#SaintxSinner

The soft chime of Hermione’s phone pulled her attention away from the steaming mug of tea on her desk. She set down her pen, mid-note in her planner, and unlocked the device. The familiar notification popped up: Your latest post has reached 100,000 likes.

It wasn’t unusual for her videos to perform well, but this one was climbing faster than expected. Curiosity piqued, she opened her Covet app and scrolled to her profile. The video was simple: a soft-focus clip of her fingers brushing over the delicate clasp of a pearl necklace, the barest hint of her bare shoulders and collarbones showing, paired with the caption: “Patience is a virtue. Some things are worth waiting for. 🕊️✨” The light filtering through the curtains had been just right, giving her skin a golden glow that made it look soft, and the faint rustle of silk in the background had created an intimate, alluring effect.

Hermione’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. Her audience loved the elegance and restraint of her content. She scrolled through the comments, where familiar usernames gushed over her “sweet” and “angelic” vibe. It was flattering, albeit predictable. What she didn’t expect was the sudden influx of newer comments.

> @ThirstyForScales: “Imagine Innocent_Enigma and Sinful_Scales collabing. The sweet and spicy energy would END ME.”

> @SinfulFan69: “Good girl meets bad boy? Yes, please. Manifesting this.”

> @CovetMatchmaker: “She’s the angel. He’s the devil. MAKE IT HAPPEN.”

Hermione frowned, her brows furrowing as she scrolled further. Who on earth was Sinful_Scales?

The next comment gave her the answer in painfully vivid detail.

> @HotAndTattooed: “Sinful_Scales: leather, tattoos, smirks. Innocent_Enigma: pearls, silk, halos. Opposites attract. They’d kill us all.”

She set her phone down and stared at it like it had betrayed her. The name Sinful_Scales rang a faint bell, though she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it. A quick search confirmed it: he was another faceless creator on Covet, but his content—from what little she dared to glance at—was leagues away from hers. Where Hermione’s aesthetic was soft, delicate and focused on a subtle, tasteful tease, his was bold, dark, and unapologetically provocative. Tattoos? Leather? Good lord, did he actually wear chains in his videos?

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, locking her phone again. “Who even thinks these things?”

Still, she couldn’t stop her mind from lingering on the idea. What would a collaboration like that even look like? Her usual white silk and pearls juxtaposed against…what? A black leather harness and a smirk? The image alone made her cringe.

The tea in her mug had gone lukewarm by the time she finally caved and reopened her app. Another flurry of comments awaited her, fans debating hypothetical scenarios of Innocent_Enigma meeting Sinful_Scales. The ridiculousness of it all grated against her usual sense of control. People loved to speculate, but this?

With a sigh, she tapped open Chatter and typed out a single, cutting response.

> “Sweet doesn’t pair with tacky. Thanks for the suggestions, though. 🕊️✨”

Satisfied, she closed the app and leaned back in her chair. That should be enough to shut down the conversation. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her ability to stay professional. Her fans admired her for her grace and restraint, and she had no intention of compromising that—not for someone whose brand practically screamed “look at me” with neon lights.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside her window. Then, another chime broke the quiet. Hermione reached for her phone, expecting another round of comments from her loyal followers. Instead, her eyes widened at the name attached to the notification.

@Sinful_Scales has replied to your tweet.

Her finger hovered over the screen, hesitation warring with curiosity. She clicked it, and there it was:

> “Sweet’s just another word for boring. Stick to baking tutorials, darling.”

Her jaw tightened. The sheer audacity of it made her blood simmer. Boring? If she were the type to post unhinged responses, she’d have told him exactly what she thought of his overinflated ego. Instead, she exhaled through her nose, setting the phone face-down on her desk as if ignoring it would make the problem disappear.

But it didn’t. Because seconds later, another chime echoed in the quiet room, then another, and another. Fans were already taking sides, their tweets flooding her mentions.

> @DramaLlama: “OMG THE FEUD WE DIDN’T KNOW WE NEEDED.”

