough on my mind without you trying to break my brain. Come up with a question I know next time.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt arches a dark brow. “You did know the answer, which was the point. Any imitation would have guessed.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “And I nearly did, too. We’ve got few enough members of the Order as is, no need to go blowing the real ones to smithereens just because they’re too exhausted to play your mind games.”

Something in Kingsley’s expression relaxes a micrometer. “Another close call by the Death Eaters?”

You nod and shudder. “Three days ago. They haven’t been back since, and it was only in the town, not the forest, but still. They’re getting closer, I swear it.”

Kingsley sighs, taking a seat on a nearby tree stump. “I wouldn’t doubt it. No one knows the exact network of the Portkey Nodes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they guess at it.”

You nod slowly. “More of them have been taken out, haven’t they? The Nodes, I mean. I’ve had more traffic than at the start.”

Kingsley glances sharply at you. “Don’t take this as a sign to slip away, L/N. Your job is pivotal to the function of the Order. With the Portkeys, there’s less Apparition into the safehouses, and we can make stronger defense charms. We rely on the Nodes to keep our people safe.”

You hold up your hands in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m not trying to argue, just gauge how many of us are gone.”

Kingsley looks away. “No way of telling.”

A heavy silence hangs over the clearing. You’re the one to break it at last, once the quiet seems like it’ll choke you. “Are you staying long?”

“Afraid not,” Kingsley says. “I’m behind schedule already.”

“Of course,” you reply, trying not to let your disappointment seep through into the words. It’s just– it’s been so long since you had a visitor stick around longer than five minutes, and of course you know they’re only here for transit between safehouses, but the loneliness is eating away at you.

Kingsley looks at you with a tinge of regret. “Actually, you may not be on your own for much longer. We’ve–” His voice breaks off, and he takes a cautious glance around the forest before continuing more quietly, “We’ve acquired a spy on the other side. Someone high up has agreed to feed us information on Voldemort’s troop movements and planned attacks.”

You inhale sharply. “You’re serious?”

“As the grave,” Kingsley nods. “I don’t want to reveal details out here, without knowing who’s listening, but it’s someone important. They’ll come once a week to give you reports, and you’ll hand off the information to the next Order member returning to headquarters. You’ll know it’s the spy because they’ll use a passcode. Saltwater.”

“I understand,” you say, but your mind is reeling. Winning over a spy is huge, to say the least. You knew there had been attempts throughout the whole course of the war, but most Death Eaters were too afraid of Voldemort’s wrath to risk such a thing. So you’d thought at least, but it appears the tide has turned in your favor.

Kingsley nods, and tells you to watch yourself before grabbing hold of another Portkey and disappearing. You’re left to stand by yourself in the forest, with only the waving boughs of the trees overhead for company.

The idea of the spy keeps you preoccupied for days after. Kingsley hadn’t said when the spy would come, but you doubt he has any more idea of it than you do. However this spy is, they probably want to keep as many details to themselves as possible. You have no doubt that the only reason they’re having you of all people meet the spy is because you’re in the middle of nowhere and don’t know enough about the battle plans of the Order to be worth anything if captured, but it still sparks some iota of pride in your heart.

You’re now hyper aware of every disturbance in the forest, if you weren’t already. Once, a dead branch falls off a tree, and you swear your heart nearly stops from fear. And then, four days after your meeting with Kingsley, someone appears in the forest. It’s not the spy, though. It can’t be. It’s a Death Eater, clearly hunting through the woods, and it’s–

It’s Draco Malfoy. You rise as stealthily as you can from your seat near the edge of camp, wand already in hand, and silently watch him comb through the trees. You’re certain that the spy must already have been found out, that they’ve sent someone as notorious as a Malfoy to kill you and show the Order for good what happens when you try to turn their own against them. Draco turns his head from side to side, constantly scanning the area like a fine hunting dog. His wand is wrapped between long, slender fingers, and you know without knowing that were he to find you now, you would be lucky to receive only the Killing Curse.

His relentless pace slows as he draws closer to the camp. You had renewed your illusion charms only half an hour ago, and you’re certain they’ll hold, but you’re damned if he doesn’t seem like he knows exactly where he’s going. You watch with bated breath as he comes closer, closer, and then, all of a sudden, stops right in front of the boundary to your camp. You can see the sigils and symbols magicked in a circle around you, but he can’t. Surely, he can’t. You’re frozen in place, close enough that he could reach out a hand and grasp your arm if he wanted.

