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Chapter Text

The sky was heavy with clouds, and the air tasted like something was about to begin.

It was the 1st of September, and Y/n Damaris sat alone in a shadowed corner of a Hogwarts Express cabin, fingers trailing absentmindedly along the fogged glass of the window. She wasn't nervous or anxious. She was thrilled. Another year at the castle meant long nights in the library, whispered secrets in the common room, and the kind of structured chaos that made her feel more alive than the pristine silence of home ever had.

Some people were surprise she hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw. But ambition ran in her blood like ice, ambition and expectation, the kind that came with a last name like Damaris. Slytherin had always been inevitable.

And rivalry? That was a language she spoke fluently. Especially with one particular boy - Draco Malfoy. The name alone made her jaw tense. Arrogant, cruel, brilliant in the worst ways. Always walking the line between charming and venomous. Born of the same cold-blooded tradition she was. Raised with the same burden of legacy. It was almost cruel how well they understood each other. Almost.

But understanding didn't mean friendship. And it certainly didn't mean forgiveness.

As the train clattered along the tracks, casting its rhythmic echo into the air, Y/n stared at her blurred reflection. A flicker of movement in the doorway pulled her from her thoughts.

Footsteps.

Then voices - sharp and familiar.

Blaise Zabini stepped in first, followed by Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, laughter already spilling from their lips. Theodore Nott nodded once at Y/n, sliding into the seat across from her with the quiet confidence of someone who never needed to speak quietly to be noticed.

And then he arrived. Draco Malfoy.

She didn't move. Just rolled her eyes as he swept into the cabin like he owned the damn train, like his name was carved into the bones of the world. He didn't spare her a glance as he sat, deliberately, on the farthest seat from her, arms crossed.

Y/n hugged her girls quickly, exchanging smirks and quiet greetings with Blaise and Theo. But her eyes kept drifting, unintentionally, to him.

The tension hug between them like storm clouds ready to burst.

The train whistled sharply as it tore through the misty countryside, blurring green hills into watery streaks beyond the glass. Rain had started to dot the windows, each drop racing another in crooked paths, and the sky was cloaked in an ominous sheet of grey. Inside the cabin, the warmth clashed with the coldness of unspoken words.

Y/n leaned back into her seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She kept her gaze fixed on the window, but the reflection in the glass betrayed her - Draco Malfoy, sitting with the practiced elegance of someone used to power, jaw tight and gaze razor-sharp. His platinum-blonde hair looked almost silver in the dim lighting, perfectly styled like always, not a strand out of place. She hated how composed he always seemed.

Pansy's laugh pierced through the heavy silence like a wand tip through fog. "So, who's ready to have our annual party at the Black Lake?" She said excitedly, stretching her legs over Blaise's lap, who didn't object.

Daphne smiled, remembering what always happened on those parties. Swimming, games, drinking and storytelling. Theodore hummed, half-listening, nose buried in a leather-bound book. But Y/n wasn't listening to them anymore. Her thoughts were slipping sideways, back to Draco's silence. It wasn't like him. Usually, he had something to say. A smirk. A jab. A dig at her robes or her posture or her 'pitiful attempt at being clever.'

Yet now... nothing.

She stole a glance.

He was staring at her. Not at her face, exactly - but at her, studying her like she was a puzzle with a piece missing. And when his eyes finally met hers, it hit her like a hex to the chest: that cold, unreadable look. Like she was just another obstacle. Just another Slytherin to compete with.

Y/n scoffed quietly and turned back to the window.

"Something funny, Damaris?" He drawled, voice low, taunting.

There it was.

She didn't look at him, didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "Just amused at how quiet you were being. I thought maybe you'd finally learned to keep your mouth shut."

The others chuckled, but it wasn't mocking - it was curious, entertained. They were used to this dance.

Draco leaned forward just slightly, enough for his voice to carry across the cabin. "And I thought you might've finally realised not everything's about you."

She turned her head now, slowly, with a smile. "Oh Malfoy, if it were about me, I'd be bored already."

Draco's lips curved just slightly, something between a grin and a sneer. "Then let's hope this year keeps you entertained."

Thunder cracked in the distance, a jagged ripple sound that matched the strange flicker of tension between them. Y/n swallowed the heat rising in her throat. She hated how his voice lingered long after he stopped speaking. How his presence felt like gravity - heavy, inescapable.

But she wouldn't give him that power.

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur of chatter and distant raindrops. She barely joined in, letting her thoughts coil around her like smoke, Hogwarts would be waiting at the end of this track: dark towers cutting into the sky, secrets hiding behind stone walls, and promise of another year of rivalry.

Another year of silence screaming louder than words.

The castle loomed in the distance, riding out of the mist like a half-forgotten memory. Its jagged towers pierced the storm, heavy sky and the lake below churned beneath an unsettling wind that swept across the grounds like a whisper.

Y/n stepped off the train with the others, the chill in the air cutting through her robes as students poured out onto the platform. Lanterns flickered in the darkening twilight, casting ghostly glows over the cobblestones.

"Merlin, I've missed this place," Daphne sighed beside her, tugging her cloak tighter.

"Speak for yourself," Pansy muttered. "One more year of sharing dorms with girls who don't know how to shut their bloody curtains at night and I might hex someone in their sleep."

Y/n chuckled under her breath but her gaze wandered.

And there he was - Malfoy.

Of course, he looked like he'd stepped out of a pure-blood portrait: expression unreadable, posture perfect, eyes scanning the crowd like he was ranking every student by their usefulness. He walked slightly ahead of the group, as if the path belonged to him.

Y/n didn't mean to walk beside him. It just... happened.

The carriages arrived, drawn as always by those strange, skeletal creatures only a few could see. Thestrals. She's seen them for the first time in third year. She never told anyone how long it took her to stop dreaming about them.

