Wanderer

Darkness

Blaise shot up in his seat. He stared at him as though he had grown a second head, and Draco mustered up all the strength in his body to meet his gaze dead-on.

"That's a pretty crucial, fucking development, Draco," his friend hissed. "Why didn't you tell me-?"

"Oh, please, Blaise," Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not my mother."

"I might as well be!" fumed Blaise, and he moved closer, eyes wide and persistent. He seemed to realise he was making a scene, however, when a few other students glanced over, and licked his lips, rolling his shoulders back and lowering his voice to a careful murmur. "You're ruining yourself, Draco. You don't eat, you're barely keeping up in class and don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking off every night to Merlin knows where!"

Yes, Draco thought. Merlin, and a certain know-it-all Gryffindor.

It had been a... surprise last night, when Hermione Granger, draped in a sickly crimson blanket, appeared from the shadows and sat down beside him. It had been even more surprising when she had started a civil conversation with him as though they were old friends. He scratched at his neck, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

There had been something in her wide, innocent eyes when she had asked him if he was okay, something he hadn't thought he would ever see again. He didn't truly believe he deserved the concern that she had shown him, nor the slow trickle of honesty that had dribbled from her lips-

"Draco? Are you even fucking listening to me?"

"No," he replied, getting to his feet and striding away, down the stairs to the boys dormitory, locking himself in his room and making sure he slammed the door hard enough so Blaise could hear it in the Common Room. He wouldn't follow him. He wouldn't stoop to such a low and desperate level. He also wouldn't have a chance of guessing Draco's password.

Draco paced, hands raking through his hair, scraping it back from his face. There was a thin line of sweat tracing his forehead and he rubbed at it, willing it to dry. His heart was racing in his chest and the emerald walls that had always been so comforting to him felt confining and crushing. His dormitory, being right at the very bottom of the dungeons, wasn't quite as dark and wet as one might expect it to be. The stone walls were smooth, and there were two pillars towering at the foot of his four-poster bed, serpent like marble twined round them both. Emerald bedding and chairs matched the sweeping drapes that hung from the ceiling, and Draco only stopped his pacing when a Grindylow swam past his window. Another reason he'd always loved being in Slytherin was the lake. In his room, stretching from ceiling to floor, in place of a wall, was a large piece of glass, framing the floor of the Black Lake and casting his room in a bluish-green glow.

Draco moved closer to it. He couldn't see very far, as the water was murky and descended into greyness, but he could see the way the weeds waved in the current and occasionally, a fish or Kappa or even a Merperson would swim by, taunting him with their freedom.

Damn this school!

His preliminary trial had decreed that, pending sentence, it would be best for him to return to Hogwarts. Whether it was truly for his 'safety,' or for the safety of the rest of the world, Draco doubted he would ever find out. It seemed more likely that in waiting to lock him up in one place for good, they decided it was best for everyone if he was locked up in another for the time being.

The school that had always been his home was now his prison. He felt the walls closing in on him with every step he took, inching closer and closer. It was only a matter of time before they suffocated him completely, squeezed the life from his weak body and spilled the blood that had always been important to him all over the floor.