A Drarry Love Story
written by Hermione Jean Malfoy
I didn't know whether I should do this, but some people said yes, so I decided to do it. I don't know much about Drarry so please don't judge me. It might be bad. This is still in progress.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
5
Reads
1,404
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
A week later, the Battle of Hogwarts....
Draco cursed himself for deciding to come back. Now, he was forced to participate in the war first-handedly, and even more so, he was forced to fight on the side of the Dark Lord, the very man, if, of course, you could call him a man, who was nearly as, bless them, mad as Aunt Bellatrix, and who was attempting so very hard to kill...well, him.
He stood in the middle of the Great Hall, wondering if it would be safe to simply evacuate the school, like all the professors were hoping he'd do. But no. If only the Dark Lord figured out, he would surely die. And how could Potter, let alone anyone, like him if he was so cowardly?
"Draco, look," Vincent tugged on the sleeve of his robe and pointed toward Potter, who was running up the marble staircase to what seemed like the seventh floor, given that he hadn't stopped at the sixth.
"Let's go," Draco muttered, more to himself that Vincent or Gregory. If he could only see him once again before the Dark Lord found him, his life would be all but complete. What chance did Potter have, anyway? He was only seventeen, whilst the Dark Lord was qualified and wiser, as well as older, much older.
Draco found Potter pacing next to the stone bust of Boris the Bewildered. A door appeared in front of him, where he was joined by the Mudblood and blood traitor Granger and Weasley.
Gregory snickered and ran toward the Room of Requirement. Draco sighed and shook his head. He wondered what Potter could be doing there, wasting his time, while he could be practicing useful spells or doing things...with him.
Draco followed.
The room went burning in flames. Gregory and him scrambled up a tower of stacked, mismatched things, hoping to get away from it. Potter grabbed three broomsticks and threw them to to himself and his friends. Draco cursed again. He wished he had even thought of something half as good. He would burn here, thanks to his old friend good Vincent, who was now surely burned to a crisp.
And Potter looked back.
It was as if time had stopped. Potter would save them, Potter, with his emerald-green eyes, jet-black hair, and scar....
"We can't leave them," Draco heard the words form in Potter's mouth.
"IF WE DIE FOR THEM I'LL KILL YOU HARRY!" Weasley shouted as they swerved their brooms around. Gregory gave a whoop of joy.
Potter stuck out his hand, and grabbed Draco's....
It took an eternity for Draco to pull onto his broom. Harry's hand was soft and warm from the flames of Fiendfyre against his own cold, rough ones.
And despite the room collapsing around him, he felt free. He felt alive.
Draco cursed himself for deciding to come back. Now, he was forced to participate in the war first-handedly, and even more so, he was forced to fight on the side of the Dark Lord, the very man, if, of course, you could call him a man, who was nearly as, bless them, mad as Aunt Bellatrix, and who was attempting so very hard to kill...well, him.
He stood in the middle of the Great Hall, wondering if it would be safe to simply evacuate the school, like all the professors were hoping he'd do. But no. If only the Dark Lord figured out, he would surely die. And how could Potter, let alone anyone, like him if he was so cowardly?
"Draco, look," Vincent tugged on the sleeve of his robe and pointed toward Potter, who was running up the marble staircase to what seemed like the seventh floor, given that he hadn't stopped at the sixth.
"Let's go," Draco muttered, more to himself that Vincent or Gregory. If he could only see him once again before the Dark Lord found him, his life would be all but complete. What chance did Potter have, anyway? He was only seventeen, whilst the Dark Lord was qualified and wiser, as well as older, much older.
Draco found Potter pacing next to the stone bust of Boris the Bewildered. A door appeared in front of him, where he was joined by the Mudblood and blood traitor Granger and Weasley.
Gregory snickered and ran toward the Room of Requirement. Draco sighed and shook his head. He wondered what Potter could be doing there, wasting his time, while he could be practicing useful spells or doing things...with him.
Draco followed.
The room went burning in flames. Gregory and him scrambled up a tower of stacked, mismatched things, hoping to get away from it. Potter grabbed three broomsticks and threw them to to himself and his friends. Draco cursed again. He wished he had even thought of something half as good. He would burn here, thanks to his old friend good Vincent, who was now surely burned to a crisp.
And Potter looked back.
It was as if time had stopped. Potter would save them, Potter, with his emerald-green eyes, jet-black hair, and scar....
"We can't leave them," Draco heard the words form in Potter's mouth.
"IF WE DIE FOR THEM I'LL KILL YOU HARRY!" Weasley shouted as they swerved their brooms around. Gregory gave a whoop of joy.
Potter stuck out his hand, and grabbed Draco's....
It took an eternity for Draco to pull onto his broom. Harry's hand was soft and warm from the flames of Fiendfyre against his own cold, rough ones.
And despite the room collapsing around him, he felt free. He felt alive.