She stepped towards the carriage, only to realise Draco was doing the same.

Their eyes met for a brief second.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I didn't realise you'd forgotten how to walk in a straight line, Damaris."

"Strange," she replied coolly, "I was about to say the same about you."

Draco smirked faintly, tilting his head. "You always have something clever to say. Pity it rarely holds weight."

"Better than being predictable," she said, brushing past him into the carriage.

He followed without a word, settling across from her. Blaise, Pansy and Theodore filled the rest of the space. The door creaked shut.

Outside, the storm finally broke. Rain slashed across the carriage roof like a warning. The wheals creaked forward.

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the sound of hooves, wind, and rain.

Draco's eyes found hers again in the dark. "Try not to embarrass yourself in Potions this year."

She gave him a razor-edged smile. "Worried I'll outperform you again?"

He scoffed, but there was something sharper in his voice now. "Please. The day you outperform me is the day I stop showing up to class."

"Perfect," she replied without missing a beat. "You might finally do us all a favour."

The group let out a few low chuckled, but Draco didn't flinch. He just leaned back, arms folded, gaze unwavering.

"Careful, Damaris," he said quietly, his voice like cold steel. "You keep trying to match me, you might forget who you really are."

She leaned in slightly, just enough to meet his tone. "I haven't forgotten. I just stopped pretending that matters to me."

The moment stretched too long, until the castle gates came into view, shining wet under the storm, and the carriage finally groaned to a halt.

Draco looked away first.

Y/n exhaled, slow and steady, before stepping out into the rain.

The Great Feast had ended in a blur of flickering candlelight and murmured gossip. Plates had clattered with roast meats and golden goblets brimmed with pumpkin juice and fire whiskey smuggled in under enchanted napkins. But even the grandeur of the Great Hall felt dim in comparison to the chill that awaited below.

The dungeons were as cold and still as ever. Each step down into the Slytherin corridors echoed off damp stone and flickered torchlight. It smelled faintly of wet moss and secrets. The Black Lake pressed against the outer wars like a silence goes to watching everything unfold.

Y/n's footsteps slowed as she approached the entrance. The stone wall whispered its command: "Pure-blood."

The wall groaned open, revealing the Slytherin common room: a cavernous, elegant space lit with green flames that danced in the hearth like living serpents. Shadows clung to the high-arched ceiling, and the windows, submerged deep beneath the lake, let in a green-blue gloom that shifted with the water.

Students filled the space, voices low and languid. The Slytherin common room was never loud, it was too refined for that. But it watched. It listened. Every glance was calculated. Every whisper held weight.

Y/n's presence did not go unnoticed.

"Your dorm's probably warmer than this tomb," Pansy grumbled beside her, rubbing her arms. "Bet the house elves were bribed to charm your pillows again."

"I'd sleep there every night if you let me," Daphne said, adjusting the silver clip in her hair.

Y/n allowed a small smile to flicker on her lips. "You know where the door is."

"Don't tempt us," Pansy grinned.

Y/n's private dormitory branched off from the upper left of the common room - a thick oak door marked subtly with silver runes. It was a privilege granted to only a few: those with names long enough and pockets deep enough to demand it. Draco had one as well, on the opposite side of the corridor.

As she stepped inside, the room welcomed her like a secret. Dark green silk draped over a large canopy bed. The furniture was obsidian-stained wood with silver detailing, and the flickering torches cast long shadows across the stone. The windows, thick glass peering into the Black Lake, let in dim, rippling light that made the room feel underwater, sunken, forgotten. She liked it that way.

The door creaked open again behind her. Pansy and Daphne slipped in without needing to be invited. They flopped onto the bed without a word, already at home.

"I forgot how unnervingly perfect this place is," Daphne murmured.

Pansy rolled over. "If I wake up with a kelpie outside that window again, I'm screaming."

"You scream every time you see your own reflection in the morning," Y/n replied jokingly making both of the girls laugh.

Just as she stepped towards the wardrobe, she head it, a knock. Not loud. Not demanding. Rather sharp and intentional.

She exchanged a look with the girls. Then opened the door.

Draco Malfoy stood there, arms folded, robes still pristine despite the storm. His hair, though damp, looked deliberate.

He didn't glance at Pansy or Daphne. Just her.

"You got a moment?" He asked with no malice in his tone. But none of the warmth of familiarity either.

Y/n arched a brow. "Now?"

He didn't blink. "Now."

She stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. The corridor was quiet. The only sound was the crackle of distant torches and the slow, muffled pulse of the lake pressing against the walls.

He didn't speak right away. Just looked at her.

"You might want to watch yourself this year," he said finally, voice low. Almost a whisper.

She crossed her arms. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

His eyes flicked to hers. Sharp, cold, but not cruel.

"No," he said. "It's a warning."

Her breath caught for a fraction of a second. "From who?"

He hesitated. Then leaned in, voice barely audible.

"From the people who don't know when to shut their mouths. And the ones who think bloodlines protect them."

She stared at him, heart pounding, but not from fear.

From the tone. The implication. From the fact that Draco Malfoy never warned anyone.

He stepped back, expression unreadable again. "You're clever, Damaris. Don't get caught trying to prove it."

Then, without a word, he turned and walked back toward his own dorm, disappearing into shadow like he'd never been there at all.

Y/n stood there for a moment longer, listening to the silence.

There was something brewing this year.

Something darker than usual.

And for once... Malfoy wasn't the storm.

He was the warning before it.

Chapter Text

The Black Lake shimmered like glass beneath the moonlight, its surface disturbed only by the low breeze and the occasional flick of something beneath. Something unseen.