On the exterior of the protective charms, all Draco should be able to see is an impenetrable wall of thickets and brambles, too difficult to traverse and not worth the difficulty of burning away. You’ve been complimented on your spells a few times by now, with several Order members who had attempted to walk to you having to receive significant direction by you to make it inside. Apparently, there’s such a strong wayward charm that it requires substantial mental focus not to turn around immediately, yet there Draco Malfoy remains, mere breaths away, and, damnedly enough, smiling. The points of his lips have crooked up into a slight grin, as if he’s pleased, almost, that he’s about to kill you.

You stay there for what feels like lifetimes. He’s staring dead into your eyes, but somehow you know that he cannot see you. You try to keep your breath calm and quiet, even though you know the heavy enchantments blanketing the camp should hide that for you.

Still, when he finally turns and walks away, you feel as if you have just been pulled from a noose of certain death. You still don’t move, but your shoulders drop slightly, cushioned by a weight of relief. Draco stalks across the clearing, moving further than closer, back and forth. At last, after what must be twenty minutes of thorough searching, Draco stops moving altogether and says,

“You can come out now, you know.”

The terror returns in full force. This is exactly what you’d feared, a Death Eater sent to hunt you down for good. Kingsley wouldn’t admit it, but you’re certain they’ve gotten to some of the other Nodes. Someone must have spilled about you being here, and now Draco has been sent to scourge your brain of every last secret you’ve got.

You remain silent, mentally readying yourself to fight. Draco turns in a slow half circle, back to face you again. “I’m not going to kill you. I appreciate the secrecy, I do, but if I really wanted you dead, I would set the whole damned place alight with Fiendfyre and call it a day. Your spells are good, but surely not good enough to save you from that.”

Confusion starts to radiate through you. After another few moments of silence, Draco heaves a frustrated sigh and starts stalking towards you. “I know you’re here. We’re both wanting the same damn thing, now come out already. I don’t have all day. I felt the strongest push from around here,” he says, drawing ever closer to you, “so I must assume you’re lurking just a little bit away.”

He stops moving right in front of you again. His face is irritated, an expression you’ve grown quite familiar with from years of rivalry centered around test scores and essay comments. Now, though? Draco is a Death Eater. He wants you dead. You’re leagues beyond your petty classroom fights. Yet you still see traces of the boy in the face of the man before you, and you cannot help but mourn everything the two of you left behind in a brightly lit classroom one midnight in June without even knowing it.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Don’t come out. You’re the one who needs me more than I need you.” A pause, a beat, a caught breath, and then he whispers out one last word– “Saltwater.”

Your eyes widen. It’s him. It can’t be him. It must be him. Draco Malfoy is your spy. You should really take the time to think this over, but all of a sudden you’re so afraid he’ll leave without giving you the information that you throw caution to the winds and step out from your protective barrier. Draco hasn’t really given you a lot of room between him and the edge of your camp, so when you emerge, seemingly out of nowhere from his perspective, you’re practically a breath away.

Draco is careful to keep his expression slack, but you swear you see a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Y/N,” he says, the slow drawl of confidence gone from his voice.

You just look at him coldly. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I haven’t got all day,” you say, mirroring what he’d called to you in the clearing just moments before.

Draco lets out a sharp exhale that might almost be a laugh, but quickly recovers his haughty countenance from before. “Y/N L/N. I assumed it must be you. We hadn’t killed you yet, so either you had never joined this fight to begin with or you were hiding in your own shadow out here like I suspected.”

You arch a brow. “You think I’m hiding in my own shadow? Seems an awfully good shadow to me if you couldn’t find me without help.”

Draco scoffs. “I knew you were here. Trust me, if I really wanted to kill you, I would have smoked you out.”

“I’m sure you knew,” you say condescendingly. “Is that why you first started talking to that tree over there when you were trying to get me to come out?”

Draco’s jaw tightens imperceptibly. “If this is how you treat all your spies, I’m not surprised the Order doesn’t have so many. It’s not exactly the finest of hospitality.”

“What,” you ask, “You want me to invite you into my camp? Not a chance.”

Draco looks amused. “You still think I’m going to betray you? I haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“And you still might,” you answer him. “I’m no stranger to the war, Malfoy. I’m not foolish enough to trust you just because you knew one passcode.”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all day,” Draco says, but you swear he looks annoyed nonetheless. “I suppose you’ll want your end of the bargain now, won’t you? Information on the dreaded Dark Lord?”

“I do,” you say, and hold out a hand.

Draco ignores it. “This seems awfully generous of me, doesn’t it? Don’t you wonder what your Order has promised me in return for my willingness to betray my own?”

