Velvet Nights and Violent Looks

Olivia Middleton's POV 

I'm just stepping off the train at King's Cross when I spot Blaise and Theo walking toward me, grinning like they've already planned some sort of mischief. I set my luggage down and smile at them. In true Slytherin fashion, they don't waste time with hellos—they just pull me into two enormous hugs. And of course, because both of them are giants compared to me, they lift me off the ground like I weigh nothing.

Theo sets me down first and says with a cheeky grin, "Olive, we heard you're throwing a party this summer. Care to invite us?"

His tone is so normal, so casual, like nothing's changed. Like I'm not the girl everyone's been tiptoeing around for months. It's exactly what I need—someone treating me like me, not like a fragile glass ornament that might shatter under the weight of a hug.

"Yes, I am," I reply, brushing my hair behind my ear. "But it's mostly Gryffindors—my inner circle. I don't think you'll enjoy yourself if you came, given that—" Theo finishes for me. "—we hate Gryffindors."

"Exactly!" I say, laughing, just as Draco steps up beside them.

Before I can say anything else, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and there's Rafael, standing just a bit too close, eyes narrowed in challenge.

"I hope you're not annoying my girl—Olivia," he says, catching himself just in time. The boys behind him snicker, like they know something I don't.

I give him a polite smile and turn back to Theo and Blaise. "Would you excuse me for a minute? I'll be right back." I leave them and head over to talk to Chris and the others, trying to ignore the weird flip in my stomach.

Draco Malfoy's POV

I'm standing by the platform, waiting for my luggage to appear, when I see Blaise and Theo hugging Olivia. My jaw clenches. I know they don't mean anything by it—they're not interested in her. Not officially, anyway. Still, I don't buy it. Nearly every guy at Hogwarts has stared at Olivia Middleton like she's something they'll never be worthy of. 

And she still doesn't seem to realize it.

I walk over and toss an arm around Blaise and Theo's shoulders, casual, relaxed. "I hope you're not annoying my girl—Olivia," I say, catching myself too late. Their snickers give me away. She turns around at that, eyes curious, and I immediately wish I'd said nothing.

"She's not your type, Malfoy," Theo mutters beside me. I arch an eyebrow. "Yeah? And why's that, Nott?"

"She's polite. And kind. And caring," he replies, not even looking at me. "You, on the other hand, are rude and a general arse." I smirk. "You know what they say—opposites attract."

Just then, Olivia walks back over. "No, Draco. They weren't annoying me," she says softly—and blushes. Did she hear what I said?

"Good," I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets, trying to act indifferent. I glance sideways at her. "So, what's this party I hear about?"

"Erm... just my inner circle," she says.

"Ah," I groan. "Gryffindors."

"Hey!" she protests, giving me a playful shove. "I'm a Gryffindor too, remember?"

"You're the exception, darling," I say without thinking, slipping an arm around her shoulder.

Blaise grins at us and adds, "We were thinking—we could come by the house another day. After your party with the others. Get dressed up, go to some high-class restaurant, you know. Something fun."

"That sounds fun, Blaise," Olivia replies sweetly, clearly touched. Then she smirks, turning to Blaise. "You can bring Daphne." "What?" Blaise nearly chokes. Theo laughs outright. Olivia tugs at his cheeks like he's a puppy. "Come on, we all know you like her."

I chuckle. "She got you there, mate."

Blaise starts to retaliate—"Yeah, well, she might be interested in know—" and I panic. I shove him lightly and call out, "See you later, Middleton!" before he can say something very stupid.

I drag him away and hiss under my breath, "What is the matter with you, Zabini?"

"I thought you wanted her to know," he says, adjusting his collar dramatically. "Of course I do. But not like that. Merlin, Blaise, let her breathe. She just lost her boyfriend." I glance back over. Theo's kissing her cheek goodbye and she's smiling. I feel a flicker of something ugly twist in my chest.

I don't want to be her rebound. But I do want to be something. 

And damn it—I think I already am.

Olivia Middleton's POV

I'm still laughing when I lightly tug on Blaise's cheeks, making him groan. "We all know you like her, now come on," I tease, and Draco and Theo both laugh. Draco smirks. "She got you there, mate."

"Oh yeah?" Blaise says with a raised eyebrow. "Well, she might be interested in know—" He trails off, and I see Draco's eyes go wide. Before Blaise can finish that sentence, Draco shoves him away from me and Theo.

"See you later, Middleton," Draco says, walking off. I catch the last part of his whisper-yell to Blaise as they both walk away. "Alright then, see you soon, Olive," Theo says, grinning as he pulls me into another hug and kisses my cheek.

