HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER

SWEET NIGHTMARES

( Friday 5 December 1997 )

The floorboards creaked ever so slightly beneath Rowan's weight. Her eyes were tired and the soft bunny rabbit hanging from her hand felt oddly heavy, but she followed the dim light to the top of the staircase. Rowan stuck her head through the oak beams, glancing down into the foyer. The voices sounded slightly louder, but not any less muffled.

It wasn't her nanny. Miss Ureila had gone home for the weekend, much to Rowan's dismay. She understood that the low rumbles were men. The random, erratic barks of laughter could only belong to one of them. Every now and then, she heard her father's voice. Still, she had no idea what he was saying.

This happened most Friday nights, and some Saturdays too. Her father had company over. She wasn't allowed to leave her room, not unless he asked her to.

Her father had only made her come downstairs once. She was five when he sat her on his knee and showed her off to three women Rowan didn't know. They sat on the couch and all cooed and made a fuss of her. Her father had never seemed so fond of Rowan, and it was the first and only time she'd heard him talk about Rowan's mother.

"It's very hard," Corban Yaxley had said, tickling her side. Rowan had shyly squirmed away, not quite used to her father's touch — but she smiled anyway. This was nice. "Raising her alone. Rowan's mother was sick all of her pregnancy. It wasn't really a surprise when she passed at the birth. She just always asked that I do my best with little Rowan when she left..." Corban sighed with a smile. "And I can only hope she looks down and is proud of our little family."

Rowan remembered how jealous she had been when one of the women started to coo him, stroking his arm, stealing the attention Rowan was finally receiving. When it seemed they were all over her dad, Corban had ushered her back up to her room.

Suddenly, someone entered the foyer from the kitchen. The man looked huge from what Rowan could make out — but then, every adult was big to a six year old. However, she knew this man was far larger than her father.

He paused in his tracks. Rather than joining the rest of the men in the living room, he took a low sniff of the air and then glanced up. Rowan's brown eyes widened and her bunny fell through the gaps of the banister. The man looking up at her grinned, showing off teeth sharper than were humanely natural. Miss Ureila had taught her about these sorts of people — werewolves.

"Hello there," The werewolf's grin was huge and terrifying — Rowan whimpered thinking about her poor bunny down in the foyer with him. "Is this yours?" He reached down and plucked it from the floor.

It looked tiny in his huge hand. Rowan grew more horrified by the sight of claws, and the sheer length of them.

"Would you like it back?" He asked. His voice was dark yet he was being soft with her. He seemed nice, even if he looked scary.

Miss Ureila had taught her that not all werewolves were bad, and that she shouldn't judge people based on the way that they look.

"Yes please," Rowan whispered, her voice cracking a little.

"Come on down and get him then," the werewolf replied.

Rowan was hesitant, but she pulled her head from between the wooden beams and then began to head down the large staircase. He was waiting at the bottom, watching as her small hand clung to the banister, her eyes watching what her feet were doing on each individual stair rather than him.

"Her," Rowan replied quietly as she made it to the bottom. "Cotton Socks is a girl."

"Oh, is she?" The werewolf grinned, glancing at the teddy in his hands. He was far more terrifying up close. "My apologies. You must be Yaxley's daughter."

Rowan gave a small, shy nod.

"Tell me your name and I'll give you back Cotton Socks here."

Rowan looked at the smile her bunny permanently wore. She thought if it was real it would look as scared as Rowan felt.

"I'm Rowan Yaxley," she whispered faintly. "Please give her back."

"Since you asked so nicely," he grinned and bent down on one knee to present her with her bunny.

Rowan grabbed it and then took a step back. "Thank you." Her voice was so quiet that she could barely hear it herself. "I need to go back to bed now."

"Wouldn't you like to say goodnight to your father?" He asked, and Rowan quickly shook her head no, but was then being yanked by her wrist towards the large living room.

Her father sat at an armchair nursing a glass of Firewhisky, and there were about six other men sitting around in the room too. Rowan recognised a couple of faces from before, but as they all turned to face her, she felt herself shying away. She tried to tug her little hand free from the werewolf's. It was no use.

Corban Yaxley had gone three shades paler. "Rowan..." He swallowed and glanced between the werewolf and his daughter. "Why are you out of bed?"

