The Slytherin Princess | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Chapter 33: Death draught & Exposures

"I've got an idea," you said finally, "but it's going to take some work."

"I'm here to help, whatever you need," Draco said quickly.

"I need you to stay out of my way for the time being," you said with a glare, and Draco shrunk under your gaze.

"I'll come get you when I'm in need of your assistance," you said curtly as you moved to leave the hollow tree trunk.

Draco grabbed your wrist before you could move, however, and turned you back to look at him.

"Don't go yet, y/n, we need to talk about us, too."

"There's still things to talk about?" you asked. "You said you wished you'd never met me, that seemed pretty cut-and-dry to me."

His eyes flashed with an emotion you didn't have time to decipher. "You know I didn't mean that, y/n, I was just angry. I—"

"So you said things that you knew would hurt me specifically because you were angry?" you said then, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. "Sounds a lot like Cedric Diggory, if you ask me."

Refusing to stick around just to see his reaction, you turned and left the tree, your destination in mind being the Potions classroom.

You made it there only a few minutes later, both relieved and slightly upset that Draco hadn't followed you. You knew the conversation about your relationship wasn't really over, but you didn't want to continue it right now. You had a lot bigger things on your mind, the biggest being that you were now responsible for Dumbledore's death.

Propping open the Advanced Potions book Draco had gotten you for Christmas, you turned to the page that contained the recipe for the Death Draught, a potion that would kill anyone who came into contact with it.

You mulled the recipe over for a good ten minutes, wondering how you would get this into Dumbledore's system in order to actually kill him.

Then you realized you still hadn't given him an answer on whether or not you would join his ranks, and the candy dish on his desk that he absolutely never let fully empty.

A poisoned lemon drop? The thought was enticing, and you knew it wouldn't be too terribly difficult for you to brew the potion and poison the lemon drops. You would just have to get up into Dumbledore's office to coat them in the potion.

Sighing, you rolled up your sleeves and began picking ingredients from the shelves to begin brewing.

You had all of the ingredients on the table before you, and you had just finished filling the cauldron with the right amount of water when Professor Snape walked into the classroom.

"Everglade?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You aren't usually in here without Malfoy. What's the occasion?"

You felt the blood drain from your face. You couldn't admit to a professor that you were brewing a poison. "Nothing in particular, Professor," you said hastily, but he had already swirled around to right behind your shoulder, the potion recipe very boldly stated on the page you had turned to.

"A Death Draught?" he questioned once more. Then his eyes drifted downwards, towards your hands that now fidgeted with each other. "And what is that on your arm, Miss Everglade? You took a Mark for the Malfoy boy?"

You felt your heart drop to your feet as you realized you had forgotten to obscure the Dark Mark on your forearm, and now it was out and about for anyone to see. And now Professor Snape had seen it, clear as day.

You scrambled to find something—anything—to say in your defense, but Snape simply sighed and pulled up his own sleeve. There on his forearm was a Dark Mark that matched yours—and immediately your knees went weak in relief. You mentally kicked yourself for being so careless, but you also thanked the gods above that you had been careless in front of someone who was now no longer a threat.