Draco looks up, surprised to see Candy sitting there. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice gruff, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since Hogwarts. And they weren’t really on the best terms. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone he knew in France, especially her.
“I could ask you the same,” Candy replies with a small smile. “This bar is my usual haunt. What a coincidence that you’re here too.” She flags down the bartender, gestures to the empty glass in front of Draco. A new drink appears a second later, and Draco looks at it skeptically before taking a gulp. “So what is Draco Malfoy doing in France?”
“Just needed a change of scenery,” Draco says, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. He’s not looking at her, but Candy can sense the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. She doesn’t press him for more details; it’s clear that he’s not going to talk. Instead, they sit in silence, the soft hum of the other patrons blending with the sound of the rain outside.
After a few moments, Draco breaks the silence. “How long have you been here?” he asks, still not looking at her. His question hangs in the air, and Candy can sense the underlying meaning behind it. He’s not just asking about how long she’s been at the bar; he’s asking how long she’s been in France, how long she’s been away from England.
“Since graduation” Candy replies slowly, her eyes watching him, trying to decipher the expression on his face. “I’m working for my fathers company here.” She takes a sip of her Margarita, the sweet and sour taste doing nothing to soothe her sudden nervousness. This wasn’t the reunion she’d been expecting.
Draco nods, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence between them grows again, but this time it’s filled with an uncomfortable tension. Candy shifts on her stool, the silence becoming suffocating. “What about you?” she finally asks, her voice a little too loud in the quiet of the bar. “What brought you to Paris?”
“Needed a vacation,” Draco replies, still not looking at her. His answer is as vague as hers, but there’s something in his voice that tells Candy he’s not here just for the sites. He’s running from something, she can sense it in the taut lines of his body, in the haunted look in his eyes.
“Ah, Paris, the city of love,” Candy says, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. “Any special someone that you’re vacationing with?” She’s met with another cold glare from Draco, and she knows she’s asked the wrong question. The mention of love seems to have hit a nerve.
“No.” Draco’s answer is short, sharp, and he finally turns to look at her, his grey eyes as hard as steel. The intensity of his gaze makes Candy shiver, and she looks away, sipping her Margarita to hide her discomfort. She’s never seen him like this before - angry, yes, but never this raw, this… broken.
The silence between them stretches again, and Candy suddenly wishes she could take back her question, but it’s too late now.
She glances back at Draco, who’s staring into his empty glass, his expression bleak. Candy hesitates, then places a hand on his arm, her touch light and tentative. “Do you want another drink?” she asks, her voice soft. Draco looks up at her, his gaze piercing, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer.
Finally, Draco nods, his eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second. The heat in his gaze sends a shiver down Candy’s spine, but she disguises it with a casual shrug. She catches the attention of the bartender and motions for two more drinks. As the new glasses are placed in front of them, she notices how Draco’s fingers grip the cool surface of the bar, his knuckles white. His hands tremble slightly, an imperceptible shiver that she can barely see.
Candy takes a sip of the whiskey the bartender placed before her, her mind racing as she tries to think of something, anything to say. She feels like she’s walking on glass, unsure of how to navigate this uncharted territory. Draco, meanwhile, is staring blankly into his fresh drink, his expression guarded. He looks like he’s a thousand miles away, his mind lost in thoughts that Candy can only imagine.
“You know,” Candy begins, her voice breaking through the tense silence, “this place isn’t exactly the epitome of French culture.” She motions around the small bar, the muggle customers chattering, the music coming from the jukebox in the corner. Draco grunts in response, but doesn’t say anything. “There’s a nice little bistro down the road,” Candy pushes on, “better drinks, better food, and the atmosphere is much more… charming, shall I say.”
Draco glances at her, a flicker of interest in his eyes. “A bistro, huh?” he asks, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity. “You’ve been there before?”
Candy nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “A few times. I could show you if you like.” The invitation is out before she can stop herself, and she cringes internally, feeling silly for suggesting it. Malfoy won’t agree.
But to her surprise, Draco doesn’t immediately dismiss the idea. He pauses, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, and then nods. “Alright,” he says gruffly. “Show me this bistro of yours.” Candy hides her surprise, her heart doing a little jump at his agreement. She hadn’t expected him to say yes.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The rain has lessened to a drizzle now, and the air is cool and crisp as they step onto the sidewalk. Candy leads the way, her footsteps quick and confident, and Draco follows her silently. They walk for a few minutes, the silence between them not uncomfortable but not exactly comfortable either.
The bistro is small and cosy, the lights dimmed low and the windows fogged up from the humid air inside. The murmur of conversations fills the air, a mix of French and English. Candy leads Draco to a secluded table in the corner, away from the main flow of people.
They sit down, the soft glow of the candle between them casting shadows on Draco’s face. He looks even more exhausted than he did before, the dim light accentuating the dark circles under his eyes.
He glances around the bistro, a slight frown on his face. “This is nice,” he says quietly, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop.
“Told you,” Candy replies, a smile playing on her lips. She waves down a waitress, orders them a bottle of red wine and a plate of cheese and baguette. When the waitress leaves, they’re left in an awkward silence again. Candy drums her fingers on the table, feeling the need to say something, anything to break the tension.
“So, uhm,” she begins, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the bistro. “How’s your family?”
Draco looks up, his eyes locking with hers. “Why the sudden interest in my family?” he asks, a hint of accusation in his tone.
Candy shrugs, trying to brush off his comment. “Just trying to make conversation,” she says lightly, grabbing a piece of cheese from the communal plate and popping it into her mouth. The cheese is rich and tangy, but she can barely taste it under the weight of Draco’s gaze.
Draco doesn’t respond immediately, just studies her for a moment, his gaze sharp and unwavering. But then, miraculously, he seems to soften. His shoulders relax just an inch, and his voice loses some of its edge. “Mother’s good,” he says eventually, “busy with her charities and whatnot.”
Candy can feel a small weight lifting off her chest at his answer. Getting him to talk is like pulling teeth, but she’s determined to try to break through his defenses. “And your father?” she prompts gently, reaching for another piece of cheese.
Draco’s jaw tightens, his fingers clenching around his glass. “In Azkaban,” he replies curtly, his voice cold again. Candy flinches at the mention of Azkaban. She’d almost forgotten that Draco’s father is a convicted Death Eater, locked away in that dreaded prison.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, genuinely meaning it. She couldn't fathom what it must be like for Draco, dealing with the fallout of his father’s mistakes.
Draco shoots her a quick glance, as if assessing her sincerity. “Don’t be,” he says roughly, taking a large gulp of wine. “It’s what he deserves.”
The air around them is thick with the weight of Draco’s confession. The silence between them stretches for a few moments, and then Candy finds herself saying, “And you? How are you?”
She’s not sure why she’s asking, what she expects him to say. Perhaps it’s the way he looks, so weary and defeated. It stirs something within her, a strange combination of pity and something else she can’t quite identify.
Draco looks at her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of mockery or judgement. When he doesn’t find it, he lets out a soft exhale, the sound almost like a sigh. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to brush off her question, give her some snarky remark.
But then he seems to deflate, his shoulders slumping. “I’m…” He hesitates, his fingers tracing the edge of his wine glass. “I’m not good,” he finally mutters, his voice so low Candy almost doesn’t catch it.
The confession hangs in the air, like a tangible thing, and Candy feels her heart clench at the raw honesty in his voice. She hadn’t expected him to be vulnerable, not after all the bravado and arrogance from their Hogwarts years. But here he is, laying bare a part of himself that she’s sure he’s rarely, if ever, shown anyone else.
Candy doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been good with emotions, especially others’ emotions. But she has the distinct urge to reach out, to offer some comfort, however little.
But before she can do or say anything, Draco continues, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper now. “I’m tired, Lee. So bloody tired.”
And with those words, something inside Candy cracks. The pain and exhaustion in Draco’s voice is palpable, and she struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. She wants to say something, anything to ease his suffering, but she can’t. The words won’t come. So she does the only thing she can think of - she reaches across the table and grips his hand.
Draco flinches at the touch, his gaze snapping up to meet hers. He looks surprised, like he can’t understand why she’s touching him. But he doesn’t pull away. His skin is cool to the touch and she can feel him trembling beneath her fingers, the subtle tremors of his hand a stark contrast to his usual facade of indifference.
Candy doesn’t let go. She keeps her hand where it is, feeling the callouses on his palm, the faint scars on his knuckles. Draco is watching her, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, looking more vulnerable than she’s ever seen him. He doesn’t pull away, and his hand slowly relaxes into hers, as if seeking the comfort of her touch.
They lapse into silence again, but this time it’s not so heavy. The touch seems to have broken the dam of tension between them, and Candy can feel Draco’s walls starting to crumble, just a little bit. She can’t help but run her thumb over the back of his hand, offering silent reassurance.
Draco’s gaze is now fixed on their hands, a look of wonder and confusion on his face. It’s like he can’t believe he’s letting her touch him like this, like he’s forgotten what it feels like to be touched, cared for. Candy feels a pang in her heart at that thought, and she subconsciously tightens her grip on his hand.
Draco glances up then, their eyes meeting in the low light of the bistro. There’s a storm in his eyes again, a whirlpool of emotion. This time, though, it’s not anger or defensiveness. It’s something else - something raw and vulnerable, something that makes Candy’s breath catch in her throat.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper, his gaze searching hers intently. Candy can hear the underlying question in his voice, the uncertainty and disbelief. Why are you being nice to me? Why are you touching me? Why do you care?
Candy doesn’t know how to answer him. She doesn’t understand it herself. Why is she doing this? Why is she sitting here, holding the hand of the boy who made her school life miserable? But looking at Draco now, the man who’s so lost and confused, she knows one thing for sure - she can’t bring herself to let go.
“I… I don’t know,” she admits, her voice soft and earnest. “But… you looked like you needed it.” Draco’s eyes widen at her answer, like he can’t fathom the idea that someone would care about him. He looks down at their hands again, and Candy can see the internal battle he’s fighting - the desire to pull away warring with the need for comfort.
In the end, the need for comfort seems to win. Draco slowly relaxes his hand, allowing hers to lay fully on top of his. His fingers twitch, as if testing the intimacy of the gesture. The air between them is thick with emotion, charged with something that makes Candy’s heart pound hard in her chest.
They sit like that for a while, their hands connected in the dim light of the bistro, the rest of the world falling away. Candy can feel the steady beat of Draco’s pulse, the callouses on his fingers, the heat of his skin on hers, and she finds herself holding onto him a bit tighter. Draco is silent, his eyes flickering between their joined hands and her face, looking conflicted and confused.
The waitress brings them another bottle of wine then, breaking the bubble that’s formed around them. Candy reluctantly pulls her hand away, already missing the heat and the feel of Draco’s skin against hers. With shaky fingers, she pours them both a glass, the sound of the pouring liquid unnaturally loud in the silence. Draco is watching her again, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
They drink, the silence now heavier than before. Candy can feel the alcohol slowly but steadily loosening her tongue, lowering her inhibitions.
She finds herself wanting to say something, anything, just to fill the silence. But Draco beats her to it. “Why are you so kind to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. Candy looks up, surprised but not surprised at the question.
"Why shouldn't I be?" she replies, trying to sound calm and casual.
Draco scoffs, a bitter, hollow sound. "You have plenty of reasons not to be," he says roughly, his eyes hard. "I was a prick to you. Hell, to everyone. I don't deserve your kindness, much less your touch."
"Maybe you don't," Candy admits, swirling her glass of wine, watching the deep red liquid twirl inside. "But that's the beauty of kindness, isn't it? It's given whether it's deserved or not."
Draco lets out a soft, bitter laugh, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop again. "You're really not as air-headed as I thought," he mutters, taking a large gulp of wine.
"You thought I was air-headed?" Candy asks, raising an eyebrow in fake offense.
Draco smirks, a hint of his old arrogance returning to his face. "Oh please," he says lazily, "you acted like a walking piece of cotton candy, all smiles and giggles, no depth at all."
"Hey!" Candy exclaims, swatting his hand lightly. "I'll have you know I have plenty of depth."
Draco quirks an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?" he asks, leaning back in his chair. "Prove it then. Tell me something deep about yourself."
Candy hesitates, taken aback by his request. She's used to being asked surface-level questions about her favourite colour or what she does for fun, not deep, meaningful ones about herself.
But then, a thought pops into her head, and she says without thinking, "I'm afraid of being average." Draco looks at her, surprise in his eyes.
"That's what you come up with when asked about deep stuff," he drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seriously?"
Candy scowls at him, her cheeks heating up. "Hey, don't mock me! It's true," she protests, taking a gulp of wine to cover her embarrassment.
Draco laughs, a real laugh this time, and the sound of it sends a shiver down her spine. "Only you would be afraid of being what most people strive to be," he teases.
Candy knows she should be offended, should feel insulted, but the way Draco is looking at her, that hint of amusement in his eyes, makes her stomach flutter.
"What about you, then?" she counters, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself. "What's your big, deep, meaningful fear?"
The amusement in Draco's eyes fades almost immediately. He looks away, his expression closing up again. For a moment, Candy thinks he's going to brush off the question, refuse to answer.
But then he mutters, almost so low she doesn't hear it, "I'm afraid of not being enough."
Candy frowns, surprised and confused by his answer. "Not being enough in what way?" she asks carefully.
Draco doesn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. His fingers are clenching around the stem of his glass again, his knuckles white. "In every way," he says gruffly, his voice tight with restraint. "In being the son my father wants me to be, in carrying on the Malfoy legacy, in making my family proud..." He trails off, still not looking at her.
Candy can only imagine the pressure Draco's been under all his life, being the sole heir of an old Pure-blood family, expected to live up to the Malfoy name. She can feel his pain, his sense of inadequacy, and she wants to reach out, offering some comfort, some reassurance…but she doesn't. This is a fragile moment, and she doesn't want to do anything to break it.
"But what about what you want?" she asks quietly.
Draco lets out a bitter scoff, finally looking at her. "What I want is irrelevant," he says, a world of bitterness in his voice. "I've always been defined by my last name, my bloodline. I'm a Malfoy. My family comes first. What I want has never been a part of the equation." He takes another large gulp of wine, as if trying to drown out his words.
Candy feels a pang in her heart at the resignation in his voice, the weary acceptance that his life will always be defined by his family and their expectations. She looks at him, really looks at him, and for the first time, she sees the weight he's been carrying all his life.
"That's bullshit," she says bluntly, surprising even herself with the force of her words.
Draco's eyes widen at her unexpected outburst, and he stares at her for a moment. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice a mix of shock and irritation.
