five : THE FORBIDDEN BLOOM

chapter v : the forbidden bloom

"this was it. there was no going back now."

THE FINAL BELL FOR POTIONS RANG, a harsh sound that cut through the charged quiet between them. Amidst the scrape of chairs and the shuffle of students packing their bags, Draco's eyes flicked to Valerie. He gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod towards the door, and then, with his usual nonchalant aura, he was gone, blending into the stream of exiting students. Valerie waited a moment, heart thrumming, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and following, trying to look as casual as possible.

The corridors were a blur of faces, voices, and laughter. Valerie kept her head down, avoiding eye contact, her mind buzzing with a mixture of apprehension and defiant exhilaration. She caught a glimpse of Draco weaving through the crowd ahead, his blond hair distinctive even from a distance. He led her deeper into the castle's less-frequented passages, past tapestries that hadn't been cleaned in decades and statues covered in dust, until he paused before a non-descript wooden door tucked away in a shadowed alcove on the fifth floor. It looked like any ordinary storage closet, easily overlooked.

He pushed the door open just enough for them to slip inside, then closed it with a soft click that echoed ominously in the sudden, profound silence. The closet was small, barely big enough for two, and plunged them into near-darkness, save for a sliver of weak light that filtered through a crack near the ceiling. The air was stale, smelling faintly of old parchment and forgotten cleaning supplies.

They stood rigidly, a foot of awkward space between them, the memory of the first closet, though less tense, now serving as a strange predecessor to this moment.

Valerie could feel the heat radiating from Draco's body, even without touching him. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a frantic rhythm that threatened to drown out all other thoughts.

         "So..." Valerie whispered, her voice barely audible, trying to inject a lightness she didn't feel. She cleared her throat. "Rules, right? Purely for research."

Draco scoffed lightly, though the sound was a little too strained to be truly nonchalant. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder. "Obviously, Potter. Wouldn't want you getting any ideas." A nervous smirk pulled at his lips.

He was Malfoy, a pure-blood, a Slytherin Prince. She was Potter, a half-blood, the symbol of everything his family despised. Everything about them screamed 'enemies,' yet here they were, trapped in a tiny closet, contemplating a forbidden act. The sheer audacity of it sent a thrill, hot and undeniable, coursing through Valerie.

This was wrong, dangerous, and utterly, deliciously tempting.

           "And we still... you know... don't like each other," Valerie added, the words feeling utterly hollow even as she spoke them, a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion.

Draco's eyes finally met hers, a flicker of something she couldn't quite identify in their depths—nervousness, yes, but also a raw, intense curiosity that mirrored her own. He took a single, small step closer, closing the distance between them. The air crackled.

Her breath hitched.

This was it.

There was no going back now.

She watched as his gaze dropped to her lips, then back up to her wide, expectant eyes.

He leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she couldn't.

Her feet felt rooted to the dusty floor.

Their lips met. It was a quick, dry brush at first, tentative and uncertain. Her mind registered the unexpected softness against hers, the scent of his cologne, and then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

They both pulled back at the exact same moment, as if a silent, invisible string connected them. Their faces were flushed, eyes wide and a little dazed. Draco cleared his throat, the sound ridiculously loud in the small space.

"Well-" He adjusted his green tie, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "That was... efficient."

            Valerie couldn't help but let out a nervous, soft laugh, the sound shaky. "Needs more... data, for the research, wouldn't you say?"

His eyes, still avoiding hers fully, crinkled at the corners.

"Indeed, Potter... For research purposes only, of course." He reached out, his hand hesitant, then gently, almost reverently, lifted her chin, his thumb brushing lightly against her jawline. His touch sent a shiver through her, a faint electric current that made her skin tingle. Driven by more than just curiosity now, a new kind of intensity in his gaze, he leaned in again.

This second kiss was different.

It was held for a fraction longer, a tiny bit softer, a slight pressure that made her stomach clench in a way she had never experienced.

A wave of warmth spread through her, starting from where their lips met and radiating outwards, making her skin prickle. His lips were surprisingly yielding, and a faint taste of spearmint lingered.

Her heart quickened, a frantic bird trapped in her chest, echoing the frantic beat she could feel against his.

The confined space of the closet made it feel incredibly intimate, as if they were the only two people left in the world.

Then, slowly, she felt him pull back.

A wave of cool air replaced the warmth of his lips. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly. The silence was heavier this time, charged with a new, confusing energy. Their experiment was proving to be far more than just 'research.'

