Potter? || Draco Malfoy x Reader

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DRACO'S POINT OF VIEW

This was unlike me. So very unlike me.

Draco Malfoy didn't care what happened to others. Not usually. He didn't waste a second of his precious time even thinking about them as long as he, himself, was alright, and as long as his mother was.

But it was different with her.

I cared. I cared so deeply I'd rather shred myself of ever feeling emotions again if it meant I didn't have to feel this way. But at the same time, it was soothing; like I could truly be myself around her, carefree and happy.

It made me feel weak, vulnerable, yet I couldn't help but feel the way I did about her.

And it made me sick but cured me all the same.

She seemed to be the only way I could make amends with myself, make up for my past. Make up for my mistakes, and be a better person. Try to be, at least.

She made me want to try.

So, that is why, as we stood in the large room, I wondered whether she had anything to do with this. Whether they'd bring her in here, hurt her, instead of worrying whether they'd do it to me.

I felt pathetic, really. But heroic just as much.

I was her knight in shining armour, isn't that what I said?

I would've scoffed at my thoughts if the air in the room didn't feel as scarce as it did already. If He wasn't standing just a few feet away from us, looking out the window, his hands clutched behind his back, clearly waiting for something.

My gaze was pointed towards the ground, feeling my mother's presence still by my side, though, unlike me, she looked up; held her head high, like she always did.

She was proud, always had been. Many think I get it from my father, but I'm certain it was her little gift to me. The gift my father meddled with, enforcing a false sense of pride towards the wrong things in life.

I fidgeted with my fingers in the pockets of my jacket. I didn't have my wand. They took it, only making me all the more uneasy standing here; playing all sorts of scenarios in my head of why exactly I was standing here.

In a room with no one but my mother, my aunt, and The Dark Lord himself.

It must've been ten minutes before I registered two pairs of footsteps, as well as muffled grunts and huffs before the door opened.

I went to turn around, my stomach twisting at the thought of who I might see, though, stopped in my tracks the second He turned; facing me, but looking right through me at whoever just walked in.

I didn't dare move as much as a single muscle; almost forgot to breathe entirely as he made a step towards us, a twisted smile on his face, eyes still behind me.

The little motion alone made the mark on my arm burn, twisting and turning at my flesh. The closer he was, the worse it got, I realised. Like it was a magnet trapped under my flesh simply dying to attach itself back onto its counter piece.

The counter piece being The Dark Lord.

Though, I learned to live with the pain. I told myself I deserved it, found a sick kind of pleasure in this twisted way of justice, even. So, I didn't flinch, grimaced, or hissed in pain as he took another step towards us.

I had picked my head up, focusing on his chin instead of his eyes. I didn't think I'd let myself ever look at them again. I didn't think I could.

"Ah," He sighed, his head tilted just as a body appeared in my peripheral vision. Fuck.