Sirens Call // Draco Malfoy
Type: Fluff
Request/Summary:
The song I envision her singing
A/N: Sorry to who requested this, i know it’s been far too long.
Warnings: Bullying, some swears
Y/N’s POV:
I remember how it was when we were younger. I remember how we bonded, the memories bringing the sweet taste of vanilla cupcakes to my tongue. My mouth watered a little bit. I remember my birthday, the last day of second year here. We’d been friends since the sorting. That day we shared those vanilla cupcakes that I tasted on my tongue now. It was the taste of the affection I’ve held for him all these years.
“Mudblood.” Draco spat out as he passed me in the hallway. I were sat in a window sill, reading my muggle literature, minding my own business. All I could do was sigh, and lean my head back against the stone to prevent me from crying as the pain of another heart-shattering moment set in.
No harm, no foul. My father would say it to me over and over again when I would make a mistake. But this was harming me, and the feeling was fowl, the sour taste it brought to my mouth was fowl.
I reminded myself, time and again, he’s not a bad person. I know how his parents pressure him. Yet... no I pushed the thought of him hating me out of my head. Just no. I let me head roll forward.
It was the next day that I cracked, and it wasn’t pretty. The day had consisted of the normal comments. “Filthy mudblood” etc etc etc. The nasty looks in our classes together. The ‘accidental’ stepping on the back of my shoe, sending my many books and loose papers flying forward, leaving me alone with my things being trampled at I did my best to collect them. The normal stuff.
It was after supper that it was the worst. It was after supper that my heart split in two. I always left the Great Hall after the majority had finished eating and parted. I usually waited for Draco and his posy to leave before I skulked back to my room.
He wasn’t leaving, and I was terribly exhausted. So I stood, gathered my things rapidly, clinging the polaroid camera that my father had given to me to my chest. He told me it was the one my grandmother had given to him and my mother on their wedding night. The best memories should be captured in the instant. Thats what she told them. Thats what he told me. Though I doubt I had any more than five pictured on the cork board above my bed. Six years here, and only five pictures.
I was almost to the entrance of my house dorms. I could just barely see it down the hallway when my balance was thrown off. I went toppling forward, my books, and my camera splaying out everywhere. My cheek scraping against the stone floor. I contemplated just falling asleep there, but only for a split second. After that split second was over, I was pushing up on my hands and knees trying to collect my things. The sketches of my mother were what I wen for first, I was drawing her over and over, trying to remember the details of her aging skin. The parchment was torn from my hand. I looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing above me. She was examining the paper, shaking her head.
“Would you look at this. A sweet portrait of mother dearest. This must have taken you days!” She let out a devious chuckle and tore it straight down the middle, then again and again and agin. I watched in horror at the snowflakes that were once my mother scattered across the floor. I brushed it off and starting to collect what I could of my things, as the five of them (Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Draco) were probing through my belongings and called me degrading names. It was only once they thought they had stolen or destroyed anything that could have been of value of me, the four others left. It was just him and I. We looked at each other for far too long. My eyes were wet with tears. God fucking damn it why did I care so much for this tosser? This prick? His eyes flickered around my face faster than I could keep track of. His eyes were hard to read, and the corners of his lips flicked downwards over and over again as he tried to keep them straight.
“Why Dray?” It was only a whisper, but they was the first words I’d spoken to him in years. He pulled his eyes away from me - looking at the polaroid that he knew meant so much to me. He hesitated for a moment, then brought the heel of his shoe crashing down atop it. I watched every second of it happen. After looking at the remanence of my beloved camera, I looked back up at him. He was staring down at it with his mouth parted, his eyes wide. As if he was in shock as to what he had just done. As soon as he looked at me and our eyes met, I felt the adrenaline. I was on my knees sprinting down the hallway, seemingly in an instant I was sat beside the black lake, my shoes just at the edge of the water.
Draco’s POV:
She stared up at me, her beautiful eyes glistening. Her lips hung just apart from one another. The thoughts of what my father had said to me over the years flooded my brain. They’re worthless. Y/N is worthless. Worthless mudblood. Without another thought I smashed her fathers camera. I could remember the first time she’d gotten her hands on it during second year. Her father said that it was important that she use her film carefully in his Christmas letters. It’s very expensive. He wrote her, I will send you more film when your mother and I can get some extra money. I could remember the pictures we took that day. We used it until there was no more film. She counted all the pictured out that evening as we huddled together in the Slytherin common room. Six pictures. When she saw the picture I took of her, she wanted to throw it in the fire, but I managed to convince to her to let me keep it.
She looked back up at me, a tear already flowing down her cheek. She left all of her things behind as she began dashing away. I followed, though as I began falling behind her, it gave me some time to think that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be around her. But she was a good person, and if I could stop her from doing something stupid (and I was the cause) I should be there to do so. I found her sobbing beside the Black Lake. I gave her space.
Crouching behind a large evergreen, I watched her carefully. Her sobs slowly sufficed and there was silence for a while. Then a quiet, crackled sound came from her. She loudly cleared her throat. As her lips parted, the hum of her voice smacked into him like a brick wall. The words floated through the evening sky with such grace. As her song progressed, she rose to her feet and hit a volume I didn’t think the once dainty little Y/N could reach. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She was grown. This was my first time actually hearing her voice for years and everything started flooding back to me. The happiness we once shared. She was so beautiful in the moonlight. In any light really.
How could she possibly be worthless? Just look at her.
Then there was silence.
A warmth grew in my chest. One that willed my feet to move forward. Like everything was suddenly fitting together, like the final pieces of a puzzle.
Y/N’s POV:
I turned around when there was a crackle in the woods. Draco Malfoy was walking quickly in my direction. My heart skipped a beat.
“Look Draco, I don’t know what you want with me but can’t you just leave me alone?” I said firmly. As he approached his eyes were soft and his lips were unreadable. He came within two steps of being too close when he spoke;
“I’m so sorry.” Those words were followed by the final two steps, closing the gap between our bodies, grabbing the sides of my face. His hands warm compared to the night time air. Our lips connected before I could process what was happening. But then I did. And I kissed back. It was like the world was revolving around this moment. He pulled away, his forehead pressed to mine. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, I will never leave you alone. Not ever again. Not in a million moons or under a million Imperious curses, I will never leave you again.”
We smiled. We stood there smiling and kissing and looking at each other for a long time. But once the midnight chill caught us both, he took me back to the Slytherin common room with him. He wrapped me in a thick blanket and told me to wait for a moment. I complied. Then he returned, clinging to a polaroid. He handed it to me quickly, as though he was ripping a bandaid off. It was a picture of me. From the day I got the camera. I looked up at him in shock, then spoke;
“You kept them too?”
