Lessons, Lies, and Love Bites

Olivia Montgomery's POV

I don't sleep. Not really. My eyes close, but my brain won't stop playing every second of last night on repeat—Draco's hands, his smirk, the way he kissed me like he was starved. When I finally do drift off, I'm jolted awake by two very familiar weights crashing into me from both sides.

Fred and George.

"Hello, love!" they chime together, their voices annoyingly chipper for this hour. "Hello, boys," I groan, sitting up and kissing them both on the cheek. Fred grins wide. "Aw, looks like someone missed me."

Before I can respond, Hermione and Ginny walk into the dorm, already mid-conversation. George flops off my bed while Fred stays seated beside me. "We did," George says, rummaging through his robes. "So much," Fred adds, planting a kiss on my cheek. I giggle—and that's when he really looks at me.

His eyes narrow, head tilts. Uh oh.

He points near his own jawline. Right. The hickey. The one under my ear I forgot about. I press my palm to it and give him a look. "Not. A. Word," I whisper just to Fred.

Too bad I'm not quiet enough.

"Not a word of what?" George slides in next to me like a nosy cat. I glance at Fred, silently begging for mercy. Fred just smirks and says, "Just hand her the bruise removal paste." George's eyes light up in understanding. Of course.

He pulls a little tin out of his robes and offers it to me. I blink at it, then at him.

"You carry this around with you?" I say, voice dripping with sarcasm. Before George can grab it back, I jump off the bed. "Excuse me—gonna go use the bathroom."

Inside the bathroom, I lock the door, face the mirror, and tug open my shirt. Oh. Merlin. Draco didn't just leave one hickey—he left a bloody constellation. Chest, collarbone, ribs—my whole torso is a love letter in purples and reds.

I touch one absentmindedly and my stomach flips. I ache again. No, stop. Not now.

I roll my eyes at myself and apply the paste.

By the time I'm showered and dressed in my robes, Fred and George have disappeared. I'll return the paste later. Hermione and Ginny are already down at breakfast, so I grab my books, shove the tin in my bag, and head out.

I'm nearly at the hall when an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me into a closet.

I don't panic. I don't even look.

"Draco," I whisper, wrapping my arms around him immediately. "Olivia," he murmurs, already kissing my neck, his touch making me shiver. He pulls back just enough to start unbuttoning my shirt. I slap his hands away. "Draco! It's eight in the morning—how are you this horny already?"

But he's persistent, undoing the buttons again until I'm left in just my bra.

"Hey! Where are the marks I left yesterday?" he pouts, scanning my skin. "You left them all over my torso," I say, swatting his hands again. "Yes, I know," he mutters, rolling his eyes like I've offended him. "And you left one under my ear, which Fred and George definitely saw."

He winces like he's been personally victimized. "They gave you something, didn't they?"

"Bruise paste," I confirm. He digs through his bag and pulls out a sheet of parchment. "What's that?" I ask.

"Read the heading, darling," he says with a grin.

'Squad Positions for the Day' it reads.

There are detailed shifts of every Squad member—where they'll stand, when they'll break, even when Filch will be making rounds. It's a tactical map for us. For the D.A.

"You made this?" I look up at him, shocked and a little overwhelmed. He smirks. "No need to swoon, darling." I throw my arms around him. "Draco... this helps more than you know. Thank you." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Just be careful, alright?"

I nod and start buttoning my shirt again. "Let's get going before someone finds us," I whisper.

He opens the door, peeks left and right, then turns back and kisses me. Deep, slow, full of things we don't say aloud. Then he winks and disappears down the corridor.

I wait a beat before slipping out and heading into the hall.

"Morning, Ron," I greet as I sit down beside him.

He grunts with his mouth full of eggs. Honestly, disgusting.

"Mum and Dad were mad you didn't come for Christmas," Ginny says, sliding a box across the table. I open it and smile—a hand-knitted red jumper with a big 'O' on the front. "Oi! That's not fair!" Ron protests. "Yours looks way better than mine—"

He gets cut off by laughter. Even I can't hold it in.

After breakfast, we head to DADA. I already hate it.

I slide into the seat beside Hermione, and to my surprise, Draco sits near us with Blaise.

My throat hurts. From last night. I press my hand to it and try to look normal. "You alright, Liv?" Hermione asks. "My throat's a bit sore," I mumble. "Why?"

Panic. Panic.

"Er... I had Dobby make me a chocolate shake yesterday. Didn't stop at one. Had three." 

From across the table, Draco snorts, trying to hold back a laugh. I glare at him so hard my eyes might fall out. "Why is Malfoy laughing?" Hermione asks, suspicious.

I widen my eyes at him in warning. You're dead, Malfoy.

The day flies by faster than I expect, and we're halfway through lunch when I remember the paper Draco gave me. I pull it out of my bag, smoothing the creases. Hermione notices immediately and snatches it from my hand.

