Restricted | Draco Malfoy

23

"Draco, what is going on?" I asked with fear in my eyes as he had me sit down on a small velvet loveseat in a giant library. He sat down beside me and took my hand in his.

"Do you like me or something? Is that what this is about? 'Cause I don't want this to get awkward, you're like the only friend I have that understands what I go through." I panicked, and then I truly heard the words as they left my mouth. I couldn't believe I just said that out loud.

Why on Earth would I have made this about him liking me? That was the stupidest question I could've asked considering I knew it would never be true.

Great. Now he's going to start thinking that I like him. I mean, I do like him.

Wait.

Do I like Draco?

I mean, sure. He makes me feel better every day. I liked the way he talks to me, and how good he makes me feel about myself when he's around. How he protects me. The butterflies I always feel in my stomach. Or how his hair falls over his forehead on a day where he was too lazy to fix it. His grey eyes. The rings on his fingers. His style. The way he smells every time I lay on him. His soft voice when he compliments me, and it loses the harsh tone it holds when he speaks to everyone else. Or when-

Oh my fucking God.

I'm an bloody idiot. All this time, and I'm just now coming to this realization? That Draco wasn't just a friend in my eyes. I wanted more than that from him... so much more that it burned.

I like Draco. I really fucking like Draco.

"No, that's not it." He laughed at my stupidity, making my heart drop a little. I guess that was too good to be true. I felt like my heart just broke more than when I had found out about Cedric. "Sort of."

Sort of? What the bloody hell is 'sort of' supposed to mean?

"Oh, Merlin." I panted, my stomach churning and my heart rate rising once again while I threw my head back against the couch. What else could there have been to talk about in private if it wasn't that kind of topic? I pulled away from him and tried wiping my hands on my legs, but I wasn't sure how well it had worked. I was a sweaty mess.

"You know about the... business our fathers do together." He started, sounding just as nervous as I was now.

"Yes." I answered softly while my breathing hitched. I looked at him in worry, and I could see the same feeling written out on his face for once.

"I really don't like you being involved in this." He mumbled, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes quickly before he got the courage to just spit it out.

"I honestly tried keeping you away from all of this for as long as I could, but I'm afraid we've gotten to a point where the only way I can protect you is by just telling you the truth and hoping that you trust me enough to roll with the punches." He huffed as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

This can't be good.

He focused his attention on me and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. Spit it out, dammit!

"So, years ago, when the Dark Lord was trying to gain power... he had followers, if you will, called Death Eaters. Have you ever heard of them?" He asked me. I nodded my head, but now I was sure that I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Well, I've heard rumors— not sure if they are true or not because my father won't tell me— that he will be making a return. Voldemort." He said the name so effortlessly. "I do know for a fact, however, that years ago our fathers were actually some of his most loyal followers to do his bidding." He told me.