Arranged Promises and Quiet Doubts

Olivia Montgomery's POV

I lock the door behind her the moment we're inside.

"You cannot know I'm here," I whisper, my voice trembling.

Narcissa Malfoy stares at me like she's seeing a ghost. "W–What are you doing here?" she gasps—and then she runs into my arms.

"Mrs. Malfoy," I breathe, clutching her tightly. Her warmth nearly undoes me. I haven't felt human contact like this in so long. I almost collapse from the comfort alone.

She pulls back and looks me over—my torn clothes, my sunken eyes, the bruises I try so hard to hide. Her eyes move to the bare room, the cracked walls, the cold floor where I sleep every night. And she sees it all. Every silent horror.

"You can't tell anyone," I sob, my voice cracking as I start to panic, "or he's going to—"

"No," she cuts me off, her voice firm but kind. "Of course not, sweetheart." She strokes my cheek and just like that, I fall. My legs give out and I sink to the floor, broken. "I've been here for almost three months," I whisper. "He comes in every morning and Cruciates me. For hours. He hasn't let me out, not even once."

She sits beside me without hesitation, kneeling on the dirty floor like it doesn't matter. She takes my trembling hands into hers and I break again. "I wasn't supposed to leave this room. No one was meant to know. I've risked your life just by pulling you in here. I—I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy." I press my hands together and beg her to forgive me.

She gently pushes my hands down. "That's alright, sweetheart." Her lips brush the top of my head and I nearly sob from how soft she is. So kind, so calm. So different from the hell around us.

"Draco," I ask, trying to smile, "how is he?" She flinches slightly. "The letter," she says. And it clicks. Draco must have shown her what I wrote. "He told me to write it," I explain quickly. "He didn't, I mean—I only wrote what Voldemort told me to. It wasn't real."

She nods, brushing a tear from her eye. "He talks about you constantly. You're all he talks about. There's not much happiness left around here, but when he speaks of you, he shines. You took great care of him. He told me everything—even about the Liquid Luck. Thank you, Olivia. You kept your promise. The one you made to me, right in this house... three years ago."

I cover my mouth with a shaky hand. I remember that promise. I said I'd protect him. I never imagined it would end like this. "Please, Mrs. Malfoy," I beg, "don't tell him I'm here. Don't tell anyone. If he finds out—if Voldemort finds out he knows—Draco's life will be over."

She looks at me with so much pain, but in the end, she nods.

She leaves and returns a few minutes later with a full plate of hot food. It smells heavenly. I eat so fast I almost choke, and for the first time in weeks, I don't feel entirely empty.

We sit and talk for an hour. I forget where I am for just a moment. I feel human again.

But I know time is short. "You have to go," I say softly. "If he finds you here... please, just go." She stands, brushing her robes. She places a hand on my head and then, just like that, she's gone.

I cry for hours after she leaves.

The next morning, I wake to the usual sound of clinking plates. The house elves bring in breakfast—eggs, toast, tea, the same as always. But today... today there are chocolate frogs.

I blink down at them, startled. Then I smile.

Narcissa.

She's still looking out for me.

I tuck the frogs away quickly when I hear footsteps. Heavy, cold footsteps.

He's here.

Voldemort enters the room with his usual lack of expression—just emptiness, like a walking corpse. "Today," he says, "you will join me by my side."

My heart stops.

"We're holding a meeting. You will be taken to another room to get cleaned up and changed. When I call you in, you'll enter. And let me be perfectly clear, Olivia—" his red eyes narrow into slits, "—if you show even a flicker of resistance... I will end him in front of you."

He leaves. Just like that. One breath of a threat and he's gone.

The house elves come back, silently, and hand me clean clothes. They take me through the corridor—familiar, haunting—and into a room I recognize.

It's the one I stayed in during Christmas. Warm. Comfortable. Probably Narcissa's doing again.

And I know what I have to do now.

I have to become the perfect lie. I have to look like I'm on Voldemort's side—not because I'm forced, but because I want to be.

It's the only way to survive.

And maybe... maybe the only way to protect Draco.

