Chapter Text
“He’s only six.”
“Don’t let your heart affect your reason.”
“At least wait until he’s ten.” She begged.
“And miss the opportunity for better teaching? Do you really want to risk our son like this?”
Draco looked at the sky. The moon was waning and there were no stars. The clouds were evident around the moon and Draco dreamed of flying on his broomstick among those clouds.
The pain in his head was strong. His back burned and the slightest movement was deafening. The world was blurred by his swollen and red eyes. Small sobs, just shadows of what they were hours ago, shook his body in small spasms even when the child prayed to remain small and still.
Who knows if she stayed so still and still she could disappear? Wouldn’t that be good?
Yes, Draco was horrible and needy.
Draco had been born brave and beautiful.
Such a small being. Born crying, innocent and fragile.
His mother loved the little child. Even though she barely carried him more than she should have, never once allowing the baby to drink warm milk straight from the source, repressing thoughts and opinions that the woman disagreed with, molding him like a prince and ignoring his mental crises because she hated his weaknesses. Still, his mother loved her little prince.
His mother who was kissed by the dementor.
His mother who tricked the Lord to save the life of the platinum-haired child.
His mother, who had once been a head-on Black, remained broken as the second war reached her, by this time already carrying the Malfoy name in addition to Black.
His mother who was the only one who loved her until the end.
Except...
Draco threatened to dream of more. He wanted more, needed more with all the strength he had left.
And there was Astoria.
Astoria Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass's younger sister, from Slytherin house, who died in the summer of 2002.
The same Astoria who was judged and shunned despite her pure heart, humiliated for 'being a badger pretending to be a snake'. Astoria who smiled and nursed his self-inflicted wounds. Astoria who remained, who said she understood and it really seemed to be true. Astoria who reminded him of Dobby and Luna. The same purity, courage, kindness and all the injustice that led to their end.
"It's not wrong, you know?" The answer she received was silence. Dull eyes that indicated a tired and wounded soul, but Astoria looked into those eyes with warmth and affection. So raw that it hurt, as if new scars were taking shape on his skin. “They don’t talk about it much in the wizarding world, but they talk a little more in the muggle world. And it’s not wrong. And you’re not the only one either.” Draco heard her, but his body wasn’t strong and his soul was too tired to speak. Astoria sighed. Straightforward in her words: “It’s not wrong to be born the way you were, it doesn’t make you… whatever they said to you directly or behind your back.” Ah, that was about it. Yes… it makes sense. Astoria had seen him. When his catatonic state lasted longer than expected and the brunette made the kind and humiliating decision to bathe him when he wasn’t in control of himself. When nightmares drowned him and his cracked soul disconnected from his body. “A child who is born a boy and a girl… that was never bad, it was never wrong either.” Astoria didn't know everything, though. She didn't know how Draco constantly wondered about the designs he could make on his nails if he allowed himself to. Or the designs Draco made of dresses he (stubbornly, shamefully, sinfully!) thought about wearing one day. How Draco simply hated looking at his reflection in the mirror because he hated it.
Draco hated himself, but he was still greedy.
What a rotten soul he was.
Because Draco still had his heart beating and Astoria didn't. And Dobby didn't.
Because Draco still maintained his sanity while Luna was barely connected to reality.
Because Draco had been born brave, pure and beautiful, but gave up his good looks to pursue a power that demanded payment in blood.
Because Lucius's voice and all his unforgivable teachings were still there even when the man had been murdered years ago.
‘If things continue like this I will have no choice... just one more act of cowardice... just one more act of selfishness...
And I will kill myself.’
Draco had been born brave and beautiful.
Such a small being. Born crying, innocent and fragile.
Except... Draco was born again.