Griffin Blakes is your average teenage witch attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is a lot of things... but sneaky is not one of them. So what is she going to tell her three best friends when she starts to fall for the enemy? An...
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{Draco}
IT WAS cold. You'd think after four years of living in the dungeon level of the castle, I would be used to its chilly temperature. That was certainly not the case, so I got up out of bed and crossed the room towards my trunk. After a few seconds of digging, I found a black jumper and pulled it over my sleep shirt before hurrying back to bed.
Oftentimes, I had the hardest time trying to fall asleep. My mind would wander unpredictably. Incidentally, the conversation I shared with Griffin earlier that evening began replaying in my head.
All summer, I had the time to reflect on my feelings. Trust me when I say I did not like what I felt. The idea that I may possess some sort of fondness towards the Gryffindor was embarrassing. I quickly labeled it as a mere infatuation -one that I needed to abolish immediately. So I concluded the best way to do so was by ignoring her.
Obviously that plan was flawed.
For starters, I crossed paths with her friend group more than I cared to admit; like at the train station. This put me in a dilemma of sorts, because I found myself bothered by the anger in Griffin's eyes when she looked my way.
Ok, one time. I'll talk to her one more time just to give her my condolences, and then avoid being alone with her for the rest of the year, I thought to myself when spotting her after supper.
Then I found out Blakes and her idiot friends knew of my father's ties to the Death Eaters and recalled how they had a few secret meetings in my manor over break. To avoid any run-ins with the cruel witches and wizards, I would have to lock myself in my room; sometimes for days at a time.
I tossed and turned in my bed anxiously, wondering who else Potter had blabbed to about my father.
••• {Griffin}
It was cold. I was walking down a long tunnel-no, hallway. White light reflected on the polished walls and floor. Nothing bad was happening, and yet I was scared for my life. Whispers filled my ears. Whispers, yes, but... I could not hear what they were saying. Too loud... it was too loud here but I kept walking. Only I wasn't really walking; I couldn't feel my feet. I couldn't feel anything except for the cold.
A door. There was a door at the end of this hallway, with a golden handle.
"Griffin?"
I don't belong here. I did not exist to be here.
Then black, and I was transported someplace different. But I wasn't actually present in this different room. Images flashed in front of my eyes. Images of tall shelves and rows and stacks of... glass blue balls?
"Griffin!"
I shot up straight, taking in a sharp gasp of breath.
Hermione was sitting in her bed, a bewildered look in her eyes. "Are you alright? You were making noises in your sleep." My hands were trembling and I could feel my heart pattering furiously against my chest. "I'm fine... just a nightmare."
