𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰)

Missed me?

⭒๋⭑

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ─ Taylor Swift

⭒๋⭑

─────▕⃝⃤─────
𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗

Sometimes, I question whether I'm dreaming. If I'm in a parallel reality where the impossible becomes possible. That would be the only explanation for the past few months. Ever since, somehow, Narcissa became my friend. Or something similar to that.

We followed her suggestion and spent time together without attempting to kill each other. We chatted under the same tree by the Black Lake, strolled around Hogsmeade, and studied in the library.

Every night before bed, I would sneak into her bed, and we’d talk for hours about everything and nothing.

I still hated her. Every smile, every glance, seemed like an affront. Yet, at the same time, there was something about her that intrigued me, something I couldn't ignore. It was as if she had found a way into my mind, contaminating all my thoughts.

Still, I couldn’t stop looking at her when I thought she wasn’t paying attention. And still, I couldn’t get enough of that stupidly beautiful smile.

“You’re staring,” murmured Narcissa, a dimple appearing in her right cheek.

“Good,” I retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. “It means I have eyes, and they both work.”

I braced myself for the book hitting my arm, dodging at the last second.

“You’re so grumpy.”

“And you’re so annoying.”

I smiled at her and leaned against the shelf, watching her search for a particular book. I don’t recall what she was looking for; I ended up distracted, admiring how beautiful she looked today. Her hair was free from ribbons and bands, cascading down her back in wavy blonde locks.

Besides the Hogwarts uniform, an emerald green scarf adorned her neck, fastened with a brooch bearing the Black family crest.

She is stupidly gorgeous. The more I look at her, the harder it becomes to hate her, increasingly impossible. I must be careful not to gape when she turns and looks at me. A slow smile spreads across her lips, one eyebrow raised.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I think I didn’t hear you.”

Narcissa laughed, and I immediately felt my cheeks heat up. “I didn’t say anything, sweetheart.”

“Good,” I muttered. “Keep it that way.”

This time, I didn’t manage to escape when the book hit me on the head.

We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at the back of the library, noses buried in books.

Occasionally, we exchanged glances. Narcissa insisted on kicking my leg just to annoy me. She’s a pain in the arse.