Phoebe Ellory, a talented pureblood witch, grapples with her burgeoning powers and the internal conflict between light and dark. As she navigates her studies, Phoebe's life takes a turn when she discovers her late mother's unfinished research on the...
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Draco
The gates weren't just made of sturdy iron, but they were also laced with magic to shield the property and the people in it from unwanted visitors and malediction. I had only read about the renegades on the paper. Their violent manifestations called for immediate action from Cornelius Fudge, but as Crabbe's father once stated, 'Cornelius Fudge is a coward.' It was up to us to put an end to them.
And that moment was now.
Or soon, at least.
Casimir Union was nothing more but an ungovernable group of outcasts terrorising, looting, and creating chaos in the wizarding community. They defied wizarding laws, used violence and hid behind animal masks like wildlings. However 'good' their cause seemed, they couldn't be trusted. Not after they've gatecrashed a private event and pulled up their banners and chants.
I understood Phoebe had tried to get them to leave and avoid conflict, but it was already at her doorstep. She couldn't reason with these personae non gratae. They didn't care for reason and she was wasting her breath on them.
"The elitist families have done it again!" The one with an owl mask exclaimed, pointing a threatening wand at the girl who I thought had tried to kill us a few moments ago.
As if by instinct, I abruptly moved in front of her and drew out my wand. Phoebe's father and I took a defensive stance to protect her and deflect any curse that may break through the gates. Their eyes hid behind the animal masks but I knew behind all the feathers and spangles, malevolent eyes focused on Phoebe.
"You claim you're not one of them, but your boyfriend is..." wolf mask chuckled amusingly. "You're in bed with the enemy."
Am I the boyfriend?
Oh, how sweet that sounded. Me. Phoebe. One bed. A giddy feeling took over my stomach and I started conjuring images in my mind about being her boyfriend. If I were her boyfriend, I would take her to every bookstore and library in the world, I'd watch her all day, make everyday a challenge to make her laugh and empower her in ways that she'll benefit from.
Hold her hand when she needed it —which would probably be never— considering her distaste for physical touch and stubbornness to need others. I would teach her to not be afraid of my hands and my touch. My hands were made for her, just as my whole being. The future never looked this bright.
My eyes sliced to her, she wore a disconcerting expression. Phoebe furrowed her brows and opened her mouth, but words struggled to come out at the insinuation. Stunned.
"He's not my boyfriend!" Phoebe finally exasperated, too quickly for my liking.
It was my turn to narrow my eyes. I mean, I was going to speak against it because of how awful and sickening that assumption was. Why did she have to sound so offended? I should be the one offended! She hardly smiled or laughed, she always looked angry and she had no personality other than the books she spent reading. And lately the research she'd been doing.
