Strange Things Can Happen [A Dramione Fanfiction]

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: New story! Please comment and rate. I was planning this to be a one-shot, but if you want this to be a novel-length story, do give me your thoughts. Thank you :)

-

Draco Malfoy stood in the heavy snow with a blank face that would give away nothing to the pain he was feeling.

It was December 24th. He had circled the date on his calendar that was placed on his work desk, marking Christmas Eve and the death of her. He was supposed to be in her family’s house, celebrating the night. But it didn’t matter, because they wouldn’t care, anyway. He hadn’t visited them ever since her death. How could he after what he did to her? He couldn’t face them. It was his fault.

He visited her grave every Friday in the morning before he went to work and at midnight.

He would never forget and he would never miss it, no matter how busy or tired he was. He would be there. He would always be there.

He had dream of her, whispered her name, thought about her, and loved her with all of he could. He had never thought he would love a person as much other than his mother, but he did.

He had brought her flowers; her favorite flower, white roses. She had told him once that white roses represented she was worthy of him. He remembered how she would have her morning walks in the garden and she would stop by the roses. He would watch her by the window of the Manor by then. She would pick the white one up, brought it close to her face, closed her eyes, breath in its scent, and Draco would think she had never looked as beautiful as she was right there.

She would return to the living room with the flower in hand, and she would sit next to Draco, who would play the piano every morning. He would feel her warmth and he could smell not only her sweet smell of vanilla, but also her rose. She would rest her head on his shoulder and Draco would feel the warmth all over his body.

He would be engulfed in her sweet vanilla smell and he had loved every second of it.

“Play our song.” She would say with a sweet smile plastered on her face. She would say them in a whisper, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. As if it were a secret. Their secret.

He remembered every single thing about her. He remembered her laugh… her whisper… they were echoing inside his head. Repeating over and over again. It was his favorite melody.

He would sleep as he clutched her dress so just he could inhale her scent and cried himself to sleep so that he could fool himself into believing that she was right there next to him.

Maybe if he remembered her hard enough… if he remembered every angle, every color, every scent, every sound, every smile… maybe, just maybe, she would come back to him. If he tried harder, maybe she would forgive of what he did and would come back in his arms. She would bring back the soft side in him. He would rescue her and would never let her go ever again.

But she never came back. 

She would only visit him in his dreams. He was able to hold her in his arms once again, to feel her soft skin against his. Her scent was all over the air, sweet vanilla. He would bury his face in her flawless long mane hair and she would let out a small laugh. She had fitted perfectly in his arms, and his head had fitted perfectly at the crook of his neck. Her fingers interlaced with his, his lips against her soft ones. Her melodious laugh filled the air. Their heart beat as one. She was his and he was hers. They were perfect. Everything was perfect. As if nothing had never been wrong. As if he had never made the worst mistake of his life.