There is this small sequel I've written last year from Dracos POV.
I hope you guy like it as much as the main-story, which you can (and really should if you haven't already):
He'd never said he loved the ginger git
(Somehow I cant put in a link for the ff, but you can find it here or on AO3)
Have fun and I'm always open for constructive criticism, but please keep in mind that English isn't my first or even second language and I'm far from perfect or even really good. I just write in English because it's challenging and fun.
I eyed the women behind my aisle critically.
The sun shone beautifully through the large window front and her naked skin gleamed in the bright light.
Around her wide hips were a bit fuller and her skin on her bum and legs wasn't smooth. Little dimples are shown in the light. She had stretch marks on her tummy and breasts. There were some spots on her back and she was a bit too small for her weight.
She wasn't perfect.
But somehow I thought she was stunning. She had long, thick hairs, the color of a wild fox. Her eyes were in such a light green that I mistook them for contact lenses at first. She had light freckles on her round shoulders and a nice dip right above her soft butt.
And the small, insecure smile she wore like an armor made her look like one of the women Peter Paul Rubens had drawn so many centuries ago.
I sent her an encouragingly and started to sketch her soft features.
I let myself drift. The scents of oil paints and wooden canvases filled my nose.
I only concentrated on the quietly noises the charcoal made on the uneven paper.
That was my life now.
Nearly five years after the war, the battle in Hogwarts, I lived in Muggle London and studied art.
And rather successful, if it was allowed to add.
And the most interesting part was that I loved it beyond everything.
At first, London and university had been overwhelming. Living in a Muggle flat and being like one, was...frightening.
Especially with my little problem.
I had lost my voice, not able to say one word like I had always been.
Thanks to Lovegood and, surprisingly, Granger I was somewhere around my finals in Hogwarts able to do sign language.
If anyone would have asked me if I could imagine a life in London among Muggles, studying something such purposeless like art instead of working at the wizardry Ministry for a higher position and talking with my hands, I would have laughed rather cruelly.
But now it was like this and I wouldn't wish for anything else.
Emma, my best friend, and little security huskie was lying next to my aisle. Her belly right up in the air and snoring loudly.
After the war, I wasn't able to function properly.
I had lost the meaning of life. With my father in Azkaban and Mother locked up in the Manor.
The Wizengamot had decided that I should go to Azkaban, I had been a child when everything happened. The testimony of Potter and his minions certainly was a big aspect why they had chosen this.
But I wasn't allowed to see anyone who had been a follower of the Dark Lord, so I was alone.
Nearly all of my friends and their families had supported the monster who had destroyed my life. The one who hadn't had left the country fast enough.
Greg...he had killed himself. Hours before the members of the Gamot wanted to punish him for his and his fathers sin.
A guard had told me. Greg had hung himself in the cell next to me.
Somehow it had broken me the most.
My probation had said I had to go back to Hogwarts as well. With no friends, no allies and no family, I had been an easy victim. And it's not that I couldn't understand the students in Hogwarts. Most of them had lost friends or family members as well, much more brutally than I had.
There was a memorial wall next to the Great Hall. Reminding us all what had happened and who was responsible.
So when they went after me, I just ...didn't do anything against it.
Maybe I had hoped that one of them would finish it. Kill me out of justice.
I certainly shouldn't be in Hogwarts, shouldn't be alive. And I prayed, hoped and begged they would do it.
But suddenly the attacking stopped and I was still alive, even if I didn't want to be.
After that anger of being there and others were dead, like this kid Collin, I tried it myself. More than once.
I didn't want to live, didn't had the energy anymore.
But then Granger came and some things changed.
The thoughts, the wish for death, didn't stop.
Although I went to visit Healer Melbourn nearly every day and I talked about the shit I went through in the war, nothing changed.
One day, Mrs. Melbourn and Granger took me to a Muggle Organization and there I found Emma.
Or, well, Emma found me.
She had been sitting in one of the rooms and when we went in, I had abruptly a white dog in my lap.
I couldn't go without her and since this day, I wasn't alone anymore. Emma didn't judge me for the things that happened. She just loved me, unconditionally.
And I did the same.
Still do, by the way.
I hadn't heard the door and the voices or maybe I had just been too far in my mind and ignored them, so when Mrs. Wilbery, one of my professors, called after me, I jerked out of my thoughts.
With a last look at the woman and my sketch, I turned around and froze.
Next to my professor and, surprisingly Luna, were Potter and Weasley.
What the fuck?
They looked...grown up and somehow neat. And they were wearing the official Auror robes for the Muggle society. All reputable and serious.
This could mean only one thing:
My father. Something had happened.
"Draco?", Amber whispered and I jumped slightly.
Slowly, very slowly I started to move and Luna went to meet me in the middle.
She was smiling brightly and I was somehow relieved to see her with them.
Someone how knew me and understood me.
