"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
-
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...
Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been cruel, stripping away the bark and external layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They resemble driftwood, twisting in patterns that remind me of seaside waves; even the color of the moss is kelp-like. They are soft, damp, yet my fingers come away dry.
Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. A new smile paints itself upon the features of my face, the tinted color of my lips semi-illuminated by the dappled light.
"What exactly did you do to Vance?" I question, observing as the bottoms of my shoes squished the water from the rain-bathed soil. "You said you 'took care' of him and that he won't be back for a few weeks."
Draco scoffs, snapping a twig off of the tree directly to his left. "Why do you even care?"
A frown appeared between my brows. Panting, as I've been pacing around— touching leaves that were dipped in different shades of brown, grazing my fingers upon the pretty white flowers that sprouted between the dead roots of whithering trees.
The trace of my presence has reverted from being detected in the location of the woods behind the Malfoy Manor.
In other words, I was not allowed to place a foot past the gardens.
"Draco, please don't begin another argument," I say, his eyes narrowing at me whilst I utilize that contact to venture closer to him. "I was asking out of curiosity, there's no need for you to get so pissy."
An alter in his personality has occurred since our previous physical activity. We strolled to the library together after our sexual interaction. He sat me on one of the leather couches, placed my legs on top of his thighs as my spine sunk into the armrest of the seat.
Of course I initiated every conversation whilst he barely uttered a few sentences but this morning, he was quick to bathe my emotions with warm compliments and touch my skin as though I were his fragile doll— now the subject of his emotions are bothered.
"Can you tell me what I did wrong?" I question, slightly pressing my lips together, hooking my fingers onto the side of his sizable hand. "Yesterday you barely spoke to me, this morning you were acting fine and now you're mad, scarcely mouthing a few words."
