#serpent queen

“The serpent has awakened,” the priest said, his voice rough from shouting over the storm that had raged for three days. “The fields are ruined, and the river runs dark. The offering must be made before the next moon, or she will come for us all.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. You felt it before you understood it, a shift in their eyes, the weight of many turning toward you.

Someone whispered your name.

Then another.

Your heart began to pound.

“Why me?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. 

You were not born here. You had come to this place as a child, left behind after your parents died on the road. You were quiet, gentle, and strange. People liked you well enough when they needed your help, but when fear came, you were always the first they thought of.

The eldest woman stepped forward. 

“The serpent takes only those unmarked by sin,” she said. “You are kind, untouched. She will accept you.”

Her words were meant to sound merciful. They only made you shake.

Before you could speak again, hands reached for you, calloused, shaking, but determined. 

They bound your wrists with rope and led you through the square as you cried out their names, begged them to stop. No one would meet your eyes.

The path to the cave wound through the forest. It was dark, the trees slick with rain, the air thick with the scent of wet leaves. You stumbled on roots, your bare feet bleeding. The huntsmen lit torches, the light catching the edges of their faces.

When they reached the clearing near the mountain, they tied you to a tree facing the mouth of the cave. It yawned black and deep, a wound in the stone.

One of the men mumbled a prayer. Another threw a handful of herbs into the darkness, a useless offering.

You struggled against the ropes. 

“Please,” you whispered, “you don’t have to do this.”

But they were already walking away, their torches flickering smaller and smaller until the forest swallowed them whole.

"Please don't leave me here."

And then you were alone.

The night sent chills down your spine. 

Every sound made you flinch, the wind in the trees, the drip of water, the crack of branches far off. You thought of all the stories whispered about the serpent. 

A creature half woman, half snake, who devoured those who angered her. 

You tried not to imagine her coming.

But as the moon rose higher, you heard it. 

A slow, deliberate sound, scales dragging over stone, a soft hiss like a breath drawn between teeth.

Something moved at the mouth of the cave.

Your heart stuttered.

Two eyes opened in the dark, bright, pale, unblinking. They caught the moonlight like mirrors.

A voice followed, low and smooth, almost human. 

“Who has come to my mountain?”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat was too tight.

The shape slid closer, emerging from the shadows. 

What stepped into the light was not a monster, not quite. 

Her upper body was that of a woman, tall and strong, her skin faintly scaled where it caught the light. 

Her lower half coiled behind her, a vast serpent’s tail, shimmering with iridescent dark green.

When she stopped in front of you, the world went still.

“Another offering,” she murmured. “How generous your people have become.”

Her voice was beautiful and terrible all at once.

You shook your head. 

“I don’t want to die.”

She tilted her head. 

“They left you here to die.”

“I didn’t choose this.” you wanted to cry. But there would be no point.

Something in her expression changed. 

She got closer, her eyes searching your face. 

Then, with one hand, she reached out and sliced through the ropes that bound you. The cords fell away, your wrists burning.

“You’re free.” she said.

You stumbled back, rubbing your wrists. 

“Why?”

Her gaze lingered on you, unreadable. 

“Because you are not like them.”

The wind moved through the trees. The serpent turned toward her cave. “Come,” she said, her voice softening. “The night is cold, and I have no wish to see you freeze.”

You hesitated only for a moment before following her.

The air inside the cave was cool and damp, thick with the scent of stone and moss. 

Your steps echoed as you followed her deeper into the darkness. The faint light of the moon vanished behind you, replaced by the glow of something else, a small light that came not from fire, but from the walls themselves.

Gold. 

Coins were scattered in the hollows, jewels glinting in small heaps as though spilt from forgotten crowns. 

Weapons, armour, chalices, pearls, treasures beyond counting, piled like offerings that no mortal had dared reclaim.

You stopped, staring. 

“All of this... It’s real.”

Rhea looked back at you. 

The faint glow from the gold painted her in shades of bronze and shadow.

“They bring it to keep me from their doorsteps,” she said. “Each coin bought them one more harvest, one more quiet night. So they believe.”

