"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 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | "𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫?"
━━━━━━━━━━━━ D A Y T W E L V E/ F O U R T E E N (part 2) « virginity » ━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Draco is stood by a white oak table, a silver object held onto the wood with a single hand, the other gradually grazing his wand on the surface area of the object he's within the possession of. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he states, removing his hands from their position, the weight of his wand clattering onto the smooth floor.
"Um," I advertise my presence, the apprehensive vibrations of my voice disrupting the area, similar to black ink in clear water.
His eyes snap towards me, "how the hell did you get in here?"
"Oh, a giant door appeared on the wall and—"
"—No," he frowns, gliding his body ahead of the wooden desk to prevent my view from glancing at the item. "You can't get in here without— unless you were thinking of me specifically."
I realize he is unaware that I have effectively identified the object he is endeavoring to blanket from my knowledge. "Is that the Ravenclaw Diadem?" I question, observing his reluctant reaction unfold on the expressions on his face.
"What? No, of course not." Draco claims with such amplified belief, but his body language indicates that his nervousness has a larger impact on his presence than the faith he has in himself to brew up a lie, especially as I venture closer to him.
My arms crease together ahead of my chest, pondering if he thinks I'm visually impaired or plain stupid to not recognize the diadem as a Ravenclaw myself. "Yes it was, I know what I saw."
"You didn't see anything." He states, bending his upper body forward to pluck his wand from the floor. His expression appearing to present as unbothered, his brows relaxed, his shoulders slacked.
"You know I won't tell anyone," I claim, peering at the belt held loosely above his hips, my eyes trailing to his scrunched sleeves held below his elbows. "Just tell me what you were doing with such a rare— oh," my vision locks on the jet-black mark embedded on the raw skin of his forearm. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the dark lord?"
"I'm gonna have to obliviate you." The wood in his grasp is calculated towards me, yet his articulation doesn't seem to wish to present as intimidating— instead, his language exemplifies evidence of bitter disappointment.
My wand is quick to slip from my waistband, slanted by my abdomen as it rolls between the skin of my fingertips. "You know I'm much better at wand magic than you, put it down," I speak to him as if we were chatting within the vicinity of a normal conversation. "It's like I've said, I won't tell anyone, no one would believe me anyway."
