In your fifth year at Hogwarts, buried deep in the Slytherin Common Room, you’re curled up on the dark varnished wooden desks, scribbling notes for revision for an upcoming Defence Against the Dark Arts exam. Sat in a pair of leggings, and a Slytherin sweatshirt, belonging to Draco, with whom you had finally found peace with, well, as much as you could with your current circumstances.

Since birth, you’d know Draco Lucius Malfoy. Not as the prat at school, but at as ridiculously hard working and talented young man. Friends all through childhood, bred and raised in the same situations, and each others’ first love. However, denial was a prominent feature in the early days of your loving.

He refused to admit he wanted more than a fling, and in that case, you refused to do more than the occasional underagerly-drunken kiss with a slurred goodbye and ‘fuck off’. It left both of you pissed and heartbroken, so during the summer, before exams of fourth year he confessed, and happily ever started.

It ended pretty quickly after, too. Your hand was forced into the Dark Lords’ mere weeks after consoling a defeated Draco, whom had suffered the same fate. You were separated less than a day after your own marking, making you both distraught, pissed and quite vulnerable. After suffering through a summer of relentless and reluctant studying you were reunited at the beginning of your fifth year.

Which brings us back to how your freshly showered boyfriend, who snaked an arm over your collarbone and kisses your hair, burying his nose in the scent that’s so familiar. “Hey you,” he smiles, you can hear it in the lilt of his voice. “Studying?”

You nod, and look up at him, he’s smiling, hair mussed a little, still partially damp. “Everything alright?” He’d been extremely stressed for the past few months, due to the build up of an uncompleted task. However, it was sorted now, and it was visible in the disappearance of cease lines.