#draco ff

"Merlin, this is amazing," your friend said, mimicking your exact thoughts.

"Mm, that girl better hurry up," you replied, "She's missing out."

As if you had spoken of the devil, said girl emerged from the cabin, and only now did you realise that you had never seen her wear immodest clothing before. Her body was littered with scars, and you could only exchange glances with your other friends.

"What took you so long?"

She shrugged, "Couldn't decide on a bikini."

Deciding to move on, you began engaging in casual chatter, relishing in the perfect first night to a holiday. Could things get any better?

"I wonder if anyone's staying there," one of your friends pondered aloud, making you turn your attentions to the other cabin. Apparently, the other cabin's residents had been a common thought.

"The lights are on, so surely," you replied.

And then, on cue, the door to the other cabin dramatically opened, and out came none other than Mattheo Riddle— an infamous character in your school year, known for his fights, detentions, and conquests.

You heard a scoff from your group, "No fucking way."

You could not help but agree with that comment. What were the chances?

And, unfortunately, where one Slytherin boy went, the rest followed. It was a piece of knowledge you had quickly learned during your years as a Slytherin, despite how little time you had actually spent there. None of your friends had ever questioned why you avoided your own house so much, and only one person other than you was privy to the answer.

Draco Malfoy, your betrothed.

He was the reason you sought friends in other places, because from the second you were born, he was marked to be yours. Which was unfortunate, given the fact that he was a stuck-up snob that paid no attention to anything that didn't concern him. Did you hate each other? No, saying as such would be an exaggeration. But there was definitely a mutual agreement that just because you would be married, did not mean you had to be friends— and certainly nothing more.

Your friends had no idea about this, so you were forced to smile and wave as the boys noticed the five of you.

***

Coming from a wealthy pure-blooded family, you had been privileged to go on many holidays in your lifetime, and magic ski trips were a common theme. Therefore, you found yourself assuming the role of teacher to your four friends the next day when you all hit the slopes. Thankfully, they were fast learners, and got the hang of it in short time. As you proudly watched them floating in the air and landing on piles of snow that appeared as quickly as they disappeared, you found yourself wondering how muggles could ever enjoy skiing without that level of unpredictability.

You also found yourself wondering if Malfoy was good at magic skiing.

As much as you didn't want to think about him, you knew that it wouldn't be long before your parents started planning the wedding. After all, Hogwarts was now over, and you were both adults. Soon, you wouldn't be able to avoid and push aside your pre-planned fate, and you would have to come clean to your friends.

One of said friends, who was using this cabin retreat as an opportunity to write for her next book release, had not hesitated to accept when the boys asked you all to come over for dinner and drinks that evening. You were a little annoyed that she had not considered asking anyone else their opinion, but you supposed that you couldn't ignore Malfoy forever. Maybe you should finally bite the bullet and attempt to build a solid foundation for your marriage.

So you sat there in their kitchen, nursing a firewhiskey and coke, contemplating how best to start a conversation with Malfoy without arising suspicion from your friends. Perhaps your hesitation was the suspicious part, but you didn't have to think about it much longer when the man himself sat next to you.

"My mother has been bringing it up more and more frequently," he said quietly, not that he needed to. The music was so loud that you had to be right next to someone to hear them without shouting.

You hummed, "I suppose it's time to face the inevitable."

"Indeed. Do your friends know?"

You shook your head, "Do yours?"

He also shook his head.

"Well, we need to tell them at some point."

There was a silence— presumably one of reluctant agreement— and then Malfoy let out a long sigh, "We hardly know each other."

"I guess that's our fault."

"Yours," he corrected, "You were the one that abandoned Slytherin the second you were sorted into it."

"I didn't abandon Slytherin, I abandoned you," you paused for a moment, "So I guess you're right. It is my fault."

"Why in Salazar's name did you avoid me?"

You shrugged, a sly smile creeping on to your face, "Because you're a stuck-up snob."

He scoffed, his eyes tracking as Nott followed one of your friends out on to the decking.

"Do you deny it?"

He appeared to think for a moment, before saying, "No."

"Well, I suppose I can work with honesty," you said, "Salazar knows we don't have to be in love or any of that shit, but we should at least get along."

Malfoy snorted, taking you by surprise.

"What?"

"I don't know. I guess I never expected you to say Salazar."

You frowned, "I was never ashamed of being a Slytherin."

"Regardless, you're right," he then added, "As much as it pains me to admit it."

A scowl formed on your brow.

"We should try to be friends."

You weren't sure what to make of the way he said the last word, but you were soon distracted by Nott and your friend returning, the latter announcing that she did not feel too well and was going to retire for the night.

