Hogwarts had always been my kingdom—control, hierarchy, precision. I thrived there, every glance, every whisper, every calculated step. But she—she was chaos in motion, determination wrapped in defiance, and she drew my attention in ways I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ignore.
It began in the dungeons. A staircase twisted impossibly before her, the stones slick and uneven. Most students would have panicked, shouted, or given up. Not her. She sat there, hands clenched on the wheelchair handles, jaw set, glaring at the slope like she could will it to yield.
I leaned lazily against the wall, wand spinning between my fingers. “You know,” I said, deliberately casual, “sitting there won’t make the castle any kinder.”
Her eyes snapped up, sharp and daring. “And if I do nothing?”
The nerve. The audacity. Normally, I would have laughed, mocked, walked away. But something inside me shifted. I flicked my wand. The stones shifted, forming a crude ramp. Functional enough. Not elegant, but enough.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, voice low. She would have, and I couldn’t allow it.
She rolled past, chest high, eyes forward. Something stirred in me—dangerous, magnetic, consuming. I didn’t look away.
---
I began appearing wherever she was. Not out of kindness. I didn’t care about kindness. I wanted to watch her, test her, be near her without admitting why.
In the library, I hovered behind her. “Careful with that quill,” I murmured. “You might actually write something intelligent.”
She glanced over her shoulder, lips twitching in irritation. Good. Sharp enough to fight back.
In Potions, I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “That potion is fuming too much. Did someone forget the instructions?”
Her glare sharpened. I smirked. Perfect.
---
Weeks passed. I noticed every detail—the curl of her fingers on the handles, the shift of her weight, the flicker in her expression when she caught me watching. Every detail thrilled and irritated me. I hated it—and yet I loved it.
My teasing became a calculated game: small insults, provocations designed to test limits.
“You call that rolling?” I said one morning in the hall. “I’ve seen first-years move faster.”
Her glare could freeze a basilisk. Not me. She rolled past, lips tight. Good.
---
I began clearing hallways for her, moving anyone who dared stare. Not for her, for me. No one else could have her attention the way I wanted.
“You don’t need their pity,” I murmured one day, low and dangerous, as whispers trailed. “Or their stares. You’ve got me.”
Her cheeks warmed. She didn’t smile, but that flicker in her eyes belonged to me.
---
Then came Harry.
It was in the courtyard. She laughed at something he said—with him. My chest tightened, heat pooling low in my stomach. Jaw clenched. Fingers curled. Wand stayed hidden. No magic this time—just me.
“She’s… speaking to you?” I muttered.
I stalked forward, voice smooth, edged with menace. “Talking to me, Potter? Or just pretending to be interesting?”
Harry froze. She gasped. I leaned close, chest brushing hers, just enough to make her shiver. “Not anymore,” I hissed. Hands resting lightly on the wheelchair handles, claiming, protective.
“You don’t understand—” she whispered.
“I understand perfectly,” I said. “You belong here. With me. And I will not let anyone—anyone—take that from you.”
Her lips parted, breath catching. I leaned closer, forehead to hers. My lips pressed to hers—soft at first, testing, teasing. Her hands trembled on the handles, pulse quickening under my gaze.
Then harder. Urgent. Possessive. I felt her stiffen, then melt into the kiss. Her lips parted against mine, hesitant at first, then hungry. I deepened it, one hand brushing her hair back, the other resting lightly on her arm. She gasped, fingers curling into my robes, shivering with tension, with desire.
---
Days blurred into weeks. My obsession sharpened. I moved staircases, carried books, silenced whispers. Every interaction layered: teasing, touches, heated glances.
One evening, I cornered her in the Astronomy Tower. Moonlight kissed her face, soft and untouchable.
“You read too much,” I murmured, smirk curling.
“I like to escape,” she said, “not that it’s any of your concern.”
“It is,” I said. “I watch you. Every glance, every smile, every defiance. And it drives me insane.”
Her lips twitched. “Insane?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “Obsessive. Protective. Dangerous. And you…” My voice lowered, thick with desire. “…you are irresistible.”
Her breath hitched. She didn’t speak. I leaned closer, hands grazing her arms, teasing, claiming. She shivered. I kissed her, slow, then faster, deeper. Every gasp, every shiver, every heartbeat under my fingers fueled my obsession.
---
Hogwarts became our battlefield. Corridors ours. Stairs our challenges. Every student who dared pity or mock her felt my gaze. I became her shadow, her shield, her obsession made flesh.
---
Jealousy flared during Care of Magical Creatures. Harry leaned close, joking, smiling. My temper ignited. Wand twitched. I stalked toward them, calm on the surface, burning inside.
“You’re smiling too much,” I hissed, low, dangerous. “Talking too much.”
She looked up, startled. “Draco—”
“No,” I said. “Not now.” Pressing close, chest brushing hers, hands gripping the chair lightly. “Do you understand? You are mine. Not his. Not anyone else’s.”
Harry froze. She trembled. I didn’t hesitate. I kissed her—fierce, urgent, possessive. Every ounce of jealousy poured into the kiss. Her lips parted, teeth grazing mine, soft whimpers escaping. She gripped the handles, shivering against me, gasping for breath as my hands roamed lightly, claiming, yet careful. Harry stepped back, defeated.
---
Weeks passed. My obsession became ritual. Every glance, touch, accidental brush deepened the tension.
We began sharing corners of the castle—library at midnight, Astronomy Tower under moonlight, hidden dungeons. Each space heightened chemistry: teasing words, stolen touches, lingering glances, tension wrapping like smoke.
---
A rainy afternoon. I helped her navigate the slippery courtyard, hand lightly on the wheelchair, other shielding her from raindrops.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said.
“Ridiculous enough to keep you from crashing,” I said, teasing. “Do you feel safe?”
She hesitated. “I… yes.”
I leaned close. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I can’t afford to lose you. Not now. Not ever.”
---
Evenings in the common room were no less intense. Playful banter, teasing dares. Watching her clever comebacks, seeing her grin, seeing the spark ignite between us—it drove my obsession higher.
---
One night, tension broke completely. Alone in the dungeons, shadows embracing us, I pressed against the wall near her.
“I’ve tried to hide how much I notice you,” I murmured. “How much I… obsess over you.”
“Obsess?” Her voice was soft, trembling.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Every time you roll past, every glance at me, every defiance—it haunts me, excites me. Dangerous.”
Her lips parted, inviting. My hands rested lightly on her shoulders, claiming yet gentle. I kissed her—slow, deliberate, urgent. Her hands tangled in my robes, her breath hitching, fingers clutching the chair. I deepened the kiss, teeth grazing hers, soft moans spilling between us. Her body pressed closer, shivering, trembling under my obsessive grip. Every gasp, every heartbeat, every tremor she made drove me further.
When I pulled back, her eyes were wide, chest heaving, lips glistening with desire.
“They say bad boys ruin you,” I murmured. “But you’ve ruined me. And I don’t care. I’d burn this castle to ashes to keep you.”
Her fingers curled in my robes. “Draco…”
“Obsessive,” I whispered. “Dangerous. Protective. All-consuming. Yours, entirely.”
---
Hogwarts could throw stairs, whispers, rumors, Harry’s interruptions—none of it mattered.
She had me.
I had her. She was my girl.
In our obsession, slow-burn chemistry, fights, stolen kisses, and protective intensity—we had a heaven Hogwarts could never take away.