Valerie felt a bold, surge of initiative.

This strange, bewildering pull was something she needed to understand, to explore, to feel again.

Her gaze locked onto his, a silent question, a dare.

Before either of them could speak, she leaned in, taking the initiative, closing the small gap between them once more.

This time, the kiss was less an exploration and more a surrender to the undeniable current between them.

Her hand instinctively reached up, her fingers lightly touching his soft hair.

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her against the solid warmth of his body. The world outside the dusty closet faded, replaced by the dizzying sensation of his lips moving against hers, the soft sighs that escaped them, the frantic beat of two hearts that were undeniably, thrillingly, out of sync with their supposed enmity.

Just as the kiss deepened, a faint, distant cough echoed from the corridor outside, a sudden, harsh reminder of the world beyond their hidden space.

They broke apart instantly, simultaneously, as if shocked by an invisible force.

Valerie's hand dropped from his hair, and Draco's arm fell from her waist.

          They stumbled back, bumping against the opposite walls of the narrow closet, both flushed, disheveled, and breathing heavily.

Their eyes, wide and bewildered, finally met.

There was no longer any pretence of research, only raw, unadulterated confusion and a searing, unspoken awareness of what had just happened. The air throbbed with a tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Neither of them wanted to leave, but the sudden intrusion of reality screamed at them.

Draco cleared his throat, the sound rough and strained. "Right," He muttered, raking a hand through his now slightly messy hair. He still wouldn't meet her eyes directly, his gaze darting around the confined space as if looking for an escape route that wasn't the door.

Valerie's cheeks burned. She wanted to say something, anything, but her mind was a whirlwind of sensation. All she could manage was a shaky nod. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and desires.

          "Not a word, Potter." Draco finally said, his voice low and firm, though still breathless. He finally looked at her, his grey eyes intense, a mixture of warning and something akin to desperation. "To anyone. Not even... your best friends. And I won't tell Blaise." The mention of their closest friends underscored the forbidden nature of their actions, the sheer audacity of what had transpired between a Malfoy and a Potter.

Valerie swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I... I know," She whispered, her voice equally firm, equally promising. "Not a soul. I swear it." This was their secret, something dangerous and exhilarating that belonged only to them. It would shatter everything they knew, everything they were. And somehow, that made it even more potent.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THEY SLIPPED OUT of the disused closet a moment later, still slightly disoriented by the abrupt end to their 'research.' They made their way to the Great Hall separately, merging with the streams of students heading there. The air was thick with excitement, but for Valerie, it was clouded by the dizzying aftershocks of the last few minutes.

She spotted Hermione waiting by the Entrance Hall doors, already scanning the crowd. As soon as Hermione saw her, her face broke into a smile, and she strode forward, linking her arm through Valerie's. "—There you are! Where's Eric?" She asked, pulling Valerie along towards the crowd of people already gathered around the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the centre of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

             "—Told me he had to meet up with his sister, Félicie," Valerie answered, her voice sounding oddly normal to her own ears despite the chaos in her head. Her best friend Eric was the youngest in his family to four older sisters: Camille, Margaux, Juliette, and Félicie. His sisters all lived in France, except Félicie, who was still attending her seventh year at Hogwarts. Despite the Lewis family being from France, every single member preferred to attend Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

Her gaze, against her will, sought out a familiar flash of blond hair across the bustling hall. Draco was already there, sliding effortlessly into a space beside Theodore Nott, who clapped him on the shoulder. For a fleeting second, his grey eyes met hers across the sea of students.

A shiver traced its way down Valerie's spine, a ghost of the warmth that had just enveloped her. His expression was unreadable, perhaps a flicker of the same dazed intensity she felt, before his gaze snapped away, focusing intently on something beyond her. She tore her own eyes away, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable lurch.

He just kissed me.

Draco Malfoy.

The thought was a silent scream in her head, utterly surreal. She, Valerie Potter, had just kissed Draco fucking Malfoy. Her mind replayed the soft press of his lips, the unexpected firmness of his arm, the delicious surge of something forbidden.

She had always daydreamed about it, a silly, secret fantasy she had dismissed as ridiculous. Now it was real, and she was still processing it, every nerve ending tingling, her brain struggling to reconcile the enemy with the boy whose lips had just been so warm against hers.

"We've done it!" The Weasley twins triumphantly jogged into the entrance hall with their friend Lee Jordan.

"Done what?" Ron asked, pulling Valerie's attention back to the present with a jolt.

"The Ageing Potion, dung brains," Fred Weasley replied, grinning.

