BORN TO DIE    ╱    DRACO MALFOY
꒷꒦ · ˚.‧ . written by ella . . . © -lostgardens
099 ━━━ ❛ nothing endures but change ❜

She was bored as ever as she sat in an Order meeting. Well, not bored, but tired. She was finally allowed in most of them, as were Harry, Hermione, Weasley, and the twins. Ginny and Lucas weren't, however; they were upstairs, waiting for it to be over so that they could go home. The house always seemed different without Sirius there, especially during the meetings. Everyone seemed out of it, bummed and down, as they talked strategy and shared information. Olivia had been trying to not think about it too much—his death, Voldemort, all of it—but it was hard not to, being in the meetings. She had volunteered herself for this after all. She and Harry both. They'd told them that they wanted to fight.

She wasn't sure about that now, but she didn't have a choice anymore.

Did she?

Olivia was leaning her back against the back of her chair, remaining silent since she had nothing to add. Her eyes scanned over all of the ones sitting at the table, not really listening to what was being said. This was what her life was until further notice, she realized then. Sitting in meetings, talking about ways to get the upper hand in the brewing war and how to keep Harry safe from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It was mad how much one's life could change in just a year.

It was all so different. She missed when her only worries were schoolwork, not how she was supposed to survive and protect the Chosen One from one of the greatest dark wizards ever, or what she was supposed to do with her prophecy and what it meant, or how long or short she might live due to this war, how much their world would be affected, or what would happen if they couldn't win, if Voldemort won in the end. Their world would go to shite. The Dark Lord would be a terrible leader, just as he clearly was then. They'd be his foot soldiers, and if not, they'd be locked away or killed. No one who went against him would survive; that was just a fact. He'd kill them all so he could have ultimate power, so he could "restore" the Wizarding World to what the bigoted purebloods, the Death Eaters, his followers, saw fit, so he could control everyone, so he wouldn't have to worry about any retaliation.

It wouldn't be a world Olivia would want to live in.

She'd rather die fighting than let it get to that point.

She didn't want to fight anymore, but she knew she had to. For the greater good.

Then again, she'd always had to deal with these worries, hadn't she? They were just more pressing now than ever before. Voldemort was back for good until he was defeated, if ever. Until they won. Until he was gone. She'd almost died a multitude of times before. She'd been in life-threatening danger many times, mostly because of Harry and her inability to stay away. She'd been hit with the killing curse and survived it with no everlasting damage. Even if Voldemort tried to kill her, would she die? She'd lived so many times before, despite the odds not being in her favor. It was a risky contemplation. What if her killing curse survival had been a one-time deal? Why did it happen? She still didn't know. No one seemed to either. At least, not from what they'd told her, which wasn't saying much.

That was one of the things she didn't like about the Order. They liked to keep secrets. She did too, so it wasn't that fact entirely. It was how vague they all were, same as Dumbledore, with information that she knew could be vital for, at least, Harry to know. Really, for all of them to know.

How were they supposed to go back to Hogwarts and continue with their lives as if targets weren't on all of their backs? Harry was first and foremost Voldemort's enemy; Hermione was a Muggleborn; Weasley and Ginny were from a pureblood family, but none of them were well regarded among those sorts and were considered blood traitors; Olivia and her family were also purebloods and considered blood traitors for not siding with the purists like their ancestors had done before. They knew all of this, yet it was in the back of their minds at all times. It frustrated her incredibly, but she kept her mouth shut. No one wanted her opinion anyway. She knew this.

She also knew that the upcoming school year was not going to be like any other. Sides were going to be more determined, the line separating students even straighter and clearer. All of her friends were going to be on the opposite side of her; could she really stomach it and block it out of her mind like she'd been doing since she met them? She wasn't sure she could. She cared about them all deeply, but how could they side with Voldemort? Their parents had a hand in it and the way they were brought up, but they could very well see past every bit of that if they really wanted to, couldn't they? Were they too afraid of being disowned to do so? Was it really that important to them to have money, status, and power? Or did they truly agree with those views, and that was why they wouldn't switch sides? Were they proud of their parents being Death Eaters?

She hoped not, for the sake of her sanity.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Olivia got pulled from her thoughts. She already knew that it was her mother who was staring at her, studying her, before she even focused on her. Her borrowing of the book from the study hadn't been discovered yet, meaning her copy had been holding up well, or perhaps it hadn't, and her parents just hadn't said anything. She preferred to think the former was the truth; it made her feel better about her abilities. She surprisingly hadn't been scolded for leaving the study before her parents could come back and finish their talk with her, and they hadn't sought her out for anymore conversations, so she hoped they had decided to leave her alone for good or just deal with her later.

