Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, I am just borrowing and loosely following J.K Rowling's beautiful work. This fic was also inspired by The Pierce's song Secret. Which I also do not own.
I have a second chapter in mind but may just keep this a one shot, what do you guys think?
This is not fully Canon compliant.
The silence outside was deafening, as a young girl with cascading brunette curls slid in to a white dress. Yes, her mother's wedding dress fit like a glove she thought to herself. It wasn't her dream dress, not even close, but they didn't have any other options. She pinned her Juliet cap veil in place, and stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. Here goes nothing she thought, because two can keep a secret. He wouldn't betray their Secret not yet, not till they could tie up loose strings and hit the road running.
She turned and exited the room briskly, the air around her seemed colder as her heels clicked against the ancient stones. She paused, something was wrong, the cold around her now felt like it was going up her spine. The girl walked towards the open arched window, no they were supposed to still have time, this wasn't the information they were given. The black draped army in front of her eyes advanced, she pulled her wand out and magnified her voice letting out a warning, it echoed in the air around her.
The castle beginning to rumble around her as the young girl sucked in a breath. She knew what was coming, and then it came. Their time was up. The footing she held gave way under her and the pitch black sucked the girl into it. Then there was nothing.
Draco Malfoy paced, and he didn't particularly like pacing. No, pacing just wore down perfectly decent pairs of shoes. The blonde like to be on top of things, he liked having a plan and more importantly he liked plans that worked. He crumpled into the nearest arm chair. Splayed and disheveled he marveled at all the things in his life that never went to plan. All of them led to this, the greatest mockery he has ever known, Draco Malfoy would be marrying Astoria Greengrass. Arranged by their parents, a perfectly good pureblood match, the continuation of the sacred twenty-eight. He should be thrilled, in fact he should be over the moon, Astoria was everything a purebred man could want. She was smart enough, she was respectful, she was beautiful and most of all she was a pureblood. He took a deep breath and stood, straightening his outfit and wiping back his hair he stood tall. He didn't want this, or Astoria, but a Malfoy never shrinks from duty. This is his duty, the war was over, six months now, and life moved on despite the secrets and scars one may carry. Draco looked in the mirror and thought to himself as a tune he could scarcely remember now. He hummed to himself, before hoarsely whispering the words, "if one of them is dead."