Everlasting (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

A Desolate Walk

And so, the rest of the year was spent with little action. Mad-Eyed Moody turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr, which came as a great shock to everyone. The best part of it all, however, was finding out that it was him who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, all so that you could end up in the graveyard and meet Voldemort. But now, that was the big question of the year: what next? All the teachers were informed of Voldemort's return, and, though they told everyone not to worry, you believed they were slowly preparing too, but did not want the students to panic.

One night, with your head rested against the pillow back at the place which you ought to call your home, but was not your home in any aspect, you had a dream. A dream that, you could not decide, whether it motivated you for your fifth year at Hogwarts, or made you detest it.

You stared up, at the sky above you, with your usual blank, lost face. The stars were so beautiful. The moon shone brighter than you'd ever seen it shine before. You were indeed so small and insignificant compared to these grand structures. You were but a mere human, with little significance, little to say, little to do. Your problems appeared so great - yet, they were nothing, in the grand scheme of life. And, as you looked on at the stars, you opened your mouth and softly spoke, "Draco, what have you done?"

"I've done nothing," he replied slowly, beside you, mimicking the action of looking up at the stars. "It's you, [F/n]. You did it all."

"I did not," you softly cried out. "I didn't, Draco. It was you."

"You began questioning," he hummed. "Had you not cared, it wouldn't have mattered. You began to think. That's why."

"My thoughts did it?"

A small smile formed on his lips. "It's the questioning, it's the curiosity. You want to do better than you can. You're no saviour, [F/n]."

"I know that," you nodded. "But it's you, Draco. It all happened because of you."

"On my behalf, perhaps. But on your behalf, [F/n], you did it to yourself. I never forced you to have these thoughts. To have these desires. To have these feelings."

You opened your mouth gently, and kept it hanging. You had no more to say. Only, you rested your head against the tree you now sat under, still gaping at the stars and their beauty. Indeed, Draco was right. It was not his fault; it was yours. The unnecessary, intrusive thoughts. The slow caring. It was remembering every detail of every moment you shared with him, which you recalled in bed every now and then. It was bound to happen. You really did do this to yourself.

"Will you be cruel to me?" He asked softly, turning to you with pleading eyes. "Will you torture me further?"

"I never tortured you in the first place."

"How can you say that?" He asked, tears in his eyes. "When all was hell, when I had little to say, little to do, I thought that perhaps I can at least see you, argue with you, pester you. Your angry face was always so cute," he smiled through tears, "but I knew I had an influence over you. I knew I had some sort of impact on your life. And then, I began to care, and so did you. I knew you cared! Even if you denied it, I knew you did. Deep down, at least. And for you to turn away so quickly, [F/n], and leave me to myself, with all that's hell, all that's cruel. And you say you did not torture me?"

"You did this to yourself," you said quietly.

"And you're so, so positive," he hummed out, tucking your hair behind your ear, "I wish to be like you. To be as joyful, as positive, as happy as you, despite all the hardships."

"You can, Draco," you cried out. "You really can, why can't you see that?"

"Because you've left me, [F/n]. You've become cruel to me. Now, all's hell again."

"It cannot be so bad, I'm sure!"

"You saw it yourself," he whispered, "you saw my father there. You refuse to admit it to yourself, but you know - you know what he's like. What he does to me. How he treats me. And you still left me."

"You have a choice, Draco."

"Then show me that I do, [F/n]."

You rose from your pillow, gasping for breath. You looked around, pleading to see Draco, only to find the room in the Dursleys' house, and the sunrising. It was 6am. Perhaps, you had to get some fresh air. It was only the first week of the summer holidays, but the dreams were becoming repetitive. Some included the graveyard scene, some included Lucius' face, and some included similar contents to what you'd just dreamed of. With a sigh, you pulled the duvet off yourself and rose from the bed. It was cold. Groaning, you stripped yourself of your pyjamas and placed on clean clothes, along with a jacket. You brushed your hair, brushed your teeth, grabbed your phone and your earphones, and thus headed out. Everyone else in the house was still asleep, thankfully, allowing you to wallow in self-pity without screams, or demands, or cries.

With your hood on, and earphones in, you began to walk through the town. Not many people were out. Only men and women, walking back and forth, rushing for work, or finishing their night shifts, heading back home. The sun did look splendid, however, and it matched the cold morning air so perfectly.

You began to ponder. What if you hadn't received a Hogwarts letter those many years ago? You would now be coming to the end of a secondary school. You would have never had your wand. You would have never been unique. You would have proceeded with life, as a muggle, with no knowledge of the astounding things going on on the other side. Would it have been a good thing? Sure, you would have had no worries of the most evil wizard in history being after you, but at the same time you would not have made the amazing friends you did. You would not have met Cedric. You would not have felt the power you held. You would've missed out on Hogwarts; on all that laughter, those memories. The mere thought of it hurt. And, you would have never met Draco. Was that a good thing?

Swinging your fingers in your pocket, you pulled out some coins, checking how much change you had. A good £2. That was enough for a regular coffee from Greggs. With an exhale of relief, you walked into the nearby Greggs, ordered yourself a regular latte, thanked the cashier, and headed off out with your coffee, sipping on its hot contents. You also used it to warm your hands.

"You should see the muggle world, Draco, it's quite beautiful." You said to yourself in a whisper as you looked out onto your town. "You would slander it a lot, I think. But you'd secretly love it," you smiled to yourself. "Let's go together one day, yeah?"

Muggles are trash. But, I suppose we could. You felt he would say.

"You should try a Greggs sausage roll. You should see Snapchat, and Instagram, and TikTok. We could buy you a phone. How shocked you would be to see the popularity of pubs here in England. Oh, how different it is, and how beautiful."

It all sounds peculiar. Muggles name things weirdly. You imagined him to say, and you shook your head with a smile.

"I dreamt of you again. I dreamt again of you telling me it's my fault, and that I brought it on myself. You asked me to stop torturing you."

But, to this, you could think of no response of what he would say. Silence thus followed your sentence. Again, alone you were, with no figure of imagination anymore. It seemed desolate again. Summer was a beautiful time, a time for joy and excitement, but it did not get better. The very same manner in which summer was torture for you before you received your letter, it still was. What was going to come out of the fifth year, you wondered. It was only the first week. Still, a lot could happen.