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le-morte-d-belle · 1 year ago

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Chapter Three (finally...)

Title: Linger

Chapter Three: Lessons, Letters, and the Restricted Section Pt. 1

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

Main Characters: Selena Calderon (OC), Ominis Gaunt

Pairing: Pre!Ominis Gaunt x Selena Calderon

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort

Notes: A short story inspired by Hogwarts Legacy. Some liberties were taken and certain events will not follow the original story within the game beat for beat. Characters have been aged a year (6th year).

Summary: Selena Calderón was a fool to yearn for a man she could not keep. Ominis Gaunt was too sanguine to think he could keep their hands clean. Sebastian Sallow was the string that held all three together. And, in the wake of his absence everything around Ominis and Selena was unraveling. Try as they might, they could not live life without him. Selena would not be left lingering for a friend who might be on his way to Azkaban. A short story about the struggles of moving on, finding new love and realization.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two

“It's more than just ‘pushing someone out,’ you know." Ominis began. “Occlumency is completely shielding one’s mind against a Legilimens. Or those trying to access your thoughts and feelings so they may influence you.”

He paused here, seemingly aggravated by an unknown entity Selena couldn’t protect him from. His hands, which once were melded into her own, had begun to fight with the rest of him. Open. Close. They dragged themselves up and down the wool fabric— never finding a place to rest. Selena itched to return to the closeness they once shared, but Ominis had pushed them apart. It was a reminder, a small warning to the both of them that their journey to the Room of Requirement wasn’t some friendly get-together.

He was to teach her another way to survive, just as Sebastian had before.

It hadn’t appeared prevalent then, but the Auror’s use of Occlumency had stirred an inferno within Ominis. Selena had been attacked prior to this one instance. She had found herself on the end of a wand countless times, so adding another aggression against her to the list wasn’t much of a feat if she was honest, but Ominis was furious. His anger and heat were things she had learned to become unfamiliar with. What caused him to become so motivated to protect her from this one thing when it was unlikely Selena would be assaulted again? What was he not sharing with her?

When he started anew, Selena felt even more lost than when he first proposed she learned to become an Occlumens. “As you know, my family and I are Purebloods, the elite of the elite, in part to Salazar Slytherin’s blood flowing through us. As a child, I never thought much of it, but for the rest of my family, this was the divine proof of our superiority. It—it was so stupid, honestly. This way of thinking just fostered bitterness and jealousy.

Aunt Noctua was different, though. Before—she disappeared, shouldering their disgusting beliefs was easy. While my family was not what you would call homely, Aunt Noctua made everything within the manner’s walls more lively. I’d probably gone mad if she wasn’t there to constantly rescue me from their insanity. Especially when I let it be known how much I didn’t care about blood purity. Or my lack of regard for following an ideology that tortured others for the pleasure of it. I was much more interested in Aunt Noctua’s stories and the muggle equivalent of Herbology.”

“Gardening? You garden?”

“Yes, or well, I used to. It was the only thing I truly shared with my mother. It's not exactly the same thing, though. Merlin forbid, my mother got on her hands and knees to plant some daisies or whatnot, but the act of breathing life into new seedlings or listening to the whispers of all the different flowers around us was exhilarating.”

His face had lightened up at the small memory, and an unspoken sense of relief flooded Selena as whatever troubled him early seemed to be fading. “That sounds beautiful, Ominis. I really wish I could see it.”

“I wish I could show you,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. What— what happened to it?” His hands began again. Open. Close. Up. Down. They were burning themselves into his slacks. “It's okay. You don’t need to share with me, Ominis.”

The young man just shook his head.

A few long moments passed as Ominis tried to steady himself. Words came and went, floating in a hazy mess as they tried to straighten themselves into phrases of reassurance. None of them, however, wanted to be spoken. So, Selena did the only thing she could do, take hold of his moving hands and shield them with her own.

“How strange.”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes,” Ominis laughed. “You and Anne have only met a handful of times, yet you both comfort your friends the same.”

“We do?” Selena croaked unsurely. He gave her another nod and radiant smile. Their similarities appeared to bring him further peace. Something she knew should make her happy. Ominis had shared another piece of himself— a beautiful memory that was meant to bring them closer, and they did. She was honored he felt so comfortable with her. They were friends, and that was how things were supposed to be.

So why did she feel the need to drop his hands and leave because he found serenity in her and Anne’s commonalities?

“Hm. Anne could never let things lie. She always made sure Sebastian and I knew we had somebody. You’re the same way, just a little less refined and brash.” Ominis teased. “It's the Gryffindor in you, I suppose. Always running into things without thinking. I can see why Sebastian found you so entertaining.”

“I live to please, I guess.”

“Well, either way, I must say I am grateful for it. Your friendship and theirs. All of you are more of a family to me than my own.”

“Ominis, I—”

“Don’t. I’m alright.” He gripped her hands tighter and at last brought their separation to an end. “There’s no true love between my family and I. To them, you were only important for the blood you carried and the marriages you’d make. My siblings and I knew nothing but rage and pain. We were made to practice all the Unforgivables on one another so that we may one day use them against all the muggle-borns and blood traitors for tainting the beauty of our society.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It was my life until I came here, to Hogwarts, and met Sebastian and Anne. I was never any good with them, and when I was successful, they only worked because of my anger towards having to cast it. I couldn’t understand how it came so easily for everyone. People like my older brother, Marvolo, relished in his use of them— even when he’d use it on us younger siblings. He found joy and power, but I couldn’t see anything but the horror of it. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for utilizing my turmoil and disgust to harm such innocent people. However, there was one good thing that came from it.”

“I fail to see what that could be.”

He laughed once more and slowly burrowed the sound in the soft strands of her hair. “You know, the easiest way to beat the Imperius curse is to know Occlumency.”

“So, you wouldn’t learn Imperio earlier, but you’ll use it on my best friend?”

Her heart dropped. “You can stop the Imperius curse.”

“To a degree.”

“But—,” he had let her cast it on him.

There was no fight.

No struggle.

She had forgotten all about that incident— banished it away to the far corners of her mind to be forgotten and shadowed by the scars of everything that happened afterward. Ominis had allowed her to overtake his mind and manipulate him knowing he could shake off her lousy attempt at the spell. Selena wanted to be furious, let forth a fountain of betrayal and outrage over his lack of disclosure for having the ability to stop her. She just couldn’t. Ominis had warned her, and she still went ahead and cursed him anyways.

“I’ll take all the responsibility.”

So this is what he meant that night in the catacomb.

This was the responsibility she was supposed to take. Ominis had willingly sacrificed himself and placed his throat at the tip of her wand— a wand that was supposed to be held by a friend. He had believed in her. He had seen how Selena would do anything to help her friends achieve their goals and obtain solace with the comfort she brought because of her assistance. She had failed him, and still, Ominis played witness to the kindness she shared with others. He watched as Selena handed out those parts of her to everyone else but him.

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He made to straighten up, but Selena didn’t want to release him from her hold. Not yet. Not when she could barely accept being added to the list of monsters who took his trust and molded it to match her own interests. Ominis quietly sighed and eased his hands from her own. “What’s done is done.”

“I know, just—”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, let it go, Selena. I’m alright.”

She knew he was. Out of the three of them, Ominis had always been the strongest. Friend or foe, the young man would let it be known how foolish and wrong everyone was when others would keep such thoughts behind pressed lips. He was their bright burst of light shielding them from the heavy cloaks of a Dementor. So, Selena knew he would be alright, but that didn’t make the guilt any easier.

