Draco Malfoy First Year Novels & Stories

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

Rolape suffers sleep paralysis and traumas. She blames her parents for her turmoils but as she strives to be a better person, she ironically discovers that her tribulations are pointing her silently to a purpose.

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

On the seventh year after we moved overseas, my 13-year-old daughter, Anna Jackman, is hailed as the internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how difficult the song is, Anna is capable of weaving beautiful melodies with it. But there's only one song that Anna refuses to play. It's a seemingly ordinary lullaby. She's worried that she might end up forgiving that despicable man again once she plays it on the piano. So, when said man, Micah Jackman, turns up on our doorstep with a piano that's handcrafted by a master craftsman and asks Anna to play him the lullaby, she just shakes her head calmly in return. "I don't know how to play that song, sir." Micah's eyes redden immediately. He grabs Anna's hand and navigates it to the piano keys. "That's impossible! Aren't you a piano prodigy, Anna? Haven't you always wanted to have a piano of your own? I've already bought you your own piano this time! From now on, if you have any wishes, you should tell me, and I'll grant them for you." Anna draws back her right hand coldly. "It's fine, sir. I can earn my own money to buy my own piano. You should take the piano back to your daughter." Micah feels as though his heart has plunged into the abyss. He immediately pulls Anna into his arms. "What are you talking about, Anna? You're my only daughter!" But Anna looks a little puzzled. "Didn't you say that Ms. Sinclair's daughter is the only one worthy of becoming your child? Didn't you give the piano you promised for me to Ms. Sinclair's daughter?" Having reached that point, Anna just smiles nonchalantly at Micah. "It's fine, sir. Since you like Ms. Sinclair, you can just raise her daughter. I'm already content enough with Mom by my side."

On her wedding night, Rebecca Brown gets sent abroad by her new husband, Daniel Winston. On her return three years later, she's presented with a divorce agreement from her husband and a disownment agreement from her mother. Everyone is waiting to laugh at her, thinking she won't be able to survive living a poor life and will end up begging the Browns or shamelessly hound Daniel to take her back. However, it ends up with Daniel presenting himself pitifully before his ex-wife. He says, "Becca, when can we get remarried?"

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?

Eight years ago, I broke the heart of the boy I loved. Now, after eight years overseas, Liam Hayes was finally coming home with his new girlfriend to meet his family. That same day, the hospital gave me its final answer. The cancer had won. There was nothing left to treat. Nothing left to try. They sent me home with only time. When Liam saw my mother helping me into a wheelchair, a cold smile touched his mouth. “Eight years,” he said. “And this is what became of you? You can’t even walk anymore?” Disgust laced every word. I only tugged the sleeve of my down coat lower, hiding the cluster of needle marks across the back of my hand. “It’s nothing,” I said quietly. “I fell and broke a bone. That’s all.” Liam gave a short, bitter laugh. “In that case, I’m getting married soon. Why don’t you come be my fiancée’s bridesmaid?” I smiled as if it did not hurt at all. “No, thank you. I’m about to leave for somewhere very far away.” Then I patted the back of Mom’s hand, silently asking her to take me home.

To the outside world, Xavier Sullivan and I are a loving couple. In truth, my father sold me to him to repay the debt he owes the Sullivan family. When the five-year contract expires, Xavier's parents want me to extend it. They threaten me and tell me I'm heading for certain death if I refuse. I have no choice but to fake my death and leave everything behind, taking only the child in my belly with me.

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."

I jump off the seventh floor on my wedding day. Why? Because everyone has abandoned me to pick up a fake heiress from the airport, my fiancé included. I expect to see them riddled with heartbreak and regret after my death. However, my father merely shakes his head stoically and looks at my body while saying I was too willful. My mother bites her lip and sighs in relief. My fiancé, Magnus Gilmore, shields the fake heiress. He's afraid she'll see the horrible state of my body. The fake heiress is scared to tears at this, and everyone crowds around her to console her. No one cares whether I'm still breathing while lying in a pool of blood. I'm stunned when I see this, but I soon laugh self-deprecatingly. When I open my eyes again, I've been brought back seven years in the past. It's the day I've just stepped foot at home.