𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥

Prey

The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room grew tense as I settled into the conversation, aware of the lingering gazes and probing questions from my peers. Pansy Parkinson's curiosity was evident, but it was another voice that cut through the murmurs and hushed tones.

"Where's your mark?" The question hung in the air, directed at me with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. I met the speaker's eyes, recognizing him vaguely from previous encounters-Mr. Mysterious, as I had silently labeled him in my mind.

I maintained my composure, refusing to let their scrutiny unsettle me. "Hidden," I replied calmly, my tone neutral. The Slytherins around us leaned in slightly, their interest piqued by my ambiguous response.

Draco, sensing the tension, shifted subtly beside me. His presence was a reassuring anchor amidst the undercurrents of intrigue and suspicion. He had warned me that questions about my background and allegiances would inevitably arise in Slytherin, where trust was earned through careful calculation and guarded revelations.

Taking the last sip from my glass, I set it down with deliberate ease, allowing the moment to linger. The group watched me closely, their expressions a mix of respect and curiosity. In Slytherin, information was power, and I had chosen to keep mine closely guarded-for now.

Pansy leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "You're full of surprises, Blackwood," she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of admiration and challenge.

I nodded slightly, acknowledging her observation without revealing anything more. As the conversation shifted and the evening wore on, I navigated the intricate dance of Slytherin politics with practiced skill, aware that every word and gesture carried weight.

Draco remained by my side throughout, a silent ally and confidant. His presence offered both reassurance and a reminder of the complexities of our intertwined lives at Hogwarts. Together, we navigated the challenges of being newcomers in a house where ambition and cunning were prized above all else.

As I glanced around the room, observing the calculated exchanges and subtle alliances forming among my peers,

Chapter 2: Revelations and Confrontations

As I stood up, Draco took his seat, his expression unreadable. I settled onto his lap, the tension palpable in the room. "Regulus Black is with Blaise Zabini under the Riddles, takes most of the time away dealing with tasks," Draco informed me with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Got it," I replied, my mind racing with the implications of what he said. Draco's fingers traced lightly over my thigh, where my Dark Mark was carefully concealed beneath makeup. I gently moved his hand away and stood up, taking the empty glass back to the bar.

Across the room, Daphne Greengrass sat alone, writing a letter with an air of secrecy. "Anyone interesting?" I inquired casually, noticing her swift attempt to hide the parchment as I approached. She quickly wiped her face and sniffed, clearly emotional.

"Someone who's in Azkaban? I never thought you would go for someone that low," I remarked teasingly as I took a seat opposite her, leaning back and smirking. "A mad man caught your attention..."

Daphne remained silent, her gaze fixed on the tabletop. "The fact that you're not spilling, does even Parkinson know?" I prodded, taking advantage of her vulnerability.

"Your brother..." I started, watching her reaction closely. Daphne hesitated before placing the letter back on the table, her expression guarded. My eyes flickered from her to the name on the letter. "Something you should know," I whispered, leaning in. "I put him in there."

Daphne shot up from her seat, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "You put your own brother in that hell of a place!" she cried out, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

"Oh, girl, ain't you a mess," I thought to myself, maintaining a cool demeanor despite her outburst. "You do know you ain't the first and definitely ain't the last. He had me stuck in there for a year, framed me for God's sakes. No idea, so I thought, why not do the same to him?"

I traced my fingers lightly across the table, meeting her enraged gaze with calm determination. "He's there for three years," Daphne protested, pushing my hand away.

"Mhmm, true," I acknowledged casually, dismissing her concern with a wave of my hand. "It's banter we play with the guardsmen till they've had enough and attempt to kill us, which fails, and then we escape," I explained matter-of-factly.

I guided her back into her seat, aware of the curious and confused gazes of the others around us. "It's a game we play-to see who can escape the quickest, to piss the guards off. You're nothing but a pawn. He doesn't give two shits who you are, and to be honest... neither do I."

With a flick of my wand, I set the letter on fire, watching as it turned to ash before us. The room fell silent, the weight of our conversation hanging in the air like smoke.

Chapter 3: Unraveling Alliances

The aftermath of my confrontation with Daphne left a lingering tension in the air, noticeable even to those not directly involved. Draco watched silently, his eyes flickering between me and Daphne, assessing the situation with his usual stoic demeanor.

As the flames consumed the letter on the table, Daphne's expression shifted from anger to a mixture of resignation and defiance. She slumped back into her chair, her hands trembling slightly. "You're playing a dangerous game," she muttered, her voice low but filled with an undercurrent of determination.

I leaned forward, meeting her gaze squarely. "Aren't we all?" I retorted, my tone challenging yet oddly sympathetic. "You know as well as I do, Daphne, that survival in our world requires making difficult choices."

She nodded slowly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "True enough," she conceded. "But some choices have consequences that stretch beyond what we anticipate."

Draco cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence that had settled over us. "What do you intend to do now?" he asked, his voice measured and cool.

I glanced at him briefly before returning my attention to Daphne. "What I must," I replied cryptically, knowing full well that my next moves would have repercussions not just for myself but for everyone entangled in this web of alliances and secrets.

Daphne sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. "You're not the only one with secrets," she admitted quietly, her gaze flickering towards Draco and then back to me. "There are things you don't know."

"And whose fault is that?" I countered sharply, feeling a surge of frustration mingled with curiosity. "We're supposed to be on the same side, yet you keep playing these games."

"Because I have to," she shot back, her eyes flashing with defiance. "You may not understand, but not everyone has the luxury of being able to choose freely."

I studied her for a moment, recognizing the weight of her words. In our world, alliances were forged out of necessity as much as loyalty. Trust was a currency more valuable than gold, and betrayal could be a death sentence.

"Fine," I said finally, relenting slightly. "But remember this, Daphne. Loyalty is earned, not demanded. And secrets have a way of coming to light."

With that, I stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. Draco followed suit, his expression unreadable as ever. As we walked away, leaving Daphne to her thoughts,