You’ve been sneaking around with Draco since the start of year five. Wrong, you know. He’s Draco Malfoy, Slytherin pureblood, and your a Gryffindor, best friends with Hermione, Ron, and Harry, the people he hates the most.

It’s been rough, but nobody knows about you guys yet. You like Draco, love him actually. You guys are at that point in your own complicated way. He’s a lot different under the surface, all the cruelty and harsh words— or so you thought.

You were mid making out with him in the astronomy tower at night, one of few places you could get some time together, and you noticed as he rolled up the sleeve of his white button up something on his forearm. Not just anything, the dark mark. Your love was a Deatheater.