entanglements | d.m.

13.young&beautiful

5th year | H E R

"What are doing out here?" A gruff voice asks as Devyn is sneaking up a set of stairs.

A tall boy with lightbrown waves is waiting at the top, clad in Slytherin green robes, a badge pinned to his chest.

Shit, he's a year older.

Devyn falters five steps below, wondering why she hasn't learned the invisibility charm yet.

"I'm speaking to you," he says. "What's your name?"

Her brain draws a blank as he descends to her level. "Uh..."

"Oh shit." He sniggers, scanning her from top to bottom. "You're that Crouch girl."

Her heart is stuck in her throat. It can't do that anytime someone mentions her father's name. That's not fair.

"What are you doing out after curfew?" he presses, this time a mysterious lilt to it, as though she is on her way to do illegal deeds.

"I..."

His brows shoot up, a superior kind of smirk tugging at his wide mouth. God, she hates that look.

So much so, she deadpans, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

His jaw drops open, a shallow laugh flowing out. It turns amused, his heady eyes doing a deeper sweep of her frame. "You know I heard crazy bitches go wild."

She'll shrivel up from disgust. "I'm not—"

"Strap in your tongue, Montague."

—crazy.

Her pulse goes indeed wild at the familiar voice. Draco Malfoy comes to a halt at the top of the stairs, where Montague stood a minute ago.

The older boy grins, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Have you not heard what they say about this one?" He jerks his head at Devyn like she is an object to gawk at. "Of course you know. It's our favourite locker topic."

Draco blinks boredly at him, but his fist is curling at his side. "Cut it out, Montague."

"Are you defending her?"

"I want to have my own fun, if you don't mind." Draco's gaze settles on her, leering and goosebump inducing.

"Oh." Acknowledging what Draco is hinting at, Montague takes a slow step up. "Well then don't let me get in the way."

That easily, Draco has sway over people.

Passing him, Montague puts a meaty hand on Draco's shoulder that basically says, go at it, tiger! "Don't lose your head, Malfoy. Remember the game tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Captain," he grounds out, cutting a sharp look first at the hand on his shoulder, then following the back of his captain as he ascends the next set of stairs.

Only until Montague is out of sight does Draco look back at Devyn. She's standing one step below.

"He's a prefect?" she asks, letting all judgement flow into it.

"Don't ask me how." He leads her down the hall to a less trafficked area, his jaw flexing. "I don't get it either."

"What does he mean with locker topic," she questions when he pulls her behind a thick pillar. Her back meets the stone, air whooshing out of her.

He eyes her mouth eagerly, hands bracing om both sides of her head. "Exactly what it sounds like."

"Are you... participating?" the last word is close to a whisper, her stare fallen to the soft pillows of his lips, coming closer, closer.