The Keeper of Secrets. (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

The Journey Back

Ophelia Fontaine sat quietly by the window of the Hogwarts Express, the countryside rushing past in a blur of green and gold. Her mind wandered back to the sun-dappled gardens of Malfoy Manor, where she and Draco had spent countless hours playing hide and seek. She could still hear his voice, full of laughter and frustration, calling out her nickname, "Ophy."

It had been five long years since that day, the day she had to tell her best friend that she was moving to France. Ophelia sighed, resting her head against the cool glass. Her life since moving had been vastly different from the carefree days spent with Draco.

Her father's new job at the French Ministry had meant their lives became rather closed off. The importance of his work with historical magical artifacts required the utmost secrecy, and their family had been isolated from the wider wizarding community, seeing only authorized politicians and Ministry employees. Despite this seclusion, Ophelia had found a way to thrive.

She had become her father's eager assistant, helping him study artifacts and uncover their hidden histories. This work had sparked her own curiosity and deepened her appreciation for the magical world. Though her circle was limited, she had made friends within the Ministry, many of whom were like extended family to her. She had attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, making a few good friends there as well.

Ophelia glanced down at her reflection in the glass, seeing not the small, thin girl who had left England, but a bright, inquisitive thirteen-year-old. Her pale skin contrasted with her dark brown, slightly wavy hair, and her large hazel eyes were filled with excitement and a hint of nervousness. She was looking forward to experiencing life beyond the sheltered existence she had known, and most importantly, to seeing Draco again.

Her father's job had finally come to an end, allowing their family to return to England. As Secret Keepers, the Fontaines had always been entrusted with the wizarding world's most dangerous and sensitive information. It was their unique gift—an innate ability to keep secrets to the grave—that had made them indispensable. This same gift had also granted them the rare privilege of conducting research on magical artifacts, safeguarding their mysteries.

Ophelia thought back to the moment she had bid farewell to her father. Romeo Fontaine had struggled with the thought of sending her off. His normally composed demeanor had faltered as he hugged her tightly, his warmth surrounding her like a protective shield. Clair had watched from the doorway, her heart warming at the sight of her husband's struggle to let their daughter go.

She had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around both of them, a heartfelt hug that seemed to encapsulate their family's love and the bittersweetness of the moment. "You've been such a great daughter, Ophelia," Clair had whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of how you adapted to everything when we moved to France. You've grown into such a wonderful young witch."

Ophelia had smiled through her tears, feeling her mother's pride wrap around her like a comforting blanket. Clair had leaned back, her eyes glistening. "And when you see Draco, be sure to send him my love. He was always so good to you."

Now, as the train sped towards Hogwarts, Ophelia allowed herself to imagine what lay ahead. She wondered if Draco would remember her, if he had changed as much as she had. Would he still be the same boy who had vowed she could never leave him again? They had not seen or spoken to each other since the day she left. The secrecy surrounding her father's job had made it too dangerous to maintain contact.

As she glanced at the compartment doors, Ophelia realized she was alone. She was on her way to Hogwarts a day after the school year had started, leaving her to ride the train while everyone else was already in class. The thought was both daunting and exciting.

Finally, the train slowed, coming to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. Ophelia took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves as she stepped onto the platform. The air was brisk, and the distant sound of the Great Lake gently lapping against the shore filled her with warmth. She took a moment to soak it all in—the familiar sights and sounds that had been absent from her life for so long.

As she stepped off the train, she was greeted by a familiar figure: Professor Minerva McGonagall. Ophelia's heart swelled at the sight of the stern yet kind witch, who had been a good friend of her father's during his time at Hogwarts. Romeo had often spoken of her, recounting stories of how McGonagall had guided him through his studies and how they had kept in touch long after he graduated.

"Ophelia! How wonderful to see you!" Professor McGonagall said, her voice warm and welcoming as she approached. "Your mother told me of your father having a rather... difficult time seeing his only daughter off. But I'm glad to see you here—long overdue, in my opinion. Your father was such a promising student, and I expect nothing but the same from you."

"Professor McGonagall!" Ophelia exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face. "It's good to see you! I've heard so many wonderful things about Hogwarts from my father. I'm really looking forward to it!"

"I can imagine," she replied with a nod. "Now, don't worry about your bags; they will be taken care of. I'll escort you to Dumbledore's office. The first classes have already begun, so you'll just need to greet the headmaster before we sort you."

Ophelia followed McGonagall through the stone archways of the castle, her heart racing with excitement. Each step brought her closer to a new chapter in her life—a life filled with friends, adventures, and perhaps even a reunion with Draco.

As they reached Dumbledore's office, Ophelia couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and hope. She would soon be standing in front of the legendary headmaster, ready to embrace whatever awaited her at Hogwarts. She was determined to make the most of this new beginning, no longer bound by the secrets of her past but eager to forge her own path forward.