One Shots

Whenever War Is Waged

But he definitely hadn't realised that Delphini looked very different. She was a few years older now and she looked it, standing a little taller than he remembered. Her hair was no longer a vibrant silver-blue colour but rather faded and matted into clumps; she clearly didn't care, not that she ever did, but definitely not anymore. Hence the fact she was being imprisoned. Her eyes were tired and stared at the ground, not daring to look up at any sentence he spoke. Although he could tell that she was listening intently. In fact, Delphi didn't look a bit like Augurey or the witch with telekinetic and levitating powers. She looked like a broken soul who might have a chance. She didn't look like the daughter of the Dark Lord or the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, it was the first time she looked like her own person and maybe imprisonment is just what she needed. It was comforting.

"I'm your cousin," he states, trying to shake his thoughts.

"By blood not by choice."

It was as if she could read minds, "Let's start over- it's a pleasure to meet you Delphi."

"Pleasure," she replies.

"Pleasure," Draco replies, Delphi saw no point in getting to know him, why not years before but now they have all the time in the world.
Delphi wasn't cruel for cruelty's sake, even to her so-called blood relative who'd been incarcerated himself many years ago even though they weren't for multiple counts of Unforgivables and conspiracy to undo the very fabric of the world through time-travel. He wasn't going to tell her outright that she was never going to be his family even if she didn't toughen up a little. But Draco thought she was plenty tough. Tough didn't mean indiscriminately acting like an arse to people. Her ethos was more like, Make life absolute hell for the people who deserve it, but nobody else.

"Just let me know if you need anything."

"You just want information, is that it?"

He shakes his head, "The beginning would be a start."

*

And so Delphi began her journey of telling little stories here and there that eventually combined into a reason that was real enough for Draco to accept.

"I wrote letters- I probably shouldn't have but I felt like it was needed."

"It wasn't as if anyone was going to read it," she laughed to herself.

"Maybe it was an apology, trying to make sense of what happened," she pauses, "it's just- it happened all so fast and I didn't realise until it was too late how to fix it."

"I don't know how to fix it anymore, I thought I did, I went through all of these ideas, musings in my head but none of them could explain how I felt."

"Nothing could make it better."

Delphi wasn't sure whether Draco was still listening or not, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was she was able to finally get the words out. She let a tear run down her cheek, casting shadows on her high cheekbones, which was irritatingly lasting long enough until a voice asked, "Are you okay?"

They didn't exchange another word until the next week, when Draco fixed Delphi some dinner.

"I don't understand- I- what did I do to deserve this?"

"Everyone deserves a meal on Christmas Eve," he replies, cracking a smile.

She sighs then drops her head into her hands. "I don't even know what day it is?"

"It's okay, that's why I want to help you, I don't want this for you."

"Why?"

"Why?" He repeats, "You shouldn't be here- not in Azkaban, you shouldn't be compared to the rest here."