The Vows that Haunt Us

Widow Abigail Dumbledore (OC) x Draco Malfoy — a slow-burn Dramione AU tangled in harsh politics, pain, and power. Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Abigail — a grieving mother and reluctant political pawn — fights to protect her daughter and reshape the wizarding world. Betrothed to Draco Malfoy in a fragile alliance, she navigates dark secrets, fierce loyalties, and the ghosts of her past. Expect feminist rebellion, sharp political intrigue, and the messy, haunting pull of forbidden love. Welcome to a story where power is never given — it’s taken. https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinArchives5/works

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I get up, avoiding to look at him. I’m starting to get nauseous again, damn it.

“It’s called stress, Malfoy, you have felt the effects as well…” I catch Avery staring our way, maybe this is a good chance to test something “…ignoring them won’t make them go away.” I mumble, wrapping my arms around his neck.

 He instantly envelopes me, pulling me closer. His face is lower, inches from mine. His fingers digging into my skin even through the corset.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you almost missed me.” He whispers.

He knows, he gets it. Understands that it’s all bait for Avery and still accepts it, takes whatever he can get.

“But you do know better, you always saw right through my darkness.”

“It’s speaks directly to mine, dear.” 

I let him give me a peck on the lips, following my lead to test Avery. He exhales heavily in my ear, pulling me onto him even tighter.

“This is not fair, mrs Malfoy.”

I hold his face softly, it breaks me on the inside to do this to him. He is right, this is not fair, just necessary.

“Nothing ever is between us, Malfoy. Let’s wrap up this night.” I retort pushing him off me.

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“Love isn’t transactional, Malfoy!”

“Yes it is! For us it is, you said it yourself! You save me from the kiss, so that you can use me. You kiss me in public, so you can manipulate your political rivals. You hide your condition from me, so I don’t feel like I have any right over you.” 

 He steps closer with each accusation, pushing me towards the sofa. I flop on the couch and he still pushes, looming over me. It’s times like this, at his most vulnerable, that he is irresistible to me. I know how that sounds, I fucking know it. But he is so raw, so open for me to interpret. Every emotion he tries to hide and control shows it’s ugly face. His obsession, his possessiveness over me.

It’s what terrifies me the most with him. 

 It’s what I need to run from and be devoured by each time. He huffs and puffs on my face, his frantic eyes searching it. I grab his face with my hands, the electricity between us sizzling.

 He follows my lead, crushing his lips on mine.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65743474/chapters/169308907

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He lifts his gaze to mine, thinking my words over. Gives the baby to Hermione with a careful move, pecking his head. It’s a miracle Scorpius hasn’t even piped all this time. He only looks around with a wide eyed look in his lilac grey eyes. Draco takes my hand, leading me to the couch. He has me sit, kneeling in front of me. We must seem ridiculously dramatic, me in a cream, long, satin nightgown and him in black pants and shirt. As if we have just crawled out of a modern depiction of a Lidia Timoshenko painting.

 He takes my hand in his long fingers, kissing it reverently, not giving a fuck about Mione watching us. Lips cold on my skin, giving me gooseflesh. I’m mesmerised by such movements of his, I wallow in his restrained adoration. His silver eyes boring into mine with the spark they hold when he fucks me. The same naughty and possessive look he carries with his mouth on my cunt, burning now that he simply pecks my fingers. 

We are both manipulative on each other, it’s not only me some moments ago. He goes for the same tricks, even now, in this very important moment. Even with a fucking spectator in the room, he could care less about making Mione uncomfortable over this.

“My beautiful, brilliant witch. Only you would turn the unbearable pain and suffering you went through into a new form of magic. Even if it’s my choices and our son the embodiment of it, your will brought it over Abigail, because your mind is the only one to conceptualise it.”

“It’s not an original thought, Draco. I only saw potential…” I exhale.

He shakes his head negatively, kissing the inside of my wrist again.

