Draco Malfoy screamed. He jerked up in bed and glanced around the dark bedroom. There was nothing there. He ran a clammy hand across his forehead, drenched with sweat.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" his wife asked, sitting up and turning on the light atop her dark mahogany bedside table. Her dark eyes peered out worriedly at him through the dim light.
"It's nothing, Pansy. Just a nightmare. I'm going to the kitchen," he snapped. He got out from under the black duvet and lowered his feet onto the sweaty summer floor. He grabbed his robe from the back of the door and swung the door almost all the way closed. Pansy sighed, snuggled back down under the sheet and snapped the light off before falling into a deep, deep sleep.
He trod down the old oak steps and into the living room. It looked even darker and unpleasant than it normally did. As he silently walked through he stubbed his big toe on the leg of the dark leather armchair. He held back from yelling but muttered a few well-chosen curse words under his breath. He passed the old grandfather clock, glancing at it. It was 2:45 in the morning. He sighed and continued on.
He finally reached the kitchen and flicked on the lights. The black slate countertops were icy cold and the clear cabinets sparkled. He reached above the sink, snatching a clear mug and hastily putting it down on the table. He went through the dining room and to the liquor cabinet. He pawed through the many bottles and finally found what he wanted. He slowly poured a good amount of Fire Whiskey into the mug. Slumping down into the antique chair he ran his fingers through his white blonde hair and rubbed his gray eyes.
Picking up the mugged he sipped it slowly, staring off into a world known only to him.
He'd had this nightmare every night for two weeks now. This was the first time he had awoken screaming, though. Usually it was her scream that shattered his night. Her same gut wrenching, heart-breaking scream pulling at the corners of his mind. Her pain coursing though his very veins. Her life flashing in his eyes.
The worst part was, he knew why these dreams—nightmares were happening. It was getting closer. The dreary day loomed in the near distance. It was the tenth year anniversary. The tenth time he would go to her grave, putting her favorite flowers right beneath the large tombstone broadcasting her name. The tenth time he would recall her last summer on earth.
"Draco. Draco!" his father called up the stairs. "Come!" Draco rolled his eyes and quickly pounded down the stairs to his family's den. The room was large, portraits of pureblood ancestors hung on the walls. The couch was large and black just like everything in the house. Dark artifacts lined the mantle, where his father stood, back to him.
"Don't pound," his mother snapped. He muttered an apology and strode over to his father. The man was quite intimidating, his sleek white blonde hair reaching his lower back. He held his walking stick in his hand and fingered the snake's head atop it. Lately his father had been colder than normal to Draco and he couldn't blame him. It was supposed to have been Draco's job to kill Dumbledore, not Snape's. The shame his father felt was almost irreversible. The jeers he had taken were not removable. The pride he had once displayed so greatly was now irretrievable. Draco met his father's cold eyes and saw the disgust they held.
"Your mother is feeling a bit under the weather. We do not happen to have anything to cure her. You will go into the Muggle town and buy what we need from the apothecary. You will also buy dinner as she is too ill to cook it," his voice contained pure venom as he muttered, "Hopefully this will be a task you can successfully carry out." Draco looked at his feet.
"Yes, sir," he mumbled, taking the money from his father's hand and exiting as quickly as possible. The warm summer breeze swept his hair away from his face as he exited the large manor. The walk to town was about a mile, but Draco didn't mind strolling down the country road into the small village. He wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell of cow manure, but it was the only foul thing he encountered. He loosened his tie and rolled the sleeves of his dress-shirt above his elbows. He kicked a small pebble along the dusty road.
The town was booming with business. Muggles shouted their goods and rolled carts throughout the streets. Children shouted for brightly colored balloons and mothers chatted and gossiped loudly to other mothers. He moseyed on through the streets down to Waverly Street where he found the apothecary. It was cool inside and goose bumps appeared on his pale forearms. He walked through the store, picking up the occasional bottle and pocketing it.
He reached the front of the store and propped himself against the counter. He tapped the small silver service bell and looked around. He peered behind the desk and looked through many business papers before setting them down in impatience and ringing the small silver bell on the counter fervently. The curtains swung open and his life changed.
This was the first time he had ever seen her.
The girl who came out of them had long black hair and somewhat tanned skin. Her bright blue eyes were filled with tears and her face was blotchy and wet. Her purple nails clutched at half of a picture and her other hand was clenched in a fist. She wore a deep blue top that complimented her eyes and tight jeans hugging her athletic legs. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
"WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT OF ME?" she screeched at him hysterically before she had even seen him. He was quite taken aback by this and stood there stuttering.