"Sure, Theodore," I reply, and he puts me down quickly, his usual energy intact.

"Argh, how many times, Middleton? It's Theo," he says, clearly annoyed, before heading over to the others. I call out, "Malfoy!" and Draco turns around, eyebrow raised.

He walks back over, and I ask, "Were you really going to say goodbye to me like that?"

"What, we're meeting again, aren't we?" he says, looking down at me with that usual aloof attitude. But I know him well enough to spot the subtle shift in his expression.

I just raise an eyebrow, but he doesn't back down. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Middleton," he mutters, before suddenly pulling me into a tight hug.

Yeah, like he didn't want to just a minute ago.

When he pulls back, he leans in and kisses my cheek before wiping the spot where Theo had kissed me earlier. "Very possessive, Malfoy," I say, smirking. "What's mine is mine," he replies under his breath, looking up at me with that intense gaze. "I don't like sharing."

"Pardon me?" I ask, and he shakes his head, smirking as he walks away. Hermione appears next to me, and I can see the teasing grin on her face. "What was with the kiss?" she asks, clearly enjoying my flustered state.

I roll my eyes. "It's nothing, Granger," I say, trying to sound casual, though I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

She scoffs but doesn't press further, and we part ways.

A few days later, I'm sitting in my room when an owl arrives. Nyra lands on my window, holding a green letter sealed with a huge silver 'M.' I take the letter and break the seal, unfolding it carefully. It reads:

My sweetheart Olivia,

Grieving is a zig, zag, slip, sliding journey.

Some days it can be hard to eat, to breathe, sleep, brush your hair, get out of bed, get dressed, answer your phone, have a shower or go to work. Finding a reason, or the energy, to do things you once regarded as so ordinary, is tough—especially when you feel alone.

Despite what well-meaning friends or family might tell you, there are no "right" ways to grieve. And neither are there "right" stages which everyone must pass through in a "right" sequence. I believe that there are. And I'm glad you have passed a few.

Draco told me about your speech. If you ever need anything, know that the doors of Malfoy Manor are always open for my best friend's daughter.

Now, regarding your mother... I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I never knew who your father was. Your mother's name was Aurora Montgomery. She had dark green eyes and light brown hair. You look like her, except for your hair and eyes. She was a pureblood, sorted in Slytherin, though it took her hours before she was sorted—just like you did. We were inseparable in school. You possess the same powers she did. She was in the Order of the Phoenix. That's all I can tell you, sweetheart. Perhaps Dumbledore might know more. And your hand... Please, don't ignore it now. Talk to Dumbledore; he will be the answer to your questions.

Take care of yourself, child. We will need you in times like these. Burn this letter once you read it. We cannot risk being seen together, or anyone knowing we had any sort of connection. It's too risky. I hope you are okay, and do write to Draco—he talks about you all the time. He won't admit it, but he misses you.

All the love, Narcissa Malfoy.

I sigh after reading the letter, following Mrs. Malfoy's instructions to burn it once I've finished. It's strange to know more about my mother. She was a Slytherin, yet I'm a Gryffindor. Still, the resemblance is there, especially with my powers.

A few weeks later, I'm hosting the party that Hermione had been asking about. We get blackout drunk, all of us needing to blow off some steam. I'm less drunk than the others, though, and I end up apparating everyone back to their houses. When I get back, I change into my silk top and shorts for the night.

I decide to have one more drink—because, honestly, who's keeping track of responsibilities?

Just as I settle back down, I hear a knock at my door. It's late, and I'm curious to see who it could be. When I open the door, I'm surprised to find Draco standing there, looking a bit too calm for my liking.

"Draco! How wonderful to see you," I slur, my words a little more than tipsy. I pull him into a hug before I can even think.

Draco Malfoy's POV

Olivia hasn't been answering my letters. Days go by—nothing. No replies, no owls, no signs. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. So tonight, I do something I probably shouldn't: I sneak out of the house.

It's late, the only time I can leave without attracting attention. Both her vehicles are parked in the garage, so I know she's home. I walk up to her door and knock, tapping my fingers against my thigh while I wait.

The door opens, and there she is—in black silk shorts and a matching top. Bloody hell.

"Draco! How wonderful to see you," she slurs, pulling me into a hug. She smells like alcohol. Strong. Her words are a mess, and she looks... different. She's wearing glasses, her hair's cut to her shoulders, and somehow, she looks even better than I remember.

I hug her back and lean away just enough to look her in the eye. "Are you drunk, Middleton?"

