DRARRY oneshots

Past

It was a dark and stormy night at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy found himself wandering the empty corridors, unable to sleep. As he passed by the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, a chill ran down his spine. He had always been intrigued by the forest, but tonight it seemed darker, more foreboding than usual.

Ignoring the voice of reason in his head, Draco stepped into the forest, his wand held tightly in his hand. The trees loomed overhead, casting strange shadows in the moonlight. He could hear the sounds of creatures moving in the underbrush, and he felt a sense of unease creep over him.

As he walked deeper into the forest, Draco heard a rustling noise behind him. He spun around, his wand at the ready, but there was nothing there. He tried to shake off the feeling of being watched, but it lingered, growing stronger with each step he took.

Suddenly, Draco heard a voice whispering his name. He turned, his heart pounding, but there was no one there. He tried to tell himself that it was just his imagination, but the voice grew louder, more insistent, as if it were coming from all around him.

Draco stumbled through the forest, his heart racing, until he came to a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood Harry Potter, his eyes dark and haunted. Draco tried to speak, to ask him what was wrong, but Harry just stood there, staring at him with a look of pure terror.

And then Draco saw it. A dark figure, tall and shadowy, emerged from the trees behind Harry. Draco raised his wand, ready to defend himself, but before he could cast a spell, the figure lunged at Harry, enveloping him in darkness.

Draco tried to run, to escape the nightmare unfolding before him, but he was frozen in place. He could only watch in horror as the figure dragged Harry into the shadows, leaving behind nothing but a chilling echo of laughter.

When the sun rose the next morning, Draco was found unconscious in the Forbidden Forest. He was taken back to Hogwarts, but he was never the same. He would often be found wandering the corridors at night, muttering to himself about shadows and whispers, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in the forest.