𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

meetings & missions

___________ start of year 7 ___________

Harper Riddle

A door slammed somewhere down the hall. I flinched, instinctively tugging the sheets higher.

"Draco," I whispered, poking his bare shoulder with my index finger. "Wake up."

He mumbled something incoherent, shifted closer, and rested his chin on my collarbone. I rolled my eyes. Of course this is how I'd die. Naked, half-covered, and tangled in the limbs of a man.

Then came the cackle. Loud. Sharp. Familiar.

"Oh, Merlin's tits—" I muttered, already scrambling for my wand, which was not in reach. Naturally.

The bedroom door swung open like it had been kicked, and in swept a tornado of black curls and lunacy.

"Well, well, well..." Bellatrix Lestrange sing-songed, eyes glittering with unholy glee. "What do we have here? Our precious little lovers playing house?"

Draco groaned beside me, just waking. "Aunt Bellatrix—"

"Oh don't you 'Aunt Bellatrix' me, boy," she snapped, arms crossed and boots clacking closer on the floorboards. "Is this what you've been doing instead of your duties? Bedding Voldemort's pet project?"

I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest, refusing to flinch. "Not that it's any of your business, but the Dark Lord did engage us. Remember? Arranged marriages are all the rage these days."

Her nostrils flared. "Well, he didn't ask you to create an offspring yet, did he?"

I smiled sweetly. "Bella. What is the attitude for? I thought we were past all the drama."

"Don't forget," she hissed, stepping closer, "you might be his daughter, but your existence is still... tolerated by most of us."

Draco sat up behind me, his hand brushing my back lightly as a warning not affection. Be careful.

I swallowed the ten retorts crawling up my throat and offered a smoother one instead. "And I'm so very grateful for that tolerance. It's made all this," I gestured vaguely to the bed, "so cozy."

Bellatrix's lip curled. "The Dark Lord expects results. Progress. Not pillow talk."

Draco finally spoke, his voice heavy with irritation. "We've done everything he's asked."

She laughed darkly. "Everything except produce loyalty without distraction."

I blinked at her. "You think I'm a distraction?"

She leaned down, close enough that I could smell blood and ash on her breath. "I think you're dangerous."

I gave her a slow smile. "Good."

Bellatrix turned on her heel with a snarl. "Get dressed. Both of you. You're being summoned. And Merlin help you if he sees this mess before I clean it up."

She slammed the door behind her.

Draco exhaled. "Charming as always."

"I've had better wake-up calls," I muttered, tugging my shirt over my head. "Like being Crucio'd in a dream. Or falling down the manor stairs."

Draco shot me a look. "You're not afraid of her, are you?"

"No," I said honestly. "I'm afraid of him. She's just a warm-up act."

He didn't argue.

As I finished dressing, I glanced in the cracked mirror over his dresser. My neck was red—half from sleep, half from him. Great. Voldemort's daughter marked up like she'd been snogging a Gryffindor under the bleachers. I took my shirt off and grabbed a black turtleneck instead.