"She was at the top of the stairs," the werewolf replied with an odd chuckle. "She dropped her bunny. She wanted to come and say goodnight to you, Yaxley."

"So this is little Rowan," one of the men said, "Merlin, Yaxley. She looks just like a miniature Venus."

Rowan was growing visibly more and more uncomfortable. She wanted to go back to bed.

"Thank you for helping her, Fenrir," her father said as he cleared his throat and stood from the couch. "I'll take her back to bed. She usually knows better than to wander at night."

Fenrir chuckled as he released Rowan, letting her father grab her instead. "It's no problem, Corban... You know how much I like kids."

There were a few uncomfortable glances around the room, the men with children feeling sick to their stomachs, whilst others cackled drunkenly.

"Oh, he's only teasing you, Yaxley!" One man laughed. "Loosen up a bit, Corban. Your daughter's still there in one piece, ain't she? He brought her back for you."

"Thank Merlin you fed him that steak at dinner!" Some else cackled.

Rowan felt her heart pounding, her wide eyes jumping around in confusion. What did they mean? Would the werewolf have hurt her? Her father's grip on her tightened and he dragged her out of the living room and up the stairs.

She was shoved roughly into her room. Yaxley stood out in the corridor, glaring at her fallen figure. Rowan clutched her bunny to her chest, feeling a few tears slide down her cheeks.

"Who was he, father?" Rowan whimpered.

"I warned you to never leave you room unless I told you to!" Her father growled back. "Tonight could have ended a lot worse than it did!"

Rowan pushed herself up off of the floor. "I'm - I'm sorry. I could hear you all laughing. I couldn't sleep."

"Stay in your room, Rowan," Corban snapped, seething with rage as he got closer to her. "Or next time, when you find Fenrir Greyback roaming the corridors at night, he might just break his streak of not eating children."

Rowan's breath hitched and she shook her head quickly. "N-No." Surely it was a story – something fictional. Why would her father let a child-eating werewolf into his home?

"Yes," Corban replied hastily. "You're lucky he was in a good mood. Now get in bed. Go to sleep, Rowan. Rowan. Rowan. Rowan..."

Rowan lurched upwards, her hands finding a mattress beneath her. Pansy sat on the edge of Rowan's bed, an unsure expression written across her face.

"You okay?" Pansy asked, "I was calling your name — I think you were having a bit of a nightmare. You were muttering and stuff."

"Oh," Rowan mumbled, running a hand through her hair and sitting up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. Just a strange... memory, if anything."

"I hate those kinds of dreams," Pansy huffed.

"Yeah," Rowan muttered in agreement. Her mouth felt awfully dry as she reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and gulped it down.

"Do you guys know why Fenrir Greyback was never arrested?" Rowan asked as casually as she could muster at the lunch table later that day.

Perhaps too casually as everybody looked at her like she had grown two heads.

"The werewolf?" Theo grimaced.

Blaise shuddered. "My mother used to tell me horror stories about him to make me do my chores."

"Am I the only one who doesn't know who Fenrir Greyback is?" Pansy questioned.

Draco nodded his head. "Everybody knows who Greyback is, Parkinson."

"Well not me," Pansy said irritably. "Who was he, then? Or who is he rather? If he's still alive."

"He's still alive," Theo confirmed. "Hangs around with lots of former Death Eaters who didn't get sent to Azkaban but never really tried to fit back in with society after the war. My father being one of those."

"He's a werewolf," Blaise said, "My mother told me he was known for attacking children as revenge for their parents' wrong doings."

"He did it most of the time just because he wanted to," Draco said. "My father spoke about him once or twice. Said he's pathetic filth — wanted to start his own army, convert everyone to lycanthropy."

Pansy's face scrunched up. "How have I never heard about him?"

"Why are you asking about him anyway, Rowan?" Blaise asked.

"Is this about that dream you were having?" Pansy added knowingly. "Of a memory?"

Rowan hesitated before she gave a small nod. "Yeah. I haven't thought about the time I met him for ages. I dreamt about it last night though, and it startled me a bit. I can't stop thinking about it. Wondering how he was never arrested."

"He was never properly caught," Draco said. "Our parents all escaped Azkaban by pleading the Imperius route. Greyback just ran. Resides with a pack in the woods, apparently. Obviously rears his ugly head occasionally to hang out with his old crowd."

