in which a dark and little bit twisted malfoy sister finds herself staring at a very beautiful blonde witch.
violetta malfoy has never been in love but then she met fleur delacour, and weird and unfamiliar feelings enter her mind and heart, taking h...
TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS/INDICATIONS TO HOMOPHOBIA
(+ you might want to listen to Max Richter's November while reading)
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january 1997
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"𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎"
𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎
Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life ― at least that is something people say. But this wasn't the case of Violetta Malfoy's wedding day.
She was miserable. She was tired. She was sad. She was angry. She was furious.
Her conversation with Fleur popped into her head every two seconds ― reminding her that Fleur was there and waiting for her if she chooses to leave her family. Of course it wasn't set in stone that she would have to leave but she didn't think that Abraxas was going to let her stay if she called off the wedding.
Besides Fleur, Regulus Black's words lived in her head.
The Dark Lord,
he did something to her,
Poor Violetta.
Those words haunted her like the ghosts of Christmas' past. She still had no idea what had happened and it was clear that no one was going to tell her anything. She needed to find out everything on her own.
Violetta sat on the chair in front of her vanity. She was brushing her hair while absentmindedly looking at herself from the reflection. Her make up was perfectly done and her hair almost finished and although she looked beautiful ― she didn't feel that way.
She stared at herself from the mirror, fear beginning to grow in her eyes. What was she doing? Getting married to Marcus Flint, she absolutely hated him. He was nothing more than an arrogant bastard who didn't bother to see further than his large nose.
Groaning and burying her face to her palms, she pulled herself together and took another good look at herself. She was wearing her wedding dress, a gorgeous white dress with layers of fabrics and perfect beam work. If she would stand up, a long veil would linger her back and then all the way onto the floor.
Her head was decorated by a family heirloom tiara.