> @ShipItHard: “Enemies-to-lovers arc incoming. Calling it now.”

> @SweetNSalty: “Okay but why is this lowkey flirty???”

Hermione groaned, dropping her head into her hands. What had she just started?

The phone buzzed against the edge of the marble countertop, interrupting the lazy rhythm of Draco’s evening. He exhaled a stream of smoke from the cigarette he’d barely touched, his tattooed fingers tapping idly on the black granite as he reached for his device. Another notification from Covet. Another round of fan adoration.

Or so he thought.

The name on the screen wasn’t a fan—not exactly.

@Innocent_Enigma has tweeted.

Draco squinted, unlocking his phone with a swipe. Her handle had floated in and out of his mentions over the years, but he’d never bothered looking deeper. Too… ethereal, too curated, too sweet. Sweet doesn’t sell, he always told himself. People craved hunger, fire, the thrill of someone who could make them unravel with a glance. Not… pearls and silk.

Still, her tweet caught his attention.

> “Sweet doesn’t pair with tacky. Thanks for the suggestions, though. 🕊️✨”

His lips twitched upward, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Tacky?” he muttered, amusement laced in his voice. “That’s what she’s calling me?”

He clicked her profile out of curiosity, scrolling through her carefully curated feed. Everything was soft edges and muted tones—delicate wrists playing with pearl strands, silhouettes bathed in golden light, captions with just enough suggestion to keep her fans hooked but never completely sated. He hated to admit it, but she was good at what she did. She made them want her without giving them too much. Clever.

Still, her tweet—that little jab at him—sparked something more than amusement. It was bold, biting in its subtlety. She could have ignored the noise, but instead, she’d drawn a line in the sand. A challenge.

And Draco Malfoy loved a challenge.

Setting the phone down, he stubbed out the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. A lazy smirk spread across his face as he tapped out his reply.

> “Sweet’s just another word for boring. Stick to baking tutorials, darling.”

He hesitated a beat before hitting send, savoring the sharp satisfaction that came with stirring the pot. Fans loved drama, and drama brought clicks. And if this prissy pearl-wearing saint thought she could dismiss him without consequences, she had another thing coming.

He opened her profile again, scrolling further back through her posts. The more he watched, the more her particular brand of subtlety became annoyingly captivating. There was a restraint to her—the way her fingers teased the edge of a neckline without pulling it down, the way her videos lingered on the curve of her jaw without dipping lower. It wasn’t his style, but it worked. He felt himself leaning closer to the screen, drawn in despite himself.

“Cute,” he muttered, lips curling into a smirk. “But not invincible.”

Another notification buzzed against the countertop, this time from Chatter. Fans were already losing their minds.

> @DramaLlama: “OMG THE FEUD WE DIDN’T KNOW WE NEEDED.”  
> @ShipItHard: “Enemies-to-lovers arc incoming. Calling it now.”  
> @ThirstyForScales: “Sinful_Scales would RUIN Innocent_Enigma. I’m HERE for it.”

Draco laughed under his breath. He loved his fans, but Gods, they were feral. Not that he minded. They were as much a part of his game as the leather and tattoos. He refreshed his mentions and found another gem from one of her followers.

> @SweetNSalty:“Okay but why is this lowkey flirty???”

Lowkey flirty? He wouldn’t call it lowkey.

He imagined her seeing his tweet, her proper little jaw clenching, her hands hovering over her keyboard as she debated whether to respond. She seemed like the type to overthink things. The thought made him chuckle.

Draco poured himself a glass of whiskey, settling into his chair and watching the storm unfold online. Her silence was intriguing. Most people bit back instantly when he provoked them, unable to resist his bait. But not her. She was either smarter than most or too proud to engage further. Either way, he’d gotten under her skin. He could feel it.

And then, another notification. Her mentions were exploding, and fans started tagging him directly in memes, fake screenshots, and “what-if” scenarios. The comments were delightfully unhinged.

