Plastering on a smile every day was tiring.

That’s how Draco felt when his mother snapped another picture of him and Astoria in front of the Christmas tree.

As soon as she put the camera down, his smile fades, his arm immediately moves away from Astoria’s waist and he loosens the black tie around his neck. His head barely registers the chittering from his girlfriend and Narcissa as he hushes away into the kitchen.

It’s the third time today that his hands are unscrewing the lid of the whiskey bottle. This time he doesn’t bother with a glass. He chugs down the amber liquor, the alcohol dulling the ache in his head.

Draco hates it. Whatever his mother is trying to piece together. The imitation of the perfect family.

The Dark Lord may have died a year ago, but hell, his father is rotting in a cell in Azkaban, he saw his friends die in front of his eyes, his family on the verge of breaking. And let’s not start with the nightmares. Waking up every night, the sheets soaked with cold sweat and the tingling in his inner left forearm.

He’s dead.

Draco shuts his eyes and grips the kitchen counter.

His mother has the amazing plan for him to marry Astoria after he finishes his seventh year in Hogwarts this summer. To ‘rebuild the family name.’

He’d rather get his diploma, move away to London, start the business he has always dreamt of.

Draco’s eyes open when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Merry Christmas. I hope you’re spending it well :)

His lips tug up into a small smile. Yeah, this message probably made his whole evening better. The whole reason he even considered repeating his last year in school, was you.

Because before Astoria, there was you. She may be a friend and his girlfriend in the press but you’re everything.

His fingers glide across the keyboard.

Merry Christmas. I miss you.