The Malfoy Project

𝟓𝟐 - 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐧

✼¹

     The house is still aglow by the time we get back. The lights have been dimmed a little, but from far away, it still looks like a lantern, splendid and burning from within with a feisty orange glow. Or perhaps it is because I'm so used to seeing it sullen and dull, windows blackened against cold marble.

     For a moment I wonder if it had all been a dream, until Draco opens the front door and I see the tiny fingers of flames still dancing on every wick. The fireplaces had calmed down some, but the Christmas tree is still lit; precious stones nestled in green spindles.

     My hand is warm in Draco's. He tightens his hold just a little, as if we had been bound by some sort of giddy love spell in the garden and stepping into the house would break it.

     I let my hand stay in his as he walks me up the stairs. He is quiet the whole time. I think it is because he's afraid to say something wrong, though I can't think of anything he could say that would make me doubt that whatever we had in the garden was not some enchantment, but as real as the hair on my head and the tongue in my mouth. I pinch the tip with my teeth just to be sure.

     Andromeda's room had been set up for me, I presume by Narcissa. The covers are turned down, my clothes have been hung up in the cupboard, and my coat is draped carefully on the cloak stand. We stand by the door staring into the room, trapped in an odd moment of wanting to talk but not desiring to say anything, either.

     "I had a wonderful time today," I say, breaking the silence. "Your parents — all of you — have made this one of the loveliest Christmases I've had in a while."

     "Me too," he says, though his eyebrows pull together.

     "We—" I clear my throat. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

     His lips purse as he thinks. "Maybe... maybe we could."

     "Okay. Do you want to come in? Or we could stay right here if you want," I add hastily, the sting of his previous rejection rising to my cheeks.

     His eyes dart everywhere: across my face, over my shoulder, to the bed and windows, before he nods meekly. I step back to let him in and close the door behind us.

     "It doesn't have to be awkward between us, you know," I say as I pull my jumper over my head. "I can pretend it didn't happen, really."

     I say this more for myself than him. Monty has been plaguing my thoughts the very moment our lips separated. He still is now, hovering over us like a Dementor over Azkaban. Draco's stoic face fell at my words.

     "What do you mean?"

     "I mean it didn't have to have happened, if you don't want it to."

     Again I say this for myself. I want to know if he feels the same way I do, before I even attempt to address the whirling thoughts in my head.

     "But I did," says Draco, much to my relief. "Did you?"

     Did I? I most certainly did. Whether or not I am even in the position to want it is an entirely different question. But it would do me no good to lie, when it is always the truth I seek.

     "Yes."

     Draco steps closer to me. This time, I don't feel the instinctive inclination to pull away.

     "I've wanted to do that since the party," he says.

     I wish I could tell him it is the same for me, that I've always wanted to do this since the beginning. But that would be another lie, because if I am being honest, I can't place the exact moment I fell in love with Draco even if I tried.