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It was a quiet night here at the Malfoy Manor, the kind of silence that felt almost unnatural in a house usually humming with whispers, clinking glasses, and Father’s imperious voice. Father and his guests were off on another recruitment quest - or at least, that was what I hoped - and yet, despite the emptiness, something in the air felt… off.
I had once again awoken during the night, disoriented, heart thudding against my ribs with a vague sense of fear. After not seeing anything out of the ordinary, I decided that it was just my paranoia acting up considering I did live under the same roof as the Dark Lord now.
Rolling over, eyes adjusting to the moonlight streaming through the tall windows, I noticed shadows stretching and twisting along the walls. Then, a sudden flash of lighting lit the room, followed immediately by a defining clap of thunder. My chest tightened. The summer rainstorm outside had probably woken me. I’d always had a fear off storms, a childish terror Father considered ridiculous — something I had learned to hide carefully, so only Draco and Mother knew.
I got out of bed, wrapping a blanket tightly around my shoulders before opening my door quietly and padding down the hall. I found my way to Draco’s room and opened the door slowly.
Even in the dim light, I could see him sleeping rough - tossing and turning, brow furrowed, jaw tight - lost in one of the nightmares that plagued him since the Dark Lord had given him the task to kill Dumbledore and what would happen if he refused or failed to do so. I tip-toed the rest of the way into his room and sat on the edge of the bed before carefully leaning over him, running my hands through his hair and softly calling his name.
Draco jolted awake, eyes wide, and for a moment, we both froze.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said, voice husky with sleep and confusion, realizing what was happening.
I repositioned myself beside him, leaning into his chest as he wrapped an arm around me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, quieter now, more curious than accusatory. “Why’d you wake me?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but before I could, another flash of lightning streaked across the room, followed by a thunderclap that rattled the windows. A small scream tore from me as I lunged at him instinctively, knocking us both back into the pillows. He held me firmly against him, my head pressed to his chest, letting me listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as his fingers threaded through my hair.
I trembled for what felt like hours, and when my shaking subsided only slightly, Draco made a quiet decision.
“Hot chocolate?” he asked, tone almost mischievous, as though this simple comfort could somehow banish the storm’s terror.
He carefully untangled me from his arms and got out of bed grabbing a robe off the chair and putting it on. He then reached out his hand for me to grab and together we sneaked downstairs to the kitchen hand-in-hand.
I ended up sitting at the kitchen table picking at my nails while I watched Draco move gracefully around the kitchen making us some hot chocolate, filling the room with the soft clinks and the hum of magic. After he was done making the hot chocolate, he cleaned up as best as possible to not make it harder on our house elves and, instead of coming to sit by me, he handed me the mug and offered his hand once again.
We ended up walking to the parlor together, and he had me curl up on the couch while he went over to the old piano in the corner of the room. Draco went to the old piano in the corner, brushing dust from the keys before playing the familiar lullaby Mother used to sing when we were children, before the weight of Father’s allegiance to the Dark Lord had darkened every corner of our lives.
The music was soft, healing, wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I placed my mug on the table and laid down on the couch pulling off the back cushions and scooting over as much as possible to make room for Draco if he decided to join me. I drifted into sleep, the sound of the piano mingling with the faint patter of rain outside, oblivious to the storm that had long since passed.
After Draco had finished playing the lullaby, he turned and looked over at me sleeping on the couch and noticed that I had left room for him. He stood, downing his hot chocolate that had long since turned cold and crossed the room placing his mug next to mine and laid on the couch next to me, throwing a soft blanket over us, and wrapping me in his arms before falling asleep. And for the first time that night, I felt safe. Morning found us still there, Mother choosing to let us rest rather than wake us for breakfast.