         "One drop each," added George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

Lee Jordan grinned broadly. "We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins."

        "I'm not sure this is going to work," Hermione warned, her brows furrowed. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this—"

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her warning. "Ready?" Fred exclaimed to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then—I'll go first." Everyone watched with fascination as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. He walked right up to the edge of the line and, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, breathed deeply and stepped over the line.

For a split second, everyone thought it had worked, and George certainly thought so, letting out a joyful yell before leaping into the circle after his twin. But then, out of nowhere, there was a loud sizzling sound, which caused both twins to be thrown out. They landed quite painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor. There was a mere loud popping noise, and both of them unexpectedly grew long, white, identical beards, causing the entrance hall to uproar with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

           "I did warn you," spoke a deep, familiar, amused voice. It was Professor Dumbledore, emerging from the Great Hall. He stared at the twins, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say... neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Valerie made their way to the library, except Hermione, who claimed that she had to grab something from her dormitory first.

eric the baddest b 👑4:21pm

hey xx i'm going to the library with the trio, just letting u knowseen

i'm actually at hogsmeade with félicie right now

sorry it might take the whole afternoon but see you whenever <3seen *liked the message*

The trio settled themselves at one of the long rectangular tables, and Ron, with a groan, took out his Divination homework. Valerie, still feeling a faint, exhilarating thrum under her skin from her earlier 'research,' took out her quill and began reading the complicated chart.

Malfoy's lips. Spearmint. The thought flashed, hot and distracting, across her mind. She tried to focus on Ron's absurd star charts, but the ghost of a touch lingered. She could almost feel the phantom pressure.

          "You can do whatever you'd like for now, while I complete this myself. Afterwards, I'll go through the answers with you," Valerie stated, her voice a little more clipped than usual. Ron, oblivious, nodded, before taking one of his Charms books out and beginning to read. Harry sat across from them, equally focused on his own Charms book.

Did he feel it too? That jolt? That... warmth?

Her mind stubbornly replaying the forbidden moments in the closet. The way his arm had snaked around her, pulling her close. The sheer audacity of it. Draco Malfoy. Her mind kept screaming the name, a bewildered echo. It was ludicrous, impossible, yet utterly, undeniably real. She felt a blush creep up her neck, hoping the dim library light obscured it.

Hermione finally arrived, a brown box clutched in her arms. She made her way over to her friends and placed the box onto the table with a determined thump.

"What's in the box?" Harry asked, pointing at it.

          She took the lid off, revealing about fifty badges, all different colours, but each bearing the same four letters: S.P.E.W.

        "Spew?" Harry picked up a badge, frowning at it. "What's this about?"

             "Not spew," Hermione impatiently corrected, snatching the badge back. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," Ron added, looking bored.

           "Well, of course you haven't," she briskly said, pushing her bushy hair behind her ear. "I've only just started it."

          "Yeah?" Ron spoke, a hint of mischief in his tone. "How many members have you got?"

"—Well, if you three join then four."

Valerie almost snorted, but caught herself. A nervous giggle bubbled up, threatening to escape, entirely unrelated to Hermione's society. It was the memory of Draco's sudden, breathless retreat, the way his eyes had looked, so utterly stunned. He's probably thinking about it too, isn't he? The thought sent another jolt through her.

          "And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" Ron continued, clearly disgusted.

        "S-P-E-W!" Hermione argued, her voice rising despite being in the library. "I was going to put 'Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status'—but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto... I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione, open your ears," Ron debated once more, dropping his voice to an exasperated whisper. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"

Valerie nodded, vaguely aware of their argument. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. She found herself subconsciously touching her lips, wondering if they still felt slightly swollen, if the faint taste of spearmint was still there. Forbidden. So utterly forbidden. The word hummed in her veins, making her feel both reckless and strangely alive.

"Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions." Hermione tried her best to keep her volume to a minimum. "Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

            "And how do we do all this?" Valerie asked, forcing herself to engage. It was a welcome distraction from her own internal turmoil.

"We start by recruiting members," Hermione happily spoke, her passion overriding her earlier frustration. "I thought two Sickles to join, that buys a badge and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign."

"Alright." Valerie smiled, the thought of helping Hermione a familiar comfort in the wake of her bewildering afternoon. "Eric will definitely join, and I can get Ivory, Miranda, Millicent, and Daphne to join in too."