***

"Girl, are you ready yet? We're about to leave," you knocked on her door the next day, dressed up in your ski gear.

Her reply was meek, "I'm sorry, I've gotten worse. Go have fun without me."

"Are you sure? You don't need anything?" you asked worriedly.

"I'm sure. Don't let me ruin the holiday, please."

Apprehensively, you left her alone, just as Riddle said, "Theo, you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm— I'll stay back and look after her," he replied stiffly.

And even though she had specifically requested that she not ruin the holiday for anyone else, you knew that Slytherin boys were stubborn dickheads whose minds could rarely be changed on a matter, so you made no protest. His friends did, but even they knew it was to no avail, so you soon left the cabin two members down.

"What the fuck is going on between them?" Berkshire scoffed as you walked.

"They were out on the decking alone last night," Malfoy said, "I don't know, maybe something happened."

One of your friends chuckled, "And maybe she's not actually sick."

"She sounded sick," you noted, "And she really did look feverish last night."

"Yeah, feverish for Theo," Riddle joked.

Not to name any names, but a certain friend of yours laughed a little too hard at that.

Upon arrival at the ski decking, most of the boys almost instantly shot off the edge, clearly equipping years of experience. After all, they were all from wealthy families. Your own friends, more confident than they had been yesterday, looked to you for a nod of encouragement, before following. It felt natural for you to go behind them, so you could assist if anything went awry.

Only, you hesitated, as you had been left alone with your betrothed.

"You or me first, Malfoy?"

"Ladies first," he said dryly, "And you should probably start calling me Draco."

"Wow, first name basis? What's next, walking down the aisle?"

You were surprised that he actually laughed at your joke, and a tiny part of you suddenly registered Malfoy— Draco— as an attractive man. He had been for years, you realised, you had just refused to pay attention.

Pulling yourself back together, you said, "Well, if you insist, Draco," and launched yourself off from the decking.

He followed suit.

***

The eight of you returned sooner than expected, after one of your friends sustained an injury. It was nothing magic couldn't quickly fix, but everyone agreed that it was best to head back for the day. Zabini helped support her on the walk back, which she seemed very annoyed about, but you brushed it off as a typical distaste for the Slytherin boys.

You entered the dubbed "girls' cabin" to find Nott in the kitchen— shirtless. Recalling Riddle's joke from earlier, you found yourself wondering if the cocky prick had been correct.

"Where is she?" your author friend asked Nott.

"She's sleeping," he answered, seemingly trying to sound nonchalant.

As more of the group entered the kitchen, they all appeared to share your lingering suspicions as to why Nott was shirtless.

"I'll go check on her," you said.

Nott's eyes widened, "That's probably not a good idea."

"Why?" you eyed him curiously.

For some totally not suspicious reason, he was struggling to answer.

Then, a door creaked open in the distance, and your friend pattered into the kitchen wearing nothing but knee socks and Nott's jumper, stunning everyone.

She paused when she saw all of you.

You looked between the two of them.

"Did you pretend to be sick just to fuck all day?" Riddle asked, the exact same question you had been thinking.

She said nothing.

"She's like me," Nott spoke gently, a vague sentence that meant absolutely nothing to you.

You turned to gage the guys' reactions, and saw that their eyes had all widened. "Oh, is she, like, in—?" Berkshire piped up.

"Yes."

"What the fuck is going on?" one of your friends asked.

Your "sick" friend hesitated for a moment, avoiding eye contact as she seemed to contemplate something. Eventually, she spoke, "I'm... a werewolf."

You stared at her, shocked. But then you remembered the scars all over her body, and things started to make sense.

"Okay... but... it's not a full moon, so, like...?"

You glanced at the friend who said that.

"She's in heat," Riddle laughed, "Guess Theo here has been providing some... assistance..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Fuck off," Nott grumbled.

"You're also a werewolf?" you questioned.

He nodded.

And after a long, awkward conversation of explaining why she did not tell you all sooner, how heats and ruts worked, and also the fact that her and Nott were now mated for life... she suddenly looked as if she were about to faint. You were left speechless as the two of them excused themselves and rushed off to her bedroom.

Well, at least you weren't the only one who had been keeping a secret.

And that was why you couldn't reasonably be upset with her for hiding it.

"Fuckin' plot twist," you mumbled, only loud enough for Draco, who had been stood near you, to hear.

He chuckled, "What's with your friend group and keeping secrets?"

"That only makes two of us," you replied harshly, but still quietly.

"That you know of."

Well, he had a point there, but as you looked at your three other friends, you couldn't imagine what kind of secret any of them could keep.

