Everlasting 2 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Have a Go on Potter

Who was [F/n] Potter if not her mysteriousness, her discreetness, but also her exceptional means of communicating? 

Draco decided that, at this rate, it was worth for him to learn Latin. He did not know who to ask; who it would have been safe to ask. Draco's own trust had declined a long time ago - he did not grow up in a family where trust was worthy. There was only one person he knew he could trust with these words, and he knew that, giving these words over to this very person, would mean he would have to wait some days for an answer. That meant he would have to see you in lessons, around the hallways, in the Great Hall, in the common room, and not talk to you, not kiss you, but act quietly and far from you. You'd stripped yourself from him, and therefore you were not his to touch, to hold, to kiss, and to love. Not anymore, not for the time being. 

He did not hesitate to pull out a quill and paper, as he began to write a letter to his mother with the Latin words that [F/n] Potter had left for him. And he darted to the Owlery, and he gave it to Niklaus, and he watched his darling owl dash over into the sky, pacing through the clouds with Draco's letter. Draco then proceeded to lift the note up again, reading the words over and over again, trying to link them with the English language, but to no avail - he could not figure it out. 

The note itself was a good sign, however. [F/n] Potter and her usage of Latin could have meant one thing, and only thing only; it was not the end. Draco was not stupid - he was capable of linking dots. And he understood that something made you break up with him, he only hoped the note would tell him. He did not see any names mentioned in the note, therefore he assumed the note would only be clear enough to help him conclude who or what had acted in such a cruel manner to your relationship with him. 

That very day, at dinner, Draco was nowhere to be seen. He was too afraid to see you; he could not have imagined himself seeing you so soon after a break up, knowing he could not touch you, kiss you, hold you, and be comfortable and at ease with you. Break ups, despite surrounded by love, always held some kind of tension between the individuals. Draco thus, instead, awaited Blaise to bring him food, as he remained in the Slytherin common room, gazing ahead of himself at the fireplace, his face cold and expressionless, recalling all moments he shared with his dear [F/n] Potter, and wondering how long it would take to get you back. All of this was reminding him of his Death Eater days, it was reminding him of his own fear, it was reminding him of the darkness of Voldemort. To be away from you was a constant reminder of loss. It was a constant reminder of something - whatever it may be - being wrong. 

"Why the long face, Draco?" Ana asked, sitting with Olivia at the round table in the far end of the Slytherin common room, leaning over to see Draco well enough, as his empty face proceeded to stare ahead of himself. 

He did not reply; he never even heard Draco. All he could hear was [F/n] Potter's laughter. But too, her screams. Even her cries. Sometimes her sleep talking. He could hear her breaths. He could hear her heartbeat. He could feel his hand on your chest, he could feel it rising, and going down again, whenever he could not sleep, but you'd be long in the land of dreams, and he could lie against your naked chest, hearing and feeling your heartbeat; he could feel your existence, he could feel your life, and it secured him - it reminded him - it allowed him to smile and continue in the manner that a child ought to. He felt free, he felt safe. And when he heard this - when he heard [F/n] Potter's life - he felt his body relax, and consequently become tired finally, and he would feel safe enough to sleep eventually. Where was [F/n] Potter now? She was not with him, and the realisation of it tore his heart apart in every single way. 

"Don't ignore me, Draco," she called out again. 

"I beg, be quiet." He said coldly, still staring ahead of himself.