Save Yourself

Save Yourself, Chapter Thirteen

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We were met on the platform by both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy—a rarity among rarities. Draco’s mother immediately took me in her arms and held me tightly, her pale features showing a mixture of happiness and grief; happiness for me and Draco’s impending marriage, grief for the loss of one of her best friends—my mother—and seeing her child for the first time.

”Your journey was adequate, I assume?” Mr. Malfoy’s tone was less harsh than normal as he clamped one large hand on his son’s shoulder.

”As adequate as those journeys usually are,” Draco confirmed, placing our trunks on a trolly and pushing it forward. He was nearly as tall as his father now; just above six feet, he was as formidable as both an enemy and a friend.

The crowd gave us a wide berth as we made our way through the station, finally reaching the large automobile parked in an impossibly small space between a beat up tan minivan and a red sports car I knew Draco would kill for. As I stepped inside following Mrs. Malfoy, I gasped at the size of the interior; the couches stretched across at least ten meters. On the far side, there was a long bar holding countless bottles of various wizarding drinks, including Butterbeer—both alcoholic and non—and a wide assortment of pumpkin juices. I chose a seat facing the back of the vehicle and waited as Draco and finally Mr. Malfoy stepped through the door, Mr. Malfoy choosing a seat across from his wife and Draco taking a seat next to me.

”Is there a certain date you’d prefer for the ceremony to take place over the holidays?” Mrs. Malfoy asked quite suddenly, startling out of my thoughts.

I looked over towards Draco for guidance, who simply shrugged and gripped my hand. “Christmas Eve would be wonderful, although I’m afraid it’d interfere with the Ball.” The Malfoys threw a ball each year on Christmas Eve, just as my family had during the summers.

”Perhaps on Christmas then?” I suggested both to Mrs. Malfoy and Draco.

”It’d be perfect,” Draco chimed in enthusiastically. “We could have the rehearsal dinner with the guests—assuming those which attend the Ball will also be attending the wedding—and the decorations will already be in place. There are enough house elves in the manor to fix things up with an appropriate amount of time left.”

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy thought for a moment, then finally nodded in unison.

And so it was set.

Christmas Eve fast approached, and before both Draco and I knew it, we were standing before hundreds of rich upper class purebloods, hand in hand, with Lucius Malfoy proudly announcing our marriage the next day—and the invitation for those hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, to join in the celebrations.

I was wearing a beautiful scarlet silk gown that had been cut and tailored only days before, along with my wedding dress—an even more extravagant gown of rich cream velvet and silk of the highest quality. Draco, dressed in robes of a deep forest green, had complimented me to no end that evening, an action that for some reason made me highly suspicious—but of what, I had no idea.

”Quite the crowd tonight,” Draco commented in a hushed tone as Mr. Malfoy concluded his invitational speech.

”I’ve never heard of ninety percent of these wizards, let alone met them,” I said in a calm tone. I had been born and bred for moments like this; after seventeen years of spotlight, I was ready for the climax—our wedding.

”Neither have my father and mother,” Draco said quietly, his arm snaking it’s way around my waist. “Most are high Ministry officials—or wizards who have potential to be. Many are Slytherin graduates, ones my father has the task of attempting to recruit. Others are acquaintances he’s only met once, but feels the need to include regardless, if for nothing but the recognition. Watch him—he’s a master at his art.”

Lucius Malfoy truly was a master, and during that one night, I learned much from his behavior. Draco and I danced only twice, both ignoring the throngs of well-wishers that seemed to follow our every movement. It was well past midnight when Draco and I finally made our way upstairs into the joint rooms we shared, both completely exhausted and ready for bed. He kissed me good night gently without saying a word and stepped into his room, closing the door that separated the two of us. With a heavy sigh, I made my way to the bath, disrobing as I went.

As I sank into the hot water, the tension of the past three days—of the past six months, ever since Mother and Zachary had died, ever since Draco and I had first slept together—drained out of me, leaving both my body and mind completely relaxed and at peace with the world.

Until I realized something that definitely didn’t deserve to be realized at that point in time.

I was late.

My hair was still dripping as I knocked on the door separating our rooms a few minutes later, a dark red robe thrown around my scantily clad body. It took a moment, but Draco finally opened the door, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

”Yes?” he asked in an exhausted tone of voice. I cringed inwardly, not quite knowing how to word the sudden problem I found myself—we found ourselves—in.

”I’m late,” I said in a half-whisper, hugging the robe tighter around my body.

Draco raised an eyebrow, obviously not realizing exactly what I meant. “Late for what? It’s two in the morning, there’s nothing to be late for tonight.”

I shook my head sharply, a sudden wave of harshness flowing over me as I realized he was the one who had possibly done this.

”I’m late,” I spoke the word slowly, trying to allow him to absorb the meaning—the other meaning—of the word before he asked another ridiculous question.

It took a moment, but as comprehension dawned upon him, his eyes slowly widened to unnatural sizes. With a wariness only a Malfoy could accomplish, he eyed my pale face and scowled slightly. “How late?”

”Almost four weeks,” I whispered, not daring to meet his eye.

”And you didn’t think about perhaps telling me sooner?” he sighed, leaning up against the door frame and closing his eyes.

”I didn’t think about it,” I admitted quietly. “Besides, I suppose it could just be stress—with everything that’s been going on and all—but… I just thought I should let you know, just in case.”

He nodded solemnly, his eyes blazing with a thousand different emotions. It was a moment before he responded in a hushed, cold tone, one that I hope I’ll never hear again.

”There’s a book in the library—I could send a house elf for it. There’s a spell you could cast to be absolutely certain, and a way to…” he grimaced slightly, “…get rid of it, if we have to.”

I narrowed my eyes dangerously. “What do you mean, ‘ get rid of it’?”

”An abortion,” he said bluntly, his tone emotionless. “Pansy, think about it—we’re seventeen, for fuck’s sake. Do you honestly think we could take care of a child during our last year at Hogwarts? It’d be impossible, we both know that.”

I shook my head, “We could do it if we really tried—besides, worst case scenario, we leave it with your mother for the year. But really, Draco, we’re both getting ahead of ourselves… I don’t even know if it’s just stress or something bigger right now.” I sighed wearily, slumping down in a defeated manner. “Get the book. We’ll use the first spell—but under absolutely no conditions shall the second be used. I don’t care if I have to drop out of school to take care of it, I will never kill a child you and I made.”

Draco nodded silently, turning around and walking back into his chambers to summon a house elf to retrieve the book that held a spell which could change the rest of our lives.

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