Cursed | Draco Malfoy, 18+

A c t - t w o

This chapter contains mature content, along with mention of abuse, blood, and other violent topics. Please read with caution.

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Draco Malfoy.

October 13th, 2002.

Eight days.

He was holding the letter in his hand. Draco knew this day would come. He'd waited for it. He'd feared it, and he'd cursed the way that dark piece of paper would show itself, and it had now.

Trial. Draco Malfoy was standing trial for what he had done during the war and prior to it. All his secrets were let out in the downfall of the Dark Lord. All his misdeeds. All his crimes.

Death Eaters that still stood after the flames of a province on fire were to be hunted down and torn apart for what they'd done to this world. And he did. Draco did. He remained and thrived from the doomed dust of the ruins the darkness left behind.

He was the darkness. Malfoy held a severe part in the cruel ruling as it conquered, and he'd done unpardonable things to this world, along with the humans living in it while being held hostage under Voldemort's regime.

Ever since the age of fifteen, he'd sinned. He had committed crime following crime, and it was, according to the ministry of magic, his time to pay for it. It was time for his head to roll and his soul to be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his fated life.

''When?'' Her voice was light, thin. It floated on feathers behind him as she so miserably stared at his spine facing her, ''When does the first hearing take place?''

It was dark. It was the middle of the night. He couldn't sleep since that letter arrived late after dinner. He couldn't open it either. It felt like a death sentence either way. So he put it away. He tucked it into an already overfilled drawer, and he pretended like nothing, but she knew. Amelie always knew.

Draco spun around, his eyes catching hers from across the room. Pain. Pained dashes stained his irises, ''What are you doing up?'' He mumbled, hiding the letter behind his back, ''It's late, and you were up with Talia all night last—''

''Draco...'' Her tone was soft, comforting. She took a step against him, ''You can talk to me.''

His heart ached. Hurt pushed through his veins, ''Go back to bed, I'll be there in a second.''

''Draco—''

''Amelie, please.'' He sighed, frustratingly, closing his eyes. He couldn't look at her while she stood there in her nightdress. Her braid perfectly tangled over her shoulder, her skin soft in the strokes of moonlight finding its way through the curtains, ''I can't do this to you. I'm not ready to put you through this.''

She huffed out a shaking breath before her feet stepped across the marble floor of his office. She was so close to him now, so close that he could rupture. So close that he was falling, on the fine line of falling and crashing to the ground, breaking. He wanted to break, ''Amelie...''

The girl looked up at him. Her lips parted to speak as her fingers slowly moved over his exposed chest. She traced her touch over his scars. She knew them. Even without looking, she knew where every last one was carved in. Similar to a map, she drew her love from scar to scar, ''You don't have to do this alone,'' She said, her eyes meeting his as bronze crashed with silver, ''I know you think you are hurting me with this, but you're not. The thing hurting me is seeing you go through this alone without giving me a chance to help you.''

Malfoy swallowed hard. He had to swallow again,  ''I can't do this to you, Amelie. I'm ruining your life.''

''You're not ruining anything,'' She whispered, stretching up on her toes and pressing a kiss on the curve of his jaw. Her lips sparked within him, something cold turned warmer, ''I wouldn't have this life, to begin with, if it weren't for you. Whatever happens, isn't your fault.''