Between Marks and Scars

Olivia Montgomery's POV 

Warning - Smut

His breath stutters beneath me, chest rising like he's fighting the urge to completely lose control. I smirk against his mouth, letting my fingers tease along his jaw, down his neck, across his chest—slow, deliberate, torturous.

"Enjoying ourselves now, are we?" His eyes roll but the clutch on his sheets doesn't loosen. "What do you want?" He whispers despite his cock, begging to be in me. "Do you always make this much noise when you're alone?" I whisper against his skin.

His hands grip the sheets, knuckles white, but he doesn't answer. Doesn't have to.

I kiss the spot just under his ear and feel him shiver. "You think about me when you touch yourself?" I ask, voice low, daring. His eyes meet mine—stormy, furious, needy. "Always."

My lips brush his collarbone as my fingers explore the curve of his abs, the lines of muscle, the heat radiating from his skin. And then I pull back. Just a little. Just enough to make him chase me.

"I should leave you like this," I tease. "Hard. Desperate."

His hand wraps around my wrist. Not rough, not gentle—just enough to tell me he's close to losing it. "I said I want you, Montgomery," he growls.

I smile as I lean in again, our mouths barely touching. "Tsk, tsk... Not without begging" His hand loosens as soon as my mouth presses onto his throat, "Come on, Malfoy" I whisper, nibbling his ear, "Don't keep me wait-"

"Please" He begs, barely audible but enough to send shivers down my body.

I move the sheets from under me and position myself between his legs. "Again" I take his length in my hands and wait for him, "Salazar, fuck, I need y- Oh!" His head falls back against the headrest as I take him in my mouth. 

Rubbing my tongue around the underside of his cock while he grabs my hair to steady himself is the hottest thing I have ever seen.

I make Draco Malfoy weak in the knees.

"Shit" He mumbles and I hollow my cheeks, flat-lay my tongue and move and inch closer and closer to his pelvis. His eyes find mine and the old Olivia? She would probably make no eye contact in any position.

But this Olivia? Here in between Malfoy's legs, him at her mercy, oh, yeah, she has no shame. 

I pull my mouth off him, spit on my hands before rubbing both on his cock, "Olivia" It's almost a plea. A plea for a release. I wrap my lips around his tip and inch... by... inch... I take him in again. And that is what undoes him.

He comes in my mouth, holding me down from moving as curses leave his mouth.

I swallow all of it, wipe a finger against my lips and suck on it, "You're welcome, Malfoy!" I wink and get off his bed, "You think, I will let you go after you kiss Lopez?" he pushes me against the door. "You're not leaving until every inch of your body remembers who it belongs to"

"W-What?" I stutter, not in the fear of him seeing me kiss someone else but the fact that his lips were touching my skin sending a warm feeling all over my body, that his lips were perfectly settling on my skin, that his lips were marking his territory.

"I saw you, so don't you dare lie" His fingers dangerously close to my skirt. "So what? We weren't together" I say with all cockiness I can muster. And I shouldn't have.

His hand meets my cheek, leaving a red print on it and a stinging sensation.

"Need I remind you, slut?" he says pushing me on the bed while he rummages through his drawer. "I'm gonna punish you" he says, pulling a knife to my throat. "The safe word's chocolate, okay?"

"S-Safe word? Why do we need a safe word?" I ask as he pushes the blunt side of the knife into my throat.  "Now" he says as he puts his mouth on my breast, as he pulled off my top downwards so only what he needs... what he wants is ready for him to devour. I let out a whimper as his tongue swirls around my nipple, "You're not gonna make a sound, if you do, I should let you know that I wouldn't mind a little blood, do you understand?"

What he was doing was wrong. Nothing was happening without my consent, but why did I let him? Why am I enjoying this? Why is my body not against it? Why is my body aching to break his rule? Why is my mind exhilarated due to a knife on my throat?