Her voice carried no pride, no satisfaction, only something that sounded closer to weariness.

She moved across the cavern with elegance, her coils sliding over the stone without sound. 

You tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to watch her, the way she moved, neither entirely human nor beast.

When she turned to face you again, she held a small flame between her fingers. It burned blue.

“You are shaking,” she said quietly. “Are you cold?”

You weren’t sure what to answer. 

The chill of the cave had sunk into your bones, but it wasn’t the air that made you shiver.

She tilted her head, studying you. 

“Humans are fragile. Sit.”

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto a smooth rock. She slithered past, her tail curling around a stone pillar before settling behind her. The faint scrape of scales on stone echoed like a sigh.

For a long time, neither of you spoke.

Finally, you found your voice. 

“Why do you stay here?”

Her eyes glinted in the half-light. 

“Where else would I go?”

“Anywhere,” you said. “There’s a world beyond this forest.”

“There was,” she replied softly. “Long ago.” She looked away, and the faint blue flame flickered out. “I lived among your kind once. They called me a Goddess, protector. Then they began to fear me. When I shed my skin, they saw what I truly was and named it a curse.”

Her words hung in the dark.

You hesitated, unsure what to say, then asked. 

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

Her gaze flicked to you, sharp and quick. 

“Only those who came with fire.”

You believed her.

Something loosened in your chest, not relief exactly, but the first flicker of something that wasn’t fear.

You drew your knees to your chest. 

“They said you devour those who anger you.”

Her mouth curved, faintly amused. 

“Do I look hungry?”

You startled at the sound, a small laugh that slipped from her.

You managed a weak smile. 

“I don’t know what you look like.”

Rhea studied you for a moment longer, then turned toward the piles of gold. 

From one, she plucked a small object, a pendant shaped like a serpent coiled around a drop of amber. She held it out.

“For the courage to walk into a monster’s den,” she said.

You reached for it slowly, your fingers brushing hers. Her skin was cool, textured like fine silk over scales. The touch sent a strange shiver through you, not of fear this time, but of something you couldn’t name.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

She nodded once, then turned away, coiling herself near the mouth of the cave. 

“Sleep. You’ll be safe here.”

“Safe?” you echoed.

She looked back at you over her shoulder. Her eyes were softer now, glowing faintly in the dark. 

“No harm will touch you while I am here.”

The words lingered long after you lay down on the smooth stone floor. You watched her silhouette in the dim light and wondered how something so feared could sound so human when she spoke.

Outside, the forest whispered. 

Inside, the serpent watched over you.

And for the first time since the bells had tolled, you slept.

The next morning, the cave felt less oppressive. 

The piles of gold and jewels glittered like fragments of a stolen sun, but it no longer seemed terrifying. Instead, it felt like a secret waiting to be discovered.

Rhea watched you closely as you moved, her eyes following your careful steps. 

“Do not touch the amber coins,” she warned softly, her voice a low hum that resonated through the cavern. “They are delicate. Some have been here longer than your village has existed.”

You nodded, careful, but your gaze kept drifting to her. 

The curve of her shoulders, the way her tail coiled lightly behind her, the faint shimmer of scales along her arms. You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the treasures.

“I do not understand why you collect all of this,” you said, curiosity overriding caution. “Why hoard what humans bring you?”

She lifted her head, her eyes catching the light like twin moons. 

“I do not hoard for greed. I collect because they are memories,” she said. “Tokens of fear, hope, devotion, or shame. Each coin, each jewel tells a story. Most are lies, but some… some are beautiful.”

You stepped closer to a small mound of golden coins, careful not to disturb them. 

“You see the beauty in them?”

“Yes. I see the hands that pressed them, the eyes that watched me from afar. I see longing.” Her gaze flicked toward you, subtle but deliberate. “I see truth.”

Your pulse quickened. She wasn’t looking at the gold now, but at you. The thought made your cheeks burn.

“I don’t understand,” you murmured.

Her tail moved gently behind her, brushing against stone. 

