What We Don't Say Out Loud

Olivia Montgomery's POV 

He sees it.

Draco just... stares. Not at me. Not even blinking. He's frozen, locked in place, eyes boring into the spot where my hand had been seconds ago. Like he's trying to convince himself he imagined it. Like if he stays still enough, maybe it'll disappear.

Why did he have to find out like this? Why now—when things between us finally feel real?

I reach out, gently grabbing his wrist and tugging him down next to me. The library isn't empty yet. A few students are still scattered between tables, and curfew is creeping closer. I don't care.

I glance around. "Muffliato," I whisper, casting the spell to mute everything around us.

He won't look at me. And I can't read him. Not this time. His face is completely unreadable. Is he mad? Scared? Disappointed?

"Draco," I say softly, even though we're alone in our little sound bubble. "Please say something."

Instead, he grabs my left wrist.

Quick. Controlled.

He yanks up my sleeve to see the mark again, like he needs confirmation it wasn't a trick of the light. When he sees it, his hand goes rigid around mine. He swallows hard and finally, finally looks me in the eye.

"You better tell me this is a sick prank, Montgomery." My throat tightens. I shake my head, eyes burning. He doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Then, sharp and loud: "Then what is it?!"

I wince at the anger in his voice, even though Muffliato keeps anyone else from hearing. I take a shaky breath. My voice is barely a whisper.

"I'm..." I stop, pulling my sleeves down. "I'm Voldemort's daughter."

His face drops like I've slapped him. "WHAT?"

"I know this goes without saying," I manage, trying to keep my voice calm, "but what I'm about to tell you... it stays between us." He doesn't nod exactly. But he doesn't say no, either. "I'm Olivia Riddle. Or, as I go by now, Olivia Montgomery. My parents were Aurora Montgomery and Tom Riddle." I look away, toward the shelves. Anywhere but him.

"My mum was a Slytherin. She fell in love with Sirius Black. But then she met my father—really met him—and everything changed. She got pregnant, realized what he truly was, and left. Ran to the Muggle world. He doesn't know I exist. Doesn't even know she had a child."

I glance back at Draco. He's not angry anymore. Just... stunned. Maybe disappointed. Maybe hurt. I can't tell. "My mother was an inegalee sorcière. It means 'unequaled witch.' She could control all four elements. Bring people back from the dead. Transform into anyone." I pause. "Just like I can."

He still doesn't speak, so I keep going.

"When Harry's parents were killed, my mum hid me—afraid he'd find and kill me too. The night she died, I absorbed all her power. That's why I'm one now" I take another breath. "Remember when I spent that month in the hospital wing? When my hair changed, my eyes did too?"

He nods slowly. "Something about your mother putting a curse on you," he murmurs. His voice is quiet now. Careful.

"Hermione and Ginny started that rumor. It wasn't entirely wrong. My mum did curse me—out of love. The curse was designed to only reveal my true self when someone wanted me for me. Not for my power. Not for looks. Not for a name. Just me."

I smile bitterly. "That day in the hospital? Harry kissed me. My body burned up right after, Ron told me. I was changing—unlocking." He's listening. Not interrupting. I can't stop now.

"Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall knew. I made them promise to tell me the truth someday, and they did. After Mum died, Snape found me and brought me to Dumbledore. They left me with Muggles. Hid me."

I sniff and wipe under my eyes. "Oh—and Snape's my godfather."

Draco's face barely moves. It's like he's waiting for the punchline. But there isn't one. The silence stretches between us. And for the first time in all the years I've known him, I hate the quiet.

"I get it," I whisper. "If you don't want anything to do with me now. I'll stay away, if that's what you want."

Still nothing. No words. Just silence.

I take that as my answer.

I close my books with shaking hands, stand, and grab my bag. "Please... just keep this to yourself. No one else can know. Not a soul." I pause at the edge of the table, waiting—hoping—for him to stop me.

He doesn't.

