𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒫𝓇ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓈ℯ𝒹 𝒪𝓃ℯ | 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 |

#17 A Toast to Hope

90 days before

Celebrating a feast, when the world was ending around us, was the most pathetic and surreal thing I ever did in my whole life. It's like we were all mice, dancing on a sinking ship, destined to go down, but caught up into an own world.

My Mom had gave me a beautiful, floor length silver ball gown. Its corset was tight around my upper body, the straps secure around my shoulders to expose my chest, on which Draco's necklace laid between my collarbones. It was glittering in the light, the back bare almost down to my lower back and were the floating, layered skirt started. My hair was down, fluid gold over my shoulders. just the strains around my face were braided and pinned back.

The worst on it was, that there was no fabric covering the dark mark. It was there, always outstanding every night I changed into PJs and climbed into Draco's bed. It was there, when I woke up. When I was not thinking about it, I caught myself flinching as soon as I looked into the strange grin of the skull. Or whenever it felt like moving as soon as the Dark Lord was near.

I used every free minute I had to come up with a plan to get El, Luna and Ollivander out of the dungeons. I knew, that Voldemort tortured the old man for the information about the elder wand, enough for the wand maker to crack. The fear I had, that the Dark Lord would use Luna or El for some information, was keeping me on edge all the time. But at least it kept my thought from traveling to the grief which burnt a hole inside of me.

A knock on the door jumped me back from my traveling mind, while I simply stared at myself in the mirror.

"I'm almost ready.", I called out and laid down the brush I still had in my hand, before I stood up and smoothed the fabric of my dress down. The door opened a slit, exposing a handsome blonde boy with a bespoke suit. He closed the door, before he turned around and stopped at the sight. Just for a split seconds his eyes widened, before his lips changed to a small, but honest smirk as he came over. His hands lifted up, laid down on my neck, before he let them travel over my shoulder, down my arms and over my waist, where they settled.

"You indeed look like my queen, young lady.", he snickered and came down to kiss me. His hands remained on my neck, his thumb stroking over my lips to get rid of the small strain my lipstick did over the edge by the touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Honest answer?", I breathed out as far as the corset let me. "Terrible."

"I know what I'm asking for.", Draco curled his lips to a straight line for a second. "I really wish I wouldn't have to, love."

"Draco, we were at this point.", I rolled my eyes and did a step away from him by the small stab in the chest I felt every time I thought about it, coming with the sickness. Draco and I fought about his bidding to help his father, well mostly did he listen and I yelled. He knew what he asked for, I threw it at his head as soon as he explained his plan. But he didn't even asked again as I first declined. He accepted, he understood. And then I heard him silently crying in the night after he returned to his room without me to give me some space. And the most hurtful of all, I heard him talking to Maribel about it. About her forgiveness, that he even had to ask me for it, that he hated himself for not being able to just give up on him and that he wished she would answer with something he could do.

"It's okay", I lied as best as I could and took the small purse from my dressing table.

"Then I will be damned, if I'm not making sure you're maybe at least having a bit of enjoy tonight."

"Despite everything? You will have a hard job with it.", I smiled, but was distracted by his hand traveling down to the edge of my dress, continuing with his fingers to the point where the cutout stopped between my breasts.