“This isn’t what we came here for. Come now, face me so we may begin our lesson.”

“Fine,” She relented in a hushed sweep of air, dissipating the thick thread of tension between them. “I’m a sucker for this newfound assertiveness so I’ll comply this one time.”

Ominis rolled his eyes and settled deeper into the other end of the couch. “Thanks. Though I don’t believe I’ve been behaving any more different than before.”

“Fair. You’ve always been a little bossy—”

“—I beg your pardon!”

“But I don’t know, I just feel that you seem a little more sure of yourself. Since, you know…everything that happened with Sebastian and Anne.”

They’d fallen quiet again, fading back into the misery that Selena found herself tied to. Ominis was throwing her a line to grab hold of so she might be brought back to the surface, but here she was, trying to pull him under with her. Ominis deserved better than that— better than her.

“It's a good thing though! Like I’ve said before, I very much enjoy this side of you. Anyhow, carry on, Professor Gaunt.”

“Right. Well, I think we should start with how well-trained your mind is already.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have your permission, yes?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Selena!”

“Alright! Yes, do with me what you will Ominis.”

Ominis shot her a look of humored annoyance and ignored her teasing by taking out his wand. The faint glow of red at its tip was drowned out by the bright hues of yellow and orange of the fire behind it. Swishing to and fro, Ominis bounced the wood on each pad of his fingers. Selena waited for the rotation of his wrist and the murmur of a spell, anything to show her friend had begun their lesson. But Ominis continued flickering his wand in small circular motions and kept her focus on the repetition of it. Brown eyes followed smooth lanky fingers as they spun the rich bark of English Oak round and round before her.

Selena never noticed when Ominis eventually said, “Legilimens.”

[Yesterday Morning - Headmaster’s Office]

“Good morning! Ms. Calderón, wasn’ it?”

“Um—yes, sir,” the student softly mumbled.

“I’m Auror Kaur and this is my partner, Auror Gawley. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind?”

“Questions? Oh, uh, I guess that's alright?”

“Perfect!” The blonde, heavy-set man smiled widely at her with his browned, yellowed teeth. “You’re in your sixth year, yeah? Pretty late to be starting school. How’s it treating you?”

“Fine,” the sixteen-year-old murmured reluctantly.

“That’s good to hear! After all the things we’ve heard you have been involved in, what with the dragon and troll and whatnot.”

“Um, thank you?” Selena stuttered. “I didn’t really— do much.”

Laughter bellowed loudly out of Kaur. “Nonsense! Escaping a dragon and taking down a troll are very impressive feats, Miss Calderón. Why, I don’t know of many witches or wizards who can boast that they’ve come face to face with at least one of them, let alone both.”

“Kaur.”

“Right, right. Just trying to make her feel comfortable.”

The makeshift space created for their meeting in the Headmaster’s office provided Selena with no comfort. Nor did Auror Kaur’s false pleasantries. She sat worriedly in the chair before them, unsure of their true purpose for being at Hogwarts and her need to be in their presence. Worries and fears crawled their way through every nerve in her body. They weren't here for Sebastian, were they? Did they happen to know anything about his sudden disappearance?

“I don’t mean to be rude but is Sebastian alright, sir? Headmaster Black mentioned—“

“All is well, dear. He’s safe and with his sister.”

“Anne? But Sir, I don’t understand. What happened? Why was he taken out of school?”

The second Auror, a man much older than his partner, reached forward to grasp the blonde and sighed down at the two of them irritably. “We’re here to investigate the death of Solomon Sallow.”

“Gawley!”

“Come off it, Kaur. There’s no beatin’ ‘round the bush ‘bout it.”

Selena straighten quickly in her worn and dated armchair. The Aurors bickered in harsh tones before her, but the raging war within Selena held her focus. Pointedly, she schooled the features beating themselves against the bars of neutrality. It screamed and raged, demanding the student’s attention be turned to it. The men knew nothing. They had to know nothing. It was the reason they were here, right?

All Selena needed to do was breathe. Breathe and act as if she knew nothing.

“Solomon’s dead?”

“Aye,” Gawley grunted. “Mr. Sallow has unfortunately passed.”

“But—wait! What about Sebastian and Anne!” Selena allowed a quiver to shake her lips as she gently dropped her head to her chest, perfectly woeful and beautifully innocent. “Merlin, I can’t—Oh gods.”

Auror Kaur muttered a “Poor thing” before the screech of his chair rang out as both he and his seat made their way to settle beside the Gryffindor girl. “You three were quite close from what the Headmaster shared. I— we can promise you your friends are safe, and if—”

“Oy! Don’ coddle her.”

“Goodness, gracious Gawley! Can’t you see how upset she is—here, dear, don’t mind him, you can use my handkerchief—a little more tact and sensitivity would be much appreciated!”

Selena sank deeper into the chair, folding herself further away from both men. Let them argue all they want as long as the show entertained the two of them, Selena would continue with her one-woman act and fish them for as much information as possible. From the corner of her eyes, she caught the swirling of the eldest man’s wand dancing within the shadow of his robes— waiting, watching, listening for its cue to come out and be known to all those who sat in the dim glow of the Headmaster’s office.

“Um, excuse me, sirs? Would you be able to tell me what happened?” Selena mumbled, eyes never leaving Gawley’s wand. “I just—are they alright? Can I see them?”

“So polite! Unfortunately, as this is an ongoing investigation, we can’t tell you any more than what we have.”

Ah, this was how they were going to lead the interrogation.

Auror Kaur continued to smile widely at Selena without notice of her deception. Gawley, on the other hand, didn’t seem inclined to be as welcoming as the other. There was no doubt in the Gryffindor’s mind that the older man didn’t fall victim to her charade. Towering and stocky as he was, the man seemed to love hiding behind the abundant ray of friendliness and concern that Kaur exerted abundance of. The longer Selena let their conversation continue, the quicker her downfall would come. She would need to end this talk quickly and run with as much information as she could pull out of them.

“Was there anything you needed me from then, sirs?”

“No—”

“What was Sebastian Sallow’s relationship like with his uncle?”

“For Pete's sake, Gawley.”

“It's alright, Mr. Kaur!” Selena finally returned the clingy blonde’s smile. “I can’t really say much, but I know Sol— Mr. Sallow and Sebastian didn’t always see eye to eye.”

“And you don’ know why?”

The teen turned to face Auror Gawley with a frown. “Uh, well, it isn’t really my place to say.”

“I see.”

“Sir,” Selena pushed again. “Are you sure everything’s alright? Sebastian—”

“Is fine. Like we said.” Auror Kaur assured. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of things. Solomon was an old friend of ours, and though he may have hung his badge, once an Auror, always an Auror.”

Fucking hell.

Friends? Solomon Sallow still had friends in the Ministry? Why hadn’t Sebastian or Anne said anything? Killing a man was easy, unfortunately. Trying to cover up the death of a still influential one was trouble. This investigation was spiraling down a path Selena couldn’t control or predict. How did she end up five steps behind? What did she miss? The distance between her and the Aurors grew wider and wider with each sentence. Something was amiss. Why were they so concerned with Sebastian?