"I'll see you around, Malfoy," I whisper, and leave the library with tears running down my face.

Draco Malfoy's POV

It's been two days.

Two days since Olivia told me everything. Since she showed me that mark. Since she dropped the truth on me like a spell with no counter curse.

And I haven't seen her since.

Apparently, she hasn't left her dorm. I've gone about my days like everything's normal—meals, Quidditch, studying. Like it didn't change anything.

But it did.

Because no matter how hard I try to ignore it, my mind keeps drifting back to her. To that night in the library. To the pain in her voice. To the look in her eyes when she said my name and I said nothing back.

Why does it feel like something's missing? Why does my chest ache when I don't see her? Why do I feel like a part of me is out of place, like I've misplaced something valuable and can't quite remember where?

I miss her.

I miss how she tilts her head when she's studying. I miss her laugh. I miss her terrible humming and her perfect voice. I miss the way she looks at me like I'm not a Malfoy, just... Draco.

This—whatever it is—it's not just a crush. It's not even just love. It's more. It's like she's inside me now, in my bones, in my blood. And being away from her is making it all itch.

I stare at the gift on my bedside table—Mum's Christmas gift. I don't even know what to do with it. I don't feel like I deserve it. I sigh and switch on the lamp, the soft golden light spilling across the room. My eyes linger on the unwrapped box.

I make a decision.

I throw on a shirt and head to Gryffindor Tower, hoping—just hoping—that someone will be out in the hallway to let me in. No luck. No one's around. So I do something desperate.

I knock on the portrait. The Fat Lady groans. "Shoo! Go away!" But then a voice calls from inside. "Who is it?"

"Erm... Draco Malfoy," I say, barely above a whisper. There's a pause. "What do you want?" I hesitate. My pride wants to lie. But this isn't about pride. "Just... Olivia," I say quietly. "Tell her I'm here. That I want to talk. That I—I'm sorry."

I'm staring at the floor when the portrait swings open. I look up to see a girl—smiling gently. "Thank you," I mutter, and head up the stairs. I find her door and knock. Nothing. I knock again. Still nothing.

"Olivia," I say, voice sharp, "I know you're in there. Just open the door before I break it."

Brilliant. Great start, Malfoy.

I take a breath and try again, softer. "Olivia... please. Open the door."

And she does.

She opens it without a word and walks back to her bed. No eye contact. Just... silence.

I step in, shutting the door behind me, and kneel down in front of her. She won't look at me. Her eyes stay fixed on the floor. I gently lift her chin.

Merlin. She's been crying. She looks tired—worn down. Hollow. Her skin's paler than usual, and she's thinner. If Granger saw her like this and knew I was the reason... I'd be dead. No questions asked.

"Olivia," I whisper, throat tight. "I'm an idiot."

I wrap my arms around her, not even caring if she hugs me back. "I shouldn't have left you alone. I shouldn't have stayed away. I should've stopped you when you walked out of the library." She's crying again—quiet, broken tears soaking into my shirt. Then finally... finally... she hugs me back.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. You don't deserve this. You've already been through too much." I pull back just enough to cup her face. Her cheeks are wet and cold under my hands. "How are you so strong? So brave?" I whisper.

She gives me a watery smile. "Because of you... and Hermione, Ron, Fred... the others." She squeezes my hands. "The only reason I haven't fallen apart is because I have people like you."

I wipe her cheeks gently, brushing her tears away with my thumbs. "You're not mad at me?" She shakes her head. "Actually... you're the only one who acted normal about it. Everyone else was supportive, which is nice, I guess, but..." She sighs. "I don't know."

I give a small smile. "Alright, come on then. Get cleaned up and let's go to lunch. If Gran—"

I stop. Too late.

"Hermione what?" she says, crossing her arms.

I rub the back of my neck. "She, uh... told me to look after you." She shakes her head but steps closer and wraps her arms around me. "Thank you, Draco. You kept your promise."