***

Having the bedroom right next door to a newly mated werewolf couple was not for the weak, as you came to learn. You understood that they did not particularly have a choice when it came to heats and ruts, but you did not understand why a silencing charm was out of the question. The moans and creaks were becoming unbearable, especially as you were really tired and in dire need of some sleep.

Was there a spell to temporarily make yourself deaf?

Not one that you knew of.

So, you crawled out of bed and grumpily left your bedroom, heading to the kitchen to hopefully get some peace and quiet. Thankfully, the sound of the roughest sex you had ever heard was less audible there, and you started considering the possibility of sleeping on the sofa.

That was when you saw the light from the other cabin's kitchen was on, and you curiously approached the window to get a better look at the figure moving around. A glance at the clock told you it was nearly 4am, so you half-expected to see Riddle, since he had always had a fucked up sleeping schedule as a result of his love for partying. The streak of blond that flashed in the distance told you that it was not.

What was Draco doing up?

When he moved closer to the window, he seemed to notice the light on in your cabin, and consequently you. He didn't wave, or smile, or anything to the effect of politeness— instead, he disappeared, which made you frown. Had you not both agreed that you should try to be friends?

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned around to begin assessing the sofa's suitability for a night of sleep: it was leather, which was unfortunate, but maybe with enough blankets you could make it work. Just as you were about to go to your room to retrieve your bedding, the cabin door slid open, making you jump. Spinning around, you were faced with the man you had just seen through the window.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Not with those rabid dogs going at it next door."

He snorted.

"Why can't you sleep?"

Draco shrugged, "Can't stop thinking."

"About...?" you sat down on the settee, and he took that as a hint to sit down as well.

"Us. Marriage," he sighed, "Family."

"Oh, you mean the fact we'll have to produce an heir at some point?" you chuckled.

He rolled his eyes, "I mean in general."

You thought for a moment, trying to scrape together an idea of what life together would look like, what it would mean when your families became one. Living in the same home, attending events as a couple, eating dinner together every night. You took the time to look at Draco, and attempted to assess how he thought things would pan out, but instead found yourself enjoying how messy his hair looked in that moment, and how nice it was to see him in casual clothing as opposed to an ironed suit.

"You're better like this," you said without thinking.

"What?"

"Well, not to say you're bad other times," you clarified, "But it's nice to see you more relaxed, and less worried about your reputation."

"Our whole engagement is built on the premise of reputation," he reminded, "And that's exactly what I'm worrying about right now."

You sighed, knowing that he had a point, "What if we built it on something else?"

He arched an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

With a non-committal shrug, you explained, "I don't know, maybe we could just— pretend it was never planned for us, and act like it was our choice."

"Why?"

"Isn't part of you upset that you'll never experience organic love?"

"My parents love each other," he said quietly, "And they were arranged."

"I didn't mean there'd be no love— I just mean, falling in love as two strangers who happened to meet."

Draco's eyes scanned you curiously, "We happened to meet here."

"Then maybe this is our chance."

His expression was sceptical, if nothing else, and it saddened you slightly.

"Well, it's not that important, I guess," you shook your head, "I'm just being fanciful."

***

The next day, Draco was nowhere to be found. You went on the slopes with everyone else— still excluding the werewolves— but nearly crashed due to your distracted thoughts. The boys were of no assistance, only being able to inform you that he had left a note saying that he would be gone for the day.

So, when you returned to the cabins, oblivious to the way your friends were interacting with the boys, you were surprised to see that Draco was still absent. As you pondered the possibilities, you entered your bedroom to change for dinner, only to find a brand new designer dress laid out on your bed, accompanied by an envelope. Upon closer inspection, you recognised the Malfoy wax seal, which made you rush to open it.

"Meet me at the lookout point. Wear this.

D.M."

What was this feeling of giddy excitement coursing through you? Were those butterflies?

You changed hurriedly, applying some makeup before tugging on a coat and boots. While you did not like to rely on apparition, you also did not want your friends to ask questions, so braced yourself for the relocation to the scenic viewpoint that was separated from the skiing slopes. It featured a built up shelter with a blazing fire pit, along with a picnic bench which was laden with steaming food.

And there was Draco, dressed in a smart ironed suit, and holding a bouquet of roses.

A smile lit up your face, and you pulled your coat off to reveal the dress he had picked out for you, that admittedly flattered your figure. "What's the meaning of this?" you asked bashfully.

"To use our chance," he said simply, presenting the flowers to you. You accepted them, beaming at the arrangement.

"Thank you."

He nodded, gesturing for you to sit down as he took your coat.

