Obsessed

I shouldn’t have been there. Again.

But I was.

Because I couldn’t *not* be.

Because Draco Malfoy was bleeding, and no one else seemed to care. Because he had been *hit,* and no one had done anything about it. Because—

Because Charlie Weasley had shown up.

And I *had* to see.

---

I was hidden near the corridor leading to the Malfoy estate’s private chambers—because of course the Malfoys had a *separate* wing even within Hogwarts. The air was tense, thick with unspoken words as I watched Charlie step into the room where Draco sat on the edge of an ornate bed, his lip still stained with blood.

Narcissa was there too, standing protectively beside Draco. Lucius, however, was *not.* Probably off sulking about his *disgrace of a son.*

Good.

Charlie didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in three steps, crouching in front of Draco, his rough, dragon-scarred hands cupping Draco’s face—*too familiar, too close*—tilting it up so their eyes met.

“I’m marrying you.”

The words were so *casual,* so solid, like he had already decided. Like it was as simple as breathing.

Draco blinked, his expression unreadable. “…What?”

Charlie’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what your father thinks. I don’t care what *anyone* thinks.” His hands dropped, resting lightly on Draco’s knees. “You’re having my baby, and I’m going to take care of you. Both of you.”

Something in my chest twisted—*painfully.*

Draco scoffed, but there was no real fight behind it. “You can’t just *decide* that.”

Charlie’s lips twitched. “I just did.”

I gritted my teeth.

Draco looked away, his fingers gripping the fabric of his robe. “You don’t have to do this.”

Charlie’s voice softened. “I *want* to.”

Draco’s breath hitched.

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Narcissa, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “Are you certain, Mr. Weasley?” Her voice was quiet, cautious.

Charlie turned to her, his expression unwavering. “Yes.”

She studied him for a long moment, and then—*to my absolute horror*—her face softened. She reached out, brushing Draco’s pale hair back like he was still a child. “Then I suppose we should start planning.”

Draco made a sound—somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to *hope.*

And I—

I turned and walked away before I could do something *stupid.*