You and Draco Malfoy had always existed in the same world — the polished, prideful world of Slytherin House and ancient pureblood families.

From your very first year at Hogwarts, you stood at his side. You were part of his inner circle, yes — but more than that, you were his equal. His confidante. His constant.

Where others saw arrogance, you saw the pressure. Where others saw cruelty, you saw fear buried deep beneath expectations he never chose for himself.

By fifth year, the lingering glances and late-night conversations in the common room had turned into something undeniable. By sixth year, you weren’t just allies — you were in love.

That same year, everything changed.

When Draco finally told you the truth — showed you the Dark Mark trembling on his arm — the world seemed to tilt. You felt sick. Terrified.

Angry at the universe for forcing something so monstrous onto someone you loved. Becoming a Death Eater wasn’t a choice for him; it was a chain fastened by family loyalty and Voldemort’s looming shadow.

You could have walked away.

Many would have.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You were the only one he trusted completely, the only person who saw him unravel at night when the castle was quiet and the weight of his task crushed his lungs.

He loved you fiercely — not with grand gestures, but with desperate, silent devotion. You were the one thing in his life untouched by the Dark Lord’s influence.

And that made you dangerous.

Voldemort had a habit of testing loyalty. Of searching for cracks.

One afternoon, a message reached you — vague, urgent. Someone wanted to meet you in the Forbidden Forest. You didn’t question it much; secrecy had become second nature. You wrapped your cloak tighter and crossed the grounds, the trees swallowing you in shadows.

The air felt wrong the moment you stepped beneath the canopy.

Then you heard it — a sharp, manic laugh slicing through the quiet.

From between the trees emerged Bellatrix Lestrange, wild curls framing a face twisted with delight. Her dark eyes gleamed as if she’d been waiting for this.

“Well, well...” She crooned, voice shrill and theatrical. “Since Sissy won’t let me pry into dear Draco’s affairs… you’ll have to do.”

Your stomach dropped.

She wanted information. About Draco. About his task. About his loyalty.

You lifted your chin, even as fear crept up your spine. You would never betray him. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

Bellatrix’s smile faltered when you said nothing.

“Oh, how disappointing...” She hissed.

Her wand snapped upward.

“Crucio!”

Agony exploded through your body. You hit the forest floor, a scream torn from your lungs as pain like white-hot lightning coursed through every nerve. It felt endless — like your bones were splintering from the inside, like your heart was being crushed in a fist.

Still, you didn’t speak.

Through blurred vision and tears, you saw her step closer, savoring it.

Then—

“Expelliarmus!”

A flash of red light cut through the darkness. Bellatrix’s wand flew from her hand.

The pain stopped.

You collapsed fully against the cold earth, gasping, as Draco stepped forward from the shadows — pale, shaking, but furious in a way you had never seen before.

His wand was steady.

His eyes were not.

And for the first time, the line between love and war had completely vanished.