A girl named Rhea had made it to hogwarts, she was doing her first year in 5th year. She will have struggles with her magic and work, until she meets the one and only Draco Malfoy.
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The following week felt like an eternity for Rhea. The invisible thread between her and Draco had tightened, pulling her deeper into a world of tension and confusion. She found herself constantly on edge, every glance, every accidental brush of his hand sending her heart racing. Her magic still wavered, though she could feel it pulsing beneath her skin, restless and waiting to break free. But it was as if her emotions—her tangled feelings for Draco—were somehow interfering, blocking her ability to focus.
Classes passed in a blur, each one more frustrating than the last. Transfiguration had been another disaster; her attempt to turn a goblet into a bird resulted in a half-metal, half-feathered creature that screeched and flapped around the classroom, drawing laughter from the other students. Even Professor McGonagall had struggled to hide her disappointment.
By the time Friday evening rolled around, Rhea was exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally. The pressure she had put on herself since arriving at Hogwarts had only increased with her confusing relationship with Draco. It was all too much, and yet she couldn't bring herself to pull away from him, even if that might have made things easier.
The Slytherin common room was unusually empty that night, the flickering green flames casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Rhea sat curled in one of the plush armchairs near the fire, trying to lose herself in a book about advanced Charms, but the words blurred together, her mind too preoccupied to focus.
She wasn't surprised when Draco appeared, his presence as quiet and unsettling as always. She had grown accustomed to him showing up unexpectedly, as if he always knew where to find her. Tonight, however, he didn't approach her immediately. Instead, he stood by the fireplace, his pale face illuminated by the greenish glow of the flames.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, the weight of all their unspoken words hanging in the air.
Finally, Draco broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. "You're holding back."
Rhea looked up from her book, startled by the directness of his words. "What?"
Draco turned to face her fully, his gaze piercing. "Your magic. You're holding back. You're scared of what you're capable of."
Rhea frowned, confused. "I'm not scared. I'm just... struggling. You've seen it."
Draco stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "No. You're not struggling because you lack the skill. You're struggling because you're afraid of what happens when you let go."
Rhea's heart raced as his words sank in. She had never thought of it that way, but there was something about what he said that rang true. Her magic had always felt like a wild thing inside her, something powerful and untamed. She had spent years trying to control it, to force it into neat boxes, but it had never truly worked.
And Draco—somehow, he saw right through her.
"I don't know how to let go," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco's gaze softened just a fraction, and for a moment, the ice in his eyes thawed. He knelt down beside her chair, his face close to hers, and Rhea could feel the heat of his breath on her skin.
"You're stronger than you think," he said, his voice so low that it sent a shiver down her spine. "But strength means nothing if you're afraid to use it."
Rhea's breath hitched, her pulse quickening. Draco was close now—so close that she could see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. She had never been this close to him before, and the intensity of his presence was overwhelming.
"I'm not afraid," she said, though her voice trembled.
Draco's lips curved into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Liar."
The word hung between them, heavy and charged with meaning. And before Rhea could respond, before she could even process what was happening, Draco leaned in and captured her lips with his.
The kiss was sudden, intense, and everything that had been building between them for weeks seemed to explode in that single moment. Rhea's mind went blank, her body reacting on instinct as she kissed him back, her fingers curling into the front of his robes. His hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, and she could feel the heat radiating off him, the raw energy between them sparking like wildfire.
For a few heart-pounding moments, nothing else existed but the two of them—the world outside the common room, her struggles with magic, her frustration—all of it faded into the background, drowned out by the sheer force of the connection between them.
But then, just as quickly as it had started, Draco pulled back, his breath heavy, his eyes dark and stormy.
"This is dangerous," he said, his voice rough and low.
Rhea's chest was heaving, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. "I know," she whispered, her voice shaky.
Draco stood up, running a hand through his pale hair, clearly trying to regain control. "We shouldn't..."
But Rhea cut him off, standing up to face him, her eyes locked on his. "You don't get to decide that, Draco. Not anymore."
Draco looked at her for a long moment, his expression hard to read. There was a battle going on inside him—Rhea could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands flexed at his sides. He was fighting something, something he wasn't ready to give in to.
And then, just like that, the mask slipped back into place. He stepped away from her, his face once again cold and unreadable.
"Don't let this distract you from what matters," he said, his voice emotionless.
Rhea watched him go, her heart still racing, her mind still spinning from the kiss. But she knew it wasn't over—not by a long shot. Draco Malfoy was a storm, and she had just stepped into the eye of it.
The next few days passed in a blur. Rhea couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, replaying it over and over in her mind. She had always felt something for Draco, but she hadn't realized how deep it went until that moment. Now, every time she saw him in the corridors, every time their eyes met, there was an unspoken tension between them—a tension that neither of them seemed willing to address.
But there was something else, too. Since the kiss, Rhea had noticed a change in herself. Her magic felt stronger, more vibrant, as if something had been unlocked inside her. She wasn't sure if it was the kiss, or Draco's words, or both, but whatever it was, she could feel the difference.
During her next Transfiguration class, when Professor McGonagall asked them to turn a quill into a hummingbird, Rhea didn't hesitate. She focused, letting go of the fear that had always held her back, and with a single flick of her wand, the quill transformed flawlessly into a delicate, fluttering bird.
She couldn't help but smile as it flew around the classroom, her heart swelling with pride. For the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts, she felt like she was truly in control of her magic.
But as she glanced across the room and saw Draco watching her, his expression unreadable, Rhea knew that her newfound confidence was just the beginning. There was still so much more to uncover—about herself, about her magic, and about the strange, magnetic pull between her and Draco.
