Dear Dr. Erica Thorncroft,
I want to start this letter by saying that I could never forget the time you chewed me out for not letting you into the hospital wing the day Ron was poisoned. I certainly learned never to stand in the way of a healer that day.
It's no secret you've been making big strides in the realm of Dark Magic healing. Your discoveries of hedera alba's healing properties and the werewolf mood stabilizer potion have been revolutionary. Dark Magic rehabilitation is an important field, and I cannot think of anyone better suited for it than you.
In regards to your current patient, I do have to say I'm shocked. I do not think any of us could have predicted that the Dark Mark was going to eventually have those long-term effects. I believe that since Voldemort has perished from existence, whatever residual magic that kept the Mark alive is now turning against their hosts. After asking around I found out the ex-Death Eaters in Azkaban are experiencing the same symptoms. Nothing is being done about it.
I would be a liar if I told you I hadn't thought about Draco's sentencing since it happened. Draco and I didn't get along, perhaps due to an unchangeable lack of a common point of view- but that doesn't mean he ever lost my respect. I don't know if you are aware of this but I offered to testify in his favor 11 years ago. He refused my help then, and I have always assumed he would never accept help from anyone. But your letter makes me hope that may have changed.
I agree with you that something has to be done. But it's unfortunately not up to me to end Draco's exile. I'll speak to the Ministry, and see if the Wizengamot will consider reopening his case.
In the meantime, I would like to visit him. If he's willing to see me.
Regards,
Harry Potter
He won't be mad. He won't be mad. He won't be mad. I told myself that over again and again, but it had been nearly a week since I arrived at the Chateau, and I still hadn't summoned the courage to tell Draco that Harry Potter wanted to visit. I knew it was irrational to think Draco would overreact like Len. But it's not like years of walking on eggshells can be forgotten overnight.
These days at the Chateau had a sort of ease to them that I didn't want to end. I saw Draco's crabby reclusive exterior crack every time the children asked him to play. "No's" turned into "later's" until finally one day the children got him out in the grass and ran circles around him in a pretend game of Quidditch. Afterwards, I heard Draco promise to buy each of them their own brooms.
As he said he would, Draco got me paints and an easel. I decided to try them out by the pond today, while wearing a shin-length sundress I transmuted out of old drapes. My bare feet enjoyed the feeling of twisted roots in the wet mud and the breeze flowing between my ankles. Even with the squeals of the children playing in the yard beyond, it was peaceful.
I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind me. They were heavier, and did not sound like they belonged to the children. I turned, and spotted Draco coming towards me, his left arm in its usual sling. I had to do a double take at the clothes he was wearing.
I guffawed. "Are those jeans?"
Pink colored Draco's pale cheeks. "My pants kept accumulating muddy handprints from the children. I needed something more practical."
I used my paint palette to hide the cheeky smile spreading across my face. I don't think I had ever seen him wearing jeans beyond the age of 13. He looked nice in them. Very nice.
"I like them," I said. "In fact, they almost make you look American."
Draco's lip curled. "I'm going inside and taking them off."
"No!" I stifled laughter. "No, no. Keep them on! Pleeeease."
Draco reluctantly agreed to not change back into dress pants. I told him he should take off his shoes before he came over to where I was standing, because it was very muddy- and surprisingly, he complied.
Draco's barefoot and wearing jeans, I observed with amusement. I never thought I'd ever see him like this.
He rested his chin on my shoulder and peered at the painting in progress.
"Don't look!" I flipped the easel around sharply. "It's horrible. I'm seriously out of practice."
I fought him on it, but Draco flipped the easel back around anyway and stared at the picture.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said sternly. "It looks fine to me." He looked at my unsure expression, and his eyes softened. "I love the way you see the world. It's like there are secrets all around that only you can see."
I was embarrassed by the compliment and looked away. "This silly thing isn't deserving of praise," I muttered. "The next one will be better."
"Finish this one," He said. "I would like to hang it up somewhere. The house is in desperate need of decoration."
I smiled to myself and mixed more blue paint on my palette. Birds distantly chirped in the pines across the pond. I could hear Artemis and Scorpius somewhere in the garden, running and laughing.
"The children sound like they're having fun," I smiled.
Draco squinted out across the water. "Artemis is spectacular. She's bright, but in an unexpected way, like the moon. I think she gets that from you." I hid the fact I was blushing. Draco looked back at me. "I've never seen Scorpius this... jubilant. I was worried after Astoria died he might never be the same. Gaining a sister is the best thing that could have happened to him."
I smiled. "The sentiment goes both ways. Ever since we've come here, Artemis and I have been so much happier." I glanced at Draco. "Truly," I added with sincerity, picking up color on my brush and applying it to the canvas in swirls.
"Marry me."
My brush skirted off the canvas in a sharp line. "What?" I barked.
As swift as the breeze blowing past us, Draco pulled me into him with his right arm and planted a soft kiss on my mouth. My palette and brush dropped to the ground. I leaned into him, welcoming the way his kiss made butterflies form in my stomach.
Draco pressed his forehead to mine. "Marry me," He said again.
Our chests heaved with heavy breaths. I asked, "... you haven't been drinking again, have you?"
"No," he said seriously.
I wriggled myself out of his grasp. The day suddenly wasn't so peaceful anymore. "Draco, we shouldn't."
"I've withheld my feelings for too long," Draco said with soft determination. "Erica, I've loved you since we were teenagers. We have a child together. How much longer are we going to pretend we don't love each other?"
"Think of my husband," I argued, trying to bring us back to reality. "The one who has yet to sign the divorce papers!"
Draco frowned. "Who cares?"
"I care!" I said angrily. "I still feel incredibly guilty for what we did that night four years ago. We made a promise to people and betrayed them."
Draco smoothly countered, "We weren't supposed to be with those other people."
"That doesn't change the fact that what we did was wrong. We can't go off and get married on a whim like this. What are you thinking?" I yelled in a hushed voice so the children didn't notice. "You don't even have a ring!"
His eyes glinted mischievously. "I'll give you something in its place."
He got to his knees. My head spun. Is he really proposing to me in the mud like this with one of his arms in a cast?! Just as I was about to tell him to knock it off and get up, his right hand gripped the skirt of my dress and threw it over his head.
"What do you think you're doing?!" I hissed as I felt his breath on my thighs. He planted kisses along the inside of my legs. "Oh my god," I gasped. His mouth was at the outside of my panties.
I looked around to make sure the children weren't within view. Draco was relentlessly kissing at the apex of my thighs, and I was starting to succumb to his tongue, in the middle of his backyard.
I moaned as he moved my panties to the side. Screw a damned engagement ring, I thought, this is so much better.
My eyes shut tightly as I focused on trying to stay standing. I grabbed onto the easel for necessary balance- Draco was not holding back, and it was getting more and more difficult to not crumple to the ground. But- there was a strange sound in the distance that my brain wanted to ignore. Crunching gravel? An airplane passing overhead?
Just focus on Draco... and the nice, nice things he's doing with his mouth... oh, god, I'm getting close already-
I decided to open my eyes when the distant rumble continued. My heart nearly stopped when I saw a black car coming up the driveway.
"Car!" I hissed, grabbing at my skirt to get Draco's head out from underneath. "There's a fucking car!"
Draco's head resurfaced. He looked around, alarmed. "What?"
The black car parked outside the front doors to the Chateau. I prayed that whoever was in the car had not happened to look down at the pond when Draco's head was under my skirt just now.
"Oh, fuck," Draco said as the car doors opened. "It's my mother."