Potter and Weasley told me everything that had happened.
Everything after was a blur.
I knew I had had a panic attack in front of those marrons.
Like always when this happened I had felt dizzy and disorientated. The blood had pounded in my ears far too loud and the taste of metal was on my tongue.
I needed Emma. Only she could help me to be better in a short time.
The panic attacks had come less often in the last few years, but now they were worst. I always thought I would die, drowning in fear and my body had decided to work against me.
While my frantic beating heart was running in my chest and my lungs felt too small for all the air I needed, strong arms where wrapt around me.
"Breath.", a rough voice had whispered in my ear and a hand laid on my cold fingers, "Breath with me. In...Out...!"
He was warm and smelled so good. Aftershave and musky, a bit sweaty.
Emma had, like always, settled between my legs and licking the salty tears from my sweaty face. Her white fur tickled me softly. When my body had calmed down enough, my mind reminded me what had caused such a behavior.
My father was dead.
Murdered in his little cell in Azkaban and I wasn't even allowed to bury him in a traditional manner.
He would lay next to the cliffs from Azkaban until the world would fall apart. The last time I had seen him, he stood beside me before the Wizengamot announced their decision.
His long blond hair ashen and dirty, but he had smiled at me.
"You need to be strong.", he had said with a voice he hadn't used for some time, "Everything will be ok, Draco. You know your mother and I love you dearly, right?"
I've never seen him again and I won't. He was dead, no beating heart inside his chest.
I knew what the wizardry people thought about my father. Lucius Malfoy, pureblood and cold-hearted, had been a right bastard. Followed one of the greatest dark wizards the world had ever seen and was even his right hand. Torturer of Muggle-borns and his mind full of prejudices.
But for me, he had been my father.
The person who had taken me to my first flight on a broom. Who had read the tales of Beedle the Bard to me late at night and brought me hot milk with honey when
I was unable to sleep. Shooshing my hair and whispering gently to me. Who had chased me and my friends through the Manor in summer, bare feet and laughing wildly, while his long hair blowing in the wind.
He had taught me everything I knew.
He had shown me that family was beyond more important than power could ever be.
I, Draco Malfoy, was his son and although he had chosen wrong, I had loved him.
And my mother. My mother had been attacked because of me.
" The killer asked about you. The letter was for you.", Weasley had said.
Because of me she nearly died, maybe she still would. They weren't sure if she would make it, Potter had told me with an unreadable expression.
Why had the people I loved to suffer because of me?, I asked myself when I sat on the edge of my bathtub at home, trying to suppress the hot tears, silent sobs coming out of my throat.
Why?
Shortly before Luna and two-thirds of the golden trio went home for the night, Felix came.
I had sent him an SMS after they had told me everything about the case and had asked all their questions.
Felix and I had an on-off relationship for over a year now.
He...didn't like the concept of monogamy and often met other people, women, and men, before I brought him to the scratch:
Me or the others.
He couldn't have both.
Felix had chosen me, which surprised me to no end.
I had been glad.
Despite his arrogant character and that he still flirted with other people, I loved him. He was the first real boyfriend I had since Theo and I enjoyed not being alone. Not only ever having some flings which I regretted in the morning after the alcohol vanished from my system.
One could call me a cheesy guy, but I didn't like one-night-stands. Sex was good when feelings were involved.
Felix and I had met at a party at the Café Sylvester the year before. He stood out from the crowd. The dark hair and the muscular arms, I definitely had a type, was the first thing I had acknowledged.
When Felix came through the door, kissing me on the mouth and his arm around my shoulder I could see that Weasley was surprised, while Potter showed no reaction. Luna must have told him about my orientation before.
Weasley, on the other hand, eyed my boyfriend with distaste. He must be the all those things Weasley hated.
A boy from a rich family, who lived to show others that they were beyond him.
Felix was like me, all these years ago.
I saw the glance Felix sent Weasley and I felt bad about it.
Noone of my friends knew about my upbringing, about how rich I had been. Still was. Even after the Ministry had confiscated thousands of Galleons, I was wealthier than others, but I didn't want it.
So I knew now how it felt when people were looking down on you.
It embarrassed me to see how he dealt with Weasley and that I hadn't been better when I had been a child.
After the door closed and they were gone, I turned around and asked, "What the fuck, Felix?"
"Don't know what you mean, babe."
"Not your babe, Felix!", I signed hard, "Why were you such an asshole to them?"
"You clearly saw that this ginger guy is one of the common people."
"I KNOW where he comes from, but it doesn't matter. Why do you always have to be like that?"
He stepped next to me and tried to kiss my neck for distraction, but I pushed him away, "I'm not in the mood."
"Come one, Draco.", he murmured and I wanted to kick him in the face.
"For fuck sakes, Felix. My father died! I'm not in the mood to let you fuck me."
