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“Crucio!”
“Mr Malfoy.”
I stare at my therapist, thoroughly unimpressed, but she narrows her eyes over the rim of her glasses.
Slowly, I lower my wand and slip it back into the inner pocket of my jacket as though carrying it were somehow illegal.
Sessions with Dr Blackwood are hardly the highlight of my week. Every time I sit in this room she tries to turn me inside out, dragging me into ridiculous conversations or presenting me with situations she wants me to imagine myself in—as though I weren’t capable of empathy. I am perfectly capable of being empathetic.
Just not with everyone.
I clear my throat.
“When I said you needed to get your anger under control, I meant with everyone.”
“That fly has been annoying me for the entire session, it—”
“Mr Malfoy, if you continue like this, I will revoke your wand licence and confiscate your wand. Permanently.”
I swallow.
Is she actually capable of that?
Bloody Blackwood. We’d reached a surprisingly personal place once, but she made her boundaries very clear afterwards. My charm works on her the way tar works on a steamroller, and she’s the steamroller. Still, I keep trying.
The chair beneath me grows noticeably more uncomfortable with every passing second. My eyelid twitches and I cast a pleading glance at the clock, silently willing time to move faster.
“Good. Now that you’ve calmed down, we can continue.”
She waves a hand through the air and the quill floating beside her head—along with the small notebook—begins scribbling again.
“Ruth, I think we—”
“Dr Blackwood.”
Ouch.
Fine.
“Mr Malfoy.”
I sigh. “Hm?”
Her glasses—which resemble a fox’s eyes to an alarming degree—move every time she does in a way that makes me nervous. I simply don’t like foxes. Maybe it’s the colour. Maybe it’s the fact they carry rabies. I don’t know, but the longer I stare at them, the stronger the urge becomes to Transfigure her glasses into the shape of an owl instead—something closer to Potter’s and therefore considerably less triggering. Owls are calm and—
“Mr Malfoy?”
“Sorry. I was—am distracted.”
“Can we continue now?”
“Of course.” My knee begins bouncing.
“When was the last time you lost your temper?”
I lean back comfortably. “Practically never.”
Dr Blackwood’s quill freezes. “Practically never?”
“Never,” I correct.
She pushes the fox eyes higher up her nose. Good Lord.
“Interesting.” Her quill flips back several pages.
An unpleasant feeling settles in my stomach.
“Three weeks ago, you Transfigured a Ministry visitor into a Bludger and launched him into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”
“He tried to convince me a Bludger never comes back.”
“The centaurs were furious.”
“But it did come back, didn’t it?”
She ignores the question and the notebook turns another page.
“Two months ago, you threw a desk out of a fifth-floor window.”
“The desk.” I raise a finger. “Was already broken.”
Merlin, the desk.
I remember it as though it were yesterday. Granger’s moan immediately floods my thoughts.
“You split it in half with a curse beforehand.”
Right.
I did tell her that. “Details.”
She ignores me again. “Six months ago, you submitted a formal complaint to Human Resources because a colleague was breathing too loudly.”
“And?”
“The colleague was three rooms away.”
“He suffers from chronic coughing fits and refuses to do anything about it.”
“When was the last time you were angry?”
“I’m an exceptionally well-balanced person.”
A long silence follows.
“Last week, you blew up an entire shipment of potions.”
“I was having a bad day.”
“They didn’t belong to you.”
“Then I suppose someone else was having a bad day.” I grin.
“Mr Malfoy, we’re getting nowhere today.”
“You do nothing but throw accusations at me—”
“Those are facts.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. Somehow, this woman manages to make me feel worse than I did when I walked in. “I promise to do better. I’ll keep myself under control.”
“I’m warning you.”
“Dr Blackwood, you have to understand, I’m not entirely focused today. Today is—”
“I know.” She lets out a long, slow breath. “Happy Birthday.”
Oh. “Thank you.”
“Get out. But next week we’re adding today’s time onto the end of your session. Understood?”
“Thank you. You’re far too kind, Ruth—Dr Blackwood.”
I flash her a brilliant smile, though she only manages to curl one corner of her mouth.
I often wonder whether Dr Blackwood has ever considered therapy herself. Something specifically designed to remove the wand that’s permanently lodged up her arse.
“See you next week.”
The moment I step into the corridor, everything falls silent, as though every living thing on this floor has suddenly ceased to exist.
I turn around and realise everyone is staring at me.
Merlin, this department of the Ministry is pathetic. You’d think they’d never seen a former Death Eater working as an Auror before.
“Do I have something on my face?”
One witch freezes on the spot while another approaches me with a noticeable tremor in her hands.
Confused, I shake my head. Granted, I can’t exactly claim I’d never hurt a fly.
“A message for you, Mr Malfoy. From Mr Potter.”
The day cannot possibly get any worse.
I just want to go home and blow off some steam in a way that preferably involves Granger.
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth at the thought, and for a brief moment I consider simply taking the rest of the day off and spending it praising her in every conceivable way for the crime of being herself.
I snatch the note from the witch’s hand because her trembling is beginning to get right on my bloody nerves.
Special Assignment. Meet at 1500 in the Atrium.
—P.
Bollocks.
Fuck you, Potter. Not today. Absolutely not.
I groan and immediately set the note on fire. The witch squeaks.
“Why are you still standing here?” I snap.
“I-I have another message.”
“For Salazar’s sake, then hand it over.”
I arch an eyebrow. This one is from Granger.
Running late today. Special assignment. Love you.
Brilliant.
Just brilliant.
A loud pop sounds beside me and Topsy appears, staring up at me with an enormous grin.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Master Malfoy has a birthday today. Topsy wanted to congratulate him.”