“Only you, Abigail have the will to shift all of this. Very well my love, let’s do this. Ward away, take whatever blood you need. Bleed my dry if necessary.”

He speaks the words slowly, adoringly almost. 

“You are so dramatic. Hermione only needs a drop or two.” I tease him.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinArchives5/works

It's finally completed!

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“Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it?” He retorts with a hurt look.

“Nope, you have a very long way to go, to get to enough!”

“My Salazar, what do you want from me, you witch?”

I flinch by his mood swing, it’s scary. He seems at a wit’s end, ready to deflect with just a small push.

“I want you to be ready when your mother arrives.” I conclude.

 I refuse to do this again, we need planing and strategic moves. Not to be bantering like teenagers. He covers our small distance with two steps, grabbing my arm almost too harshly. Like he did the first night we came to the manor. I try to escape his grasp, but he holds firmly. Never bruising, on the outside, only internally. He would do this when we were younger, try to hold me close while simultaneously pushing me even further.

“Get your hands off me, Malfoy!”

“Of course dear, night’s veil is lifted, mrs Malfoy has a role to play, correct?” He demands, not letting go.

“Yes I fucking do! I always perform, for my parents, for my daughter! For Freddie being dead and above everyone else FOR YOU! I have to perform for you, otherwise I never know what’s coming! I hate you, I hate you so fucking much!” I say through tears, pulling from him violently.

“Good, cause nothing else seems to work on you. Maybe hating me will spark something more than restraint on your behalf!” He retorts.

He still won’t let go, won’t walk away. 

“What more do you want, you selfish jerk?”

“YOU! I want you, how can you still ask me the same question over and over again?” He shouts in my face.

 “Oh, shut up already! You want me, go ahead! Literally no-one stoping you!” 

 He stares for two seconds before his lips collide with mine with force. I wasn’t expecting that, I only wanted to hurt and provoke him. This I can’t deflect, not while weak and pregnant with his baby. I am internally screaming to be held, fucked by him. Conquered just like he demands, letting myself go completely in his arms.

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I stand at her bed’s feet, waiting for her to kick me out. Still nothing, no reaction. 

Like I don’t fucking exist.

I’m getting the fucking silent treatment, aren’t I?

“Can I get in bed with you?” I ask.

 She shrugs her shoulders, not bothering to answer me. Flips some newspaper, a much more independent one. She doesn’t really trust the Prophet, I don’t blame her. I cross my arms waiting, standing like a damn statue in front of her. 

“You’re really not going to say a word to me?”

“I refuse to ruin Christmas cause you act like a brat. I also refuse to acknowledge your petty behaviour towards me.” 

“My petty behaviour? You made me perform in front of a man that was practically drooling over you!”

She flips the newspaper, wrinkling it with anger.

“Yes, I used your very good looks to remind that piece of shit who I’m allowing in my bed. In my panties, you should be very proud.” She states, not looking my way.

 I uncross my arms, crawl on the bed towards her. Pull on her ankle, yanking her to me. She squirms, hitting me with the newspaper. 

“Let go of me, you brute!”

 I wrap myself around her, minding to not let my body weight crash her. She claws at me, swaps at my head with the damn newspaper.

“Malfoy, stop behaving like an animal in the wild!” She shouts.

“You won’t talk to me, I’m not letting go!”

“Oh my Merlin, you are so annoying!”

 I pry the newspaper form her hands, throw it away. She stops pushing me, wraps her thighs around my waist. She is a cunning Slytherin, my wife. She doesn’t get her way with games and fury, tries flirtation. Flips from one manipulation tactic to another like breathing, so naturally. 

“Now will you talk to me, look at me?” I demand. 

She hugs me, fluttering her eyes at me.

“Best I can do is let you fuck me.” She mewls.

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“When will Janey be here?” She demands with a stubborn look.

“In a few hours, like I promised.”

“You’re terrible for making me spend the night away from her.”