You can’t pretend that you haven’t wondered this exact thing. Knowing that your spy is Draco doesn’t exactly erase the question, either. What could Draco possibly want that a lifetime elevated as a Malfoy in Voldemort’s army and all the untold treasures of his family’s inheritance couldn’t buy? Still, you’re certain Draco is just fishing for gaps in your armor, and you’re not about to give him one this easily.

You smile at him winningly. “Maybe you’re finally in touch with your conscience and decided to do this free of charge. Maybe you just dream of the day when you can dance in the sunshine and pick wildflowers without having to fight in the Dark Lord’s army.”

Draco doesn’t look amused, even if you are. “Delusion and optimism are two sides of a coin, L/N. Take care not to cross them.”

You roll your eyes and hold out your hand again, more firmly this time. “I’ll take care when you mind your manners, Malfoy. It’s not kind to keep an old friend waiting.”

“Old friends,” Draco says contemplatively. “Is that what we are?”

Still, he reaches into the depths of his cloak and pulls out a scroll, tightly bound shut and hexed with various enchantments, which he dissolves with a touch of his wand before handing it to you.

“We can be whatever you want, Draco,” you tell him obsequiously, “Just as long as you keep bringing me information, that is.”

“For encounters like these,” he muses sarcastically, “Who wouldn’t?”

You flash him a sardonic smile before turning and disappearing back across your enchanted barrier and into the camp once more. You walk a few paces to the side to determine if Draco can still track your movement, but he remains riveted where he was, staring into apparently empty space. Maybe it’s just delusion as he said, but you swear he almost looks impressed.

A moment later, he turns and walks back the way he’d come. Half an hour passes before you hear the telltale crack of Apparition. He must be intentionally coming closer on foot to avoid detection by the other Death Eaters.

You may not like Draco Malfoy, but you can’t deny that you’re impressed by his willingness to help the Order as a spy. He, of all people, would be aware of the risks of his discovery. In fact, he’s likely the one responsible for torturing the would-be spies among the other Death Eaters. If Draco is found out, they will rip him to pieces. His death will be agonizing, and slow, and brutal, because it has to be. If a Malfoy can turn, then anyone can. It’s not exactly the message the Dark Lord wants to spread.

Your attention returns to the scroll in your hand. Draco risks torture and death to bring you this. You’ve taken your own risk by meeting him. This could be nothing more than nonsense, a ploy to trick you into thinking that you’ve got a spy just so Draco can return with a squad of Death Eaters. He knows where you are now. He may not know all the details of the Node, but he can probably guess. You’ve shown him exactly where the barrier is, practically handed him the key, all for the hope that this scroll contains something useful.

Still, even though it may be foolish, you can’t shake the feeling that Draco didn’t betray you after all, that he is on your side. Maybe it was because he seemed almost impressed that he couldn’t crack your spellwork. Or maybe, just maybe, there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in the other half of your greatest academic rival, and pretend that some part of your time in the halls of Hogwarts Castle has not been wholly corrupted by this great war.

It’s impossible, most likely, but you’ve seen worse. This could be better.

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫... as Draco Malfoy hurried through the hallways, distancing himself as far away from the Dungeons as he could. However, he needed to step up his pace if he wanted Professor Snape to lose him among the plethora of students squandering the corridors. The wooshing of his cape and the fast approach of his footsteps still sounded too close to Draco for his comfort.

“Stop at once!” Snape’s voice bellowed through the corridor, making students around him look up in fright, afraid he might have it out for one of them. Draco sprinted up the stairs, stumbling into some second years as he stopped for a split second to take in his surroundings— more students, but not enough to blend in with. His eyes scanned the hallway and then fell on one of the storage closet doors. It was ajar. Without thinking he rushed inside, trying his best to let the heavy dark wooden door fall silently shut. He breathed through his nose, trying to regain his breathing quietly, and heard students mumble and jump away as Professor Snape’s voice neared. 

Draco was close to letting out a yell of surprise when the wooden door opened and fell shut in its hinges with a loud clang, making him jump aside into the shadows of the closet as someone bumped into him. But when he looked up, he didn’t find Professor Snape staring down at him. Instead, he had to lower his eyes a couple of centimetres before they met those of a girl. 

“Bloody hell, do you-” His cuss was cut short by the hiss of the girl in front of him, staring at the door in the dark of the closet.

“Shut it-” Almost as quickly, the girl shoved his wand back down, stopping him from casting Lumos and quite possibly betraying her hiding space. The two waited, in the dark, unaware of who the other actually was. The girl’s ear was tightly pressed against the door, eager to find out if the coast was clear. Getting impatient, Draco shoved her aside, wanting to listen for himself. 

