𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 | 𝐝.𝐦

𝟖𝟏

Draco Malfoy | April 1997

"Draco, are you okay?" Pansy's voice caused said boy to look up from his empty plate.

"I'm fine. Why?" He made sure it was just them two at the spot at their table for breakfast.

"You've been off lately. You don't seem as happy and lively," she said softly, putting her fork down. "Is this because people suspect you to be a Death Eater?" She whispered the last part.

"I don't care what people suspect me to be." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you and your mystery girl have a fall out?" she whispered to him, brows frowned.

"No. My lady and I are fine."

"So why do you seem so timid and distressed lately?" She was so worried, it made Draco's stomach knot.

Truth be told, the closer it got to the end of the school year, the more anxious and scared Draco was beginning to get. Not scared for himself, but scared for his girls.

He knew Kaimana was more than capable of taking care of herself, but it sure as hell didn't stop him from worrying about her safety.

He was thinking maybe he could just come clean to his mother—tell her about Zaiyah and Kaimana. There was no actual reasoning behind telling her, but Draco felt like his mother—Zaiyah's grandmother—should know about her.

When he had spoken to Kaimana about this, she told him to tell his mother if he wanted to. And if Narcissa ended up blabbing to the Dark Lord, Kaimana said she would not hesitate to start a war herself with anyone who was going to harm Zaiyah.

Kaimana was fucking terrifying when she was protecting her baby—nothing was scarier than a Mama protecting her child.

Draco loved it about her.

Now, Draco looked at Pansy, and said, "I guess the part of my father's death is just hitting me now," because no one ever pressed him if he responded like that.

As expected, Pansy just gave him a sympathetic smile and went back to her breakfast.

♧︎

"Mother?" Draco walked inside the kitchen gingerly. "Are you here?"

"Draco," Narcissa's voice spoke from behind him.

He spun and saw her approaching him with a quizzical expression. "What are you doing at home, my dear?" She cupped his face to kiss his cheeks.

He hesitated, looking warily behind her. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he murmured. "Is anyone else here?"

"No. It's just me." She smiled warmly and brushed past him to head further into the kitchen. "Shall I put on some tea?"

His mother said she was doing a lot better lately—he'd been checking up on her through letters as he was at school—and at first, he didn't believe it over her letters, but seeing it made him feel better knowing it was true.

She looked well, better than when he last saw her.

"Sure," Draco said, and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Has the Lord come around lately?"

"Not recently." Narcissa filled the kettle and put it on the stove. "I'm sure Snape has also been updating you, yes?"

"Mhm."

"Good. Good." She went over to the cupboards to grab mugs.

As his mother prepared the tea, he was sitting rigid. His shoulders were tense and so was every bone in his body. Every atom in his body was holding in so much tension, the feeling was so vivid.