shattered | f.w, d.m

twenty three

Draco.

March, 1998.

—

Everyone watched as Adrian Pucey was escorted down the corridor, in handcuffs, with Detective Obi walking behind him as two other men held the boy's upper arms.

Across the hall, Draco shared a rapid glance with Keziah, who was across the hall with Fuckhead Fred and other Gryffindors. Draco couldn't read the look on her face, but this was a mutual win for them both.

Thanks to her... she did it all. So effortlessly and in a way that showed she knew they were going to get away with it—so confident and so flawless. As though she were made for this. As though she were born for this.

And it made him fall even harder for her.

Of course, before the search, Draco hid his journal in the inside of the dresser—pinned to the roof of the inside—rather than inside of a drawer.

The journal in which had pages about eleven ladies and over twenty pages on Keziah. Photographs of her she didn't know about. Sometimes he liked to use those photos and the words he wrote on that page as a way to stimulate the beginning of his release and to help him get to the finish line. Each one was always better than the last.

Draco might have not been able to save himself from going to Azkaban for murder, but he saved himself from the confrontation of Keziah or anyone finding out he watched over ladies.

He wasn't doing anything wrong. He really wasn't. He was merely documenting intoxicating beauty because nobody else seemed to see the work of perfection that walked the grounds—Keziah Cai.

Look, now this might have made Draco sound like a dick, but he was glad Keziah got angry with him and threw books at him. Because she showed emotions. Raw, strong, genuine, and real emotions. It meant their love was getting deeper. Partners in crime, he liked to think.

All couples had arguments. Draco and Keziah had their first argument that day when she tried to decapitate him with a book. Perhaps an argument of pure love.

Dumbledore announced that classes were cancelled for the week, so everyone soon spilled out of the corridor. Whispers and murmurs feathered above because, well, nothing like this had ever happened in the Wizarding World—much less Hogwarts itself.

"Hey," Draco greeted when he let his steps fall in sync with Keziah's down the hall. She was walking by herself. No Fuckhead Fred. "Where are you off to?"

"To make a porno."

His mouth gaped, speechless.

She didn't say anything else as she walked toward the library. She was still so unreadable that he didn't know if she was just making a little joke. So maddeningly opaque.

He found his voice after a few beats too long. "Spring break is coming up," he mentioned neutrally, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trousers.

"Mmm..." She nodded slowly and her hands gathered her hair to clip it up. She grabbed the claw clip from the waistband of her jeans and used it to pin her hair up. The two front pieces fell to frame her face, per usual, as they were too short to be pinned back. "I've heard as much."

"Any plans for that?" He tried to make his curiosity seem less eager than he actually was.

"That's none of your business, pretty boy." She threw him a sideways smile.

"You called me pretty," Draco beamed, like a kid with all the candy in the world. A big smile even broke onto his mouth. "But you have plans, yeah?"

"Sure." Her shoulders bobbed in a limp shrug.