Drarry Oneshots 👍

The Loving Dead

There was a small town in the middle of nowhere, and normal people called it by its real name: Hangleton Hill. The others called it a Ghost Town, which made quite a lot of sense, seeing as most of the supernatural sightings in that country came from a place that basically didn't exist to people who didn't live there. Draco grew up in Hangleton Hill, and he, quite honestly, didn't mind it there. It was quiet and away from civilisation, and most people minded their own business. An introvert's dream.

Even the thought that the town might be haunted, or 'cursed,' as some of his friends like to call it, was comforting. Draco wasn't all that fond of people in general, so sitting alone in a silent cemetery with thoughts of the undead and, and zombies on his mind, entertained him. He would even jokingly wish for one of the long deceased corpses to pop out of the ground, and become his new companion. It was just a joke though, and then he would trail back home as the curfew bells rang, forgetting about what had happened as quickly as possible.

On this particular day, it was October, and Draco noted this as walked across the fallen leaves, a vague smile creeping onto his face as he picked up a reddish brown one, and pulled out his scrapbook, carefully placing it on the last page. He shut the book again, taking his seat on the abandoned swing set that sat just off the cemetery. Draco shivered slightly, wrapping his blue scarf tightly around his neck. One of his classmates had started up a new rumour, one that might've at least creeped the blond out, just a little bit.

The classmate had said that you could actually summon the dead just by reading out the name on a gravestone five times. Now, this would've been completely bogus, and maybe even funny, if the last kid who had tried this hadn't died. It all seemed so surreal, for something so big to happen in a town where everything moved so slow, so, naturally, no one would shut up about it for the next few months or so. Even Draco was intrigued, though that might've been his biggest mistake, and would occasionally chip in with conversations on that topic.

The cemetery was like a twisted wonderland to Draco though - so beautiful, yet so strange at the same time - and he was hopelessly drawn to it, spending almost all of his free time there, as if it was the only place he knew. Starting a gentle swing on his seat, Draco's greyish eyes began to read the names on the gravestones, his attention falling on one with a marble angel perched on top of it. It seemed to have buried the most important person in the entire cemetery, and a loving message had been carved on it, along with a name, date of birth, and date of death.

The boy (as it seemed - Draco could only assume the gender due to their name) was almost the same age as Draco - fourteen - and had died of some kind of mysterious poisoning. Perhaps he had been murdered, Draco thought, letting his gaze switch to the cloudy sky. They were dark, and angry, swirling daunting circles at the far corner of the cemetery, leaving a vague smell of rain and smoke with it. It was probably going to storm, and Draco had no intention to go back home. He was so bored though, and would kill for something to do.

His thoughts drifted back to what that boy had said, and he shrugged, walking towards the marble embellished gravestone. It couldn't hurt right? And the person who had supposedly died because of this probably just got attacked by some wild animal, and got it pinned on the supernatural. Yeah, everything would be fine, and when the time came for it to not work, Draco would walk away, laughing to himself, and trail home for dinner. So that's why pulled his bag off of his shoulders, and did what he did next.

Draco repeated the name on the Gravestone once, twice, third time, fourth - and fifth - his finger pointing at the stony face of the marble angel. At first, nothing happened, and everywhere remained silent. Draco scoffed, smug as he turned away from the gravestone, and picked up his bag, beginning his walk back home. Just as his foot stepped out of the cemetery, a bolt of lightning struck the sky, and he almost jumped out of skin. The storm clouds puffed up, spewing smoke, and untimely bolts of lightning.