A New Night (Sequel to PMSM) Draco Malfoy Fanfic {Completed}

Chapter Eight

Draco's POV

I opened my eyes and squinted at the sunlight coming through the blinds. I rubbed my face and rolled out of the bed. If the sun was out then I was already running late.

8:30am.

Not too bad. Half an hour until class.

I tiptoed around the clothes strewn across the floor so as not to wake Anastasia. I put on my clothes, brushed my teeth and was out by 8:45. I had brought much of my stuff into her room for just such an occasion, but I had left some graded exams in my room that I planned to pass out in class today so I rushed out to grab them.

"Professor Malfoy?" I spun around to face my small pupil. "Why were you in my mum's room?"

It'd been months and I supposed we were bound to be caught someday. Hopefully, today wasn't the day we had to suffer the consequences though. "Your mother and I are old friends. Just catching up."

"Oh okay." Being a preteen and all, I don't think he suspected much. He kicked his heels into the floor mopingly.

"Why so glum?"

He shot a look at me as if I were the devil for even asking such a question. As if he were a young Slytherin boy lashing out in anger because of the pressure of everyone's expectations. If only he had platinum blonde hair.

"Don't feel like sharing?" I asked.

"It's not really any of your concern," he mumbled.

"Making plenty of friends?"

"Friends seem to be all I can make."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It's none of your concern," he repeated.

"Alright. Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to, there are plenty of very nice peers and prefects and... professors," I pointed at myself.

"Wonderful," he rolled his eyes.

"It is! I better be off. I've got some papers to grab, but I'll see you in class."

"See you," his tone was overly unenthusiastic as if he wanted everyone to ask how he was doing just so he could deny them the satisfaction of an answer. I chuckled and jogged ahead to my room.

Anastasia's POV

The bed was cold again. He'd left to teach. I wasn't quite sure if it was ever all that warm. I didn't fall asleep in his arms like I did when we were young. I felt his kisses on my skin and his fingers tracing my figure and then he turned his back towards me as he drifted off.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the clothes on the ground. I'd hoped with every day that he pulled them off of me that it would matter more to him, but maybe my body was the only thing he'd missed all these years.

I pushed myself up in the bed, holding the sheets over my bare body even though nobody was around to see.

I got up, sifting through my wardrobe, and pulled a baby blue and lavender dress on. Castion had sent some of my things.

When I walked outside, I noticed my own son sitting in the grass with a blonde Ravenclaw girl and a brunette Slytherin boy. The boy noticed me and widened his eyes before saying something to Dorian, standing up and walking over. The girl rolled her eyes and jumped up, tugging on his arm to tell him to leave me alone.

"Hi! You must be Dorian's mum."

"Yes, I am."

"Well, I'm Tiberius. This is Cindy. We're Dorian's friends."

"Nice to meet-" I started to say before I noticed a glimmering blue bumblebee necklace resting against the girl's chest. "Where did you get that?"

Tiberius spun to see what I was talking about.

"My necklace? It's my aunt's. She was a Ravenclaw too, but she died before I was born."

"Lucinda Leathersbee was your aunt?"

"Yeah, I'm named after her. You knew her?"

"Who are your parents?" I ignored her question.

"Seraphina and George Weasley."

"You look just like her." And she did. The way her dirty blonde hair landed on her shoulders. The way her lips and cheeks were bright against her pale skin. The necklace and Ravenclaw clothing.

She paused and her face went from quizzical to serious. "Really? There aren't many pictures around of my aunt. My mum burned a lot of them when she first found out she died. Now she regrets it. Did you go to Hogwarts with her? I know she was pretty shy when she was my age. Did you know Ron? He was dating Lucinda. That's how my parents got together. They all spent summers together..."

She kept talking and I felt safe with her words playing in the background of my thoughts. Children were legacies. They were the product of every experience we'd ever had. The very essence of who they are tells the story of ancestors that they never even knew.

I glanced over at Dorian who had made his way over during the time we'd been talking. He had his arms crossed and his head down. The result of a broken mother. As a teenager, I had so many plans for how my life would go. One thing I knew for sure: I would be a wonderful parent. I guess when everything else fell apart so did that.

"I- I'm sorry," I interrupted her. "I need to go."

And I left her there wondering. She wanted stories, memories, pictures; things that I was too scared to give right now. All these years my method of survival had been to push it out. I replayed her death in my mind every day since it happened. It was simply a body falling to the ground. The happy memories would make that body more than just a corpse. So I went back to sit alone in my room.