It wasn't until I was being put to bed by my mother that I had the time to think it all over. The names, the formalities, the tattoos...
"Draco?" Narcissa asked at my sudden silence.
Of course my name is Draco. Of course, out of all of the places I could've been reborn in, it was the Harry Potter universe. Of course, out of all the people I could have been reborn as, I am Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Or: The conceptual theory of rebirth is sketchy at best. At worst? It's the truth.
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(Cross-posted on Ao3 under the name Hufflepuffle_Pocalypse)
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The Malfoy's daughter is unappreciated and sent away as much as possible. She spent lots of time with her aunt Bellatrix, but not even Bellatrix likes her. But one day something happens that... how shall I say it? Puts her Above Them All
.............................................................
"IM NOT TALKING TO YOU!"
"F*CK OFF!"
"I'm not in the mood!"
"God, you're worse than I am!"
Every day, every hour, I'm reminded that I'm a mistake. I should've never been born. I walk outside and stare at the moon. A voice was behind. "Misunderstood? Unappreciated? Just like I was? Join me," a white hand reaches out to mine. I look up. Time Riddle. Or more known as Voldemort. Should I take his hand?