"That's splendid, Valerie!" Hermione beamed, before walking away to find new books to read. Meanwhile, Valerie was about to continue Ron's homework, but her phone suddenly pinged, pulling her attention back to the present.

we're all most likely gonna die since we have harry & valerie potter in our class 🤡[ CLASS GROUP CHAT ] 4:58pm

blaise zabini : dementors on the loose 🫣

valerie potter : STOP IM ACTUALLY DEAD-

millicent bulstrode : HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

     Valerie laughed with Ron and her brother for a short while before continuing on with the Divination homework. Writing a detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month would affect Ron.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED the hidden kiss in Potions blurred for Valerie. It was now Wednesday, and the world felt like it had subtly shifted on its axis. Every interaction, every glance, every moment was filtered through the bewildering afterglow of Draco Malfoy's lips.

She felt a persistent, dreamy haze clinging to her, a lightness in her chest she hadn't known before.

It was exhilarating, addictive, and utterly, intensely forbidden.

The thrill of it was a constant hum beneath her skin. But beneath that thrill lay a prickle of guilt. Eric, her best friend, who she told everything. And yet, this secret, this astonishing, earth-shattering secret, was hers alone. It felt disloyal, a betrayal of their bond, but the thought of revealing it was simply impossible. How could she explain? How could anyone understand?

The next day, Tuesday, during Transfiguration, Valerie was lost in that pleasant fog.

The repetitive chant of Professor McGonagall's instructions faded into the background as Valerie hummed softly to herself, her pencil idly across her parchment, sketching a beautiful rose. A soft, undeniable smile played on her lips, her eyes distant and bright.

Harry, sitting beside her, had been watching her for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in suspicion. Their twin instincts were rarely wrong. He squinted at her, observing the dreamy look, the private smile. Finally, he leaned in, his voice a low, teasing murmur. "Who's the special boy, Val?"

Valerie's dreaminess evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, hot blush that swept up her neck and stained her cheeks. "What?" She gasped, her pencil digging into the parchment.

Harry just smirked, a knowing glint in his green eyes.

           "Oh, don't play innocent. You've been all... dreamy lately. Humming to yourself, grinning at nothing. Spit it out. Who is it?"

          "Nobody!" Valerie hissed, her cheeks burning even brighter. "I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. I'm just... thinking about homework."

Harry merely shrugged, a small smile still playing on his lips. "If you say so, Val. Just thought you might want to share with your older brother." He turned back to his textbook, leaving Valerie to simmer in her flustered denial, her heart thumping against her ribs. She glanced covertly around the classroom, paranoid. Had anyone else noticed? Had he noticed? The thought of Draco knowing she was thinking about him made her blush intensify.

Valerie had made sure to arrive early for Potions on Wednesday, settling into her seat with a practiced air of nonchalance, though her stomach was doing nervous flips. She busied herself with getting out her stationary, trying to quell the rising anticipation.

It had been two days since their kisses, two days of excruciating silence, of avoiding eye contact in the corridors, of feeling that constant, low thrum of a shared secret.

The door opened, and in walked Draco. He looked different today, a bit subdued, his usual confident swagger replaced by a subtle tension in his shoulders. He didn't spare a glance at the table as he settled heavily into the seat beside Valerie, pulling out his phone. He immediately began texting, his thumb flying across the screen, a distraction she recognized as deeply uncharacteristic for him in class. He looked... stressed.

Valerie couldn't help but observe him discreetly from the corner of her eye. His jaw was clenched, and there was a faint crease between his brows. The class began, Professor Snape's monotonous drawl filling the dungeon classroom, and Draco reluctantly put his phone on the desk, sighing, and rested his chin in his hand, staring blankly ahead.

Something was definitely wrong.

A wave of concern, surprising in its intensity, washed over Valerie. Her hand moved instinctively, pulling a spare slip of parchment from her bag. With quick, silent movements, she scribbled a brief message:

Are you okay? You seem a bit off.

She folded the note tightly and, when Snape's back was turned, subtly nudged it across the desk towards him.

Draco's eyes, dull moments before, flickered downwards. He glanced at the note, then at Valerie, his expression unreadable. He picked it up, unfolded it, and read her words. He pulled out his own quill and, without a word, scrawled a reply: Just things with my father. That's why I'm not fine. He folded it back, not meeting her gaze, and slid it back across the desk, returning his chin to his hand, his grey eyes fixed on the front of the classroom.

Valerie's hand reached for the note, her brow furrowed with genuine worry. She wrote back, Can I help in any way to make you feel better? and pushed the note over once more.

