Twisted Tales

Only for You

I smile down at the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning at breakfast. While the news seems to spark nervous whispers between my classmates, I feel nothing but joy. The world is changing and I've got a front seat, a place of revere in the coming tide. Finally, I feel as if I'm doing what I've been destined to do. It's all happening and the Minister is still insisting on blaming Sirius. As if he could've blown the whole side of Azkaban out while fighting off the Dementors Fudge insists are still under his control.

I'm sure Sirius will be in a right state. From our few conversations, Sirius seems even more miserable being cooped up in the house. He explains that the rest of the Order have been out doing whatever it is they're doing, which leaves him alone with Kreacher. Apparently he's had a few good screaming matches with Mundungus, but other than that it's quiet. I feed him little bits about Harry and what Umbridge is doing, pretty much offering anything that will keep him away from the topic of where I was during Christmas. Like Hermione, Sirius is too suspicious for his own good. He didn't like my short answer and keeps poking for details.

"It looks like Auntie Bella is taking a little vacation from the nuthouse," I grin down at the picture of a hollow faced witch with wild eyes and jet-black curls now touched with strands of grey. She snarls back at me, pulling against the chains that hold her to thick-looking stonewalls.

Draco takes the paper from me, scanning over the names of other Death Eaters that escaped from Azkaban last night, "That's Bellatrix? She looks nothing like mother's described."

"Well, I'm sure she was prettier before Azkaban," I offer back with a shrug, flipping through the rest of the paper. On the third page, the Prophet reports about a death at St. Mungos. "Honestly, don't they screen their patents presents?"

My boyfriend leans in closer, reading over my shoulder, "Devil's Snare? Didn't we study that first year? How'd they miss that?"

"Yeah, it was mentioned," I scan further through the article. "It looks like the Ministry isn't the only one giving shoddy explanations. St. Mungos is trying to claim it was accidental, looked over in the Christmas bustle."

Draco settles back in his seat, "I wonder if father knows anything. Fudge and him are quite close."

"You should write him. I'm curious if this thing at St. Mungos has anything to do with the attempted break-in at the Ministry."

The story of the escape from Azkaban seems to be the only thing anyone wants to talk about. Groups of people walk, their heads titled together, whispering about it in the corridors, before classes start. As is typical of Hogwarts, rumors start spreading. Some say the Death Eaters are hiding out in Hogsmeade, others claim they've infiltrated the Ministry and even Hogwarts. The teachers do very little to squash any of this. Even they seem to be discussing it, groups of two or three of them whispering in the hallways, quickly going quiet when students walk by. We're simply told that Hogwarts is the safest place for us to be and that we should be focusing on our upcoming O.W.Ls.

I'm sure this is partly because of the new Ministry decree that Umbridge has taken the liberty of posting all over the school. This one prohibits teachers from discussing anything but their subjects with students. This decree sparked quite a few jokes amongst people, mostly about how Umbridge was breaking her own rule by reprimanding students. Not pleased with these, Umbridge seems to be issuing more and more detentions. In an attempt to avoid the torturous quill, I refrain from sharing my own opinions though they align with what's being said. For now, Umbridge isn't my main concern. I've got to put all my efforts into Harry, who seems to be complaining more and more about his dreams and his scar hurting since he started Occlumency.

Harry sees the escape of the Death Eaters as a reason to increase the number of D.A. meetings we have. Once a week, in pairs of twos and threes, members tromp up to the seventh floor. We've moved on from simple Stunning Spells and Harry is now trying to teach everyone the Shield Charm. Not surprisingly, the news of the escape from Azkaban has lit a fire under Neville. Once timid and apprehensive, he throws himself into lessons, learning quickly and performing jinxes and countercurses with admirable gusto. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I meet up in the library almost every night to discuss what should be taught next. Typically, Harry's friends pretty much leave these decisions to him and I. It's only when Harry suggests that we teach everyone how to fight the Imperius Curse that Hermione begins to monitor our discussions a little closer. While Harry and I have no problem performing the curse, we're both pretty sure the Room of Requirement is unmappable and thus no one would actually know we've performed it, Hermione was appalled. She forbid Harry to do any such magic and, after a bit of grumbling, he agreed.

"What's this?" Draco picks up the trick Galleon Hermione handed out to everyone in D.A, making it bounce between his fingers.

"It's for that club I'm in with Harry. He uses them to tell us when we're going to have meetings," I take it from him, running my finger along the top where the serial number would usually be. "These change and the coin gets really hot whenever Harry sets a date."

"Who came up with it?"

"Hermione."

"Where'd she get the idea from?"

I tap my wand against my left forearm through my shirtsleeve, "Now, are we going to Hogsmeade or would you like to keep asking me questions all day?"

"You underestimate my ability to do two things at once," Draco retorts with a smile, throwing his arm around my shoulders as we exit the common room heading towards the front doors.

"And you," I dig my fingers into Draco's ribs, giving him a smirk. He jerks away, trying to avoid further tickling. "Overestimate my patience, even with you."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

I look at him from under my eyelashes, arching an eyebrow, "Weren't you the one saying I was unhinged last night?"

"I believe the word I used was wicked," Draco answers, "And I meant it as a compliment. I've been waiting for you to hex Pansy all year. I admire your twisted ways."

Scoffing, I stop walking, turning to Draco, "Is that fear I sense, Mr. Malfoy?"

He tips forward, his lips brushing my ear, "Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid of you."

"Smart man," I answer with a playful wink, "Now, where are you taking me. It's Valentine's Day, after all, I'm expecting magic and fireworks."

"Well – " Draco pulls his wand out, pointing it at the sky, " – if it's fireworks you're after – " A stream of pink light shoots from the end of his wand, erupting into dozens of small hearts.

A few girls walking behind us let out sighs of admiration, some even nudging the boys they're with, blatantly pointing. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip; beaming over at Draco, my cheeks burning. "Show off."

"Damn right," He slides his arm around my waist, resuming out walk towards Hogsmeade. "I've been perfecting that one since Christmas."

The spell is just the beginning. Draco dotes on me all day, producing little presents here and there; talking about some big surprise he's got back at the castle. When we first started dating I wished more people got to see this side of him. Draco can be incredibly sweet and thoughtful, going above and beyond my wildest expectations. Now that we've been together for three years, I've changed my mind. I get to see this side of Draco because I'm special because he loves and cares for me. I've become a bit possessive of the real Draco. The idea of him doing this for anyone else, of him opening up to anyone else in the way he has with me makes my stomach churn.

Crabbe and Goyle are standing outside the common room when Draco and I return from Hogsmeade later that day. They give him a nod, throwing their arms out as a few other students try and follow us in, "Common rooms closed. Pipe burst. Prefects only."

I hardly hear the groans of protest, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. Above us floats at least a hundred paper swans. Each one has been enchanted to glow a soft pink, "You did all this?"

"I might've had a bit of help," Draco shrugs, leading us over to the couch in front of the fire. "They're all the letters you've ever sent me since first year."

My eyes stay fixed on the paper swans, "You kept them all?"

"Yeah. Your Transfiguration notes are up there somewhere, the ones you took for while I was in the Hospital Wing."

I curl against his side, wrapping my arms around him, "You're something else, Draco Malfoy."

"Only for you," he mumbles, burying his face in my hair, lips pressing against the top of my head. "Only for you."