With that, I went to the bathroom and locked the door.
From the mirror, a blond man looked at me. My hair curled at the end and wasn't straight or slicked back anymore.
My eyes were red from crying and the light in the small room made me look cold and exhausted.
I hated to see me.
It was my fault my father had died, a small voice told me.
I turned the shower on and after a few seconds the whole room was crowded with hot water vapor.
Drops were pearling down the mirror, unable to see me in the fog anymore, and the light blue tilings and the hot air filled my lungs.
I stepped under the spray and my hand clutched hard the faucet at the wall.
Under the water, no one could hear my rough sobs and my tears were mingled with the water and vanished in the drainpipe.
After a long time, I got out.
Emma was laying in front of the bathroom and watching me.
I could hear Felix snoring in my bedroom and rubbed my hands over my face.
I thought for a moment to go to him and cuddling next to him but then went to the living room.
Sitting on the floor, with Emma against my back and her steady breaths in the air, I sketched one picture after another until I was physically unable to keep my eyes open.
Being alone with the ginger in my flat was far too appealing for me to hex him stupid. So, when I held him a paper under the nose where I demanded that I wanted to go out, he just nodded briskly and held the door open. It left me startled, unsure how to proceed with this mature behavior.
Somewhere deep in my bones, I had hoped he would start a fight.
He didn't and we went to the Café.
Lizzy's coffee shop was one of the first locations I had spotted in London after the war.
I had moved into my small flat right after graduation and never really left the building except walking Emma in the nearest park.
After the first day, with a big canvas and Emma next to me I had walked from university to my flat when I saw it.
It was at a corner, with some dark brown chairs and tables in front of it and green window frames. One of the big windows was decorated with book piles and ivy. All in all, it looked charming, but the colorful flag above the entrance was the main reason for me to stop and not ignoring it like all the I passed. Somewhere I had read that this flag was the symbol for gays. Maybe Luna had told me prior.
I had stood on the opposite street and had watched the Café for a long time. Watched the men and women went in, laughing at the tables and holding hands, right in front of everyone.
I always wanted to go inside but was far too shy. Being openly gay in the wizardry community was nearly unthinkable. Although their new politics about Muggle-borns, being in love with someone of the own gender was unacceptable. Being one of the most known purebloods, the heir of the Malfoy imperium made it somehow impossible.
One day in late October, Lizzy had come out and greeted me.
"Do you like coffee?", she had asked.
I had just shaken my head and wanted to go, but Emma was unwilling to follow me. She had sat down next to Lizzy and expected the girl to pat her fluffy ears.
We had a silent fight, where I was tugging at the bright green lash and she put her feet on the ground, almost visible shaking her head. When I wasn't able to get my dog to follow me, I blushed furiously, covering my face with my free hand.
Lizzy had giggled next to me, "Well, maybe your dog likes coffee."
I shrugged and she frowned at me.
Back then Lizzy hadn't had the pink curls, but a shoulder long pastel purple bob and she wore tight black clothes.
"Well, it's not really friendly to ignore someone who's trying to be nice to you."
With that she turned around and crossed the street, leaving me back.
I had sighed.
Fuck shit.
With that, I grabbed Emmas lash tighter and went home, ignoring the quietly annoyed huffs of my dog.
When I walked back from class a few days later it was pelting down with rain and my hoodie was completely soaked. With a silent thank for not forgetting to get a plastic bag of my sketchbook and papers, I rushed with Emma down the streets.
When I came around the corner of the Cafè I hesitated. It looked cozy and nice and I felt so alone, not really able to make friends with the other students in my classes until so far.
The communication barrier a big deal.
Thus I struggled for a bit with myself, but then went to the coffee shop with a pounding heart.
It was warm in the shop and my glasses fogged a bit, raindrops pearling down my hair.
Lizzy was behind a big, stuffed counter, which held cakes, muffins, and other delights and cleaned the coffee machine.
It smelt like heaven and my stomach grumbled loudly.
"Welcome to Lizzy's Café, what can I get you?", she said but stopped abruptly when she saw that it was only me.
She raised an eyebrow, "Well, you do like coffee now?"
I shook my head, wringing my hands, how was I supposed to explain?
She grunted, "And still no manners, huh? What do you want? Are you one of those bigot assholes who want to destroy the windows or what?"
I licked my lips, not sure what to do. With my free hand, I had tapped at my throat and shaken my head again.
She looked at me bewildered.
Then I saw the pen next to the coffee cups and pointed at it.
After she gave it to me I wrote with a shaking hand on my arm, "I'm mute and I like hot chocolate!"
"Oh fuck!", she called out, dark red of embarrassment,"Oh my god. I'm so sorry. That was quite a shit move of me, huh?!"
I snorted and shrugged, Emma waggling her tail fast.
"Want a hot chocolate?", she had asked and started to make one without waiting for an answer.