Then, with a fluid motion, she slid closer to you. 

You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the subtle pressure of her coils near your feet, protective, almost hesitant.

“You are different from them,” she said, her voice softer now. “I can see it in your movements, in your eyes. You do not carry their fear. You are not… like the others.”

You swallowed hard, unsure what to say. You had been marked for sacrifice, chosen because of their fear, and here she was, telling you that your difference made her trust you.

“I… I am not afraid,” you whispered, though your fingers still trembled slightly.

Her gaze softened further. She moved closer again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of her body, and you could feel the faint press of her tail against your ankle.

“Good. You should not be afraid of me.”

Her words settled in your chest like a small flame. 

You took a careful step toward her, and she did not move away. 

Instead, she lowered her head slightly, letting you see the delicate scales along her jaw and neck. The movement was subtle, but intimate, as if she were allowing you inside her world.

You reached out, brushing your fingers along a smooth curve of her arm. Her skin was cold, textured, yet soft where it met your hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her eyes closed for a brief moment, as though she were holding her breath, letting herself trust you.

For the first time, you realised that the stories told by the villagers were lies. This was not a monster. 

She was a soul, isolated and misunderstood, longing for someone who could see her as she truly was.

You moved closer, your shoulder brushing hers as you knelt beside the mound of coins. 

“Do you get lonely?” you asked softly.

Rhea’s eyes opened, and for a moment, you could see centuries of isolation reflected there. Then she lowered her head slightly, the tip of her nose almost touching yours. 

“Always,” she whispered.

You reached out, letting your fingers touch hers again, this time longer. She didn’t pull away. 

Her tail moved slightly, coiling closer around your leg, as though she were holding you within her world.

And in that simple touch, in that hesitant closeness, a fragile trust began to grow.

The day passed in quiet shared moments.

Rhea taught you which stones were safe to touch, showed you hidden alcoves of her treasure, and you shared small fragments of your life in the village. 

She listened, sometimes with a tilt of her head, sometimes with a soft hum that you realised was a sound she made when she was content.

As the evening drew near, she curled beside you, tail resting lightly over your feet. The warmth radiating from her body made the cave feel almost like home.

“I did not think anyone would ever walk freely in my cave,” she murmured.

You smiled faintly, your hand brushing hers again, seeking her warmth. 

“I am here."

Her gaze softened, almost imperceptibly, and she leaned slightly closer, her breath brushing your cheek. 

“Yes,” she said. “And perhaps… that is enough.”

The treasure glittered faintly in the half-light, but for the first time, the darkness no longer felt threatening.

You were not alone.

And she was not a monster.

The cave had become a sanctuary. 

You had begun to move with more confidence, stepping carefully along the stone floors, touching the smooth walls, marveling at the glinting treasures. But your mind kept drifting back to the world outside, the forest, the village, the life you had known.

Rhea watched you quietly as you collected herbs and berries near the mouth of the cave, her tail coiled loosely behind her, eyes never leaving your figure. 

“Do not go too far,” she warned, her voice low and soft. “There are those who would see me destroyed. You would not survive the forest alone.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at her. 

Her form was half in shadow, half catching the last of the fading sunlight. She did not reach for you, but the faint pressure of her tail curling near your ankle reminded you that she was close, that she was watching, protecting.

“I can manage,” you said, though your voice was quieter than usual.

She tilted her head, studying you. 

“You do not understand their fear,” she said. “Your people, your village… they believe I am a devourer, a curse. They will come for me if they know you are here.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but not from fear. It was the knowledge that she cared, that she wanted to protect you, that made your chest tighten.

As you moved carefully through the forest, gathering what you needed, you felt the presence of the villagers long before you saw them. They crept between the trees, eyes sharp, faces grim. Their hands clutched crude weapons, and your heart leapt into your throat.

You froze.

And then a ripple of movement behind you, a flash of green and bronze. Rhea had followed, silent as the shadows themselves. Her tail coiled behind her, ready to strike, but her gaze was fixed on you, making sure you were unharmed.

“They are here,” she whispered, almost to herself, yet you felt it in your bones.

