CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE:
two ghosts — harry styles
( 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 , 𝟏𝟔 )
There are many things that could happen in one's life that would completely derail them from the path that had seemingly been mapped out by the billions of stars hanging above in the millennia before them; the stars that had meticulously planned for all that could and would possibly go wrong and right, to bring them beauty, and pain, and happiness, and despair. There were many things that could go wrong.
Meredith Darling never thought it would be kissing Draco Malfoy as the world crashed around them in a burning, all consuming blaze.
(Well, if you were to get technical, he kissed her but as you could tell by now, technicalities meant little to Meredith.)
And she thought of that, as she rested her chin upon her tired hands, eyes that had seen too much war for a sixteen year old girl.
She gazed out at the green field below; a field that once promised her freedom as she danced between the tickling tendrils and bathed in the warmth of the blue expansive sky that once promised a wonderful summer but now was instead blackened by the mark of Voldemort. Darkness seemed like a common motif these days.
The house that once felt like a respite from the chaos outside, that once gave her the freedom to live without the war bearing upon them now felt like a gilded cage. With walls built so high and the slight shimmer of the protective bubble surrounding the Darling estate, Meredith was suffocating. The very moment that she was shipped home, exams cancelled and mood sombre, her father had flung himself into taking every imaginable precaution to protect them from the war outside; enchantments reinforced everyday, the sentries of dull stone and brass stalking the walls, muggles that once enjoyed the splendours of the leafy grove beside their house gone.
He disappeared every morning at seven on the dot via the personal Portkey that had been delivered to their house the morning she had arrived back home as well. Meredith sometimes watched him as he made his way across the grassy field from the house; It was a methodological process, happening like clockwork every morning, rinse and repeat. He would wear the same long overcoat even though they were stepping into summer. He would leave ten minutes before he was whirled out of their little protective bubble, the sun breaking over his dark figure in the distance and he would return when the stars had sprawled over the dark blanket. He was always tired, and sullen, and there seemed to be something weighing on his mind.
Off to fight for the Ministry again. If he was even with the Ministry anymore. If there was even a Ministry worth fighting for these days.
Unfortunately, this bubble that had meant to protect her was also isolating her from the rest of the world. Nothing came in or out. She was left alone with her own spiralling thoughts and walls of books which she had already grown bored of. She hadn't heard from Harry, or Hermione, or Ron, or Daphne, or even Blaise. She hadn't heard from him either but she suspected that that night would be the last time they would see each other for a while.
Time seemed to scrape by as the days bled into July, June all but forgotten.
"What are you doing?"
Meredith looked up, surprised to hear his voice. They spoke sometimes, words that didn't mean very much, but Meredith had come to accept that that was the man he had become after her mother's death. People typically made a gradual change over time, but sometimes, life changing events forced the hand of fate.
"I'm..." Meredith faltered, busying herself by picking at her nail bed so it didn't seem as if she were simply staring into blank space, "Not sure actually."
She wasn't sure of many things these days. As the clock ticked by, the more and more she felt like she was becoming a meaningless speck in the grand scheme of things; to be forgotten in the history books, wiped from people's minds. She had been right in the thick of things while at Hogwarts but now she was simply just another casualty of it.
Her father's comings and goings were easily one of the most interesting things that happened during the day. Her most useful measure of day and night, day after day.
On the very rare occasion, he told her stories of the things that happened in the office; she loved those moments, because it was her only look into the outside world and it was in those moments where she felt like he was his old self again. Unfortunately, those moments were short-lived. She spent the rest of it idling away, skimming over the same pages over and over again as if she would discover something new; hoping to have an exciting epiphany, find adventure.
"So..." He trailed off, "Your birthday is coming up soon." He seemed as if he wanted to say more, so Meredith stayed silent, but when he didn't continue, she supplied, "Does that mean that I get to leave this bloody place? Don't get me wrong, dad, but you can't keep me here the whole day under the guise that it's to protect me because you know damn well that I can take care of myself."
Wow, where did that come from, Meredith?
