Peppermint (DM smut love story)

17

"YOU'RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW?" You ask, sitting on Draco's bed, watching him pace backwards and forwards collecting some things together.

"I have to, Bec. Look." He goes into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a letter, handing it to you.

Draco,

I must request that you come home from school early. We have had a bereavement in the family and I think it best you return home immediately. I have also written to your headmaster and head of house, explaining the situation. I will see you when you get home.

My love,
Mum.

"A bereavement?" You say, your eyes looking up to meet his. He looked worried, his hair messy from running his hands through it so much.

"I'm sorry, Bec. I'll come back as soon as I can. I love you, okay?" He grabs your face and kisses you before resting his forehead on yours and running his thumb over your cheek. You relish in the moment, taking in the way the cool metal feels against your skin, the smell of peppermint enveloping you.

"I love you too." And with that he turns and walks out the room.

You write to Draco that night, but much to your despair he doesn't write back straight away.

"Blaise have you heard anything from Draco?"

"Yeah, he actually wrote me last night. He said he was at home. Has he written you?"

"No, he hasn't. I wrote him and didn't hear back."

"I'm sure he was just busy, he'll write today."

A little after dinner, an owl taps in Draco's dorm window. You had decided to stay there in case he came back. You run to open the window, taking the letter and giving the owl a stroke. You turn the letter over in your hands. The letter you had sent to Draco, he'd sent it back.

With each passing day, you grew more anxious, wondering why hadn't he written you. Why he was returning your letters. You soon stopped eating, struggled to sleep. He was writing others, but not you. Why? What had you done?

FEBRUARY

MARCH

APRIL

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

You now sit on your bed at home, staring out the window at the last of the sun before it sets behind the houses in the distance. You're still wearing your pyjamas, having not left your room all day. Your hands run over the smooth pieces of parchment lay all over your bed, tracing the words with your fingers as you read over them.

My Dearest Draco.

How are you? Have you spoken to your father? Write back and let me know you're okay. I miss you so much.

Yours,
Bec.

My Dearest Draco.

I read about your father's arrest in the daily prophet. Do you want to talk? I love you.

Yours,
Bec.

Draco.

What's going on? Why won't you write back? I know you've been speaking to Zabini. Why won't you speak to me? You're not alone in this, my father went to Azkaban too, remember.