Silver and Gold // Dramione

Forfeit

-Here is your SMUT warning -

6th Year, December 31st

They say you know exactly the moment things change.

The second in time where your world flips upside down. When what's wrong becomes right, and whats right becomes wrong.

It's when time stops. When you see without the rose coloured glasses, and your life becomes whole.

Draco never though it could be like that. Not for him, not in this life at least. This life that was filled with torment, and classists. Life of Death and Phoenix's. Of prophecies and chosen boys.

It was too complicated for clarity to come in the form of a single second in time.

But that was before he'd watched the memory of a little girl running in wide pastures.

Fire in her eyes, magic in her veins, but not a drop the fear that grappled at him his whole life. How her bare feet ran through the tall grass - almost up to her shoulders - and her guardians chased her through the fields.

They weren't running way from something, or in search of a safe haven. There was no one chasing them, hot on their tails in purists to destroy their little world. No, they were free, and running for joy as the summer sun cascaded down on them, illuminating their joy and the memory. There wasn't the promise of a safe house, warded beyond belief in there horizon, and there wasn't the horrors of a bounty behind them.

There was the laughter of mother, the joking of a father, and the sweet smile of a happy child.

There were daffodils and basil growing in the gardens as they ran towards their small cottage home in the horizon. The smell of freshly baked bread in their senses and his.

"Alright, Aurie dear. Clean up before lunch..." The fatherly voice called as the little girl ran through the kitchen. She couldn't have been more than seven, ashy blonde hair reaching her waist and bellowing in the wind she created as she ran through the room.

It was the voice of Ted Tonks, filling the air as he went to the small kitchen ink to clean the dirt off of his own and. His wife tending to the bread she'd just pulled from the stone stove. He'd only ever seen one photo of his aunt Andromeda, and certainly none of her husband. Andromeda had the almost mirrored face of his mother, the difference being the slip told in her smile and the softness of her brown curls.

Ted looked equally soft and sombre, dark circled under his eyes from late nights with his little girl under the stars and gruff hands from tending the Garden and house.

The little girl stopped, right in front of the oven, which now could be clearly seen as a cooking fireplace: a golden flame flickered beneath the tray. With a subtle wave of her little hand, and the brightness of her eyes brimming, the flame was gone, cast back into her small body. The girl turned to Ted: