Viridian

Was it too late to go back now? It probably was. Draco looked down at his book, trying his hardest to not look up. He suddenly becomes very interested in the properties of lacewing flies and how to make an Anti-headache potion while a conversion goes on around him. Draco knows how to block stuff out, he’s got first hand experience.

“I already returned it, sorry Blaise,” Harry’s voice breaks his thoughts. It sounds so comforting. Draco swallows and looks up from his book. Harry looks at Draco and smiles. Draco notices little crinkles at the side of his  button nose. 

He can’t block them out anymore. It’s not butterflies as they say, fluttering and pretty. It’s an overcrowding of colourless, ugly moths. And Draco knows this. This feeling of knowing that the moths will never turn into butterflies. They’ll always just stay knotted at the bottom of his stomach. 

However, Draco can’t deny one thing. He’s head over heels for the boy-who-lived, much to his father’s chagrin. It’s the way that one strand of his bright red hair moves when a specific gust of wind hits him, his voice is an invitation. Come. Come and cuddle me. Harry smells like autumn. Draco can’t quite explain it, but he loves it. The way his eyes don't have an exact shade of green, but differing shades of yellows and blues all at once.

Draco. His father’s voice echoes in the back of his head. Just his name, Draco. The fear that the tone incites, Draco knows, is exactly what will happen to him if his father ever finds out. He’d call him a queer, a disappointment. His mum would agree.

“Did you hear about the attack on the mudblood?” Theo says, breaking the silence in their dorm. Draco looks over at him in annoyance, but can’t complain. Mcgonagall forced them to be back to their common rooms by 6. Good thing Harry wasn’t here. Blasted Harry James Potter, standing up for the mudbloods. Draco couldn’t help but to admire that aspect of him.

Once he’s settled into his dorm, Draco receives a letter from his father. Draco never receives letters from him unless he’s in trouble, so it can’t be good. He opens the letter with trembling hands and makes sure no one is around him. Thankfully, their still in the common room.

Draconis Malfoy,

I have heard from your godfather that you have become infatuated with Harry Potter. We have allowed you to be friends with him, however liking him romantically is crossing many lines. First, he isn’t a pure-blood. He is a Potter, but they are below our family.

Secondly, homosexuality is not tolerated in pureblood traditions. You absolutely must forfeit your feelings for him, as your mother did for another girl in her year. We expect you for Christmas and Easter, Draco. We will talk more then.

Signed, 

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy 

The last line might seem like a casual statement, but Draco knew what that meant all too well. He couldn’t like Harry, or he probably wouldn’t even be able to be friends with him anymore. Draco couldn’t believe Professor Snape would do such a thing, but Professor Snape was closer with his father then Draco. 

And what girl did his mother like anyways? He had never asked her, but she and his father never displayed any sort of affection towards each other, so his mother couldn’t have just forfeited her feelings for this girl. He felt stupid for wanting to know, but he couldn’t keep his curiosity down. He resigned himself to his fate and grabbed some materials to pen a letter.

Dear Mother,

I’m sure father already told you about my current situation. He needs me to forfeit my feelings, but o don’t know how to. He said you liked another girl in your year, how did you forfeit your feelings for her?

Miss you,

Draco

Draco closed the letter into an envelope and hoped it didn’t sound too stupid. He attached it to the leg of his owl, who his mother insisted he name Alice. It did suit her perfectly. He stroked her black feathers and she flew away into the night.