𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 | draco malfoy ✔️

112. shell cottage

TRAINING WHEELS

SHELL COTTAGE

15th March 1998

Despite Fleur's best efforts to get people to come and join her around the table, nobody could stomach dinner that night. Amora had sat down out of obligation, though she didn't touch the steaming Shepherd's Pie set out in front of her. She'd merely sat and forced smiles and spoke with Bill and Fleur who were all too eager to find out how she was doing after months of being held captive.

Draco sat up in the room Amora had stayed in last summer. All of her stuff was still there left untouched. He fiddled with the necklace that Amora had given him on their first Valentine's Day together, hoping that maybe his mother would sense that he was calling out to her through it. For all he knew, Narcissa may have buried the necklace to the bottom of a random drawer, never to be touched again. It didn't stop him from trying, though.

When Amora returned from her conversation with Bill and Fleur, she was unsurprised to find him still hunched over the necklace on her bed, his long legs folded. She'd massaged the back of his neck and asked him to try and sleep for her, and so they did. Draco's hand clutched the necklace around his neck all night, his spare arm wrapped around Amora and bringing her closer to his chest.

Morning came and Amora's head felt a lot less foggy than the night before. She lifted herself out of Draco's arms, allowing him to snore away peacefully, his brows furrowing for a second before his creases melted away. Amora went to head for the hallway so she could use the bathroom only for her shin to collide with a box.

Amora grunted and went to move it aside with her leg, but it seemed too heavy. She kneeled down, lifting one of the lids to see what was inside. Her heart stopped when she realised it was filled to the brim with things that had once belonged to her mother. She instantly recognised the neatly folded jumper at the top, and the books on Muggles and the picture frames and the jewellery box and everything else.

She realised that, like Draco's bag, it had been charmed so that it could fit more things than appeared possible. Amora's hand scurried around it, wrapping around a small glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and lifted the perfume to her nose, inhaling the faint scent of it without spraying. It was as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. It smelled like hugs from mother after hard days – exactly what she needed now. It was warm and familiar and it brought back so many safe and comforting memories.

Amora sniffled, a couple of tears running fast and hot down her cheeks. She swallowed the hard jump in her throat. It felt pointy and large, like it was never going to go down properly. Amora stuffed the perfume back into the box. It was like the sweetest torture in a bottle – a reminder of what she could still have if things had just played out a little differently.

Amora swiped the tears and headed for the bathroom to hop into the shower. She assumed all of the hair products were left out for guests anyway, and so Amora scrubbed and cleaned herself until it felt like she couldn't feel any of yesterday's events on her skin. No Bellatrix gripping her hair, no Pettigrew yanking her arms, none of Dobby's blood on her hands...

Amora climbed out of the shower and began was rinsing the last of the soap suds off of her body when suddenly, the bathroom door opened. She screamed loudly, and so did the person on the other side – their voices suddenly becoming a competition for who could be the loudest.

"Get out!" She screamed at the ginger blur behind the fogged glass door, clutching her breasts and lifting her leg so he couldn't see anything. "Get the fuck out, Weasley!"

"You didn't lock the bloody door!" She heard Ron shriek as he quickly took a step back, slamming it shut.

Amora scrambled to get out and grabbed a robe off of the radiator. She wrapped it around herself speedily and yanked open the door, pointing a finger in Ron's face.