Lorenzo's Pov

My poor baby.

She was sleeping suffocated between Mattheo and Draco. Squished under Theo's weight on her legs, and I wasn't here to make it any better. Chuckling to myself, I stripped off my shoes and robes before gently pushing Draco to the other side of the bed and taking his place. My eyes closed, and Fey snuggled into my arms as I fell asleep in the pile.

Blaise came storming into the room, all thoughts forgotten when he saw his friends and girl sleeping in a pile on the small bed. He jumped onto the bed and wiggled between everyone, pushing his way under the covers with no regard for anyone trying to sleep. He wrapped around Fey, pushing everyone away to be close to her.

Blaise let his eyes roam around the room, feeling completely relaxed, until he noticed Draco acting as the big spoon. He leaned over and smirked, "Jesus, Enzo, I thought we were dating Fey," he snarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

My brows knit together in confusion, and I looked at Fey, stretching and rubbing her eyes as she tried to wake up with Blaise dragging her back down to the bed. Arms around my waist tightened, and I looked down, noticing Draco wrapped tightly around me. His face was relaxed and peaceful. He held me tightly and rested his head against my back.

I shrugged in response and tried to free myself, but Draco tightened his hold, pulling me back to the bed.

Fey smiled, trying to cover her giggle, "Aww, he's so cute when he's sleeping."

Mattheo yawned, looking over, "Yeah, much less of a dick head."

"Someone help me. He's got a tight grip," I complained.

Fey crawled across Blaise and pinched Draco's cheek, "Dray, wake up."

He groaned, pushing his face into my back.

She laughed, "Dray, come on, you've got to let go now."

"Don't want to," he grumbled, not bothering to look up.

"Look, you prat, I don't know how you swing, but you're not my type," I told him firmly as I tried to free myself.

Draco peeked out from behind my back, confused when he saw Fey hovering over his head rather than lying in front of him. He looked at me and then back to her, the lights slowly turning back on inside his tired mind.

When he finally hit full power, he flung himself backward off the bed and landed on the floor, his groans echoing as he rolled around in pain.

The others laughed, and Fey leaned over the edge, looking down at him, a slight frown turning her lips down, "Are you alright?"

He glared up at her, "Do I look alright?"

Her frown switched to a glare instantly, "Don't catch an attitude with me, Draco Malfoy. I was not the one who tossed you on your arse. You did that your, damn self."

My eyes widened at her tone.

Where had this Fey come from?

Fiery and full of attitude.

I took in every feature of her face, memorizing the creases and hardness in her eyes as she glared at Draco.

"You're hot when you're mad," Blaise told her, tugging her back with an arm around her waist.

She fell against his chest and relaxed. Her eyes closed, and the tension left her as he ran his fingers through her hair, his fingers scratching over her scalp softly, "That's nice."

Blaise grinned like he won a million galleons and placed a kiss on her forehead, "That's what I like to hear. Let me make you feel good."

A flush rose and colored her cheeks, but she stayed where she was, her eyes closed and let Blaise's fingers work their magic. Then as if he had been smacked, he shot upright, accidentally pushing Fey off his chest, "Fuck me."

"What's your problem?" Theo mumbled, glaring at him.

Blaise's face scrunched up, looking guilty, and his hand rubbed at the back of his neck, "I came up here because I had something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Well, when I was on my way up here, I heard a few of the younger Slytherins chatting," he trailed off, avoiding our eyes.

"Bravo, Blaise. That is such important information," Draco snarked from the floor.

He glared at the top of Draco's head, "They were talking about Fey," he gave her a sad look.

I pulled her into my lap and circled my arms around her waist, "What were they saying?"

"One of them said she was a slag," he explained, "I was going to hex their hair off their head, but they kept talking. Said that she was lucky to be getting married."

My arms loosened around her waist, and all of our eyes turned to Fey in that instant. Our shock overwhelmed us so much that we couldn't form words to ask her to explain.

I looked at her though, the same face that I had seen covered in tears, extetched with passion, and the lips that whispered 'I love you,' and I knew that she was in just as much shock as we were as she stared back at Blaise who was gazing at her, waiting for her to speak and explain herself, explain her 'engagement.'

Her words tumbled from her lips, choppy and unsure of themselves, before she finally could speak calmly, "I'm what?"

"Apparently, you're getting married…" Blaise said again, "You're engaged."

Fey's eyes dropped to her left hand, and she examined all her fingers, "Well, there's no ring on my fingers, and I do not recall being asked."

