This chapter is really sad and long and im sorry but we get some cute Draco and Vic moments hehe xoxo

VICTORIA NOTT

The tension in the room was suffocating, a silence so oppressive it seemed to press against my chest, making it hard to breathe. Bellatrix's sharp laughter rang in my ears, a cruel melody of mockery that contrasted with the cold fire burning in Voldemort's eyes. I felt exposed under their scrutiny, like a fragile thread being stretched too thin.

Draco stood tall, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His silver eyes, usually so soft when they looked at me, were now filled with a storm of anger and defiance. He was trying to shield me, even if it meant standing against forces far greater than us.

Bellatrix circled me like a predator, her wild curls framing a face alight with sadistic glee. She twirled the Malfoy heirloom between her fingers, holding it up for everyone to see. "Look at this little treasure," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "A bond forged in defiance, perhaps? How scandalous." She leaned in, her breath cold against my cheek. "Do you think this trinket will protect you, little Nott?"

I held her gaze, refusing to flinch, but my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it. "It's just a ring," I managed to say, though my voice was barely above a whisper.

Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Oh, sweet girl, it's never just a ring. Especially not with a Malfoy."

Draco stepped forward, his voice sharp and low. "Leave her alone."

Bellatrix's grin widened, and she turned to face him, her movements swift and theatrical. "Oh, how noble! The young Malfoy defending his love." She let out another peal of laughter, clapping her hands together in mock delight. "You are just like your father, always playing the hero. And where has that gotten him?"

Lucius flinched, his gaze fixed on the floor. Narcissa, ever poised, stepped closer to Draco, her hand brushing his arm in silent reassurance.

Voldemort's voice cut through the chaos, soft yet commanding. "Enough."

The single word silenced the room. Bellatrix stepped back, her expression still playful but her movements more controlled. Voldemort's red eyes turned to Draco, then to me, and I felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a serpent.

"Young love," he mused, almost wistfully. "A powerful thing, but also... dangerous." He began to pace slowly, his movements fluid and deliberate. "It can inspire great strength, yes, but also great folly."

Draco shifted closer to me, his hand brushing mine for the briefest of moments. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to steady me.

Voldemort stopped in front of us, his gaze piercing. "Tell me, Draco," he said, his voice silky. "What lengths would you go to protect her?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "I'd do anything."

The room seemed to freeze. Voldemort tilted his head, a thin smile creeping across his face. "Anything," he repeated, his tone laced with mockery. "How noble. How predictable."

My father, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. "My Lord," he began, his voice steady. "They are young. Their actions—"

"Silence," Voldemort snapped, his gaze never leaving Draco. "Youth is no excuse for weakness."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. He looked at me then, his eyes narrowing. "And you, Victoria Nott. Do you share his... devotion?"

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Yes," I said softly, but my voice carried.

Voldemort's smile widened. "Interesting."

He turned away, his cloak billowing as he moved back toward the fireplace. "Love," he said, almost to himself. "A fragile thing, so easily broken. Let us see how strong yours truly is."

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed us, the room falling into an uneasy silence as we hurried back up the staircase.

Once we were safely in Draco's room, the door locked behind us, I collapsed onto the bed, my hands shaking. "What are we going to do?"

Draco knelt in front of me, his hands cupping my face, his eyes softening. "We'll figure it out," he said firmly. "I won't let anything happen to you, Victoria. I promise."

Theo, standing by the window, turned to face us, his expression grim. "We need to be careful. They're watching us now. Every move we make."

Draco nodded, his hands never leaving my face. "We'll be careful," he said, his voice filled with determination. "But no one is taking you away from me. Not him, not Bellatrix, not anyone."

I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his strength, even as the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on us all.

DRACO MALFOY

It was the next day, dark, gloomy and it had a sad feeling about it. The room felt like it was collapsing around me, every word Voldemort spoke driving a dagger deeper into my chest. His announcement had already sealed our fates, but seeing Victoria step forward felt like watching her walk into a storm, one from which I couldn't shield her. Her black dress flowed around her as she moved, its elegance only emphasizing her fragility in this moment. She looked over her shoulder at me, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto mine, silently pleading for reassurance I couldn't give.

Her father, cold and unyielding, guided her into place, forcing her down to her knees before Voldemort. The click of her heels against the stone floor echoed like a death knell. I wanted to shout, to pull her away from this nightmare, but my throat was dry, and my body felt paralyzed by fear and rage.

When Voldemort's wand touched her forearm, the sound of her scream tore through me like a blade. It was a cry so raw, so full of anguish, that it silenced the room. Her body convulsed, her head snapping back as the agony overwhelmed her. Her long sleeves bunched at her elbows, exposing the pale, delicate skin of her forearm as the Mark carved itself into her flesh.

"Please!" she sobbed, her voice broken. "Stop it—it burns!"