“Why-”

The girl shushed him again and softly slapped against his hand which was starting to put too much weight on the door, making it creak in protest. Somewhere in the distance, they couldhear the students disperse after the grande bell in the Clock Tower roared through the school three times. 

Draco sighed in relief, knowing Snape must have left in order to make it to his class, and so he cast Lumos to find the door handle in the dark. He clumsily and somewhat harshly shoved the girl aside once more,

“Out of my way.” Once his wand lit up the closet, he could finally see who he had been in hiding with, and his jaw slacked and his ears turned red when he realised he never meant to be so rude to the girl in front of him. 

Y/N stared back at him, eyes full of shock and terror at the realisation of who she had been sharing the cramped closet with, and she didn't even register the soft and mumbled apology that Draco muttered under his breath until she saw his lips move. Embarrassed by looking at his lips, her eyes immediately shot up to his, but the nerves and blush that coated her cheeks immediately after that made her realise how big of a mistake that decision had been.

“I- um… I… sure, of course.” She stammered, moving past him to give him the room, growing even more embarrassed as she stepped on his feet, making the sixth-year Slytherin hiss in pain. 

“I’m so sorry! Merlin, I-”

“It’s fine,” Draco mumbled quickly, but not nearly as harshly as he would have treated anyone else. 

Draco cleared his throat, masking his own nerves, and rattled the doorknob, simultaneously pushing his whole weight against the heavy door. It didn't budge, not even a millimetre. 

“What the-”

“Alohomora.” Y/N flicked her wand quickly, wanting to help the boy out and not make more of a fool of herself. Only the door didn't open after the basic spell.

Surprised, Draco looked back at her for a split second before turning back to the door to try it himself. 

“Alohomora.” Nothing. He repeated himself a couple of times, through gritted teeth, before finally shoving his wand back in his robe. 

“What did you do to it before you walked in?”

Taken back by the accusation and the annoyed furrow of Draco’s brows, the girl felt too accused to realise her initial fright, “Me? I didn’t do anything.” She rattled the doorknob once more, not liking the accusing tone the Slytherin used, “You were here before me.”

Draco sniffed in disdain and punched the door, “Is that why you came here, to lock me up with you?” The moment he said it and saw the look on Y/N’s face, he wished he hadn’t. His anger had taken over once more. It wasn’t a rare occurrence as of late. The task the Dark Lord had given him weighed heavily on him, and it was even worse that he could tell no one. He had to lie, even if he knew that Dumbledore was probably well aware of everything going on. If that all wasn’t worse enough, Snape had been breathing down his neck ever since the first day of school. He needed to do this himself, and he sure as hell didn’t need any help. 

He noticed Y/N’s silence and saw the girl with her arms crossed, in an attempt to hug herself to comfort while staring down at the tiled floor. This was his doing, his actions had caused her to shut herself out. He didn’t know the girl on a personal level, but had shared classes with her for years and had often caught himself staring at her. Never had he ever seen her this uncomfortable. He hated himself for being the reason behind it. 

“Sorry.” He said curtly, for the first time in years apologising to someone other than his father. The girl merely shrugged in reply, as a way to shake it off, but Draco could see how bad it made her feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“It’s fine, Draco.” She finally said, his name rolling off her tongue like silk. 

He tried to keep the most distance he could in the cramped closet, to not make her even more uncomfortable. Only he failed to realise that her silence and unease weren't because of his comments, but because of his presence. You see, in some other reality where Y/N wasn’t as shy as she was, she would have loved being trapped in a closet with the boy she’s had the biggest crush on ever since first seeing him. Perhaps she would even make use of it. But in this reality, the only thing she wanted to happen was for the floor to swallow her whole. She tried her best to hide the blush on her cheeks by focusing on the ground. She would never act on her crush on the Malfoy boy. She'd always been intimidated by him, for his status, wealth and friends created some sort of distance between him and everyone else at Hogwarts. Not to mention, Draco Malfoy made it all too clear how much he loathed Muggleborns on a day-to-day basis. She was too different from him in every way, he would never like someone like her, let alone her. She cowered away at that realisation. 

Y/N had admired the boy from afar for years, cheeks turning scarlet whenever he so much as glanced her way. She had made sure to be discreet about it, and was almost certain that the boy had no clue. Pansy and the others had though, oh they had, and they made it painfully clear as well. They made fun of her whenever she walked by. Draco never joined their jesting or laughter, probably too busy to be wanting to pay her attention anyway. But Y/N couldn’t help but pay attention to the silver haired boy each and every opportunity she got. Hence why it had become clear that he was changing. He could stare off into the distance for the duration of a whole class, he seemed to shut himself out from his friends and no longer made it his duty to pester anyone different from him. He had turned more skittish, more anxious. Unfortunately she would never find out why, nor dare to ask. For now, she would have to keep it at secret glances, even if they weren’t so secret to Draco.

