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'Death Eater Dinner'

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A/N - this one is kind of a long one.

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Aria Zabini

Standing in the bathroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I hadn't showered all day, and the weight of everything—the letter, the dinner, the pain—was crushing down on me. I felt disgusting, not just physically but emotionally too. 

My body ached, my mind swirled with dread, and I was so tired. So, so tired.

I turned on the water, letting the steam rise up and fog the mirror. But just as I started to strip off my clothes, a thought crept into my mind. 

What if this is it? What if this is my last chance to do anything? My last moments of being... me?

There was no escaping what was coming. Tonight's dinner wasn't just a dinner—it was a reminder of everything I'd sold my soul for. And I knew, deep down, that I was a dead girl walking. 

If not physically, then in every other sense. The weight of that reality pressed hard against my chest. I didn't want to leave the manor, my life, like this—half-lived, suffocating.

I needed to feel something. Something more than fear, more than dread.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to the door that connected the bathroom to Draco's room. My heart thudded in my chest as I reached for the handle, almost hesitating before opening it just a crack. 

Peeking through, I saw him sitting there at his piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. The soft, calming melody filled the air, the sound wrapping around the room like a blanket. He looked almost peaceful, a rare sight in a world that felt so chaotic.

I cleared my throat, a small sound, but enough to break the spell. Draco's fingers stilled on the keys, and his head whipped around, eyes locking onto mine as if he couldn't believe I was standing there.

"I think I could use some company," I spoke quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. 

I saw the surprise flicker across his face for a moment, but he didn't hesitate. He quickly rose from the piano bench and made his way to me, the tension in the air thickening with each step he took. 

As soon as he reached me, his hands found my waist, his touch firm and almost possessive. Without a word, he gently pushed me back into the bathroom, his fingers curling around my waist as he closed the door behind us with a soft click.

The sound of the running water filled the room, the steam already making the air heavy. Draco's eyes flickered over me, filled with something unreadable, and for a moment, neither of us moved. 

I stood there, feeling the heat of his hands on my waist, and in that moment, it was like everything else—everything outside this room—didn't exist.

It was just us.

Slowly, Draco's hands moved up, brushing over my ribs, my skin tingling beneath his touch. His eyes never left mine, and for once, there was no coldness, no sharp edges. Just him. Just me.

I reached for the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head and letting it fall to the floor, my heart pounding louder than the water. Draco's gaze darkened as he stepped closer, his breath warm against my skin.

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