Her tears fell freely now, streaking her cheeks as she writhed in pain, her legs trembling uncontrollably. Her father held her steady, his grip unrelenting as she fought against him, her body desperate to escape the torment. My nails dug into my palms so hard I felt them break skin, but I couldn't move. Watching her suffer was worse than enduring the pain myself.

When the Mark was complete, her father released her, and she crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Her trembling fingers clutched at her forearm, as if trying to soothe the pain that radiated from the blackened sigil now etched into her skin. She looked up at me, her eyes glassy and red, and I felt a part of my soul break away.

I wanted to scream, to curse everyone in the room, but all I could do was stand there, helpless, as Theodore stepped forward next.

Theo's cries filled the chamber, sharp and agonized, but I couldn't focus on him. My eyes remained fixed on Victoria, who leaned against the wall now, her body trembling, Theo's sister Abigail at her side, trying to comfort her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the neckline of her dress framing her collarbone, now glistening with sweat. She looked like she could collapse at any moment.

Then it was my turn.

The walk to the center of the room felt endless. My legs were heavy, my mind replaying Victoria's screams over and over. As I knelt, I forced myself to meet Voldemort's gaze. His smile was thin, triumphant, as if he relished watching us break. The wand pressed against my forearm, and the pain was immediate—a searing, unrelenting fire that raced through my veins.

I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream, but the agony was unbearable. My vision blurred, and I could feel the Mark burning itself into my skin, a permanent reminder of the chains now binding us all.

When it was finally over, I staggered to my feet, my arm throbbing with pain, and turned to find her. She was standing now, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, Theo at her side, their shared suffering evident in the way they leaned against each other.

Our eyes met, and in that moment, words weren't necessary. We were bound now—not just by the Dark Mark, but by the pain, the fear, and the choices forced upon us. I wanted to go to her, to pull her into my arms and swear that I would find a way to fix this, but Voldemort's cold voice snapped me back to reality.

"Loyalty," he said, his tone soft yet menacing, "is what I demand. And now, it is what I own."

Victoria's shoulders trembled, but she stood tall, her strength shining through the cracks of her pain. I vowed silently, then and there, that no matter what it took, I would protect her. Even if it meant going to hell and back, I wouldn't let this darkness consume her.

Not her. Not us.

VICTORIA NOTT

The ascent to Draco's room felt like walking through a storm—every step an effort, every breath a struggle. My legs trembled beneath me, my knees threatening to give way with every step I climbed. The Dark Mark throbbed on my arm, the pain a constant reminder of what had just been branded into my life. Each sting seemed to echo Voldemort's words, burning their permanence into my soul.

The heels I wore wobbled precariously on the stone floor, but I refused to stop. Stopping would mean giving in, and I wasn't ready to let myself fall apart just yet. Draco and Theo flanked me, their silence louder than any words they could have spoken. Their presence was a strange comfort, though; at least I wasn't alone in this.

When we finally reached Draco's room, the door creaked open, and the weight of everything finally collapsed onto me. I stumbled toward a chair, barely registering the soft thud as I sank into it. Theo sat heavily by the fireplace, his head in his hands, while Draco leaned against the bedpost, his expression unreadable but his eyes—his eyes betrayed him. They were hollow, raw, as if he was barely holding himself together.

The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the crackle of the fire. I cradled my arm, clutching it as though holding it might stop the Mark from hurting, from burning its weight into my being.

I tried to stand, to move, but my legs buckled, and the world tilted dangerously. I braced for the impact of the cold, hard floor, but a pair of arms caught me before I hit.

"Victoria!" Draco's voice was sharp, panicked, and then I was enveloped in warmth.

He steadied me, his grip firm but gentle, and guided me to the bed. My body collapsed onto it, my head spinning. His arms stayed around me, grounding me as my breaths came in short, ragged bursts.

"You're not fine," Draco said, his voice low but insistent.

"I'm fine," I lied, my words barely audible, my trembling hands betraying me.

The quiet stretched on. I tried to lighten the mood, my voice trembling as I forced out, "Do you think they'll make me wear black every day now? Is that some sort of Death Eater uniform?"

Theo's weak chuckle cut through the tension, but the sound was empty. "It would suit you," he said, his attempt at humor half-hearted.

Draco didn't laugh. "It's not funny," he said sharply, his tone colder than the firelight suggested.

"I know," I whispered, my gaze falling to the floor. "I don't know what else to say."

Theo finally spoke, his voice hesitant. "What about you two?" He gestured between us. "Are you ever going to admit whatever it is that's going on?"

My stomach twisted, and my heart seemed to stop mid-beat.

"There's nothing to admit," I said quickly, my voice defensive.

"Nothing at all," Draco added, but his words were too quick, too unconvincing.

Theo raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Fine. Keep lying to yourselves. Just... figure it out. We don't have the luxury of secrets anymore."

