chapter eight

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~ Storytelling ~


You aren't born evil. It's the things that you go through in life that shape you into the way you are now.

Roslyn likes to think that Draco wasn't born a cunt and that it was his childhood that turned him into one.

But she knows she's wrong.

Draco Malfoy came out of the womb a cunt and he cried like one too.

He could've been a beautiful baby boy with those crystal eyes and light blond hair. Have his mother's cheeks and his father's nose. His mother's kind smile and his father's steep dimples.

Draco was a beautiful baby boy.

He grew up in a Manor with his mother's sweet heart and...that's it. His father was always off to Death Eater meetings and would never care for him like a good father. Their only bonding time was when Draco misbehaved and Lucius needed to speak to him in his office about the rights and wrongs of the world.

His mother taught him how to paint, read, and write in beautiful cursive, which he soon grew out of.

Such an adult for a young age.

Mainly because he saw things he shouldn't have.

His mother was tortured down in the dungeons where Roslyn was held, kept in the same room Roslyn was being held in, with the same anxiety, the same everything.

Narcissa saw too much of herself in Roslyn and it scared her half to death.

Draco made a vow to himself and deafly to Roslyn that she was going to be safe. No torturing, no anxiety, no captiveness with no escape.

But the price of it all was her memories of them. Their quick but slow love. The love that didn't have enough time, the love that gave everyone a fright, the love that would've lasted a lifetime.

Roslyn 

"I want to see Theodore."

"No."

This is why he is a cunt.

"Why not?"I placed the book on my lap while Draco glances up at me from across the Library. His head was in his own little book. Not romance. "He saw me before the wedding."

"Well, he shouldn't have. It's way too dangerous for your safety and his and everyone else." 

"When did you care about anyone else but yourself?" I retorted and I immediately regretted it by my stomach dropping to the dungeons. I mumbled, "I'm sorry."

I knew he cared for his mother. He cared for his mother more than anyone else in this world.

"You can see him this Friday." Draco then finally said.

It's Monday.

"The sacred twenty-eight are havings Balls, these upcoming weeks. I don't know why really, so please no questions," I felt something stuck in my throat but I didn't know if it was fear or excitement. Draco then continued, "Tomorrow you're going to start a fitting for dresses and etiquette lessons." It was fear. "It's forced upon new wives."

I couldn't do this.

And as if reading my thoughts like always—

"You will do this, Wood."

Too scared to do anything else, I nod and pick up my book, and scan the pages.

Love, love, love, love.

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