The impending Second Wizarding War brings two people from opposite worlds together. She, of grace and gentleness, her life torn apart by a tragedy. He, who has only known hatred and spite, tasked with an impossible mission.
Her, caught between loya...
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Latin for 'Dragon', Draco represents the dragon Heracles (Hercules) killed during his Twelve Labours. It is depicted near the Hercules constellation. In Roman mythology, the dragon was a Titan, killed by the goddess of wisdom, Minerva.
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It was an unusually dark and cloudy night, shrouding the Astronomy Tower in shadow. The moon hid behind thick clouds, and she stood in near-complete darkness.
Sobs overtook her as she sank to the ground. The huge laceration across her forearm ached, and the dozens of smaller red nicks stung like pixie bites.
Carefully, she picked out the shards, wincing each time. Some had cut through her jeans, and small maroon patches spotted the denim from where the blood seeped through.
A sharp soreness whipped across her back from where she had hit the shelf, but it was nothing compared to the knives Draco had flung at her; one by one, word by word. Knives. They dug deep into her chest, twisting.
Nothing in this world could have possibly been as painful as the thought of Draco not liking her parents, and that they had been wrong about him. Her mother, of regal beauty and serene wisdom; cinnamon-scented skin and fire-red hair. Dirty, filthy Mudblood. Her father, with kindly eyes and cutting humour; sharp tongue and arms of shelter. A bloody dolt who was stupid enough to marry her.
And all this time she had spent with Draco, the things he told her when they lay on his bed, the way he held her close to him. Had it all been a lie?
Either way, she was unable think straight right now. She squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself to cry for a minute more.
Right. Now, she had to clean up before deciding on her next move. She pulled out her wand and touched the tip against her cuts. "Episkey." She watched as the split flesh magically pulled itself back together. Then she did the same for her legs and back.
She wrapped her arms around her knees. This all felt so familiar. It was exactly what Draco and her had done those first few nights, when they had barely known each other. How far they'd come since then, she mused silently.
She remembered noticing him since the first day of school, drawn to the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. But that quickly disappeared when he started being awful to the other students, and eventually her.
He had always been a horrible bully, but this year, he was like a wilted leaf in the winter. He never ate, his face took on a gaunt-like quality, and his eyes were lifeless. He no longer bothered squabbling with Potter anymore, and she knew how much he despised Harry.
Oh, how she had wondered about that back then! Draco only needed a friend, and they became just that. More. But this was the outcome she least expected.
