Kosmo✓

I'm back again, @deoneagain also the same guy as this, dammit Elon

Goy with AI vs poor goy basically both are poor

me vs my rich friends 💀

Hmm just like in real life how amazing and not surprising

After Remus Lupin is outed as a werewolf at the end of Harry’s third year, everyone expects Rita Skeeter to publish a nasty, sensationalist article about him. Instead, she writes a passionate defense of werewolf rights. And somehow, she means every word of it. Rita starts interviewing werewolves, exposing their appalling living conditions, the discrimination they face, and the laws that make it nearly impossible for them to find honest work. Her articles are so compelling that public opinion begins to shift. Eventually, the Wizengamot overturns Umbridge’s legislation barring werewolves from employment, and their living conditions and opportunities begin to improve. Rita Skeeter, of all people, practically single-handedly launches a movement for werewolf rights. The wizarding world is baffled. Dumbledore is cautiously impressed. The Ministry is panicking. Hermione is trying to work out what Rita’s angle is. And Remus Lupin has absolutely no idea what is happening. Because nobody knows that Rita went to Hogwarts at the same time as Harry’s parents, had a massive crush on Remus, and has just discovered that her old school crush is a werewolf. Which, as far as Rita is concerned, is an unexpected bonus. She isn't doing it for fame. She isn't doing it for money. She isn't even doing it for the story. She's doing it because she wants to marry Remus Lupin, and apparently, dismantling centuries of institutional discrimination is her idea of flirting. Her next article is titled: WHY REMUS LUPIN DESERVES A HUSBAND. Hermione is going to need a very large notebook.

Doe really making move but they forget the peak yearn post

RT @usedgov: There’s Magic in Learning 🪄

The Future Harry Never Got to Live The forest was silent. Harry stood before Voldemort, knowing there was no escaping what was coming. As the Dark Lord raised his wand, Harry closed his eyes. And suddenly, he saw something beautiful. A warm living room. Sunlight through the windows. Dracaena sitting beside him, her blonde hair slightly messy, smiling in a way he had never seen before. A little girl sat on her lap, while two young boys ran toward him. Son: Dada! Dada! Harry knelt down, laughing as the children threw their arms around him. Dracaena: Harry, darling, you're going to spoil them. Harry: They're our children. I'm allowed. Dracaena smiled and kissed his cheek. For one impossible moment, Harry saw the life he had always wanted. A home. A family. A future with her. Then the vision shattered. Voldemort: AVADA KEDAVRA! Green light filled Harry's vision. And the world went dark. Harry lay motionless on the forest floor. Dracaena dropped to her knees beside him, catching his head in her arms. Dracaena: Harry? No answer. Dracaena: Harry, stop it. This isn't funny. Get up. Her hands trembled as she touched his cheek. Dracaena: Harry... please? Voldemort laughed above them. Dracaena barely heard him. She pulled Harry closer, tears streaming down her face. Dracaena: Harry, please don't die. Please, Harry... She pressed her forehead against his. Dracaena: You promised me! You promised we'd be together! You said you wouldn't leave me alone! Her voice broke into a sob. Dracaena: I love you, Harry. Do you hear me? I LOVE YOU! She clutched his robes, desperately wishing he would open his eyes and call her an idiot for crying so much. Dracaena: We were supposed to have more time. We were supposed to grow old together. You were supposed to meet our children... She suddenly froze. For a moment, she remembered a dream she had once secretly cherished: Harry holding their little daughter, their sons laughing as they chased him around the house. A future that had seemed so close. A future that would never happen. Dracaena: No... no, please. I wanted that life with you... She brushed his hair away from his forehead, kissing it as she sobbed. Dracaena: Harry... come back to me. Please. I'll stop arguing with you. I'll stop pretending I don't care. I'll tell you every day how much I love you. Her voice became a whisper. Dracaena: Just... come back. But Harry remained still in her arms. Dracaena lowered her head against his chest, listening for a heartbeat that she could no longer find. Dracaena: Harry... The name escaped her lips like a prayer. Dracaena: ...Harry, please. And as Voldemort laughed at his victory, Dracaena Malfoy held the boy she loved, mourning not only the life he had lived, but the beautiful future she had just lost. Somewhere in Harry's final moments, he had seen their children smiling at him. He had seen Dracaena beside him. He had seen a home filled with laughter. And perhaps, for one brief instant before the darkness took him, Harry Potter had been happy. He had seen everything he wanted. And he had never even gotten the chance to live it.

In another life, maybe.

Dracaena A Love Without End Dracaena stood by the window, watching Harry and Hermione walking together. Harry laughed at something Hermione said, looking perfectly at ease. Dracaena: How cute. Her expression remained cold, almost bored. Only her fingers touch her mouth. In her imagination, Hermione was gone, and she was the one walking beside Harry. His arm rested around her shoulders, and he smiled at her as though she were the only girl in the world. Dracaena: It would be more wonderful if that were me. She watched them disappear around the corner, her pale eyes following Harry until he was out of sight. Dracaena: Hermione Granger is an obstacle. An unnecessary one. Dracaena: I simply need to get rid of her presence in his life. Then Harry will have no reason to look anywhere else. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. Dracaena: Forever and ever. He will be mine. She turned and walked away, calm as winter. Dracaena: After all, love is much easier when there is nobody left to compete with.

Dracaena when she saw Harry and Hermione walk together :

Title: The Kiss That Awakened a Monster Harry: Ugh, I'm tired, Hermione. Hermione: Same. Harry: Where's Ron, anyway? Hermione: I don't know. Probably dead or something. Harry: ...That's reassuring. Fleur: Harry! There you are! Harry: Hm? Oh, hello, Fleur. Fleur: I wanted to thank you for saving my little sister. I shall never forget what you did for Gabrielle. Harry: It's okay. I'm just tired. Fleur: Then, as a little thank-you, allow me to give you something. Harry: Huh? What do you— MWAH! Fleur suddenly kisses Harry on the mouth. Harry: ... Hermione: ... Behind a nearby pillar, Dracaena watches the entire scene. Her eyes widen. Her smile disappears. Dracaena: ... Fleur: Ah, sorry, Harry! I hope you don't mind! Harry: Uuuuuh... yes. I mean, no! I mean, it's fine! Fleur: Hehehe! Au revoir, Harry! Fleur waves cheerfully and walks away. Harry: Wow. That was weird. But honestly, not even the weirdest thing that's happened to me. Hermione: Harry. Harry: What? Hermione: Slowly turn your head to the left. Harry: Why? Hermione: Just do it. Harry turns. Dracaena is standing behind him, smiling. Too much. Dracaena: Hello, Harry. Harry: Oh! Hey, Dracaena! How long have you been standing there? Dracaena: Long enough. Dracaena: Tell me, Harry. Did you enjoy her kiss? Harry: What? No! I mean, it was just a thank-you kiss! Dracaena: Of course, Harry. Of course. Her fingers twitch. Her smile grows wider. Dracaena's thoughts: SHE KISSED MY HARRY. MY HARRY. MY HARRY! THAT FRENCH WOMAN DARED TO PUT HER LIPS ON WHAT BELONGS TO ME?! Dracaena's thoughts: I WILL FIND HER. I WILL MAKE HER REGRET THE DAY SHE EVER LAID EYES ON MY PRECIOUS HARRY. NOBODY STEALS MY HAPPINESS. NOBODY! Harry: Dracaena? You're squeezing your wand. CRACK. Her wand snaps in half. Hermione: ...Oh, bloody hell. Dracaena: Don't worry, Harry. I'm perfectly fine. Harry: Your wand just broke. Dracaena: It was a cheap wand. Hermione: THAT WAND WAS MADE OF DRAGON HEARTSTRING AND EBONY! Dracaena: AND NOW IT IS FIREWOOD, HERMIONE! Dracaena clings to Harry's arm with a smile that could frighten a Dementor. Dracaena's thoughts: MY HARRY. MY PRINCE. MY EVERYTHING. NEXT TIME, I SHALL KISS HIM FIRST. A THOUSAND TIMES IF NECESSARY.