“Not here. You know the rules.”
If Granger ever finds out I secretly allow myself house-elves, I’m finished.
My gaze darts in every direction because I’m suddenly convinced she’ll come walking around a corner at any second—or worse, somebody from this bloody Ministry will start talking, and then things will happen that Dr Blackwood would strongly disapprove of.
I quickly usher Topsy into a small alcove.
“Thank you, my dear.” I smile softly at her and she immediately throws her arms around me. A strange maternal warmth settles around me.
In response, I pat her gently on the head.
“Is Master having a nice day?”
I sigh. “You’re probably the only one who hasn’t forgotten my birthday today, Topsy.”
My smile fades slightly.
“Topsy has a gift for Master.”
“You don’t need to buy me anything. You already do more than enough for me—as always.”
Her cheeks redden and she wipes quickly at her eyes.
“Hey.” I crouch down in front of her and take her small hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“Only Master Malfoy says kind things to Topsy. Nobody else is this nice to her.”
“One day I’ll get you out of there. I promise.”
Topsy waves the idea away and pulls out a small box. “Topsy made it herself.”
I furrow my brow and inspect the little package, wrapped with obvious care and covered in old newspaper.
Right beneath my thumb there’s a photograph.
The person in it looks familiar.
Too familiar.
Familiar enough to call her something far worse.
What the actual fuck is this?
It’s Granger.
Sitting at a table in some café—or whatever it is.
The photograph looks candid. Possibly even taken in secret.
That alone wouldn’t be so bad. The problem is the person sitting beside her.
Viktor fucking Krum.
Krum.
I stare at the photograph for so long that Topsy eventually snatches it out of my hand with a shriek.
I almost set her on fire. The newspaper, I mean.
I’m hot.
Bloody hot, and I want to destroy something—preferably Krum’s ugly face, although right now I’m even angrier with Granger.
The photograph has to be recent.
“Topsy, how old is this newspaper?”
Do I even want the answer?
“From two days ago, Master.”
Abruptly, I straighten and rip the newspaper from her hands, crumpling it so tightly my knuckles turn white.
I want to tear it apart.
But if I do that, I won’t have anything left to confront her with.
In.
Out.
I summon Dr Blackwood’s words.
Fuck you. This rubbish doesn’t work.
I unfold the paper.
Big mistake.
Because the moment I read the headline, every remaining ounce of peace leaves my body and I’m completely fucking done.
IS HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF?
Hermione Granger seen sharing tea with Viktor Krum.
Sources describe the meeting as “suspiciously pleasant.”
Who writes this kind of shit?
I read the headline twice.
Then a third time.
Suspiciously pleasant.
What does that even mean?
Which absolute idiot got paid to write this?
“Topsy has upset Master.”
Only then do I realise she’s still standing there.
I shake my head. “No. No, it’s alright. Thank you. Otherwise I never would’ve known.”
“But Master, this is THE WHISPERER. Nobody even knows who writes these headlines. It’s gossip. Even Witch Weekly can’t compete with it. Master shouldn’t pay too much attention to it.”
“But somebody reads it, don’t they?” I narrow my eyes. “Does my mother read this sort of thing?”
Topsy nods. “She reads everything. Well… actually, Topsy and the others have to read it to her while she reads something else at the same time.”
“Where is this newspaper based?” I intend to pay the author a personal visit.
“Should Topsy find out, Master?”
“Yes.” I press a hand to my temple, which has suddenly begun pounding. “But don’t get caught. And before you suddenly appear again, send me a message first. I’ll tell you where to meet me.”
She nods and disappears with another pop.
A gong sounds somewhere in the Ministry.
I glance at the clock.
Three.
Fuck.
Potter.
I hurry through the corridors and step into the lift.
Granger, why Krum? What do you have to do with him and—bloody hell—why are you hiding it?
I stretch my neck and try again and again to make sense of it.
If she walked past me right now, I’m not even sure how I’d react. I always thought nothing could shake us.
God, I sound pathetic.
A Krum could never compete with a Malfoy.
Never.
The lift doors slide open and I collide with someone.
“For fuck’s—”
Potter adjusts his glasses. “I was just coming to look for you. You’re never late, so I assumed something had happened.”
Something has.
While my mind cycles through increasingly detailed scenarios involving Viktor Krum’s death and my successful escape afterwards, I do my best to arrange my face into something resembling calm.
“Is… everything alright? You look… stressed.”He rubs his chin.
I could tell him the truth. I could ask him.
Doesn’t matter. First I want to know who The Whisperer is.
I shrug.
“Perfectly fine. Where are we going?”
“We have a prisoner interrogation in Azkaban or—”
“Spit it out.”
“We’re guarding Viktor Krum.”
For a moment, I genuinely leave my body.
Did he just say Krum?
No.
Absolutely not.
I must have misheard him.
Harry visibly flinches and takes a step backwards.
I don’t know why. Unfortunately, I can’t exactly see myself—though judging by his reaction, it would probably be worth it.
What the actual fuck?
I blink several times and attempt to sound unimpressed. “Oh. Krum’s in the country?”
“Apparently he had important business to attend to—”
Very important business, the prick.
“—and keeps getting interrupted by bizarre paparazzi while trying to do his job.”
“And for that you need England’s finest Aurors?”
“Well, he’s no longer just the best Seeker in the world. He’s running for Minister in Bulgaria now.”
My jaw drops. My balls retreat into my body and my cock… I’d rather not get into that.
I want to break something. Preferably Krum’s neck, but one thing at a time.
