Track This Story: Feed
|Ch. #||Chapter Title||Word Count||Reviews|
The Wrong Plan
“I know you: Isobel MacDougal, my year, Ravenclaw.”
“Since I’m under no obligation, I’ll answer what questions I want to,” he drawled, watching her with vague amusement.
But he was not a statue. He was not relieved of feeling. Underneath his skin, his muscle, and bone, his chest was aching. It was breaking in two, falling through the bed, the floor, the ground, right into the Earth’s core. Was he in Hell? He did not know. Was he still asleep? He didn’t have the answer to that either.
Meeting Old Friends
“They poisoned me,” she gasped, clutching her stomach. “Before you came.”
No Rest for the Wicked
“You should have told me this a year ago!” Hermione cried, jumping from her seat. She began to pace nervously back and forth across the room. “Instead of playing the hero—really Malfoy!”
His mouth tasted acidic as he spoke. “Right. Professional concern then? ‘He is not yours’ is just a professional statement.” He walked over to his desk chair, sinking into the leather with a loud sigh and closing his eyes. “I don’t want to argue with you. I’m tired. Go.”
JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION
Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.Register Today!