In my dreams//Harry Potter Imagines

Something there (Draco Malfoy)

Draco watched as you twirled around the kitchen of the Malfoy Manor, a sterling silver spoon in hand. In a cozy robe and pajamas, he thought you were quite a sight. His favorite sight in the world, nevertheless.

"One more week," you sang. "That's seven more days until we're married." After placing your dishes in the sink, you sat down at the dining table next to Draco. "Can you imagine?"

"Seeing as we already live together," said he, gesturing to the vast interior of the manor, "I quite easily can."

You nudged him with your elbow. "It's still not the same. Soon, we'll be Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy." You paused. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Although he replied with a nod, Draco couldn't help but frown at the sound of his last name. What was once a word he flaunted about and held to the highest esteem had turned into a scarlet letter after the Second Wizarding War.

He furrowed his eyebrows, dragging his spoon along the rim of his bowl. Soon, you would bear the name Malfoy. Malfoy. A name tarnished and sent to Azkaban and back as nothing more than a patch on his parents' clothing.

And the more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that wasn't a burden he wanted to share with you.
__________

A day passed and Draco still had an unsettling feeling in his stomach. It wasn't uncommon for him to wear long-sleeved shirts, but now he could hardly bare glancing at his Dark Mark.

Is this what being a Malfoy meant?

"Draco," you said, climbing into the bed as you stared at his back, "what's the matter?"

He tucked his hand under a pillow. "Nothing, love. Just tired, is all."

"I don't believe you." He felt the mattress shift ever so slightly as you drew nearer to him. "Before all else, Draco, I am your friend. Before being your fiancée, your girlfriend, your anything– I'm still just your best friend." You peered over at him, his eyes focused on the wall. "So why on earth would you expect me to believe that lie?"

Sighing, Draco turned on his other side to face you, propping himself up on his arm. He noticed the way you scrunched your nose in concern, a wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows.

"Please, tell me what's wrong, babe," you pleaded. Your face softened as you examined his tired eyes, bringing your hand to brush against the cold skin of his face. "Is it the wedding? Are we going into this too soon?"

"No, of course not. It's not–" He took a deep breath, unsure of what he wanted to say. Draco captured your hand in his, pulling it near his chest. He stroked the calloused pad of his thumb against your knuckles absentmindedly. "If I had to describe you in one word, it would be perfection."

You quirked an eyebrow, unsure of how to react. "I'm no where near perfect, but– Don't try to change the subject."

He let out an indignant chuckle. "I wasn't finished. I only meant...Just look at yourself and then look at me."

"I see a witch and a wizard."

"Funny," said Draco with a straight face. "But really look. Because when I look at you, I see a compassionate, intelligent woman who fights for what's right." His eyes darted to his clothed forearm, the black mark almost visible through his white night shirt. "When I look at myself, I see is a monster. A beast. A coward, at best."

You stayed silent, Draco's hand still in yours. "I think your perception is tainted," you said, withdrawing your hand from his to gently push back at his sleeve. He caught sight of a sliver of his Dark Mark, causing him to wince. Draco saw you reaching for a black marker next to your journal on the nightstand.