"How?" she asks, wide-eyed.

I just smirk and take a bite of fish. "I have my ways."

"This is amazing, Liv," Harry says, peering over Ron's shoulder as he tries to read it. The fact that Harry and I are on speaking terms—friendly terms—is still something I'm adjusting to. I just offer a small smile and let it pass.

Hermione hands the paper to Harry, and he and Ron both study it like it's some ancient scroll. Ron turns his gaze to me. "How did you get it?" he asks, raising a brow. "Why does it matter?" I shoot back, rolling my eyes. "We now have a safe way to get through the Room of Requirement. Isn't that enough?"

Ron nods slightly, and we gather our things and head to Potions. With Slytherin. Great.

I walk beside Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Harry's been trying too hard lately—acting like everything's suddenly okay between us. It's not. At least, not yet.

He talks way too close to me, like we've gone back to how things were. Hermione and Ron are off in their own little world—finally past their awkwardness, and I don't want to intrude on that. So I just hug my books tighter to my chest and nod at whatever Harry is rambling about. Something about his Christmas break.

But I can't take it anymore. I need to say something. If I don't draw the line now, he's going to get too comfortable, and I'll be stuck pretending like it's all fine.

Behind us, I hear Draco, Blaise, and Theo snickering about something. Of course.

"Harry!" I snap, stepping to the side. He's way too close, and I need space.

Everyone stops. Hermione and Ron turn around. Even the Slytherins behind us stop laughing.

I keep my eyes on the ground, clutching my books to my chest. My throat is dry, but I push the words out. "I don't know what you don't understand," I say, finally looking up. Blaise and Theo have come to my side now.

"You okay, Olive?" Blaise asks softly, placing a warm hand on my back. I glance at him but don't answer. "I told you—before the break—that it was all happening too fast. Too soon." My voice wavers. I can feel the tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

"But... you're acting like nothing happened," I say, a single tear escaping down my cheek. Blaise rubs my back gently. "Yes, I said we'd always be friends. But I need time. It's not just going to vanish overnight."

Ron moves beside me, Blaise making space. He rests a hand on my shoulder and kisses the top of my head.

"Just... let me get back at my pace," I whisper, and when I look up, I catch Draco watching. He's not mocking. He's smirking—proudly. Like he knew I had it in me. He looks between Harry and me, then nods, and we all keep walking to Potions.

Inside the classroom, I sit next to Ron. We wait for Snape, who, in classic fashion, is late. Ron puts his books on the desk and leans over. "You okay, Livia?" he asks, concern in his voice.

No.

"Yes," I lie with a small smile.

"I'm not going to push you. Share with me when you're ready." I nod, grateful.

Snape finally walks in—ten minutes late. What's he doing, deep-conditioning his hair? Eye roll.

"Quiet," he drawls. "For today, you'll be working in pairs. Just for today, I'm allowing you to choose your partners." The room explodes with energy. Everyone starts looking around for their best friend or favorite person.

I stare at my fingers, twirling the quill in my hand, pretending not to care. "Quickly, now. Two minutes." Chairs scrape, people shuffle, and I sit perfectly still. "Right—" Ron starts to say, but Lavender Brown interrupts him.

"Would you like to be my partner?" she asks sweetly.

He glances at me. "Go on," I say, waving him off. "I'll find someone." He hesitates but finally gets up. Hermione pairs with Harry, and she shoots me an apologetic smile.

I mouth, Thank you, Mione. If she hadn't picked Harry, he'd be here trying to apologize again, and I don't think I could handle that right now.

A voice breaks into my thoughts.

"Did you think I'd leave you alone, darling?"

I smile instantly and look up to see Draco sliding into the seat beside me, smirking like he owns the damn room.

Across the way, Harry whisper-yells something that sounds a lot like What the hell?

I just smile as Snape approaches our table. He raises an eyebrow, first at me, then at Draco. His lips twitch—barely noticeable—but he's definitely amused.

"I knew you would do this, Mr. Malfoy. Anyone pairing with Miss Montgomery will brew the potion under her supervision," he says, and I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling.

Draco groans and slumps into the chair like a defeated child. Snape starts explaining the potion, but I'm too focused on Draco sulking beside me.

He turns his head and glares playfully. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, princess?"

My eyes widen. Princess. He only calls me that when he's planning something dangerous—or wicked.

And I've learned... it's usually both.

Warning - Smut 

Draco leans in close, pretending to skim the instructions in my textbook, but his voice brushes against my ear like velvet. "You're biting your lip again," he murmurs, and I swear I feel his smirk without even turning to look at him. "You know what that does to me."

I shoot him a glare and scoot half an inch away, but it's useless. His thigh presses against mine under the table. He doesn't budge.