> @CovetQueen: “Imagine Enigma’s pearls tangled in Scales’ tattoos. That’s the aesthetic we NEED.”

Draco couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him. These people had no chill. He typed a quick tweet in response:

> “Some of us are just better at the game. Isn’t that right, @Innocent_Enigma?”

Satisfied, he took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. She’d respond eventually. They always did. The question was: how far was she willing to go? Because he had all the time in the world to push her limits. And something told him she was worth the effort.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, darling,” he murmured to himself, the smirk never leaving his face.

Hermione’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Each new chime felt like a needle to her already fraying patience. She’d made the mistake of checking Chatter after her pointed jab at Sinful_Scales, thinking it would be the end of the story. She should have known better. By now, the internet had fully descended into chaos, feeding on the spark she hadn’t meant to ignite.

She scrolled through her mentions, her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to process the deluge of responses.

> @DramaLlama: “OMG THE FEUD WE DIDN’T KNOW WE NEEDED.”

> @ShipItHard: “Enemies-to-lovers arc incoming. Calling it now.”

> @ThirstyForScales: “Sinful_Scales would RUIN Innocent_Enigma. I’m HERE for it.”

Hermione rubbed her temples, her exasperation growing with every unhinged comment. What in hell’s name was wrong with people? She wasn’t flirting, for heaven’s sake. This wasn’t some prelude to a steamy romance. It was… it was public sparring. A professional dismissal. Right?

The notifications kept coming, relentless and absurd.

> @CovetQueen: “Imagine Enigma’s pearls tangled in Scales’ tattoos. That’s the aesthetic we NEED.”

She nearly choked on her tea. Pearls… and tattoos? Who even thought like that?

Just as she was considering turning her phone off altogether, another tweet popped up, this time directly from him. The man—no, the walking inferno that was Sinful_Scales —had decided to stoke the flames.

> “Some of us are just better at the game. Isn’t that right, @Innocent_Enigma?”

Her fingers itched to reply, and for a moment, she allowed herself the fantasy of a scathing retort. Something elegant, biting, and unequivocally dismissive. But she stopped herself. This was his game, after all, wasn’t it? He thrived on provocation, on dragging people into his little web of teasing dominance. Engaging with him would only feed the frenzy.

Instead, she leaned back in her chair, fingers wrapped tightly around her mug. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the soft afternoon light filtered through lace curtains. She took a deep breath, willing the chaotic energy of the internet to leave her mind.

Except it didn’t. It never really did.

Because part of her was still replaying his tweet, dissecting the way he’d worded it, the smug confidence practically oozing off the screen. And damn it, if it wasn’t frustratingly… attractive? No. No, that wasn’t the right word. Intriguing. That’s what it was. Infuriatingly intriguing.

Across the city, Draco watched the chaos unfold with a smug grin. His notifications were a constant stream of fan reactions, each one more ridiculous than the last. He’d expected the engagement, but the sheer scale of it was something else entirely.

> @HotAndTattooed: “Scales’ smirk alone would have Enigma on her knees. Fight me.”

> @SweetNSalty: “Okay but why do I feel like these two are about to make history? #SaintAndSinner”

Draco swirled the whiskey in his glass, enjoying the sharp burn as he took a slow sip. It wasn’t just the fans that amused him; it was her. He could picture her now, sitting in some pristine little flat, probably fuming over her tea, perfectly framed by soft lighting and tasteful decor. Her reaction was almost more entertaining than the fans’.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, he let out a low chuckle. Someone had posted a fan-edited screenshot of fake DMs between him and Hermione.

> Fan Edit: Sinful_Scales:“Patience isn’t my thing, love.”Innocent_Enigma: “Too bad. You’ll have to learn.”

“Creative little bastards, aren’t they?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But the thought lingered longer than it should have. He’d seen enough of her content by now to know she was good at her craft, that deliberate tease-and-deny approach that had her fans wrapped around her little finger. It was maddeningly effective—and undeniably hot.