Your fear surged, but she did not panic. 

She moved beside you, her presence steady, grounding you. Her coils brushed against your legs, subtle but unmistakable, a reminder that you were not alone.

“They will not touch you,” she said. “Not while I breathe.”

You nodded, shaking slightly, and instinctively reached for her arm. The touch was fleeting, but it anchored you, a fragile tether in the midst of terror.

The villagers passed, unaware of your presence, their eyes scanning the forest for a glimpse of the fabled beast. 

When they were gone, Rhea lowered her head, letting the tip of her nose brush lightly against your shoulder.

“You should not be afraid,” she murmured.

“I wasn’t,” you whispered back, though your heart still pounded. “Not really.”

Her eyes caught yours in the dim light, and for a moment, the centuries of isolation and fear behind them softened. 

“Good,” she said. “I want you to be brave, but not reckless.”

You smiled, brushing your hand against hers again, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The simple contact sent warmth flooding through your chest.

“You… you worry for me,” you said softly.

Her gaze dropped, and the faintest blush tinted the scales along her cheeks. 

“I do. You are different. I… do not want to lose you.”

The forest seemed to exhale around you. 

You realised then that she had never been simply the monster the villagers claimed. 

She was a being of power, but also of heart and care. She could protect you, and she had chosen to do so, time and again.

As you walked back to the cave, the last sunlight spilling over the trees, you caught her eyes lingering on you. 

The morning was calm, the forest wrapped in a gentle mist that sparkled on the leaves like scattered diamonds. 

You wandered through the undergrowth, carefully choosing flowers from the edges of the stream. Small wildflowers, delicate and pale, perfect in their simplicity.

When you returned to the cave, the faint glimmer of sunlight caught the gold and jewels, painting everything in warm tones. Rhea was waiting near the entrance, her tail coiled loosely behind her, watching the forest with those penetrating, unblinking eyes.

You approached cautiously, holding the small bouquet out to her. 

“For you,” you said softly.

Her head tilted, curiosity flickering across her features. She reached out, not touching the flowers at first, but letting her gaze linger on the delicate petals. 

“For me?” she murmured, almost in disbelief.

“Yes,” you said. “I thought… perhaps it would make the cave feel less lonely.”

The corners of her mouth lifted, a fleeting, hesitant smile. Slowly, she leaned closer, her scaled cheek brushing just slightly against yours as she lowered her nose to the flowers. 

You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the faint press of her coils near your legs, protective and close.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. “You… you are beautiful for thinking of me.”

Your chest warmed at her words. 

You had been afraid of her once, terrified of the tales the villagers told. And yet here she was, a creature of shadow and legend, calling you beautiful.

You stepped closer, letting your fingers brush hers as you offered the bouquet. The contact was fleeting, but electric, a silent promise of trust.

Her eyes met yours, glimmering with something you could not yet name. “You are not like the others,” she said quietly. “I… I am glad you are here.”

You smiled faintly, cheeks burning. 

“I am glad too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The forest outside was still, the cave glowing softly in the light of the afternoon. 

And then, Rhea leaned closer. Her lips brushed yours, uncertain, hesitant, testing, as though she were learning the shape of a feeling long forgotten.

You froze for a heartbeat, then leaned into her, closing your eyes as the kiss deepened ever so slightly. 

The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the subtle curl of her tail around your ankle, and the soft rustle of scales against stone made the world shrink to nothing but the two of you.

When you parted, breathless and trembling, your forehead rested against hers. 

“Can I… stay?” you whispered.

Her gaze softened, and for the first time, there was no shadow of fear or caution in her eyes. 

“Yes,” she said, her voice low and certain. “You are mine, if you will be mine.”

You nodded, your hands resting lightly on her arms, feeling the strength and warmth beneath the scales. 

“I will,” you said.

She smiled, brushing a hand along your cheek, her touch careful but tender. 

“Good,” she whispered. “Then we begin… together.”

Outside, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the sun casting dappled light through the trees. 

