Waiting
Draco was staring unseeingly at the dough he was kneading with his knuckles when he felt a warm hand drop onto his back and rub listlessly back and forth for a moment to get his attention. He flinched almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to see the face to know who it was. He turned his head to the side slightly to show he was listening but avoided the man's eyes as he had consistently for the past two days.
Daman spoke roughly, "I do not blame you, Draco. You know that."
Draco dipped his head, an acknowledgement but not an agreement. He still didn't look at Daman, instead squeezing the dough tight between his fingers. It was a gooey sensation that made Draco's stomach churn and effectively distracted him from the other man's waiting gaze.
Daman, however, would not give up so easily. He momentarily grasped Draco's shoulder in a tight grip before releasing him. "I pushed too hard."
Draco's breath caught in his throat and he breathed out through his nose with narrowed eyes. "You didn't! I was the one who—"
Daman gripped his shoulder once more and twisted him about on his stool so that they were facing each other. He placed his hands on either side of the counter, Draco in between his arm-span, and implored him with dewy eyes. "It's enough already, Draco."
Daman sighed and dropped his head desolately. "You didn't need a relationship, you needed a friend. I knew it the moment I saw you and yet still I – We are friends, aren't we?" Daman shook his head. "I like to think so, at least. You know you can trust me, don't you?"
Draco caught and held Daman's gaze for the first time since that night, since he had called him by the wrong name – wrong it was, and in so many aspects – and touched Daman's cheek lightly. "We're friends. In fact, you may very well be the only one I have left."
Draco frowned as the words came out of his mouth. Daman was the only friend he had left, wasn't he? He shut his eyes with a grimace. Pathetic.
He opened his eyes to find Daman frowning too. "You have Severus, and Jessie."
"My godfather and my boss," Draco tossed out carelessly with a roll of his eyes. "I hardly think that counts."
Daman squinted at him. "You're always so ready to put yourself down." He shook his head as if to erase that line of thought and said, "Shall we start over then? I would like to be a real friend to you, Draco, without any ulterior motive," He added with a grin.
Draco furrowed his brow and injected genuinely, "I don't deserve you."
Daman looked cross at this and tilted Draco's chin up so that they were staring unblinkingly at one another. "You deserve the moon, Draco Malfoy," He said finally, sounding annoyed. "And if I could gift it to you, I would." With that, he dropped Draco's chin, turned on his heel, and stalked back to the oven.
Draco rubbed his jaw, staring hard at Daman's back, wondering what that hell he had done wrong now.
~*~
Draco decided to walk back from the bakery despite the nippy weather; consequently, it was nearly a half hour later that he was pulling open Snape's front door, having given himself plenty of time to mull over Daman's words. And he had realized something about himself, something he despised with every fiber of his being, the same something that had made him call Daman by that hated name.
He was waiting for Harry.
On some level, he was waiting for the man to come find him, to show up on Snape's doorstep to woo him back, to make promises of change that may or may not have been true. He didn't even care which, he just wanted Harry to care enough to offer, to care enough to have kept looking for him. Draco felt sick to his stomach at the thought and made a beeline for his bathroom.
He heaved the pitiful contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl and rested his heated cheek against the chilled rim, feeling weak and stupid, two things Harry had never failed to make him feel before. He didn't see why now should be any different.
He leaned back against the wall after flushing and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead against them. He didn't see how things would ever change. When would he stop waiting, when would his life cease to be on hold? If it hadn't happened yet, after everything Harry had put him through, after everything Severus had made him relive, then Draco couldn't see it ever happening.
He felt hot, wet tears well in his eyes and he scowled to himself. Harry should have just done them both a favor and killed him that night rather than taking him to Hermione. What was left of him but a shell to be filled only when Harry Potter saw fit? What was he if not 'Harry Potter's lover'? There was no life in him left to live, not without Harry.
He was downright worthless without him, like one of those Muggle electronics without batteries.
The door to his bathroom swung open and hit him lightly in the thigh. He saw Severus take a step inside, his eyes darting about, before he spotted him on the floor with a disinterested glance. The man clipped, handing him a folded piece of parchment, "Zabini has written you. Again."
Draco sighed and, without glancing at the parchment, gave his standard response, "Send it back."
Severus' gaze softened somewhat and he closed the lid of the toilet seat and sat down. "He only did what he thought was best, Draco."
Draco's mouth twisted bitterly. "He had no right." His hands clenched into fists against his robes at Snape's audacity to advise him on something that didn't involve him in the slightest.
Snape let out a derisive laugh and challenged, "You're afraid."
Draco's brow furrowed and he angrily found himself without a response. He chose to look away with a halfhearted scowl instead. Mostly because, regardless of what he said, it would still be true.
"You think he'll judge you for this," He heard Snape say softly, knowingly. "Draco," Snape goaded. "How could you be so incredibly bull-headed? If he hasn't proven to you how..." Snape paused thoughtfully and Draco trained his gaze on him in what he hoped was an intimidating manner – intimidating enough to stop him altogether, perhaps? – but Snape's eyes faintly glowed as he continued, "worthy he thinks you are in all the years you've known one another, then precisely what will it take?"
For the longest time, Draco didn't answer, just buried his head between his knees and stared at the tiled floor. The complete silence in the bathroom was eerie. He could not even hear his own breaths, only the sound of nothingness that stayed so close to him these days. He looked up to find Severus watching him with a mixture of pity and sympathy.
His pride should have felt a sting at that but he wasn't sure he had any left, or if he'd be able to feel anything even if he did. He rested his chin on his knee and said hollowly, willing Snape to understand, "He's stronger than I am, he'll never understand why I – why I fled."
Snape shook his head, his eyes over-bright. "Perhaps not, but don't you even want to attempt to find out if he can forgive it?"
Draco's gaze dropped to the parchment that was still clutched between Snape's limp fingers. "What if the answer is 'no'?" He quested breathily.
"What if it is, Draco?" Snape returned harshly. "Would you really let that break you?" He demanded incredulously. "Despite what you may think of yourself, it took an alarming amount of courage to do what you did. Your strength may not be as apparent as Zabini's but I can guarantee you that it is much more palpable."
Draco smirked disbelievingly, unable to help his scoff, while Snape gritted his teeth in response. "You survived, Draco, that alone took an incredible amount of bravery. And starting over takes twice as much."
At that, Draco couldn't help but burst out with more emotion than he'd thought he had left, "You say I've survived, that I've started over, but look at me, Severus!" He glanced down at himself, disgusted by what he saw.
His lip curled as he spat out desolately, "I'm still his – his boy! I've survived, yes, but am I the Draco Malfoy you remember?" He shook his head, already knowing the answer to that. "Do I even resemble myself any longer or have I mutated beyond all recognition?"
"And started over?" He barked with a humorless laugh. "I all but cringe from Daman's touch, even when he desires nothing but my attention," He added, remembering that morning with a frown.
"I am not strong," He asserted harshly. "Applying the very word to me weakens its definition. I know what I am, Severus, I've come to terms with it. I'm a coward who abandoned his friend and his lover in a fit of weakness only to become a pathetic burden to his godfather."
Draco buried his head in his hands, unable to witness the truth of it in his godfather's eyes when he felt a hulking weight settle in front of him. Strong hands grabbed either side of his head and Draco shifted his gaze to meet the other man's.
Snape was on his knees in front of Draco, towering over him, and his expression was livid. "Have I ever – ever, " Snape reiterated coldly, "Referred to your presence in my home as anything other than a gift?"
Draco shook his head, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "No, but —"
Snape snarled at him. "Then do not presume to know how I feel about your company. Especially if you're going to interpret so poorly," He sniffed, raising his head. He rose to his feet and held out the letter to Draco, staying statuesquely still. "Be brave, Draco."
Draco reached for the parchment with shaking fingers and clasped the letter in his sweat-lined palm.
