Everlasting (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Fit of Anger

"Draco, what are you reading?" Narcissa asked, stepping over behind Draco's shoulder only to catch him reading a newspaper which he quickly covered with a scoff, placing it down onto the table.

"Nothing," he said in a low tone, sitting back in the armchair and leaning on his fingers which leaned on the armchair rest, looking ahead of himself with narrow eyes. A completely different boy was he - dressed in black, hair shorter, slightly styled to the side, with no longer the cheery expression as he used to just some weeks ago. Almost as though he were a new person.

"Come on, what is it?" Narcissa asked softly, reaching out to pick the newspaper from the table.

"No," he protested, grabbing the newspaper again and covering it, "it's nothing." And with this, he immediately stood up with the newspaper and, crossing to the staircase of the Malfoy manor, threw the newspaper in the closest bin.

His odd reaction was enough for Narcissa to await his leave and, when gone, cross over to the bin and pull the newspaper out. Her heart immediately sprung into surprise before tearing into pieces when she caught sight of the beautiful [F/n] Potter on the front page, standing in front of a plain background, hair sticky of an odd liquid, holding up a sign which possessed her name and a number below it, signifying her arrest. There you stood, staring at the camera, with a general poker face and slightly curled lips into a mischievous smirk. The description of the photo was information of a youthful assaulter such as yourself and the extent to which you'd recently attacked the woman. The location was on it, and Narcissa recalled having once been in that cafe many years ago. However, seeing your face on the front page in such a manner, knowing of Draco's aching at simply reading it ... she could not contain her tears. Her hands gently shook as she held the newspaper and, one final moment, she looked up at the staircase, feeling Draco's suffering transcend itself through space and time, absorbing her entirely.

"Oh, my poor child," she hummed out with solemn eyes. "What have we dragged you into?"

Meanwhile, Draco was now lying in his bed, staring ahead of himself with empty eyes. He could not comprehend his own feelings, his own thoughts. His mind kept returning to you and how you had been arrested, but he attempted to fight the thoughts off as much as possible, forcing his mind into nothingness.

When all was done, you left the shop, Draco holding the bag.

"Let me hold the bag at least," you said, trying to take a hold of the bag. "You paid so I can do this."

"Ah, ah, get away, Potter," he protested, pulling the bag far away and shooing you off to keep walking. You could not help but smile and roll your eyes at his stubbornness, and unusual kindness, but you did as you were told and continued walking, as Draco began to follow.

His own heart struck him so dearly. This was why he wished for an empty, clear mind - this way, he wouldn't experience the suffering and aching so harshly. No - he convinced himself - he did not need these thoughts. These thoughts were but corrupt ideas of a desolate and impossible future. Pursuing these false ideals would only hurt him more, destroy him further, thus he had to kick you out of his mind as soon as possible.

"That good, huh?" He smirked.

"Fuck off and go to sleep," you said playfully, pushing him away by his face.

The two of you laughed and finally got under the covers. Whilst you were still sweating and hot from the night's doings, something unusual happened indeed. Sharing a bed ... Draco's arms had outstretched themselves, warily, as he wrapped them around you and pulled your body against his.

"What are you doing? Nonce."

"Nonce? What's that?"

"You."

He still did not know what a nonce was. Nevertheless, he told himself continuously that he no longer cared, that it no longer mattered. Who was [F/n] Potter but the girl he'd slept with? No one. No one. No one.

"Draco!" You cried out. "But ... this!"

He smiled proudly, looking at it.

"But this is so expensive ... how did you?" You looked at him, whispering, in a state of shock and disbelief, yet ultimate joy.

"I have my ways."

"Draco ... you're unbelievable," you whispered, still in disbelief, holding the book tightly.

"Well, aren't you going to kiss me?" He asked playfully.

"Of course I am!" You smiled, pulling him closer and down to your lips as you thus stood on your tiptoes, pressing him against yourself and kissing him gracefully. "Draco - thank you so much! Goodness, how will I ever repay you? I feel so horrible for not buying you anything! God ... you're so ... I have no words."

"Repay me by staying here, with me, tonight."

You looked up at him, smiling. He, too, looked down at you with a proud smile as his eyes engaged with yours. Ah, to share the beauty of sight, or feeling. Only now you felt true satisfaction of Christmas. You loved your friends dearly, yet the entire day felt ... uncompleted. And only now did you feel complete satisfaction and felicity, looking upon his blue eyes and feeling his soft skin. That soft ... delicate skin of his. Oh, Draco.

"You are my passion, and I your solace."

Gritting his teeth, he stood from his bed and began to pace his bedroom back and forth. All of it was that stupid Potter girl. Her stupid smile. Her ridiculous laugh. Her dumb voice. Her fake promises. If you knew - if you knew who Draco was, would you still be in love with him? No! No, you wouldn't! You were but a liar, just like every other person. Draco did not deserve happiness, and someone like you would never truly fall in love with him. Not that it mattered to him anyway. He no longer cared. He no longer was Draco. Your love for him was, he believed, long gone.

Yet, there it was; [F/n] Potter, [F/n] Potter, [F/n] Potter! Every ridiculous thought of her! The manner in which she smirked at the camera of her arrest. Who had she assaulted!? And why!? Why was she like this? Why did she do these crazy things? Why was she so reckless? And why, most of all, did Draco Malfoy have to fall in love with her?

In a fit of anger, Draco slammed the chair from his desk, sending it flying across the room as he stared at it go, inhaling and exhaling deeply, surprised at his own doing. Attempting to calm himself down, he ran his fingers through his hair before rubbing his face. Tears encompassed his eyes. Gently turning to the window, he scanned the outside world briefly for a couple of moments before looking down towards the bin beside his desk, only to catch a glimpse of the letter he'd thrown in there a couple of weeks ago. The letter that, in such pure handwriting, wrote To Draco and remained unsigned. The letter that told him he was missed. But it was all corrupt. All so, so corrupt. All so temporary in this harsh world, where some of us do not deserve to be happy.

Some of us are bound for a specific path that is determined before our birth.