“So you’re telling me we’re spending today guarding Viktor fucking Krum?”
“Exactly. Especially you.”
One would think Potter is doing this deliberately. As though he somehow knows I’m one bad sentence away from murder.
My eyebrows disappear into my hairline.“Me?”
“Yes. We’re not doing this entirely out of the goodness of our hearts.”
I nod. “Information?”
“Talk to him. Get into his head. Into his heart if you have to. Do what you always do and let that charm of yours do the work.”
“Nothing I’d rather do.” My nails dig into my palms, leaving behind a pleasant sting. The anticipation grows.
I’d rather rip his heart out.
Does Krum even know Granger belongs to me? Has she mentioned me at all?
“Good. We stay calm, we talk about meaningless things and we convince him we’re completely uninterested.”
“Potter, it’s Krum. The man doesn’t think past lunchtime.”
“Just do what you always do.”
I feel a grin tugging at my mouth. “What about the others?”
“Ron is assigned to Hermione today, and Nott and Zabini have office duty.”
A what?
“Right. I’ll have to force them.” Harry says.
“You’re an idiot if you think they’re capable of being productive together in the same room.”
“You’d be surprised. They’ve—”
“What?”
“Nothing. Come on, we need to go.”
Stay cool. Stay calm.
Don’t kill him.
Potter shoves a handful of Floo Powder into my hand. “You’re scaring me.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
He narrows his eyes. “Pull yourself together.”
“I am perfectly calm.”
Potter actually laughs. “That’s exactly what scares me.”
Arsehole.
Together, we step into the fireplace. Green flames surge around me.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
The world blurs.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
Don’t kill him.
My boots hit stone as we stumble out of the fireplace together. Harry grabs onto me with all the grace of a dying Hippogriff and I immediately smack his hand away.
Why am I this bloody nervous?
I straighten my jacket and lift my gaze.
Viktor Krum stands before me in all his glory, grinning.
Fuck.
Don’t kill him.
“Krum. How lovely to see you again.”
“Malfoy. Potter. It is an honour.”
His absurdly massive hand engulfs mine, and for a brief, horrifying second, I wonder whether my fingers will survive this handshake. Brilliant. I gave him my dueling hand. Fatal mistake.
“I am sorry you must spend your time dealing with me. Surely you have more important things to do.”
“Nothing is more important than protecting the greatest Seeker in the world.”
“It is always wonderful to be here. Only your press—terrible. Something like that would never happen in Bulgaria.”
“Well, nothing remains secret here. You practically have to be careful who you drink tea with.”
“You are right, you are right. Though I prefer my tea hot. Not this lukewarm stuff.”
Don’t kill him.
“What brings you here?”
I wrap a hand around my wrist and feel my pulse hammering beneath my skin.
“Unfortunately, I cannot speak about that.”
Internally, I groan. I really didn’t want to dive into another person’s mind today.
As the conversation drifts back towards Quidditch, I give Harry—who has yet to contribute a single useful word—a small signal and slip quietly into Krum’s mind.
Primitive—and, as expected, relatively uneventful.
I can’t help looking for the meeting with Granger, even though every part of me is telling me to stop.
I should leave it alone.
I can’t.
And since I’m already here…
I wander through his memories, once again fascinated by how someone can possess the mental depth of a puddle and still be a genius on a broom.
Then I hear a familiar laugh.
I turn.
And there she is.
The memory with Granger.
I step into it.
“Viktor.”
She smiles the second she sees him.
“My beautiful girl.”
Delete it.
I could delete all of this.
“Thank you so much. You have no idea.”
Krum’s hand settles briefly over hers.
“For you? Anything.”
Makes you want to be sick.
Merlin, I sound like Severus.
“We just can’t get caught.”
Granger leans forward, lowering her voice. Like they’re sharing a secret.
“My lips are sealed. Perhaps we should go somewhere more private.”
Fuck.
No.
“Of course. I have an office outside the Ministry.”
The bastard winks.
I’m going to kill him.
I tear myself out of the memory.
Fight for air.
I can’t watch this any longer.
Nobody but me is taking her in that office.
On that desk.
That’s my desk.
And that’s my wife.
I see red.
Potter—currently attempting to keep Krum occupied with polite conversation—widens his eyes as though a Dementor has just appeared.
I calmly draw my wand.
Potter immediately starts shaking his head.
Too late.
“Krum!”
He turns around slowly.
“Did you fuck my wife?”
He stares at me as though I’ve completely lost my mind.
“I am sorry, what?”
“You heard me. I dislike repeating myself.”
I’m going to kill him.
I open my mouth, intending to say something else, but the way his face twists makes me twitch my wand instead.
I’m so angry I can’t even think of anything creative—just something he won’t be able to defend himself against immediately, because I know perfectly well that he’s more than capable in a duel.
I turn Krum into a fly.
Then I start firing one Cruciatus after another.
Merlin, that feels good.
“Malfoy!”
“I’m killing him, Potter.”
“I can see that. No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He fucked my wife. Are you deaf?”
“What? No.”
He draws his wand.
“I know he did. I was in his head.”
I jab a finger against my temple hard enough to hurt.
“Have you completely lost your mind? How little do you think of Hermione?”
I stop.
Between us, the fly spiraled downward in slow motion, drifting from side to side until it finally reached the floor.
“I thought the sessions with Dr Blackwood were finally starting to work, but this—”
Potter transforms Krum back and he collapses onto the floor like a wet sack.
“Brilliant. Now I have to Obliviate him. You idiot.”
“Careful, or—”
“Or what? Fly? Or have you got something more original this time?”
“I’m warning you, Potter. You have no idea what I just saw.”
