"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 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 | "𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤."
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D A Y F I V E / F O U R T E E N «« comfort »»
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ϟ
A happy bird swooshes through the tubes of my stomach up to the chambers of my heart. Excitement fills my dry, crackling, hollow veins fattening them up to prepare for the surge of gratifying exhilaration occurring in my system.
"Y/N?" The door swung open as a result of my reverberating knock. Vance's hair is freshly settled, the crisp woodsy scent of his routined styling gel slamming involuntarily into my nostrils. "What are you doing here?"
He peers his head past the frame, glancing to his left and to his right preceding to hooking his hefty arm around my waist, yanking me past the threshold and into his bedroom.
"Draco won't be looking for me," I recall the events of the formal night, weaving a strap of thought around my brain about how the embarrassment must be chewing away at his ego. "He's been avoiding me, after he said all those things yesterday."
Vance nibbled the skin of his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes as he ran his fingers through my thick hair, pressing his chest onto mine as his hands stroked my head. "What did he say to you? May I ask?"
"It's nothing of significance, something about me wanting me to like him and something about not wanting me to leave. I don't really remember." I say, entranced in his pretty hazel eyes, practically melting at his warming touch. Yet, I am uncertain regarding the matter of why I just lied, I've been pondering Draco's words the entire night, only gaining an ounce of sleep whilst I endeavored to shove away the tenderness of my heart, the heat of my cheeks whence he had spoken those thoughtful words to me— I hate Draco, I mustn't fall for his measly tricks.
He trails the pad of his finger onto my hairline, dragging it down until he tucked the strand of hair behind my ear— and I'm ashamed, so fucking ashamed at how much it reminds me of how Draco had performed an identical action last night, except out clothes were wet, clinging so disturbingly to my skin.
"How much time do we have?" Vance questions, inclining his face towards mine, his palm sliding leisurely south of my spine to grasp the flesh behind my hips.