Draco's fingers paused on the desk. He looked down at the note, opened it, and read her new message. A slow, almost imperceptible change came over his face. The stress seemed to momentarily recede, replaced by a mischievous glint in his grey eyes. Without answering, he simply lifted his gaze, his eyes fixing on hers with an intense curiosity that sent a jolt through her.

Valerie simply stared back, her mind racing, trying desperately to decipher the silent question in his gaze. He wasn't saying anything, but his eyes were speaking volumes, hinting at something bold, something that would definitely make him feel better, and it had everything to do with their last 'experiment.'

Draco's gaze flickered to the textbook lying open on his desk, then back to her. A faint, knowing smirk, so subtle it was almost imperceptible, touched the corner of his lips. He slowly, deliberately, reached out and picked up the heavy Potions textbook.

Without a word, he held it up, positioned just so, between their two desks. The large, dark green cover created a perfect, instant screen, hiding them from the prying eyes of the class and Snape. The message was clear.

Valerie's breath hitched. Her heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. He was actually going to— She leaned in, an undeniable longing pulling her forward, just as Draco did the same. Their lips met.

It was a fast kiss, a desperate press of mouths, brief and sharp, filled with the longing.

It was a question, an answer, and a promise, all in one fleeting second. Then, just as quickly, Draco lowered the book, placing it back on the desk with a soft thud.

Snape's voice cut through the air. "Potter! Malfoy! Are you quite finished with your... personal deliberations? Or perhaps you'd prefer to share your insights with the rest of the class?" His cold, sneering tone made the blood rush to Valerie's face.

              "—No, Professor," Draco drawled, his voice miraculously steady, laced with his usual insolence. He finally turned his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips as he met Snape's gaze, a challenging glint in his grey eyes. "Just discussing the finer points of today's potion, Professor. Potter here was struggling."

Valerie gasped, a flash of genuine annoyance cutting through her daze. "I was not!" She retorted, her voice sharp, falling easily back into their familiar antagonistic rhythm. The insult felt like a shield, a necessary reassertion of their public roles.

Snape merely narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced but choosing not to press. "Then perhaps you can explain the uses of a sleeping draught, Potter, since you're so clearly un-struggling."

Valerie, her mind still reeling, managed to stammer out a half-decent answer, acutely aware of Draco's presence beside her, the residual warmth on her lips. She could feel his quiet amusement, a subtle shift in his aura. They had just shared an intensely private moment, and now, effortlessly, they were back to being enemies, throwing barbs for show. The duality of it was dizzying.

The rest of the class passed in a haze of internal conflict for Valerie. Every time her gaze flickered towards Draco, he was either intently focused on his work or staring blankly ahead.

He didn't look at her again, not directly. But the knowledge of what had happened, the sharp, illicit thrill of it, pulsed between them like a live current.

She knew, with a certainty that both terrified and exhilarated her, that this wouldn't be the last time. The 'research project' had just found its real purpose: comfort, a shared, silent escape. And the longing, so palpable it ached, would ensure they sought it again.

The Potions class kiss set a dangerous precedent, igniting a slow-burning fuse between Valerie Potter and Draco Malfoy. The weeks that followed were a precarious dance of intense longing and feigned indifference, each day thickening the already heavy tension between them.

Every passing moment was a testament to the gravitational pull that defied every rule of their world, every expectation of their families. They were both Slytherins, yes, but her name was Potter, and his was Malfoy – a chasm of blood status and historical animosity separated them, making every stolen glance, every shared breath, intensely forbidden.

Days blurred into weeks, marked by subtle, electrifying moments.

There were the stolen glances in the Great Hall, fleeting looks caught across tables, his grey eyes locking onto her brown before a quick, defensive dart away.

Valerie would feel a sudden heat, a flush rising to her cheeks, even as she forced herself to smirk or roll her eyes if she thought he was still looking.

One afternoon, passing in a bustling corridor, they almost collided. For a split second, they were pressed close, the heat radiating off him palpable, the scent of expensive cologne and spearmint a sharp, sudden memory. "Watch where you're going, Potter," Draco had drawled, his voice a low, rough murmur, lacking its usual bite. "Unless you're trying to prove a point about your clumsiness."

Valerie had shot back, "And you, Malfoy, unless you're trying to prove how well you can trip over your own ego." But the words felt hollow, a flimsy shield over the raw, breathless tension that lingered as they quickly stepped around each other, hurrying on.

The shared terror of being discovered, combined with the inexplicable longing, was an intoxicating cocktail.