"I'm Lizzy by the way.", she told me when she brought two hot chocolates to one of the tables and sat down next to me, a writing pad with her.
"Draco.", I wrote down, "Nice to meet you, Lizzy."
"So, you don't want to destroy my window front?"
"No, definitely not. I like your window."
"Why didn't you come in earlier?"
I shrugged, probably the most common body movements of me since I was mute and in Muggle London.
"You're not a bigot either?"
I raised an eyebrow and crocked my head, the pen in my hand, "Would be pretty stupid."
Her wide lips opened and she grinned, "Aha. You're one of us, thought so!"
With that, we befriended and I couldn't imagine a life without Lizzy, the Café and the LGBT group I had met there.
Most of them even learned sign language for me.
It had been amazing.
So taking Weasley with me to Lizzy and the Café had two reasons.
I wanted to test him. Would he be an ass about me being gay and him being in a gay environment? Or would he just accept it and be professional?
The second was that I felt safe there. At home and I needed a place where I wouldn't feel insecure the most time.
When we entered the shop and I watched his interactions with Lizzy, I was amazed. He acted as if he felt comfortable and didn't care about all the same-sex pairings.
He even didn't seem to care that we must have looked like one too. Sitting across each other, him talking quietly and me answering with sign language and the little pad I had brought with me.
During our walk to my university, I asked him, if he had liked the Café and he simply responded, "Yeah, it's really nice and the Strudel was delicious."
I had grabbed my bag back tighter and sent him a glance, collided almost with a stranger.
Then, "Well, and my brother, Charlie, he's gay, too. And you know about Luna and Harry and my sister, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, it would be shit to have something against it. It's just love."
Just love.
He had surprised me once more.
While I walked through the halls of the university, I felt a dozen pairs of eyes on me.
The events of the day before had reached everyone.
Now I was Draco Black, the boy who had lost his father.
I hurried down the halls to get as fast as possible to the lecture room and nearly fell down the stairs, Emma on my tail and my heart pounding dar too loud in my ears. I wanted to vanish, not being seen. Attention wasn't something I liked anymore. Being in the center of conversations or something similar made me sick since I had read all those articles about my family and me in the prophet.
I dropped on my seat next to Amber, blood rushing, and my breath coming out in unsteady huffs, she watched me suspiciously.
My hands trembled imperceptibly while I took notes or slid my glasses up my nose.
When she didn't look away even after the professor had started his lessons, I snapped, "WHAT?"
"You're ok?"
"Yes."
"Really, Draco?"
I felt my lips tightened, pressing them hard together, so I wouldn't sneer at her. She simply meant it good.
"I will be.", I signed and touched her hand gently while sending her a small wavering smile.
Her fingers twirled around mine and she whispered, "I know this may sound terrible, but if you want to talk, you can always count on me."
Amber, if she had been a witch, would have been a Hufflepuff. She was too soft, too naive for the world and I loved her dearly.
It took me a long time to befriend her, being too different from each other.
I had felt bad for wanting people like Amber dead or that I had thought to be a Muggle made her less an intelligent person, not better than a donkey for work. That I had thought that I was greater than her and her kind.
I had been wrong and I was ashamed of my childhood thoughts.
So when I had seen her at one of the information sessions for deaf-mute LGBT's in London, I eventually got over myself and talked to her.
Her boyfriend, Emery was a deaf trans boy, that's why she had been there.
Emery was wicked, a great sense of humor and often snorted like a pig when he laughed about jokes. It was hilarious.
Following that, I was never alone.
I went with them to lessons, to the Café, and to student-parties.
Once they picked me up, Emery a blue-pink-white flag around his small hips, and we got to my first pride.
That had been an event. All those different people were out on the streets, fighting for their rights and celebrating that they were able to express themselves without fearing for their lives.
Marching down the streets, dancing, laughing and being free had been a big step for my coming out and my mental health.
The sorting hat had never considered that not only in Slytherin you got real friends but in the University for Art in London as well.
Without them, I would have been lost a long time ago.
Watching Amber listening to our professors brabbling, Emery next to her and Emma snoring on the floor to my feet, I felt grateful for everything that happened to me the past years.
And I was scared.
Scared that I would lose it all, in one way or another.
I met the red-haired man every day, sometimes Potter and Luna would come with him.
We spent a lot of time together, he even sometimes came with me to class or work.
Weasleys face when I had told him about my job in the gallery had been hilarious.
"I do work, you know. It pays the bills.", I had snorted and changed my ripped jeans for my working clothes.
"It's just...you working. How common of you."
I had rolled my eyes and ignored him until the last shiny black button of the wine red shirt had been closed.
"You wanna come with me? Learning a bit about art?", I had asked him with a sly grin and a crooked eyebrow.
His full lips widened and his tongue darted out, licking the bottom lip, "Sure, why not."