whoah whoah CHILL H3 CHILL

RT @bluekapo_art: Jealous of Norbert 🐉🐍💢 #malfoid #HarryPotter #DracoMalfoy

A slight #Malfoid miscast 🐍 #malfoidfanart #harrypotter #dracomalfoy

The fake fall Dracaena was sitting comfortably on Harry’s lap in the Slytherin common room, looking far too pleased with herself. Dracaena: Hehehe, Potter. Comfortable? Harry: Well, you're the one sitting on me. Dracaena: Hmph! You should be grateful for the privilege! Suddenly, Dracaena dramatically pretended to lose her balance. Harry: What? Hey, hey! He hurriedly caught her around the waist before she could fall. And at that exact moment, Pansy and Daphne walked through the door. Silence. Pansy slowly raised an eyebrow. Pansy: Well, well, well... Daphne folded her arms, looking between the two of them with an amused smile. Daphne: Wow, Harry Potter. You're brave enough to come into the Slytherin common room and do this? I'm impressed. Harry: WAIT! IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! Pansy: Really? Then why is Dracaena sitting on your lap? Harry: SHE WAS FALLING! Daphne: And naturally, the best place to catch her was directly on your lap? Harry: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! Dracaena buried her face against Harry's shoulder, desperately hiding her enormous blush. Dracaena: Hmph! Stop interrogating him! Potter was merely performing his duties as a gentleman! Pansy: Oh? And what duties are those, exactly? Dracaena: SHUT UP, PANSY! Harry sighed. Harry: I'm never coming into this common room again. Dracaena immediately tightened her arms around him. Dracaena: YOU ARE NOT LEAVING! Harry: ...And there goes my freedom.

違う、そうじゃないって！！💦 #Malfoid

A Moment Between Rivals She stumbled, and he caught her hand, A fleeting touch neither planned. Her fingers clutched his loosened tie, As suddenly, their gazes met eye to eye. No longer rivals, no longer foes, But something tender neither quite knows. Dracaena blushed, a faint shade of red, While a thousand thoughts raced through her head. Harry, who mastered the art of composure, Found himself lost in a moment so pure. He held her hand, unwilling to part, And saw not a rival, but a girl with a heart. For just one moment, the world stood still, No house rivalry, no stubborn will. Only two souls, caught by surprise, Discovering love in each other's eyes. And when the moment finally passed, They wished, somehow, that it could last.

⚡️x ♀️🍏#hardra #HarryPotter #DracoMalfoy

The Slytherin Selfie Scandal Harry had been helping Dracaena study in her Slytherin dormitory when he accidentally fell asleep on her bed, completely exhausted. Dracaena stared at him. Dracaena: ...Potter? No response. Dracaena: Hehehehehe... oh, this is a GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY! She carefully climbed beside him, wrapped an arm around him, and pulled out her phone. Dracaena: One selfie with my sleeping Potter. For historical documentation, obviously! Click! She immediately sent the photo to their group chat. The caption read: Sorry, bros. He can't text back in the group chat right now. He needs his nappies. Meanwhile, Ginny opened the group chat. Ginny: Hmm? What's this? She saw the picture. Ginny: H-HARRY?! She stared at the screen, trembling. Ginny: WHY IS HE SLEEPING IN MALFOY'S BED?! Back in the Slytherin dormitory, Dracaena hugged Harry's arm and admired the photograph. Dracaena: Hehehehehe! Look at us! We look like a married couple! She paused. Dracaena: ...I MEAN, WE LOOK LIKE NORMAL FRIENDS! OBVIOUSLY! Harry stirred slightly. Harry: Mmm... Dracaena instantly froze, then blushed furiously. Dracaena: HE'S EVEN CUTE WHEN HE SLEEPS! THIS IS UNFAIR! She hugged his arm a little tighter. Dracaena: Sleep well, my Potter... Then she glanced at her phone again. Dracaena: Now... let's see how many people I can make jealous tonight. Hehehehehe! Yes in this AU I make Ginny gotta show her some love and I make the ear normal btw

#Malfoid #HarryPotter

Love instinct Harry: So that's why Snape is always angry. Honestly, you know how his classes are. Dracaena: His class sucks. I swear, that man wakes up every morning and chooses to ruin everyone's day. Suddenly Luna: Hey, Harry! Harry: Oh, hey, Luna! Suddenly, Dracaena feels her heart tingling and immediately hugs Harry's. Harry: Huh? Why are you suddenly hugging me? Are you jealous? She's just a friend! Dracaena: SHUT UP, POTTER! Luna: Oh, this is cute. Hehehe! Dracaena, internally: Sorry, Luna, you're my best friend, but please don't take it to heart ok! Luna, internally: the hell is wrong with her ? I swear something so stupid happen near her. Luna smiles knowingly and same time holding her anger and hatred. She already knows EVERYTHING.

She really likes Harry but she doesn’t want to believe that. #harrypotter #malfoid #malfoy #fanart #YCH

Meanwhile, in the Hogwarts Corridor or somewhere Harry: Ugh, I hate you, Malfoy. Dracaena: Oh, look. It's Potter. Disgusting. Harry: You're the most insufferable girl I've ever met. Dracaena: And you're the most annoying boy I've ever met. They stare at each other for a moment, both blushing ever so slightly. In truth, both are hopelessly in love with each other. Unfortunately, neither is willing to admit it. Harry slowly approaches Dracaena's side. He glances around to make sure nobody is watching, then shyly moves closer and attempts to wrap an arm around her. Dracaena: Ah! H-Harry?! Harry: Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! Harry immediately starts pulling away. Dracaena: W-Wait! Harry: Hm? Dracaena's face turns bright red. She fiddles nervously with her sleeves, unable to look him directly in the eyes. Dracaena: What I meant was... you could, perhaps, lean a little closer. Harry: ... Harry: Oh. Harry smiles warmly and moves closer, gently wrapping his arms around her. Harry: Of course, darling. Dracaena: D-DARLING?! Harry: What? You don't like it? Dracaena: I NEVER SAID THAT! She immediately buries her burning face against his chest. Dracaena: IDIOT... YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT WITHOUT WARNING ME! Harry: But you told me to come closer. Dracaena: THAT IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! Despite her protests, Dracaena wraps her arms around his waist and holds him even tighter. Harry: You're awfully clingy today, Malfoy. Dracaena: Shut up, Potter. Harry: Make me. Dracaena: ... She lifts her head, looks him directly in the eyes, and gives him the tiniest, shyest kiss on the cheek. Harry: ... Dracaena: ... Both turn scarlet. Harry: D-Dracaena?! Dracaena: YOU ASKED ME TO MAKE YOU SHUT UP! Harry: I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D ACTUALLY DO IT! Dracaena: WELL, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD THINK BEFORE SPEAKING, YOU STUPID GIT! She hides her face against his chest again. Harry quietly rests his chin on top of her head, smiling like the happiest idiot in the entire castle. Harry: I love you, you know. Dracaena: ... Dracaena: You can't just say that either, you absolute monster. Harry: Sorry, darling. Dracaena: ... Her arms tighten around him. Dracaena: ...I love you too, you stupid Potter. For once, neither of them wants to let go. ❤️

It's so peak!🤗 #malfoid 🐍🍏

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Common Room Pansy: Um, Dracaena? Why did you bring Harry’s scarf? Dracaena: Don’t get the wrong idea, Pansy! I only stole it from Potter so I could see the stupid look on his face when he discovers I’m the one who’s had it all week! Pansy: Right. Of course. Dracaena: Hmph! Honestly, Potter should be grateful. I’m taking excellent care of his belongings. Pansy: You sleep with them. Dracaena: THEY KEEP ME WARM! Pansy: You kiss them, too. Dracaena: I WAS CHECKING IF THEY WERE CLEAN! Pansy: With your lips? Dracaena: PANSY! Pansy: Okay, okay! Whatever you say! Dracaena turns away with an exaggerated huff, hugging Harry’s scarf against her chest. Dracaena: Honestly, nobody understands the burden of loving an idiot like Potter. Later that night, Dracaena lies peacefully in bed, holding Harry’s scarf close to her face. Dracaena: Goodnight, my Harry. She smiles and snuggles deeper beneath her blankets. Dracaena: Sweet dreams, my prince. Hehehe... Meanwhile, in Gryffindor Tower. Harry: Has anyone seen my scarf? Ron: Mate, missing again? Harry: Yes the usual The red one. Ron: Hahahahaha. Harry: ah everything missing in here