 I nod, she is right. I wanted her all to myself. I thought I would go through speeches and politicking to make her see what she has gotten herself into with Avery. Instead she bared her fantastic soul naked for me, told me all about her most intimate feelings. Once more my witch manipulated me into falling even harder for her, if possible. 

“I am awful, yes.”

She blinks, considering my caving into her accusation. Her whole face changes, a naughty expression forming. 

“Take me to bed.” She mewls.

“Oh my love, you should rest. We have a whole weekend ahead us planned.” 

 She shakes her head negatively, her face pouting. I haven’t seen her let herself go like that in years. It’s what she would do to me when we were teenagers, it’s why the kid seems adorable to me. She makes the exact same face her mother used to make when she wanted her way. Playful and flirty, without all the grief she carries now. Janey does something similar, obviously in her innocent childlike manner. She demands with the stubbornness of a girl that knows how precious she is to everyone around her and expects too be treated that way.

“Abigail, come on, you look tired.”

“Then help me rest.” 

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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We step in the chapel, one motion from my wand and every candle lights up. The soft glow of the candles give the place a reverent tone, it’s a perfect metaphor for how I feel about her. She lets go of my hand, walking around. She has already forgotten all about her anger, taken in by the beautiful gothic architecture. Statues loom over us in different corners of the small church, I’m more interested in the tomb in the centre of it. 

“Malfoy, where are we?” She asks, her voice echoing at the walls.

 I take her hand in mine, she lets me again, her fingers tangling with mine. I lead her in front of the tomb, it’s marble and glass. One statue of a woman resting, a sheer cloth covering her entirely. Draped over her face and folded arms, her full curves. She sleeps in a glass coffin, tall and intricate with decorations all around. The marble base of the tomb is full of stars and crescent moons, planets and night flowers. 

“It’s a shrine, the only one that stands in the entire estate.” I respond.

Abigail turns her full attention to the tomb, her fingers trailing the marble carvings. She makes a full circle around it, bitting her lip nervously before she walks back to me. I stretch my hand, pull her into my arms. She nests there, her back on my chest, mesmerised by the monument in front of us. I wrap my arms around her belly, my palms on the lower side of it.

“What is this place?” 

“This is the Malfoy chapel, built around the thirteenth century. One of the few ancestors of mine I can actually be proud of. This lady sleeping the eternal sleep in front of us, was his wife. She died before him, I’m to believe they weren’t spared much time together. He build the whole chapel in her honour, a monument to symbolise his love for her.”

Her palms find mine, resting upon them. I pull her into me even more, rest my chin on her head. 

“He built her a tomb.” She mumbles.

“He built her a very big resting bed. She has laid in there ever since, with him.”

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We step out of the hotel in the heart of Prague, the whipping cold hitting me in the face. 

It’s one of my favourite cities, full of history, architecture and art. I have wanted to come back in years, never took the chance. 

“Oh my Merlin, Malfoy it’s already decorated for Christmas!” I pip joyfully. 

 I’m a huge sucker for the Holidays, it’s the only time of the year I feel almost happy. When I was with Freddie I would make a whole fuss, even in the midst of ongoing war. Ever since Janey was born, I go all the way with decorations and maybe dinner parties. I had forgotten how close they actually are, with everything going on.

“I thought you’d like that. It’s opening day for Christmas season, here.” He states, basking in my goofiness.

 I don’t even know where to look first, it’s magical. The streets have tea lights hanging all over, numerous Christmas trees decorated with bows and sparkling balls are spread in town squares. 

“It’s so beautiful, how did you know?” I ask him.

“I know you.”

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I exhale and take a couple of seconds before deciding whether to answer it. It results to him knocking again, with persistence. I take a haste look at the mirror, I don’t know why I even bother. I am still in my silk nighty, ironically the one I wore my first night here. My hair is not combed yet and I have a sleepy face.

He knocks once more.

What the fuck does he even want from me?

I put on my matching robe and run to the door, opening it. I notice his eyes observing me, all of me.