"Who said this?" Draco asked, standing from the floor and running his hand through his floppy and messy strands, looking stressed.

Blaise looked toward the ceiling, thinking hard, "I don' know one of them, but the other was Greengrass."

Draco froze, and I knew from his face what he was thinking. Astoria was doing this to get between them, to drive a wedge and split them apart.

"I'll handle this," he told us before gathering his robe and slipping on his shoes.

"Draco, you don't have to. It's unimportant," Fey said, "It's just a rumor."

He turned back to us, his eyes cold and his face a mask, "It is important. No one gets to call you a slag and spread lies about you." He turned on his heel as he left the room, the door shutting softly behind him.

There was a sense of finality as the door shut, and the confusion hung in the air, our minds whirling with reasons why they would spread such a rumor. None of us spoke, though, or voiced our concerns. We lay there staring at the door in our thoughts, trying to figure out the minds of others.

…

Draco's Pov

Astoria sat with her little friends on the velvet couch across the fireplace. A book in her hand, merely for decoration. She flipped the pages every few seconds without reading them and laughed.

She could have been beautiful if I hadn't known what was in her heart and mind. She was sweet, of average intelligence, and docile. However, she could also be manipulative, bitter, and rude.

I suppose those qualities gained her entry into Slytherin in the first place, along with her cunning attitude and self-preservation.

My eyes wandered to the clock. I had been standing here, watching and waiting for some time. She had done nothing interesting since I arrived, and I was now sick of waiting.

I moved quickly from my hiding place, and with confident strides, I swallowed the space between us in seconds. Standing before her, I let emotions drop from my face, not wanting to give her anything, and cleared my throat.

Astoria looked at me, pleased, and smiled, "Draco! I was hoping to speak with you today."

I said nothing and tilted my head toward her friends, who stared at us, waiting for entertainment.

She looked at them and blushed, "Girls, why don't you go? I'll chat with you later."

They continued their gaze penetrating until Astoria shoved them out of their trance, and they scurried away, shooting us looks over their shoulder as they went.

I sat and crossed my legs, turning to face her, my expression growing harder with my anger now that there were no witnesses. As my eyes turned to her, she seemed to realize this was not a pleasant visit.

"Draco…"

"It has come to my attention that you have been speaking ill of Fey," I spoke as calmly as possible. As I spoke, my fingers curled into fists in my lap, watching her every move.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, her eyes falling to a stray thread in the couch.

"I believe you called her a 'slag'."

Her head snapped up, and she locked eyes with me, "I said no such thing."

"Astoria, it does you no good to lie," I told her, "I am here asking you because I already know. Now tell me everything."

She looked at me, taking in my stiff posture and the anger in my clenched jaw as I waited. She must have found what she needed because when she spoke, she did so quickly, "I was talking with Aroura and she was telling me about Fey going on a date with Theo, and then a date with Mattheo too," she fidgeted with her skirt, her confidence waning the more she spoke, "It was in the moment, I promise, I called her a slag because… because she well… well she had gone a date with all of you."

"And?" I asked, my brow raised in question.

"Well, it's ridiculous. She should be happy with just one boy. Why in the world does she need four?"

"Tell me, why is it any of your concern?"

Her mouth opened and closed.

She said nothing.

"That is exactly what I thought. It isn't your concern," I leaned toward her, sneering at her, anger evident in my tone, "Fey is none of your concern, Astoria. Don't ever let me hear of you speaking about her again. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now tell me why your friend said she was getting married?"

Astoria sighed, "That's the other reason I called her a slag. She's engaged to Flint. Only a slag would be dating while their fiance tells everyone about their engagement."

"Flint?"

She nodded, "Yeah, Marcus' little brother, Rafe."

My vision went red. My hands began to shake, and my head throbbed. Rafe was telling everyone he was engaged to Fey.

What the fuck was he planning? He should know that there was no way in hell she would ever go near him, not that we would let her.

Fey was our. Now and always.

That fucking bastard. I would make sure to end his pitiful life in the most bloody and painful way I could think of.

Standing quickly before I could do anything stupid, I left Astoria sitting on the couch, confused. My feet stomped up the stairs to my dorm, the door slamming behind me as I pulled parchment from my desk.

Writing my report to Umbridge, I began filling in all the reports for the day, adding several for Rafe and his friends. Looking it over, I spell it to fly to Umbridge's office.

This would be just the start of everything. Rafe would be in detention every night for the rest of the year, with no room for fun, studying, or anything else. We would make sure he would suffer every second until he took his last breath.