"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
-
The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 | "𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬."
━━━━━━━━━━━━
D A Y F O U R / F O U R T E E N «« i am not suppose to feel this way towards you »»
━━━━━━━━━━━━
ϟ
There is a rubber band wrapped tightly around the chambers of my heart, it ravels around the pulmonary veins, looping itself repeatedly until I sense the friction from the rubber tearing the organ into flimsy shavings in the near future.
That is what it feels like to miss somebody.
I desire to graze my timid fingers upon Vance's easing skin. I wish to hear his soothing voice whispering honeyed sentences into my ear. Oh, what I would do to be staring into his lovely brown eyes, tasting his saccharine lips, drowning in his dewy aroma.
"Y/N," Draco snaps his hefty two fingers in front of my vision, permitting my fluctuating presence to slam back into my body to collect my senses. "You idiotic imp, Axel asked you a question."
Pansy furrows her dark brows, shooting a loathsome glare in the direction of the blond. "Don't be so rude, Draco. She simply didn't hear him, no need for all the insults."
The upscale bar has hundreds of conversations told in quiet, elegant voices. All of them are competing with the classical music that is meant to dominate the atmosphere. Inspecting the individuals, they consist of old men— if not searching for a woman, they hold a trophy wife to their side.
Axel, Draco, and Pansy come across as fitting in with every high-class figure in this area. If we weren't sitting in this two by two booth, located at the very corner of the bar— uneasiness would begin to seep into my skin.
"Sorry," I reply, quickly shifting my perception towards the green eyed boy. "What is your question, Axel?"
His face is smothered with an expression of interest, passion embedded in his voice. "How many of these do you think I would have to drink for me to get absolutely fucking wasted?" Axel holds his tall glass in front of him, the liquid is a foggy white, a slice of a lemon and a clove of mint sitting on top of the thick ice.
"Well, I would need to know the percentage of alcohol consisting in your drink as well as your body mass index and possibly your—"
"—How did you manage to ruin a simple night at the bar?" Draco questions, halting my statement whilst vaguely revolving his head towards my presence. "We get it, you're smart."
