{a/n: DRACO, FINALLY :))
for choosethesegirls for your kind message <3 }
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[August 2, 1996]
The wait in the morning to go to Malfoy Manor was enduring. It seemed that even the planets had decided to slow their turn around the sun. You watched the ball of light rise through the foggy streets of Spinner's End out the window, body paralyzed by the emptiness of your heart.
The clothes that Meepy had prepared for you lay on the edge of the bed. A black dress that ends a few inches below the knees. The top was cut so that it exposed your neck. The detail in the fabric was remarkable. It was one of your mother's old clothes, passed down from your grandmother. It was lovely – old-fashioned but timeless.
Three knocks on the door, and your heart already seemed to go in an unfamiliar pattern. Peter stood at the other side of the door, before saying that it was time to go. In the last moments of preparation, you slip the picture under your clothing with nowhere else to put it. Meepy has put your hair in a bun, neat and elegant.
The floorboards creaked as you made your way downstairs to where they were waiting. The heels of your shoes clanked on each step of the uncarpeted stairs.
Snape lends out his arm to you and you take it. The vacuuming feeling of apparition taking over all your senses. The thought of what was to come filled your mind, seeing Draco after all this time. Wondering what business was going on between Snape and Narcissa.
Your feet land in front of the gates to the Manor, and you almost roll your eyes at the thought of walking in the long driveway. You look up at Snape with an annoyed look, and he glares at you. "Just follow, child," he says, and you reluctantly follow him.
The wrought-iron gates of the Manor were huge, and they opened once Snape waved his hand in a certain stroke. Thankfully, the path of the driveway was comfortable to walk on in heels, and in a few minutes, the manor stood tall in front of you.
The wide-glass panels covered the walls of the building. Surrounded by a maze of hedges and mowed grass. It was more impressive looking than that of the estate, though the expanse of the lands was smaller. The tall doors swing open as you approach it, revealing the familiar interior of the manor.
As you make your way to the drawing room, you notice that the usually bright entrance hall is dimly-lit. The pristinely clean carpets that covered the stone floor seemed to collect dust. The portraits of the older Malfoys watch you as you stride with the two men, a judging look in their eyes.
At the end of the hallway, you see a man stand outside the doors to the drawing room. His greying hair was slicked back, as one strand framed his wrinkling face. He looks to you, the familiar eyes reminding you of all the devout lessons he's taught you. You try to normalize your breathing at the realization.
"Malachi," Snape says as Peter cowers behind you both. The surprise you feel is pushed down.
"Severus," Malachi says before turning to you with a devilish grin on his features, "Hello, y/n."
"Father," you greet him back, adding a small innocent smile as you shortly bow your head. Your heart was going feral, wanting to find a way to escape the presence of your father. Suddenly feeling the walls of the big manor crawling closer to suffocate you. You try your best not to put your hand on your nape, taking deep breaths and voiding your body of emotion.
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He gestures to the door. "He's waiting for you,"
Snape nods at him and the gold-trimmed door opens. The high ceiling of the drawing room is revealed. The two chandeliers that hung high above lit the room in a fiery glow. Golden-lined furniture sat all across the carpeted room where at the end was the organ on the wall.
Your eyes needn't scan the room to spot the platinum-blonde haired boy clothed in a black suit. His father and mother were standing beside him near one of the single couches. His grey eyes meet yours, his face flinching as his eyes slowly widen. You see his shoulders move in a deep breath before looking away from you. Typical.
Snape walks forward and you follow him, your father falling behind you. Your heart pounded against your chest, despite trying to contain all your thoughts and emotions. If it weren't for your uncle and Draco who were in the room, you'd bolt out of the scene as soon as possible.
"Stay," your father's voice booms, and you turn to the door. He was pushing Peter out of the room. The bald man cowers, and the door shuts on its own, leaving you with your family and Draco's.
Your hands turn clammy as the room goes into silence, still trying to keep a blank face and a still heart. There was almost no noise in the room, except for the fire of the mantlepiece below the gilded mirror. You then fixate on one of the portraits on the far left in the corner of the room, one that you remember staring at when you visited years ago. Finding a sense of calm.
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Draco tried his best to avoid looking at her. Her skin was glowing in the black lace of her dress. He hadn't seen her in more than a month, not having even bid goodbye to her when the train stopped at London.
It has been a tumultuous summer since he last saw her, but now he's proven wrong. As he watches her in his peripheral, he cannot help but feel sorry for what she seems to not know. The consequences of everything both their fathers have done now seem to bite them in the arse.
His eyes look at where you're looking – the corner of the room. Where the portraits were nothing more than landscapes and skies, unlike the portraits of generations of Malfoys that hung around the room. He remembers that portrait.
The one with dark purple clouds covered in stars. The one she'd stare at every time she used to visit years ago. The one where she saw him.
His heart clenched, knowing what those eyes would witness in the sitting room that she had once revered.
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After a few minutes, you've devolved into nothing more than an empty shell of what you truly feel.
Everyone in the room suddenly stills, and you straighten yourself.
There was nothing.
Until one of the wall panels of the room made a clicking sound. It moved forward, opening up like a sliding door. The light in the room seemed to dim, the air growing colder. A man steps in in flowing dark robes, white skin like paper.
The ground under you seemed to hold you in place, and you let all your emotions fall into a void.
It was him.
His scarlet eyes pierced like a snake's bite as he looked around the room. A grin spreads across his face when the ruby-like eyes land on you, sending a nervous shiver down your spine. This was very far from what you had planned for this week.
