When You Loved Me (Druna Fanfiction)

Mother Knows Best

"Please, don't go!"

Violent sobs of that of a woman, almost hysterical, can be heard in the distance. Her desperate pleas and agonized screams echoe hollowly, mingling and harmonizing in a heartbreaking symphony.

It is not clear where the voice is coming from or where the woman is for there is nothing-- no one in sight, not even a single object that could hint the setting. There is only black oblivion as if everything is shrouded in a curtain of black smoke, blurred beyond recognition.

Then, the sound of hurried footsteps follows after. The woman is running ; although, where to? No one can guess.

"Don't leave me!"

The footsteps die down. The woman's crying intensifies, getting more and more desperate every second that passes.

"I love you! Please, stay."

The woman says something after that; a name. She repeats it over and over, screams it at the top of her lungs until her voice is hoarse from it.

Another pair of footsteps; this time, more collected and calm, drowns her pitiful whimpers-- it reverberates, oddly amplified, before it fades as if the person who owns it is walking away.

A door creaks as it opens and almost immediately, the loud telltale bang as it was slammed shut resounds-- leaving the poor woman sobbing, her anguished cries piercing the air in a heatbreaking note.

***

Luna awoke with a start. Frantic eyes scan the dark room as beads of cold sweat form on her forehead. Her pulse was abnormally rapid and her breathing was heavy as if she had just run a marathon.

Realisation so relieving hit her when she saw that she was in the safety of her apartment and the scene that played out in her mind was, in fact, just a dream.

***

Draco swirled the remaining liquid in his glass before tipping his head to empty it. He took the bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself another shot, ignoring the signs of intoxication evident in his system.

It was past midnight and he was in his study, replaying the conversation he had with Luna at The Atrium. Draco still could not get it out of his head that the last memory Luna remembered of him was during The War.

Draco was bothered. He was bothered at how real everything was and not just some cruel nightmare designed to break him. It was working, though-- this nightmare really was breaking him and he had been a broken man ever since Luna returned from Ireland.

Suddenly, the sound of the door creaking open penetrated through his thoughts, followed by the clicking of heels.

Draco did not have time to stash away the bottle of firewhiskey that he had almost emptied. Astoria would have his head if she knew that Draco was drinking again; and the last thing he wanted was his fiancèe getting mad at him when he was already in an unpleasant mood.

He sighed before turning to face Astoria, his brain formulating a string of excuses. Except, it wasn't Astoria-- it was his mother which was definitely not better.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in front of Draco's desk, an unreadable look plastered on her face. She raised a perfectly arched brow at the liquor bottle, then at Draco who seemed to be doing a great job at masking his annoyance.

"Mother? What are you doing here?"

He took it back-- he would rather have an angry Astoria storm in right now than have his mother expressing her disappointment.