“God, Malfoy, calm down. You’re going to ruin everything.”
I’m about to ruin him if he keeps talking.
“He met with Granger and she took him to her office and they—”
“Had sex?”
I drag a hand through my hair.
“Did you actually see them having sex?” he presses.
“No, for fuck’s sake. Do you think I’m a masochist?”
“I think you’re overreacting and somehow even thicker than I originally thought.”
I grab him by the collar.
“Where’s Granger? Where’s the Weasel taking her?”
Before he can answer, I’m suddenly flying backwards.
My head slams into the nearest wall and I immediately taste iron.
Fuck.
“I’m right here.”
Granger?
She’s standing in front of me with her hands planted firmly on her hips, looking at me with a fury that somehow eclipses even my own and sends my pulse straight back to boiling point.
What exactly does this bloody little witch think she’s doing—and more importantly—why is she getting involved?
I’d quite like to—
Merlin.
Fuck.
“Oh, darling. How lovely of you to show up. Checking on your secret admirer?”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
I glance towards Krum, who’s still lying motionless on the floor.
“Tell me, Granger. What exactly were you planning with Krum?”
“Not this again.” She rolls her eyes, fully aware of how much it provokes me. “Draco, how many years ago was that now?”
“Hm. Two days ago, to be precise.”
Her face immediately pales.
Caught.
Minx.
Slowly, I push myself upright again and rest my head against the cool wall.
This can’t be happening. Somewhere inside me there was still a small spark of hope that all of this was one enormous misunderstanding, but the look on her face only seems to confirm every doubt I’ve suddenly found myself carrying.
I’ve never doubted her before.
Never.
But now…
I’ve completely lost control.
There’s a fire burning in my chest and I don’t know what to do with it. I turn away and walk a few paces until I reach a staircase—a massive staircase—and only then do I realise where we actually are.
We’re standing inside a Quidditch stadium.
A very large Quidditch stadium.
Dartmoor.
The legendary bloody Dartmoor.
I stand there staring at it with my mouth open, letting the sheer scale of the place sink in, and under any other circumstances I might have appreciated it, if anger and jealousy weren’t busy crushing every trace of happiness inside me.
I want to tear my own skin off.
God, Granger, you’ve turned me into a dog and this is entirely your fault.
My whole body feels foreign, and if I don’t destroy something soon, I might actually implode. I need to get away.
My gaze drifts towards the centre of the pitch and, without thinking, I Apparate straight onto it.
My lungs are rattling so hard I’m shaking.
Slowly, I breathe in and out, exactly the way I was taught.
The wind sweeping across the pitch carries the scent of fresh-cut grass straight into my lungs. I close my eyes.
The only thing that’s ever managed to calm me down is flying—and preferably flying while Quidditch is involved.
I lie back on the grass and stare up into the eye of the stadium, trying to imagine what it must feel like standing here while the crowd roars around you and thousands of voices scream your name. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t dreamed about it before—though it was always just that, a dream—to play here one day. To stand on this pitch. Just once.
I can barely imagine what it must feel like.
It isn’t even about winning.
It’s the atmosphere.
“You are such a ridiculously jealous arsehole, do you know that?”
And there goes the peace.
I keep my eyes closed as though she isn’t there.
I simply ignore her.
Which would work remarkably well if Granger possessed even a shred of self-preservation.
The grass rustles. Once. Then again, much closer this time.
I stubbornly refuse to open my eyes.
Something rustles beside me. I tilt my head slightly and then feel her breath brush against my nose.
Granger chuckles.
I open my eyes in surprise.
Why the hell is she laughing?
“You turned him into a fly?”
A crooked grin tugs at my mouth.
“Mm. A big fat blowfly.”
She immediately bursts out laughing and despite myself I start laughing too.
I watch her as her chest rises and falls beneath her laughter, as the wind tangles her hair and sends loose strands drifting towards me until they brush against my arm and I catch them between my fingers, exactly the way I always do.
Silky and stubborn.
Mine.
You’re mine.
“Granger?”
“Don’t.” She looks up at the sky and settles her head into the hollow of my shoulder. “You nearly ruined everything.”
“Because of Krum?”
“Because of all of it.”
I don’t understand and reach for her chin because I want to look at her. “Then explain it to me, please, because I’m one step away from going back up there and actually killing him. At this point I’m simply waiting for inspiration regarding how and where to dispose of the body—although, if I’m honest, I already know where.”
She doesn’t even look surprised. “I know. She lets out a heavy breath.
We lie there quietly in the grass. The only sound comes from the flags fluttering around the goal hoops above us.
“Draco, what’s your greatest wish?”
“Anything that involves you.” The answer leaves my mouth before I can think about it. Because it’s true.
“Draco.”
“I’m just being honest.”
She smiles to herself and I can’t help it. I lean over and kiss her as gently as I know how. It’s my way of saying I’m sorry.
At first I expect her to push me away after everything that’s happened, but instead she pulls me closer, threads her fingers through my hair and deepens the kiss, and I even manage to draw a small breathless sound from her.
The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my entire bloody life.
The reason I fell in love with her in the first place.
That sound.
When I roll over her, she starts laughing again.
“What?”
I study her face.
I’ve become so accustomed to this face that I could recognise her blindfolded with nothing but my lips.
And fuck—I never want to feel the way I felt earlier ever again.
She has no idea that my heart rests entirely in her hands and that she could destroy it with a single touch if she truly wanted to. Nobody will ever have more power over me than she does.
I’m an absolute dog.
But I’m hers.
“Would you like to have some fun in this stadium?”
My eyes widen. “Then we’d better knock Potter unconscious first. I’d hate to traumatise him.”
She smacks my chest. “I meant playing Quidditch, you obsessed addict.”
“Yes, that’s me.” I pause and study her reaction. She doesn’t seem angry in the slightest. “If that includes being allowed to fuck you senseless on this sacred pitch afterwards? Then yes, I’m interested.”
“Draco.”
“What?”
“Come on. Get up.”
I tighten my hold around her. “No. It’s my birthday and I—” I trap her firmly between my arms.
A loud pop echoes beside us.
Topsy appears and immediately freezes when she sees us sprawled across each other.
Perfect timing as always.
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Granger, I can explain.”
She grins.
Bloody hell, why is she grinning?
I look towards Topsy.
Her face has roughly the same colour as a phoenix engulfed in flames.
“I didn’t send you a message, did I?”
Topsy remains silent.
Granger presses herself against me and pushes me away, which I reluctantly allow.
“Topsy, do you have the trunk?”
Confused, I glance between the two of them.
“Good.” Granger turns back towards me. “I’m assuming Topsy already gave you the key?”
I tilt my head.“What key?”
“Topsy gave Master Malfoy a birthday present today.”
“You mean—” I pull the small box from my jacket and let the newspaper that had been wrapped around it crumble into dust.
“But Master—”
I silence her with a raised hand. “I’m above it, Topsy.”
“But doesn’t Master want to know who’s behind The Whisperer?”
“Were you able to find out?”
She nods eagerly and proudly.
Granger steps between us. “What are you talking about?”
“The reason I completely lost my mind was a picture of you and Krum in The Whisperer.”
“What the hell is The Whisperer?”
“A gossip rag. A ridiculous one. I’ll explain later.”
Topsy shifts nervously from one foot to the other. I crouch down and signal for her to whisper it into my ear. Not that I don’t trust Granger, but whoever is responsible for this is going to pay me compensation for emotional distress, and I’d like to enjoy that.
My eyes widen and Granger lets out an annoyed breath.
“Well, tell me already.”
I shake my head. “Let me have this one thing. I promise I’ll explain it later.”
I turn my attention back to the little box and pull out the key.
“What’s it for?”
“It’s really only symbolic for the trunk. It was supposed to be a little puzzle and a big surprise.” She shrugs. “Well. It didn’t exactly go to plan.”
“Oh.” I lift her chin when she lowers her gaze. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I completely overreacted.”
“No, I’m sorry that—”
A horn sounds somewhere in the distance and suddenly everything becomes loud. Voices rise all around us and I can’t understand a single word. Then again, how could I? A group of Bulgarian Quidditch players comes flying in and starts circling the pitch.
“Granger?”
“That wasn’t exactly how it was supposed to happen either.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Happy Birthday, Draco. At this point it doesn’t really matter anymore.”
“You… what? How?”
“Viktor organised it.”
I freeze.
The realisation hits me and I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“Granger, if I’d known that—”
“You weren’t supposed to know.” She taps me on the forehead. “The whole thing was meant to be a surprise.”
I ruined it for her.
Fuck, that annoys me.
But whoever is responsible for this is still going to pay. The Whisperer is going to be punished for this. They can look forward to it.
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Potter approaching with Krum, and God, I hate the feeling of having to apologise to someone—especially when that someone happens to be called Krum.
“Sorry, mate. That was a huge misunderstanding.” I awkwardly hold out my hand and he refuses it.
Fuck.
“Let’s settle it on the pitch.”
Right. Bulgaria’s best Seeker definitely isn’t going to wipe the floor with me.
I’m screwed.
But it’s worth it.
Playing in this stadium once and nearly dying in the process is absolutely worth it.
Another item ticked off my nonexistent bucket list.
“You didn’t Obliviate him?” I hiss at Potter.
“No. I thought I’d do it after the match.”
“How extraordinarily stupid of you.”
“Why? You wanted to kill him. There isn’t a better opportunity than a Quidditch accident.”
“Potter.” I make a theatrical gesture. “I barely recognise you.”
He shrugs and walks past me towards the stands.
I turn around and press my lips to Granger’s. Not because I want to mark my territory, but because I want to thank her and because I want to mark my territory.
“Right, but I can hardly take on the Bulgarians by myself.”
“Then get yourself to the changing rooms,” she says, smacking me on the arse.
I shake my head. “You know, Granger, I’m really grateful. This must have cost you a lot of nerves—” Her lips twitch and I have to physically stop myself from kissing her again. “—but for future reference, a simple blowjob would’ve done the trick.” I wink. “Still, thank you for this.”
I spread my arms and slowly turn in a circle.
“Fuck—thank you.”
“Now would you just get going already?” She shoves me in the direction Potter disappeared.
Changing rooms.
When I push open the door, almost my entire old Slytherin team is standing there. There’s a board on the wall with the line-up. The only change: Potter is my reserve—which he can forget immediately. As if I need a reserve. And to my horror, Ginger is our Keeper. Brilliant. Although I generally prefer Nott, I’d much rather have him and Zabini as Chasers today.
I look around for the two of them, but the others immediately pull me into hugs.
“Mate!”
“Happy Birthday, you wanker!”
“All the best!”
“You beat up Krum? Seriously?”
“And we’re supposed to play against them now?”
“Would’ve been boring otherwise.”
At the back of the room, Nott and Zabini are leaning against the wall with matching grins. The moment I start walking towards them with an equally wide grin, both of them suddenly look slightly uncomfortable.
Can’t imagine why.
“Seriously, Malfoy? You Crucio’d Krum and now we’re supposed to play against him?”
“This is reckless and completely suicidal, birthday or not.” Zabini throws his hands into the air.
“Which is exactly why… drum roll, please—” I’m enjoying this far too much. “—you two are our Chasers today.”
Both of them go pale.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Even my thoughts drip with sarcasm. “You’re keeping the Bludgers off my arse.”
I grab both of them by the backs of their necks and they immediately groan.
“What’s wrong?” Then I lower my voice until it’s barely more than a whisper. “There’s one thing you always need to remember, boys: a Bludger you send flying always comes back.”
In the air.
As expected, we’re massively behind.
But fun is the priority, and thanks to the Bulgarians, the bloody stadium is packed.
A few times I deliberately stop mid-air and enjoy the cheering, even if it almost certainly isn’t meant for us.
“Watch out!” Zabini yells over my head. “For Salazar’s sake, being a Chaser is shit. I want to be a Beater.”
“Only because you couldn’t find the hole if it flew up and introduced itself. Stop whining, Zabini.”
I shoot past him.
Nott appears beside me.
“I swear to you, it was all his idea.”
“How much did you get paid?”
“Apparently enough, otherwise we wouldn’t have done it.”
“You miserable little bastards.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a Bludger that seems particularly interested in me.
I deliberately drift closer to Nott.
“Tell me, who actually wrote the article?”
I can’t imagine Nott being capable of operating a camera.
“I did.”
Thought so.
I duck the exact moment the Bludger grazes my face and knocks Nott clean off his broom.
I don’t know why, but I feel absolutely no sympathy.
Bulgaria scores another Quaffle through Ginger’s hoops.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Nott wouldn’t have stopped that one either.”
I glance down.
“Well, definitely not now.”
“Oi, what are you lot doing up here? Having a tea party?”
I throw Zabini a warning look.
“Keep those things away from me.”
“I should probably focus on getting a goal instead of guarding your arse.”
“I should find the Snitch. Considering how far behind we are, that’s our only chance.”
“We’re already a hundred and twenty points down.”
“Exactly. So keep my back clear.”
Zabini rolls his eyes.
Just as Nott rejoins us, Zabini gets knocked off his broom.
Brilliant.
“So, how was your nap?” I ask Nott.
“Malfoy, that was unbelievably low. My hair is full of mud and I’m fairly certain I’m infertile now.”
“Why don’t you put it in your Whisperer?”
That ends our conversation because I spot Krum setting up for a Wronski Feint.
As if I’d ever fall for that.
I climb as high as I can and scan the pitch. Every now and then I dodge a Bludger, and to my surprise Nott and Zabini actually manage to score.
Then I see something small and golden flash in the distance and shoot across the sky.
Past the stands.
As close as possible.
Until a familiar scent reaches me and I slam on the brakes.
Granger is sitting near the front row.
I lower my broom and stop in front of her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
I drift a little closer until our noses touch and kiss her.
A ripple moves through the crowd and, by Merlin, I should have done this years ago. Back at Hogwarts she probably would’ve shoved me off my broom.
“Watch out, lad!” an older man shouts from the stands.
I turn.
A Bludger.
And I don’t have time.
It would hit Granger.
I grit my teeth and take it like a man.
The Bludger slams hard into my back and sends me crashing into her.
“Draco. Why?”
“Oh, darling, that was worth it.”
I give her one short, hard kiss and the whistle blows.
The referee tears into me and I get a penalty for endangering spectators.
Nott and Zabini smack their foreheads in perfect unison.
“Oh, shut up.”
Nott clicks his tongue. “You are a hopeless case.”
Yeah.
That’s true.
After the match.
Of course it started raining.
And of course I got hit by a Bludger another three times. My whole body hurts. But in a good way.
Nott and Zabini got it worse. Serves them right.
Everyone rushes gratefully towards the showers.
I glance over at Granger, who’s standing proudly at the edge of the pitch.
“Well, I’m impressed you’re still capable of that kind of performance at your age.”
I don’t like the teasing tone. “The old man you’re referring to is still in excellent shape, sweetheart.”
“The old man took quite a beating.”
“We lost.”
“But what a loss.”
I laugh. “You know, Granger, I think I need cheering up.”
“Oh really?”
“Mm.” I hold out my hand.
“Ewww. No. You’re covered in mud.”
A second later I’ve Apparated right in front of her and wrapped my arms around her, covering her face in kisses while rubbing my muddy hands through her hair. I know exactly how much she hates it.
“Bloody hell, Draco, hair-wash day isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what days your hair has. I only know one thing—I still have a birthday.”
She holds her breath.
“And after today, I think I deserve a little more.”
“Why don’t you go shower first?”
“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”
“Dra—”
The rest turns into a startled squeak.
“What was that for?”
“What does it look like?”
“We’re in a hotel room?”
“Looks that way.”
“We could just clean ourselves with magic.”
“But where’s the fun in that?”
“Funny. You’re usually not that into Muggle things.”
“Anything physical is better without a wand.”
“Oh, really.”
I nod, but I can’t stop staring at her. No idea what this little witch is up to, but that grin on her face can’t mean anything good.
The room is actually quite stylish when you take a closer look, but I couldn’t care less.
My gaze drifts over her body—
“The windows. Oh my God, what a view.”
You have no idea.
Fascinated, she walks across the room. One entire wall is made of glass, revealing skyscrapers and bridges in the distance. The last rays of sunlight reflect off the windows and turn her silhouette into pure gold.
I have to get a grip.
“I can see the whole city. Or at least what feels like a huge part of it. I’ve never been to New York, but this is kind of how I imagine it.”
“We’re in Rotterdam.”
And she beams.
