Potter's Twin Sister || Draco Malfoy

49

"Ah, Miss Malfoy." Nott drawled, a sardonic grin quirking up his lips as he sauntered out of the Common Room just as I was making my way in.

"Real funny, Theodore." I shot back.

It's common knowledge that he despises being called by his full name—Theo is the only way to go.

"Oi, Potter." He retorted. "If we're gonna drop the formalities, at least get it right. It's Theo."

"My sincere apologies." I countered, an innocent smirk dancing on my lips.

"Sure thing. Oh, by the way, Draco's off to the Owlery if you must know." The brunette informed me, an amused arch of his eyebrow accompanying the statement. "Seems he's got some serious explaining to do at home."

"He does?"

"Well, yes. You see, now that —not to be rude— someone like you is Draco's mot." He chuckled, levelling a pointed look at me. "You didn't think he went to the Owlery to send some sweet New Year's wishes to his Mum, did you?"

"Of course not." I chimed in, maintaining a perfectly neutral tone and expression.

Truth be told, I wasn't entirely sure where Nott was heading with this, but I decided to play along.

Stepping into my dormitory, I was hoping to enjoy Lyra's company for the rest of the day, or at least her conscious presence (she was napping again).

Instead, I was greeted by Pansy, situated between Lyra's bed and mine, casually working on her nails as she sat on the lush green carpet.

Not that I felt compelled to suddenly become her confidante, but I realised that my recent actions hadn't exactly been a prime example of "girls supporting girls".

Sneaking around with Malfoy behind her back, especially knowing that she had her sights set on him—yeah, not my finest hour.

The question was how and when I would bring it up, conversations with Parkinson were about as easy as navigating a labyrinth blindfolded.

As I placed Luna's Spectrespecs —she'd graciously let me keep them— on my nightstand, I commented on the rich midnight blue colour she was painting her nails with.

"That's a nice shade."

"What do you want, Potter?" Her voice was low, laced with irritation, a glare aimed my way.

I took a moment, drawing in a slow breath through my nose before settling down opposite her, leaning against Lyra's bed.

I detest vague conversations and beating around the bush, so I decided to cut right to the chase.

"I'm s—"

"Don't even think about saying it."

"It's the least I can do." I persisted.

"Really?" Pansy scoffed, her scepticism palpable. "The least you can do? As if your half-hearted apology would magically stop me from crying my eyes out if I were. Face it, Potter, you're clueless, and when you're clueless, silence is your best bet."

Her words began to sink in, stirring up a storm of confusion within me.

"Then why aren't you crying your eyes out?" I pondered aloud.

She let out a huff, a genuine smile curving her lips—a sight I hadn't anticipated. "I'm actually so happy something like this finally happened."

"I don't get it." I admitted.

Pansy glanced up from her nail-painting session, an almost amused glint in her eyes. "Well, your Mudblood background might not clue you in, but the rest of us Pure-blood families still cling to traditions like inbreeding and arranged marriages." She explained matter-of-factly.