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Summary
“Now would be an excellent time to exercise your comprehension skills, Draco. Do you understand what your mother and I are telling you?” It was a direct question from his father.
Draco leaned back in his armchair as he drummed his fingers on each of the armrests. “There is going to be another war. I, alongside my foil or my enemy, will fall in love. Unfortunately, our romance will be short-lived because we are fated to duel to the death. Whichever of us survives will turn the war in their favour. Did I hit all the high points, Father?”
“We will do everything to ensure that it is you who survives. You will live, and you will help us win whatever war lurks on the horizon.”
“Have we determined the identity of my foil?” Draco asked in a clipped tone.
“Yes.”
Draco was quickly growing bored of tediously extracting information from his parents. He raised a brow and asked, “Pray tell, who has the honours of falling in love with me just so I can murder them?”
“Hermione. Hermione Granger.”
I'm fucked, Draco thought.