“It's why we’re here,” Kaur continued. “Some of Solomon’s friends were concerned over his sudden passing and came to us. Poor things, to come to learn they lost an Uncle so soon after losing their parents. How—”

“That's enough, Kaur!”

“Stop being such a sour kneazle, Gawley.”

The older man rolled his eyes and motioned at the blonde with his wand. A dramatic puff of air raced out of Kaur’s lips, signaling his annoyed reluctance as he slunk away from his seat beside Selena and returned to the other man’s side. “Seems like we’re done here.”

“Wait!” Selena shot up, her chair loudly clacking to the floor behind her. “Sirs, please. I’m not sure what you think, but I can promise you, Sebastian had nothing to do with it. Despite their differences and arguments, Sebastian loved his uncle just as much as he loved his sister, Anne. Sirs, you have to help him— them. I know losing their uncle has hurt them, and while I’m grateful you’re helping look into this, I think you're suspecting the wrong person.”

“Suspecting? I think you got it all wrong. Young Sallow isn’t a suspect at all. We’re jus’ coverin’ our bases.” It was Gawley’s turn to share a crude, friendly smile with Selena. “However, why don’t you share why you think we’re suspectin’ ‘em? Maybe it’ll help find the real culprit, yeah?”

Shit.

“I— well,” she began unsteadily. “You asked me about his relationship with his uncle, but you never asked about Anne’s.”

“Ah. Jus’ standard protocol is all. You’d only spoke of ‘im. Figure you’d know more than wit’ youn’ Miss Sallow.”

Shit!

The man was playing Selena, and she had unknowingly been partaking in their game all along. How easy it must have been for them to realize she was hiding something. They’d use her emotions, manipulate each and every one of her moods, and blindly drag Selena down into the jaws of a sleeping dragon. Merlin, how pathetic.

She could battle poachers, ride graphorns, and wield powerful ancient magic but not see the trap right in front of her.

What a bloody joke she had become to be guided on a deceitful path of comfort words.

Heat rose within her, and though she should have known better than to continue with their conversation, their intended seeds of doubt had been planted. Selena had allowed that bud to grow inside of her, given time for the roots to settle and let it soak up any sense of calm she held before.

With a sigh, Selena raised her head to stare at the older men in front of her. “I’m worried about him— them,” she confessed. “Especially after what happened the last time we were there.”

“Hmm? And why’s that?”

“Well—”

“Take your time, dear. Only share if you don’t mind doing so!” Kaur chimed.

“It’s— sorry,” Selena murmured anxiously.

“You’re fine. Take as long as you need.”

“Right, thank you, sir.”

Her heart wouldn’t stay seated. So many thoughts fought for attention inside the cages of her mind, and Selena didn’t know how to wrangle them all back into a coherent list.

“There was nobody else. I came alone.”

Oh, Sebastian, what had he gotten them into now?

He had continually sacrificed himself for Selena, and now with the ball in her court, the gnawing phantom claws of hesitation held her back from doing the same. He was guilty, but was it worth losing her friend to Azkaban? Should she confess their sins and let them truly take Sebastian? Did the Aurors even really know what had gone on?

Selena needed to fix this.

Where was that dumb Gryffindor courage that her Slytherin friend loved to tease her so much about?

“If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts you're going to need to break the rules now and then.”

And like a match had been struck, the floodgate of words began rushing out of her. “Yes,” she began in a rush— lies spilling out of her easily once freed from its confines. “Yes, the last time we were together, Sebastian, Anne, and I—there was an argument. Nothing physical, but Sebastian and Solomon fought over Anne. She’s—she’s really sick, and all we wanted to do was take her out. Which we did, but—we ran into Rookwood.”

“Rookwood. As in Victor Rookwood?” Kaur interrupted.

“Uh, yeah. He was insisting we knew where the location was to some lady’s house, but Sebastian and Anne never heard of her before. He wouldn’t leave us alone despite us telling him this. We tried to tell Solomon about him once we got away, but he didn’t believe us and was more upset that we’d taken Anne out. He sent us home soon after that.”

“I don’t think I quite follow, Miss Calderon. What does Victor Rookwood have to do with Solomon—”

“—What business would Mr. Rookwood have in Feldcroft?” Gawley growled.

“I…I don’t know, sir. I—it was just strange that he was questioning us about the whereabouts of something we knew nothing about.”

Kaur looked at Selena wearily. “This— isn’t really helpful.” With a sigh of his own, the blonde man slumped forward to rest himself on the desk before him and accidentally knocked into Gawley’s outstretched hand. A small clunk rang out as Gawley’s reddish brown wand slipped from his grip. For a moment, all eyes found themselves drawn to the lost object. They watched as the wand rolled onto the floor listlessly— tethering between the shadow of the desk and the glow of the morning sun.

Selena, more so than the rest, was entranced by it.

She followed the back-and-forth swaying of the chestnut wood and stared at the thing as it struggled, almost as if it couldn’t make up its mind as to whether or not it wanted to be illuminated or shrouded in darkness. Such an odd thing for a wand to be doing. Why was the thin stick still moving? Shouldn’t it have lost all momentum by now?

How odd.

Oh!

Her mind sounded so echo-y. What a strange thing to be happening. Were her thoughts usually like this?

Wait.

Wait!

Something wasn’t right.

Something was slithering, coiling, lounging in the outskirts of her thoughts. This thing was burrowing its way behind the blockades and vaults she dare not open.

She needed to it stop moving.

She needed to get it out.

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 2

PART 1

Summary: PART 2 ! of Draco falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and dealing with the consequences of opening his heart to someone.

Warnings: angst !!! but just a little fluff as always, BLOOD, violence, more crying, very detailed sectumsempra scene, mentions of death

Words: 4.9K

A/N: omg i can’t believe so many people liked the first one and to everyone who left me a comment, I appreciate you so much you have no idea plsss you guys are so beautiful. but here is part 2 and I hope you guys like it as much as the first oneee !!!!!!!! this one got dramatic. I’m thinking of doing a part 3, but I’m not sure and i also want to make it be mostly fluff so PLS let me knowww <3 i do not own gif.

It was an awful feeling; the feeling of needing a specific someone to bring him a peace he so very much lacked in his life. It was a feeling of not being able to feel joy unless he had you by his side. He felt stupid and pathetic knowing he had made an even bigger mess of himself and regrettably of you. He felt more weak too, wondering to himself why he couldn’t stop crying and do what he needs to do without several potions or you with him to get him through the day.

He didn’t want to need anyone. He didn’t want to need help. He didn’t want to need advice.

“Why can’t I just do this?” he cried to himself one night in the room of requirement, kicking something by his foot across the floor in frustration. He stared at the dead bird in hopelessness, not wanting to move it from its spot in the vanishing cabinet. He had managed to send inanimate objects, but not living things and that was only a discovery he was able to make when you were still in his life.

It had been weeks, since he left you under the tree, broken and in tears. He regressed back into to his old ways of lacking proper self care, of sleeping and eating, his studies being the last thing on his mind, him distancing himself from his Slytherin friends again. It was right back to square one, maybe even below that this time.

In Potions, he didn’t dare look at you, ever. He moved to a seat in the very back of the class where he would be hidden from you and could sulk to himself in peace.

“Mr. Malfoy, forgive me as it is none of my business, but why are you no longer working with Miss Y/L/N?” Slughorn asked him one day as he came by to grade his potion.

“It is nothing of concern, Professor,” Draco answered bitterly, holding back the scowl that wanted to show but deciding against being any more rude to authority. “I just rather work by myself.”

