The Malfoy Project

𝟏𝟓 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬

༻⚜️༺

     I bumped into Ainsley earlier in the third floor corridor after Charms class.

     She had spotted me from afar and smiled, even sent a cheery good morning my way. She was with Hermione, Susan, and Ernie, and together, they drifted toward me like a catastrophic plague of ruination.

     I ignored her.

     She broke apart from the other two and came up to me. "I'm sorry," she said. "If I've hurt you in any way. That was not and will never be my intention. So if I have, I'm sorry."

     Why did she apologise when it was I had who hurt her? Why did her lips still part like the splitting of the heavens after a thunderstorm to let out the light?

     Her hair was up in that black silk ribbon and her eyes were shining, like she expected an agreeable response from me. To give her that would be like applauding the executioner for swinging his axe onto the neck of the convicted. But were their crimes worthy of death?

     Are mine?

     I don't want to let her know that it's okay.

     It's not okay she bulldozed her way into my life and my family. It's not okay to continue with this stupid project of hers, and it's not okay that she and The Daily Prophet are going to damn my family to hell.

     Because when they find out our secret, they will.

     It's okay, Ainsley.

     I pushed past her as hard as I could.

     It was the first time we ever touched.

     When our shoulders collided, I felt a shattering within me; a cataclysmic breaking apart of all our could-never-be's. They exploded into fragments and ash, fluttering away into nothingness.

     Ainsley stumbled, almost lost her balance. Her smile disappeared and I immediately regret it.

     When not adorned with a smile, Ainsley reminds me of a concrete angel in the graveyard. Sullen and languished and chipped in most places. Forgotten.

     She reminds me of me.

     And to be me is a curse I wish upon nobody, for in my gilded kingdom of gold frames and marble busts and expensive cloth, my soul starves while my tomb of flesh feasts.

     And it is torment.

     "Ainsley," I called after her. I had wanted to say I'm sorry. About what I had done to her in the library and for bringing up Cedric and hurting her and never allowing her a pittance of easiness.

     For dreaming of her. For existing.

     I'm sorry.

     Two simple words. But they coagulated on my tongue, twisting and knotting and transforming into something repulsive. They come out wrong.

     "Stay the fuck away from me."

     Ainsley's eyes grew wide, but she collected herself quickly. "See you on Saturday," was all she said - a command that brought me so much relief I could have melted right through the stone floor.

     There was also a smile on her lips, barely visible, but that sliver of sunshine was enough to light up a thousand galaxies. It crumbled her stone cast to reveal seraphim wings strong enough to take me to the heavens.

     She rejoined Hermione and Susan as they hurried up the stairs to their next class. I turned away and carried on my own way in the opposite direction, back down to the Slytherin dungeons.

     It was almost laughable: an ordinary, lustreless girl ascending to the sky, while I of noble blood and fair heritage descended below earth, mouth spewing jealous ridicule at her as I sank into the depths of the underworld.

     After all, are we both not angels in our own right? The only difference is that I am watching her from the banks of Tartarus while she wades in the Elysian Fields I have been cast out of long ago.

     But then I think, maybe it's better that we do not share the same abodes, because Gabriella Ainsley is dangerous.

     She makes people want to say things, do things they're not supposed to. And my family already dangles over the precipice as it is. One wrong move will catapult us into oblivion.

     And while Ainsley thinks she's succeeding whenever she gets me to talk, I remain the true winner of our unspoken games as long as she doesn't find out the truth.

     Still, I know it's only a matter of time when my façade will shatter and her earthen eyes force me to spill the very thing my family has been fighting to keep hidden for two decades.

     Me or my parents - who will be the first to kneel at the foot of her charming smile?

     It isn't going to be me.

     Maybe in another universe, Ainsley, might our lives cross in more favourable ways.

     We could be friends. We could like each other. I wouldn't hurt you and you wouldn't have to say you're sorry.

     We could pretend to be Animagi - you'd be a swan and I'd be a wolf. We could chase chocolate frogs and steal each other's breath beneath apple trees.

     Our could-not-be's.

     But for now, you stay in the clouds with your saintly friends and haloed sweetheart, whoever he is. And I shall remain in the abyss with my Firewhiskey and brimstone demons.

     It's where we belong.