𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭 {𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲}

| 𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇 | 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴?

In Greek mythology, nymphs were minor female deities and considered personifications of natural features such as mountains, flowers, and rivers. They were usually depicted as beautiful maidens, and were often the mothers of great heroes.

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a n g e l

Even in his sleep, he was beautiful, like a diamond inset on a ring. 

I leaned forward onto the bed, resting my chin on the back of one hand. With the other, I reached out to touch him, letting my fingers trail down the length of his arm and over his knuckles; the soft pads of his palms and the smoothness of his fingernails. I felt the searing coldness of the silver signet ring, the indentations of the star map, and the lines of Polaris carved onto its face. I kept my eye on him the whole time, thinking he would wake. He did not.

I sighed, wondering how a man this despondent, yet capable of such unbridled love, could be slotted into the same category of monsters like Voldemort and Lucius.

My anger towards Susan was heavily intertwined with disappointment. Susan had always been the gentle, forbearing half to Hannah's explosive reactivity, and although she very much preferred to be surrounded by animals, she always endeavoured to think the best of everybody.

When they found out I had been sneaking out to meet Draco in the Astronomy Tower, for instance, Hannah had blown her top; Susan only asked why. That was what I loved so dearly about her. You could never do anything truly wrong in her eyes. There was always a reason, some hidden, justified motive that made you act the way you did, even if you did not intend to.

The moment those condemning words left her mouth, everything good I ever told her about Draco turned to smoke. It was as if he had not come back to us on his own volition that day in the courtyard, and risked his life while doing so.

Did our genetic makeup dictate who we were?

It would have been hypocritical of me to disagree, yet not apply the same ideology to myself. I would have liked to think I was raised in the image of my parents, that I was not remotely capable of the despicable deeds of Death Eaters. Yet, I had just murdered someone. Stolen his life force with a simple motion of my arms. And what scared me the most was that I would do it all over again.

"You're good," I spoke out loud to Draco's sleeping face. "You were mean. And a bully. And just all-around awful. Also, your cooking is... poisonous." I tried to think of more bad things to say about him. Did he have an ugly haircut? No, his hair was flaxen silk. Did he, perhaps, have the laugh of a donkey? No, he laughed like how ballerinas dance; smooth and weightless, barely grazing the floor.

Well, there was one bad thing, I suppose. His family. But it felt wrong to say it, even if it was all in jest.

"You kind of suck at murdering people," I said finally. "I mean, how hard could it have been to poison a frail, old man? But y'know what? You're good. Hannah and Susan say I'm a terrible judge of character, but I say, fuck what they say. You're good. You're good, you're good, you're good."

Draco's forehead pinched together slightly, and his lips moved. "What are you talking about...?" he mumbled.

I nearly jumped back in shock, and dove to pick up his hand. "Draco? Are- are you awake?" His eyes were still closed, but his face scrunched and he nodded slowly. "You talk... so much..." he groaned, as if I had just woken him up in the middle of a nap.