❃
𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗
"This is a gift you should give to the headmaster. It's mead laced with licorice and cherry, from my Mother, of course. Hand crafted blend," Draco handed the bottle to the Professor, a fake smile plastered on his face.
"Why thank you my boy, I've been wondering if I should give him a gift of some sort for gracing me with a slightly larger office," Slughorn chuckled, taking the bottle from the blonde boy's hands. Draco laughed along nervously with the Professor. "Although, if I may ask, where did this sense of kindness come from? Don't see a lot of it nowadays,"
Draco cracked his neck.
"As you've said, there's not a lot of it nowadays. I do what I can," the boy smiled, Slughorn thanking him as he walked out his office door, leaving it slightly ajar.
"Obliviate," Draco whispered, his wand jutting through the crack as the Professor turned around, placing the gift on his shelf.
Draco left him only with the knowledge that the mead was a gift for Professor Dumbledore. Not how it had reached him, nor who had delivered it to him.
Nearly a week later, Maybelle and Draco were walking hand in hand to breakfast, passing by the hospital wing.
"Draco, what's going on in there?" she asked, slowing in front of the door.
Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape and Madam Pomfrey were all standing around one of the hospital beds, along with Granger, the Weasley girl and the infamous Harry Potter.
"No idea," he said dryly, taking her arm as to continue her forward, but she stood her ground.
"Excuse me," she waved down an assistant, "what happened?"
"A boy's just been poisoned," she answered quietly, placing medication on a side table of another patient.
"It's ridiculous what happens every day in this God forsaken school, am I right?" Maybelle rolled her eyes, unsurprised.
The assistant gave her a brief laugh and smile. "I really should be back to work, but yes. It's ridiculous," she waved, Draco and May continuing to walk down the hallway.
"What was that?" Draco whispered, holding her close as they walked past a herd of Gryffindor students.
"I was only curious," she answered, brushing her hair back with her free hand.
"Potter had his eye you," he snarled in anger.
"Stop with the jealousy, Draco," she laughed, "I'm yours. You know that," she gave him a soft, reassuring smile.
His anger melted, giving her a small kiss on the temple before they continued on.
Four days later, Theodore and Draco were on their way to the room of requirement, at the grand hour of six in the morning.
Draco had left his usual note with a piece of toast on his nightstand, placing kisses on both of her temples, then sitting back and admiring her for a mere minute as the sun began to rise, the swaying of the black lake's water reflecting through his glass windows. They illuminated her like a goddess, her black hair turning three shades lighter in the sunrise.
He pulled the white linen sheets over the curves of her body so she wouldn't freeze, placing one more kiss on the tip of her nose before turning out the door, shutting it gently, meeting Theodore in the common room.
The both of them shut their eyes, the walls exposing an iron door which led them inside the room of requirement.
Little did they know the boy who lived was snooping; turning his feet mere seconds too late to reveal only a blank, brick wall, the two Slytherin boys nowhere to be seen.
Later that day, the entirety of the group attended a Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff quidditch game, cheering for the yellow team, obviously.
Only the group around them knew to keep their excitement to a low. Cheering emitted from the rest of the Quidditch pitch, unaware to the fact that the Slytherin girl couldn't tell the difference between screams of excitement and screams of torture.
Draco had to take her away as she profusely apologized over and over again.
"I ruined the game,"
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to,"
"I wish I weren't so fucking sensitive,"
"I don't want to be this way anymore, I feel terrible,"
Those sentences were amongst her vocabulary as Draco pulled her into his lap, hushing her as he began to read her a book, Maybelle resting her head on his chest as his gentle, ashen voice sent her into a light slumber.
As March came to it's middle, the Slytherin friends were unaware as to Potter's knowledge of the room of requirement and it's contents. The boy who lived didn't have enough evidence to push for his conviction, but his lust for the Cliffdane girl remained.
He'd no idea why.
Perhaps he was jealous of Malfoy.
Even if Potter didn't mean to, his underlying task was to take everything Malfoy held close to him and snatch it away; as if he didn't deserve it.
He wanted Maybelle for himself; something he knew he would never be capable of.
Ginny was a good second option, but he much preferred to stare at Maybelle from a distance, undressing her with his eyes as she scribbled notes into her parchment with her black quill, him glancing away as Draco turned his head, protectively placing a hand over her thigh. He could almost hear Malfoy's voice taunting him in his mind, squeezing his quill so tight it would break in half, Hermione leaning over to ask him if he was alright in a dramatic tone before handing him a new writing utensil, turning back to her assignments.
Saint Patrick's Day rolled around, an 'all houses invited' party occurring in the Slytherin dungeons that night. Potter attended with Ginny, but only to watch. He knew he had to choose between the two quickly; he knew the Weasley girl could just as well walk off with a handsome Slytherin boy and take what she wanted from him faster than she could with Harry.
Potter's mind told him to stop himself and take the easier, much more intelligent route, but his heart lurched him forward, further into the deep hole that was his lust for Maybelle Cliffdane, something he knew he could never have.
He'd dug himself so deep he couldn't see the light.
Music blasted in his ears as he held a half-full glass of rum, tapping the sides with his fingers as he watched Draco slide his hands all over her angelic body, biting down on his lip as thoughts that both satisfied and disgusted him seeped through his mind.
He hated himself for it.
She was forcing him out of a comfort zone; tempting him just as she had Malfoy. Even so unintentionally, she was irresistible.
Even as Harry left his empty glass at the makeshift bar table to make out with some random brunette that somewhat resembled May in his drunken state, he thought of her.
The boy who lived could no longer keep up his goody two shoes demeanor.
Only his closest friends knew how fucked his mind was becoming; obsessing over death eaters, daydreaming of how he was going to win the war, how to defeat Voldemort, how to steal Draco Malfoy's girl for himself, make her beg for him instead of the death eater that had her wrapped around his ring finger.
"Harry-Harry you're drunk, we shouldn't," Harry regained himself, finding the girl that he'd just French kissed was Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw, who was very clearly uncomfortable and confused, her eyes slightly red from weed and alcohol.
"S-sorry," Harry slurred, stumbling away as he abruptly bumped into a wall.
"Harry, you look like you're going to vomit. You can't keep doing this, let's get out of here," Hermione tugged him away back to the Gryffindor common room.
The last two things he saw before exiting the party was Ginny sticking her tongue down Graham Montague's throat, his hands on her ass, and Draco leaning Maybelle against a wall that stood in the shadows, her chest rising and falling to the music as he cupped her breasts with his hands, halfway through a deep, passionate kiss.
After throwing up twice in his dormitory toilet, he attempted to get a few hours of sleep.
He was unable. She appeared in his dreams.
She was unforgettable.
❃
𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 <3
~ 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚒𝚕𝚢