golden ; a draco malfoy fanfiction

sixty four

elodie phillips

It was summer now. The air was warm, the flowers were blooming, and the sun was brightly shining down on the earth.

That's how summer was everywhere else. At the manor, things were different.

The flowers were blooming, but it didn't seem
like they were alive. No sun was bright enough to warm the cold hallways of the manor.

Dear Elle,

I hope you're doing okay. Kai and I are missing you.

Is everything okay? I heard Dumbledore was killed. I hope you're not hurt.

I have some good news, hopefully, it cheers you up! Kai and I are transferring to Hogwarts! I just loved it so much, and I'm dragging Kai with me.

I hope we can see you soon.

Love you,

Adi

I added the letter to the growing pile that was mounting on the floor. I wanted to answer them, believe me, but I couldn't.

Pure, innocent, Adi.

I disregarded it and tried to tidy the pile of letters.

There was something different about today, something happy.

Draco's 17th birthday.

It was hard to believe that so much time had passed. He had endured much more than any 17 year old needed.

No 17 year old should have a wanted label put on him.

Draco was identified as being involved with the murder of Albus Dumbledore, along with the other death eaters involved.

They all took refuge at the manor. I was not identified, because I was under the tower trying to keep Harry Potter's mouth shut.

How he didn't turn me in, I didn't know.

Of course, this gave me an advantage that Voldemort liked.

I now sat at a long conference table in a dark hall, my hands clasped and my eyes looking forward. I glanced farther down the table, noticing Dominic sitting with his head down.

Fucking cunt.

I severed all ties with my family. The Malfoy's were my family now. Narcissa was more of a mother than Estelle will ever be.

I accepted the fact that father figures were a lost cause.

"Miss Phillips," I heard the distant voice of Voldemort seethe.

"Yes, my Lord?" I asked, my eyes locking with his. The words made me want to vomit, but I did what I could to stay on top.

"You were not identified as being involved with the murder of Albus Dumbledore," he stated, standing up. His hand grazed the back of his leather seat.

"That is correct," I nodded.

Voldemort continued, his voice running through my ears and down my spine.