Inside the cave, gold and jewels glittered faintly in witness to a new kind of treasure, the fragile love between a human and the serpent who had saved them.

And in that quiet, perfect moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Days melted into weeks, and the rhythm of life in the cave settled into something familiar and quiet. 

You moved with ease among the treasures and shadows, no longer afraid of the serpent who had once been your terror. Rhea watched you constantly, her presence a subtle, protective pressure that was both comforting and thrilling.

She taught you to recognise the faintest sounds of the forest, the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, to sense the movements of the world outside. You learned the hidden corners of her cavern, the small alcoves where jewels glittered like captured stars, and the soft pools of water where moonlight collected.

Through it all, the small gestures became your anchor. A brush of her hand as she guided you along a narrow ledge, the curl of her tail around your ankle when she watched you sleep, the way she would lower her head to meet your gaze as if weighing your thoughts against her own. Each touch, each glance, was a quiet promise, and you began to understand the depth of her heart.

One evening, after a long day gathering herbs and examining the edges of the forest, you sat on a smooth stone ledge while Rhea rested beside you. The fading sun spilled golden light across the cave, illuminating the treasures but also casting a warm glow on her scales.

“You’ve grown comfortable here,” she said softly, her voice carrying more warmth than usual.

“I have,” you admitted. “Because you are here. You make it safe.”

Her gaze softened, and she moved closer, the tip of her tail brushing your ankle, the pressure gentle, almost possessive. She leaned her head just enough that her cheek brushed yours. 

“And you… make it bearable for me,” she murmured.

You could feel the faint warmth of her breath on your skin. Your heart thudded as you reached for her, letting your hand rest lightly on her scaled arm. 

She did not flinch. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, encouraging your touch, letting you linger.

“I never thought anyone would see me,” she whispered, “and not run.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said quietly, your fingers brushing along the smooth line of her jaw. “You’re… remarkable. Strong. Beautiful.”

Her eyes caught yours, glowing faintly in the dim light, and for a moment, centuries of loneliness seemed to vanish. 

“And you,” she said softly, “are brave. Brave enough to look past the stories, brave enough to stay.”

The tension in the cave melted into something warmer, more intimate. You leaned closer, pressing your forehead to hers.

“You are mine,” she murmured, not as a demand, but as a declaration. “And I am yours.”

You smiled faintly, your hands resting against her chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall beneath the scales. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I am yours and you are mine.”

And in that moment, the cave, the gold, the shadows seemed to fade. There was only the quiet bond between you, a human and the serpent who had saved you, who had chosen to trust and love despite the world’s fear.

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of flowers and earth. 

Inside, the gold shimmered faintly, but the real treasure lay in the warmth pressed between you and Rhea, in the slow, steady certainty that neither would be alone again.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of her presence. Her tail curled around you protectively, her head resting just above yours. For the first time, you understood the depth of her loneliness, and the quiet, patient way she had waited for someone like you.

And you knew, without question, that you would never leave.

The bond was complete.

---

The cave was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of golden treasures and the faint light of the moon filtering through the mouth of the cavern. You sat on the smooth stone floor, leaning against Rhea’s warm coils, her tail curled gently around you. The forest outside whispered, but inside, the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

Seasons had passed. 

The air had shifted, storms had come and gone, and yet your life together had grown into a rhythm of quiet intimacy. Days were spent exploring the edges of the forest, gathering herbs, or tending to the cave, while nights were yours alone, spent wrapped in each other’s warmth.

Rhea’s eyes, once hard and distant, now glimmered with something softer, almost human. 

“You have changed me,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple as she rested her head against yours.

“You changed me too,” you replied, fingers threading through the small, delicate scales along her arm. “I never imagined… that I could feel this safe, this complete.”

A soft hum passed through her, a sound that had become her signature, a song of contentment. 

“I feared I would be alone forever,” she admitted, “but you… you are the answer I did not know I was waiting for.”

You smiled faintly, brushing her cheek with your thumb. 

“We found each other, in the midst of fear and shadow. And now…”

“Now,” she echoed, pressing her lips to yours gently, “we are eternal.”