After she had gone back to her room, hidden the book, and written her letter to Draco, she'd taken the folded and sealed parchment to Lucas's room, asking and receiving permission to use Apollo to send it off. She did so, thanking her brother, and the next day, Draco's eagle owl had shown up, pecking at the glass of her window with a letter in his beak. She'd opened her window and allowed him to perch in the window sill before she took the letter and got him a treat. Then he flew off, and she immediately peeled the parchment open from where Draco had stamped it with Slytherin green wax and the Malfoy crest, eager to see what he had said.

To her disappointment, his words read vague and short.

Dear Olivia,
I'm fine. Mother and I are doing fine. You have nothing to apologize for. It's my father's fault that he was arrested.

Also, Pansy said something about wanting to sit in one of the open compartments when we go back to school. She thinks ours is getting too crowded.

Thank you for writing. See you at school.

Sincerely,
Draco

Had it pegged her heart that he didn't tell her that he missed her back? Yes, it had, but it was okay; he didn't have to, after all. It was fine. She was fine. Perhaps he had simply forgotten, or perhaps he just hadn't seen her say it in her letter to him. He was under a lot of stress. His father had just been sent to Azkaban, making Draco the man of the manor for the time being (not Lord since Lucius was still alive), and he had his mother, who was no doubt taking care of everything important, to worry about.

Olivia didn't blame him for not saying it back, and she wasn't upset about it. She would see him at school; they would pretend to dislike each other in front of everyone else but would be happy together in private. It was all fine. They were on opposite sides of the war; she knew that, of course. It would be all right, though. They could do it. They would survive it. They were strong, and so were their feelings for one another.

Part of her didn't believe herself, and part of her didn't believe Draco when he said that he was fine, knowing how he was when it came to emotions. He and his family had been facing so much scrutiny from the ones around them and in the pages of the Prophet after it had been revealed that Lucius, along with some others, was still a loyal Death Eater and working for Voldemort. She couldn't imagine the pressure Draco and Narcissa were under to act right, all eyes on them.

Finding her mother's gaze, their eyes locked. They just stared at one another for a long moment, as if they were trying to read each other's thoughts, and then her mother looked away, sitting up straighter, if even possible, and focusing back on the meeting.

It was Olivia's turn to study, taking in the witch's edged and hard features and watching her turn her attention to Shacklebolt, who was talking, his words not even registering to Olivia. Her mother was a beautiful witch on the outside, but her insides were rotten, cold, and callous. Olivia knew that some thought of her as much the same. Perhaps she had inherited it from her. She hated to admit it, but she was like the woman in many ways. Lucas had always been more like their father, quiet and a peacekeeper of sorts.

Her mother looked at her again, her gaze pointed as to ask why she was staring.

Olivia didn't look away, continuing the staring match until the meeting was called to an end. Their eyes fell off of each other as they got up from the table, walked outside with Lucas and her father, and apparated back to the manor.

Later, however, Olivia found herself in Diagon Alley (having traveled by floo), specifically Flourish and Blotts, needing to clear her mind from everything as she shopped for new books. She knew it wasn't the greatest idea to be out and alone in the world when there were Death Eaters free and loose, but she was certain that she could defend herself. Her time being a part of Dumbledore's Army had helped with that, refreshing her on her skills.

When she finally gathered all five of her books (she'd struggled to limit herself to that little), she went over to the counter, which the shop assistant stood behind. She set her things on the woodtop as he began looking through them as she stared out the window, seeing the darkness of the evening. There was a storm brewing, and it wasn't because of the typical London weather. No, it was the world growing darker as Voldemort continued to grow stronger and stronger with each day, no doubt gaining more and more followers each second.

It made Olivia sick.

"That'll be ten galleons," the man told her, snapping her back into reality as she focused on him. She saw his small smile and somewhat returned it before searching for her sack of money. When she finally found it, she gave him the money—ten galleons. He took it from her, and she then grabbed her books, putting them in her bag.

Not wanting to use the extended-charmed bag that Daphne had given her for birthday that one year, since she hated it was from that witch, she charmed her own bag (she got Bobbin to do it since she was still underage), so she had plenty of room for her new books and everything else she carried in there. It worked just as well, and she liked this bag a lot more than the other one. She'd had it for so long, after all.

Once she had everything, she placed her sack of money back in her bag and then began heading towards the door. The sound of rain could be heard from outside, which would usually ease her, but knowing why this storm was happening put an unsettled feeling over her. Her paranoia was off the charts, and it was then that she realized she had been the only one in the shop, not including the shop assistant, who still stood behind the counter, watching her leave. A chill crept down her spine as she stopped, looking around to confirm her observation with suspicious eyes.

