Chapter ten

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  Just as you thought light was shining down from the sky, things got darker. and darker. Until you could barely decipher one thing from the other. Everything kind of merged together between your fourth year and your sixth one. The sixth one was crazy so far, there was so much tension you could cut it with a knife. You'd shiver so often just walking down the hallways.

So many things were happening all at once and you felt like you were going under, beneath the surface of a lake and you couldn't come back up for air. The nightmares, they didn't stop, and each one the monster seemed to become more and more human looking. You still didn't tell anyone out right that you had been having these dreams, but somehow you figured that Draco knew.

Despite the tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor, for reasons plain to see, you, Harry and Ron still spoke when you had time, it was your sixth year after all. Hermione still didn't like you one bit, but she had a right not to. It was nice actually, to have some friends who weren't . . . well, Slytherin. You and Draco had many small gripes about your friendship with the 'enemies', but in the end you won. Though, you'd always be a loyal Slytherin and that was something he couldn't argue with.

You tried to block it all out, just put a cork in it but really that was just plain impossible. Not only that, but as the year drawled on, you had seen the changes in Draco, not that you were too dumb to notice obvious things. He looked sickly pale, dark circles formed under his steely eyes, he was often distant, and he had been even more short tempered. That might have just been natural, stressful school work, ya'know, but you had a feeling something else was going on.

Possibly, it could have been because his father was sent to jail for being a Death Eater. . . or was it the obvious staring you in the face? Excuses, excuses, you would make them up all to put a little shining light on that boy. Just imaging it you could see your mother, waggling her finger at you and saying the word, 'shame'. You knew deep down Harry was right, Draco had replaced his father for some reason or another, as a Death Eater. Fearful of the cult as you were, you wouldn't say anything. Nothing at all, you were more than determined not to get any more involved than you already were. . . Oh Draco.

Draco. That hot headed blonde that stole your heart and knew that he could run away with it if he pleased. The thing that really surprised you was he didn't, you'd never known him to stay with the same girl for more than a few months. Somewhere between one and two years, you deserved a trophy or something for that. Granted, you both had snapped at each other, but didn't all couples? He was not a 'fairy tail' guy, your father would have been proud. At least you were happy for a short amount of time, and thought you loved him. You would no matter what, right? Even if he left you for some pretty whore with fat lips and big breasts, somewhere deep inside you'd still be sentimental. That wouldn't happen though, because he loved you too. At least, you liked to think. You liked to think a lot of things.

He was worrying you, severely. Yet, there wasn't any way you could do anything about it. He plain and simply was ignoring you, and seeing him in this state. . . well, you wouldn't push him. So you just had to sit back and watch- not that you watched. He on the other hand, did. You didn't know though, you just focused on one thing or the other.

It illuminated the faces of your family, old friends, and your new ones. Since the year you'd joined Hogwarts, you'd added some photo's to your nightstand. One was of you and Draco, it was one of the only pictures you had of him actually attempting to smile for you, while your grin was over the moon. The other new addition was of you and Eve, she had a hand on your hair, ruffling it. Although, you hated it when people knotted up your hair in such a way, you didn't look annoyed.

It was late, right about now, Eve was in the infirmary with a bad case of flu, so you had been alone for a few days now. Completely, utterly alone. The creaking of the floor boards or the wind tapping on the window always got the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. You didn't want to sleep, but exhaustion drove you to it. That old sweater, you had thrown it into the back of the closet long ago, but you drug it back out just to hold it close and pretend it offered some sort of remedy against whatever might try to bother you. It didn't work, so there it was, wrinkled beneath your pillow.





The papers sprawled out across your bed sheets looked dull and uninteresting. They weren't even organized, potions notes there, a transfiguration report almost falling on the floor, a charms textbook laying on top of the head board. How that even happened, you have yet to recall.

Wearing loose pajama pants and whatever t-shirt was still clean at time, even if it had short sleeves, you were slouched over these assignments trying to concentrate on them. The words were smudged together, like you tried to wash the papers and the ink had started to run.