Draco put a finger to his mouth when footsteps approached, and a shadow was seen to stand in the light below the creak of the door. The pair grew quiet, until the footstep disappeared again. 

Relieved, Draco turned to lean against the cold wall, staring at the girl in front of him and shamelessly taking in every detail that was available to him in this little light. The girl was beautiful, but that wasn’t something he hadn't been aware of already.  However, he had never been up close to her before, so he took his time taking her in. Another blush crept on Y/N’s cheeks when the boy shamelessly stared at her, checking her out.

He tilted his head in curiosity, “So why are you hiding here?”

Y/N swallowed, realising she wouldn’t be able to come up with a believable lie without stuttering or stumbling over her words, “I um… They were messing with me.” Draco tilted his head the other side, wanting her to elaborate, “They tried to throw a few hexes at me so I ran.” The burning of her cheeks didn't disappear when she revealed how she had run like a coward and had done so for the past six years.

“Who?” He quipped.

Y/N bit her lip, contemplating wether to come clean or not. But who was she kidding? The whole school knew of Pansy’s disdain against her.

“Pansy and her friends.”

Realising that Pansy’s friends were also Draco’s, she tried the doorknob again, “I’m sorry, I can go. No, I should go. I’ll find another spot. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Draco listened to her rambles and the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. He wasn’t enjoying her anxiety, no, he found it adorable how she wanted to flee from him so bad when all she had done for the past six years was probably wish for a moment like this. 

“I don’t think it will open. We’ve tried already, remember?” He teased, then saw it didn’t do anything to calm her down. “Relax- It’s fine.” He assured. 

Y/N let out a relieved breath, “Right, good. Because this is my usual spot.” She surprised herself by the joke that so effortlessly rolled of her lips, “So if anything, it should be you having to scurry away.”

Amused, Draco raised an eyebrow, and then he laughed, impressed by her quick wit. Either Y/N was growing confident, or she was still too shocked to be in a closet with him to think of anything she was saying. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, by the way.” His voice now close to a whisper, he pushed himself off the wall. Once again, he found himself needing to apologise, “Sorry if I did. I was frustrated.” He knew it was a shitty excuse, but noticed the girl’s shoulders relaxing. 

Then for a third time, he opened his mouth to apologise, “I’m sorry they’ve been treating you that way.” 

Y/N’s eyes snapped up to his, surprised at the sudden statement in which he did not back his friends, for all that she knew, for the first time ever.

“I don’t think you’re ugly, daft or boring, by the way. You’re quite the marvellous witch.”

“I thought Mudbloods can’t be witches.” The challenging reply had left her mouth before she could stop it, but she was surprised to see the crooked grin on his face, instead of an annoyed scowl like the one that he would usually sport. 

He wagged a finger and nodded his head, “Keeping me on my toes, I see. Good.” He stared at her again with that unbridled sense of confidence and pride, and Y/N found herself wanting to slap it off his perfectly sculpted Grecian face. 

“Better than all those fools who just nod at everything I say and don’t have an opinion of their own.”

“I think they want to agree with what you have to say because you can be quite intimidating, did you know?” Y/N slid down the wall and landed on a wooden crate. 

He stared at her, letting her words land in his head before following her example and sitting down. 

“Perhaps.” He pursed his lips, “That still gives you more guts than any of them. Didn’t know you had it in you.” The backhanded compliment didn't fly over her head, if anything, it made her incredibly aware of the situation again. 

She swallowed, and with a small voice, she muttered, “You don’t know me at all.”

Draco let out a big breath, one that served as a reply of its own. Too bad he didn’t have the luxury to befriend whoever he wanted. No, they had to be of status, wealthy or pureblood. Otherwise, his family’s name would be tainted and they would be shunned. He had always believed his parents when they had told him how things were supposed to be. But ever since he had caught Y/N staring at him, he had started to notice her, too. What he had also noticed? How his views and opinions slowly started to fade and change. He often hated the universe for making her a Mudblood or being born to a family of no importance. If only things could have been different, who knows, maybe he could have pursued her. If only his family hadn't been tied so closely to the Dark Lord, maybe he could've gotten away with doing whatever he wanted to do. Then again, if he failed to succeed in killing Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would have his head, so maybe he should just take the plunge. 