Draco Malfoy's POV

I sit at the long, cold table, surrounded by Death Eaters in their usual silence and tension. An extra chair has been placed near the Dark Lord—ominous, out of place. My mother sits beside me, her hand in mine beneath the table like she always does. It grounds me. Barely.

"Severus," the Dark Lord purrs, smiling as Snape enters the room. "I was beginning to worry you lost your way. Come, we saved you a seat." Snape nods stiffly and takes his place. The meeting begins. Or, rather, it continues without me. I'm not here. Not really. I've barely been present for weeks—not since that letter.

That bloody letter.

Olivia's words still haunt me. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't think. But I had to come down here. No one says no to the Dark Lord. Not and lives.

I zone out until laughter erupts. My heart jerks back into the room, but I don't ask what I missed. "We have no luck in finding Potter or the wand," Voldemort says, eyes sweeping over us. "So I am increasing our troops."

Then he smiles—a slow, almost gleeful smile that makes my stomach churn. "And now... the real reason I've called this meeting." My grip tightens on Mother's hand.

"There is someone I wish you to meet," he continues. "Someone hidden from me for years. Someone... in whom my blood runs."

My heart stutters. My breath turns shallow.

No.

"Come, my child," he says to the door.

No.

The door opens. I hold my breath.

And there she is.

Olivia.

My Olivia.

She walks in like a queen—cloaked in black, her steps sharp and slow, her face unreadable. My head spins. What is she doing here? Why is she smiling? Why does she look proud? What happened to the girl I loved? What happened to the letter?

She sits beside him. Voldemort places a hand on her shoulder like a prize he's won.

"Meet my daughter," he says, practically glowing. "My greatest weapon. Olivia."

And she smirks.

Her eyes flick to mine—just for a second—and I flinch. I'm afraid. Afraid she'll tell him what I know. That I read between the lines of her letter. That I suspected she didn't mean it.

That my mother knew, too.

I turn to Mother in silent panic, but she gives the faintest shake of her head. It's real. This is real.

And then everything goes black.

~~

I groan as my eyes flutter open, my head pounding like it's been hit with a Bludger. My vision slowly adjusts, and I realize I'm back in my room. Safe. Or at least, I think I am—until I see her.

Olivia.

She's sitting on a chair beside my bed, dressed in her night robes, her face unreadable. Panic hits me harder than any curse.

"Please," I croak, peeling the damp cloth off my forehead and trying to sit up. "Please don't tell him." I'm begging. I don't care. If she says one word to him—about me, my mother, anything—we're done. Her eyes soften as she stands and gently places the cloth back on my forehead. "Draco," she says.

It's the first time I've heard her say my name in so long, and somehow, it sounds exactly the same and completely different.

"Please," I repeat, confused, desperate. "Why are you being—" She cuts me off with a wave of her wand, locking the door and casting a muting charm. I sit up straighter, heart hammering. She sighs, then turns around. And something in her breaks.

She's trembling.

Before I can process it, she crosses the room and throws herself into my arms.

I freeze for a second—and then I hold her. I bury my face in her neck and hold her like she'll disappear again if I let go. She sobs into me, violently, and it cracks something inside me. I cry too. Silently, fiercely.

She pulls back, wiping her face. Her hands shake as she dips the cloth in water and places it back on my forehead with care, like she always used to.

"I didn't tell him," she whispers.

Relief floods through me. I close my eyes, nod once.

"He doesn't even know that I know Harry," she adds and stands, pacing slowly. "I've been in this house for three months now. He took me from my home. First thing he did was search my mind." I sit up again, my fists clenched.

"I blocked everything," she says. "I let him see what I needed him to see. That I was Slytherin. That I was close to you. That you and I had a history. Anything but the truth. Anything but the Order."

She lets out a tired laugh, but there's no humor in it. "And then he made pain a daily routine. Cruciatus every morning."

I flinch.

"The letter—" I try, already knowing what I don't want to hear. "Was his way to punish you," she says, voice hollow.

I stand, walk to her, and pull her into my arms again. She sinks into me, her breath hitching. And she tells me everything. Every agonizing detail. The room. The silence. The fear. The lies. How my mother found her. Helped her. Protected her.