The treasures around you glimmered faintly, catching the light like the fragments of countless forgotten lives. But it no longer mattered. 

They were mere decoration to the real wealth, the love that had grown between a human and a serpent, the bond forged through fear, trust, and centuries of longing.

She coiled more tightly around you, her way of showing protection and devotion, and you nestled against her, heart beating in sync with hers. The forest outside no longer seemed threatening, it was part of your world now, a world you shared together.

“You are mine,” she whispered, her voice low and steady, “and I am yours. Forever.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of her body and the strength of her presence surround you. 

“Forever,” you breathed back.

And in that eternal night, the centuries of loneliness and fear fell away. There was only love, only the quiet, unbreakable bond between you and Rhea, a sanctuary of two hearts entangled, safe from the world, safe from time itself.

Outside, the wind moved softly through the trees. 

Inside, the serpent and her human rested, a life together sealed in shadow, gold, and love.

And for the first time in centuries, Rhea smiled with a heart truly at peace.

It had all started with the stupidest fight of the year. McLaggen had leaned a little too close to Ramona during Charms, and Draco had completely lost it. He called her “provocative,” she told him he was being paranoid, and that word, paranoid, only made him more furious.

They spent the entire week fighting. Snide comments in public, sharp silence in private. And when McLaggen had the audacity to slide his arm around her shoulders in the courtyard, Ramona had closed her eyes. Not just from the disgust of being touched by him, but because she knew she’d have to apologize to Draco, and it annoyed her even more.

But in the end, she did it.

That, and hexed McLaggen for good measure.

Now, the wind was cutting against their cheeks, carrying the scent of damp grass and scorched broomsticks at the Quidditch field.

Next to her, Pansy Parkinson was lazily watching Travers, the new sixth-year Chaser, pass the Quaffle to Avery in a decent arc, decent enough, at least, for someone still learning. Eyes half-lidded, chin resting on her palm, she looked like she was analyzing the game… or simply killing time in the least boring way possible.

After all, with half the school pretending to be interested in “technical observation,” everyone knew it was just an excuse to ogle the sculpted physiques of a few Slytherins in flight.

Behind them sat Melanie Griffin, a fifth-year Slytherin, perched one step up.

When Draco shouted orders toward the new Chasers, Pansy sighed quietly, suddenly remembering.

“So? Did he really break up with you last night?”

Ramona made a vague wave with her hand, eyes still on the pitch. “Yeah. For about forty-five seconds.”

Pansy chuckled, tapping a manicured nail against her lip. “Then he changed his mind?” “Mmh.” A sound. Maybe agreement. A few seconds later, Ramona added, with the same calm tone one might use to comment on the weather: “...Maybe I should try being a bit more docile. And listen, sometimes...”

Pansy smirked. “You can say it out loud, Ray.” Then she turned slightly, expecting a sarcastic look, a smirk, something.

But Ramona’s face was blank. Her eyes still locked on Draco, cutting through the air like he’d been born to own the sky.

Behind them, Melanie sighed in dreamy defeat. “Oh… I wish I had a boyfriend too.”

Pansy whipped around, smirk already sharpening. “Yeah, maybe don’t say that while drooling over Ramona’s.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean... I mean, sure, he’s handsome, but…”

Pansy turned back to Ramona. Still no reaction. No scowl. No glare. Nothing. Weird.

“Grimsby?” she muttered, brow raised. “You feeling alright?”

Ramona gave a small nod, eyes still up. Then, absentmindedly licking her teeth, she blinked slowly. “When he lands, I swear I won’t even let him reach the showers.”

Pansy laughed out loud, clutching her cloak tighter. “Merlin, you’re hopeless.”

Ramona bit the corner of her lip, legs still crossed, hair tousled by the wind. She didn’t care. Her eyes tracked Draco mid-turn, flawless on his Nimbus.

“We’ve been fighting for a full week…” she added, voice calm as if talking about lunch options.

“Thought you slept in his bed last night?”

“I did. But the moment my head hit the pillow I passed out. Three hours of detention with McGonagall will do that to you.”

