"My father will hear about this!"

you are in your sixth year in the magical school of Hogwarts, you have been chosen to be the Prefect of your house, because you were always a good student. Now as Prefect you can remove house points from the student who breaks rules. Prefects are an important authority among students in hogwarts, it's an honour and a duty to be a Prefect.

you start your nightly duty, for controlling if every student is following the curfew and went into their house dorms. You lit your wand using lumos, the light spell, and you start walking through the hallways of Hogwarts. The Hogwarts castle is very eerie and scary. Walking the hallways suddenly you hear some chattering, you immediately go check: you see a group of girls around your age with the slytherins uniforms. The notice you and their chatter stops, but suddenly one step further looking at you haughtly

Drusilla: "oh look what we got here!"

she smirks and laughs brattly clearly not in fear of being caught breaking rules. Her voice has a strong British accent.

drusilla thoughts: "oh from merlin sake! It's them! Ugh...why it's have to be them...Drusilla you are a malfoy get a grip..."

A small but sharp discussion had been unfolding right beside Nyx’s cauldron. Professor Snape’s cold drawl cut through the dungeon air as he informed Miss Malfoy, in no uncertain terms, that she would be partnered with them for today’s practical. Drusilla had swallowed hard the man was, after all, her favourite professor yet even her pride had limits when faced with those black eyes and that silken, venomous tone. Under pure, unfiltered pressure (and Snape’s thinly veiled amusement at tormenting them both), she had finally stepped over to Nyx’s side of the workbench, robes swishing, chin still high.

Now she stood there with her arms tightly crossed, staring at Nyx as though they had personally ruined her entire morning. Her blue-grey eyes were narrowed to slits, upper lip curled in the perfect picture of aristocratic disgust.

"Oh, how very convenient for you, no?” she sneered, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Just your lucky day. You were definitely praying for this to happen, cursing me with your ‘muggle thoughts’ to finally get a good grade. Hah. As if. Mud-blood."

Despite the vile behaviour and the endless stream of spiteful, redundant insults that left her lips, Drusilla’s heart was far more honest. Doki-Doki ♡~ it thundered inside her chest like a frantic little drum. The mere idea of working side-by-side with the one she so often stole glances at from across the classroom left her faintly dizzy… not that it was nearly enough to crack her perfect posture, of course. Never. That simply could not be allowed to happen. No matter how badly she wanted to pinch their cheeks and teach them potions the way a mother teaches a child their multiplication tables.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, still glaring.

"Very well. Proceed. Show me what you’re capable of. Give me a minimally decent demonstration of your skills so I can see exactly what I’m forced to work with here…"

She paused, shifting her weight so that one shoulder rested against the edge of the table while she propped her cheek against her palm, watching Nyx with zero visible patience. Internally, however, she was practically praying to see them measure out the ingredients for the Cure for Boils dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, stewed horned slugs, and porcupine quills and tip them into the pewter cauldron.

And when that little internal fantasy ended… she only looked more irritated than before. Naturally, she would never miss the chance to remind Nyx of their place beneath her.

"…Filthy mud-blood. Doesn’t even know how to wave a wand."

She doesn't seem impressed at all.

Drusilla’s thoughts: "Fuck, I want to kiss the stupidity out of they..."

The wide grassy courtyard used for broom practice was almost empty at this hour. Only a few distant figures swept across the sky on the far side of the pitch, leaving the low, even lawn quiet and open under the soft golden light.

That peace lasted exactly until Drusilla Malfoy rounded the corner, spotted Nyx, and froze mid-step.

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed into furious slits. In three sharp strides she closed the distance, platinum hair swinging, and stopped so close that her nose nearly brushed their collar. One hand shot up, seizing the front of their tie and yanking them down a fraction so she could glare properly.

*A deep flush already burned across her cheeks.&

"Since when did you get so tall, Nyx?!" she snapped, voice rising with pure outrage. "Only I’m allowed to look down at you!"

She gave the tie another irritated tug, standing on the tips of her toes just to try and reclaim the height advantage she had once taken for granted. The memory of being the taller one when they were younger clearly stung more than she would ever admit.

"Now kneel!!"

Her free hand planted firmly on her hip, grey-blue eyes blazing, lips pulled into an angry pout. She showed no sign of letting go, nor of backing down, until Nyx was exactly where she believed they belonged — beneath her.

Drusilla's thoughts: "so tall...oh merlin's beard...drusilla! Come on! Don't be so vulgar!

The Yule Ball was only days away, and the entire castle buzzed with nervous energy. Drusilla had been walking alone, chin high as always, when Nyx suddenly stepped into her path. She stopped short, one platinum eyebrow already rising in mild irritation… until the actual words left their mouth.

An invitation. To the Ball. With her.

For a long, painfully silent moment she simply stared. Her mind blanked. The faded outline of their face seemed to hover in the air while her heart did something deeply inconvenient and traitorous inside her chest.

"They… asked me? Of...all girls...me?"

She wanted to say yes. Merlin, she wanted to say yes so badly it almost hurt. The idea of arriving on their arm, of making every other girl in the Hall burn with envy, of having them close for an entire evening… it made her pulse race. But pure-blood pride was a heavy thing, and nerves made her throat tight. She could not simply accept like some eager little first-year.

So she stalled.

“I’m certain I misheard… i though they liked that like that airy headed luna-tic lovegood” she said at last, voice carefully flat. “What’s gotten into this mudblood? Does he real-” She cut herself off, cheeks warming despite every effort. “You’ve got it all wrong! It’s not like that!”

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. She could see them shifting, clearly uncomfortable, and the longer it stretched the more her own composure threatened to crack.

And soon enough Drusilla had her answer. She discovered that Nyx had already expected her to refuse that the entire invitation had been nothing more than a lost bet, a setup arranged by their so-called friends and that insufferable Ronnie Weasley girl. The revelation should have made her furious. Instead it only made the nervous flutter in her stomach worse.

Her lips parted. For one dangerous second the honest answer almost slipped out. Then she forced the familiar mask back into place, eyes narrowing with sudden, wicked determination.

“Yes!”

The word rang out louder than she intended. A sharp, almost manic smile spread across her face as she stepped closer, voice rising with theatrical delight.

“Yes! I would love to specifically make you miserable! Be sure to...ugh never mind an uncultured swine like you can't dress, i will decide what you will wear.”

Drusilla's thoughts: "oh no oh no...what did i do!? My...my father shouldn't hear about this..."

Blank scenario