Heartbreakingly Beautiful - Draco Malfoy x Reader

37

*Flash back*

During their third year at Hogwarts, the chilling game of truth and dare among the Slytherin boys brought Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott face to face with a grave danger outside the castle walls. Blaise Zabini had dared them to brave the dementor-guarded perimeters, and as they stepped into the dark, an eerie chill enveloped them. Suddenly, a dementor glided menacingly towards Theodore, causing panic.

Desperate to save his friend and overcome by the daunting task, Draco knew his only chance was to conjure a Patronus, a spell he had never successfully cast due to his lack of truly happy memories. Scouring the depths of his memory for a sliver of genuine joy, Draco found himself recalling a warm, laughter-filled day from his childhood spent with y/n.

The memory was vivid: they had sneaked into the kitchen of the Grants manor after the house elves had finished for the evening. The plan was to bake a surprise birthday cake for Aurora. With flour on their faces and batter everywhere but in the baking tin, they giggled and whispered, crafting a culinary masterpiece—or so they believed. The kitchen was a mess, the cake was lopsided, but the joy of doing something so fun and secretive filled Draco with a warmth he seldom felt.

Holding onto that pure, blissful memory, Draco raised his wand with newfound confidence and murmured, "Expecto Patronum." A silver light burst forth, and to his astonishment, a shimmering penguin materialized, chasing away the dementor with its bright, protective glow.

The dementor receded, driven back by the force of the Patronus, leaving Theodore safe and sound. Draco, heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and relief, realized then the powerful magic that joy could wield—even joy from the simplest acts of baking a cake with his best friend. This memory, filled with innocence and laughter, had given him the strength to conjure his first Patronus.

*End of flashback*

In the secluded enclave of the Room of Requirement, the atmosphere was thick with the hum of focused energy and the sharp snaps of wands as Dumbledore's Army honed their defensive skills. The space had morphed to meet their needs, creating a convincing facsimile of the Forbidden Forest, complete with the illusion of rustling leaves and distant, ominous growls that seemed to echo from the shadows. This practice ground was designed not just to train but to test their courage and control in environments that mimicked real threats.

y/n, as the most proficient witch among the group, took the lead. She walked through the crowd, correcting grips and encouraging her peers, her authority and confidence bolstering the group's morale. The session's climax approached with the introduction of the Patronus Charm, a spell requiring not just magical prowess but a deep, personal dive into one's happiest memories.

The group's attempts were a mixed bag. Some managed mere wisps of silver, others more defined shapes, all unique and deeply telling of their inner worlds. When y/n stepped forward, the chatter subsided, replaced by an anticipatory silence. She stood, eyes closed and face serene but with a tension in her shoulders speaking to the importance of the moment. Her friends watched, holding their breaths.

With a deep inhale, y/n sifted through her memories, searching for that pure, untainted joy needed to fuel the spell. Her mind settled on a vivid, cherished memory, one untarnished by the trials and shadows that now touched so much of their lives. She was back in the Manor's vast kitchen, sunlight streaming through the windows, casting golden highlights on Draco's blond hair. Laughter, warm and real, bubbled up around them as they both attempted to bake a cake—a disastrous but hilarious endeavor. Flour was everywhere, their hands and faces smeared with white powder, the kitchen a testament to their culinary misadventure.

Feeling a smile spread across her face at the recollection, y/n opened her eyes, her wand at the ready. "Expecto Patronum!" she commanded. The words echoed, a tangible force of will and memory. From the tip of her wand sprang forth a luminous, silver swan, its wings wide and majestic as it circled the room, bathing it in a soft, protective light. The room erupted in cheers and claps, her friends' faces lit with awe and pride.