She’s not being honest #Malfoid

Mine and Mine Alone Dracaena’s Possessiveness Inside the Slytherin common room, Harry sat awkwardly on a sofa while Dracaena clung to his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. Her fingers were intertwined with his, holding him as though he might disappear the moment she let go. Dracaena: Are you scared, Potter? Harry: What? No. It's just... uncomfortable, you know? You're really clingy, and, well, you kind of restrict everything I do. Dracaena slowly lifted her head. Her emerald eyes stared directly into his. Dracaena: Harry, sweetheart. Remember, this is for you and me. Our little world. Just you and me. Harry: Right... Dracaena: Nobody gets to come between us. Nobody gets to steal your attention. Nobody gets to take you away from me. She smiled sweetly and stroked his cheek. Dracaena: Well, nobody except a few special exceptions, of course. I'm not unreasonable, Harry. Harry: ...That's reassuring. Dracaena: So be a good boy for me, sweetheart. Stay close to me. Tell me where you're going. Tell me who you're talking to. And, most importantly... Her smile widened. Dracaena: Don't you EVER leave me alone. Harry: Ah... do you really have to be everywhere with me? I mean, everywhere? Even when I want some privacy? Dracaena: Yes. Harry: Everywhere? Dracaena: Everywhere. Harry: Even during my private time? Dracaena: Especially when you're alone. Harry: ... Harry: Ah. Okay. I see. Harry's thoughts: Oh, God. She's serious. Harry glanced toward the portrait entrance, desperately calculating how far he could get before Dracaena noticed. Harry: So, um... can I go to the Gryffindor common room now? It's getting a bit cramped in here, and I wanted to hang out with Ron. Maybe play some chess or something. Dracaena: No. Her voice dropped into a cold, menacing whisper. Dracaena: YOU WANT TO RUN AWAY FROM ME, DON'T YOU, HARRY? Harry: WHAT? NO! I DIDN'T SAY THAT! Dracaena's fingers tightened around his arm. Dracaena: You want to leave me here all alone. You want to go back to your little friends. You want to laugh and play while I'm sitting here, missing you. Harry: Dracaena, it's just chess! Dracaena: AND I'M JUST YOUR GIRL WHO LOVES YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD! Harry: ... For one dreadful moment, Dracaena's expression remained completely blank. Then, suddenly, her face softened. Dracaena: Oh, Harry. Come here, sweetheart. She pulled him into a tight embrace, resting her head against his chest. Dracaena: Don't be silly. You don't have to go anywhere. Stay with me. Harry: Dracaena, I just wanted to— Dracaena: Shhh. It's okay. I'm not angry anymore. She gently rubbed his back. Dracaena: My Harry. My precious Harry. My favourite person in the entire world. Harry: ...Okay. Dracaena: You don't need anyone else when you have me, do you? Harry: ... Dracaena: Harry? Harry: No, Dracaena. Dracaena: Good boy. She kissed his cheek and cuddled closer, looking utterly delighted. Dracaena: See? We're happy together. We can spend the whole evening here. And tomorrow. And the day after that. Harry's thoughts: I miss Ron. I miss Neville. I miss having a normal conversation without filing a formal request for permission to breathe. Dracaena: Oh, Harry? Harry: Yes? Dracaena: I asked the house-elves to move your things into my room. Harry: ... Harry: YOU DID WHAT? Dracaena: Hehehe. Isn't that wonderful? Now I won't have to miss you when we go to sleep! Harry: DRACAENA! Dracaena hugged him even tighter. Dracaena: I love you too, Harry. 💚 Harry's thoughts: oh no Dracaena closed her eyes peacefully, completely satisfied. Harry stared blankly at the ceiling. Harry's thoughts: I'm never going to play chess and prank Snape again.

I literally have sooo many arts of Malfoid I forget the artist, sorry guys

By @RDiavolos The Choices We Made - A Malfoid AU Fanfics (Writer’s note: This takes place when the group arrived at Shell Cottage in the deathly hallows.) A loud crack shattered the peace of the coastline. Six figures appeared a few feet above the sand, hung there for a fraction of a second, and fell in an undignified tangle of limbs. Ron landed face-first with a muffled grunt, Hermione collapsed beside him, and Griphook rolled down a shallow slope without once letting go of the Sword of Gryffindor. Harry struck the ground on his stomach, dragging Draceana down alongside him. For several seconds, none of them moved. Only the surf continued its steady advance and retreat. Ron was the first to raise his head. He spat out a mouthful of sand, glanced wildly from the empty shore to the cottage beyond the dunes, and pushed himself to his feet. "We're alive!" he shouted, his relief turning into a breathless laugh. "We're alive, Hermione!" He dropped beside her and helped her sit up, careful of the injuries she had suffered at the manor. Hermione was pale and shaking, but she managed a faint smile. "Yes, Ron. I noticed." Ron looked over his shoulder. "Harry! You all right, mate?" Harry groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, his glasses crooked and sand in his hair. "Yeah. I think so." Draceana sat up beside him, blinking at the unfamiliar stretch of shore. Beyond the grassy dunes stood a small cottage, its windows catching the afternoon light. The manor was gone. Her father, her aunt, the drawing room—they were all impossibly far away. Where in Merlin's name has he taken me? She stared at Harry, who was brushing sand off his sleeves as though landing on a beach with a Malfoy was perfectly ordinary. "Looks like we've arrived at Shell Cottage," Harry said. Ron, still supporting Hermione, grinned. "Yeah, and in one piece. More or less." "Harry! Ron! Hermione!" Voices came from the direction of the cottage. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour were hurrying over the dunes with Luna, Dean, and Ollivander. Luna was the first to reach them, smiling with her usual serenity. "You're safe. That's wonderful." Fleur immediately went to Hermione, who looked close to collapsing, while Bill clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder. "We were beginning to worry," Bill said. "What happened in there?" "Long story," Ron answered, glancing at Hermione. "Very long story." Luna, meanwhile, tilted her head at Harry and Draceana. "Oh. You're still holding hands." Everyone looked. Harry's fingers were still wrapped around Draceana's hand. Somewhere during the journey his grip had shifted from the wrist he had seized in the drawing room, and neither had thought to release the other. Harry looked down and flushed. Draceana followed his gaze; colour rushed to her cheeks. "How long are you planning to hold my hand, Potter?!" she demanded, smacking his fingers away and folding her arms. Harry recoiled. "Sorry!" She looked determinedly toward the sea. "Honestly. Have you no sense of personal space?" The complaint lacked most of its usual bite, which only made Ron stare harder. "Malfoy?" Dean had stopped several paces away. His expression shifted from surprise to anger as he took in her dishevelled hair and the sleeve covering her left forearm. "Draceana Malfoy? Why is she here?" Draceana lifted her chin. "Well spotted, Thomas. Your eyes seem to work as well as your mouth. And its not like I want to be here, that glasses had the gal to pull me here.” she pointed at harry. Dean turned to Harry. "She's a Death Eater! Harry, why did you bring her here?" Hermione stirred beside Fleur. "Dean, it's not—" "Her family had us locked up!" Dean snapped, looking between them. "What were you thinking?" Harry opened his mouth. "Because..." He didn't finish. A cold feeling had worked its way along his spine. Bill and Fleur were here, and so were Luna, Dean, and Ollivander. Ron held Hermione upright. Griphook was sitting some distance away with the sword across his knees. Everyone had made it. Yet he hadn't heard the voice that should have greeted him before any of the others. Harry turned slowly, searching the sand. "Dobby?" Near the edge of the dunes lay a small, motionless figure. Harry began running before he was certain of what he had seen. "Dobby!" He stumbled to his knees beside the house-elf and carefully turned him over. Dobby's eyes were half-open, his breathing thin and uneven. For an instant Harry thought the journey had exhausted him. Then he saw the dark stain spreading across the elf's clothes, and the silver handle protruding from his chest. Bellatrix's knife. The flash of it in the drawing room returned with sickening clarity, as did the precious seconds he had spent reaching back for Draceana. "DOBBY! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" Bill and Fleur ran to him. Fleur knelt at once and drew her wand. "Move your arm a little, Harry. Let me see." Harry shifted just enough for her to examine the wound, but would not put Dobby down. Fleur murmured a healing charm. A pale glow passed across the blood-soaked fabric without stemming the bleeding. Bill leaned in and tried a second spell, his expression growing grave. "Come on," he muttered, attempting it again. Harry looked from one to the other. "Do something! Please!" "We are trying," Bill answered. Fleur's eyes met her husband's, and Harry saw what neither wished to say. "No. There has to be something else." Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who was struggling to remain standing with Ron's help. "Hermione, you know spells—" "Harry," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. She could barely speak, let alone raise her wand. Luna knelt quietly on the other side of Dobby, her face unusually solemn. Ron reached Harry's shoulder, then stopped, helpless before the sight of the knife. "Harry... Potter..." Dobby's voice was scarcely louder than the breeze. Harry bent over him immediately. "I'm here. I'm right here, Dobby." A faint smile touched the house-elf's face. "Harry Potter... is safe." Harry swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Yes. Yes, we're safe. You did it. You saved us all." Dobby's little hand moved against Harry's sleeve, and Harry enclosed it gently in his own. "We'll get you inside," he said, though his voice had begun to shake. "Bill and Fleur will help. You can rest. You don't have to do anything else." Dobby was still looking at him. He seemed to be trying to say one last thing. Harry leaned closer until he could feel the elf's faint breath on his cheek. "Harry... Potter..." Dobby whispered. The smile remained for a moment after his voice faded. Then his eyes went still, and the small hand in Harry's fingers no longer moved. Harry waited for the next breath. When it didn't come, he leaned forward and called the elf's name. He tried once more, quieter this time, as though Dobby might wake if he didn't startle him. Bill slowly lowered his wand, while Fleur pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. Harry understood at last, but his arms tightened around the small body anyway, unwilling to let go. He bowed his head over Dobby, and a broken sob escaped his lips, silencing everyone around him. Ron stood nearby with one hand resting on Hermione's shoulder, his gaze lowered toward the sand. Dean turned away, unable to watch, while Luna remained kneeling beside Harry, gently resting a hand on his back. Several paces behind them, Draceana stood alone, clutching her left arm so tightly that her fingers began to ache. She recognized those enormous ears, that little face, and the familiar voice that had once echoed through the halls of Malfoy Manor whenever someone called for him. Dobby. The same house-elf who had served her family for as long as she could remember. He had cleaned her room, prepared her clothes, and attended to her every whim, always with that nervous, apologetic manner she had grown so accustomed to. She had known him almost her entire life, yet until today, she had scarcely given him a second thought since her father lost him all those years ago. And now, after returning to the manor of his own free will to rescue the very people her family considered enemies, he lay lifeless in Harry Potter's arms, murdered by her own aunt. Draceana bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. Across the sand, Harry was weeping over a house-elf her family had once regarded as little more than property. She had never seen anyone mourn a servant like that, much less the boy who had spent years enduring her insults. For a moment, she wanted to approach him, to say something, anything that might offer even the smallest comfort. But what could she possibly say? Dobby had died saving them, and she had been one of the people he had come back for. Her gaze fell to the sand beneath her feet, and the courage to move deserted her. I... I'd only ruin everything again… She remained where she was, trembling silently as the sea breeze lifted the loose strands of her platinum-blonde hair. *** By sunset, a small grave stood above the beach. Harry sat directly before it, his knees clutched to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. The rough inscription on the stone read: Here lies Dobby, the greatest house-elf. His fingers were reddened and scratched, and dirt remained beneath his nails. He had insisted on digging without magic, working until his hands ached. Ron and Dean had eventually helped with the earth; Luna had suggested they each say a few words. Harry had scarcely spoken through any of it. Now the farewell was over, and the grave lay quiet in the last light of day. Draceana had watched the burial from a distance, standing apart from the others as they gathered around Dobby's grave to pay their respects. She watched Harry lower the last handful of earth onto the small mound, his fingers trembling as he brushed the remaining dirt from his palms. Even after the others had finished saying their farewells, he remained seated before the marker, staring at the inscription as though he had nowhere else to go. Draceana couldn't bring herself to look away. She had known Dobby for most of her childhood, yet it was Harry Potter, of all people, who had given him a proper burial. The thought left her with an uncomfortable feeling she couldn't quite explain. Eventually, Bill suggested that everyone return to the cottage. Hermione was still recovering from Bellatrix's torture, and Ollivander and the others were exhausted from their imprisonment. Most began making their way back, but Dean stopped when he noticed Draceana standing a short distance away. His expression hardened. "Hang on. What about her?" he demanded, gesturing toward the blonde girl. "She's one of them! You can't seriously expect us to let a Death Eater stay here, can you?" "Not now, Dean," Ron replied, glancing toward Harry, who hadn't so much as turned his head at the commotion. "We've got enough to deal with." "Enough to deal with?" Dean repeated incredulously. "Ron, her family had us locked up! You saw what they did to Hermione. How are we supposed to trust her?" Hermione stirred against Ron's shoulder, looking pale and barely able to remain on her feet. "Dean, please..." she murmured, struggling to keep her voice steady. "She helped me. I don't know why, but she did." Her gaze briefly moved toward Draceana before returning to Dean. "And Ron's right. This really isn't the time." Dean looked as though he wanted to argue further, but Luna gently took his arm before he could speak. "Harry needs some quiet," she said, her usually dreamy voice carrying an unusual firmness. "And we're all terribly tired. Perhaps we could leave this discussion for another time." Dean glanced toward Harry, then back at Draceana. Whatever he had been about to say, he swallowed it with obvious reluctance. With a frustrated sigh, he turned and followed the others toward the cottage. Draceana remained where she was, watching them disappear over the dunes. She supposed she could follow them, although Thomas would undoubtedly object to sharing a roof with her. And he wasn't entirely wrong to do so, was he? Her family had imprisoned them. Her aunt had tortured Granger. She herself bore the Dark Mark on her arm. Why should any of them welcome her? Perhaps it would be better if she simply left. She could walk along the shore until she found a road, then a village, and eventually some way of returning to Malfoy Manor. Her parents were still there, after all. Whatever awaited her at home, at least she would no longer be imposing herself upon people who had every reason to despise her. What am I even doing here? Her gaze wandered toward the distant lights of Shell Cottage, where the others had already begun gathering inside. Then she looked back toward the grave. Harry hadn't moved. He remained seated before the little stone marker, his shoulders slumped and his head lowered, apparently oblivious to the conversation that had taken place behind him. Draceana watched him for a long moment, her fingers curling nervously against the fabric of her sleeves. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many questions she had carried since that terrible morning in the Hogwarts bathroom. Yet seeing him like this, grieving over someone her family had once treated as property, made every word seem terribly inadequate. Against her better judgment, she took a hesitant step toward him, then another. But after only a few paces, she stopped. Her eyes remained fixed on the familiar figure sitting alone before the grave. She could approach him. She could sit beside him, perhaps offer some small comfort, just as she had once done after Cedric Diggory's death. But that had been years ago, before the Dark Mark, before Dumbledore's death, before the bathroom and everything that had happened between them. She no longer knew whether Harry would welcome her presence, or whether she even had the right to offer it. So Draceana remained standing where she was, caught between the desire to approach him and the fear that she would only make things worse, while Harry continued staring silently at Dobby's grave. *** The next few days at Shell Cottage were uncomfortable, to say the least. For a place that had become a refuge for so many people, there was remarkably little peace to be found within its walls. Everyone had survived Malfoy Manor, but survival had left its marks upon them, and the relief of having escaped was gradually giving way to exhaustion, grief, and the unpleasant realization that the war was still far from over. Bill and Fleur did everything they could to make their unexpected guests comfortable. Despite the sudden arrival of so many people, neither complained about the additional work. Fleur prepared meals, changed bedsheets, and made certain that everyone had clean clothes, while Bill attended to whatever else was needed, occasionally checking the protective enchantments surrounding the cottage. They were gracious hosts, offering warm smiles and reassuring words whenever they could, although even they could not entirely conceal their concern for the weary collection of fugitives now occupying their home. Luna spent much of her time looking after Mr. Ollivander, who remained frail after his long imprisonment. She brought him tea, helped him settle into a comfortable chair, and listened patiently whenever the elderly wandmaker felt inclined to speak. She also made an effort to keep Dean company, particularly whenever his thoughts returned to the blonde girl who had somehow become one of their fellow guests. Dean had made no secret of his displeasure at Draceana's presence. More than once, he questioned why they were allowing a Death Eater to remain under the same roof, and although Luna gently reminded him that they were all safe for the moment, his resentment was not so easily dismissed. Hermione, meanwhile, spent most of her time resting. Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse had left her terribly weak, and even sitting upright for too long could exhaust her. Ron rarely left her side, bringing her meals, helping her move about, and insisting that she rest whenever she attempted to do something herself. Naturally, Hermione protested that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, only for Ron to remind her that she had nearly collapsed trying to walk across the room that morning. Bill found the whole situation rather amusing, occasionally teasing his younger brother about his newfound attentiveness. Ron would turn bright red and tell him to mind his own business, while Hermione pretended not to notice the small smile tugging at her lips. For all their difficulties, there was at least a certain warmth among them. They had endured terrible things together, and although nobody was particularly cheerful, they could still find comfort in familiar faces, shared conversations, and the occasional bit of laughter. Even Dean, despite his foul mood, had Luna to talk to. Everyone had someone to turn to, someone who understood what they had been through or was willing to listen when the memories became too much. Everyone, it seemed, except Harry Potter and Draceana Malfoy. Harry had become unusually quiet since Dobby's death. He still answered when spoken to and occasionally joined the others for meals, but his responses were brief, and his attention often seemed to be elsewhere. Ron and Hermione noticed, of course, but neither knew quite what to say. They had seen Harry grieve before, and they understood how deeply Dobby's death had affected him. Ron occasionally tried drawing him into a conversation, while Hermione would offer a few gentle words of concern whenever she felt strong enough. Harry always assured them that he was all right, though the tired expression behind his glasses suggested otherwise. Every evening, shortly before sunset, Harry would leave the cottage and make his way toward the little grave overlooking the sea. Sometimes he remained there until the last traces of daylight disappeared, sitting quietly before the stone marker he had carved with his own hands. When he eventually returned, he rarely joined the others in conversation. Instead, he would settle into a chair near the corner of the sitting room, draw his knees toward his chest, and stare at the floor for what seemed like hours. Nobody pressed him for an explanation. They were worried, certainly, but each of them was struggling with wounds of their own, and there was only so much comfort they could offer when they barely possessed enough strength to look after themselves. Draceana often watched him from across the room. She had never seen Potter quite like this. Even after Cedric Diggory's death, when she had found him sitting alone and crying, there had still been something familiar about him. He had eventually recovered enough to argue with her, to become irritated by her remarks, and to behave like the infuriating Gryffindor she had known for years. Now, however, he seemed almost determined to withdraw from everyone around him. Whenever their eyes happened to meet, Harry would look away, and Draceana, caught between indignation and uncertainty, would pretend she hadn't been watching him in the first place. Not that her own circumstances were particularly pleasant. She had been given a place to sleep, clean clothes, and more food than she could reasonably complain about. Fleur treated her with the same courtesy she extended to the other guests, while Bill remained polite whenever they crossed paths. Yet beyond those ordinary gestures of hospitality, nobody seemed particularly eager to speak with her. Under ordinary circumstances, Draceana would have returned his hostility with a particularly cutting remark. She had never been one to tolerate being looked down upon, least of all by someone she considered beneath her. But every time a familiar insult rose to her lips, she remembered where she was, whose family had imprisoned these people, and the ugly black mark concealed beneath her sleeve. So she held her tongue. Instead, she settled for glaring whenever she caught someone looking at her, which did little to make her appear more approachable. It was a miserable arrangement. At meals, she usually sat at the far end of the table, answering Fleur's occasional questions with stiff politeness before returning her attention to her plate. When the others gathered in the sitting room, she would find somewhere out of the way and occupy herself with whatever book happened to be available. Sometimes their conversations would drift toward Hogwarts, the Weasleys, or people they had known before the war, and Draceana would listen without contributing. She recognized many of the names, of course, and on more than one occasion she nearly interrupted to correct something she considered particularly foolish. Yet she always stopped herself. After all, what right did she have to join their conversations? She was not their friend. She was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was a Malfoy, a marked Death Eater, and the daughter of the man whose home had become a prison for several of the people now sharing this cottage. Even Granger, who had spoken in her defense after the funeral, had admitted that she didn't understand why Draceana had helped her. Nobody knew what to make of her presence, and Draceana was beginning to suspect that she didn't know either. There was, however, one person who could have explained everything. Potter. The same stubborn, reckless idiot who had seized her hand at Malfoy Manor and refused to leave without her. He had dragged her away from her family, brought her to an unfamiliar place filled with people who despised everything her surname represented, and then proceeded to behave as though she scarcely existed. At first, Draceana tried to be patient. Potter was grieving, after all. Even she could understand that much. Dobby had died saving them, and Harry had been the one holding him when he took his final breath. She had watched him dig the grave, seen him sitting before it long after everyone else had gone, and understood that approaching him with demands for an explanation would accomplish very little. So she waited. Perhaps tomorrow, when he was feeling better, he would finally speak to her. Perhaps he would explain why he had insisted on bringing her here, what he expected her to do, or how long he intended for her to remain. She wasn't asking for much. A few words would have sufficed. Even one of his usual irritating remarks would have been preferable to this dreadful silence. But tomorrow came, and Potter said nothing. Then another day passed. And another. By the fourth day, Draceana's patience had begun wearing dangerously thin. She could tolerate Thomas's suspicious looks, Weasley's indifference, and even the awkward silences that seemed to follow her whenever she entered a room. What she could not tolerate was being kept in the dark about her own future, particularly when the person responsible for bringing her here refused to acknowledge her. Worse still, her parents remained at Malfoy Manor