Draco set his glass down and grabbed his phone, typing out a message. He debated for half a second before sending it. Not a reply, not a comment—something private. Just for her.

> “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be gentle. This time.”

The flat was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock above her desk and the soft rustle of fabric as Hermione shifted in her chair. Her laptop sat open in front of her, its screen dimmed as if to mock her indecision. She tapped her fingers against the edge of her mug, the tea inside long forgotten and cold.

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

But her finger hovered over the trackpad anyway, her cursor already positioned over Sinful_Scales’ profile on Covet. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been dragged into his orbit already; her mentions were still ablaze with fan theories and outright smutty fantasies. The least she could do was research the man causing this much trouble in her life. Right?

“Strictly professional,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible. It sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. She clicked the link before she could second-guess herself again.

The screen loaded quickly, and his profile came into view. The first thing she noticed was the sheer boldness of it all. His grid was a study in shadows and heat, every image crafted to exude confidence and control. Where her content teased with the barest suggestion of what lay beneath, his declared, unapologetically, that he was the storm everyone should fear—and want.

The top post caught her attention immediately: a video. Of course, it was a video. Her cheeks warmed as she clicked on it, the screen filling with black and silver tones. The clip began with his hand, tattooed and rough, gripping a black tie. His fingers tightened, pulling it taut as the camera panned upward. His shirt was open, revealing a chest inked with intricate designs, the sharp lines of his collarbones leading to a smirk that practically dripped arrogance.

“You’re staring, aren’t you?” his voice purred, low and rich with amusement.

Hermione’s breath hitched. No, she wanted to protest aloud. I’m not. But her gaze didn’t waver. Her fingers clutched her mug tighter, as if it might anchor her somehow, keep her from falling into the trap he’d so clearly set. The smirk deepened as if he could see her through the screen, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on her.

The video ended abruptly, the final shot lingering on his smirk before fading to black. Her cursor hovered over the replay button, but she quickly snapped her laptop shut. Heat crept up her neck, pooling in her cheeks as she pressed her palms against the cool surface of the desk.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, the word laced with frustration. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

And yet…

Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the way his voice had curled around that single sentence, the way his eyes had glinted with a challenge she couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t just the arrogance that got under her skin. It was the sheer audacity of him, the way he seemed to revel in pushing boundaries she hadn’t even realized she’d drawn.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts. She grabbed it instinctively, her thumb unlocking the screen before she registered the notification.

A DM.

From him.

Her heart stuttered. She stared at the message, her thumb hesitating over the screen as if touching it would solidify the surreal moment. Finally, she opened it.

> “Hope you enjoyed the show, love. Next time, you’ll have to tell me which part was your favorite.”

Hermione let out an exasperated breath, her fingers tightening around the phone. The nerve of him. The absolute nerve. She briefly wondered how he could have possibly known. Then it hit her: the analytics. Covet creators could see who interacted with their content—not names, but timestamps, engagement data. If he’d been watching his metrics closely, he would’ve seen the spike when she played the video. That arrogant smirk of his probably widened the moment he realized it was her.

A dozen scathing replies sprang to mind, each one sharper than the last, but she hesitated. He’d love that, wouldn’t he? A reaction. A confirmation that he’d gotten under her skin.

Instead, she typed back:

> “It’s cute that you think you’re special. I’ve seen better.”

Her finger hovered over the send button, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Let him stew on that for a while. She hit send and set her phone down, leaning back in her chair with a sense of triumph.

The reply came faster than she expected. Too fast, almost as if he’d been waiting for her response.

> “Better, hm? Careful, darling. I might take that as a challenge.”

She stared at the message, her heart racing despite herself. This was a mistake. She should block him. Ignore him. Do anything but let him pull her further into this maddening game of his. And yet, her thumb hovered over the keyboard, the temptation to fire back stronger than her better judgment.

Her phone buzzed again.

> “Unless you’re afraid you’d lose.”

