The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Early Bright

February 2nd 1998

When Draco woke up he buried himself into the warm, soft sheets of their bed. Though he missed the luscious comforts of his bed at the Manor, this bed bet camping. Even better he awoke every day beside Harper. He rubbed the remainders of sleep from his eyes as he reached out to cuddle her closer, only to be met with an empty, cold space. When he realised she was already up, he just sighed and stayed in bed.

The curtains were drawn slightly, vivid light extended across a rosy sky. All his life, Draco thought scenes like this were strange. Everyone would watch the sun rise or set and consider it beautiful, but he always believed that to be outlandish. In fact, he always deemed it to be stupid to find something meaningful in something so every-day. It's not like the sun wouldn't rise, it had been reliably happening since the beginning of time. He could never feel the joy from it others did.

That was until Harper made him watch it with her and she taught him the allure of nature's carnival dance. The light would drift into their room, waking them up every morning and igniting the colours of the space. Her hair would be cast in crimson, skin bathed in the rosy glow until it was the new day. Harper had taught him to respect existence, to find something beautiful in everything they did and then all they were doing, their lives even, was beautiful.

"The world is a beautiful place, Draco, this right here is worth fighting for."

But the most beautiful thing about it wasn't the wash of colours, it was the way Harper's eyes lit up at them.

He stirred when someone knocked on the door, frowning slightly. Harper wouldn't knock.

"Yes?" He asked.

"It's me," that dopey voice and accent, he knew it was Weasley.

"What do you want, 'me'?"

"I need to come in."

"No," Draco said.

He opened the door anyway, still wearing his blue pajamas and a piece of parchment in his hand. The irritation immediately clenched in his throat, why would fucking Ron Weasley be bothering him at this time in the morning? It was going to be even worse if he had the nerve to ask for Harper.

"I said-"

"They're gone," he said, face betraying no humour.

"What?" Draco snarled, sitting up. He had no shirt on, just some of Weasley's old extra trackies. "Who?"

"Hermione and Harper, they left this letter. They've gone to Gringotts without us."

"That's one of your worst jokes."

"It's not a joke."

"Bullshit," he said, tearing the covers off him and storming through to the stairway of the cottage. It was supposed to be freezing at this time of day and year, but now hot blood coursed through him. Harper wouldn't just up and leave in the middle of the night. Not after everything they went through, she wouldn't separate them again, would she? "Harper? Harper?!" He called.

Weasley pursued him through the cottage while Draco checked doors, then rooms. "I'm telling the truth, Malfoy," he urged, "the letter says they required stealth in low numbers."

He stopped in the kitchen, staring heatedly at the front door and balling his fists. "I thought they were just being meticulous with the potion, but I just figured the rest of us would use the invisibility cloak."

"They probably knew we wouldn't agree with the plan," he thought out loud.

A snarl thundered behind Draco's teeth, "or maybe they just saw you as an inconvenience when it comes to anything skillful and covert."