Pansy raised a brow. “What’d she make you do this time?”

“Scrubbed every first-year cauldron. By hand. No wand. I’ve smelled like burnt mint and brass polish all day.”

Pansy chuckled, nudging Ramona’s ribs. “So you’ve got some… repressed frustration, huh?”

Behind them, Melanie giggled. “Bet you can’t wait to sneak into the locker room once practice is over…” she said, a little too pleased with herself. Then added, smiling wider: “And if you need company, I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of Avery shirtless.”

Only then did Ramona turn to her. Slowly. “Draco doesn’t want anyone in the locker room unless they’re on the team.”

She said it coldly, like quoting house law.

Ramona shot Pansy a look, the kind that said: Why exactly did we bring her again? Pansy gave a half-smile.

“Melanie’s working on a… project” Pansy explained. “A little Slytherin archive. Something to pass down. To remind future students what standards mean.”

Ramona’s eyes followed Draco again. “I doubt my sex life qualifies for your historical record” she said flatly.

But Melanie wasn’t phased. She lifted her chin, clearly pleased with herself. “Actually, I think it’s perfect. Who better to represent Slytherin pride than the royal couple?”

Ramona raised a brow, uninterested. But Pansy knew her too well. There were few things Ramona loved more than talking about herself and Draco Malfoy.

“So what kind of questions are you asking?” she asked, gaze still fixed on the pitch.

Melanie sat up straighter, about to launch into a monologue, but Pansy cut in first. “She made a list. ‘Interview Questions for the Slytherin Elite – Seventh Years.’ Stuff like: ‘When did you get your first tailored cloak?’ ‘What’s your morning routine in the dorms?’ ‘How do you uphold your bloodline’s social standard at Hogwarts?’”

Ramona made a face.

“And who’s starring in that tragedy?” Ramona ignored her, eyes still on Draco’s perfect arc.

“Obviously you, me, and Daphne” Pansy replied flatly. “Unless Melanie wants to preserve Millicent Bulstrode’s legacy for future generations.”

Ramona gave her a small smirk.

Just as she did, Melanie froze.

The screech of an incoming Bludger cut the air. Then a hard kick. A blast of wind. A silver Nimbus streaked by, still humming with power. The Bludger slammed into the boundary barrier with a crack that shook the whole stand.

Ramona looked up calmly, locking eyes with Draco, who was anything but calm. Cloak whipping around his ankles like a warning.

“You’re distracted, Grimsby” he said, voice sharp like a reprimand.

Ramona sighed, and waved lazily toward the field. “Still much yelling to do, captain?”

Draco clenched his jaw. “At least another hour. We can’t show up to the match like this. The new ones need to get it together.”

He swerved effortlessly, dodging the two Chasers trailing the Quaffle. Ramona stood with bored elegance, brushing off her skirt. “Well, then I’m leaving before I catch another Bludger to the face. .”

Draco opened his mouth, to protest, maybe, or make a snide remark ,but his eyes slid to Melanie, still staring at him like she was trying to burn his face into memory.

“And who the hell is she?” he barked.

“Melanie Griffin” Pansy said quickly, before Melanie could squeak. “She’s writing a masterpiece on Slytherin House. A reportage, apparently. For posterity.”

Draco raised a brow, unimpressed. But before he could reply, Ramona leaned in, brushing her lips to his ear.

She whispered something. Something Pansy and Melanie couldn’t hear but...it landed.

Draco froze. His eyes darted to the pitch. Then to Ramona. Then back again.

He turned to the team in a sharp snap. “Practice is over! Everyone down. If you haven’t figured out how to fly after an hour and a half, you’re not going to today.”

“But Malfoy...” “Now. Or I’ll knock you off myself.”

The players scattered instantly.

Ramona smirked, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “See?” she said lightly, her voice like velvet laced with steel.

“He may be furious with me, but he still listens...to the right words.”

Melanie exhaled like she’d forgotten to breathe. “He just...he stopped everything. For you.”

Ramona shrugged, utterly unbothered. “He does that.”