They found themselves in unexpected proximity in classes, a cruel twist of fate or perhaps a subconscious seeking.

In a stifling Herbology class, their hands brushed reaching for the same root, a jolt like static electricity. They both flinched back, Valerie's face burning, Draco's jaw tightening. During a particularly frustrating Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid, as they both struggled with a thorny bush, Valerie let out an exasperated sigh. Draco, surprisingly, glanced at her, a flicker of genuine, shared frustration in his eyes. For a fraction of a second, their masks slipped, a tiny crack in the animosity revealing a nascent understanding. It was immediately covered, of course, with a muttered "Still useless, Potter?" and her sharp retort, "Only when I'm stuck with useless company, Malfoy." But the underlying current was undeniable.

The longing became a constant ache. The 'research' sessions in the closet grew more frequent, more desperate. They found new, secluded corners of the castle – a forgotten alcove on the seventh floor, a disused classroom tucked behind a tapestry. The rules they had initially set were whispered more for show than conviction, dissolving with each deepening kiss. Hands moved more freely: Valerie's fingers would tangle in his soft hair, pulling him closer, while Draco's hands found purchase on her waist, on her hips, pressing her against him, eliminating any space between them.

Each encounter left them breathless, disoriented, clinging to each other in the dim, illicit privacy, the thrilling awareness of their forbidden connection humming fiercely between them.

They knew, without a word, that this was becoming an addiction, a necessary escape from the suffocating expectations of their separate worlds.

It was late, much later than Valerie usually stayed out, but the longing had become unbearable. The past few weeks had been a relentless build-up, and she was desperate for the release of their shared secret. She found herself drifting towards the Slytherin dungeons, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She paused near the entrance to the common room, a shadowed archway that seemed to swallow the light.

A figure emerged from the darkness ahead, and Valerie's breath hitched. Draco. His eyes, usually guarded, were alight with a desperate urgency that mirrored her own. They stopped mere feet apart, the silence heavy with unspoken need.

        "—Lurking, Potter?" Draco's voice was low, laced with a familiar sneer, but it lacked its usual bite. His eyes, however, devoured her, dark with an intensity that made her insides clench.

Valerie scoffed, a challenge in her own voice. "Only to make sure no snakes slither out of line, Malfoy. Unlike some people, I actually adhere to curfew." Her words were sharp, a public declaration of their enmity, but her body pulsed with an almost unbearable awareness of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing, a dangerous glint in their depths. "And unlike some, I don't need a babysitter, Potter." He was practically breathing down her neck now, the tension between them a live wire.

The banter died, abruptly.

The air thrummed with a dangerous charge.

Valerie felt the magnetic pull, a force that negated every rule, every societal barrier.

Without another word, Draco reached out, his hand finding her waist, then pulling her forward, roughly, but not painfully, until her back hit the cold stone wall of the corridor with a soft thump. Her breath hitched. He caged her, his body pressed against hers, heat radiating through her robes. Her hands, without conscious thought, flew up, tangling in his soft, blond hair, gripping him, pulling him closer.

Their lips crashed together, no longer tentative, no longer 'research.' This was desperate, hungry, fueled by weeks of unspoken desire, the frustration of their roles, and the intoxicating danger of their location.

Valerie whimpered softly against his mouth, a sound swallowed by the ferocity of their kiss.

His tongue brushed hers, a shocking, electric thrill. She kissed him back with equal hunger, pulling his head closer, arching into his touch.

Suddenly, a faint shuffle of footsteps echoed from down the corridor.

Her heart leaped into her throat.

Draco froze for a split second, his lips still pressed against hers.

The sound grew slightly louder, closer.

Terror flared through Valerie – they couldn't be caught, not here, not like this.

It would destroy everything.

But the desire was stronger.

She felt Draco deepen the kiss, pressing harder, as if defying the approaching sound.

They clung to each other, desperately trying to stifle any sound, any gasp, their breaths mingling, hot and fast.

The forbidden nature of it all was intoxicating, making every touch, every desperate press, ten times more exhilarating.

The footsteps faded, turning a corner into a distant hall.

They broke apart, slowly, reluctantly, both heaving, chests rising and falling rapidly in the dim light. Their eyes were wild, dilated, searching each other's faces. They were flushed, disheveled, but a profound, almost manic thrill resonated between them.

Draco let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning his forehead against hers. "Still think you're immune to my charms, Potter?" He rasped, his voice raw.