Far beyond the torch-lit castle windows, cloaked in silence and forest shadows, a small outcrop by the lake glowed faintly with charmed lanterns. Enchanted orbs floated mid-air, glowing green and silver, casting rippling reflections onto the water and the grass. The Slytherin crest shimmered faintly on the largest lantern.

Y/n Damaris arrived just after midnight.

She stepped past the charmed fire pit, surrounded by plush green cushions and floating trays of drinks that glimmered dangerously under the moonlight. Bottles stolen from Manor cellars. Goblets that refilled themselves. Someone had spelled a speaker to charm the wind with violins and heavy bass beneath it.

The first person she saw was Blaise Zabini, lounging by the lake.

“Damaris,” he drawled, lifting his drink. “Thought you’d skip this year and lock yourself in your princess tower with your books.”

Y/n gave him a look as she unfastened her cloak, the wind catching the silk of her sleeves. “And miss watching Parkinson get drunk enough to spill family secrets again? Never.”

That earned a low laugh. “Touché.”

Around them, students from the older years were already gathering - Theo Nott in quiet conversation, Daphne setting up an impromptu circle near the water’s edge, Pansy passing out goblets with an arched brow that dared anyone to ask what was inside. All Slytherins. All trusted.

They were barefoot already - shoes tossed into piles, cloaks hung on branches. The grass beneath their feet was cool and slick with dew, and the lake whispered beside them like it was listening.

“Fashionably late, are we?” Daphne grinned, grabbing Y/n’s hand and tugging her down into the circle. “You have to hear what happened over the summer-“

“I thought you were in Greece,” Y/n said, raising a brow.

“I was. And it was going perfectly fine until I nearly started a duel with a half-blind warlock over who enchanted the sunbed charms. I tripped, he thought I was attacking him. Long story short - my mum hexed his cat, and I got banned from the beach.”

The group erupted in laughter.

“You’re the only person who can get kicked out of a magical resort for being clumsy,” Blaise said, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t clumsy, I was majestic,” Daphne replied, dramatically flipping her hair.

Y/n smiled - not wide, but real. This was familiar. This was theirs.

And then-

She felt it. That shift in the air.

The silence before something cold walks in.

Draco Malfoy stepped into the light.

Hair moonlit, collar slightly open, sleeves rolled back just enough to show the smooth line of his forearms. Not trying. Just existing. Like he always did - perfectly unbothered.

And, unfortunately, looking like the lake belonged to him.

Y/n didn’t flinch. Just leaned back on one hand, lifting her drink to her lips, watching him over the rim of her goblet.

Draco’s eyes flicked over the circle, then stopped on her.

His gaze didn’t linger.

But it didn’t pass, either.

The fire crackled louder now, green embers snapping into the air. The enchanted lanterns pulsed in rhythm with the low beat drifting across the water - not music, exactly. More like atmosphere.

Pansy sprawled on a velvet throw, legs crossed at the ankle and wand tapping idly against her knee. Blaise, ever the instigator, refilled everyone’s goblet with a lazy flick.

Y/n took hers and sipped slowly.

“Alright,” Blaise said, tilting his head like a game show host, “Daphne’s cursed vacation aside… anyone else have a holiday worth bragging about?”

“Oh, for once, not me,” Theo muttered. “My mother locked me in the library with our cousins and said if we didn’t memorize at least fifty potion profiles she’d disinherit us all.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “That sounds like a dream, actually. I was dragged to my aunt’s fifth wedding in Sicily. The groom was younger than me. I needed therapy halfway through the speeches.”

Laughter broke out again, and then eyes started turning - expectantly - to Draco and Y/n.

Two perfectly still faces. Two perfectly rehearsed smiles.

“Well?” Daphne asked, grinning. “You two didn’t even owl. What did you do over the break?”

A pause.

Y/n answered first, tone flat but poised. “Just stayed home. Family obligations.”

Draco didn’t blink. “Same.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.

“Must’ve been thrilling,” Blaise said, smirking. “Locked in old houses, dressed like heirs to the throne, pretending you don’t want to strangle your fathers.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile didn’t fade.

Draco gave Blaise a sideways look - sharp, but not hostile. “Not all of us spend the summer doing nothing.”

“Right,” Blaise said, sipping. “You two did do something.” He gestured lazily between them. “Exactly the same thing. In exactly the same way. So much in common and yet-”

Y/n cut in, cool as a blade. “That’s where the similarities end.”

“Oh?”

Draco finally turned to look at her properly. “You say that like you know where the line is.”

Y/n didn’t flinch. “I’ve been raised to. Haven’t you?”

He smirked faintly. “Lines are for people who have something to lose.”

“Then you must be treading carefully.”

The silence was full of firelight and flickering glances. Even Blaise didn’t interrupt that one.

Draco sipped his drink. “Family and business come first. Not everyone understands that.”

The words hung between them like smoke. Y/n met his gaze head-on, expression unreadable.

“I understand,” she said finally. “I just don’t use it as an excuse to avoid real life.”

And just like that, the circle moved on. Pansy made some crack about how she wished she could skip her own life, and Daphne was recounting her Greek hexed-cat drama again, and Blaise was refilling the drinks with a mischievous grin like he hadn’t just lit a fuse between two ancient houses.

But Draco and Y/n?
They didn’t laugh.
They sat just a little too still.
Like a storm waiting for the next crack of thunder.

A dare was always inevitable.
With Slytherins, it just took longer to get there.

By now, the goblets were half-drained, robes were discarded, and the night air had cooled just enough to make the lake seem like punishment. Which, of course, made it irresistible.

“I’m not going in first,” Pansy declared, arms crossed.

“Cowards,” Blaise said lazily, kicking off his shoes. “Someone needs to set an example.”

“Theodore’s already drunk,” Daphne pointed out. “He’d drown and haunt us forever.”