“It’s a shame, Mr. Malfoy, you both were my star pupils,” Slughorn mixes the potion around, eyeing it with a frown. “Now the both of you are falling behind. This potion is not passing, you forgot to mix in the dried periwinkle leaves.”

Draco never noticed how you would glance at him throughout Potions class. Of course, he was ignoring you and you felt that nasty realization every time your eyes landed on the platinum blond.

You felt numb, to say the least. You cried for days and days on end. If you weren’t in class, you were in your dorm, wrapped underneath the covers wondering why someone you shared so much love and time with had dropped you with no explanation. You tried endlessly to get him to talk to you, cornering him in the corridors, going up to him in class, but he would ignore you until you went away. He never once met your eyes, and your heart broke more every time you saw the coldness in his icy gray’s that made you feel like you didn’t even exist to him.

Your roommates and friends had gotten involved, forcing you to take better care of yourself. Staying up and hugging you while you cried. Bringing you meals from the Great Hall into the dorm. Brushing your hair when it started to become matted. Encouraging you to divulge yourself in studies rather than your sadness.

“Y/N, you are so much more than what you’re feeling,” your closest friend whispered to you one night as you cried in her embrace. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s okay to cry and be sad, but this is eating you up. Remember how strong you are. Remember the healer you are trying to be. You’ve helped so many people, inside and out, let your friends help you now.”

You nodded sadly, and finally accepted the help your friends had been trying so desperately to give you. You allowed them to take you out into the Great Hall again for meals. To Hogsmead for a fun day out. To the courtyard where you guys would sit and just talk. It was nice, feeling your old and normal life coming to light again even if it was just for a couple hours. But when you couldn’t sleep at night and your mind wandered off to Draco, you felt that same empty feeling of a gaping hole in your heart sting at you.

There was nothing you could do or say anymore. The cornering him was getting desperate and made you feel weak. The ignoring was never going to stop. You didn’t cry anymore, forcing yourself to bottle up your feelings for him deep down into your mind, body and spirit to the point where you just tried your best to recognize him as a dream.

Your brain didn’t know any better, right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Draco sat on the floor of his dorm, head resting against the side of his bed as he twiddled with the letter from his mother between his fingertips. His owl, Aquila, sat beside him and enjoyed the loving pets he was giving her with his other hand. It was rare she let him do this, but he figured it was because she felt that he might have possibly needed this. She nibbled on a crumb of a biscuit he gave her that she had brought with her on her journey from home. Draco sighed and opened the letter again, his eyes scanning over the perfect cursive of his mother’s handwriting once more.

My Dearest Draco,

How are you, my love? I feel as though we have gone too long without writing to each other. I must say, the Manor feels lonely without you and your father here, but the house elves have been keeping me company. They are quite entertaining, some of them. I do hope you enjoy the small pastries I sent with Aquila that the elves also send on their behalf.

I know the pain you are feeling, my son. I know it wears at you and I am deeply sorry that I cannot change it or help you. Please do entrust in Professor Snape, as he is the only one who can help you and understands your circumstances. You cannot get through this alone.

Please also remember that you are just a boy. In these times of turmoil, it is easy to lose yourself in your own despair. You are young, Draco, only 16 years of life and it has already failed you. Please find it in your heart to locate the little several joys in life that keep you going. Despite your situation, It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there. Do not succumb, it is what he wants.

I will always love you, and I hope to see you soon.

All my love,

Mother

He felt tears sting at his eyes, clutching the letter to his chest as if his mother had charmed it with the feeling of a hug. It wasn’t, but he swore he could feel it. He felt sad, knowing she was all alone in that house, but suddenly remembered that his aunt was seeking refuge with her at the Malfoy Manor and his mother left it out for the sake of keeping Bellatrix’s location secret. Seeing as she was a maddened Ex/Present Death Eater and escaped prisoner on the run. The thought of Bellatrix left a bitter and foul taste in his mouth, making him feel even worse that his mother was stuck at home with that beast who was nearly as bad as the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t care that that was her sister, his aunt, she had no empathy for anything, especially not for him. He recalls her telling him right before he went to school, that he should be grateful and honored for being entrusted with a task so important.

As much as Draco wanted nothing to do with his tasks, he didn’t ignore them. He begrudgingly let Bellatrix teach him Occlumency, something he desperately needed to learn and was now a little good at. He had even tried convincing himself that he needed to do this. It was all up to him. He was chosen for this. He hated it, but he was chosen nonetheless. And he would try with everything to save his family and to make them proud, even if it killed him.

He ignored the thoughts of his aunt and his dreadful life options, refocusing on the words his mother wrote to him. They echoed in his mind, imagining her saying them to him.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

His mind wandered to you, knowing full and well you were are the one and only joy in his life he so deeply desires. His mother’s words hit him hard, to the point where he almost ran out of his room to go look for you. Almost.

But he was stubborn and still couldn’t pull himself out of the mindset he had boxed himself in where he thought being with you would be worse in the end for you than not being with you.

So he went over to his desk, Aquila following him before flying up to the wooden surface where she perched herself in front of him as he sat down and pulled out a parchment and quill to begin his responding letter for his mother. He thanked her for the pastries, told her he would try his best in confiding in Snape, loosely promised he would fulfill her wishes of him finding some happiness, and gave her his love. He gave the letter to Aquila, smoothing the feathers on the top of her head one last time before she chirped and flew to the window and then out of his room and into the open dark starry sky.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

More weeks had gone by. And then a month. You were seeing less and less of Draco and for a healing heart, it was the best thing for you, but also the worst. He had even began skipping class as much as he could, not that anyone ever noticed, except you and Slughorn of course.

“Miss Y/L/N, may I have a word?” Slughorn came up to you while you were working on a potion with your friend. The same friend who had given up her seat to Draco who she now despised and regretted ever doing in the first place. She gave you and the professor a look before getting up and heading to the front of the class where she began to pick up vials and jars to store the potion.

“Of course, Professor,” you answer with a polite smile.

“I spoke to Mr. Malfoy about a month ago, he seemed rather distraught,” he began, placing a finger over his chin in thought. “I’m beginning to grow worried of the boy! Is there a reason he’s no longer showing up to class?”

You swallowed thickly before responding, “your guess is as good as mine, Professor.”

“Ah, well, one mustn’t pry too much,” he says. “Also, I’m pleased to see your marks improving in the last couple weeks. Keep up the good work, Miss Y/L/N.”

And with that the professor turned around and left to go check on other students, your friend returning.

“What’d he want?” She asked, setting the supplies down on the table.

“Wanted to know about, Mr. Malfoy,” you mocked quietly, your voice turning bitter when the name left your lips.

You knew Draco’s disappearance was your fault and you felt that twang of hurt beat against your chest thinking about it. That whole conversation with the Professor killed your entire mood. It wasn’t great to begin with, but the feeling of nothing had turned into hurt.

You were roughly stirring the cauldron, preparing to put the nearly finished potion into the two large jars so it could sit overnight. They were right beside your arm and you felt your elbow collide with the glasses, cringing internally when you heard them crash onto the ground and shatter. Luckily there was nothing in them, but you had still made a mess of glass. In your heat of embarrassment and with the people are you now staring at you, you forgot you could easily clean up your mess with magic so like a klutz, you instead bent down to pick up the shards of glass that scattered the floor with your bare hands.