Rowan exhaled through her nose and furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn't thought about the incident in years. She didn't realise how fucked up it was until now. How could her father allow a child-eating werewolf into his home where his six year old daughter slept upstairs? It made her resent him ten times more.

"Hold on a second," Blaise looked stunned. "Rowan, you met Greyback? Ugh, fuck. That makes me shiver all over."

Rowan nodded. "Yeah. It wasn't all too pleasant."

"Did he try to eat you?" Blaise burst, earning a few strange looks from fellow Slytherins trying to eat their lunches. "I'm sorry, but he freaks me out!"

Even Draco looked slightly interested in her story. He'd pushed his food aside and watched her with slightly narrowed eyes. One hand twiddled absentmindedly with the rings on his other.

"There's not too much to tell, really," Rowan replied. "I was six. My father had people over. I thought I'd try and peek down the stairs, see who was there, but Greyback was in the foyer."

Blaise jumped.

Pansy smacked him. "Grow up, Zabini!" She hissed. "That's not even the end of the story."

"If I have nightmares tonight because of you, Rowan, you'll be paying for it!" Blaise threatened, "I haven't thought about Greyback in years."

"Who would have thought Blaise was such a big scaredy cat?" Theo snickered.

"Shh," Draco hissed. "Then what, Yaxley? Greyback was in your foyer..."

"And he saw me," Rowan said, trying not to roll her eyes when Blaise began to look faint. "I dropped some stupid teddy I used to love. He told me if I wanted it then I had to come downstairs and get it from him."

Blaise stood up from the table. "I'm leaving."

Theo grabbed him and yanked him back down onto the bench. "Then?"

"Well, I was six, so I did it. He made me tell him my name, and he handed it over. Then..." Rowan glanced over and had to resist the urge not to grin. "Then he grabbed me and he said, 'tell Blaise Zabini I'm coming for him during his final year of Hogwarts.'"

Blaise looked sick. He glared over at her, but he'd paled considerably. "I hate you, Rowan," he snapped.

"What really happened, Rowan?" Pansy pressed.

"He wouldn't let me go back to bed. He grabbed my arm and took me into the living room to say goodnight to my father. His friends made jokes about being lucky Greyback had already eaten or something," Rowan explained, "Father rushed me to my room and made me stay there. Rest assured, I never left my room without permission after that."

Theo shuddered. "Fuck. You got lucky, Rowan."

"Why did your father let Fenrir Greyback in when you were there?" Blaise grimaced.

Rowan hesitated. Because he doesn't give a shit about me sounded far too pitiful and would probably expose his character and her relationship with her father to three Slytherin boys that she definitely didn't want knowing. Theo already knew too much anyway.

"He was drunk," Rowan replied. "Probably wasn't thinking. He always has had... unusual guests come over. Thankfully when I'm at Hogwarts I don't have to meet any of them anymore."

"That's fucked, anyway," Theo muttered.

Everybody made murmurs of agreement. Draco stared a little longer at Rowan and then looked back down at his lunch. Her head was twisted with thoughts of her father, of Greyback, and the dream she'd had to endure last night. She found herself silently dreading the Christmas holidays coming up, knowing she'd have to return home to her huge, lonely manor.

Rowan had never, ever liked Christmas. Her nanny always took the time off to be with her own family, of course, and Rowan's father never celebrated. She was gifted money every year, even before she was old enough to go out and properly spend it. Miss Ureila used to take her to Diagon Alley in January and help her buy nice clothes and fake potion sets for children and books about Quidditch...

"You were probably just thinking about it because you'd written to your father last night," Pansy mentioned. "Has he replied, by the way?"

"Oh, yes. I got a letter at breakfast," Rowan answered, "He's sent me enough money for a nice dress for Malfoy's New Years party."

"Great," Pansy exclaimed, "We can go to Hogsmeade this weekend, then. Oh, it's Friday today, actually. So tomorrow or Sunday?"

"Tomorrow's best. I've got Quidditch practice on Sunday."

"You need to ask for an allowance, Yaxley?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"None of your business, Malfoy." Rowan replied immediately.

Surprisingly, Draco didn't snap back.

...

( Saturday 6 December 1997 )

Rowan lurched awake in her bed, gasping for air. The sheets in the bed that was beside her crumpled and out of the corner of her eye, Rowan saw Pansy peering across at her worriedly. Rowan held a hand out, another one on her chest as if to stop Pansy speaking whilst she caught her breath.