Her words hung in the air and the silence that followed was only interrupted by the second banging of the Clock, signalling that everyone had to be in their classrooms now. The girl in front of him let out a frustrated groan at the realisation she would have to miss her Herbology exam now that she was still stuck. 

“What?”

“I’ll miss my Herbology exam.”

Draco sniffed his nose, thinking there were worse things to miss out on. 

“Okay- you might think of it as unimportant and stupid, seeing as with one little wag of his finger, your father will have changed all your grades, but I actually have to work hard for my grades.”

Draco’s head whipped hear way, but he stayed quiet. Had anyone else talked to him this way, he would have lost it. But he could only stare at the girl, stunned. He realised that she saw him just like everyone else— like a spoiled and entitled brat. 

Y/N kept still, realising her mistake when she saw the conflict and pain in the boy’s eyes. 

After a few seconds, Draco opened his mouth, “It’s not like that at all, if you must know. My father would actually have my head if I only had bad grades. But I can’t blame you for not knowing that, we don’t know each other, remember?” He spoke slowly, immediately balling his fists afterwards to conceal the anger still left in him, the anger he definitely did not want to throw at her again.

Draco stood back up to throw his fists against the door instead, in hopes that someone would hear him.

“Hey! Let me out or you will hear from my father!” His lips sneered and Y/N was caught off guard by how quickly his demeanour could change. Just now, when he had been talking to her, he had turned so silent and soft, almost understanding, something she had never seen him do before. She had brought that side out of him, but now he was back to being that same brash Malfoy boy that everyone knew— and hated. 

Y/N sighed and threw her head in her hands, making Draco look at her. Of course, this was pure torture for the girl, to be trapped in a closet with him. And after all that his words had ruined in the mere span of five minutes, who could blame her?

“Can’t stand the thought of being anywhere near me? Do you want to get out of this closet so badly? I can't get out of it, or I would've. If only just to ease your nerves.” He teased, testing the waters, then realised why the girl next to him grinned softly.

“Oi, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do you find the closet comfortable then?”

“Only this one, with this company.” He said it with a laugh as a smirk slipped past his lips, surprising even himself. 

Y/N’s face flushed a bright red once more and this time Draco found his stomach tickling after witnessing it. He stared at her face again, long, then right into her eyes. He felt himself smiling once more. He cleared his throat, not wanting to dive in deeper, for now.

“So, um, Herbology then, yes?”

“What about it?”

“Is that your favourite subject?”

Y/N sat back once more and looked at him only to see the boy was being genuine, trying to make some smalltalk. She grinned.

“One of my favourites, yes. Although it’s hard to pick a favourite when you’re a student at a Wizarding School and didn’t grow up with it all. I want to indulge as much as I can.”

Draco nodded, realising the girl was hinting at her Muggleborn status.

“So what’s the muggle world like?” He asked after thinking hard and long of a question, finding himself ridiculous for being so nervous about her reaction, “How much does it really differ from ours?”

He knew he had asked the right question when he saw her face light up with glee, “Well, for starters, we don’t use apparition or the floo network, so travelling takes longer. When we have to get something, we can’t use Accio and-”

He smiled at her, truly smiled, as he listened to her passionately talk about her life back home. He gave himself a small pat of victory for getting the girl from looking at the ground to looking into his eyes, to making her feel comfortable enough to share something so personal. 

He answered the questions she asked in return and found himself enjoying her company immensely. The conversation flowed naturally, but it came to an abrupt stop when the door suddenly opened swiftly.

Professor Snape stood before them, but the two didn't realise until their eyes finally adjusted to the sudden harsh light. They were filled in horror when they saw their Professor looking down at them, taking them in, glaring into their eyes uncomfortably long. Snape looked between the two, then into the closet, and it doesn’t take a fool to see what assumption he was making. He lifted an eyebrow, once again taking the two squeezed-together teenagers in. Unsure whether to speak up about it, he sneered his lip in abhorrence, gave it another few seconds to ponder over, and then decided to skip the awkward conversation,

“Next time don’t run away when I call you or I’ll leave you there locked for eternity, Malfoy.” He spoke slowly, then quickly paraded away. 

The two walked out of the closet, weirded out by the sudden encounter, then turned to each other,

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble with Sprout,” Draco offered a kind smile, which the girl returned,

“And you with Snape… with whatever it is you did."

Draco nodded, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. 

“You’re not so bad as they all make you out to be, but I already had a hunch,” Y/N spoke as she adjusted her hair, now aware they’re both in daylight again and not in the dark where she had been able to hide away in the shadows. But Draco didn't care. He took her in once more, and nodded his head pleasingly. 