She had no idea what had happened after their escape. Had her father been punished? Had the Dark Lord already returned and discovered that his most wanted enemy had escaped from beneath the Malfoys' roof? And what of her mother? Narcissa had already endured so much, and Draceana knew better than most how little patience Voldemort possessed for failure. The thought of her parents facing his anger while she remained safely hidden in a cottage by the sea made her stomach twist with dread. Yet there was nobody she could ask. Nobody here knew what was happening at the manor, and she certainly wasn't about to confide her fears to people who had every reason to despise her family. She had tried to be patient. She had tried to understand. For four days, she had swallowed her pride, endured the uncomfortable atmosphere, and waited for Potter to finally remember that he had brought her here. And still, nothing. That evening, Draceana sat alone near the window, watching the others move about the sitting room. Ron was helping Hermione settle into a chair, Bill and Fleur were speaking quietly near the fireplace, and Luna was listening to something Mr. Ollivander was saying. Their voices mingled with the occasional crackling of the fire, creating an atmosphere that might almost have been comfortable under different circumstances. Draceana looked from one face to another before lowering her gaze toward her hands. I don't belong here. It was a thought that had visited her every day since their arrival. At first, she had dismissed it as an unpleasant consequence of being surrounded by Gryffindors and their friends. But with every passing hour, it had become increasingly difficult to ignore. She glanced toward the empty chair where Harry usually sat. Even Potter wasn't there. Her fingers tightened against the fabric of her skirt. I never belonged here in the first place. I must leave. Draceana rose quietly from her bed, taking care not to disturb anyone as she made her way through the darkened cottage. She paused beside the front door, listening for movement, before carefully turning the handle and slipping outside. The cool night air brushed against her face, carrying the faint smell of salt from the nearby sea. Instinctively, she glanced left and right, searching for guards or anyone who might be watching. It was a habit she had developed during the Death Eaters' occupation of Malfoy Manor, where even a simple walk through the corridors had required checking who might be lurking around the next corner. Only after satisfying herself that nobody was there did she close the door behind her and begin walking away. She had no proper plan, no reliable means of reaching Wiltshire, and no idea what might be waiting for her when she returned. But she couldn't remain here any longer. Four days of sitting quietly, of enduring suspicious glances and waiting for an explanation that never came, had finally exhausted what little patience she possessed. Her parents were still at the manor, perhaps facing the Dark Lord's anger while she remained safely hidden among the very people he wanted dead. Whatever danger awaited her at home, at least she would be with her family. At least she would know what had happened to them. I need to go home. She quickened her pace, her shoes sinking slightly into the sandy path leading away from the cottage. The building's warm lights gradually receded behind her, and for the first time in days, she felt as though she was finally doing something rather than merely waiting for someone else to decide her future. She had barely gone a few hundred yards when a familiar voice broke the silence. "Where are you going?" Draceana stopped so abruptly that she nearly stumbled. Her heart gave a startled leap, and she spun around, one hand instinctively reaching toward her wand. Standing beside the cottage, partly concealed by the shadows, was Harry Potter. His hair was as untidy as ever, his glasses catching a faint reflection of moonlight. He wasn't approaching her, merely standing there with an expression she couldn't quite make out. "By Merlin, Scarhead!" she exclaimed, pressing a hand against her chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What the bloody hell are you doing lurking about in the dark?" Harry shifted awkwardly, looking almost surprised by the force of her reaction. "I... I couldn't sleep," he answered, glancing briefly toward the cottage before looking back at her. "Well, neither can I, Potter, but you don't see me standing around frightening people half to death." Draceana folded her arms, trying to ignore how quickly her heart was beating. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not your mother, I’m not going to tuck you back to sleep. So go back inside and bother someone else." Harry didn't move. For a moment, he seemed to be searching for something to say, his lips parting slightly before closing again. Then he looked toward the path stretching away behind her. "You want me to go back inside so I can watch you leave?" Draceana gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, congratulations! A hundred points to Gryffindor! The great Harry Potter has finally managed to work something out without Granger holding his hand." She offered him an exaggerated little clap before turning away. "Yes, Potter. I'm leaving. How terribly observant of you." "Where are you going?" Harry asked again, taking a step forward. "Where else?" she replied without looking back. "Home." "Home?" Harry repeated. "You mean Malfoy Manor?" "No, Potter, I mean the bottom of the Black Lake. Of course I mean Malfoy Manor!" Draceana snapped, turning toward him again. "Honestly, for someone who's supposed to be the Chosen One, you can be remarkably thick." "But you can't just go back there!" Harry protested, finally moving toward her. "The place is crawling with Death Eaters. Voldemort could be there right now!" Draceana's expression tightened at the mention of the Dark Lord, but she quickly concealed it behind a familiar sneer. "Yes, Potter, I'm well aware of who occupies my family's home. I happen to have lived there, remember?" She turned away once more, unwilling to let him see the fear that had briefly crossed her face. "Now, if you've finished stating the obvious, I'll be going." Harry hurried after her. Before she could take another step, his hand closed around her wrist. "Wait! Malfoy, stop!" Draceana stiffened and looked down at his fingers wrapped around her arm. For a moment, she seemed too surprised to react. Then her expression darkened. "Potter," she said slowly, "what exactly do you think you're doing? What is it with you and grabbing someone's wrist." "Just... stop for a moment, will you?" Harry pleaded, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Please. Can we talk?" Draceana stared at him. For four days, she had waited for those very words. Four days of wondering why he had brought her here, why he refused to look at her, and whether he had finally decided that saving a Malfoy had been a terrible mistake. She had imagined confronting him more times than she cared to admit, rehearsing questions and accusations in the privacy of her room. Yet now that he was finally standing before her, asking to speak, all she could feel was a sudden, bitter surge of anger. "Oh, now you want to talk?" she asked, her voice rising. "How convenient! Four days, Potter. Four bloody days! You drag me out of my own home, bring me to this miserable little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surround me with people who'd rather see me thrown into Azkaban, and then you don't even have the decency to explain why I'm here!" Harry flinched. "Draceana, I—" "No!" Draceana interrupted, tugging at her wrist. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to pretend I don't exist for four days and then suddenly decide we ought to have a nice little chat because I've finally had enough!" Her voice trembled despite her efforts to control it, and she hated herself for allowing him to hear it. "I've waited, Potter. I've been patient. Far more patient than you deserve! And for what? So you can stand there looking miserable and expect me to understand whatever it is you've been thinking?" "That's not what I—" Harry began, but the words deserted him almost immediately. He had known she would be angry. He had even imagined some of the things she might say. Yet faced with her now, with those furious silver eyes and the unmistakable hurt beneath her accusations, every explanation he'd tried to prepare seemed hopelessly inadequate. "Then what, Potter?" she demanded. "What exactly do you want from me?" Harry opened his mouth. Nothing came. His grip loosened slightly around her wrist, and for one terrible moment, all he could do was stare at the girl he'd spent so long wanting to see again. Draceana waited, searching his face for an answer. When none came, her expression hardened, although the disappointment in her eyes was harder to conceal. "That's what I thought," she muttered, trying once more to pull her hand free. "The answer is no, Potter. Whatever it is you've finally decided you want to say, I'm not interested. Now unhand me, or—" Her words died on her lips. "Or what, Draceana?" Harry asked quietly. "Or..." Draceana turned toward him, ready with another cutting remark, but the words caught in her throat when her eyes met his. Had his eyes always looked like that? She had known those green eyes for almost seven years. They had always been so infuriatingly bright, so direct, carrying that ridiculous determination that made Harry Potter seem incapable of understanding when he ought to give up. Even when they argued, there had always been something unmistakably alive in his gaze. She used to find it irritating, but somewhere after the Yule Ball, that irritation had quietly disappeared. Without quite knowing when it happened, she'd begun looking forward to seeing that familiar brightness. Now she wished for it more desperately than she cared to admit. But the eyes looking back at her were different. They were tired, shadowed by sleepless nights, and filled with sadness. Beneath it was something else she recognized immediately. Shame. She knew that expression. She had seen it often enough in her own reflection, particularly since receiving the Dark Mark. Please... Don’t look at me like that. Is It… Because of me…. Unable to bear his gaze, Draceana slapped his hand away and turned, biting down hard on her lower lip as she resumed walking. She had wanted him to speak for four miserable days, yet now that he was finally trying, she was afraid of what he might say. Harry recoiled as her hand struck his, watching her retreat with rising panic. He remained motionless for a moment, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. Am I... really going to let her leave again? After everything? After Dobby...? He swallowed, his fingers curling into a fist. He had already made his choice at Malfoy Manor. He had gone back for her despite the danger, and now that she was finally safe, was he really going to watch her disappear again without explaining himself? No... Not this time. I have to tell her. I have to! "Draceana, wait!" Harry hurried after her and, acting before he could reconsider, wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Wha—Potter?!" Draceana twisted in surprise, struggling against his embrace. "What in Merlin's name are you doing? Let go of me!" "Don’t leave," Harry answered, his voice strained. His arms trembled as he held her. "Not like this. Please, Draceana." "Potter, I said let go!" She struggled harder, her cheeks burning. "Have you gone mental? First you drag me here, without my consent, mind you, and now you won't even let me leave? What is wrong with you?" Harry's grip loosened, though he remained close. He had imagined stopping her, imagined finally explaining everything, but now that the moment had arrived, the words refused to come. "Why?" Draceana demanded, her voice cracking. "Why are you so determined to keep me here? Tell me, Harry Potter! Why can't you just leave me alone?" "Because..." Harry swallowed. "Because I... I haven't..." Draceana stopped struggling, waiting despite herself. "Because I haven't apologized to you," he finally managed. Draceana went still. Apologize? To me? "What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning. "What could you possibly need to apologize to me for? If anyone should be