alluringly entwined | f.w, d.m

69

Draco took steps back. Raised his hands in a clear surrender.

"I trusted you, Malfoy!" Theodore shouted angrily, pointing a knife toward the boy.

"Theo, you can't go around killing people with Muggle blood!" Draco shouted back, despite the nerves rising in his throat.

"Muggle blood." Theodore barked a haughty laugh. "Look at you, Draco!" He smiled coldly at the other boy. "You're a good one now, huh? The better man. You've become one of them now."

Draco was shaking his head, jaws tight.

"We could've done this together," Theodore sneered, and emotion waved through his words. "We could've done this together to make our fathers proud."

Draco, again, shook his head. "You can't keep doing this, Nott. You can't keep killing people who aren't pure like us," he told him, loud and clear.

"I need to!" Theodore snarled thunderously. His hand was tightly sealed around the grip and he kept thrusting it everywhere as he spoke. "I trusted you! You said you wouldn't tell anybody! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"You are my friend—I'm your friend," Draco tried to reason. "This is why I'm telling you to stop."

Theodore's breathing was staggered, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"They're going to find out it was you," Draco bit out, concern etched over his features. "Just stop now and let it pass, so you won't go to Azkaban."

Theodore's head tipped back as he laughed raucously, hysterical. He ran his fingers through the roots of his dark hair, still holding the knife. "You don't get it, do you, mate?" His gaze collided with his friend's.

Draco tried not to let his panic show as he leaned against the edge of his dresser. He wasn't scared of Theodore.

Theodore was his best friend. He was just worried about him—about what he had gotten himself into. He just wanted to help his best mate.

"I need to do this!" Theodore's voice rose as he paced back and forth in front of the blond. "My father— you— no one understands," he muttered, shaking his head. "I need to do this. He needs my help."

"Your help for killing people with Muggle blood?" Draco's eyes were as wide as saucers, disbelief.

"I thought you"—Theodore thrust the tip of the knife once more at his friend—"Of all people would understand. That's why I told you."

"I'm just trying to save your fucking ass from getting thrown into Azakaban!" Draco shouted in agitation as his jaws rolled. "People are going to find out these aren't suicides, Theo."

"Finnigan's fucking dead already." Theodore waved a hand dismissively as he huffed dryly. "Halfbloods. Pathetic. I'm helping my father get rid of these filthy blood witches and wizards, Draco."

Draco's hands gripped the edge of his dresser, tight. "Your father..." His sentence drew off, baffled. "Your father put you up to murdering people?"

"No, you idiot." Theodore shook his head, narrowing his eyes at his mate. "My father was telling me how I need to be proactive, you know? How I need to take charge and do what needs to be done, right?"

Draco nodded, an attempt to get his friend to speak more.

"He's always like 'Theo, be a man' or 'Help your old man out and make this world pure,'" Theodore mimicked his father's voice.

"'Take out the filthy blood people,' he said. He was scolding me and telling me all this shit, and I need to make him proud, Draco." His eyes met the blond's. "You of all people should understand greatly about making Daddy proud."