“I’ll see you around.” The girl smiled softly, then turned to walk away until Draco stopped her,

“Same place, same time, next week?” 

He joked, realising that having Y/N as company hadn’t been so bad. To be quite frank, he was already looking forward to seeing her again.

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

“I’m sorry, what?” Narcissa asked as she turned her head to face her husband. Clearly, Lucius looked onto his wife as they found themselves lost at the news. “This may be rubbish, but my son has a girlfriend?” Lucius asked Mr. Zabini, hoping that it was just a rumour going around. Mr. Zabini clicked his tongue, “Apparently, yes. Me and my wife witnessed your son on Diagon Alley giving such gifts and…affection towards her, and we asked our son if it was true then I’m afraid it’s not a rubbish rumour to be messed around.” he answered, he then leaned closer to the couple, “and i heard that the girl may be from a blood-traitor family who was a… muggle-born.” he whispered.

Narcissus gasped horribly and Lucius was more shocked than he ever was since the confirmation of his son’s secret relationship. Narcissa looked at the man who broke the news, “for how long?” she inquired. The next answer awaits as Mr. Zabini chuckled at the amusement that he’s witnessing as of today. He then chuckled, “I heard since they were in their 4th year. Quite long isn’t it?”

“It…is…” Lucius commented.

Narcissa was quiet the whole time as she tried to recollect the past things that Draco had done. At first she thought of him having something that is not-so like him, it began on his fifth year’s christmas holiday. Dobby back then called Draco while he was writing in his room meanwhile narcissa was talking about a journey she wants to have in the future summer break.

“M-master draco!” Dobby's voice squeaked as he knocked on the young master’s door.

“Come in.” Draco said. The door opened to reveal the small house elf walking towards him with a letter in hand. “Dobby received a letter for the young master…” he slowly gave the letter to draco to which the boy took the letter and began to scan it. A small smile crept on his face as he saw the handwriting of yours.

Narcissa saw a bit of her son, smiling a bit. “Is it from a girl?” she asked. Draco flinched  a bit as he cursed himself for being careless. He turned his head to face his mother, “uh, no it’s not. It’s from Blaise's letter that I requested to meet him after the holiday.” he reasoned. On the outside, he was very calm and collected as if nothing was suspicious in him but deep down he already made a will mentally if ever he was now caught by his mother.

“Ah I see… But please do remember my dear that next week, we’ll be having dinner with the greengrass manor. They have invited us and I wish for your best behaviour,”she softly spoke and stood up from draco’s bed and began to walk towards the door.

And the other memory played on her head when he was in his sixth year, on a summer break.

“Draco dear?” Narcissa called her son. Draco, a few minutes later, arrived from the hall. “Yes mother?” he asked. Narcissa gestured to her son to come and sit beside her as she drank her afternoon tea. “Come, sit. I may have things to ask you.” she said and placed her cup of tea down on the table on her side. “Where were you last night? The house elves told me that you left, is..there something wrong?” she worriedly asked.

Draco gulped as he remembered what he had exactly gone to, to you. He secretly used the floo powder, quickly enough to to be seen by anyone. “Uh, i went to Theo’s manor, he owled me for the last minute and it seems urgent on the note.” he reasoned back. If lying was  competition to his mother or literally anyone else, he would have been a champion.

As her son explained what happened, he noticed something on her son’s neck; a bruise. She went closer and touched the bruise on her son’s neck and draco flinched. “Where did you get this? Did someone hurt you? Oh sweet salazar!” she said worriedly.

“Mum! It’s alright, I just got hit by Theo’s broom, that's all.” he lied. Oh how he looked pathetic, lying to his own mother. If you were watching today, you would have been laughing and teasing him on how a mommy’ boy he really is.

“Darling, are you okay?” Draco asked you as he zipped up the dress you were wearing. Earlier, he felt that you were being tense in the whole preparation for the ball that Hogwarts has prepared. Who wouldn't be okay? His parents will be where and you were scared for the fact that his father and mother will tell you off to be away from him because you were just a muggle-born unlike him, a pureblood wizard.

“Yeah! I’m okay.” you replied.

“You’re lying love. Look, mother and father wouldn’t hurt you okay? I’m here and besides, I think I'm ready to make us public. I have to be away from anyone but you, I'll be following you, yeah? ”how he just simply reassures you in a soft way. He kissed your cheek and fixed your hair by putting a small strand on the side, slowly sliding it at the back of your ear.