"Another nightmare?" Pansy asked sympathetically. "You never normally have them, and that's two in a row now."

Rowan didn't reply, flinging her arm over her face to cover her eyes. She pursed her lips together and thought for a few moments. It had to be down to the stress of going back home in the next couple of weeks. It was the last thing she felt like doing, and her sleepy brain wouldn't stop showing her the most messed up of memories that she apparently had.

The one she had just woken up to involved her house elf, Zilky. Zilky was the best house elf, one of a kind really, but she'd grown mentally incapable of doing the simplest of tasks around Rowan's tenth birthday. Her father would beat Zilky roughly for making the smallest of mistakes, a fact that Rowan didn't know until she had walked in on Zilky being kicked over and over again, her wails echoing around the manor's library.

Nowadays, Zilky stayed put in the kitchen, sweeping the same few spots over and over again. It was all she knew how to do. The rest of the house elves took care of her father's needs. Rowan didn't really like to use them when she went home.

Rowan clenched her eyes shut tighter, trying to get rid of the image. In a way, her dream had felt more graphic than how she remembered it.

"Rowan?" Pansy called. "Here. Drink this tonight. It works for me whenever I have the odd nightmare."

Rowan finally lifted up from her mattress. She accepted the small vial that was being held out to her, tilting her head as she inspected the label. It was a Latin word she was sure she wouldn't even be able to pronounce.

"What is it?" The shaggy-haired girl mumbled, her voice a little croakier than usual.

"It's a potion that turns your nightmares into good dreams," Pansy explained, "I didn't like the headaches that Dreamless Sleep gave me, and apparently it becomes ineffective if you take too much of that."

Rowan tilted the vial and then gave Pansy a small nod and a smile. "Thanks, Pans. I'll try it out tonight."

She was quick to hop in the shower and get ready for the day. After all, she had a long one. Rowan had been told by Theo specifically that she should get one that would catch Draco's attention. She'd rolled her eyes at that — whether she was trying to impress Draco or not, Rowan wouldn't have exactly turned up in rags, would she?

The dress shop in Hogsmeade had been somewhat quiet, unlike other shops down the street which were bustling for life as people tried to find presents for their loved ones. Rowan had found hers relatively quickly, whereas Pansy had taken a little longer. Rowan sat on the pouffe outside of the dressing room, inspecting each and every one just as Pansy had done for her. Eventually, Pansy settled on a beautiful deep green one.

"Thank you," Rowan murmured to the lady behind the counter as she pushed her leftover Galleons back into her purse.

She slipped her purse into her bag and left the shop, quickly coming face to face with Romilda Vane. Rowan couldn't remember if she was a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw, but she knew the girl was in the year below her. A couple of her friends stood behind, their arms folded against their chests. Romilda looked absolutely pissed.

Had they been waiting outside the whole time for them?

"Can we help you?" Pansy snided.

"Do you mind backing up?" Rowan added, "You're practically stealing our air."

Romilda wore a sneer so ugly that it nearly made Rowan laugh. She surely had the wrong person if she was that angry – Rowan had steered clear of most drama since the sixth year.

"Who do you think you are?" Romilda gasped angrily.

Rowan barked a laugh. "Rowan fucking Yaxley. And who exactly do you think you are talking to me like that?"

She did not expect a smack to the face in return. It was so hard and cold that Rowan's entire head snapped to the side, a pink handprint making its home on her skin. Pansy's gasped shriek was so loud in Rowan's throbbing brain.

Pansy immediately had the girl by her long, curly hair. Her friends cried out as they stepped back, Romilda's body flinging backwards into the snow. She groaned, but still glared up at the older girls.

"Stay away from Draco Malfoy!" Romilda seethed at Rowan. "Fucking whore!"

Romilda's friends helped her scramble out of the snow, but they weren't fast enough to escape Rowan's magic. She grinned when she watched a pig tail extend out of the back of all of their winter coats. It would be a nice surprise for them later, Rowan was sure.

"What the fuck was Vane on about?" Pansy growled as she grasped Rowan's head and tilted it. "Fuck, she got you, Row."

"What a cunt," Rowan muttered, rubbing her cheek sourly. "I have no idea what she was even talking about! The only time I've spoken to Malfoy alone in the past few weeks has been during our prefect duties."

