Griffin Blakes is your average teenage witch attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is a lot of things... but sneaky is not one of them. So what is she going to tell her three best friends when she starts to fall for the enemy? An...
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{Draco}
GRIFFIN IS a drug. And I'm fucking hooked. The fascinating phenomenon is that I knew she was bad for me, and yet it was impossible for me to stay away. To keep my distance. To pry her out of my thoughts.
It's fucking pathetic is what it is.
Blakes was dangerous, and not in the traditional sense. That girl made me question everything my life was founded upon. And everything I felt for her was a stabbing blow to my pride. I hated her for that... but it's an addiction.
A filthy, bloody addiction.
No matter how much you ignore or avoid an addiction, it's everlasting and constant. Resisting had proved to be futile so naturally the only option left was to give in. Give in and hope it's enough to rid me of this tormenting infatuation once and for all; hence me owling her. Now, thirty-some letters later, I decided it was time to enact the final stage of my plan: inviting Blakes to meet up. In the night. In the vacancy of a castle hallway.
This could go one in two ways. She does not show, dissuading any amorous feelings that may linger between the two of us. Or she does, and I get what I went there for.
Either way, it killed two birds with one stone.
The night air was crisp as I snuck out of the dungeons and walked to the south corridor. After several minutes, my vision fully adjusted to the pitch black environment and I spotted a faraway figure. Some noise must have frightened her, because she looked behind and whispered a Lumos charm to extinguish light from her wand. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
She came.
I emerged from the dark shadows and steadily approached the witch, who remained unaware of my presence. "Blakes," I whispered as she turned back, her wand lighting up my face and causing her to jump.
"Oh my god," she gasped, placing a hand over her heaving chest.
"Someone's a scaredy-cat," I grinned mischievously.
Her startled expression turned irritable and she slapped my chest twice. "You," -hit- "scared," -hit- "me!"
I was surprised when a laugh escaped my throat. It didn't last, though, because Griffin was staring up at me and her lips were pouting a bit. That's when the realization hit me that she was actually there, standing right in front of me. Perhaps this is all a mistake.
"I wanted to tell you something." My voice was quieter now. Deeper. Any playful tones vanished when my expression sobered. The Gryffindor waited expectedly for my elaboration, but I was uncertain on how to proceed.
"Okay... what's so important you couldn't wait until tomorrow?" she asked carefully.