"How did you do all of this?"

"Telling you would ruin the charm," he smirked, popping open a bottle of wine. After pouring you both a glass, he said, "Let's propose a toast."

"To what?"

"Our future."

Once the meal was completed, and you had learned all sorts of things about your fiancé, he stood up suddenly.

"You wished for organic love, so this is my attempt to build the foundations for it," he spoke calmly, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your jaw dropped when he dropped to one knee and presented you with a velvet green box. "My mother gave me this ring not too long ago, and told me it was time to formally give it to you," he took a deep breath, "Admittedly, I had not intended to be romantic about it."

Your open mouth morphed into a small smile.

"But, in the interest of your— and my— happiness, here I am, down on one knee— which I will never be doing again, by the way— asking you if you will be my wife of your own volition and desire."

Your smile widened, and your jaw was beginning to ache.

"So, Miss Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of marrying me and blessing me with an intelligent and gorgeous wife?"

And, even though he was arranged to be your husband, and you hardly knew him, your body and mind alike was screaming for you to say yes, as if it were your own choice. As if this was not predestined, and you instead had written it in the stars with your own quill.

"Yes, Draco, I will marry you," you hurriedly stood up, crushing him with a hug.

He was taken by surprise, but awkwardly returned the embrace.

Then, he placed the ring on your finger, and with tears streaming down your face, you mumbled, "Thank you."

***

The two of you walked through the boys' cabin door not long later, attached at the hip— the glint of your large engagement ring catching everyone's attention.

There was stunned silence for a few paces, until Riddle made the move to break it.

"What the actual fuck?"

————————————————

part 3: the tortured poets department (mattheo riddle)

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Your father is just telling one of his iconic stories from his time at Hogwarts, about how he and his best friends once roamed the huge halls of the castle, and the overall atmosphere in the room is so far away from what Draco usually associates with family dinners.

No tension, no awkward silence, no fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment. An hour ago, Draco would have believed that it couldn't be any other way. The second he crossed the threshold into your family's house, however, he was convinced of the opposite.

James and Lily are the kindest people Draco has ever met. They welcomed him with open arms straight away, even though they didn't even know him - expect from what is general knowledge in the wizarding world about him and specifically his family of course. And maybe from the stories Harry told them, when Draco and Harry were still very far from ever sitting anywhere near each other. But over time, many things have changed and you played a big role in improving their difficult relationship.

At first, you couldn't believe that the boy who usually treated your brother like shit had suddenly turned into a completely different person in your presence. But he did and it didn't take long until stronger feelings developed. Harry certainly couldn't believe it but here you are, eating your mum's homemade food, chatting and laughing away.

"Tell me, Draco. Have you mastered the Patronus Charm yet? Y/N told us that you tried it in Defence against the Dark Arts recently. Should have happened way earlier in my opinion, but oh well", James asks your boyfriend, a smile on his lips and genuine interest evident on his face. Draco's parents wouldn't even think of asking something like that.

"Not quite. I mean I managed it, but unfortunately it hasn't taken on a shape yet", Draco replies kindly, but doesn't maintain eye contact with James as he's too uncomfortable. You know that such an answer would probably be punished by his parents if he ever were to say it aloud in front of them, which is why you reach for his hand under the table. On his thigh, you intertwine his fingers with yours, the silver sigil ring cold against your skin. Looking at him from the side, you squeeze his hand and softly smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetheart! You'll get to it", your mother cheers him up, smiling between the two of you and you just know she saw your intertwined hands and loving gaze. You also know that Draco did not expect such a kind reaction and even though he visibly relaxes, he doesn't know what to answer.

The topic of the conversation changes and your dad can't help himself but to ask Draco all about his Quidditch tactics. Obviously, he can't tell him a lot about it since Harry is sitting right next to him, but seeing the three most important men in your life talk so passionately about something they love makes your heart jump. They keep on chatting over dinner and when it's time to clear the table, they don't even notice your mother and you collecting all the plates, too focused on their conversation.

You smile to yourself, following your mum into the kitchen where you put the dirty dishes into the sink and let the water run over them. Immediately, you notice her staring at you with a soft smile on her lips.

"What?", you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"Nothing. It's just..", she says, stopping herself as if to think how to best phrase her next words. "You two remind me a lot of your dad and I when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes. The banter, the loving gazes, the not keeping your hands off each other", she giggles, drying the dishes you hand her with a towel. "From what I have seen so far, I feel like you're truly meant for each other. It seems like you compensate the weakness of the other."

"Mum, stop it", you chuckle, feeling the blush creep onto your cheeks but you know that she is right. She always is. And you truly feel like you can be yourself when Draco is around so you are glad that she genuinely accepts him.

