ᏕᎮᏗᏒᏦᏕ

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌

The days after the kiss seemed to crawl by in agonizing slowness for Rhea. Draco had been keeping his distance since that night in the common room, his cold mask firmly back in place whenever their paths crossed. She would catch him glancing at her in the Great Hall or during lessons, but every time she tried to approach him, he would pull away, as if he regretted what had happened between them.

Yet, something in him had shifted too. His words from that night echoed in her mind—strength means nothing if you're afraid to use it—and they had sparked something deep within her. Her magic had never felt this alive. It responded to her more naturally, more fluidly, as if Draco had torn down a wall she hadn't realized was there. For the first time in her life, she felt truly powerful.

But with this power came a weight, a gnawing sense of uncertainty that grew with every passing day. What had happened between them wasn't just about magic. There was something deeper—something darker—brewing beneath the surface.

One evening, nearly a week after the kiss, Rhea found herself wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn't untangle. The castle was quiet, the usual bustle of students subdued as everyone settled in for the night. She wasn't sure where she was going, but her feet led her through the dimly lit corridors, past towering statues and portraits whose eyes followed her with curiosity.

She found herself at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the thick trees casting long shadows across the grounds. Rhea hesitated, the eerie quietness of the forest beckoning her in a way she couldn't explain. She had always felt a strange pull toward this place—a sense that there was something out there waiting for her, something she needed to find.

Without thinking, she took a step forward, her feet crunching softly on the forest floor. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Every instinct told her this was dangerous, that she shouldn't be here, but she couldn't stop herself.

As she ventured deeper into the woods, the shadows grew longer, and the trees seemed to press in around her. The sounds of the castle faded behind her, replaced by the whisper of wind through the leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Rhea's heart raced, but it wasn't fear that quickened her pulse—it was anticipation.

And then she saw him.

Draco was standing in a small clearing, his back to her, his pale hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He looked almost otherworldly, like a figure out of a dream. For a moment, Rhea thought about turning back, about leaving him to whatever dark thoughts had brought him here. But something stopped her—something inside her that refused to let him go.

"Draco."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a blade. Draco turned slowly, his face half-hidden in shadow, but she could see the tension in his expression, the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice cold but laced with something else—something that made Rhea's heart ache.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, stepping closer, her eyes locked on his. "You've been avoiding me."

Draco didn't respond at first, his gaze dropping to the ground as if he was struggling with something he couldn't say. When he finally looked back at her, there was a rawness in his expression that she hadn't seen before—a vulnerability that he usually kept hidden behind walls of indifference and arrogance.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he said quietly, his voice rough.

Rhea felt a sharp pang in her chest, but she refused to back down. "Why? Because you don't want this? Or because you're afraid of what happens if you do?"

Draco's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to walk away again. But instead, he closed the distance between them in two long strides, his hands gripping her arms as he pulled her close. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat through her body, but there was something desperate in the way he held her, as if he was fighting a battle with himself.

"This is dangerous, Rhea," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "I don't want to hurt you."

Rhea's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't pull away. She could feel the weight of his words, the tension between what he wanted and what he thought he couldn't have. But she had made her choice. Whatever this was—whatever danger it held—she was willing to face it.

"I don't care," she whispered back, her voice fierce. "I'm not afraid."

Draco's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again, but instead, he let out a low, frustrated sigh and stepped back, his hands dropping from her arms. He looked away, his face hardening.

"You don't understand," he said, his voice colder now. "You don't know what you're getting into."

Rhea's frustration bubbled to the surface, and she grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look at her. "Then explain it to me, Draco. Stop pushing me away."

For a long moment, Draco didn't say anything, his expression a mix of anger and something deeper, something darker. And then, finally, he spoke.

"There are things you don't know about me—things that I can't change." His voice was quiet but filled with a weight that made Rhea's heart sink. "My family... what I'm expected to become... it's not something you can just walk away from."

Rhea's grip on his wrist tightened, her mind racing. She had always known Draco came from a dark, powerful family, but hearing him say it like this—hearing the resignation in his voice—made it feel all the more real.

"But you don't have to be like them," she said, her voice soft but determined. "You can choose who you want to be."

Draco laughed, but there was no humor in it. "It's not that simple."

Rhea stepped closer, refusing to let him retreat back into the coldness he used to protect himself. "It can be. If you let it."

Draco stared at her, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, Rhea thought she had gotten through to him. But then his face hardened again, and he pulled his wrist free from her grasp.

"You don't understand," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know what you're asking."

Rhea felt a surge of frustration, but before she could respond, Draco turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest without another word.

Rhea stood there, her heart pounding, the weight of his secrets pressing down on her. She didn't know what he was hiding, but she could feel the darkness lurking beneath the surface, threatening to pull him under.

And she knew, with a certainty that frightened her, that she wasn't going to let him go. Not yet.

That night, Rhea couldn't sleep. Her mind was too full of Draco, of the storm that had been brewing between them since the moment they met. She lay awake in the quiet of the Slytherin dormitory, staring up at the dark ceiling, her thoughts racing.

Whatever Draco was hiding, it was tearing him apart. She had seen the conflict in his eyes, the way he pushed her away even as he wanted to pull her closer. And now, more than ever, Rhea was determined to find out what it was.

But she knew it wouldn't be easy. Draco wasn't someone who let people in easily, and whatever secrets he was guarding, they were buried deep.

As the hours dragged on, Rhea made a decision. She wasn't going to wait for Draco to come to her. If he wouldn't open up, she would find another way to learn the truth.

Because something told her that whatever Draco was hiding, it was bigger than just the two of them. And if she didn't uncover it soon, it could destroy them both.