Candy sets her chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "You heard me. It's bullshit," she says firmly. "You shouldn't settle for being a puppet, a tool for your family's ambitions. You're more than just a Malfoy."
Draco's surprise is slowly giving way to anger. He straightens in his chair, his eyes flashing. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he snaps, his grip on his glass tightening until Candy wonders why it doesn't break. "I've been groomed for this my entire life. It's my duty, my responsibility, to uphold the Malfoy name."
Candy doesn't back down, meeting his anger with her own. "Duty and responsibility are one thing," she concedes, "but what about your happiness? Your life? Is that not important at all?"
Draco opens his mouth to argue, but Candy cuts him off. "No, don't give me that Pure-blood nonsense. You have a right to a life of your own, Draco. You're not your father's carbon copy."
Draco looks like he wants to yell, to lash out, but something about Candy's tone makes him hold back.
He clenches his jaw, his eyes filled with a warring of emotions. "You don't understand," he finally grits out, his voice thick with suppressed anger. "You could never understand. You've always been free, independent, not bound by bloodlines and legacies."
"You're right, I don't understand," Candy admits, her voice softer but no less firm. "I don't know what it's like to be in your shoes. But that doesn't mean I can't see that you're miserable, Draco. You're a shell, a shadow of the person you could be." She leans forward, her eyes unwavering in their gaze. "You have a choice. You're not a slave to your family, to your name. You can break free, live your own life. The question is, do you have the courage to do it?"
Draco's expression is now a complex mixture of anger, defensiveness, and a hint of vulnerability. He looks like he's fighting an internal battle, her words churning up memories and feelings he's tried to bury deep inside.
"You act like it's so easy," he mutters, his voice strained. "As if abandoning everything I've ever known, everything I'm supposed to be, is a simple decision to make."
"I didn't say it would be easy," Candy replies quietly, her tone now gentler. "It'll be one of the hardest things you ever do. But it'll also be one of the most liberating. Imagine, being free to live your own life, to make your own choices."
She can see the struggle in his eyes, the internal war he's fighting. "You may think I'm naive, that I have no idea what I'm talking about," she continues, "but I do know this - you're not happy, Draco."
Draco is silent for a moment, the only sound in the bistro the distant hum of conversation and the soft background music. He looks at Candy, and for a moment, she sees a glimpse of the boy he used to be - young, vulnerable, confused.
Then the moment is gone and he's back to his defiant, stoic self. "And if I was to do this, this brave, stupid thing you're suggesting," he says gruffly, "what then? Where do I go, what do I do? My family, my name, everything I know is wrapped up in being a Malfoy."
Candy's heart clenches at the despair in his voice, the uncertainty in his eyes. She knows he's never allowed himself to think about a life outside his family's expectations, outside the Malfoy name. "You find yourself," she replies softly, her eyes never leaving his. "You figure out what makes you happy, what you're passionate about. You build a life, piece by piece, one that belongs to you and no one else."
Draco scoffs then, a mix of disbelief and mockery in his tone. "And if I fail? If I end up with nothing, homeless and alone? What then? I'll have no one to go back to, no one to catch me when I fall." Candy can hear the fear in his voice, the fear of the unknown, of taking a chance and failing.
"Then you get back up," she says firmly, her voice unwavering. "You pick yourself up and you keep going. Failure is a part of life, Draco. It's how you deal with it that defines you." Candy reaches out then, her hand hovering just over his on the table. She wants to touch him, to show him that he's not alone in this, but she doesn't know if he'll take it as a gesture of comfort or pity.
Draco's gaze is fixed on her offered hand, his own hand clenching and unclenching in his lap. Candy can almost hear the internal debate he's having with himself, the battle between the part of him that wants to accept her help and the part that's too proud, too used to shouldering everything alone.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Draco hesitantly reaches out and places his hand over hers. It's a small gesture, but the heat of his touch makes Candy's heart skip a beat. They sit in silence for a moment, their hands touching, the air between them charged with an underlying tension. Draco doesn't look at her; his eyes are fixed on their joined hands, his expression unreadable. Candy can feel the slight tremor in his fingers as they rest on top of hers. She wants to say something, anything to break the silence, but she's afraid of shattering this moment of vulnerability, this rare connection between them.
Draco suddenly speaks, the words sounding forced, as if he's trying to cover his emotions. "You think you know it all, don't you? You think this simple solution you're proposing will fix everything." His tone is harsh, but his grip on her hand is surprisingly gentle.
"I never said it would fix everything," Candy replies quietly, her thumb lightly tracing comforting circles on his skin. "But it's a start, Draco. A chance to be something more than what you are now." Draco looks up at her then, and for a moment, she sees the desperation in his eyes, the hope buried deep within the storm. He looks like he's about to say something else, to counter her with another argument, but a noise from the door of the bistro distracts him. Candy turns her head to see a small group of middle-aged women entering, their hats adorned with colorful bows and feathers. When she looks back at Draco, the vulnerability in his eyes is gone, replaced once again by his stoic, impassive mask.
