𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 | 𝐝.𝐦

𝟏𝟔

Draco Malfoy | December 1995

"Have you got everything, Tori?" Draco asked as he leaned against the door, watching his girlfriend pack.

"I think so." Astoria quickly glanced around the guest room, as if to check if she left anything.

Even though Draco and Astoria were dating and slept in his room most nights, Narcissa still insisted on giving one of the many guest rooms to Astoria.

"I'll take your trunk for you." Draco walked inside the room and closed her trunk before picking it up off the bed.

"Thank you." Astoria smiled and kissed his cheek.

The couple walked out of the room and down the grand staircase. He walked her to the foyer and went to the closet to grab her coat. He helped her put it on and he took her shoes off the shoe rack.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, Astoria." Narcissa walked into the foyer. "You are welcome any time, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Astoria shot her a grateful smile.

Narcissa kissed Astoria on the cheek and hugged bye. Draco walked out with Astoria, her trunk in his hand.

He walked her to the vehicle picking her up, and put her trunk in the car. "See you soon." He dipped down to kiss her. It's like kissing a gnome.

He opened the door for her, and she settled herself in the vehicle.

Draco watched as the vehicle drove off before he walked back up the long stair pathway to his manor door.

His head hung low, his well-polished shoes leaving footprints as he walked through the thin, fresh blanket of snow. The snow was still falling. It never stopped.

By the time he got inside of the manor, his hair was decorated and a little bit wet from the snowflakes.

His father was supposed to be back before dinner, and Draco still had yet to have that discussion his father was so keen on having.

Draco sat with his mother for tea. He made conversation with her and laughed with her, trying to swallow that rock of unease in his throat.

And as soon as she went to do some errands, he went to his room. He laid on his bed and stared up at the dark chandelier hanging from his high ceiling.

♧︎

Draco sat at the opposite end of the table where his father sat in the dining room. He watched as elves went in and out, putting plates and dishes of food on the dark-wood table for dinner.

So much food, yet Draco couldn't find the appetite to be excited for any of it.

Draco always sat at the opposite end of the table as his father. The table was abnormally long, and it did irritate Draco.

He didn't like having big and royal material things. He was grateful, of course he was, but sometimes he just wanted something cozy and warm.

His bedroom was probably the closest thing to cozy and warm. No, scratch that. His dorm room at Hogwarts was the closest thing to cozy and warm.

Now, Draco's heart was beating. This dinner his mother had the elves prepare was obviously for a special occasion.

And Draco noticed a fourth place set.

Tom Riddle.

Sorry, Voldemort, he was called now.

Draco subconsciously fidgeted with the many rings on his fingers. He had eight rings in total.