"Don't tell your brother or your dad that I said that though", she then laughs, both of you knowing that the Potter men can be really protective. The moment Draco enters the kitchen, you stifle your laughter.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Potter?", he asks your mum politely and the knowing smile on your mother's face is so obvious you want to sink into the ground.

"Draco, how often do I need to tell you that you can call me Lily-"

"We're almost done, but thank you so much for offering. We'll be right back", you answer and Draco nods, leaving again.

"He is so sweet! What a gentleman!", your mum almost squeaks but lowers her voice so he can't hear her anymore. All you can hear as an immediate response to your mother's comment is a snort, coming from Harry who just entered the kitchen with two glasses, putting them into the sink.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a girlfriend", you mock him while your mum tries to hide her giggle.

"You had all the guys of Hogwarts at your disposal and you seriously went for Draco Malfoy", is all Harry says before leaving again, but deep down you know that if they truly hated each other the way they always pretend they do, they would not be sitting at a table together and they would definitely not be talking about Quidditch.

"He'll come around, don't worry", your mum tells you, stroking over your shoulder as she finishes drying off the last glass. Once all the dishes are back where they belong, you go back to the dining room, happy to see that they are still chatting away.

When Draco meets your gaze, he reaches for your hand and helps you sit down on your seat again. From the corner of your eye you see your parents looking at each other, understanding the other without a word and you can't stop thinking about what your mum just told you about their own young love back then.

Dear Draco, 

You shine so brightly, no wonder why you were named after a constellation. I don’t like to admit it but, sometimes, when I’m stargazing, I unconsciously find myself looking for your stars, and deep down, I think it’s just so I can see you for a little longer.

You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last person that crosses my mind when I lay my head on my pillow. You tuck me in with reveries and dreams of you ever loving me back.

Draco, I think you’re my first love. My heart is all for you.

Yours truly,

Your secret admirer

Draco was laying on his bed while holding the letter carefully in his hands for he was scared to cause the slightest damage to the piece of parchment. He couldn’t help but to read the words over and over and over again in hopes to find even the smallest clue to finally put a face to this « secret admirer. » Alas, there was nothing to identify this person.

Malfoy felt hopeless for he couldn’t recognize the handwriting and never saw someone use the same stationary in Hogwarts. He’d hate to admit it, but since he started to receive the letters, he has been analyzing his surroundings more often: Draco would try to see if any of the pieces of paper were similar to the ones he received or even to see if he could match the handwriting.

Though, there was something that could help him identify his secret admirer: The scent. You see, every time he’d receive a letter from that Hufflepuff boy, a sweet scent coming from the pink envelope would make its way to Malfoy’s nose. However, the fragrance could only be smelt for a few seconds before completely disappearing. And so, It was a faint and an unreliable clue, but still, it was a clue and draco would take anything at this point.

« You’re still reading this Malfoy? » Blaise asked as he closed the door of their shared room, «yeah, I’m trying to figure out who they might be from, » draco said nonchalantly, « I can tell, » Blaise replied, « you’ve been receiving these letters for like I don’t know— two months? And since then, every time I come into the room you’re always reading them.» Zabini removed his jacket and threw it on his bed, and then sat on the latter while facing draco, « are you like in love or something? » Draco threw a pillow on Zabini, « ow! I’m just saying, » Blaise whined, « I’m certainly not in love with someone I don’t know Blaise.» Draco put the letter that was formerly in his hands on his bedside table, « I literally don’t care about those letters. »

« I, personally, in my opinion, » Blaise pointed to himself, «think you care about the letters, » he shrugged, « I also think you’re completely, utterly smitten with your secret admirer, » draco scoffed, « what makes you say that? The statement you’re making is clearly stupid. You’re not making any sense, » draco said, « I, personally, in my opinion, » draco repeated Blaise’s words, « think I’m just curious to know who’s writing these letters to me. That’s it. » Blaise looked at him closely and did not reply to his friend knowing damn well they’ll only end up fighting. The two boys fell into a comfortable silence, leaving each other to the company of their thoughts.

Draco lied, and he knew that his dearest friend caught on. He cared deeply about those letters; it felt nice to Malfoy to see how someone seemed to care deeply about him and perceived him in a a way that nobody ever did before. It felt funny to Draco : How could someone see beyond his cold and heartless persona and see him for more than he showcased himself as? He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he sure hoped to know it one day. Until then, Draco will keep that question close to his heart, to make sure he’ll remember to ask his secret admirer.

