Amara sat in her office, overlooking the Hogwarts grounds from her window. Night was upon them, and most of the castle was asleep. Snow fell down gently, forming a soft blanket that glittered in the moonlight. Scrolls of parchment lay on her desk, already graded and ready to return to her 3rd-year students. She took a moment to look around absentmindedly, thinking of her journey here.
After the war, Amara took her friends to her family's vacation home in Paris. She didn't admit it at the time, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione understood that she didn't have the strength to see her childhood home and not have her father there to welcome her. They stayed for a month or so, slowly healing from the wounds of the war. It was a break they all desperately needed.
Hermione and Amara both saw value in returning to Hogwarts for their last year of school, while Harry and Ron opted to begin working as Aurors immediately. The Ministry welcomed the heroes with open arms. After finishing her education, Hermione, too, joined the Ministry. For years, Amara wished to become a Potions professor at Hogwarts. She worked toward that dream by creating two of her own potions within the next two years, wanting to substantiate her skills beyond those written on her school transcript.
The first potion she created was Lamisquia, a potion that put Amara in a great deal of danger during its inception. Lamisquia was the vampire-equivalent to Wolfsbane, yet even stronger. It had the ability to return vampires to their human form. Testing it had been disastrous, but it was ultimately successful.
The next potion she made was Sirpotalis, an elixir to lengthen the lifetime of plants. Amara's invention was greatly needed in the Wizarding World; it could fight food shortages and also nearly immortalize plants such as Gillyweed, Asphodel, Belladonna, and many other valuable ingredients often utilized in potions.
During this time, Ron finally admitted his feelings for Hermione. They were wed within the next year. Not long after, Harry and Ginny married as well. Life was slowly moving on for everyone. She took the time to meet her friends as often as she could; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Amara often had lunch together at The Leaky Cauldron, The Three Broomsticks, and a variety of Muggle restaurants in London. It had taken some time, but the four were leading very peaceful lives.
Beyond her involvement in the Second Wizarding War - seeing herself commemorated in new History books and Chocolate Frog cards felt strange, to say the least - and her family name, Amara had created a name for herself, one she took pride in. After taking a well-deserved break, Amara took the place of Professor Slughorn when he retired.
But, even as everything was falling into place, Amara could never be truly happy. After all, one piece was missing. She hadn't seen or heard from Draco since the War. Her thoughts were stained with the images of him walking away from her. She could still feel his hand slipping out of hers. The Malfoys occasionally appeared in The Daily Prophet; editorials and opinion pieces on the innocence of past supporters of Voldemort were popular with the average reader.
She had tried to move on, she really did. Amara had forced herself to go on some dates but gave up on the endeavor eventually. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the company of these other men… they just weren't him. He was a plague on her heart and mind that she couldn't dispel.
Blinking away tears, Amara locked her office for the night and Flooed to her home. The peaceful silence in her childhood home brought her some solace. On the way up the stairs, she paused. Her eyes fell on the painting of her parents and her hand came up to clutch their rings, still dangling from the thin golden chain she never removed.
Even when they were both gone, Amara felt their love radiating from her memories and the colored canvas. It gave Amara the hope she desperately needed. Perhaps she wouldn't have a love like theirs in her own life, but the memory of her parents' love would be enough. It had to be. It was all she had left.
There she was, night after night, writhing in excruciating pain on the mahogany floor of his home. The pleased screeches of his aunt, no matter how loud, weren't enough to drown out her screams. Each one stabbed his heart, leaving a searing burn there indefinitely. Crimson blood trickled down her forearm and colored the wood beneath her. He was shackled; his strength wasn't enough to break free of his restraints and go to her. She shrieked louder. Her blood spilled faster. His chains squeezed him tighter.
Draco jolted awake as he did every morning. A thin layer of sweat painted his skin. His exhausted eyes, courtesy of months of tortuous nights, contrasted deeply with his alabaster skin. The sun was just beginning to rise, lighting up his small but luxurious London flat. In his weary stupor, Draco shoved his sheets aside, heading to the bathroom.
The face in the mirror was pale, sallow. Light had left Draco's eyes long ago. He, quite likely, had forgotten how to smile. He had no reason to smile. Though Veratiserum had proven the true thoughts and actions of him and his family, there were scars Draco had to manage, scars that refused to heal. He tried to lose himself in the crowds of London. The large population of Muggles made no difference to Draco, not anymore. In fact, he rather appreciated it. Muggles did not view him and his family with disdain. To a Muggle he crossed on the street, he was no one.
