Serpent's Veil || Draco Malfoy.

Fragments d'un Cœur Indécis

Emily's POV

So, here I was a few hours ago, trying to set the scene with candlelight all around my dorm. 

It's supposed to look romantic, right? 

I dunno, maybe it's cheesy, but it seems to be doing the job. 

Matthew and I are tangled up on my bed, kissing like this is the moment we've been building up to all night. 

And honestly, for a few minutes, it feels pretty damn perfect. 

Earlier, I told Millicent to make herself scarce for the afternoon. 

"I need some time alone," I said, conveniently leaving out the part where "alone" actually means "alone with this cute French guy."

And Matthew's not just cute—he's genuinely sweet, kind of a rare thing around here. 

We had an actual blast walking around Hogwarts; he wasn't just nodding politely. 

No, he was asking questions about Hogwarts history, like, "Why does the ceiling look like the sky? How did they enchant it?" 

And there I am, telling him my favourite stories like he's actually interested in them. 

I was even halfway through my annual "Nearly Headless Nick Nearly Lost His Head" retelling, and he's hanging on every word, nodding like, Yes, Emily, tell me more about ghosts and axes

I might not strike you as the type who gets all excited about ghost stories or Hogwarts legends, but with Matthew, it's different. 

He somehow makes me feel like I can actually be myself without the usual cold front I put up around here. 

Like, for the first time in a while, I can just be Em instead of Emily motherfucking Greenleaf

But just when things are getting heated, I catch myself thinking about Malfoy's smug face.

Seriously. Right now? 

Just as things are getting good, this arrogant ass somehow sneaks his way into my head, and I don't even know why. 

I can't stand him, and yet he's got this knack for ruining my day even when he's halfway across the castle. 

Matthew's hands are on my face, so gentle and sweet, moving to my neck, then to the buttons of my shirt. 

And for a second, I think, This is it; I can finally just enjoy the moment without any drama. 

And then... there it is again. 

Malfoy's smug little smirk, uninvited, front and center. 

And I'm so annoyed I actually have to pause, because I don't want Matthew to pay for my messed-up head.

He notices immediately, of course, because nothing says "kill the vibe" like going completely rigid out of nowhere. 

"Est-ce que tout va bien? Tu sembles... préoccupée." 

He sounds concerned, which just makes me feel worse. 

I'm the one over here with some mental soap opera going on, and he's just trying to have a good night.

I try to shake it off, sit up, and mutter something vague. 

"Yeah, I'm good, just... stuff on my mind." 

Like what, Greenleaf? 

He just reaches up, brushing my cheek, and gives me this soft, patient look. 

"Il n'y a pas de pression," he says, all reassuring. "On a tout le temps. Le bal est bientôt, et nous allons nous amuser. On n'a pas besoin de se précipiter." 

He's got a point, and it's almost enough to make me feel better.

But really, what am I supposed to say to him? 

That the reason I'm distracted is because some jerk has taken up permanent residence in my head, and I have no idea how to evict him? 

Yeah, that's one way to guarantee he never speaks to me again.

I let out a breath, trying to regroup, and finally manage to smile at him. 

"Thanks," I say, barely finding my voice. "I think I just need... time." 

And a brain transplant. 

"I don't want to rush things."

As he nods, all calm and understanding, I'm left here grappling with this version of myself I don't even recognize. 

Since when do I need "time" to figure out anything? 

I'm usually the last person to complicate things with feelings. 

I've always thought people blew things out of proportion about who they were with, acting like it was this sacred ritual or whatever. 

Sex has just been... physical. 

No deep attachments, no analyzing what it means. 

It's always been simple. 

But here I am, wrapped up in some weird guilt, and it's not because of Matthew.

Because if I'm honest, the only person I can picture getting that close to right now is the one guy I keep swearing I hate—Malfoy. 

I don't even know why; it's not like we've done anything major. 

We've barely even kissed, except for that one time he got handsy in Potions, which... okay, maybe I've thought about once or twice too many.

And, damn it, I can't get the feel of his hands off my mind. It's like he's burned himself into me, and now, no one else feels like enough.

It's infuriating. 

I never cared about intimacy before. 

But now? 

That kiss with him felt electric, like a fucking jolt of lightning that hit me square in the chest. 

He's apparently the only one who makes me feel something deeper than just a passing thrill, and it's driving me insane. 

All I can think about is how his hands gripped me, how his lips tasted, and how I want more of that, not just some surface-level connection that leaves me feeling empty afterwards. 

I want all of him, the heat, the chaos, the rawness that comes with wanting someone who makes you feel like you're on fire. 

And the fact that it's him is just... unreal.

"Pas de souci. Nous avons tout le temps pour nous amuser," he says, brushing his thumb over my hand. "Je suis content de passer cette soirée avec toi."

With that, some of the tension actually fades away. 

For once, I think. 

Here's this perfectly normal, considerate guy who doesn't come with any of the usual emotional grenades I seem to keep stepping on around here. 

This is the kind of moment I should be savoring, not obsessing over some ridiculous ghost of Malfoy's smirk, or trying to parse the chaos of feelings I'm dealing with.

So I let myself just enjoy this, letting Matthew lean in to kiss me again. 

Maybe this is what I need. 

I've spent so long spinning my head around my dramas that I've forgotten what it's like to be with someone simple. 

Simple in a good way, like a peaceful moment in the eye of a storm.