mahogany ; d.m

65 - departures

"I have to go back," he stated, tone rather clipped, integrated with regret and despair.

He couldn't keep the emotionless mask intact around her. Not anymore.

"You don't have to. We could stay here. They'll never have to find us. We'll be safe. And together," she listed, filled with hopelessness.

She felt him subtly flinch beneath her, her words obviously not persuading his decision to change.

"My mother, Athena. They'll do something to her if I run."

She shivered, knowing she couldn't argue with that.

"Oh," was all she could muster.

His face was unusually readable for once.

"What is it?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, her head moving with his chest as he inhaled.

"I think something is about to happen—something dangerous. There's been talks among the meetings and I think he's planning something," he explained. "All I know at the moment is that he's suspicious of Potter and whatever he's up to, which isn't new—"

Athena suddenly felt the heavy weight of the secret she carried. The information about the Horcruxes could not be shared beyond the four of them. As much as she'd wanted to know all about it at the time, she'd preferred not to know at all now when faced with this situation of lying about her ignorance to the matter.

Draco couldn't know. No one could.

"They think something's going on at Hogwarts. No clue what it is. Whether Snape's got something planned, I've got no bloody idea and it's fucking bullshit. All of it."

She was surprised by how much information he was sharing with her. It was understandable. He hadn't been able to speak to anyone about any of this.

"But I've gotta go back else they'll either hurt my mother or find me and banish me of my mark, and then technically—well, I'd be dead."

"They'd do what to your mark?"

"Take it away—cut it out of me. The whole thing's drenched in Dark Magic and it fucking burns. It burns all the fucking time and I—I honestly can't fucking remember what it's like to not be in pain."

Her heart felt so heavy with his words.

"Sometimes I feel like ripping the fucking thing off its socket," he hissed, glaring venomously at the deathly mark on his forearm. Athena noticed another white scar beside it and felt a tremble down her spine.

"Draco—those um—those scars—who gave you those?"

He was silent for a moment, but she waited.

"He did. Most of them, and I have to deal with it. Can't refuse 'The Dark Lord'," he snarled, mockingly.

The very thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

"And does anyone know? Does Narcissa?"

"No, she doesn't."

He seemed to register her unsettled reaction and immediately discontinued. She wanted him to say more, mainly because she liked how open he was being, but it was difficult for her to hear.

"I've got to go back, Athena and I need you to be safe. I want you to go back to the place you were before."

"Wait no—I can't just sit helplessly at the cottage while everyone's out fending for their lives. I want to help."