“His ghost would still judge us,” Y/n added.

A few others began wading in - cautiously at first. Then more boldly. Water lapped at ankles, knees. Some shrieked as they went under, most laughed. The chill cut like knives, but it was the kind that woke you up. That made you feel alive.

Y/n stepped toward the water’s edge, the grass damp beneath her bare feet. A soft wind rolled off the lake, lifting strands of her hair. She could feel eyes on her - not from the group.

From behind her.

She turned.

Draco stood by the bank, shirt unbuttoned and slung casually over one shoulder, wand tucked into the waistband of his trousers. The moonlight carved out every line of him - pale skin, sharp collarbones, posture so relaxed it was clearly intentional.

He wasn’t even looking at her.
Which was worse somehow.

Y/n’s breath caught, just for a second.
She’d never admit it.

She crossed her arms, smirking slightly. “Trying to seduce the lake, Malfoy?”

That got his attention. He looked at her - calm, unreadable.

“If I were, I wouldn’t need to try.”

The silence between them pulsed. For a second, she hated that he looked like he belonged there - cold, aristocratic, and untouchable.
And worse… she hated that he knew it.

He stepped closer, stopping just beside her, the moonlight catching in his silver-blond hair.

“You first,” he said, nodding to the water.

She tilted her head. “Afraid?”

“Please. I’ve seen worse things in that lake than your swimming.”

She gave him one slow look. Then smiled.

And shoved him.

Draco stumbled forward with a shout - not panicked, just furious - and hit the water with a sharp, icy splash.

The surface shattered. Slytherins nearby whooped and laughed. A few cursed. Draco disappeared for just a second, then came up, gasping.

“I swear-” he started, glaring at her.

But Y/n was already leaping in.

Her body hit the water like a blade. Freezing. Blinding. For one breathless second she felt weightless, swallowed whole by the lake.

When she surfaced, she was nose-to-nose with Malfoy, who slicked his hair back with both hands, blinking water from his lashes. His expression was unreadable.

“Are you insane?” he hissed.

“Apparently,” she said, breathless, smiling in spite of herself.

Then - just for a heartbeat - they floated there in the moonlight. Quiet. Alone in chaos. Water lapping against their skin. Their words had always been weapons. But now… it was just silence.

Unsettling. Unfamiliar.

And then-

A shriek from the shore.

“Guys-?” Daphne’s voice cracked. “What the hell was that?”

Y/n turned.

On the bank, Theo stood pointing at a shadow rippling beneath the surface - far too large. Far too fast. The enchanted lanterns began to flicker, one by one, dimming like candles being snuffed.

The lake grew still.

Too still.

“Okay,” Blaise said, suddenly sober. “What the hell did someone summon?”

“I swear I didn’t summon anything!” Daphne yelled, backing up toward the trees. “All I did was a charm to warm the water! That’s it!”

“The water is still freezing, by the way,” Theo muttered, eyes wide and glued to the lake’s surface.

Blaise had gone deadly quiet. He raised his wand slowly, tip glowing faintly. “Something’s moving under there.”

“Maybe it’s just the giant squid?” Pansy suggested weakly, pulling her robe tighter. “It’s harmless. I think.”

“No.” Draco’s voice was low, firm. “That wasn’t the squid. That was too fast. And too deep.”

One of the floating lanterns above the water crackled, sparked - and dropped straight into the lake with a hiss.

Y/n felt her skin go cold again. Not from the water this time.

She and Draco waded quickly toward the edge. Her wet robes clung to her legs, weighing her down. Draco reached the bank first and extended a hand out of pure reflex.

She didn’t take it.

Still, she didn’t miss the flicker of his jaw tightening when she ignored him.

Theo stepped forward, wand raised, and muttered a detection charm under his breath. The tip of his wand glowed pale green… then sputtered.

“I think something’s interfering with the magic,” he said. “The energy down here’s… wrong.”

Wrong.

Y/n hated that word more than anything. It meant broken. It meant out of control. And that was never good.

Daphne whispered, “Maybe we should go back-”

“Wait,” Blaise interrupted. He was staring at the middle of the lake now, eyes squinting.

Something was rising.

Not like a creature breaching the surface - no. Like a shimmer. A distortion in the water itself. The lake rippled outward in unnatural rings, and for just a breath - one moment too fast for comfort - the group saw it:

A dark shape, submerged, vast and still.
A tail. A mouth.
Or maybe… a door.

Then-

BOOM. A burst of green light exploded from the lake’s center.

It wasn’t spellfire.

It wasn’t any spell they knew.

Wind lashed at them. The trees groaned. All the enchanted lights blew out at once.

Screams. Not childish screams - not from fear of cold water or dares gone wrong. These were sharp. Real.

Draco grabbed his wand. “Get back! Now!”

Theo tried a warding charm but it ricocheted like static and burst in a spray of sparks, lighting the wet grass with green fire for a second before going out.

Y/n turned just in time to see a tendril of black smoke slither from the lake like mist given claws. It stretched toward them - slow and soundless.

And then-

It stopped.

Just inches from Y/n’s boot.
Humming. Like it was… waiting.

Everyone froze.

Not even the wind moved now.

And from somewhere behind them - in the trees or the shadows or maybe the water itself - a voice whispered.

A language they didn’t know.

A curse, maybe.

Chapter Text

The mist-shape writhed. Still humming. Still waiting.

Y/n’s grip on her wand tightened. She stepped forward, wand raised and looked at Draco. “On three?”

He nodded sharply, eyes locked on the dark tendril like it had personally offended him.

One… two… three…, twin jets of spellfire erupted from their wands - Y/n’s a white-hot streak of Incendio Maxima, Draco’s a crackling spear of cursed flame. The smoke creature recoiled, sizzled, twisted.

