Heartless [Draco Malfoy]

six

I shake my head, not believing his words.

"I'm sorry if my existence bothe-" I start to say, but he interrupts me by speaking over me.

"It's not your existence bothering me, you wasting it for someone that has no idea you exist does"

I let out a distressed sigh. "He's my dad!"
I hiss quickly, trying my best not to raise my voice because I don't want Harry to hear.

"Yes!" he tries to match my tone but fails.
"In another reality" he adds.

I sigh, knowing that he is right.
I should've definitely come to terms with the fact that I may mean nothing to the person he is in this reality but I can't help myself.

"Anika, your father is cursed" I see him struggling to find the right words.
"Out of all the realities, he meets Elisabeth in just one of them" he keeps his eyes locked on mine as he speaks. "And in all of the realities, he is destined to die" he manages to finish the sentence and my heart shatter.

"You don't understand, I have to try!" Tears sting behind my eyes and burn in the edge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut tight and will my sadness away with the thought of psychologically preparing myself to keep my promise and find him.

"He is not the person he was in your reality"

"He's still my dad"

"Things are more complicated than you think"

"Where is he" I say, trying my best to stop crying. "Please!"

"Azkaban"

• • •

I step into my dorm, walking past my bed to reach the window.

But as soon as I leave the bed behind me I stop, taking a couple of steps back. There is something on my pillow, that I'd barely notice with the corner of my eye.

I put my books on the floor and approach the piece of paper that had been left on it.
I'm sure it wasn't here before.
I take it and unfold it, discovering that there's a pic of my dad holding Azkaban sign, shortly followed by some sentences.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD?
Approach with extreme caution!
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE
MAGIC AGAINST THIS MAN!

I furrow my eyebrows realising what it is.
He escaped.
Seeing him this way hurts my heart so much that I feel the urge to throw it away.
I resist it and fold it again, putting it carefully in my pocket and lifting up all my books again.

Who left the paper on my bed? It doesn't look like something Dumbledore would do.
Who else knows about my connection with Sirius Black?

I close my eyes and draw in a breath, allowing myself to relax in an attempt to enjoy this tranquility while it lasts, knowing that something inevitably tragic is in the midst.

The thought that there is nothing I can do to prevent it fills my heart with anxiety.