"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
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The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | "𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝?"
ϟ
Curiosity won the battle between obeying Vance's solicitations and sneaking outside to the restricted zone. Curious is how we learn. It is how we grow into our passions and find our way into our adult role in society.
My hand clutched onto the railing of the grand staircase. The glossed wooden floor was a chilling cold beneath my dainty cotton socks.
The bases of the Manor is nearly frosting my skin. The sun scarcely drove a negligible amount of sunlight through the tinted windows.
"Well, Vance didn't tell me you were allowed out."
"Draco, leave me alone."
I refuse to turn my body backwards to face him, I decide his words are not worth my limited time. The blond boy is similar to a pesky timid fly that won't stop zooming past your ear, distracting you from all your intentions. Yet, I hear the thuds of his shoes and my eyes close due to irritation.
I smell his sweet aroma a few inches ahead of my body.
"I'm not going to tell him." He remarks, his voice hinders an anxiety— an anxiety I'm forced to shove down my throat. "It's good to see that you don't actually act like Vance's little bitch."
My eyes snap open, noticing his presence is too proximate to me. "I'm not anyone's bitch and if I were— so what? Vance and I are none of your business."
His creamy button-up shirt is flaunted open, revealing his chest— his muscularlydefined chest. The waistband of his boxers outline the base of his sweatpants, like a dark green stripe wrapping above his hips.
Draco utilizes the niche of his finger to lift my chin from my vision, a devilish grin fading in place of a neutral expression as he briefly licked his lips. "If you were going to stare, you should've made it less obvious."
"I wasn't, I only wanted to know where you got that." I reach my hand to point at the large pink scar that sliced a thick line on his abdomen, my brows flinch in the direction of the olden wound. "That must've hurt."
Draco does not bother to glance at the lesion I'm mentioning, shoving my pointed hand to its previous position— my side. "I ask the questions, you answer."
"You haven't even asked a question."
His expression abides with an exceptional scoff, pushing the lock of my hair that rested on my chest to my back. "Three times."
