to be or not to be| sixth year | draco malfoy

weasle-bee

"you're all that i want."
-

violet pov~

Two weeks later...

I stood in the middle of Fred and George's new joke shop, surrounded by boxes and bits of clutter. The twins were carrying in heavy parcels, while Ron and Ginny busied themselves with rugs and furniture. The shop was huge, stretching upwards with stairs that seemed to go on forever. I leaned against a shelf, observing Harry and Hermione as they cleaned. It felt good to be here, the energy familiar and comforting.

"You're not helping, are you?" Harry's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at him, my grin widening. "Maybe. Possibly. I don't know, ask me later."

Harry chuckled, but before I could add anything else, Hermione walked past, rag in hand.

"You should be dusting," she said, matter-of-factly, pointing to the shelves beside us.

I scoffed. "Everyone loves a good ol' run-down look, right, George?"

The twins, who had been gliding past me, stopped in their tracks. George turned back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Are you insinuating that I look run down, Ms. Goldhorn?" he asked, feigning shock.

I shrugged nonchalantly, fighting back a smile. "You said it, not me."

Laughter erupted from everyone in the room, and I couldn't help but feel at ease. But as I watched the laughter fade, my eyes wandered to the big window. Ron and Harry had both turned to look outside, their faces suddenly sour.

I followed their gaze and felt my breath catch in my chest.

"Look... it's Draco and Mummy," Ron spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

There, standing across the street, were Draco and his mother, Narcissa, standing at the edge of the sidewalk. They were eyeing the building, and I noticed how their gaze lingered on the boxes stacked outside. For a moment, neither of them said anything—they just stood there, silent.

I hesitated. Could I ask Draco to help with the boxes? After everything that had happened, we did leave our fifth year on somewhat good terms, right?

I turned to Harry with a mischievous smile. "Why don't we invite them in?"

The room fell into a sudden silence, before a chorus of disapproving voices broke the stillness.

"Absolutely not," Hermione hissed, her expression turning hard.

"If you invite that loud-mouthed git in here, I'm throwing you AND him out," Fred said, his quill moving furiously across a piece of parchment.

I sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright. You don't have to be so harsh about it."

"Yeah, didn't he make you cry at the Yule Ball? He's sick, Violet," Ginny added, her tone tight with distaste.

I glanced at each of them, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "But aren't we being just like Draco if we don't even give him a chance?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry, of all people, nodded, his expression thoughtful. "She's got a point. Let's not be like the cold-hearted people we accuse him of being."

I shook my head, amused. "Alright, alright, but I'm going to talk to them anyway."

With a firm resolve, I turned on my heel and walked toward the door, hearing the muttering behind me.

When I stepped outside, the cool breeze met my face, and I spotted Draco and Narcissa just as they were turning to leave. Draco was examining the shop with that usual air of aloofness, while his mother seemed more... distracted.