A loud gasp left your mouth as you began to pick them up, feeling the largest piece of glass in your palm deeply slash the skin of your hand. You dropped it, feeling the blood begin to drip down your arms and onto the floor.

“Oh no, Y/N,” your friend sighed from above you, gripping onto your other arm and lifting you up. “Are you okay?”

The question was meant for your hand, but you felt it hit your soul just as it did whenever someone asked you that question when you were so overwhelmingly not okay. You shook your head no, the pain from your hand and your heart taking over you completely as tears began to trickle down your face.

Slughorn came up to the table, waving his wand over the mess of the floor and fixed the damage done to the vases and making the small puddle of blood disappear.

“Class is dismissed, students, you are free to go to the Great Hall for lunch,” Slughorn announced and everyone quickly packed up their things and hurried out except for you and your friend. The full-bellied Professor watched you with concern and you turned to your friend where she took your hand in hers and placed it palm up for you.

You shuddered, bringing up your wand to the cut and simply thought your healing spell before watching it completely fade into a faint light pink scar.

“I’m going to explain to Slughorn what happened and put away our stuff,” she says to you, a sad glint in her eyes. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll meet you at our table for lunch with everyone when you’re done.”

You could only pathetically nod before you slung your bag over your shoulder and trudged off into the direction of a bathroom. You decided to go up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, wanting to be alone from everyone so you could clean yourself up in peace and also have a meltdown. You didn’t know why you wanted to torture yourself with the ghosted memories you shared with Draco in that bathroom, but you still went.

You took your time getting there and you were only down the hall when you saw the entrance. It was then when you heard a familiar ghastly screaming and wailing. It was horribly loud.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle floated from the large wooden double doors, screaming so loud it ricocheted off all the walls of the now deathly silent castle. You felt all the blood drain from your face as an awful and sickening feeling had bubbled in your stomach.

“It better not be Draco,” you said to yourself, your legs taking longer strides towards the bathroom. “Please, don’t let it be Draco.”

By now, you were sprinting towards the end of the corridor, throwing your bag to the floor as soon as you reached the doors and flung yourself through and into the destroyed bathroom, stepping into a pool of water that had streaks of crimson red. Your eyes followed the trail of blood, stopping suddenly when you found the source.

A blood-curdling scream twice as loud and stronger than Myrtle’s, left your throat as you tripped over your own feet to reach him. You saw Harry Potter, standing a little ways by the door, a panicked and pained look in his eyes as he tried to understand what he had just done.

Once you reached Draco’s nearly lifeless body covered in angry red gashes, you fell next to him, his eyes finally meeting yours for the first time in ages. He was breathing raggedly in choked grunts, clutching at his mauled chest as he struggled to breath. The stormy eyes you loved so much were clouded in fear. Nothing but fear.

You shoved your hand into your pocket, searching for your wand and pulled it out hastily. You shakily waved it over his cuts, thinking and saying any spell you knew that came to your mind in the matter of 5 seconds. This was what you did. This was all you did. Why couldn’t you heal him? None of your spells worked.

“I, I can’t heal you,” you sobbed, resorting to putting your hands over his chest at a failing attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“n...o,” Draco said weakly and quietly. He mustered up all his remaining strength and placed a bloodied hand over yours, you grabbed it tightly and leaned over him when you realized he was trying to speak. “S-sorry. lo...ve. y...ou.”

It felt like there was a knife in your chest being repeatedly stabbed into your heart and twisted. His eyes closed and you cried harder, knowing you were going to lose him. Everything was happening so fast. You had only been in the bathroom a solid 10 seconds, everything around you moving in a slow blur but so quickly.

It was as if Merlin had answered your pleas, the sound of the door slammed open and a maddened looking Snape rushed inside, pushing Harry roughly to the side and looking down at Draco and then you only momentarily before dropping to his knees beside him and opposite of you.

“Vulnera sanentur,” he began running his wand over the cuts on Draco��s chest and you watched with wide teary eyes as the blood pooling around you began to retreat back into the wounds. He said it again, and once the blood was back in, the cuts began to close. He chanted it one last time, and the cuts had healed into thick and reddened scars. “Miss Y/L/N, please help Draco over to the hospital wing for some dittany, and quickly please. We might be able to help with the scarring, perhaps avoid it completely. I need to deal with, Potter.”

Draco was half conscious, a dazed and confused look in the gray of his eyes as they fluttered open and closed. You noticed the scar beginning to form on his paled face and you bit back a sob. You knew if that scar stayed there, it would only drive him into a deeper hatred for himself.

You quickly got up, Snape picking up Draco and throwing his arm over your shoulders so that you would be able to help him over to the hospital wing which luckily happened to be a hall away from the bathroom. The adrenaline and sheer love for the boy was pumping through your body which had made you feel stronger in basically carrying Draco through the halls. He was dragging his feet, mumbling incoherently and you couldn’t stop crying.

You saw the doors to the hospital wing open, Madam Pomfrey staring at the scene heading towards her in horror.

“DITTANY!” you called to her. She threw open the doors wider, nodding before she ran back inside in a hurry. A passing seventh year Hufflepuff had dropped all of his books and his bag and linked arms with Draco’s free side, helping you take him inside with much more ease. Madam Pomfrey yelled to rest Draco on the nearest bed and she quickly returned with the dittany, shooing the both of you away from him.

“I’m afraid the two of you are going to have to leave, immediately,” she demands, her hand reaching up to grab the privacy curtain before shielding her and the love of your life from you and the prying eyes of shocked students gathered at the doorway to see what had happened. The Hufflepuff that had helped was already out the door, but you couldn’t bring your legs to move.

“Away from the door!” McGonagall suddenly appeared from behind the crowd of students, a disgruntled look etched into her aged skin. “Return to your house’s common rooms! That goes for you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

She gently placed both her hands on either of your shoulders, guiding you outside the door and out of the hospital wing. She gave you an empathetic glance before grabbing the handles of the doors and shutting them with a loud clang.

The lingering students stared at you in discomfort and grimaces. You looked around, still in a daze and then looked down at your body. You were drenched in blood and water, looking straight out of a horror movie and closely resembling the clothing of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost.

Everything still felt quiet and slow. You didn’t even notice your friends rushing towards you in hysterics, throwing you in hugs as you only stood there, unable to react. You let them pull you away, leading you to your house’s common room, tripping every now and then. You caught a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle in the distance, her cries still very loud and apparent. She had gone around the entirety of Hogwarts wailing the same news that had broken you, only this time you heard the new choice words she had added along the way.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER! HARRY POTTER HAS MURDERED DRACO MALFOY!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You sat immobile on the edge of your seat besides Draco’s hospital bed. Much to your surprise, Madam Pomfrey had allowed you to stay overnight with the fallen Slytherin Prince. You recognized it might be her way of paying you back from all your countless volunteering and because of that, she trusted you in knowing exactly what to do when it came to the medical field of the wizarding world.

It was around three in the morning, the incident having happened well past twelve hours ago. You were showered now and in a fresh pair of robes, your pajamas holding in your warmth as a cold draft flowed throughout the dark dimly lit room. The hospital wing was tall and large, it felt like a castle in itself, and it only made you feel more feeble. You scooted your chair closer to the bed, placing a hand onto the mattress right next to Draco’s paled slender hand.