"Well—I—I mean—I just wanted a cure for headaches," he said quietly. She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with horror.
"I am s—so sorry," she said with embarrassment. "I'm just a bit upset—"
"A bit?" he asked her and she smiled a little. Her smile filled him with—wait, what was he doing? Making banter with a Muggle? He wanted to leave, get out of there, but her eyes told him it was alright.
"I'm really sorry. You really don't know how mortified I am right now." She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face. Draco had the strongest urge to go and hug her, pull her into an embrace and kiss the top of her head. What was wrong with him? "I just—just had a row with my boyfriend… well ex-boyfriend, I guess…"
"It's alright. I mean, ok." He tried to end his sentence in the most careless way possible. They stood there awkwardly. He had noticed ever since the task had gone wrong, he didn't care about the wizarding world and what they thought. He didn't care about anything. He cared too much about appearance, but why should it matter? Lately he didn't have the energy to be foul and snide. He didn't have the energy to be a mini Lucius Malfoy.
"Right," she said, trying to put on a professional face, "so what do you need? Headache, I think you said?"
"That's what I said." She riffled through the large selection behind her. She reached to the top shelf and grabbed a small bottle of green liquid. Just as she grabbed it, it dropped and shattered on the floor.
"Oh shit," she muttered. "I'm so sorry again. It's just—" she stood and up and reached out to him, "my hand…it's shaking." He saw the trembling fingers and reached out to them. They were colder than ice. He held them in his warm hand and rubbed them slowly. He looked up at her and saw her blue eyes staring at him with wonder. He met her gaze and then quickly dropped her fingers. She stared at him before shaking herself into reality. She turned around and grabbed the bottle steadily. She placed it on the counter in front of him and tapped some keys on the register. There was something seriously wrong with him. He was having feelings he had never had for anyone. He was reacting like he never would have expected…well at least from his old self. Ever since the…incident atop the tower that night, he had started to notice the smallest most beautiful things. To this Muggle he could be someone away from his cold, pureblooded self he was at school. Was she his escape?
"That will be 2 pounds." She held out her hand expectedly. He grabbed it again.
"It's not trembling," he said confusedly. She threw back her head and laughed fully. He felt his cheeks turn red and, quickly dropping her hand, reached into his pocket for the money. When he looked up, she was staring at him with amusement. He dropped the money on the counter, grabbed the bottle and hurried out embarrassedly.
What was he thinking? What had he just done? Had he just flirted with a Muggle? What was happening to him? Where had the Malfoy he knew, been? Normally his sharp tongue would've reduced the girl to more tears, but he babbled like an idiot instead. He sighed to himself and hurried to the grocery store, hoping to get home in time for dinner.
He remembered that day as clearly as if it was yesterday and he sat with a content smile on his face. She had been so beautiful, even when she cried. He remembered the next day, too.
Next morning his mother awoke him early.
"Draco," she said lightly, rubbing his shoulder, "Draco, sweetheart, wake up." He moaned slightly and opened his eyes to the gleaming sunlight. She had a worried look set upon her fair features and her pale brow was wrinkled. He glanced at the large clock in the corner. It was 9:30 in the morning. Three hours short of his expected waking time.
"What is it?" he grunted, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.
"Draco, your father isn't having one of his best days…work stuff…and…Him…" she looked down at her delicate fingers and contemplated them, while he interpreted her sentence. She looked up at him again. "Sweetheart, why don't you spend the day out of the house, get some fresh air, go into town, do some of your summer homework…" she trailed off and as he met her stare he saw the fear in her eyes. Her eyes pleaded with him, telling him not to be difficult and to just do what she asked. He nodded and got up to get dressed .He put on a white dress shirt and a light blazer, glancing outside his window to see the ominous clouds. He put on his black jeans and exited the house as quietly as possible.
About half an hour later he was sitting peacefully in a small café, reading the Muggle paper and laughing quietly to himself about how dumb these stupid beings were. He sipped slowly at his coffee and thumbed through the paper.
Suddenly the door swung open with a tinkle and when he looked up he saw the Muggle girl from yesterday standing right above him. She looked in much better shape than yesterday. Her long hair was combed and fell in perfect waves down to her mid back. Her blue eyes twinkled out of heavy black eyeliner. He looked back down at the paper and tried to ignore her. But she spoke.