I would never have thought, that Weasley could look anything than the boring marron I had known, but this made him look quite sexy.
I shuddered at my thoughts, feeling my ears blushing and turned away.
When we arrived at the gallery and I supersede Janice he vanished in the rooms. Studying the paintings.
Although I didn't see him for a few hours, I could feel his magic all around me.
Living in Muggle London and without any contact with other wizards, being near one again was overwhelming.
Weasley's magic was tingling on my skin, brushing my body like a warm summer breeze. It felt like I only had to reach my hands and then I could touch it.
His magic was strong, stronger than I remembered and gentle. He wanted to protect.
It made me feel safe, even in a situation like mine.
To my surprise, Weasley seemed to learn sign language, and shockingly quite fast as well.
"Everyone has to be good at something.", he had laughed after I had mentioned it to him, "Well, and Luna comes to my place nearly every day so I have to learn with her. She's nearly as bad as 'Mione was in Hogwarts."
Remembering Hermione in our last year and the way she sometimes physically dragged me into the library, I nodded with empathy.
"It's just not common to learn it this fast.", I said, but he shrugged and stated, "I was always better at remembering movements than facts."
Being with him and the others, I needed to tell something to Felix, university, and my friends.
A normal car crash wouldn't cause the detective to stay with the son of the victims.
I told them that we had gone to the school, but hadn't seen each other for years and wanted to reconnect now.
So far so true and most of them just shrugged their shoulders and welcomed the ginger, however, Felix didn't like it one bit.
"What's it with you and the ginger, hu?", Felix scolded one night when we were out in a club, dancing. The lights are flashing and the music as a loud drum in my chest.
I saw Luna between the Weaslette and Potter, moving her body in a completely odd way, her hand above her head and the finger brushing the dark locks of our savior.
Weasley stood at the bar, leaning back on his elbows and watching his sister and friends dance.
He was wearing a tight black shirt and black denim and boots. The hair falling till over his eyes and a dragon-tooth necklace around neck.
"I don't know what you mean.", I answered bewildered, oppressed the strange fluttering in my stomach.
"Don't fuck with me.", Felix hissed, whipped the beer out of my hand, "What's going on with you two?"
I sighed loudly, obviously not audible in the club, "Nothing, Felix. I'm with you, remember?"
He wasn't completely wrong. I thought that Ronald Weasley was attractive with his long legs, his Auror body and the long dark auburn lashes around his dark blue eyes.
He was and if my boyfriend would ask me this, I wouldn't lie.
Why should I? I was with Felix.
I sneaked my arms around Felix's waist and kissed him on the jawbone. Dark stubbles were irritation my lips and I moved my hips a bit. I wanted to distract him, distract me of the fact that something inside me seemed to like the ginger got more every day. Grinning triumphantly, when he started to dance with me to the music.
He let the topic go, but it wouldn't be the last time we talked about Weasley and Felix being jealous.
We fought more and more every day and after Weasley running in on us shagging on the living room floor, he had shouted at me, "When this stupid guy won't piss off in the next few days, I'll go!"
"Felix!"
"I'll break up if he stays."
"So, you can go and fuck around whoever you want and I can't be with some friends? You're such a hypocrite."
"The different is, Draco.", he had snapped and his nice face twisted into an ugly grimace, "Is that I don't have feelings for the people I met. He, though, is eye-fucking you every single day!"
"He's not.", I swallowed.
I was not blind nor stupid. Of course, I had seen Weasley watching me.
When he thought I wouldn't feel his eyes on me, he watched me draw and sketch for school. Or when I was in class, walked with Emma or made fun with my friends.
He never forgot anything I told him, even remembered what I had worn. He watched me cooking and eating my favorite food, Spaghetti Carbonara.
He watched me my work when I stood behind the counter and had to be nice to strangers or when I let my hands travel through Ambers long blond hair.
But it was his job, watching me, keep me safe. Something I couldn't tell Felix.
Knowing this didn't change my stupid wildly beating heart whenever I caught his eyes with mine.
Consequently, I watched him in return.
When he himself bent over a file and the sun was shining, reflecting from his hair or when he was laughing with Emery, talking with Amber or choosing the nicest looking cake from Lizzy's.
I knew within a month that he loved Latte Macchiato and would drink this every time. He was more the beer type but got out some nice red wine eventually.
He loved his boots dearly and enjoyed walking with Emma and me. He had a small scar next to his bottom lip. A leftover of a fight with the last murderer he had caught.
His eyes went dull when every I wanted to talk with him about his work with the Aurors, clearly not enjoying it anymore.
Whenever he felt insecure about something he had said or he felt embarrassed, his hand would come up and rub his rapidly blushing neck.
The dragon-tooth necklace was a present from his brother, Charlie. the gay family member.
"We had always known that he liked guys more than girls, but he never really had a boyfriend. Charlie is always preoccupied with the dragons."