But it didn’t vanish.

It grew.

The thing expanded - threads of it weaving together like a net, lifting slowly into the air, stretching above them like a living storm cloud. Faces seemed to flicker within it. Not real ones but suggestions. Half-familiar. Laughing, crying, screaming.

More spells followed.

“Confringo!”

“Ignis Umbra!”

“Ventus Divisio!”

Another pulse from the lake. The green light dimmed. A shape flickered under the water again - too large to be real. Too still to be safe.

Then, one of the shadows stretched forward - straight for Y/n.

Draco stepped in front of her instinctively. His ward shimmered brighter.

She blinked, surprised. “I had it.”

“I know.”

Another spell. “Oscura Fractum.” His. A clean tear through the mist.

“Lux Vinculum.” Hers. Chains of bright white light snapped over one tendril. It twisted violently before evaporating.

There was a moment - brief, heavy - where it felt like they were winning.

Then it changed.

The thing grew darker, its hum rising. The lake began to ripple outward again.

A shriek - low and guttural - echoed from nowhere.

The air turned sharp. Cold.

They cast again, faster now. The spells began to clash, spark, weaken. Her fire met his shadow. His shatterwave disrupted her shield.

Each incantation more desperate than the last. The creature rippled under the assault, but it didn’t retreat. It hovered - seemingly bored, almost amused.

Then-

Draco’s voice cut the air like a dagger:
“You’re doing it wrong.”

Y/n rounded on him, hair wild and damp from the mist, fury already lighting her veins. “Excuse me?”

“That last one was a ward-breaker, not a banishment. Are you even thinking?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re the Ministry’s golden boy of dark magic now,” she snapped, stepping closer.

“At least I’m not throwing dueling spells like a bloody Hufflepuff!”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Say that again.”

The creature stilled.

Draco’s jaw clenched. “Maybe I should do this alone.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You think that overpolished ego of yours can handle this without blowing up the forest?”

“You just don’t want to admit I’m better.”

“Oh, I know you’re not.”

The tendril of smoke - now nearly a towering column - began to pull back. As if… satisfied.

Y/n and Draco both noticed at once.

It was retreating.

Not from their spells.

From their fight.

They stopped, breathing hard. The mist flickered, curling in on itself like it had never been there, drawn back into the lake’s black surface without a splash.

The wind returned. Gentle, cold.

The trees stilled.

The water went quiet.

No trace of the thing remained.

Just the moonlight. Just their friends, still frozen near the shore. Just the unbearable tension between them.

Y/n and Draco stared at the empty water.

Their wands still raised.
Their shoulders still tense.

But the creature, whatever it was, had vanished…
the moment they fell apart.

Draco looked at Y/n.

Y/n looked at Draco.

Neither spoke.

But the same question hung between them like fog:

Why did it vanish… when we broke apart?

The wind had returned, but no one dared move for a long while.

A soft crackle came from a still-burning lantern. Somewhere in the grass, a bottle rolled and stopped.

Daphne was the first to speak. Her voice was thin. “Did that really…?”

“Yeah,” muttered Theo, wide-eyed. “That happened.”

Blaise let out a low whistle, trying, and failing, to appear calm. “I knew this party was going to be legendary, but I wasn’t thinking Lake-of-Doom levels.”

“Shut up,” Daphne hissed, hugging her knees.

Enzo Flint ran a hand through his damp hair, eyes scanning the lake like it might move again. “I swear I saw… teeth. Or something with eyes.”

“It didn’t have eyes,” muttered Millicent. “It didn’t need them.”

Y/n said nothing. She was still clutching her wand, her breath shallow. Across from her, Draco paced in short, precise lines - the kind that meant he was rattled and trying very hard not to show it.

A sharp voice broke the fragile silence.

“I think we should tell someone.”

Everyone turned.

It was Ernest Rowle, a fifth-year, sharp, cheekboned, always quoting obscure spell theory. And currently, visibly pale.

Theo raised a brow. “Tell who, exactly?”

“The professors. Dumbledore. Someone.”

“Right. Let’s just go to McGonagall and say, ‘Excuse us, Professor, during our illegal midnight party, an ancient lake monster might’ve tried to eat us. Tea?’”

“It wasn’t just a monster,” Ernest snapped. “It spoke. None of us knew the language. That’s ancient magic. Old magic. What if we… what if we woke something up?”

A few heads turned nervously toward the still-glimmering surface of the lake.

“It disappeared,” Daphne said, her voice shaking slightly. “It’s over.”

“But why did it disappear?” Rowle asked. “Spells weren’t working. That ward Theo tried bounced. Magic doesn’t bounce like that.”

No one had an answer.

Blaise broke the silence again, folding his arms and glancing between Y/n and Draco. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t random. That thing waited. It hovered, then vanished when you two…” He gestured vaguely. “…started arguing.”

Draco scoffed. “Coincidence.”

“Sure.” Blaise’s smirk didn’t match his eyes. “Except it only appeared after you two got shoved into the lake together. Bit romantic, isn’t it? Star-crossed Slytherins awaken lake demon.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but her heart thudded uncomfortably.

“I’m serious,” Ernest pressed. “There are legends - my uncle worked with a Department of Mysteries archivist. He told me once that the Black Lake used to be…” He paused, glancing around. “…sealed. Ages ago. The merpeople don’t talk about it, but it’s in the old texts. Something beneath. Some… doorway. Guarded by blood magic.”

Theo gave a short laugh. “You’ve read too many books.”

“No,” whispered Millicent. “I’ve heard that too. My grandfather was a Curse-Breaker. He refused to swim in the lake. Ever.”

The group went quiet again.

A single owl hooted in the distance.

For a moment, the only sound was the water brushing the rocks - calm again, like nothing had happened.

But the silence wasn’t peace.