The knife lays abandoned on the side of my waist as his mouth moves between my legs. He hikes up the skirt, pushes a hand on my stomach and locks eyes with me. His tongue, still buried deep in between my folds, licks up a stripe from my slit to the bundle of nerve.

I bite my lip, cover my mouth, try so hard to not make a sound while his tongue works over my clit with such anger that every lick earns it a thousand galleons. "Mhm" he says sending vibrations to my core, while pushing two fingers, not letting me adjust.

"Shit!" I say closing my thighs, pushing his head away and totally forgetting I was to not make any sound. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I told you, princess. No sound" he pulls away from my mouth with such restraint that I had asked him not to breathe.

"Now you're gonna be punished. Turn over" he commands, rubbing my ass before a sharp hit from his cold hands lands on it. "One. This time, I would love to count and listen to your whimpers" Another smack. "Two" I fist the sheets beneath me but make no sound much to his dismay.

"Guess I'll have to try harder! Three" He says before both of his hands hit the skin of both of my ass cheeks, "Fuck!" A moan slips my mouth as the pain turns to pleasure. "Ten" he says and I let out a small sigh because the last time he stopped at ten.

He hit me again, "Eleven. Why did you think that I was done, princess?" The fingers of his left hand gets buried into my pussy while his right hand keeps delivering hits. "Godric Gryf-" I writhe under his touch and his fingers moving inside me. Tears flow down my cheeks but the stinging sensation on my ass only making me hornier.

"What's the safe word?" he asks, flipping me over. My eyes watch as the fingers he just pulled out of me, go into his mouth, like he can't get enough of me. "Chocolate" 

"Good girl. Now, this will remind you who you belong to" he says, stopping the knife right at my hipbone. He maintains eye contact as the blade digs into my hipbone, but I am not going to give him the satisfaction of him hurting me, of him having his way with me.

And there it sits- carved into my skin, blood prickling around it - DM

Why the hell is this so fucking hot?

He grabs my chin to tear my gaze away from his artwork to him, "Who do you belong to?" He spits on his hand and rubs it all over my pussy, "You" I moan, "Mm, let's see who fucks you when they see my name carved on you. And who can fuck you like I do" 

I can already feel his length lined up, making me greedy but he waits for permission. For consent.

Really now? After all of that?

I pull him into a kiss and that is all the permission he needs to push himself in, "Holy hell-" He's not even halfway through and I am already seeing stars. "All. Fucking. Mine" he says thrusting an inch at each word.

I squeeze him before he can pull out, "Salazar, darling. Please let me move" He begs, desperate for any friction between our legs. "All fucking yours" I say as soon as I push him into the bed. "Do your worst, my darling" he says opening his arms. I grab his cock and push himself into me without wasting a second.

"You're so tight" he moans into my ear as my head rests on the crook of his neck. I hold onto his shoulders as I feel his hard going in inch by inch. Pleasure igniting every inch on my skin. Inch by inch. My fingernails dig into his skin, "I-I'm close" I say as he pulls my face into his. His tongue licks my throat and mouth that releases his name like it's a sin I am desperately waiting to commit. 

He bites my lip a little too hard as we come like it is the last thing we would ever do. He pulls away from my lips suddenly, and I notice a small trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. "Oh!" he says, lips forming a surprised 'o' as he points toward mine.

I reach up and touch my lip—he bit me. Hard. No wonder it stings. That oaf made me bleed.

I lick the blood away slowly, smirking at the metallic taste, and he lets out a small chuckle. I glance up at him, eyebrows raised, and for a moment we just stare at each other—then burst out laughing. Real, full laughter. It's the first time in days that I've laughed properly... the first time I've seen him laugh too.

It's way past midnight, and I shift like I'm about to get off of him, already bracing myself to leave, when his hand presses against my thigh.

"Stay," he says softly.

I pause, looking down at him.

"On one condition," I say, sliding off to the side and curling onto the bed, "I don't want to be the only one naked."

