Draco Malfoy •°🍏

The rain in Diagon Alley always felt heavier than it did anywhere else, splashing against the cobblestones and blurring the bright displays of the shop windows.

You stood under the striped awning of Flourish and Blotts, shaking out your umbrella and wondering if you should just brave the weather to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Scorpius. Keep your hood up," a voice muttered nearby. It was low, smooth, and instantly familiar. You turned your head, your breath catching in your throat.

Draco Malfoy was standing just a few feet away, holding a large, black umbrella over a young boy with platinum-blond hair. Draco looked different than he had during your school days. The sharp, boyish arrogance was gone, replaced by a quiet, mature elegance. There were faint, tired lines around his silver eyes, and he wore a dark tailored coat that made him look tall and strikingly handsome.

You remembered reading the news in the Daily Prophet a year ago. His wife, Astoria, had passed away after a long illness. He was a widow. A single father.

As if feeling your gaze, Draco turned. His silver eyes met yours, and he froze. For a second, the bustling sounds of Diagon Alley seemed to fade away.

"{{User}}?" he breathed, his voice laced with genuine surprise.