They sit in silence, their hands still touching, as the women are led to a table across from them. Draco's expression is neutral, but his grip on her hand tightens imperceptibly. The women are chattering loudly, their laughter filling the bistro, but Candy can barely hear them. Her focus is solely on Draco, on the conflict she knows is raging within him.
The women are now settled in, their orders placed, their conversations continuing. One of them laughs particularly loudly, and Candy sees Draco's jaw clench. He looks like he's about to snap, the weight of his emotions and the noise around him becoming too much for him to bear.
In a moment of impulsiveness, Candy makes a decision. She gently slips her hand out from under his and gets up from her chair, much to Draco's surprise. He looks at her like he's about to ask what she's doing, but Candy beats him to it.
"Come with me," she says quietly, holding out her hand to him. "Just come with me." Draco's expression is wary, hesitant, but something in her eyes must convince him. He takes her hand, rising from his chair, and the two of them weave their way through the bistro.
Once outside, Candy leads him down a quieter street, away from the noise and the crowd. They walk in silence for a few moments, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the bistro. Candy steals a glance at Draco, sees the tension still evident in his shoulders. They come to a stop in front of a small park, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the grass and the trees. Candy tugs on Draco's hand, pulling him towards a park bench.
They sit down on the bench, the silence between them now feeling almost companionable. Candy keeps her hand linked with Draco's, her touch grounding him, tethering him to the moment.
He doesn't pull away, his fingers laced tightly with hers, like a lifeline. Candy looks at him, her eyes studying his profile in the soft light. He looks torn, conflicted, his gaze turned inwards.
She can practically hear his thoughts racing, the internal battle raging on.
After a moment, Candy decides to break the silence, her voice quiet but steady. "You don't have to do this alone, you know."
Draco looks at her then, his eyes meeting hers. There's a mixture of surprise and skepticism in his gaze. "What do you mean?"
"This," Candy gestures between them. "Your internal conflict, your struggle. You don't have to face it alone." She squeezes his hand, a silent gesture of reassurance. "I know I can't understand what it's like for you, Draco. I know I can't fully comprehend the world you come from, the pressures you're under. But I do want to try. I want to help you, in whatever way I can."
Draco's eyes narrow, his defences rising again. "Why?" he asks bluntly. "Why do you care so much? You don't owe me anything. You don't even know me, not really."
"I care because I believe you deserve better than the life your family has planned for you," she says firmly. "I care because I see the man you could be, not just the Malfoy heir." She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage. "And I care because despite your stubbornness and your walls, there's something about you that I can't ignore, something that pulls me towards you, no matter how hard I try to resist it."
There's a glimmer of something in Draco's eyes then, a crack in his armour, a spark of hope, but it's gone just as quickly. He pulls his hand away from hers, the sudden absence of warmth making Candy's heart clench. Draco stands up abruptly, his body tense. He looks like he's about to make a run for it, retreat to the safety of his solitude. But Candy isn't about to let him go, not now. She gets up too, standing in front of him, her eyes pleading with him to stay.
She reaches out, her hand touching his arm, and he stiffens at her touch. "Don't run away," she says quietly, her voice just above a whisper. "Please, Draco, don't run away."
Draco looks at her, his expression a storm of emotions - confusion, frustration, fear. But there's also a hint of something else in his eyes, something that gives Candy hope that her words are getting through to him, that he's feeling something, anything beneath his icy exterior.
He stands there, frozen, his body taut like a coiled spring ready to snap. Candy's touch is gentle, her eyes unwavering in their gaze, silently begging him to stay, to let her in, to let her help him. For a moment, Draco looks like he's torn in two, his mind and heart warring against each other.
Draco exhales, a shuddering breath that seems to carry with it some of the tension coiled within him. He doesn't move, but he doesn't pull away either. It's a small victory, a crack in the wall around his heart. Candy doesn't move, her hand still on his arm, not wanting to break this fragile moment. The silence between them stretches, filled with the sounds of the night - the distant hum of traffic, the rustle of leaves in the wind.
"Why are you doing this?" Draco's voice breaks the silence, a raw, vulnerable sound that surprises Candy. It's the first time he's shown his vulnerability to her like this, without anger or sarcasm to shield himself.
"I told you," Candy replies gently, her hand tracing soft circles on his arm. "I care about you. I see the person you could be, the person you're trying to suppress." She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his. "And I believe you deserve more than a life of duty and obligation. You deserve happiness, freedom, your own choices."
Draco's expression is a mix of disbelief and skepticism. "You make it sound so simple," he says, his voice rough. "As if it's as easy as just walking away from everything I've ever known."
"I never said it was simple or easy," Candy responds, her voice still gentle. "I know it's complicated, I know it's hard. You'll be going against years, generations even, of family tradition, expectations, and possibly even consequences. But you have to ask yourself, Draco, what do YOU want? Not what your father wants, not your mother, not anyone else but you. What do you want?"
