The Game | D.M

39

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'Vanishing Cabinet'

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September

Aria Zabini

It had been weeks since Draco and I had spoken, and the silence between us was beginning to feel unbearable. I tried to pretend I didn't care, like it didn't bother me, but who was I kidding? 

Every day it was the same—shared classes, shared glances, but not a single word. The task we had to face loomed over us, growing darker and more suffocating with each passing day, and yet neither of us had made a move.

I sat in the Slytherin common room, pretending to be absorbed in some book, though I couldn't focus on a single word. The fire crackled softly, the flames casting flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls. The room was quiet, nearly empty, which suited me just fine. I was too distracted to be around anyone right now.

Suddenly, a small piece of parchment fluttered down into my lap. I frowned, looking up quickly, but the room was still empty. I didn't see anyone.

I picked up the note and unfolded it, my eyes narrowing as I read the words scrawled across the page:

"Meet me in the back abandoned hallway. - D."

Of course, it was him.

I stared at the note for a second, debating whether or not to go. But deep down, I knew I would. Draco didn't reach out unless it was important, and with everything weighing on us, I couldn't afford to ignore him. Sighing, I crumpled the note in my hand and tossed it into the fire, watching as the flames consumed it.

I stood up, tossing the book aside and making my way out of the common room without a second thought. The castle was quiet, the air thick with the lingering chill of autumn, and my footsteps echoed off the cold stone as I walked through the empty halls. 

The farther I went, the more isolated it felt. The back hallway was an abandoned part of the castle—no one came here anymore. It was the perfect spot for a secret meeting.

As I reached the hallway, my heart picked up speed. Draco stood at the far end, leaning against the wall, his face partially obscured by shadows. He looked as cold and distant as ever, but there was something else—something in the way his eyes darkened as I approached.

I stopped a few feet away from him, folding my arms across my chest to keep from showing any hint of nerves. "What's this about, Malfoy?" I asked, trying to sound detached. Cold, even.

Draco didn't answer immediately. He just looked at me, his expression hard to read. The silence stretched between us, heavy and tense, until finally, he spoke.

"We can't put this off," he said, his voice low. "The longer we wait, the more dangerous it gets. I'd rather get this done as soon as possible."

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the frustration bubbling up inside me. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make this any easier.

"And what exactly do you suggest we do?" I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended. "We don't even know where to start, Draco. If we make one wrong move, it could all come crashing down."

He stepped closer, his eyes softening in a way that made me almost—almost—believe he regretted pulling me into this mess. But before I could figure out what that look meant, it was gone, replaced by the same detached mask he always wore.