I saw that, even if Hermione and Potter were his best friends, he had a strong bond to Longbottom, who he visited in Hogsmeade every week for a drink.
"Are you and Longbottom..?", I had asked and Weasley nearly choked to death on my watch.
Weasley had stretched out his long legs on the floor, scratching Emma lightly when I asked and had startled violently.
I was sitting on my sofa, my sketchbook in my lap and working on a portrait of him, without him knowing. I liked to sketch him. His face was always full of emotions and he could look intimidating or soft, depending on the angle.
"What?", he coughed, "Neville and I?"
I crocked a questioning eyebrow and he chuckled.
"Merlin, no. Nev' is going to marry Hannah Abbott in a few months! We are just really good friends. He was with Harry and me in Auror training for two years."
"I always had assumed that he and Luna would end together.", I signed slowly.
"Like me and 'Mione, right?", he said with a light voice, but I could see his eyes darken and his shoulders got tense.
"Yeah."
"It would have never worked out. She's like a sister to me."
"Really?"
He sent me a look. The blue eyes blazing.
"You don't have a girlfriend?"
"No.", he said, looking away, so my remark wouldn't be seen.
It was getting dark fast and the light faded, but I still continued to draw him. My pen scratched over the rough paper and the rustling of it filled the room with other noises than my neighbors, who listened to music, far too loud, again.
They were nice, but strange sometimes.
Once the guy, Jonathan, had asked me if I wanted to get stoned with them.
Why I should get petrified I didn't really know, but I said yes at first, not wanting to be rude. It had been the first time I had smoked this muggle drug and I've never done it again.
Suddenly Weasley cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes I think I'm not capable to be in a relationship. Feelings are just so...complicated."
With that and without waiting for an answer, he had waved goodbye for the night and apparated to his flat.
I laid awake for a long time, listening to the synthetic music Jonathan liked to play and thinking about what Weasley had said.
Sometimes I wondered myself if I really loved Felix. I liked him fair enough, but love?
Love was so much more.
Love was wanting.
Love was giving.
Furthermore, I thought that we all had problems with our feeling, even Potter with his polyamorous relationship.
A war like we had witnessed led to it.
We were the youth born after one war and growing up in another. It changed the way we worked around love and other feelings.
Being pureblood only made it worse.
I wished I could ask my mother. She would have been able to tell me if it was love for him...
My feelings grew more every day. I wasn't able to do anything about it.
My mind wandered to him every given opportunity.
I thought about him when he was right next to me. Sitting next to each other in Lizzys Café, our bodies touching and he was bent over my file. His brows drawn together in concentration. When he talked about his friends and he analyzed my friends.
I thought about him when he wasn't with me. When he went back to his own flat after a long day, the big hand waving lightly good-bye.
I thought about him when Felix kissed me hard and wantingly on the lips. When I laid in my bed, alone and a hand wandering over my body.
When my hand was wrapped around my cock, I imagine it was his. That he was whispering lovely words in my ears, his breath ghosting over my sensitive skin and his tall body pinning me down, making me his.
Owning me.
It became harder to look him in the eyes after nights like this.
And Felix...
It was like he slipped away from me.
I had really liked him, before. But now I saw his flaws, I had known about before, so much easier.
However, being with a Weasley, with Ronald nonetheless, was not a possibility. It would bring misfortune.
It came to my mind that being near someone I was attracted to was the only point why I wanted to be with Weasley.
Seeing him daily made me want him, but not because of him, but because of the characteristics he had and Felix hadn't.
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
So I tried to ignore it. Ignore the flutter in my gut when Weasley sat next to me on the sofa and our knees brushed.
When he was laughing out loud about something Lizzy had said and his head was thrown back, showing perfect white teeth and the eyes were squeezed shut.
When he was playing with the dragon-tooth, his long fingers rubbing it like Aladdin's Lamp.
When we stood far too close where ever we were and I could smell his cologne.
And his magic, which surrounded me all the time, reached out to me and colored my life.
He drove me crazy.
The morning Weasley held a letter in his hands and asked me when I needed to go to university, he became Ron to me. Only in my mind, even if I had stuck with Ron as his sign name. Sometimes I asked myself why I had stuck with his name and not giving him a name based on his hair or his freckles or his deep blue, blue eyes.
Maybe because my Amber and Emery would have known about my fluttering heart and strange feelings immediately.
It was early morning and he just came to my flat.
I had been awake for nearly the whole night, drawing until I couldn't hold my eyes open anymore and my neck was hurting because of the position I sat.
I was still in my art clothes from the night before and paint was in my hair and on my skin. I felt comfortable like this.
The coffee machine had just finished and my fingers clutched the warm cup like a starving man.
When Weasley asked me when I needed to go to class, I knew that he was up to something.