Yep, just her and the man.

She tried her best to shake off the feeling as she pulled out her umbrella from her bag and pushed the door open. She opened the umbrella once she was outside and began walking down the street. She headed towards where she knew a fireplace would be, wanting to get back to the manor as quickly as possible. She was bundled in an overcoat, a thin sweater underneath, a skirt, gloves, a scarf, and sheer tights, as well as her boots, but the rain still made her chilly.

Or perhaps it was another reason that made a chill creep down her spine.

≀⋆⁺₊⋆ ꗃ 𖦹⨳✺

Walking towards the stairs of the manor hours later, Olivia tried her best to be quiet. The sun was down and on the other side of the world, not that it made much difference from how dark it had been. The moon was up and glowing in the sky full of gleaming stars. Well, it would be if the storm clouds weren't blocking them from their view, which greatly disappointed Olivia.

She needed the stars to calm her nerves.

Her umbrella was back in her bag, and she was dried from the rain, coming in from the floo room. She was planning on dashing right for her room, but the light of the burning fireplace caught her attention, and she found herself walking into the drawing room, only to discover her mother sitting on the sofa as she read a book. Quickly, she stopped, watching the woman closely.

The witch didn't even look up from her book as she said, "You're home late." Then she slapped the book shut, as Olivia had done many times when annoyed, and her eyes trained on her daughter, who looked a bit like she'd been petrified, frozen in place as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. Clodagh's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the stillness. "Where have you been, Olivia Katherine?"

Olivia blanked her expression, standing up taller as she raised her chin. "It is none of your business where I have or have not been, Mother."

"Why won't you tell me?" Clodagh quirked a brow, seeming as if she knew something Olivia didn't or didn't want her to know. "I thought this was what you wanted, daughter, for me to care? This is me doing that." 

Olivia snorted. No, it wasn't. Clodagh Eileen O'Shea-Mallard didn't have a caring bone in her body, especially not for her daughter. "I don't want anything from you. Go back to being the selfish and cruel witch we all know you to be," she told her, looking at her carelessly. "Goodnight, Mother." She turned around and made her way to the staircase. She headed up them, going straight to her room and ignoring the snores and whispers from the portraits lining the walls.

She entered her room, quickly shutting the door behind her. She tossed her things down on her bed, and then she, herself, plopped down on it, covering her eyes with her arms. She was so tired, but she wasn't ready to face her nightmare again. She wanted to write to Draco, but she knew she shouldn't. So she got up from the bed and went to her bathroom. She stripped from her clothes and turned on the shower, wanting to wash the day off of her. And that she did, after the water heated. She stepped in, feeling the water travel down her body, and she spent about thirty minutes in there before she finally washed her hair and body.

When she got out, she wrapped herself in a soft towel and brushed her teeth and hair before she entered her room again. She could even think of going over to her wardrobe as she heard a pecking noise, causing her to furrow her brows. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes landing on her window as she realized that there was an owl there. She walked over to it, opened it, and watched as the eagle owl—Draco's owl—landed on the window sill.

It was holding a letter in its beak, which she quickly took, knowing that it was from Draco, then walked over to her desk for an owl treat. She gave the treat to the owl, and he flew off, allowing her to close and lock her window once more. She wasted no time in opening the letter after running her thumb along the Malfoy crest stamped wax that sealed it closed. Draco's beautiful handwriting came into view—just one abbreviation and four words.

P.S. I miss you too.

Her heart swelled, and her stomach fluttered as she read the words over and over again. He had said it back. He missed her like she missed him. A small smile turned the corners of her mouth as she bit it back, putting her bottom lip between her teeth.

He had said it back; she missed him, and he missed her too.

But she had to keep her distance.

It was for the best.

With that realization, Olivia's smile fell, and she sighed, folding the parchment back up, and walked over to the box of value she was slowly filling up. Per Theodore's suggestion, she had placed all of the letters from Draco inside, including this most recent one. She spelled the box closed again and then walked over to her bed, sitting down.

Distance was the safest option for both of them.

Everything was about to change.

≀⋆⁺₊⋆ ꗃ 𖦹⨳✺

━━━━ ella's speaking !
this is definitely the least amount of dialogue i've ever had in a chapter 😭 it was actually quite fun to write icl

also, sorry for the lack of focus i've been giving this fic, i've been working on and prewriting another fic and it has taken all of my time lmao, but trust me, i will start writing for this more soon !!

i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

make sure to comment and vote 🫶🏻

kisses.

━━━━━━━━━━ born to die,
© -LOSTGARDENS,   oct 2024

word count: 3057. written: 8.3.24. published: 10.22.24.