“Yes?”

“I almost thought you were not going to answer.” He says in an indifferent tone.

“I love to build suspense for you.” 

“Of course, dear, you are the master of manipulation. A minute of your time?” He retorts and takes a step to come in. 

I stand firmly by the door and raise a brow. Access denied dickwad, I have a very long day ahead of me. I will not give you the satisfaction of ruining it.

“Either me in or you out here, Dumbledore.” 

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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“I have to ask for something.” I mumble.

“You were a good, behaving husband up to a point at least. Ask and I’ll consider it.”

“I want you to wear the ring again.”

She furrows her brows, suddenly getting distant. Even underneath me.

“You expect me to wear a damn tracking device?” 

“Please Abigail, now with Avery I’m more worried than ever. Just… what if I promise not to use the tracking charm?”

“I would not believe that for a second.”

I lean towards her, kiss her cheeks, her neck. She is stubborn, but she caves for the intimacy I’m trying to claim.

“It’s offensive, don’t you see that?” She says in a small voice.

“Yes, that very big shiny piece of jewellery would offend any witch who wore it.” 

She tries to push me off I insist, kiss her shoulder, pulling on her pyjama top.

“It’s an ownership heirloom, not a romantic engagement ring!”

“It can be both, besides if I’m yours, you’re mine too.”

Please wear it, be mine.

“I belong to no man.”

“Oh, but I belong to you?” 

“Yes, you are mine, and don’t you forget it.” She insists.

I exhale, I can’t get anywhere with her. She’s always been a very stubborn witch. 

“How about this, you wear the ring, I tell you about the mark?”

Her eyes sparkle, like I told her I bought her a new summer house. Not that she would ever give a fuck about something like that. No, she needs emotional damage to be satisfied. She searches for my eyes, her legs still wrapped around my waist.

“Very well, you win.”

When do I ever win with her?

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Half an our later I’m silently stewing in the Manor library, reading the book a very angry Hermione thrust in my hands, before I stomped out of Pansy’s home. The heavy wooden door creaks open, Draco standing at the doorway.

“If you brought more food, don’t bother.” I say, not looking at him.

 I hear his footsteps approaching, smell his scent before he reaches the sofa I’m sitting on. Cloves and vanilla merged with the coffee he taunts in front of my face. I fall for it like an idiot, raising my eyes to his, reaching for the cup. He yanks it away, a closed look on his handsome face. 

“What happened with Avery?”

 Fuck, I knew this was coming. Damn it Mione, how does me telling him helps? He will only get defensive or even more possessive. I have absolutely no intention of allowing that scumbag Avery to know his words affected me.

“Nothing, give me the cup.”

He leaves it on the coffee table in front of me, proceeds to sit on it. Big man to make such bold choices. 

Big, tall, sexy man I want inside me.

 He leans, elbows on his knees, fingers threaded together. Looking all sceptical, like he’s trying really hard to have a more civilised approach to this.

“I knew something was wrong the day you came back from the ministry.” 

I roll my eyes, closing the book on my lap with a big thud. 

“My Merlin, Hermione is exaggerating, Avery was just being…well Avery.”

“Right, use more words please.”

I put the book aside, stretch my foot on his lap. Teasing, trying to seduce him to give into me. 

“Maybe I could use other means of communication.”

He snaps my foot, making me squirm. Gives me a peck on the ankle, before he gently places it onto his lap.

“Tell me, wife.”

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“Mione, is it supposed to stink like this?” I ask her, feeling nauseous.

“Yes, now stop it! Let me concentrate, this is a crucial part.” She says, furrowing her brows.

 She looks seventeen again, pursing her lips over a cauldron. Absolutely devoted to her task of potion making. We are all dressed as witches, like the muggles perceive them. Tall hats like the sorting one, hair all loose and wild. Hermione’s at least, mine is mostly straight and Pansy has her stylish bob as always. Black long dresses, Pansy insisted on Thierry Mugler. Corsets that barely allow breathing and pointy Mary Janes in shiny black leather.