I hug her back, holding her tightly. Press a kiss to the top of her head.

And in that moment, I know one thing for sure:

No matter what happens, I'm not letting her go again.

Olivia Montgomery's POV

Warning - Smut

A few days pass, and today marks the last day of the break. I've spent nearly all of it with Draco—and somehow, he knows everything now. About me. About the DA. And surprisingly... he doesn't tell. That alone shocks me more than anything else. Even more surprising? He agrees to help me.

We're in the library, tucked into our usual corner, surrounded by parchment, quills, and old books that smell like dust and magic. He's reading something thick and dry, probably on advanced defensive charms, while I pretend to be interested in my notes. But really, I'm not reading anything. I'm thinking about that photo.

The one George clicked when Draco had to—very reluctantly—call me an Ultimate Legendary Witch. The memory makes me smirk. I slide the moving photo out from my bag and glance down at it, the looped moment frozen in laughter and disbelief. His eyes in the photo are full of irritation, but there's a flicker of awe there too. I don't think he even realized it.

I drag my chair back, letting the screech of metal on stone grab his attention. He glances up. "Where are you going?"

"Draco..." I say, stepping to his side with my hands tucked behind my back. I bite down on a smile. "Remember the day you called me the Ultimate Legendary Witch?" He groans and rolls his eyes. "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."

"Oh?" I raise a brow. "Then this won't mean anything to you." I wave the photo in front of his face. His eyes widen in recognition. "Is that—?" Before he can snatch it, I dart back, grinning. "Not so fast, Malfoy."

"Really?" he says, rising slowly from his chair. He's trying to act casual, but I see it—the gleam in his eye, the stretch of his shoulders like a hunter getting ready to pounce.

And then I run.

We weave through the bookshelves like it's some kind of battlefield. He chases after me, close but never quite close enough. I duck between rows of dusty tomes, twisting out of reach just as his fingers graze the sleeve of my robe. I laugh—breathless, wild, alive.

But then I turn a corner and there's nowhere else to run. The shelf ends. And I hit a wall.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia," he drawls, steps slow and deliberate as he approaches. "Cornered already?"

I press my back against the wall. He cages me in with one hand beside my head, the other ghosting near my waist. My heart pounds. He's so close I can feel the warmth of his breath, see the mischief flickering in his eyes.

I think about making a break for it, slipping beneath his arm.

Or kissing him.

My plan had been to distract him with a kiss and escape. It was supposed to be quick, clever, a trick to keep the photo safe.

But then my eyes fall to his mouth.

And stay there.

He smirks like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. And maybe he does. Maybe we both do. I reach for his tie and pull him down, closing the space between us. My lips brush his—and it's like the world stops spinning. The photo? Forgotten. The plan? Abandoned.

He stiffens in surprise for a heartbeat, but then he melts into it. Into me. His hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. He deepens the kiss, slow and hungry, like he's been waiting for this longer than he'll admit.

And I can't lie to myself either. I've wanted this. I've needed this.

The way he kisses me makes me feel like no one else ever has. Like no one else could. Not Harry, not anyone.

Because this isn't sweet. This is messy and magnetic. This is weeks—months—of tension unfurling all at once. Every insult, every stolen glance, every secret shared in silence has been leading us here. And I'm not sure I'll survive it, but I know one thing:

No one will ever ruin me the way Draco Malfoy does. And I never want them to try.

He kisses me like he's starved, like he needs me to breathe. His fingers dig into my waist. My hands knot into his shirt. He lifts me—effortless—and I don't resist. I wrap around him because this is where I want to be.

But then reality returns.

"We're in the library," I whisper against his mouth, breathing hard. "Don't make me stop now," he growls, voice low, dark, dangerous.

"I-I don't want you to," I admit, "but..." He doesn't argue. He just throws me over his shoulder.

"Draco!" I yelp, laughing even though I'm breathless.

"I'm not wasting a damn minute."

And just like that, we're flying down the corridor.

