Dark Marks; Draco Malfoy (18+)

n i n e t e e n

Violet's perspective - February

To say that Draco had been tense over the past month was a massive understatement. The strings holding him together were wound so tightly that they threatened to snap and unravel his entire being. Ever since his conversation with Flint, Draco's temperament was fragile. The mere mention of home or his father sent him into an angry frenzy.

He was scared, I could tell. He did his best to mask his fear with anger but I knew him better than that. Facing his father and by proxy, the Dark Lord was inevitable, but I tried to make him see that we should try our best to live normally while we could. Even the semblance of a normal life was enough for him to keep him calm the majority of the time.

There were times where my anxiety became too much for me, but my anxiety manifested itself differently than Draco's. Rather than lashing out in anger, my tears did the screaming for me. Sometimes I would lie in bed with my curtains drawn around me, crying until I fell asleep. Oddly, I found solace in my dreams. I would dream of Draco and the life that we should have had. I imagined us in Hogwarts, not unlike we already were, but I dreamed of us being carefree and happy. Visions of us running through the castle laughing and kissing where our biggest fear was being caught by Filch filled my head and brought me a false sense of calm when I woke.

The February air was brisk as I stepped outside with Pansy. We marched towards the Quidditch pitch, proudly sporting Slytherin green. Draco had given me one of his jerseys to wear for the match. I was practically swimming in it but I wore his name and number with pride on top of a black jacket. Pansy had painted Draco's number on my cheek while she sported Blaise's on hers. Half an hour before the match and stands were already starting to fill, as almost everyone went to the Gryffindor versus Slytherin games. We managed to snag a spot in the front row thanks to Pansy shoving some second years aside.

The crowd's screaming intensified when the players finally flew out onto the pitch. The Slytherin team flew around the pitch in a V formation, with Draco in the front. He flew around the pitch elegantly and I watched him in awe. Sometimes I forgot to appreciate just how beautiful he was. With his green robe that clung to his body and emphasized his broad shoulders as it billowed behind him gracefully, he was perfect. He even wore a small smile while he flew around the pitch. Despite everything, he was always happy when he was on his broom. Quidditch was an escape for him.

While Madame Pooch blew her whistle to indicate the start of the match, Draco did another lap around the pitch, stopping in front of the Slytherin stands.

"Let's go!" He screamed to the stands, lifting a fist into the air and eliciting a roar from the Slytherins. He glided closer to the stands and stopped directly in front of me in the first row, "Your face looks good with my number on it," he said, winking at me before he flew away.

I heard a few disappointed murmurs from the other girls behind me but I couldn't be bothered to care. Given how moody Draco has been lately, it was nice to see him acting like his usual cocky self. Seeing him happy made me happy and I was determined to keep it that way as long as I could. There was no way that I was going to let some jealous girls ruin my good mood. In fact, I had to admit that I revelled in their jealousy. This was the boy everyone wanted, the star Seeker, the Prince of Slytherin, and he was mine. The best part was that he wasn't even scared of showing it anymore.

The game was intense, to say the least. The boys on the Slytherin team were known for playing dirty, but they always elevated it to another level when we played Gryffindor. They needed this win, they lost to Gryffindor in our last match and I knew they would be beyond chuffed if it happened again.

I watched in awe as Ginny Weasley raced towards the Slytherin goal posts with the quaffle tucked under her arm. She dodged the Slytherin Beaters effortlessly before throwing the ball towards the post. I had to give it to the Weaselette, she was talented. I had no clue how she made it look so easy. Adrian Pucey barely saved She-Weasley's throw, kicking it away at the last second and launching it directly towards where we were sitting. Seconds before Pansy was about to receive a black eye from the quaffle, Blaise flew up from under the stands and caught it. He winked at Pansy before racing to the other end of the pitch. Pansy swooned, her smile crinkling the green 6 that was painted on her cheek.