Draco's arms tightened around me, a silent reassurance. We were all trapped now—by our choices, by the Marks on our arms, and by the unspoken truths tying us together.

***

The night stretched endlessly. I managed to drift into a restless sleep, but the Mark had other plans. A sharp, searing pain flared up my arm, pulling me from unconsciousness. My eyes shot open, and I bit down hard on my lip, suppressing a cry as I clutched my forearm.

The burning was unbearable, like fire crawling through my veins. My body jerked involuntarily, and my nails scraped against the Mark as I tried desperately to find relief.

"Victoria?" Draco's voice was soft but urgent.

I barely registered him sitting at the edge of the bed, his face pale and worried, before Theo stirred beside me.

"It hurts," I whimpered, tears spilling down my cheeks as I clutched my arm. "It won't stop burning."

Theo moved quickly, pulling me into his arms. His embrace was tight, his chin resting on the top of my head as he murmured reassurances I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears.

Draco shifted closer, his jaw set with determination. Without a word, he raised his wand, muttering, "Frigus pacem."

The cold spread instantly, soothing the fiery torment. I gasped in relief, the tears now falling freely as I sagged into Theo's hold.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Draco set his wand down but didn't move away. His hand hovered near mine before he rested it on my arm, the warmth of his touch a grounding force.

We stayed like that for hours—the three of us, bound together by pain, by fear, and by the faintest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could survive this.

***

When morning came, I woke to find Draco still sitting at my bedside, his hand wrapped around mine, his head tilted back against the chair as he slept. In the soft light, he looked vulnerable, almost boyish—so different from the sharp, composed mask he usually wore.

For a moment, I let myself admire him, my fingers brushing against his as I shifted. The storm inside me hadn't disappeared, but his presence, steady and unyielding, was enough to keep me anchored.

Even if the world burned around us, at least we weren't alone in the fire.

DRACO MALFOY

The grand staircase loomed before us like the threshold of some ancient mausoleum, its marble steps glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. The vastness of Malfoy Manor seemed to swallow sound, save for the hollow echo of our footfalls that rang out like a dirge. The air carried a chill, heavy and damp, as though the walls themselves were exhaling the cold breath of the grave.

Victoria's hand rested lightly on my arm, her trembling fingers betraying the composure she struggled to maintain. Each subtle quiver sent a pang through me, but I kept my hold steady, a lifeline in the suffocating stillness. On her other side, Theo walked with stiff precision, his shoulders tense beneath the weight of unspoken fears.

Ahead, the grand table stretched like a shadowy monolith, its dark wood gleaming with a sheen of wax and menace. The figures seated around it were draped in black robes that seemed to absorb the light, their faces ghostly in the flicker of the candelabra's flames. Bellatrix Lestrange lounged in her chair like a predator at rest, her wild mane of hair forming a halo of chaos around her sharp, angular features. Her laughter, sharp and grating, cut through the silence as her gaze landed on us.

"Well, well," she purred, her voice serpentine with malice. "Little Dracey, playing the gallant knight for the Notts. What a sight."

Victoria's fingers tightened around my arm, her nails faintly pressing into my skin. I fought to keep my expression blank, my pulse hammering beneath the facade of calm. Bellatrix's laughter seemed to echo long after it ended, mingling with the whispers and jeers of the others as we descended the final steps.

At the head of the table, Voldemort stood, his skeletal frame cloaked in shadow. His pallid, inhuman face was turned toward us, crimson eyes gleaming with a predatory intelligence that left me cold. My mother sat to his right, her face a mask of careful neutrality, though the slight tension in her jaw betrayed her. My father, Lucius, sat beside Andrew Nott, his features carved in stone as their gazes flickered to us with silent appraisal.

"Ah, our newest recruits," Voldemort said, his voice low and smooth, curling around the room like smoke. "Draco Malfoy, Victoria Nott, Theodore Nott. Welcome."

The room erupted into cruel laughter, a cacophony that felt like the cracking of a whip. Bellatrix leaned forward, her grin wide and feral. "Such fresh faces," she drawled, her dark eyes alight with mockery. "Innocents marching into the fire, how deliciously tragic."

Victoria's hand slipped into mine, her grip trembling but firm, and I squeezed back instinctively. Voldemort's gaze fell to our joined hands, a flicker of amusement—or was it something darker?—passing across his face.

"Tonight," Voldemort intoned, his voice slicing through the din, "we celebrate the growth of our strength. Each of you is a thread in the tapestry of our dominion. Together, we will weave a future where chaos and bloodshed will forge our supremacy."

The applause that followed was thunderous, a hollow roar that reverberated in my chest. Victoria's nails bit into my palm, a grounding pain amidst the suffocating noise. As the meeting dragged on—filled with plans of violence and the cold calculus of war—the room seemed to shrink, the air growing dense with the weight of inevitability. Every word was a reminder of the chains tightening around us.

