𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟗𝟔 ; 𝐝. 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 ✓

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱- 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

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I saw the haunting figure of my once lively and radiant daughter, dead in the Malfoy boy's arms.

And my heart had cracked like never before. Into thousands of tiny shards.

I had always thought my heart had broke when Estelle would linger in her gloomy room for days on end and cry over a slight quarrel with Draco. I had always thought my heart had broke at the bang her door made after I would nag at her for probably something petty. I had always thought my heart had broke when she was ill, for I had never wanted her to feel any pain. I had always thought my heart had broke over these insignificant things, and not her death, not this soon.

Estelle was my best buddy, for my association was so sturdy with her that she felt alright telling me practically anything. Like her and Draco smooching, or the "hot seventh-years" that would speak to her and Pansy, or the common room parties she'd always attend (Lucius, Narcissa, Bennett and I started those in our years at Hogwarts.)

Losing her felt like losing myself, it felt like I was dying as well.

I wish it could've been me instead. I've had my time to enjoy my life, have a child, get married, travel the world. My lovely daughter had only seventeen years.

At seventeen, I was getting wildly drunk at parties,

Seventeen for my daughter looked like depression and death.

For I would die to have her beautiful soul back again.