He knew perfectly well when I had classes or work and how my complete schedule looked like.
And then he held the letter in his hand, the typical old parchment of the ministry. It was a darker sandy yellowish-brown color and had an uneven structure. The ink addressed to Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, was in a dark red and in the proper wizardry font.
When I took the parchment it felt rough under my fingers, a bit like the watercolor paper I used for my last project.
The insignia of the Ministry was on the top and I could feel the old, powerful magic pulsing over my skin, brushing my nerves and animating my cells. Surrounding me like a cocoon and whispering into my ears.
It was like the magic didn't approve about my abstinence from the world I was born in. It wanted me back.
I tried to ignore it as well as I was able to and read the letter,
"Dear Mr. Weasley,
hereby we would like to inform you about your request for a brief visit of Mr. Draco Abraxas Malfoy of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy neé Black which you brought to our formal notice.
You will be allowed to accompany the designated wizard to a day visit to St. Mungo's Hospital.
Mr. Draco Malfoy is permitted to visit Mrs. Malfoy for the entire day and be alone in the room for a short time, á 30 minutes.
Both affected persons are to be searched in advance and afterward and not to stay without the supervision of an Auror.
A detailed protocol is required within 2 days after the visit.
Sincerely yours,
Mrs. Larcrilda Farberstein
Ministry of Magic
An employee of the Wizengamot"
Mr. Draco Malfoy is permitted to visit Mrs. Malfoy for the entire day...
The entire day...
My heart was pounding like mad.
This couldn't be true, could it?
I was able to my mother again, to hold her, to smell the scent of my childhood.
"I can really go to St. Mungo and visit my mother?"
And Weasley smiled at me brightly, his eyes gentle and full of emotions.
He looked so beautiful at this moment, the light morning sun in his hair and the face blasted full of freckles, so I hugged him tightly.
His warm body around me, his hand tangled in my hair and I felt more secure than I had in a long time.
Thank you, thank you thank you, my mind was racing.
And I understood that it wasn't a crush. That it wouldn't go away with wishing.
He burned himself in my heart. Marked me and every fiber of my body yearned for his touch.
My nose was pressed into his neck, breathing deep, I moved a bit, brushing my lips against his pulse point, but before I could take a heart and do what I wanted for so many weeks, he stepped back.
His hands were on my arms, a bit harder than necessary, and he said, "Shall we go today?"
I turned around, running into the living room, so he wouldn't see the embarrassed blush raising on my cheeks and he was right.
My mother. She was waiting.
"Yeah, let's go know. Do I need anything? What should I say? Does she know about this permission? Can I take Emma with me? I'm so nervous."
Ronald had told me nearly every day about her recovery.
On the day she had woken up, he apparated straight into my flat, long past midnight and startled me nearly to death.
He had spoken fast and excited, that Bill and his colleague had found a way to wake her up, get her out of the coma and breaking the curse which held her in an iron grip.
"She's still tired and weak, but she can remember everything and after a few days, she'll be able to walk again."
I had cried with relief.
The fear of losing my mother more prominent at this moment than ever before.
And Weasley had held me tight, my face pressed onto his broad chest and his hands shooshing my trembling body.
"She'll be alright.", he had whispered over and over again.
The incident before the hospital was nearly forgotten when I went into the white, sterile room in St. Mungo's where my mother was.
At first, I couldn't find her, not laying in bed, but then I saw her.
She stood with the back to us on the window, a delicate china in her hand. I could tell it was one from the Black Collection.
Probably Potter had brought her the cup, so she wouldn't feel out of place.
After the door shut down, she turned slowly around, apparently, she was expecting one of the nurses.
But when she saw me, for one brief second I was angry that I hadn't changed my clothes before coming here, her stern face changed.
The dark blue eyes went round like pennies and her red-painted mouth opened.
The teacup fell to the floor with a loud crash and she moved without hesitation, her arms wide open, "DRACO!"
I fell into her embrace, clutching her tight. She had become thinner over the years, but she sounded, smell the same.
"Mommy, Mommy!", my mind raced and I wanted to shout out of joy.
She kissed me on the cheek, on the forehead and I could her mumble, "My little Dragon, Merlin, my little, little Dragon."
And I wasn't embarrassed about my childhood name, not even a little bit. Ron was forgotten and the only value thing was my mother, alive and as healthy as it was possible in this situation, in my arms.
After we parted, I realized Ron had disappeared.
My mother cupped my head between her filigrain hands and looked at me, searching for information.
"You look so good.", she eventually whispered and I could see some tears glisten in the corner of her eyes, "So, so good. Oh Merlin, Draco."
I was sure that the goofiest smile ever was shown on my face, but I didn't care about Malfoy appearance. It didn't matter anymore.
My mother sat down on the bed and petted on the sheets next to her, so I followed and sat down as well.