When Voldemort finally dismissed us, his gaze lingered, a silent warning glinting in his eyes. Victoria and I exchanged a glance—hers wide and glassy, mine heavy with the same unspoken dread. As I helped her rise, her movements were stiff, as though she feared breaking under the weight of the night.

We ascended the staircase together, the echo of the meeting clinging to us like smoke. Victoria's hand brushed against mine as we walked, and though her lips remained silent, her touch spoke volumes: fear, resolve, and a desperate need for comfort in the face of what lay ahead. The flickering candlelight cast wavering shadows on the walls, transforming the familiar into something alien and menacing.

When my mother's voice called out, soft but unyielding, I stopped in my tracks. The sound sliced through the air like a shard of ice, and I turned, my heart sinking as Victoria's worried gaze locked onto mine. Theo guided her up the stairs with a hesitant glance over his shoulder, leaving me to face the shadows gathering in the parlor below.

The air thickened with foreboding as I approached my parents, their forms stark against the dim light. Andrew Nott stood nearby, his presence a silent testament to the gravity of the conversation to come. The silence pressed against my ears as I braced myself for the storm.

"We've heard things, Draco," my father began, his tone cold and cutting, the weight of his expectations filling the room like a tangible force.

The oppressive gloom of the manor seemed to close in, its labyrinthine corridors and towering ceilings no longer a symbol of grandeur but a cage.

Lucius's eyes bore into me, cold and piercing, his voice sharper than the chill in the room. "You are walking a dangerous line, Draco. If you and Victoria continue this... closeness, you risk betraying everything our families stand for."

I held his gaze, defiance tightening my jaw. "Betrayal? How is caring for someone a betrayal? She's not just anyone—she's Victoria. She's a Nott, a pureblood, just like us."

"Exactly," Andrew Nott interjected, his tone measured but heavy with warning. "She is a Nott, Draco. Her loyalty is to her family, as yours is to the Malfoys. The Dark Lord expects unity within these lines—not alliances that might be seen as... distractions."

Narcissa stepped forward, her voice softer but no less firm. "Draco, you must understand how precarious this is. Both of our families are already under scrutiny. The return of the Dark Lord has painted targets on all of us. Do you think he won't notice—or worse, disapprove of—an unapproved bond between two influential houses?"

I clenched my fists at my sides, anger bubbling beneath my calm exterior. "You're making it sound like this is some forbidden act. Victoria and I—we're doing nothing wrong."

"Wrong?" Lucius snapped, his voice rising. "The very appearance of impropriety is enough. You underestimate how closely the Dark Lord watches. He demands devotion, unyielding loyalty, and complete focus on his cause. This—this infatuation—could be seen as weakness, and weakness invites punishment."

Andrew's voice was colder than the stone walls around us. "And what of the whispers? Already, people are talking. A union between the Notts and the Malfoys would ripple through our world. Some would see it as a consolidation of power, others as a threat. You think the Dark Lord would allow such speculation unchecked?"

I turned to my mother, hoping for a lifeline of understanding. "You can't expect me to walk away from her just because people might talk. If we follow that logic, we'll never live for ourselves—only for them."

Her blue eyes softened with pity, but her voice betrayed her resolve. "Draco, this isn't just about you. It's about the survival of our family. Love is a luxury we cannot afford in times like these. You must put your duty above your desires."

"Duty?" I barked, my voice cracking under the weight of frustration. "My so-called duty is nothing more than a leash. And if I have to wear it, I'll still choose who I stand beside."

Lucius stepped closer, his face dark with anger. "You're a fool if you think the Dark Lord will tolerate such insolence. Blood purity is sacred, yes, but loyalty to him supersedes all else. You think he will bless this... relationship? He will see it as defiance, as a challenge to his authority."

Andrew nodded grimly. "And he will make an example of you both. He has done so for far less."

I felt my pulse hammering in my ears, the suffocating weight of their words pressing on my chest. "Then let him come," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll stand by her, no matter what it costs me."

The room fell silent, my words echoing ominously against the vaulted ceiling. My parents and Andrew exchanged glances, their faces etched with a mixture of shock and dismay. Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a sharp, thunderous knock shattered the stillness.

The sound reverberated through the manor like the toll of a funeral bell. All of us froze, the air heavy with dread. My father's face darkened, and he raised a hand to silence any questions.

"Stay here," he commanded in a low growl, striding toward the door with Andrew close behind. My mother's hand found my arm, her fingers cold and trembling.

I turned my gaze toward the looming entrance hall as the knock sounded again, more insistent this time. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, creeping closer, as if the house itself was bracing for what lay beyond. My heart thudded painfully as Lucius reached for the door, and I held my breath, knowing that whatever waited on the other side would change everything.