By the time he kicks open the door to his room, I'm breathless. Not just from being carried half across the castle like a sack of potatoes, but from him. From us. From whatever it is that's been building between us all this time.

He drops me onto the bed like he's done being careful. Like he's done pretending we're anything but two people slowly losing control. He climbs over me, bracing himself on either side, his eyes burning into mine like they're asking questions he's too proud to voice.

I've never seen him like this.

Raw. Real. Unfiltered.

"You have no idea," he whispers, voice rough, "how long I've wanted this."

He kisses me again, but this time it's different—deeper, almost reverent. Not rushed, not greedy. His mouth moves slowly against mine, like he's trying to memorize every part of me. My lips, my breath, the sound I make when he grazes his teeth along my bottom lip. I feel like I'm falling, but it's not scary. Not when I know it's him catching me.

We've both been dancing around this for too long.

All the stolen looks. The whispered arguments that always ended too close. The nights I stayed awake thinking about him when I shouldn't. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. I was his line he couldn't cross—and I became the only thing he ever wanted to.

His hands move to my waist, slow and searching, like he's still not convinced I'll vanish beneath him. "Olivia..." he murmurs against my skin, and I realize it's not just want I see in his eyes.

It's need.

And it's not just physical. It's deeper. Hungrier.

I never thought I could make someone like Draco Malfoy come undone.

But I see it now. The way his hands tremble slightly when he pushes my hair behind my ear. The way he kisses down my jaw like I'm something fragile and powerful all at once. I arch into him instinctively, trying to meet him halfway.

He pulls back slightly, breathing heavy, resting his forehead against mine. "This... isn't just a thing," he says quietly, more to himself than to me. "No," I whisper, chest tightening. "It never was."

His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, slow, deliberate. My skin lights up under his touch. Every inch he explores feels like it was waiting for him. My breath hitches as I run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer.

No one has ever made me feel like this—like I'm the only girl in the world. Like I'm not just wanted, but seen. Cherished. Desired beyond reason.

No one else makes me forget everything but this exact moment.

Only him.

He looks down at me like I'm a miracle he doesn't know how to deserve. "Tell me if you want me to stop." I shake my head. "Don't."

His lips crash against mine again, and this time it's fire—scorching and real. And as he lays me down, as his body presses against mine, I know one thing for certain:

Whatever we're about to become... there's no going back.

Not after this.

Not after him.

Robes abandoned. Clothes gone. And he sees me for who I am, not what people want me to be. His mouth comes in contact with my breasts as fast as he can. Like wasting any second not touching each other, not devouring each other is a lifetime wasted.

My fingers run through his hair again, his cold fingers teasing my clit. Sending currents of pleasure through my body, "Draco" It comes out as a plea rather than a moan and I can feel his smirk against my nipples. "So, so needy" He whispers trailing kisses down my body.

He grabs my thighs to pull me on the edge of the bed. He kneels and parts my thighs. The hunger in his eyes, the hunger in his mouth and the hunger in his hands only made me realize I was in for the night. 

His tongue settles between my folds making me arch my body. Finally finding pleasure that I was deprived of for so long. My hands fist his sheets as judgement clouds my mind. All I want this man to do now, is to keep kneeling between my thighs for the rest of our lives.

I can already feel my orgasm closer than I want it to be. I try and push his head away, close my legs while his head is still where I want him to be. His tongue still working as I need him to be. His large hands force open my legs and a sharp hit is earned against my pussy.

His mouth is feasting against my lips now. Holding me down by wrapping both his arms around my legs. Like I was going to run away from all the pleasure he has saved for me. "Draco... I'm gonna-" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence as they turn to groans, moans and curses as I come undone on his mouth.

And I knew that this was only a part of what was going to happen for the rest of the night.

Or even the rest of my life.