He doesn't hesitate—sits up, strips off his shirt, and lies down beside me. His arms wrap around my waist, warm and grounding. I close my eyes, resting my head on his chest, and the world quiets around us.

But sometime later, I'm woken by movement. The body that's been pressed against mine all night begins to tremble, shifting restlessly. He's breathing hard. Whimpering.

Another nightmare.

"Draco," I whisper, gently shaking him. He doesn't wake, doesn't stop. Just mutters through clenched teeth.

"No... no, no..."

"I'll do it..."

"Don't hurt her..."

His voice is cracked and broken, thick with desperation. My heart clenches. I press my forehead to his and place a hand over his chest. "Relinquo," I whisper.

And just like that, he exhales—his entire body softens. He goes still. Peaceful. Like a weight's been lifted.

He sleeps soundly after that. But I don't.

I lie there in the quiet, wide awake, watching him as early sunlight spills across the sheets. It lands on his pale skin, warm and soft, giving him a faint blush on his cheeks. His lashes are long, unfairly perfect, brushing against his skin. His lips—still a little swollen—are curved ever so slightly. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, and he shifts a little in his sleep. He looks... ethereal. Angelic. Untouchable.

I study his hand. The one not wrapped around me. The one resting against the bed.

I pull myself gently from his embrace and crawl closer to it, breath held. And there it is.

The mark.

The one I prayed wasn't real. The one I hoped I imagined.

But it's there, bold and dark and cruel against his skin. The Dark Mark. Clear as day.

It stares back at me like it's laughing—like it's mocking me for ever believing Draco Malfoy could be untouched by all this.

I don't panic. I guess some part of me already knew.

I just stare at it, then look back at him. He looks so innocent in sleep. So far removed from whatever darkness that mark ties him to. I reach forward and push a strand of hair off his forehead, letting my fingers trail down his temple.

If he ever finds out that I knew before he told me... I don't know how he'll react. And for once, that uncertainty terrifies me.

I sit at the edge of the bed, feet touching the cold floor, and take a deep breath. The scent of mint and his cologne floods my senses. My body still aches—in the good way. My skin still buzzes with the memory of his hands. His mouth. His voice.

I walk into his bathroom and catch my reflection. My lips are swollen, the cut still red. My neck and collarbones are littered with marks, deep and possessive. Good thing it's winter—scarves will be doing a lot of work this week.

I lower my gaze to my hipbone.

There it is. DM.

His initials.

I trace over them gently, expecting it to sting. It doesn't. But it feels... permanent.

I return to his room quietly. He's still asleep, and I know I need to leave before anyone sees me. But I hate how guilty I feel for slipping away.

So I scribble a note and leave it on his nightstand.

Dear Draco,

Guess what they say is true – absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Sorry about the blood on your sheets, but I can't bring myself to apologize for something we both enjoyed far too much.

Also, I've stolen your Quidditch hoodie and sweatpants. Needed a stealthy getaway outfit. I promise I'll return them—eventually.

Love, Olivia Montgomery

Wrapped in his hoodie, I sneak out into the icy corridor, my body still humming with everything that happened. His scent clings to me like a second skin, and I kind of love it. I make it back to my room—quiet, careful, unseen.

The girls are fast asleep. I change out of his clothes reluctantly, already missing the way his hoodie made me feel like I belonged to him.

The second my head hits the pillow, I'm out cold.

Sundays exist for recovery, and thank Merlin Slytherins always party on Saturdays. I don't leave my dorm all day. I barely move. I don't eat. I don't think.

But I do feel.

And that's enough.

The week flies by faster than I can process. And I haven't seen Draco. Not because he's ignoring me—but because I'm avoiding him.

Between homework, prefect duties, and trying not to lose my mind, I've barely had a second for myself, let alone for him. Every time I see his name on the map, I take a different corridor. Every time I hear his voice around a corner, I duck into a broom closet. I'm not hiding. I'm... managing.

It's Saturday now. I spend the entire day curled up in my dorm bed, blanket over my head, ignoring the world and all its meals. But I can't skip dinner tonight.

