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Where Pretty Girls Go

Y/N has everything most girls at Hogwarts could dream of. Beauty, intelligence, popularity, the admiration of every house, and the unwavering love of Draco Malfoy. But Daphne, Astoria, and Pansy have spent seven years living in her shadow, and they’ve finally had enough. In their eighth and final year, jealousy turns into obsession, and the three girls devise a sinister plan. They don’t want to be better than Y/N anymore. They want her gone. And when Y/N mysteriously disappears, Hogwarts is thrown into chaos. Nobody suspects the three girls pretending to mourn her. But some secrets are too dangerous to stay buried.

AngstHurtEstablished RelationshipKidnappingJealousyRivalryHogwarts Eighth YearSlytherins Being SlytherinsManipulationBetrayalSlow BurnHeavy AngstDraco Malfoy In Love
@CedesMalfoy·

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The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual. Most students had already retreated to their dormitories for the night. The enchanted windows showed nothing but black water pressing against the glass, and the greenish glow of the lamps made everything look cold.

Daphne Greengrass

leaning against the arm of a leather sofa, arms folded She was at it again today.

Astoria Greengrass

sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a magazine At what?

Pansy Parkinson

from the window seat, legs tucked beneath her What do you think? Existing. She says it with a laugh, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

They all knew who she meant. They always did. Y/N L/N—laughing in the corridor with Theo. Hugging Mattheo outside Potions. Sitting in the library with Draco's arm draped over the back of her chair like it belonged there.

Daphne Greengrass

Every professor acts like she's some sort of miracle. McGonagall actually asked her opinion in front of the entire class today. On curse theory.

Astoria Greengrass

without looking up She probably had the right answer.

Pansy Parkinson

Of course she did. muttering Little Miss Perfect.

The silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. Full of the same resentment they'd been swallowing for years.

Daphne Greengrass

quietly I'm tired of it.

Pansy Parkinson

snapping You think I'm not? I've had to watch Draco look at her like she hung the moon. Since fourth year. Her voice wavers, just slightly, before she turns back toward the window. It's pathetic.

Astoria Greengrass

gently closing her magazine So what do we do? We can't exactly hex her in the middle of the Great Hall.

Nobody answered right away. The fire crackled. Somewhere above them, footsteps moved across the stone ceiling. Then Daphne sat up, her expression cool and unreadable.

Daphne Greengrass

We stop competing with her. We stop trying to ruin her reputation or wait for Draco to come to his senses. None of that works.

Pansy Parkinson

raising an eyebrow So what's left? Wishing on a star?

Daphne Greengrass

looking directly at her Getting rid of her. Properly.

The words landed like a stone dropped into still water. Astoria's fingers tightened around the edge of her magazine. Pansy turned slowly from the window, her lips parting.

Astoria Greengrass

voice low Daphne. What exactly are you saying?

Daphne Greengrass

calmly I'm saying Hogwarts would be better off without her. We would be better off. No more watching her get everything we've ever worked for. No more pretending to smile while she takes what should have been ours.

Pansy Parkinson

after a beat, her voice strange You're talking about making her disappear.

Daphne Greengrass

I'm talking about making sure she doesn't come back.

The fire spat. Astoria looked between them, her pretty face pale in the dim light. There was fear in her eyes. But there was something else, too. Something that didn't say no.

Astoria Greengrass

That's insane. pauses How would we even...?

Pansy Parkinson

standing, hugging her arms to herself We'd need a plan. We'd need to be careful. Nobody can know.

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Not a joke anymore. Not a bitter rant. A possibility.

Daphne Greengrass

nodding slowly Then we plan.

Morning came the next day cold and grey, the way Hogwarts always looked in late autumn. The castle was already alive with movement—students heading to breakfast, robes abandoned for hoodies and jackets, phones glowing in their hands as they scrolled through overnight messages. The Great Hall smelled of coffee and toast and something sweet baking in the kitchens. At the Slytherin table, everything seemed normal at first.

Draco Malfoy

sliding onto the bench beside Lorenzo, already checking his phone Has anyone seen Y/N?

Lorenzo Berkshire

pouring himself coffee, smirking Missing her already? You saw her like eight hours ago.

Draco Malfoy

without smiling She's not answering my texts. He turns his phone around as if expecting them to solve it. I sent three.

Blaise Zabini

from across the table, not looking up from his plate That's not like her.

Draco Malfoy

No. It's not.

The noise of the hall continued around them. Students laughed. Plates clattered. An owl dropped a letter into someone's cereal. Draco's grey eyes kept moving toward the doors.

Theodore Nott

arriving late, sliding in beside Blaise Morning. He glances around. Where's Y/N?

Draco Malfoy

tightly That's what I'm trying to figure out.

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