The Slytherin Princess | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Chapter 35: Poison

You and Draco get into Dumbledore's office, and then back down to the dungeons. But there's an unexpected (re: unwanted) visitor outside the common room when you return.

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It was Saturday night. The day you'd been dreading all week. And of course, because the both of you were so on edge, you and Draco had argued over his calling your family blood-traitors all day, and now you two were huddled under Harry's Invisibility cloak, trying to stay out of earshot of everyone patrolling the castle (and especially Filch). The tensions were high, and so were the stakes. If the two of you got caught, everything was over. Even if you weren't expelled and thrown into Azkaban (which you would, without a doubt, be), Voldemort would kill the both of you before you were even able to run away.

"Being so close together, things could get steamy under this cloak," Draco commented as the two of you crept through the castle, chuckling slightly even as you smacked him harshly in the chest.

"Just because we settled our argument doesn't mean I'm not still irritated with you," you grumbled as the two of you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, where Dumbledore's office resided.

"Aw, princess, that's too bad," Draco quipped, leaning in closer to nip your earlobe with his teeth. "I'll have to change your mind later. Just imagine returning this cloak to its owner knowing we fucked underneath it."

You huffed, ignoring his statement despite the heat that immediately flowed through your body at his actions. The idea was enticing, to be sure, and you knew you'd consider it if you were returning the cloak to anyone besides the Gryffindor boy that Draco still didn't know you'd kissed.

The Slytherin boy beside you stayed silent, though, as you came up on the phoenix statue that you knew hid the staircase leading to the headmaster's office.

"Do you even know the password?" Draco hissed, but you quickly held up a finger to silence him.

"Of course I do," you whispered back, hoping the annoyance in your tone was clear despite the incredibly low decibel level of your voice. "Do you think I'm dense?"

Instead of waiting for a response, you poked your head out of the cloak to recite, "Sherbert Lemon."

With a reverberating sound that mimicked a loud crack, the giant statue began to rotate up, revealing a winding staircase up into the headmaster's study.

You and Draco huddled even closer together, hurrying up the staircase into the massive office, where you were finally able to shed the cloak.

You placed it delicately on a chair across from Dumbledore's desk, fully aware of Draco's look of disgust at how gentle you were being with it. "It belongs to Potter," he snipped. "Why do you care so much about the stupid thing?"

"Because I promised him I'd take care of it," you bit back. "End of discussion."

Draco stayed quiet, watching you as you moved around behind Dumbledore's desk. As expected, there was one lone lemon drop sitting on the desk, wrapped neatly and perfectly centered on the mahogany wood of the escritoire.

You sighed as you pulled your gloves on—the ones you had already enchanted to both leave no evidence and keep the skin of your hand safe from the poison that you were about to uncork. Draco raised his wand to non-verbally cast the deafening charm on the professor's bird—you couldn't risk Fawkes witnessing anything either.

You sort of hated that you even knew the bird's name—you didn't like being so involved in everything, on both sides of the war. You didn't like being so closely allied with Voldemort, either, but it would help your conscience if you didn't also find yourself so closely involved with so many people who were openly against him, either.