Salvation {Draco Malfoy}

The world tilted sideways as Malfoy’ s lips were brushing against Rissa's jaw.

All she noticed was his cool, trembling fingers gripping her sweater’s lapel and the sudden neediness of his kiss.

Outside, a vivid forest streaked past the window, the valley glowing in golden light, while students bustled through carriages, greeting one another after a long holiday.

Inside the dim closet— Clarissa was pressed against the cold wood, Draco Malfoy’s lips trailing along her collarbone.

A thin ribbon of light slipped through the crack, illuminating his crisp white undershirt and glinting in her left eye.

“Funny how much you missed me, Clarisssssa,” he hissed, hot breath tickling her chest as his hand roamed over the curves she’d dreamed about him touching all summer.

She pressed her thigh against his, her soft brown eyes meeting his yearning gaze.

He groaned into her mouth, teeth grazing her lip. “You’re one to talk, Malfoy,” she teased between kisses.

Draco’s grip tightened at her throat and he shoved her head back against the wall. She gasped at the sudden intensity, “Watch your tongue, Hufflepuff,” he smirked, covering her mouth.

Clarissa slid one hand up to pry his fingers away. “Or what, Slytherin?” she challenged.

He leaned close, warm breath at her ear, “I’ll make you.”

Their moment shattered when the closet door flew open.

“My word—!” squealed an elderly carriage maid.

Hearts pounding— they both scrambled to straighten their clothes, only to see the maid was turned away.

She captivated by one of Fred and George Weasley’s mischievous pixies dancing in midair.

Draco’s lips curved into a triumphant smile as he spotted the tiny purple marks on her collarbone.

“What?” Clarissa asked, tracing the bruises.

“Nothing,” he replied, eyes glinting.

“Right. Sure I believe you,” she mocked.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Oh—!” Rissa began before reeling herself in. “Malfoy, stop rage-baiting me! I swear on Merlin—” she was cut off as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Until next time, love,” he teased, slipping away and leaving her in a flustered daze.

-

Clarissa made her way down the corridor to the familiar cabin, where laughter and joy spilled from within. Inside, Hermione with her curly brown hair, Ron freckled and red-haired, and Harry— distinctively marked by a lightning bolt scar and round glasses.

The three were deep in animated discussion. Rissa stepped in and froze under their stares.

“What? Something on my face?” she asked.

Hermione burst into giggles. Clarissa looked down to discover her top two buttons undone and her yellow Hufflepuff tie hanging loose.

The purple love bites along her chest were on full display—proof she’d been too distracted to notice until now.

“Is it a new guy?” Ron asked curiously.

Hermione kicked him lightly in the shin disapprovingly.

“It’s not your business Ronald!” Hermione remarked.

The cabin fell silent as Harry watched Malfoy dart past the carriage and Rissa trembled, fighting her buttons.

“Great, just who I wanted to be reminded of,” Harry sighed.

“He’s not all that bad you know...” Clarissa remarked quietly.

“Are we really discussing the same Malfoy?” Ron said in awe.

The very name left a distaste in his mouth.

“Honestly Rissa, that is the most Hufflepuff rubbish I’ve ever heard. All that snogging today must have your head in a tizzy,” Ron smirked.

Clarissa shifted in her seat a tad— blushing. “I just think that there’s a piece of him that hasn’t been shown to everyone yet.” She said covered her face with her robe to hide the redness.

“Yeah, his heart.” Harry laughed. The carriage erupted with laughter.

“Besides, we have bigger things to focus on, like who is the guy?” Ron pressed on to Rissa. This time Harry thwacked him with his newspaper. “What did I do?”

The group fell into further laughter.

“You alright Clarissa?” Hermione whispered. Clarissa looked at her friend but was interrupted as a familiar blonde abruptly walked right back past their carriage. His gaze flicking toward Clarissa before he disappeared around the corner. Hermione’s eyes darted between them, sharp as ever.

“You were saying?” she murmured.

Clarissa’s cheeks burned hotter. “Coincidence.”