Draco's gaze drops, his face shadowed by the dim light. He looks like he's waging an internal war, the struggle evident in the tense lines of his body, the clenched fists at his sides. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "I've always done what I've been told. I've never been allowed to want."
Candy's heart clenches at his honesty, the raw, vulnerable expression on his face. She reaches out, her fingers lightly touching his chin, gently directing his gaze back up to hers. "Then maybe it's time you learn," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet conviction.
The touch is gentle, but it's enough to make Draco's breath hitch, his eyes widening slightly at her words. He looks like he wants to say something, to counter her statement, to deflect with a sharp comment, but Candy beats him to it. "It's okay not to know," she says, her thumb gently tracing along his jaw. "It's okay to be unsure. But you can't let your family dictate your life forever."
Draco's jaw clenches, the muscle there working furiously as he processes her words. His eyes are searching hers, looking for the catch, the angle, the hidden agenda. But all he finds is sincerity, kindness, maybe even a hint of affection. It's a foreign concept to him, this genuine concern, this honest desire to help.
"What if I can't?" There's a hint of desperation in Draco's voice, a hint of vulnerability that breaks Candy's heart. It's like he wants to believe her, wants to trust her, but he's held back by years of conditioning, of being told he's not allowed to want for himself.
Candy's hand moves from his jaw to his cheek, her touch a soothing, grounding presence. "You can," she says, her voice firm, steady. "You have to believe in yourself, Draco. You're stronger than you think, and you're not alone. I'm here. If you let me.”
Draco swallows, the action betraying his internal turmoil. The struggle is still evident on his face, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes now - a tiny, flickering spark of hope. He looks like he's warring with himself, his ingrained instincts telling him to push her away, his heart, his soul, maybe even his mind, telling him to cling to her like a lifeline. The silence between them is tense, filled with uncertainty and indecision. Candy doesn't move, her hand on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. The night is quiet around them, the sounds of the city seeming faint and far away. They're locked in a silent battle, both of them waiting for the other's move, the other's decision.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Draco moves. It's a small movement, just a slight tilt of his head, but it's enough to bring his cheek fully against her hand. His eyes are closed, his expression taut with emotion. Candy's heart clenches at the gesture, the silent surrender. She doesn't say a word, doesn't move beyond keeping her hand against his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. She waits, allows the moment to unfold, the tension to slowly ease. When Draco finally opens his eyes, they're swimming with emotions he's probably not used to feeling. There's fear, yes, but there's also hope, and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit of longing.
"I don't know how to do this," he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes are trained on hers, his vulnerability laid bare. "I don't know how to be... me." He swallows, his jaw clenches, the words seem to come against his will, against years of conditioning. "All I've ever known is what my family expects of me, what our 'status' requires."
Candy's heart aches at his words, at the pain and confusion etched on his face. She keeps her hand on his cheek, her thumb gently caressing his skin in small, soothing circles. "You can learn, Draco," she says, her voice a tender reassurance. "It's not something you need to figure out overnight. It will take time, patience, and a lot of courage."
"Courage isn't something I excel at," Draco says dryly, the hint of a sarcastic comment creeping back into his voice. It's a defense mechanism, a way to pull back, to maintain distance, but it's weakening, the walls around his heart slowly crumbling.
Candy doesn't let his words faze her. She's used to his defense mechanisms by now, knows that they're just a mask for the insecurities and fears lurking underneath. "Courage doesn't always look the same," she replies, her voice steady, reassuring. "It can be facing your fears, yes, but it can also be allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to accept help and support from someone else."
Her words seem to hit somewhere deep inside Draco. He looks at her, his eyes scanning her face, searching for deception, for an ulterior motive. But all he finds is unflinching honesty, a sincerity that seems to touch something within him. He looks away, his gaze fixed on some distant point, his jaw working again, as if he's trying to force words out that are stuck in his throat. "I just.." He starts, then stops, his voice catching in his throat. His hands are clenched at his sides, his body tense, a war of emotions raging within him. It's like he's torn between opening up and shutting down, the two sides fighting for dominance. Candy waits patiently, her hand still on his cheek, her eyes locked on his face, silently telling him it's okay. That she's there, that she won't judge or reject him.
"I don't want to disappoint them," he finally manages to say, the words forced out, heavy with the weight of duty and obligation. There's a hint of despair in his voice, a deep-seated fear of not living up to expectations, of letting his family down. It's a feeling Candy can relate to on some level, but she knows Draco's situation is far more complex, encumbered by layers and layers of familial expectations.
"You're not responsible for their happiness, Draco," Candy replies gently. "You're allowed to want things, to make decisions for yourself, even if they don't align with what your family expects. Your worth doesn't lie in how well you can fit into their mold, it lies in who you are, flaws, fears and all."
Draco looks at her, the mixture of emotions in his eyes overwhelming. There's a hint of confusion, a touch of surprise. It's as if no one has ever told him this, as if the possibility of being himself, of choosing his own path, is just now being presented to him. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The internal battle seems to be reaching its climax, the struggle between family expectations and personal desires hanging in the balance. Candy's hand on his cheek is a constant, a grounding presence. The night around them seems to hold its breath, the world shrinking down to just the two of them, the air charged with tension, the silence filled with the unsaid. Draco's expression is a mix of uncertainty, defiance, and desperation, as if being himself is both the most terrifying thing in the world, and the most appealing.