When she's done, I cup her face and kiss her.

Her lips taste like strawberries—familiar, soft, perfect. I kiss her like I've been suffocating and she's air. She kisses me back like she's been waiting. Like she never left. I smile into the kiss and she lets out a breath of laughter, the sound almost startling in the quiet.

"I missed you so much," I whisper against her lips as I pull her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her. She touches my cheek gently. "I missed you more. And I'm sorry, Draco. For everything you had to go through. For what I put you through."

I rest my forehead against hers and brush her cheek with my thumb. We're so close. Inches.

And then there's a knock.

We both freeze.

"Olivia, sweetheart, open up. It's me," my mother's voice calls through the door.

We exhale in unison. No curses. No alarms.

Just her.

We're safe. For now.

Olivia Montgomery's POV

I lean in and press a soft kiss to Draco's cheek before I slip off the bed and open the door. Narcissa is standing there, her features warm and kind. She gives me a small smile, and I nod in return.

"Oh, Draco. How are you feeling now?" she asks as she walks into the room and sits beside him, brushing his hair back affectionately. Draco glances at me before smiling at his mother, that soft boyish grin I've missed so much. "Alright now, Mother."

"The Dark Lord asked what happened to you," she says, worry tightening her voice. Draco stiffens, and so do I. "What did you tell him?" he asks, eyes flickering to me with panic.

"I said it was hot today, and you'd been feeling lightheaded all morning," she replies gently, her hand stroking his cheek like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Then she straightens. "Now, enough chit chat. Take rest. And Olivia, to your room." I nod obediently, though Draco groans like a sulking child. "Can't she just stay here?"

I giggle. "I'm in the same room I was in when I first came here. And he's not around for the rest of the night. You can visit me after you feel better."

I kiss him softly and leave the room, heading back to mine.

My room—thank Merlin—has everything I need. A proper bed, a cozy bathroom, a small personal library, and best of all, a view of the night sky. I run my fingers along the spines of books until I find one I haven't read yet, The Real Quest of Quartz, and curl up under the blankets. I'm halfway to sleep when I hear it.

The cries.

Soft, broken, familiar. A noise that makes something in me ache in a way I haven't felt in weeks.

I throw the blanket off and sprint toward Draco's room.

The second I burst through the door, I see his mother kneeling by the bed, trying to shake him awake, and his father standing still on the other side. Both their faces turn to me the moment I enter.

"My lady," Lucius says, his voice brittle with fear, probably terrified the Dark Lord's daughter has been woken up. "O-Olivia, I don't know what's happening," Narcissa says, panic in her voice. "I do," I say quietly.

I don't wait for permission. I rush to Draco's side and sit beside him, lowering my forehead to his. One of my hands rests on his chest; the other threads tightly into his fingers.

"Relinquo," I whisper.

His body calms immediately, the tension melting away like frost in the sun. I start to get up, but he doesn't let go of my hand. I glance down at our entwined fingers and sigh softly.

"No worries, you can stay here. He'll be safe," Narcissa says, brushing her fingers across my cheek before she and Lucius quietly leave the room.

I slide under the covers beside Draco, and the moment I do, he wraps his arms around me like I belong there. And maybe I do. The warmth of him is enough to lull me into a sleep deeper than I've had in months.

When I wake the next morning, I'm curled up in my own bed again, but I'm holding The Real Quest of Quartz—a book from Draco's library. I don't remember how I got here, but I don't question it. There's a knock at the door.

No one ever knocks at my door. Except for two people.

"Come in," I say, sitting up.

Sure enough, Draco steps in and closes the door behind him. His hair is a bit of a mess, and he's got that lazy smirk on his lips. "Good morning, darling," he says, walking over to me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

For everything we've been through, moments like this almost make it feel like we're already married.

"Good morning, Draco. To what do I owe this pleasure?" I tease, opening my book again and pretending to read. "Honestly," he mutters, flopping on the bed beside me. "Sometimes I think you're going to marry your books instead of me."

I chuckle. Then stop.

Wait—what?

"Erm... what?" I blink at him, my heart skipping.

But before he can answer, there's another knock.

"Yes?" I call.

