Malfoy's Moon

stars and storms

Her most treasured part of the castle is the library. The flickering lights radiating from the incandescent lanterns hanging on the walls, casting dim shadows on the walls, the rows and rows of pages, ink, and lettering that let her just for once escape her own aching and distressing thoughts.

And there she is, that sharp wintry evening, sitting with her back against a towering bookcase, with several novels strewn out in front of her, illuminated by the soft light emitted by her wand.

As she looks up in the otherwise empty library, a figure is standing at the window a few feet away, facing the glass. She's sure he's unaware of her presence, so she clears her throat and he turns around.

She's revolted of his appearance, his sharp features, his carved jawline, his sapphire eyes, his smooth, light-colored hair. For once, he's not in his black suit, but is wearing his uniform, with his white-collared shirt, dark grey vest, and forest green tie. It does nothing to dampen her feelings of loathing.

But she remembers Crouch. Remembers what she must do.

She's quite good at numbing the pain. If she squints hard enough, maybe she can pretend he's someone else.

"What were you doing?" She asks, fracturing the quiet.

"Nothing," he mutters, turning to leave.

She looks at the window, the strewn stars against the inky backdrop of sky. "Were you... looking at the stars?"

He slowly turns back and fixes her with a stare of coldness.

"I like stargazing," she says in a calm voice.

"I wasn't stargazing," he scoffs as though repulsed at the idea.

"Come sit," she says, gesturing to the space in front of her.

He sends her a look of disbelief. No, his expression clearly stated.

"Just sit."

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. "You won't pull out your wand on me? Or a knife?"

"Nope."

After a few moments, he walks over and cautiously settles down against the bookcase opposite her.

"Are you we going to talk about –" she begins.

"No."

"I thought –"

"It didn't happen," he says, firmly.

"Alright," she says, slowly. To be quite honest, she'd rather not talk about it either. "So, what were you doing, looking out the window?"

He doesn't respond, just stares at his lap with a bored expression on his face.

"I used to have a telescope, used to love looking at the stars," she admits. "You know it's odd. The stars emit all this light... but they're really just black bodies." She's not sure what she's saying, just lets these thoughts roll off her tongue as she absently flips through the pages of an open book in front of her.

"There's a reason you're pathetic at astronomy class, Hawkings. You've mistaken them with black holes." Malfoy says, lazily.

"No, stars radiate much more light than it absorbs. A black hole appears truly black... it radiates no light."

He looks at her critically for a moment, and then returns his gaze back to his lap without saying anything. But, she knows him by now, knows that when he pretends to not care, he's actually listening.

"My favorite constellation," she continues, "is Cassiopeia. If I had a telescope, I could find it –"

"Scorpius."

"I – what?"

"That's mine," he mutters. "My favorite constellation. My mother... showed it to me. I used to like the name."

"Oh," she says. In truth, she's never liked the name 'Scorpius.' "That's... nice –"

"Shut it, Hawkings, I know you hate it," Malfoy interrupts, his lip curling. "Don't lie to me."

She flushes at how quickly he was able to read her as though she was the book resting in her lap. Rain begins to pound heavily against the window, roaring in some tragically beautiful way. From far off, thunder splinters the quiet, splitting open the earth.

She sees him shift rather uncomfortably. She looks at him, really looks at him. Doesn't pretend he's someone else, just looks at him.

"You don't like the thunder?" She says, observing him.

He looks at her through half closed eyelids, shrugging.

"I love the thunder. Love storms and the rain." She says amidst the cries of clouds shedding tears.

"I suppose you're one of those people who hates the sun," Malfoy says, scathingly.

"I don't hate it," she says, affronted. "But, I... I like the moon more." After a few moments of silence, she says, "Everyone thinks of someone as their sun. Somehow, no one thinks about the moon."

"You think too much," he says, groaning and knocking his head against the bookcase as he closes his eyes.

After a few moments where the abyss of quiet is filled with pounding rain and thunder, she assumes he's asleep.

He looks... tranquil. His lips slightly parted, eyebrows drawn together as always, but his sleeping features lack that exceedingly arrogant look she's always been familiar with.

She can feel her eyelids grow heavy from exhaustion and she rests her own head against the bookcase, closing her eyes.

She must've dozed off because when she wakes up with a jolt, the rain has lightened, and the library is considerably darker.

As she adjusts her eyes to the darkness, she finds the source of what had woken her up; Malfoy, shivering and mumbling something in his sleep.

"I have to... have to do this..." his whispers dissolve into quiet once more.

She moves closer, leaning over him. Uncertain. "Malfoy?"

His eyes flicker open and she's not sure he can see her, or even properly hear her. She moves back but he suddenly grasps her wrist.

Startled, she tries to loosen his grip, but he holds on tighter. She hesitates.

And she gives in.

Resting her head on his chest, he wraps one of her legs around his waist, drawing her in closer. With his other arm, he envelopes her waist.

His hands are cold like ice, but his body emits a warmth she's startled by. It's unexpectedly comfortable, laying there on him in the dim library, listening to the rain thundering the windows outside.

For once she's not thinking, letting her mind go blissfully blank, relishing in quiet's divinity. She's just feeling; feeling the heat of his chest, the ringed hand resting lowly on her leg, his slow, deep breaths that tickle the top of her head. And she prays, begs, that another thought won't find its way in the labyrinth of her mind because if it does, she knows she'd be forced to face the consequences, face that what she was doing feels so unbelievably wrong.

But also, so heavenly.

She admits it now, admits something a younger version of her would have been ashamed to hear.   

She does not want to hurt Malfoy.

But she has to. And that hurts her more than anything.

She's willing to give into a little more pain, though. 

a/n: this was my absolute favorite chapter to write so far :)

also the song "mrs. magic" is so nice to listen to while reading this, i'm obsessed

love you!! <3