"What if it's not enough?" Draco whispers, the vulnerability in his voice surprising even himself. It's as if his guard has dropped completely, the facade of the Malfoy heir shattered. He looks at her, his eyes pleading, desperate for reassurance, for some kind of guarantee that being himself won't end in rejection, in failure.
"It's more than enough, Draco," Candy replies, her voice steady, earnest. Her eyes never leave his, her gaze holding an unwavering determination. "It's more than enough. You are more than enough. You don't need to prove anything to anyone. You don't need to live up to anyone else's standards but your own. You deserve to be happy, truly happy, even if it's in a way that your family might not understand or approve of."
Draco's throat works, his jaw clenching and unclenching, as he processes her words. The struggle within him is tangible, the conflict between years of conditioning and the lure of something new, something different, something... better. The idea of living his own life, chasing his own happiness, is as enticing as it is terrifying. He looks at Candy, his eyes searching hers, as if he's begging her for a sign, a confirmation that she truly believes what she's saying.
Candy holds his gaze, her expression unwavering, her conviction strong. She believes what she's saying, wholeheartedly, and she wants him to understand that. "Draco," she whispers, her voice a soft, soothing caress, "it's your life, not theirs. They may have shaped it, influenced it, but they don't own it. You've been doing what you think they want, living to please them… but what about you? What do you want?"
Those last words seem to hit like a sledgehammer. Draco's eyes flicker, a myriad of emotions flashing through them. It's like no one has ever asked him that question, like he's been living so long to appease his family, he's forgotten what he wants for himself. He looks away for a moment, his gaze dropping, his jaw clenching tightly, his body tense with the weight of his thoughts. The struggle in him is evident, the war between duty and desire, expectation and longing, taking a visible toll on him.
Candy doesn't rush him, doesn't push. She knows this is a pivotal moment for him, a moment where he's being forced to confront a reality he's never even considered. Her hand is still on his cheek, her thumb still stroking his skin, her presence there a silent reassurance, a grounding force in the whirlwind of emotions he's evidently feeling.
After what feels like an eternity, Draco's voice breaks the silence, a whispered confession that carries with it a hint of resignation and... hope. "I don't know," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The struggle is still there, the hesitation, the uncertainty, but there's also a hint of something else, a tiny flicker of something that wasn't there before - a spark of resolve. "I don't know what I want," he repeats, the words filled with a raw honesty that breaks Candy's heart.
Candy's heart clenches as she watches him, seeing the storm of emotions playing out on his face, the vulnerability he's allowing her to see, the struggle to reconcile what he knows with what he's feeling. "That's okay," she says quietly, her voice a gentle whisper against the backdrop of the night. "It's okay not to know. You don't have to figure it all out at once. But it's important that you start thinking about it, that you start considering what you want, what makes you happy, what you enjoy."
Her words seem to fall in the right place, landing like a soothing balm on the raw emotional turmoil Draco is experiencing. He nods, a jerky, awkward movement, as if he's not used to admitting he doesn't have all the answers. The battle is still there, the ingrained instincts telling him to push it all away, to bury the desire for a different life, but there's something more now, something that wasn't there before – a hint of consideration, of openness.
"You've been following the path laid out for you for so long," Candy says gently, her hand still on his cheek, her voice low and calm. "It's not easy to change course, especially when it goes against everything you've been taught. But remember, Draco, you're not alone." She lets her words sink in, her eyes fixed on his. "You don't have to do this alone. You don't have to make decisions in a vacuum. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to."
Draco's gaze snaps back to hers, his eyes wide, searching. It's as if her words have hit a chord within him, a chord that resonates with a sense of relief and possibility. He looks younger, suddenly, the years of conditioning slipping away, revealing a vulnerability that he rarely allows himself to show. The struggle in him is still evident, the war between desire and duty continuing its silent battle, but there's something new there; a hint of hope, a touch of trust. He swallows, a small, jerky movement, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really mean that, don't you?"
Candy smiles, her thumb still tracing soothing circles on his cheek. "Of course," she says, her voice full of conviction. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. If you want me to be here, I'll be. If you need someone to talk to, someone to help you figure things out, I'll be there." Her words are straightforward, honest, a promise that's as simple as it is profound.
Draco's gaze flicks over her face, searching for something, some sign of deceit, or trick, or manipulation. But the unwavering determination in her eyes, the steadiness in her voice, the touch of her hand, they all speak of a sincerity that he finds hard to ignore. For the first time, he lets himself believe that he might not be alone in this, that he might have someone, at least, who's willing to stand by his side. He swallows again, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, the war within him seemingly at a momentary ceasefire. Candy can sense the shift in him, the subtle surrender, the acceptance that he might not have to fight this battle alone. She lets the silence stretch out, allowing him the time he needs to process his own emotions, waiting patiently. The night is quiet around them, the world holding its breath, it seems, to see what Draco will do next.
