H I M ; Draco Malfoy

L O S T I N T R A N S L A T I O N

A/N:
THIS WILL BE WRITTEN IN THIRD PERSON POV

Warning: Mention of violence, blood, foul language and slurs, and possible death.

V i n n i e

She lays on the dirt unconscious and when was woken, all she remembered was how Draco pointed his wand at her.

How the same Draco who used to wrap her in his arm so carefully like she was a fragile piece of flower, how the same Draco who defended her from the swerve of bullies from the first she stepped afoot on Hogwarts.

The Draco she once knew who'd do nothing to deliver any type of harm towards her, the Draco she once knew would sacrifice anything for their arms to remain around each other.

She wondered—she always wondered, even the things not worth wasting your time wondering on—does she really know him?

She woke with her father laying her body flat on a blanket laid out on the ground. She barely had energy left to open her eyes to see clearly how the situation of her house has become. But she saw it—her house.

The burrows was burning. The house where she filled sweet memories in was now trapped amidst the rage of an inferno.

"Vin?" A soft voice exclaimed, Molly. The mother gently raced the back of her fingers along her daughter fragile self. A hand that was later cupping Vinnie face. The soft patter of tears echoed as they fell from her anguished eyes, landing upon her daughter's fragile form. The air was heavy and loud but that drip of the tear overpowered with despair, each tear a poignant reminder of the pain that enveloped them. Her daughter, lying there barely conscious. Amidst the tears, a tempest of rage entered and took control. She love her house, of course, but she love her children more and no one was to put their lives in danger.

The name dug deep into Molly Weasley's memory. Bellatrix Lestrange.

The flickering shadows from the dying embers of their home took her attention, they had took the flame out but couldn't some of it.

Vinnie, finally gaining enough consciousness to be aware of her surrounding pushed herself up with her hand on the ground. Her gaze went to her mum, then her dad, then the house. Tears once again formed. Guilt.

Molly—without wasting another moment to hesitate— gently but in desperate motion reached for Vinnie and hugged her as if she'd never have the chance to do so again. Vinnie, the same. Another weight flew off of Vinnie's shoulder. A loud voice cursing from inside the tall grass gathered their attention. George. Vinnie thought.

George revealed himself from the grass, his hand grab his hair frustratingly and cussed again.

"The knobhead apparated with his Loony aunt" George gnarled, angry, no, furious. After several more frustrated running-his-hand-through-his-hair, his gaze caught Vinnie's. He slowly went on his knees to reached her level.

"Go on," Vinnie said, her voice despondent. She was looking at the ground, her face was fully covered with her brunette locks. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" George ask genuinely.

"That you said so,"

"Vin" George sighed in defeat and fixed her hair to her back.

Vinnie looked up, biting her inner lower lip, she tried to have words escape her mouth but all she could say was half of I'm sorry before being in a complete crying mess.

George pulled her into an apologetic hug. He was apologetic, he doesn't know why. But he doesn't pity her.

"Let's get you patched up" Fred said from behind, handing the first aid kit to George. George nodded before taking it and had her lift her sleeves up to revealed the bloody scars that the sharp object had down when she could not move.