His Sister

18. end of fourth year.

Y/N didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't even sit with Hermione or Ron in the common room without the two looking at her like she was pitiful. So, she left to go sit in the hall in a windowsill alone, only in the dark under the stars.

She had been waiting for Harry. It had felt like it had been forever waiting on him, but it had only been about ten minutes.

She sat there looking at the sky, begging for an answer as to why everything seemed to be falling apart. Why this wonderful world she had just gotten? Why these wonderful people?

How was she supposed to heal and move on from her disgusting past when her present wasn't even peaceful anymore? What kind of a home or sanctuary was that?

She closed her eyes and thunked her head against the wall. How miserable. This was exactly her luck. It made her wonder if everything would've been fine if she had never came in the first place. Perhaps she was the bad omen.

"I take it that you find these windowsills comforting?" came that familiar voice that always seemed to find her. She snapped her eyes open and looked over, and sure enough, Draco was approaching her.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly. She was so defeated. He slowly lowered himself into the space across from her, and she tucked her legs close to make room for him.

"This is the second time I've found you sitting in one when you were in an awful mood," he remarked with a sympathetic smile. She huffed a laugh and pulled her legs close, trying to use them for comfort.

"Yeah," she replied with hardly any energy. "I guess so." He tucked his head down to meet her eyes, and she flicked hers over to see him. He looked so open, so concerned, and yet so glad.

"That was rough," he started, "back there. You were very shaken up." She felt her eyes sting at the memory of it, and she bit her lip.

"How am I supposed to grow?" she asked desperately, her voice not able to breach a whisper. "I was supposed to be getting away from horrible things, not going into more. Draco, please. What do I do?" His face relaxed into an expression of wonder, and he could only stare for a moment.

He hesitantly took one of her hands in his own and stared at it as he squeezed it. It was something so foreign, so fragile. She felt her skin tingle at his touch, and she felt her chest bloom with something she never would've associated with him.

"I don't know," he told her. "But you can't break." He looked up at her, and his lips were pursed in concentration. His eyes were soft and vulnerable. She knew he was being honest with her.

"I'm scared," she admitted as her voice broke. He took his other hand and lifted it to her cheek to wipe a stray tear. She wanted to crumble.

"Don't break," he told her sternly. "You use it to fuel yourself. You're strong. You've gotten this far." She nodded and wiped at her nose. He dropped his hands away from her, and she already missed them.

"Why are you being so nice?" she asked. He smiled, genuinely smiled, and looked up to the stars outside.

"You're just different," he said softly. "I expected you to be as much of a nuisance to me as your brother is, but you're just different. I feel like you've lost more. Like me." She looked at him curiously and poked at his shoulder.

"What have we lost?" she asked. "You know, that my brother hasn't?" He looked at her solemnly and appeared as though he were mulling over his words.

"Love," he said finally, as if the word felt strange on his tongue. "We've never known love." She looked down and nodded into her elbow, and he stood silently. "I'll see you later." She looked up at him and nodded again.