The Malfoy Project

𝟓𝟔 - 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

A/N *PLEASE READ*: 

Hiii! We're back with another update! Long Draco flashback ahead, but what happens in the next chapters is quite pivotal to the plot so please bear with it! >.< 

I have mentioned this in my author's note, but this is just a gentle reminder that this book is a mixture of plots and character/character descriptions from the books, the movies, AND my own creative liberties.

As this is meant to provide insight into the side of the Malfoys we have not seen, both physically and emotionally, I have to make some things up. It is not meant to be a faithful retelling of the story as we know it. That's the point of this book, isn't it? ;) 

I try my best to explain any deviations from canon, particularly the actions of the Malfoys, but I think it's important to note that Ainsley does not sympathise with them/Lucius, but rather, is trying her best to exercise compassion and empathy while remaining firmly against their crimes. That's her struggle. That's her character journey.  

There are also more major plot points I have not revealed yet, one of them being these next 2 chapters. 

I know this book is going to be long with many chapters, so thank you for still being here, and I hope you stay till the very end to see how it all pans out. 💚

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 "Ah! The ecru-wool-jumper-wearing brat has decided to grace me with his presence," I call teasingly as Draco enters the room. He doesn't respond to my jest; his face is smileless as he closes the door behind him and glides towards the armchair across from me where his mother had been in just earlier.

     "Actually," I say before he can sit down, "I thought we could take a walk to the garden today." He nods in silent agreement. I stand, leaving behind my recorder, parchment, ink, and quill. I have come to realise those things do not serve me well in eliciting responses from him. They have become a symbol of betrayal and distrust. Our relationship has no space for that now.

     We walk hand-in-hand down the path. Our breaths come in bursts of little white clouds as I keep up a constant stream of chatter. Draco doesn't say much apart from making small noises of acknowledgement every now and then. It's clear his mind is elsewhere, but his inexplicable dour mood does nothing to dampen my spirits. Something about his happier disposition earlier had instilled some kind of hope in me.

     All things considered, this isn't so bad after all, right? We'd both told each other our feelings, and even though we can't speak in school, this still sort of works — spending time together on the weekends, me learning him the way I have always desired since the very beginning of this project. At last, it feels like I'm making headway through the dark murky waters of the Malfoys. The book is going to be a hit.

     The garden is just as beautiful as we had left it on Christmas. Everything is flourishing under the permanent spring weather: the flowers are in glorious multi-coloured bloom and the wings of the butterflies tinkle, the sound silver as little sleigh bells. I cast a furtive glance at him, hoping to catch a smile. Instead, he is looking at the garden with a pained expression, his throat trembling as if he's trying to swallow a stone.

     "You're awfully quiet," I remark casually. "Sorry if I was talking too much—" He turns around suddenly and takes my face between both hands, looking into my eyes for a brief moment before dipping down to kiss me. I resist a little in surprise, but his lips are warm and gentle, and I relax into him.

     He kisses me for a long time, not twisting this way and that, just resting his mouth on mine. We must have stayed like that for at least a whole minute before he finally breaks away, a soft, nearly-inaudible gasp escaping him as he did, as if it hurt him to do so. "Ainsley, you— you love me, right?" His voice is low, halting.

     "Yes, I do."

     His lips press into a thin line like he's trying not to cry. "Even with my family?"

     "Don't be silly. If I didn't, we wouldn't have... I wouldn't have let you... you know."

     You let Montague, I can almost hear him say. But he doesn't.

     "Even if I'm about to tell you terrible things?"

     The sudden, incongruent seriousness of his tone prompts the urge to giggle. I fight it down. "Draco, half the country knows what happened. They've been covering Death Eater activities and publishing exposés for years at this point." I offer a smile, but he doesn't return it.

     "Anyway, today you can just tell me about Third Year. You know, when you got attacked by Buckbeak." I pause for a laugh that doesn't come. "Oh, and Fourth Year! I still do want to know more about what it was like for you. Before the war properly started."

     At that, he looks away at the ground, almost in shame. "Oh, come on, it'll be fun," I urge playfully, "I mean, it was the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. I'm sure there's lots of interesting bits to unpack."

     He frowns. "Doesn't it hurt for you? To talk about the Tournament?"

     There it is. A pain so sharp it takes my breath away. I clear my throat to hide it. "A little. But it does get better after time." After you. "Besides, I had a blast at the Ball. That's one of the best memories I have with Ced."

     "You went with him?"

     "Sort of. Although he was much more interested in Cho than me, but, I mean, I can hardly blame him."

     In the ensuing moment of silence, I realise we're still standing by the entrance of the garden. Taking the lead, I make my way to the swing, Draco following behind. It sags to one side under our weight. He doesn't move to set it off, so I extend my leg and give the ground a little push. As we rock back and forth, I lay my head on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of his skin seeping through the soft wool, letting it melt into my cheek.

     His hands lie in his lap, fidgeting. I reach for them. "You can tell me. I'll be alright."

     He squeezes my hands, crushing my fingers between his as tightly as trying to save me from falling off the edge of a cliff. His rings are cold against my skin, but so is mine, an ever-present reminder of the stakes at play.

     "I want to know you," I remind him gently. "All the parts, remember?"

     "You're not going to like this part." 

     I resist the temptation to sigh. "Draco, I can assure you I've probably seen and heard just about everything at this point. This is going to sound awful, but honestly, it's not like you've committed a murder or something. Sure, you might have a few unsavoury deeds under your belt, but you didn't actually kill anybody." 

     His chest trembles under the layers as he takes a deep, unsteady breath. "But that's exactly it, Ainsley... I did."