He huffed frustratedly, as if talking to a petulant child, "But it's dangerous—"
"It's going to be dangerous for a long time. Keeping me here? Stopping me from helping the Order? It's not going to help anybody, least of all myself. I can't hide around here forever, away from the war. I'd be just as bad as the Death Eaters."
His eye twitched ever so slightly at the mention of 'Death Eaters'. It must have been difficult for him, to see his daughter so passionate about doing her part in the war when all he wanted to do was to keep her safe, away from it all. To be able to use the term 'Death Eaters' so casually because she had faced off with them personally.
"You..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You don't understand, Mer. There's so much happening out there that you kids can't see. This war is more than just fighting a couple of Death Eaters. It's so much more than you and me."
"But..." He paused, seeing her distressed look, "If you promise me that you won't stray too far...I'll leave an opening in the barrier. Go down to the village, see the sights. I'll be home in time for dinner and we'll celebrate together, alright?"
Meredith, too happy at the prospect of leaving the estate and the fact that he wasn't being a complete prat for once, almost missed the mark under his sleeve as he swept out of the room. Almost.
A mark that hadn't been there the summer of her mother's death. A mark that wasn't there when she bid him farewell on her journey to Hogwarts.
The morning of the third was a rather dark and gloomy one but that didn't dampen Meredith's spirit in the slightest as she prepared to leave for the day, the sun barely breaking over the hills. Since she was cut off from the world till her seventeenth birthday, she hadn't managed to send letters to any of her friends ( And her father suggested not doing so because letters were easily intercepted by either party nowadays ) but nothing was going to stop her from enjoying her day. Not the lousy weather, not the sinking feeling that had been building up inside her.
She was in the process of tying her hair into an elaborate braid, when she paused.
He was making his way across the field again, like he always did every morning. And yet, something felt...different today. Not about him, but about her. Maybe it was the grandeur of seventeen, the Trace lifted off of her, but something was tugging at her to follow him. To yank on that thread and see where it lead her. To see where he was headed to for once.
Because, as time passed, it didn't seem as if he was heading off to his day-job at the Ministry any longer. Something more sinister lurked beneath his guise of routine and now that she was free to use magic as she pleased, she was also free to pursue that thought that had been nagging at the back of her mind.
Meredith bit her bottom lip, debating her options;
She picked up her wand for the first time in a while, turning it over in her hand.
A crack resounded in her bedroom, the brush of the carpet in the bedroom replaced by the tickle of long unkempt grass.
Her father looked up, shocked at her sudden appearance. The watering can was beginning to rattle, signalling its impending departure.
No, he wasn't going to stop her now.
"Meredith—" He warned, pulling out his wand to send her flying backwards, but she was faster.
Her hand clasped onto the handle of the can as he shouted a jinx, but he was far too late already.
The father and daughter disappeared into the oncoming dawn with gentle 'Whoosh!'.
Meredith coughed slightly, winded from the journey, as she landed roughly, knees and elbows bracing against the ground. The smell of freshly cut grass filled her nose, the dewiness of morning clinging to her clothes.
"Meredith, what—"
She was about to make a clever retort ( she was always full of them ) about how she had a right to find out what he had been hiding from her all these months, but the words stalled in her mouth as she looked up, expecting to see her disgruntled and disapproving father.
And instead, all she found was;
"Draco?"
( 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘, 𝟏𝟕 )
Draco realised that he had gone through the entire process already; meet a wonderful girl, kiss her as everything goes to shit, fall madly in love, meet her disapproving father, and attend Death Eater meetings across from said father. Well, it didn't happen in that exact order but you get the gist of it.
The past few days had been...tough. Ever since his failure on the Astronomy Tower, the Dark Lord had decided to punish the Malfoys by simply...doing nothing.
They attended the meetings as usual, eyes darting about and shoulders tensed, but nothing had changed. Maybe he didn't care that Draco hadn't been the one to do the killing. Maybe he was pleased enough that Albus Dumbledore was dead. Whatever it was, if he wasn't taking his frustrations out on the Malfoys, Draco was glad. His father was out of Azkaban, wary and drawn, and his mother was trying her best to not crack.
