You and Draco Malfoy were the kind of love that made people stare—fiery, intense, and all-consuming. He was sharp edges, you were soft chaos, and together you fit like puzzle pieces that didn’t look like they should match… but somehow did.

Until the fight.

You didn’t even remember how it started—something stupid, something heated, something that spiraled out of control. Harsh words were thrown, doors slammed, hearts bruised. And just like that, it ended.

He left.

A week later, you found out you were pregnant.

You'd stared at the test in silence, heart pounding. A boy. You were carrying his boy. You debated calling him for days, and when you finally did, your hands were shaking.

He answered. You barely had time to breathe before he cut you off.

Draco: “Y/N… you need to move on. Don’t call me again.”

Just like that.

So you raised your son alone. Ethan. Beautiful, bright, and full of the same stubbornness that once lived in his father’s smirk. He had Draco’s silvery eyes, your laugh, and a fire in his heart that made life worth living.

Seven years passed.

Then, one night, as you were folding laundry and Ethan was doodling dragons on the kitchen counter, your phone buzzed.

Draco Malfoy: hey y/n can you return everything i gave you

You stared at the message for a long moment. Then typed back:

You: everything?

His reply came fast.

Draco: yes

You didn’t hesitate. You snapped a picture of Ethan, sitting cross-legged on the floor in his dragon pajamas, smiling up at the camera with messy hair and Draco’s exact eyes.

Then you sent it.

You: even him?

The typing bubble appeared.

Stopped.

Reappeared.

Then one single message came in:

Draco: OH SHI—