Lines in Dust and Blood

Olivia Middleton's POV

I'm fuming. Detention? For something that wasn't even my fault? Bloody hell. I sit next to Hermione in the Great Hall during our free period, still stewing.

"Detention? But it's your first time, how can Dumbledore give you detention without even a warning?" Hermione asks, placing a gentle hand over mine. "Remind you, Mione—I've punched him. Twice," I say, chin lifted, feeling zero regret. "No complaints. Besides, his father was there. Dumbledore had no choice."

Hermione looks both impressed and mildly horrified, but before she can reply— "Let's go, Middleton. I don't fancy landing in another detention just because you were late," Draco says behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder like he owns the right.

I jerk it off immediately. "Touch me again and I'll make it three."

We walk to the dungeons in tense silence. My whole body is tight with irritation, but I know better than to start something down here. He's taller now, stronger too—not that I'm scared. Just... calculating.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Expected," Snape drawls when we reach the Potions classroom. His gaze shifts to me. "Miss Middleton. Disappointed." He hands us rags and gives a sharp nod. "Clean the entire classroom. Top to bottom. No dust, no potion residue. You're to finish before dinner. No magic."

Of course.

He locks the door behind us and vanishes, leaving us in silence.

I sigh, tie my hair up into a messy bun, and two loose strands fall along my jawline like they always do. I grab a cloth, turn to Draco, and say coolly, "I'll take the top. You handle the bottom." He smirks. "And who are you to tell me what to do, you filthy little m—"

I whip around and point my finger at him, rage burning through my chest. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Malfoy. I won't promise what I'll break. And I don't mind another detention."

That shuts him up. He grumbles under his breath and gets to work cleaning the tables and cauldrons. I summon a ladder and start wiping down the top cupboards and shelves. Honestly, this place is disgusting. No wonder Potions always felt like we were working in a cave.

Dust coats my sleeves and nose by the time I reach the highest shelf. I'm scrubbing away when I mutter, "I just don't get it. Why do you have to be so cruel? To me, to my friends. We've done nothing to you or your stupid little gang."

"Yeah, well—"

I never hear the rest. The ladder shifts beneath me and before I can scream or catch myself, I'm falling. The world flips and panic claws up my throat—I brace for the floor, the pain—

But it never comes.

I land in arms. Strong ones.

When I open my eyes, Draco is staring at me, his face inches from mine. His blue-grey eyes are unreadable and yet... there's something there. Something quiet. Something soft.

I blink. He doesn't look away. And Merlin help me—I don't either. I could drown in those stormy eyes and not care if I breathe again.

The clock's bell rings overhead, and the spell breaks. He helps me to my feet, quickly brushing invisible dust off his robes. I fix my shirt, avoiding his eyes, cheeks flaming. We don't say a word. Just... clean. Silently.

By the time Snape returns and unlocks the classroom, the place is gleaming. He actually almost smiles. Almost. "Off you go. Dinner's over. Ask the house-elves for something," he says, and for a second, I catch something close to concern in his voice.

We leave together, still silent. Still awkward. Still thinking about that fall.

And the way he caught me.

As soon as we step out of the dungeons, I gather enough courage to ask, "Why did you do it?" Draco frowns. "Why did I do what?"

"Save me," I say, looking up at him. "You could've easily let me fall. Let me get hurt." He stops walking, turning to face me sharply. "Let you fall? Are you serious right now?"

His fingers wrap around my arm—not hard, but enough to make me stop and meet his eyes. We're close again, too close. I can see every flicker of emotion in his stormy gaze.

"You could've cracked your head open. Five broken bones at least, if not worse," he says, voice low and angry. "And you think I'm the kind of person who'd just let a girl fall like that?"

He still doesn't answer my question. Not really.

I'm about to push him again when something behind him catches my eye—on the wall, just over his shoulder. My breath catches. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir... beware."

Written in blood.

My face must shift, because Draco immediately notices. He turns, follows my gaze, and his entire demeanor changes in an instant. The tension in his shoulders stiffens before softening—into something protective.

Without a word, he releases my arm and grabs my hand instead. His fingers are warm and steady as he pulls me in the opposite direction. My legs move on instinct. I don't even realize where he's taking me until I see the familiar cold stone of the dungeons again.

He stops us just outside a dark hallway, turns me toward him, and cups my face with both hands. "Look at me" I don't. "Olivia." His touch makes me still. I blink up at him, finally settling my breath. His expression is serious—no smugness, no mask. Just concern.

"We were never there," he says quietly. "If anyone asks, we were in detention. Nothing else. Do you understand me?" I nod. I don't tell him that my forearm still hurts where he grabbed me earlier. It doesn't matter. Not now.

He wipes a smudge of dirt off my nose with his thumb, almost absentmindedly. His hands linger, like he's making sure I'm really okay. I'm still shaking, and he must notice because he says, "I'll walk you back to your common room."

And I let him. I don't want to walk alone.

We don't talk much on the way there. The silence between us is heavier than usual, like something has shifted and neither of us knows what to do with it.

Once we reach my common room, I turn to thank him, but he's already looking at me. He gently slips his hand beneath my chin and lifts my face to his.

"Be careful," he says softly, eyes searching mine. "And stay safe."

Then he leans in, presses the lightest kiss to my forehead, and turns back toward the dungeons without another word.

And I just stand there, completely unsure how to breathe.

I slip quietly into the common room, hoping not to draw attention to myself—but of course, the trio is already there. Harry spots me first and walks over, his brows furrowed in concern. "Liv, are you okay?"

I brush him off with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Snape just made us clean his entire classroom, top to bottom."

Harry doesn't look convinced, but he nods slowly. "I hope Malfoy didn't mess with you," Hermione says, eyeing me with genuine worry. I don't answer right away. My throat feels tight, and I can't tell if it's from exhaustion or something else entirely.

Later, once we're up in our dorm and it's just the two of us, I finally spill. I tell her everything—what happened in detention, the fall, the way Draco caught me, how he pulled me away from the bloody writing on the wall and walked me back here.

As expected, Hermione looks horrified. "Malfoy did that? He saved you? And walked you here?"

I nod silently. There's not much else to say.

"Don't read into it," I tell her, my voice flat. "It doesn't mean anything. Just... let's sleep, okay?"

She reluctantly agrees, curling into her blankets, but I can't do the same. I lie awake long after she's drifted off, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts keep circling back to his voice, his hands, the look in his eyes when he said be careful.

I toss. I turn. But no matter how hard I try, sleep refuses to come.