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Your hand gently ghosted across his pale skin, the ridges of his ribs underneath your fingertips. His pale blonde hair was in disarray and he looked so vulnerable, but you enjoyed it. It was the only time he looked this way, so peaceful and relaxed. (E/c) eyes wandered to the alarm clock on the bedside table.

9:42 it read.

You sighed and placed a kiss on his shoulder, prodding his ribs gently in an effort to wake him up. He was a light sleeper, after countless years of night terrors and torment from his father and Voldemort. But the Boy Who Lived had won years ago and released Draco from the Dark Lords grasp.

“Draco,” You murmured gently, prodding him again.

His blonde lashes fluttered as he began to wake up, flashes of his silver eyes still glazed with sleep. A small groan escaped his lips as he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face back into the pillows.

You chuckled quietly and trailed your fingers up and down his spine, “Sweetie, you said you had something to do today and wanted me to get you up around 10.”

He turned his head and one silver eye peeked at you. “What time is it?” He mumbled, his deep voice still raw and raspy.

You smiled at him, your fingers still tracing random designs into his skin, “It’s a quarter to 10.”

He nodded and rolled back over onto his back, his hands coming up to rub the bleariness out of his eyes as he yawned. You watched him as he rolled out of bed, pushed the downy blankets back, and started to get dressed for whatever it was that he deemed so important. Draco had a way of making every little action seem elegant and graceful, from the way he made coffee in the morning to the gentle kiss he placed on your forehead before the two of you fell asleep each night. Even with his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes, every movement was regal and had some sort of importance behind it.

As Draco buttoned his clean white shirt, his black tie hanging loose around his neck, you realized that something struck you as odd. Every year, on the second of May, Draco asked that you wake him before 10 in the morning and only stated that he had something important he had to do that morning. He never allowed you to go with him, and so you never asked him what it was that he did. Whatever it was, it only seemed to distress him.

You sat up and cleared your throat, getting up the nerve to finally ask the question that had been running through your mind for the four years you had been with the Slytherin boy. “Draco?”

“Hm?” Was all he said as he stood in front of the mirror and tried to tie his tie.

You tucked a loose strand of (h/c) behind your ear. “Can I come with you this time?”

He froze, pale fingers slightly shaking as his shoulders tensed. Silence greeted you. “No.” He muttered, then continued to slip his tie through the knot.

You frowned, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Darling, please-”

“This is something I must do alone,” He dropped his eyes to the floor, his face looking more pale and solemn than you had ever seen before.

You pushed the blankets back and padded across the wood floor to him, the palm of your hand finding his cheek as you made him look at you. “Draco, you don’t have to do anything alone. Not anymore. I’ve waited patiently for four years to see if you would tell me what this was about. I want to know and I want to help.”

His silver eyes bore into yours, the tightness in his face slowly relaxing as he listened to your soothing voice. His eyelids slid closed as he took a deep breath and sighed, nodding slightly, “Alright. Wear something nice. And black.”

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, turning to the closet to pull out a nice black dress that you had only worn a few times.

He picked up his wallet and put it in his suit pocket, “I’ll be back in a minute, just going to go next door and pick up a few things. I’ll be waiting outside.” He turned without another word and left the apartment.

You sighed and frowned to yourself, your mind racing to figure out what exactly it was that had him acting so strangely. You zipped up the back of your dress and slipped on a pair of small black heels, grabbing an umbrella from next to the door as you headed out. It looked rather dreary out and you’d rather not be left in the pouring rain if it did rain today.

Draco was already waiting inside of the car. You spotted a bouquet of white roses resting on the back seat. You pulled open the car door and slipped inside, glancing at your boyfriend. His face remained stoic, blank, unreadable. Most of the time, this would intrigue you to prod about his thoughts, but now it just made your stomach tighten with anxiety. “Draco, where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, only pulled out into the street and drove. He didn’t touch the radio, didn’t even make a noise. Silence filled the entire ride. The streets were bare, save for a few citizens hurrying to get inside of a building before the rain started to come. Sprinkles dotted the windshield, but that was all it was.

Draco turned into a small parking lot with a little path at the far end of it. Your brow furrowed as he parked and stepped out of the car, grabbing the roses from the back seat and hurrying to open your door for you. Always a perfect gentleman, he plucked the umbrella from your grasp and opened it up, handing you the roses instead.

You smiled gently at him as you stepped out of the car, the white roses cradled in your arms, but his gaze wasn’t on you. It was on that path. His warm hand found the small of your back as he lead you toward it. It was a dirt path, shaded by thick trees and bushes. You couldn’t help but think of it as quite beautiful, even in the dreary weather. As you neared the clearing, that was when you saw something that made complete sense.

Godric’s Hollow Cemetery. A short stone wall surrounded the area with a large stone arch.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, momentarily causing you to lose your breath. Your (e/c) eyes glanced up at Draco, but he was staring straight ahead. You kept moving, allowing him to lead you to the grave that he wanted to visit.

Fred Weasley, was engraved on the stone header.

Draco sighed, drawing your attention to him. He had his free hand shoved into his jacket pockets and his head hung low, silver eyes staring at the engravement as if to commit it to memory. You swallowed thickly and rested the roses on the grave. Standing, you looped your arm through Malfoy’s and rested your cheek on his shoulder. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he had no control over the Death Eaters and the havoc that they caused under the Dark Lord’s orders. But you knew it would be no use. You could see the pain etched in the scowl on his pale face and inner hatred in his silver eyes.

So instead, you stood silent, patient, willing to love and care for every dark corner of the man beside you until he could learn to forgive himself for his past mistakes.

He cleared his throat and finally looked at you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he murmured, “I know I can be stubborn. But thank you for being patient with me. And thank you for coming with me.”

You smiled reassuringly and squeezed his forearm, “I’m more than happy to do this every year with you, dear.”

He nodded and handed you the car keys and the umbrella. “Give me a second, okay?”

You nodded and planted a kiss on his cheek, then made your way back to the car.
“I’m so so sorry,” You heard him mutter before you were out of earshot. Something bright caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A flicker of bright orange. You slowed your walking and spotted him. George Weasley, white roses in hand, hiding behind the thick trunk of a tree as he turned his attention from Draco to you and rose one finger to his lips. Shhh.

You smiled gently at him and nodded, then continued down the path to the car. Had George always known that Draco was visiting his brothers grave? Maybe. If not, maybe the surviving Weasley twin could find it in himself to approach Draco one day and forgive him. Either way, Draco didn’t need to know. He held a pride in himself for being seen as strong and stubborn. There was no need for him to know that George had seen him behaving quite the opposite. Not until they both were ready to forgive the past.