And then, after what feels like an eternity, Draco's shoulders slump, his body relaxing incrementally, his resistance giving way to a kind of weary acceptance. "I... I'll try," he mutters, his voice gravelly, raw. "I don't know if I can do it alone, but... I'll try. If you promise to... stay."
"I promise," Candy replies immediately, her voice firm, her expression earnest. "I promise, Draco. I'll be here. Every step of the way. For as long as you need me." Her hand is still on his cheek, her presence a grounding force, a symbol of her commitment.
Draco nods, his eyes drifting closed for a moment, just taking a moment to absorb her words, to let them settle in his mind. The war within him seems to have momentarily abated, her promise providing a momentary respite. But Candy can see the tension in the set of his jaw, the furrow between his brows, the clench of his fists at his side – there's still a lot of work to be done. But this, this is progress. This is a step in the right direction. Candy lets the silence stretch out again, not wanting to rush him, wanting to give him the space he needs to process his own thoughts and feelings. The night is still around them, the world seemingly holding its breath, the air heavy with possibility.
After a few moments, Draco opens his eyes again, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere in the darkness. His voice is rough, hoarse, when he speaks. "I don't even know where to start," he says, a touch of frustration and helplessness in his voice. "It's like... this is my life, and I've just been living it on auto-pilot. I don't know how to..." He trails off, swallowing hard, his eyes flicking to hers, searching once again for something, reassurance, guidance, understanding.
"That's okay," Candy replies, her voice gentle, understanding. "There's no rulebook for this, Draco. You can take all the time you need. We can figure it out together." Her thumb is still tracing soothing circles on his cheek, her gaze unwavering, her presence steady and constant.
Draco nods again, something akin to relief flashing across his face. It's evident that he's not used to having someone to talk to, someone to share the burden of his thoughts and feelings. The idea of being able to figure it out together, that he doesn't have to do this alone, seems to be slowly sinking in. "Together," he repeats, his voice softer this time, a hint of vulnerability coloring his tone.
"Together," Candy reaffirms, smiling gently. "We'll work through it together." She keeps her hand on his cheek, a silent promise. The war within him is still there, the struggle between duty and desire, between old conditioning and a new future, but Candy can see a hint of determination in his eyes, a smoldering fire that's slowly rising to the surface.
Draco exhales slowly, his breath shaky, his body relaxing further. The struggle is still evident in the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw, but the resignation he felt earlier seems to have faded, replaced by a flicker of determination and hope. For the first time, he's letting himself consider the possibility, the reality, of a different life. One where he doesn't act or think because he's expected to, but because he wants to. One where he's not a puppet dancing on the strings of his father's will, but a man living, truly living, on his own terms.
"Thank you," Draco mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze flickering between hers. His emotions are still a tangle, a mess of conflicting thoughts and feelings, but there's a hint of gratitude in his eyes, a silent appreciation for her presence, her patience, her understanding. This is a monumental shift for him, a crack in the fortified walls he's built around himself to keep the world, and his own feelings, out. And Candy is a crack in the wall, a tiny opening through which light, and hope, can shine.
Candy smiles again, her gaze fixed on him, her heart aching at the vulnerability he's allowing her to see. "You don't need to thank me," she says simply, her voice soft. "This is a two-way street, remember? We're in this together." Her hand is still on his cheek, her touch gentle, her presence a silent promise of unwavering support.
Draco's eyes flicker again, a myriad of emotions passing through them - uncertainty, fear, longing, hope. The battle within him continues, the war between what he knows and what he's beginning to realize, raging on, fiercer than ever. But his body has relaxed, his shoulders sagged, his jaw is less tense. He looks tired, worn down by years of living a life that's not entirely his own. But there's also a hint of relief, a flicker of hope, a tiny shred of belief that he's not as lost as he thought he was.
"My apartment is close by, we should go there," Candy murmurs, gently breaking the silence. "It's late, and you look exhausted."
Draco's gaze snaps back to hers, a flicker of surprise in his eyes at her observation. It's as if he's only just realized how weary he looks, how much everything is taking a toll on him. He opens his mouth, a protest on his lips, but Candy's touch on his cheek is firm, silencing it.
"No arguments," she says, her voice firm but not unkind. "You need rest, Draco. You need time to process everything. We can continue this tomorrow, or... whenever you're ready."
Draco's shoulders sag a little more, the fight seeming to drain out of him. He's not used to being taken care of, not used to someone being this persistent about what he needs.
"Okay," he mutters, his voice rough, his body yielding to her insistence. It's as if he's too tired to fight her on this, or perhaps he's too tired to fight himself. Or perhaps he's starting to see the wisdom in her words.
Candy nods, a small smile on her lips, her hand finally dropping from his cheek. "Let's go," she says, turning slightly, gesturing for him to follow her.