"What? Hiccup No!" she says, grinning crookedly. I don't even need Legilimency to know she's lying.

I sigh and gently guide her inside. The place is a disaster—bottles, music playing, plates left out, random clutter everywhere. I settle her on the couch before she can stumble again. She reaches for another bottle, but I snatch it out of her hand.

"No more drinking, Olivia," I say, firmly.

She pouts at me. Pouts. Since when does she pout? And why does she have to look so damn adorable doing it? She suddenly jumps up, cranks the music, and starts swaying her hips like we're at some bloody nightclub. "Come on, Draco! Dance with me!"

"What are you doing?" I ask, half amused, half horrified. "Dancing, duh!" she says and tugs at my arm. I scoff, pulling her back down beside me. "You know I don't dance, Middleton."

But she's already up again, dancing around with zero coordination. When I tug her back this time, she stumbles—and ends up right in my lap. Her face is inches from mine. She stares at my mouth, then my eyes, then slowly cups my face and kisses me.

It's messy. Rough. Hot.

Her lips are soft but she bites—hard. Then her mouth moves to my neck, and I know without a doubt she's left a mark. I feel frozen in place. Shaken. Desperate. But then reality hits and I gently push her back.

"As much as I want this to continue, darling," I murmur, brushing her hair out of her face, "you need to be sober. I don't want to be your drunken mistake."

I lift her up—bridal style, of course—and carry her to her bed. She mumbles something unintelligible as I tuck her in, then passes out. I walk back downstairs, rip off my shirt, and collapse on the couch.

The television flickers to life. Muggle tech still amazes me—these people have no magic and yet live like this. I don't even realize how long I've been watching until morning light begins to creep through the windows.

"Draco?" Her voice comes from the stairs. She's rubbing her temples, clearly hungover. "What are you doing here? Ah!" I laugh. "You, darling, had quite the party," I tease. She groans and flops down beside me. "Ugh, my head. Merlin, I'm never drinking again."

She grabs the remote and changes the channel. Then she glances sideways at me and her eyes narrow. "And by the looks of it, you've got a new girlfriend." She points at her own handiwork—my neck.

I smirk. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

She squints at me, trying to piece the night together. Then it hits her. Her eyes go wide, and I raise my brows at her. "Oh, God," she groans, covering her face. "I liked it, actually," I say with a wicked grin. "Why do you think I'm shirtless, princess?"

I moan dramatically next to her, "Oh, Draco, faster, faster. Right there—yes, Draco!" She slaps a hand over my mouth, and I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe. I peel her hand away. "Relax, darling. I'm just kidding. We didn't do anything. You were drunk—I wouldn't let anything happen."

She glares at me. "Yeah, well, judging by the hickey, you didn't hate it."

Fair enough.

"Let's go out tonight," I say. "Owl Nott, Zabini, and Greengrass." She groans again, dragging herself to the kitchen. "Geez, Draco. I'm still hungover and it's Saturday. Let's do it tomorrow."

She tosses me an ice pack. I catch it. Of course I'm keeping the damn hickey. She marked me—there's no way I'm icing that down. But an idea forms.

She turns her back to start breakfast. I sneak up behind her, pull at the back of her shirt, and drop the ice cubes down. I hold the fabric tight so they stay trapped.

"Oooohhhhh, Draco!" she squeals, squirming. I laugh, chest shaking as I hold her still. "You, Draco Malfoy, are in huge trouble," she growls. I know that tone. I let her go and sprint out of the kitchen.

She's right behind me. I make it to the living room, but she lunges and tackles me onto the couch. Her fingers find my ticklish spot. Bloody hell.

"No, darl—" I try to speak, but I'm laughing too hard to form words. "Who knew Draco Lucius Malfoy had a ticklish spot?" she laughs, pinning me down. "Oh, you're one to talk," I say, flipping us. Now I'm on top, tickling her. She writhes, laughing so hard she's nearly crying.

Her laugh—it's everything. I want to be the reason she does that every day. I slow, finally stop. She breathes heavily beneath me, eyes closed. Then she opens them. Looks right at me.

I wait. Inches away. I won't make a move this time—not unless she does.

She doesn't.

So I cup her cheek gently and kiss her. Just once. Just a peck. Then I pull her up to her feet.

She clears her throat and slides on her glasses. "I didn't know you had glasses," I say, following her back to the kitchen. "Yeah. Just got them a few weeks ago." I roll my eyes. "Probably from reading too much."

She tosses a green apple at me. I catch it easily. "Come on," I say, voice light. "Let's go today. It'll be fun. We can all drive in your car." She pauses, then shrugs. "Alright."