She looks at me, and this is exactly how I imagine a perfect film scene looking.
Exactly like this.
She reaches out, feels around for a small silver remote lying on the bedside table and starts pressing buttons. The thick dark curtains glide aside with a soft hum.
“Okay, that’s brilliant.”
She presses it again.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Close.
Open.
“I could do this all day.”
“Granger, we can do magic. We don’t need buttons.”
She presses her lips together, unwilling to admit it.
But—yes.
She’s into this sort of rubbish. As if I didn’t already know that.
“You’re ridiculously easy to impress.”
My gaze meets hers and, remote still in hand, she gestures vaguely through the air and points at me.
“Oh yeah? Maybe you should take notes.”
My expression darkens instantly. “Oh, trust me. I can be very impressed.”
“Okay. I should stop before this escalates again.”
I want it to escalate.
Her gaze keeps wandering—and lands on the shower.
Oh. Right.
A glass shower cubicle standing in the middle of the room.
Quite clever, actually. At the push of a button the glass turns frosted so nobody can see through it.
But what if you use it for exactly the opposite reason?
Not that I’d considered that when booking the room.
The fixtures are black, and the rainfall shower looks like it might actually relax me. A sudden longing hits me and all I want is to get out of this muddy Quidditch kit.
I pull off my jersey and toss it onto the floor.
Then the trousers.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
“The room?” She nods. “I didn’t want a party, but I wanted to spend time with you, so I booked it just in case.”
“I see.” Her lips curl into a suggestive grin and she pushes me backwards onto the bed. She presses the button for the shower and the frosted glass disappears.
She isn’t paying attention to me anymore.
But the fact that I can already guess where this is heading makes me draw in a sharp breath.
She ignores me—whether intentionally or not, I decide to play along.
Slowly she moves farther away and starts undressing.
Slowly.
The walk to the shower is torture.
Everything is slow.
It’s unbearable.
I can’t look away.
I’m practically hypnotised because I know how much this costs her. She hates being the centre of attention, and being naked is even worse. Once I asked whether she’d ever strip for me and she’d practically shut down on the spot. I swore then that I’d spend even more time building up her confidence, but she still struggles with it.
Presenting herself like this hurts her.
I understand that.
But she should never feel ashamed in front of me. That was two years ago. These days she trusts herself more. Like now.
Because she trusts me.
Merlin—she has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Every look I give her is a silent I love you. I adore you. I want you. I want her confidence to become untouchable.
She’s completely naked, and all I manage to do is swallow when she glances back at me over her shoulder.
Yes, Granger. I’m still staring.
She turns on the water and the first spray hits her skin.
“Ah—fuck, that’s cold!”
I laugh and bite my lip. With a flick of my wand, I warm it up again.
A pleased sound escapes her and I’m immediately jealous of every drop that gets to touch her skin.
She picks up a small bottle of shower gel and starts lathering herself up.
Everything in slow motion.
Fuck, Granger.
I could walk in there right now…
But Merlin, this view is the best birthday present I’ve ever had. My brain is taking photographs of every second of it. For eternity.
And…
I want this shower at home.
Her hands move over her shoulders, down her arms, to her waist.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
I’m dying.
I only move my lips and mouth:
“Wait for me.”
Her grin widens, and now she’s the one who can’t take her eyes off me.
“You drive me insane, Granger.” My voice carries to the shower and echoes back from the walls.
You’re still laughing.
A small part of me is still hurt by what happened with Krum. Even if it was all a misunderstanding—I felt it. I lived through it. And I never want to feel that way again.
Granger pauses and glances back over her bare shoulder.
God—that look.
She turns around fully and I catch my breath.
“Oh yeah? And is that good insane or bad insane?” She blinks through the curtain of water.
I get to my feet and start walking towards her. “Both, if I’m being honest.”
Judging by her expression, she finds that hilarious.
I nod slowly and struggle to see her clearly through all the steam and water.
She keeps lathering herself up and her hands drift lower—
That’s it.
I’m done for.
I don’t take my eyes off her for a single second because I don’t want to miss any of this.
My muscles are tight and my brain is running entirely on autopilot.
Again and again she turns towards me, and right before she reaches her most sensitive spot, she turns away.
Little menace.
Her hair clings to her body. Streams of water run over her skin, over her collarbones, between her breasts, down her stomach, between—and I lose the last shred of control I had left.
I reach for the shower door, and in the next moment it slides open automatically. I step inside.
The steam hits me like a wall and settles heavily against my skin. It clings to me the same way Granger’s startled gaze does when the door clicks shut behind me.
Fuck.
It’s easily the hottest sight I’ve ever seen.
Her entire body glistens, and part of me wants to take my time, wants to stand here longer and simply watch her.
But my body needs her.
I need her.
She looks at me with wide eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, her tongue brushes over her lips and I slide a hand into the back of her neck. My fingers tangle in her hair and I pull her closer.
Despite the loud shower, I can hear her uneven breaths, which only spurs me on and destroys me at the same time.
My lips are on hers instantly.
I gasp against her mouth, my own breathing just as uneven.
After a day like today, I know I don’t have much endurance left. I just want to consume her. I don’t even want to try holding myself back.
Her arms wind around my neck, her fingers bury themselves in my hair, pulling me down towards her.
In one smooth movement, I turn us around and press her back against the cool glass wall.
She gasps.
Bloody hell—that sound stirs something dark inside me.
Images push their way into my head. Images of Krum and her on that desk. What the hell is this? Did he secretly hex me?
I let my hands wander down her body.
Over her hips, down to her thighs, until I reach the place where she needs me most. I slowly slide a finger inside her and—
the images still won’t disappear.