Fingertips ghosted over his knuckles, your body shivering at the closeness of the near contact. You didn’t know how he was going to react when he woke up. It was all a waiting game, and your heart squeezed with anxiety as you awaited his regained consciousness. You didn’t forget the words he said to you right before he slipped away. They rang and rattled in your head like a pinball game on loop.

He had told you he loved you.

The thought of him dying and you never being able to tell him you felt the same haunted you. You thanked Merlin that Snape got there when he did. You also made a mental note to hex Harry into the oblivion the next time you got a chance.

You sighed deeply, your voice quavering as your ran a hand through your tangled hair. His face glistened under the orange lamp on the bedside table, his skin tinged with a grayish undertone and his eye bags deep and dark. The scar you had seen on his face earlier was gone, the skin now just holding a skinny reddened line going across his features as if he was just hit with something. You smiled slightly, knowing it would be gone in the morning and feeling grateful for him that he wouldn’t be scarred with it.

His body was covered in a hospital gown and bandages infused with dittany, but seeing how bad his cuts were before they healed, you knew those would leave something behind no matter what. In your studying towards becoming a Healer, you read about the effects of dark magic and the marks it left behind on its victims. You didn’t know what spell had done what it did to Draco, but it was violent and radiated with darkness.

The softness of his his skin was met under yours, your hand finally allowing itself to fall over his and you let out a sharp exhale at the touch. It wasn’t like earlier when you were holding onto him for dear life, rough and filled with fear and pain, this time it felt familiar. It felt warm despite the coldness of your skin and his. You shook quietly, another set of tears rippling through your body as you tried your best to not wake him. You sat up and slowly leaned over him, looking down at him to observe his peaceful features. He slept soundly and peacefully, his breathing even and quiet. Even though he almost died earlier today, he looked as though he was having the best sleep of his life. The sleep he gravely needed but seemed to never be able to get.

Your free hand softly rested on his cheek now and you carefully moved your lips towards his forehead where you placed a long kiss. A stray tear had fallen onto his skin as you pulled away and you frowned, wiping it away with your sleeve before moving your hand up towards his hair. You smoothed it back, the soft blond strands feeling like silk between your fingers. He was a dream, an angel to you. You stood by what you had told him that unfortunate day under the tree, he was good, and you would tell him again and again until he believed it himself.

Just as you pulled back from him, a sharp gasp erupted and he shot up in bed, grabbing and tearing at his gown as breathless quick pants fell from his lips.

“Hey, Draco, I’m here, you’re okay, relax,” you coo gently, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly in yours so he wouldn’t tear his bandages. Your heart battered against your chest, the waterworks in your eyes beginning all over again. He stared at you, searching your eyes and he began to cry too. The same broken and deep sobbing from months ago you had grown accustomed to hearing.

He threw himself onto you, crying even harder as his arms wrapped around you, his hand on the back of your head pressing you into his chest. You climbed into the bed in deep shaky breaths so that you were now sitting on your knees between his legs. It was overwhelming, to put it lightly, both of you crying into each other as you remembered the fall out, the lonely days and nights, the wasted opportunities, the endless missing of one another’s presence in their lives.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought that by pushing you away, you would be safer, but I can’t do it anymore. I need you, I love you, Y/N.”

You cradled him in your arms, rocking the two of you back and forth, and you shook your head reverently.

“I forgave you the second I thought I was going to lose you,” you respond quickly. “Merlin, Draco, you scared me to death. I thought you were gone.”

The same words from his mother echoed in his head again and he finally understood what they meant.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

Darkness was going to arrive one way or another, it was going to steal the rest of whatever life he had left in him one day. It was out of his hands, out of his control. The time to live his life was now. Because he didn’t know when he would ever have this opportunity of love again, of safety, of light. Everything was undefined and unknown and he felt the anguishing regret of all his decisions when he had seen you in the bathroom hovering over him with a hopeless look in your eyes. He promised himself, to Merlin and to the sun, the moon and all the stars that in the 1% chance that he survived that close call with death, he would never abandon you again. His heart pained at the memory of him trying to sputter out his final ‘I love you,’ not knowing whether or not you heard it or if you understood how genuinely he had meant it.

The room was only filled with sniffles and shaky breathing, both of you still in the same rocking position, afraid that if you let each other go, the other is going to disappear.

“Draco,” you say, lifting his head up from the crook of your neck so that he could look you in the eyes. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. Please don’t ever, ever leave again.”

“Not in a million years, darling.”

PART 3

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marvelstars · 3 years ago

Text

Severus Snape vs Teenage Rebellion

"In private to Draco: ” . . . cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?”

“I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.”

“Who suspects me?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last time, I didn’t do it, okay? That Bell girl must’ve had an enemy no one knows about

— don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work — I can stop you!”

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, “Ah . . . Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?”

“I’m not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don’t want you butting in!” Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole. . . . What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this — Snape, toward whom he had always shown respect, even liking?

“So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco —”

“So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!” jeered Malfoy. There was another pause. Then Snape said, “You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things.”

“You’d better stop telling me to come to your office then!”

“Listen to me,” said Snape, his voice so low now that Harry had to push his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. “I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco —”

“Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I don’t need your protection! It’s my job, he gave it to me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!”

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

When Harry Potter thinks you are being too disrespectful of Snape, you know you crossed a line Draco.

But seriously, I love how despite the fact Draco resents Severus new position in the DE and believes he stole it from his Dad, he still tries to convince Severus of his innocence because he cares what he thinks of him. I would have loved to see more of their relationship when they got along.

I headcanon their adult rivalry in Cursed Child was not about their teenage conflicts but over who Severus wanted to protect more as a favor to their Mom, the fact Albus Severus and Scorpius are such good friends is just insult on injury.

#Severus Snape #Pro Snape #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince #Between Harry´s sassyness and Draco´s impulsiveness #he doesn´t get pay enoug honestly #XD

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dracosearlgreytea · 4 years ago

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indelicate marks (4)

indelicate marks: chapter four - the proposal

A/N: hi guys hope you’re all doing okay with everything going on right now. i also hope you’re ready for some angst very soon because oH boY you’re in for it. thanks again for the support and ill see you soon :) - ivy