« I’m curious though, » Zabini spoke up making Draco’s train of thoughts stop to a halt, « Y/N. We haven’t heard of her for a while. Like, she didn’t prank you or anything for weeks, » Draco smiled remembering the last encounter he had with you, « Oh, come on! Y/N? I’m sure she gave up, she probably couldn’t find a better counterattack, » he smirked, « Stop being so cocky Draco, » Blaise smiled back at his friend, « I suggest you stay alarmed, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch, » he warned jokingly, « look at you being wise Zabini, » draco laughed.

« Oh come on, Y/N, » Athena huffed, «are you still writing those damn letters? I thought it was a one time thing and you’d be over it by now.» You stopped writing mid-sentence to look up at Athena, «You just don’t understand Athena, I have to. It’s vital for me to embarrass him, » you defended, « plus, as a Slytherin, I ought to be a determined person. »

 « Yeah, right, » Athena started, « so it’s vital for you to write him little love letters every day just so you embarrass him? » Athena sat down next to you, «but, tell me truthfully, aren’t you embarrassed y/n? ‘Cause honestly I would be if I were you, » she scoffed, « wait, » you changed positions so you could face her better, « how is it embarrassing? »

« You’re an oblivious idiot aren’t you? » Athena put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you straight in the eyes, «you are writing to him little poems filled with love every day! That’s a thing lovers do for each other, » she said, «and those letters seem so genuine if you ask me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ever told me that you’re in love with Malfoy. » You slapped her hands off your shoulders, « Me, in love with Draco? As if! » you scoffed, « I’m only doing this so I can get back at him! I don’t care about him, at all, » you said defensively. 

Athena broke into a fit of laughter and all you could do was to look at her with frowned eyebrows, « w-why are you laughing? » you stuttered, «I don’t recall saying anything funny! » Your cheeks turned red from frustration, what did you say that made Athena laugh like you said the funniest joke ever? 

Your childhood friend wiped her tears, « Y/N, my love, » she started, « we both know that if you didn’t care about the dude, you wouldn’t be fueling whatever childish feud you both have, » Athena explained, « and you’d be ignoring his existence like you’ve been ignoring Cormac, » she added, « I think that you actually care about draco and you may even want to snog him, potentially.» You touched her forehead to check if she had high fever, because she was saying some absolute nonsense. « Are you high? Drunk? Sick? » You questioned Athena, « You’re saying some crazy stuff right now Athena. »

« Y/N, my sister in Salazar, we both know that I’m right, » she shrugged, « plus, I know you like the palm of my hand! I clearly am in the right position to confirm that you do in fact have feelings for Draco Malfoy, » she elaborated, «Again if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing all of this, » she pointed to the stationary laying on your desk, « you’re in love, babe. » Without adding anything else, Athena went to her side of the dorm room leaving you with your thoughts 

You felt like Athena opened a pandora’s box inside of your mind for all you could think of was that you may actually bear feelings for Malfoy. Athena’s  words kept repeating in your head over and over again, and you couldn’t deny that she may be onto something: Were you playing these wicked games along with draco just because you wanted to have some sort of connection with him? 

If you thought deeply about it, playing those games with Malfoy may have been an excuse to have a constant presence in his life because deep down, you didn’t want to be forgotten by Draco: Going by your logic, If you pulled some stupid pranks on Draco that would mean that he would always notice you and therefore you’d always be on his mind.

Sure, those games the two of you were playing did start out from a part of rivalry. But if you were to be honest, you did find draco quite handsome and there would be no doubt in your heart that you would actually like him if he didn’t open his mouth to speak on the day you first met him.

You glanced again at the half written letter in front of you. You lifted it up, and started to read it.

Dear Draco, 

I think of you daily. It’s true. I think of you when I see green apples, books or even when I smell an expensive cologne. You probably don’t have a clue why, and trust me, neither do I.

I want to know everything about—

You put the letter down and put your face in the palm of your hands. The words you’ve written on the piece of paper were probably the most genuine sentences you’ve put into together in a while : You actually do think of Draco when you smell an expansive cologne for he had the most intoxicating smell. And you’d always wonder what the blond boy is currently doing at the sight of green apples.

To anyone else, the words you’ve written may seem mundane and they probably do not hold anything special, but for you they did. You obviously weren’t Kafka or Shakespeare for the way you constructed your sentences to confess your feelings weren’t exceptional and were far from deserving a Nobel prize for literature. However, you realized that you did mean every word you wasted your ink for and that said a lot of things.

