The Language Of Small Things
Faye Scamander was never dangerous.
She was the girl who handed out biscuits like blessings, chatted with portraits, rescued injured creatures, and left wildflowers on desks simply because it felt kind.
And somehow, Draco Malfoy noticed her anyway.
Draco had been raised in a castle of cold rules and colder expectations.
Faye had grown up in a cottage overflowing with warmth and wonder.
He had been taught that softness was weakness.
She had been raised to believe that softness saved people.
They should have stayed worlds apart.
Instead, they kept colliding-his armour against her gentleness, his silence against her small-magic courage.
And somewhere between a flower she gave him, a biscuit he pretended not to want, and the moments they lingered without meaning to-
everything shifted.
Because some spells were loud and destructive.
But the ones that changed a life?
They were always the small things no one saw coming