Snape is still lecturing at the front, droning on about simmering techniques, and most of the class is half-asleep. Except me. I'm very awake. Painfully aware of Draco's hand as it slowly drops beneath the desk.

"What are you doing?" I hiss under my breath, not daring to look down. He doesn't answer, not verbally at least. His hand brushes my inner thigh under the cover of our shared cauldron. My breath catches instantly.

"Draco," I warn, squeezing my legs together, but he just chuckles low enough that only I hear it. "Shh. Focus on your ingredients, princess."

Princess. Again. I know what that means now.

He slips his hand under the hem of my skirt and I nearly jump out of my seat. My quill wobbles in my grip. My potion notes blur. I press my lips together tightly and pretend to read as his fingers tease—barely touching—just enough to make me squirm.

"You're so wet already," he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. "Is that all for me?"

I want to snap at him. I want to hex him. I want to drag him into the nearest empty classroom and do unspeakable things to him. But all I can manage is a strangled noise in my throat as his fingers slide under the edge of my underwear.

My hand flies to my mouth. I grip the edge of the desk with my other hand, knuckles white. My eyes flutter closed for half a second and—

"Miss Montgomery," Snape's voice cuts through the haze like a blade. "Is there a problem?" I snap my eyes open, face burning. "N-No, Professor. I'm— I'm okay." Draco's hand doesn't move. If anything, he grows bolder. He crooks his fingers inside me, just enough to make me jolt, and I knock over my inkpot. But I quickly put it back with a wave of my hand.

I cover my mouth with my hand again, praying Snape won't come closer.

"Olivia," Draco murmurs, voice so low it vibrates through my bones, "You're close, aren't you?" I shake my head—lie through my teeth—but he knows better. He always knows.

And right as I feel it building—right as I'm holding my breath, about to come undone, right there in bloody Potions class—

He pulls away.

I nearly cry.

My hand slams down on the desk to stop the tremor, my eyes wide, mouth open in stunned silence.

He licks his fingers, smug and perfectly composed, like he didn't just shatter my entire body and leave it trembling under a layer of self-restraint.

I stare at him, absolutely seething.

He leans in, dragging his finger along the edge of my quill.

"Patience, princess," he purrs. "You'll thank me later."

I grit my teeth and smile sweetly.

Oh, he's going to pay for that.

I'm still flustered. My face is on fire, and I can't seem to stop thinking about what happened in Potions. I hug my books tighter to my chest as we head toward Charms. "Liv, are you okay?" Hermione asks, concern clear in her voice.

I nod a little too quickly. "Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine," I lie, walking beside her like my skin isn't still tingling in all the worst (and best) places.

Charms comes and goes in a blur. I don't hear half of what Flitwick says. Every time I close my eyes, I feel Draco's fingers again, that smug look on his face, the sound of his voice calling me princess like it's some kind of spell.

By dinner, I manage to pull myself together—barely. I slide into a seat across from Ron, only for Fred and George to wedge themselves in beside me like twin hurricanes. "Oh," I mutter, patting my robes. "Before I forget—here." I pull out the bruise removal paste and try to hand it back.

Fred just grins and folds my fingers over it. "You keep it, love."

"We reckon you'll be needing it," George adds, jerking his head toward the Slytherin table where Draco is seated. "H-How do you know?" I sputter, quickly tucking the paste back into my pocket.

Fred rolls his eyes. "Please. Nothing stays hidden from us."

"The second we sat beside you, he started glaring like he wanted to hex us into next week," George says, grinning as he grabs a piece of bread. "I don't—" I start, but they cut me off in perfect Weasley sync.

"Your secret is safe with us, love," Fred says, dinner passes too slowly after that. The second we're finished, we sneak off toward the Room of Requirement. Thankfully, Draco's sheet made it easy to avoid patrols.

"Alright, now that everyone's here, let's begin," Hermione says, tucking the schedule safely into her robes.

I start by teaching the leg-locking curse, my voice loud and clear. But my heart is pounding. The entire time, my eyes flick to the clock. By the time Harry takes over, I'm barely listening.

It's 10:56 PM. Four minutes. I have to be in Draco's dorm in four minutes. If I'm even a second late, he's going to make a game out of it—and tonight, I want to be the one in control.

We wrap up, stashing supplies and saying goodnights.

"I'm heading to the Astronomy Tower," I tell them casually.

Ron eyes me. "Right... just be careful, okay?"

I nod. "Always."

The second they disappear down the corridor, I bolt. I sprint through the castle, down to the dungeons, panting as I skid to a stop in front of the entrance. "Cimmerian," I whisper. The door opens, thankfully empty.

No one's in the common room. Good.

I take the steps two at a time, practically flying. His dorm door creaks open.

Draco's sitting there on his bed, shirt half-open, book in hand. His head lifts slowly, grey eyes locking with mine the second I appear. I lift my wand. "Muffliato. Colloportus."

