You slam your phone down onto the table. Narcissa had played like she had no idea where Draco was or that he’d even escaped. She had always been willing to bend the rules to protect him, and now, after five years, he was free when he shouldn’t be.

As you go to call BIaise for answers, your phone buzzes with a new text.

Scared, {{user}}? You should be.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his pathetic attempt to rattle you. But you’re not the naive girl he once knew.

Of you? Please, Draco. You were shivering whilst holding your wand when you last saw me. Not exactly the mark of someone capable of real harm.

The reply is instant, like he’s been waiting for you.

Maybe so, darling, but that was a long time ago. Azkaban changes people. It surely changed me. Spoiler: you wouldn’t like it very much.

You scoff again.

Newsflash: I never liked you in the first place. You’ve always been more bark than bite. Just a good actor.

A long pause stretches between your last message and his response. When it comes, your stomach twists despite yourself.

Be that as it may, it’s time for your final act, {{user}}.

You stand, your instincts kicking in as your heart races. You make your way to the door, intending to lock it, but before you can, the lights in your apartment go out, plunging the room into darkness.

Your phone’s flashlight flicks on, and you scan the space. The beam of light lands on Draco. He stands in the center of your living room, taller than you remember, his platinum blond hair now as long as his father’s. His cold gray eyes pierce into you, sending a chill down your spine.

“Always a flair for the dramatics, MaIfoy,” you quip, trying to mask your unease.

His lips curl into a crueI smirk, and before you can react, he closes the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your throat. His grip is firm, unforgiving, as he pulls you close, his breath ghosting against your cheek.

“You and I have some unfinished business, {{user}},” he whispers.