It was maybe the middle of June where he first appeared; cold and haughty, but with a fierce determination in his eyes that had burned out of his father a long time ago. He was late that day, walked in when everyone was already seated. He approached the seat that was set up for him, beside Draco's father.
"Malfoy." He had said curtly, nodding toward Lucius. His father only gave him a dismissive grunt in response. They must have crossed paths with one another at some point; Hell, he may have been the one to throw Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban himself. But they didn't have time for petty grievances now that they were all under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord.
"Ah...Randolph Darling." Voldermort smiled—if you could even call that a smile—and raised his arms in greeting, as if they were old friends, "The legendary Auror that caught many of our own here." His snake-like eyes swept the room, as if belittling them them for past failures, "Joined our ranks at last." His tone became sharp as he crooned on, "Hopefully you can teach some of our friends here the true potential of a wizard."
Draco winced, feeling the phantom slap across his face.
The meeting continued as usual, talking about things that did not matter much to Draco, but Draco kept feeling his attention stray to the seat where Meredith's father sat, a bored look upon his face, remembering their last interaction the summer before.
"We're just pawns in the game, Malfoy. And I'm playing the moves to keep my daughter safe. From your people."
"And you should too. For the sake of Meredith Darling."
Before long, the meeting had ended, and everyone began to disperse, muttering under their breaths. This past month, all they could do was wait; wait for Potter to finally turn seventeen so that he would finally leave the protection of the Muggles he loved with. Draco wanted to laugh; their whole cause was dependent on the stupidity of one Harry Potter because the Dark Lord was so sure of the fact that killing him would be the key to conquering the world. Draco had seen Harry Potter trip down a flight of stairs and land face first on a couple on second years. He may have been the chosen one, but he sure was stupid.
"Draco, right?" Came a smooth voice, heavy with a Londoner's accent. The room was emptied now. The pale blond whipped around, staring up at the great Auror, Randolph Darling. Draco had heard tales of his work from whispers in the shadows; it seemed like such a joke that he had joined their ranks and worked his way up to the inner circle so quickly. Resourcefulness and cunning were traits that he had passed on to his daughter.
"Mr. Darling." Draco decided to call him.
"I know that you...and my daughter...There's something between you two." He said, resignation in his voice.
"So what?" Draco returned haughtily, "What's that got to do with anything? She knows what I am already; does she know who you are?" He winced at his harsh tone, but Randolph doesn't bat an eye and instead, pulls Draco into a separate room.
"She doesn't need to know." He replied smoothly, and very matter-of-factly. The taller man lowered his voice as he muttered out, glancing around furtively as if the walls were listening, "And you'd better keep your mouth shut about her if you want to see her again. I know these people..." He gave a look of disgust, "These people would hurt her if they had the chance."
Draco nodded, knowing that he only spoke the truth. The fact that she was barely seventeen wouldn't stop them from hurting her.
"Them." Can't you hear yourself, Draco? You're one of them.
But before he could say anything, Meredith's father had already disappeared.
In the days that followed, Randolph Darling made frequent appearances at the manor, his dark overcoat fitting right in with the black sprawling robes of the other Death Eaters, yet setting him apart. And in the days that followed, the two...became friends? Of a sort.
They didn't share any common interests other than the fact that they loathed this house and that they would lay down their lives for Meredith Darling. But as it turned out, that was enough for them to bond over.
So, it became a routine for him to wait for him on the field beside the Manor every morning. Draco never understood why he chose to Portkey in instead of simply...apparating, but to each his own. Draco would update him of anything new ( this was seldom ) and Randolph would tell him of how Meredith was doing ( this was often ).
And today, on the 3rd of July, was no different.
Except it was.
Because while he was expecting a disgruntled Randolph Darling to say a gruff "Good Morning.", instead, he was greeted by the girl he had kissed, out of desperation, out of passion, out of fear, and out of love, a month ago.
"Hello, Darling."
ah yes, i'm back after like two months lol <3 honestly i haven't had a chance to write in such a long time so this chapter is kind of bad but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyways!!