The Girl Who Lived ☆ D. MALFOY

Chapter 64

a/n- ;)

Word Count: 4024

Apparently, Hermione felt the need to turn my hair long and bright pink in order to make me unrecognisable to the Snatchers. 

Sadly, it didn't work, but my eyes were now a beautiful pale blue rather than their usual colour as all of us prisoners were dragged through the gates of Malfoy Manor. I didn't want to look up at the looming palace my boyfriend called his house, but the way it seemed to draw in shadows with its cold beauty made it hard for me to put my eyes anywhere else.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback, pushing Harry and me forward roughly by the scruff of our shirt collars toward the double front door.

"Who are you?" asked a woman's cold voice from the door. A voice I recognised.

"You know me!" the werewolf answered, resentment evident in his gruff tone. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught the Potters!"

He shoved us closer to her even more, putting our faces under the light and forcing the other prisoners behind us to shuffle out of the way.

"I know this one's swollen, ma'am, and she's got her hair and stuff changed, but it's them!" Scabior piped up from off to my right. What I wouldn't give to hex him free of that annoying, nasally voice of his. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And the girls face 'as 'ardly changed."

The door of the mansion moved to the side to reveal the woman hiding behind it. Narcissa Malfoy looked back at me, just as regal and coldly beautiful as I remembered seeing her with her grey eyes reminding me all too much of someone I desperately hoped wasn't in that house. Platinum blonde hair hung over her shoulders and contrasted evenly with her jet black dress robes. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly when they focused on my face, but she quickly turned and focused on Harry with a scrutinising glance.

"Bring them in," she said finally, turning into the house with us being pushed to follow. Leading us down the hall she said, "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If these really are Harry and Y/n Potter, he will know."

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. God, I wanted to see him, but not like this. No matter how much everyone else didn't want to believe it, he had a good heart, and in this situation, it could be his downfall.

The drawing room she brought us to was dazzling in comparison to the darkness of the night sky outside where we'd been before and was so large that the paintings on the opposite side of the room were blurry to me even with my glasses on. Two figures stood from their chairs as we were shoved into the room behind Narcissa.

"What is this?" said the drawling, cruelly familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy. I could only force myself to stare at the dark wood floor and pray the second figure wasn't who I thought it was.

"They say they've got the Potters," said Narcissa. "Draco, come here."

I was almost having trouble breathing now, and I couldn't help looking up. The second my eyes met the silvery glimmer of his, I had to choke back a sob. His jaw slackened and his eyes widened, showing too many emotions for me to identify, but quickly hid any form of recognition under the prising eyes of his family. Still, his eyes never left me as he walked closer to me and my brother.

"Well, boy?" rasped Greyback, forcing me and Harry forward again. The collar of my shirt was beginning to dig into my neck uncomfortably, and I had to refrain from gasping for air whenever he moved me. My eyes flicked up at Draco who seemed to be having an internal war raging, but he seemed to be looking as far away from Fenrir Greyback as possible. Instead, he was focused on the werewolf's grip on my collar and seemed to be trying to burn a hole through his hand.