I grin as she starts prepping breakfast.

"I'll write to them," I say, heading back to the living room. "Might as well tell Zabini to owl a suit for me."

Olivia Middleton's POV

Draco owls the others, and they all say yes almost immediately. Apparently, the idea of a spontaneous dinner sounds better than whatever they were doing tonight. We decide to meet at my place first, then head out together.

"Well, where are we going?" I call out, head buried in my closet as I push aside outfits. He's in the other room, but I raise my voice just enough. "Geez, no need to shout, I'm right here," he says suddenly—right behind me.

I jump slightly and swat his shoulder. "Stop sneaking up on me like that!" He just smirks and flops onto my bed. "I don't know where we're going. Thought you might."

I hum in response, still scanning my wardrobe. "Alright then. We'll go to Celeste. It's the finest place in town." I turn and give him a pointed look. "Now out, I have to change."

He groans but leaves. I sigh, staring at my closet. Since it's Celeste, I have to go all in. No half-hearted jeans-and-boots moment tonight.

I finally settle on a rose-pink satin dress—short, silky, and just above mid-thigh. It fits like a glove and feels dangerously pretty. I straighten my newly cut hair and leave it down, sleek and simple. Heels, light makeup, perfume. Done.

The moment I step out of my room, Draco exits the guest room. He's in a full black suit—of course he is. The man has two modes: brooding and brooding in black. "Zabini and Not—" he starts, then stops when he sees me. His eyes sweep over me, and he visibly swallows before striding over and gently pushing me back into my room.

"What—?" I begin, but he pins me against the door.

"That dress is too short, darling," he murmurs into my ear, voice low and smooth like smoke. He kisses me just below my ear, near my jaw. It's soft but makes my whole body react. I exhale shakily as he pulls back and stares.

I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool—even though I'm melting inside. "Well, I'm wearing it anyway." His gaze doesn't leave mine. "Fine. Wear it. Just don't blame me if I lose control tonight. You look damn hot."

I grab his shirt and pull him closer until our lips are this close, hovering. I can smell the mint on his breath. Feel the tension between us like a live wire. And yeah... I feel something else too.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't," I tease, and right on cue, the doorbell rings.

We head downstairs and open the door to find Blaise and Daphne standing there.

I smile and hug Blaise, who's too tall for his own good. I have to tiptoe to reach him, and my dress rides up. Instantly, Draco coughs, and his earlier words flash in my mind: "That dress is too short, darling." I straighten and glance back at him. He sighs like it physically pains him to be civil.

"At least invite us in, Olive," Blaise teases. "Right, sorry. Come in."

We all gather in the living room. I turn to Daphne. "How are you, Daph?" The two of us start chatting, catching up quickly as if no time has passed. A few minutes later, the bell rings again.

I jump up to answer. "You're late, Theodore," I say as I wrap my arms around him. He groans but hugs me back. "You're lucky I like you."

"Let's go, shall we?" I grab my car keys, but before I can move further, Draco snatches them from my hand. "Excuse me?" I raise a brow. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Driving," he says smugly, already walking ahead. "I remember everything you taught me last time."

"You still need—"

"Forged one, Middleton," he cuts in smoothly. I roll my eyes and get in the car, muttering, "Bloody menace."

"Alright," I say once everyone's in. "Follow the GPS. We'll reach the place just fine—and for Merlin's sake, do not overspeed." I point a firm finger at him, and of course, the others start snickering.

I turn around sharply. "What are you all laughing at? Seat belts. Now!" They obey, barely holding back their chuckles.

We get to the restaurant without any reckless speeding—miracle—and I walk up to the hostess.

"Reservation for five, under Middleton," I tell her. She nods and leads us to our table.

I take my seat with Daphne on my left and Draco on my right. Theo and Blaise sit across from us. The energy's already buzzing. And if Draco keeps brushing his knee against mine under the table—I might let him.

Just maybe.

The waiter arrives, and we start placing our orders one by one.

"Right, I'll have the hand-dived Scottish scallop to start, then the fillet of beef, and to finish, the chocolate decadence. Thank you," I say with a quick glance at the menu before handing it back. "I'll have the same as hers," Theo says, passing his menu along.

Draco doesn't even hesitate. "Potimarron soup to start, pan-fried roe deer saddle for the main, and iced parfait for dessert," he says coolly, already leaning back in his chair. Blaise chimes in with a casual, "I'll have what he's having," eyes drifting around the chandelier-lit ceiling, and Daphne finishes up the order with her own.

