"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
-
The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
remember they haven't kissedrecentlyin their current time yet🤨.
I'm returning to my regular updating routine btw :)
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 | "𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥."
━━━━━━━━━━━━ D A Y T H I R T E E N/ F O U R T E E N [ part 1 ] « vulnerable » ━━━━━━━━━━━━
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"You haven't told me what you were working on." I say, rising my position from the polished wooden seat. "Are we constantly going to maintain this routine?"
Draco glances around the room of requirement as if he were scrutinizing my statement, preceding to peer his focus below at the Ravenclaw diadem. "I wasn't aware we had a routine."
The road between my brows narrow whilst I utilize my legs to venture into the vicinity of his presence. "So, you didn't notice how in the past three months I've come here at exactly two in the morning every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday?" I question, impoliteness saturating into my tone. "You didn't notice the routine of how I sit and wait in silence for you to be done with whatever you're doing with the rarest object to Ravenclaws? I don't speak, I don't do anything until you're done— then we perform intercourse."
"We aren't a couple, Y/N." He mutters, his statement hardly traveling through the air between us as his set of mind did not even ponder to glance at me whilst I expressed my concerns. "And, we don't always have sex."
My arms fold, a slight hint of a defensive position presenting in my figure. "I never said we were a couple."
"You want us to be."
My lips split at its fold prior to shutting quickly as I sharply inhaled, uncertain of how to piece my next statement together. "Well, no, that— that is not true at all. I do not wish to be with someone who is as secretive as you."
"Yeah?" He raises a brow, broadening his eyes in disbelief, dampening his lips as he spoke once more. "I don't want to be with someone who talks so formally with me. It's like I'm talking to a fucking english essay."
I nearly gasp at his comment, "Draco, tha—"
"—No, who the hell uses the word intercourse when talking about sex?" He questions, finally tearing his eyes from the diadem— yet, piercing his sharpened view at my astonished expression. "It's not just that, every damn word that comes out of that fucking mouth is high in vocabulary and that makes it so damn hard to get comfortable with you."