At thirty-eight and forty-two, Narcissa and Lucius were finally given their precious baby boy, Draco Lucius Malfoy. The two of them have been trying for years and had many losses, but eventually, Narcissa smoothly made it to all three trimesters. Lucius was ecstatic when he found out Narcissa was pregnant again; he never gave up the hope of having a child of their own.

Draco grew up incredibly spoiled, of course. He was the sole heir to the Malfoy family and was cherished by all who met him. No one was able to resist those sweet, large, silver eyes that shone with curiosity.

His life was incredible. Everywhere he went, he was drowned in riches and lavishes. People thanked him for being here, for being the one who made it out of his mummy. Draco felt incredibly special and proud to be alive.

——•𖥸•——

When Draco was nine years old, he discovered his biggest fear— losing his parents young.

This wasn’t a common thing for children to worry about. They should be worrying about if the house-elves made sure to put extra chocolate chips in his pancakes, not that his parents will die sooner than he’d like.

It all started when he had a playdate with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

They were playing princess, dragon, and prince when all of a sudden, Pansy asked how old their parents were.

Blaise’s mother was twenty-nine.

Pansy’s mother was also twenty-nine, and her father was thirty-one.

But Draco’s, Draco’s parents were forty-seven and fifty-one.

Pansy and Blaise were shocked by this.

“They’re so old!” Pansy squealed. Draco turned red from embarrassment.

It felt as if the two were making fun of his parents and their age. He didn’t think of them as old! His father could still teach him quidditch without getting winded. His mother baked with him without needing a rest. How were they old?

And then, Pansy continued, “aren’t you worried they’ll die soon?”

Draco froze. He thought about it. He knew his grandpa, Abraxas Malfoy, died at the age of sixty-two. Counting in his head, Draco realised that his father was eleven years behind that! Draco could be twenty when he died! Draco wasn’t ready for his parents to die! He needed them!

Draco realised from then that he despised his parents for having him at such an old age.

——•𖥸•——

When Draco turned eleven, his parents were forty-nine and fifty-three.

It was his first year of Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have been more excited.

He got his robe. His wand. His books. His supplies. Everything about this felt more magical than magic itself. It was a new step in life. He’d be going to school and learning the things his parents once did.

And Harry Potter would be in the same year as him! Draco hoped that they could be friends. Maybe the two of them could bond over their parents, and perhaps Harry Potter can advise on how to prepare for when his parents do die!

At the train, his mother started to sob. She pulled Draco in for a tight hug and whispered sweet reassuring in his ear:

“I love you so much.”

“Be good.”

“Stay safe.”

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” (Draco gave his infamous smirk at that one).

Then, it was his father’s turn (he could’ve sworn he saw his fathers eyes getting watery). His father knelt and put both hands on Draco’s shoulders.

“No matter what house you get into, just remember I’m so proud of who you are and how far you came. I love you so much, and you’re the best son I could’ve ever asked for.”

Draco’s jaw dropped slightly, and he nearly knocked his father over with a hug. Oh, how he craved those words from his father. He’s determined to get into Slytherin to honour the Malfoy line, but just hearing what his father told him made him feel so much better about this upcoming year.

So, he got on the train to begin his journey as a man (at least in Draco’s mind).

——•𖥸•——

During the middle of the year, he decided to write a letter to his parents asking why they had him.

Dear Mother and Father,

School is going well. I come second in my year; Granger can’t seem to make mistakes. She’s such a know-it-all it’s sickening and insulting in my mind. Potter still won’t be my friend. I think it’s hopeless. He seems so nice, and I try, I really do, but I always seem to say the wrong words that make him despise me.

This isn’t what I want to talk to you about. I want to know why you had me. Why you decided that even though you both are beginning to age, why I was such an important thing to have. Theodore Nott keeps making fun of me for having old parents. He tells me that I could be your grandchild and I don’t like it.

Why would you have me if you knew your ages? Why, why why, why, why?

Sincerely,

Draco Lucius Malfoy

He tried not to cry that night, but he couldn’t help it. What Nott said to him hurt, just like when Blaise and Pansy did it when they first met (though the two apologised and now they’re good friends). Why would his parents give him this burden of being alive? They would die.

——•𖥸•——

Dear Dragon,

We were selfish, we admit. We tried for years to have a child, and suddenly, you showed up. I didn’t want to believe it at first because of how hard we tried. The both of us decided to have a child, and through that, you were born. We know you never asked to be alive, but you are. Our precious miracle. Our son.

I hope you never go through the same pain we both did before we had you. No matter our old age, you still mean dearly to us. You are our heart, our joy, our love. You are our happiness, Dragon. Your father and I love you so much and wish you to excel in life and do honourable things.

