Potter's Twin Sister || Draco Malfoy

26

Seated before the crackling fireplace, I let the symphony of pops and cracks from the lively emerald flames weave a soothing melody through my consciousness.

With closed eyes, I surrendered to the embrace of the warmth, allowing it to caress not only my aching face but my entire being.

The cold seemed to have seeped into my bones, an unwelcome companion even in the late days of June, those dungeons held onto their chill regardless of the world outside.

The time was elusive, suspended in the hush of the night. Around 2 o'clock, or perhaps a touch earlier, maybe later—I paid no mind to the exact hour.

Sleep eluded me, a fickle muse that had abandoned its post. Despite having spent the daytime hours in slumber, weariness clung to me like a shadow.

Frustration with the futile pursuit of sleep spurred me out of bed. Tired of counting the passing minutes, I sought refuge in the Common Room, now emptied of its usual student occupants.

This ritual, now a familiar refuge, has been a trusted ally in coaxing my restless mind toward serenity. Countless times have I tread this path, and it never ceases to weave its drowsy magic upon my restless spirit.

"Potter?"

A sudden tautness gripped my frame, and my eyes sprang wide as the sound of Malfoy's voice pierced the air.

Two days had passed since our paths had crossed, two days of mutual avoidance, as he remained oblivious to my altered appearance—a face marred temporarily by misfortune.

In the grand scheme of time, he found himself positioned at my left, his gaze directed downward towards me. "Why are you still up?"

"I can't sleep. What about you?" I said, my focus stubbornly fixed on the dancing flames before me.

"I guess we've got something in common after all then... Crabbe is being as subtle as a blaring chainsaw again." He exhaled, his tone tinged with exasperation.

"How do you know what a chainsaw is?" I mused aloud.

"I just do."

"But you're a Pureblood wizard and you don't take Muggle studies. That's strange." I pointed out.

"Talking with someone while intentionally avoiding their eyes is equally strange."

A hush descended, accompanying his descent as he settled beside me on my left, a proximity closer than expected. Still, he failed to register the condition of my face for which I was glad, lost in his own thoughts.

"Potter,"

"Malfoy,"

"Did you do pixie dust?" He deadpanned, his tone laced with sardonic amusement.

"I assure you, no pixie dust is involved."

"Then why are you acting so... I don't know, unlike you?" He questioned.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "And what, pray tell, is unlike me?"

He let out a small scoff. "Well, for starters, you haven't insulted me or stormed off the moment I sat down."

I couldn't help but let a mysterious smile curl onto my lips. "Oh, you're keeping tabs on my behaviour now, Malfoy? How flattering."

"Don't let it go to your head, Potter. We're not suddenly becoming friends."

I chuckled softly, letting a playful glint sparkle in my eyes. "Oh, perish the thought. I wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."

His tone dripped with mock sincerity as he spoke. "Truly, I'm devastated."