Heartbreakingly Beautiful - Draco Malfoy x Reader

35

Dumbledore's expression remained serious, yet there was a hint of compassion in his eyes as he poured another memory into the basin. "I'm not finished yet, Y/N. There is more you need to understand."

Y/N's hands trembled as she once again leaned over the Pensieve, feeling the pull into another memory:

The chilling night air swirled around Grants Manor as it became the epicenter of a fierce battle. Dark figures, led by Voldemort, advanced menacingly through the ornate corridors, their presence a stark contrast to the elegant opulence surrounding them. Inside, Circe and Cataleya Grants, fortified by courage and desperation, stood their ground, wielding their magic against the dark forces. Their eldest son, Aiden, fought bravely beside them, while young Aurora, only seven, was hidden away under a protective charm, trembling with fear. In the nursery, the youngest of the Grants, nine-month-old Y/N, cried out from her crib, her innocence unbeknownst to the peril that surrounded her.

As Voldemort approached the nursery, his presence seemed to suck the warmth out of the air. The cries of baby Y/N grew louder, her distress palpable even amidst the chaos of spells and curses flying through the air. Voldemort paused at the threshold, his cold, red eyes fixed on the crib. He extended his wand, unleashing a sinister curse meant to bind the child's future to his will. Yet, remarkably, the child remained unaffected, her cries continuing unabated, a clear defiance to the dark magic attempted upon her.

"Interesting," Voldemort mused aloud, his voice a serpentine hiss that filled the room. "The prophecy does not lie. The Grants' child could indeed be the key to greater power."

Circe, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and fury, stepped forward, positioning himself between Voldemort and his daughter's crib. "You will not touch her, Voldemort. I won't allow you to corrupt her innocence," he declared, his voice steely.

Voldemort's smile was chilling as he replied, "Oh, but imagine the possibilities, Circe. A child of such promise raised under my guidance. She would be unstoppable."

"You think you can sway the fate of my daughter, mold her into a weapon for your conquests? She is a child, not a tool for you or anyone else," Circe retorted, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

Voldemort chuckled, a sound devoid of any warmth. "Every great leader knows that destiny is but a clay to be shaped. And I intend to sculpt your daughter into a masterpiece of dark magic."

With resolve hardening like steel, Circe countered, "Then you are deluded. Her destiny will be her own, shaped by her choices, not by your decrepitude."

The tension in the room spiked as Voldemort sneered, his patience thinning. "Very well, if you insist on being a thorn in my side, I shall remove you. But consider this—your resistance only delays the inevitable. One way or another, she will be mine."

In a desperate, last-ditch effort to protect his youngest, Circe quickly grabbed a handful of Floo powder from his pocket. With a swift motion, he sprinkled it over Y/N in her crib, whispering forcefully, "To the Potters'!" ensuring her escape to where her uncle would keep her safe.

As the green flames enveloped the child, whisking her away to safety, Voldemort's fury knew no bounds as he witnessed her disappearance. In a fit of rage, he ordered, "Find her!" But before the command could be fully enacted, one of his followers, eager to demonstrate loyalty, cast a lethal spell towards Circe. "Avada Kedavra!" The curse struck true, and Circe crumpled to the ground, his life extinguished in an instant.

The grandeur of Grants Manor was now shadowed by tragedy. Cataleya, overcome with grief, fell to her knees, her wails of despair mingling with Aurora's terrified screams. Aiden, tears obscuring his vision, clutched his sister close, his young mind struggling to comprehend the loss and chaos around them. The night at Grants Manor had turned into a harrowing saga of loss, the echoes of which would reverberate through their lives forever, shaping their destiny in ways they could never have imagined.