"Hi…I'm not sure if you remember me…I'm the hysterical worker from the apothecary…" she trailed off and waited for him to respond. He gave a curt nod as she said, "I mean, I guess it's kinda hard to forget. Well, anyway…I just," and Draco met her gaze, "wanted to say thank you for calming me down. If I hadn't, I probably would be out of work and more depressed than ever." He stared dazedly into her eyes.
"It was nothing… I just needed the medication." He smiled a little and went back down to his paper. She still stood there.
"Look, I know you don't know me at all, but I feel like I would—should get to know you. Maybe you didn't feel it or anything but I don't know, I just…" she babbled on and he finally looked up at her with sympathy. She was really quite vulnerable. "Nothing big, I mean…just some coffee…now maybe?" he nodded and she sat down. She ordered a coffee—black—and they began to chat. She started by telling him everything about her.
Her name was Samantha Benevole, but preferred to be called Sam. She was eighteen, heading off to university, born in October and in London, had three younger sisters and an older brother. Her favorite band was called Bayside and they were American. She wanted to be an artist when she grew up and her favorite color was green. She was only eight when she decided this and she had been painting ever since. She had her own flat in the village where she wanted to relax for the rest of the summer. Draco noticed that he had been listening intently.
And he would remember all this for the rest of his life.
"So," she asked, "what about you? Tell me…"
"Trust me, I'm not someone like you would want to deal with…" he started but a smile played across her face.
"Oh don't worry, I'm not a good girl. I've done some pretty bad things…in 4th year I was caught smoking in the bathroom and I burned out the cigarette on the teachers arm…" he laughed out loud, but it was in vain. I almost killed someone, he thought to himself. I almost killed man because I work for a dark wizard who could probably kill you in the time it would take you to scream. Of course he didn't say this.
"Well, my name is Draco Malfoy. I live up on the hill…" and he went on and on. By the time he had finished he was astounded that he had talked to a complete stranger—a Muggle—for more than hour. What was he thinking? Telling her everything only made her more interested, and the more involved she was, the harder she could fall. He had to leave, keep her out of his twisted life.
"I have to go," he said getting up suddenly, grabbing his light coat and his paper before downing the last dregs of his coffee. He looked up and saw her staring at him with a little bit of pleading sadness. Her eyes begged him to stay. He almost sat down again but caught himself and gave her a quick smile. He turned away saying, "This was nice…but I really must go."
He was almost out the door when she said, "Wait!" He spun as quickly as if there was an attacker behind him. Why was he so eager? He couldn't expect anything out of a Muggle, not with the secret he kept, at least. She ran up to him and stood a bit closer to him than usual. He caught a whiff of her perfume and smelled all the things he had missed in his life: peaceful birthdays, cookies made by mom, hot cider when he came in from laying in the snow, a hug from his mom, a clap on the back from his father…
"I really liked this…talking with you… it feels so right…look, can you meet me tomorrow? I know a restaurant we could go to for an early dinner. I mean, you probably must think I'm a stalker," she chuckled as he smiled, "but I want to know you and… be around you…"
She looked at him beseechingly. Her eyes told him to see her, to be with her. What's the harm in that?
"What should I wear?" he finally asked.
The next night was the night of his life, and so were the next two weeks. Every day he and Sam would meet in a new spot and make new memories. They told each other everything, from fears to jokes to dreams to memories. He had felt so bad not telling her who he truly was, a wizard, but there was never a time, nor the place, and no possible way he could bring it up.
It was the 7th of July. This was the day when his life took a turn and he still didn't know if it was for better or for worse.
He had agreed to meet Sam at a fancy little spot they liked called The Rose. The food was pretty good and the atmosphere was perfect. They usually had the same waiter, Gaston, who served them efficiently and pleasantly. He was a kind man, though his accent was not quite gone and he still had a French air about him. Draco and Sam had grown quite fond of the little man in their nights spent there. Almost as fond as Draco had grown for Sam. He loved everything about her from her laugh, to her frown, from her deep eyes, to the little dimple she got when she looked at him with amusement. He loved the way she twirled a small ring on her finger as she thought and they way her shoulders gleamed in the sunlight.
As they arrived they felt a change in the restaurant. They looked at each other and sat down at their normal table.
"Something's not right," Sam said cautiously. Draco nodded in agreement and fingered his wand, hidden beneath his dress shirt. They realized what it was as a new little man pushed through the swinging doors and waddled over to their table. He was definitely not Gaston and was nowhere near as jovial. He was pale and thin and looked quite haughty.
"Hello, I am Bob and I will be your waiter tonight. The specials—"
"Where's Gaston?" Sam asked, cutting him off. He looked up at her with annoyance.
"He has been fired from his post and will not be returning."
"Why?" Draco asked only apprehending now how much he had cared for the little man.
"For reasons I cannot fathom. Now the specials—"
"But Gaston is always our waiter," Draco persisted. The man lowered his writing pad and looked at Draco with aggravation.
"Draco, just drop it," Sam muttered at him. Her eyes begged him to cease.
"Well I am your waiter now. The specials—"
"Well I will not even hear the specials unless it's Gaston reading them."
"Draco, stop it," Sam hissed. "You're being obnoxious."
"I am sorry we cannot fulfill his majesty's highest needs, but—" and that's when Draco burst.
"You will do what I say, when I say it!" Draco yelled so loudly the whole restaurant became silent. "Gaston was the best thing about this goddamned place and if you can't see that well then this is the crummiest restaurant I have ever attended. You will do what I say and get me Gaston back or I will personally punch your little brain so far down your toes will be able to talk, got it??" he finished. The man burst into tears and ran into the kitchens. Draco slumped down into his seat and turned to face Sam, but found her gone with the slam of a door. Draco rushed out after her.
Dark storms clouds threatened a beautiful night and the air smelled of rain.
"Sam? Sam!" he called after her as she stalked in front of him. He ran to catch up with her.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked him.
"What?" he asked her, his temper rising.
She sighed with exasperation and kept walking. "Don't even talk to me. That was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of my life. Why would you yell at the poor man like that? He was just trying to do his job!"
"Well excuse me for only wanting the best for our night together," he said heatedly.
"How do you know that man was bad? You didn't even let him finish the specials!"
"That's beside the point—"
"That IS the point Draco. Why are you so angry?" she became softer and he suddenly stopped. "Why can't you let me in?"
"Because…" he turned away from her.
"Because what, Draco?" she pleaded with him. "Tell me."
"Trust me, you don't want to know! If you did, I'm sure you couldn't handle it!" he snapped and stalked past her.
"Oh because I'm the one who acts four years old! I can take care of myself, a lot better than you know."
"Your just a girl, what do you know about…about anything??"
"And you're just a boy! How much more can you know?" he stopped and turned to face her. A single drop fell.
"Listen to me, and listen well. I have seen things that would make you shriek in your sleep in night, give you the nightmares that I dream when my eyes are shut. I have had a life that no one gets because quite frankly, no one knows me. You are just some stupid girl, who I just met. Why should I tell you anything? I'll probably forget you by tomorrow!"
The look on her face would be permanently etched in his mind and would haunt him on dark nights.
"Then why do you care?" she asked him, keeping the rage in her voice to a bare minimum but the venom turned up high.
"I don't!"
"Fine, then you won't care if I leave because I'm just a stupid face to you, right? I'm a piece of crap who's been wasting your time for the last two weeks. Well let me tell you something: I have been in tougher positions then you could even imagine, made decisions that have ripped out pieces of my heart and thrown them away. If you want pain, step into my shoes—my life! God hasn't given me a bloody break my whole life so why did I think you would be? Your may have no heart, but mine is broken." And with that she ran away down the road into a curtain of rain, parting unwillingly to let her through.
Her last words echoed in his head. You may have no heart but mine is broken…broken… why did he have to be so…so…so much like his father? He felt water on his face but couldn't tell if it was his tears or the rain falling. He turned his back and started to walk.
After he had walked about 100 feet, he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Sam running back to him. Her dress was ruined; mud staining the edge and her eyeliner ran in rivers down her cheeks. She ran into his arms with such enthusiasm that he almost fell back. She looked into his eyes and without a single word she kissed him, cupping his face in her hands.
He finally felt human. He felt the emotions that had never come with Pansy, felt love and warmth, felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He felt the warmth spread through his torso to his numb fingers, holding her tightly to him. Her hands moved down his chest and rested, grabbing onto the coat lapel and he pulled away for breath.
He laughed and she laughed and their laughter finally filled the hole in Draco Malfoy's heart.
The next few weeks were bliss. He and Sam spent every day together, mainly in a small abandoned house they had found right outside of the town. It was run down, but cozy and they knew they were alone.
The day was August 17th. It was hot but occasionally cool breezes would blow through the broken shutters. Draco was lying on the floor and Sam sat above him, chewing down on a juicy apple. The juice dripped down her chin and onto the floor, where he contemplated it.
"So," she said, sitting down beside him. He took her hand stroked each with finger, "when do I get to meet them?"
"Who?"
"Your parents."
"Never." He let go of the fingers and stood up, facing
"Why not? They can't be that—"
"Trust me. They're worse then you could ever imagine. Don't imagine them though, forget them. They're not important."
"They kinda are, Draco."
"They're not!" he snapped. He spun to face her. A drop of juice was on her chin. He came over to her eye level and kissed it off. He kissed her again and again.
She pulled away. "Is this one of those things you really can't tell me about?"
He nodded and became satisfied with kissing her neck. "But Draco, I mean, what will we do next year, when I go to University and you go to…wherever you go to? I mean how will we see each other? Will you write me? Will you remember me?"
He stopped kissing her. "How could I ever forget you? If I could I would marry you right here and right now, but family matters add to complications and stress and so many other things…" but she smiled and he lost himself in her eyes.
"I love you, Draco."
"I…I love you too, Sam."
August 25th, 1996. He took a large gulp of his beverage.
He was in his room. He sat on his bed, levitating a rock lazily. The evening sunlight drifted in through his shuttered windows. Dinner would be served soon. The time of day he dreaded most. When he was forced to sit with his parents and watch their disappointed eyes follow his fork to his mouth as if they wanted the food of his plate. They were hungry, but for pride.
"DRACO!" his father bellowed suddenly. "GET DOWN HERE, PLEASE!" he hadn't even heard the dinner bell. His father sounded angry. Angrier than he had ever heard him. He rushed down the steps and froze.
His father had something clutched in his hand. A long piece of black hair. And attached to that piece of hair was Sam. Her blue eyes screamed with confusion as she saw him. His mother stood in the archway, hands clasped around her small waist, snug in a deep green evening gown. In his father's other hand he grasped his wand, pointing it at Sam's throat.
"Who. Is. This?" is father hissed at him. The rage in his eyes was uncontrollable.
"Draco, what's—" Sam asked fearfully, tears choked up in her throat.
"Do you know her?" Draco didn't respond. "WELL DO YOU?" his father screeched. Draco didn't know what to do. if he said yes, he was dead. If he said no, she was dead.
"Draco, help me, please. Help—"
"SILENCE!" And his father struck her. His hand was fast, and she collapsed on the floor. His wand was pointing at her. Draco's mother whimpered a little. Not with sympathy, but with disbelieving dishonor.
"Yes, this is Sam. She's—"
"SHE'S A MUGGLE! A GODDAMNED MUGGLE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? WERE YOU EVEN THINKING? A MUGGLE!" his father screeched at him.
"I love her." He said it proudly and his mother began to sob.
His father screamed and raced at him. His strong hand choked Draco and with the other he punched him hard in the stomach. His mother flew from the room. Draco gasped and struggled for air, but none would come. His father punched every inch of his body. He was bleeding badly and he was about to pass out. His father threw his head against the deep marble banister and it began to bleed profusely. He collapsed on the steps. He couldn't see straight he could on hear Sam sobbing hysterically.
"You will pay, you stupid bag of shit." Her voice was so pained.
"Ha. I shall show you, Muggle. SECTUM SEMPRA!" Draco snapped up to see her. Her eyes were blank. They said nothing to him and blood ripped out from beneath her blouse. She flew back and fell to the ground.
"I hope you've learned." The last words he heard before all sound stopped. The world stopped. His heart almost stopped. He raced to her. Her eyes were fluttering.
"Sam? Sam?" he sobbed. "Sam, stay with me please. I love you, I love you so much. Please don't leave. Oh, Sam why'd you come?"
"I-I-I-" she gasped, "I wanted to me-et them. I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't know. I wish-I wish- I could-butt out- and listen to you. Too curious. I love…" and her eyes looked up at him for the last time. They had pain. Confusion. Love. Death. And then the shimmer was gone, she was gone, his world fell apart.
Draco Malfoy was permanently broken. His heart was ripped in half. Life was barely worth living.
He walked through the cemetery. It was small for London, but not empty. Many graves were unreadable, and many were broken. He walked. He walked. He found it. he knelt beside it.
The green tombstone read, "Samantha Benevole. April 27th, 1978- August 25th, 1996. Behind those blue eyes were love, compassion, and everything you could ever want. We love you. And we know you loved us."
Draco had not attended the funeral, but had watched from behind a rather large tomb. She was smiling. He did not know how or why, but he knew she was. Her full lips were out of color and her eyes were shut, but she was smiling. He knew it was why he was still living this dreary life. He knew she wanted him to. She had always appreciated life, why couldn't he?
"I love you Samantha. Only you, always you, never until I'm with you again. A better place and a better time, for eternity. With you."