That was when she surprised me, her hands moving fluently, "How are you, my baby?"
"How do you?"
"Miss Lovegood was a wonderful companion while I was alone in the Manor. She thought it would be a missed opportunity if she wouldn't teach me your language."
And now I saw it as well. Luna had an own way to sign, her hands moving more like dancing and my mother had adopted it.
It looked beautiful, with the delicate silver wedding bracelet, which she had never taken off.
Grateful tears were welling up in my eyes and I wasn't able to express my gratitude.
"I'm good, most of the times.", I answered truthfully, never leaving her face. Amazed that she was really, really with me and it wasn't a dream.
"Tell me about your life.", she demanded, a small smile on her face and her eyes still wide open in wonder. Showing the same muddle of feelings which were racing through my body.
So I told her, everything.
About Hogwarts, about my struggled to adapt.
She twitched lightly when I told her about my suicide attempts, but she didn't seem surprised. "Headmistress McGonagall had told me, asked me what they could do to stop you."
Her fingers were tracing over the large scar on my left forearm, not caring about the Dark Mark.
I told her about my flat and university. About how art had helped me to find something to live for, to exist.
About Emma, who was sitting next to my mothers' feet and asked silently for cuddles and treats.
About my friends, Amber, Lizzy and Emery.
About my sexuality and eventually about Felix.
"I had known it for years, Draco.", she had said and held my hand gently, "Even your father had known it, but didn't want to see it. And after Theodore, it became clear to us that you would never love a woman like you would love a man and, although we are purebloods and traditionalists, we only wanted you to be happy."
"I am.", I answered, "I am most of the time, Mom. Being open about who I am, not being scared of my feelings anymore made me free. I'm always grateful that Lizzy invited me in the Café."
"That's wonderful, darling. Tell me more about this man, Felix. Do you love him?"
I hesitated and that was more meaningful than any answer I could have given. She frowned at me and before I could say anything, she asked, "If you don't truly love him, why are you with him, Draco?"
I licked my lips, nervous and not sure how to proceed.
I couldn't tell her that the sex was fantastic and that, sometimes, I thought that I did not deserve someone who loves me completely. And I definitely couldn't tell her that the man who brought me here was another reason why I wasn't able to say that I loved Felix.
I couldn't, so I answered, "It's complicated since dad is...gone. Being in contact with my past is hard and somehow painful, Mom. And I can't really tell him the true story about everything."
"And it doesn't have anything to do with a certain person who came into your life, again?", she sought out with a knowing look.
"What? How?"
She laughed lightly, "Draco, you are my son and I know you, even if I haven't seen you for nearly five years."
She was right, she was my mother and she knew me better than anyone.
"You know.", she mused and stroked my hair out of my face, "I always thought that you and Mr. Potter..."
I shuddered, "Definitely NOT! You've seen his eyebrows?"
She smirked and suddenly I realized that I had fallen into their trap.
She hadn't know who.
So cunning, Slytherin!
"Mr. Weasley is a nice young man. What he did for you, it's caring."
My heart was speeding up. I know that she was right. Making it possible to meet my mother, even of the sentence of the Wizengamot, it was amazing.
And like someone had called for him, Ron came back into the room, three cups in his hands and a bright small on his face.
Caring.
He gave my mother a Latte Macchiato and me a hot chocolate.
Caring.
He sat down on one of the chairs and ruffled Emmas fluffy fur.
Caring.
Ron watched me, while my mother and I talked for the whole day, never not having a topic.
Caring.
When we had to go, the nurse wanted to throw us out already, he promised to make a second meeting possible in the future.
Caring.
When I stood opposite him, the door to my flat behind me, and he watched my face, concerned and glad, I finally understood that caring meant loving.
He kissed my palm, lightly and nearly without touching it.
Caring.
Before I could step closer, giving back what he had given me, he stepped away and sent me a look which burst my heart.
He cared so much.
I turned around, in a daze, walking up to my flat and ignored everything.
I missed the open door. I missed the lights, which were turned on. I missed the hooded figure in the corner.
But Emma didn't and chased to the person, almost tore me with her. Growling loud and dangerously.
"Fuck!", the person, a man screamed when Emma bit down his arm.
He threw her against the wall and I waved my hand, casting a Protego for her. Trying to save her, she was much more important than me.
A few pictures and the little glass table in the hall shattered and Emma yelped loud.
"No! No!", I screamed on the inside and tried to attack the person, but I wasn't able to do anything.
He already pointed his wand at me and shouted, "SECTRUMSPRA!"
My body tore into little pieces and I crashed to the floor. I heard Emma attacking the person again and I wanted to crawl to her, keep her safe, but I couldn't move.
Emma!
I didn't feel any pain. It wasn't like all these years ago when Potter had cast it at me.
The only thing I could feel was the brief tingle on my palm, where Ron's lips had brushed my skin.
Caring.