Harry gave her a flat look. “Right. And I’m the Chosen One.”

“You are the Chosen One,” Hermione muttered.

Ron ignored them both. “So it’s Malfoy, then.”

Hermione elbowed him. “Ron, honestly.”

But Harry wasn’t laughing anymore. He was watching the corridor, jaw tight.

Clarissa swallowed. Draco had been tense—more than usual. Even in the closet, beneath the teasing and the heat, she’d felt the tremor in his hands. The way he kept checking the door. The way he kissed her like he was trying to forget something.

“You alright?” Hermione whispered again, softer this time.

Clarissa nodded, but her stomach twisted. “Just tired.”

Harry didn’t buy it. “If he’s bothering you—”

“He’s not,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

Ron raised a brow. “You sure? Because the last time Malfoy looked at someone like that, he was about to hex them or marry them. Hard to tell with him.”

Clarissa buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of you.”

Hermione laughed and looped an arm around her shoulders. “You love us.”

“Unfortunately.”

The train lurched as it began to slow, the familiar whistle echoing through the corridor. Students scrambled for trunks and pets and last-minute gossip.

Harry stood, stretching. “We should get our things. McGonagall will want us in the Great Hall straightaway.”

Ron groaned. “Bet she’s got a whole speech planned.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course she does. It’s the first day back.”

Clarissa rose to follow them—then froze when she felt it.

A hand brushing her wrist.

She turned, and for the first time since the closet, his voice wasn’t teasing. Draco stood in the doorway, expression unreadable, grey eyes flicking briefly to Harry before settling on her.

“Willow,” he said quietly. “A word.”

Hermione’s brows shot up. Harry’s hand went straight to his wand.

“Two minutes,” Draco added, gaze locked on hers. “Please.”

There was something in his voice she wasn’t used to hearing from him.

Clarissa stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry rose too. “Like hell you will.”

Draco’s eyes snapped to him. “Potter, if I wanted to hex her, I wouldn’t ask politely.”

“That was polite?” Ron muttered.

Hermione tugged Harry’s sleeve. “Let her go.”

Harry hesitated, jaw tight, but sat back down. His eyes never left Draco.

Clarissa stepped into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind her. The train rocked gently beneath their feet, muffling the chatter of students dragging trunks and pets toward the exit.

He stood stiffly, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He exhaled sharply. “You walked into that carriage looking like—” He gestured vaguely at her collarbone, ears turning pink. “Like that.”

Clarissa blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you’d just been—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “Everyone saw.”

Clarissa’s lips twitched. “Are you... embarrassed?”

“No,” he snapped too quickly. “I’m— I’m irritated.”

“About what?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “About Weasley staring at your chest like it was a bloody Quidditch poster.”

Clarissa bit back a smile. “So you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” he hissed. “I just— I don’t want people talking.”

“People always talk.”

“Not about you.” His voice softened. “Not like that.”

Her breath caught.

This wasn’t the Draco who shoved her against walls and kissed her senseless. This was the Draco who got quiet when he cared too much.

“Draco,” she murmured, “I didn’t even realize my buttons were undone.”

“I know,” he muttered. “That’s the problem.”

She laughed softly. “You could’ve just said you were worried.”

He glared. “I don’t do worried.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

He opened his mouth—then closed it again, defeated.

The train hissed as it slowed into Hogsmeade Station. Students began crowding the corridor, laughter echoing.

Draco stepped back, clearing his throat. “Just... fix your tie next time.”

“Next time?” she teased.

His eyes flicked to her lips. “Don’t push it.”

She grinned. “See you at the castle?”

He hesitated—just a fraction—before nodding. “Yeah. See you.”

He turned and slipped into the crowd, shoulders tense, ears still pink.

Clarissa stood frozen in the corridor, heart fluttering.

Behind her, the cabin door slid open.

Harry’s voice was quiet, but sharp. “What did he say?”

Clarissa swallowed.

She had no idea how to explain that.

-

(*)