The Malfoy Project

𝟖𝟕 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞

     Pandora's box closes, and I am back in the hotel bed at the Rabbit Hole. The silk sheets feel cool against my skin; something real, touchable. I grasp on to them tightly. When I look up at Draco, he is staring past the top of my head, lost in some unseen emotion. His cheeks are wet from tears, new drops tracing over old tracks, his lips slightly parted in something between pain and shock.

     "Draco, what's wrong?" 

     He doesn't respond. I reach out and thumb a fresh tear from the corner of his eye. The contact seems to stun him back to earth. He blinks out of his stupor and looks down at me as if seeing me for the first time. "You okay?" I ask again, beginning to feel worried and self-conscious. 

     He gives me a curt nod. I chew on my lower lip. "Do you... do you know me now?"

     "A little more than before," he says. Then, as if suddenly overcome with a revelation, he springs to life, scooping my face with his large hands. "Ainsley, listen. I'm going to ask you something. I will only ask it once, and if you say no, I swear I will never ask it again. But I want you to look at me when you answer. Look at me."

     I force myself to meet his piercing gaze. He takes my hand and, slowly, brings my palm to his chest. Under all the lean muscle, I can feel the dull thudding of his heart. Faint, but steady. 

     "This," he says, "is the only human thing I've felt for twenty years. Until you."

     My own pulse quickens with his, anxiety tangling with anticipation at what I think he's about to say. Beneath my palms, the thumping of his heart accelerates, fighting its cage of bones with a near-maddening force. 

     Draco takes a deep breath and adjusts himself to face me fully. "The first time we met, you made me feel so fucking stupid. Stupid and careless and ugly. Because I thought there was nothing I could offer you. I thought I would be hurting you. But the truth is I've just never met or known anyone like you. And you're annoying, and insane, and fucking impetuous, but god, I've never cared about anyone this much before." 

     He pauses again, as if the sole act of speaking winded him, before rushing on. "What I'm saying is I want to be with you, wherever that is. I want to be there when you win, and when you lose, and when you cry, and when you laugh. I want to bear witness to every single moment of your life. And I know it may be impossible, but I would never forgive myself if I didn't at least try. Ainsley—" he takes a deep breath, "is there... is there even the slightest possibility that you would be willing to stay with me?"

     His eyes are two bright flares in the darkness. There is no more fear in them, no more resentment hardened on his mouth. Even the self-pity that constantly tugs at the corners of his mouth is gone. Now, all I can see in his face is a kind of bright hope — not just for himself, but for me. And I know he isn't asking if I want to be in a relationship with him, not really. He is telling me he will take care of me, that he will not allow me to experience that kind of hurt and loss ever again.

     A thousand possibilities race through my mind. The dangerous kind that should only exist in dreams. The kind that could get the both of us killed. 

     "Draco... You know I can't risk something happening to you or your family." 

     His face falls, and he blinks in disappointment. "Why did you come back, then?" 

     "What do you mean?"

     "The night of the fire," he says. "You were supposed to run away."

     My body freezes over. "How- how did you—"

     "Mother told me." He releases me from his hold and rolls onto his back, closing his eyes. "That day, after you left, she came into my room and told me to be prepared because I'd likely never see you again."