snatched || drarry

7

The days blurred past. Days merged into nights and nights merged into days. Not sleeping was Draco's new normal. Fuck, he wasn't even sure how long it had been since Harry had gone missing, he'd lost count of the days. It had been long. Too long.

Phone calls. He was getting so many phone calls. Everyone asked questions that Draco simply couldn't give them the answers to. He couldn't go five minutes without his phone buzzing, which is why he abandoned his phone. He hadn't looked at it or been on it for a few days.

Then there was the 'Are you okay?'. Every time he walked into someone he knew, that bloody question was asked. If Draco had a pound for every time someone asked him that, he'd be a fucking millionaire. Draco was sick of that question, actually, no, he was sick of answering that question, sick of lying. He just wanted to scream 'No, of course I'm not okay! Why the fuck would I be okay?' but instead he lied, whether it was a simple 'I'm fine' or 'I'm holding up as best as I can', it was always a lie. Draco was falling apart, little pieces kept falling away but he never took the time to come to terms with that. He never took a moment for himself, he didn't let himself cry, he didn't allow himself to breathe.

And interviews. So many fucking interviews. The ministry wanted interviews. The Daily Prophet wanted an interview. The muggle police wanted interviews. Every muggle newspaper and news station imaginable wanted an interview. It was so incredibly frustrating to Draco because the same questions were asked over and over again.

God, the news reports. The news reports were probably one of the worst things because they just kept reminding Draco that his world had disappeared. The reports in the radio were better than the ones on the TV because they couldn't show his face on the radio but they could on the TV. Draco couldn't look at pictures of Harry because he knew he would break down if he saw Harry's face and Draco couldn't break down. He just couldn't. He needed to stay strong to find Harry.

Searches. Every day there was another search and each one became more and more painful. Along with searches done by the ministry, the muggle police, the general public and his friends, Draco searches for Harry on his own quite a lot. Actually, quite a lot is an understatement. Any free time Draco had, he would be searching for Harry. He was sure he had searched the whole of London. Draco's voice was always slightly hoarse, he spent so many hours calling Harry's name over and over again hoping that maybe this time, he'd get a response.

Draco didn't only just search in his free time. He created cork boards, he looked through everyone's alibis. He made sure that he hadn't missed anything because Draco needed Harry to come back. He needed Harry to come home. He needed Harry to survive.

All of these things were toxic but perhaps the most toxic thing was when Draco was left with his own thoughts. Often, he would just sit and think. He would think about the memories he had with Harry. He would think about the what ifs. What if Harry never came back? What if Draco had to hold a funeral? He also thought about the party. If he just went to that goddamn party, maybe Harry wouldn't be missing. He didn't go to the party so it was his fault, right? At least that's what Draco managed to convince himself. That it was all his fault Harry was missing. He also just thought about Harry. Just Harry. His messy hair that Draco secretly adored, his torso that was defined by muscle from doing endless hours of quidditch, his emerald eyes that Draco got lost in so often, his scars that he hated but Draco loved because they made Harry Harry, his glasses that were more modern but still had the circular shape, his everything. God, what Draco would give to have Harry back home, back in his arms.

Draco had no routine anymore. He had taken a break from work, Draco was sure he would have lost his mind if he was still at work. Draco found himself eating pasta or cereal at midnight and having a shower at 3am more often than not. Draco honestly didn't know what to do with himself anymore, he just felt so lost. He felt trapped.

He knew talking to someone would help but he couldn't bring himself to call or text anyone. He'd cut off all contact with everyone, including Ron and Hermione, a few days ago. He could hear his phone buzzing all the time but remained away from it. Cutting everyone off probably wasn't the best decision, his contact with others was what kept him sane and what prevented him from having showers and eating cereal at three in the morning.

-

Draco had just gotten back from an interview with the ministry. Each interview became harder and harder to get through. Draco pushed open his apartment door.

"Har-," Draco's voice faltered. He did this every time, he called out Harry's names before remembering that he wasn't there.

Draco stepped into the apartment. The once comforting place now felt cold and unfamiliar. It felt like all the light had been sucked out. Nothing felt right anymore, everything felt like too much. There was too much room in the apartment, there was too many things.

Draco walked past the mirror in the hallway before taking a few steps back. He stared at himself in the mirror. Fuck, he looked awful. His hair was messily pushed back with a few strands falling in front of his eyes, Draco couldn't remember the last time he brushed it. He had very dark circles around his eyes, which were extremely bloodshot. He had light stubble on the bottom of his face. Draco hated stubble on himself but he loved it on Harry. Draco ran his hands over his chin before running to the bathroom and shaving.

Draco placed his hands on the edges of the sink and looked down. He could feel the tears threatening to spill. That's when he became aware of the bracelet sitting on his wrist. He had always knew it was there but recently he had just forgotten about it. He slid it off his wrist and held it in his hands.

It was a small beaded, black bracelet. Harry had given it to him when they first moved in together. Harry had a matching white one. Draco can remember the words so clearly when Harry held out his hand revealing the two bracelets.

"Black and white go together, just like us."

Draco walked into the living room, the bracelet still in his hand. He looked at it before screaming and throwing it into to the floor. A single tear slipped down his cheek whilst he stared at the bracelet on the floor. This was the first time that the bracelet hadn't been on Draco's wrist, since the moment he had put it on for the first time, he had never taken it off. Draco often looked down at it and smiled, it just reminded him that Harry was his. A lot of people's favourite people are family members or celebrities but Harry was Draco's favourite person and the bracelet reminded him that his favourite person was his. Now it was just a reminder that his favourite person was gone.

It's strange how attached you can become to an inanimate object. Like you can't function without it or you say sorry to it if you lose it or drop it. As soon as Draco has throw the bracelet, he found himself crossing the room to pick it up. He whispered "I'm sorry" to it over and over again.

Draco lay down on the sofa and placed the bracelet over his heart.

-

Draco hadn't even realised he had fallen asleep until he woke to a banging on the door. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but the banging was incessant.

"Go away." Draco mumbled, knowing full well the person behind the door wouldn't have heard him.

The banging just became louder and louder.

"Draco! Please, open up!" Hermione's voice called out from the other side of the door.

Draco sat up and slid the bracelet back onto his wrist. He stumbled to the door and opened it to reveal a very worried looking Hermione.

"Jesus Christ, Draco. You're alive." Hermione brought Draco into a hug.

"Come in." Draco said.

"Why haven't you been answering anyone calls or texts? We've been really worried about you." Hermione asked.

"Oh, sorry." Draco mumbled.

"Draco, talk to me. Please." Hermione said.

"I'm fine."

"Draco."

Draco looked at Hermione, worry laced on her face, and that's when the whole world came crashing down around him.