apologizing, it ought to be..." Her words faltered. "The bathroom," Harry whispered. Draceana's stomach tightened. She looked away, forcing a careless laugh that sounded painfully unconvincing. She swallowed. "Why would you apologize for it? We were enemies, Potter. You hated me. It's only natural." "I didn't hate you," Harry said. Draceana closed her eyes. "Don't." "I never did." "You're not making sense, Potter." Her voice trembled. "You were obsessed with proving I was a Death Eater. You found your proof. You hated me. That's all there was to it, wasn't it?" She looked away, afraid of his answer. "Please... just tell me that's all." Harry stared at her. She genuinely believed he'd wanted to hurt her. "No, Draceana." He shook his head. "I was obsessed. You're right about that. But I wasn't hoping to prove you were a Death Eater." He struggled to meet her eyes. "I was hoping you weren't." Draceana's lips parted, but nothing came out. "I wanted to be wrong," Harry continued quietly. "More than anything. And when I realized I wasn't..." He swallowed. "I saw the mark. I panicked. We started fighting, and when you raised your wand, I used the first spell that came into my head." Harry's breath caught. "I didn't know what the spell would do. I swear, Draceana, I didn't. I never imagined..." He stopped, his face twisting with the effort of holding himself together. "I never imagined it would hurt you like that." A tear slipped down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Draceana. I'm so sorry." For several seconds, she could only stare at him. Harry Potter was crying, his remorse more apparent than anything he could have said. Harry...? Before she could stop herself, Draceana reached up and gently wiped the tear from his cheek. Her fingers lingered there, surprising them both. "Ever since that day..." Harry's voice shook. "I kept seeing you lying there, bleeding. I thought I'd killed you. And afterward, whenever I held my wand, my hands trembled. No matter how many times I washed my hands, I could still feel your blood." Draceana's hand remained against his cheek. "I wanted to apologize. I really did. But I was afraid. I couldn't even tell Ron and Hermione what I'd done." Harry lowered his eyes. "And when I finally met you again, you told me to forget you." His voice trailed off. Draceana slowly withdrew her hand, her own eyes beginning to sting. "I did," she whispered. "I told you to forget about me." Harry looked at her. "I told you to stay away, Potter. I told you to be safe." Her voice began to tremble. "And you wouldn't listen. You never listen, do you? Not when we were at Hogwarts, and certainly not now." She attempted a bitter laugh, but it caught painfully in her throat. "Seven years, Potter. Seven bloody years, and you still can't follow a simple instruction." "Draceana..." "And then you had the gall to come charging into my home and drag me away!" she continued, tears gathering in her eyes. "Do you have any idea what you've done? My father is still there! My mother is still there! I don't even know whether they're alive, and here I am, hiding in some cottage while the Dark Lord could be punishing them for letting you escape!" "I know," Harry whispered. "No, you don't!" Draceana snapped. "You don't know what it's like living there anymore. You don't know what he does when someone disappoints him. You don't know what he might do to them because of me!" Her voice broke. "I heard your apology, Potter. I heard every word. So please... just let me go home." Harry knew she was frightened for her parents. But the thought of her returning to Voldemort, after everything it had taken to bring her somewhere safe, filled him with dread. "I can't," he said. Draceana stared at him. "Why?" she demanded, desperation breaking through her anger. "Why can't you? Why do you keep coming after me, Potter? Why do you go so far for someone like me?" Harry opened his mouth. "Because I—" And suddenly, Draceana understood. She saw it in his face, in the way he looked at her, and in the trembling sincerity of his voice. She knew what he was about to say, and the realization frightened her more than she wanted to admit. "No!" Before Harry could finish, Draceana shoved him away. He stumbled backward and watched as she sank to her knees upon the sandy path, her hands rising to cover her tear-streaked face. "Don't..." she whispered. "Draceana?" "Don't say it, Potter." She shook her head desperately. "Please. Whatever you're about to say, don't. I don't want to hear it." Harry stood motionless, unable to understand why the words he had finally gathered the courage to speak frightened her so much. "Please..." Draceana's voice broke completely. "Just let me hate you. Let me believe you hate me too. It's easier that way. It's safer." She lowered her trembling hands, looking up at him through her tears. "Please, Harry... don't make this harder than it already is.” Harry slowly knelt in front of her, leaving just enough space between them. He watched Draceana struggle to contain her tears, her hands trembling against her face. For once, the girl who always seemed to have a sharp remark ready could barely bring herself to look at him. "Draceana... I..." "Don't. Please, don't." Draceana shook her head, covering her ears as though she could somehow keep his next words from reaching her. "Please, Harry..." "I love you." The words came more naturally than Harry had expected. After everything he had struggled to say that night, those three words were surprisingly simple. He swallowed, his voice softening. "And I'm sorry. It took me far too long to understand that. Maybe... maybe I've realized it too late." "Why?" Draceana cried, slowly lowering her hands. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? I've told you to stop so many times, and yet you still..." She struggled to finish, wiping at her tears in frustration. "What about Chang? Or Weasley's sister? Surely either of them would be better! Anyone would be better than me!" Her voice cracked as she looked down at her left arm. "I'm tainted. Look at what I am! I've done horrible things. I've hurt people. I've made decisions I can never take back, and no matter how much I regret them, none of that changes what I've done!" Her voice cracked. "I'm not some poor, innocent girl you need to rescue. I've been cruel, selfish, arrogant... I've spent years making your life miserable! I've insulted your friends, I've followed people who want you dead, and I've done things I don't even know how to make right!" Harry remained silent, watching her struggle to speak through her tears. "So why?" Draceana asked again, the anger draining from her voice until only desperation remained. "Why would you love someone like me? Why would you choose me when you know what I've done?" Her strength finally gave way, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Harry hesitated before gently placing a hand against her back. "Because I want to," Harry answered quietly. "I know what you've done, Draceana. I know you've made terrible choices, and I'm not going to pretend they never happened. Nothing I say or do can erase them." Draceana remained silent against his shoulder, her fingers tightening around his shirt. "But I know there's more to you than those choices," Harry continued. "You keep telling me who you're supposed to be. A Malfoy. A Death Eater. Someone I'm meant to hate." His voice softened. "Yet whenever it was just the two of us, you let me see someone else. Someone you never wanted anyone to see." "That doesn't mean I'm a good person, Harry," she whispered. "I didn't say it did." Harry gently shook his head. "I'm saying I fell in love with you. Not your name, not the mark on your arm. You." Draceana lifted her head slightly, looking at him through her tears. "It wasn't until that day in the bathroom, when I thought I was going to lose you, that I finally understood." His voice grew quieter. "I'd spent so long trying to figure you out, and all that time, I hadn't even understood my own feelings." He looked at her again. "I know you've made terrible choices, Draceana. I'm not asking you to forget them. But I can't pretend the girl I came to love doesn't exist just because of those choices." He paused, gathering his courage. "I love you. I think I have for a long time. I was just too much of an idiot to realize it sooner." Harry watched her for a moment, uncertain whether he dared ask the question that had been troubling him for so long. "Draceana... Don't you feel the same?" Draceana's fingers tightened against his shirt. She had spent so long holding everything inside, convincing herself that silence was safer, that denial was easier. But Harry had finally spoken the words she had been too frightened to admit even to herself. There was little point in pretending anymore. "I'm tired, Harry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so tired. It would have been easier if you just hated me. Then I could have hated you too, and everything would have been so much simpler." She lifted her head, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. "But you just had to say it, didn't you? You bloody idiot." Harry said nothing, allowing her to continue. "Of course I feel the same!" she cried. "I love you, Harry. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurt when you attacked me. It hurt when I had to leave you. And it hurts every time I have to lie to myself, to you, to my family..." Her voice faltered, and she drew a trembling breath. "I've always wanted to be beside you. I've wanted it for so long, but I'm scared, Potter. I'm scared that if I take another step toward you, I'll lose everything I hold dear. My family... everything I've ever known." She looked at him helplessly. "And most of all, I'm afraid I'll lose you.” Hearing her finally admit how she truly felt, Harry reached out and gently took her hand. This time, Draceana didn't pull away. She allowed his fingers to intertwine with hers, holding on as though she were finally allowing herself to accept the comfort she'd been denying for so long. "But Harry..." Draceana lowered her gaze to their joined hands. "You know what stands between us. Do you really think we can make this work?" Harry hesitated. He wanted to promise her that everything would be all right, but he couldn't. He wasn't a prophet, and he had never been particularly good at Divination. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. And after everything they'd finally admitted, he couldn't bring himself to offer another comforting lie. "I don't know," he confessed. "I really don't." He squeezed her hand gently. "But I know that my love is real. And I don't want to give up on us before we've even had a chance." "You're an idiot," she whispered, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'm not strong enough, Harry. I’m scared. I’m not like you." she admitted quietly. "Then lean on me," Harry answered. "You don't have to face everything alone. I promise I'll be there for you, in sickness and in health, through hell and back. Whatever happens, I'll support you. You won't have to keep lying about how you feel." Draceana blinked at him. For a moment, she simply stared, before a small, disbelieving smile appeared through her tears. "Harry..." she murmured. "Those words are for weddings." Harry froze. "I... what?" His eyes widened as the realization caught up with him. "Oh. Right. I didn't mean... I mean, not that I wouldn't... I just..." Despite herself, Draceana let out a quiet laugh. "You really are an idiot, Potter." She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks, her smile growing a little. "There are steps, you know. You're supposed to follow them." "Right." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry. I suppose I got a bit ahead of myself." "A bit?" Draceana repeated, raising an eyebrow. Harry gave an embarrassed smile, then looked back at her. For a moment, he simply watched her, still holding her hand. There was no need to search for the right words anymore. "Then I'll say it again," he said softly. "I love you, Draceana." Draceana felt her cheeks warm. There was something absurd about the moment, especially coming from the boy who had just stumbled into what sounded suspiciously like a marriage proposal. Yet she couldn't bring herself to mock him for it. Not when he was looking at her with such earnest affection. She squeezed his hand. "And I… love you too."