My heart pounds so hard against my ribs she has to be able to feel it. That anger inside me every time I think about that bastard.
I can’t take it anymore.
I lift her up. Her legs immediately wrap around me, and I feel everything.
Fuck.
Every single inch of her.
I press my forehead against hers.
Her fingers dig into my skin as though she can stop herself from losing control—but she’s already gone.
At least I am.
Completely.
Lost in her.
“Granger.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Not even if you begged.”
She presses herself closer, arches into me so completely that I shut my eyes because I’m losing control, almost—
Breathe.
“Stop.”
“With what?”
“With holding yourself back.”
Her voice is rough.
“Oh, Granger, trust me. If I stopped holding myself back, this would be over very quickly.”
I look at her.
Her lashes are so heavy with water droplets that she keeps blinking them away. Her lips are slightly parted, her gaze demanding.
Holy shit.
What is going on with her?
“I mean you should let your anger out.”
“Bad idea.”
“Draco, I love you. Only you.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
She smiles. “I love you.”
“Again.”
Her hands find my face. “I love you. Only you.”
Fuck.
My lips flatten into a line.
I can’t do this anymore.
“You want me to show you.” My voice comes out rough. “Show you how much I want you, and how fucking angry I was today. You want me to let it out?”
Please say no. Please.
“Yes.”
Fuck me.
I slide my hands beneath her thighs and hold her tightly.
Then I do exactly what she wants.
I stop thinking and take what I want and what I need.
Her.
Everywhere.
Again and again.
I lose control completely, as though her words have unleashed something.
Maybe they have.
Water drips from our bodies, runs over our skin, mixes with our breaths, our sounds, and Merlin—
I could swear the world stops existing for a moment.
I feel her nails drag across my back, hear her moan my name, feel her body tremble and arch and—
God.
She’s shaking.
I bury my face in her neck, letting my teeth brush lightly over her skin. I feel her tensing more and more, feel her pulse racing beneath my lips, telling me exactly how close she is.
“Draco…”
I want more.
I don’t want to stop yet.
And then I stop abruptly.
“No.” She sounds close to tears.
“God, Granger, I’m sorry. I’m—just. Fuck. Just wait a second.”
I pull back and look into her eyes.
Damn.
I can never get enough of looking at her, let alone enough of feeling her.
Is that even possible?
She looks at me, breathing hard, brushing her fingers across my lips and leaving them there.
“You feel good. So incredibly good.” I gently bite the tip of her finger.
She laughs. And I show her exactly how good she feels. Every possible way.
Because I want her to never forget it.
“You are mine.”
Thrust.
“You belong to me.”
Thrust.
“I belong to you.”
Thrust.
That I never want to stop.
Never stop loving her.
“I’m yours, Granger.”
Every thrust—
an I love you.
That she is everything I have ever wanted.
That she is everything I will ever want.
She knows it.
Best birthday present.
Mine.
I lie in bed completely exhausted.
My body aches more than it has in a long time, and I don’t know whether it’s from the match or from what happened in the shower.
Granger’s wet hair brushes my neck and makes every hair stand on end.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“That you had to move your hair-wash day to today.”
She laughs and flicks a wet strand into my face.
“Hey.” I grab her and pull her onto me. “Thank you.”
“For the Quidditch match or—”
My chest vibrates, sounding more like a growl. “For everything.”
I gently brush a few strands from her face while her chin rests on my chest.
For a while, we simply look at each other.
“Tell me something,” I say, breaking the silence. “What was actually inside the trunk?”
“Oh, I was beginning to think you’d never ask.” I slowly sit up with her. “Wait.”
Completely naked, she runs across the room to her bag. The bag that fits absolutely everything.
I move to help, but she shakes her head. “It isn’t heavy. It just looks like it is.”
Then she places it beside the bed.
Instead of opening the trunk, I pull her into an embrace and wrap the blanket around her.
“Do you have the key?” she asks.
I lower myself onto the floor where our clothes are scattered and reach for the heap of mud-stained Quidditch kit. It takes a moment to find it. My fingers finally close around the small box buried beneath damp fabric. A streak of dried mud runs across the lid. I brush it away with my thumb before opening it.
I open it and look at the key properly for the first time. It’s covered in scratches, dents, and rough edges.
“Topsy made it herself.”
Wow.
That little creature never stops surprising me.
“You aren’t angry that I let her do things behind your back?”
Granger rolls her eyes dramatically. “I knew from day one.”
“What?”
“Never mind. No, I’m not angry.”
“Why?”
“Because you treat her like a person and with respect.” She gently strokes my hair.“And she loves you.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Wait a second.” She narrows her eyes. “Who exactly is The Whisperer?”
I groan.
“Let’s just say I told Potter from day one that Nott and Zabini should never be assigned a desk day together.”
“What does that have to do with my question?”
“Everything.”
She blinks.
“Draco.”
“Granger. If you lock those two in an office together for eight hours, they’ll either start a war or launch a gossip column.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I were.”
She looks at me. “Come on. Open it.”
I slide the key into the tiny lock. With a click, the small trunk opens—and I’m blinded.
“A Snitch?”
“Mm.”
I look at her, but her face gives nothing away. My hand closes around it and the tiny wings spread open.
“Should I let it fly?”
“I don’t know if it can still do that very well.”
I frown and examine it more closely.
A small inscription is engraved on the Snitch.
05.06.1992
Slytherin vs Ravenclaw
Won 220–80 after Draco Malfoy caught the Golden Snitch.
I read it again.
“Granger…”
“I thought it was a—”
I kiss her.