"I knew I'd find you here," Narcissa says as she steps inside, a bright smile on her face. Then it fades. "He's calling you. Both of you." Draco freezes. He stares ahead, breathing fast, eyes wide.

"Draco," I say gently, placing my hands on his chest. His heart is racing beneath my palms. I shift to kneel in front of him. "Draco, look at me."

No response.

"Hey," I whisper and lift his chin. "Nothing is going to happen. I'm with you. Okay?" His eyes flick to mine. "Good," I whisper. "Now breathe. Deep breath." He inhales shakily. "Another," I guide.

And slowly, he comes back.

I squeeze his hand, then get up to change. We both do. And when we leave the room together, I don't let go of his hand. Not for a second.

Draco and I enter the room together, the heavy door clicking shut behind us. The air feels colder in here, heavier somehow. At the head of the long dining table, the Dark Lord sits like a king on a cursed throne. Bellatrix is to his right, already watching us with a deranged kind of glee. Across from her sits Narcissa—calm, poised—and beside her, Lucius, with an empty chair between them.

Draco's chair.

"Yes, Father. You called for us?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral as my eyes meet his.

He doesn't answer at first—just gestures toward the chairs.

Draco sits silently between his parents, not making eye contact with anyone. I slide into the seat next to Bellatrix, and the discomfort settles in my bones instantly. She places a hand on my shoulder like we're the best of friends. We aren't. Her presence makes my skin crawl.

"Good," Voldemort says, his red eyes flicking between me and Draco. "Now that everyone is here, I'd like to make an announcement." His gaze lingers on me.

What now?

"As much as I missed my daughter's childhood," he says with a smirk, "I reckon I should not miss being part of her teenage years." Bellatrix pulls me closer with a strange mix of pride and possessiveness, as if she helped raise me. I force myself not to recoil.

"I couldn't be there in her early years, but now I can," he continues.

Why? Why now? Why this sudden show of... involvement?

He turns to Lucius, his tone shifting. "Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius responds immediately, head slightly bowed. Voldemort sneers. "Yes, my Lord," he mimics mockingly.

The room tenses.

"As you might already know, my daughter and your son appear to be in love." He says it like it's an observation, not something that could possibly be debated. "The only nice thing I can do for her now—after missing all those years—is to arrange their marriage to each other."

My stomach flips.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Draco. He's been looking down the entire time, but now—now he looks up. Right at me. Our eyes lock. "Mr. Greengrass—" Lucius begins, voice tight. "I have already spoken to him about your previous arrangement," Voldemort cuts in, dismissive.

Then he turns to me.

"What do you think, Olivia?"

What do I think?

To be honest, part of me wants to laugh. Out loud. Because I am currently being offered a marriage—during a war—by the most feared Dark wizard in history... and it's to my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend. The boy I've risked everything for.

So yes, Voldy, thank you. I do want to marry the person I love. Thanks for the bizarre romantic gesture.

But why? Why now? Why let me marry the son of the man who failed you? What's the angle? What do you want from us?

More importantly... what do you want from me?

"Your wish, Father," I say, keeping my voice light and my smile faint. "Good. Then it's settled." He stands and leaves without another word.

Silence falls over the table like a curse.

I glance at Draco. He's doing an abysmal job of hiding how thrilled he is. His smile is stretching his face and he's trying so hard to suppress it. 

I furrow my brows at him and shake my head slightly, a small smile playing on my lips despite the chaos in my mind.

Bellatrix is beaming at me, full teeth, eyes wild. I give her a weak smile in return, then push back my chair. The screech echoes through the room like a scream.

"I'll be in my room, if anyone needs me," I say as calmly as I can.

Then I practically run.

Once I'm inside my room, I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it, breathing hard.

What the hell is going on?

I start pacing.

Why the sudden interest in my personal life? What changed? What's his plan?

I sigh, dragging my fingers through my hair. My brain's racing with too many questions and not enough answers.

I should be happy. I am happy—somewhere deep down, the part of me that loves Draco is practically twirling with joy. But everything else? Confused. Suspicious. Exhausted.

What is he playing at?

Because there's no way this is just about love. Not when it comes to him.