For a while, neither said anything. The tension that had kept them awake, the fear and uncertainty that had made every conversation so difficult, seemed to loosen at last. Harry leaned back onto the cool sand, exhausted, and Draceana settled beside him, resting her head against his stomach. Neither made an effort to move. Above them, the stars shone quietly over the dark sea, while the distant sound of waves filled the silence. "It’s exhausting..." Draceana murmured after a while, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Pretending that I'm your enemy, when my heart told me you’re not." She hesitated, her fingers curling gently into his shirt. "Please, Harry... help me." There was no pride in her voice this time, no attempt to disguise her plea behind an insult. She was asking him honestly, perhaps more honestly than she had ever asked anyone for anything. Harry rested a hand gently against her hair. "Then don't pretend anymore," he said. "Stay here, Draceana. We'll figure things out. I promise I'll help you." Draceana closed her eyes, allowing herself to believe him, if only for tonight. "Thank you, Harry…" For a moment, Harry thought she had fallen asleep. Then Draceana stirred slightly, lifting her head just enough to look at him. "Harry?" "Hmm?" "I'm staying." Harry looked down at her, surprised. Then a small, unmistakably relieved smile appeared on his face. "I'm glad." "Don't get ahead of yourself, Potter," she murmured, her cheeks warming. "Someone has to look after you. Merlin knows how hopeless you'd be without me." Harry's smile widened. "Oh, really?" "Absolutely," she replied, settling her head against him again. "And don't make me regret it." "I'll try not to," Harry said quietly. "You'd better." Draceana closed her eyes, still holding his hand. Within minutes, her breathing had become slow and even, and Harry could feel the last of the tension leaving her body. He watched her for a while, then rested his head against the sand and closed his eyes. The war was still waiting for them. The Horcruxes remained unfound, Dobby was gone, and Draceana's parents were still in danger. None of those burdens had disappeared. But for tonight, neither had to wonder whether the other cared, nor pretend that their feelings meant nothing. They were still Harry Potter and Draceana Malfoy, stubborn and foolish in their own ways. Yet something had changed. A weight neither had quite known how to put into words had finally lifted, and with it, a faint glimmer of light had returned to their weary eyes. There were still things to fear, choices to make, and battles waiting beyond the safety of Shell Cottage. But for the first time in a very long while, they could face the thought of tomorrow without feeling quite so alone. And beneath the quiet night sky, they finally slept, unburdened by the feelings they no longer had to hide.

