𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗜𝗘, 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗙𝗢𝗬
In which two star-crossed lovers
get their hearts dragged through
hell and back just to be together.
Olivia Mallard and Draco Malfoy.
they were made for destruction
and born to die.
...
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"Olivia, can you come in here for a moment?"
Olivia looked up from her book, only to meet the eyes of her father, who was standing in the doorway of his study, seeming ever-so stressed. She was sitting on the couch in the sitting room with a mug of hot chocolate that was garnished with small marshmallows and shaven peppermint flakes, resting on the table next to her alongside a tray of snickerdoodles. She knew those were certainly an odd choice for an end-of-summer treat, but she wanted to soak in as much as she could before she returned to Hogwarts for her third year.
Her eyes flickered all over her father's face, searching for what he might need from her. She was never asked to join him and her mother in the study. He seemed to be in a mix of calm and stress—maybe even a little worried around the brows, but calm and stressed nonetheless. She was sure her mother was in their as well, impatiently waiting on her.
She and her mother had never had a good relationship; that was clear to everyone, but after Olivia stepped off the train at the end of her second year and told her off about the Malfoys, their dynamic became even more strained than ever before. Both, being way too stubborn, didn't do anything to try and resolve it.
It was actually quite comedic when one thought about it. With an almost-thirty-eight-year-old woman and an almost-fourteen-year-old girl—a mother and a daughter—having an unspoken argument, one could argue that they both were immature in a sense, and they thought the same of each other but otherwise of themselves. It was a never-ending battle.
Sighing, Olivia closed her book with a snap and set it down next to her. She ran a hand through her freshly trimmed hair, which fell once she reached a couple of inches past her shoulder. It was medium length, which was perfect for her. She'd been growing rather tired of her long and annoying hair, and this way, she barely had to do anything to it to make herself look presentable.
Swinging her left leg off her right knee from where they were crossed, she stood up from her seat, cracking her knuckles as she made her way over to her father, whose expression didn't falter from its calm-slightly-stressed mixture. She brushed past him as she entered the study and turned so that his back was against the door and she could easily move by.
