"I was seven, and you were nine

I looked at you like the stars that shined

In the sky, the pretty lights."

- Taylor Swift

Draco and I were just children way back when. We were oblivious to the world and ever carefree. Things happened. Things changed.

But I remember that it was the end of the year, 1987 or so. My family was having a "normal" get-together to ring in the new year. It was, apparently, necessary so that the Muggles wouldn't think us anti-social or other. I was much older when I realized that although we were purebloods and my parents probably weren't doing the best of things, my family was not necessarily evil. At least, they had the mind to change their ways.

Draco and his mother Narcissa came to join us; his father Lucius didn't bother making an appearance. Muggle customs were lost on him, and he'd be damned if he sympathized with their magic-less blood.

While along the water, Draco and I began skipping rocks. We were enjoying each other's company, when our parents approached in our direction.

My father came smiling a smug smile, asking my mother: "What do we have here, Hillary?"

"I don't quite know, Charles. But I sure would not be surprised if Draco and Y/N grow up and begin to fancy one another," teased my mother.

Slightly embarrassed, I felt my face flush red. The handful of pebbles fell away from my fingers as I pocketed my hands.

"That's a bloody wank, that's what it is!" Draco scoffed.

Narcissa gave her son a firm look. "Watch your language, Draco." I managed a giggle.

My father placed a fatherly hand on Draco's shoulder. "You're saying that now, Draco, my boy. Wait until you're—"

"Oh, my, Charles. Stop poking fun at the children!"

From what else I could remember of that night; wizarding fireworks painted the sky. I was sat on a hill not far from the jovial festivities. The strung-up lights and exploding fireworks above reflected off the water. The sight was beautiful, magnificent.

Of course, being a mere seven-year-olds, I was mesmerized by the smallest of things. Eventually, Draco took the spot beside me. I looked up at him, watching the fireworks, too. Without his overbearing father breathing over his shoulder and the world in front of him, he seemed at ease.

The colors changed in the water to match those in the sky.

Things changed.

My family and the Malfoy's began growing distanced as the years went on. Both of my parents were some of the lucky ones to leave the Death Eater's life; this was something Draco's father never got over.

I was a First year at Hogwarts by the time I saw Draco again. He was a Third year, smug and rude as all hell. Sorted into Slytherin, that one, which wasn't much of a shocker. What did shock a lot of people was me: I was the first in my family not to be sorted into Slytherin. Ravenclaw, of all things! It took a while to get used to the idea, but I soon found a second home within my House, and my parents didn't disown me.

Crazy things happened in our school, that much anyone could tell you. Everything seemed to revolve around that lad, Harry Potter, whom everyone called The Chosen One. Escaped prisoners, Tri-Wizard Tournaments, crazy evil DADA professors—the usual.

Over the near two years, Draco and I had exchanged knowing glances; glares, sheepish smiles, longing stares. Against his father's wishes, we had become somewhat friends again.

When I was in Second year and he in Fourth, Draco had sent me a flying note while I studied in the Great Hall. My eyes flickered to the sheet of parchment, and my curiosity got the best of me. It read: "Be my date to the Yule Ball?"

Our eyes met across the tables, and he gave me a sincere, albeit small smile. I returned it.

Things changed.

Some few years later, something magical happened—something that rivaled wizardry and witchcraft alike. It was the last Quidditch match of my Fifth year at Hogwarts: Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. Draco and I were on opposing teams, respectfully. I had just turned sixteen, and he was in his final year.

Draco and I, as both Seekers, flew around the pitch trying to catch the Golden Snitch. We bumped each other in the shoulder as we went, annoying one another with short quips and witty banter.

There was a flicker of gold in the air below us. I had executed a maneuver to fake him out, to aim to fly up before darting down. When Draco was distracted, I did just that, and came close enough to reach out to the Snitch when it darted sideways. Reflexively, I hung sideways on my broom, pulling inwards to make a sharp turn. It was enough to allow Draco time to catch up.

I pressed myself into my broom, attempting to gain more speed. The Snitch, a mere arm's length away, zigged and zagged; it changed direction to reverse. I angled upwards before I hit the Hufflepuff stands, and spiraled around to be upright. In a matter of only seconds, I was beside the stadium's stands, chasing it again with Draco right behind me.

The cool exterior of the Snitch was at my fingertips before long, but again it jolted and flew away. I pulled to the open area of the Quidditch pitch. Draco, having not expected the sudden movement, flew right into the Slytherin stands.

Alarmed, I pushed all thoughts of catching the Snitch far back into my mind. Sure, everyone was yelling and hollering and booing at my decision, but the guy could have died just then. Draco's form revealed itself behind the flags where he fell.

Though some viewers were readying themselves to leave (many others quietly cheering at the Malfoy's expense), others were quiet. All the players stared at us. All the audience. Silent.

I hovered above him, just trying to see if he was okay. "Draco, are you alive?"

His eyes opened slowly, revealing his piercing blues. A small smile was what he gave me, but it looked like it hurt him even to do so. "Bugger off, I'm dead," he coughed out sarcastically. "Go on, catch the Snitch before I get the nerve to get it for you, love."

"In your condition? I doubt it," I replied in jest.

In short, I caught the Snitch. After the match, people were gathered in the courtyards. My teammates carried me and our Chasers on their shoulders. There was so much cheering and laughter and good vibes.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Draco. His eyes didn't show disappointment, like anyone would have expected from a Seventh year who'd lost their last match; they were glistening. Shining, even. He was happy that I won.

He was happy for me, and that's the instant I knew I loved him.

Later on, I found him being tended to in the Hospital Wing. Miss Pomfrey was fussing over his mild injuries—"Genuine luck saved you, my boy. Oh, how much worse it could have been!"—and paid me no mind when I came to visit.

Draco was slouched on the cot, muttering under his breath. His eyes brightened upon seeing me. "Honest to Merlin, you were the last person I'd thought would come by to see my sorry arse."

I only shook my head, sitting beside him. "It was eerily enjoyable at dinner without your brooding presence," I joked.

"I do not brood."

"You most definitely brood." After a comfortable silence, I mustered up the courage to place my hand in his. To my surprise, Draco slipped his fingers between mine.

It was two years following my graduation from Hogwarts that Draco took me back to the place where we spent the new year back when we were children. We made our way down to the creek bed. Upon reach the slick rocks, he held his hand out to me. With a smile, he said, "M'lady."

I took it gratefully, keeping my feet steady. "Quite gracious, m'lord."

We crossed the creek to the opposing hillside and sat down in the dewy grass. I noticed that he was fiddling with his fingers, something he did whenever he was nervous. Draco had seemed jumpy all day; he seemed especially so now.

I put my hand over his, asking, "Draco, what's wrong?"

He turned to me, and then grinned. "Nothing, nothing. But I do need to get something off my chest." He stood up, took my hand, and walked down a few steps on the hill. "Y/N, you are the most beautiful, compassionate, and kindhearted person I've ever met. Considering how we've grown up, that's right rare. My life wouldn't be complete without you."

Draco took something out from his jacket pocket and got down on one knee. Already knowing where this was going, happy tears threatened to pool out of my eyes. "Would you please do me the honors of being my wife?"

Speechless, my only answer was an enthusiastic nod. I pulled him up by the collar and planted a kiss to his lips just as the first fireworks painted the night sky.