Forbidden Forest Midnight You Belong to Me, Harry Harry walked through the Forbidden Forest, the moonlight barely penetrating the thick canopy above him. Snap. Harry: Hmm? Who's there? Ron? Hagrid? Silence. Harry stopped walking. Footsteps echoed behind the trees. Slow. Deliberate. Getting closer. Then, a shadow emerged from the darkness. Long blonde hair. A black Hogwarts robe. A green tie. And two glowing green eyes staring directly at him from beneath a curtain of dark shadows. Harry: Is that...? Dracaena? Dracaena: Hey, Harry. Hehehe. Harry: What are you doing here? Come on, let's go back to the castle. It's getting late. Dracaena didn't move. Dracaena: Harry, sweetheart... I wanted to ask you something. Harry: What is it? Dracaena: Were you with Ginny today? Harry: What? Dracaena: Her smile widened slightly. Were. You. With. Ginny. Today? Harry: (What kind of question is that?) Harry: Yeah, I was. She's my friend. Dracaena's smile vanished. Dracaena: WHY? Harry: What? Hey, what do you Dracaena: She suddenly rushed toward him. Dracaena: WHY WERE YOU TALKING TO HER?! Harry: SHE'S MY FRIEND! I WAS JUST ASKING HER ABOUT HOMEWORK! Dracaena: I TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES! SHE'S NOTHING MORE THAN A BAD INFLUENCE! I FORBID YOU FROM TALKING TO HER! STOP ASKING HER QUESTIONS! STOP GOING NEAR HER! Harry stumbled backward as Dracaena advanced. Harry: Dracaena, please! We were just talking about homework! Dracaena: I'M RIGHT HERE, HARRY! YOU HAVE ME! WHY DO YOU NEED HER?! Harry: I don't! She's just a friend! Dracaena: SHE'S NO ONE, HARRY! Her voice suddenly softened. Dracaena stopped directly in front of him. The anger disappeared from her expression, replaced by a strangely gentle smile. Dracaena: She's no one, Harry. Nobody understands you like I do. Nobody loves you like I do. Harry swallowed nervously. Harry: Dracaena... let's just go back, okay? Dracaena: Of course, sweetheart. She reached behind her back. Something metallic glimmered beneath the moonlight. Harry's eyes widened. Harry: D-Dracaena... is that a knife? Dracaena: Mhm. Harry: W-why do you have that?! Dracaena tilted her head innocently, as though he had asked her why she was carrying a quill. Dracaena: Harry... She stepped closer. Dracaena: You wouldn't leave me alone, right? Harry: N-no. No, of course not! Dracaena: You wouldn't abandon me for Ginny? Harry: No! I wouldn't! Dracaena: You wouldn't run away from me? Harry: NO! I PROMISE! Dracaena stared into his frightened eyes for several seconds. Then she smiled. Dracaena: Good boy, Harry. She slipped the knife out of sight and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest. Dracaena: See? Was that so difficult? Harry stood completely rigid, his hands trembling at his sides. Dracaena: You're mine, Harry. Mine and mine alone. She hugged him tighter. Dracaena: Remember that, okay? You're my Harry. My precious Harry. My prince. Harry: Y-yes. Of course, Dracaena. Dracaena: Hehehehe. I knew you'd understand. She gently took his hand. Dracaena: Now, let's go back to the castle together. Harry: ...Okay. They began walking through the forest. Dracaena rested her head against his shoulder, humming happily. Dracaena: Oh, Harry? Harry: Y-yes? Dracaena: Tomorrow, you'll sit with me at breakfast. Harry: Okay. Dracaena: And you'll walk with me to every class. Harry: Okay. Dracaena: And you won't talk to Ginny anymore. Harry: ... Dracaena slowly turned her head toward him. Dracaena: Harry? Harry: Okay, Dracaena. Dracaena: Hehehehe. I love you. She squeezed his hand affectionately. Dracaena: I love you SO MUCH. Harry stared ahead, desperately hoping the castle would appear between the trees. Behind him, Dracaena's shadow stretched across the forest floor. And in her other hand, hidden beneath her robe, the knife caught one final glint of moonlight. Dracaena: Forever and ever, Harry. 💚 🍏

Were you with Ginny today...?

「ビビってるのか？ポッター？」 #ドラコ・マルフォイ #malfoid