I raise a finger just before the waiter walks away. "Oh—and a bottle of Pinot Noir, French vintage. And please let Andy know I'm here."

"Right away, ma'am," he says, and disappears. "This place is nice," Blaise says, admiring the chandeliers above us and the grand piano tucked behind our table. "Only the best," I reply with a smile.

The food arrives, and it's just as amazing as I remember. Conversation flows, wine fills our glasses, and laughter bubbles up every few minutes. We're in the middle of our main course when I feel something brush against my leg.

At first, I think it's accidental, but then it happens again. More deliberate this time—slow. I glance up. Everyone's chatting, chewing, completely unbothered. Except Draco. He's smirking.

He pulls his foot back, but just when I think he's done, he leans forward like he's adjusting something. That's a lie. His fingers trail from my ankle up to my knee—and stop, very purposefully, on my thigh.

I go still.

He raises an eyebrow at me and smirks again. I swat his hand gently, trying not to draw attention. He doesn't move it. I let out a slow breath and force myself to keep eating. Then, a voice from behind interrupts the chaos in my head.

"Is that the voice of my favorite girl I hear?"

I turn around, already grinning. "Andy!"

I quickly dab my lips with my napkin and stand to greet him. Andy Wilson is about our age, stupidly successful, with his brown hair tied back in a neat man bun, honey eyes, and porcelain skin. We met at a bar where I used to sing—he heard me once and never shut up about it.

I throw my arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around my waist. A little too close to my hips, if you ask me—not that I mind, but Draco's jealous death stare behind me? That I definitely feel.

"How are you, beautiful?" Andy asks, pulling away slightly but keeping a hand on my waist. "Great," I say brightly, then turn to the table. "Everyone, this is Andy Wilson."

"Andy, these are my friends: Blaise, Theodore, Daphne... and Draco," I say, watching Draco's jaw twitch. "Nice to meet you all," Andy says politely. "Cannot say likewise," Draco mutters just loud enough for me to hear. I shoot him a look.

Andy's eyes light up when he notices the piano behind me. "Now that you're here—and there's a piano right there—you have to sing something before you leave. One song. Please? For me?"

He grabs my hands and makes a pleading face. I glance around at everyone. They look like they want me to sing, too. Traitors. I sigh dramatically. "Alright. Just one song. For you."

"Yes!" he grins. "I'll let you get back to your dinner." He leans in and kisses my cheek before heading back to the bar. I sit down and reach for my wine glass. Blaise is looking at me like he's holding in a thousand questions.

"What?" I ask.

"Who is he?" he says with a teasing smirk. "Just a friend," I say casually, and that's when I hear Draco sigh—loudly.

We finish dinner, and just as I reach for the check, Draco grabs it. "What do you think you're doing, darling?" he asks smoothly, unfolding the bill. "This one's on me," I say sweetly and snatch it back. "No, no, no, no," he says, tugging it again. "We agreed last time you'd pay next time, remember, Middleton?"

"Exactly. And this is next time," I say, raising a brow at him.

"Yes, but only when it's just the two of us," he counters. "Now drop your hands, because if I pull even a little harder, you're coming with the check too."

He yanks it slightly, and sure enough, I jerk in my seat. I sigh. There's no winning with this man.

He pays.

Andy comes back and offers me a hand. "Ready?"

I nod and take his hand. He leads me to the piano, and I sit down with a breath, placing my fingers lightly on the keys.

A/N: Please play 'Wildest Dreams' by Taylor Swift

He's so tall and handsome as hell... He's so bad but does it so well...

As I sing those lines, I glance up—and there it is. Draco, chuckling to himself, eyes lowered. His shoulders shake a little with quiet laughter. It makes me smile. He knows.

I finish the song, and the restaurant erupts into applause. People are clapping at their tables. I look toward Draco—he's clapping too, after quickly glancing around like he's making sure no one notices he's proud.

"That was beautiful," Andy says, pulling me into a hug.

He leans back and says, "Please tell me you'll consider my offer. Please! Please."

"I'll think about it, Andy," I reply.

Before Andy can say more, Draco walks up and places a possessive arm around my waist—tight, firm, and very intentional.

"Let's go, darling. We've all got to get home," he says smoothly.

I hug Andy goodbye, but Draco doesn't let go of me the entire walk back to the car.

I felt bad writing flirting scenes just after Cedric died. So please, don't come at me, saying that Olivia is not nice and all that. The timing wasn't sitting perfectly, but yes do imagine that all of this is after a sufficient time from his death.

More content coming soon, real action or smut begins from Chapter 51. Share your thoughts! Thank you for reading... Love you, lovely readers.