It was tension.
Memory.
Waiting.

Everyone started walking back to castle.

The others walked ahead in clumps - damp, muttering, trying to act unfazed.

Y/n found herself behind the group. Not by much. Just enough to hear her own footsteps over the crunch of grass.

Draco was beside her.

Not close.
Not far.
That deliberate, infuriating middle ground he always held with her.

Neither said a word.

Water dripped from his sleeves.

Her hair clung to her neck.

Their wands were still out, still gripped too tightly, though whatever danger had passed… had passed. Right?

The castle loomed ahead, lit faintly by torchlight. The windows looked warm. Unaware.

Y/n finally glanced sideways, just once.

Draco was staring straight ahead, jaw tight, expression unreadable, except maybe for that one, faint line between his brows. Thought. Or worry.

Or something else.

She looked away first.

But he spoke first.

Voice low, casual. The kind of casual that meant he’d been thinking it for too long.

“You panicked.”

Y/n’s head snapped toward him. “I did not.”

“You froze,” he said, like it was fact. “For two seconds. Before we started casting.”

“So did you,” she snapped.

“I didn’t.”

“Please. You looked like you were about to wet yourself.”

He scoffed, a sharp exhale that could’ve been a laugh, but wasn’t.

Y/n crossed her arms. “You’re not untouchable, you know.”

“And you’re not as powerful as you think.”

They walked in silence again.

Then - soft, almost imperceptible - he muttered, “We held it off.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “Together.”

A pause.

Neither of them looked at the other.

Then Draco said, quieter, “That’s what I don’t like.”

The common room was still humming with low voices when Y/n slipped away. Her robes were damp from the lake mist, her hair still clinging in dark strands to her cheek. She ignored the questioning looks - the way some of them followed her like they were waiting for an explanation.

Her dorm was mercifully empty. The green-glass lamps cast rippling shadows over the walls, making it feel as if the lake itself had followed her inside. She sat on the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees, and for a moment she just breathed.

It should’ve been fear she felt. Whatever had risen from the depths wasn’t meant to be seen, let alone fought. But instead, her mind kept replaying the way she and Draco had moved - as if they’d done it a hundred times before. No hesitation, no wasted movement. A silent understanding between two people who should have been too proud to stand side by side.

Two heirs. Two names older than the castle itself.
And together, they’d been something almost unstoppable.

She clenched her jaw. She didn’t like the thought of it, that maybe their families’ legacies weren’t just history, but something living in them, running through their veins like a command they couldn’t refuse.

Still, for all the coordination and force, the thing in the lake hadn’t been defeated by power.
It had vanished only when they turned on each other.

Y/n’s fingers curled in the bedspread. That wasn’t chance.

A faint shiver ran through her - the kind that wasn’t entirely from cold.

She told herself it didn’t matter. That tomorrow, the lake would just be water again. That she wouldn’t think about the way the green light had caught in Draco’s eyes, or the strange hum that had wrapped around her skin when they stood together.

But as she lay back, staring up at the canopy above, Y/n couldn’t shake the truth she didn’t want to name:
Whatever had happened out there wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

The castle had a way of swallowing secrets.

After the night at the Black Lake, whispers spread through the Slytherin common room like candle smoke, curling, faint, and impossible to pin down. Some swore it was just a prank gone wrong. Others muttered about ghosts, curses, or creatures older than the school itself. But none of them dared speak too loudly. The lake seemed to hear things.

And in the middle of it all, there was silence.

Not from the house as a whole, but between two people.

Y/n had not spoken a word to Draco Malfoy since that night. Not when they crossed paths in the common room. Not when they brushed shoulders in the corridor on their way to Potions. Not when their gazes snagged for one burning instant across the Great Hall.

Every glance was a duel. Sharp, cold, wordless.

She caught him once by the library archway, framed in lantern-light. He looked the same as always, perfectly pressed uniform, expression carved from marble, but his fingers tapped restlessly against the book he held, betraying a tension only someone watching too closely would notice.

And he caught her, too. He always did. His eyes lingered a fraction too long, as though he were waiting for her to speak first. She never did.

There was something almost unbearable in the air between them - not absence, not distance. It was more like the moment after lightning, when the world holds its breath, waiting to see if the storm will strike again.

The others noticed.

Blaise arched a brow every time one of them entered the room, muttering once to Theo, “It’s like living with two ice sculptures.” Daphne, caught in the middle more than once, bit her lip as if she wanted to ask what had happened, but thought better of it. Theo muttered darkly about “frozen tempers” and “two bloody icebergs” whenever the silence thickened too much.

Even the professors seemed to feel it. In Potions, Snape’s eyes flicked back and forth between them more than once, narrowing as if he suspected some private quarrel. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, when their names were paired on the same parchment list for dueling practice, a hush fell over the room, and even the Gryffindors leaned in to watch.

The duel never happened. Both Y/n and Draco had requested reassignment before it began, citing “family business” in tones sharp enough to end the conversation.

But the weight lingered.

Lessons dragged on, each word slipping past like a blurred echo, drowned out by memory: the monster, the shimmer in the water, the hum that had reached straight into Y/n’s chest. The way her and Draco’s magic had twined together for one brief, terrifying instant. It had felt…

No. She shoved the thought away.

Whatever had happened at the lake was finished. Forgotten. Better left buried at the bottom of the water where it belonged.

And yet-

Every time her eyes found Draco’s, it rose again, unspoken and heavy, like the castle itself remembered.

The library at night was not silent.

Everyone thought it was, but Y/n knew better. The lamps hummed faintly, the old shelves sighed under their weight, and the lake itself - pressed so close against the castle walls - groaned in the quiet, like something vast turning in its sleep.