After hours of pacing, thinking, and getting nowhere, I finally come to the conclusion that telling Draco Voldemort is playing some sort of game—without any proof—is useless. Still, my instincts scream that something is wrong.

I pull open my door, only to find Draco standing there, hand halfway to knocking. I jump a little, clutching my chest. "Draco! You scared me."

"Can I come in?" he asks gently. I lower my hand and step aside. "Yes, yes. Of course."

He walks in, heads straight to my bed like he's been here a hundred times before—which, well, he has—and sits down, picking up the book I'd abandoned earlier. He runs his fingers across the cover as he speaks.

"If... if you don't want to get into this arrangement, then—it's fine. I'll get us out of it." I blink, confused. "No, I—what gave you the idea that I want out of this arrangement?" He looks up from the book, shrugging sheepishly. "Well, it's just... it's been hours since you talked to me, or even left your room, so I thought maybe you were—"

"Oh no. No, of course not," I cut him off quickly, walking toward him. "It's just... that was what I wanted to talk to you about. I was going to come to your room." I curl up beside him and rest my head in his lap, staring at the ceiling as he closes the book and starts stroking my hair.

"Draco, don't get me wrong—I want to marry you. I do. But I don't think we should, not like this. There's something going on in his mind. Something cruel. Something dark. I don't want us to start our relationship based on an arrangement he made."

His fingers pause for a second. "What do you mean something's going on in his mind?" he asks, and I tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

I sit up straight and he watches me, waiting.

"Why this sudden interest in my life, Draco?" I ask, quietly. "He wants something. I don't know what it is yet-" I gasp and quickly grab my mother's necklace hanging around my throat, "What? What is it you think he wants?"

"Another me" Those two words are enough to make Draco understand what he wants. How... How will he make the baby fight? "No, he's not going to make the baby fight" Draco reads my thoughts, "He wants to consume the baby's powers" The words come out more wretched than I want them to be. Draco starts shaking his head.

He places his hands on my shoulders, thumbs rubbing small, calming circles. "Look... I'm not just saying this because I'm terrified of the Dark Lord, but maybe, just maybe, you're being a little paranoid? Overthinking things?"

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What if," he says cautiously, "he's actually trying to do something good?" I stare at him. He quickly winces. "Yeah, no, that sounded way worse out loud." I can't help but smile. "Didn't know you were that desperate to get married to me, Draco."

"I'm not," he says immediately, rolling his eyes. "Right, sure," I smirk. "Tell that to your face."

Before he can respond, there's a knock on the door.

Seriously?

"Come in," Draco calls out, sitting up straighter.

Narcissa peeks in, practically glowing. "I just wanted to inform you that you will be getting engaged tonight. I'll be hosting a ball, and you can have the ring ceremony in our gardens." She says it like she's announcing Christmas.

Draco groans, getting up. "Really, Mother? A ball?"

He walks over to her. "And could you maybe not smile so much? You're making it bloody obvious that you're way happier with this arrangement than we are. For Merlin's sake, we're in the middle of a fucking war."

"Language, Draco," Narcissa says gently, though she doesn't stop smiling. I try to stifle my giggle but fail. Merlin, he's so spoiled. "Tonight, Mrs. Malfoy? Isn't that a little too soon?" I ask, half-hoping she'll say it was all a joke.

She just shrugs, still beaming. "His wish," she says simply.

I glance at Draco. He just shakes his head slightly.

"Alright then," Narcissa continues. "I have a ton of preparations to do. I'll leave you two lovebirds to it." She gives us a wink—a wink—and giggles as she leaves the room.

The moment the door clicks shut, I turn to Draco with a pointed look. "See? I told you. He needs something." Draco sighs and sits down on the bed again. "Maybe you're right."

He takes my hand, threading our fingers together. "Okay, how about this—we get engaged tonight, for our parents. For the sake of this whole... mess. But later, when we feel like it, when the time's right... we do it again. For us. Properly."

I smile. "Already planning our future, are you?"

He rolls his eyes again, but his cheeks tint pink. I laugh and pull him down beside me.

Maybe this is all madness—but at least I have him in it with me.