Slug Club's hosting another one of its dinner parties.

By the time Hermione, Harry, and I reach the designated classroom, I'm barely put together. My hair's in some version of a bun. My brain feels like it's melting. But I smile and pretend like I'm not spiraling internally. We walk in, and I slide into a seat next to Blaise.

He leans in and whispers, "Looks like someone had a great night last Saturday." I freeze, mid-reach for my goblet. Oh no.

Oh, no.

I turn to him slowly, and that's when it hits me—we forgot to cast a muting charm.

I groan and facepalm instantly, sliding lower in my seat. Blaise, the smug bastard, just chuckles—right next to Slughorn.

Dinner starts and everyone begins chattering, passing plates and throwing around names I couldn't care less about. I pick at my food half-heartedly, nodding politely when spoken to, but my mind's a bit elsewhere. Okay, a lot elsewhere.

By dessert, Ginny still hasn't arrived. She wasn't there when we left the common room either. I nudge Blaise with my elbow, lowering my voice. "It happened again," I mutter, stirring my melting ice cream.

He frowns slightly, his voice just as quiet. "Yeah, I could hear the whimpers."

I sigh, my appetite disappearing entirely. "I don't want this to be an every night thing, Blaise. He's already going through enough." Before he can respond, the door creaks open and Slughorn beams. "Ah, Miss Weasley!"

Ginny walks in slowly. Her eyes are red, her face pale and tired, dark bags heavy under her eyes. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. She told us earlier this week that things with Dean were going badly—but this badly?

"Sorry, I'm not usually this late," she mutters as she pulls out a chair.

Harry stands up awkwardly.

I blink. Seriously?

Hermione smirks beside me, clearly amused. I smack my forehead with my palm again. Bloody obvious, awkward git.

The dinner wraps up not long after that, and now Harry and I are in a whispered war over who has to stay and bond with Slughorn. "No, you wait. I have a ton of homework due tomorrow!" I whisper-yell, trying to shove him back toward the table.

He gives me an offended look. "When did you turn into Hermione?"

I narrow my eyes. "Good night, sir," I blurt out, louder than necessary, and dart for the door before Slughorn can rope me back in.

I walk off quickly, turning corners at random, trying to shake off the week. Since it's after curfew, I head to do my patrols. The corridors are quiet, still, almost haunting in the best way. My feet carry me toward the music room without me really thinking about it.

But just as I reach the corridor, I freeze.

There's someone inside.

Singing.

The voice floats through the air, raw and steady, a little broken at the edges but strong enough to give me goosebumps. I inch closer, heart pounding.

And that's when I hear it properly.

Draco Malfoy.

Of course it's him.

A/N – Please play 'Someone you loved' by Lewis Capaldi

I stand outside the music room door, frozen. Draco is on the floor, crying—completely falling apart. His body shakes like he's trying to scream, but nothing comes out. It's like something's tearing him apart from the inside, and I—

Godric.

Does the mark hurt that much? Or is it... because I've been avoiding him all week?

He needs me.

And I'm the kind of girl who is there—when people break, when they cry, when they don't even ask. I'm always there. Even if I'm falling apart inside, I'll smile if it means someone else can breathe easier.

I'm just about to burst into the room, to hold him and say something—anything—when a hand claps over my mouth and another wraps around my waist. I panic for a second, heart racing, until I'm dragged out and up—past corridors, up staircases, until—

"Astronomy Tower? Seriously?" I yank the hand off my mouth as I spin around. "Blaise?! What the actual hell?" My voice shakes. I hate that it shakes. My eyes are burning and I know he sees the tears. "Olive," he says gently, "you can't just walk in after seeing him like that."

"Why the hell not?" I snap, rolling my eyes to mask the ache in my chest. "It's the last thing he needs right now. Given—"

"Given the fact that he's a fucking Death Eater," I blurt before I can stop myself. The words hang between us like smoke. Blaise stares. "How—?"