The four of us are all leaning above the cauldron with the pregnancy potion brewing inside, in a simmering green colour. 

If it turns pink, I’m done for.

“It’s gonna be pink and I’m gonna scream!” Theo says excitedly with his antlers  swaying dangerously. 

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She glares at me and wears the ring on her manicured finger. I immediately feel the current of magic from my ring coarse through my hole body. Judging from her surprised face, she felt it too. 

“Thank you, mrs Malfoy. I am deeply honoured.” 

She turns her palm showing off the ring and gives me the middle finger. I feel twitching in my pants again, this woman will be the death of me.

“I also have a bracelet for the kid to wear, same properties.” 

“Janey does not need that kind of protection.” She retorts grabbing her knife and fork and attacking her roasted carrots.

“She most certainly does, right now she is the weakest link.” I insist.

She bites her lower lip angrily looking at her piece of carrot with immense hatred for a few seconds.

“Is it also only removable by you?”

“No, just her mother.” 

She nods and pops the food in her mouth angrily. 

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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That witch has imprinted herself so deep down inside me, I am a fool to believe I will ever be rid of my feelings for her. I open the window and the owl gives me an unappreciative look, stretching her leg to pass me the note. 

“Thank you, Agatha.” I say giving her a treat.

The damn owl doesn’t even bother, she flies away. Wow, discredited by an owl, that owl, at 3am was not something I was expecting. I unravel the note with a slight tremble, this could make or break me.

“Very well, we return after Halloween. Hermione is having a party, she is kind enough to invite you. Janey is driving me insane asking for you, make of that what you will. I have homework for you, meet me tomorrow morning at the Pickabone. This is your last chance, Malfoy.”

ADM

 I stare at her initials, almost burning through the scroll. Abigail Dumbledore Malfoy. Not Weasley, my name.

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“Mione, is it supposed to stink like this?” I ask her, feeling nauseous.

“Yes, now stop it! Let me concentrate, this is a crucial part.” She says, furrowing her brows.

 She looks seventeen again, pursing her lips over a cauldron. Absolutely devoted to her task of potion making. We are all dressed as witches, like the muggles perceive them. Tall hats like the sorting one, hair all loose and wild. Hermione’s at least, mine is mostly straight and Pansy has her stylish bob as always. Black long dresses, Pansy insisted on Thierry Mugler. Corsets that barely allow breathing and pointy Mary Janes in shiny black leather.

The four of us are all leaning above the cauldron with the pregnancy potion brewing inside, in a simmering green colour. 

If it turns pink, I’m done for.

“It’s gonna be pink and I’m gonna scream!” Theo says excitedly with his antlers  swaying dangerously. 

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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“What words? Oh, baby girl, what did you do?” Theo asks me softly.

“I might have thrown hateful spews her way.” I mumble, sipping my fire whiskey.

“As in foreplay?” Theo insists.

I snort bitterly, I wish it was like that.

“As in, he can’t respect when his wife draws a line further from her bed’s feet.” Pansy responds for me.

“I only wanted to hold her! I haven’t done that in nine, nine years, Pansy! Everyone else gets to do that but me, even your fiancé.” I say angrily, avoiding to look her way.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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We step into the ballroom and I knew what Pansy was planing but seeing it all tied together is truly whimsical. This is a fucking Fitzgerald novel, not just an engagement party. The room has been enlarged to fit almost two hundred witches and wizards, most of them already intoxicated on the fountains of champagne that are scattered around the room. There is a literal pool in the middle of the room filled with all sorts of decorations that float, whistle and glimmer in the thousands of tea lights around. 

A five member jazz band is behind the pool, on a platform, playing music. Flowers and magical plants of all sorts fill the room, making the style even more like a noir film. Pansy is standing in the middle of the room, her sharp bob flinging left and right as she throws her head back and laughs loudly with Theo. 

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