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y/n malfoy
When Harry gave no answer, my father scans the area. Noticing this, i quickly flap my butterfly wings to fly away, but unfortunately, my father catches me, holding onto the tip of my wings with his fingers. "Funny. This butterfly was also with you that day i saw you at Hogwarts," He says, looking down at Harry.
I try to flap my wings as hard as i can to get out of his grasps, and i can feel the heavy weight being lifted off when i finally succeed in doing so. But my father then points his wand at the little butterfly me, and exclaims an unfamiliar incantation,
turning me back to my human form.
"How very foolish of you to run away and think i wouldn't be able to find you," My father snickers, gripping my wrist tightly. I look up at him in anger, and scoff, as i try my best to break free, "Hello, father."
"You're coming home," My father tightens his grip around my wrist, demanding sternly. I tell him, in the same serious manner, "I am home," Turning to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, i continue, "With them."
"No, you're not," My father shakes his head, "I told you, they're bad news." Harry jolts up from his chair, reaching for me, "Y/n," He calls out, but my father pushes him away with his cane, warning him, "Listen here, Potter. Don't ever go looking for my daughter. Ever again. She'll be happily married with Theodore Nott, and you'll only be a memory."
"I don't want to!" I shout, trying to jerk my hand away, but my father still stands with what he said. What he always says, "I'm doing what's best for you." Harry now shoves his way closer to me, screaming, "Get your hands off her!"
"So rude of you to tell me what to do with my own daughter," My father says, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. I start pleading– Just crying out for him to listen, "Dad-- Please. I just want to be with my Harry."
"He isn't your Harry."
The last thing i heard Harry said before my father took me to apparate with him was just the voice of Harry, screaming my name, calling out to me, "Y/n!"
Now here i am. Back at the dark, quiet, empty manor. The place where a lot of deaths took place. The place where death eaters used to seek comfort in. The place that was used as Voldemort's headquarters. That's why i hate it so much. I can never look at my childhood home the same way ever again.
"Let go of me!" I squeal, as my father finally loosen his grip, shoving me away. "Home," He says, "Where you belong." My mother comes running to me, pulling me for a tight, warm embrace, "Oh darling!" I hug her back, greeting, "Mum."
"This is your home, Y/n," My father states, as i turn around to look at him, sitting on an arm chair. "This is who you are." I shake my head, a scowl forming on my face. "It isn't." My father looks up at me with blank eyes, and replies, "It is. Whether you like it or not."