~*~
Draco,
Fuck. I hope this finds you. I hope – You're okay, aren't you? Gods, just fucking write me and tell me what a prick I am. Anything. Just let me know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere. I can barely function without you. I miss you. I know you probably don't believe that, but then you've always found it hard to believe anything positive about yourself, yet you gobble up his put-downs like fucking – Shit. I'm sorry, the best way to get you to respond probably isn't to insult that fuckwad. He's miserable, if it makes you feel any better. It probably doesn't. You always were the better man. Fuck. I know you hate me for what I did, I get it, but you can understand it at least, can't you? He almost went too far once, and ever since you told me about that night I've been terrified I would lose you. The irony is, of course, that I've lost you trying to protect you. I needed you to see him for what he was, Draco – for what you knew him to be – even if it was just for a moment. I needed you to see that you deserved so much better. You leaving has helped me see what a mess my life is without you. I've straightened myself out and I'm not a fuck-up anymore. So come home, eh Draco? I don't know what to do with myself when you're not here. You're the only family I have left.
All My Love,
Blaise
Draco traced over the now barely legible words 'He's miserable' yet again. He had nearly rubbed the ink away and his forefinger was as black as pitch while his mind supplied poignant addendums to the tiny yet gigantic sentence: a simple 'without you' tacked onto the end, or an unassuming 'He's sorry,' or 'He misses you.' He must miss him to seem miserable. Draco frowned. Mustn't he?
He does, he misses his regular fuck.
Draco crumpled the letter and threw it across the room. Harry didn't miss him – couldn't miss him. How could you miss someone you didn't even know? Draco pressed the heels of his palms, hard, against his eyes, annoyed with himself that all he had taken away from Blaise's letter were the two words about Harry. Blaise deserved better than that. Hell, they both deserved better than that.
Draco rolled over and stretched out on his bed. It wasn't long before he had fallen into a fitful sleep.
~*~
Draco awoke to the sound of his mattress creaking and rolled over to find Severus sitting at the foot of his bed with Blaise's crinkled letter in his hand. Draco stared at him, waiting.
"It's time," Snape finally said, his voice croaky.
Those two words instilled a sense of panic and Draco bolted upright. Severus had sounded so serious and the words so final, but surely he couldn't mean...
Draco's lip quivered before he said slowly, "Time?"
Snape wasn't looking at him but staring at his wall, his gaze determined and unrelenting. "You have to go back. It's time to face it."
The panic in Draco's chest jumped to his throat and he made a frighteningly helpless noise. Severus knew what he felt – what he still felt – for Harry. He wasn't ready to lay eyes on the man again, not when he was still waiting for him.
Draco curled in on himself, wondering when he would stop? There was no conceivable end in sight. He whimpered and demanded, "How can you ask that of me?"
Severus' tone was severe, "I'm not asking anything, Draco."
Draco shook his head, fat sobs pouring down his cheeks and tearing from his throat. "I can't go back," He lamented, his voice husky and his tone genuine.
Snape whipped around and pinned him with a glare. "You can and you will. You're stronger than this. You are Draco Malfoy, you know who you are, and you do not bow to the whims of someone as inconsequential as Harry Potter."
Draco started shaking so hard that he didn't think he would ever stop. It had been so long since he had heard the name spoken aloud and the syllables seemed to hit him like blows. Would this weakness to the man never cease? How was he supposed to keep moving if he could be felled by a simple name?
Snape gripped his shoulders hard, holding tight to stop his quivering. "No," He said commandingly, "Enough. It is time for you to put this behind you. You have a life to live, Draco, and I will not allow anyone – even you – to take that away."
The trembling had subsided somewhat but the despair had settled into his breast and didn't seem to want to leave. "It's not worth living without him," He told his knees.
"Lies," Snape hissed, the 's' sounding sibilant. "You are not 'Draco Malfoy: extension of Harry Potter,'" He gritted out, using the name purposefully, or so it seemed to Draco. "Stop acting like it. I will not allow you to shelter yourself from all that life has to offer you."
