- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕯raco leans against the door to the study, knocking lightly.
It's his mother that lifts her head first, setting down her cup of tea onto the trestle table, smiling in invitation to come in. His father doesn't acknowledge his presence, too stuck into his crossword on the Daily Prophet, until he hears his wife ask almost knowingly,
"Are you going?"
Draco nods, glancing out of the nearest window to the darkening sky. It's bordering dinner time now, he'll be damned if he leaves Oonagh to another meal by herself, crawl into a half-empty bed and fall asleep to the noise of her own steady breathing. Un-snuggled, un-kissed, un-treasured the way she should be. He wants to go home, now that there's the chance to, an opening, there's no other option for him.
"You're not going to your chambers, are you?"
For once, Draco doesn't feel the need to lie. Whether it's the overwhelming yearning to be with his girlfriend taking over, or it's the oddly light tone of his father's voice, he doesn't know, he just doesn't want to lie anymore. The truth always comes to light in the end, they'll have to face the facts soon enough, his mother's already starting to come to terms with it. His father should start too, because whether he likes it or not, it's happening.
He shakes his head, breathing out simply, "No, I am not"
Lucius silently studies him a long moment, flickers down to his crossword to fill another that just came to mind, then, faint and quiet, "Who, may I ask, are you going to?"
Besides him, Narcissa brings her tea back up to her lips sipping. It's warm, but not as warm as the loved-up expression that floods her son's face, grey eyes glazing over with the pages of his fairytale. She glances to her husband, notices that he's studying Draco once again, deciphering that look and coming to a similar conclusion that she's been long sitting on.
He says it in a whoosh of a breath, like the mere thought takes his breath away. Yet there's a finality to it, something strong and unwavering, he's already made up his mind, nothing else will ever suffice for him now. They could try, but it won't work.
"The one"
"Don't keep her waiting, Draco. Turning up on time is late" Narcissa reminds gently, smirking at the pink that colours the tops of his ears, returning in nothing more than a mutter,
"I know, Maman"
He hunches himself over, leaning down enough to fit her between his arms and peck her cheek. The hug doesn't surprise Narcissa anymore, she's pleasantly been receiving plenty of them recently, it surprises Lucius who has clearly been very behind on all matters of their son.
Draco doesn't hug him, he's not there yet, he probably won't be any time soon, but he does give him a half smile that leaves Lucius with a rare warmth stirring in his chest. He can't remember the last time Draco smiled for him, at him. It's certainly not in the last couple of years. It's nice.