Draco didn't know what he was trying to find in his solitude. He just knew that solitude was the only thing he could bear. He had no desire to listen to his father speak of marrying him to Astoria Greengrass. His mother's loving concern, while endearing, was nearly suffocating. Draco needed silence. While the silence brought him peace, it couldn't stifle everything. It couldn't stifle the haunting memories. It couldn't stifle his hopelessness. It couldn't stifle how much he ached for Amara.
Amara. The one person he wished to see most. Draco knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness, but he knew he had it anyway. Somehow, she forgave him every time. It was something he did not understand. She had explained it once before; Amara said she forgave him because she knew him, the real him. But how could she? Draco no longer knew who he was, he hadn't for quite some time. The version of him Amara always forgave no longer existed.
As Draco sat near the window, flipping through the Daily Prophet, an owl tapped against the glass, a letter bearing the Hogwarts Crest held in its beak….
Laughter and chatter rang throughout the Great Hall. Amara sat with Neville, as usual; both had grown closer since they began teaching. Just recently, Neville and Luna had broken up amicably and Amara was one of the few people Neville spoke freely to. Amara could see how much Neville loved her, but even he agreed that perhaps he and Luna were not meant to be. Just then, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and stood, the desserts disappearing before them.
Unlike other nights, however, Minerva did not just bid the students a good night. "Now that we're all fed and ready to end another day at Hogwarts, I have one last announcement to make. Within the next week, a few old students will be returning to Hogwarts to come speak to you all about their experiences, sit in your classes, and have volunteered to answer your questions about life after school. They will be here next Monday and shall stay for a few days. Be prepared with some questions and be sure to learn from their experiences!"
Amara smiled to herself, wondering who she'd get to see again. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't mentioned anything to her, so it was possible they couldn't make it. Her thoughts flitted to Draco once more, but the likelihood of him accepting such an invitation was low. She had no idea where he was. Amara scolded herself for indulging the thought, turning her attention back to Neville once more.
Three days later, Amara walked around her classroom, returning numerous rolls of parchment to her 6th-year students. Some of the lot had a hard time seeing her as a Professor, given that she once roamed these halls as a student alongside them. This never bothered Amara. She spoke to them as she would with acquaintances: somewhat formal, but not with an air of authority.
"Now, based on your essays, some of you don't have a solid understanding of The Draught of Living Death, and that's perfectly alright. It's a dreadfully tricky potion, which is why I would like everyone to have a solid theoretical understanding of it before we attempt to brew it." Amara could not get any further with her lesson, however; she was interrupted by someone she wasn't expecting to see today.
"I dunno, I could brew it successfully in 6th year." Harry sat in the back of the classroom, Ron right beside him. "Because you cheated, Harry." Both men grinned widely, mirroring the expression on Amara's face. "Stop crashing her lesson, you two." Hermione stood behind Ron, her eyes shining. The murmurs of surprise from the students had died down. Not many had seen this group together since the end of the war. The three friendly intruders hushed then, allowing Amara to get back to her lesson, though without much success. They had set the classroom abuzz, and Professor Grimaldi could not stop smiling.
A grand feast had been prepared in the honor of the alumni attending. Amara had seen numerous familiar faces: the Patil twins, Justin Finch-Fetchley, Seamus Finnigan, Oliver Wood, the Greengrass sisters, Theodore Nott… But no Draco.
No matter how much she missed him, Amara's mood could not be dampened by the memory of him tonight. Never did she imagine being back in the Great Hall with her dearest friends, laughing and sharing a meal together without a care in the world. Hogwarts was once again their home, bright and welcoming.
Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, regaling each other with stories and fond memories. The five were in the midst of discussing the Yule Ball, with Harry mentioning his pleasant surprise at seeing Neville come in very late into the night. Amara momentarily remembered her date: Dominic Murtaugh from Durmstrang. He was nice enough, but she had left him rather rudely following Ron's jealous outburst. Not to mention, Draco had been staring daggers at the bloke all night.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw just a flash of a platinum blonde head; it disappeared far too quickly. Amara did not indulge the thought. She would not let herself hope. Certainly, her mind was only imagining it…
...
