"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 𝐒𝐈𝐗 | "𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫"
━━━━━━━━━━━━
D A Y E L E V E N / F O U R T E E N «« touch is precious»
━━━━━━━━━━━━
ϟ
𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 (𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑)
My breath runs from my own lungs, the oxygen spilling from the organ as my inhales chase after a gulp of wind. My hands are held together between my thighs— the thighs that are chilled from the frosty library chair, the lenses of my eyes are glued to the parchment adhered to the table. Yet, my vision is unfocused, unable to read my very own handwriting scribbled onto the sheet, my heart pounding into my ear. I'm afraid the entire geometric form of the library is opportuned with the ability to hear my pulses bouncing from the thick walls.
My body is disassembling for the certain blond pacing towards me.
"Well, you've outdone yourself this time, Y/L/N." His face is smeared with an expression of utter fury, "it's one thing to tell my side pieces that there are other girls but it's another to actually alert an administrator."
My voice spills smoothly from my diaphragm, a complete contrast with how rough and fraught the nervousness is chomping away at my insides. "Girls are not allowed in the boy dormitories. If you wanted me to keep my mouth shut then maybe you shouldn't have invalidated my potions exam for accusation of cheating."
"It wasn't an accusation," he claims, streaming his slender fingers through his flattened hair. "I saw you looking down at your hands, messing with something— you were cheating and I know it."
My arms fold, my back pressing onto the chair as the strained bones release the tension in my spine. "Why would I cheat? My scores are perfect, I have't failed any assignments or tests, my academic level is two years ahead of me. I always know what I'm doing and you have knowledge of that." I state, my eyes meandering to his figure— he's exhausted, the locks of his hair are flattened and not styled in its standard structure. Dark— nearly purple circles are smeared on the canvas of his under-eyes. His complexion pale, as if he's constantly being drained of his color— perhaps it is the stress of the influx of assignments that 6th years possess. "Either way, if you caught anyone else actually cheating you wouldn't get their exam invalidated. You targeted me, like always."
