Living In My Head (Drarry)

Chapter 53: Feeling So Helpless

A.N.
Chapter song: I Walk Beside You by Dream Theater
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The bus ride took longer than I had expected, and I arrived at the Malfoy estate in the late afternoon. Walking slowly up the long driveway, I felt my stomach drop at the sight of Draco sitting on the front porch, his hand holding up his chin. His eyes were closed and he didn't call out to me. As I edged closer, as quietly as I could manage, I noticed a dark circle around the bottom of his eye and a gash on the bridge of his nose.

"Draco?" I asked quietly, stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking down at him.

"Harry... You're back." the voice that came from his throat was different, it was relieved, tired, and something sadder.

"Draco, what happened to your eye? And why are you home so early? You still have a couple of days."

"Had. He sent me home early. He didn't want to look at me. I didn't really want to look at him, either."

"Want to talk about it?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"It's none of your concern."

"Right." I felt myself saying, bitterness laced in my tone. I was so wishing to see him and this is my greeting. I walk past him and into the house, taking the bag straight up to Draco's library and closing the door. Two can play at that game. I pulled out the final book of the stack, Sheep Corpses and War Drums, and open it with a heavy sigh.

I get halfway through page 43 when I notice Draco standing in the doorway, and he seems quieter than usual. There's no doubt something happened with his dad, but whether whatever happened was on purpose or not, I had no clue.

"How was Cedric's?"

"You know him?" I ask, in mock curiosity, a look of defiance in my eyes as I meet his.

"You're avoiding the subject."

"Had a great time, his dog is a real sweetheart, so is he. He's a great cook, too. Also, Olivander says hi." I added the last part just for pure spite and I feel his rage radiate through the room.

"Glad you had fun without me, give me those books beside you since you aren't reading them." It sounds angry, that much I can tell, but his voice catches and I want to apologize, yet I keep my mouth shut.

I hand him the books, without a word, and go back to reading. The next time I see him is at the dining room table after Dobby came to tell me dinner was prepared.

....

By the time I reach the table, he's shovelling food into his mouth so fast that he's sure to be finished before I eat my food. He left the table with a quiet excuse, bounding out of the room, and I glanced over at Narcissa. Her expression was sour, she said nothing. I wondered to myself if she would answer if I asked a question.

"Narcissa." The word is short, and she meets my eyes, daring me to ask what I knew we were both itching to discuss.

"His father is not an irrational man, Harry. I highly doubt what happened was unprovoked," she tries, mumbling the words quickly.

I felt disgust rise in my throat, "Are you saying he deserved to be hit like he did?"

"I'm not saying he deserved it, I'm saying that he must have provoked Lucius."

Despite how angry I was (and am) at Draco, he doesn't deserve that. Even treating me like a total outsider doesn't make him deserve whatever happened.

"I'm taking my food upstairs." I told her, not listening to her sounds of protest as I lifted my plate up the stairs and into Draco's library, holing myself back into the place meant to be his sanctuary. His sanctuary that I have, again, taken on as my own within his own home. Unfair, but not unpredictably so. I've been known to be selfish on occasion.

I know that it is extremely rude of me to not follow their rules (eating dinner at the table) but I can't find it in me to really care. With the lights turned out, the sun beginning to set over the horizon, I can't seem to find it in me to apologize. I want to, my heart says I'm being petty and unreasonable, but my head tells me I'm rightfully angry.

So here I am, torn between heart and mind. Here I squirm helplessly to find a reason to run to him and curl up to him. To apologize and give in.

That being said, neither of us will ever give into the need to fall to the side of the other. I think we have too much pride. Regardless, I need his touch, his voice, his smile, because I am dying here.

....

I look at the door longingly, my plate empty, and after a minute or so of staring at the door, I stop. Putting the plate on the floor by the window, I open Sheep Corpses and War Drums and find myself lost in the story.

....

The next time I look up is once it's become too dark to see the words typed in the book. I raise slowly, my bones popping as I pull myself out of my chair and into a standing position. I need to get to bed.

I set the book in the chair and walk into Draco's room. He's already asleep on top of his bed, curled into a ball and shivering. I reach out a hand and tousle his hair, the blond craning into the touch in his sleep. I feel a pang of guilt at shutting him out, then I press a kiss to his forehead and pull the comforter from the other bed, tucking it around him.

I strip to my underwear and slide into the sheets on the empty bed beside me and prepare myself to fall asleep. My voice betrays me and I tell Draco goodnight, no response coming back to me from his sleeping state. It makes a leaden feeling settle in my gut.

Turning away from him and toward the window, I stare outside and a feeling of longing returns. I miss my friends, I miss Severus, and I miss my teachers. I don't like being stuck, without a means of escape, it makes me feel so helpless.

Maybe I'll forgive him in the morning.