The room seals, and the silence between us thickens.

Warning - Smut

The second I seal the room with the locking spell, Draco sets the book down like he's been expecting this. Like he's been counting down the seconds.

"You're on time," he says, low and lazy.

"Barely," I murmur, stalking toward him. His eyes flick down to the hem of my skirt, then back to my mouth. I straddle his lap without giving him a chance to breathe and kiss him hard—rough and greedy, like I've been starving for this all day. Because I have.

His hands immediately reach for my hips, but I'm quicker.

"Ah-ah," I whisper, flicking my wand behind his head. A soft swish, and ropes slide around his wrists, wrapping tight around the posts of his bed. He jerks against them, confused for a second—then grins. "So that's how we're playing tonight."

"No," I say, breathless, "this is how I'm playing."

I climb off him slowly, unbuttoning my shirt one agonizing snap at a time. His eyes follow every movement like he's memorizing the moment—cataloguing the slow roll of fabric down my arms, the tease of lace underneath. His jaw tightens. His fingers twitch against the rope.

Good.

I drop my bra beside the bed, deliberately turning to slide my skirt down, dragging the fabric over my thighs, down my legs, bending slightly—just enough to give him a view of exactly what he can't touch.

His breath hitches.

"Something wrong, Malfoy?" I ask sweetly, looking at him over my shoulder. He doesn't answer, but the muscle in his jaw is working like he's about to snap the ropes with sheer will.

I crawl back onto the bed, not to him, but in front of him—knees spread, skin flushed. I meet his eyes as I slip one hand between my thighs and let out a soft gasp.

"Wish these were your fingers, don't you?" I whisper, panting just a little as I start to move. He groans, low and dangerous. His arms strain against the ropes. "You're evil."

I hum. "You like it."

I keep my gaze on him the whole time. I want him to see. To feel every second of it and not be able to do a thing.

When I finally come undone with his name breaking past my lips, I'm glowing—chest heaving, legs trembling, lips swollen from biting down on every moan I couldn't hold in.

I make the mistake of trying to climb off the bed.

The ropes snap.

Before I can blink, I'm pinned to the mattress, wrists above my head, Draco's body caging mine in.

"Oh no," he growls against my throat, voice thick and feral. "You're not going anywhere, princess."

And Merlin help me, I don't want to.

Because I know—I'm in for a long, punishing night.

And I love every second of it.

The next morning, like clockwork, Draco hands me the sheet before breakfast—folded perfectly, passed under the table like we're sharing state secrets instead of Squad patrol times. He doesn't say a word. Doesn't have to. I already know what it is.

I tuck it into my robe and glance at him. He's got fresh hickeys around his jaw, red and angry and proud. And he's not hiding them. At all.

Meanwhile, mine are expertly covered under a layer of paste and magic. He's flaunting the night. I'm surviving it.

Parkinson glares daggers at him from across the room, her gaze flicking between me and him with narrowed eyes. She's not stupid—just possessive and loud. If she figures it out, I'm dead.

Still, he leans back, smirking at how irritated she is. The smug git is enjoying this far too much.

I hand the sheet off to Hermione, reminding her that it's Harry teaching the DA today, not me. She nods, slipping it into her sleeve without question. Our days move fast now—routines embedded, secrets buried under the floorboards.

Later, we head down to Hagrid's hut, steam rising from the mugs of tea he shoves into our hands. "What I'm about to tell yeh... no one else can know. Not a soul, got it?" Hagrid says, looking at each of us with those wide, worried eyes.

"Dumbledore," he says gravely.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but barely. That name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, no matter how many times Harry sings his praises. "He's sent me to speak with the giants. Tryin' to get them on our side before... well, before You-Know-Who does," he mutters.

I set my cup down carefully, processing every word.

By the time we make it back to the castle, the Great Hall is buzzing like a hive of anxious bees. Everyone's got a copy of the Daily Prophet in hand.

Mass Breakouts from Azkaban

Hermione reads over someone's shoulder. "Dumbledore warned Fudge this would happen. That coward is gonna get us all killed," she mutters bitterly. As we pass Seamus, he calls out to Harry. We all turn. He stammers through an apology, which Harry—saintly as ever—accepts without hesitation.

Me? I don't have the bandwidth to care.

My eyes are locked on Draco across the hall, boasting to Blaise and Theo, gesturing at the marks I left on him like they're trophies. Absolute prat.

Still... I giggle.

He catches it. Of course he does. Turns his head slowly and winks like we're the only two people in the room.

I blush.

Fred and George spot it instantly. They raise their eyebrows in sync and nudge each other like we're all still thirteen. I roll my eyes at them, but I'm smiling.

Then something flutters through the air and lands softly in my lap.

A note.

I open it under the table, heart already racing.

Meet me after snacks, at the Black Lake. Let's skip the rest of the class.

~ DM