"I saw it." My voice is quieter now, dull. "That night. A week ago. When I stayed over... I saw the mark. Just confirmed what I already knew." I step toward the railing, letting the night air cool my skin.

"I've known since the Ministry trip," I add. "His father let it slip—told me I should join them. Said Draco and I could help avenge the Dark Lord together. Like we were some twisted power couple."

"You can't tell him you know," Blaise warns. I nod, still staring out at the stars. "I won't. Unless you do."

"I won't," he says softly, standing beside me. His hand finds mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. I offer him a faint smile.

The next morning, I decide I need air and noise and something normal. Hogsmeade it is.

I spend hours hopping through shops, sipping cider, and browsing things I don't need. Hermione and the others told me to meet at The Three Broomsticks, so I go early and wait with a book. It's been a while since I've just read without the weight of war or secrets pressing into my spine.

A waiter interrupts me, "Would you like to order anything?"

"I'm waiting for my friends. We'll all order together," I say politely.

But an hour passes. Then another half.

No one shows up.

Maybe they forgot. Maybe something came up. I sigh and finally wave the waiter over.

Just as I open my mouth, someone behind him beats me to it.

"Two butterbeers."

I blink. "Raf?"

Rafael slides into the seat across from me with that boyish grin.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. "I was waiting for Hermione and the rest. They didn't show, so I figured I'd order and..." I trail off when the bell above the door rings.

Draco.

He steps into the pub, his eyes scanning the room, searching—and they find me. He smiles, soft and real, and starts toward me... until his eyes flick to Rafael.

His smile drops. And he turns. Walks out.

"Liv?" Rafael says, snapping me back. I don't respond right away. My throat feels too tight.

We spend another hour together before returning to the castle. I want to go find Draco. I almost do.

But last time he saw me kiss Rafael... he marked me.

What the hell would he do now?

Instead, I head to the Prefect's bathroom. I gather my clothes and make my way there for a long, hot shower. I need to clear my head. Maybe drown in the steam. I undress, step into the stall, and turn on the water. Just as I'm shampooing my hair, I hear the door creak.

"It's occupied," I call out.

The knob rattles. Then—

The door bursts open.

"What the hell—" I grab a towel and wrap it around myself as fast as I can.

Cormac McLaggen storms in. "You," he snarls, pointing his wand at me. "You jinxed me, didn't you?"

"What?!"

"At the trials," he growls, pushing me hard against the tiles. His hand grips my neck. "You laughed when I got thrown. You did it."

"I didn't—!" My words choke as he digs his wand into my waist. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

"Liar. And still so much attitude," he sneers. "Even with a wand to your ribs."

The door opens again.

He tightens his grip on my throat and hushes me, wand pressing harder. I try to cry out—a soft help—but I can't breathe.

Then—

"Expelliarmus!"

His wand flies from his hand. I hit the floor, gasping. I can't see who it is. But I hear the voice:

"Get your hands off my girl."

He lunges, fists flying. Cormac barely has time to react before Draco knocks him out cold. Then he's beside me, draping his jacket over me. "Are you okay?" he asks, eyes frantic. I nod, barely.

He lifts me in his arms and carries me out. I'm shaking. He sets me down at the edge of the tub and sits beside me.

"What was he doing?" he asks. I don't answer that. Instead I whisper, "Not a word." His brows knit. "He practically assaulted you. If Dumbledore finds out—"

"Please, no. Don't tell anyone," I beg, gripping his hand, tears finally spilling. He exhales, hugs me close. "Okay. Not a word."

We stay like that, wrapped in silence, until it's time for dinner.

As I change into fresh clothes, he leans against the door and says, "You can keep it, by the way."

I blink. "What?"

"My clothes. The ones you still haven't returned."

I roll my eyes. "Like you can't afford more."

He laughs. "Then return them when they smell like you instead."

That makes me blush harder than I'd like.

And I don't even try to hide the smile.