“I've been waiting for this day to come, Draco,” you replied. You tip-toed closer to him and gave him a small peck on his lips. “And thank you love, for the reassurance. I feel a lot better.” you smiled and he smiled back. 

“Are you ready?” he asked and you held his hand, “i’m ready.” you replied. And both of you went to the great hall together.

“Everyone, thank you for our effort on attending this very special night for all of us. Now that another batch of outstanding witches and wizards will be graduating and the previous students who have attended in this school gather here to celebrate the success of our new batch! Let us give them a round of applause!” Dumbledore announced happily. Everyone clapped simultaneously and the music began to play in harmony. 

Most of the students danced along and the elders were happy watching the youth in front of them as it reminded them of their younger years here at hogwarts. The Malfoy couple stayed together and hoped to find their son in the crowd.

But Lucius was too good at finding his own son. Because of the platinum hair he and draco have, but the longer he saw you beside him, holding his hand while draco’s hand crept onto your waist, caressing it ever so firmly.

As another half, Narcissa looked onto her husband, locking eyes onto someone and with his expression, showing sternness. She followed the way where he was looking, she saw Draco and you. 

She witnessed how Draco looked at you. It was soft and full of admiration. And you talk to your peers, and his hand on your waist, she can see how her son has fallen way too deep on you. Draco whispered something in your ear and you smiled. Draco initiated a dance and you gladly accepted his hand. With no hesitation, he held your waist one again and placed your hand on his shoulder and locked both hands and started dancing along with the music.

Narcissa felt happy and content how Draco smiled frequently and let out some small laugh. Draco was having fun and so was you. Now she gets how her son hides his relationship with his own parents. She then remembered her sister, Andromeda. On what happened in her years for her sister, this may be the reason she ran away from the wizarding world and chooses to be with the person she loves. As she thought of it, if something happens to you and her son’s relationship, Narcissa doesn’t want to lose someone dear to her, Not on her watch today.

She heard her husband’s mutter under his breath and began to take a step forward, but Under her watch, nothing would happen. Not her son’s happiness, she’s ready to fight for it.

“Lucius, let him be,” she softly said as she stopped her husband from taking another step. She looked at Lucius who was conflicted whether to follow his beliefs or his wife. 

“But—”

“Not now Lucius, let our son be happy. I do not care with the blood status, thet?” she pointed to both you and Draco happily dancing, “ that is definitely pure love, not pure-blooded based love.”

Lucius stopped and gave a sigh. He really can’t argue enough, with Narcissa especially.

You and Draco escape after the dance, you both walked on an empty hallway, all the way to the astronomy tower.

“Do you think they saw it?” you asked. You swayed your hand with his as you walked along. Draco laughed, “I think they did. Father looked a bit mad but i don’t care.” he proudly said.

You both continued to walk. As the night goes on, the coldness in the castle gets colder per hour. You shivered at the feels because of the dress you were wearing. Draco noticed how you shivered at the coldness. He simply removed his suit and covered it on you, making you warm.

“Thank you dray. But aren’t you feeling cold?” you asked and he just simply shook his head. 

“My manor was too cold. Pretty much I’ve been used to it, I guess.” he replied.

You chuckled, “acting strong eh? Come on dray i know you’re cold,” you took his suit from you and gave it to him and he pushed it off and he forcefully put it on you. You fought back and until you both looked like kids fighting over something so silly.

“Ahem.”

You both stopped as you stopped and looked to the direction where the voice was. 

It was his mother, Narcissa. 

In your mind, you were freaking out and our mind was literally saying: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Mother,” Draco said and she nodded her head ever so gracefully. “I heard rumours about you,” she said and looked over at you, “y/n was it?” she asked. You gulped and nodded. In a sudden moment, Draco was nervous, and so were you. You can feel his grip tightened. You tightened it back so he can feel you. 

“I see,” she says. “I have my trust on you y/n.” she smiled.

Both you and Draco widened eyes. Both of you were surprised. You simultaneously looked at one another, you were too stunned to speak, and so was he. 

“I-i will,” you replied in a stuttering voice. Narcissa smiled warmly at you. “Come by the manor and have tea with me someday, I hope Draco won’t mind?” she asked. Draco shook his head, “No mother, actually it’s perfect. Thank you, mother.” he said. 

“Alright then, I'll be on my way. I’ll handle your father Draco, go have fun, but not too much fun, okay?” a hint of tease from Narcissa’s voice made you feel flustered and embarrassed. She then walked away and disappeared.

Draco clicks his tongue, “so we can still have fun right?” he teased you

“draco!”

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