warnings: language, tEnSiOn

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse

indelicate marks index

You'd gone invisible again. And Draco, much to his annoyance, noticed this time more than ever. He'd begun to associate you with a very odd feeling - a mixture of dread, pity and guilt. It was a feeling that clouded his thoughts for days after he'd last met you in the bathroom, and it kept him avoiding going to see Myrtle as much as his panic attacks allowed him to. Because, as much as he tried to, he couldn't shake that awful, burning sensation from your memory. It was already familiar to him, yes, but the screaming played like white noise in any moment of silence, and waves of nausea would flood through him when he recalled Bellatrix Lestrange's harrowing eyes. Somehow, hearing someone else's pain was a lot worse than hearing his own, especially in his dreams. Yet, whilst he felt as though he should speak to you, he found himself steering clear of you as much as physically possible. Draco despised the guilt you made him feel - as though he owed you an apology, or something. But, even avoiding you proved difficult. Seeing as he was never sure where you actually were. Draco tried to take note of where you sat in classes, but you were always writing, head down, and half the time he wasn't even sure if it was you. Rare occasions in which you, or he, for that matter, showed up the Great Hall never seemed to coincide. You were making the entire situation very bloody exhausting. Autumn had started to brown the leaves of the Whomping Willow before he saw you again. He couldn't deny that the bags under his eyes had become more prominent over the weeks. Face hollowing, his clothes were feeling a lot looser than they had done before. If he wasn't in classes, he was in the Room of Requirement, muttering to himself as he tried - and failed - to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. To make matters worse, he was also gradually becoming immune to the Sleeping Draught that Snape supplied him with. But plotting any means of completing his mission left little room for any other thoughts. It kept him up until the very early hours of the morning, trying to banish memories of summer from his mind. Draco felt at his wits end - and at this point, a little bit stir-crazy. He'd come to the bathrooms in hopes of talking to Myrtle, wanting to voice the plans that went round and round in his mind. Maybe they would make more sense, he guessed, if someone else heard them. His hopes, however, were diminished the moment he pushed open the door. You were sat on the edge of the sinks, swinging your legs as you mumbled to Myrtle. Draco's chest tightened as the ghost let out a shriek at the sight of him in the doorway, shooting off into the pluming. Turning to face him, your wand tightened in your grip, once hanging loosely from your hands. Fucking hell, is she always here? He stared back at you, expression blank, as you searched him. In fact, you didn't seem all that phased, not bothering to move from the sink. He wasn't sure what he should say, or if he should even stay, for that matter. "Let's not make this a habit," You muttered, before he could leave, features stony. "I'm not attempting to." Draco shot back, ignoring the scoff that came from you. "You're the one that seems to haunt this bathroom more than Myrtle bloody does." You scowled, but remained silent, staring down at your lap. He slipped his hands into his pockets, unsure if he should bring up your last meeting, but he supposed it would be best to clarify your intentions whilst you were sat in front of him. "Should I be expecting a visit from the Ministry anytime soon?" Frowning, confusion flickered amongst your features for a moment. Then, you shot him a quick glance, hinted with disbelief. "I told you." You said, tone empty. "You can trust me." Despite the unease that melted away from him, he sneered. "I can hardly trust someone who's Occlumency is that shit." You tensed, before pushing yourself off of the sinks and rounding on him, wand tight in your grip. Eyes hard, and accusatory, you glowered. "What's that supposed to mean?" Your glare flicked up and down his body, finally taking in his appearance properly for the first time since he came in. He shifted under your inspection, uncomfortable with the way your features pulled in, as though you were judging him. Raising an eyebrow, you spoke again, abandoning whatever words you were about to hurtle at him. "Bloody hell, what happened to you?" "What happened to you?" Draco narrowed his eyes, eager to have the focus off him. But, he had already noted how ill you looked compared to the last time he saw you. If you passed out there and then, he wouldn't have been surprised. You blinked, throwing him a glare. "Why do you care?" "Why do you?" Draco countered, raising an eyebrow lazily. You frowned, but stayed silent. He pushed again. "So it hasn't got anything to do with the fact that my convict of aunt came to visit, then?" You stiffened, eyes glazing. A bitter regret pinched at his gut. Why was he even still stood there? He should have left as soon as he saw you in the room - plus, he knew you weren't going to tell anyone for sure now. But then, you recovered, fixing Draco with a look that he wasn't sure how to take, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "What happens in my personal life isn't of your concern, Malfoy." "Back to Malfoy, are we?" He deadpanned, prompting you to grimace. "Maybe you should have thought about that before invading my personal life." It didn't take long for frustration to take over your indistinct features, glaring at him with a clenched jaw. "You're the one that decided to practice Legilimency on me!" You spat. His lips pulled into a light scowl. "And I've told you, I'm not going to tell anyone, so can you please stop tormenting me now?" Draco hesitated. He was reluctant to just leave you walking round knowing a secret that could get him killed. Yes - the chances of you telling anyone was unlikely, and yes - it was doubtful that anyone would try and find out through Legilimency. But the idea of exposure had made his anxieties so much worse over the past few weeks. He was willing to do almost anything to get them to calm down, even in the slightest. If he could just get a decent bloody nights sleep... He sighed. "If you're going to know, you'll need to learn better Occlumency." You froze. Before, you had been acting rather restrained - as though you were unsure of how you should act around him, other than maybe a little pissed off by his remarks. Your expression now, however, had dissipated into a very genuine dread. "What?" "I can't risk you knowing unless you can keep people out." He paused, watching your reaction carefully. "Which, clearly, you can't." You scoffed. "My Occlumency is perfectly fine, I'll have you know." Face dead set, Draco raised his eyebrows and you sighed, defeated. "Fine. If you're that bloody bothered. I'll talk to Snape." Panic and a hint of anger flashed through Draco at your implication, and he jumped forward, instinctively taking a few strides towards you. "No!" He hissed, only to freeze when you pulled back. Your breathing hitched, staring at him with panicked, wide eyes. Clearly, you hadn't forgiven him for the last time he lost control over his actions. Swallowing, he took a breath, clearing his mind. "No. Don't talk to Snape. Who taught you last time?" Eyes clouding, you studied him again - prompting that uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Something about the way you looked at him made him feel utterly too conscious of himself. Never before in his life had he felt so self-aware, and hated it. But then, your eyes became avoidant. You threw him an uncertain glance as your eyebrows flicked up, lips pulled into a bitter, half-smile. "My parents." Ah. Draco was aware that at some point, your parents had managed to escape Azkaban. After the whole exposure of Deatheaters, including his father, at the Ministry, he wasn't sure if they were caught a second time, or if they had even been there at all. Though, it was unlikely that they hadn't been there, being some of the more avid supporters of the Dark Lord. He could recall recognising a surname amongst his in the Daily Prophet, too. Honestly, he hadn't considered it that much. Now, standing in front of their daughter, he wished he had. "That's what I thought." You mumbled, having noticed the pause in his demeanour. Draco stared at you, debating his options. After what he'd seen in your memory, he was pretty much certain that you talking to Potter was out of the question. This wasn't, however, something he could risk. It wasn't exactly some petty secret that could cause a scandal if it got out between students, no. Keeping Dumbledore - and anyone else with the ability to use Legilimency on the opposing side, for that matter - unaware, was the utmost priority. Even if it meant having to give someone he'd spoken to a handful of times Occlumency lessons. He let out a particularly heavy sigh. "Fine. I'll bloody teach you, but for one hour a week at most. I do not have time-" "Wait, wait, wait." You shook your head, staring at him in disbelief. Draco flicked his eyebrow upward. Struggling to get your words out, you continued to look at him, horrified, prompting him to let out an impatient growl. "What? "You - You want to teach me Occlumency?" The expression on your face could have been laughable. Eyebrows drawn in, mouth agape - as though he had suggested trying to poison a Potions Master. Rolling his eyes, he begun to wish he hadn't suggested anything. Draco only fixed you with a very bored look. "I wouldn't say I want to, but yes." Your stare continued for a minute longer, beginning to annoy him to no bloody end. There was a hint of discomfort in your look that almost made him feel annoyingly guilty - but he pushed it away. Instead, you only sighed, frowning with a shake of the head. "Fine. When?" "Thursday, 6 o'clock. At the abandoned classroom on the third floor." Crossing your arms, you gave him a singular nod, expression absent. "Okay." Draco continued to search your face, unconvinced by your uncertainty. He would have missed it if he wasn't looking so carefully. Your lips sent him that twitch he remembered so well. A promise. You can trust me. Without a word, Draco turned away from you, but not before capturing the feeling you left him with, tucking it away deep inside him for the rest of the week.

#draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff

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idreamofdraco · 7 years ago

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After that answer to the anon about lucissa you got me wondering if you'd ever write anything family centric as opposed to couple/shipping fic. If so, could I prompt you for a Draco and Lucius post with either 12 or 29? Would be super interesting to see your take on thier interactions as father and son as you say you usually write his parents out!

I write gen or family-centric fics when the inspiration strikes! I just gravitate towards romance because I lack it IRL (and it’s more popular, let’s be real here), lol.

Here’s a gen Malfoys-centric one-shot I wrote last year that might interest you. And here’s a gen Weasley twin fic I wrote a couple months ago, though I wouldn’t blame you if you care more about Malfoys than Weasleys. ;) Everything is post-war and everything hurts.

I went with 12. “I think we need to talk.”

Draco spent most of his time sitting in the labyrinthine garden behind Malfoy Manor. Sometimes he strolled, navigating the paths and the secret passages he’d adored to hide in as a child, racing away from his mother when she determined it was time for supper or a bath. But mostly he sought a bench within the garden’s depths and sat for hours that passed like minutes.

He let the wind stir his thoughts in meandering directions in a way he had never let his thoughts meander before. His aunt Bellatrix had begun teaching him Occlumency at the age of fifteen, but Draco had been naturally gifted in the art. He’d spent his entire life compartmentalizing his thoughts, organizing them into neat categories that shaped the way he viewed and understood the world. That skill had been more than beneficial to him by the time war was waged—it had been lifesaving.

All his life, Draco had heard stories about the Dark Lord and his quest to rid the world of impure blood, to return magic back to the hands of wizards. True wizards. Wizards like Draco and his family. Not pretenders who sullied themselves with Muggles, diluting their perfect blood until it was dull as mud. All his life, Draco had wished he’d had the chance to pledge his allegiance to the cause like his father had, to pledge his life in service to the Dark Lord Voldemort’s noble goal.

Funny how when made into reality, dreams could actually reveal themselves as nightmares.

Draco didn’t like to think about the war, but the way he naturally organized his thoughts caused him to chase the tails of memories until a cascade of them fell over him, drowning him under their weight. If he accidentally reached into the Hogwarts box, he might find himself tumbling into the Potter box and then the War box and then the Battle of Hogwarts box. And then he’d be barraged with images of classmates and family friends dying around him as he failed over and over again to capture Potter, to end the war in the Dark Lord’s favor, to earn some glory for himself. As he failed to make his parents proud.

He’d be trapped in boxes if he let himself think that way.

So instead he cleared his mind and let the balmy summer breeze tease the hair at the nape of his neck, caress his cheek, and swirl his thoughts into eddies that collapsed and reformed too quickly to allow Draco to fixate on just one. He breathed with the wind, letting himself exist outside of his identities and allegiances for the first time in his life.

He wasn’t sure how long his father sat next to him before Draco realized he was there.

Lucius seemed to hold his breath, waiting for Draco to say something first, but Draco just stared into a hydrangea bush, caught by the way the wind kissed the petals.

“I think we need to talk,” Lucius said finally.

“Do we?” Draco’s voice cracked, rusty from disuse.

“Your mother seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

Lucius frowned, but Draco hardly noticed. A box had opened in his mind, and a memory snuck out.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy,” Potter had said, and, suddenly, all of the eyes in the Great Hall turned to Draco as he shoved through the crowd, looking for his parents.

The Elder Wand. Draco didn’t know what that was. He owned a wand no longer. The hawthorn wand he’d owned since the age of eleven was clutched in Potter’s grubby fingers, pointed in the Dark Lord’s direction. His mother’s wand, which she had given to him to use after Potter had stolen his at Easter, had burned with the Room of Hidden Things thanks to Crabbe.

The tool that signified Draco’s power was gone. He had certainly never wielded something called the Elder Wand.

“...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy,” the Dark Lord said.

Draco froze in fear at the casual mention of Draco’s death. Everyone’s attention turned back to the spectacle in the center of the room, and he used their distraction to move through the crowd again, to continue searching.

His mother found him first, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, suffocating him in her trembling grasp. His father joined them moments later.

“We should go,” his mother whispered, trying to remain unnoticed as Potter and the Dark Lord exchanged more words. “Before anyone notices. We should leave.”

Draco tugged on his mother’s hand, urging her toward the Entrance Hall, the great oak doors, the grounds—to freedom.

But his father hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a blast of red and green light. Draco and his parents turned, struck dumb by the golden flames that erupted in the center of the Great Hall where the Dark Lord and Potter’s spells collided.

And then the Dark Lord fell backward, his body meeting the flagstones with a hideous, final thump.

“I do. Of course I do,” Lucius said, and Draco blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. “I failed you. You and your mother both.”

Draco finally looked away from the hydrangeas, only to be met with the sight of his father rubbing his palms along his thighs; his hair combed—barely—but in disarray; a thin, pale beard obscuring his chin and jaw; dark circles under his eyes.

A mess. Lucius Malfoy looked a frightful mess. His appearance might have suggested the Dark Lord still lived, sharing quarters with the Malfoys as he had months ago in the war’s wake.

Narcissa Malfoy had strapped herself in the armor of her appearance, and Lucius Malfoy had shed it entirely.

Lucius’s icy gaze, the one Draco had inherited from him, pierced Draco in the area of his beating heart. The bothersome organ pounded in his chest, bringing him back to life in a way Draco had not experienced in years.

His eyes stung, and he turned his head away, far away, to keep his tears from his father’s notice.

“I’m the one who failed. Maybe everything would be different if I hadn’t—”

“No, Draco.” Lucius’s voice was gruff and firm. The first hint of anger Draco had heard from him in months.

Lucius grasped Draco’s shoulders and forcefully angled him until they were facing each other and did not release him afterward.

“Buf it I hadn’t Disarmed Dumbledore, the Elder Wand—”

“No. Don’t even think it. There is no use thinking of what could have been.”

Lucius pulled Draco into his arms, his embrace hard and confining, not soft and comforting. But that was just what Draco needed at that moment. He needed someone to keep him together, to keep his pieces from shattering into even tinier shards. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder and cried as silently as he could. His shoulders shook in his agony, and his father held him tighter, shame a faraway emotion as Draco released the tension he’d been hiding and holding for months.

How many times since the war had Draco examined his memories, analyzed his every action, wondering what other tiny, meaningless moments had changed the tide of a battle? If he had known that letting Snape Disarm and kill Dumbledore in his stead would have won them the war, Draco would have swallowed his pride and let Snape have the honor. Either way, he’d been spared the horror of murdering someone in cold blood, but at what cost? What did the future hold in store for the Malfoys now?

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, his voice muffled. Sorry for losing them the war, sorry for causing the Malfoys’ ruination. Sorry for not being able to save his parents after his father’s own failures.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Lucius said, his voice cracking, as if holding back his own tears, which was impossible. Lucius Malfoy never cried. “You’re my son.”

He said it as if that was the only thing that mattered, as if that absolved Draco of everything. Maybe it did.

The garden was the only place Draco felt safe. The only place that stood outside of time and memory. The only place he could think without obsessing, exist without guilt, feel without pain.

But in his father’s arms, Draco found forgiveness.

#draco malfoy #lucius malfoy #my stories #ask idod #ask things #meme things #Anonymous

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