"She's a freak, then," Pansy concluded. "What an obsessive loser."

Rowan definitely thought Pansy was right, but she couldn't help wondering what sort of lies Draco had most likely told Romilda to lead her to conclusions such as the fact that Rowan had somehow come between Romilda and Draco being with one another.

She scoffed when she saw him lazing about the common room upon returning to Hogwarts. He had a book in his hands, his head thrown back against the arm of the sofa, one leg stretched onto the green rug on the ground. Draco barely glanced up when she moved to stand in front of him, folding her arms against herself.

"You're blocking the warmth of the fire, Yaxley," he drawled, bored, and looked back down at his book.

Rowan resisted the urge to rip the bloody thing out of his hands. Especially when he made an ordeal of licking his thumb to flick the page.

"I believe you're the reason I earned this today," Rowan quipped and pointed a finger at the red mark on her face.

Draco finally looked at her properly. "Your blusher looks a little skewiff today, Yaxley. Did you do it half asleep or something?"

"It's a handmark." Rowan spoke through gritted teeth, just about managing not to add an insulting name at the end of it — Theo had told her to lay off of those at this stage. "I was slapped — by Romilda Vane. She seems to reckon I should stay away from you."

Draco's bottom lip sucked in for a moment and then he released a bemused scoff that moved his entire body. "Vane might be onto something. Out of my sight, Yaxley. I'm reading."

Perhaps her sleep-deprived brain was making her less patient (and her patience was already thin anyway), but Theo's instructions went out of the window completely.

"What the fuck did you say to her, you arsehole?" Rowan snapped, "I don't need random girls coming up to me and smacking me in Hogsmeade for crimes I would never commit in a billion years."

Draco raised on the sofa so he was sitting upright. His face was reddened with rage. Usually it took more than that to rile him up.

"I didn't say anything to Vane," he growled back, "Why would I talk about you to anyone if not to complain about what a self-conceited bitch you are?"

He climbed from the couch and began to march towards his dormitory, his book clutched tightly in his grip. She opened her mouth to call out further insults from behind him when someone cleared their throat. Rowan turned around, raising an eyebrow at Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"Yes?" Rowan huffed impatiently. "Why are you two smiling like that?"

"We know why that Romilda girl doesn't like you," Gregory replied with a snickering smile.

Rowan folded her arms again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard the man," Vincent said, "We know why Vane hit you in Hogsmeade. Real question is, what would you do for the answer?"

Rowan's face immediately screwed up in disgust and horror. "I refuse to prostitute myself to find out most likely useless —"

"We don't want that," Gregory scoffed, "Full of yourself, you are."

Rowan was further offended. "You were smirking at me the same way I catch you looking at the trifle bowl every evening!"

Vincent rolled his eyes. "We want you to convince Malfoy to replace Striker and Crow with us for the next game. We're sick of being subs this year. We want some proper action, we want to play Ravenclaw in January."

Rowan felt her stomach turn slightly. There was a reason Draco hadn't chosen Crabbe and Goyle for Beaters this year. They may be intimidating and their Bludgers may pack a punch, however, they were heavier on their brooms than Striker and Crow — not as fast, not as agile.

"I can try," Rowan replied sourly. "Although Malfoy doesn't exactly like me, does he? He most likely won't listen."

Vincent chuckled. "We think differently, actually."

She straightened up. "What exactly is it that you know?"

"Swear it," Gregory said, "Swear you'll tell Malfoy we should be in the next game."

"I swear!" Rowan urged, "Now tell me!"

"It happened last night," Gregory lowered his voice, drawing Rowan closer. "Malfoy had Vane over — kicked Vince and I out of the dorm. We were waiting outside the room, 'figured it wouldn't take too long since he always kicks 'em out after. It was cut a little short though..."

"What happened?" Rowan furrowed her brows.

How on earth did she come into all of this?

"We think..." Vincent began to snicker, shaking his head. "Well, we know actually, that Malfoy may have said a name that wasn't Vane's."

Rowan felt her face pale. "What?"

"He said your name, Yaxley," Gregory chortled. "Vane went fucking insane — started throwing things, asking why the fuck he had been thinking of you whilst they were shagging."

