Draco trailed after the three girls, trying to be careful not to draw too much attention to himself. The deserted entrance hall rang in complete silence, and the blond grimaced at the amount of sound his shoes seemed to be making. Berlaneè stopped walking in an abrupt manner, leaving the two girls she was walking with to stare at her, confused. She continued to stand eerily still, gazing at nothing in particular. "You can step out now, Malfoy. I can see you," she murmured, and Draco could practically hear the broad smile in her syrupy voice. She turned her full body around now, hands stationed - unmoving - at her sides. She appeared to be trembling.
"Fancy bumping into you, Malfoy. It's almost as if you were following us," Berlaneè went on, almost as if to herself than anyone else. "But maybe it's good that you're here. I can finally talk to you about him," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her two companions peered at her with matching looks of concern. The girl with her dark hair done in a neat bun opened her mouth to speak. "Perhaps we should just leave him, Lottie-" Berlaneè's eyes shiny blue flashed menacingly. "Stay out of this, Stella," she hissed. Stella and Nova stepped silently to the side, apparently to wary to get in the way of whatever she was doing. Berlaneè turned back to Draco, her sharp features seeming to ooze with poison.
"Listen, I know you're stupid, and didn't get how serious I was being when I said that people will know about you, in the hospital wing that time, so I'll elaborate for you, slowly this time," she said, her voice sounding, calm, almost sane now. "I do not want you to be kind to Harry Potter. I need you to stop whatever's going on between you and him. It's way too dangerous, even after the war." Draco gaped at her, shocked at the intention of decency and warning in her words. He regarded her with clear suspicion. "And why do you care about that?" Charlotte sighed, massaging the side of her head in an exhausted manner. "Look, I know I seem like a crazy bitch you can't trust, but I need you to believe me.
Your father will find out about everything, even from his well-guarded cell in Azkaban. My mother used to know him; that man will stop at nothing. And before you ask why I was acting like I wanted Harry so badly just weeks ago (she had seen Draco open his mouth to interrupt her) I was trying to keep you away. You just don't seem to realise the sheer amount of danger you're in. Your father is more than capable to send instructions to former Death Eaters that reside outside of Azkaban to kill you. And it won't just be you, it'll be Harry too. He probably won't care that you're gay - but gay with Harry Potter? That's a whole different story. He'll get someone to out your boyfriend, and maybe even his friends - if they put up a fight. You can tell him about this, Malfoy, but you need to act like you hate him again," she said carefully, and Stella nodded nervously from her place in the shade. Charlotte seemed more gentle, more like a worried older sister than a delusional mean girl.
"Please, just keep you and Harry safe. I wouldn't be able to live with knowing I could've stopped you," she whispered. Draco stared at her. He couldn't believe he had almost wished her dead when all she thought about was ways to protect him and Harry. He straightened his shoulders, collecting himself. "What can I do?" Charlotte appeared relieved, she smiled at him, and her face relaxed, revealing a blissfully friendly expression. She tossed him a can of spray paint; on which the words 'Spelly's Eternal Stick Paint', were printed in cursive handwriting. "You can start with this," she replied briskly. Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow, inspecting the can with mild curiosity.
"And what's this for?" he questioned, and Nova stepped out of the shade, her face pulled into a grin. "That," she said jubilantly, "is meant for vandalism. You should probably spread some wonderfully horrid rumours about your little lover with that thing," she continued ecstatically, looking over-excited. Charlotte and Stella gave a fond eye roll. "Ok then," Draco said, feeling suddenly anxious. He didn't want Harry to hate him again - but Berlaneè's warnings swirled like mist in his head, and his brain wouldn't stop replaying the one terrible moment he thought Harry had died in the war. So that's why, on his first break of the day, Draco unearthed the can of spray paint from the pocket of of robes, and illustrated those hideous words.
YOU ARE READING
I kissed a boy (drarry)
FanfictionDISCLAIMER: I kind of don't like this fic, so read at your own risk 😭 --------- Harry Potter was a saint - or at least that's what it looked like. Nothing he did was ever remotely wrong or laced with bad intentions. Everyone said it, the image of p...