I’m sorry people are treating you this way at school. It’s wrong for them to make fun of something you have no control over, my dear, but this is a part of growing up. You will hear this more in your life, and it will be something you need to get used to. We’ll see you for Easter break, and you can tell me everything that’s happening at school, your activities, your friends, and this. I love you so much, my little dragon.

Love,

Mother (and Father).

Draco sighed and reread the letter for which seemed to be the hundredth time. Even though he was now thirteen, he couldn’t help but read this for when he needed comfort.

“You didn’t ask to be alive; we decided to have children, and here you are.” His mother would say constantly.

It wasn’t that he despised his parents for being at a refined age. He despised them because he wouldn’t get to spend as much time with them as other kids do with their parents. They would leave him in this world before he made it to his mid-thirties. It broke his heart. His parents were amazing and caring to him, and they would be taken away from him too early. That’s why he despised his parents.

——•𖥸•——

When Draco turned sixteen, his parents were fifty-four and fifty-eight.

Sixteen was when his whole world change. He was branded. He felt dirty, vile. How could his parents do this to him? How could his father still be on his side? He was a coward. Draco hated him. He HATED him. This wasn’t the same man who told him he loved him on his first day of school. This wasn’t the same man who would chase him around the manor playing tag. This wasn’t the same man who would read bedtime stories to him or hold him close when the thunder was too loud. His father changed. Draco was disgusted by it.

His mother did nothing on her end. He didn’t care if she was afraid. His mother could’ve asked for Snape to bring her to wherever The Order was to keep her safe… Severus could’ve brought him to The Order to keep him safe from this nightmare.

Draco still wouldn’t wish death upon his parents, he was simply too attached to them, but he was repulsed, infuriated with what his parents had become.

For the first time, Draco despised his parents for not only their age but for who they were.

——•𖥸•——

When Draco was nineteen, his mother was fifty-seven.

His father died last year at the age of sixty due to the amount of torture he went through under the Dark Lord.

Harry Potter won, thankfully, but the effects of the war still held firm. People despised him, his name. He tried so hard to make up for the way he treated everyone who wasn’t his friends. He apologised for his parent’s actions, which he should’ve never done.

His father was most likely in a better place now, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Even if he was a horrible father for the past two years, he was still his father. The man that raised him ways which he now needs to unlearn. But he also was the man who raised Draco to be strong, independent, and intelligent. He showed Draco life and fun. That was the side of his father he would honour and cherish. All those good years will make up for the bad even though the axe forgets, but the trees will never forget.

Realising his father’s death made him fear the future. He would need to get married quickly and produce an heir so his mother could see it before she was gone too. He couldn’t deal with his mother dying before she got to see her first grandchild. The pain would hurt too much.

We’re told never to rush. Always take it slow. The matter of fear swallows you whole, though, and suddenly, the one craving is the obsession.

Draco was obsessed to find someone to settle with before his mother would be gone too, or else no one from his side of the family would be at his wedding (except maybe for Andromeda and Teddy if they would like to come).

——•𖥸•——

When Draco turned thirty-three, he was alone.

His mother died today at the age of seventy-one. The pain of seeing your mother lay on her bed as still as stone was a trauma he hoped no one would witness.

He felt numb. He was actually alone besides his son, Scorpius, whose mother passed away due to a blood curse. He loved his wife as a friend and seeing her go as well hit hard. Apparently, it was arranged from birth; Draco hadn’t known about this until he turned twenty and used it to his advantage.

His son, now five, would not have to witness what he went through, and he was thankful for it. They went to her funeral, where she was buried in the Malfoy cemetery next to her husband.

They were finally together at last, but I’m still here. Young. Alone with no guidance. No parents. No love. My son is everything now, and I’ll make sure he knows of it.

——•𖥸•——

When Draco turned thirty-nine, he decided to visit his parents.

He wasn’t doing his best today, and he needed the comfort only his parents could give.

“Mother, Father, it’s me, Draco. Scorpius is at Hogwarts now. Can you believe it? Time flys fast when they’re young. I miss you; every day I’m here, I can’t help but miss you. It’s been years since you’ve both left me for good, but it always feels like yesterday. Sometimes it’s hard to continue life without you there. I never got to say how much I love you both because I was too busy hating you over a factor you couldn’t control.”

Draco’s eyes began to water, and a sob rose to his throat, but yet, he still continued.

“I cherish each good memory we have of one another in a pensive. I look at them every day to reminisce the feeling of having you both there with me.”

Draco rested his head upon his mother’s gravestone and let the tears slip from his eyes. It hurt so bad. The spot in his heart that once was filled with his parents’ love felt like a void of nothingness.