A Heavenly Betrayal (Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Dumbledore's Predictions

Luckily for Madam Pomfrey, Maria woke up late the following morning. Draco was still holding her hand: he had barely found sleep. She felt dizzy and the room felt stuffy; it took her a good minute to remember what had happened. Draco presented her with a glass of water, which she downed in a second. The potion the nurse had given her was still effective and Maria was strangely numb; although she preferred that to pain. Overnight, Draco had had plenty of time to think – and curse himself for what had only just happened. He had felt his left forearm sting and thought it wise to meet whoever had requested his presence in the forest where they would be left alone. Apparently, he had been wrong; most terribly wrong.

Ever since the beginning, he had always known that involving Maria would somewhat end up like this. Frankly, he was surprised Mulciber hadn’t killed her right then and there. His hand squeezed tighter over hers; it was all his bloody fault. She could have died! Yet Draco refused to give that outcome further thought, because acknowledging it meant evoking the fact that he was a danger to her and that she was far better off without him. There was no denying it; nonetheless, he didn’t want to have to face it and make another wrong decision. He was indeed a coward in that sense.

Maria began to stir; her breathing accelerated as she shifted on the hard mattress, her long locks fanned out onto the pillow, messier than ever. Draco’s heart jumped and clumped in his throat; he was suddenly very apprehensive. He let go of her hand and stood slightly back, letting her come back to her senses. She had a right to breathe, to choose for herself: all she had to do was tell him and he would leave her, for her safety’s sake. The decision was hers, and he would respect it.

"Draco?" was the first word to escape her lips. Her voice was hoarse and feeble; it pained him to notice so.

He moved forward, kneeling beside her bed, a spark of hope taking flight inside of him, adding to the fire already burning.

"I’m so sorry," he explained, looking straight into her tired eyes, frowning worriedly.

Surprisingly, Maria smiled softly to his exhausted face. 

"No, I’m sorry, I should’ve known better."

For a millisecond, Draco gaped openly at her.

"Don’t you dare blame it on you," he reproached in a soft whisper.

From the moment he had said sorry, Maria knew that nothing she said could convince him it had simply been a terrible mistake. She had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person and, she admitted shamefully, had been terribly foolish to bump in on him without notice due to current events. Yes it had hurt like hell – no, worst than hell – but it was over now. She was fine, more than fine: she was with him. However, she knew Draco wouldn’t be persuaded easily, or even at all.

"Then I forgive you."

She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to argue; she just wanted to be with him. She was tired and limp, she didn’t have the strength to disagree. She would leave reasoning to later. However, Draco didn’t make it easy.

"You shouldn’t," he stated firmly.

That was too much; Maria piped up at once: