Blame It On Me - Dramione

Granger's right hook

Draco felt, and likely looked, like a living corpse. 

His eyes burned from the effort of keeping them open and the amount of energy it took for him to open the jar of lacewing flies was utterly pathetic. 

Draco was just so tired. Tired of eating, tired of pretending, tired of being tired. If only sleep would remedy his exhaustion, however, he was locked in an endless loop every night where he was forced to watch his biggest regrets, and biggest mistakes be made over and over and over again. 

The punishment fit the crimes, he supposed. 

He had been awake for three days straight, something he was quite certain was impossible until now. It was a reprieve from the nightmares, yes. However, he was so close to snapping that even he was afraid of the destruction he would likely leave in his wake. 

"Mate," Blaise murmured to his left, caution dripping from the word.

Draco looked to his best friend and his stomach cramped from the worry he saw swim in his eyes. The same eyes that looked from Draco to his hands. His now empty hands.

It was only then that Draco felt the eyes of his classmates drilling into him and the suffocating silence that filled the room. Draco then looked down at his hands which had previously held the jar of lacewing flies and registered the shattered glass and his now bleeding hands. 

Draco didn't feel a thing, not even when he flexed his hands, digging the glass deeper into his flesh with every twitch of movement. 

A voice cut through the deafening silence, "Mr. Zabini, would you please escort Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary-"

"No need," Draco's voice cut through Professor Slughorn's shaky voice, "I'm quite capable of navigating the castle."

"My boy-"

Heat, scorching heat erupted in Draco's body so fiercely that there was nothing to stop him from biting out, "Don't call me that."

He was no one's boy. No one's son. He had betrayed, lied, and killed. He was no child, he was a monster.

"Draco," He glanced up to see Pansy tilting her head towards the doorway, urging him towards the infirmary, "Please."

Draco swallowed but was unsuccessful at removing the lump in his throat and the pulsing wave of emotion from his chest. He was spiraling, and he needed to get out of here before all the eighth years of Gryffindor and Slytherin witnessed it. 

He pushed away from the table, dropping his hands casually to his sides as if blood didn't drip steadily from his fingertips as he strode toward the doorway, his signature smirk slung across his face.

Never let them see you bleed, Lucius had told him once, and if they do, act as if you did it on purpose. Malfoys never make mistakes.

Well, Father, he thought, I hope you're proud. 

Draco laughed without a hint of humor as he glanced at his hands. It was only fitting, his hands were already covered in everyone else's blood. 

He was nearly at the end of the corridor when he finally registered the slight tap of footsteps behind him and he bit his lip to suppress a groan. 

"Pansy I swear to Salazar-" Draco abruptly stopped mid-turn when he found the owner of the footsteps. 

"Granger?"

Oh hell no, he thought, please not her, let me self-destruct in front of anyone else but her.