I wake up in the middle of the night to the soft drag of fingers along the mark on my shoulder. The room is dim, quiet except for the rhythm of Draco's breathing behind me. We're tangled in each other, skin to skin, our bodies still warm from everything we shared just hours ago. His hand brushes over the mark again, and I feel his breath against my neck.

"He really is back, isn't he?" he murmurs, eyes fixed on the place the mark burns. I nod, unable to lie, even if part of me wants to. He's silent for a beat, then asks, "How's your practice going?"

I roll over to face him, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "I'm teaching them. What do you think?" I tease, watching the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. "Remind me to give you the Squad's position sheet at breakfast," he says. "Timing, names—it'll help."

I blink. "Harry has the Marauders' Map. We can see—"

"No." He cuts me off, stroking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Umbridge is putting spells on us now. So we can't be tracked. She's onto you, darling. You need to be careful." My chest tightens. He says it so softly, like he's trying not to scare me. "You'd really do that? Help me? Help us?"

His fingers curl lightly in my hair. "Just you," he says, without hesitation.

My heart aches in my chest. I don't say anything—I just kiss him. His lips are warm, and he deepens the kiss before I even have a chance to pull away. It's slow this time, familiar. Like he's trying to re-remember every part of me from before.

When I finally break the kiss, he pouts like a child. I roll my eyes and sit up, wrapping his silk bedsheet around my body. The floor is freezing when I place my feet on it. "Where are you going?" he asks, voice low and still rough with sleep.

"Shower," I say, taking a slow breath. "Hermione and the others are back in the morning. If I'm missing from my dorm, they'll freak out." He nods, understanding. But when I try to stand, my knees buckle slightly. My legs wobble like they've completely forgotten how to function.

"Draco," I groan, grabbing the bed for balance, "I can't walk." He smirks, smug as ever. "Didn't expect you to. Otherwise, I wouldn't have done my job right."

"Help me, smartass."

He stands and scoops me up into his arms without hesitation. "Let's save water," he says. "Shower together."

We're laughing by the time we step into the steam. Kissing between bursts of hot water, trading playful touches and breathless smiles like we've done this a hundred times. Like we've always belonged to each other.

Back in his room, I wrap a towel around myself, and he does the same around his waist. My clothes are shredded from earlier—thanks to him—so he offers me one of his shirts. It swallows me whole, hanging off my frame, and I catch him staring at me like I've just handed him the moon.

"You look cute in my clothes," he says, reaching out to pinch my nose. I swat his hand away with a grin.

Before I leave, I wrap my arms around him. "We have to keep this a secret, Draco. At least for now." He pulls back just a little, not angry, just confused. "Why? Everyone will get over it. It doesn't bother them that much."

The fact that he wants people to know—it catches me off guard. He wants the world to know he's with me. A Gryffindor. A half-blood. Me.

"I suppose so," I murmur. "But Ron... he's protective." Draco's face scrunches in distaste. "Why do you care what Weaselbee thinks?" I roll my eyes. "Because he kind of considers me his baby sister, alright?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Wait—seriously?"

"Yeah. With everything that's happened... he's like family. Hermione already sort of suspected us. I don't care what Harry thinks," I add, and Draco cuts in with a smirk.

"That's my girl," he says, pecking my nose. I giggle, leaning into him.

"Fred and George won't mind. Ginny won't either. Chris might, but he's a Slytherin and you're you so... it'll be fine." He sighs, brushing a hand through my damp hair, and I kiss him one last time. "See you at breakfast, Malfoy."

"What? I'm walking you back to your common room."

We walk side by side in the quiet halls, the castle half-asleep around us. As we reach the Fat Lady's portrait, he gives me that look. "A kiss from the Gryffindor Princess?"

I smirk. "Oh, honey. I think you've got that wrong." He blinks.

"I'm not the Gryffindor Princess." I flip my hair dramatically. "I'm the fucking Gryffindor Queen."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright then. I suppose I can bump myself up to Slytherin King."

I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

He gives me a small, soft smile. "Goodnight, Montgomery."