"You don't understand, Severus," Draco lashed out coldly. And he didn't. It didn't matter if he knew everything Draco did, if he saw it through his own eyes, he still hadn't experienced it. He couldn't know what it was like to love someone so deeply or to have them betray you so brutally. "It's too hard, I-I can't."
Severus clenched his hand into a fist. "You are not this weak."
"I can't. Not now," Draco said, a plea edging his words.
"There will never be a right time, Draco," Snape threw back at him. "You cannot move past him until you confront him and you cannot confront him until you do what needs to be done."
Draco sat up straighter, his eyes blazing, and demanded, "How?" He stuck out his chin defiantly. "How do I even go on? Tell me – how? How do you go from having everything to nothing – to less than nothing? What am I without him?" Draco's fists were shaking with rage. "A Death Eater, a Malfoy, an outcast, a pariah? There's nothing to go back to, Severus! My parents are dead, my friends are gone, there's no one else..."
"How dare you," Snape interjected with venom. "Your parents sacrificed their lives for yours and this is how you repay them?" Shame made Draco recoil slightly. "You scorn the name they gave you, you hide from the world, you refuse to see yourself as you are."
Draco's cheeks were tinged with pink splotches when Snape grabbed his upper arm in a claw-like grip, hefted him up, and pulled him toward the bathroom. "Come here," He growled firmly as he planted Draco in front of the loo's hated mirror. "Tell me, what do you see?"
Draco scowled at his piteous reflection and averted his eyes. "Someone not worth a second glance," He grumbled truthfully.
Snape yanked Draco's chin back toward the mirror until the blonde was looking at the reflection of the other man's eyes. "Do you know what I see, hmm?" He asked rhetorically. Draco shook his head regardless, slightly awed by the intensity of Snape's gaze. "I see a boy with scars, a boy with a past that haunts him, a boy that's wavering, a boy that's afraid of the world."
Draco stared hard at his reflection while Severus' words grazed his ear. "But behind all that is a man, a survivor with strength and passion, someone who's willing to fight to see another day whether he knows it or not."
Draco willed himself to see – to truly see, possibly for the first time – what Severus did, but he couldn't. All he saw was a face that personified weakness and cowardice, world-weary and drawn, lank with lack of care and a beaten glint in the eyes. A pathetic crease to the forehead and a depressed droop of the lips. He saw a face that screamed defeat.
He admitted finally, "I'm not that brave, Severus."
"No," Severus agreed quietly. "Your bravery goes beyond that, Draco. Your bravery sought me out so you could heal and now it will send you back to face your past."
Was Severus right, had Draco's act of fear not been an act of fear at all but a display of bravery? He had left when no one had expected it of him, least of all himself. Was that some type of latent courage or was it running away from his responsibilities as he had always thought of it?
Draco shook his head, silently chastising himself. His flee from England had not been some heroic act but rather the behavior of a spineless deserter. He couldn't believe he was even entertaining Severus' fabrications.
"What if I —" Draco began when Severus cut him off carelessly.
"There will always be a 'what if,' Draco. You can let it hold you back for the rest of your life or you can face the consequences." Severus squeezed his shoulder. "I know what the man in that mirror would choose."
Draco closed his mouth with a snap. Now he only had to decide if he wanted to be the man Severus saw or the boy that Draco did.
~*~
Draco's stomach was roiling uncomfortably, either from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed or his current location. He wasn't sure which. His eyelids fluttered as he dozed lightly despite the roar in his ears. He felt a shake on his shoulder and opened his eyes to find a kindly face smiling down at him. '"Excuse me, sir?" said the face nicely. "We've landed. Welcome to London."
Draco nodded and stood, pulling his bag down from the luggage rack. His magic was still far too wonky to have risked the long-distance Apparition and he allowed that the Muggle method had given him much more time to prepare himself for this regardless, not to mention many shots of liquid courage along the way.
Draco stood at the top of the platform, gazing out at London's familiar landscape, and breathed in a deep gasp of air, muttering to himself, "Home sweet home."