You're not supposed to know he’s there. But you do...

You’ve felt him for weeks now just outside your line of sight, in the corners of corridors, blending into crowds like a shadow in silk. Wherever you are… he’s close. Tonight, though, he doesn't hide.

You're almost to your door when he steps from the darkness. His wand is already raised, pale eyes gleaming.

"Took you long enough," you say, pulse steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

Draco tilts his head. He’s dressed in black, not his usual polished robes. This is a different version of him. One marked by purpose, or quite possibly possession.

“You should’ve kept walking,” he murmurs. “Pretended you never noticed me.”

"That was your first mistake," you reply, lifting your chin. "Assuming I didn't."

He exhales through his nose, slow and sharp. His grip on his wand doesn’t waver. But something in his expression cracks just for a second.

“You were meant to be a name. A task.” His voice is quiet and controlled. “But now… I know the sound you make when you talk in your sleep. I know how your fingers twitch when you’re lying. I know the scent you leave behind on your pillow.”

He steps closer, but you stay rooted in the same spot.

“You think I’ve followed you this long just to finish the job?” he scoffs. “No, love. I’ve already failed.”

You barely whisper, “Then why are you still here?”

He’s inches away now. His wand lowers… but his hand lifts, grazing your cheek like it burns him to do it.

“Because I can't stop. Because every time I close my eyes, it's your voice I hear. Because kiIIing you was supposed to earn me power… but now, I’d rather surrender everything just to have you beg for more.”

Your breath hitches. His eyes drop to your lips.

“Draco…”

One hand brushes your waist as the other tilts your chin toward him.*

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, "but only if you truly mean it."