Valerie, equally breathless, scoffed, but a genuine, thrilling grin stretched across her face. Her chest still heaved. "—You wish, Malfoy. Just proving your technique needs work." She gave his arm a light punch, the touch lingering.

They pulled fully apart, smoothing down their robes, trying to regain their composure.

The air still crackled between them. They shared a quick, knowing, conspiratorial grin—a silent pact sealed in a dangerous, desperate kiss. Without another word, they turned and walked away in opposite directions, their steps lighter, the world buzzing around them, the high of the forbidden still coursing through their veins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE LEAVES BEGAN TO FALL FROM TREES, and the days became shorter, while the nights were longer. It was now October 10th, which was Daphne Greengrass's fifteenth birthday. She was indeed in fourth year, however, she was one of the few students who was older than people in her year, just like Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode. It was Sunday morning and most students would normally have breakfast late, although, Valerie and her roommates woke up much earlier than they usually did on weekends because it was Daphne's birthday.

A vibrant splash of color burst through the sedate Slytherin breakfast crowd as Eric Lewis approached the table where four familiar girls were seated. His eyes, keen and bright, instantly landed on the strawberry blonde, Daphne, who was happily devouring a stack of waffles. "Happy birthday to my Libra queen!" He swept in, wrapping her in a hug from behind.

Daphne, startled, nearly dropped her fork but quickly softened as she recognized Eric. "Thank you, E!" She exclaimed, her voice bubbling with affection. "I love you!" Her eyes, already twinkling with birthday joy, practically sparkled at the sight of his attire. Eric, as always, was a walking masterpiece of fashion: a light pink shirt, the hue echoed subtly around his eyes, perfectly complementing his naturally glamorous aura. He never failed to impress with his audacious, yet impeccably styled, outfits.

        "I already have your present, but you'll have to open it tonight," He cheerfully mentioned, sliding onto the bench beside Daphne.

Daphne herself was a vibrant explosion of neon pink and black. A daring mini skirt and fishnet stockings contrasted with her long-sleeved top, a carefully curated clash of textures and shades. Her signature chunky gold hoops, an intricate owl pendant, and an array of delicate rings gleamed against her skin. Her makeup, a dazzling spectacle, transformed her face into a canvas of pink glitter, playful star stickers scattered across her cheekbones, and a slick of clear gloss that caught the light. Her fiery red hair was styled into playful, gravity-defying twin high buns, the overall effect striking and undeniably Daphne.

Eric's gaze then landed on the female Quidditch player sitting across from him, nestled between Ivory Davis and Valerie Potter. "You're up early, Miranda..."

        "Of course," Miranda Lim replied, her movements economical as she added two more waffles onto her plate. Her attire was a study in comfortable functionality: a simple green Slytherin hoodie, black leggings, and a pair of crisp white sneakers. "I always wake up late, but I'd never sleep in on a special day." She flashed a genuine smile at Daphne.

"Tonight will be loads of fun!" Millicent cheered, a white mug of coffee clutched in her hands, her voice a low rumble. She was referring to Daphne's birthday celebration later that evening at the bowling alley down in Hogsmeade. Millicent's style was unapologetically edgy: a sleek black leather coat draped over her shoulders, matching her black skirt, black combat boots, and black fishnet leggings. The only splashes of colour were her dark purple long-sleeved top and the rebellious hot pink strands woven through her light blonde hair.

A sudden roar of cheers erupted from the entrance hall, cutting sharply through the usual hum of conversation in the Great Hall. "Wonder what that's about," Valerie murmured, her voice a low purr. She paused, pulling a small, ornate mirror from her brown handbag to check her reflection. Her makeup was a statement of subtle elegance: eyes precisely defined with eyeliner, a touch of blush dusting her cheekbones, and a hint of shimmer catching the light on her lips and high points of her face. Her hair, a cascade of smooth, dark waves, flowed freely, complementing her classic, understated ensemble: sleek black knee-high boots, form-fitting leggings, a minimalist mini skirt, and a perfectly fitted brown top. The small brown handbag swung at her side, adorned with delicate gold hoops that framed her face. But it was the gold heart locket nestled at her throat that held the most significance—a family heirloom, once belonging to Lily Potter, that held a tiny, faded portrait of baby Valerie and Harry, a poignant reminder of their beginnings.

Everyone swiveled in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall, athletic black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Twenty minutes had passed, the Great Hall still buzzing with the excitement of the Triwizard announcements. The group finally decided to leave, wandering aimlessly through the castle, eventually ending up outside at the Quad – a popular, sun-drenched hangout spot for students.

