✓ WE NEVER SLEEP, draco malfoy

T H I R T Y - F I V E

"I will write you a message in the stars, urging you to study the twilight sky and find your way back to me."

— Noor Shirazie, Into the Wildfire: Mourning Departures

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Draco and Rowan spent New Years Eve together at the manor. Narcissa had insisted Draco stay for the duration of the holiday season and he couldn't refuse. His mother might not be the most cruel but when she demands her son to stay, he stays. 

He'd gotten Rowan to spend the holiday with him since he still didn't approve of the idea of her venturing off back to Hogwarts alone or even staying at her home. Sure, things weren't as horrible as they once were and Florence was now on their side, he still didn't like the idea. There was something twisted in that home, hidden unlike his. His home, his manor, showed its rot and rage. It showed its ruin without care. 

"Are you sure you don't want to go to Hogsmeade for New Years?" Rowan asked for the fifth time that evening. 

Draco looked at her from her spot perched on the arm of one of the chairs in the library. She was looking through the shelves, running her fingers over dust and pulling books free when it sparked her interest and he could've sworn she looked heavenly. 

She wore a black turtleneck sweater and this plaid skirt that drove his mind all over the place. Her legs were covered with black stockings and she wore little heels and he wanted to reach out and drag his fingers up its seams. Her hair was in a low ponytail that was itching for his fingers to wrap around and she had these two loose strands by her face that made her look so effortlessly gorgeous, it was almost as if he were looking at something otherworldly.

"Are you really that nervous about being here alone with me and mother?" he said, readjusting how he was laying across the couch. He crossed his feet at the ankles, careful not to put his shoes on the fine cushions. If his father had been here, he would've been scolded. He could've possibly been beat for such as act. He would've been when he was younger, he was sure of it. 

"Yes," replied Rowan, honestly. 

He admired her when she spoke her mind. She wasn't afraid to turn her head to him or even lie to make him feel better. She would looked at him and tell him the honest truth. They were past all the lies now.

"She's not that bad," he said, resting the book he had in his hands across his stomach.

"It's not just her," she said and he heard the tap of her shoes as she moved to another shelf. "It's sad here, Draco. It's so...empty." 

He couldn't argue. He would walk these halls and feel as if there wasn't a ghost in sight. He could spread his arms out wide and feel nothing but air and coldness. 

"It's a lovely home but there's no life here," she whispered. He heard the tap of her shoes again and they softened against the rug. She leaned down, resting against the back of the couch and looking down at him. "Tonight, let's have fireworks."

"Fireworks?" he laughed, resting his arm behind his head to look up at her. 

She leaned her head against her hands with a smile. "Big, bright, loud fireworks." 

He didn't respond, merely taking in the way she looked at him. This shouldn't be his. He shouldn't have anyone looking at him like that, so adoringly, so lovingly. No one should love him like this, not after everything he's done.

"Draco," she whispered and his heart fluttered, "please?"

He reached up with his free hand and let his fingers play with one of the loose strands. "Anything for you, darling."