Draco arrived at Hogwarts hours ago and had managed to avoid most people – even the woman he wanted to see most. It was a large enough castle, and he knew where he could hide. He couldn't stop himself. He had no reason to anymore. There was no threat, no more excuses. He would be the man Amara saw and loved.
Even so, when he saw her after years, just a hundred feet away, he paused. Draco would never want or love anyone more than he had ever loved Amara. But what if she no longer cared for him? She had every reason to stop. How many times had he hurt her? He had failed her over and over. Did Amara even deserve to have someone like him in her life? Draco had given her too much misery, and he had no desire to give her any more.
The next morning, Amara was setting up for her lesson with the Hufflepuff and Slytherin 1st year students. Eleanor Tregor, a muggleborn Slytherin student, walked to her seat timidly. Amara smiled warmly at the girl, who looked down at something and then back up at her professor. Her behavior was intriguing.
Finding some bravery, Eleanor approached Amara, showing her the Chocolate Frog card enclosed in her hand. "Excuse me Professor, is this you?"
AMARA GRIMALDI
Currently Potions Master at Hogwarts
One of the many heroes in the Second Wizarding War, Amara Grimaldi worked alongside the Chosen One and was instrumental to the downfall of the Dark Lord. Afterwards, she created two potions, Lamisquia and Sirpotalis, which have brought plentiful benefits to the magical world. By those who know her, she is described as unfailingly kind and collected in the face of adversity.
Amara's smile was one of wisdom and humility. "Yes, Eleanor, that is me." The shy student said nothing more, seemingly intimidated by her teacher now as she shuffled back to her desk. Amara moved away from her desk and kneeled beside her. "What's the matter, dear?" Eleanor took a shaky breath, her soft brown eyes anxious and upset. "I don't know if I'll ever be good… something worth remembering. The other Slytherins make fun of me. They say I don't belong in Slytherin because I'm not from their world."
Part of Amara's heart throbbed in memory. She knew someone who held such beliefs once, and she knew the pain of being on the receiving end of such insults. "Eleanor, you were Sorted to the Slytherin house because of who you are within and who you are meant to be. The Sorting Hat saw ambition and a desire to achieve within you. I know it will come to fruition someday. One of my dearest friends is a muggleborn, and she is a much greater witch than I am."
Other students were filtering into the classroom now. Eleanor sniffled softly but then smiled. "Thank you, Professor Grimaldi." Amara nodded and put a supportive hand on Eleanor's shoulder as she stood, beginning the lesson soon after. A Hufflepuff student, Trevor Yannick, had taken a seat next to Eleanor; Amara could sense a friendship in the making.
...
Classes were in session. The halls of Hogwarts were rather quiet between hours. A few 5th-year students mulled about during their morning free period, but Draco remained out of view. He was far past the age of climbing into the trees near the Black Lake, and yet here he sat anyhow. The waters of the Lake were calm; Draco's mind was anything but.
Amara was the same, and yet she was different. He had only seen her from a distance, seemingly consoling a student before the class began. The changes were mostly physical: her hair was longer, her eyes not as vivid. Draco could once see the light of the world encompassed in them. What had made it fizzle out?
Ambrosi had died, and he was not there for her. She traversed through dangerous terrains alone in her quests to pioneer her potions, and she had no one to come home to. Draco had lost her. With what right could he go to her and say he loves her?
"Malfoy?" The voice came from below him. Only someone who would know to look for him here would be able to find him. The person who spoke to him was Harry Potter. Draco descended as swiftly as he could, and the pair said nothing to each other for a few moments. The last time they had spoken, Harry had saved Draco's life.
Harry's mind was occupied with how wrong he had been about Malfoy. If it wasn't for his help – and the artful deceit of his mother – the world as they knew it would be drastically divergent to what it was today.
"How are you, Potter?" Pleasantries were not needed, and they were perhaps excessive, but Draco could not think of anything else to say. Harry was not about to indulge them. "Have you spoken to Amara yet? Have you told her you came back?"
Draco's answer was in his silence. "Look, Malfoy…" Harry had many things he would like to say, yet none seemed to come to his tongue. "I don't know what holds you back, and I won't tell you what to do. All I know is that Amara has never loved anyone the way she loves you. You haven't lost her yet, but you can't expect her to wait for you forever."
Harry knew there was a great probability Amara would never love another but playing on Malfoy's vulnerabilities was the best way to motivate him. He had learned that much of him after years of being his rival.
Draco said nothing. Harry had pointed out another thing Draco always had: not only her forgiveness but also her patience. He was silent for many more moments, and Harry, too, said nothing else. Then, he broke from his trance. "Thank you… Harry."
Harry blinked in shock for a moment but then smiled with a little hesitation. He was like a brother to Amara; if Harry was in Amara's life, he would be in Draco's, too. "Go get her, Draco."
The sights from the Astronomy Tower were breathtaking, as always. It was snowing once more, though Amara wasn't very cold. She was remembering the last winter night she stood on this balcony. Draco had joined her those many years ago; it was one of their last real conversations.
Shaking her head as if to dispel the memory, Amara wrapped her shawl around herself, turning to leave. Perhaps she would Floo back to her home for the night. Yet, she wasn't alone. "Amara…"
She was in front of him. Draco had seen her in his horrifying dreams every night: the angel he could never save from the pain and darkness. Here she was. It was all, and it was everything.
Amara lost her voice. She hadn't simply been imagining him. He had been near her, and now he was here. How many letters had she written to him, graced with her tears? They had never been sent. Those tears – her pain – was not another burden Amara would place on him. She could not stop her tears now.
"You came back…" She would ask for nothing but him. Didn't he know by now?
"Amara, I…" Draco could not say anything else before Amara ran into his arms. All her anger and hurt momentarily subsided. Then, his arms came around her, holding her close, and she was whole again.
The snow fell near them. The winter air swam around. Yet, neither was cold. This was warmth. This was hope. This was love… There was much to say, much to do, and much to face. Draco and Amara would do it together, and that was more than enough…
Amara never believed she would be here again. It was a place she had spent quite a bit of her childhood in; it was also the site of her darkest memory. Draco's hand squeezed hers as they looked upon Malfoy Manor from the gate. "We don't have to do this here, Amara. Just say the word."
She took a deep breath, saying nothing as she looked up at him. Draco's health and being had improved greatly: his skin was no longer pale, his eyes slowly beginning to fill with life and light. "No. I should go speak to her. Not the other way around." Narcissa was always the closest thing Amara had to a mother in her life, even after Draco distanced himself from her in their school years.
They walked through the grand gates silently. Narcissa greeted them before they even entered the foyer. She knew Amara like any mother knew their child. She knew her likes and dislikes, her tendencies, her tone when she lied… Her suffering to see Amara in pain was no different than the pain that clutched Narcissa's heart when she saw Draco's. Narcissa moved to hold her daughter, not saying another word.
Perhaps it was the warmth of Narcissa's embrace that ripped a sob past Amara's lips. She had not truly allowed herself to feel the extent of her loss and her pain. Her love for Draco, though immensely powerful in its own right, was world's away from how she adored his mother. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I am so sorry I couldn't protect you. Please forgive me."
Narcissa's tear-filled eyes looked upon her son as she held Amara. She had been able to call her son away from the war but had left Amara there. Narcissa had not even contacted her at Draco's request.
"Please don't apologize, Narcissa… everything is fine now. Let's not dwell on the past." Draco had been silent, a non-participant in this overwhelming interaction up until then. He, too, joined the embrace, holding the two women he loved to the ends of this universe and back. The three stood there, reminding themselves they were all safe and sound… they were a family that would heal together.
A few months had passed. To everyone but Amara's surprise, Draco too became an Auror alongside Harry and Ron; his firsthand knowledge of the Dark Arts proved to be a great asset.
Draco was now well accepted by Amara's friends; Ronald had taken some convincing, but even he couldn't deny the changes he saw in Draco. He seemed to be an entirely different man than the boy he knew in school.
Hogwarts was closed for the summer, and Amara had whisked Draco away to the Grimaldi summer home in Paris. The two went from room to room when they arrived, reminiscing about their childhood shenanigans here. At night, they sat in front of the fireplace. Tonight, Draco lay with his head in Amara's lap, staring at the flames and watching them dance. This was happiness. This was peace. This was where he would want to stay forever.
Amara looked down upon him as Draco shifted to meet his eyes with hers. Her fingers caressed his hair soothingly, and his brushed against her cheek with a touch as light as a feather. "Do you remember… in sixth year… Slughorn's classroom… and he had brought Amortentia?"
Amara smiled wistfully, her eyes entranced with his. She nodded before taking a glance around this very room. It contained the memory her Amortentia held. This was the place where she would always remember Draco. He was her Draco now, and he would always be, but it was here where the Draco of her childhood – her first love – would forever remain.
"Within it, I always smell our memories from here. The fireplace, the caramel and ice cream and hot chocolate from our vacations… and you." Draco's hand gently held her cheek, framing her face as he pulled her down into the sweetest of kisses, sweeter than any of their memories. It was here he had to ask Amara to stay by his side forever.
Not letting his lips leave hers, Draco sat up, bringing Amara into his lap. They were wrapped up in each other, hidden in their own corner of the world. "Amara…" He had so many words planned, but they all escaped him. Draco would speak the words that came from his heart. "Years ago, I ran into a little girl at a party in my home. She wore a purple dress, yet her shoes were stained as if she had just run through some fields. She became my best friend… and she was my first love."
Amara's heart was racing, and as she listened, tears began to well up in her eyes. "Only, I had failed her time and time again. I left her, but she always came back to me. I hurt her, and she always forgave me. One thing I have never forgotten… is that I promised to marry her one day. It was the only promise I had made to her, and so it is one I cannot break."
"It was right here where I had made that oath to Amara Lucianna Grimaldi, and it is here I will see it to the end." Draco had shed a few tears as well, and his voice was held back by the force of the love he felt. "Tonight, I will not ask her to marry me. I only intend to inform her I am keeping my promise. It is tonight that I make her a new promise… a promise to protect, love, and cherish her forever."
Though he had asked no question, it was present in his eyes. Amara answered with a kiss, and Draco's soul felt resurrected. Healed as if it had never been harmed. For now, he had his angel, and with her, he could conquer all trials. She was his strength. She was his love. She was his home.
Three years later, the Grimaldi-Malfoy Manor was filled with sunshine, smiles, and laughter. The tiny giggles of the newest member of the family, Scorpius Draco, echoed over the bathroom tiles as he splashed his hand against the water, wetting his father's face. He had graced the lives of his parents with his arrival nearly one year ago, and it was as if both had been revived. "Dada!"
Draco laughed as well, wiping the water from his eyes. Though both had aged some, Amara still looked at him the way she always did. Her heart just about melted when she saw him with their son. Draco picked Scorpius up, blowing a raspberry on his tummy before wrapping him up in a towel and peppering kisses all over his face. Scorpius's giggles transitioned into happy but tired coos as he hugged his father's neck as best as he could.
His eyelids began to droop then, as if right on schedule. Soon enough, Draco had him ready for bed while his mother got him a bottle. Amara sat in the rocking chair; Scorpius nuzzled into her chest as he drank, his eyes barely open. Tucking him in was always the hardest part, simply because neither parent would want to let him go, but let him go they did with the promise of each other and a new day together as he drifted off to the land of the sweetest dreams…
Twenty-one years later, the family was now one of five. Scorpius's younger sister, Aelia, was just like their mother, even more so when the third child came along. Perseus was a troublemaker, and whenever he got hurt, he ran to his loving elder sister who took care of him just as Amara did.
On this warm spring afternoon, Amara and Draco sat with their friends – extended family, really, for they were Aunt Amara and Uncle Draco without being related by blood – enjoying tea as the children all ran around the large yard behind their home. Draco, Ron, and Harry were having some discussion about work, as usual. The women were used to this and were in conversation about their own lives.
Amara was easily the favorite Professor at Hogwarts, or so Rose reported. Within the last year, she had taken Professor Flitwick's post as Head of Ravenclaw House after his retirement. Hermione made leaps and bounds in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, recognized for her outstanding work; there was even talk of her taking the position for Minister of Magic. Ginny had retired from the Holyhead Harpies just recently and was now a Sports Editor for The Daily Prophet.
Laughter and smiles could be seen everywhere. Lily and Aelia had managed to cover to discover some wildflowers and were busy braiding them into each other's hair. From the corner of her eye, Amara noticed Albus and Scorpius slink off towards the brook just a ways away. They reminded her an awful lot of her and Draco when they were young. Rose sat on the edge of the fountain with a book, enjoying the sunshine and pleasant wind as she read aloud to Perseus. Hugo and James were flying around on their broomsticks, both of their mothers asking them to "Slow down!" at the same time.
As Harry once put it, all was well.
This completes my Draco Malfoy mini series. I cannot tell you how many times I cried while imagining my beloved characters finally getting their happy endings. As always, feel free to reach out to me on here or through my email. Your reviews and reads mean the world to me, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel
