Split Your Soul (Drarry) (Boyxboy)

Chapter 70

Draco's POV:

Have you ever loved someone so much that it physically hurts you?

That every time you are close to them, your heart pounds. Or your body shakes. Or do you ever get the feeling that at any moment they could reject you because you're not good enough?

My whole life, I've been rejected because I was always told that I was never good enough.

Told that I wouldn't become anything.

That I couldn't do anything.

And because of this, my life hasn't gone the way I wanted it to. Instead, I've ended up with trust issues and the feeling of rejection. It always lurks somewhere in the deep, dark corners of my body.

I know what you're thinking. Me? As in, Draco Malfoy? Yeah, it's me. As you would expect, my childhood wasn't ordinary. It was as far from it as you could imagine. Of course, there's the exception of being a wizard and having magical properties and such.

But Voldemort? That's something that always haunted me when I was younger. He was the overseer of everything that went on with anything and everything related to him or his snake. Snake. Nagini.

And since my father served him, it meant that my family served him also. Which included me. Now can you imagine me the age of ten being beaten because I accidentally did the wrong thing, or I defied orders? Because I can. And that's how it was.

And then, of course, there was my father beating me on the side because of things he thought I had done wrong.

And my father critically whipping me to the point where my back was raw and bloodied. And every time I think about it, I can literally feel the tingles in my back spreading through the scars. The slow ache and burn of my flesh being torn apart maliciously. My father's intent in doing that was to not only hurt me, but to make sure that I wouldn't do it again. Or at least he thought so.

And every second I spent lying on the floor in a bloody mess of pain, was every second I wished I was dead. Because being dead meant that I could escape the pained mess I was in. That I would no longer have to deal with it. But choosing death was the easy way out.

I knew there was more to life than following someone who wanted to take over the world. It was a ridiculous thought, but I knew there was. Because I'm here now, away from Voldemort and with Harry. I'm happy in a world where Voldemort and my father are dead and I'm alive. Just the thought of being next to Harry made me tingle with happiness.

But going back to the time where I didn't have Harry, I thought everybody I came across would turn on me in one way or another. That I was done for. I had it in for me. From a very young age. Just because I was from the Malfoy family.

I can remember the time Harry first found my back riddled with scars. It was a horrifying experience.

~

I got out of bed and stretched, bones popping and joints creaking. Harry went down earlier to break fears while I slept on.

I listened tiredly as my feet padded across the wooden floor to the cupboard I shared with Harry. Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes so I could see clearer, having just woken up only moments ago.

A yawn escaped my mouth as I swung the cupboard door open to reveal the clothes inside. I gripped the hem of my nightshirt and pulled it up over my torso and head, flinging it back onto the bed, leaving me in my boxers.

Rummaging through the layers if clothes, I pulled out a worn Gryffindor jumper of Harry's. Holding it to my face, I breathed in the musky scent of him and softly stroked it.

The door to the chamber was heaved open but I didn't turn around. For I didn't particularly care who it was.

The door shut with a dull thud. "Hey dra- Draco?! Uh, whats in your back?" Harry's voice sounded as his footsteps suddenly stopped and I completely froze.

Shit! I forgot. I clenched my eyes shut and ground my teeth together. Harry's footsteps started again, only softer this time. "Draco?" His voice was softer too. Like, tentative soft.

I felt a cool hand on my back touching the marred and twisted skin. I flinched and memories floated throughout my mind. Disturbing ones.

A small tear leaked from the corner of my eye and I fought hard not to cry as I held Harry's jumper close to my face. Harry's hands snaked up to my shoulders and spun me around so I was facing him.

But I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Not until his cool fingers lifted my chin up. Then, and only then did I meet his gaze. Harry's green eyes pierced my own silver ones traced with worry and concern, but overridden with questioning.

But I couldn't tell him. Even if he asked in the nicest possible way. I just couldn't. It would be too painful to remember. Which is why I tried my hardest to keep those memories away. I've had thoughts about obliviating them before but I couldn't do it.

One day, I'll overcome my fears and stand myself up enough to be able to revisit those memories.

"Draco?" I bubbled from my thoughts and refocused my eyes on Harry. The one happy thing in my life.

My eyes glazed over and I felt like crying a river of unforgettable tears.

"Hey, hey now. Don't cry Draco. Obviously this is a sensitive subject for you and I know that you'll tell me when you feel comfortable, so I won't ask." Harry ran a hand through his hair a few times while he spoke and I looked at his facial features.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concern and his nose was slightly scrunched in thought. As an afterthought, Harry said something else in matter to his last sentence. "I love you, Draco. You've gone though some really tough times and I know how that feels. I'll never understand how much you're hurting at the moment from everything pent up inside but I'll try my best. Just tell me when you're ready."

And I liked that because he didn't probe. He didn't ask further questions. That's the kind of boyfriend I need at the moment. Someone who will just care for me and look after me and just wait until I'm ready to talk.

The kind of boyfriend like Harry.

~