She slipped between rows of books in soft-soled shoes, wand tip glowing faintly blue. She didn’t want to risk too much light. Madam Pince had eyes like a hawk and hearing to match.

But Y/n couldn’t stay away.

Ever since that night, the image of the lake shimmer had replayed itself behind her eyes. Not a creature, not a spell, not anything she could name. She thought about the way it had recoiled, not when they attacked - but when she and Draco had broken. Like it had been feeding on their unity. Or testing it.

She hated thinking of him at all, but there it was.

She found herself in the Restricted Section, her fingers brushing over cracked spines. Bestiary of the Forbidden Depths. Ancient Water-Wards of the Isles. The Lake as Portal. None of it seemed enough, and yet-

One slim volume caught her eye. No title, only a sigil burned into the cover: two serpents, twined together until you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

Her breath hitched.

She opened it carefully. The script was jagged, almost alive on the page. Not English. Not Latin. Older. But in the margins, faint notes had been scrawled by some long-gone hand.

Translations, fragments:
“When the bloodlines align, the water stirs.”
“Unity of rivals calls forth the Guardian.”
“It comes not to serve, but to test.”

Y/n froze. Her pulse thundered.

Bloodlines. Rivals. Unity.

Her fingers curled tighter on the parchment until the edge cut into her skin. She thought of her family crest. She thought of Draco’s. Old names. Powerful ones. The kind people whispered in corridors.

The thought lodged sharp in her chest: It knew us.

A sudden creak snapped her head up. Footsteps.

Y/n snapped the book closed, shoving it against her chest, heart hammering.

From between the shelves, a pale light cut across the dark. Not Madam Pince.

She knew that gait. She could feel it before she saw him.

Malfoy.

Of course.

He stepped into view, silver-blond hair catching her faint wandlight, jaw tight as if carved from stone. He was holding something too - another book, older than hers, with its corners wrapped in iron. His eyes locked onto her like a duel, unreadable but sharp.

Neither spoke.

The silence between them felt alive.

She clutched the serpent-marked book tighter, pulse thudding in her throat.

And Draco’s gaze flicked, just once, to the sigil on the cover - before snapping back to her face.

He knew.

They both knew.

“Of course,” Draco said flatly, breaking the silence. His voice carried low, careful not to draw Pince, but edged with that familiar disdain. “Should’ve known you’d be here. Digging.”

Y/n raised a brow, hugging the serpent-marked book to her chest. “I could say the same.”

His lips twitched - not a smile, something harder. “Difference is, I actually know what I’m looking for.”

She bristled. “Really? Because it didn’t seem that way when your warding spell nearly set the grass on fire.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “We kept it back, didn’t we?”

“We?” Y/n shot back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The words hung sharp between them, but neither moved. Y/n’s wandlight flickered faintly, throwing shadows across his face. She hated the way he looked so composed, even here.

Finally, Draco’s gaze dropped - to the sigil burned into her book’s cover. The faintest flicker of recognition crossed his face.

“Where did you find that?” he asked. Not mocking, not cold, just clipped. Too fast.

Y/n smirked, though her heart gave a jump. “Why? Afraid I’ve found something before you have?”

For a heartbeat, his expression cracked. Just a flicker of irritation, or… something closer to worry. “You don’t even know what you’re holding.”

“Then enlighten me,” she shot back, stepping closer.

The air between them thickened. They were too close now, their books nearly brushing, breath mingling in the dim glow. For a strange moment, it was like the lake again - that pull between them, magnetic and wrong.

Draco looked at her - really looked - and something unreadable shifted in his eyes. “Careful, Y/n,” he said softly, like a warning. “Some things are better left alone.”

Her grip tightened on the book. “And yet, you’re here too.”

His jaw clenched. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he turned sharply, the iron-cornered volume under his arm. “Stay out of my way.”

His footsteps echoed down the rows, cold and final.

Y/n stood frozen, heart thudding, the serpent sigil burning hot against her palms.

She hated him.

And she hated even more that, somehow, he was searching for the exact same thing.

It was not long that she decided to head back from the library too.

The corridors of the dungeons were colder than usual that night. Every step Y/n took echoed against the stone as though it wanted to follow her, dragging the moment in the library back with her. She clutched the serpent-marked book tighter, her knuckles pale.

She hated the way her pulse still beat with his words. She hated that it wasn’t fear that unsettled her - but recognition.

When she finally pushed into the dorm, the lamps were low, their green-glass shades throwing murky shadows across the room. Pansy was sprawled across Y/n’s bed like she owned it, boots kicked off, robe still half-on, her brown hair spilling across the pillow.

“There you are,” Pansy drawled, propping herself up on an elbow. “I thought you were drowned in the lake or swallowed by ghosts. Or maybe….” her smirk sharpened, “…still out there with Malfoy, plotting world domination.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and set the heavy book down a little too hard on the desk. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m never ridiculous.” Pansy yawned and tucked her legs beneath her like a cat. “Everyone’s whispering, you know. About that night. About you two.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted. “They’re wrong.”

“Mm.” Pansy tilted her head, studying her with that unnervingly sharp gaze. “Maybe. Or maybe they just see something you don’t.”

Y/n turned away, undoing the clasp of her cloak. Her hands felt unsteady. She hated that Pansy’s words dug into her the same way Draco’s did.

“I don’t care what they see,” she said flatly, forcing steel into her voice. “It was strategy. Nothing more. We worked together because we had to. That’s it.”

The words should’ve settled her. But they didn’t.

Pansy hummed, unconvinced, but she flopped back against the pillow, letting it drop. “Fine. Lie to me. Lie to yourself. Just don’t snore, I’m sleeping here tonight.”

Y/n shot her a look, but Pansy had already closed her eyes, smug and comfortable.