Rowan pulled a disgusted face. Draco had been thinking of her whilst he had been fucking Romilda Vane? It made her feel violated, as though she'd participated in something she didn't consent to. It felt impossible... he was supposed to hate her. Be repulsed by her. He'd told her he wouldn't fuck her if she was the last girl on earth.

Though something stirred in her stomach. Power. Her stomach was in knots, her heart skipping a beat. Draco Malfoy was attracted to her – at least enough so that he fucked up as badly as to say her name during sex.

Draco Malfoy thought about her whilst he fucked other girls...

Her lips were tugging upwards, and then she began to laugh.

"So what?" Vincent raised a brow. "You and Malfoy secretly shagging or something?"

Rowan's laugh was louder than before. "He wishes, doesn't he?"

...

( Sunday 7 December 1997 )

Rowan's back arched. Pants fell past her lips, her eyes screwed shut in blissful pleasure. Her hands fisted at the sheets above her head and she cried out. Her hips bucked upwards, but a strong arm moved to rest against her lower stomach, pinning her to the mattress.

"Fuck..." Rowan cried, nearly sobbing in relief as the man between her legs gave her immense pleasure. "Fuck! Please! Please!"

She begged for her release as he lapped up her arousal, sucking at her clit. Her whines and whimpers bounced off of the walls, echoing in both of their ears. Rowan's thighs trembled on either side of his head.

"Say my name." He moved away from her dripping cunt for a moment, his hot breath hitting her core and causing her to shiver. "Say my name, Rowan, and I'll make you cum."

Rowan's hands detached from the sheets to cling to the head of soft hair between her legs. She gripped at it, tugging slightly as he pressed himself back against her sex, his tongue exploring places Rowan had no idea could give her such pleasure.

"Please..." She panted.

"Say my name, Rowan." He looked up at her, and Rowan whimpered at the sight of him. Blond hair tousled, silver eyes burning with desire of his own, his perfect lips swollen and covered in her arousal.

"Malfoy!"

Rowan lurched awake for the third morning in a row, her brown eyes wide, her heart pumping. She grabbed the empty vial on her bedside table, the one that Pansy had said would turn her bad dreams good, and she climbed out of bed to throw it at her sleeping friend.

Pansy immediately flinched, her green eyes flickering open. "Excuse me, Yaxley?" She croaked sleepily.

"Your stupid potion didn't work!" Rowan hissed, her cheeks still blushed and her heart pounding. "They made my dreams even worse!"

Pansy's brows furrowed and she sat up, pushing her hair back off of her face. "What? Are you sure? It always works for me."

"I'm pretty bloody sure, Pansy," Rowan said, "That was the most terrifying one yet!"

Pansy looked genuinely concerned. "Oh Merlin, Rowan. I'm sorry. What happened?"

Rowan glanced around the room. She didn't trust that the three other girls were actually asleep — especially Daphne. She welcomed herself onto Pansy's bed and yanked the curtains closed, then cast a Muffliato spell.

Pansy looked even more horrified. "That bad?"

"I had a fucking sex dream — about Malfoy!" Rowan's voice was a hissed whisper, as if she still didn't quite trust the charm that she had used.

Pansy's concerned expression melted away. Her lips parted in wonder. She looked at her best friend as if working out if she was serious, and then her lips quirked upwards and she laughed. She laughed right in Rowan's face.

Rowan was not pleased.

"You —" Pansy blubbered through her laughter. "You had a wet dream about Malfoy!?"

Rowan smacked Pansy's arm. "Quit laughing!" She snapped. "It must just be because of what Crabbe and Goyle told me last night. It must have been playing on my mind a bit."

Pansy's smirk widened. "Or part of you fancies him. Was he good in your dream, Rowan?" She teased.

Rowan groaned and pushed herself off of Pansy's bed. She hated that he had been — that her little dream had made her genuinely feel slightly turned on. She reminded herself very quickly that it could have been anyone between her legs pleasuring her like that and she would have felt the same. Technically, it had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy.

She trudged into the showers to get ready for the day. Rowan had Quidditch practice to attend. She'd thought she would feel smug today, knowing Draco had moaned her name during sex with Romilda Vane, but now she wasn't sure she'd have the upper hand. Rowan felt dirty, but her shower washed it all away.

She was not attracted to Draco Malfoy. There was no way on earth.

...

thanks so much for reading<3 hope you all enjoyed x

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