The Golden Trio were already there, settled on a vibrant red picnic blanket on the lush green grass. Harry and Ron were engrossed in their phones, sharing a bag of chips with casual camaraderie, while Hermione was utterly invested in reading a thick, blue-coloured book. Near a tall, ancient tree, Viktor Krum was deep in conversation with his fellow Durmstrang classmates, a small cluster of awestruck young girls stalking him discreetly in the distance.

Valerie's group settled down on a nearby bench. Daphne, ever prepared, opened a packet of colourful sour gummy bears she kept in her bag, offering them around. Ivory gasped, her eyes widening as she stared across the Quad. "Goyle and Claudia Selwyn??"

         "When the fuck did that happen?" Valerie muttered, a genuine shock in her voice as she stared at the sight of an excited blonde girl perched brazenly on Gregory Goyle's lap. Beside them, on the bench, Pansy Parkinson looked utterly awkward, clearly caught in the unenviable position of being a third wheel.

       "—WHERE??" Millicent and Eric demanded in triumphant unison, their voices sharp with intrigue. Miranda pointed, a disgusted expression marring her features. Unexpectedly, Goyle, Selwyn, and Parkinson caught the group all staring at them, causing Valerie's group to instantly, awkwardly, look away. But it was too late. The three rivals were already headed their way, their expressions hardening.

"Shit's about to go down..." Ivory muttered under her breath, just before the three rivals arrived, casting long shadows over them.

"Isn't your birthday, Greengrass?" Pansy asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she addressed Daphne.

"How would you know?" Valerie retorted, cutting in, her voice sharp as steel.

"I've known her longer than you have, dumbass." Pansy sneered, holding her head high, a triumphant smirk on her face. "Me, Greengrass, and Bulstrode go way back."

"Weird flex, but alright..." Miranda commented dryly, a bored look on her face.

          "Keep your mouth shut, half-blood." Claudia Selwyn struck back, her eyes narrowing on Miranda. "You have no right to speak. No idea why you even play as Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team; you aren't even that good." It was a blatant lie: Miranda Lim was, in fact, an outstanding Quidditch player.

"Speaking of Quidditch," Pansy spoke, her eyes glittering with malice as she glanced towards Harry and Ron. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's the Potters, who've got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money." She cackled, joined by Goyle and Claudia, their cruel laughter echoing across the Quad. Valerie sighed, a wave of annoyance washing over her.

"Longbottom should be on the team," Goyle added, his thick voice a dull drone, "He's got no brains."

Valerie's patience snapped. She slowly, deliberately, stood up, her eyes glinting. "All of you are simply boring us and wasting our time. Why don't you just leave?" Her voice was calm, almost dangerously so.

"Or what?" Pansy snickered, her hand already drifting towards her wand. "You're going to hit us again? We're not scared of you, Potter."

The memory of Professor Moody's ferret transformation still stung, and Valerie knew it. "I wasn't asking for your opinion, ferret." Valerie bickered, a cold, cutting edge to her voice. Pansy's face flushed a furious pink, her jaw clenching.

Pansy fumed with barely suppressed anger. "You know what? I've had enough of you." With a furious jerk, she yanked her wand out, aiming it directly at Valerie. However, Harry had been paying close attention to the Slytherins, his twin instinct on high alert for any potential trouble involving his sister. Just as he had prepared, he sprinted forward, a sudden blur of motion, throwing himself in front of Valerie. The unknown spell, a sickly green bolt of light, hit him instead.

"HARRY!!" Valerie screamed, her voice tearing through the air, watching her brother crumple to the ground. Professor McGonagall, drawn by the sudden commotion, rushed towards the group of students, her face etched with alarm. Harry squirmed in pain on the ground, clutching his left arm.

"What hurts?" She asked worriedly, kneeling swiftly beside him.

"My arm—" Harry muttered, his face pale. "I think it's broken..."

           "You'll be deeply punished for that, Parkinson!!" Professor McGonagall thundered, her voice shaking with fury as she rounded on the Slytherin girl. "Hurry! We must get him to the hospital wing!"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

( entire chapter rewritten - june 22nd 2025)

well that was spicy, wasn't it? 👀

i hope you all felt every electric spark of Valerie and Draco's forbidden, thrilling, connection.

i aimed to make their connection palpable and dangerously exhilarating.

how are we all feeling after that? Are you reeling from the forbidden tension, or ready for even more?

let me know your thoughts – i'm dying to hear them!

word count : 7,221