The dorm fell quiet save for the low hiss of the lake against the glass walls. Y/n slid under her own covers, staring up at the canopy.

Strategy, she told herself again.
Not connection. Not fate.
Strategy.

But her mind betrayed her - replaying that moment when Draco’s spell had met hers, the power thrumming like two threads pulled taut, weaving together before they snapped apart.

Her stomach curled, a strange, unwanted ache.

She turned onto her side, forcing her eyes shut.

If Pansy was right, if the whispers were right, if she and Draco Malfoy had really done something together that even the Black Lake itself recognised, then maybe she should’ve been more afraid.

Much more.

—————————Draco’s pov—————————

Draco sat awake at his desk, the silver light from a single enchanted lantern catching in his pale hair. An open book lay in front of him - though he hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour. His wand rested against the parchment, forgotten.

The image of the Black Lake lingered, unbidden. Not the monster, not the voices, not the smoke.
Her.

The moment their magic had collided - precise, sharp, unstoppable. It had felt like control, like raw power braided together into something he couldn’t define.

He clenched his jaw, slamming the book shut before the thought could finish itself. He wouldn’t entertain it.

It was strategy. A means to an end.
Nothing more.

But his hand lingered on the book’s cover longer than it should have, tight, as if to steady something he refused to admit was shaking.

Draco Malfoy did not shake.

With a flick of his wand, the lantern went out. The dorm fell back into darkness, save for the faint green glow filtering through the lake glass.

Draco lay down, turning his back to the desk. His eyes stayed open long into the night.

He told himself it was vigilance.
Not memory.
Not her.

————————————————————————

The dormitory was still except for the soft rise and fall of Pansy’s breathing beside her. She had insisted on sleeping over in Y/n’s prefect room tonight - “for comfort,” she’d said, still, the presence of another body in the room left Y/n restless, her mind pacing far faster than her legs could.

The memory of the lake refused to loosen its grip. The hiss of that unearthly whisper. The way the magic had bent, snapped, then shuddered quiet again. The way his spells had fit with hers - too perfectly, like edges of a blade.

Y/n slipped out of bed, quiet as a shadow. She tugged on her cloak and padded barefoot down the spiral steps, her hand brushing cool stone as she descended. The common room opened wide and hollow before her, lit only by the hearth. The fire crackled low, green and gold licking shadows across the carved ceiling.

She sank into one of the armchairs, pulling her knees up, watching the flames twist and break apart. The fire had always calmed her. Always reminded her that power could be beautiful, contained. But tonight the embers felt alive, as though if she blinked too long, they would crawl from the grate and speak.

“Can’t sleep?”

The voice behind her was soft, almost disinterested, but unmistakable.

Y/n turned. Draco was leaning against the far arch, hair pale in the dim, his school shirt thrown on carelessly, sleeves rolled up like he hadn’t bothered with sleep either. His wand hand twitched once, then stilled at his side.

She didn’t answer. He crossed the room slowly, his gaze fixed on the fire, not on her, as though the sight of her was incidental. He dropped into the armchair opposite her with a sigh, long and weary, his body folding into the seat with the kind of grace that still somehow looked deliberate.

For a moment, silence. The fire popped. Shadows stretched.

“You keep staring like it has answers,” he murmured, his tone sharp but low. “It doesn’t.”

Y/n’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk, though her chest was tight. “I thought you’d be the type to think you already had them all.”

His eyes flicked to hers then - pale gray, lit at the edges by the fire. He didn’t flinch. “Not this time.”

The admission sat heavy in the air, heavier than any argument they’d thrown at each other. And yet, it wasn’t a truce. Not even close.

The fire’s glow painted Draco in sharp edges, shadows clutching the angles of his face.

Y/n hugged her knees closer. The quiet pressed in too tight, like the lake pressing up against the shore. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

“This is your fault.”

Draco’s gaze flicked to hers, sharp and unreadable. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Her voice was low, but the heat in it surprised even her. “You’re the one who kept going on about-” She waved her hand, frustrated, searching for the exact words. “Warnings. Threats. Cryptic nonsense about things I couldn’t possibly understand.”

Draco straightened in his chair, his jaw tightening. “And what? You think I wanted that thing crawling out of the lake? That I summoned it for a party trick?”

“I think,” Y/n snapped, leaning forward, “you knew something was wrong long before the rest of us. And instead of telling anyone what you actually meant, you played the smug Malfoy card and acted like it made you clever.”

The fire cracked loudly between them.

For the first time, something unsettled flickered in Draco’s eyes - not guilt exactly, but something close. He masked it quickly, letting his lip curl into a sneer. “If you’d listened instead of running your mouth, maybe you’d have worked it out sooner.”

Her nails dug into the armrest. “You think you’re the only one who sees the bigger picture? You’re not.”

The tension stretched - sharp as glass, ready to shatter. The fire spat sparks that floated between them like tiny curses.

Finally, Draco exhaled, leaning back into his chair with cold precision. “Blame me all you want, Damaris. But don’t forget - if it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there drowning in shadows.”

The words stung, sharp and deliberate. Y/n bit back the retort burning her tongue, forcing herself to look at the flames instead of him.

The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. This one pulsed with anger, accusation, and something deeper neither of them dared to name.

Y/n’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. She stood abruptly, the sudden scrape of her chair against the stone floor breaking the silence like a whip.

Draco didn’t flinch. He just sat there, eyes glinting in the firelight, as if daring her to say more.

But she didn’t.
She refused to give him the satisfaction.

Y/n turned on her heel, the echo of her footsteps ringing sharp against the stone as she stalked back toward the girls’ stairwell. She didn’t look back.

Not once.

Behind her, the fire popped and hissed, shadows flickering over Draco’s face. Alone now, he tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear, before his gaze slid back to the flames.

The common room fell quiet.