You rubbed your tired eyes, sweeping your outstretched and tingling leg across the bed until all the sheets of paper fell on the floor. You'd fix that later. It would be fine. Everything would be fine if you got some sleep and could stop. Stop every emotion, just sink into a dull fog that wouldn't have monsters trying to crawl out of it.

Puffing out your cheeks you leaned closer to the candle and blew out the small flame, it went out in a puff of smoke. You had to wait a moment before dull grey shapes made their way out of the dark exterior of the room. Touching the hilt of your wand that laid beside the golden dish holding the wax pillar, you let out a sigh of relief before removing your hand from the object. You smiled a bit, throwing the blankets down far enough for you to crawl onto the thin layer of sheet that separated you from the actual mattress.

The door opened with a loud creak and it made you freeze in your spot. You heard the door close and heavy footsteps follow, ones that weren't like Eve's at all. You panicked, quickly snatching your wand and whispering Lumos under your breath. You nearly yelped when Draco himself came into the light, the blue color making him a life-like zombie.

"You scared me!" You snapped, wanting to throw the stick at him and yet just hold him at the same time. He cringed slightly at your harsh words, eyes shifting downwards to look at the parchments scattered across the floor and then back up at you. Carefully, he stepped around them and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"(Name) I-" He stopped when you shifted from your position, balancing on your heels, to a more comfortable one of sitting on your knees beside him. You had gotten much closer to him, more than he had expected when he first stumbled into your room. You still held the wand in your other hand, now you were clearly trying to study his face, the light ghosting over the red rims and dark areas.

"Stop shinin' it in my eyes," He growled lowly, voice gruff and a little weak. You obliged his command, lowering it just enough that you could still see the sharp features of his face but not bother him.

"What's wrong?" You asked, tentatively reaching up and brushing your hand across his cheek. It was damp, as if he had been crying. It was just like you to wonder something out loud that you already knew the answer to, or well, had a hunch about.

He leaned down, away from you, and kicked off his shoes. At first you were a bit offended, thinking he was just not going to tell you, but that wasn't the case. He slowly turned to face you, crawling onto the bed and sitting with his legs folded sideways. Reaching his hand up to brush across your face, fingers smooth and gently, a sad smile crossed his face. He ran circles across the skin, staring straight into your (e/c) eyes with a little flicker of light in his own.

You touched his fingers, just barely, then trailed down to the exposed skin of his wrist. You started to curl your hand around the ligament, before he jerked away roughly, the sleeve of his cloak hiding his entire hand.

"Draco-" You were about to ask again when he pulled you into his arms, face pressed deeply into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot, coming out in ragged gasps and sputters, his entire body shuddering. Moisture falling from his eyes as he held you in a tight grip. The wand dropped from your grasp in surprise as you left it lying on the floor with your unfinished work. The light, coincidentally, went out just as soon as the stick hit the ground. Instead, you let your sense of touch and hearing take over for you while you wrapped your arms around his scrawny waist. You couldn't remember the last time he'd even spoken to you with so much as a kind word, let alone a heartfelt gesture.

Was this even considered a gesture so much as a miniature therapy session? As having you be a shoulder to cry on? Who cared, you certainly didn't.

"(Name), I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

"I know, I know, I can hear you," You whispered into his hair, rubbing circles in his back in a weak attempt to calm him. You just had to sit and wait it out, there wasn't any way you were going to push him away

An entire explanation gushed out in several different parts, all separated by long silences and sniffles. It started with his father, how he, himself, took the older Malfoy's place to protect his family, and finally how he was supposed to take on the most impossible task of killing Dumbledor. He also told you about how he was trying to fix the vanishing cabinets to accomplish that. Which that one, seemed to be the softest spoken of them all, no more than a mere wisp of sound against your ear. Of course, he left things out. Dangerous secretes that could get you killed if you knew. More sobs commenced, his arms constricted around you, as you both shook. You didn't realize you were crying too.

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