Little Miss Diggory || A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter 68

-

The ceremony was beautiful. Fleur looked stunning, and Bill wore a goofy grin the whole time. Later, everyone started speeches. Soon enough, Bill invited Charlie up, both smiling ear to ear. That's when it happened. I became the sister of a girl engaged to a Weasley.

The events of the day had rubbed off on everyone's moods, leaving everyone buzzing. Dancing, drinking and chatting the night away. But Layla couldn't bring herself to do that. Instead, she sat back and smiled at the newlyweds and engaged couple. It seemed perfect.

But it couldn't be. Not in Layla's lifetime anyway. Something always seemed to go wrong. And the growing sickness in her stomach did not even attempt to deny it.

Four minutes.

"Tell someone!" Her inner voice nagged. But Layla couldn't bring herself to do it. To ruin the night. Let them have this moment, the last goodbye.

But no one else would die because of her.

Three minutes.

Standing, she walked over to a rattled looking Harry. At that moment, she knew. She knew he felt it too. But it was too late.

A blue illuminated orb shone in the middle of the room, blocking out all light. Heart beating out of her chest, Layla moved through the room, over to where her two brothers, Jemma and, Charlie sat.

Layla pulled her sister into a tight hug, causing confusion to spread over her face. But there was no time. She moved over, kissing the tops of her two brothers heads.

"Layla-Bug?" Charlie cried. He hadn't used the name in so long it bought tears to her eyes. "What's going on?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"They are coming," the orb repeated before flashing away, replaced by lights."

Two minutes.

"Charlie, Cormac, what is the most important spell I ever taught you?"

"Protego-Maxima," Charles replied.

"Good," she sighed, "Cormac, when you get to Hogwarts this year, who are you going to go to?"

"Blaise," he replied, tearing up, understanding what was about to happen.

One minute.

"And the textbooks I gave you?"

"In my trunk, in the bunker."

"Charlie, what can you never tell people?"

"My real name."

"Good," Layla sobbed, "take care of one another when you can, ok?" They nodded, both crying furiously as a commotion broke out around them. Spells being shot everywhere.

Too late.

Layla had to go. She had no choice.

Running over to Ron and Hermione, she breathed heavily.

Then Harry arrived

Times up.

They apparated.

-

The Malfoy Manor was miserable. Especially for Draco. The days passed like a wilting rose, waiting to lose each petal one by one. Each day contained new, unimaginable levels of grief and guilt.

And all that he had to represent it all was a red journal with tattered edges. The one that Dumbledore had given him only days before his death.

He never understood why.

Maybe it was all away to torture him. Maybe he knew what Draco had to do. So he left the journal as a reminder. To bring back the memories of that night. The sting in his heart.

You know what made Draco feel worse? The fact he could think of something worse.

The dreadful feeling of not seeing her.

The emerald green eyes that seemed to glow in the light.

The freckles that were replaced by rosy in the winter snow.

The golden wavy hair that sat so effortlessly on her shoulders.

The contagious smile that could addict anyone with a single glance.

A voice as sweet as honey.

Hands like silk.

Lips as smooth and lively as a rose.

A laugh as real as anything.

A personality that danced light across gloomy waters.

A girl who had changed him... Or maybe not... Change him... Make him better.

But she was gone.

So how could he be that person without her at his side?

Maybe he can't...

After all, what's the lemon without the sugar?

-

The clanking of cutlery, the smell of coffee, and a red journal in hand. Time was up, and there was no going back. Focus on the now.

"The journal," Layla thought, "Focus on the journal."

It obviously wasn't just any journal. Layla had learnt that when she first tried to open it at the burrow. Sometimes there would be writing, very familiar writing and other times, it would be gone.

The text always read I'm sorry, or something along those lines. And at first, Layla believed the writing looked familiar. But it couldn't be... could it?

"Coffee?" A woman spoke, pulling her out of her trance.

"A cappuccino, please," Hermione repied.

"You?" The woman gestured to Ron, who looked utterly confused.

"Uh- What she said."

"Same," Harry added.

Layla remained in a daze, half thinking she was invisible. Hoping at least. So the woman's attention came as a surprise.

"Nothing for me, thank you."

The journal.

Maybe someone had been writing on the other end, a secret way of talking. But that would be crazy.

Perhaps I'm overthinking it all. Maybe it's just an everyday journal.

A buzz.

That's all it took to worry Layla again.

But I suppose she has good instincts.

Two men... with wands.

"Shit," she whispered.

And before another word could be said. Spells were being fired.

She cast a spell.

Protego Maxima. One of the most powerful protective spells. Deflecting the spell shot, giving Hermione and Ron time to hide.

Confundus. A spell that temporarily confuses the target.

And for the other, Conjunctivitis. Believe it or not, it's a spell. Damages the eyesight for some time.

Hermione did the rest.

They were unconscious now.

But who were they.

Well, I'm sure anyone could guess.

And now, the three argued again.

"Suppose he did Mad-Eye. How would you feel then?" Ron snarked.

"Suppose he's a real human, and not one of us know him well enough to make that call," Layla hissed back. He instantly backed off.

"It's better we wipe their memories," Harry insisted.

For once, they all agreed, and so Hermione took one and Layla the other. Before they knew it, they were out of there.

Layla was deep in this now.

No turning back.