At Hogwarts, nothing had ever been as simple as it seemed. You had been a fifth-year Gryffindor, pure blood, a member of the Quidditch team, a pureblood witch raised in a powerful and secretive family, and—somehow—the girlfriend of Harry Potter for almost three months. Winter break had been approaching, and for the first time in your life, you had been on the verge of failing Potions—a class you had earned Outstanding in every single year. What you hadn’t known… was why. Since first year, Draco Malfoy had secretly been your tutor. What had started as quiet, hidden help had slowly turned into something much more, and by fourth year, the two of you had fallen deeply for each other. You had spent your time brewing illegal potions together, sharing a strange love for raspberry chocolate, and building something no one else knew existed. You even had a saying—hold fast… but hold me faster. You had given yourself to him in the Astronomy Tower, and from that moment on, your relationship had become intense, consuming, and completely hidden from everyone else. No one had known about your secret meetings or your love, or the things you had trusted him with—like your father’s illegal dragon trade. Instead of sending owls over the summer, the two of you had used a shared enchanted notebook where messages appeared and disappeared within seconds, leaving no trace behind, like your own private world that no one else could ever touch. But everything had changed when you returned to Hogwarts. One night, while the two of you had been sneaking into the Forbidden Forest for one of your reckless, romantic adventures, Death Eaters sent by Draco’s father had come to kill you. Desperate to save your life, Draco had begged them to let him handle it another way. His solution had been the only thing that could keep you alive, even if it destroyed him—a memory potion. He had forced you to drink it, and just like that, everything had been gone. When you had woken up, you had no memory of him, no memory of his tutoring, no memory of your relationship, and no memory of loving him. It had been Harry Potter and Hermione Granger who had found you unconscious in the fields outside the forest, and that had been the beginning of everything with Harry. He had stayed by your side in the hospital wing, refusing to leave until you had been discharged, and after that the two of you had become inseparable—walking to class together, laughing at Quidditch practice, slowly building something that felt real. One month after your memory loss, he had asked you to be his girlfriend, and you had happily said yes. You had loved him, or at least, you had thought you did. But Draco had never been far—always watching, always lingering, always looking like he wanted to say something but never did. You had assumed it was because of Harry, never suspecting that you had once been everything to him. He had been rude to Harry and tried to be rude to you in front of others, and recently Professor Snape had assigned him as your Potions tutor in class. He had been the best in the class, and somehow you had become the worst, even though the year before the two of you had been neck and neck for the top spot. You had tried to fix it on your own, spending countless nights in the library studying and even more in your dorm brewing with Hermione Granger, but nothing had worked, and no matter how hard you tried, it had always felt like you were forgetting something important. You had an owl named Petels—though you didn’t remember getting it—and Draco had its brother, Pine. He had also given you a silver pin shaped like a mermaid, and even without remembering him, you had found yourself wearing it again and again. Harry had been everything you could have asked for—Hogsmeade dates, late-night chess matches, soft laughter, and growing closeness. You had kissed more than once, and as time passed, the tension between you had deepened, your hands lingering and his gaze drifting, something building between you. And as the winter ball had grown closer, so had the two of you. But ever since your relationship had become public, Draco had begun lingering more, appearing in places he never should have been, always watching. You had often written in the notebook—the one you had no memory of getting—hoping the person on the other end would respond, but they never had, because Draco had never revealed anything unless it had been absolutely necessary. On the night of the winter ball, just as you and Harry had begun to truly fall for each other, a message had appeared in your journal—meet me, Astronomy Tower, midnight. You had slipped away from the ball and climbed the tower to meet the person you had been writing to for an entire term, and when you arrived, it had been Draco. Everything had erupted. You had lashed out, furious that he had been reading your deepest thoughts, your secrets, your relationship with Harry, even the way your eyes had begun to linger on him without understanding why. After the storm of anger, after everything had been said, he had offered you the antidote, and you had agreed. The moment the potion had taken effect, everything had come rushing back—every memory, every feeling, every moment you had shared with him. Draco. You had reunited with him completely, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, like something broken had finally been put back together. Without hesitation, you had written a breakup note to Harry and sent it to him through a flying paper bird while he searched for you at the ball. He had waited for you the entire night in the common room, and when you returned, all you could say was, it’s over… it’s over. He had fallen to his knees, crying and begging, searching your face for the girl who had loved him only hours before, but she had been gone. The next day, you had left Hogwarts for Christmas break, and your father had taken you back to your manor—dark, cold, and filled with secrets. Hidden within the dungeons and stretching fields had been dragons of every kind, dangerous, rare, and all acquired illegally. The break had passed quickly with you playing your role as the dutiful pureblood daughter until the day after Christmas, when your father had told you to wear your finest gown and informed you that you were both expected at Malfoy Manor. When you arrived, Death Eaters had filled the halls, Draco among them, and then Lord Voldemort had appeared. Your father had stepped forward first and accepted the Dark Mark, and then he had offered you to the Dark Lord in the same breath. There had been no hesitation. Voldemort had marked you as his, the pain burning into your skin as the symbol etched itself permanently into your arm. He assigned you and Draco to date to strengthen the bond as the only two death eaters in hogwarts, and to lower suspicion of both of us being together to often. When it had ended, you had no longer been just a student, or just a daughter—you had become something else entirely. And the arrangements had already been made. When you returned to Hogwarts, you would no longer be a Gryffindor. You would be a Slytherin.—