𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 2, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 12: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓵𝔂𝓳𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

"Then how does it work?" Pansy interrogated, crossing her arms and staring at Draco.

'Fuck.' He ran a hand through his blond hair, wondering how to explain this to Pansy. He didn't know whether Pansy knew he knew that she liked him—it wasn't exactly a secret—but she was hooked on the idea that he liked her back. Which he didn't. Annoying as Pansy might be, though, he wanted to let her down gently. He just didn't know how.

If Draco didn't let her down gently, there was a 99.9% chance she would tell his father, and his father would take away the privilege of him being able to choose his own wife and force him to get married to Pansy instead.

He couldn't afford being rude right now.

He let out a breath before replying. "I'm still working it out, but all I know is that it's a lot more complicated than telling her off and progressing through life as usual." It was nowhere near a clear, straightforward answer, but it was the best answer he could give at the moment. Hopefully, Pansy wouldn't ask any more questions that'd be difficult to answer.

But of course she had to.

"It doesn't seem complicated to me," she said haughtily. "Listen, Draco, if you have something to get off your chest, get it off right now. Better now than later."

"I don't know what else to say," Draco said; it wasn't a complete lie. He did have something he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to put it in words, so technically, he was only telling half of a lie, which was better than a complete lie... right?

"I know you're lying to me!" Pansy exclaimed, stamping her foot at the end of her sentence. "Draco, just tell me the truth!"

"I am telling you the truth!" Draco exclaimed back. One more word, he thought, if Pansy said one more word...

"Draco, I'm your future wife!" Pansy yelled. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to share everything with me, whether you like it or not!"

Future wife.

Future wife.

The words reverberated in Draco's head before he completely lost it.

"Are you daft, Parkinson?" he spat as he stood up. "You're not my future wife! Not now, not ever, so for the love of Salazar Slytherin himself, never, ever call yourself my 'future wife' again!"

Enraged, he stormed out of the common room up the stairs which led to the boys' dormitory before opening the door, checking to make sure nobody besides him was inside, slamming it shut behind him, storming over to his bed, and collapsing on it. There was no way he'd be able to make her understand. He wouldn't waste his time over it. And he certainly wouldn't sleep on the idea.

'She just doesn't understand,' he thought furiously, rage beginning to cloud over his mind, 'she'll never understand....'

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You've been wondering whether I put you and Potter in the right House," said the hat smartly. "Yes, you two were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before"—Y/N's heart leapt—"you two would have done well in Slytherin—"

Y/N's stomach plummeted. She grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in her hand, grubby and faded. Y/N pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling nauseous and confused.

"You're wrong," she said aloud to the still and silent hat. Even though the hat didn't respond, she just needed to say it out loud. As if it'd help somehow. She had to reassure herself it was wrong.