Hermione groaned, dropping her phone onto the desk with a soft thud. He was insufferable. Cocky, arrogant, and entirely too good at making her blood boil. She stared out the window, willing the cool evening air to settle the heat rising in her chest.

But even as she tried to push him from her mind, the sound of his voice lingered, a low hum at the edge of her thoughts.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” she whispered again, but this time, her tone lacked conviction.

Draco leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he stared at his phone screen. The dim lighting of his flat played off the sharp angles of his cheekbones, casting shadows that mirrored the smirk pulling at his lips. Her message blinked back at him, sharp and sweet, like a knife dipped in honey.

> “It’s cute that you think you’re special. I’ve seen better.”

“Oh, she’s got claws,” he murmured, taking a slow sip of whiskey. The burn was pleasant, but not nearly as satisfying as the thought of Hermione Granger—Innocent_Enigma, the queen of coy—finally breaking that polished exterior just for him.

He could picture her, tucked away in some neat little flat with lace curtains and a perfectly organized bookshelf, fuming as she typed. The way her fingers must have hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to hit send. And then, that moment of surrender. It sent a delicious thrill down his spine.

His phone buzzed again, pulling his attention back to the present. It wasn’t her this time—not yet, anyway. A notification from Covet showed a spike in his engagement, and he chuckled as he opened the app. Sure enough, her profile had popped up in his analytics. She’d watched his latest video. Twice.

“Caught you, darling,” he muttered under his breath, his smirk deepening.

She was good at pretending—at playing the untouchable saint with her pearl necklaces and soft lighting—but there were cracks in the facade. He’d seen them. The hesitation in her replies, the slight uptick in her engagement metrics the moment their little feud hit the public eye. And now, the undeniable proof that she’d caved and watched him.

He tapped out a message, letting his fingers linger over the words before hitting send:

> “Better, hm? Careful, darling. I might take that as a challenge.”

The reply came faster than he expected, almost as if she’d been waiting for him.

> “If you’re looking for attention, you’ll have to try harder.”

Draco barked a laugh, setting his glass down as he stretched lazily in his chair. She was quick. He liked that. Most of the people who tried to bait him either folded too easily or came across as desperate. But Hermione? She had a way of delivering her barbs with precision, like she’d mapped out every angle before making her move.

He tapped his chin, considering his next play. Something told him she wasn’t the type to respond well to overt provocation. No, she’d want something more subtle, something that would force her to admit—at least to herself—that he’d gotten under her skin.

His gaze flicked to his camera on the desk. The idea formed slowly, a wicked smile curling across his lips. Setting his phone aside, he picked up the camera and adjusted the lighting in the room. The soft, golden hues she seemed to favor weren’t his style, but he could adapt—just this once.

Draco positioned himself on the black leather couch, unbuttoning his shirt just enough to reveal the ink curling across his chest. He rested one arm along the back of the couch, the other holding the tie he’d used in his earlier video. It dangled loosely from his fingers, a silent invitation. The smirk came naturally as he pressed the shutter.

Once satisfied, he transferred the image to his phone and opened Covet. The caption came to him easily:

> “Some challenges are worth the effort. Your move, love.”

He hit post and leaned back, watching as the notifications began to roll in. Fans were quick, as always, flooding the comments with unhinged theories and declarations of undying thirst.

> @ThirstyForScales: “WHO IS HE TALKING TO?! I NEED ANSWERS.”

> @CovetQueen: “If this isn’t about Innocent_Enigma, I’ll eat my phone.”

> @DramaLlama: “This man is going to ruin us all. AND WE LOVE IT.”

Draco scrolled through the chaos with a satisfied grin. It was only a matter of time before Hermione saw it. He could almost imagine her reaction—the sharp intake of breath, the way her lips would press together in that infuriatingly prim way of hers. And then, the inevitable spark of defiance.

He’d have her right where he wanted her.

As the comments poured in, his phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a fan. Her message was short, but the challenge was clear:

> “Nice try. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Draco’s grin widened. Oh, this was going to be fun.